Read Online The Circle by David Poyer - Free Book Online

here, course two-six-zero, speed then, just about at CPA at thirteen thousand yards, time zero-five.”
    The lieutenant (jg) rattled on, so fast he couldn’t follow. Courses and speeds and times, radio frequencies, the status of engines and pumps and generators. When he asked for a repeat, Silver glanced up, the whites of his eyes gleaming weirdly in the phosphor flicker. “What’s the matter, Lenson? Haven’t you read the night orders?”
    â€œNo, sir,” he mumbled.
    â€œFrom now on, read them before you tell me you’re ready to relieve. True wind’s from one-two-five at twelve, sea state two—”
    At last Silver handed over the bulky night glasses, the badge of office, with the reluctance of a priest blessing a dying mafioso. A shadowy figure stood beside the gyro, outlined against the stars. Silver told it, “I’ve been properly relieved by Mr. Lenson, sir.”
    â€œVery well.” The shadow’s voice was even, clearly enunciated, as if he’d learned English from a book.
    Dan swallowed. “This is Ensign Lenson,” he began, saluting in the dark although he didn’t have to, then realized he had it wrong. “I mean, sir, I have the watch as JOD.”
    â€œVery well,” said the shadow again. The bridge was so quiet he felt Ryan trembling as she drove over three-foot seas. “Mr. Silver, you may lay below.”
    Silver left the bridge, exhaling noisily. Someone, one of the enlisted men, chuckled in the darkness.
    Dan was too anxious to notice. He lingered near the radar, wondering what to do. Lieutenant Evlin had both the “deck,” the overall responsibility for, and the “conn,” the actual control of the ship. He flipped the straps of the binoculars over his neck, felt the weight settle in. He paced a few feet to and fro, reviewing the layout of the bridge and its manning under way.
    Steaming independently, a destroyer had ten men on watch topside. The officer of the deck, or OOD, was in charge. The junior OOD acted as his assistant and makeelearn. There were two senior enlisted men, or petty officers. Of these two, the quartermaster was a skilled navigator; he kept a log and plotted the ship’s track. The boatswain’s mate passed word, struck bells, and supervised six nonrated men. Of these, one acted as helmsman, both steering and ringing up engine orders. Three were lookouts, to port, starboard, and aft, supplemented in fog by another in the bow. They stood watch in the open, scanning sea and sky. Another seaman manned a phone circuit, relaying reports from CIC. Finally, a messenger cleaned up and fetched coffee and did the hundred other chores nine people who outranked him could think up in the course of four dragging hours.
    â€œSir,” said the phone talker suddenly, “CIC reports a new contact, ‘Tango,’ bearing zero-seven-zero, range twenty-five thousand, course one-nine-zero, speed ten; CPA three thousand yards at one-five-zero true, time four two.”
    The shadow stirred. “Have him on radar yet, Lenson?” said the even, precise voice.
    Dan started, then fumbled with unfamiliar dials. The green world between his hands shrank and expanded, dimmed and flared. “Uh, yes sir, I think this is him.”
    â€œMark it. Use the grease pencil on the string.”
    â€œAye aye, sir.”
    â€œSee if you can pick him up visually. No, the other wing, you won’t see anything to starboard.”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    The port wing was open to the sky. He tripped on a coaming as he came out. Then stood motionless, dazzled by the lavender afterimages the screen had printed on his retina. The wind found him as he waited and thrust icy fingers under the collar of his jacket. He shivered, fumbling the binoculars to his eyes.
    He couldn’t see a thing through them. Even the stars were blurry and distorted!
    Then he realized Silver had set them for his nearsightedness. He