Читаем Barracuda: Final Bearing полностью

“Show me her picture.” Rickover looked at Becky’s photo. He showed no enthusiasm. “Well, you call your little girlie friend — I’m sorry, your fiance — and tell her you’re going to put off your wedding until after you pass all the way through my program.” Kane looked at Rickover. The training pipeline was over a year long, and Becky and he had made their plans. “Here’s the phone. Go ahead. Call her. Tell her you’re putting off the wedding to make sure you won’t be distracted in my program.”

“Yes sir.” Kane dialed. Becky’s voice came on. “I’m putting you on the speaker phone,” Rickover said. He punched a button and Becky’s silky voice came over the speaker. “David?

What’s going on?”

“Honey? I’m here with Admiral Rickover right now, and you’re on the speaker phone.” Kane waited, Rickover glared. “Becky?”

“Yes?”

“How are the wedding plans going?”

“Great, David. You know that.

Why?” Rickover hit the mute button, and whispered, “Go ahead, tell her.”

He punched the button again. The connection was back. Kane could hear Becky breathing. “Oh, nothing, sweetheart,” Kane had said. “Listen, Becky, I was just calling you up to tell you that I’m going Navy air. I decided to be a pilot after all. Nuclear subs are for the birds. That’s all, honey. Bye.” Kane hung up the phone and stood up, assuming the interview was over. The decision had not been that difficult. A choice between Becky and his career was not a choice. He’d take Becky any day.

He’d swab the decks of an aircraft carrier’s heads if it meant marrying Becky. Rickover could shove it. He walked to the door. Admiral Rickover didn’t say a word until Kane had put his hand on the knob. “Oh, Midshipman Kane?”

“Yes, Admiral?”

“You’re hired. I expect you’ll prove yourself to be one of the best nuclear officers who’s ever been in the program. Good luck to you, sir.” Rickover’s tone was almost fatherly.

Kane was stunned. He just stood there, looking at Rickover as if he’d been frozen to the spot. Suddenly Rickover looked up from his work, surprised to see Kane still standing there. “Get out! Get the fuck out of here!” Kane opened the door and ran all the way to the debriefing room. Kane had gone on to be the youngest submarine captain in Squadron Seven in Norfolk, commanding the Phoenix, which had been torpedoed in the Labrador Sea during Operation Early Retirement in the Muslim War.

With the help of an unmatched crew, Kane had managed to get Phoenix back with most of the men still alive. For his acts during the war he had been awarded the Navy Cross and offered the new ship Barracuda, the second Seawolfclass ship to roll out of the building yards at Electric Boat. After nursing Phoenix back to where she could be towed out of the northern waters, Kane was ready to quit the Navy. The admiral who had offered him command of Barracuda had looked stunned when Kane had said! “I don’t think so. Admiral. It’s over. I’m done going to sea.” But the sea was not yet done with him. Maybe it had been Phoenix’s outstanding luck. Or maybe it was Admiral Rickover’s blessing. I expect you’ll prove yourself to be one of the best nuclear officers who’s ever been in the program. Or perhaps it was Admiral Steinman’s request that he take command of Barracuda. But for whatever reason, Kane missed the sea, missed submarine duty, and found his life had less weight, less meaning without a ship under his feet. In spite of the separation from Becky, the element of risk, there was just something about it he couldn’t live without. He couldn’t stand the idea that he’d never again hug a periscope module as the ship swam out of the deep and approached the silvery bottom sides of the waves, the view out the scope foaming and clearing, the horizon coming into focus after hours of living in darkness. He even missed the smell, the lack of sleep, the dirty sheets.

It was crazy, but finally even Becky couldn’t stand it any more, insisting that Kane’s mooning over the lack of a submarine command was driving her crazy. She had given him a phone and said, “Call Admiral Steinman, right now, and tell him you’re taking command of that submarine, or else you’re out of my program. You got that, mister?”

Steinman had laughed so hard he could barely breathe. When he recovered, he told Kane it had only been a matter of time, that he had kept the commanding officer slot open for him. Kane had hung up, feeling the tiny bites of wetness at the corners of his eyes. Becky had jumped right on it. “David! You’re crying!”

“I am not,” he’d insisted. “There’s dirt in my eyes.”

“Yeah, just like there was dirt in your eyes when Vicky was born. Come here and give me a hug. Captain Kane. What’s the name of the ship?”

“The Barracuda. Nice name, huh?”

“Only the best for you,” she had said, holding him. Kane stood now in front of the gathered men in the wardroom, his crew, aboard his submarine. They were the best crew at sea, even better than he had had aboard the Phoenix. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said, his favorite opening for a briefing.