Within fifteen minutes the lubricant had drained, and she removed the inspection basket. As expected, she saw small pieces of metal. But, to her dismay, she also noticed some pieces too large to be a good sign. Kristen returned to the deck above where Kaczynski was supervising the removal of the last of the ancillary equipment connected to the reduction gears.
“Excuse me, sir,” Kristen said as she came up behind him carrying the basket.
He turned, a smirk already forming on his face as he readied some nasty quip. She assumed he’d tightened the valve, and the surprised look on his face verified this suspicion as he looked at the basket she was carrying and realized she’d gotten it open despite his sabotage. “What is it now, Lieutenant?” he asked adding emphasis to the last two words.
“I thought you might want to see this right away, sir,” she replied politely, ignoring his tone and 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 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.