Undersea by Geoffrey Morrison Page A

Lying in my bed, it feels different. I can listen to it. I can hear it. I knew we were running. Everyone could hear the engines. But I could feel when we were turning. I could feel by how much. How many watch changes have you made? Two?”
    “With a third coming up.”
    “With all the commotion of the attacks, with no one person navigating or driving, I can see from your face that this is the first time anyone has looked at the course.
    “We were just running to put distance between us and them,” one of the Councilmembers said.
    “That’s where you’re wrong. We’re not running. We’re being herded,” Gattley said. The Captain nodded distractedly, already on to the next steps in his mind. “Jills, we’re not going to have the time we wanted. We need to mobilize now, with whatever we’ve got.”
    Jills, still fixated on the screen, agreed. Gattley looked up at the Captain, who made eye contact, and nodded definitively.
    “Chief of the Watch, sound General Quarters,” Sarras said. From behind him, Thom could hear alarms reverberating down the corridors of the ship. “Navigation, I want charts and maps for everything that’s ahead of us, no matter how small.”
    “Sir!” one of the crewmen acknowledged from a nearby terminal. The screen in the far corner of the table switched to a new map, and Sarras hunched over to study it. Gattley turned to Jills.
    “Janner, I’m going back to my cabin. The boy here...” he said, motioning over his shoulder at Thom. “...is going to help me. Then he’s going to come back here and be my eyes and ears.”
    “OK.” Jills replied, looking up from the table for the first time in several minutes. “Mrakas, we’re going to need you on this.”
    “That’s what scares me.” Gattley turned and motioned for Thom to exit ahead of him. The two walked side by side down the corridor for a bit. As the passageway curved out of sight of the Bunker, Gattley reached out and put his weight on Thom. “I’m sorry, Thom, you’re going to have to help me back to my cabin.”
    “Of course, sir.”
    “Don’t sir me,” Gattley said. His voice sounded raspy. Thom turned his head, and the older man seemed to have aged a decade since he entered the Bunker. Their pace slowed but they made their way down the corridor.
    “I have a feeling Ralla doesn’t know you’re out of bed.”
    “Let’s keep it that way, OK?”
    “You got it.”
    “My daughter told me how you two escaped the dome.”
    “I would have figured that was old news by now.”
    “No, I mean she told me personally, not as a report or something. She’s really fond of you, Thom. And having rescued her like you did, I am as well.”
    “Sir...”
    “Mrak.”
    “Mr. Gattley, we did what we did. There was no other way to do it or we wouldn’t be here. So I guess I just did what I had to do, and so did she.”
    “Maybe so, but you did it and I’m grateful. I’m putting in with the Council for you to get a battlefield commission and commendation for your actions.”
    “Mr. Gattley I don’t want...”
    “Thom,” Mrakas said, cutting him off. “I don’t really care what you want. Events are unfolding that will have no outcome but bad. There are things you don’t know yet. This is far bigger than you understand. I’m having you commissioned as a Lieutenant. For now that will give you access to information and let you get a fighter out in this inevitable war. I know it’s strange to want to put you in harm’s way, but I’ve heard how you handle a sub and we need people like you right now. Past that, I don’t know.”
    They had reached Gattley’s cabin. After toggling the door open with the wall switch, Mrakas shed himself of his human crutch and shuffled across the floor to his bed. He hunched over further and seemed to age another decade in the process. He waved Thom away.
    “For now, go back to the bridge and keep me informed for as long as you can,” the elder Gattley said as he reached overhead and