Seawolf Mask of Command (15 page)

Kristen watched as they greeted Brodie with near reverence. She then saw Crocker and Ski exchange greetings. The two men clearly knew one another well. Kristen felt the deck slowly being stacked against her. There should be three officers on her exam team, and she’d silently prayed that Ski wouldn’t be one of them. He clearly had it in for her, and she didn’t trust him to give her a fair test. But as the meeting continued, no other officers arrived to flesh out the examination board.

Brodie finished the meeting in record time and dismissed his officers to return to duty. But before leaving, the captain paused for a moment and addressed Ski, “We were hoping for a third officer from the squadron to assist with the examination today, Ski.”

“I can pick up the slack, Skipper,” Ski replied easily and glanced down at Kristen. “You don’t have a problem with me serving on your exam board do you, Lieutenant?”

You’re damn right I do!

“No, of course not, sir.”

Brodie looked toward her, showing absolutely no hint of concern that she might have been set up to fail. “Good luck today, Lieutenant Whitaker.” Was he being sincere? She couldn’t tell. His true feelings were hidden behind a stern mask of command.

“Thank you, Captain,” she answered, wondering just how much he knew about what was happening. He had to realize she stood a poor chance at best of passing and could have stopped the examination from ever starting. According to those men who she’d met over the previous few days, they all agreed that Brodie knew everything happening on board. But if he knew Ski had goaded her into accepting his challenge, he gave no hint of it.

Brodie departed and Graves paused long enough to shoot her a reassuring wink. “Give’em hell, Lieutenant.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“Let’s hope that’ll be enough, Lieutenant,” Ski responded with the same fake sincerity he’d used around her before.

The XO departed, and Ski introduced the other two officers to her.

“Hello again, Lieutenant,” Crocker greeted. She couldn’t read his expression, but she knew he was no friend. “I hadn’t expected to see you again so soon.” His testimony in front of Congress had been some of the most damning during her hearings. He was a seasoned submarine officer, decorated for valor during an operation as a lieutenant, and his words had nearly ended her petition.

Kristen shook his offered hand out of politeness. “Good morning, sir,” she said, forcing civility into her voice. “Welcome to the
Seawolf.”

Main Engineering, USS Seawolf

T
he examination began with a timed written portion which Kristen flew through. She’d always been good at written examinations. Her phenomenal memory allowed her to draw upon a vast library of knowledge. Following the written test however, was the practical examination which took the rest of the morning and all afternoon.

Academic achievement had always been a strength and source of pride for Kristen. She was accustomed to getting high marks on anything she applied herself to. It didn’t always come easy, but if given a chance, she could usually work hard enough to outdo virtually anyone else. But this was different. These three men could, and did, ask her just about anything regarding the various machine spaces. She had to demonstrate emergency procedures for battle damage, flooding, electrical failures, and a host of other near disasters.

They started with the reactor which was her strength, and she felt she breezed through this part with ease. This was important because the reactor portion was the most critical. If she failed any of it, she would fail the entire exam. But, following the reactor, she moved into territory she’d just started learning. The reduction gears, the steam turbines, the air-handling equipment, carbon-dioxide scrubbers… the list felt endless. And there was no rest. Everything was timed. No sooner did she complete one task, than she was forced to face a new problem. Not once did she get a break or any feedback on how she was doing from the three men testing her.

Ski stayed smug, never missing a chance to slip in an insult, often veiled in a half-hearted compliment. The only bright spot of the day was an occasional smile, or at least sympathetic look from one of the seamen on board who she’d rubbed elbows with over the last few days while struggling to get ready. Twice she caught a glimpse of the XO watching the examination, and on several occasions she saw O’Rourke or COB observing quietly from the side. Finally, just before five in the afternoon, the examination ended.

“The examination board will meet with the captain and go over our results,” Ski informed her politely. She was too tired to care that he was being disingenuous. If he could fail her, he would. “Once the captain has been briefed, he’ll inform you of the results.”

Kristen withdrew to the crew’s mess deck, known as the Wolf’s Den, where Gibbs brought her some tea and food. But she wasn’t hungry. She took a seat in one of the booths, ignoring the stares of several of the enlisted men who weren’t accustomed to officers “hanging out” in the crew’s mess. She leaned back against the bulkhead and ran the examination through her head trying to determine just how badly she’d done. But it was all a blur. She was too exhausted to think straight. The last five days had been the most arduous of her life, and she simply wanted a hot shower and a warm bed for a few hours. As far as the exam?

Ski wouldn’t let her pass if he could stop it. What was worse was that during the exam, Ski had let it slip that Brodie had been behind her taking the exam in the first place, which meant her own captain probably didn’t want her to pass. The only conclusion she could draw was that once more she was all alone.

She could trust no one.

Kristen opened her eyes and saw that the men who’d been in the Wolf’s Den when she’d entered were now gone. Now seated in a corner booth, sipping coffee and talking softly, were COB and O’Rourke. Gibbs was there as well, standing in the galley and watching her with concern.

Maybe not totally alone.

Kristen took a sip of tea and closed her eyes again, thinking of the exam. She ran it through her mind once more, trying to give herself an honest assessment. She’d hardly been perfect, but she’d done well. She blown the written portion away, but had struggled on a few of the systems during the practical exam.

“Miss Whitaker?” Gibbs said softly, getting her attention.

Kristen opened her eyes again, wishing she’d had just a few more hours to prepare. Gibbs was standing by her table. The look on his face didn’t appear hopeful. “Yes, Mister Gibbs?”

He motioned toward the wardroom. “The captain is ready for you, Miss.”

Kristen stood, feeling a deep sense of foreboding. The look on Gibbs’ face told her all she needed to know. She just had to hold it together and accept the verdict. She glanced over at COB and O’Rourke. They were watching her. The fact these three men had tried to help her she wouldn’t forget, but there were no words she could think of at the moment to express her gratitude. She patted Gibbs on the arm and offered him a wan smile. “It’s okay, Mister Gibbs. We did our best.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Kristen walked up the passageway to the wardroom door where she paused for a brief moment to calm herself before knocking.

“Enter,” came the captain’s curt reply from inside.

Kristen stepped in, determined not to let them see her show any hint of remorse, anger, or sadness. She would be an emotional rock. They were the enemy. She would give them nothing.

The captain had been at the squadron headquarters for most of the day, and she noticed that for the commodore he’d bothered to wear his ribbons. The rack of awards was impressive to say the least. His expression was impassive, with no hint what he might be thinking. But she thought his eyes, normally sharp and filled with life, looked tired and a little dark.

The XO was dressed in coveralls and was seated straight back in his chair with a foul scowl on his face. He was resting his forearms on the table, his fingers intertwined. Ski was in his usual chair with a satisfied grin on his face, which verified what Kristen already suspected. Crocker met her gaze and gave her a pleasant nod of greeting.

Between Crocker and Ski, she knew she hadn’t stood a chance.

“You wished to see me, Captain?” Kristen said as she came to attention inside the door.

Brodie motioned to the empty chair beside the XO. “Have a seat, Lieutenant.”

Kristen did as ordered, gripping the Naugahyde-covered arms of the chair with her hands. She didn’t look at Ski, fearing she might snap if she had to see his arrogant face any more this evening.

“As I’m sure you know,” Brodie began, his eyes looking down at a thick report laid out before him. “The qualification process is long and exhaustive. The first step, the engineering-officer-of-the-watch exam, is perhaps the most difficult in the service, and it’s quite common for officers to take the test several times.”

Kristen had already heard enough. The bastard had set this all up, she was certain of it. As the captain, nothing happened on board without his approval. Had the XO been in on it, too? She liked to think not, but past experience had taught her she could count on no allies in this room. They were all her enemy until she could be certain otherwise. Her mind was running away with paranoid conspiracy theories, and she dismissed these useless thoughts and refocused on the captain, waiting for him to tell her to pack her gear and hit the road.

“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.”