The Command

“A threat. Turn it off, or I’ll tell CNN what we did last night.”

“Blackmail.”

“Absolutely. And you know what any hint of sexual irregularity would mean to the image of this administration.”

She acknowledged the thrust with a twisted smile. Glanced at the computer again; then shut it down. “You know, I’ve got something riding on this, too.”

“On Horn?”

“I’ve told some important people that this initiative’s going to show how well women can integrate. If you look bad, I will, too.”

He felt a sudden flare of resentment. Everybody had to put the pressure on. Like the song. Just put the load right on me.

“Slide over,” she said, turning off the lamp. Dropping the robe, and standing; a graceful curving shadow that grew larger and larger until it eclipsed the dawn.

* * *

Screwed, shaved, and showered, he pulled the plastic off a fresh set of whites as she cursed the inventor of panty hose. Horn was due to get under way for the first female combat deployment at noon. Making this an official media circus, he thought darkly. Three-star equivalents, like Blair. COMNAVSURFLANT. He’d heard nothing from Second Fleet staff, which he hoped meant Niles was going to skip it. He threaded a new white belt. Clipped on a pewter buckle with the ship’s crest and sawed the rest of the belt off with his pocketknife. Occupying his hands with routine, while his mind ran free.

Blair turned from the mirror in the cobalt blue suit she favored for TV. “One last hug.”

He said into her ear, “The last? How about at the pier?”

“The under secretary and the captain? Not exactly the tone we want to set.”

She was right, of course. Holding her, he wanted her all over again, but more; wanted not just the physical contact, but to be with her for more than a snatched day or two. Like a criminal on the lam. How had he maneuvered himself into this? His classmates had normal marriages. Normal families. He had an ex in Utah and a daughter he never saw. For a second he imagined letting the ship go without him. Wouldn’t that make Niles’s day.

“What’s funny?”

“Not much, when you think about it.” He kissed her again. “I don’t want to leave. Not with you staying here.”

“I told you, I might be able to work something to come out to the Gulf. Now that we have a permanent presence there. I’ll let you know if I can.”

All he could think to do in answer was hold her tighter than ever.

* * *

They had breakfast, then split up. Blair’s official reason for being here was as a member of the Defense Advisory Committee on Women in the Services. Three other members joined them as she was signing the tab. Other than a marine colonel, who was in uniform, Dan had no idea who they were. Just competent-looking women in civilian clothes. Blair treated them as equals, which would put them pretty far up the political food chain.

Pier 6 berth 2, time 1000. The 1MC echoed from the ship. “Now muster the color guard with the officer of the deck on the quarterdeck.” A yellow poly rope was stretched across the pier, holding back those who’d come to see their husbands, sons, and, in a few cases, daughters and wives off.

Four bells sounded as he neared the brow. “Horn, arriving,” the 1MC announced.

The first thing he did was tell the officer of the deck to strike the pier barrier, to let dependents aboard as long as they stayed topside. His people wouldn’t see their loved ones for six months. The least he could do was let them say goodbye. He checked with Hotchkiss as to their readiness to get under way, then went out on deck again. He told each family how proud he was of their service member, what a good job he was doing for the ship and the navy. One woman said she’d never heard anyone say a good thing about her son before.

His mood darkened again as he saw the cameras.

They were lined up on the fantail, filming the crew as they came aboard. A lieutenant commander he didn’t know was with them. Dan pulled him aside. “Who the hell are you?”

“Com Second Fleet public affairs, sir.”

“Who are all these people?”

“Media requests, sir. National media!”

“Okay, but why are they here?”

“They asked to be here. They’re the press, and you’re news.”

He got his temper under control and was looking around when he saw Woltz. The command master chief was talking to a reporter. Their heads were together, and the newsie was scribbling in a notebook. Dan caught “fucking sailorettes” and “dangerous.”

“Master chief.”

Woltz froze. “Yessir, Captain.”

“You and the chief master at arms make a last tour below. Make sure no one’s aboard who shouldn’t be.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

The reporter said, “The chief was telling me nobody wants the women aboard.”

“Did he?”

“They’re not used to going to sea. They don’t know their way around.”

“Most of them have been to sea before. Oilers and ammo ships and tugs.”

“How’s the crew feel about them?”

“They’re all sailors to me.”

“That’s not what I asked you, Skipper. Is there resistance from the enlisted men?”