“How long have you been with the captain?”
“Three years and nine months,” he answered with a hint of pride. “I came on as his steward when he first took command.”
“And do you always make certain his officers have their particular favorites?” she asked as she raised her teacup.
Gibbs nodded as he stepped back from her, wiping his hands on a dish rag. “Oh, yes,” he explained, his mannerisms slightly animated. “The XO has to have his chocolate covered doughnuts with sprinkles every morning, the chief engineer likes grapefruit juice… although these days he needs some prune juice I suspect….”
Kristen cut him off before he said more. “I get the picture, Mister Gibbs,” she said, thankful for the tea. “Everything looks perfect, thank you.”
“If you need anything, I’ll be in the galley. Just give a shout,” he offered earnestly.
Kristen ate as she studied, drinking several cups of tea before being disturbed again as the XO appeared, entering through the only other door to the wardroom. Kristen had a mouthful of toast and jelly, but came to her feet, trying to swallow so she might greet him properly. But the tall, slender African American raised a hand to stop her.
“At ease, Lieutenant,” he told her. “We aren’t so formal here in the wardroom. Sit down and finish your breakfast.”
Kristen choked down her food as she resumed her seat. “Good morning, sir,” she managed before washing the rest of her food down with another mouthful of tea.
He nodded in reply as he stepped past her toward the coffee pot. “How was your evening?”
“Fine, sir. And yours?”
He poured some coffee into a mug and then grimaced as he took a sip. It had come out of the pot thick as hot tar. “Not bad,” he answered. “I won twenty bucks on the Lakers.” He then took a seat near the head of the table next to where the captain would eventually sit.
Kristen had no intention of disturbing him further as he opened up a metal clipboard containing the evening’s communications. It was called the “read board” and there were several varieties depending on the level of classification. By the warning on the cover of the clipboard she could see that he was reading the Top Secret message traffic.
Gibbs swept in a moment later with two plates of food for the XO, including one with three doughnuts.
“Good morning, Commander,” he greeted with a perky grin. “I hope you’re hungry this morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Mister Gibbs,” Graves replied without looking up. “Anything happen last night?”
Kristen listened as Gibbs recited nearly verbatim the handful of incidents reported in the ship’s log. Two sailors had been returned to the Seawolf after having gotten into an altercation at the enlisted club. Another seaman had cut himself in the torpedo room and had received eleven stitches. Once this morning ritual was over, Gibbs returned to the galley where Kristen noticed him peeking into the wardroom through a small, circular window in the door every few minutes.
She resumed reading as she finished her breakfast, still a little hungry and occasionally glancing over at the XO’s plate where he still had a single doughnut waiting that seemed to be calling to her. Or, more specifically, calling to her hips where she was certain the doughnut would end up if she ate it. She summoned her will power as Gibbs returned and cleared away her dishes.
“Is there anything else I can get you, ma’am?” he asked, a hint of knowing in his voice.
She glanced up at him innocently, but he responded with a wink. “Coming right up,” he confided conspiratorially and left, only to return a minute later with a chocolate covered doughnut with sprinkles.
Kristen finished her meal, and with her hunger now satiated, and her chocolate craving once more under control, she focused her energy on her manuals.
Jason Graves looked up from the classified read board, not pleased with what was happening in North Korea. It seemed that just when he thought everything was okay with the world, North Korea, Iran, Pakistan or some other place began stirring up trouble and causing a panic in Washington. He closed the read board and got up to refill his coffee cup.
As he did so, he noticed Kristen studying a manual. She was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and her blond hair was twisted into several fine braids as he’d seen them the day before. She wore no makeup and her skin was deeply tanned from nearly a year in Hawaii. Her coveralls were clean and freshly pressed, and the strict expression on her face reminded him of a schoolmarm. But what truly drew his attention was the way she placed her middle and index finger at the top of the page and then drew them down to the bottom in just a few seconds as she stared at the page. Then, as if having read the entire page, she turned to the next. In less time than it took him to fill his coffee mug, she’d gone through three full pages of highly-detailed technical specifications for the sub’s main condenser.
He watched her closely as he returned to his seat. He knew she was intelligent, a bit of an egghead perhaps. But this seemed a little much. “Excuse me, Lieutenant,” he interrupted her.
She looked up at him, her fingers pausing over the page. “Yes, sir?”
“Just what are you doing?”
Her usual expressionless face gave a hint of confusion. “Uh, I’m studying, sir,” she responded, apparently not sure what he was talking about.
He mimicked her motion with his own fingers. “I mean, what’s that thing you’re doing there with the fingers?”
“I’m reading, sir,” she responded curtly, reminding him more of a machine than a human being.
“You’re reading that fast?” he asked in disbelief. “You aren’t spending more than a few seconds on each page.”
Her demeanor changed slightly, as the prim and proper schoolmarm façade slipped and she fidgeted nervously. She was about to respond when the door opened and an exhausted looking captain appeared. He was dressed in the same set of coveralls Graves had last seen him wearing. Graves and their newest lieutenant began to stand but Brodie waved them back down while groaning, “Coffee.”
Zombie-like, he walked to the coffee pot where he poured a mug without further comment and took a sip. Graves watched him with concern. He’d served with Brodie for two years, and had known him as a close friend for the better part of two decades. Brodie pushed himself too hard, forgoing sleep and relying on a seemingly inexhaustible supply of energy and caffeine to keep him going longer than what could possibly be healthy. While at sea, it wasn’t uncommon for Brodie to stay awake for two or three days sometimes before knocking off for a few hours of sleep. But ever since their orders had come down to get ready for sea, he’d been setting new records for stamina.
“Oh, that’s awful,” Brodie groaned and took another sip. “I think Gibbs is washing his socks in there again,” he commented dryly and took yet another sip.
“No,” Graves replied, smiling at his friend. “I think he’s putting his skivvies in there these days.”
Kristen sat silently during the exchange, watching the two men banter back and forth.
“I heard you got the reduction gears aligned last night,” Graves offered, knowing Brodie had let Ski leave early to spend time with his wife. “I don’t imagine you found time to get any sleep?” he asked gently, not wanting to give his friend a hard time in front of the new lieutenant.
Brodie didn’t respond; instead, he refilled his mug and turned back toward the door. “How’s Penny?” he asked referring to Graves’ wife.
“She told me to tell you she expects you for dinner this Friday,” Graves replied. “And if you can’t make it, you’ll have to tell her yourself because I sure as hell won’t.”
Penny had known Brodie as long as Graves, and she considered him part of the family.