by J. S. Law
It seemed like she had been watching the blank screen for a very long time when the main broadcast finally broke her trance. She shivered, unsure how long she had been watching for, unsure as to what had happened around her as she focused on the black screen. The control room felt colder than before and Dan looked slowly around.
The Old Man was looking right at her, watching her.
‘FALL OUT FROM DIVING STATIONS, FIRST WATCH, WATCH DIVED, PATROL QUIET STATE, FIRST WATCH.’
As the Ship Controller made the pipe, the Old Man continued to look at her, never once looking away, never blinking.
Dan finally broke the deadlock, looked around, unsure now of what to do or where to go.
Everyone else had a purpose.
The young sailors that had been standing next to her were talking to a panel watchkeeper as he explained what he was doing and asked them questions about submarine systems.
Other submariners seemed to be relaxed in their watchkeeping positions, some chatting quietly, others leaning back in their chairs and just watching their screens.
Everyone had something to do and somewhere to be.
She hadn’t seen the Old Man approach her, didn’t realise he was beside her until, once again, she felt his lips near to her. Pulling away this time, Dan turned to face him, his eyes like black coal in a snowman’s eye sockets, in the dim red lighting.
‘You know,’ he whispered. ‘Some of the young submariners, those who haven’t dived many times before, they have coffin dreams when they sleep down here. The mind plays tricks when it knows you’re deep in the ocean, away from the light, with only the hatches and your brothers protecting you from the dark water. And there’s no way of getting off. I don’t think there’s anywhere else in the world quite like it.’
He stepped back, a broad smile spreading further across his face, before he turned away and walked back to his cabin.
Chapter 15
Saturday Evening – 27th September 2014
The Coxswain was still sitting in the Ship Control position as Dan left the control room. Without the possibility of visiting him and chasing down some interviewees, she was unsure of where she should go; back to the bomb-shop seemed like her only option, to sit alone and prepare for her investigation to, eventually, begin.
A loud whoosh and a bang made her turn towards the large airlock door that led aft over the reactor towards the engine rooms.
Aaron was making his way forward from the engineering compartments aft of the Tunnel. He smiled and waved for her to come closer to him so that they could talk quietly at the back of the control room.
‘Hey,’ he said, as she neared him. ‘First dive normally makes people a little nervous. How was it?’
Dan shrugged. ‘It was interesting,’ she said, and then, her eyes still fixed on his, she added, ‘final.’
Aaron laughed quietly and nodded. ‘You’ll see daylight again, don’t worry, I’ll see to it personally. I’ll meet you in the wardroom for a brew in about, fifteen?’ He pulled his daughter’s friendship bracelet out of the way as he checked his watch. ‘That OK? I’ll introduce you to all the boys, but I need to do rounds of the forward compartments first.’
Dan nodded and watched as Aaron stepped forward and stuck his head into the Old Man’s cabin, speaking with him in the same hushed whisper, before he carried on through the control room, stopping to greet and talk with other sailors as he went.
Dan headed back to the ladder that would take her down towards the wardroom and followed the same route that she had taken the first time she set foot on Tenacity. This time she stopped to look at the pictures that were mounted in assorted frames along the wall. She read the full list of battle honours associated with the name ‘HMS Tenacity’, and saw several paintings of different ships that had shared the name over the years. They were all surface ships prior to the current one, the first submarine to bear the name.
The blue curtain, identical to that on the Old Man’s door, was closed and as she followed the artwork slowly towards the wardroom entrance, the voices of the officers talking within became slowly audible.
‘I’d fuck her,’ said one. ‘If that’s the standard of chicks they’re going to put on boats, then “co-ed” gets my vote.’
‘She is fit as fuck,’ joined a different voice. ‘Great ass; it’d have to be from behind.’
‘What if she wanted to see your handsome face?’
‘I’d throw my photo ID on the pillow and let her feast her eyes on that, the lucky bitch.’
There was raucous laughter and Dan felt the need to turn away and go straight to the bomb-shop, to be alone, away from everyone, but her anger surged and she suddenly felt compelled to stay and listen, to know what they would say.
‘Problem is, most of ’em don’t stay like that. She’s forgotten to draw her Wren’s arse from stores, and they only come in one size.’
‘Yup, extra-fucking-humongously-fat,’ said another.
There was a murmur of agreement and more smothered laughter.
‘Bag the gremlin?’ suggested one voice.
‘She’s hardly a gremlin,’ argued another.
‘He’s right,’ began a northerner, his accent putting his origins somewhere near to Newcastle. ‘I’d crawl naked through three fields of broken glass just to sniff the last cock that fucked her,’ he finished.
The response was more loud laughter and some banging on the table, before someone else’s voice rose above the noise, ‘There’s something horribly wrong with you northern monkeys.’
Laughter filled the room.
Dan was standing a few feet away from the curtain, next to the officers’ heads and showers, her jaw clenched tight. She had stopped actively listening to the conversation that was going on, but could still hear snippets as unknown voices described how she might enjoy a wardroom gangbang and whether she liked sperm in her mouth or, most likely, across her face.
Her hands shaking, she turned and stepped away from the curtain, following along two-deck on her way back to the bomb-shop.
‘Hey,’ said Aaron as he walked towards her from the forward end of two-deck. ‘I’ve just done rounds forward of twenty-nine bulkhead; it absolutely stinks in there already. Sixty bodies and next to no ventilation.’ He pulled a face as though he could still smell it now. ‘You blowing me out? I thought you were coming to meet everyone for a brew.’
Dan drew in a deep breath, her heart pounding. She thought about telling Aaron what she’d heard, taking action against the flock of bleating bastards hidden behind the blue curtain. But, even with the anger that was fizzing within her, she could see clearly how the Old Man would view this; the majority of his loyal wardroom against the word of a single interloper.
‘You OK?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ she lied, forcing a smile. ‘I just caught my head on one of the pipes.’
Aaron laughed. ‘Yeah, there aren’t many submariners who don’t have a few scars on their head. You get used to it, though, it’s like a sixth sense. Come on, I’ll make you some tea.’
He stepped past her.
‘No. I’m going to go and get some work done. Thanks. The Coxswain needs some names from me so that he can start arranging interviews as soon as possible.’
He frowned. ‘It’ll take a few hours for safety checks and stuff and, with the best will in the world, you won’t be interviewing anyone until all that’s done. This is probably the only chance you’ll get to meet most of the wardroom in one go, and the Coxswain’s still on Ship Control anyway. Once we get properly into patrol routine half the boat will pretty much always be in bed, or on watch, except mealtimes and heaves.’
Dan was shaking her head faster than she meant to. ‘Honestly,’ she said. ‘I really don’t feel like it.’
Aaron stepped close to her and leaned down to speak quietly. ‘Dan, what happened?’
Dan said nothing.
‘Look, whatever happened or didn’t happen, if you don’t face them now, crack a few jokes and gain some allies, then y
our trip on here is going to be more of a nightmare than it’s probably already shaping up to be.’
She leaned back to look at his face, but his eyes looked caring, concerned and earnest.
‘They’re all good guys, a little rough around the edges maybe. They’re excited about this trip too; the Old Man has promised it’ll be a good one, a proper send-off for him. They just need to get to know you. Most of them remember you from the newspapers a few years back, so you’ve a bit of instant kudos to cash in already. Come on, give us a chance.’
He took her arm and gently guided her back the way she’d come.
Dan let him lead her until they reached the curtain, where she jerked her arm free and forced another smile. The noise in the wardroom was loud and continuous, way louder than she imagined a submarine would ever be.
Aaron smiled back at her, opened the curtain and stepped through.
A wave of greetings swelled the noise.
‘Enginessssss,’ shouted one voice, the leader, and several joined him.
Dan stepped across the threshold behind Aaron and it was as if she had stepped into a soundproof room; the noise stopped instantly.
She waited in the doorway and looked at the long line of faces staring at her from the bench against the wall and from a few chairs dotted around the room. They all wore the same rank badges as she did, or were more senior, and to a man there was a set of gold dolphins on the left breast of every shirt; that felt like the real difference.
She felt herself swallow hard. ‘Christ,’ she said, trying to laugh. ‘Do you submariner types practise that? I’ve never seen the navy act with such measured precision.’
They just looked at her. No one said a word. All smiles had vanished.
‘Fellas,’ said Aaron, his voice firm. ‘Pack it in, we’ve got a guest.’
A few of the officers looked across at Dan and then up at Aaron.
‘So,’ said Dan, swallowing again and taking the initiative. ‘How good are you lot? If I step back outside does the noise start up again the instant I cross the threshold?’
Aaron laughed.
‘Probably,’ said someone from the back of the room.
Dan threw her hands in the air in mock disappointment. ‘You blew it,’ she said. ‘Before you spoke, I thought that I’d finally met the actual silent service.’
There were a few titters of laughter.
‘Yeah, McCrae, you broke our vow of silence,’ said a young-looking officer who was squeezed onto the long seat with too many others.
Standing in front of the gathered wardroom, Dan felt her hands shaking and put them in her pockets.
‘Go ahead, Dan,’ said Aaron, nodding towards the doorway. ‘Step back out and see if he can keep up with the game. He’s been our Simon Says champion for nine straight months. You’re up for the challenge, aren’t you, McCrae?’
The officer was silent, his cheeks reddening as the attention shifted onto him.
He mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like ‘fuck off’.
‘Aw man,’ said Dan, again in mock disappointment. ‘Simon didn’t say “use profanities”. You’re out already.’
She looked around at the faces watching her, many now with grins as they listened.
‘Are you guys absolutely sure he’s your Top Gun? Because it seems a bit weak that he’s gone down so easily in the first round of play.’
The officer, McCrae, seemed to be formulating a reply, his lips moving without sound, and Dan was certain that any retort would certainly be a play on her use of the term ‘go down’. He seemed to be about to speak.
‘One, two, three,’ said Aaron, as others joined in with him, their voices rising as they counted McCrae down like referees in a boxing match.
‘The three-second wit barrier has been exceeded and your right to reply has been formally revoked!’ said an officer that Dan didn’t recognise.
The room exploded into laughter and McCrae, his face red, stood up and made to leave.
‘And bonnie lad’s given up his seat for the lady,’ shouted the officer with the northern accent. ‘To the victor, the spoils,’ he announced, gesturing towards the empty seat as though he were a courtier to the queen.
McCrae stormed out of the room, throwing Dan a snarl as he passed her. Her hands were still in her pockets and she was glad of it. Although she refused to flinch from him, he was a big man and his eyes, piercing into her, made it clear that, for him, this was no joke.
‘Grab the seat, quick,’ said Aaron, pointing to the gap that McCrae had vacated. ‘There’s a three-second rule on seats too.’
The gap looked small, too small, and the men either side were already leaning apart to make room for her, so it was as spacious as it was going to get.
She shook her head. ‘I’m fine, really.’
Aaron seemed to detect something in her voice. He stopped for a moment, looking at her carefully. ‘Yeah, she doesn’t want to be squeezed in between you two fat lads,’ he said, winking at her.
There was a single chair next to a computer in the corner behind her, the one that John had used while he leafed through magazines the day before.
‘I’ll move,’ said the officer who was sitting there, before he was asked or coaxed.
‘No way,’ said the guys either side of the space that had been Dan’s. ‘That’s not a fair swap.’
‘What will it be, Dan?’ Aaron asked. ‘Green tea, right?’
‘She can’t have anything,’ piped up the first voice that Dan had heard.
She looked down at a Lieutenant Commander that she guessed must be Craig McAllen, the Executive Officer, and second in command of Tenacity. He was looking back at her with the same compassion that a cat has when looking at its prey.
‘What you on about, Craig?’ asked Aaron, turning towards the man, his eyes narrowing.
‘Tenacity’s rules are simple and they apply to all ranks and rates, regardless of gender, Aaron,’ replied the XO. ‘She’s not a qualified submariner and hasn’t earned the privilege of sitting in here outside of mealtimes.’ He turned to Dan now. ‘You can eat here, three times a day, but after that you need to leave like every other non-qual; equality should mean just that.’
The wardroom was silent.
Aaron scrunched up his face and looked around them all, finally settling on Craig. ‘I think this is a bit different, don’t you?’ he finally asked.
The XO looked at Dan and then back at Aaron and then, without the slightest change of expression, said, ‘No. I really don’t.’
‘Look, it’s fine,’ said Dan. ‘I should be subject to the same rules as everyone else. I don’t have a problem with that. I’ll catch up with you all later.’ She turned and walked out of the room. She heard Aaron call after her and the curtain being drawn shut. Then some voices were raised and a low murmur of background conversation began to build among other officers.
As she followed along two-deck, she had to pass the entry to the wardroom pantry where she could hear the argument continuing. She tried not to look, but saw Steward Roach leaning against the sink.
He was in a world of his own, his eyes tight shut.
‘Excuse me, ma’am,’ barked a sailor as he approached her in the narrow passageway.
Dan pushed herself hard against the bulkhead to get out of the sailor’s way, but she still felt his chest brush against hers.
Their eyes met, as he seemed to lean into her far more than necessary.
She shivered as he moved away, still leaning back against the bulkhead, her breathing shallow.
The sounds of the argument in the wardroom seemed to fade as Ben Roach popped his head out of the pantry and she looked at him, immediately noticing his bloodshot eyes.
He looked like a different young man to the bright and chirpy wide-boy that had greeted her just a day ago.
Dan looked away first, embarrassed, as though he had caught her in a moment of personal weakness, as though he could see and eavesdrop on her private thoughts and
vulnerabilities.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, still looking away, not sure what it was she was being sorry for.
She started to walk away, glimpsing from the corner of her eye the steward lifting a kitchen towel and drying his eyes. She stopped and hesitated. ‘Are you OK, Ben?’
Their eyes met for a long time until she watched Ben’s shoot off to the side.
He turned away from her in an instant.
Dan looked to see what had drawn his attention.
Leaning against the door to the Senior Rates Mess, his arms folded across his chest, was the Chief Stoker.
He smiled and nodded at her, not moving away or pretending that he was doing anything else. He just watched her, smiling, staring. His sleeves, as always, rolled up, his arms crossed.
Dan walked away. She felt his eyes follow her as she walked along the rest of two-deck. Her hands were still shaking and her grip felt weak as she climbed down the ladder into the bomb-shop. Reaching safety, she shivered and her eyes filled with tears.
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘I will not cry.’
She walked over to the bunk that she had chosen and froze.
Lying across her bunk was a length of black hose, the same type that she had seen used as a whip only a day ago and had taken from the submarine, the type that matched so perfectly to the bruises and welts on the back of the late Cheryl Walker.
It was coiled up like a thin black snake, its head disappearing underneath her pillow.
Dan swallowed and reached for it, her hands still shaking as she lifted the pillow up and revealed the black rubber mask. She caught a glimpse of something yellow across the visor and turned the mask over, pulling out a note.
Thoroughly cleaned and ready for use. Practise! Aaron. :-)
Dan exhaled and let a small sound escape, maybe a laugh of sorts, as she tossed the mask back down on her bunk.
‘Getting silly, Danny,’ she said to herself quietly. ‘Need to focus.’
She sat down and pulled the black gash bag full of papers out from under her bunk. ‘Sorting this lot out could be a start.’
Chapter 16
Sunday Morning – 28th September 2014
