Free China Sea by David Poyer Page A

too, sir, but … I sort of expected to hear from you before this. Before the turnover, I mean.”
    â€œYou expected to hear what from me?”
    â€œAbout what you mentioned when I relieved.”
    The CSO smiled politely. “Sorry, I’m not certain what we’re talking about.”
    Dan struggled to keep his tone level. “I was under the impression—what you said to me, just before you left that first day. At the brow, on your way over the side. You said to get her in shape; we might need her. Or words to that effect. I took that to mean that in view of what was happening in Kuwait, there was some consideration going on of retaining her on the active list.”
    Munro looked over his shoulder, obviously not riveted by the conversation. “Retaining her? No, I never heard anything along those lines. I may have said something encouraging, but I don’t think I said that. Excuse me a minute, OK? Talk to you later.”
    Dan stood still, seething with disappointment and anger. Cursing himself for being credulous and overbearing, for having sacrificed his own work and his crew’s arrangements on the basis of a misunderstood phrase.
    But, goddamn it, that was what Munro had said. It wasn’t possible he’d misunderstood or misheard.
    Foley walked by, beer in hand, giving him a respectful nod. Dan forced a smile, fighting for calm. He knew why he’d done it, of course. For Gaddis , for a ship that for one bright moment he’d thought of as his, hoping against hope he could save her, almost singlehanded.
    Instead his destiny was a pookah in Norfolk, checking the message traffic every day to see whether he’d been promoted. If he wasn’t, he’d have to retire.
    All he’d ever wanted was to be allowed to do what they’d trained him for. Could it really be that acting CO of Gaddis would be the closest he’d ever get to having his own ship?
    He stared at the wall with unseeing eyes, then gathered the saliva in his mouth and spat the cloying taste of too-sweet cake into his paper napkin.
    *   *   *
    HE was heading for the exit, making his bird, when he saw Beard and Admiral Sapp vectoring to intercept. He forced another smile. “How you doing, sir? Good to have you with us.”
    â€œA well-run ceremony,” said Sapp. “A good-looking ship. I had seen her before, when Dan Ottero had her. You’ve done a job, turning her around.”
    Dan wondered about the slip, calling Ottero “Dan” instead of “Dick.” But instead of correcting the admiral he just said, “Thank you, sir.”
    â€œDid you get to speak to the general?”
    â€œYessir, had a few words with him. Nice of him to come down.”
    â€œSometimes the ambassador makes it. Busy now, I expect, because of their government shakeup.… I was impressed with how quickly you got Gaddis out of the yard. Evilia didn’t think she’d be ready before spring. How’d you get them turned to so fast?”
    â€œSome size-ten leadership, I’m afraid. The shipyard commander’s not happy with me.”
    â€œDon’t worry about him. The staff corps’s there to support the fleet.” Sapp cleared his throat and looked around. “I’ve been getting your turnover status reports. Apparently you have doubts as to their conning and navigation readiness.”
    â€œYessir. They don’t strike me as fully trained in those areas yet.”
    â€œHow about fireroom and engineroom manning? Are they safe to sail?”
    This was a complex issue wrapped in a code phrase. “Safe to sail” had several meanings, from material condition, to crew size, to the potential legal issue of whether someone could be held liable for ordering an unready ship to sea. Dan took a deep breath. “Sir, if you want it laid on the line here, the short answer’s no. The CO was on deck for the sea trials. I went below for a few