CLAIRE WAS ONCE AGAIN standing at attention in Captain Hall’s spartan office on base. He fumed. “I support you, as always, Marcoux, but now I have to explain myself again to the commodore. He’s getting flak from the chief of the defence staff and probably the minister of defence. And he has to explain to the New Brunswick premier why part of a national park was destroyed this morning by the navy. You do have a knack of getting the attention of the top brass.”
Her ship had limped back into port two hours earlier. The engineer said he needed at least two months, maybe six, to repair the damage. The crew was denied shore leave to prevent them from recounting their amazing tale to their families for at least a day. She was ordered to report to Hall immediately. Soot, smoke, and sweat streaked her day uniform, and her hair was tied loosely in some random Frank Gehry pattern. She hadn’t bothered to change. In spite of her exhaustion, she had sprinted up the stairs to his office.
“That was not my intention, sir, but we have some answers now. And it doesn’t look good.”
He sat in his chair behind a desk covered with stacks of paper. “I agree that it doesn’t look good.” He looked at the floor, as if trying to assemble his next thought. “For your career. You take too many liberties with the rules. You attract too much attention. Maybe I’ve given you too much leeway.” He picked up a printout and seemed distracted for a second as he read it. “And you want another XO? What’s wrong with Wiseman?”
“He’s too cautious.”
He leaned forward, his hands on his desk. “That’s why he’s an XO, not a captain. He’s your second-in-command. Deal with it.”
Startled, she sat back. “I don’t know if I can trust him when we’re under pressure —”
Hall cut her off. “It’s your job to make him trustworthy. You’re the captain. Act like it.” He dropped back into his chair. “You’ll figure it out. Your main problem is what to do about the commodore and the CDS. They’re not pleased with what you did to a significant patch of New Brunswick coastline.”
“It was a special hunting mission, while the rest of the fleet was on exercise. You said so yourself.”
“There are some aspects of your mission that you are not privy to. To protect you. I also said that it was supposed to be a low-profile hunting mission. The key words were ‘low profile.’”
Claire thought before she responded. “It worked. The smugglers were clearly surprised.”
He spun away from her for a moment, his back to her. “No, it didn’t work. I wasn’t talking about the smugglers. There were others who I didn’t want to be aware.” He swivelled his chair back and looked directly at her. “And now they know.”