Engage at Dawn: First Contact

by Edward Hochsmann

  “Very good, sir.” Ben took the hint.

  The helicopter arrived five minutes early, but the reception crew was in place and ready. Bondurant supervised the operation on the afterdeck and had been thorough in his briefing. He was pleased to see the crew members were taking safeguards against the aircraft’s strong downwash of air as it moved over the deck with the DIA man lowering on the hoist cable. The man slipped out of the hoist harness on gaining footing with the deck and started walking forward. Bondurant’s shouted warning to wait could not be heard over the engines and rotors. When the man crossed from directly under the helicopter, the ferocious wind struck him down like he’d been tackled from behind. Once the aircraft moved clear of the patrol boat, Bondurant crossed over and helped the man upright and then forward to the superstructure. “Are you OK?” he shouted over the aircraft noise.

  “No injuries but my pride, thank you. Wow!” the man shouted back. “I have some gear coming with the litter. Should I go back and help?”

  “No, you stay here. They’ll be disconnecting the litter to load the body, anyway. Wait while the helo pulls back again,” Bondurant received a thumbs-up from his charge. The helicopter was already returning, a weighted nylon “trail line” dangling to just above deck level. The deck crew grabbed the line and kept it tight to keep the litter from swinging as it lowered. When it was under control on the cutter’s deck, they disconnected the cable, allowing the helicopter to move clear again. Bondurant tapped the man’s shoulder and gave a thumbs-up. The man nodded and walked over to retrieve a large canvas bag the deck crew had taken out of the litter. He then moved forward, flipping a wave at Bondurant as he passed. When he met the XO at the bottom of the bridge ladder, Bondurant turned back to the afterdeck, shaking his head. “Dumbass!”

  “Dr. Simmons, I’m Ben Wyporek, executive officer,” Ben said. “Welcome aboard.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Simmons replied. “Where can I go to get out of your way?”

  Ben gestured toward a crewman standing alongside. “Petty Officer Guerrero here will escort you to my stateroom. You’ll be staying there while you’re aboard. Please stay there until we finish, then the CO would like to chat.”

  “Excellent, I’ll just be hanging out there then.” Simmons slung his bag, and after he and Guerrero disappeared inside, Ben returned to the Bridge.

  “Passenger secured, sir,” Ben said when he stepped up to Sam as he watched the crew members loading the body into the litter.

  “Thank you,” Sam answered, keeping his eyes on the deck.

  Bondurant reported the litter loaded and ready, and the helicopter returned to a hover beside Kauai, completing the pickup in a little more than two minutes. The litter disappeared into the cabin, and the aircraft picked up speed and climbed. “Five-one, two-three, we are flight operations normal, en route Clearwater, out.”

  Watching the aircraft’s flashing anti-collision light fading into the distance, Ben recalled the recent meeting with the Miami plane and said, “They aren’t much for talking, I guess.”

  “Helo drivers are generally all business, the 60-drivers especially so. Not sure why,” Sam replied. “OK, OOD, secure from flight quarters, set normal at-sea watch, please.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Hopkins.

  Sam turned. “Right, XO, let’s grab a drink and deal with your new roommate.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Welcome aboard, Doctor.” Sam stood to shake Simmons’s hand when he and Ben entered the cabin. “Please have a seat.” They sat down in the cramped room, Sam in the chair at his desk, Simmons in the spare chair, and Ben on Sam’s bunk.

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate your accommodation, particularly Ben’s gracious sharing of his room with me,” Simmons replied. Simmons was almost the quintessence of nondescript: five-foot-nine, average build, a plain face, with his brown medium-short hair and scruffy goat beard a sharp contrast with close-cropped and clean-shaven officers. His casual dress—a well-worn polo shirt, jeans, and topsiders—also set him apart from the dark blue utility uniforms worn by his hosts. His age was obscure, but Ben guessed it was the early 30s.

  “Not a problem. I was a little surprised to run into a DIA man called ‘Doctor.’ Are you an MD?”

  “No, I have a Ph.D. in Astrophysics.”

  Sam’s eyebrows raised. “Really? That’s more surprising than the ‘Doctor’ part. OK, let’s get down to business. I’m sure you know that we are ordered to support you in whatever your mission is out here. Unfortunately, this is a pickup game, and we haven’t received any details. I need you to explain what’s going on so we can give you the best service.”

  Simmons rubbed his forehead and replied, “I’ll do what I can, Lieutenant, you see—”

  “Captain.” Ben interrupted.

  “I beg your pardon?” Simmons’s hands froze.

  “The correct address for commanding officers aboard their ships is ‘Captain,’ regardless of nominal rank.”

  After a few seconds locked in a stare with Ben, Simmons smiled and continued. “Forgive me. As I was saying, Captain, that my work here is highly classified, and I’ve limited discretion on what I can share.”

  “I understand, please continue,” Sam said, his face devoid of expression.

  “Thank you. A few days ago, several research facilities detected an unusual event in this vicinity, and we decided to investigate. We’ve been on the lookout for unusual items correlating with the observations. This wreck you’ve discovered qualifies.”

  Sam leaned forward. “What sort of event are we talking about?”

  Simmons crossed his arms and sat back. “I can’t go into details on the different theories in play here. I can say that we have readings on one set of sensors that don’t line up with the observations on the remaining relevant sensors. We’re trying to figure out if there’s an issue with the technology, or we are seeing something new and possibly dangerous. Either way, I’m sure you can understand the urgency here.”

  Sam leaned back. “OK, if the ‘event’ is tied to that wreck, does it pose any hazard to the crew?”

  Simmons waved his hand dismissively. “No, no, no. I assure you if we thought that the case, you’d not be here right now. The patrol plane you relieved took a thorough scan of it with everything they had, and they’d have detected any chemical or radiological hazards. The final biological assessment pends the autopsy on that body, but we don’t think we’ll find anything. I’ve brought some field test equipment with me just to make sure. If you don’t object, I’d like to examine anyone who went over there, with the help of your medical technician.”

  “Certainly. XO, can you see to that, please?”

  “Yes, sir.” Ben nodded.

  “I also need to visit the wreck myself as soon as possible. I’ve some other measurements I need to do right away,” Simmons continued.

  “It’s dark now. I can close to 20 yards, and you can work from there. A boarding must wait until daylight. That will be . . .” Sam turned and consulted a piece of paper on his desk. “Zero-Six-Forty-five tomorrow morning.”

  Simmons frowned. “Captain, that will not be satisfactory. I have to take physical samples of the hull and cargo and do interior measurements—20 yards might as well be 20 miles. It’s necessary to get these readings immediately to develop a course of action.”

  “I’m sorry, Doctor, but it’s risky enough to send a boarding party to a wrecked vessel. I won’t do it in the dark.”

  Simmons’s eyes narrowed. “Captain, you obviously haven’t gotten the memo. This is a question of national security. I insist you put me on that vessel at once!”

  Ben started to stand up, unconsciously closing his fists, before Sam rested an arm on his shoulder. Ben sat down.

  Sam turned to Simmons. “Doctor, we need to get something straight right now. There’s only one person aboard who can insist on anything, and you’re looking at him. My orders are to act independently and cooperate with you as practicable. They don’t relieve me of my
primary responsibility for the safety of this ship and its crew. You’ll need to give me a lot more than ‘the pointers don’t line up’ before a night boarding onto a sinking vessel falls within my threshold of calculated risk. Now, anything else you care to share with me?”

  “No, Captain, not now.”

  “Very well. How about you go with the XO to check our boarding crew, and we’ll get you over there by first light?” Sam nodded his head toward the door and then turned back to his desk. After five seconds of Simmons sitting in astonished silence, Sam said without turning, “Was I unclear that you’ve been dismissed, Doctor?”

  Ben stood and motioned to the door. “Sir, this way, please.”

  He started to follow Simmons out when Sam asked, “XO, once he’s settled in with Doc, can you come back here, please?”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Ben met Simmons in the passageway. “Please follow me, sir.”

  “Fine,” Simmons replied coldly. “I’ll need some testing equipment from my case.”

  “At your service, sir.” Ben returned an icy grin. Simmons ducked into Ben’s stateroom and returned carrying two small cases. “This way, please.” Ben turned to lead him to the mess deck where Bryant, Drake, and the other personnel who had boarded the High Dawn had assembled.

  “Guys, this is Dr. Simmons of the Defense Intelligence Agency,” he began. “We’re here to help him check some things that impact national security, so it’s important. We think that wreck out there may be involved, so we will hang around here while he does his stuff. Now we’re pretty sure there’s no danger from that thing, but just to be absolutely sure, Doc here will help him run a few medical tests. Questions?”

  Drake stepped forward. “Sir, it would help to know what’s going on. What does a wrecked drug boat have to do with national security?” he asked, looking between Ben and Simmons.

  “Chief, you said yourself there’s something queer in that boat’s damage. Well, you got someone’s attention. As for the other stuff, I’m told it’s well above our paygrade, so we’ll do our jobs without knowing every detail. Not the first time, right?” He smiled at Drake.

  “No, sir, I reckon not.”

  “Okay, it’s not the preferred situation, but we’ll make the best of it. Rest assured, the CO and I are on this, and we’ll pass anything on when we can. Meanwhile, Dr. Simmons here is as VIP as it gets. I expect you to treat him right and help him out whenever and however you can. Am I clear?” Ben finished, looking at Drake.

  Drake smiled. “We’ve got this, XO.”

  “OK.” Ben turned to Simmons. “Petty Officer Bryant here will help you. If you need anything, give me a call.”

  “Thanks,” Simmons replied. “I’ll see you shortly.”

  Ben made his way back to the cabin and sat down at Sam’s invitation.

  Sam turned to face him. “That could have gone better. What’s your impression so far?”

  “He’s an arrogant dick,” Ben replied. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

  “I understand your feelings, but I think we need to cut him some slack. I suspect he’s not here for his charm and personality. It’s because he can handle whatever needs to be done. Also, I can understand his agitation at having to wait. Something damned important must be happening to be diverting two cutters and laying on special flights. To sum it up, I believe two things: he has a legitimate concern with whatever is going on here, and he’s probably dead on his feet with fatigue.”

  Sam’s response after the earlier tense meeting surprised Ben. “Sir?”

  “Look at his eyes. He says this started a few days ago. I doubt he’s slept at all since then. That load, on no sleep, would make anybody punchy.”

  “I guess I missed that. I was ready to kick his ass for how he was talking to you.”

  Sam smiled in return. “Thanks, XO, but I can take it. I hated to take him down that way, given what I think he’s going through right now, but we needed to settle who’s who in this particular zoo. When we’re done, I want you to take care of him. As soon as you can persuade him to get some rack time.” He checked his watch. “He’s got about eight hours before we can put him on the wreck. Convince him he might as well sleep as sit around and stew.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll try.”

  Sam patted him on the arm. “Stout hearts.” Assuming his uncanny impression of the actor Patrick Stewart, he finished, “Make it so, Number One!”

  Ben returned to the mess deck to find Simmons and Bryant processing the last crew member. He sat to wait for them to finish. After a few minutes, Simmons started packing up his gear, and Bryant walked over to Ben.

  “XO, I have got to get me one of those,” he said, jerking his thumb toward Simmons. “Do you know it screens for 103 different pathogens and can turn around the results in five minutes?”

  “Doc, I expect there isn’t enough money in the entire 7th District, much less the boat’s checkbook to buy something like that, but I’ll certainly ask. Thanks for taking care of this. See you later.” When Bryant moved off, Simmons finished and turned to Ben.

  “Lieutenant, I’m happy to report you have a bug-free crew as far as I can tell. Still a few tests running, but I’m not expecting anything from them.” Simmons rubbed his forehead and wiped his eyes.

  Ben leaned in and said sympathetically, “When’s the last time you’ve had any sleep?”

  “I can’t remember. A couple of days, I guess.”

  “Hey, there’s nothing to be done until dawn, and that’s eight hours off. You should try to get some rest.”

  “Yes, I suppose I should yield to the logic of the situation. There’s no chance the captain will change his mind?”

  “Not a chance in hell.” Ben smiled.

  “OK, the timely dew of sleep, now falling with soft slumb’rous weight inclines our eyelids,” Simmons conceded as he started toward the passageway.

  “What’s that, Shakespeare?”

  “No, friend, Milton,” Simmons replied, shuffling along in trail behind Ben.

  4

  Investigation

  U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Kauai, Gulf of Mexico, 57 nautical miles northeast of Key West, Florida

  0603 EST, 14 January

  “Dr. Simmons? Dr. Simmons?” Ben knocked on the locker next to his bunk, now occupied by his temporary roommate. Simmons shot upright and grasped at the location he had left his bag.

  “Whoa, whoa, take a second!” Ben said. “I locked your bag up in the armory, and no one will mess with it.”

  Simmons’s confused and desperate expression faded at once, and he put a hand to his face. “Sorry, occupational hazard,” he mumbled. “How long was I out?”

  Ben’s heart rate was returning to normal—he had seen no one appear that wild-eyed. “A good six and a half hours. We’ll be putting the RHIB over in about half an hour, and I thought you might like a bite of breakfast and coffee.”

  “That’d be amazing, thank you.” Simmons’s face twisted into a rueful smile. “I take it you saw the contents of the bag.”

  “Yes, that’s a lot of firepower.” After seeing Simmons to his bunk earlier, Ben had lifted the case and seen the pistol and Uzi submachine gun and locked it in one of the ammunition lockers. “We can’t have weapons just lying around. We’ll return them to you when you leave.”

  “Not what I’d prefer, but I suppose it would be futile to protest, right?”

  “Not even a day onboard, and you already have us figured out.” Ben grinned.

  “Let me splash my face for a jump-start. How’s the food here?”

  “It’s not the jazz brunch at the Court of Two Sisters, but it’ll do.” Ben tossed him a towel.

  “Pity, I would fancy a mimosa right now,” Simmons said as he caught it.

  ◆◆◆

  Ben and Simmons arrived on the boat deck and met Sam coming down the ladder from the Bridge. Simmons carried a smaller bag of instruments, and both he and Ben were donning flotation gear for a visit to the High Dawn. The
wreck was visible in the pre-dawn twilight 100 yards away.

  “Good morning, Doctor,” Sam said. “I hope you had a good night’s rest?”

  “Indeed, Captain. And I topped it off with an excellent breakfast and coffee—your man does a splendid job.” Simmons smiled.

  “Outstanding. I’ll pass along to Chef that his lofty Yelp score is safe.” Culinary Specialist Second Class Thomas “Chef” Hebert was one of Sam’s aces in the hole in terms of morale. Born and raised in New Orleans, Hebert apprenticed in a small family-owned and run restaurant in the Vieux Carré before enlisting in the Coast Guard. Sam contributed funds and Drake scavenging to support his more “exotic” condiment and equipment needs. The result was high-end restaurant-quality meals for the crew when underway, a significant plus in the otherwise spartan existence on a patrol boat. As for Hebert, he loved the work, relished the appreciation he received, and, best of all, got to shoot a .50 caliber machine gun in his General Quarters billet.

  “He can count on four stars from me,” Simmons said. “Thank you also for the loan of your XO. I can use the help with these instruments.” He turned to Ben. “Although I’m afraid you might find it tedious.”

  “I’ll live,” Ben said.

  After a briefing from Boatswain’s Mate Third Class Jenkins, the boat coxswain, and a brief ride, Ben and Simmons boarded the High Dawn. When the RHIB had pulled off, Simmons commented, “That kid is into his job—the most thorough and enthusiastic safety brief EVER.”

  “It’s his first solo sortie as a coxswain. Bondurant is leveraging a low-stress op to give him time on his own with the boat.” He smiled as the RHIB pulled away to make practice approaches on Kauai. “He’s psyched, but Bondurant is nervous—he subbed in on the OOD watch just to keep an eye on him.”

  Simmons paused in assembling his equipment to glance at the white-painted cutter. “Dad handing the keys over to his son. Almost sounds like a regular family.”

  “It is.” Ben nodded. “They mess around and get on each other’s nerves, but when things go crazy, nothing gets between them.”