Читать книгу The Crucible - Joaquin De Torres - Страница 12

In the parking lot of the restaurant, Becca promised Kristina that she would come over that night with ice cream and maybe pick up a DVD. However, what she really wanted was to know what was tormenting her best friend to paralysis. Kristina did not want to talk about it during their emotional lunch; in fact, she wiped her tears dry and changed the subject, talking about the upcoming test cruise instead. Becca noticed how Kristina avoided looking her in the eyes, trying to hide the pain, or frustration, maybe even guilt that had welled up inside of her.

That evening Becca stopped by a market and arrived around 6 P.M. To ease into Kristina’s heart slowly was her plan, so she bought several supplies to support this. She decided that it was going to be “Girl’s Night”, their relaxing time when they cuddled, watched movies, talked about men, stuff other than work, and spoon-fed each other ice cream. Kristina normally talked endlessly during such occasions, finding a sanctuary of mutual trust within Becca’s gaze or smile. These were the special times when two professionals could escape their stringent world and frolic in the realm of innocence, silliness and forgotten childhood. They were not scientists or naval officers during these times--they were just girls. Laughing hysterically on the floor, or sobbing endlessly in each other’s arms, it was during these moments that solidified their love for each other.

The evening began with a glass of wine, a couple of shots of Irish Cream and music. The alcohol had brought their tensions down a couple of notches. On the couch, Becca pulled off Kristina’s socks and began massaging her feet. Kristina closed her eyes. This was always the way it played out: a few drinks, a massage, brushing each other’s hair, and then Kristina would divulge her heart. But unbeknownst to Becca at that moment was the fact that Kristina did have something to reveal, something that would turn Becca’s stomach inside out.

Kristina drew back from Becca and opened her eyes. In an instant, Becca’s fact-finding mission vanished and the soft mood of the night was shattered when Kristina brought up the name of an individual who had historically earned their mutual hatred.

“WILCOX!” Becca’s face recoiled. “Wilcox!? Butch the Bastard Wilcox!?”

“Yes.”

“Butch Wil-Cock-sucker!?”

“Yes.”

“He’s still driving the Getty!?”

Kristina nodded regrettably.

“Mother fucker!” Becca erupted again. “I thought that asshole was gone after our last trip!” Kristina didn’t bat an eye at Becca’s volley. Becca was always the more blatant and ruthlessly vocal of the two, possessing a razor sharp tongue that worked in tandem with her razor sharp intellect.

“We all did, Becca, but that’s not the case this time. He’s coming with us; apparently, it's his last hurrah to ensure his promotion. At least, that’s what Dad told me.” Kristina sighed. “And since this is our most publicized voyage, as the Getty’s CO, he wants to make a statement.”

“I hate that bastard with a passion,” Becca spat. “He’s always tried to use WEPS-ONE for his own popularity.”

“My father despises him.”

“Kristina, your father despises everyone that’s why he’s so cool." Kristina smiled weakly at the puzzling statement. "You can trust your dad despite him being a hard-ass. He doesn’t play the popularity game with anyone. You either do the job, or you’re out.” Becca chuckled each time she poked fun at Ramon. It always brought a smile to Kristina’s face.

“Yeah, and because of that Wilcox despises me.”

“No, Kristina. Wilcox doesn’t despise you because of your father; he despises you because you put him in his place. You called him out on our last cruise, remember?” Becca grinned as she brought up a spoonful of ice cream and slid it into Kristina’s mouth. “That was hella sweet,” Becca said with a thick layer of pride. “He tried to dictate our jobs to us and you just planted his ass.”

“He knew he was wrong, Becca. Admiral Armocida made it clear to him and his crew that when we are testing on the Getty I have full command, authority and access within our spaces. Wilcox didn’t like the fact that a woman and her small staff had so much influence.” She took in another spoon of ice cream.

“No, babe, he was furious that you had total command over his ship. That’s the point. We sailed with him on five missions, each one only about a week in length, and each time we had run-ins with him. He couldn’t stomach that he was relegated to water taxi duty.”

“Maybe I overstepped my bounds at times, Becca. It was his ship.”

“You know much better than I that positional and delegated authority are two important concepts that we all are trained to understand, respect and support. He’s so fucking old-school!”

Kristina remained reflective. Becca smiled again as she brought the spoon to Kristina’s mouth. “My God! Remember what we said to him? I’ll never forget your words when you forced him out of combat!”

Kristina’s memory and vision were already there; in the Command Information Center, a.k.a. Combat of the USS Gettysburg.

“What do you mean, please return to the bridge?” The five foot three-inch man glared up at the woman towering over him. “You don’t tell me where to go on my ship.”

That was day eight of the ten-day testing deployment over a year ago. It was also the fourth challenge of Kristina’s authority within 24 hours. The calibrating and testing of her new Cold Start system were crucial. Admiral Jonas Armocida, CO of WEPS, had ordered that for this and all WEPS-ONE testing exercises, Kristina would act with the positional authority of OTC, Officer-in-Tactical-Command. This was something Wilcox hated, believing that the authority of a ship’s captain should never be placed behind a mere visiting authority; and worse still, an authority of inferior rank.

From day-one Wilcox hovered over Kristina’s small staff of junior officers and civilian analysts, making them feel tense, nervous and intimidated. Becca was at the breaking point and wanted to square off with him. But Kristina kept her calm and didn’t want the cruise to turn into a war of nerves.

But that’s exactly what it was. There was no denying that Wilcox was getting deep under Kristina’s skin and everyone was waiting for the day when she would snap. He questioned her decisions throughout the performance phases she conducted, asking her if she followed all the steps or if she entered certain scenarios into her calculations, although he didn’t know anything about electrical and computer engineering. He challenged her authority in front of his crew in order to remind them that he was still the master and commander of his vessel.

“Captain, I need you up on the bridge to take visuals when I shut Combat down.”

“Shut Combat down?” Wilcox shook his head. “You’re not going to shut Combat down. This ship can’t operate with it shut down.”

“That’s why I must run these cold-start tests within this phase of the exercise. I have to shut down the ship for about 45 minutes.”

“Give me a reason to shut down the entire ship.”

“That’s just the window of work I need.” Kristina remained professional at all times. “If my calculations are correct, and the system re-animates the way I designed it to, we’ll have full power in thirteen minutes. If the ship’s NTDS, for any reason, ever died or failed, my system would bring it back to life.”

“The NTDS would never die or go down,” Wilcox scoffed. The CIC crew, thoroughly embarrassed by their captain, just sat nervously in silence. “The Navy has around 50 years of NTDS service; it has and would never shut down.”

Shut up! You old-school fuck! Becca raged in her head, glaring at him.

“Captain, navies around the world are developing hacking and intrusion software that target our NTDS systems. My system can--”

“Ah, bullshit, Commander! No enemy ship could get close enough to shoot one of those signals without getting detected.” Suddenly Kristina found herself losing patience with his obstinacy. She turned back to her laptop; she had work to do and deadlines to make. She felt her armor of professionalism starting to strip away. She took a deep breath and faced him again. And as usual, he began barking.

“With our surface radars, we can detect enemies hundreds of miles away. No ship in the world could intrude our NTDS, much less shut it down!”

You don’t think she knows that!? Becca shot another thought arrow into his throat. Kristina stood from the laptop and took a step toward him. Becca smiled in anticipation as she watched Kristina look down at Wilcox. Here it comes, asshole!

Kristina in a low, respective voice whispered.

“That’s because, Captain; and I’ll say this slowly so you can understand, an intrusion signal would not come from a ship, but from a satellite beaming that signal on you.” Wilcox, unnerved by her words, and the and I’ll say this slowly so you can understand part, put his hands on his hips and raised his chin high.

“I’ve been the CO of three combatants and even in the most extreme conditions, the power--not once--has ever gone down.”

“With all due respect, Captain, you’ve never taken such a lethal missile hit.” Kristina’s eyes burned with the authority forged from personal experience. Wilcox smirked and his voice wafted in the air with a patronizing tone.

“And there it is, isn’t it, Commander? You have such experience under your belt, don’t you? Well, let me just tell you that that experience could never happen to this ship. The captain of the McClusky was an idiot.” His face tightened as his eyes drilled into hers. “I, on the other hand, am not.”

“Jesus Christ already!” Becca roared, no longer able to contain it. “Commander Torres, I’ll go to the bridge and take the damned readings!” She moved quickly towards the hatch, her patience exhausted. Wilcox wheeled around.

“Stand fast, Commander!”

“Why don’t you just let us do our jobs, sir?” Becca volleyed.

“I’m warning you, Raven; so far I’ve been patient with your lip! If you want to make the next pay grade I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless you’re spoken to!” Becca took an aggressive step forward bringing her full Amazonian height into his personal space.

“And I suppose you have the power to do that, don’t you?”

“Becca, back off. Please,” Kristina said calmly. But it was too late--Becca was pissed.

“You, as a full-bird captain, have more authority than Admiral Armocida? Well, the last time I looked a four-star admiral outranked an O-6!”

“Becca, please!”

“I work for Commander Torres, sir. And I suggest you realize that while we’re on this ship, so do you!”

“GET OUT OF COMBAT, RAVEN! YOU’RE RELIEVED OF DUTY!” he thundered. Kristina took a step in between them.

“No, she’s not.” She turned her back on Wilcox and stepped towards Becca, whose emerald eyes sizzled with rage. With pursed lips, Kristina whispered forcefully.

“Ease it down, Becca. Let me handle this. Just calm down.” Switching into her command voice, she continued. “Lieutenant Commander Raven, go to the bridge and prepare to take sightings. I’ll give you further instructions later.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Becca’s eyes remained locked on Wilcox’s glare. She took a step.

“STAND FAST!” His booming voice quaked the control room, icing the spines of its silent members. The group of about 30 enlisted sailors and officers sat breathless at their consoles. Wilcox snapped his head to Kristina.

“Who the hell do you think you are!?”

Kristina could smell the stale stench of coffee and cigarette smoke on his breath. “This may be your program, but this is MY SHIP! Everything goes through me!”

“Then let this go through you one last time.” Kristina’s voice was a quiet roar. “I don’t care who drives this ship. If the Getty takes a missile hit near engineering or CIC, the power will go down. My system will enable a cold re-start and re-animation within eight minutes. The testing of this is the only mission I care about. When our mission’s done, you will have your ship back and you’ll never see me again. So, whether it’s you, the XO, or Lieutenant Commander Raven--I don’t care, someone has to go up there and do it.”

She stood unnerved, the triton of authority firmly gripped in her hands. His ice-blue eyes narrowed; hers didn’t flinch. Wilcox looked around the room, seeing his crew sitting rigidly in shock. He had to regain their confidence; he could not be bested by this woman on his own ship. He needed to let them know that he was still and always will be, in command. For her part, Kristina felt a measure of shame at what had transpired in front of his crew as she scanned their hesitant expressions. It was totally unprofessional on all their parts as senior officers.

“Captain, please,” she whispered. He looked in her eyes and realized that she was trying to help him. “Let's defuse this. The crew is watching.” He knew she was right and nodded his head approvingly. It was damage control time, officer style.

“Very well, Commander. I’ll go to the bridge. I just wanted you to feel reassured that the Gettysburg could never be in such a situation with this fine crew.” His air of positional supremacy laced his words. “We train for combat everyday; we don’t suppose it, imagine it, or simulate it. My crew is too well-trained and too disciplined.” He tried to save face. Right on cue Kristina played her part to salvage his dignity in front of his people.

“There’s no doubt, Captain. They are the best trained crew I’ve had the pleasure of working with.” She looked around the room and smiled, temporarily teaming up with Wilcox to sever the noose of shame that was slung around his neck.

“Very well. Carry on, Commander Torres.”

“Thank you, sir.” Wilcox stepped toward the hatch and eyed Becca with utter repulsiveness. Becca returned the glare without blinking. When he exited the space, the crew exhaled loudly, shaking their heads. Becca stood in the middle of the room shaking her head as well. Seeing the tension taut on the crew, she thought it best to loosen them up.

“I’ll give you one thing though;” she looked around. “He’s pretty spunky for a little guy!” The crew exploded in laughter.

Back in Kristina’s living room with Becca, the visions of those events began to dissipate from Kristina’s eyes. Becca slipped another spoon of ice cream between her lips.

“You were marvelous commanding that ship. You directed us to a successful testing phase. I gotta hand it to you, you were magnificent.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Kristina waved her hand dismissively.

“And Wilcox, all he could do was keep his mouth shut and follow your instructions. God, his ego hated that. You dismantled him.”

“I don’t take pride in that.” Kristina shot her a hard look. “Especially in front of his people. I was wrong.”

“No. He was wrong. He tried to upstage you and you held your ground. You may not take pride in that, but take no shame in it either. When you’re in charge, sometimes you have to make the harshest decisions and say the harshest things.” She then fell silent, mulling over something that entered her mind. “I still don’t understand what he was saying about the McClusky. Why did he even go there?” Kristina looked away evasively. Becca saw the door closing in Kristina’s eyes and dove for the knob.

“All right, Kristina, what the hell is up? What’s wrong? There is a connection between you and the McClusky isn’t there? Something you haven’t told me. Please, tell me now. Don’t make me Google it!” Kristina nodded her head slowly, realizing that this was something she could no longer hide from her. She suddenly sniffed the air.

“Are you cooking something in the kitchen?” she asked Becca.

“No. We’re just having ice cream.” At that, Kristina looked at the far corner of the couch and saw a young man sitting behind Becca. His entire body was horribly burned; his uniform, skin and hair were gone; wisps of smoke curled off his grotesque body.

“Go on,” the hideous vision said. “Tell her.” She closed her tearing eyes and opened them again. He was gone. But the room closed in around her, transforming. Her living room shifted, then morphed into the dark maze of stacked sleeping bunks. Her walls of framed art and photos blurred into gray bulkheads crawling with piping, air ducks and metal rivets. She was walking through berthing, making her way passed the sleeping bunks with her cleaning crew to the outer passageway locker where buckets and mops were stored. Everyone around her was happy and excited to go home in just two days. But first, the McClusky had to be cleaned before going into port. Kristina was there.

“I had just exited berthing when the missile struck.” Her voice was a numb echo as she recounted. “Eight feet above the waterline it punched through the portside and severed the fire fighting water main. Then it separated into two parts, sending ignited fuel and shrapnel through the berthing area I was just in.”

Becca’s eyes widened. The tears flowed freely now as Kristina's voice began to quake. Becca pulled right up to her and held her hands firmly.

“The warhead detonated just ten feet forward of the first impact point. The solid propellant and fuel ignited, sending liquid fire through the berthing area.”

“Oh my God!”

“Temperatures reached 3,500 degrees. The overhead and adjacent compartments had already begun to melt when the temperature reached 1,500 degrees.” She looked up to Becca. “I watched those sailors burn to death. I froze as some people in the area tried to fight the fire. I sat in a corner unable to move at all. Instead of helping, I just watched them burn. Their bodies burned and I just sat there! They were still alive! They were screaming and crawling, begging for help. Becca, I couldn't move! I COULDN'T MOVE!” Becca pulled her in, cradling her tightly in her arms. Kristina quaked uncontrollably, wailing like a wounded animal.

“Shhh, baby. It's okay. It's okay. I'm here with you. I'm here.” Becca quietly rocked her. After several long moments, she pulled back to look at Kristina’s face. She used her fingers to gently wipe away her tears while softly kissing her forehead reassuringly. Her quaking finally subsided, as she kept her head against Becca's chest.

“I can't ever imagine seeing that again,” she whispered. “That's why I could never be a commanding officer.”

“You were only 18. Things would be different.”

“No. I can't ever erase those memories, those visions--the smell. They haunt me still. It all paralyzes me. If the situation happened again, I would freeze again, I know it. I couldn't help anyone then, and I wouldn't be able to help anyone now.”

“You're wrong, Kristina. You were just a kid. But you've grown and trained into a strong commander--a strong person.” She pulled away to look Kristina square in the face. “You have to believe in yourself again.”

“My father tried to--”

“Your father is so proud of you, but even if he does get you out of the Navy, would you be proud of that? Walking away from something you love? Never attaining your dream? Never being able to face your fear and conquer it?”

“What's my fear, Becca?”

“This fear of command; this phobia of accepting a position that may put you in harm's way. You've always wanted to be a ship’s captain, not a lab rat. So face this fear and defeat it. Defeat it or you will never be happy. You will never fulfill your destiny. And the nightmares. . .will continue.”

“You ask too much of me.”

“Then let me ask you this: Who do you think would be more capable of leading a crew through such a horrid experience?”

“Becca, no. It can't be me. It could never be me.”

“It could only be you. Otherwise, we all would die. And the second chance to act, the second chance that God gives some people to overcome their past mistakes, would be wasted. Could you live with that?”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I love you; and I want you to receive everything you deserve. Baby, I would follow you into hell. And if such a horrible situation ever came up, there is no one better in the Navy who could get us through something like that.” Kristina was fixed on Becca's penetrating eyes, trying desperately to find faith and reason. When she opened her mouth, words that seemed locked forever in a cage, somehow were set free.

“Help me, Becca. I want to believe. Help me get over this.” The tears flooded her eyes again, but she didn't look away. Becca pulled her back into her arms, the tears now streaming from her eyes.

“I'll never leave you.”