Seawolf Mask of Command Read Online Free Page B

nose, and she noticed grease stains on his elbows and more grit on his fingers and under his nails. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his ill-fitting coveralls looked like a shambling mound of wrinkles.
    “We just received word from the squadron that you were reporting in today,” he explained as he motioned for her to follow him. “We weren’t expecting you this soon.”
    “So I gathered,” she replied curtly. The activity outside the submarine had made her think of an overturned anthill, but now inside she was reminded of a beehive. Men were working everywhere. Civilian contractors mixed in with the submarine’s personnel and naval technicians who looked to be literally replacing, repairing or inspecting every piece of equipment on board. The sounds outside had been nothing compared to the constant din inside the sub as officers and chief petty officers directed work gangs, power tools roared, and men strained to carry out their tasks. At the same time she took in these sights and sounds, she was struck by the menagerie of odors assaulting her keen senses. The bitter smell of solder and acetylene, the pong of human sweat, the antiseptic scent from the air purifiers, the powerfully pungent aroma of cleaning solvent that fought—unsuccessfully—to cover up the other odors all added to her impression of being in a stuffy, metal world surrounded by mindless machinery serviced by flesh.
    “Hell, we aren’t even sure where you’re gonna sleep yet,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder while they maneuvered their way through the controlled chaos.
    Kristen tried to control her excitement at being on board. She couldn’t afford to allow her true feelings to show, but despite her self discipline, her head was on a swivel as she tried to take it all in. Without conscious thought, her hand went out and caressed a junction box in passing, then fingered a bulkhead as if wanting to make certain she wasn’t just dreaming. They reached a ladder where two crewmen were struggling with a computer-shipping container. Kristen and Ensign Martin squeezed themselves flat against the bulkhead, out of the way as the two men wrestled with the container.
    While they waited, Martin continued to talk.“The Blade is in captain’s mast at the moment, but he should be done soon.”
    “The Blade?” she asked curiously as the men maneuvered the bulky container down the ladder and then out of the way.
    Martin lowered his voice and whispered, “That’s what the crew calls the skipper.”
    Kristen thought she caught a hint of superiority in his tone. Martin clearly thought the fact he’d been on board longer than she gave him some level of advantage over her. She knew new officers usually got the worst duty assignments and assumed he hoped some of these jobs might now fall to her.
    Martin continued his explanation, “He can be a little intimidating, if you know what I mean.”
    She didn’t. But then again she’d been browbeaten by the Chief of Naval Operations as well as the Secretary of the Navy over her desire to serve on a submarine, and as a result didn’t intimidate easily. But she got the impression from Martin’s tone that he was terrified of the Seawolf’s captain.
    “Do you know him?” Martin asked as he led her to the captain’s cabin, taking a circuitous route to avoid some work gangs. They passed through the control center which was, like the rest of the submarine, filled with personnel—civilian and military—working feverishly to get the boat ready for sea.
    “Only by reputation,” Kristen replied. After receiving her orders, she’d taken time to learn all she could about her new captain. There was hardly a submariner alive who hadn’t heard of the enigmatic skipper of the USS Seawolf. He was considered, hands down, the finest fast-attack boat skipper currently in the service. While serving on Admiral Beagler’s staff in Hawaii, Kristen had access to reports on all the submarines operating in the