AllFreeNovel
Share Us
27
Acting Captain Penny Brightmanstood riveted to the deck as this Miranda Chase person led her team away to study the wreckage. They began working the line as methodically as they had walked the deck: one step at a time.
The woman claimed that Number 892’s crash hadn’t been an accident but rather an attack.
And then walked away as if that revelation was of no consequence?
A direct attack on a US aircraft carrier? It was incomprehensible.
It did make her feel bad for all of the foul thoughts she’d been heaping on Gabriel Brown’s memory throughout the day as she’d struggled to keep her ship together without losing her shit. Or was it the other way, keeping her own personal shit together to keep from losing her ship?
But now…
She picked up her secure satellite phone and waved for her Number Two to take over operations. He was a four-year lieutenant who definitely deserved a promotion to LC after this.
Circling wide of the wreckage swept up against the base of the Island, where Miranda’s team was currently uncovering who knew what scary-as-hell revelation, she stepped onto the narrow walkway that ran along the outboard side of the Island.
There was scattered debris underfoot, twists of steel, an instrument panel that might well have been one she’d used during every watch she’d ever stood, and glass that crunched underfoot. There was also a large panel of curved acrylic that might have once been part of 892’s cockpit canopy.
One hour’s sleep in the last two days. She’d been trained regarding how deeply that could distort any decision-making process, but she was out of options.
Standing here, she leaned on the railing because she wasn’t sure she could trust her knees. The sun had set and now it was the running lights of the destroyer USSJohn S. McCainpatrolling a thousand yards out that shone brightest. It was but one of the ten ships, two submarines, satellites, and aircraft that were supposed to keep this carrier safe.
She wondered what Captain John “Wayne” McCain would have done. Five-and-a-half years he’d been prisoner of the North Vietnamese less than three hundred kilometers from here. He’d survived horrors she couldn’t begin to imagine.
This? This was nothing by comparison and he’d found his way through it.
Taking strength from that, she pulled out the card that she was never without since the day she’d been cleared as a watch stander on the ship.
Running her thumb down to highlightPinnacle Report, she noticed that her hand was shaking.
Exhaustion and low blood sugar. That’s what she’d believe it was. Nothing she could do about the former until the next carrier group arrived. She’d definitely get some food—after this call.
She punched in the associated phone number before she could conjure any more doubts, and hit dial.
“Authorization code.”
Penny gave the operator the code that she’d been told to memorize then destroy.
“Verified. Proceed.”
“Pinnacle – Front Burner.” Highest level of national security interest, a pre-conflict attack.
“Understood. Please hold.”
Hold?
The world was ending, at least the one she knew, and she was on hold.
Someone had deliberately attacked an aircraft carrier.
And she was on hold.
She needed some goddamn hold music for distraction. Maybe a recording of the US Marine Corps Band playing “Louie, Louie”or Lady Gaga’s“Million Reasons”.Because she could think of an easy million reasons to walk away from this mess. The woman knew what she was singing about. If not for having sworn the loyalty oath—Penny’s one good reason to stay—she wasn’t sure she could see this through.
“Identify,” a deep male voice came on the line without introduction.
“Lieutenant Commander and Acting Captain of CVN-71 USSTheodore RooseveltPenny Brightman.”
