Free Undetected by Dee Henderson Page A

up the ladder, recognizing the voice. “Permission granted.”
    The Nevada ’s blue crew commander, Nathan Irish, descended the ladder. “Good to have you back, Mark.”
    â€œThanks, Nathan. It was a busy deployment. Brits, Aussies, Chinese, and Russians were all showing their colors in the Pacific. We were dodging everybody on this patrol.”
    Bishop’s XO entered the center from deeper in the sub. Bishop turned to hear Kingman’s update.
    â€œCaptain, weapons, operations, and admin have completed their hand-over. Engineering is in the process of taking the final reactor readings. Lieutenant Commander Mann and I are ready to do the walk-through and send gold crew topside.”
    â€œGranted.” Bishop held out his hand. “Take yourself topside when you’re done and find your wife. I’ll see you at the pinning. Excellent patrol, XO.” There was a wealth of pride in those final words, and the handshake reflected it.
    â€œThank you, sir.”
    Bishop glanced at Irish. “Come down to the stateroom, Nathan. I’ve got the update on the missiles for you.”
    Men cleared ladders and moved to the side in the passageways to let them through as Mark Bishop and Nathan Irish headed down to the captain’s stateroom.
    Bishop closed the door behind them. He motioned Nathan to take the desk chair. He spun the lock on the personal wall safe—there were three safes in the room—and pulled out his classified notes to give to Nathan. “Missile updates.”
    While Nathan read, Bishop tugged up the bunk to get access to the storage below and confirm he had left behind no personal gear. He verbally gave Nathan the highlights of the report. “Tridents 9 and 11 need recertified, 21 has to be replaced because it has aged out, and there’s still a problem with tube 4. We cooked through an extra two canisters of nitrogen holding the pressure constant. They want to pull out the Trident, blast the missile tube with a shot of their special ‘creamy red’ to check the seals, then repressurize it empty. I’m thinking there is a hairline crack in the first locking seal. Tube 4 took that dropped ladder four patrols ago, which put a dent in the base casing, and I think this will flow back to that event.”
    â€œWe’re going to be at the Explosives Handling Wharf for days,” Nathan guessed. “Any problems with the repairs on the dome?”
    â€œNone, but I put on the schedule new photos of the hull toconfirm the patch took the pressure without forming a cavity. We were never below 1,500 feet, so it wasn’t severely stressed.”
    Bishop stretched himself out on the bunk and reached to carefully peel back the tape and take down his pictures and note card. “I moved the second deck power relay module up in priority on the TRIPER list, but odds are good there’s not going to be time to deal with it on this refit. It’s bound to fail at the most inopportune time. Once it goes, anything you need to divert forward of the missile bay has to be done manually. It’s got to be in the master board—everything else has been swapped or tested out.”
    â€œThat one’s a headache rather than a crisis.”
    â€œMedical still needs new refrigeration. They’ve promised it will make this refit, but you’ll want to stay on top of that one. The cooks hate sharing their refrigeration with the blood supply.”
    â€œNoted.”
    â€œThose are the big items; the paper runs five pages for the small ones.” Bishop glanced over. “How’s blue crew?”
    â€œShort by two. I lost my Jack of the Dust provision master to the USS Maine and my best radioman broke his leg last week. I’m backfilling with guys from the USS Kentucky . Blue crew is dreading the 18-hour days of refit more than they are the time away on patrol.”
    â€œI hear you.” Bishop got up from the bunk, pulled out his