Crush Depth

“Put the helmet on,” the woman said. “Put down the sun visor…. Don’t worry, you’ll see well enough. Follow me. From now on, no talking.”

Ilse put on the helmet and the woman helped her position the earphone cups and buckle the chin strap properly. The sun visor was shiny silver, like a one-way mirror. They left the room and the aviator locked it behind them. After a long walk down anonymous hallways, Ilse and the aviator came to a heavy metal door with security warnings. The woman punched in a number code, then opened the door.

Ilse was hit by a blast of cold air. She followed the aviator out onto the tarmac. The door slammed shut with dramatic finality. Ilse realized they were in the military section of Dulles Airport. The only lighting was dim and red. The sky had grown cloudy. Ilse’s eyes adjusted to the dark. She strained to see through her sun visor. Parked there in front of them was a two-seat fighter jet, sleek and futuristic — twin-tailed, with stealthy angles to the wings and fuselage, deadly looking.

“You ride in back,” the woman said to Ilse. Ilse watched her walk straight to the jet with a confident, possessive swagger.

We’re going to fly in this thing?

Ordnancemen finished loading wicked air-to-air missiles into side bays in the fighter’s fuselage. They shut the side-bay doors. Ilse eyed the plane more carefully. All she could read, black against the blue-gray of the fuselage, was USAF.

The woman and the crew chief helped Ilse use the ladder to the rear seat of the cockpit. Up close, Ilse noticed things painted over. But she could make out what was there, because of the layering of the paint. The pilot’s name matched the name on the woman aviator’s flight suit: Lt. Col. Rachel Barrows. Under the name, also visible from this close, were five double-headed Imperial German eagles. Barrows was a combat ace.

SEVEN

On Voortrekker, in the Indian Ocean

“Schnapps, Gunther?”

Jan ter Horst poured Van Gelder a glass before he could refuse. Van Gelder didn’t feel like drinking. He was exhausted from hours of supervising damage-control repairs throughout the ship. The air was breathable now without respirator masks, but it smelled bad. Van Gelder heard men go by outside ter Horst’s closed cabin door, carrying tools and spare parts. Van Gelder knew the crew was still recovering, mentally and physically, from their thorough atomic depth charging by planes from the USS Reagan.

Ter Horst had said it would take a lucky shot to sink Voortrekker. But Van Gelder thought it was only luck that let Voortrekker survive.

On second thought, maybe I could use a drink.

This was the first time in a great while that ter Horst had summoned Van Gelder to a special private meeting, and Van Gelder was nervous. They sat with ter Horst’s fold-down desk between them.

Did he see my hesitation, my qualms, during the attack on Diego Garcia?… Or worse, did he sense my vicarious sadism, watching the warheads blow, and he wants to reclaim all such emotion as his exclusive right?

What ter Horst did say was completely unexpected.

“Thank you for backstopping me before, Number One, with the men, in the control room.”

“Sir?”

“When I told you to relax, while our missiles were in the air and our antenna dish was up. It had the exact opposite effect from what I intended, of course. It just made the men more nervous, and it undermined your authority as first officer. But what you said then settled everyone down quite nicely. You handled it well.”

Van Gelder thought it safest to just let ter Horst go on. He could be leading me onto very dangerous ground….

“With all the work in dry dock, and the tribunal on the nuclear sabotage at Umhlanga Rocks, I feel you and I have grown apart, Gunther, outside our official duties.”

Van Gelder hesitated. “I know you’ve been very busy, Captain.”

“As have you. As have you. The best proof of that was our successful attack today. Our ship and crew are responding well, thanks to your efforts.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“Sir?” That question can be taken several ways.

“Do you know why you’re my first officer?”

Oh… uh-oh. “I was proud to be selected.” Which was safe to say, and true.

This time ter Horst let the silence linger, forcing Van Gelder to speak. Ter Horst sipped from his schnapps. He looked over the rim of the glass at Van Gelder expectantly.

“I don’t know much about the process by which you made the choice, Captain. I could only speculate.”

“A number of men wanted the job. Some pulled strings, lobbied hard, tried to curry my favor. Those men disappointed me. You, in contrast, stayed modest and discrete. Yet your record caught my eye. It told me things your own words never could. About you, your experience, your character, your abilities.”

“Again, thank you, sir.”

“There’s another reason, Gunther. You and I are different in many ways. But this is good. We complement one another ideally…. Yes, I know I love the theatrical, the grand gesture if you will. It’s my nature, these things, and I know that in some ways I’m less than perfect.”

“Sir, your combat success speaks for itself.”

“Our combat success, Gunther. Our combat success. It wasn’t lost on me that during our battle with USS Challenger, you made important contributions.”

“Sir, I—”

“No, please, let me finish. Once or twice then, you even saw something vital a split second before I did, at times when a split second meant the margin between life and death. You saved the ship, and I’ll never forget that.”

“I only did my duty, sir.” Yes, it was that plus a healthy, practical desire to not get killed.

“All true heroes will say they only did their duty, Gunther. All true heroes will say they were only helping their shipmates survive…. That’s why I want you to know, I put you in for a decoration, before we left dry dock.”

“I—”

“No, please. You deserve it. I expect it will be approved.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’re probably wondering by now why we’re having this little chat?”

Van Gelder nodded.

“More schnapps?”

“A little more, please.”

Ter Horst poured. He lifted his shot glass dramatically, then quaffed it in one gulp. Van Gelder felt he’d better do the same. The strong liquor felt good going down. It did help lift Van Gelder’s mood.

“Where we’re heading next, Gunther, and what we have to do there, may well have a decisive effect on the war.”

Again Van Gelder let ter Horst continue.

“You and I must work as one, going forward. What we do will be very risky and dangerous. I can’t afford to brook any misunderstandings between us, any frictions, even unconscious ones.”

Suddenly Van Gelder felt wary. “I didn’t think there was friction, Captain.” Was this the trap ter Horst had set and sprung?