Seawolf Mask of Command (18 page)

C
aptain Brian Hayes had spent twenty-two years in the Navy to reach his current position. He’d worked carefully every minute of every day over his career to avoid the pitfalls that might ruin any chance of gaining flag rank, and he was now just one promotion short of making admiral. He’d worked hard to get the right assignments in Washington, D.C., where he’d made the right political connections. He’d spent his required time as a department head, then XO and finally as a captain of a submarine. After leaving command of his last submarine, he’d taken a brief tour back inside the Beltway at the Pentagon, and those carefully maintained contacts had helped him land his current position as commodore for the elite of the elite in the submarine community. Submarine Development Squadron-5, or DEVRON-5 for short, was where the best the US Navy submarine forces came. Responsible for evaluating new equipment and developing new tactics, it was the kind of high-visibility command men like Hayes hoped for. More importantly at the moment, DEVRON-5 was the parent command for all three of the Navy’s
Seawolf
submarines, and it was here where the most dangerous, most critical missions were relegated. With a successful tour here, he was guaranteed flag rank and further promotion.

With this in mind, he’d worked hard to prevent any embarrassment coming his way. He’d carefully created a staff he knew he could count on for their competency as well as—and perhaps more importantly—their loyalty, as he’d hand-picked the captains for the
Jimmy Carter
and the
Connecticut.
Again, he’d been very careful in his choices, choosing men he thought he could count on. But then had come the debacle of the
USS Jimmy Carter
“bumping” into an undersea mountain. This had been the kind of incident that destroyed careers, and Hayes had moved fast to insulate himself from the calamity. He’d relieved the boat’s captain immediately, and—regardless of what a mishap investigation might reveal—the man would never step foot on a submarine again. They’d been friends, but friendship only went so far.

But this had been just the beginning of the troubles that befell him. The
Jimmy Carter
had been forced to abort her mission. The mission was considered “top-priority” by the National Command Authority, and was classified so high that even Hayes didn’t know the extent of it. But, no sooner had word reached the National Command Authority that the
Jimmy Carter
had been forced to abort her mission, than they’d insisted he replace the damaged submarine. However, with the
Connecticut
in dry dock for a lengthy overhaul, the only submarine he had left was the
Seawolf,
the lead boat of the class. There were other submarines in the Pacific Fleet, but Admiral Beagler—Hayes’ direct superior—had insisted the
Seawolf
be prepared immediately to assume the mission. Hayes understood why. Although there were other submarines in service routinely carrying out classified missions, none had the combination of stealth, firepower, and deep-diving capability of these three
Seawolf
-class boats.

It was hardly what Hayes preferred. Sean Brodie, the mercurial captain of the
Seawolf,
wasn’t one of Hayes’ chosen. He was the last holdover from the previous commodore’s command, and Hayes felt no loyalty directed toward him from the
Seawolf’s
captain. Not to mention, that after nearly four years at the helm, Hayes suspected Brodie was burnt out. Hayes knew the weight of command and the long hours. Hayes himself had given two marriages to the Navy and knew that the perks of command were barely worth it when compared to the mental and physical thrashing most commanding officers went through. Additionally, upon the
Seawolf’s
return to port after the last mission, there’d been a significant turnover among her crew as new personnel replaced those leaving sea duty and heading to shore commands. This meant the
Seawolf’s
crew was inexperienced, even if their captain wasn’t. But replacing him had been out of the question. The CIA—for some reason—loved him and two years earlier had pressured the Navy to keep Brodie in command for an unprecedented second tour.

There was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” Hayes answered automatically and looked up from his desk to see the familiar face and undisciplined mop of hair enter. Brodie was dressed in khakis as expected and, despite the disheveled appearance of the out-of-regulation hair, the sub captain’s uniform was immaculate. This was, at least, something.

Brodie didn’t come to attention, not that Hayes expected him to. “Good afternoon, Commodore.”

“Thanks for coming, Sean,” Hayes greeted Brodie cordially as he stood and motioned towards his guest seated in an armchair.

Brodie was already assessing the unexpected visitor.

“Captain Sean Brodie, this is Craig Schaffer, from the President’s National Security Council.”

Brodie shook an offered hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Captain,” Schaffer greeted. His guest from Washington was about thirty-five, short, and a bit rotund, but from what Hayes had learned during their brief visit, highly intelligent. More importantly, he was a politician, and Hayes knew this meeting was potentially explosive. Hayes had learned the ways of Washington politics when he’d served as a military aide to a senator for two years. But Brodie... there wasn’t a political bone in his body.

Brodie nodded politely. “What can I do for you, sir?”

“Call me Craig,” Schaffer insisted as the three men sat down. Hayes took a seat in a second arm chair alongside Schaffer, facing Brodie who sat alone on a small sofa.

There was a long period of silence as Brodie, sitting comfortably, waited patiently. It was just one of many annoying traits Hayes didn’t care for. As the commodore, Hayes expected a certain level of deference from his subordinates, and he took Brodie’s unwillingness to comply as a sign of arrogance. But if Brodie was impressed by their guest from the National Security Council, he gave no indication of it. Hayes eyed Brodie sharply, but the captain appeared unflappable.

The silence lingered on as both Hayes and Craig expected Brodie to break the silence, but the submariner held his tongue. Then, as if to accent what Hayes considered his irreverent attitude, Brodie glanced at his wristwatch.

“We aren’t keeping you from anything, are we, Captain?” Hayes asked pointedly, growing annoyed with his subordinate.

Brodie’s gray eyes gave no indication what he was thinking. Just another thing Hayes didn’t like about the man. “That depends, Commodore,” Brodie replied with an even tone that wasn’t disrespectful, but at the same time, didn’t show the kind of regard Hayes routinely received from his subordinates.

“On what, Captain?” Hayes demanded, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

“Is this meeting in anyway going to expedite the repairs to my submarine, help train my green crew, or provide any information that I haven’t already received from Naval Intelligence and the CIA with regard to my mission?” Brodie’s other annoying habit was speaking his mind and not taking into account the subtle nuances of the politics necessary to advance to flag rank.

“Actually, Captain Brodie,” Schaffer interjected, “or may I call you Sean?”

“Sure, Craig,” Brodie replied, his voice staying polite, but hardly friendly.

Hayes swallowed an angry retort, wishing he could relieve Brodie and get someone else to take over the
Seawolf.
Hayes didn’t know the particulars of Brodie’s mission—another point of annoyance—but he was certain he could find someone who would take it more seriously. He interjected, “If you don’t think you’re up to it, Captain, perhaps I could find someone else.” Hayes was determined to make certain Schaffer returned to Washington with at least a comfortable feeling that Hayes was taking it seriously.

Any other commanding officer would have blanched at the suggestion. Instead, Brodie looked at Hayes with a straight face and replied, “That is your prerogative, Commodore.”

“I don’t believe that’s necessary, Commodore Hayes,” Schaffer interjected delicately. “Captain Brodie’s reputation precedes him.”

Hayes nodded in agreement, irritated by the comment. He knew Brodie’s reputation, and felt slightly threatened by it. No commander liked the feeling that a subordinate might be more qualified to replace him.

“Anyway, Sean,” Schaffer explained diplomatically, “it’s about your submarine preparations that brought me here.”

“What about it, Craig?” Brodie asked without any more respect in his voice than he might give a cashier at a supermarket.

“Well,” Schaffer appeared slightly uncomfortable talking to Brodie and fidgeted nervously. Hayes understood. Brodie had the annoying habit of holding eye contact with whomever he was speaking to, and it was a bit unnerving. Schaffer continued, “I was sent to impress upon you the importance of expediting repairs to the
Seawolf.
The situation on the Korean Peninsula is deteriorating faster every day, and your mission is deemed as a matter of the utmost importance to national and regional security.”

Brodie didn’t immediately respond, although he readjusted his seat so he could lean forward toward Schaffer. “I am aware of the situation and my mission, Mr. Schaffer,” Brodie replied, his tone having changed slightly. It was now low and hinted at the stress he was under. Hayes wished he knew the full extent of Brodie’s orders. “My crew is working around the clock. Every available yard worker is on board expediting repairs. We have cut every corner we can. We have deleted all but the most essential repairs and upgrades. But it is hard to squeeze a six-month refit into two weeks.”

Schaffer nodded dumbly as if he could possibly understand the difficulties of preparing a submarine for war. Brodie had stated his case clearly, but Hayes recognized that politicians operated on their own timeline and expected everyone else to automatically adjust to suit their needs.

“Yes, I am sure you are, Sean,” Schaffer replied, but his tone stated the exact opposite. “Is there anything we might do to help move things along a little faster?”

“Our sailing date is next Tuesday, or has that changed?” Brodie asked.

“No,” Hayes answered, well aware that the
Seawolf’s
repairs were not moving along as fast as he had hoped. Whether or not Brodie was at fault was not the issue. Everything that happened or failed to happen on his boat was automatically considered his fault. If the
Seawolf
failed to make it to sea on time, the arrogant captain would find himself relieved of his command and his career ruined. “The sailing date hasn’t changed.”

“We’ll be ready,” Brodie responded flatly as if there could be no doubt.

“I was led to believe you’re behind schedule,” Schaffer explained diplomatically, expressing the displeasure of the highest levels of the chain of command that the
Seawolf
wasn’t ready to go already.

Hayes had already briefed Schaffer of the current condition of the
Seawolf
and had planted the seed of blame at Brodie’s feet
.
Brodie looked at Hayes. If he was angry, it didn’t show. But Hayes could almost sense the growing tension in the room. Brodie looked back at Schaffer and said slowly, in a controlled voice, “Mr. Schaffer, in four years of command, I have never once missed a sailing date. The
Seawolf
will be at sea as scheduled.”

Silence again descended about the room as the Hayes and Schaffer studied Brodie carefully while the captain waited. Schaffer pursed his lips thoughtfully. He was a political animal, and Hayes knew what the man was considering. Was Brodie the right man for this? Hayes felt he knew the answer, but didn’t have the clout to dismiss him.

“Do you have any questions before I head back to Washington?” Schaffer finally asked.

“No, sir.”

Schaffer stood, ending the brief meeting. Hayes was broiling, quite certain Brodie’s recalcitrance and mannerisms would be reported back to Washington. “I’m afraid I have a plane to catch, gentlemen,” Schaffer concluded and offered Brodie his hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Captain.”

“Have a safe flight, Mr. Schaffer,” Brodie allowed.

Hayes walked with Schaffer into the outer office where, once again alone, the President’s advisor looked back at Hayes, his eyes now cold as he whispered, “It will be unacceptable for the
Seawolf
not to make her sailing date, Commodore.”

“I understand, Mr. Schaffer,” Hayes assured him with complete understanding. If the
Seawolf
wasn’t ready, not only would Brodie be relieved, but Hayes would find himself riding a desk on some admiral’s staff for the remainder of his career.

Once Schaffer departed, Hayes returned to his office to find Brodie standing by a window staring out at the inlet just off shore. Hayes managed to close the door before turning on Brodie. But, just as Hayes was about to express his displeasure in the harshest way at what he felt was a lack of urgency on Brodie’s part, he saw that Brodie had turned to face him. There was nothing in the captain’s posture that was threatening, but his eyes were now cold… uncomfortably so. Hayes hesitated, recalling a few rumors about Brodie. He swallowed his initial stinging comment and said, “Sean, this is serious.”

Brodie took a step forward and paused by Hayes’ desk. He placed a hand on the desk and said in a voice struggling to keep his anger in check. “Do you think for one second, I don’t realize how serious this is, Commodore?” The strain he normally hid so well was now evident in his face. Brodie’s youthful face had aged ten years in a second.

“The
Seawolf
has to be ready,” Hayes said flatly.

Brodie’s left hand trembled slightly. Hayes noted the tremor. He briefly wondered if this was simply a sign of anger, or was it an indication that Brodie had reached the limit of endurance? Four years of command was a tremendously long time.

“It will be ready,” Brodie insisted curtly. “But, I can hardly help her get that way if I’m called up here every other day to remind you of that, Commodore.”

“I don’t care for your tone, Captain.”

Brodie exhaled tiredly and said with as much respect as he could muster, which wasn’t much, “My tone, Commodore, should be the least of our worries,” he replied. Brodie then pointed at the door where Schaffer had disappeared. “Don’t you see?”