The Seventh Angel

The request took Ann completely by surprise.

Bowie must have caught the expression on her face, because he waved a hand. “I’m not trying to pick you up,” he said. “I promise.”

He crossed his heart. “I’m happily engaged. But even if I weren’t attached, I wouldn’t shoot my career in the head, by hitting on a civilian contractor. This is completely innocent. Scout’s honor.”

Ann nearly snorted. The damned Eagle Scout thing again. “What about that girl in every port thing?” she asked. “No mistress on the side?”

Bowie’s smile widened into a grin. “I’ve got the sexiest mistress in the world,” he said. “She’s five hundred and twenty-nine feet long, and she’s made of steel.”

“I’ve seen her,” Ann said. “You can keep her.”

Bowie leaned against the doorframe. He was evidently going to make himself comfortable, whether Ann invited him in or not. “Come have a drink with me,” he said. “I want you to meet some people. Sort of friends of mine.”

He shrugged. “I just met them a few days ago, but I think we’re going to be friends. I hope so, anyway. They strike me as good people.”

Ann frowned. “I’m not really into meeting people,” she said. “That’s Sheldon’s department. I’m more of a hardware type of girl.”

“I understand that,” Bowie said. “But these people want to meet you. In fact, they’re pretty excited about it.”

“Why do they want to meet me?” Ann asked.

“They’re a couple,” Bowie said. “Charlie Sweigart, and Gabriella Marchand. They just got engaged. They want to meet you, so that they can thank you in person.”

Ann recoiled. “Thank me? For what?”

“For saving their lives,” Bowie said. “They were aboard the submersible Nereus. They would have died down there if it hadn’t been for you and Mouse.”

Ann tried to look past him. “Are they here?”

Bowie shook his head. “No. I didn’t want to spring them on you. I know you’re not a people person. And I know you’re having a rough time lately.”

Ann felt her cheeks go warm. “Did Sheldon tell you that?”

“Yeah,” Bowie said. “Sheldon and I chat sometimes. He tells me you’re having dreams.”

Ann didn’t like where this was going. “Everybody has dreams,” she said.

Bowie cocked his head a few degrees to one side. “Not these kinds of dreams. Sheldon says you’re having nightmares about Pearl Harbor. About the people we didn’t save.”

“Sheldon talks too much,” Ann said.

Bowie smiled again, but it was a different kind of smile. “Would it help any if I told you that I’m having nightmares too?”

His question surprised Ann. “You are?”

“Of course,” Bowie said. “Believe me, I’m no stranger to bad dreams. It goes with the territory.”

“What territory?” Ann asked.

“With saving part of the world,” Bowie said.

“Part of it? What does that mean?”

Bowie’s strange little smile disappeared. “In the comic books, Superman gets to save the entire world. But we’re just mortals, and this is not a comic book. We can only save part of the world. And even doing that much takes a hell of a lot of luck, and more sacrifice than I care to think about.”

“What about the parts you can’t save?” Ann asked. “What do you do about the people who die because you can’t do your job well enough to save them?”

Bowie slid his hands into his pockets. “I try to remind myself that every doctor, and every firefighter faces that exact same question. Nobody wins every time, Ann. We just do the best we can.”

He paused for a couple of seconds. “And things get worse the minute we stop trying.”

Ann felt her throat beginning to constrict. “I screwed up,” she said. “When I was programming Mouse to go after the submarine, I screwed up. I forgot to reinstall the software patch.”

“You made a mistake,” Bowie said. “It happens. You’re fallible, just like the rest of us.”

“But you could have killed that sub the first time,” Ann said miserably. “Mouse had the submarine located. If my programming glitch hadn’t driven Mouse off task, you could have destroyed the submarine a whole day earlier. Before it had a chance to launch its missiles.”

Her voice was shaky now. “It’s my fault,” she said. “Those people didn’t have to die. If I had done my job properly, they’d still be alive.”

Bowie rubbed his chin. “Can I share an observation with you? It’s a bit of wisdom that I picked up from a very intelligent person.”

Ann gave a half-hearted jerk of her head, not particularly interested in whatever comforting platitude that Bowie was about to trot out.

“You’re full of shit,” Bowie said.

His words stopped Ann cold. “What?”

“You’re full of shit,” Bowie said again. “That’s what you said to me that day in the wardroom, when you reminded me that you had crammed two days worth of programming into a few hours. You were working under incredible pressure, busting your ass to get the job done, and trying your hardest to do it right, and you missed something. You didn’t do it on purpose; you didn’t try to cover it up; and you fixed your mistake the minute you found out about it.”

Bowie laughed. “You stood right there on my own ship, and told me that I was full of shit,” he said. “And you were absolutely right. Now you want to go back and judge yourself by the same screwed up standards? I’m sorry, but you’re just as full of shit now, as I was then.”

“But those people,” Ann said. “They didn’t have to …”

Bowie cut her off. “We couldn’t have gotten that submarine without you, Ann. If you need to fixate on something, try focusing on that. You saved millions of lives. Not hundreds. Not thousands. Millions.”

Ann didn’t respond.

“Come on,” Bowie said. “Let’s go meet Charlie and Gabriella. We’ll have a drink, and blow off some steam. And you’ll get a chance to meet some of the people you did save.”

He gave Ann a serious look. “It helps,” he said softly. “It won’t make all of the doubts and the bad dreams go away, but it really does help.”

“Where’s the other guy?” Anne asked.

“What other guy?”

“The third guy from the submersible,” Anne said. “There were three people on the Nereus, right? You want me to meet with two of them. What happened to the other guy?”

She stopped, as a horrid thought crossed her mind. “Did he …”

“The other guy is fine,” Bowie said. “His name is Steve Harper. He won’t be here today.”

“Why not?”

Bowie grinned. “Mr. Harper is gearing up to sue NOAA, and the Navy, and the manufacturer of the submersible, and probably the Easter Bunny.”

“You’re joking,” Anne said.

“Nope,” Bowie said. “Mr. Harper is suing everything in sight. I guess he doesn’t want to be seen fraternizing with potential defendants.”

“Is he suing me?” Anne asked.

“Not as far as I know,” Bowie said. “But don’t be surprised if he gets around to it. That’s part of the down- side of saving the day. Not everyone is grateful.”

Ann felt herself reach a decision on some unconscious level. She pushed the door closed, just far enough to release the chain. “I don’t guess I can pass up the opportunity to have a drink with my co-defendants.”