//------------------------------//
// Chapter 5 
// Story: R. A. Heinlein 
// by totallynotabrony 
//------------------------------//

	We ran with the radar on.  It helped the Chinese ship track us, but at the same time we couldn’t afford to dismiss the possibility of an air attack.  It seemed only a matter of time before they would figure out what had happened and send someone after us.
Heinlein had her ballast tanks pumped dry and was headed south at maximum velocity.  I hated to display our speed to the stealth ship observing us, but I thought that it was more important to leave the area as quickly as possible.
I realized that it was time for my appointment with Dr. Games.  Since the Chinese already knew where we were, a little radio communication wouldn’t hurt, so I went to pick up the phone.  As I turned from the wheel, I caught a glimpse of a wake.  It was a torpedo moving a straight line, heading directly for us.
I threw the throttle into back full.  The ship responded more quickly than a vessel its size had any right to, shuddering to a stop.  The torpedo curved, but couldn’t catch up and overshot the bow of the ship.  I jammed the throttle to ahead full.
The torpedo must not have been using passive sonar, because once we were behind it, it set off in a straight line again, looking for another target.  We kept going.  I checked the sea in front of us with a fixation.  I was not open to the idea of losing a ship to a submarine attack.
I wished we could get some help.  It would make my day to have someone, anyone watching our back.  I made a couple of calls, and all I managed to get was a promise of one over flight by an Australian patrol plane.
I had even tried calling Hanley to get some help.  He wasn’t pleased that we had pitched the weapon of mass destruction overboard, but he talked to me anyway.
“Well, how’s the war looking overall?” I asked him.
“Not too bad.  Better than the first time we were fighting in Korea.  You don’t listen to Pyongyang Pattie, do you?”
“Who?  Is that some kind of propaganda radio station?”
“Right.  According to her, the North Koreans will push the capitalist barbarians out any day now.”
“Yeah, I’m sure Tokyo Rose said the same thing.”  Changing subjects, I asked, “Do you have any idea what I’m going to be doing next?”
“No, but odds are that it will involve China.  Return to base and rest up.  We’ll call you when we need you.”
It was a fairly uneventful run back down to South Korean waters.  They made room for us at the cargo wharf were we’d left from.  The same Navy man came to see me as we arrived.
“Bad news,” he said.  “We’ve got fuel, food, and shells for you, but no missile reloads.”
“How is that possible?  It’s not like the Navy is using them.”
He shrugged.  “I’m not in the supply department.”
I got the chance to call Dr. Games and apologize for missing my appointment.  We talked a little about what I had been up to.  I left out the part about the bomb.
It seemed like not very long before we were on our way again.  Like Hanley had said, the war seemed to be going pretty well, and jobs for us were running out.  There were a couple of things, left, though.
As usual, we weren’t told what was going on until it happened.  Partway up the coast, orders came out of the blue to fire a Tomahawk at a target somewhere deep in North Korea.  We set the missile to the coordinates provided and let it go.  That meant our ABLs had only one conventional missile left.
Further up the coast, we got an emergency message from the Navy.  A SEAL team had gone ashore from a submarine and had gotten pinned down by a much larger force of North Koreans.  Their position was good, but soon they would run short on supplies and ammunition.
We located and rendezvoused with the submarine, USS Michigan.  It was a converted ballistic missile submarine that now carried more than one hundred Tomahawks and a crowd of SEALs.  It had the ability to launch UAVs, unmanned aerial vehicles, for surveillance, and possessed enough communications equipment to act as a mobile command post.
As soon as we were speaking on the underwater telephone, I asked the obvious question.  “Why haven’t you used missiles to keep the North Koreans off the guys on the ground?”
“They’re dug in too well and too close to guarantee that our boys wouldn’t get caught in the explosion of a thousand-pound warhead.”
Fair enough, I thought.  “So gunfire is what you’re looking for.  How many are there?”
“Twelve men.  At last count, three were wounded.  It’s going to be difficult to transport them from the shore back to the sub.”
A thought struck me.  It was definitely stupid this time, not just crazy.  “The ship has a shallower draft.  We can get in closer than you can.”
“That’s stupid," the man confirmed.  "They have a few coastal defense guns.”
“Don’t worry about it.  We’ll get your boys out.  Back us up with a UAV and be prepared to launch missiles.”
With the right information, Andy was able to hook up a video feed from the surveillance craft to our CIC.  The UAV was a small remote controlled airplane that was flown from inside the submarine.  Andy had to tell the pilot what to do, but it wasn’t bad for hacked together cooperation.
Jeff and Shep volunteered to go in our remaining lifeboat.  It would be a little cramped with twelve passengers, but it should work.
The guys on the submarine were hastily communicating the new plan to the SEALs.  I heard a little bit of it over the radio.  They didn’t sound pleased, but it was better than staying where they were.
We fired a Tomahawk at what looked like a command structure near the beach.  As soon as we got close enough, the fore and aft guns began working on the coastal artillery that we could see.  Having the UAV to give us instant feedback on how to adjust our shots was great.
In a simultaneous move, we began dropping shells on the North Korean positions at the same time the SEALs made a break for it.  They escaped cleanly, although as I watched the UAV feed, it seemed like more than just three were wounded. 
As near as I could tell, there wasn’t much shooting going on at the beach.  At any rate, Jeff and Shep didn’t look too nervous.  They shoved off and came speeding back.
“There was a splash in the water ahead of us,” warned Nika from the bridge.  “There are more coastal guns out there.”
The problem was, the UAV could only cover so much ground.  It was like trying to read something on a low resolution computer screen.  Everything looked big, but you couldn’t see very much of it at once.  A nuclear missile or two would sanitize the area nicely, but even I wasn’t willing to start an international incident that large.  Besides, everyone in the boat leaving the beach was too close.
“They’re clear,” I radioed to Michigan.  “Light up the beach with everything you’ve got.”
Further out to sea, a Tomahawk fired out of the water vertically.  It had come from one of the missile tubes mounted on Michigan’s aft deck. It was followed three seconds later by another.  Five more popped out of the water in fewer than twenty seconds.
The missiles didn’t get there in time, though.  As I turned back to watch the feed from the UAV, there was an explosion on the port side, slightly ahead of midships.  The lights flickered.
“We took a hit,” said Andy instantly.  He told the UAV pilot to swing the camera to point at the ship.  There was a smoking hole in the hull just above the waterline.  Andy poked some buttons on his computers and brought up a damage report.
“The number two turbine is offline.  Electrical power successfully shifted.”
“I’ll go check it out,” I said.  “In the meantime, get everyone aboard and—”
“—get out of here,” Andy finished.  I nodded and flew off to check how bad the damage was.  I could hear the ballast pumps turning on to lift the ship out of the water to make the hole less likely to leak.
Other than confirming that the power generation turbine had been destroyed, there was little I could do.  When the incoming shell had hit, it had punched through the hull and either exploded or struck the turbine.  Running at high RPM, the sudden unbalance had probably made it shake itself apart in milliseconds and fragment into pieces.
The compartment was filled with smoke and there was a small fire from spilled fuel.  I knew that the automatic shutoff valve had worked because the fuel lines weren’t still squirting.  I went back out into the passageway to find a fire extinguisher and get a breath of air.  A ship is one of the most dangerous places to have a fire.  Sure there’s a lot of water around, but you can’t get away from the flames.
I held my breath and worked quickly on the fire.  It went out without too much trouble.  I grabbed another fire extinguisher and stood watch, making sure there were no reflashes.
Topside, we got everyone aboard and the casualties were taken to the medial room.  Jones was going to have her hands full.  
Heinlein was hurt, but we weren’t going to sink.  Even with only three quarters of our normal electrical generation capability, we were able to move away from the coast at a reasonable clip.
Jeff took the boat over to meet Michigan as the submarine’s sail broke the surface to transfer the medical personnel that were on board.   They came back and took over from Jones.
Between the SEALs, there were five gunshots, a couple of burns and shrapnel wounds and miscellaneous minor injuries.  A couple of them were in critical condition, but it looked like they would all pull through.
The way back south was almost unbelievably uneventful.  North Korea’s capitol city had fallen, and while the top leaders had not been found yet, a number of military commanders had surrendered.  Pyongyang Pattie was still on air, but now she seemed more like a joke than anything else.
Michigan took aboard the uninjured SEALs and returned to station just in case they or the Tomahawks were needed again.  We agreed to transport the wounded back to a real hospital.
We were met and escorted by USS Lake Erie, a guided missile cruiser that had been one of the first US ships to finally make it to Korean waters.  I knew that Lake Erie had participated in several weapons tests in the past using her Aegis Combat System, and had successfully shot down ballistic missiles and even a few satellites.  Having a proven air defense ship along with us was welcome. 
Heinlein slipped quietly into port and tied up.  The SEALs had been taken away by helicopter before we reached shore.  The damage to the hull pissed me off, but it was fixable.  The Navy had even agreed to cover the bill.  All in all, it hadn’t been a bad war.
We left South Korea when the Joint Chiefs said it was okay.  Or maybe it was now just Korea.  The UN was still trying to decide whether North Korea should continue to exist or not.
We had to be careful in heavy seas with the hole in the side of the hull, but as long as the affected compartment was kept sealed, it shouldn’t cause too many problems.
I had asked about dropping off the weapons we carried, but whoever was in charge had misfiled the paperwork or something.  Eventually, the Chief of Naval Operations told me to transport the munitions back to the United States with us and return them there.  I figured that someone had probably forgotten to tell him that we had nuclear Tomahawks aboard, because if he knew I doubted he would let us hang on to them.
Since we had the missiles, we stayed on high alert all the way back across the ocean.  Not that we were expecting trouble, since besides us only a few people in the Navy knew we had them, but you don’t ever relax when there are nukes on your ship.
The dry dock was waiting for us when we finally got back to Norfolk.  We brought the ship in under the cover of darkness to minimize the number of people who saw the damage.
We would need a new turbine and a lot of hull plates.  I had also drawn up a few modifications that could be made while the ship was dry docked.
It would take a while to get everything done.  In the meantime I had to go see Dr. Games.  I had mentioned that I was on my way back to Norfolk, so she wasn’t surprised to see me when I walked into her office.  I laid down on the couch and told her all about the war.
“Do you think that you have any symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder?” she asked.
“Not that I’ve noticed.  I mostly just put any bad thoughts out of my head and I’m fine.”
“Why did you do this again?  You aren’t part of the military.”
“Covert special operations contractor.  They hire me to do things.”
“Does it bother you that you get paid to kill people?”
“That’s not really it.  If someone shoots at me, I won’t think twice about defending myself.  If the enemy happens to be around when the target is getting destroyed, that’s his tough luck.  I’m not doing straight-up assassination jobs, here.”
“Would you if someone offered you enough money?”
Stupid hard questions.  “I don’t know.”
“The way you described your payment method—a dollar per pound, was it?—it sounds like you received quite a generous sum for your work.”
“I guess.”
“What are you planning to do with it?”
“Upgrade the ship.”  Everyone aboard was already getting a percentage of the profit, and no one had ever complained about it.  Jones said it was against her morals to take a payment outside of her official job, but she cashed the checks anyway.
“Have you ever considered donating to charity?”
“I’ve done it on occasion.”  After a moment, I admitted, “Usually for tax purposes.”
“You seem to have enough disposable income that you could do some real good for the community.”
She was trying to guilt trip me.  I suddenly had an idea.
“You know, maybe I could start my own charity.”
“That could be a good idea.”
“It would let me dump excess profits to keep my taxes reasonable.  I can probably have my lawyer draw up plans later today.”
Dr. Games shook her head.
All of us of the crew had committed to living aboard a ship, and didn’t have anywhere to stay while ashore.  Andy’s parents lived in the area, but that was about it.  With the money everyone had made, though, living arrangements wouldn’t be difficult until it was time to depart again.
Nika and I booked a long term hotel room in the Oceanfront Hilton in Virginia Beach.  The thought of having so much free time ahead of me was a little overwhelming.  We decided to take it one day at a time.
The second day back in the Hampton Roads area, I got a phone call from Admiral Benjamin Nevis.  He and I were old acquaintances-not necessarily friends-and had contracted for business between my company and the Navy in the past.  No, not all of it was completly legal.
“Sail, I’m in trouble," he said.
“I’m a little flattered that you called me.”
“If you don’t help me, you’re next.  The other day, a man from NCIS came by to ask me a few questions.  He didn’t come out and say it, but it was obvious that they know something.”
“I should hope so.  You wouldn’t want criminal investigators to be idiots.”
“I don’t have time for this.  Somebody discovered the things that you and I have been doing.”
That took me completely by surprise.  I had no idea.  If Nevis hadn’t called me, I probably would have been surprised when NCIS showed up at my door.
I wanted to ask Nevis what I should do.  He had helped me get into this mess, or maybe I had helped him.  But then, I had another thought.  Why was he warning me to begin with?  Couldn’t he just give me up to the investigators in order to save his own skin?  Maybe that’s what he was trying to do.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.
“What do you mean?  Listen—”
“No, right now I’m on vacation with my girlfriend.  I don’t know what your problem is, but if you want to talk business come see me in person when I’m back at work.”  I hung up.
If NCIS had been listening in, that should confuse them for a while.  I needed to move quickly, though.  I told Nika I would be gone for a bit and went down to get a taxi.  
David Goldstein had not been expecting to see me, but he listened carefully as I explained that a business friend of mine seemed to be under investigation.  I wanted to talk to him in person because this wasn’t the kind of thing I would trust to an unsecured phone line.
I asked him if there was anything about my own records that might cause the same thing to happen to me.  I was always careful when I talked to David.  Plausible deniability kept things running smoothly.
“I’ll check into it,” he said.  “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“What if you do find something?”
“Get back on your boat.  It’s harder to try someone in absentee.”
“I would think it would be easier.”
He shrugged.  “I’m a good enough lawyer to make things difficult.”  That I agreed on.
I went back to the hotel feeling like I had accomplished something.  As I got out of the cab, I notice a man and a woman who wore suits sitting in an unmarked sedan.  They looked at me and had a quick conversation between the two of them.
Deciding I’d rather have more people around than less, I walked into the hotel, pretending not to notice them.  Something about the pair made me think they were feds, rather than police.
I made it to the elevator before they caught up.  I figured that whatever they wanted from me, Nika should know about it and having them follow me to our room was easy.
I had just gotten the door to the room opened when the man called my name.  I opened the door a little wider.  “Yes?”
The two of them walked up.  “Sorry to bother you,” said the woman.  “I’m Agent Malvern and this is Agent Hudson.”
“We’re from the United States Department of Agriculture,” said Hudson.  “We need to talk to you.”
What in the world did the USDA want with me?  Nika, hearing voices, appeared at the door.
“Sure,” I said.  “Come in.”
“We’ve been trying to reach you for some time now,” said Malvern.  “This is a sensitive issue that we felt needed your personal attention.”
“I’ve been out of the country.  Nobody at the company would tell you how to get a hold of me?”
“It’s sensitive,” said Hudson.  “Unfortunately, we needed to come talk to you without much forewarning,”
I didn’t like where this was going.  It’s never good when people of authority want to surprise you.
“It’s about your land in Texas.”
“What about it?” I asked.
“Do you have any plans for improving it?  At the moment, it’s zoned for agriculture.”
Zoning was how land was appraised and taxed.  Even though it was untouched, the government wanted to know.  It was just a barren piece of land, or that’s how I pictured it anyway.  I had never been there.  I had set up the purchase myself, because it was something that nobody else at Canvas Shipbuilding needed to know about.  I realized that I had forgotten to have it rezoned when I bought it, and it would look suspicious to have a piece of farmland.
“I was going to have it rezoned for research,” I said.  “It looked like a good spot to build a test facility.”  I didn’t tell them that the Navy thought the facility was already up and running.
“Until you do, it falls under our jurisdiction,” explained Malvern.  “The reason we needed to talk to you about it is because there’s been a significant amount of cross-border smuggling going on lately, and we were working on a tip that lead us to believe that someone in your company was facilitating it.  That’s why we couldn’t risk talking to anyone but you.”
That wasn’t what I was expecting, but it was better than a whole lot of alternatives.
“That’s disturbing,” I said.  I thought for a moment.  “How do you know that I’m not the one behind it?”
“You’re the only person we’ve talked to.  If anything changes, we’ll suspect that you’re responsible,” said Hudson.
“I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“Don’t worry, we have agents investigating closely and following every lead.”
I worried.  What if they grabbed the wrong thread and it lead to something incriminating?
“I’ll help you any way I can,” I said.  If they let me work closely with them, maybe I could steer them away from the things I didn’t want them to see.
Hudson and Malvern gave me a card with contact information and I showed them out.  After I closed the door, Nika said, “It sounds like we have a problem.”
“Yeah,” I said.  “Want to go to Texas?”