I send them back to work, and get Shelby to start the first sim. They're simple sims, basic combat scenarios for the pilot group, with a little backup from RISTA, and damage control sims for the engineers with help from the boat deck crew. Garcia and Powell lead, we observe, comment and grade. We're not as sharp as we should be, not as sharp as we will be. I don't even have to say anything, my two lieutenants give their groups well thought out critiques and schedule more independent work to fix it.
Part way through, my pad beeps. It's a message from Major Page telling me he's ready to give me details of his investigation.
I message back: "Giorgio's, 1900, no uniforms." That's the Italian restaurant across from where the fun happened.
There's a long pause before I get a return. A really long pause. Almost an offensively long pause. It's not like I just asked him out to dinner. Ok, I did just ask him out to dinner, but he's a grown man and should be able to handle it.
Finally: "Done. I'm buying."
I go back: "Affirmative."
I had originally planned to keep running sims until 1800, but I let the crew go at 1700, orders to be back at 0800. Everybody is still sleeping on the station, either in the BOQ or the barracks, there being no food on board yet, and not much privacy or quiet with the repair crews running around. Everybody but me, that is.
Once the bridge is clear, I spend a few minutes with Shelby going over tomorrow's sim schedule before floating aft to my cabin. I shower, make sure the hair is perfect, get into my civi clothes minus the jacket, triple check everything, then head out to find my corporals.
I find them napping in the command room off the bay. I could sneak out without their knowing, but I did promise. I wake Marshall who wakes Eller.
"We're going out, sir?"
"Gentlemen, we are going undercover." They're in uniform, armed. Must think I'm crazier than I was before. "Everything you see and hear tonight is classified most secret."
"Yes, sir?" Comes the unsure how serious to be response.
I get them into transport tubes, then the train, then into the shopping plaza. We get to the restaurant, they walk in with me.
"Boys," I turn around toward them, "can I get you to give me some privacy?"
Marshall turns to Eller. "Jim, stay put."
The senior corporal does a quick inspection of the dining room before coming back, giving Eller a quick point toward the exit, and leading him out. The hostess has watched this all with an amused smile on her face.
"Captain Kreiger, welcome to Giorgio's. Your party is already here, if you'll follow me."
Already here. I'm 10 minutes early and he's already here.
She leads me toward the back of the restaurant, into the dark part, to a small table in the most distant corner. Good choice.
He rises when he sees me, helps me into the chair. My only complaint is that it's his back to the wall, not mine. I let it pass. He's wearing a black dress shirt, no tie, over khaki's. Highlights the chiseled face, grey eyes, and dark hair. The hostess hands us our menus and leaves.
"I ordered us a bottle of red wine while I was waiting, if that's okay."
"Fine." Not time to spill about the rum preference yet.
I open the menu and flip through it, though I know what I'm having, I almost always have the same thing here. He's looking through his too.
The server appears, asks us if we're ready. Page looks at me, I nod, then order.
"Pollo al carciofi, please, honey mustard on the salad." She writes, then looks to her left.
"And you sir?"
"Spaghetti and meatballs."
I look at him, try not to laugh. Spaghetti and meatballs.
"Would you like a side salad or soup with that, sir?" The server has her poker face on, she's got to think it's funny too. I'm pretty sure spaghetti and meatballs is on the kids' menu.
"Okay."
I help him out.
"Go for the side salad. Try the honey mustard, it's great."
"Okay, I'll try that."
"Anything else?" We don't say anything. "I'll go put this in."
She disappears, and another server brings us two glasses and a bottle of wine. She pops the cork and hands it to Page, who has no idea what to do with it. He hands it back.
"Will this do?" She's smiling, definitely not as good at holding in the laugh as our server.
"It'll be fine." At least he's smart enough to use his Major voice.
She pours, leaves the bottle, and walks away.
He doesn't touch his wine, takes out his pad, fiddles with it for a couple seconds until he makes mine beep. Then he starts talking.
"Brad Ratzenberger and Oren Kensington. Both wanna be Marines who couldn't pass the qualifying exams. They were staying at the Hyatt over on Argo station. Came here the afternoon of the attack. We found $500,000 in two duffel bags in their hotel room. No drugs in their systems. We traced Ratzenberger's pad to messages from an unregistered pad which was operative in this station for several weeks, but has gone silent since that night."
"Someone tripped an explosives detector in the lower decks maintenance area at the moment you left the restaurant. We haven't been able to identify who yet, the surveillance video on that level was corrupted for six hours, as was the video in the travel tubes. Station security forces, including my team initially, responded to the alarm. That cleared the shopping plaza of security. We came back up on the 9-1-1 call."
"I sent you all the data we have on those two. I didn't send you the autopsy or medical examiner reports, though I can if you want. We have gone down the list of people who knew where you and the Admiral were going to be. We interviewed them, ran their financials, and drug tested them. So far they're all clean, but we won't stop looking until we figure out who it was."
"We've got the UBI tracing the cash, and tracking the two dirt bags back in time, and trying to identify whoever set the alarm off."
He stops to breathe. We both take the moment to sip some wine. He's slightly embarrassed, I think, that they aren't really any closer to solving the problem. No intel on the security breach, and I bet they'll never find whoever was in the lower decks area.
He's about to start again, but I reach out and grab his hand, stopping him. He holds my eyes with his before he starts again.
"I'll let you know when we figure out the rest of it."
I nod, take my hand back.
Both of us are thinking about what to say next when our salads show up. We get the freshly ground pepper added to the top, and dig in.
"Do you like the honey mustard, Carl?"
"Yes, sir."
I give him the look of death.
"Use the ‘s' word again and I'm out of here."
He smiles. "Yes, ma'am."
When I get done laughing, I kick him under the table.
I ask him about his family. He reports in very Marine fashion.
"Only child. Grew up in a high rise near downtown Toronto on Canada 2."
I let him know what he's in for if we hang around together. City boy from the biggest city in the Union versus small town country girl.
"I have 10 brothers and sisters, grew up on a farm outside Boulder, Colorado system. There were 82 kids in my high school, four grades." Then I get serious. "How does a city boy not know anything about dinner and wine?"
"Hey!" I think that's mock offense. "I can take out a bad guy at 1,500 yards with one shot, what's more important?"
"Only 1,500 yards? I don't know if I can date someone who's only good from 1,500 yards."
"Date?"
I smile at him. "Date. I should warn you that the last person who officially asked me on a date was blown up a couple hours later."
"I think I'll risk it."
Our food arrives, and we've barely touched our salads, still it's pretty good timing.
Three hours later he's paying the bill and we're walking out into the street, my corporals tagging along behind. We walk to the train station, but I nudge the Major on and we keep walkin
g. No talking, just walking.
Half way around we get back to telling stories of our wild impetuous youths. We're almost to the train station again when I change the subject.
"You busy tomorrow night?" Normally it's the guy's job to say that, but I'm the one leaving soon, possibly on the one way mission.
He laughs. Doesn't say anything until he reaches out and pushes the button to call the train.
"On duty. How about Saturday night?"
"Done. You decide when and what."
"Thank you so much for permission to do that." I finally get to hear his sarcastic voice.
The door to the train opens. I grab his hand and lead him inside, grab a pole part way back with my free hand, keep a hold on his. The two corporals don't know what to do, our hands block their path to the aft of the train. It takes them a few seconds to choose the better part of valor and take two defensive positions in front of us.
One of the disadvantages of zero gee is that you can't hold hands and move with any degree of sanity. We reluctantly disengage (at least I'm reluctant, I'm assuming he is too) and exit the train, my corporals following behind. We head for the travel tubes, the issue now where to exit. Yorktown is well below the BOQ. The Major starts the conversation.
"You in the BOQ?"
"Yorktown. Moved out the day after we met."
He doesn't say a word, but grabs my hand to indicate an exit on the floor with access to my ship's docking bay. The four of us exit. Then he's a Major again, turns to the corporals.
"You two are dismissed. Let Captain Anderson know it was on my orders. Are you covering in the morning?"
"Yes, sir." Marshall essentially standing at attention, Eller rigid next to him.
"Then Captain Krieger will expect you on time."
"Yes, sir."
Carl salutes, they return, then turn and go. I wish I could make them do that.
He stops me outside the command post. There are always crew inside, 24/7, and some of the repair crews are working multiple shifts and might still be around.
"I'll leave you here." An officer and a gentleman, who knew?
"I enjoyed tonight." I take both his hands in mine.
"Me too."
He leans in and we share a nice first kiss, his arms wrapping around my back, mine around his. Then he pulls back slightly, his hands still locked on my back.
"Good night, Katana."
I give him a quick kiss on the lips, disengage myself.
"Good night, see you Saturday."
He gives he a half salute, turns, and floats off.
I put up with the stares from the three contractors working the command post, and the two Marines who apparently watched the whole thing from outside the airlock. Not really caring, I get back into my ship, and get a great night's sleep.
Chapter 5
At 0700 I float out to the bridge, crew due on board at 0800. Shelby's waiting for me, looking confused.
"You're alone." A statement tied to a question expressed as a puzzle.
I look at her, trying to appear puzzled myself, not saying anything. She continues.
"Scuttlebutt says you didn't come back to Yorktown alone last night."
"Tell Tony to keep his nose out of my business. The Major and I left each other's company outside the command post."
She's about to say something, but is interrupted by McAdams appearing on the bridge, shiny new lieutenant's bars blinding us both. Shel says something else.
"After the sims, I need the details." "Aye, Commander." I turn slightly. "Welcome aboard, Lieutenant."
"Glad to be here, Skipper, there's a limit to the amount of computer work I can take."
I laugh a little. I didn't think that was possible.
"Sims all day, Courtney, so nothing but computer work today."
"Action, Skipper, not trying to track someone's bank records or their DNA."
"Roger that. Let's get set up for the first one."
"Aye, Skipper."
First sim is my team. I run Yorktown on three shifts, and require the unit commanders to work with me, with their discretion how to assign their crew. That way, in combat, we're used to being a team. Only exception is engineering, who are all on shift all the time, or rather, they flex their time to fit the ship's needs.
Because of our personnel changes, Garcia has Specialist Stewart working with her, and Powell has Belanger and Cruz on the bridge. Three new out of six. The five days we've got before we depart might not be enough practice to get where I want us to be.
We run a standard sim invented by the destroyer command, despite the fact that we have missiles. It's either that, or run a cruiser sim and get our frigate butt kicked. Now that Courtney's back, we'll modify some of the later sims to get a better challenge.
We score a 95, dragged down only by slow response from the two new Chiefs on the bridge. Given that they just came over from cruiser duty and haven't ever been live on a frigate bridge, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt.
Shelby's team is up next, Ensign Jones taking the lead pilot spot, Garcia assigning her most experienced chief, Hardy, to work with the rookie. Jordan and Lowenstein, who lived on the bridge before, replace the two new engineering chiefs. Olivia Gomez replaces McAdams. Shel gets a 97, Jones costing her the three points.
Then Rains gets his first shot at command. Keyworth is his lead pilot, with Grich on his right. The two older chiefs are back at the engineering stations, and SFC Juan Manuel, no longer on probation, has RISTA. They pass, but barely. A 70, partly the engineers' fault, but mostly on Rains. Too slow to order course changes, fell into a trap, passed because he managed to kill the bad guys while losing his ship, 720 megatons still in their launchers.
I change the afternoon plan to one shot for Shelby and two for Rains. It doesn't help. Jones lets Hardy carry the load this time, so Shel gets 99, but everyone sees the ensign give way to the chief petty officer. And then Rains gets the digital Yorktown killed twice more. For morale's sake we're going to have to get him to live through a sim, even if it kills him to do it.
I dismiss everyone but the senior staff and call a meeting in my ready room.
"Not bad for our first day, but we have work to do. Emily?"
"I'll get on it. None of the new guys have experience in modern destroyers or frigates, they're cruiser vets. The learning curve is not small."
"Aye, let me know if I can help with the transition. We were assigned them, the bosses thought they were fully capable." The way she said it, I'm pretty sure there's more to the story, but I'll let it rest for now. But not for long.
"Maria?"
"I'll work with Michael, he ran all these sims fine at the Academy, he needs a confidence boost more than anything."
"Roger that, again, let me know if I can assist."
"Lieutenant McAdams?" Her team scored 100 individually on each sim, not much for her to say except scare everybody else.
"I've upgraded the sims for the weekend to stress us a little more, require missile ops to win." There's three quiet moans from the group.
"Alright you three, on your way. Back here at 0800 to start again."
I get three salutes and ayes. Once they're gone, I turn to my Second.
"Mr. Rains?"
"Sorry, sir, I'll try to do better tomorrow."
"You will do better tomorrow, the jitters will be gone. Communicate with your team, I bet Grich and Manuel both saw what was coming, probably Keyworth too."
"Affirmative."
"Where are we on stores?"
"All the logs are up to date, all the items on our short lists are scheduled for arrival before departure time. I'll stay on top of it."
"Good. See you tomorrow as well."
He salutes, gives me an aye, and exits.
Shelby has a big smile now. "Spill, how was your date?"
"You hungry?"
"Sure."
"Call Tony. Let's hit the hot dog stand."
She plays with her pad for a minute. Then follows me
out. Maria's at her station, everyone else gone.
"Lieutenant Garcia, anything I should know about?"
"No sir, I, well, I thought that given what we know, it might be useful to understand more about Tereshkova jumps. I've been running sims ashore, and I wanted to try it on Yorktown too. It's harder than it looks."
Libor: Katana Krieger #2 Page 7
