Seawolf Mask of Command (14 page)

“You aren’t looking so good, ma’am,” he said with genuine concern as he set the service down.

Kristen noticed a pair of chocolate covered doughnuts with sprinkles on the tray as well. “I hope you didn’t steal those from the XO’s private stash,” she replied, removed her glasses, and stretched, trying to find some semblance of life in her tired body.

“You let me worry about the XO,” he suggested and poured her tea. “If you don’t mind me saying so, I think you need to get some real sleep tonight. It won’t do you any good to start off tomorrow morning unable to keep your eyes open.”

Kristen shook her head reflexively, refusing to admit she couldn’t keep going. “I used to pull all-nighters routinely back at the Academy. All I need is another cup of tea, and I’ll be fresh as a daisy.”

“I was thinking you look more like a Black-eyed Susan, Miss,” he pointed out. “You look awful.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” She accepted the teacup and took a sip. But the tea was bland. Kristen knew he was right. She needed several hours of sleep or she would pass out. But there were still several systems she’d been unable to get to during her marathon cram session, and there was precious little time left.

She drained the cup, and Gibbs retreated back into the galley, leaving her alone to study. But try as she might, her eyes closed of their own volition. Kristen forced them open, read a page, but found herself unable to recall anything she’d seen. She drained a second cup, but the caffeine rush she hoped for failed to come.

Just a couple of seconds. Just close your eyes for a couple of seconds.

She fought the urge to sleep. The ship’s diesel engine, which was used as a backup in the event the reactor failed, was sure to be on the exam, and she needed to get down into this critical space and spend several hours going over start up procedures and other checklists.

Just a few seconds. Just close your eyes…

Kristen shook her head as the pages before her blurred again. She rubbed her eyes and pushed her glasses up on her nose, forcing herself to sit up straight and focus. But it was no use.

Just for a minute. Just one quick little minute and you’ll feel so much better.

She allowed her head to lean against a hand. She closed her eyes.

Just for a few seconds…

Crew Berthing, USS Seawolf

“M
a’am,” she heard a familiar voice. “Ma’am, you need to wake up now.”

Kristen pried her eyes open but didn’t immediately know where she was. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs as she struggled to awaken. The last thing she remembered was being in the wardroom. “Mister Gibbs?” she asked and glanced at her watch. It was just after five in the morning. “Is it really zero-five-hundred?”

“Shh,” he insisted, holding a finger to his lips. “Everyone is still sleeping, and we need to get you out of here before the crew wakes up.”

Kristen now recognized where she was. She was lying in a regulation crew bunk in their berthing space. She quickly checked under the blanket and was relieved to find she was still dressed in her coveralls.

“How did I get here?” she asked with a start as she scrambled out of the bunk. If she was caught in crew berthing, the scandal would be enormous.

“You fell asleep in the wardroom, and…” he hesitated as he helped her down from the chest-high bunk. “I… I uh thought it would be best if you got a few hours of sleep, so I brought you in here.”

Most of the crew slept ashore in a regular barracks while the submarine was in port, so the berthing space was almost empty. But there were a handful of watch standers who slept on board each night. Fortunately, those men who were in their bunks were snoring loudly as Gibbs led Kristen out of the berthing space without encountering anyone.

“How did you get me…” she began to ask, not quite remembering how she made it from the wardroom to the enlisted berthing. But even as she asked, she remembered her exam starting in just a few hours. “I’ve got to get down to the diesel engine spaces! I’ve got a lot of studying to do.”

“Ma’am,” Gibbs offered as she felt herself beginning to panic, “might I suggest you get a shower and some fresh clothing first?”

Kristen needed a shower. It would help her wake up and clear the cobwebs still lingering in her skull. But she didn’t have time to run back to her barracks. She needed to get to work immediately. But before she could argue with him, he offered her a freshly pressed and folded set of coveralls as well as a shopping bag.

“What’s this?” she asked and glanced in the bag. Inside was a complete set of toiletries, including a package of underwear, a new sports bra, and a towel. “Where did you get all of this stuff?” she asked as he led her up to officers’ country.

He ignored her question and instead, motioned toward the door leading to the officers’ head. “I cleaned the head, so it should be okay,” he told her as he looked around to make certain they weren’t being watched.

Kristen knew she was missing something, but her mind was still too numb to really think about it. She stumbled into the small head she shared with thirteen fellow officers and turned on the single shower. She opened the shopping bag and removed a bath towel and wash cloth. Both were brand new and still had the tags on them. She then removed the body wash and shampoo. They weren’t her brand but were more than adequate. She glanced at the underwear and saw Gibbs had guessed her size perfectly. There was also a comb, a hairbrush, and a small blow dryer.

The shower helped wake her, reviving her sagging energy levels and refreshing her somewhat, but she felt the pressing need to hurry. There was still much to do. She dressed quickly, relishing the feel of clean clothes for the first time in three days.

Or was it four?

She’d lost track of time. Normally she liked to keep her hair in an intricate French braid, one of the few idiosyncrasies she clung to from her childhood. But that normally took thirty minutes, and she didn’t want to spend time on it. So after drying it out, she tied it into a tight bun that would have to do, collected her belongings, and stepped back into the passageway where Gibbs waited nervously.

“I owe you, Mister Gibbs,” she told him as she closed the door behind her. “I can’t thank you enough for this. I feel brand new.”

“That’s thanks enough, ma’am,” he assured her. “But let’s keep this between us, okay?”

Kristen had no idea why he was being so secretive now that they were away from the crew berthing, but she didn’t argue. “All right,” she replied. “How much did all this cost?”

Gibbs looked at her blankly.

“How much do I owe you?” She headed toward the wardroom, anxious to get back to work.

“Uh…” he mumbled. “I’m not sure,” he stammered while following her back to the wardroom.

“Well, whatever it is, just let me know,” she assured him. “Whatever the cost, I’m good for it ten times over.”

“That’s okay, ma’am,” he replied. “I hope everything fits okay.”

“Perfect,” she admitted as they reached the wardroom. “How did you guess my size?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

Something wasn’t ringing true about what had happened, and Kristen got the feeling Gibbs was hiding something. But she didn’t have time to waste trying to figure it out. She gathered her checklists and raced down to the auxiliary machinery space where the diesel engine was located. She climbed down the steep ladder leading into the cramped compartment and was surprised to find, waiting in the space, was COB.

“Good morning, Missy,” he greeted her politely.

“Good morning, COB,” she answered. “Is everything all right?” she asked, glancing around.

As Chief of the Boat, COB could go virtually anywhere on board unquestioned. But it was an odd place to find him at such an early hour. He didn’t appear to be inspecting anything nor were there any other personnel visible for him to be supervising. She briefly thought he might have dragged some malcontent down into the space for some hands-on counseling in private. But she didn’t see anyone else. He was just waiting.

“Everything’s just fine, Missy,” he answered. “What brings you down here this fine morning?”

“I have my engineering exam in a few hours and need to get familiarized with the space,” she admitted. “I’m afraid I fell asleep last night and haven’t had a chance to get down here.”

He replied with a simple nod, “Well, the diesel is sure to be on your exam.” He patted the massive motor with his right hand. “Would you like some help?”

It was a question Kristen wasn’t accustomed to hearing from anyone anymore. Over the last few years the number of people she felt she could trust had diminished to just one. Although, after the previous evening, that list might have grown to include Gibbs. What COB was playing at, Kristen couldn’t guess, but he probably knew the diesel better than the men who would test her on it. She couldn’t turn down such an offer. “I would appreciate that very much, COB,” she admitted. “But what brings you down here anyway?”

He gave her a coy smile. “Now, Missy, since when do we Chiefs have to answer such questions from you fresh young officers?”

Kristen was still a little punch drunk from the last ninety-six hours, but she was sharp enough to know this was no coincidence. COB was here because he knew she would be. This was confirmed less than three minutes later when she heard a gruff voice coming from the ladder way. “Has that Lassie shown up yet, Matt?”

Kristen recognized Chief O’Rourke’s Irish lilt. “I’m right here, Senior Chief,” she called up as the Irishman climbed down. His coveralls—unlike COB’s—were filthy from working all night.

The redheaded chief paused when he reached the base of the ladder and took a moment to light a cigarette. Smoking was forbidden here, but she decided against pointing this regulation out to the salty Chief.

“All right, let’s get to work. We don’t have much time,” O’Rourke said without offering any explanation.

Kristen had seen O’Rourke around engineering whenever she’d been in the space. But they’d seldom had a reason to talk, and she assumed he simply didn’t like her. Of course, he hardly spoke to any of the officers, and he treated Ensign Martin as if the young officer was a stain on the bulkhead. What was more, O’Rourke began and ended nearly every sentence he spoke with profanity. But he also knew his business, and for the next two hours she kept her mouth shut and her eyes and ears open as the two seasoned submariners, inexplicably, tutored her on the diesel engine.

Kristen returned to the wardroom just ten minutes before the morning meeting. She’d had a full two hours to spend studying the diesel, and although it was hardly enough to make her feel confident about this portion of the exam, she now had at least some inkling of what was in the space and where everything was located. Everyone had already arrived except for Martin, who was—as usual—cutting it close, and the captain who would arrive at 0830. As she entered, she was greeted with several sympathetic looks, except for Ski who looked as grumpy as ever.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Graves greeted her from where he sat reading the message board and sipping coffee. “Today’s the big day, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed, sir,” she agreed and slipped behind several of her fellow officers and found her seat. No sooner had she sat down, than Gibbs swept in with a tray of food for her and a fresh pot of tea.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he said politely. “You’d best eat quickly; the captain will be here in nine minutes.”

Kristen’s stomach was twisted in anxious knots. She felt if she just had another forty-eight hours she might be ready, but one look at Ski was enough of a reminder that she would receive no extension from him. She gulped down two pieces of dry wheat toast, but stayed away from her eggs. She washed the toast down with some strong tea, managing to get it done in just a couple of minutes.

“Good luck today,” Terry offered as he sat down. He sounded sincere, even though he’d done nothing to help her over the past few days.

“Thanks, Terry.”

Several of her fellow officers followed Terry’s lead and wished her luck, a few even seemed to mean it. Martin arrived just a few seconds before the meeting would begin. He was just taking a seat when Brodie entered. As usual everyone came to their feet only to have him wave them back down.

Kristen was going over countless mental checklists in her head and hardly paid attention as the meeting began. Gibbs offered Brodie his usual coffee, but she noticed there was none of the usual playful banter between them. Plus, Brodie skipped the usual morning round of chit-chat with his officers and got right down to business. He went down his usual checklists, hammering each of the department heads hard. This was certainly different than usual. His voice was sharper, his tone more urgent. She thought he looked a bit more weathered than usual. Not that she could spare mental capacity for any analysis of her captain at the moment, she needed to keep her focus, and disciplined her well-ordered mind to the real task at hand. A knock at the door drew her attention from thoughts of condensers, drive shafts, emergency generators….

Two lieutenant commanders stepped in. They both wore coveralls, and without a word said, she knew who they were. The engineering exam was administered by a team of officers. Each had to be a qualified engineering officer, and these two men were part of the group who would test her. She stiffened slightly as they greeted Brodie. She recognized one as an officer who’d spoken against her petition to serve on a submarine before Congress. His name was Crocker, and he was considered an up-and-comer in the submarine service.