The Crucible. Joaquin De Torres
After several long moments, she pulled back to look at Kristina’s face. She used her fingers to gently wipe away her tears while softly kissing her forehead reassuringly. Her quaking finally subsided, as she kept her head against Becca's chest.
“I can't ever imagine seeing that again,” she whispered. “That's why I could never be a commanding officer.”
“You were only 18. Things would be different.”
“No. I can't ever erase those memories, those visions--the smell. They haunt me still. It all paralyzes me. If the situation happened again, I would freeze again, I know it. I couldn't help anyone then, and I wouldn't be able to help anyone now.”
“You're wrong, Kristina. You were just a kid. But you've grown and trained into a strong commander--a strong person.” She pulled away to look Kristina square in the face. “You have to believe in yourself again.”
“My father tried to--”
“Your father is so proud of you, but even if he does get you out of the Navy, would you be proud of that? Walking away from something you love? Never attaining your dream? Never being able to face your fear and conquer it?”
“What's my fear, Becca?”
“This fear of command; this phobia of accepting a position that may put you in harm's way. You've always wanted to be a ship’s captain, not a lab rat. So face this fear and defeat it. Defeat it or you will never be happy. You will never fulfill your destiny. And the nightmares. . .will continue.”
“You ask too much of me.”
“Then let me ask you this: Who do you think would be more capable of leading a crew through such a horrid experience?”
“Becca, no. It can't be me. It could never be me.”
“It could only be you. Otherwise, we all would die. And the second chance to act, the second chance that God gives some people to overcome their past mistakes, would be wasted. Could you live with that?”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I love you; and I want you to receive everything you deserve. Baby, I would follow you into hell. And if such a horrible situation ever came up, there is no one better in the Navy who could get us through something like that.” Kristina was fixed on Becca's penetrating eyes, trying desperately to find faith and reason. When she opened her mouth, words that seemed locked forever in a cage, somehow were set free.
“Help me, Becca. I want to believe. Help me get over this.” The tears flooded her eyes again, but she didn't look away. Becca pulled her back into her arms, the tears now streaming from her eyes.
“I'll never leave you.”
Chapter 8
Wolf Among Sheep
La Perouse Strait
North of Rebun Jima
Sea of Japan
Beneath the thick bank of fog there was utter chaos. The strait was cluttered with merchant vessels and cargo ships traversing in both directions, churning the waters violently on a nearly invisible morning.
Late November, before the customary winter closing of the strait because of ice packs, the nerves of the ship captains were as tumultuous as the waters themselves. Held out to sea for days because of seasonal storms lashing the Asian coasts; their cargos of grains, vegetables and other perishables already beginning to rot, many captains began to ‘run the strait’ at high speeds to make up for the lost time. Overdue cargoes meant reduced earnings and bruises to reputations.
With their surface radars sweeping giant swaths ahead of them, search lights beaming to give notice and collision bullhorns blaring, the huge and lumbering vessels barreled forth at high speed. Running the strait was illegal for it was the reason for several fatal collisions in the past. But for the captains, it was a necessary tactic, and a crime worth committing. For three days vessels were alerted of the dangerous traveling conditions in the strait via the La Perouse International Shipping Safety Broadcast which vessels monitored religiously. Captains monitored the recorded English-language broadcast every three minutes. The broadcast was a warning and specific only to those traveling through the strait. Fishermen eager to fill their nets with the seasonal boon of huge halibut and carp needed the greatest vigilance as they trolled in the paths of the behemoths.
The La Perouse Strait, discovered by French explorer Jean-François de Galaup, comte de La Perouse in 1787, divides the southern part of the Russian island of Sakhalin from the northern part of the Japanese island of Hokkaido, connecting the Sea of Japan on the west with the Sea of Okhotsk to the north, and the Pacific Ocean to the east. It is 25 miles long with depths between 167 to 390 feet. It is a vital corridor for shipping and trade between Asia, Russia and the Americas. The Russian Maritime Shipping Federation Center on Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk, on the southern tip of Sakhalin Island was responsible for the weather and warning broadcasts in the strait. Forty-three miles across the strait was Japan’s Weather and Maritime Traffic Station on Cape Soya which also carried the broadcasts.
“Warning to all vessels. Seasonal storm conditions in the areas of the Sea of Okhotsk, Sea of Japan and Northwestern Pacific Ocean are in effect. Condition Four. Condition Four. Traffic through the strait will be very heavy during the next 72 hours. Smaller vessels, fishing trawlers, private yachts, rigs, sloops, and slow moving barges are warned to stay clear of the major shipping lanes or run the risk of collision with cargo vessels. Condition Four is in effect.”
Although the strait’s 25-mile width seemed wide enough for traffic among merchant ships, it could be choked with oil-laden supertankers with lengths of up to 1,000 feet and widths of over 200 feet. The massive vessels moved together like herds of whales, some so close to each other that crewmembers shouted greetings and obscenities to their counterparts from their decks. Vessels of same nationality attempted to stay together in an orderly formation Because oncoming ships wouldn’t attempt to break through their formation. No unnecessary shifts in course meant a faster time through the strait.
From the bridge of the Tadashi-maru, the lead vessel in a Japanese formation of four 300-foot-long freighters carrying iron ore from Port Hardy, British Columbia to Yokohama; the captain looked ahead with his binoculars.
The ships were in an echelon formation--each ship behind the other, 45 degrees off the other’s aft port-quarter. The conditions were hazardous; waves ranged between two and a half to six meters in height. With the fog, visibility was less than a half-mile on the surface and two miles at mast level. Lookouts searched high for oncoming masts, crow’s nests, search lights, pilot houses, and smoke stacks protruding above the fog layer. When a mast was spotted quick calculation of the vessel's course and speed had to be reckoned and reported to the captain to avoid collision, and each vessel in the formation had to know the details simultaneously.
When the captain of the Tadashi-maru started his fifth visual sweep, scanning slowly from right to left. He pulled the binoculars down to quickly rub his eyes, but when he raised them again it was too late.
“CAPTAIN! VESSEL DEAD AHEAD! TWO DEGREES PORT! TWENTY KNOTS!” the helmsman yelled. Instinctively the captain snapped his head to the radar sweep scope and saw the massive glowing blob closing the distance between them.