CHAPTER NINETEEN

Later that night Mike was on the bridge again. It was another boring night as they were still in dock and half the crew was still on leave. He alternated between chewing on the unlit cigar and guzzling lots of coffee. His quiet night was shattered when Lt. Granderson called out for him.

"Commander Slattery, we have a message from the President's office. Has been confirmed and authenticated."

"Finally," Mike breathed out as he set his coffee cup down and stuck the cigar back in his mouth. He stood and met Granderson as she came across the bridge. She held out the printed order and Mike took it.

Nathan James to report to St. Louis for support.

Mike frowned and reread the orders. He looked up at Granderson with a raised eyebrow and she just shrugged and shook her head slightly. He looked at the paper again and reread it a third time.

"Anything else?" Mike asked.

"No, Sir, that's all that came through. Nothing more."

"To St. Louis for support. What the hell does that mean?"

"I don't know, Sir," Granderson said. Mike looked up at her, biting back the smile as she had answered a question he had meant rhetorically. He didn't expect her to know what the message meant. He shook his head.

"Better call Captain Chandler," Mike breathed out as he walked over and called the captain's stateroom.

"Captain," Tom answered.

"XO, here, Captain. We have a communicate from the president. Your presence is needed on the bridge," Mike said. His voice was strained as he struggled to figure out the cryptic message.

"Understood. I'm on my way up," he replied then Mike put the receiver down. He looked around as the skeleton bridge crew stared at him. He shook his head slowly and went back to his chair, putting his feet up, chewing the end of his cigar. The bridge fell into silence as they all waited for Chandler to show up. Less than ten minutes later Mike heard Granderson announce him.

"Captain on the bridge!"

Mike looked over and stood from the chair, pulling the cigar out of his mouth. He knew his face was betraying his concern for the lacking message and Tom was picking up on his discomfort. Mike motioned towards the at sea cabin and Tom nodded. Once they were inside, Tom closed the door behind them, then looked at Mike.

"What's going on?" Tom asked.

"We received and were able to authenticate a message from St. Louis from President Michener," Mike began.

"New orders?" Tom asked enthused.

"Yes, but not what we were expecting."

"What? Why?" Tom asked confused. Mike didn't blame him.

"All it says is that orders are to report to St. Louis for support."

"Support for what?" Tom mumbled, before rubbing a hand over his face. "See if you can get a call into the president tonight yet and let's get this sorted out."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Mike replied and then left the cabin heading towards CIC. Once in CIC he got the communications officer to attempt contact with the president. Almost an hour later they had a secure vidchat up with the president. Mike went up and informed Tom and the two made their way back to the CIC room. As Chandler slid into the waiting chair in front of the vidchat, Mike stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb with his arms cross over his chest.

"Mr. President," Tom greeted the president.

"Captain Chandler," Michener exhaled. "Things are getting heated around here."

"I received your orders and wanted to get an idea of the environment we will be sailing into."

"There is a group of militants that are threatening to take over St. Louis. The mayor is doing his best to keep the peace, but they have made certain threats that can be construed as their intentions are to take over the presidency."

"Sounds like a mess. What are they upset about?"

"Things are still a mess around here, as you've probably noticed elsewhere around the country."

"We've seen some things," Tom drawled out. Mike huffed and shook his head. They had seen some pretty disgusting things in the form of 'human nature'.

"Well, here we are dealing with a number of factions that all want to be in power. Most of them have agreed on my rightful place as president, following the line of succession from the old government. But there are one or two factions that believe the old government is gone and a new entity should emerge."

"And they want to be it," Tom grumbled. Mike sighed and dropped his chin to his chest.

"Yes. I've got a security system in place, as we've restarted something akin to what the secret service used to be, but we are limited in our fire power."

"So, you'd like the Nathan James to come down and flex a little muscle?" Tom asked. Mike saw Michener cringe on the screen, and he bit his knuckle to stifle the laugh that almost escaped at Tom's brashness.

"We don't anticipate that you'll have to actually do anything. But we would like you to come down and be a show of authority."

"We can do that if you give a day or two. The rest of my crew is slated to return tomorrow throughout the day. Once everyone is accounted for and the ship is back in running order, we will set sail for St. Louis. Normally we would run at ten knots but that would take us roughly two weeks to get there from here. We can run faster if you need us to get there sooner."

"I'll need you here sooner than two weeks, Captain," Michener said gravely. Tom nodded slowly and Mike started making calculations in his head on what all needed to be done.

"I may be able to knock it down to five days, Sir, but I'll have to talk to a few of my people to do the math," Tom replied with a sigh.

"The sooner the better, Captain, the fire is being stoked here."

"I understand, Sir. We will do our best to be there as soon as possible. Is there anything else we need to be aware of?"

"Just that our intelligence says that you shouldn't encounter anything on your way here. None of these factions have any kind of naval powers."

"That's good to know," Tom said dryly.

"God speed, Captain, and the sooner the better. I look forward to seeing you in person in a few days."

"Likewise, Mr. President," Tom replied and the vidchat went blank. Mike watched Tom blow out a frustrated breath and bounce his fist off his leg.

"Well, that sounds interesting," Mike said leaning against the doorway. Tom looked up at him.

"Yeah," Tom mumbled stretching his neck. "Just what we wanted to get into a muddy political battle."

"Well, part of our duty is to protect the United States," Mike said.

"I know, foreign and domestic."

"Bingo. I'll get with Gator and start planning the route and speeds. Five days is pushing her, Tom."

"I know. I doubt we will be able to do it that fast. Especially up the river, but you heard the man, the sooner the better. So, make up a lot of time in the open ocean water as we sail south."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Gator should be able to plan it all out and make it work."

Chandler nodded at Mike and dismissed him with a hand. Mike ducked out of the CIC room and headed back towards the bridge. Once there he explained the plan to Gator and watched the frown cross the other man's face.

"Five days? From here?"

"That's the plan. Can, you, do it?"

"Well," Gator said as he leaned down on the chart table. He ran his finger along the path he figured to take and then started to do math problems to the side. "Open water won't really be an issue and we can make up most of our time there, but we'll have to go near top speed. We'll burn a ton of fuel. Once we get here," Gator continued, his finger tapping the mouth of the Mississippi river, "we'll have to slow way down. No way we can charge up a river at top speeds."

"Start planning your route and speeds. As soon as everyone is accounted for tomorrow, we will be leaving for St. Louis."

"Aye, XO, just give me a minute."

Gator went to work on the chart, scribbling and scratching at math problems and thinking and rethinking about routes. Mike knew the man was getting closer to an answer, so he let him go. Finally, Gator spoke again.

"I think I can do this in five days, Sir, as long as nothing goes wrong," Gator sighed out in a hushed tone.

"Good," Mike replied. Gator pointed to the map, his finger plunking down.

"We're here, right now. This is where we need to go" Gator continued, plunking his finger on another spot. This is the path we'll need to take," Gator continued as his finger returned to the first mark then traced a line to the second. But it's going to push the ship to do it that fast. I don't know. They just overhauled the engines, and with this order…no at sea test drive. Also, I checked with Norfolk just before you came on the bridge. There's a storm brewing here."

"Captain on the bridge!" was shouted and Mike looked up to see Tom coming towards him. He gave him a grave look as he thought about what Gator had said about the engines, and what Andrea had said the other day as well. There just wasn't enough time to test drive the engines. Tom frowned as he stepped up next to Mike.

"Gentlemen," Tom said as he looked down at the map.

"Captain," Mike and Gator said in unison. Gator leaned back down, frantically doing math problems as he made marks along their projected route.

"What have we figured out?" Tom asked. Gator glanced at Mike and sighed before making eye contact with Tom. Mike had a bad feeling in his gut.

"It's going to be a bit tough to get us there in the time frame the president wants. We have a storm to contend with not to mention we can't do thirty knots up the Mississippi River," Gator said barely containing his disdain for the new orders.

"I know. I didn't make any promises to the president other than to get there as quickly as we can…safely."

Gator seemed to absorb the captain's words and nodded slowly. He looked at the board again before he answered.

"I appreciate that," Gator replied absently as his ire seemed to come down a notch.

"So, with that knowledge, what can we come up with to get us there as quickly as possible."

"If…and I do mean if…we can keep the ship at twenty-five knots on the open ocean and then slow to fifteen knots on the Mississippi, we can be there in about five days plus some spare change in hours."

"If," Tom repeated. Gator looked up at him and shrugged.

"Like I said we have a storm on the southern edge of Florida that may or may not slow us down, depending on how bad it is when we get there. Then we will have to contend with whatever is on the river. It shouldn't be too crowded with ships but there may be abandoned ones we will have to contend with. I just don't know if we can keep those speeds up the entire time. The fastest I can get this ship there safely…is five days and a few hours."

Mike watched as Tom mulled the new information over in his mind. He was proud of Gator for voicing his opinion on how unsafe these orders were. Tom seemed to come to a decision, with a sigh and a nod.

"Alright. Plot the course and be ready to leave for St. Louis once the ship is ready."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Gator said, before he sunk back down and started to make marks on the map board. Tom looked at Mike and then sighed as he walked to his captain's chair and slumped down. Mike followed him over and stood at the arm.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Mike whispered. Tom looked at him and nodded. Mike could tell Tom felt the same thing.

"I don't like it either," Tom replied. "But it's our standing orders and we have to follow through. Hopefully it's nothing."

"We can pray. You going back to your cabin?" Mike asked. Tom looked at the clock and frowned. Mike glanced as well. There was only an hour left before Tom was on watch again. Tom sighed. Mike noticed he'd been doing that a lot lately and worried about his friend's mental state.

"I'll be back in an hour," Tom said pushing himself up from the chair.

Mike finished his cup of coffee and closed his eyes for a moment as he felt the strain already of the next mission. The bad feeling in his gut just wouldn't go away and he hoped it was nothing.

To Be Continued…