He bit his lower lip, forcing down the urge to shout for her to shut up. Spending time with Steve Bucket learning about the Navy was book learning. Anyone can do book learning, as his father liked to say, but real learning was by doing. Her two chevrons meant she was senior to him within the military. He wondered what she would say if she knew how close she was standing to one of God’s saints? He imagined her on her knees kissing his feet and worshipping his presence. Someday, many would.
“You don’t talk much, do you?”
“Showdernitzel! You going to meander and mosey over here, or you gonna get a step on it? You think I got all day to stand here and wait for you to stroll by?”
“He’s a darling, ain’t he? I like it when he’s in a good mood such as now. When he’s in a bad mood, he’s been known to throw people into the water like that asshole Smith. Other divisions have mellow people-persons such as that friend of his Senior Chief Agazzi.” She mimicked, “Oh, are you okay, Petty Officer Spuckitelly? Do you need some time to yourself, Petty Officer Spuckitelly? Can I get you some coffee, Petty Officer Spuckitelly? Give me a break,” she finished, taking a deep breath, and smiling. “Not our master chief. He’ll slap you silly if he caught you trying to find the inner you. That’s what I like about him. None of that shitty psychotherapy-babble leadership touchy-feely bullshit or ‘I’m your friend’ crap. You know where you stand. You start off on his shit list and seldom have to worry about getting off it. Plus…”
He tuned her out, catching his breath. Smith had been Joshua. Joshua; his brother and the chosen one before he was selected to replace him. Unconsciously, Andrew’s hands turned to fists. An inner fire of righteous fury urged him to run at the man who had killed his brother. The man stood there less than thirty feet from him with his arm in a sling. The knowledge of this man killing his brother was common on board Sea Base. And they praised a man who had killed one of God’s chosen. Sea Base and all who rode her were damned.
“What’s wrong with you, Jolson? You going through hot flashes at your age or something?” Showdernitzel shook her head, and then looked straight ahead at Jacobs. “I can tell you he don’t like things that ain’t ordinary. You one of these druggies with their ups and downs of bipolarism, you gonna join—”
“I don’t do drugs,” he said angrily. He opened his mouth to continue, but all he could do was stutter. He wanted to punch her.
“Okay, okay, okay,” she said, reaching over and patting him on the arm.
He jerked his arm away.
“Jolson, I can tell you ain’t gonna last long in this man’s Navy. Or this woman’s.” Showdernitzel stopped, grabbing Andrews’s arm and turning him around. Poking her thumb into her chest, she said, “You’re too moody. You’d better get over it, and stop acting strange. We got enough strange on board without me having to add you to it.” She poked him in the chest. “You understand me?”
“Showdernitzel,” Jacobs shouted before Andrew answered. “Get your butt over here, quit lollygagging, and who in the hell are you beating up?”
The two turned. Several seconds later, after the two were near him, Jacobs pointed at the dark area on the port side of the runway that split the centerline of Sea Base. “Showder-nitzel, how do you think we are going to get this stain off my deck?” Jacobs took his arm out of the sling, wincing slightly from the dull pain it brought.
“Ought to leave it in the sling like the doctor told you.” “Showdernitzel, when I want a mom, I’ll send for you.” “Ah, come on, Master Chief; you and I know you never had a mother.”
“Focus on my deck that you let get cruddy, Showdernitzel, and who in the hell is he?”
“This is Petty Officer Jolson: Allan Jolson. Taleb said he was a singer.”
“A singer? Let’s hope you aren’t a boatswain mate.”
“I’m not a singer. Taleb says my name Al Jolson is the name of a singer who lived a hundred years ago. I’ve never heard of him.”
Never heard of Al Jolson, Jacobs thought. If my name had been Al Jolson, someone would have kidded, badgered, and beaten me so many times in school, I’d’ve never forgotten the man’s name. But then that was his day, when boys were boys and sheep were nervous. He smiled at his unspoken joke. Kids aren’t learning what they should in school nowadays anyway. “Are you one of my boatswain mates?”
“Yes, Master Chief; he arrived on the noon flight. He’s berthed on the Algol and I’m showing him around.”
“And you’re not a singer, a ballet dancer, or one of those sons-of-a-bitch who finished college but can’t decide what they want to do so they think they can go to sea to discover themselves, are you?”
Andrews’s eyes widened slightly at the verbal blast. He shook his head.
“Good, welcome aboard.” Jacobs stuck out his left hand. “Sorry, but my right hand is being repaired by Navy medicine. Most likely won’t ever work again.”
“Master chiefs aren’t supposed to whine.”
Jacobs’s eyebrows arched over his eyes, nearly hiding them from sight. “Showdernitzel, you and I have to have a come-to-Jesus chat about respect.” He turned back to Jolson, his hand still out.
Jolson was staring at his hand. What’s this man’s problem? Then, the new sailor reached forward and took Jacobs’s hand. His lips curled. What a shitty handshake, Jacobs thought. Like shaking a wet fish. He nearly wiped his hand on his khaki pants, but he didn’t need anything human on the trousers. “So, you all squared away and ready to start working?” “Yes, I think so.”
“It’s yes, Master Chief,” Showdernitzel corrected.
“Well, welcome to First Division,” Jacobs said. “Glad to have another hand to help keep this floating bucket of bolts afloat and looking halfway decent.” He nodded at Showdernitzel. “She’ll get you settled and tell you the routine. It’s a big island and bigger than anything you’ve ever been aboard. If you get lost, just work your way topside is the best recommendation for finding your way around.”
“Yes, Master Chief.”
“You should have some time to get the hang of Sea Base. It isn’t your conventional warship, but it’s still a warship. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” Jacobs put his hands on his hips, quickly dropping the right one. “Showdernitzel, see what you can do about this stain. Maybe get some of the hands to help you and try a few different methods on swatches of it to see what happens. Check with supply and see how much nonskid they have. I don’t want to remove the fire stain down to white metal only to discover we don’t have enough nonskid to cover it.”
“You could paint it,” Andrew suggested.
“Oh, yes, we could paint it, and the first time there’s another fire on this deck, it would burn right alongside whatever else was burning.” Jacobs shook his head. “No, we need something nonflammable, within Naval regulations, and gray: Navy gray. And Showdernitzel, none of that Air Force wimpy blue shit.”
Showdernitzel opened her mouth to say something. The bongs of General Quarters drowned out whatever she was going to say. The three looked toward the speakers mounted on the top deck of the tower. “This is not a drill; this is not a drilclass="underline" General Quarters, General Quarters; all hands man your battle stations!”
“Showdernitzel; get to the port-side damage control station! I’ll be there shortly.” He pointed at Andrew. “Keep Jol-son with you.” He looked at Andrew. “You stay with her!” Then he shouted as they took off running, “Start the muster as soon as you get there!”