The Command

Danenhower had sound-powered phones on and was relaying information as it came in. He pushed an earpiece back, but Lin was already talking. She went methodically from forward to aft. Dan’s unease grew as she outlined the damage.

Main One reported flooding and fire. Aux One reported flooding from either the seawater service piping or from a fracture to the hull. Aux Two also reported flooding. Main Two reported flooding, probably from cracks in the main drainage piping in the bilge. There was also water in shaft alley, most probably, Porter said, from seal failure in one or both shafts as the underwater shock whip-cracked the hull around them. That was why she hadn’t restarted the engines. The turbines might spin up, but with flooding in Shaft Alley and Main Two the line shaft bearings were likely submerged. Running a shaft with water in the bearings would overheat it, seize it, destroy it. “I thought it’d make more sense to sit dead in the water a little while and get things straightened out,” she told him. “Since there’s no more threat topside. Or is there?”

“If there is, we can’t do much about it,” Dan told her. “How about the generators? Can we get lights and comms back? We need to let somebody know we’re in trouble.”

“They tripped off with the shock. We’re checking Number Three out. If it looks good, we’ll try restarting. Number Two, there’s something wrong with the fuel lines. Number One’s half submerged, so I don’t want to screw with it.”

Danenhower had more reports from the repair parties and Dan sat back and thought seriously about whether he was going to be able to save the ship. Spruances were supposed to be able to flood out any three of the eight primary watertight transverse compartments without going under. But he had flooding in seven, every one except the pump room, all the way forward. What worried him was, no one knew where the flooding was coming from. If it was from piping breaks and valve fractures, they could isolate and repair. But if the hull itself was ruptured, it might not be possible to save her.

“We’re going to have to prioritize,” he said.

Porter said rapidly, not lifting the phones off her ears, “Not yet. We have to get the teams down into them.”

“We can’t concentrate on the aftermost spaces now?”

“No. If we let any of them flood solid, it’s going to leak into the adjoining spaces. Or what I’m really afraid of, one of the bulkheads is going to give. We’ve got to find out where the flooding’s coming from before we do anything.”

This sounded right. Or maybe he just didn’t feel like arguing. The tingling prickle was working its way up his legs. Maybe he should do like the corpsman said, and lie down.

No. The ship came first.

Porter said, “Stand by on generator number three. Are we lined up? Battle circuits only. High pressure air start, start number-three generator.”

Chin propped on his hands, he stared at the board as the lights flickered.

* * *

Staggering under the spray, Cobie felt the water seep cold into the tops of her boots and flood her feet.

They were on the IR flat, looking down at black, smoggy night. And now and then through the gratings, a wavering tangerine flicker.

She was following Helm in, her right hand on his right shoulder. Somebody else’s hand was on her own, she didn’t know who. Behind them, like a supple cross, they were dragging the heavy black rubber hose of the AFFF system. The protein compound mixed with water to make a foam that smothered fuel fires. They had pressure back, at least enough to make the foam. She couldn’t see much through the little dirty eyepieces. She was navigating by feel. Mainly, following the petty officer. She was scared stiff, but she kept going.

Helm’s battle lantern probed downward. The beam lingered on the main space eductor. A heavy piece of steel lay fallen across it. Water was boiling up, foaming like a geyser. The beam held there a few seconds. Then they shuffled forward again, swaying under the weight of the hose, and slowly and clumsily worked their way down the ladder to the level below.

Mick reached back and clamped her hand tight on the handrail. She could read that: Stay here. The guy behind stopped, too. She followed the swing and glow as Helm worked his way through and under the debris to where the water was boiling up. He bent and she saw his shoulder muscles bunch.

He came back, took the nozzle again, and they shuffled forward once more. Everything was slow and clumsy. Water kept pouring in. How much more could it take before all this steel around her just… sank?

Another ladder. As she wriggled past an obstruction something snagged her coveralls. She jerked free, tearing the cloth, but in the struggle she lost touch with Helm. She hesitated, peering around through the little plastic windows, torn between going ahead and back, and at last shuffled forward. Till she slammed into him.