Big thanks, as ever, to goddess9991 for her editing. If I sound like I read at above a 6th-grade level, it's all her doing.
A note to those who know the US Navy: I edited all petty officer initials into the generic "PO" so there's no job-specific info, changed the location of the story, and obviously changed all names or just used first names. So if by some tiny chance Rainey reminds you of some officer you know, it ain't her.
***
I was sitting with my back to the door when Commander Rainey came into my office. My feet were up on the windowsill, the weekend's watch roster on my lap. I'd like to say I was working on it, but really I was kind of staring into space. She tapped twice on the open door.
"Come in," I said without turning, thinking it was one of the girls from the training barracks the Navy had me running while I convalesced from a broken leg.
"I'm already in," she said. I turned to see her halfway to my desk. She waved me down as I started to stand.
"Sit, sit. No need to discover military protocol this late in the game." The Commander had been giving me good-natured grief for a couple months over my somewhat haphazard relationship with the little rituals of the service. I turned my chair and let my feet drop to the floor as she came to lean her butt against my desk on the near side, right by me.
She was in whites and so was I: mine the long-sleeved jumper and neckerchief and hers the short-sleeved officer's summer whites, which looked great on her. I mean,
everything
looked great on Rainey, but the whites set off the red-brown hair that just reached her collar and seemed to fit her nice figure better than her khakis did. I schooled my gaze carefully so I wouldn't get caught verifying the fit from two feet away.
"Good morning, ma'am," I said with a smile, taking her white cover and setting it on the meticulously clean shelf by mine. "Congratulations on your promotion. I'm sure you'll wear your silver leaves as well as you've worn those gold ones."
"Thank you. How did you know? The list just came out." Her smile was very bright. As it would be, making O5 is a big deal, and she'd made it pretty young. Young enough to keep an eagle well within expectations and a star a distinct possibility down the line.
"A little bird told me." By which I meant 'I know someone who saw the list early or the instant it came out, but I can't tell you that. Wink, wink.' She nodded, understanding me perfectly.
"That's just the kind of thing I came to talk to you about, PO3." She paused. "I talked to your Captain Fielding about you. Did he tell you?"
He had, but there was no way I'd betray his confidence.
"It's been a while since I saw the Skipper, ma'am." I grinned at her. "Should I be saying 'Wait, let me explain?' Or maybe 'I swear I've learned my lesson?'"
"You know damn well that he spoke highly of you." Her light blue eyes regarded me for a moment.
"Why are you leaving the Navy? You know you'll get that stripe back. Hell, you'll probably get more to go with it. There aren't many sailors with one of those," she tapped my fruit salad, "and it buys you something. You'd need a war to put anything in front of it."
"Given that I almost drowned getting this one, here's hoping I
never
have anything in front of it. I think all of those come with the purple one with Washington on it. So no thanks."
"You evade questions very adroitly, PO3." she said with a smile. "Which is a characteristic of what makes your Captain and I want you in the Navy. But knock it the fuck off now. That's an order. Are you leaving because you're bitter at losing the stripe?"
"No ma'am. I'm at peace with that. I was furious at first, as you no doubt know, but I have some perspective now. The Skipper protected me. Right or wrong, I'd have gone to a court and done time with a lot of CO's. I mean
real
time, not the forty-five, forty-five, and half-times-two that I got."
"You're right. With
most
CO's, probably including me. Are you mad at the Navy, then? For making him protect you?"
"No. Yes. Kind of. I should have taken a different course of action. I
do
get that. But it sucks that I came closer to getting locked up than the guy buying the child-whore did and that what he did got whitewashed. Out of the Navy is a
joke
as a punishment for him no matter
who
his granddaddy was. It makes us look like Catholic priests."
"Agreed," she said in a tone that implied a 'but.'
"That's not even the reason though, ma'am." I paused, and she spoke before I could go on.
"Ever hear the phrase 'wartime hero, peacetime fuck-up,' Ken?" she asked, smiling again.
"Yeah. From the Skip. About me. I don't know if it fits though, ma'am. I did one thing that anyone would have done in my place. The
fuck-up
part works..." I said with a grin.
"First of all:
no
, everyone wouldn't have done what you did. A number of people stood right there and watched you do it, right? That's why you have that thing on your chest." Her tone brooked no argument, so I gave none. "Secondly, that's not exactly what he meant."
"No, ma'am," I said after a moment.
"You get that?"
"Yes ma'am."
"So why can't you get past this and re-enlist? Clearly you've learned to stay out of trouble. Discipline over here is perfect, better than any of the other training companies, virtually all the women have graduated since you took over, and you've managed to have your fun around here so quietly that the Chief still thinks you're a homosexual. You can go as far as you want to in the Navy, Ken."
My gast was flabbered, and it must have shown. She grinned, and was proud of surprising me.
"You don't think any woman can spend five minutes around you and think you're gay, do you? I don't know how Chief G got that idea, but I knew he was wrong quite a while ago."
I made no answer for a moment. The Commander kept smiling at me.
"Ma'am... I've got less than eight months left on my enlistment, now. I don't really get why you and the Captain are both pressing me like this. He basically ordered me to come to dinner with him before he leaves for Washington so he can give me the full-court press, and now he's turned you loose on me. Which, to be honest is not a bad tactic, but it seems a lot of attention for a Fuck-Up 3rd Class."
"You're an asset, Ken." she snapped, suddenly angry. "You were an asset to your ship, you're an asset around here, and you'd be an asset with me. You're an asset to the
Navy
. Whether it's charm, luck, brains, whatever, the rules just don't apply to sailors like you. And you know it. You could still be a chief by thirty. Or an officer, there are ways to get through school. Or a warrant.
This
is where you belong."
"It
isn't
, ma'am. I'm a career time bomb just waiting to go off. And there's absolutely nothing to say I won't end up in irons next time. Or that I won't take some concerned officer's career," I indicated her with a gesture and raised brow, "with me. Hell, ma'am, I've committed more than one offense against the UCMJ
this week
."
"I'm aware," she said. "But your girlfriend is still on top of her class, and in fact her evals have gone
up
. There's no reason for me to take notice."
"Lady, you are something else," I laughed. "Usually it's the senior noncom that has the command that wired."
"Well, Senior Chief G is retired on active duty," she smiled. "It behooves me to keep an ear to the ground and some songbirds on my staff."