Free Seawolf Mask of Command by Cliff Happy Page B

Kristen was absolutely certain about was that it hadn’t been her actions that made the engineer uncomfortable.
    “Uh…” Kaczynski began to protest.
    Kristen noticed the captain’s hand tense slightly on Ski’s shoulder and he cut the engineer off before he could say more, “And I know you’d never disobey any order of mine. Would you Ski?”
    Kristen waited calmly, wondering what she was missing. But, with this last few words from the captain, Kaczynski folded and nodded in agreement. “No, sir, I wouldn’t.”
    Brodie released his grip and patted Ski’s shoulder. “Go home, give Connie a kiss for me, and have a few beers for the rest of us. We’ll see to your light work.”
    “Good night, sir,” Kristen said respectfully to Ski as he was dismissed.
    To her surprise he looked at her, and the malice was missing from his expression. She still didn’t understand what had just happened. It appeared innocent, just two friends talking, but Ski’s entire demeanor had changed, and he said politely, “Good evening, Lieutenant.”
     
    Several unmarried machinist mates and non-rated seamen volunteered, with some prodding, to stay and help with the realignment process as well as Senior Chief O’Rourke. O’Rourke, Kristen soon learned, was not only the senior enlisted man in the engineering spaces, he was also a first-rate machinist. COB soon arrived as well, determined to lend a hand despite Brodie’s objections. The old seaman deftly ignored Brodie’s prodding to go home. Kristen, anxious to learn all she could and be as useful as possible, stayed as well, and the small work gang got to it.
    Although clearly the senior person present, Brodie didn’t supervise. Kristen saw he mostly relied on O’Rourke and COB to direct the men and double check the manuals. Kristen, determined to prove her willingness to work, was quick to volunteer for any task, which included sliding herself inside the casing to help position laser leveling devices on various mounts.
    It was arduous and extremely precise work, and it took all night long to get it right. But Kristen was accustomed to hard work, and when they were finally finished before morning chow call, she couldn’t help but smile with tired satisfaction. She’d been up for the previous twenty-four hours and couldn’t quite suppress a yawn as she and the others paused for a moment to admire their handiwork. Despite being filthy and tired, she thought it had been a good night. She’d worked shoulder-to-shoulder with the seamen and petty officers to her left and right, as well as the captain. At first, several of the men had been uncertain how to treat her. But after a liberal amount of grease and grime had all but plastered her coveralls, arms, and face, the men forgot she was a woman and concentrated on the task at hand. It was, for Kristen, one of the most satisfying experiences of the last few years. It was exactly what she wanted—to be treated like everyone else and not objectified because of her sex.
    After the last check was complete, Brodie addressed them all, thanking them for their effort and then giving them the rest of the day off. Kristen noticed COB and O’Rourke glance at one another and exchanged looks of “fat chance.” Neither seemed like the type who would take a day off as long as the sub wasn’t ready for sea. Orders or not, each would be right back to work after a shower and a change of clothing. The rest of the men smiled happily and thanked the captain as they headed for the tunnel leading out of engineering toward the forward section of the hull.
    COB, O’Rourke, and the captain were leaning against a railing, none apparently going anywhere fast. O’Rourke had an unlit cigarette in between his lips and grease stains all over his hands and face like the rest of them. Kristen was hardly gifted when it came to understanding people, but she didn’t need any such gift to realize these three far more seasoned submariners might not appreciate her