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Haley was exhausted, physically and emotionally. She was waiting in her cabin to be called to give her statement to the commander sent by the Seventh District headquarters, who had met them when they arrived at 07:30 that morning. He had eyed the vessel coolly, saluted respectfully when Lopez’s and Kelly’s bodies were brought ashore, then informed Haley and Ben he was sent to get statements from the crew about the mission. One by one, the senior members of the enlisted personnel had been called in, and Ben was with him now.
Haley expected to be relieved of command by day’s end. She had checked every block required: violated orders, banged the shit out of her command, and got one of her crew killed. Haley knew she should go over her account in her head, if not on paper, but she couldn’t work up the motivation. She felt empty and, for the first time in her life, utterly alone.
She thought back to last night, shortly after the battle. They were hard at work restoring functionality to the bridge systems when the news of Lopez’s death brought everything to a stop. Haley stood in shock, staring silently out into the darkness. She did not know how long she stood there before she felt Hopkins’s hand gently laid on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Captain, but you need to say something,” Hopkins said.
Haley turned to look and could tell, even in the darkness, that Hopkins had been crying. Haley walked stiffly to the 1MC and reached for the microphone. “Attention, all hands. I have just learned that our shipmate Juan Lopez has died from his wounds. If I could give you time now to pause and think of him, I would, but we need to look to the boat right now. I know that is what Juan would have wanted. We will take the time to grieve for him as soon as we are out of danger, but I must ask you to continue with the repairs for now. Thank you.” She hung up the microphone, turned, and returned to the command chair.
Williams, Bunting, and Zaccaro quickly restored communications and the auxiliary navigation radar—the primary multi-mode radar had taken a direct hit and was finished. At least, with an active navigation radar, they could travel safely. Haley made her initial report of the damage, Lopez’s and Kelly’s deaths, and her intent to dock at Gitmo as quickly as possible. Shortly after Ben returned to the Bridge, they received confirmation orders to Gitmo and were informed resources for emergency repairs were being sent.
There was a knock at her door, and Haley called, “Come in.”
Ben opened the door and stepped in. “Commander Lewis wants to see you, ma’am.”
“Thank you. How did it go?” Haley was almost afraid to ask.
“He’s thorough. But he seemed just interested in the facts.”
“I see.”
As she stood, Ben said, “It’s going to be OK, ma’am.”
“Thank you for that,” she said resignedly.
“No, ma’am, you don’t understand. I have been in exactly this situation before, at Resolution. Sam thought he would get canned and came out with a medal. It’s the same. You’ll see.”
Haley gave his shoulder a soft squeeze. “Thank you, Ben. Whatever happens, you sure earned your pay this week.”
“Thank you, Captain,” he said, then stepped aside to let her pass.
It was a short walk to Drake’s stateroom, where Commander Charles P. Lewis conducted the interviews. Lewis was the Coast Guard Liaison Officer for the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base and had been detailed to put together a formal report of the action. Drake’s quarters were cramped for such an effort, but the Bridge was under emergency repair, and the messdeck was still being cleaned. Haley knocked on the door and entered when Lewis bade her come in.
“You wanted to see me, Commander?” Haley said with as little emotion as possible.
“Yes, Captain. Please take a seat.” After Haley sat, he said, “I apologize for adding to your stress after the hell you all have been through, but orders were to get statements while the events were still fresh in everyone’s mind.” He then explained her rights against self-incrimination and asked if she wanted counsel.
“No, sir. Let’s get it done,” Haley replied.
“Good. Now take me through the action from when you put the DIA team ashore on the 4th.”
Haley told the story to the best of her recollection and then answered several questions, none of which were the “gotcha” kind she expected. After she answered the last question, Lewis said, “That about does it for me. Do you have any questions?”
“Yes, sir. Will they decide soon? I would like to get my folks home.”
“Decide what?”
“Whether I’m to continue in command.”
He sat back in astonishment. “What? That is not a question on anyone’s mind, to the best of my knowledge. I was sent here to help you transfer your ‘guests,’ get patched up and on your way, and relieve you and your XO of the burden of writing an official report. I apologize if you were given any other impression. The reading of rights is standard procedure for any inquiry.”
“I see. Thank you, sir.”
“Look, it’s not my place to tell a captain what to do on her ship, but I strongly recommend you and your XO get some rest. You’ve both been through hell. Let us take the load off you while you’re here, at least.”
“I’m grateful to you, sir.”
“Not at all.”
This was an easy transit for Haley. This time, Lee was doing the mooring, with Hopkins doing the coaching. Lee was a nervous wreck, of course. Haley shook her head in wonder—Lee was fearless when it came to danger and a master with a small boat, but she was almost a basket case on a special sea detail with the CO looking over her shoulder.
Ben was standing beside her, ostensibly assisting with oversight. In fact, he was there so that Haley could keep an eye on him. Ben looked like hell, and Haley was sure he had slept little, if at all, since the engagement with the Chinese. Despite her insistence to the contrary, she knew he blamed himself for Lopez’s death and was genuinely worried that he would end up another casualty of the action. Haley called Victoria when they came under cellphone coverage and asked her to meet them at the dock. Hopefully, she could reach him and pull him back. At the very least, there was no way Haley would let Ben drive in his current state.
Lee’s mooring was flawless, and as Haley was finishing a very positive critique, Ben strolled onto the port bridge wing, as usual, to watch as the deck crew doubled the mooring lines and rigged the brow. Haley followed a moment later and saw him looking at a woman approaching. It was Victoria, walking toward the ship in her white sundress with her red hair pulled into her customary ponytail. She saw Ben and waved.
“XO, aren’t you going to wave back?” Haley asked from behind him.
Ben, startled, then waved at Victoria. “How?”
“I called her once I got a cell signal,” Haley answered. “I told her you had a rough trip, best discussed once you two were home. She agreed. Now, you are done for this patrol. Beat feet.”
Ben blinked away tears and said, “Aye, aye, ma’am.”
Haley watched from the Bridge thirty seconds later as Ben strode over the brow and swept Victoria into his arms. You’re a lucky man, Ben Wyporek. Don’t screw it up.
Haley went inside the Bridge, nodded to Hopkins, who was busy securing the FC3 with Williams, and went to her cabin. She was only there a minute when her telephone rang, and she answered, “Captain.”
“Seaman Pickins on the quarterdeck, ma’am. You have a phone call on Line 2.”
“Thank you, Pickins,” she said, then pressed the Line 2 button on her phone. “Lieutenant Reardon.”
“Haley, it’s Sam Powell. I heard about what happened and wondered if you would like to talk.”
“Thank you for your consideration, Commander. I’ll be fine.”
“It’s still Sam, and if you’ll forgive me for saying so, I don’t see how anyone coming off what you just went through would be fine.”
Haley was conflicted, as she really did need to talk to someone right now. The clichéd term “loneliness of command” was suddenly very real for her, and her choice to stay unattached was rapidly losing its appeal. Still, she didn’t know if she could share with the man who brought this ship and crew through two years of challenging operations when she balled it up and lost a man in her first week.
“OK, Sam. What have you been told?”
“Mercier shared the gist and asked me to call. She’s seen this sort of thing before and is worried about you. She knew she couldn’t help, so she called me.”
“To straighten me out and get things back on track?” Haley asked bitterly.
“Not hardly. She knew you were on your own, going through an experience that would have cracked me when I had the two best partners in the world to lean on, Jo and Ben.”
“You got everyone through two years. I got Lopez killed before I completed my first week.”
Sam sighed audibly. “There, but for the grace of God. I was lucky, Haley, luckier than I deserved. I lie awake sometimes thinking of how bad Resolution and Barbello could have gone, maybe should have gone.”
“Maybe, maybe not. All I know is that Ben will have his hands full with transfer requests when he returns. If he returns, that is. You should have seen him this morning.”
“Victoria will put Ben back together, and he’ll be on board in a day or two—don’t sell either of them short. And he won’t come back to any transfer requests. Do you think the crew will lose faith in you because you took a calculated risk that didn’t work out? With respect, you’re wrong. The mistake would have been leaving that DIA team and those two women to their fate, and they would never have forgiven you for THAT.”
“And what about Lopez?”
“He would feel the same. And he would have gone, too, even if he knew things would go south. Did Ben tell you the Lopez/Barbello story?”
“No.”
“He was coming to the tail-end of his ME A-school when we got the call. He was supposed to meet us over at AUTEC in the Bahamas the following week, so Hoppy called and told him to hang out in PC instead. Not Lope. He wrangled an early graduation and drove a rental down to Key West to jump on with us before we stepped off. There was no way he was going to sit around while his family was mixing it up.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No, just point out what the crew has transcends you and me. They know the risks and are on Kauai because they want to be. They don’t expect miracles from you, only that you keep the faith, and you’ve proven that.”
“Fortiter et Fideliter.” She glanced across the room at the small plaque, but could only see a blur through the tears.
“Exactly. I’m not here to pump sunshine up your behind, just to tell you that you are what and where the crew and the Coast Guard need you to be.”
Haley took a breath to steady herself, then said, “Thank you, Sam.”
“Not at all. Could you come over for dinner tonight?”
“No, I know you are busy getting ready for the move.”
“Nonsense. We need a break, and Jo needs an excuse to whip up her Ropa Vieja. You’d be doing me a favor—she’s been on my ass for weeks to drag you over here. Please, take another hit for the team.”
“Well, when you put it that way, how can I say no?”
“That’s the spirit. Go Bears! See you at six?”
“Sounds good.”
“Excellent! 5630 Breakers Lane on Patrick.”
Haley jotted the address on her notepad. “5630. Got it. Thank you.”
“No worries. You have my number. Any time you need to talk, I’m here.”
“Thank you, Sam. I’m looking forward to dinner.”
“Take care, Haley.”
He really is a good man. She thought as she replaced the phone. She felt rather silly now, thinking that Sam would try some cheap psychological bullshit on her. You haven’t been right about anybody lately. Then she smiled sadly, pulled her cellphone out of her desk drawer, and dialed a number she hadn’t in a long time.
“Haley!” the voice said, answering after two rings.
“Hi, Dad.”
Victoria did not recognize the phone number when the call came at 7:30 that morning, but remembered the area code as one of the two in Hillsborough County, Florida. She knew no one in Hillsborough County and was inclined to let it roll over to voice mail. However, the software on her phone did not indicate spam or a telemarketer, so she took a chance. “Hello?”
“Hello, Victoria? This is Haley Reardon.”
“Oh, hello, Miss Reardon!” Then the realization set in. Why is she calling me and not Benjamin? “Has something happened to Benjamin?” she blurted out.
“No, no, he’s fine,” Haley had answered quickly. “Sorry, I should have led with that. And I wish you would call me Haley.”
“Very well, thank you, Haley. Is there something I can do for you?” Victoria asked, trying to conceal her relief. She was afraid of appearing “clingy,” particularly in front of Benjamin’s new commanding officer.
“Yes, we’ll be entering port this morning, around nine o’clock. I hope you’ll excuse me. I try not to meddle in my subordinates’ personal business, but I wonder if you would mind meeting us at the dock when we arrive.”
“Oh, I do not mind at all, Miss... Haley. Is there something wrong?”
“Not to worry you, Victoria, but it has been a difficult patrol, particularly for Ben, and I’d feel better if he did not drive himself home this time.”
“I am grateful for your concern for Benjamin. Can you tell me anything about what happened? I appreciate there might be things you must hold back because of security concerns.”
“No, Victoria, it’s not security. It’s that I’m pretty far out on a limb just calling you, and Ben should tell you about things in his own way.”
“I understand, and I will be there in time to meet Kauai when she arrives.”
“Thank you, Victoria. I hope to see you soon. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Haley,” Victoria said as she hung up.
For the next hour, ending when she left for the harbor, Victoria scoured the Internet for some clue of what had happened over the past few days that would involve Benjamin. Nothing. She was tempted to call Joana for advice, but decided she had to learn to do these things herself. Her need to focus on her driving as she made her way to the base was a welcome distraction.
She recognized the guard at the gate of the Space Force Station—he was one of her favorites. “Hello, Sergeant Timms. It is good to see you again!” She handed over her ID and the special pass that allowed her on base.
“Good morning, Victoria. Likewise. How’s it going?”
“Quite well, thank you. Benjamin and I are engaged.”
“Wow, that’s terrific! Those Coasties have all the luck,” he said as he returned her documents.
“Thank you, Sergeant.”
“Take care, Miss.”
It was a short drive from the gate to the Trident Wharf. When she cleared the trees, Victoria’s heart jumped when she caught sight of Kauai, already in the Trident Access Channel, after passing the security barrier. She parked and walked through a gap in the warehouses to watch the mooring. The process involved in the mooring and unmooring of a large vessel like Kauai was always fascinating to Victoria. Using asymmetric thrust from the engines, turning moment from rudders and mooring lines, and the direction and speed of the wind were all factors in a delicate ballet that brought Kauai into the exact desired spot along the wharf. Benjamin said that Emilia Hopkins was the best at this—Victoria wondered if she was in control just now.
Something was off about Kauai this morning. As the ship got closer, Victoria ran her eye carefully over the boat’s lines and noted some discrepancies from her memory. Several of the lifelines and stanchions were missing, as was the RHIB. The large radar antenna atop the mast had been removed, and tarps covered the large electro-optical camera below it and the entire Flying Bridge. As the boat pivoted to moor pointed outbound in the channel, Victoria could see the windows in the doors at the rear of the Bridge were also covered. It looks something like the damage from Hurricane Jacob, but there was no storm anywhere in the vicinity. What could have happened?
Victoria saw Benjamin come out onto the bridge wing to watch the line handlers, followed by a female officer she took to be Haley. Victoria waved when Benjamin looked in her direction, but he did not wave back at first. Most unusual. He had some sort of discussion with Haley, then disappeared into the Bridge. Less than a minute later, he emerged and crossed over onto the dock. Victoria ran to meet him and pulled up in shock as he approached.
Victoria had never seen Benjamin look like this. His face was pale, eyes red with dark periorbital circles, and he looked haggard. Victoria had seen him fatigued before, but this was something altogether different. He dropped his bag and took her into his arms, and, like always, she squeezed him tightly, feeling the strength of his arms and immersing herself in his scent.
“Victoria, thank God. I’m so happy to see you,” he said.
Even his voice seemed drained. It was apparent now why Haley had been concerned. “I need to get you home, Benjamin.”
“But my car...” he said distractedly.
“Your car has sat here for five days, Benjamin. One more day will not matter,” she replied firmly.
“Yes, Boss,” he said with a sad smile.
Victoria reached up to caress his face, gave him a quick kiss, then took his arm and led him to her car. They traveled home in silence. Benjamin knew she did not like to be distracted by conversation while driving, but his complete silence was unusual. He stared vacantly out the window the entire trip, almost without moving.
When they reached the apartment, Victoria led Benjamin inside and over to the couch, sat beside him, took his hands, and said, “Benjamin, I know something is wrong. I can see that Kauai was seriously damaged, and even I can tell something is affecting you inside. I know you want to spare me, but we are formal partners now, and you need to tell me when something is wrong.”
Benjamin nodded and began a narration of the story from the beginning. This was the first time Victoria had to deal with a serious emotional event with Benjamin—she was terrified of doing something wrong and adding to his distress. She rigorously applied Joana’s advice: just listen; don’t guide him, inquire deeper, offer suggestions, or tell him he’s wrong to feel the way he does. Just let it flow.
Benjamin broke down and started crying when he got to Juan Lopez’s death and his sense of responsibility for it. Victoria desperately wanted to tell him he was not to blame and should not feel that way, but held her tongue. She was beating back tears herself—she had talked to Juan at one of the unit gatherings and was fond of him—she would save her grief for later. Benjamin had finished and was quietly sobbing, his face buried in her chest. She leaned her cheek on his head, stroking his back and nape.
The moment had cleared away the last remaining barrier between them. During this terrible time, Victoria knew Benjamin needed her very badly and felt confident at last that she was precisely where she needed to be, doing exactly what she needed to do. My brave, good, and kind man, I finally have a chance to give back what you have always given me.
The Condolence Call. This was the other hard part they tell you about in CO school, but nobody seemed to know anyone who has had to do it—line-of-duty deaths were that rare in the Coast Guard despite the extreme hazards of the work. Lopez had not listed any next of kin or emergency contact information, and they were at a loss as to what to do with his personal effects. Then Ben remembered Lopez talking about knocking around in the foster care system, teetering on the edge of becoming just another victim or victimizer, when an LAPD detective stepped up and changed his life. Lopez could not say what motivated the detective and his wife to take him on as a foster child, just that they gave him an excuse to do good. Ben pulled Lopez’s Servicemembers’ Group Life Insurance forms and found a name—Reuben S. Vasquez—then, after a little more research, found a Captain Reuben S. Vasquez in command of the Robbery-Homicide Division at LAPD Headquarters. There was no doubt this was the same man.
It was cool in Los Angeles that morning, with the typical bright sunshine but a rare on-shore breeze that brought a sense of freshness to the city. The weather was a small blessing during the short walk from the hotel to the Police Headquarters Building in her service dress dark blue uniform. Haley had flown in the night before, a non-stop from Orlando, leaving Ben in acting command of Kauai in her absence.
Ben had returned after three days of quasi-convalescent leave, with a worried-looking Victoria dropping him off with a kiss. He was changed, less light-hearted, and more focused than before. Like Sam before her, Haley had mixed feelings about what was arguably a professional improvement. Haley was stunned and moved a couple of days later when he submitted a request to extend for a year as Kauai’s XO. “You need looking after, ma’am,” he said semi-seriously when she had asked why. It was the most expeditiously approved extension request in Coast Guard history.
Ben had offered to make this trip for her, and Haley had been tempted to accept—Ben had known Lopez for over a year instead of Haley’s few weeks. She was also not looking forward to blowing up the lives of Lopez’s beloved foster parents with the devastating news. In the end, she knew this was one duty a CO could not delegate.
Haley waited in the outer office with the beautiful mahogany box holding Lopez’s personal awards and keepsakes. Haley had been surprised when Drake had brought it in before her departure, expecting a simple cardboard box. Her question of where he got hold of it received the standard Drake reply: “I know a guy.” Fortunately, he stepped out before she opened it and found the inscription on the brass plate inside the hinged lid—In Memory of Maritime Law Enforcement Specialist Second Class Juan Lopez, Our Shipmate Forever, the Crew of USCGC Kauai (WPB-1351). She had cried for ten minutes after reading it.
“Lieutenant, Captain Vasquez can see you now,” Vasquez’s administrative assistant said as she held open the office door. After seeing Haley fumble with her combination cap, the middle-aged woman continued, “I can take care of that for you, miss.”
“Thank you,” Haley replied as she stepped through the door, and it closed behind her.
“Good morning, Lieutenant!” Vasquez said, standing to come around his desk with an outstretched hand. He was a fit and handsome man, an inch or two taller than Haley, with short salt-and-pepper hair and a mustache in his late fifties. Vasquez was in shirt sleeves, tie, charcoal-colored vest, the matching jacket hanging on a clothes tree in the office corner. “I am always psyched to meet another Coastie.” He smiled as he shook her hand. “My foster son is a petty officer in the service.”
“Yes, sir. I know. I ... was Juan’s commanding officer,” Haley said. Vasquez’s hand froze, and his smile vanished.
“When?”
“A little over a week ago. I am terribly sorry, Captain, both for your loss and the delay we had in informing you. Juan didn’t list you as next of kin or emergency contact.”
“No, that’s Juan for you. Please sit down,” he said, gesturing to one of the guest chairs by the coffee table. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your first name,” he added as he sat in the chair facing her.
“Haley, sir.”
“Thank you, Haley. I appreciate you coming to see me. Is there anything you can tell me?” he asked, looking into her eyes.
“Yes, sir. He was badly wounded helping rescue two women from a transnational criminal gang and died on the operating table. Last week, his remains were buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery. Again, I’m sorry we didn’t get word to you, but I promise everything was properly done. We have put Juan’s awards and some of his personal items we thought you might want in this box,” she said as she carefully handed it to him.
“Awards?”
“Yes, Juan was awarded the Coast Guard Commendation Medal with the Valor device for a classified action last April and the Coast Guard Medal for saving a couple and their two little girls during Hurricane Jacob in September at great peril of his life. The others are the Bronze Star and Purple Heart for his last action.” She paused when he put his head down, and a tear fell on his lap.
He regained control before he straightened up and gazed into her eyes again. “Is there anything else?” he asked, placing his hand on the box’s lid.
“Yes, sir. A few pictures, his collar devices for petty officer second class—he was promoted posthumously—and a beat-up copy of The Black Echo.”
Vasquez nodded. “Yes, that was the first book I ever gave him. He wanted stories about what I did—Connelly’s novels captured the gist and are good reads.” His eyes welled again. “He was a wonderful kid who became one of the best men I’ve ever known.”
“I can name sixteen Coasties who would say the same, sir. I had only known him myself for a few weeks as I had just taken command, but his loss was the most terrible one I have ever faced. You should know that he thought the world of you and your wife. He said he could have easily gone very wrong. There was so much peer pressure, but you two gave him something he could grab on to and hold close.”
He looked down and shook his head. “I wonder why we bother. Medals and no difference to the drugs, crime, and misery. Is that what Juan died for?”
“Sir, if I may, I think you’ll find this a more substantial legacy.” She pulled an envelope out of her pocket and handed it to him.
Vasquez took a piece of paper out of the envelope, glanced at it, then at Haley.
“Those twenty-eight names are people whose lives Juan had a direct role in saving. The first four are the family I told you of, the next twenty-two were human trafficking victims he saved from a sinking ship, and the last two were the ones from his last action. Those people are alive today because of Juan—he made a difference.”
Vasquez read through the sheet, then folded it and put it in the envelope. “Thank you, Haley. That does help.”
“I’m glad of that, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you? Anything that you need?”
Vasquez stood, walked over, and placed the box in the center of his desk. “No. Thank you for coming.”
They shook hands, and Haley stepped out of the office. She could hear Vasquez quietly sniffle as she closed the door. As Vasquez’s assistant handed over her cap, Haley asked, “Where is the restroom, please?”
“Turn right, then the second door on the right,” she said, pointing across the room.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Haley said. She barely made it inside before she started crying again.
