Free Seawolf Mask of Command by Cliff Happy Page A

the cocky smirk. He reminded her of the arrogant skirt-chasers she’d encountered while at the Academy and then afterward wherever she’d been stationed. He was a first class jerk.
    He glanced at the basket. “Oh, yeah?” he asked and stepped forward. “So you’re a machinist mate now, are you?”
    Kristen kept her anger in check. Her carefully crafted façade betrayed nothing as she answered in a cold, level tone, “No, sir. However, I am an engineer and did well enough in advanced metallurgy to recognize when a gear isn’t properly aligned to think it important enough to report.”
    She saw his face redden in a combination of anger and embarrassment. She’d tried to keep any sarcasm out of her tone, but thought she might have failed. She saw the veins on his forehead bulge slightly as he prepared an angry rebuttal. She steeled herself for the storm, having weathered many more before. Then, inexplicably, she saw his eyes leave her and fixate briefly behind her; a moment later the anger left his eyes and the testy quip was forgotten.
    Kristen didn’t understand what had caused the sudden change in the chief engineer’s countenance, but was relieved to be spared another tongue lashing. She stood impassively as his eyes, now looking rather contrite, dropped to look into the basket as he cleared his throat nervously. She continued to hold the mesh basket over a bucket to prevent any remaining lubricant from dripping onto the deck and waited for the engineer’s assessment. But there was no denying it was bad news.
    He exhaled deeply upon seeing the small metal shavings.
    “Sorry, sir, but I thought you’d want to know sooner than later,” she offered, her voice once again perfectly respectful.
    Unexpectedly, the captain appeared beside them and looked into the basket. Kristen stood quietly, knowing the gears needed to be realigned but not wanting to offer her opinion unless asked. She doubted either man would.
    She wasn’t mistaken.
    The captain nodded his head in understanding and said easily enough, “All right Ski, I’ve got this one.” Brodie shoved a dirty rag into a back pocket and then, as he glanced at the open access panels of the reduction gear housing, ran a dirty hand through his bushy hair and motioned toward the gears. “Give me a crew of the best men you can,” he ordered. “Try not to use married men. They’re away from their families enough as it is. I’ll see if we can have it finished before morning.”
    Not surprisingly, the engineer blanched. The engineering spaces were his responsibility. Kristen thought it odd the captain was even working in the space. Certainly he was an engineer, as were all submarine officers, but captain’s weren’t supposed to get their hands dirty with such tasks. She assumed Brodie hadn’t gotten the memo.
    Ski replied with a voice she barely recognized, “I got it, Skipper,” he argued easily. “You’ve got other things to worry about.”
    Brodie shook his head. “You were here at zero-three-hundred this morning. Connie will burn me in effigy if I don’t get you out of here at a decent hour,” Brodie replied simply. “Just give me some good men, and we’ll handle it.”
    Kristen stood impassively, as if a spot on the wall, but she watched and listened, sensing she was missing something in this simple exchange.
    “Sir, I really should be here….” Kaczynski responded.
    The captain placed a hand on Ski’s shoulder in a friendly manner and for a brief moment the two men made eye contact. “That’s an order,” Brodie said easily, with a friendly smile making it appear to all of those present like he was having a warmhearted discussion with his friend and chief engineer.
    Kristen watched Kaczynski as the captain spoke, and saw the engineer pale slightly. She was missing something. There had been nothing in the captain’s tone to indicate he was in anyway displeased, but for some reason, the Chief Engineer was now uncomfortable. The only thing