She was going to be called “Big E” like her predecessors, though Eric Simmons didn’t know that. All he knew was what he could see, what he could hear, and what he could taste … and that was mostly fear. He could almost feel it oozing out of every pore, hard-spiked adrenaline on his tongue as he walked toward the big graving dock where they were building the ship. He was sweating even though it wasn’t particularly hot, his armpits soaked in the cool Virginia air. “I have to do this,” he whispered to himself. And he did. There were no other choices for him.