You loved the Navy, didn’t you? Didn’t you, Commander Salas?”
He snapped his head to her, the agony now pronounced by the furrows in his brows. She suddenly stiffened, afraid that she may have said too much or crossed the line. After a moment of pause, she set her beer down and moved closer to his side.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Salas. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you.” The regret and humility in her voice caused Salas to nod his head in acceptance. She was relieved, but still sensed that there was something else within him, some dark secret that haunted him and fueled his bitterness, but she dared not venture there. This was their first meeting, after all.
He laid his head back and closed his eyes, giving her another opportunity to enjoy the view of his muscular naked body. Circuits between her legs began to fire as she let her imagination step out of its cage. Her nipples hardened and she parted her legs slightly. She could feel moisture within her hair, between her folds. She wondered why she drew no glances of attraction from Salas. She believed she was attractive. Tall at five-ten, with long taut legs; full breasts, shoulder-length blonde hair and a tight stomach of her own. The fact that she remained naked in front of all of them for hours made her confidence soar.
But it was not just Salas; none of the other men seemed to notice her natural gifts either. Was this some sort of initiation into this exclusive group? Some sort of test of self-control and temperance? Standing among the others in conversation, they must have noticed by her nipples alone that she was aroused. She wondered if they were turned off by her natural hairiness, but the other women were clearly unshaven with pubic tufts thicker and wider than hers. She glanced down at Salas again and realized that he was looking right at her. She stiffened and smiled politely.
“Okay Kira, before we eat, I need to ask you why you are here? Do you want an interview? If so, you must know that I just don’t hand them out to Navy personnel.”
“I don’t want an interview.”
He looked at her with suspicion, trying to discern what she could possibly want if not for an interview.
“Do you want to debate me about another miscalculated or otherwise stupid Navy decision that I’ve exposed to the scientific community?” His tone began to get edgy.
“No, no debate.”
“Do you want to warn me of some legal action the Navy is taking against me? Or to hand me a summons?”
“No, no legal action or summons.”
“Wait! I know. The Navy plans to buy this land and wants me to move off this property.”
“No, Commander. None of those things.” Kira’s voice dropped in tone but increased in seriousness. Salas pursed his lips in frustration. He had countless and historic public battles with the Navy, building a rock-solid foundation of support with the scientific, environmental and global protection communities. He was impervious to the accusations, threats, subpoenas, hearings and smear campaigns against him. He looked at her and saw a cloud of despair hovering over her eyes. She looked deathly worried. He sat up and turned to her so that they were face-to-face.
“Why are you here, Kira?”
“The Navy needs your help, Commander.” She looked up, expecting to see a dismissive or indifferent expression on his face, but it wasn’t there. He stared at her, patiently waiting for more information.
“We lost contact with the nuclear attack sub USS Texas about 80 miles west of Saipan five days ago. I’m afraid I don’t have any details. I wasn’t briefed about it, but I do know that the last contact made by the sub was that they were investigating an unidentified contact at 850 feet with orders to pursue, even go to test depth if necessary.”
“The Texas is a newly-modified Virginia-class. It’s test depth is around 2,000 feet. What about the Mystic? The Navy’s DSRV? It operates up to 2,000 feet. Couldn’t the Navy—”
“I’ve heard nothing of the Mystic. In fact, I’ve not been privy to much of the information on the incident. My sole purpose was to find you.”
He nodded his head in understanding.
“That’s because they know I have a deep submergence vehicle that can go to the bottom of the trench.” He looked away in contemplation. “Which makes me think that they believe the Texas is actually down in the trench.”
“The SECNAV, CNO, SUBPAC and COMPACFLT all asked for you by name. There was no one else.” He shook his head and smirked at this.
“All my enemies.”
“We have a briefing at COMNAVMAR on Monday at 1300. We’ll know everything then, I suppose.” She gently turned his face back to hers with her hand. “So, shall we expect you then?” He nodded, but his eyes were still glazed with concern.
HEY, YOU TWO! TIME TO EAT!” called one of the women setting up the picnic tables. They had all put on their swimsuits or clothes and were placing the food on the tables.
Salas remained pensive. Kira stood up and took his hand.
“Come on. Let’s go. The grilling smells wonderful.” He raised his head.
“Why you, Kira? Why did they send you all the way from WEPS when they could have sent anyone else from Hawaii, or here on Guam?”
“I asked myself that question several times already, and I think it has to do with Captain Torres.”
“Captain Tina Torres?” Salas couldn’t hide his surprise.
“That’s right. She’s a big supporter of yours; read all your books several times.” When she heard that you were going to be the focal point, she made sure that I was the one sent.”
His eyes bulged in disbelief and delight.
“You work for Captain Torres?”
“Yes, sir. Did you know she keeps a framed copy of your second dissertation “The Threat of Naval Science on Biologics” in her design lab? She also refers to your sonic tolerance calculations for her subsurface designs.”
“What!?”
“In fact, she’s memorized your calculations.”
“Oh my God!” he breathed. “I had no idea! Are you serious? Captain Torres uses my calculations? The Captain Torres?” He smiled widely as she nodded. Then she bent over and gave him a long kiss on the cheek, then held the side of his face.
“So the next time you’re trashing the Navy, you might want to think about giving us a little break. Not all of us hate you, Commander.” She squeezed his muscular shoulder. “So, are we getting dressed, or shall we dine naked?”
Chapter 3 — Speak of the Devil
Naval Base Guam
Commander Naval Forces Marianas
COMNAVMAR
The air in the conference room seemed thick and humid despite the chill of the air conditioners. It was also thick with apprehension and tension. All but a few were aware of the reason for the uneasiness that stirred among the individuals from the
