Join The Navy Ch 8

Our fifth day on base started out much like the rest.  We were directed to the classroom - I mean the briefing room - after breakfast.  Commander Orwell and Seargeant Ravelle were not present, however.
Crossing the chalkboard was a more stout individual, but one whom was balder, older, and perhaps higher ranking.  Fleet Commander Jefferson.  He was also an African American, and a lot more badass.
"Good morning.  FLC Claxion, FPC Starsetter, how do you do."
We both gave a nod.
"Commander Orwell has given you exemplory marks for your completed training.  He mentioned a great confidence in your upcoming mission."
"We appreciate it," I replied.
"This evening, you will don your dress uniforms and ride with me to the dock.  There, you will board the SSN-783, the USS Minnesota, which is currently completing its preperations for a sixty day mission.  Your mission, however, will last less than 72 hours."
"We're going to go aboard!  Wow!" Shelly was almost giddy.
"That's right, Starsetter."  Jefferson gave a confident smile.  "There are quarters aboard the SSN-783 for the captain, the mate, and two subordinate officers.  Due to limited space, the mate and the operations officer will be sharing a bunk to free up the two subordinate quarters, which are where the both of you will be bunking for the duration of your mission."
"Beats sleeping with the rest of the crew... but sir, we can share quarters if need be," I said.
"Submarine regulations are quite strict, and when women submariners are assigned they keep the men and the women on far sides of the boat.  Thus, you both are not permitted to share quarters, even under these specialized circumstances," Jefferson explained.  "Typically it is only men on board, and hopefully rumors among the crew will be kept to a minimum due to the sensitive nature of the mission parameters."
"Because of what I am, sir?" Shelly asked.
"Legends of the sea have not changed since the earliest days of the navy, Starsetter.  I'm sure I don't need to indulge you in such legends."
"No, sir, thank you," Shelly replied.
Jefferson slid a sealed manila folder in front of each of us.  They were stamped with a red CLASSIFIED INFORMATION mark and sealed with a navy ensignia.  "Before you are classified documents that should not be discussed outside of the sub and this room."
Oops.
"Open them."  
I broke the seal of the folder and opened it up to a book of schematics.  But these weren't to the USS Minnesota - these were for a much smaller submarine.  An electric sub that had a bank of lithium ion batteries for power as well as a quiet-running dynamo system.  Designed for a crew of five, this submarine was equipped for deep-sea surveillance and ecological espianoge.  In short, undersea exploration and absolutely no weapons that I could see.  The submarine looked more like a starship than a standard submarine, and was apparently crafted of high-end materials and top-grade substances.  
The name of the sub was the NVC-700X.  The Cerequinn.
"Take a close look at these documents, for you will not be allowed to bring them with you on your mission."  Jefferson closed the curtains and turned off the lights before turning on a projector and lowering a screen, working as he spoke.  “The Cerequinn was lost to the sea approximately four weeks ago, but we know it to be intact and resting on the bottom of the ocean at latitude 2°25'11.03"N and longitude 157°39'26.10"W, which is located in the coastal waters north of Kiritimati, also known as Christmas Island, located several hundred kilometers southeast of Hawaii and Pearl Harbor.”  
Christmas Island... not exactly a popular tourist island, or at least I hadn’t heard of a trip there given away on any game show.  Maybe its one of those hidden gems only rich people talk about?  I’d have to google it later.
Once the projector was up, Jefferson brought up a slide of the island as seen from satellite. “Christmas Island, as it is popularly known, is governed by Kiribati, a micronesian country occupying 33 islands.”  He switched the slide to one showing the latitude and longitude of the Cerequinn.  “The submarine is believed to be intact and resting roughly 569 feet below sea level near a ridge.  When the crew of six abandoned ship one month ago, the ship had lost power and was losing life support systems and propulsion.  To our knowledge, the ship is intact but unpowered.”
Shelly gave me a look of curiousity as the field commander continued to give his report.
He switched to another slide, showing a photograph that was stamped ‘CLASSIFIED’ in large letters.  The stock of batteries were in a closet of sorts, perhaps on the submarine which had cerulean blue walls.  The batteries themselves resembled car batteries, but looked different, using metal and acrylic components rather than simply plastic.  “These are the batteries that operate the sub, of a design that I would rather not tell you about.  They are similar to car batteries, but of a much denser core and capable of nearly a megawatt of energy.”
“And you cannot tell us what the batteries are made from?” I asked.
“Correct, and you will not need to know that information.”  Jefferson used a laser pointer to dance the red dot across the batteries.  “There are 20 core cells in this chamber, normally designed to provide power for the submarine’s primary systems for up to 20 months.  However, during a training run, a flaw in the power system caused an extended short that effectively drained the cells far faster than anticipated, leaving the crew without power and forced to launch the recovery pack.”
“Recovery pack?” I asked.
“A kit that is designed to float to the surface and contain an inflatable boat with a motor and a survival kit, including rations, a radio, four flares, fuel and a limited medical kit for treating the bends and minor injuries.”  Jeffeson turned off the laser pointer and moved to a slide of the submarine, which looked less like a nuclear tube than a spaceship with a fin on top - in fact, it resembled the Bongo from Episode 1.  “The crew then left the submarine through its dry well, sealed the submarine, slowly rose to the surface over the course of almost thirty minutes, and then recovered the survival kit, which had been connected to the submarine via a long cable, before the cable was reeled in and the location of the GPS tracker recorded.”
“They towed in six hundred feet of cable?” I asked.
“No, actually they towed in two hundred feet of cable,” Jefferson replied.  “The pack contains enough air within its tanks to make the survival kit perfectly bouyant, so that the crew could grab onto the underside and slowly ride it to the surface, but only if they breathed correctly to avoid the bends.”
“The bends... decompression sickness... that’s something we never even thought about growing up,” Shelly said.  “Guess when you don’t have air in your lungs, it doesn’t come to mind.”
Jefferson turned to me.  “I have a small test for you, Claxion.”
I nodded.
He brought out a piece of equipment from a metal case that looked like an 8mm movie projector.  Placing it on the counter and unlatching the clasps, he removed the lid to reveal a small battery that was wired to a standard 100 watt light bulb.  The battery might’ve been a standard 12 volt cube battery, which normally would have enough power to run the bulb at a dim level.
From another box, Jefferson removed three pairs of eye goggles, as well as three Tyvek jackets.  “Put these on.”
“What for?” Shelly asked.
“In the event that the battery explodes.”  Jefferson was anything but humorus.
I quickly put the jacket on and patted the velcro ‘zipper’ closed.  The goggles barely fit over my glasses.
“Claxion, did you bring your magical pearl as requested?”
I nodded.
He turned off the projector and ensured that we were completely in the dark, though a trace amount of light did enter the room through the curtains as our eyes adjusted.  
“Your task is to slowly power up that light bulb until it reaches standard illumination.  Then I want you to exceed the voltage and overload the light, but not destroy the battery.”
“You want him to what?” Shelly asked.
“Shed a little light on the subject.”  No problem.  
Shelly stood against the far wall and hid behind a desk as Jefferson moved along the wall across the room from the device.  
Focusing my energy, I held my hands around the battery and ignited the electricity, charging the 12 volt and turning on the bulb, which quickly turned on.  I slowly increased the charge, adding more energy, as Jefferson monitered a small amp meter that was built into the circuit.
“Good.  Keep going.”
I gritted my teeth and continued to amp up the charge, and the light put out more light.  I could smell something burning, and the next thing I knew, I jumped as the bulb shattered and left a black cloud of smoke in its wake, with a lot of shattered glass that fortunately didn’t embed into my fingers.
“Whoa!”
Jefferson came over and flipped a switch on the wooden platform, closing the circut which bypassed the light bulb.  The ampmeter moved again, showing a charge of 1.5 amps at 12 volts.  The standard charge of the battery.
“You have charged the battery to full capacity... impressive.  It was declared dead and recyclable only a few moments ago.  That lightbulb should’ve been lit when I opened it from the case.”
I shrugged.  “Guess I’ve got the power.”
“That’s what we need you to do.  We have a induction circuit that we will be providing you for your mission.  Your job is to hook it into the submarine’s electrical system and then do just what you did now, which will infuse power into the system and bring the vehicle online.  We will also provide you with a maintiner circuit, which will allow the batteries to charge while embarking back to Hawaii.  As you maintain the power levels, you will then steer the submarine - which handles much like an automobile but with rudders for both manuvering up and down."
"Really!  Wow!" Shelly was almost livid.
"Well, to a point.  You will enter an autopilot mode and steer the submarine towards Hawaii and near the opening to Pearl Harbor, south of the airport, where you will leave the sub parked upon a landing platform underwater that we built specifically for the submarine.  Then, late at night, you will radio the naval station and leave the sub where it is, surface, and be escorted to Honolulu airport, where you will be provided with first class tickets home to Minneapolis.  Upon completion of this mission, you will find compensance in your bank account.”
"Amounting to?" I asked.
"Never mind, dear."  Shelly leaned forward.  "We get to drive the submarine?"
"As I stated a moment ago, you will be provided with an autopilot subroutine, which will override the computer controls and pilot the submarine and steer the vessel to the landing site once it has been steered into open waters," Jefferson explained.  "The mission is expected to last ten hours, so you will also be provided with MREs and an ample supply of water."
Seemed straightforward enough, aside from having to be a walking battery.  
"Any other questions?"
"So we ride the Minnesota to the dive site near Christmas Island, dive into the ocean and transfer to the Cerequinn, park it near Pearl Harbor and fly home?" I asked.
Jefferson nodded.  "That's all."
"No chance of staying in Hawaii for a day?"
Jefferson shook his head.  "I'm afraid not.  The FBI has budgeted this mission for only two weeks, limiting the overrun time.  Plus, it is agreed that you will be scheduled to depart at the next available flight to Minneapolis."
"Augh," Shelly moaned.
"Eh, being here for a few days is enough," I replied.
"It'll have to be," Shelly muttered.
"The Cerequinn is a fairly top secret project that the navy has been deveoping for better understanding of the world's oceans, and has employed a number of new undersea technologies that will, we hope, someday be used for further exploration of our own world and the universe abroad."  Jefferson shut off any other equipment, covered the electrical test device, and then opened the curtains. "Other Poseidon class submarines are scheduled for construction, but only once the Cerequinn is properly tested.”
“Am I allowed to ask how many submarines like this have been built?” Shelly asked.
“Actually, there are ten known submarines of this style built, though none have had the range that the Cerequinn has.  Of the various prototypes that have been sucessfully operated, the Cerequinn is the sixth design.”
“Am I allowed to ask what their plans are?” I asked.
“No.  You are not authorized to know that information.”
I nodded.  “I see.”
“How about me?  Am I allowed to ask that?”
“Curiously, yes.”  Jefferson gave me a weird look.
“She’ll just tell me later.”
“Undersea exploration of sensitive areas and underwater reefs, mountain ranges, trenches and fissures.”
“You’re building them to look for mermaids and mermen, aren’t you?” Shelly asked.
Jefferson hesitated.
“Well?” Shelly asked.
“Our motives have been purely scientific and due to mankind’s interest in discovering what our ancestors...”
“That’s not important to your motives, is it, Commander?”
“That’s FIELD COMMANDER...”
“No, we’re not doing this!”  Shelly rose to her feet and got into the commander‘s face, even though he towered over her, she wasn‘t the least bit intimidated.  “You want to find my people, to enslave them, to do your underwater work for you, is that it?  You want to rule the surface and the underwater world... well I got news for you... we OWN the underwater world!  We don’t get the skies, we don’t get the land... and-”
“Shelly!  Dammit, settle down.”  I tried to hold her back.
“I give you my full assurance that that is not the case.  I have a notorized document -”
“I don’t want another document!”  Shelly was red in the face and practically pushing him against the wall.  “I want to hear it from the person in charge that the United States Navy is not actively searching for merfolk in the world’s oceans.”  She crossed her arms and stood defiantly.  “And you will not get my help, nor Greg’s, unless I hear otherwise.”
Jefferson adjusted the hem of his uniform, quite frazzled.  “I will have to make a phone call.”
“We will wait right here.”  Shelly pulled over a chair and sat.  “And if I’m not convinced of your intentions, you had better get a pair of plane tickets ready with your next phone call.”
Jefferson might’ve angrily cleared his throat, but hastily left the room.
Shelly was shaking.  I wanted to hold her, but I didn’t know how. So, instead, I sat next to her and stroked my fingers through her hair.
“God you’re sexy when you’re angry.”
“Dammit Greg, why didn’t you step up just then?"  She was red in the face and closest to hitting me as she had ever been.  "You’re as bad as they are if you’re not on my side!”
“I am on your side, and will always be on your side.  I’ll be on your side when mankind itself is not on your side, fishkins.”  Like it need be said.  “I’d be on your side even if I didn’t know you, and the worlds’s coastlines were dominated by the merfolk of the world and there was open warefare on the seas.”
This managed to calm her down.  “Tell me that you don’t think that’s why they built these submarines.”
“Actually, Fishkins, I can’t tell you that.”  I rose and walked towards the window.  “Because while the first submarines may have been built to attack without detection, I suspect the second submarines were built to explore the depths of the oceans.”  I sat on the windowsill.  “We’re a curious race, Shelly.  Surely merfolk are also curious.  Every new place we go, I can see you are as excited as I am about exploring a new town, or going to a new restaurant, or meeting new people.”
“You are with me, aren’t you?”
I nodded.  “We want to explore the oceans because we’re looking for neighbors.  We’re looking for someone to exchange stories of the cosmos with, even if we’re only talking about our own planet.  We’re looking for someone to exchange a cup of flour with.  We’re curious, we want to meet people, and we want to make friends.”
“It’s not always the case with new people, Greg.  I’ve seen Star Trek and Star Wars both.”
“Those are films, but yes, you’re right.  It’s not always friendly.  But we’re curious just the same.”
Jefferson came back into the room and handed Shelly an open cellphone.  “There is someone on the phone who would like to speak with you.”
Shelly took the phone and listened for a few moments.   She went to the far corner of the room to speak, though I couldn’t hear everything she said.
“We have colonies throughout the world, yes, but I can assure you none of them are hostile towards surface folks.  We have strict laws that forbid contact, and all are sworn to uphold them at our earliest years.  We know where our homes are, and we know how to hide them from those who are not welcome.  Uh huh... yes.  Will those submarines be used for that?  You’re sure.”   Another few moments of silence.  Shelly made a few ‘mm hum’ noises between gaps.  “Very well, then, I believe as an ambassador of my people, I consider your mission acceptable and will consider your statements.  Thank you.  Mmm humm.”
Shelly then handed the phone to Jefferson.  “I think we understand each other.”
“Good then.  Consider the briefing finished.  You may leave now.”
Shelly took me by the arm and dragged me into the hall and out the door.  I might've wanted to ask who it was she had spoke to, but I couldn't get a word in edgewise.  Guess that meant the conversation was over.

I might’ve tried to get comfortable that afternoon, though I couldn’t get away from Shelly’s statements.  She apparently contacted Cauldwell and gave them what for, as well as venting to Dr. Chase and even the folks at the Secret Service and Secrelia, ensuring that all the groups we have ever worked with knew what the navy was up to.  
Though there was a chance that merfolk and the navy might one day be working together in controlled situations and limited contact, for right now, it was very clear that the tension between our races, the US Navy and the undersea community, was tepid at best.
Perhaps it didn’t need to be discussed right then.
Shelly didn’t stay far from me that afternoon, even though I had fallen asleep across her protests.
About three in the afternoon, my bedroom phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, this is Barack Obama.  Is this Greg or Shelly Claxion?”
“Right.”
“No, seriously, I’m the president of the United States.  I am calling from Air Force One right now.”
“What’s the in-flight movie?” I asked.
“CNN," the man said with a laugh.  "There’s usually too much work going on for an in-flight movie, though I hope to catch the NFL playoffs later to see how the Packers do.  You’re a fan, aren’t you, Mr. Claxion?”
“No sir.  I’m from Minnesota, I bleed purple.  That, and I don‘t think the Pack will make it past the first round.”
“You might be right.  May I speak with Shelly please?”
“Sure.”  I hung the phone from my finger.  “Fishkins, it’s Barack somebody.”  I probably should’ve been starstruck just then, but I was too much in my ‘yeah right’ mood to give it anything more than a sarchastic vibe.
“Who?”  She answered the phone.  “Yes, Mr. President?”  She gave me a ‘are you kidding me’ glance as she listened.  “Thank you sir, I’m flattered.”
Oh please.
“Yes, Mr. President, I understand.  It pleases me to know how important ocean affairs are and that everything means so much to you.”  She listened for another few moments.  “Yes, I’d love that!  You’re very kind.  Thank you very much.”  With a bright smile on her face, she hung up the phone.  “Greg!  That was the president!  The freaking P.R.E.S....”
“Yeah, Shelly, and Captain Kirk will be calling us next.”  I know it’s the president.  “What did he say?”
“That underwater exploration was a top end priority but that the American government has an official policy that downplays any fantastic searches for anything that Disney might want to buy the rights to.”
“Disney, sure,” I muttered.
“He also believed that I was a more than capable diver and that he would send us a letter thanking us for our participation, as well as a special gift, for us personally.”
“So he said that you don’t need to worry about your people?”
"He didn't mention merfolk specifically, so if he does know about us, he didn't say so directly," Shelly said with a nod.  “Though I still want to add that letter to my envelope of notorized documents.”
“Or we might frame it,” I suggested.
“Perfect!”  She kissed me warmly.  “Great idea!”
I hoped that I was still asleep.  Maybe this would all ease up once we were on the boat and the submarine.
However, our afternoon was not over yet.  Just as I thought I'd nod off, the phone rang one more time.
Shelly answered it.  After a brief exchange, she gave me the report.
"Who was that?" I asked as she hung up.
"We are to be packed and in our dress uniforms by four o'clock.  There will be a gathering for dinner with the cast and crew before the ship departs at sunset."
"Oh."  I yawned.  "So who was it?"
"The captain of the Minnesota, Captain Brian C. Whitte."  Though Shelly gave me the correct name, I should mention that I might've gotten the man's name wrong.  I'm so lousy with names... oh well.  
"Oh."  I closed my eyes.  "When do we have to be ready?"
"Four o'clock.  I'm going to go next door and get cleaned up."  She gave me a kiss on the forehead before starting for the door.  "Oh, he said we'd be sharing a room after all."
"Oh... good."  It sounded like less trouble.
"You should go get cleaned up, dear."
She had a point.  I didn't want to mess up my first navy experience.  "What time is it, anyways?"
"Two thirty."
"Huh?" I practically fell out of the bed.  "Whoa!"
Shelly giggled before closing the door.