Seawolf Mask of Command (27 page)

Graves motioned toward one of his men huddled behind the rubber wall of the boat holding a powerful searchlight. “Let’s go, Perkins! Flame on already!” Graves ordered.

Seconds later, the powerful searchlight illuminated the water ahead of them, and they spotted a fluorescent strip on the arm of a bright orange foul-weather parka.

“There!” Graves ordered the coxswain, pointing toward where Kristen and Hodges were now illuminated by the searchlight. They came up alongside, slowing the boat down as they did. Graves and one of his men leaned over the side to grab the two motionless bodies.

“Sweet Jesus,” Graves gasped when he saw Kristen. Her hair was frozen to her head and face. Her lips were blue, and her skin ashen. They had to pry Hodges out of her grip, however, before they could drag them both on board. Hodges was conscious and coughing up water. His drysuit had protected him from the worst of it, but Kristen looked to be gone.

“Go, go, go!” Graves barked at the coxswain. He checked her pulse, but could detect none.

The powerful outboard sprang back to life. “The
Seawolf
or the cutter?!” the coxswain shouted.

Graves knew it would be easier to get a medivac chopper to the cutter. But the
Seawolf
had a state of the art sickbay, and Doc Reed, their Independent Duty Corpsman, was almost a real doctor. And Kristen looked to need a doctor now, not twenty minutes from now when a helicopter could reach them.

“The
Seawolf!”
Graves ordered, seeing Kristen’s eyes flutter slightly.

Once alongside the
Seawolf
, men helped drag her limp form onto a stretcher and strapped her down as Doc Reed, now on deck, began treating her. As soon as she was strapped down, the litter was tilted and lowered feet first through the forward hatch. Graves stayed on deck just long enough to see both casualties sent below before following them down.

Two minutes later, Graves stepped into the tiny sickbay where Petty Officer 1st Class Brian “Doc” Reed, was cutting away Kristen’s clothing. Now, in the light, she looked worse than she had in the water. Her skin was a deathly grey. “Talk to me, Doc,” he ordered. “What do you need to fix her?!”

COB arrived a second later. “How is she?” he asked as he came through the hatch. “The skipper has a medivac chopper about five minutes out, and he wants to know right now if we need to send her off.”

Graves was still waiting for an answer from Reed who unceremoniously cut her clothing away as two assistants broke open hot compresses and started packing them around her body. “Doc?!” Graves asked again, more insistently this time.

“I don’t know yet,” Reed answered.

“The Blade ain’t gonna wanna hear that shit,” COB informed them as Gibbs appeared at the door carrying an arm full of blankets.

“Doc, I just pulled these out of the microwave, will they help?” Gibbs asked as he stepped in.

Reed glanced at Gibbs. “Yes,” he replied and motioned for one of his assistants to take the warm blankets.

“Doc, what do you need?” Graves asked again, afraid she was already too far gone.

Reed looked back at Gibbs. “I need you!” he snapped. “Strip down to your skivvies.”

“What?” Gibbs asked, uncertain he’d heard right.

“You heard me!” Reed snapped at Gibbs again. “I need to stabilize her body temperature before it falls any lower. Now strip down and get your ass under those blankets with her,” Reed insisted as he prepared a temperature probe.

“XO, this is Brodie,”
Graves heard over his radio.
“Status of casualties, over.”

Graves keyed the radio. “Standby, Skipper. Doc Reed is checking them out now, over.”

“Standby my ass,”
came the unexpected profane reply.
“Status! Now!”

“Doc?” Graves asked Reed who’d clearly heard the captain’s order. “The skipper has a medivac bird in bound. But with the wind now up at forty-five knots over the deck, we don’t want to try a medivac if you don’t think it’s necessary. But I have to know.”

“Sir,” Reed slipped his hands under the blanket to check her core temperature, “you’ll know as soon as I do.”

Graves keyed the radio, knowing Brodie wasn’t going to like that answer.

“All the way?” Gibbs asked as he kicked off his trousers.

“No,” the heavy-set medical corpsman answered as he looked at the electronic thermometer beside the litter. “Just down to your boxers.” The Corpsman then shook his head. “Shit,” Reed whispered as the temperature continued to drop. “She’s in stage three.”

“What the fuck does that mean, Doc?” COB demanded as Gibbs climbed onto the table and slipped under the blankets.

“Eighty-six degrees,” Reed said and then added, “She’s bad, real bad.” He then ordered an aide to grab an IV bag from a warmer.

“All right, I’m bringing in the medivac,” Graves decided and reached for his microphone.

“She won’t make it to a hospital,” Reed replied as he prepared an IV needle. “If we don’t get her temperature up in the next few minutes, she’ll experience catastrophic organ damage.”

“Jesus, Doc!” COB said angrily in reply. “What can we do?”

“No,” came a weak voice in the middle of the chaos.

“What?” Graves asked incredulously as he saw her eyes flutter open.

“She’s awake?” Reed asked in disbelief as he leaned over her.

The small sickbay was crowded with people, but Graves managed to move closer, wanting to see her as Reed resumed trying to find a vein to insert the needle. Kristen’s eyes were open and moving around the room as she tried to talk. “Lieutenant, just rest,” Graves told her. “We’ve got you back on board and you’re gonna be all right.”

But she continued struggling to form words.

“Why can’t she talk, Doc?” COB asked.

“Once in stage three, everything starts shutting down. She loses control of all coordinated body functions,” he explained as she continued to try to speak.

“Hod.. Hod….dges,” she managed. “Hodges … the water.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

Graves glanced at Hodges who was sitting up in a chair against a wall, surrounded in blankets and looking fairly pathetic. “He’s okay. He’s right here, and he’s gonna be fine,” Graves assured her.

“How the hell did she fall in anyway?” COB asked angrily, looking mad enough to spit nails.

“She didn’t,” came a voice from the doorway.

Graves turned and saw Gameroz, soaked to the skin, and standing silhouetted in the doorway. He noticed the passageway was filled with the rest of the flying squad.

“What happened?” COB asked.

Gameroz pointed toward Hodges who was still a little groggy. “He lost his footing and went down on a patch of ice. He slammed his head pretty hard and went in. She jumped in after him.”

COB glanced at Hodges. For a moment, Graves thought COB might take a swing at him. “COB?” Graves warned, not needing another casualty.

“XO, this is Brodie. The medivac chopper is on station, but the conditions up here are getting worse. What’s your status?”
Everyone heard the radio transmission.

Graves looked at Kristen. Her eyes had closed again, her skin was still ashen and a little swollen. None of which gave Graves reason for optimism. “Doc?”

“No,” Reed replied. “She can’t go until we get her temperature stabilized otherwise she’ll never make it.”

“No,” Kristen’s eyes fluttered open again. “No,” she repeated.

Graves radioed Reed’s report to Brodie.

“Please, no,” she whispered, and Graves saw her eyes trying to focus on him.

“Just rest, Lieutenant,” he advised.

“Don’t…” she struggled with her words, mumbling incoherently. “Don’t…”

Graves felt totally helpless as Reed and his aides worked to bring her temperature back up.

“What’s she trying to say?” COB asked.

“I’m not sure,” Graves replied. He leaned down closer to her. His hand touched her forehead, and he was shocked at how cold her skin was. He cocked an ear toward her lips.

“Don’t put me off the boat,” she whispered.

Sickbay, USS Seawolf

K
risten opened her eyes and heard people talking. At first she wasn’t certain where she was but soon recognized the
Seawolf’s
sickbay. She then heard Brodie’s familiar voice. “I don’t care about that right now, Doc. It isn’t too late to get a medivac chopper out to us,” she heard him say softly to Doc Reed.

“Captain?” Kristen called out, wondering why it was so hard to talk. She tried to move, but her entire body felt overly fatigued, and the slightest movement was painful. But before she’d managed to move, she saw his face appear before her, looking quite concerned.

“Glad to have you back with the living, Lieutenant,” he offered with a strained smile. His usual stern countenance was gone.

“I’m okay, Captain,” she assured him, trying to sound as convincing as she could. The thought he might send her ashore was almost too terrible to consider.

“You just rest, Lieutenant,” he ordered softly as Reed stepped up beside him.

“Hodges?” she asked. “Did you find Hodges?”

Brodie nodded his head. “Hodges is just fine. We got him out when we got you. Now just lay back and rest. That’s an order.”

Kristen reached up as she tried to sit up, but it was like trying to lift a mountain. Brodie reached down and gently took her hand. As he did, he shot Reed a sharp look. “Her hands are like ice, Doc!” he snapped.

“Her core temperature is still not quite high enough, but it’s coming back up steadily, Skipper. She should be okay,” Reed assured Brodie. “It just takes a while for the blood flow in the extremities to return to normal.”

Brodie nodded his head, accepting Reed’s diagnosis. He looked back at her and carefully put her hand back under the blanket. “I don’t seem able to keep you dry, Lieutenant,” he teased her gently.

“I guess I’m just hard headed, sir,” she replied, trying to sound stronger than she felt.

He gave her a final smile. “Just rest now. Let us carry the load for a few days until you get back on your feet.” With that, the stern mask of command returned and his smile faded. He turned his attention back to Reed. “Keep me posted,” he ordered softly. “I want to know the second her condition shows any sign of getting worse.”

Kristen tried to sit up again, but the effort was catastrophic. She got light headed instantly and a wave of nausea struck. Her head collapsed back on her pillow. Brodie again tucked her back in. “That’s what you get for disobeying an order, Lieutenant,” he chided gently. “Now, stay put.” He then spoke to Doc. “If she tries to get up again, I want you to strap her down, Doc.”

“Aye, sir,” Reed replied easily.

Kristen woke up hours later feeling somewhat better. She opened her eyes and saw, seated on a stool, Gibbs playing cards with Reed. The lights were down low, and they were whispering. She took a moment to take stock of how she felt. She was sore all over and felt very weak, but more importantly at that moment, she realized she needed to go to the bathroom. She tried to ignore the discomfort, but as she looked up and saw an IV bag steadily dripping fluids into her arm, the pressure on her bladder grew exponentially.

“Uh… guys?” she whispered softly.

Immediately, both men set their cards down and stepped over to her bunk.

“Hi, Miss Whitaker!” Gibbs said with an exuberant smile, his eyes wide and clearly relieved she was awake. “I brought you some hot tea. Doc says it’s just the thing to help get you back on your feet.”

“Thank you, Mister Gibbs,” she answered. “But before I take any more liquids on board, I better make a visit to the ladies’ room.”

After some argument, Gibbs left and returned a few minutes later with a bathrobe. The two men helped her out of the bed and wrapped her snugly in the thick robe. Kristen tried to walk, but her legs wouldn’t work right, so they had to help her out of sickbay and to the officers’ head.

“Where did you get this robe from?” Reed asked Gibbs. The robe could have wrapped around her slender frame twice.

“Chief Miller let me borrow it,” Gibbs replied, referring to the
Seawolf’s
portly Sonar Chief.

“Sorry about this, guys,” she apologized for her wobbly legs.

As they moved through the passageways, they came across a handful of seamen who, as soon as they saw her, flattened themselves against the wall to make room for them to pass. Without fail, she was greeted by these men with polite nods and a few choice words of encouragement. They reached the officers’ head without incident.

Once there, Reed opened the door to let her in. He stuck his head in and immediately jerked it back out. “Holy mother of God!” he gasped as he screwed up his face in disgust. “Somebody died in there!”

“What?” Gibbs asked.

Kristen glanced in and saw vomit all over the single commode. “Ick,” she whispered.

She then heard Brodie’s deep voice behind them, “Doc Reed, are you trying to piss me off?” The three of them turned and saw a rather agitated looking submarine captain walking toward them with Graves right behind him. “What’s she doing out of bed?” Brodie demanded in a harsh whisper.

“It’s my fault, sir,” Kristen interjected, defending Gibbs and Reed. “I figure they pumped enough fluid into me to sink an ocean liner, and… well…” she motioned toward the head, trying to stand up on her own two legs.