is a lot bigger than just submarines or the Navy. Now do you see why I have to do things the way I do?â
There was a moment during which no one spoke. There wasnothing to say. Again Brighting seized the initiative. âGood night,â he said, as he rose to his feet.
Buck Williams put the cap on the evening, as the three officers thoughtfully walked back to the prototype and their interrupted study program. Buck was always the irreverent one, the one given to the apropos comment which tore through obfuscation to expose gobbledygook, the non sequitur or the stupidâor, alternatively, to put things into balanced context. This time, after a minute during which the only sound was their own footsteps on the graveled walk, he did it with a single statement that encompassed what all three were thinking. âNo wonder the Navy hates him,â he said, âand still lets him get away with it all. Heâs a bully and a genius at the same time. Tonight we saw his genius side. Weâre damned lucky to have him in our Navy, and we three are lucky to be working for him.â
The others said nothing. The crunch of their footsteps was loud in the chill desert night.
4
âC aptain! Wake up, Captain!â The voice using the unaccustomed salutation came from far away, from far back in the past. He was sleeping on the stool in Eel âs conning tower. The hand shaking him was Keithâs. The voice too. Richardson must have fallen more soundly asleep than he had expected. He rolled upright on the cot in the ladiesâ room. âHow long have I been out?â he asked, groggily.
âNot long. Probably only fifteen minutes. Buck and I were going to let you caulk off another half hour at least, but we think thereâs an emergency on its way.â
âThatâs right, sir! Itâs a big one, Iâm afraid, and youâre the only one here . . .â Buck was speaking from the other side of the cot.
Richardsonâs mind subconsciously recorded the fact that both former subordinates were putting him into the role of years ago. Simultaneously his own habit asserted itself, framed the words for him as his quickening pulses for a precious second drove the blood into his brain. âYes, what is it?â
âReactor casualty, I think! Thereâs steam in the lower level,and all the dosimeter readings are climbing fast. Buckâs and mine have already gone way up the scale.â Keith pointed his pocket dosimeter, a penlike instrument with a frosted glass lens at each end, to the overhead light, squinted through it. âIt says I got more than three-quarters of my allowed weekly dose of roentgens during the last half hour!â Hurriedly, he clipped it back into his shirt pocket as he followed Richardson and Williams to the door and down a steel stairway to the main floor.
âWhy couldnât this have waited a few more days,â Buck was saying. âTwo weeks ago Brighting was here and everything was fine. Next week weâre supposed to take our end-of-course exams, and then weâre through, finished, on our way back to New London. After that the whole place can go to hell, for all we care!â
âSure,â said Richardson, âexcept youâre not fooling anybody. You know youâre not going to let anything happen to our reactor if thereâs anything you can do to stop it.â
âThatâs why we were in such a hurry to call you, Skipper,â said Keith, catching up. âYouâre senior man on board. If something is really out of line, it will be up to you to take charge.â
âNot so fast.â Richardson paused at the watertight door leading to the engineroom. âOld Brighting was pretty clear that when we came here we left our Navy rank somewhere in the Idaho desert. The regular engineering watch officer is in charge until Dusty Rhodes or somebody else shows up. Weâre under his orders. There canât be two bosses
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