I don't understand. I guess because I'm seeing the changes happen one by one and they don't impact on me the way seeing a bunch at once would. Or maybe because the Michaelson is still home for me, all too often twenty-four/seven. I wonder what'll it feel like to watch her leave port, knowing I don't belong onboard anymore ? He glanced at Jen's face, then reached out to squeeze her shoulder. "You feel real to me."
"Watch it, sailor. You're going to need that hand someday." But Jen grinned to remove any hint of real threat from her words. "Life goes on. Whether we like it or not."
"Yeah. Speaking of which, are you coming to our change of command?"
"Sorry. No can do. I served less than forty-eight hours under Gonzalez, so I can't convince my department head to let me go. But I'll bolt from the Maury the instant liberty call goes down. How's your new captain look? Is he another Wakeman?"
"Hell, no." Paul couldn't hide his reaction to the thought. "Hayes seems okay. Of course, he hasn't taken over, yet." As an observer, Hayes had been bound to follow the way Gonzalez wanted to run the ship. As captain, Hayes would be able to change things to suit himself.
"Speaking of captains, we're meeting for dinner on Thursday."
"Gee, Jen, that's three days from now, right before your own ship leaves. Are you sure it's a good idea to plan for that?"
"Excuse me, Paul. I didn't say 'can we meet.' I said we are meeting."
"What's so important about dinner that night?"
"The Mahan is in port. Long-term refit."
"Uh, yeah. So?"
"So that means her captain is in port, too." Jen paused, eyeing Paul as he looked baffled. "Captain Kay Shen."
"Captain Shen? Your father?"
"The only one I know of."
"Captain Shen?"
"You already said that."
"Your father."
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Look, I'll be at the Michaelson by 1730 that night to make sure you look decent. We'll be dining on the Mahan as guests of the captain so you'll need to break out your service dress. Mine's fresh-pressed. How's yours?"
"Uh . . ."
"Wadded up in the back of a drawer? Probably. We've got a couple of days to see what we can do with it. Although I don't know what you were planning to wear to the change of command. Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"You're not worried about meeting my father, are you?"
"What's he like? You've never said much about him."
"He's my father. Don't worry. It's no big deal."
Jen walked into the wardroom, exchanging greetings with the other officers there whom she knew, while Paul hung back for a moment. No big deal? Give me a break. Her father's the captain of the Mahan ? Life just keeps getting more complicated .
Chapter Four
There wasn't any one place on the Michaelson even remotely big enough for the entire crew to gather, so the change-of-command ceremony took place in a special hall on Franklin Station which existed for just such functions. With the exception of a skeleton duty section remaining behind on the Michaelson to watch over the ship, every other officer and enlisted were gathered in the hall, the sailors ranked by their divisions, the divisions grouped into their departments, and the officers in charge of each standing out in front of their division or department. Chief Imari, the leading chief petty officer for Paul's Combat Information Center division, walked down the ranks of sailors in their unit, trying to form them into straight lines, align the ranks front to back, and correct any sailor whose idea of standing at attention didn't conform to Navy standards.
Grumbling under her breath, Chief Imari came up to Paul and saluted. "OI division assembled and accounted for, sir," she reported, using the shipboard designation for the unit.
Paul returned the salute, feeling stiff in his formal dress uniform. "Thanks, Chief. They look pretty good."
Imari glanced back at them. "For sailors, I guess. Just be glad there aren't any Marines around to make them look bad. And that they don't have to march anywhere." She shook her
"Watch it, sailor. You're going to need that hand someday." But Jen grinned to remove any hint of real threat from her words. "Life goes on. Whether we like it or not."
"Yeah. Speaking of which, are you coming to our change of command?"
"Sorry. No can do. I served less than forty-eight hours under Gonzalez, so I can't convince my department head to let me go. But I'll bolt from the Maury the instant liberty call goes down. How's your new captain look? Is he another Wakeman?"
"Hell, no." Paul couldn't hide his reaction to the thought. "Hayes seems okay. Of course, he hasn't taken over, yet." As an observer, Hayes had been bound to follow the way Gonzalez wanted to run the ship. As captain, Hayes would be able to change things to suit himself.
"Speaking of captains, we're meeting for dinner on Thursday."
"Gee, Jen, that's three days from now, right before your own ship leaves. Are you sure it's a good idea to plan for that?"
"Excuse me, Paul. I didn't say 'can we meet.' I said we are meeting."
"What's so important about dinner that night?"
"The Mahan is in port. Long-term refit."
"Uh, yeah. So?"
"So that means her captain is in port, too." Jen paused, eyeing Paul as he looked baffled. "Captain Kay Shen."
"Captain Shen? Your father?"
"The only one I know of."
"Captain Shen?"
"You already said that."
"Your father."
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Look, I'll be at the Michaelson by 1730 that night to make sure you look decent. We'll be dining on the Mahan as guests of the captain so you'll need to break out your service dress. Mine's fresh-pressed. How's yours?"
"Uh . . ."
"Wadded up in the back of a drawer? Probably. We've got a couple of days to see what we can do with it. Although I don't know what you were planning to wear to the change of command. Are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
"You're not worried about meeting my father, are you?"
"What's he like? You've never said much about him."
"He's my father. Don't worry. It's no big deal."
Jen walked into the wardroom, exchanging greetings with the other officers there whom she knew, while Paul hung back for a moment. No big deal? Give me a break. Her father's the captain of the Mahan ? Life just keeps getting more complicated .
Chapter Four
There wasn't any one place on the Michaelson even remotely big enough for the entire crew to gather, so the change-of-command ceremony took place in a special hall on Franklin Station which existed for just such functions. With the exception of a skeleton duty section remaining behind on the Michaelson to watch over the ship, every other officer and enlisted were gathered in the hall, the sailors ranked by their divisions, the divisions grouped into their departments, and the officers in charge of each standing out in front of their division or department. Chief Imari, the leading chief petty officer for Paul's Combat Information Center division, walked down the ranks of sailors in their unit, trying to form them into straight lines, align the ranks front to back, and correct any sailor whose idea of standing at attention didn't conform to Navy standards.
Grumbling under her breath, Chief Imari came up to Paul and saluted. "OI division assembled and accounted for, sir," she reported, using the shipboard designation for the unit.
Paul returned the salute, feeling stiff in his formal dress uniform. "Thanks, Chief. They look pretty good."
Imari glanced back at them. "For sailors, I guess. Just be glad there aren't any Marines around to make them look bad. And that they don't have to march anywhere." She shook her
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