by Cliff Happy
“We have eggs to order, pancakes, waffles, assorted cereals, juices, pastries, fruit… whatever you want, ma’am,” he said, clearly anxious to please.
It all sounded good at the moment, and Kristen considered a chocolate covered doughnut, but fought off her chocolate craving and answered, “How about some scrambled eggs, toast, and juice.”
“Coming right up,” he responded excitedly.
She watched as the overanxious steward nearly pirouetted before returning to the galley. Kristen pondered the slightly eccentric petty officer, wondering if anyone on board besides her realized he was gay. She didn’t believe most men noticed such things, not that Kristen could care less herself, but she knew some might hold the man’s sexual preference against him. She briefly considered the captain.
Did he know?
Kristen dismissed the useless speculation and forced discipline back into her thoughts as she continued studying. But within a minute, Gibbs returned carrying, of all things, a tea service. He set it down and immediately began pouring tea. Kristen was taken slightly aback. She’d just mentioned that she preferred tea to the captain the previous afternoon, and now Gibbs was standing beside her asking if she liked milk in her tea.
“I know some people take it that way,” he explained.
“Yes,” she replied feeling a little punchy. “Just a splash.”
“I hope Earl Grey is okay,” he said to her as he poured. “I also have herbal tea, Darjeeling, three different pekoes, green tea, black—”
Kristen put a hand on his arm to stop him. “I get it, Mister Gibbs,” she told him. Then, realizing she might have found a friend among the crew, she let her cold veneer slip and allowed a smile of gratitude to cross her face. “You have a plethora of tea. Thank you, Earl Grey will be just wonderful.”
“I’ll leave the pot, Miss. You look like you could use a little pick me up.”
“That bad?” she asked, hoping her exhaustion wasn’t showing yet.
He cringed and screwed up his face slightly as if to apologize. “Sorry ma’am, but you need to learn that around here sleep is a valuable commodity. You should never miss a chance to get some.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.” She took a sip of tea. It was like sweet nectar. “Aaahhh,” she let out a sigh of approval, much to Gibbs’ pleasure. He departed to finish preparing her breakfast.
Kristen pondered the meaning of her mentioning she preferred tea, and Gibbs suddenly having a complete tea service plus a variety of teas. Obviously the captain had ordered him to get it after their conversation, and she wondered if he was as thoughtful for all of his officers or was just trying to make her feel as welcome as possible. She considered other motives, each more sinister, but she finally dismissed the useless speculation and returned to her studies.
Gibbs returned five minutes later with a plate filled with eggs, three strips of bacon, and toast. Plus he brought an assortment of jellies, peanut butter, salt, pepper, and Tabasco sauce. “The captain pours Tabasco on everything, even his eggs,” Gibbs explained as he set everything on the table before her. His face showed his disapproval, as he continued talking while he laid out her silverware. “Disgusting I know, but I gave up trying to fix him years ago.”
“How long have you been with the captain?”
“Three years and nine months,” he answered with a hint of pride. “I came on as his steward when he first took command.”
“And do you always make certain his officers have their particular favorites?” she asked as she raised her teacup.
Gibbs nodded as he stepped back from her, wiping his hands on a dish rag. “Oh, yes,” he explained, his mannerisms slightly animated. “The XO has to have his chocolate covered doughnuts with sprinkles every morning, the chief engineer likes grapefruit juice… although these days he needs some prune juice I suspect….”
Kristen cut him off before he said more. “I get the picture, Mister Gibbs,” she said, thankful for the tea. “Everything looks perfect, thank you.”
“If you need anything, I’ll be in the galley. Just give a shout,” he offered earnestly.
Kristen ate as she studied, drinking several cups of tea before being disturbed again as the XO appeared, entering through the only other door to the wardroom. Kristen had a mouthful of toast and jelly, but came to her feet, trying to swallow so she might greet him properly. But the tall, slender African American raised a hand to stop her.
“At ease, Lieutenant,” he told her. “We aren’t so formal here in the wardroom. Sit down and finish your breakfast.”
Kristen choked down her food as she resumed her seat. “Good morning, sir,” she managed before washing the rest of her food down with another mouthful of tea.
He nodded in reply as he stepped past her toward the coffee pot. “How was your evening?”
“Fine, sir. And yours?”
He poured some coffee into a mug and then grimaced as he took a sip. It had come out of the pot thick as hot tar. “Not bad,” he answered. “I won twenty bucks on the Lakers.” He then took a seat near the head of the table next to where the captain would eventually sit.
Kristen had no intention of disturbing him further as he opened up a metal clipboard containing the evening’s communications. It was called the “read board” and there were several varieties depending on the level of classification. By the warning on the cover of the clipboard she could see that he was reading the Top Secret message traffic.
Gibbs swept in a moment later with two plates of food for the XO, including one with three doughnuts.
“Good morning, Commander,” he greeted with a perky grin. “I hope you’re hungry this morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Mister Gibbs,” Graves replied without looking up. “Anything happen last night?”
Kristen listened as Gibbs recited nearly verbatim the handful of incidents reported in the ship’s log. Two sailors had been returned to the Seawolf after having gotten into an altercation at the enlisted club. Another seaman had cut himself in the torpedo room and had received eleven stitches. Once this morning ritual was over, Gibbs returned to the galley where Kristen noticed him peeking into the wardroom through a small, circular window in the door every few minutes.
She resumed reading as she finished her breakfast, still a little hungry and occasionally glancing over at the XO’s plate where he still had a single doughnut waiting that seemed to be calling to her. Or, more specifically, calling to her hips where she was certain the doughnut would end up if she ate it. She summoned her will power as Gibbs returned and cleared away her dishes.
“Is there anything else I can get you, ma’am?” he asked, a hint of knowing in his voice.
She glanced up at him innocently, but he responded with a wink. “Coming right up,” he confided conspiratorially and left, only to return a minute later with a chocolate covered doughnut with sprinkles.
Kristen finished her meal, and with her hunger now satiated, and her chocolate craving once more under control, she focused her energy on her manuals.
Jason Graves looked up from the classified read board, not pleased with what was happening in North Korea. It seemed that just when he thought everything was okay with the world, North Korea, Iran, Pakistan or some other place began stirring up trouble and causing a panic in Washington. He closed the read board and got up to refill his coffee cup.
As he did so, he noticed Kristen studying a manual. She was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and her blond hair was twisted into several fine braids as he’d seen them the day before. She wore no makeup and her skin was deeply tanned from nearly a year in Hawaii. Her coveralls were clean and freshly pressed, and the strict expression on her face reminded him of a schoolmarm. But what truly drew his attention was the way she placed her middle and index finger at the top of the page and then drew them down to the bottom in just a few seconds as she stared at the page. Then, as if having read the entire page, she turned to the next. In less time than it took him to fill his coffee mug, she’d gone throu
gh three full pages of highly-detailed technical specifications for the sub’s main condenser.
He watched her closely as he returned to his seat. He knew she was intelligent, a bit of an egghead perhaps. But this seemed a little much. “Excuse me, Lieutenant,” he interrupted her.
She looked up at him, her fingers pausing over the page. “Yes, sir?”
“Just what are you doing?”
Her usual expressionless face gave a hint of confusion. “Uh, I’m studying, sir,” she responded, apparently not sure what he was talking about.
He mimicked her motion with his own fingers. “I mean, what’s that thing you’re doing there with the fingers?”
“I’m reading, sir,” she responded curtly, reminding him more of a machine than a human being.
“You’re reading that fast?” he asked in disbelief. “You aren’t spending more than a few seconds on each page.”
Her demeanor changed slightly, as the prim and proper schoolmarm façade slipped and she fidgeted nervously. She was about to respond when the door opened and an exhausted looking captain appeared. He was dressed in the same set of coveralls Graves had last seen him wearing. Graves and their newest lieutenant began to stand but Brodie waved them back down while groaning, “Coffee.”
Zombie-like, he walked to the coffee pot where he poured a mug without further comment and took a sip. Graves watched him with concern. He’d served with Brodie for two years, and had known him as a close friend for the better part of two decades. Brodie pushed himself too hard, forgoing sleep and relying on a seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy and caffeine to keep him going longer than what could possibly be healthy. While at sea, it wasn’t uncommon for Brodie to stay awake for two or three days sometimes before knocking off for a few hours of sleep. But ever since their orders had come down to get ready for sea, he’d been setting new records for stamina.
“Oh, that’s awful,” Brodie groaned and took another sip. “I think Gibbs is washing his socks in there again,” he commented dryly and took yet another sip.
“No,” Graves replied, smiling at his friend. “I think he’s putting his skivvies in there these days.”
Kristen sat silently during the exchange, watching the two men banter back and forth.
“I heard you got the reduction gears aligned last night,” Graves offered, knowing Brodie had let Ski leave early to spend time with his wife. “I don’t imagine you found time to get any sleep?” he asked gently, not wanting to give his friend a hard time in front of the new lieutenant.
Brodie didn’t respond; instead, he refilled his mug and turned back toward the door. “How’s Penny?” he asked referring to Graves’ wife.
“She told me to tell you she expects you for dinner this Friday,” Graves replied. “And if you can’t make it, you’ll have to tell her yourself because I sure as hell won’t.”
Penny had known Brodie as long as Graves, and she considered him part of the family.
Brodie paused behind Graves’ chair and Jason felt a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I’ll see you at zero-eight-thirty, XO,” Brodie said in answer to the question.
“Aye, sir,” Graves replied and watched his friend head for the door only to pause briefly and look back at Jason.
“Oh,” the captain said offhandedly as he motioned with his cup toward Kristen, “I forgot to tell you, she has a photographic memory.” He then continued on his way.
Jason watched Brodie disappear through the doorway leading into the passageway and then looked back at Kristen who was watching him over her glasses perched low on her nose. “A photographic memory?” he asked incredulously. “Is that true?”
She nodded her head but then added, “More precisely, the term is ‘eidetic memory,’ sir.”
Graves knew she was smart, but this was something he hadn’t expected. Curious, he pressed, “What’s the difference?”
Hesitantly, she explained, “People with photographic memories just recall images….”
“And you?” he prodded.
“Everything,” she said almost with embarrassment.
“What do you mean, ‘everything?’”
“Every sight, sound, touch, smell… everything, sir.” While speaking she’d unconsciously stiffened her shoulders and fidgeted slightly before lowering her head a bit, clearly uncomfortable talking about it.
“Well hell, Lieutenant,” he observed, “it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
She shrugged a shoulder slightly and explained, “Just the same, sir, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. People tend to treat me as an oddity already, and I’d prefer not attracting more attention than I already do.”
Fat chance.
Graves knew the chance of her just hiding in and among the crew was impossible. She was hardly unattractive, and once at sea, the good looks she hid behind her tightly-bound hair, slightly-baggy overalls, and austere exterior would become more evident with each day they were underway. After three months at sea, she’d look like a goddess to every red-blooded man on board, except for Gibbs. The fact Gibbs was a homosexual wasn’t lost on Graves nor Brodie. But Graves knew the captain had always had a soft spot for those who broke with convention.
Kristen returned to her studies, trying to maintain her concentration as more officers filtered in over the next hour. Other than a few incredulous glances, the reaction by most of her fellow officers upon seeing her seated in the wardroom was to ignore her.
This suited her just fine. She had no time for socializing. She was far behind her peers, and she hoped to take the engineering exam within the first two months of being on board. No small feat, but she felt she could manage it.
At first, none bothered to introduce themselves or welcome her aboard, which she accepted in stoic silence. However, just when she thought they’d never speak to her, a rather handsome Lieutenant Junior Grade paused and studied her a little longer than most. He offered her a jaunty smile and stepped over, leaning across the table.
“Hi there,” he said with a friendly grin. “I’m Terrance Hall. My friends call me Terry,” he offered in introduction, “but you can call me anything you want.”
She hid her thoughts at the glib line, nodded politely and shook his hand.
“Give it a rest will ya, Terry,” another officer grunted as he slipped behind Terry on his way to the coffee pot. “She’s been on board less than a day, and you’re already making an ass of yourself.” The other officer’s name was Massanelli, and he didn’t bother to stop and introduce himself as he made a beeline for the coffee.
Kristen responded with an appropriate, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Terry. I’m Kristen.”
“The pleasure’s all mine, Kristen,” he said with a smile she was certain had wooed more than his fair share of ladies.
She released his hand and attempted to return to her studies as more officers drifted in. Kristen, her concentration broken, sat quietly and observed the various relationships and studied her fellow officers’ personalities. She would spend the next six months with these men, and considering the close confines they would experience, she needed to know just which of them she could trust and who might be a problem. They were all qualified submariners, and from the sound of their light-hearted banter, they’d all spent an entire patrol together so knew one another well. Ski arrived just after 0800 and the chitchat subsided somewhat as he entered, a perpetual scowl on his face. The XO paid no attention to any of his fellow officers as they joked around with one another prior to the morning meeting. Terry was an obvious flirt, and she assumed he was the kind of guy with a girl in every port. But she’d resisted better looking temptations than him while at the Academy, and she knew she could handle him. Most of the others were married and were more interested in getting their specific areas of responsibility ready for sea than toying with her.
Except for Ski.
Kristen knew nothing about him other than he didn’t like having her on board. He’d glanced her way briefly when he entered, a
nd she’d seen a flicker of a scowl forming before he wiped it off. She didn’t like to judge people too quickly, but over the last three-plus years, her circle of friends had faded from many to only one, and she had learned she couldn’t afford to trust anyone too quickly. She would have to be careful around Ski. He wouldn’t miss an opportunity to screw her over.
Daniel Martin, the man who’d met her when she first came aboard, was the last officer to arrive. He came through the doorway at 0820, just ten minutes before the meeting. Kristen noticed how he tried to insert himself in a couple of conversations as he slowly made his way down the table to take a seat across from her. None of the others seemed any more interested in talking to him than they were in speaking to her.
You’re a Nub, remember? What did you expect?
Martin sat down, having failed to find anyone anxious to speak to him. He looked at her as Gibbs appeared and made his rounds filling coffee mugs with a fresh pot. He was greeted with several grunts of disgust at the coffee which was apparently strong enough to wake the dead. But no one gave the steward a hard time.
“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Martin offered, hoping to engage her in conversation.
“Good morning, Ensign,” she responded politely, noticing that Gibbs lingered over the XO a few seconds longer, asking if he needed anything. Gibbs all but ignored Ski, but greeted a few of the other officers politely.
Gibbs stopped by her last. “Is there anything else I can get you, Lieutenant?” he asked. “The skipper will be here in seven minutes.”
Seven minutes? Not five or ten?
She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was 0823.
“Might I have another cup of tea, Mister Gibbs?” she asked politely.
“With pleasure, ma’am,” he answered with a smile and stepped back into the galley to see to it. She noticed that Gibbs hadn’t said a word to Martin, and she briefly wondered why. Her usual—and at times annoying—attention to detail was allowing her to quickly compile a large amount of information on everyone in the room. The steward returned a moment later with a fresh pot of tea and set it down on the service tray beside her. He also brought a fresh creamer of milk.