Buffy, the Vampire Slayer
Starring in a Fan Fiction
Lieutenant Summers
By
Lancer47
aka LancerFourSeven
Author's Notes: This is an alternate Buffy-verse story, it came to me in a dream. I cannot reconcile the time problems between BtVS the series and events described here, which may, purely by coincidence, appear to bear some relationship to current events (current as of the time it was written anyway, some years ago).
Disclaimer: I just borrowed Buffy for this story, she's back safe and sound in Joss Whedon's custody now. All characters in this story are fictional and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Lieutenant (jg) Buffy Summers marched up the forward brow of the USS Hampton Roads (CG-74) carrying her duffel bag with her left hand. If anyone on the quarterdeck noticed that she held what looked like an exceptionally heavy bag easily with one hand, they didn't say anything. Actually, the OOD looked nervous and the Second Class Quartermaster on watch was looking on with what could only be described as mild anticipation. The Messenger of the Watch, a young Seaman Apprentice just barely out of high school, stared, mesmerized by her every curve and her exceptionally graceful walk.
Buffy saluted the flag at the stern and turned to salute the quarterdeck. She said, "Hi George, I'm back. Is the fleet still floating okay? Didja miss me?"
"Ah, actually, we had a little, ah, um, well just a little dustup, really, it wasn't that big a deal…" said Ensign Graham.
"Spit it out George, what the hell happened to get you in such a state?"
"We had a fire on board last weekend, ma'am, and had to go to general quarters," said QM2 Westerhouse.
"So what," said Buffy, "fires on Navy ships are a dime a dozen. Of course, I suppose the Captain came down hard on everyone. Glad I wasn't here for that."
"Well, you see Lieutenant, four officer's staterooms were destroyed, including yours. Two sailors were smoking in the filter-cleaning compartment and somehow managed to start a fire. It being a holiday weekend in port, damage control was a little short handed. The watch on duty got it put out, but too late for your satisfaction, I'm sure."
"What do you mean, satisfaction for what?" asked Buffy.
"All your stuff: uniforms, books, pictures, mattress, all burnt to a crisp. It was a hell of hot fire for a while. But you've got more clothes in your bag, don't you?"
Buffy sighed, "No, I bought presents and junk and left my clothes at a dry cleaner – they'll ship 'em to me in a day or two."
"Lt. Summers report to the bridge," the 1MC bellowed all over the ship, echoing throughout the cavernous spaces.
Shit, thought Buffy, I just get back from leave, a damned fire burnt up everything I own except the clothes on my back, my uniform is a mess because it's the only one I have with me, and now the captain wants me. Could this day get any better?
"George, would you take charge of my duffel, and, and, tell me later what you did with it." Buffy tossed her duffel bag to the messenger, who caught it and staggered back, smashed into the bulkhead and dropped the bag with a thunk.
Buffy rushed up the ladder to the bridge deck, not running because that would not be officer-like behavior. But she hurried. She opened the watertight door to the bridge and stepped over the coaming. "Captain, you wanted to see me, sir?" asked Buffy.
"Ah, Lieutenant Summers, you're back. Sorry about your things, the Chief Bo'sun is rigging up someplace for you to sleep, I don't know how comfortable it'll be, you'll just have to cope," said Captain Jones.
He was interrupted by a Commander standing nearby. "Uh, Captain? If I might…?" he stuttered a little.
The Captain looked nonplussed as he glanced over his shoulder. "Lieutenant, this is Lieutenant Commander Spandrille, he's here from the carrier, from the admiral's staff. We'll carry on with this conversation in my cabin."
Once they were all ensconced in the Captains office below the bridge, the Captain's steward having delivered coffee and ships biscuit they all sat. Buffy, being the junior officer present, was mildly uncomfortable.
"Commander, carry on," said Captain Jones.
"Yes sir. Lieutenant, our troops have discovered a wonderfully large cave in the inhospitable part of Afghanistan, just liberated from some of the Taliban's last holdouts, and it is just chock full of intelligence. Special Forces are holding it for the moment, but the mujahedeen are chomping at the bit to loot the place. Since you're the nearest intelligence officer, everyone senior to you being off on other missions, or on leave, or in sick bay, or in one case, in the brig, you have been selected to fly over there forthwith and bag everything that looks useful or informative. Here are your orders from the Admiral, they've already been signed off by your Captain."
"Which part of Afghanistan is hospitable?" Buffy wondered out loud.
Commander Spandrille smiled slightly. He opened his briefcase and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers, photographs, and miscellaneous notes. "These are all the things that we are interested in. You need to study this on the flight in-country. Time is of the essence, you must go at once."
The Captain frowned and looked at Buffy, "See if you can borrow some khakis from some of the other female officers, you'll look like a sitting duck in your dress whites. Oh, and take a squad of Marines with you. They'll watch your back. I'll have that new second looey assign you some men."
The helicopters landed out in the middle of nowhere. This was some of the most godforsaken land Buffy had ever seen. There were no green things anywhere. No trees, no plants, no animals, and nearly no people – it looked like the surface of the moon, (if the moon was the color of dry dung), except for a few soldiers loitering about. She could hardly tell the difference between the Afghani soldiers and the US Special Forces – they were dressed mostly alike and looked equally shabby. The Special Forces guys were better armed and looked better fed though. She looked around with interest at the bombed out buildings, bomb craters here and there, dead bodies and body parts scattered about haphazardly. She looked closely to see if there were any demon parts – there was one possible.
Her Marines formed up loosely around her. They were protective and watchful, already having put her up on a virtual pedestal. After all, she was the best looking female (possibly the only single woman) in seven hundred miles. But they were ticked off that she was dressed in whites: she made way too good a target.
"Lieutenant," asked Sergeant Cooper, "maybe we could smear dirt on your uniform to kind of dull the brightness, make you a bit less of target?"
"I don't think so Sergeant! This is my last uniform, everything else got burnt up in the fire."
"Oh," he looked down and scuffed the ground with his combat boots a little, "Oh, well, maybe it can be a psychological advantage, you might look like an avenging angel to the gooks."
A tired and filthy Army Staff Sergeant rushed up to Buffy, and saluted her. He looked amazed at his own reflex action in the middle of a war zone. It must be the dress whites Buffy thought, smiling inwardly, and returned the salute. "Lead on Sergeant, we're here to collect intelligence." She added doubtfully, "If there's any to be had." Turning to her Marine Sergeant she said, "Sergeant Cooper, deploy your squads in a defensive position," and then turned to follow the Staff Sergeant.
"A modified platoon column, Lieutenant?"
"Whatever you think best, Sergeant."
They trooped up the street past more death and destruction. The Marines were impressed that their spiffy little blond Navy lieutenant didn't seem in the slightest put out by the putrefaction, corpses, and scattered miscellaneous body parts.
Past the end of the last building that was almost standing the ground became even more torn up. Their Special Forces guide cautioned them not to get off the trail for any reason at all – there were land mines infesting the countryside. They all had to scramble to continue up the marked trail. After a short hike the route abruptly turned into a steep canyon. Sergeant Cooper couldn't help but notice that Lieutenant Summers bounced lightly from rock to rock without any apparent difficulty. Of course, she wasn't carrying anything other than a sidearm and canteen while the troops had seventy-five pounds worth of weapons and backpacks each, but still, she wasn't slowing anyone down. You usually didn't even get that much from a Naval officer, one could hardly expect better, he thought.
The cave entrance finally hove into view between some more rocks and under a fairly tall bluff. Buffy stopped and looked around carefully. "Sergeant," she ordered, "post a lookout outside the cave, the rest of you come with me. See if you can find some Special Forces guys to liaison with."
Sergeant Cooper and Lance Corporal Smith glanced at each other and grimaced at the thought of liaisoning with anyone.
With that, she turned and marched into the hole. Unfortunately, her triumphant entrance was a little reduced by having to duck, but the cave got bigger past the entrance. Sergeant Cooper quickly signaled a corporal to get on point ahead of his Lieutenant, frowning at her headlong approach to caving, leaving the disposition of the outside detail up to his other lance corporal. Inside the entrance a couple of Special Forces guys looked up in dumbfounded amazement as this astonishing vision of naval feminine fashion suddenly appeared in their midst.
"Which way to the tunnel of fortune guys?" Buffy asked flippantly.
"Who the hell are you?" the slightly less mangy one demanded.
"Lieutenant Summers. Naval Intelligence. We're here to bag up everything in sight that looks interesting. Have you explored this place in any depth? Is a guide available? I understand that time is short before our erstwhile allies get rambunctious."
"Umm, well you're right on that score. Here, go down the right hand tunnel about four hundred feet and there's a bunch of file cabinets and boxes of papers and stuff. I suggest you start there and then explore the left-hand branch just beyond. We've been over the upper reaches and found little but living quarters. These guys were here quite a while and I think they were running short on food. That'll prolly be enough to keep you busy until we all gotta fly."
"Are we gonna run into any of your guys in here? Or can we just shoot anyone we see?" asked Sergeant Cooper.
"Whoa! Ixnay! We got guys down there! But be careful, we're still finding boltholes and hiding places, sometimes with bad guys in 'em. You wanta look sharp."
The sergeant deployed three Marines ahead and several more on each side of Buffy where the tunnel was wide enough. The trip down was rough and exhausting. The mountain was surprisingly porous – it seemed like digging side tunnels and excavating rooms had been someone's hobby. Well, maybe there hadn't been anything else for them to do.
Buffy suddenly stopped and held her hand up to stop the Marines. Sergeant Cooper started to ask a question but was silenced by Buffy's look and signal. She listened for a moment and whispered, "There's some people just beyond that corner, to the right."
Sergeant Cooper couldn't hear anything unusual, but he didn't question his Lieutenant. With curt hand signs he signaled five men to sneak up to the corner. Suddenly, they jumped out with their M-16's ready, and were met by three others, also with M-16s. No one fired.
"Holy shit! Who the hell are you guys! You just about gave me a heart attack!" said a surprisingly filthy specimen of humanity.
"Hey, it's cool, we're from Naval Intelligence," said Corporal Smith.
"Well, be careful, we thought there was some bad guys near here. We thought we heard something a while back and were waiting patiently. You've sprung our trap I'm afraid. Oh, I'm Lieutenant Maxwell from second SOG." He did a double take when he spotted Buffy in her dress whites. "Good God! What are you doing here, dressed like that?"
"I'm Lieutenant Summers, they just threw me in here with a few minutes notice, apparently I was the only intelligence officer not doing something more important like looking for missing rivets or something, so here I am."
Maxwell led the marines on to a storage room filled with files and boxes. Buffy's eyes lit up at the chance to actually justify her training and she started sorting through the nearest stack. "Sergeant," she said, "assign me a couple of helpers, dump some of those empty bags here, and make sure we're not interrupted by any nasty creatures."
A couple of hours later, Buffy had filled a dozen heavy-canvas bags with enough high quality paperwork to give the stuffed-shirt navy and CIA analysts back at the fleet hard-ons to brag about. By this time most of the Marines were lounging around and some were catching up on sleep. It seemed quiet down here in the bowels of the earth.
"SERGEANT!" she yelled, "mount up, we're headed further down." The squads jumped to their feet as if scalded. There was a little discontented muttering but everyone got ready to earn their pay. "Leave these bags here, we'll pick them up on the way back."
There were troops ahead and troops behind. Sergeant Cooper and Buffy were outwardly casual as they strolled down the tunnel, ducking occasionally to avoid rocky outcrops and hanging electric lights—and trying not to trip on the rough floor. They were both trying to extend their senses and trying to anticipate possible attacks. But when it came, they were all surprised. Buffy had just stopped to peer into a gloomy little compartment off the main track when, seemingly out of nowhere, Taliban fighters attacked. The sergeant saw his men suddenly in hand-to-hand combat. He was fighting for his life, hitting, stabbing and punching. They couldn't fire their weapons for fear of hitting each other. The sergeant was desperate as he tried to subdue his immediate attackers. He saw Lt. Summers disappear around a corner and heard thumping sounds. He was terrified that he might lose her and redoubled his efforts. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as he clubbed the last Taliban down, and finally, he was victorious. He could hear his troops finishing up behind him, and, with a heavy heart, he fearfully looked around the corner into the little area where he last saw Buffy. He fully expected to find her lying on the ground, dead and bleeding into the dirt with her guts hanging out.
"Oh, there you are sergeant. Would you take care of these guys for me please?" asked Buffy, with a careless wave. She was standing in the middle of the dirt-floored room studying what looked like bulletin boards tacked on the rock walls. Around her feet were five Taliban soldiers, laid out on the floor, either unconscious or dead. The sergeant stared uncomprehendingly.
"How, what, how did this happen?" he stuttered.
"Oh," said Buffy lightly, "I do a little martial arts, and these turkeys didn't expect anything but fear from me. I may have put the fear of god into them."
Corporal Smith stumbled to a halt beside the Sergeant. He stared at the bodies around Buffy. "Whoa, how did you do this, ma'am?"
"With difficulty, but they're probably not dead, you'd better use some of those plastic ties on them. Drag them out into the main corridor. Make sure that they'll still be here when we get back. And pack up these notices and things from these boards, they might be important." And she walked out.
Cooper and Smith stared at her back, amazed beyond comprehension.
After the sergeant detailed some guards for the still unconscious prisoners, Buffy and the rest of her Marines continued exploring the tunnel complex, heading down, down, down. Eventually, at the end of the farthest tunnel they found a complex of rooms that were set up with more luxury than the rest of the cave system, with living quarters and polished wood floors. By this time, all were looking around more, and up, since the Taliban seemed to like hiding in air holes above the main tunnel.
"Sergeant," ordered Buffy, "get all this paper packed up." She waved around at several desks and cabinets. Everyone got busy, because they wanted to get done and get the hell out. Being this far underground in an unprofessionally dug tunnel was oppressive. Buffy opened a door, the only one they'd seen in the tunnel complex, and walked into a what appeared to be a luxuriously appointed living room. A surprising thing to find this far underground. She could feel her slayer senses tingling – there was a vampire nearby. She opened a closet door and there it was. He leaped at her, a heavily bearded vampire wearing heavy robes, with extended fangs and claws, growling fiercely. Buffy spun and snap kicked his chin, he fell back and Buffy jumped feet first directly on the vampire's chest. She was thrown off and hit the wall, bouncing and crashing into a chair, which promptly broke into pieces. She grabbed up a convenient broken chair leg and continued her attack with a series of fist, elbow and foot strikes, finally ending up with her impromptu stake to the heart of the vampire.
She was brushing the dust off her clothes and hair when she heard a noise behind her. She whirled, stake ready for another strike, when she saw it was Sergeant Cooper and the corporal, both staring at her with surprise and maybe a little fear.
"Oh, Sergeant," she said, while attempting to surreptitiously drop her stake, "you'd better assign some guys to vacuum the paper from this room, too."
"Yes, uh, excuse me ma'am, but what in the fucking hell was that?"
"What?" said Buffy with impossible innocence.
"I thought I saw a senior Taliban disintegrate into ashes. We were supposed to drag any guys like that out if we found any," Sergeant Cooper added, "was he, a, well, a vampire? I know that sounds stupid as shit, but what else fits?"
Buffy closed the door behind the Marines and said, "Sure, that was a vampire, and why am I not surprised? But now he's dust because that's what I do, slay vampires. Evidently, the Powers That Be guided me here to do my job, at least, that's how I interpret it. However, you cannot tell anyone, if you do I will look innocent and suggest that people who make outrageous claims must have genuinely overwhelming proof if they don't wish to be institutionalized. I would also point out, that from a public standpoint this isn't such a bad end. That guy will not be a martyr, not without a body. He will seem to have disappeared like the coward he was. I know the high command will be disappointed, and the politicians will look bad, but they won't hear anything from us so we won't get any fallout. We have found his last lair, and there's blood on the floor which I have photographed and sampled, and I think we can sell the idea that his follower's killed him and dragged his body out and did – what? – with it. We sure as hell don't know."
The Sergeant looks shell-shocked, thought Buffy, but he has no choice but to go along with me.
Buffy was standing on the afterdeck in her new khaki uniform idly chatting with Lt. (jg) Mary Olsen when several Marines came around the after deckhouse. As they walked by they each came to attention and gave Buffy the snappiest possible salute, each one gravely returned.
"Buffy," said Mary, "those Marines saluted you as if you'd come out on top in a bar fight or something, what happened?"
"I guess I didn't slow them down while we were in-country."
Epilogue
The Messenger of the Watch hurried along the passage to Lt. Summers' renovated quarters. He stood nervously for a moment and straightened his uniform before knocking on her door. "Uh, Lt. Summers, are you in there ma'am?"
"Yes, what is it, sailor?" Buffy asked as she opened the door.
"Um, you're wanted in the Captain's Office?, he has a visitor?, someone from the FBI? The captain said 'Immediately'?" stammered the messenger.
"Okay, thank you."
A few moments later Buffy stepped into the Captain's office. "You wanted to see me sir?"
"Yes," said the Captain, with an irritated glance at a stranger in a dark suit who was sitting comfortably on the Captain's couch, "this is Special Agent Green of the FBI, he needs to talk to you but he won't tell me why and insists that it be a private conversation. I will stay if you would prefer it, to hell with what some FBI weenie wants."
"Oh, I don't mind sir, I'm sure he just wants to clear up a few details from my Afghani adventure, right?"
"Yes," said Green, "that's all."
"Okay, I'll be on the bridge when you're finished. Please see me afterward Summers," said the Captain, looking like he was sucking on a lemon.
After the door shut behind the captain, Buffy said, "Well, you haven't made any friends in the Navy. What can I do for you?"
"First of all, I am not with the FBI, I am Agent Green with what used to be called The Initiative. Sorry about the subterfuge, but it's necessary."
"The Initiative, huh, those creeps," said Buffy.
"The organization is quite different now, it's strictly a military mission, although we usually don't use ranks and prefer to appear civilian," said Agent Green.
"I'm sure," Buffy replied. After a pause she asked, "Made any Frankenstein Monsters recently?"
Green looked embarrassed, "Look, that wasn't an official project, it was strictly a side affair that had little to do with day-to-day operations. And no, we don't do anything like that anymore." He paused to catch his breath, then continued, "Look, we know you're The Slayer, capitol T capitol S, and we know what you did for us. I don't know if anyone ever thanked you for your actions, but you do have the heartfelt gratitude of the rank and file, even if the people who run the outfit aren't quite sure of your place in the overall scheme of things."
"No, no one ever thanked me, except for Riley Finn. But I'm used to that," said Buffy, pleased nonetheless.
"To get on track, we heard some interesting rumors concerning some of the top officials of the Taliban. A little bird told us that many of those guys were actually vampires. And when it came to our notice that you, The Vampire Slayer, had actually been the one to discover The Last Lair, as the press has so colorfully phrased it, well, our curiosity was hiked to a fever pitch. And so here I am. Were the rumors true? And if so, has the problem been, er, staked down, as it were?
"Yes, those rumors were true. And yes, I took care of it. Although, now that I think of it, it's probable that there are still a few vamps hiding out here and there in their holes."
"So the Taliban is controlled by a vampire nest, or at least were controlled. Well, that figures," sighed Agent Green. I do wish we could have captured a few of them and run some experiments."
"I thought you didn't do that sort of thing anymore," said Buffy.
"Oh, we don't. But a man can daydream, can't he?"
"I'll leave you to your daydreams." Buffy got up and went to the bridge.
"Ah, Lieutenant, was there anything you need to tell me from your conversation with the FBI?"
"No sir."
The captain looked a little irritated. He reflected that he was often irritated when Lt. (jg) Summers was around. The he suddenly remembered something. "Lieutenant, while you were in-country, you received new orders. Go see the XO, and you have my thanks for a good job."
Buffy, a little surprised, said, "Thank you sir," and shook his offered hand. She snapped a salute and went to get her orders.
Buffy looked out the side window of the huge Air Force cargo plane. She still didn't like facing backward in flight, but that was the military for you. At least it was a comfortable seat, and even better, large quantities of half-way decent food was available.
She mused about her orders. Her Navy orders tended to be a little terse; these were even more so than usual. She was to report to an office in the Pentagon, an office identified only by a number and there was no other explanation.
When she finally got to the Pentagon and ferreted out the obscure office mentioned in her orders, she found it guarded by Marines. Even in the Pentagon that was a little unusual. They saluted her, looked at her orders, and opened the door for her respectfully. In the end, she wasn't at all surprised to find Riley Finn inside. He was wearing his Marine uniform.
"Riley!" she said, "Captain Finn! If you expect me to salute you or call you 'sir', you're gonna wait a long time."
"When hell freezes over, I expect." He stepped forward and hugged her.
"So Ri', what'm I doin' here?"
"You have been ordered to brief the Joint Chiefs about your Afghan adventure."
"You've gotta be shittin' me! Everything?"
"Yes, everything. They do know about the supernatural."
"Crap!" she said with feeling.
"But first, you will meet with Admiral Fitzsimmons and a few of the other Admirals and Generals this afternoon. Then a full briefing tomorrow morning."
"Crap! I really don't like this."
"I know, but that's the way it is, now."
At the meeting that afternoon, she described everything that had happened during the expedition, including her best description of the vampire.
"So Lieutenant," said one General, "you cannot describe this vampire well enough to identify him?"
"No sir, I was trying to stake him while staying alive. It isn't always easy, even with my advantages. He had a full beard and wore loose desert robes, oh, and ugly sandals. Plus he was much bigger than me, but then most vampires are."
They glared at her as if she were an unusually inferior bottom-feeder. Finally, Admiral Fitzsimmons said, "You did an excellent job Summers, even if some of my colleagues wish you could have done more. Tomorrow morning, just repeat what you told us to the full Joint Chiefs and staff. You are excused."
The next morning Buffy walked into a large conference room with Admiral Fitzsimmons. He pointed her to chairs behind his desk. She stood while more Admirals and Generals than she had ever seen in one place filed in. There were one and two-star officers who were mere assistants to the four-star officers. She was the only one present under the rank of Navy Captain or Army Colonel, except for several enlisted serving coffee and pastries.
When everyone was finally settled into their respective seats, and everyone who wanted to be served, was served, the Admiral who seemed to be in charge said, "All right, we're in session. What's the first order of business?"
Buffy wasn't surprised when she discovered that the agenda was very long, and she was the last entry on the list. She took a sip of coffee and started nibbling on a couple of raspberry danish.
Several hours later Buffy was totally bored out of her mind when some four-striper asked, "Is Lieutenant (jg) Summers present?" She was starting to get just a little irritated the way everyone was emphasizing the (jg) in her rank.
She stood up and said, "Yes sir!"
"Excellent, please brief us about the intelligence you gathered in Afghanistan."
Admiral Fitzsimmons handed her a bulleted list. Buffy started down the points, one by one, describing what she had found, what she had retrieved, and brief descriptions of what she had been forced to leave behind due to lack of troops to carry it all. She was about to describe the vampire fight when she realized it wasn't on the list. She looked up and was about to mention it, when Admiral Fitzsimmons thanked her for her briefing. The Admiral in charge got up and said, "Good briefing Summers. Wasn't there something else? I seem to remember that there was a critical point for us to discuss this morning, anyone?"
Buffy started to speak up, but she noticed Fitzsimmons' hand behind his back, signaling her to stand down. He said, "I believe that is all, sir. We had a discussion of paperwork vis-a-vis intelligence and security, but that was sent back to the security committee for further implementation prior to a full Joint Chiefs discussion."
"Oh yes, of course. Then that's it for today."
Everyone filed out, Buffy followed Admiral Fitzsimmons back to his office. The Admiral showed Buffy in. "Have a seat, Ms. Summers."
"Sure, what happened to the briefing of the Joint Chiefs? If I wasn't going to talk about Taliban vampires, then why I was there?"
"I've seen this before. Senior officers find out about the supernatural, everything starts to expand, assistants are brought in, junior officers write long briefs on how to handle integrating the supernatural with the mundane, how best to use Slayers and such. Then they start to produce incredibly thick manuals on dealing with the supernatural, even though none of the authors have ever had any experience with any supernatural phenomenon. And then, like this morning, everyone abruptly forgets all about it – even most of the paperwork disappears. Except for me and Captain Finn and his little group of demon hunters. At least until next time."
"Wow, this has happened before?"
"Yes. I can't account for it, and I've given up expecting rational explanations. Actually, I'm rather hopeful that I too will forget about supernatural events someday, perhaps after I've retired."
"And sir, why did you call me 'Ms' Summers?"
"I have your separation papers, you can go home."
"You're firing me?"
"No, in point of fact, you were an excellent junior officer. I don't actually know where these orders originated from, they were in my in-box this morning. Apparently, whatever entity looks after Slayers needs you somewhere else."
"I see," said Buffy, "it's B.O.H.I.C.A. time. The Powers-That-Fuck-Me-Over are at it again - do you have any KY I could borrow?"*
"Ahhh, I wouldn't put it that way myself," said the Admiral. "I have closely followed your exploits these last few years, and I have been impressed with your work; I am not easily impressed. Even though only a few people in the service will remember you, you were outstanding in a truly frightening job."
"Thank you, sir." Buffy picked up her paperwork and saluted the Admiral. "I guess I'll be going then."
The End
A/N: The USS Hampton Roads is an imaginary ship. The equally imaginary designation of CG-74 would make it a Ticonderoga class guided missile cruiser. This class of ships was named after American battles; the Battle of Hampton Roads occurred during the Civil War, but as far as I can tell, no U.S. Navy ship has ever used that name. However, there is another imaginary ship named the USS Hampton Roads (NCC-70), a cruiser starship of the Powhatan class of the Federation Starfleet.
It is possible that the reason no US Navy ship has been officially named after the Battle of Hampton Roads is because both sides claimed victory, but neither side was victorious. Even thought the South inflicted far more damage than the North, it didn't affect the North's blockade which cut off the Confederate cities of Norfolk and Richmond from the rest of the world.
The real significance of the battle was the advent of iron-clad warships, and that is surely a good reason for the US Navy to use the name Hampton Roads for a ship, someday.
*B.O.H.I.C.A.: "Bend Over, Here It Comes Again."