Sixteenth Watch

by Myke Cole

  “Yup,” Elias said. “That’s the Armed Services Committee.”

  She’d have figured it out in another instant, anyway. The camera pulled back to show the service chiefs in their dress uniforms around a smaller table. Donahugh was standing beside Admiral Perea, the Chief of Naval Operations. Perea was seated, a look of performative concentration on his face as Donahugh gestured to the same recruiting video Oliver had just watched, finishing its last few seconds on a flat-screen monitor wheeled into the chamber.

  Admiral Zhukov, the Coast Guard Commandant, was shaking his head. “That is a recruiting video. Senators, I will caution you against making decisions based on marketing materials.”

  “Admiral Zhukov is absolutely right,” Donahugh said, “and it is equally important that this committee keep in mind that these marketing materials are built on facts. Nothing I say in that video deviates from the strictest truth. The Navy is leading the fight on the Moon, and it’s imperative we continue to do so.”

  Oliver tried to read the expressions of the senators, but they were studiously game-faced, wearing the same gravitas-laden performative looks.

  “This presumes that this is a fight at all,” Zhukov countered. “It currently isn’t, and it doesn’t have to be. This is a customs and border control matter, and the issue at hand is quarantine and evasion of vessel-inspections. That is something that the Coast Guard is uniquely equipped to do, and the reason this service was chartered.”

  “I’m not certain the families of those sailors killed at Lacus Doloris would agree with you, admiral,” Donahugh countered.

  “Jesus,” Oliver whispered. “That fucking bitch.”

  “Yup,” Elias agreed.

  If Zhukov was rattled by the comment, he didn’t show it. “The Chinese can tell the difference between a light-armed law enforcement vessel and a warship. They are well familiar with the difference between the Coast Guard and the Navy’s authorities here. I grieve for the lives lost at Lacus Doloris as much as the rest of you, but that was nothing like a full-scale war. If we want to avoid the potential for that degree of conflict, we need to be showing good faith efforts to deescalate the situation. It has to be the Coast Guard.”

  “And if we were talking about the waters off Baja California or Miami, I’d agree,” Donahugh said, “but China isn’t Mexico or Haiti, and the stakes on the Moon are worlds higher. The national security implications of losing ground in our ability to exploit Helium-3 are several orders of magnitude more grave than our ability to keep recreational boaters from harming manatees.”

  “It’s official,” Oliver said, “I fucking hate this woman.”

  “So long as you respect her hustle,” Elias said. “Because she’s currently cleaning our clocks.”

  Now Zhukov appeared rattled. “That’s a gross mischaracterization of the Coast Guard’s mission. And it only distracts from the fact that I am not the one laying out the lanes in the road here. They are clearly expressed by the titles 10 and 14 of the United States Code. This is our job!”

  “The US Code,” Donahugh said, “has always been interpreted. US law is governed by precedent, admiral. And with the stakes so high, our interpretation here is critical. Let me ask you, do you agree with the position that noncooperative dockings, boardings, are the key to enforcement of customs controls on the 16th Watch?”

  “Don’t do it,” Oliver said to the video. “Don’t walk right into it.” She looked up at Elias. “Tell me he doesn’t walk right into it.”

  Elias sighed. “Watch.”

  “Of course they are,” Zhukov said. “They’re the main tool in our arsenal right now, at least until we can establish a culture of compliance. But that takes time.”

  “It does,” Donahugh agreed. “It’s impossible to say for sure, but the Naval Innovation Advisory Council is currently estimating at least a five-year horizon to turn the current culture of quarantine evasion around. Five years is a long time, admiral.”

  “We can do it much faster than that,” Zhukov said. “We’re making headway every day, and I don’t see what this has to do with…”

  “Oh man,” Oliver said. “This is bad.”

  “The worst,” Elias agreed.

  Donahugh had already turned to the monitor, clicked the remote, replaying the last section again – showing the MARSOC16 team’s almost superhuman performance, the DIPSEC operators going down hard, the cheering crowd. “The Navy has proven, for four years running now, in the highest-pressure and most public forum available, that we are the best equipped, the best trained, the overall best at boarding actions on the 16th Watch.”

  Zhukov sputtered, his military bearing slipping. “You can’t be serious. That’s a game show!”

  Donahugh looked at the senators now, still speaking to Zhukov. “If it’s just a game show, admiral, why can’t you win?”

  Oliver stopped the video, unwittingly repeated the Commandant’s words. “You can’t be serious.”

  “As a heart attack,” Elias said. “Ask me if that video has leaked to the public.”

  “I refuse.”

  “It’s been trending on three social media platforms for a week, Jane. That’s what we call a coup.”

  “Sean, this is reality TV! The SASC can’t possibly…”

  “This is the reality TV generation, Jane. The SASC is composed of senators, and senators care about getting reelected. This just became a platform issue. And the presidential election is right behind it. So, guess which way he’s leaning?”

  “Fuck.”

  “We have to win this thing, Jane. We have to prove the Navy wrong.”

  “And you think SAR-1 is how we win it?”

  “With you pushing them, yes.”

  “Sean, they came in fifth last year. Behind the Mare Anguis Police Department.”

  “That’s top ten. We need you to bump them up the other four slots.”

  Oliver’s head spun with the inanity of the request. “Have you looked at my file? I don’t know anything about non-cooperative dockings in space!”

  Sean’s face went serious. “I have, in fact, looked at your file. Hell, I’ve memorized it. You’ve done over two thousand contested boardings in your career.”

  “Those were on Earth! On the water!”

  Elias was unfazed. “Every one of them is the equivalent of a non-cooperative docking in space, Rear Admiral Select.”

  “Stop calling me that!”

  “Over 2,300, actually,” Ho said.

  Oliver turned to him slowly. She blinked, trying to make sense of his sudden interjection. “What?”

  “Contested boardings, ma’am,” her XO was smiling, “you’ve done over 2,300 in your career. I can double check the Personnel Records System if you want, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got the number right.”

  “Whose side are you on!?” Oliver slapped the desk again.

  Ho shrugged.

  “The issue isn’t technical knowledge,” Elias went on. “The acting commander out there says it’s… morale holding them back.”

  Oliver’s stomach turned over. “Morale how?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

  “They blame themselves for Tom,” Elias said, “and for Kariawasm and Flecha. They feel like they failed you.”

  It can’t be their fault. Because it’s mine. She cursed herself for what seemed like the thousandth time. If only she hadn’t insisted on going on the boat personally. If only she’d… No. That way lies madness. She had replayed what happened on that day over and over again ceaselessly for years now. There was nothing to be gained from it. Her thoughts were poisonous loops. They held no answers, only whispers that all pointed to her as the culprit for everything that had gone wrong.

  But she hadn’t been able to spare the emotional energy to think that the same toxic lines would be repeating in Elgin and McGrath’s minds. “Oh, come on, Sean,” she tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice broke. “I don’t blame them for what happened. I know they did the best they could. I wrote to Chief a
nd told him as mu–”

  “No, Jane,” Elias said. “You know that’s bullshit. It’s one thing to hear that you forgive them. It’s another to believe it.”

  The grief rose so suddenly and she only barely choked back the tears in time. “Sean, why are you doing this? Bench ’em. Get another team.”

  “You’re not reading me, Jane,” Elias’ voice went hard. “They’re the best we’ve got. There is no other team.”

  It took Oliver a full thirty seconds to gather herself. She sighed, cradled her head in her hands. “And you think that if I work with them…”

  Elias finished for her, “That you might be able to help them figure it out, yes.”

  “Sean,” and she let herself cry now, not caring if they saw. “I don’t know that I’ve figured it out.”

  A hand squeezed her shoulder, but with her eyes closed, she couldn’t tell if it was Ho’s or Elias’.

  But it was Elias who spoke, his voice soft now. “Well, of course you don’t. The good ones never do. But, you have, Jane. Ask anyone in this school. Ask anyone who works with you.”

  Ho passed her a tissue and she nodded thanks, blotted her eyes, blew her nose. “You don’t want a leader, you want a therapist.”

  “We want the whole package, Jane,” Elias said. “That’s why it has to be you.”

  She tried to answer, but the tears were back. She waved a weak hand at him. “Message received, captain. Just… just give me some time to think it over, OK?”

  Elias stood, tucking his cover under his arm. The gold oak leaves on the brim reflected against the glass surface of the desk. “Take as long as you need, so long as that isn’t more than three days. I look forward to making your transport arrangements, Jane. And I look forward to saluting you as a rear admiral.”

  She signaled Ho for another tissue as Elias left, closing the door behind him. She kept her eyes tightly shut, but she could hear him make his way to the credenza, take out a bottle of the bourbon she’d kept there ever since Tom had died. She finally opened her eyes and saw the label as Ho sloshed the brown liquid into two glasses. In a turn of gallows humor that surprised even her, the brand he’d chosen was Widow Jane.

  He passed her a glass. “You OK?”

  She stared into the liquor. “You know when they promoted me to captain and parked me out here, I figured it was because after what happened, they… didn’t trust me to lead, but they felt bad about Tom, so they wanted me to retire on captain’s pay.”

  Ho took a swallow and crossed his arms, swirling his drink and looking at her. “I’d say that’s exactly what they did.”

  “So, why the fuck is this happening?”

  Ho laughed. “You’re good at stuff. They parked you here to grieve and wash out. And you went ahead and produced the best and brightest crop of boarding team members the guard has ever seen.”

  She finally took a sip, closing her eyes and relishing the burning as the liquid slid down her throat. “You are such a fucking suck-up that I can’t stand it sometimes.”

  “You don’t want compliments,” Ho said, “stop being good at shit.”

  “It’s just… I’m not just good at stuff. I’m good at taking care of people. I took care of the kids, and after Adam moved out I took care of Alice. Then I had to take care of her again when she left Matt. I guess I’m still taking care of her now, only it’s over the phone. Then I was taking care of Tom.”

  “Tom didn’t need taking care of.”

  “No, he didn’t, and that was why I was so happy to do it. And now that he’s gone, all I have to take care of,” she waved a hand to the school outside her door, “are these people.”

  “Well, you’re doing one hell of a job.”

  “Christ, Wen.”

  “It’ll get you to Alice,” Ho looked at her from under his eyebrows. “You said she still needs taking care of.”

  “Good luck getting her to admit that. She went to the Moon to get away from…”

  “She went to the Moon to get away from the memory of Matt, and the embarrassment that she’d made a hash of her marriage, and for the illusion of a new start.”

  “She told you this?”

  Ho shook his head. “You know I’m not wrong.”

  “No, you’re not.” She pounded the desk at the memory of Alice handing her the phone with the email announcing her selection for the space elevator’s next open running. “I still can’t believe she won that fucking lottery. I still can’t believe she left.”

  “Well, you do this thing, boss, you’ll get to be up there with her. That’s not nothing.”

  “No,” Oliver admitted. “It’s not.”

  They drank in companionable silence for a while, and when Ho was done, he turned to put the bottle back, but Oliver held out her glass for a refill. “Think this one’s a two-banger.”

  Ho cocked an eyebrow. The Widow Jane was not known for having more than just one. “Wow,” was all he said.

  She waved her glass, sloshing a little over the side. “Man, I was really looking forward to retirement.”

  Ho laughed out loud. “Like hell you were. I’ve never seen anyone more frightened of anything in my entire life.”

  She downed the second drink in a single swallow, set the glass down with a click, met her XO’s eyes. “So, what do I do?”

  Ho leaned forward, and the intensity in his gaze reminded her so much of her husband that it frightened her. “Your job.”

  CHAPTER 2

  “Sir, the quarantine is ridiculous. There is no such thing as ‘space diseases,’ and this administration’s insistence on abandoning evidence-based policy in favor of pandering to public fear is bringing us to the brink of war with China. American miners lose money in the quarantine queues, and when they seek to evade them, they inevitably violate the Chinese Exclusive Economic Zone. This forces us to intervene to protect American lives, which in turn puts the US Navy into constant conflict with the PLAN. Allowing the Coast Guard, a law enforcement entity, to pursue quarantine runners as a SAR mission will deescalate the situation, showing the Chinese we are not exercising military force over portions of the Moon they consider to be critical to their continued security.”

  CONFIDENTIAL STATEMENT BY ADMIRAL ZHUKOV, COMMANDANT, UNITED STATES COAST GUARD, TO THE CHAIRMAN OF THE ARMED SERVICES COMMITTEE OF THE UNITED STATES SENATE

  The Moon was at its orbital apogee when Alice finally called back, giving the conversation the maddening one-second delay that had the two of them constantly tripping over one another as they tried to talk. That alone made Oliver desperate to get up there, if for no other reason than to talk with her daughter without unintentionally interrupting.

  “Mom, are you serious?” Delay or not, her daughter’s voice was crystal clear, so much like Tom’s that it made Oliver’s heart clench.

  “As a heart attack. They need my decision in three days, which means they need it tomorrow.”

  “I can’t believe it.” There was a slight warble in her daughter’s voice, one Oliver had heard all too often of late.

  “You drunk, honey?”

  “You know me, mom. Always.”

  “I hate it when you joke like that.”

  “Then don’t ask me if I’m drunk.”

  “I just… I worry that…”

  “Mom, my marriage blew up and my dad died. That warrants a drink or two, wouldn’t you say?”

  Oliver thought of the belts of Widow Jane she’d had just a few hours before, and sighed. “Yeah, I guess I would.” The cold plastic of the phone against her face was maddening. She wanted to hold Alice. She couldn’t shake the idea that if she could just touch her daughter, she could somehow fix her sadness. She knew that wasn’t how sadness worked, how comforting worked, but that was the way with some thoughts – they took root in your brain and no amount of reason could shake them loose.

  “Are you going to take it?” Alice asked.

  “Try not to sound so thrilled.”

  “No, no. I’m sorry, mom. I didn’t mea
n it like that. It’s just…”

  “You went to the Moon to get the hell away from all of us on Earth and you don’t need us coming to you?”

  “You know that’s not it. I wanted a fresh start, and I think that with a little more time to get my feet under me, I’ll figure it out. I’m starting to make friends. Sort of.”

  “Really?”

  “No, not really. I don’t know. It just seems that in a lot of ways nothing has changed. Sinus Medii isn’t any warmer than Minneapolis and it’s almost as flat. Christ, mom. I would love to have you out here. You know I would. I just don’t want the responsibility of uprooting your whole life. It’s not a small ask.”

  “You’re my daughter. There is no limit to any ask you might have. You should know that.”

  “You have a son.”

  “Adam could give a flying fuck. I’ll probably see him just as often if I’m on the Moon as if I’m in Virginia.”

  “Yeah. Sorry, mom. He just… He always wanted to make his own way. And after what happened with dad… well, that didn’t help.”

  Oliver couldn’t think about it now. “How’s the mining operation?”

  “Still not breaking even. I’ve got no problem running the drones and production is solid, but I think my issue is the deals I’m cutting with my distributors. I just… Negotiating isn’t my strong suit.”

  Oliver fought against the urge to reach through the phone and grab her daughter by the shoulders. “You’re running a business, honey. You can’t be nice to these people.”

  “I know.” Alice sounded very young.

  “What if I pitched in? What if I handled the books while you handled the ops? I mean, after the tour.”

  “I could never ask that of you, mom,” Alice said, but Oliver could hear the faint ring of hope in her daughter’s voice.

  “Listen, you are never a burden to me, do you hear? You’re my own.”

  “OK, just promise me that if you do take the gig, it won’t be just for me.”

  “It won’t be, and I really do have to think it over. I just… it’s…”