Larry Bond - Dangerous Ground

“Ladies, this is Lieutenant (j.g.) Mitchell. He’s the Torpedo Division Officer and the Manta operator.” He turned to Jerry. “Show them to the wardroom. The Captain will be joining us there shortly.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” He offered his hand to the ladies and Davis shook it, while Patterson hung back and frowned. “Pleased to meet you both. This way, please.” Recalling his own first time aboard just a few days ago, Jerry followed the two women down the hatch.

As they moved through the narrow passageways, Jerry watched the visitors dodge corners and equipment that encroached into the passageway. Davis looked more at ease, wide-eyed with curiosity, and obviously interested in everything. While she was peeking into the ship’s sickbay, which also held the three-inch countermeasure launchers, she almost missed the turn into the wardroom, but caught up in time. Jerry could see she was full of questions and wondered if he knew enough to answer them.

When they reached the wardroom Jerry took their coats while the mess steward organized coffee and pastries. Nobody could ever accuse Memphis of being a poor host.

“What kind of special equipment will we be receiving?” Jerry asked curiously.

Davis started to speak, but Patterson stopped her. “I’m not sure I can tell you that,” Patterson replied. “It’s classified.”

Jerry felt a little hurt. Security on a submarine was usually tight, and everyone had clearances. Not like they would be able to hide something in such close quarters anyway. Still, if she didn’t think he was cleared to know, so be it.

Captain Hardy came into the wardroom, and Jerry snapped to attention. Bair and Richards followed him, and Richards asked for coffee for all of them.

Mitchell started to excuse himself and leave, but Bair said, “You need to be here, Mr. Mitchell. Have a seat.”

Captain Hardy looked at Jerry and said, “These two ladies are technical reps from Draper Labs. They’ll oversee the installation of a pair of remote operating vehicles (ROVs) and their handling gear in the torpedo room. The equipment will be installed in the starboard tube nest before we leave on patrol. Your people will, of course, assist with the work. Is that clear?”

Jerry felt a little vindicated. So he did have a “need to know.” He glanced over at Patterson, who was frowning.

As Jerry answered, “Yes, sir,” his brain processed the implications of losing the starboard tubes. “So we will have only two operational tubes for the upcoming patrol?”

“That is exactly what it means,” Hardy replied. He didn’t look happy with either Jerry’s question or the situation.

The Captain continued. “Dr. Davis is here to survey the torpedo room before the actual installation. There is also some special analytical equipment that Dr. Patterson will be in charge of, but that will be installed elsewhere on the boat.”

Jerry asked, “What will the equipment be used for?”

Both Hardy and Patterson started to answer, but Hardy paused, letting the woman speak. “That is classified — for the moment, at least.”

After she stopped, Hardy amplified her comment. “Its presence on this boat is classified. If you draw any conclusions or speculate about the use of the ROVs, keep it to yourself, and tell your men the same thing. You are not to discuss the presence or function of any of the equipment, except as necessary for installation and testing.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Stop any work on the starboard tube nest and have your people stand by to assist Dr. Davis this afternoon with the survey. That is all.”

Jerry left and headed down one deck to the torpedo room. Senior Chief Foster was there, along with several sailors from torpedo division. “Senior Chief, there’s been a change in plans. What’s scheduled for this afternoon?”

“Moran and I and some of the others have to work on the weapons launching console, we’re getting some incorrect signals from the fire-control system.”

“Well, as of now, that’s off. There’s a visitor aboard that we have to…”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t think we can do that. Mr. Richards was pretty clear about getting this problem fixed.”

Mitchell felt his anger building. Foster’s resistance to even a simple order was unbelievable. “Senior Chief, this takes priority. I just came from a meeting with the CO, XO, and the WEPS.” Working on keeping calm, he repeated, “Plans have changed.”

“They didn’t tell me about it.” Foster remarked.

That did it. Mitchell looked at the other torpedo gang sailors and said, “Give us a minute, please.”

The others left, quickly. Senior Chief Foster watched them go with a small smile, as if he knew what was coming and enjoyed the idea.

“Senior Chief, I want to know what your problem is.”

“Sir, I don’t understand what you mean.” Jerry felt his irritation grow and fought to control it. Foster had donned an “innocent” expression so classic that under other circumstances it might have made Jerry laugh. Now it only emphasized how much Foster was playing with him.

“I want it perfectly clear that I am. ” Jerry stopped himself, and took a breath. Asserting his authority was pointless. Not only was the senior chief already ignoring his rank, he seemed to take pleasure in frustrating him. And what was he supposed to do? Take him up to captain’s mast? Right.

Jerry could see Foster watching him as he thought, studying him.

Jerry started again. “Senior Chief, if you don’t want to talk about this, that’s your choice, but I’m just trying to get the job done. If you don’t like me, I think I can live with that. But whether you like it or not, I am the Torpedo Officer and if I give you an order, I expect you to follow it.”

Foster’s face became a mask. “Yes, sir.”

Mitchell pressed his point. “As the division officer, it’s my job to deal with the WEPS. If I say something needs to be done, you do not have to check with Mr. Richards. I will have already done that.”

“If you say so, sir.” Foster pronounced the last word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“All right, then. Stop any maintenance on the starboard tube nest and have the division ready this afternoon to assist with a pre-installation survey. This is for some special equipment that we’ll be loading later for the patrol. We probably won’t need everyone, but it will be easier to have the men return to their work if they aren’t necessary than to try and bring them in at the last minute. Any questions?” Mitchell saw a flash of curiosity pass over Foster’s face, but he knew the man would not give Jerry the satisfaction of asking for more information. Foster just shook his head.

“Very well, then, Senior Chief, carry on.” Jerry left, with bridges burning behind him. He was unhappy, almost despairing, about his confrontation with Foster. He’d hoped to resolve whatever conflict there was, but instead had formalized it. On the other hand, Foster now knew where Jerry stood.

He headed back to the wardroom, intending to get more information from Richards or the two women about what was going to be done. He found the lieutenant in the passageway, but didn’t get a chance to ask about the ROV. Instead, the WEPS called him into his stateroom.

“How is your qualification program coming, mister?”

Mentally, Jerry shifted gears, hesitating for a moment before answering. He knew Richards would want to hear something positive. “I’ve been studying the ship’s data book.”

“Really? Good for you.” Richards’ cold tone did not match the praise. “Have you talked to the qualifications officer yet?”

“No, sir. I don’t know who that is.”

“It’s me, and it’s time you got busy.” Richards turned in his chair, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a fat notebook. “Here’s your qualification book. Frankly, I don’t see how you can do this, but it won’t be my fault if you fail. Figuring for the time you’re going to be aboard and the amount of material you’ve got to cover”—he pulled out a sheet of paper—”I’ve made up a schedule.” He handed it to Jerry, shaking his head as he did. “The clock is ticking, Mr. Mitchell. Good luck.” Richards almost sounded like he meant it.