Seawolf Mask of Command

by Cliff Happy

  “After reviewing the results of your examination, and discussing them with the board and the XO,” he said as he looked up and met her eyes with his own. “I’m sorry to inform you that I’m not inclined to certify you as an engineer watch officer at this time.”

  It was official. She’d failed.

  She’d never failed at anything in her life. Kristen felt her fingernails dig into the arms of her chair as she struggled to keep her bitter disappointment and anger in check, not wanting these men to see her affected by what they had to say. She didn’t fear tears. She wouldn’t cry—she never cried. But the sense of failure weighed down upon her like an oppressive blanket trying to suffocate her.

  Brodie’s voice showed no hint that he cared one way or the other. He was cold, detached, as if discussing some meaningless statistic. Ever since she’d begun her struggle to break through the gender barrier on submarines, she’d been forced to ignore what most people thought about her. Otherwise, the hate mail, the threats, and the childish pranks would have broken her. The result was a frosty exterior she could surround herself in when necessary.

  Kristen felt those icy walls coming up protectively around her now as he spoke. But try as she might to tune him out; try as she might not to care what Brodie said, she did care. To hear this man, the paragon of the submarine forces, look her in the eye and tell her she wasn’t good enough was devastating. Ski was nothing to her other than a superior she had to obey. Crocker and the other officer from the board were unimportant. But not Brodie. He mattered.

  “Do you have any questions, Lieutenant?” Brodie asked in conclusion.

  Why did you set me up to fail?

  Kristen wasn’t sure she could speak without her emotions showing. She took a deep, steadying breath. Her fingers were still white knuckling the arms of her chair. But she refused to show the tremendous frustration she felt. “Yes, sir,” she replied choosing her words carefully. “I would very much like the opportunity to retake the exam as soon as you and the Chief Engineer think practical. Until then, I would like to stay on board serving in whatever capacity you deem me fit for.”

  Brodie’s left eye twitched slightly, and she thought she saw a flash of anger in his eyes. It was only a brief instant lapse in his usual control, but she saw clear anger, and it was a bit unnerving. She recalled the warnings about not getting him angry. But if he was mad, the anger she saw disappeared a moment later to be replaced by steady calm. “Of course, Lieutenant,” he informed her simply. “Do you have any other questions?”

  “No, sir,” she answered, holding his gaze, and trying not to let her hatred show.

  “Very well,” he concluded. “You’re relieved of all duties until noon tomorrow,” he ordered. “I want you to go back to your barracks and get some sleep.”

  “Sir, I assure you that—”

  “That’s an order, Lieutenant,” he said cutting her off in mid-sentence. “Get some sleep, then come back and hit it hard tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” she replied, unable to say more.

  Brodie stood and the others did as well.

  “Lieutenant Commander Kaczynski,” Brodie said as he glanced at his chief engineer. “I’d like to see you in my cabin.” There was absolutely nothing in Brodie’s tone to make Kristen suspect he was angry with his chief engineer. But she noticed Ski’s satisfied expression fade in an instant. The color drained from his face and she recalled a similar expression on his face during her first night in engineering when he’d been giving her grief over the mesh basket of metal shavings. She dismissed the observation, not wanting to analyze him, the captain, or anything else at the moment.

  Ski swallowed hard and glanced at the XO with a questioning look. “Aye, sir.”

  Kristen waited until Brodie departed, then turned to leave, anxious to exit the submarine and return to her room where she could have some privacy to let her true feeling show and maybe break a vase or two.

  “Lieutenant?” Crocker caught her attention before she had a chance to depart.

  She had no desire to speak to him, but turned and faced him just the same, keeping her emotions in check with supreme effort. “Yes, sir?”

  He stepped around the table and paused beside her. “I just wanted to tell you how impressed I was with you today.” He glanced down at the tile deck between them, then looked back up at her. “I’m still not certain just how you’re going to manage on a lengthy patrol, but I wanted to wish you the best of luck.”

  Kristen was certain this was just another in a never-ending string of mind games she was forced to endure. But now surrounded in her safe façade of icy calm, she kept her true thoughts hidden. “Thank you, sir,” she replied in a monotone. She was again the rock. Nothing could harm her.

  “I mean it, Lieutenant,” he reiterated. “I was wrong about you coming on board. You did good today. I wish every new officer could do as well.”

  “I failed, sir,” she reminded him flatly, hoping her rage didn’t show.

  “Did you?” His left eyebrow was raised as if to make a point.

  “Sir?”

  He jerked a thumb toward the closed hatch Brodie had just disappeared through. “I’d give a kidney to serve with Sean Brodie. Trust me, if he didn’t want you on this vessel, you wouldn’t be here.”

  Kristen was tired. Her mind felt like mush, and she didn’t want to think about it anymore. “Thank you, sir,” she replied. “Will that be all?”

  He nodded his head, and Kristen departed. She needed some fresh air, a hot shower, a bowl of rocky road, and some time to decompress.

  “Here she comes,” COB said as Kristen appeared in the passageway leading back from the wardroom. He set his mug down and watched her as she approached. Her face was a stoic mask, showing no emotion in the least. No anger. No remorse. No joy. She might as well have been carved from stone. She reminded him of Brodie, whose emotions were always kept in check. “Lieutenant,” he said as she stepped passed them.

  She paused, and he looked up at her. She looked like hell. There were dark circles under each bloodshot eye, and fatigue hung on her like a second skin. “For what it’s worth, I thought you did good today. Damn good.”

  She nodded slightly, but didn’t reply.

  Across from COB, O’Rourke just nodded his agreement. The two friends had been discussing the exam for the better part of an hour and had come to the conclusion that if they’d been grading her, she would have passed.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” she replied, offered a strained smile, and then continued on.

  They watched her until she disappeared and COB turned back toward O’Rourke.

  O’Rourke shook his head in disgust. “What’s the Skipper playing at?”

  COB had known Brodie a long time, but like Graves he’d never been able to guess what was going on behind the steel-grey eyes. “I’m not certain, but whatever it is, I’m sure he had a good reason for setting her up.”

  O’Rourke wasn’t one to defend officers. In fact he tended to despise them as meddling buffoons. Especially Annapolis graduates which he called “Ifnags” for “Ignorant fucking Naval Academy Graduates.” So, to have O’Rourke showing any interest in their newest officer was a bit of a surprise. “This is bullshit, Matt. You know it.”

  “Since when do you care about a Nub?” COB asked, still trying to figure out Brodie’s purpose. “Hell, a week ago you were complaining she had no business on board.”

  O’Rourke took a sip of his coffee which he’d spiked with a shot of Irish whiskey. “I’d rather have her than ten idiots like that fucking wanker, Martin.”

  COB didn’t disagree. Martin was turning out to be a real bust as an officer. He was mentally weak and tended to try to make friends with the men instead of leading them. In return, the men didn’t respect him. “I have to agree with you on that one,” he answered thoughtfully.

  Kristen made it back to her barracks without saying anything to the duty driver during the short trip from the pier. Once in her room,
despite her exhaustion, she resisted the urge to flop down on her bed and opted for a shower. She wanted to forget about the exam, but it was impossible. Out of necessity, her mind was unusually disciplined and confronting this failure was something she had to deal with before she could rest.

  Kristen stripped down and climbed into the steaming hot shower. She stood underneath the water, letting it cascade down her head and shoulders as she ran over the past few days, analyzing everything she’d done and trying to figure out what she might have done differently. She recalled the help Senior Chief O’Rourke and COB had been during the last couple of hours before the exam, and she realized she should have asked for help earlier. Of course, she hadn’t expected anyone, let alone those two seadogs, to be willing to help.

  She thought about Gibbs. He was the one bright spot in the entire four days. He’d been a rock, always there for her, and she needed to find a way to show her gratitude. She turned off the shower and, after slipping into an old sweat suit, climbed into bed. She lay awake for a few more minutes, remembering Gibbs’ kindness. She closed her eyes and could almost see him carrying her into the enlisted berthing, trying not to awaken anyone and then standing guard like a loyal terrier by her bunk while she….

  Kristen started and sat up, forcing herself to think clearly. She was one hundred and thirty pounds and Gibbs, soaking wet, couldn’t be one-forty. He was hardly in decent shape, yet he’d somehow managed to carry her from the wardroom to his berthing compartment where he’d lifted her nearly five feet off the ground and slid her into a bunk.

  Not a chance.

  She recalled the expression on Gibbs’ face when she’d asked him how much all of the toiletries, clothing, and towels had cost. He’d drawn a blank.

  He didn’t know how much they cost because he didn’t buy them.

  This made sense since, if Gibbs had stood watch while she slept to make certain no one stumbled across her, then he wouldn’t have been able to run out in town and buy anything.

  Someone helped him.

  Kristen lay back down, wondering who it was. COB? O’Rourke? The XO was married, maybe he helped. He was fit enough. Of all the officers, the XO seemed the only one who truly wanted her to pass. His wife would have been able to figure out Kristen’s sizes from her husband’s description.

  Kristen’s normally sharp mind was surrendering to sleep. She resisted it, but only halfheartedly. The warm bed, the soft sheets, and cotton-filled pillow proved too much for her as she succumbed to the wave of exhaustion. As sleep took her, she remembered someone carrying her into the crew berth. She couldn’t see his face, but Kristen vaguely remembered strong arms, whispered voices, a few words in Latin, and then she was dreaming.

  Chapter Eleven

  Maneuvering Control, USS Seawolf

  Kristen came aboard precisely at noon and reported directly to the engineering space, anxious to get back to work. A good night sleep and a few hours doing relatively simple tasks like unpacking her uniforms and getting in a few laps at the indoor pool had helped put her defeat into perspective. Quitting wasn’t an option, and she never considered it. Instead, she returned determined to prove that those who took pleasure in seeing her fail had underestimated her.

  Not finding Ski to report to, she located Senior Chief O’Rourke ripping into a pair of machinists for some “shoddy” workmanship. Kristen waited for O’Rourke to finish expressing his displeasure at the two unfortunate seamen, and once he’d sent them scurrying away, she stepped up. “Good afternoon, Senior Chief.”

  He glanced at her, looking over his own spectacles. His customary unlit cigarette was hanging from his lower lip as if defying gravity. “There you are,” he said as if having expected her earlier. “I was beginning to think you’d cashed in your chips, Lassie.”

  “Not a chance, Senior Chief. I’ve never been much of a quitter,” she assured him, relieved that he didn’t look annoyed at seeing her. She knew she was taking a risk by trusting him, but she felt she had no choice.

  “So I’ve heard,” he replied. “What can I do for you?”

  “Have you seen Commander Ski?” she asked, “I need to let him know I’m back aboard.”

  O’Rourke shook his head. “The Commander is ashore,” he said without explanation. “Is there something I can do?”

  “Well,” she began, “since you asked. I was hoping you might be willing to take this Nub under your wing and help me out so I pass my engineering exam next time.”

  “From what I saw yesterday, you didn’t do too bad the first time,” he offered flatly as he looked over a checklist of incomplete repairs.

  “Maybe, but I didn’t pass either,” she reminded him. “I know you’re busy, but I can’t think of anyone better to help get me squared away.”

  Kristen followed him as he left maneuvering control and headed down a level. “Don’t start buttering me up, Lassie,” he chided her. “Howdya study last time?”

  “I went right down the checklists in the qual manual,” she explained.

  “That’s what I figured,” he responded with a hint of annoyance.

  “I guess that was my first mistake?” she asked.

  “No,” he shook his head. “But the checklists can only do so much. Nothing beats experience.”

  “That’s why I came to you, Senior Chief. I figure you have more time in engineering than anyone else on board.” It wasn’t flattery; she was speaking the truth.

  “All righty then,” he replied, turning to face her. He paused for a moment by the condenser for one of the steam turbines. “But no more of these marathon study sessions,” he told her, pointing an accusing finger at her as if he were speaking to a wayward child and not a superior officer.

  Kristen hesitated to answer. She knew she would work as hard and as long as necessary to get ready.

  “You can’t work like that,” he told her bluntly. “You’re not the Blade. He’s a freak of fucking nature. No one can keep up with him, so don’t even try.”

  Kristen didn’t want to think about her captain. As far as she was concerned he was the enemy, and she was determined to succeed despite him. “All right, Senior Chief,” Kristen replied. “Where do I start?”

  “I think I’ve just the place,” he told her without elaborating.

  With that, Kristen soon found herself working with a repair team. The team was made up of several different ratings, creating a single group of sailors with all of the skills necessary to go anywhere on board and conduct any repair. O’Rourke called it his “flying squad” and they were all handpicked men. The senior petty officer was a Machinist Mate 1st Class and although, as an officer, Kristen was clearly senior, she got the distinct impression that she was not so much in charge of this group of men, but was along to keep her eyes and ears open and her mouth shut. And she did just that.

  Almost immediately she recognized O’Rourke’s purpose for placing her with the flying squad. They worked everywhere on any and all systems. Therefore she was immediately exposed to multiple parts of the submarine. Plus with their expertise and combined experience in multiple fields, her learning curve became near vertical. For eight hours every day she worked alongside these men, kept her mouth shut, and learned, drawing on their skill to add to her growing book knowledge.

  Over the next few days, Kristen developed a strict routine. Following her eight-hour shift in engineering, she returned to the wardroom for additional studying. Then, after a fifteen hour day on board, she got in some exercise with a circuitous run back to her barracks. She’d have preferred a few miles in the base pool, but it wasn’t open when she usually found herself getting off work at near midnight.

  Over the next few days, while the chaos that had greeted her upon first coming aboard began to subside as the boat came together faster than anyone should have expected, she had several revelations regarding the officers and crew around her. COB and O’Rourke were uncompromising, hard-working, and no-nonsense leaders. O’Rourke had a foul mouth, but he knew his business. COB wa
s like a father to the crew, feared but also respected, and the two men worked tirelessly without let up.

  Terry Hall was not only a proper rogue, but persistent and never missed an opportunity to ask her out or flirt with her. But, she soon realized he was harmless and a solid member of the wardroom. Ski was gone from the boat for three days, which was a bit of a mystery, especially when considering his department was working around the clock to get the Seawolf fit for sea. But when he returned from wherever he’d been, his attitude around Kristen had changed somewhat. Although certainly not friendly toward her, he was at least polite in his shortness.

  Additionally, Kristen noticed a definite change in the attitude of the crew, or at least those assigned to the engineering spaces in the rear of the submarine where she spent most of her time. When she’d first come aboard, she’d been treated with at best indifference and, in most cases, borderline disrespect. But now, ever since having failed her exam, she noticed a change among the enlisted men she encountered. Although the men stayed professional, she noticed a growing acceptance, and in some cases a burgeoning respect developing among them for her.

  Kristen thought about the change and just what might have caused it. While working with the “flying squad,” she began to realize that even those men who’d bet against her passing the engineering exam felt she’d gotten screwed by Ski and the captain, and they didn’t like it. They’d seen how she’d worked herself to exhaustion, never complaining, just hard labor, and these men respected officers who were willing to lead by example and not just point at problems and expect them to be miraculously fixed.