Seawolf End Game

by Cliff Happy

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Kristen answered with a smile and took over. “Good evening, sir,” she said politely to Ski as he lifted his chin so she could work on the drama dangling from his collar.

  “Good evening,” Ski replied as he fidgeted in a uniform that looked a size too small.

  The tiny harbor was absolutely packed with naval vessels that had sped from their various patrol areas across the globe to reach the Sea of Japan. Many of these vessels were undergoing necessary repairs before, potentially, heading into battle off the coast of Korea.

  “Why the hell do we have to wear these damn monkey suits,” Ski grumbled as Kristen finished.

  “Admiral’s orders,” Graves reminded him. “Admiral Griffith has a thing for formal occasions, and with so many ships in port, he thought it a perfect time for a gala.” Officers from every ship had been invited to a formal dinner at the officers’ club overlooking the anchorage.

  Kristen looked around the harbor, seeing the dozens of brightly illuminated ships, knowing that most of them had come from halfway around the world to reach the region in the event of war. But, because of what the Seawolf had learned from Dr. Dar-Hyun, she knew the North Koreans had no intention of invading the South and had simply been bluffing. Therefore all of these ships had made the journey for—what appeared to be—nothing. The reason behind why North Korea had decided to bluff on such a grand scale was still a mystery to her.

  “Is the skipper coming?” Ski asked Graves. “I haven’t seen him in days.”

  The captain had been spending an inordinate amount of time ashore at the base headquarters. Kristen wasn’t privy to just what these meetings entailed, but speculation in the wardroom was that it had to do with the real reason the North Koreans had risked war.

  “He should be here,” Graves replied. “Unless he got called away again.”

  Several officers looked around for their missing captain before Terry motioned toward the end of the pier. “There he is.”

  Kristen was now helping Ryan Walcott with his tie and turned her head reflexively to see her captain. Brodie, in his own mess dress uniform, was walking up the pier out of the darkness. A smoldering cigar was tucked between two fingers of his bandaged left hand, and his right hand was tucked away jauntily in his trouser pocket. She hadn’t expected him to wear the regulation cover like everyone else, and he wasn’t. Kristen turned her attention back to Ryan’s tie. Despite her best effort, Brodie was still a distraction to her, but she was determined to suppress whatever it was she was feeling regarding him.

  “Everyone here?” Brodie asked after receiving a flock of salutes from his officers and responding with a polite nod of his head.

  Kristen turned after finishing Ryan’s tie so she could face her captain, but at the same time she avoided eye contact with him. He took a few puffs on the cigar and reminded his officers there would be a “butt load” of admirals and other senior officers who would not think too kindly of a submarine load of drunken officers throwing up all over the head table, so they needed to watch their manners and “be on their best behavior.”

  The officers’ club was brilliantly illuminated with electric and torch lighting. A massive main hall was positioned along the rear of the club and, beyond a series of large glass doors, was an equally expansive patio. The club was built on a hill overlooking the anchorage, with a gentle slope leading down to a road at the base of the hill. So with so many vessels in port, the view was spectacular for anyone who loved the Navy.

  The evening began with a cocktail hour, which consisted of nothing but water over ice for Kristen despite her fellow officers encouraging her to tempt fate with a cocktail. But she managed to avoid having alcohol without too much trouble. Brodie had been drawn away from his officers almost immediately by a group of half a dozen ships’ captains, and she soon lost sight of him, for which she was thankful. Although she suspected he might be avoiding her, she knew she was doing her best to stay away from him. Simply put, she didn’t trust herself to think objectively around him anymore.

  “You look nice tonight,” Terry offered her as they waited together for the doors to the banquet hall to open.

  “So do you,” she offered with a friendly smile. “You clean up pretty good for a rogue.” She looked around the crowd wondering if he’d already found a date for the evening out of the handful of female officers present. “I would have thought you’d be out hunting already.”

  “What makes you think I’m not?” he answered with the same devilishly handsome smile Kristen had come to expect from him.

  “Won’t you ever quit?” she asked as she rolled her eyes, no longer taking him seriously.

  “Hey, I am what I am,” Terry shrugged innocently.

  Graves joined the other Seawolf officers, and with him was a British Navy commander. Everyone turned to greet the British officer as the XO introduced him. “This is Commander Alec Gardener of Her Majesty’s Ship, Audacious,” he explained. He was several inches shorter than Kristen and portly with flaming red hair.

  Kristen nodded politely as Graves introduced her, “And this is the lady I was telling you about, Alec,” Graves said in a hushed tone.

  Gardener clasped her hand with both of his as he shook her hand in greeting. “Indeed?” he asked. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Miss.”

  Graves then lowered his head and explained to Kristen, “It was the Audacious we picked up heading out of Korea.”

  “Jason tells me you heard our power plant signature,” Gardener said with a hint of skepticism.

  Kristen nodded, remembering their encounter with the Astute class British submarine being shadowed by the Korean diesel electric boat. “Yes, sir,” she replied modestly. “We got lucky.”

  “In my experience, my dear,” Gardener replied, “there is no such thing as luck.” He then spoke to Graves, “Tell Sean to hold on to this one, Jason. Otherwise I’ll steal her away.”

  Graves chuckled. “No chance, Alec.”

  “Bollocks!” Gardener replied with an engaging smile. “What are you drinking, my dear?”

  “Water, sir.” More officers from the Audacious came over to meet Kristen and her fellow Seawolf officers.

  “Water?” Gardener asked. “Good heavens, dear child!” he said scandalized. “Haven’t you heard, fish fornicate in water.”

  Kristen was about to protest as Gardener ordered one of his junior officers to “fetch her a real drink,” but the XO intervened on her behalf. “The lieutenant has watch later tonight,” Graves explained with a polite lie.

  “How do you know the captain, sir?” Kristen asked Gardener, liking the chubby Englishman.

  “You mean Brodie?” he asked as he rolled his eyes.

  “Yes, sir,” Kristen replied politely.

  “I taught the bastard everything he knows,” Gardener told her pointedly.

  Kristen raised her eyebrow at the defaming reference to her captain but Gardener continued, “We were students together at the Perisher Course, my dear,” Gardener explained as Brodie appeared in their midst. Gardener turned on Brodie with a mischievous grin. “And I’d have graduated at the top of my class if you hadn’t shown up, you dirty bugger!”

  The Perisher Course was the Royal Navy’s submarine command course that any aspiring captain had to pass. It was generally accepted that Perisher was the most difficult command course in any Navy, and it routinely flunked out twenty-five percent of students, making the small number of qualified British submarine captains a truly elite breed.

  “Hi, Alec.” Brodie shook his friend’s hand. “How’ve you been?”

  Gardener wasn’t satisfied with a simple handshake and gave Brodie a hug, keeping his arm around Brodie’s neck as Kristen asked, “I wasn’t aware we sent officers to the Perisher Course, Captain?”

  Gardener answered, pointing a finger in Brodie’s face, “You’re looking at him, Lassie. The one and only!”

  Brodie was clearly enjoying seeing his friend again but shrugged off the at
tention. “Whatcha been up to these days?”

  Kristen, recognizing the old friends probably wanted to catch up, extricated herself from the conversation. She joined her fellow officers, listening to their usual banter. But she couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between her captain, XO and their British friend.

  “Still not married yet, Sean?” Alec asked.

  “Nope,” came the curt reply from Brodie.

  “I’d have thought by now you and that little Italian minx you were seeing last year would’ve settled down and started building that house,” Alec offered.

  Kristen felt her face flush slightly as she tried to focus her attention on a story Terry was telling everyone.

  “No such luck,” Brodie replied.

  “Too bad,” Gardener replied. “That’s an awful pretty spot you picked out, Sean ol’ boy.” The Brit took a sip of his drink and then asked, “What’s the name of that damn mountain next to your property?” he asked innocently and then added, “You know, we went fishing up there last year.”

  “Mount Olympus,” Brodie answered.

  “You couldn’t have picked a nicer view, Sean,” Graves agreed. “The Pacific on one side and the mountains on the other…”

  Kristen was no longer listening. In fact, she wasn’t certain she was capable of any conscious action at the moment. Images of the motorcycle ride with Brodie back in Bremerton came to mind, and the realization that he’d taken her to a spot he’d picked out for some future home was a startling revelation. He’d made no mention of owning land there with plans to ever build a home. He could have taken her anywhere, yet he’d taken her there…

  As Terry continued his story and the others laughed, she stood in silence, trying to make sense of it all. There was nothing between them. There never would be, and to contemplate the reverse was illogical and foolish. Two things she’d never been.

  “You okay, Kristen?” Terry asked, jolting her out of her deep thoughts.

  She hadn’t realized it, but she’d been standing motionless for several minutes and the doors to the banquet hall had opened. She looked at Terry dumbly for a few seconds, and then nodded. “I’m fine,” she lied.

  He didn’t believe her, but nodded his head anyway. “All right, well…” he began, watching her carefully. “We can go in now.”

  Kristen walked in, still struggling with what she’d just learned and with thoughts and feelings she didn’t want to consider. Terry led her to a pair of tables reserved for the junior officers from the Seawolf, with Graves and Ski seated not far away at a table with mid-ranking officers.

  Despite herself, Kristen found her eyes wandering over the massive crowd, searching for Brodie. She expected to see him with Gardener, but the British captain was nowhere in sight, and the rest of his officers were at a table next to her own. She finally spotted Brodie near the end of the long line of officers entering the hall flanked by two admirals. Gardener was still with him, and the four of them were conversing intently as they entered.

  There weren’t many mere commanders who had admirals actively seeking them out, but Brodie and Gardener were clearly two of the few, and she watched from across the hall as they stopped inside the doorway and continued their conversation as the rest of the guests entered. Kristen assumed the admirals were questioning them about what had happened off the coast of North Korea. Rumors about the Seawolf’s actions had reached the shore-based sailors despite their mission’s top secret nature.

  She’d just managed to regain her composure and was about to take her seat when she heard a familiar voice behind her, “Krissie!”

  Kristen turned and saw her dearest friend in the world rushing up to her from a few tables away. Kristen was caught completely off guard but held out her arms automatically. “Trish!” Kristen said with joy as they embraced, ignoring the crowd around them.

  Lieutenant Junior Grade Patricia Young was a hair shorter than Kristen, had a wild side she never tried to reign in, and had—during her Naval Academy days—a wicked backstroke. Patricia and Kristen had met during their Plebe year, were both on the varsity swim team all four years, and had roomed together. But despite their mutual love of swimming and choice of college hinting they were of similar personalities, there’d seldom been more incompatible friends than Kristen and Patricia.

  Whereas Kristen was fastidious in her cleanliness and neatness, Patricia was a self-proclaimed slob. Kristen had entered the Academy with the unstated goal of graduating at the top of her class, whereas Patricia had broken every rule in the book and had almost been expelled for too many demerits. Kristen had wanted nothing more than to be in a submarine diving to the deepest depths, and Patricia had wanted to fly the fastest and highest soaring jet the Navy had. Kristen had been the consummate workaholic staying up late virtually every night in her dorm room studying, while Patricia had stayed up late planning pranks, sneaking off campus to visit the local bars, and having a good time. Although their personalities seemed to clash, inexplicably, they’d become the closest of friends.

  Patricia had accepted Kristen’s relentless drive for excellence and had always gone out of her way to make certain Kristen felt welcome at any of the parties Patricia was always attending or organizing. Then, when Kristen started the relentless pursuit of her goal to serve on a submarine and the rest of her—so called—friends deserted her, Patricia had kept in touch and maintained their friendship even as their careers took them down two different paths.

  Kristen loved Patricia for everything Kristen felt she’d never been strong enough to be. While Kristen had spent countless hours with her nose in a book, Patricia and the rest of the “Black Ns”—as the Naval Academy appropriately nicknamed a select group of the truly rebellious midshipmen who routinely maxed out their demerits—had sneaked out of the dorms to pull a prank or head into Annapolis for a party. Each time Patricia had invited Kristen to go on one of her adventures and Kristen had refused, there’d been a secret, rebellious voice within, prodding her to go. But Kristen had squelched the radical within her, knowing as a woman, she could never reach her goal if she let the secret rebel within herself out. So while Patricia had lived for every moment, Kristen had forsaken everything else for her goal.

  “I was assigned to the Nimitz last month,” Patricia replied proudly as she thrust her ample bosom out to show off her golden aviator wings. “Check it out,” Patricia said proudly. “And what are you doing here?” she asked, hardly pausing to catch a breath as she slipped her arm through Kristen’s and led her back to Patricia’s table. “I heard you finally got on board one of those disgusting little sewage pipes.” Patricia rearranged a few place cards and repositioned Kristen next to her. Then, as usual, the fiery redhead immediately started talking, pummeling Kristen with a barrage of questions about life on board a submarine. “We heard rumors your boat was involved in an incident off the coast of North Korea,” Patricia whispered.

  “I can’t really talk about where we’ve been,” Kristen responded with a soft whisper.

  But the fact Kristen couldn’t talk about where they’d been or what she’d done wasn’t a problem, since Patricia’s favorite topic was herself. It was just another of the differences between them that worked to make them fit well together. Whereas Kristen was quiet and reserved, Patricia was outgoing and talked constantly. Her call sign, Kristen soon learned, was quite appropriate.

  “Aren’t you gonna introduce us, Gabby?” one of Patricia’s squadron mates asked using Patricia’s call sign and offering Kristen an appreciative smile.

  “Forget it, Snapper,” Patricia replied. “I’d sooner introduce her to Jack the Ripper,” she added like a big sister protecting Kristen from a pack of college frat boys. Patricia then leaned close to Kristen and—always more than willing to give unwanted dating advice—explained, “You can forget pilots honey, they’re all the same. Big clocks but little cocks.”

  “Trish!” Kristen nearly choked on a mouthful of water. Then, when Patricia motioned toward the assembled pilots a
round the table, Kristen saw that they were all wearing huge wristwatches, and she started laughing again.

  “I told you,” Trish giggled as she drank her wine, never one to worry about drinking too much.

  Kristen was thankful more than she could have expressed for the fortuitous interruption. Patricia was able to take her attention completely away from her recent revelation about Brodie. They caught up throughout the meal, with Patricia hoarding Kristen all to herself despite several attempts by other pilots to get Kristen’s attention.

  Following the dessert course, a small quartet started to play music in one corner of a large dance floor. The pilots at her table, realizing there would be no action with Kristen as long as Trish was around, moved off, leaving the two old friends to catch up. And once alone, Trish did her best to pry out of Kristen everything she’d gone through since arriving on the Seawolf. Kristen had to be necessarily vague, but the information Patricia was truly interested in had nothing to do with military secrets. “So, tell me the truth, sweetie,” Patricia asked conspiratorially. “What’s it like being the only woman on a submarine with a bunch of horny-ass men?”

  “It’s not like that,” Kristen replied with a shake of her head as she sipped her water. “They’re all very professional.”

  “Sure,” Patricia rolled her eyes skeptically. “You just keep telling yourself that dear while they’re all thinking about humping your brains out.”

  “Trish!” Kristen chided her friend, giggling at the same time. “Keep it down.” Kristen glanced back to her original table where most of her fellow Seawolf officers were still seated and hoped none could overhear her conversation.

  Patricia leaned forward and studied the men at the table, giving each an appraising eye. “Is that them?”

  “Most of them,” she admitted happily, liking pretty much everyone on the boat, even Ski whose obnoxious attitude had defrosted some since Korea.

  Patricia screwed up her nose distastefully. “They look like a bunch of stiffs,” she said bluntly and leaned back in her seat, striking a dismissive pose. “Probably great with a slide rule but they’d have no idea where to stick it.”