“So it’s good science if someone else finds it first, and you’re hurrying to catch up to what they are doing? But it’s bad science if you’re the first one to see it?”
She bit her lip. Bishop reached over and covered her hand with his. “Gina, the world can survive just fine with whatever you find. You’re smart, and that wasn’t a death sentence. It’s a tool God gave you to become who you were created to be.”
“So whatever the results are with this sea trial, it’s a good thing?”
Bishop smiled. “Yes. Absolutely.”
“Your view of the world is so amazingly simple.”
Bishop laughed. And she realized what she had said. She blinked. “I probably shouldn’t have implied a guy who commands a ballistic missile submarine has a simple world view.”
“I don’t know,” Bishop replied, still chuckling. “It was a first.”
She looked embarrassed, and he eased her away from it. “It’s hard on you being smart—I do understand that, Gina. I’ll never have to wrestle with the questions you do. But I’ve known you a few years. You carry too much worry, not enough curiosity and joy. Relax.”
Bishop searched to find the right words. “Please understand something. God didn’t create evil in the world, but He did create free will, which allowed for the possibility of evil. Science isn’t like that. What you explore and find, God did create. It already exists. When you find it, you are discovering something God made. And everything God created is good. God said so in Genesis. He looked around at everything He had made and said, ‘It is very good.’”
She stared down at her hands as his point registered with her.
“How men use science can be evil, I’m with you a hundred percent on that,” Bishop added. “People can misuse items God created. But that has everything to do with man’s free will and tendency to evil, not science. What God created is good. So do what you were created to do. Break new scientific ground. Help us understand the dynamics of what God created.
“You can’t protect the world from itself, Gina. You can only give good men the tools necessary to do their jobs. We need to know what is possible. Quit fighting a battle with yourself over who you are. You’re an explorer, and a very gifted one. I’m personally going to enjoy watching what you figure out over the next decade.” He leaned forward, shocked to see her blinking back tears. “Hey, there.”
She wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands. “I’ve heard the opposite of that so many times.” She sniffed and tried to smile. “I think I’m tired.”
“No, I think I somehow just stepped on your personal gremlin. I’m sorry, Gina. I come on way too strong at times.”
“Don’t be, please. An intentional conversation of substance is something I crave and hardly ever get. You just somehow managed to run right over what Kevin said, but in the opposite direction.”
“Well, in that case, ditto, and repeat everything I just said.”
She laughed shakily. “I’m going to go get a couple hours’ sleep before we find out the answer to the current sixty-four-thousand-dollar question—does a cross-sonar ping work or not?”
Bishop nodded. “Do that. And enjoy this discovery, whatever the outcome. It’s a good thing.”
“I’m coming to believe that.” She pushed away from the table. “Good night, Mark.”
“You know the way to the stateroom?”
“I do.”
“Then sleep well, Gina.”
He watched her head out. He got up and got himself another cup of coffee. Somewhere in that conversation had been several profound points, and he tried to put them into a coherent memory, knowing he wanted to bring Gina back to this topic again. She didn’t say much most of the time, and yet this level of analysis sat just below that silence. He’d give her one thing, she wasn’t boring. She might struggle with her words occasionally, may not have found her footing with a serious relationship, but it was not because there wasn’t substance there to unpack.
“Jesus, I know you understand her. I wish I did,” Mark prayed quietly as he found a spoon to stir sugar into his coffee. “Your insights would be welcome. I need them.”
She worried about finding out something new, because of what someone might one day do with the information, Bishop thought. It was his best answer to what was going on. She tied herself in mental knots. She wasn’t timid. She was simply afraid of how smart she was, what she might figure out. He knew that was the core problem.
He had no idea how to help ease that stress she felt. She was approaching 30 and was far ahead of current knowledge in her own fields of study. For the next 30 or 40 years, she would be stepping out onto new terrain. Either she was mentally ready for the pressure of that, or she was going to choke and pull back from who she was just to find some peace. And if she did so, the Navy and the country were going to lose a talent the world couldn’t replace. Gina, the genius. God had made her unique, one of a kind.
Bishop didn’t understand why she had crossed his path rather than someone else’s, someone better suited for this. But he wasn’t one to ignore what was in front of him. She needed a better footing for who she was and what she was doing with her life. He could at least relate and help her wrestle that one to an answer. He just wished she had more years of experience to help with her perspective.
She was too young. He knew that was a key part of the problem. Too young to figure this out on her own. Jeff could help her, but maybe he was simply too close, too much her only family, to give Gina the clear mirror she needed. Daniel would be able to help her if she let him, but Bishop thought Gina would use the new relationship more as a distraction from the science than as a way to help resolve the matters she wrestled with.
She wasn’t going to have an easy future until she got this settled in her own mind. Was science good and to be explored, or was it to be cautiously weighed for its good and evil potential before she pursued it? The truth was somewhere in the middle of that Gordian knot.
He had to live with the fact he could follow orders and by doing so kill upwards of a million people. Bishop rubbed the back of his neck and accepted that God probably had dropped her across the right person’s path. He had spent more days inside his own Gordian knot than he would care to admit. He’d found his peace. Gina would too, with enough time and help sorting out the questions.
8
Bishop stood at the back of the sonar room, monitoring events as the first of the sea trial tests got under way. Daniel Field was thumbing through the setup pages, pausing occasionally to consult with Gina beside him. Bishop was content to watch them work, knowing it would give Gina more confidence to be in the middle of things. He was responsible for the sea trial, but part of leadership was in knowing how to trust others to do their jobs, to monitor what was happening and step in only if necessary.
“Recorders are capturing all audio data?” Daniel asked.
“Affirmative,” Waller replied.
“The area is clear of other subs listening in on us?”
“All clear,” Kerns confirmed.
Daniel picked up the phone. “Control, sonar. We are ready to begin the sea trial, Captain.” He nodded, put down the phone, and turned the page in the trial plan. “Let’s get started. Gina, would you like to start cross-sonar? Link us with the Connecticut.”
She hesitated briefly, then leaned over to use his keyboard and typed the command to turn on cross-sonar. Bishop watched as the link came active and the screens filled in with the additional Connecticut sonar data.
“Cross-sonar is running. We’ve got a good link,” Daniel confirmed. “Running a cross-sonar search.” He sent the command. “Do we see the USS Ohio?”
“Yes, faintly,” Kerns replied. “He’s on bearing 260, moving directly away from us. Range is . . . 46 miles.”
“We wait for him to disappear outside the range of cross-sonar,” Daniel instructed.
Minutes passed with Daniel occasionally triggering a cross-sonar search.
“We’ve lost co
ntact with the USS Ohio,” Kerns finally announced. “I’ve got a quiet screen.”
“Set a clock for five minutes,” Daniel told Dugin, who reached to set a timer on his console.
Bishop gave Gina a smile when she glanced back at him. This was the norm of submarine operations, the waiting between events. But when he was in charge of the boat, there was always something going on to occupy the captain. This time it was simply waiting.
Daniel picked up his headphones, moved a cursor over a line of noise patterns on the waterfall screen before him, listened, then tapped his screen as he smiled. “There may not be any submarines or surface ships around to hear your idea tried out for the first time, Gina, but you do have an audience of dolphins. Going by the sounds, I’d say 40 or more of them are fishing as a group, circling a school of mackerel, then darting through the mass to grab and catch a fish to eat.” He handed her the headphones to listen for herself.
Her smile widened. “All these clicks—they’re using their echo sonar to confuse the fish?”
“Yes. A school of fish gets spooked, they tighten the cluster they’re in, which makes for better fishing for the dolphins.”
Daniel took the headphones when she handed them back and cued the audio into a side file for the marine biologist.
The timer chimed. “That’s five minutes, Daniel.”
Bishop straightened. It was now or never for Gina’s idea. Daniel looked back at him, then at Gina. “You should do the honors,” Daniel offered.
“I’m too nervous. You do it. Send a cross-sonar ping,” Gina replied, leaning forward in the chair, her hands gripped between her knees.
Daniel typed the command.
Bishop scanned the numerous displays, watching for a change.
“He’s lit up like a Christmas tree!” Dugin exclaimed, jazzed. The broadband console stack showed the Ohio in bold brightness across the waterfall display. Even the narrowband console stack had a good picture of it in the trace.
Gina closed her eyes and laughed. Daniel reached over and patted her back. She used both hands to rub at her face, then push back her hair. “It’s still a surprise when that happens, when an idea works outside of the lab.”
“This one works beautifully,” Daniel said with a grin.
“Send a cross-sonar ping every 15 minutes. Let’s see how far away the Ohio can get and we can still find him,” Bishop told Daniel. He was watching for any change in the Ohio’s course and wasn’t seeing one. The Ohio hadn’t heard the ping, wasn’t changing course.
“Every 15 minutes, aye, sir.”
Gina swung around to look at him. Bishop stepped forward to gently squeeze her shoulder, share a smile, and then stepped out to have a word with Commander Neece. The world had just shifted. Let her enjoy the moment. Life was going to get more interesting in the months ahead as the Navy adapted to this science, and as the rest of the world came to realize the U.S. was finding their subs with ease.
Bishop spoke briefly to Commander Neece, then moved to the radio room and sent a one-word message to Rear Admiral Hardman. When he returned to the sonar room, he hunkered down near Gina. “Everything looks good on the recordings being made?”
“I just checked the files. I’m getting the data I need,” she confirmed.
The timer chimed.
“The 15 minutes have expired. Sending another ping,” Daniel announced as he typed the command.
“Got the Ohio again, bright and clear,” Dugin said.
“Here as well,” Waller said, studying the narrowband console stack.
“You were right, Gina, to come West to explore this sonar idea,” Bishop said softly. “Don’t ever think otherwise.”
She solemnly nodded. “Thanks for that, Mark.”
They found the USS Ohio every 15 minutes for the next five hours. A celebratory mood built inside the sonar room.
“This is an incredible sonar application,” Daniel said, tapping the screen.
Gina simply nodded, her eyes watching the Ohio. “Geological ocean noise doesn’t seem to bother the echo template. It’s still able to find a lock. The big question waits for the shore debrief: does he hear us?”
Bishop rested his hand on her shoulder. “Before departure I told the Ohio’s captain if he heard a ping, to break from the trial plan and give me a 45-degree turn starboard, followed by a 45-degree turn to port. The sub has been running straight away from us since the trial began. He hasn’t heard us.”
Gina swung around to look up at him. “That’s a really useful bit of news.”
He smiled. “I didn’t put it in the trial plan as I knew that would be the only thing you would remember after reading the document. How’s the thermal look? Is it a steep enough temperature contrast for what you need?”
“It looks good. He’s randomly moving above and below that thermal line, and the ping is still finding him.”
The timer expired again. Daniel sent another cross-sonar ping.
Silence followed.
“Anything, Dugin?”
“No.”
“Try again,” Gina said to Daniel.
He sent another ping.
“Nothing on the broadband, Daniel,” Dugin said.
“Nothing on the narrowband either,” Waller added.
“We’ve just found the effective range of a cross-sonar ping,” Gina guessed. “What’s the range on the last successful ping?”
Dugin ran back the data file and made the calculations. “Range is 62 miles beyond what could be done before.”
Daniel laughed. “Gina, that’s like turning on the lights at the front door of a dark house and seeing the burglar in the basement. It’s fabulous. And it’s an active ping. Even if the sub was sitting on the ocean floor and silent, this would be coming back as an echo.”
Gina looked faintly embarrassed by the praise, but she smiled. “The Ohio will keep moving away until he’s been traveling for six hours, then turn and come back to us. Increase the pings to every 10 minutes. He’ll come back toward us on a different heading of his choosing. Let’s see if we pick him up again around that additional 60-mile mark.”
Dugin nodded and set the timer for 10 minutes.
Bishop stepped out to have cold drinks sent up from the galley, then settled in to listen as Gina and Daniel resumed their casual conversation about boating during the winter months. One of the things Bishop had noted over the last few hours was how good Gina was at asking questions without saying much about herself. It was interesting that even in a casual setting she was trying not to be the focus of attention.
Bishop offered her one of the peanut-butter bars the chief cook had sent up along with the sodas. Food was frowned on in the sonar room, but snack bars fit into the gray area that most captains overlooked. He was personally partial to the blueberry bars the Nevada cooks had perfected, but the recipe was still a closely guarded secret and hadn’t filtered out to the other boats yet.
“New contact, bearing 020.” Dugin interrupted the conversation, sliding on the headphones to listen while he typed quickly, focusing in on the contact. “It’s the Ohio. We’ve got him back, Daniel.”
“Keep pinging every 15 minutes until he is beside us,” Gina suggested. “I want to know for certain he can’t hear us even when he’s close in.”
“Will do,” Daniel confirmed, reaching for the phone. “Control, sonar. New contact bearing 020, the Ohio on a return course.” He hung up the phone.
Bishop caught Gina’s attention. “Ready to get a proper dinner, Gina?”
“You should go,” Daniel agreed. “We’ve got this covered. We’ll run a cross-sonar ping every 15 minutes for the next few hours, and rotate people so everyone gets a break. We know the cross-sonar works and its range; now it’s just seeing if the Ohio ever realizes she’s being pinged. It’s a simple test from here.”
“Thanks, Daniel.” Gina looked over at Bishop. “Lead the way? I still get lost.”
Bishop motioned with his hand. “It’s a common problem on a boat this b
ig. I’ll bring her back here, Daniel, before the test concludes. She’ll want to check the files to make sure the trial plan is complete and confirm what gets archived.”
“I’ll save that step until Gina can review it,” Daniel agreed.
Bishop waited until Gina was seated in the officers’ wardroom and had chosen her dinner preference—she selected the lasagna—before he brought out the box the chief cook had handed him.
“Congratulations, Gina, on another brilliant sonar idea,” he said as he handed the box to her. “I suggested to the cook a reward was in order.”
She tugged open the lid, grinned, and lifted out a richly iced cupcake from its holder. “Thanks, Mark. And to the cook.” She unwrapped the cupcake, and her smile relaxed. “I’m having dessert before dinner.”
“I’d say it’s earned. Tired?”
“Long-term tired, like a rung-out dishrag. All the nerves of ‘will it work?’ have popped. It feels great, but also like I’ve just finished a marathon since I landed at Bangor.”
“Another four days at sea to try out the various ocean noise conditions,” he said, “then back to port, a couple weeks of lab time to review the data, present your findings, and then insert the word vacation somewhere.”
Gina nodded. “Sounds about right for the near term.”
Their dinner arrived—he had echoed Gina’s choice—the plates of lasagna hot from the galley, served by a petty officer who also brought along hot breadsticks, salads, and cold soft drinks.
“Where do you like to go to relax?” Bishop asked Gina as they began the meal. “I can recommend a beach in Hawaii.”
“I’m more likely to curl up with a pile of novels and a TV remote, turn the phone off, and vegetate at home.”
“Have you ever been much of a traveler?” he asked, curious.
“I enjoyed tagging along with my parents, or joining Jeff somewhere, but I’m not one to announce a place, pack, and go. Travel for me is more a matter of who I’m going with—where is almost an incidental.”
“Interesting. Do you like snow?”
She shook her head. “Hate it. You?”