“Wishful thinking, sir,” said Mike. “They couldn’t even begin to keep up with us.”

Cortez wasn’t fooled by Mike’s banter. He could see the fatigue in the old chief’s Tabasco-red eyes and he quickly excused himself and went back to the bridge.

Mike knew he could find one of the better nooks to sleep in aboard the ship down near the magazine for the rail gun. A sailor taking a power nap in a cool, dark spot was an honored Navy tradition, but it could also be a warning that something was not right with that sailor. As Mike lay back against the cool bulkhead, he wondered which it was in his case, wondered if he had what it took anymore. Then he drifted off.

It was the smell that woke him.

Fresh soap and violets.

Dr. Li.

He opened his eyes and saw her curled up on the other side of the bulkhead. Their legs crossed each other’s in the middle; her feet looked so tiny compared to his. Jesus, if anybody saw this, Mike thought. He expected to wake up with the ship under attack more than he expected to wake up and see her next to him. How she’d found him, he did not know.

She stirred and arched her back like a cat, then sat up. She spoke as if she knew what he’d been thinking.

“I finally had time to grab a shower and then I saw you head down here to your hiding spot” — she smiled — “and I thought, He knows what he’s doing, he’s just taking care of the equipment, as he so kindly calls the crew. So I decided to follow the old man’s lead.”

“Who are you calling an old man? You look just as tired as me, Dr. Li.”

“You got me there. I’ve got nothing left,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “And it’s Vern. If we’re going to sleep together, you can start using my first name.”

Mike felt the Zumwalt lurch and lifted his head slightly, like a hunting dog. They must be drilling the engine restart again, he thought.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the captain last night. He knows this ship is no damned good,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Vern responded. “He was right, and he had the right to let go like that. Captain’s prerogative that they keep talking about.”

“No, he doesn’t have the right take his anger out on someone else. It took me too long to learn that lesson, so I couldn’t pass it on to him,” said Mike.

He avoided her eyes and stared at the bulkhead.

“You know, nobody ever told me what I’m supposed to do if things start burning again,” she said, consciously changing the subject to one that might put him back in his comfort zone.

“The damage-control drills? You don’t remember any of that?” he asked.

“If the ship’s fate hangs on my ability to play firefighter,” she said, “then we’re all doomed.”

Mike noticed that although she’d sat up, she’d done it in a way that kept her legs intertwined with his.

“You’ll figure it out. Just follow an old man’s lead, as you say.”

She smiled again.

“Well, we’d better get back to work,” he said. “I’m pretty sure the Z will be leaving port soon, most likely for Australia.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“I’m guessing from what Brooks, that tech with the stupid Mohawk, told me about some of the software mods to ATHENA. Weapons load-out is full, which we wouldn’t be doing for another test.”

“Australia’s dangerous?” said Vern.

“It’s the Navy — what isn’t?” said Mike. “But it means we’ll be escorting reinforcement ships. You’re less likely to be shot at when you’re looking for the easiest way to get to friendly territory than when you’re out looking for trouble. There are no guarantees, though.”

The Zumwalt shuddered again and Mike sat up. Then he reached out his hand to help Vern to her feet. She noticed the rough feel of the skin.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll be at your side when it counts.”

“Status report!” said Captain Jamie Simmons into the intercom. “What’s going on up there?”

The system was dead; there was not even static in reply. From his stateroom, he peered out into the dark beyond the hatch. Nothing. No klaxon. No shouting.

It was almost pitch-black dark, the only light the yellow emergency reflective tape along the corridor floor. Shaking the sleep from his head, he started to make his way along the passageway toward the bridge. He knew the route well enough.

A sharp jab at his forehead made him curse in pain. He ducked, too late, and dropped to one knee until the specks of pain-driven light faded. He reached for the bulkhead to carefully stand back up and felt something warm. Soft. Hair.

“Who’s there?” he asked.

“Seaman Oster Couch… sir,” said a timid voice. The fear evident in the hesitant pronunciation of the word sir made Simmons’s head ache anew. He felt his cheeks get hot and his stomach knot in rage.

“This is Captain Simmons, what are you doing here?” he said, fighting to hold back his anger.

“I was coming back from the head and heard a big bang, and then the lights went out,” said Couch. “So I waited. But they didn’t come back on.”

“You belong at your station, Seaman Couch. Up!”

“I don’t know where it is, sir,” said Couch. “In the dark, sir.”

“Find it if you have to crawl on your hands and knees,” said Jamie. “I’m heading to the bridge and if I find you here again in the dark, you’ll learn there are far scarier places the Navy can send you.”

“On my way, sir,” said Couch.

Simmons had almost gotten to the bridge when the Zumwalt shuddered and all the lights came back on.

“Cortez! What is going on with this ship?” said Simmons.

“Power surge, sir,” said Cortez. “It’s rail-gun related, and we’re trying to figure out why it took the entire ship offline.”

“Everything? ATHENA too?” said Simmons.

“Yes, sir, everything,” said Cortez. “But there’re no fires, and Dr. Li is down working on it now. We’ll be okay.”

“XO, when you have the bridge, this ship is yours,” said Simmons. The anger at Seaman Couch welled over, and he spat his words out at Cortez. “Treat it that way. There is nothing okay about this. You know what’s going to happen when we get a surge like this out there?” He pointed west, toward the ocean. “Do you? We’re nothing more than a target for the Directorate. First we blow the last part of the test with the Admiral and SecDef onboard, and now we can’t even get the goddamn gun turned on without it killing us? What kind of a ship do we have here? This is on you, Cortez. Get Dr. Li and fix it!”

The captain spun around to see his father entering the bridge. The old chief had that look of only slightly veiled disappointment he knew too well. He brushed past his father without acknowledging him.

“I’m going to be in my stateroom,” said Jamie. He started to leave, then stopped. “Belay that. I’m going down to speak to Dr. Li about her fix. Cortez, you have the bridge.”

He heard footsteps behind him as he stormed down the ladder wells.

“Captain, I’ll accompany you,” said Mike.

Jamie kept walking, mindful of any new overhanging fixtures and cabling that might strike his already aching head. He put two fingers to the spot he’d hit, certain it was bleeding. It was. What a sight that must have been on the bridge.

“A word, if I may, Captain,” said Mike.

“As we walk,” said Jamie.

“Sir, you need to get some rest,” said Mike. “I’ll say it because nobody else will.”

“How can I? I’d say this port time is making us dull, but we’re so far from sharp that it’s not even worth bringing up,” said Jamie.

“Still have to rest, Captain,” said Mike. “The job demands it even if you don’t think so.”

“This job?” said Jamie, stopping abruptly and standing close to his father. “You don’t understand this job. I’m the senior officer and it’s my ship. You can’t understand that.”

“I can’t?” said Mike. His face began to redden and that all too familiar angry blood vessel that snaked down his forehead began to pulse. “I can’t?”