Echoes of the Fourth Magic Read Online Free Page A

flooded rooms between them.
    “Seems we’re in trouble,” Corbin said offhandedly.
    But Mitchell couldn’t view things that way. He put this situation into the perspective of one more challenge, probably the greatest he would ever face. His entire life, from city streets to the merchant marine to his naval commission, had been one continuous fight. He had done more than survive, he had become a leader. “Stow it, Corbin!” he growled. “We’ve got a job to do.” He motioned at Billy and Del. “I want those two ready to work tomorrow.”
    “That’s impos—” Doc Brady began.
    “Tomorrow!” Mitchell bellowed. “Set up the conference room as an infirmary.” He turned to Reinheiser. “See what you can do about cleaning up this air.” He looked at Corbin. “You and I will get this room back in order. I want those forward viewing screens working as soon as possible.”
    Mitchell didn’t slow the pace of his growing momentum. “Thompson,” he called, “what’s your situation?”
    “I’m a little banged up, sir. I sprained my wrist pretty bad, but I can work.” He sounded a bit steadier.
    “Then get the damn engine room back in shape and give me as much power as you can!” Mitchell ordered, using just the right timbre of anger in his voice to convey two messages: that he had faith in Thompson’s ability and that he held Thompson solely responsible for getting the job done.
    “Aye aye, sir!” came Thompson’s enthusiastic reply.
    Del stared incredulously at the captain. He hated the man, but he couldn’t deny Mitchell’s effectiveness as a leader. Under Mitchell’s command, nobody dared surrender. They all had jobs to do, and under the captain’s demandsthey had no time to worry about the implications of their situation.
    A few hours later, Del was tossing uneasily on a makeshift cot, his dreams a lament for the security he had left behind. In that distant world, Debby celebrated her seventieth birthday huddled with her grandchildren in a placebo called a bomb shelter.
       “Doc says I can go back to work,” Billy announced to Del the next day. “I’m on my way to the bridge now. How about you?”
    “R and R for at least another day,” Del replied with a sly smile, clasping his hands behind his head.
    “I’ll come back and see you later,” Billy said, and despite his feigned contentment, Del envied him. Sitting around idly allowed too much time to worry.
       “I don’t know what to tell you,” Corbin said with a shrug of surrender, for in truth, he had no answer to Mitchell’s obvious doubts. “It seems to be operational.”
    “How can we be in a hundred feet of water?” Mitchell snapped, despite his grumbling, a twinge of hope found its way into his tone.
    “That gauge operates by measuring the pressure on an inch-long wand protruding off the side of the hull,” Martin Reinheiser mechanically explained, as if reading out of a book. “It’s a new design, untested, really. Perhaps the wand was snapped off and the equipment has been fooled, taking the total pressure on the remaining piece and calculating it over the whole expected length.
    “Or perhaps we are in a place sheltered from the pressure of the ocean depths,” he added, his analytical mind searching out every possibility.
    “Not possible,” Corbin replied.
    “How deep could we be without the hydraulic system?” Mitchell asked, ignoring his first officer.
    “About seven thousand feet,” Billy answered from the door. The men turned to him. “Reporting for duty, sir.”
    “Where’s DelGiudice?” Mitchell demanded, a sour look on his face, as if merely speaking Del’s name left a bad taste in his mouth.
    “Doc wants him to rest another day,” Billy explained.
    “I’ll deal with that jerk later,” Mitchell whispered under his breath. “Get going on that viewing screen, Shank.”
    Billy moved to the intercom, knowing he would need some help from the engine room to test the power levels to his panels.