Cold is the Sea by Edward L. Beach Read Free Book Online Page A

here,” he said on the phone.
    â€œPlease hold. The admiral wants to talk to you.” A female voice. Joan! But the line was open, no one on the other end. Protocol required a junior to wait on the telephone for the senior, and well-indoctrinated aides accomplished this automatically. Joan had gone to have Admiral Brighting pick up the connection. Too, she was doubtless carrying out careful instructions, for she had not tarried even for a moment’s personal greeting.
    Brighting’s familiar expressionless voice, as usual, did not bother with salutation or any other of the ordinary preliminaries.“I thought you understood you were to keep your nose out of everything but your studies. Can’t you carry out a simple order, Richardson?”
    â€œIn what way have I not carried out all your orders, Admiral?” Rich knew enough about his difficult superior by this time to speak up directly. Failure to do so would be equated to acquiescence or confusion.
    â€œDon’t try to play innocent. I hear you want to install a cafeteria at the site for the convenience of you and your friends.”
    â€œNot so, Admiral!” Richardson was speaking rapidly. Admiral Brighting would not be listening long. “The cafeteria was approved last year. I was asked where I thought it should be located. So were a lot of others.”
    â€œI don’t need any suggestions about the site from you, now or any other time! You’ll have your opportunity to give orders when you’re on board the Proteus . You have only one job out there, and I expect you to give it your full attention!” Richardson found himself holding a dead telephone.
    Two days later, a downcast Dusty Rhodes handed Rich an official flimsy. It was a carbon copy of a one-sentence order canceling funding for construction of a cafeteria.
    Vice Admiral Brighting’s arrival, several weeks later, was apparently part of a pattern long set. That is, it was unexpected. Rhodes was late driving in from Idaho Falls, the first time in Rich’s memory, and the reason became known when the passenger beside him was seen to be Brighting. Rhodes had received a telephone call at home the previous evening, directing him to be at the airport next morning.
    All this, Rich learned later. His own awareness of the admiral’s arrival came from a sudden appearance in the lower level of the engineroom during a cold start-up procedure being carried out by Keith. Rich’s duties were to draw a steam bubble in the pressurizer in response to Keith’s instructions: a critically important function that allowed him only a brief surprised nod of recognition as he concentrated on his task. When Richardson straightened up, satisfied that the bubble had formed and was in accord with the specifications, the admiral had gone on.
    There was, however, an atmosphere of approval left behind. Rich was grateful, as he thought about it later, that he had beenobserved carrying out an important evolution instead of, as so often happened, merely monitoring some static condition. Not until that evening did it occur to him that Brighting might well have timed his trip so as to be able to make a personal evaluation of a significant part of the training schedule.
    Neither Keith, Buck Williams nor Rich had paid much attention to the other two quonset huts in the tiny complex of wartime surplus buildings. One of these, it developed, had been designated for Brighting’s exclusive use, and it was here that the three trainees found themselves summoned. To Rich’s surprise, there was no one else present. Not even Dusty Rhodes was there. The day shift had long since ended, and, no doubt carrying out specific orders, Dusty had climbed into his station wagon and driven off at his usual time.
    The routine developed over the weeks by Rich and his companions involved spending all the night shift, a portion of the morning watch after midnight, and full time over weekends actually in