“This base was originally constructed in the old calendar year of 1979, during the declining years of the James Earl Carter administration. He worked up the base in grand style as a gift to his home state,” Poseidon said. “Small and attractive, and as you can see, durable.”
“Carter must’ve been one double-powerful baron,” Krysty said.
“Not as strong as you think. He ruled for four years, then he was replaced with a new baron,” Poseidon replied. “His own people voted him out.”
“Voted?” Jak asked.
“Um, threw him out. Fired him,” Poseidon said.
“Sounds more like a leader of a ville to me,” Krysty said. Jak nodded agreement.
“Don’t use ignorance. This took place in the past, yet I still know it. History, you buffoons! Learn from the mistakes of others!” Poseidon rumbled. “I read this in a book in the base library. Most of the old texts were ruined, but one entire wall survived in readable condition, including a set of encyclopedias. Most illuminating.”
The Admiral gestured to a small, pale white submarine that had surfaced.
“We have a single working minisub, the Moth, that comfortably holds a crew of eight but can accommodate twelve if needed. This is the same craft that rescued you and Jack Ryan, Miss Wroth.”
“Lauren,” Jak protested.
“Whatever.” Poseidon was playing the role of genial host to the best of his considerable ability, and Krysty had to credit the man’s gift for gab. He was proud but not arrogant as he showed off his base, his men and his aquatic toys. Normally such a display would scream ego to her, since she’d been given the grand tour more than once by barons who quickly turned on her and her friends. Even the sec men were a familiar part of the routine.
But at the same time, Poseidon seemed genuinely interested in her opinions and comments. What did she think? Did she like this or that?
Jak wasn’t as impressed. As he took in the white exterior tiles of the submarine, peering down over the rail at the tiny craft, he commented aloud, “Don’t look like much.”
Krysty was curious as to how Poseidon would respond to the insult.
The last thing she expected was laughter.
“You’re right, Lauren!” Poseidon said in a tone of fellowship that made Krysty feel he’d used Jak’s proper name as a reward for amusing him. “Looks like an oblong cake of lye soap floating in a cast-iron tub! No, the Moth is only for short-range use, a scientific-exploration craft. Not military issue at all. The real-deal submarine is in another berth, and trust me when I say I think you will find it to be more impressive.”
As they stepped over to the sub he was discussing, both realized Poseidon had told the truth.
“This is the USS Raleigh,” Poseidon announced. “One of the elite of the nuclear warships of the world before skydark. She is a Los Angeles-class boat, thirty-three feet in diameter for the highest speed capabilities—capable of passing thirty five knots when the reactor core is operating at full potential. She comes equipped with the BSY-1 combat system and the Mk 32 VLS system for vertical missile launch. Her hull is approximately three inches thick and composed of a vanadium and HY-80 high-tensile steel mix. She displaces an estimated 6,900 tons.”
The group of five stepped out on the gangplank on top of the massive submarine for a closer look at the lookout station.
“Now are you impressed, Mr. Lauren?” Poseidon asked.
Jak didn’t answer as he peered down the front of the deadly steel cigar.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes,” Poseidon said. “That ends the tour. I can’t top the Raleigh.”
“Don’t we get to go inside?” Krysty asked.
“No, you do not. The interior of the boat is classified.” Poseidon nodded to one of the accompanying sec men. “Take our guests back to the ward.”
“I’d rather have something to eat,” Krysty said. “I’m starved.”
“And you shall. But in your rooms.”
“Not in the cafeteria?” Krysty asked, trying to be as flirtatious as possible.
“I’m afraid not.”
“Sounds like we’re your prisoners,” Jak said bluntly.
“No, but you are my guests, and I always take care of my guests.”