Disclaimer: Don't own JAG—just doing the "what happened after" thing. . .
A/N: Many, many thanks to reviewers—you all help keep this thing on track and ongoing. (This was originally supposed to be a very short aftermath to the season finale—and it's turning into something much, much more. Posting is both confusing and tedious. Please be patient, as I'm still learning—and writing.) Thanks, again.
A/N: Note to "jaka" about the colonel's name:
Please keep in mind I like to keep as much "realism" as I can in this story, considering it's based on fictional characters. In the real world, reputations, thanks to the every-present rumor mill, travel with light-year speed. Mac would want to hang onto her well-earned reputation to find a job/new career within the civilian world—even in London. To take Harm's name in lieu of her own would be to lose that "kick-ass-take-no-prisoners" reputation as a litigator/investigator—or minimize it's impact at the very least. This is especially true in light of her medical condition—she may not be able to have children, so her career is very important to her self-identity. In addition, even within the JAG series world, Captain Rabb, while respected, is not universally loved, and taking his name might very well hinder her efforts at finding employment, perhaps within the defense/contractor universe (I have plans for her new position—but that comes later, thank you.). If you review the shows, it's not automatically assumed they come as a "partnership", especially since the Paraguay business.
In addition, Mac is portrayed in the series, as a fiercely independent woman who wants very much to be self-sufficient. (I can see future stories based on that struggle between learning to depend on a marriage partner and that desire to remain independent and self-sufficient as she defines herself, by the way.) She would be very reluctant to give up her own name for any man, including Harm. According to the series, she's approximately five years or so younger than Harm, as best I can figure out; as a result, she "came of age" in the aftermath of the feminist movement that flared up in the late 1960s. A big issue during that time was that of a woman having to give up her ability to self identify when she gave up her own birth name for that of the man she married. Having grown up in the '60s (and lost someone relatively close in Vietnam), I can also personally testify joining the Marine Corps during that time is not indicative of a women who would willingly and easily give up something so essential to her self-identity as her birth name—not without a real struggle, anyway.
On a personal note, I have a sister who is the same age as Mac would be, who's been happily married for 15 years and still goes by her maiden name, especially at work (she's a "professional", by the way). She still gets a little "ticked off" when people assume she's taken my brother-in-law's name, even in private. She's never even considered a hyphenated last name. And my brother-in-law has absolutely no problem with it—it's a "non-issue" for them. Given hints and clues throughout the actual televised series, I don't think Harm would have a problem with it, either—although I am willing to concede a hyphenated last name—but not at this point in the story.
Also, so much of the fan fiction I've read on this issue, has Mac giving in much too easily on this particular issue, thereby ignoring basic human psychology and how human nature really works. My thanks to you, in any case, because, after all this time, I didn't really it was such an issue with me personally. Obviously, by the length of this explanation, it is an issue—something I may need to work on myself. For that, I truly do thank you—self-knowledge is always important.)
A/N: Still "fumbling" with how to update stories. By the time this story ends, maybe I'll have it down pat. In the meantime, fans, be patient--unless somebody wants to email specific, detailed "how-tos" (Fan Fiction's "directions" are more than just a little "unspecific"--and I might as well confess my age, since the technology is starting to reveal my less-that-familiarity with the posting aspect--I'm 51 years old, for those who care.)
Chapter Five—"The Captain's Table"
2000 (Military Time) 8:00 p.m. (Civilian Time)
McMurphy's Bar and Tavern--Privately Reserved Room
Same Day/Night
"What is this I hear about something between you and Captain Krennick?" Commander Turner was nursing a martini, while Greg was sipping at a beer. Commanders Roberts, Turner, Keeter (someone Greg hadn't met before), Captain Rabb, Admirals Boone and Chedwiggen, the General, and he were all sitting at a table just a short distance from the bar. Down towards the other end of the bar, Greg noticed a cluster of women that included Harriet Simms-Roberts, the colonel, Captain Krennick, Commander Austin, and Congresswoman Bobbi Latham. Hanging at the fringes of that group were Lieutenant Graves and Petty Officer Coates. Other JAG personnel, such as Commander Mattonie, were hanging up at the pool table or sitting in booths. Even Admiral Morris was present, for just a short time. Greg had seen him stay just long enough to greet both Captain Rabb and Colonel MacKenzie with handshakes, grins, and best wishes to be exchanged. Then he had left. Greg thought he recognized Midshipman Roberts, here from the Academy for just this occasion, at the jukebox trying to find a selection he liked. Earlier in the evening, he noticed all the women (including the infamous Captain Krennick) had gathered around the colonel chattering about something relatively safe, Greg assumed—the details of the wedding. He could see the colonel showing off her wedding ring set. He hated to admit he was somewhat interested, but there were far more important things on his agenda—like getting the scoop on Captain Krennick.
In response to Commander Turner's question, Captain Rabb groaned and took another sip from his draft beer. "There's absolutely nothing there, Sturgis." He looked at Commander Roberts. "Bud, would you please tell them?"
Commander Roberts grinned. "And spoil the speculation?"
They all laughed. Commander Keeter (apparently an old, close friend from Academy days—so Greg had been told), raised his drink and said, "Here's to speculation."
Admiral Chegwidden broke in. "Speculation, hell! It's plain gossip." Greg grinned to himself. Whoever said men didn't gossip sure as hell didn't know what they were talking about. Commander Keeter put his glass back down and turned to Captain Rabb.
"Come on, give. Where there's smoke, there's usually a little bit of spark."
Within the noisy confines of the bar, a quiet fell upon their group. Greg could see the Captain staring into his beer and compose his thoughts.
"Guys, there's absolutely nothing there. She was just a bit—aggressive."
Commander Roberts snorted, spilling a little bit of his beer, and raised an eyebrow. "You forget, Captain. I was there for at least some of it." He turned to the other men. "I got it from Commander Austin. Captain Krennick actually admitted to her, she—the Captain—wanted to sleep with Captain Rabb." A frown of concentration crossed the Commander's face, and Greg, who was in the process of lifting his drink to his mouth, stopped in mid-air. It was rare to hear of a superior officer admit to sexual desire for someone under her chain of command—career implications and all being in the mix. He had assumed Captain Krennick was too ambitious and/or professional to openly admit to something that could have been a career-buster under the right circumstances. "I think this was when Captain Rabb was in China."
China? Greg looked at Captain Rabb. He was distinctly uncomfortable. Greg saw the Captain throw a glance at Commander Roberts. "Bud, that's all classified." Commander Roberts threw the glance back at Commander Rabb.
"The 'social' aspects aren't." He turned serious for a minute, and Greg got the impression the world had shrunk to a small conversation between the two old friends. "Don't you think, Harm,"—it was the only time Greg heard Commander Roberts call the Captain by his given name, especially in front of office peers, "they should know about this for their own good?" Was Commander Roberts more ambitious than he let on? For some reason, he was really on a tear about Captain Krennick. Or was Captain Krennick one of those rare individuals Commander Roberts really disliked on site and in principle? Greg tucked that little bit of additional information in that mental file he had inwardly labeled "Rabb/MacKenzie". Captain Rabb got an intense look on his face as he stared at Commander Roberts. There seemed to be a wordless conversation between the two, and then Captain Rabb sighed.
"You're right, Bud. Damn it, anyway." The captain lifted his hand to his head and "combed" his head with his fingers. He looked down at the floor and then back up at Commander Roberts and grinned, rather ruefully, Greg thought. "I hate it when that happens." Commander Roberts just grinned, innocence personified.
The general was, Greg saw, "all ears"—and, for the moment, all professional. "Spill it, Captain. This is someone directly under my direct command—and in my office—" acknowledging Captain Rabb, as Force JAG-NATO Europe, was also under his direct command, if distantly—"if there's something I need to know, I want to hear about it."
Captain Rabb got the "deer-in-the-headlights" look about his face. He glanced at Admiral Chedwiggen. "Sir—", he started. The admiral waved his potential objections away.
"I didn't hear about it. If I didn't hear about, I couldn't do anything about it." The admiral's voice got a bit gruff, as if to hide whatever emotions he was feeling. "Son, I think you could have handled it better if you had reported it to me—but you didn't. And the general's right. The regs against 'fraternization' exist primarily for this very reason." His eyelids narrowed as he studied Captain Rabb. "If that aviator ego of yours hadn't gotten in the way, maybe—just maybe, she wouldn't still be in the service at the moment." He sighed. "Instead, those self-same regs got in the way between you and Mac." He shook his head. "Talk about the 'law of unintended consequences'!"
There was a silence—what Greg would have described as "pregnant pause" if he had chosen to put words to describe the current situation. He saw Captain Rabb lean back in his chair, tipping it on it's back legs, and stretch his own long legs. Keeter saw it, and his eyebrows went up. "Knee?"
Captain Rabb nodded. "My flying days are over," he regretfully said. Greg saw the wistful look he cast over to the group of women with the focus on one woman in particular.
Commander Keeter took a gulp of beer and snorted. "At least, no more punch outs!" Captain Rabb turned his gaze back to his fellow aviator and commented,
"That's something," he admitted. Greg was impatient. It was almost as if Captain Rabb was using diversionary tactics to avoid talking about a fellow officer. A flash of admiration for the Captain's sense of ethics passed through him—and then vanished. He really wanted to know the truth behind the rumors he had heard about Captain Krennick. It was the general who brought the conversation back to Captain Krennick—and it was with the infamous "command" voice a full career in the Marines had perfected.
"Captain. I want to hear this."
Rabb automatically started straightening up, as if to come to attention, a lifetime of training making the response almost automatic, and then relaxed. He leaned back against the chair and stared at his commanding officer. "Sir, bottom-line truth is some people would say she was sexually harassessing me." He was obviously uncomfortable with the topic. "I chose not to bring charges because I thought I could handle it." He attempted to shrug the whole issue away. "It's not that important—and that was years ago!" Greg's face stayed immobile, but he shot a sharp glance at the Captain. Apparently, he wasn't as "tuned in" to the rumor mill as he, Greg, had assumed.
Admiral Boone snorted. (What the hell was his connection with Rabb, anyway? As soon as Greg spotted the wings on the admiral's chest, he figured it was thorough aviation—but he sensed the relationship went far deeper than just work comrades, deeper than superior officer/mentor to young student.) "Harm, part of it was your tendency to be oblivious to what's going on around you." He glanced at the new Captain and raised his eyebrows. "It's called 'target-fixated.'"
Much to Greg's surprise, the Captain stood his ground. "Admiral, if you remember, sexual harassment charges were brought against you and almost grounded your career." Greg saw the Captain's eyebrows come together in an effort to concentrate on details he had long since forgotten. He leaned forward and practically hissed: "Remember Lieutenant Issacson?"
Admiral Boone's face grimaced and frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Yeah, but that was different. There was absolutely no basis for those charges, as you well know." A serious, solemn glance was exchanged between the two men. Greg looked around and saw the looks of curiosity on their faces and was sure it was reflected on his own. No one else looked like they were going to speak, so he decided to jump in. "Sounds like there's a story there." It was Greg's way of inviting either one of the two men to share the incident with the rest of the group.
Captain Rabb sighed. "Lieutenant Issacson was an incompetent F-14 pilot who insisted the CAG—Admiral Boone at the time—put her in the air to prove she wasn't." He looked straight at Commander Keeter. "She plowed the bird right into the ramp."
Greg saw Keeter's face scrunch up in a grimace. "Ramp strike." Captain Rabb was fingering his beer glass and exchanged a look at Keeter.
"Yeah. Like mine—except she didn't survive." Captain Rabb took a swig of beer and then swallowed. "Damn near cost the Admiral the best RIO either of us had, too."
The general sighed. "I guess I'm going to have to keep an eye on Captain Krennick." He looked across at Captain Rabb. "I've heard the scuttlebutt but I had hoped it was just that. Hearing it from someone who's actually experienced it, however, is something else entirely. . ." Greg thought he saw Commander Roberts heave a sigh of relief.
Just then, Commander Austin and Captain Krennick came up to the table. It was the Captain who spoke. "Do you mind if we join you?"
A guilty silence fell over the group for all of 30 seconds, then the men sitting at the table stood up to shuffle chairs to make room for the two women. Greg noticed Captain Rabb was glancing over the table where the other women were laughing and glanced that way. He was, therefore, in a position to see the colonel glance over and catch the captain's gaze. She got up and came over to join the newcomers. There was more chair shuffling and they settled back in. Greg thought this might prove to be interesting.
"So. What were you talking about?" This was the colonel asking the question. Greg took the opportunity to study her up close. She really looked good—in fact, the word Greg would have used would be "glowing". Sitting by her husband, she was slouching over in his direction and he had grabbed her hand. Greg inwardly snorted. It looked as though he intended to hold it all evening, judging by the way he was hanging on. Captain Rabb himself shifted in his chair to make it easier for him to look at her. Observing him, Commander Turner laughed.
"Man, have you guys got it bad!" He was graced with a couple of blushes.
Captain Rabb looked at his wife and told her as he leaned in his head for a kiss, "We were walking down memory lane." Greg saw her eyebrows go up.
"Rehashing the 'good ol' days'?" Captain Rabb blushed again. Greg glanced over to Commander Austin and caught a look of intensity on her face, as though she was studying the group dynamics. He didn't think they had tipped their hand in ending their discussion of the now-present Captain Krennick, but apparently they hadn't fooled Commander Austin altogether.
She leaned towards the colonel. "You said you had lots of stories about the captain."
The colonel nodded and then leaned forward to speak to Commander Austin. "Yes, I do. But I'd be more interested in hearing about Harm when you were his partner." She gave the Captain a saucy look and then turned back to Commander Austin. "I won't even ask if he ever tried to 'hit' on you. Knowing Harm, he probably didn't—too much the gentlemen. But I would bet he had a girlfriend or two along the way."
"Call me Meg." That wholesome, toothy grin appeared. "No, he never hit on me—but he wasn't above 'teasing'—and girlfriends," there was a momentary frown, "I don't remember anyone specifically—although there was--." She leaned forward as if to challenge the Captain. "Remember the Thai ambassador's wife?"
Captain Rabb just rolled his head and looked at his wife. He ignored everyone's gasp of shock. "Just because she saw a flower the lady left at my apartment, Meg thought I had slept with her." He switched his gaze back to her in a challenging way.
Commander Austin just shrugged her shoulders. "Well, you were acting all goo-goo over her. What was I supposed to think?" She demanded. Greg noticed the colonel was "all ears", but she didn't say a word. The captain turned to his wife. Greg could hardly catch the words—the Captain's voice was so low—and he sensed there was a whole lot more to this story, too.
"She reminded me of a girl I met while I was in 'Nam."
Greg realized this was still another shock. He did the arithmetic and stared at Captain Rabb. He ventured into the conversation. "Sir, you were in Vietnam? You would have been 16—or thereabouts!" The Captain acted embarrassed and glanced at the colonel. There was still another one of those "wordless" conversations.
"Yeah, well, I thought my father might still be alive and since nobody else seemed interested in looking for him, I decided I had to." Greg couldn't decide whether this was the biggest shock of all. If he was arrogant, then he came by it naturally and with cause. "Vietnam" was just history to him, but he couldn't imagine too many 16-year olds—or thereabouts—with the gumption and the courage to travel overseas on a somewhat dangerous mission. His own wacky offbeat sense of humor tried to come to grips with this: "Intimidation factor number 460!" is what his mind said to him.
The mixed group had gotten real quite, as if in silent tribute to the Captain's individual courage and then Commander Austin stirred. "I'm sorry if I stirred anything painful up." Her apology was full of regret—which brought forth that "flyboy" grin.
"Don't worry about it, Meg. Those issues got put to rest a long time ago." Greg thought he saw a squeeze of the joined hands and a small, intimate smile exchanged between the newly-weds. Greg saw Meg stir again, and sure, enough, she had another question—this one was directed at Captain Krennick, who had been silent all this time, observing and listening. She was sitting close to the table, her elbows planted solidly, and her torso leaning forward, as if not to miss a single word. Greg had the uneasy feeling she was just laying in wait, much like a tiger stalks it's prey very patiently until the right time to pounce.
"Captain, you know I respect you a lot, and normally, I wouldn't ask—" Captain Krennick chewed on a chip half-loaded with salsa, and responded.
"Go ahead and ask. I can always refuse to answer." She was remarkably casual.
Greg saw a faint blush on the Commander's face. "Do you remember when I was shot in the office? I never did get all the details."
Greg was astonished when he saw both Captains exchange a glance—and it wasn't a glance of hostility or even guardedness. It was a glance that was loaded with empathy and mutual memory. Captain Krennick spoke first. "You were shot because some assassin had inadvertently faxed an itinerary of Boris Yeltsen's visit to the United States to your office."
Captain Rabb snorted. "Yeah. Those files are probably classified and buried so far deep in the Pentagon nobody could find them!"
Greg closed his eyes and reminded himself to breath. After three weeks or so of gathering information on Rabb/MacKenzie, he really shouldn't be surprised any more about hearing anything that could have/might have/or did happen. But Boris Yeltsen? He opened his eyes and was surprised to hear Admiral Chegwidden's voice chime in. "I was furious when it happened." The admiral glanced at Captain Rabb. "Rabb had both Captain Krennick and myself down his neck that time," he informed the group. Greg glanced over to Captain Rabb, who had the grace to look sheepish. "Rabb had the audacity to dump his workload on Commander Austin so he could go to lunch with an Academy classmate." The colonel laughed—and her laughter threatened to get out of control.
"So he did that to you, too!" she could barely breath. Captain Rabb gave her a dirty look—and then grinned. She slapped his shoulder gently and turned to Commander Austin. "I can't even tell you how many times he would dump his paperwork on me because 'something's come up' or 'I've got an emergency meeting' or whatever."
Commander Austin grinned. "It's nice to know some things never change."
Admiral Chedwiggen chomped down on a chip and then looked at Captain Rabb with a mock stern look on his face. "Revenge is sweet, Captain. It will be interesting to see how you deal with such situations when—not if, but when—one of your people gets out of line." The colonel broke out in another round of giggles, and this time, Commander Austin joined her. Greg glanced around and saw very broad smiles on every face. Commander Turner's face, especially, was an interesting study and his eyes seemed to be clouded with something like—was that resentment?—and then they cleared. The admiral continued, "I would be very interested in hearing about your handling of your personnel." He grinned—and there was a little touch of maliciousness there—"Keep me advised." He skipped a beat, then added, "That's an order." That broke the colonel up again, along with Commanders Turner and Roberts. Apparently, there was a private, inside joke there and Greg felt a flash of intense jealousy.
Greg was observing Captain Rabb covertly and saw a great deal of embarrassment there. Greg thought he could observe Rabb debating whether to say anything in his own defense when the colonel leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Rabb visibly relaxed and picked up his drink with his one free hand while still maintaining a hold on her hand, nestled quite comfortably and naturally in his much bigger hand. It was Captain Krennick who brought them back to the original question.
"Anyway, " and she shot Captain Rabb a sharp glance, "Captain Rabb almost went off the deep end—but we got the assassin just in time. Meanwhile," and Greg swore up and down, there was a hint of warmth in her glance at Commander Austin, "you were in the intensive care unit at Bethesda in a coma. But, basically, that's what that's all about. Any more questions?" Greg could not read the Commander's face at all but he had a hint a few pieces of her own particular puzzle, whatever that might be, had just fallen into place. Commander Austin shook her head and took a sip out of the straw that graced her strawberry marguerite.
The colonel leaned forward. "I take it this is going to be story for story, right?" Everybody at the table nodded. She turned to the general. "I'll have you know, General, Harm made one fine undercover recon marine----." At the general's startled look, she winked at him and then looked at her husband. "albeit very early in his career." Greg thought the Captain was searching his memory banks and then a look of recognition came over his face.
"That would be the investigation into the training techniques of ------" he turned to the colonel, as he seemingly drew a blank.
"Captain Coonin, if I remember correctly." She giggled –and Greg thought he would never get used to this new "Sarah" which had never come unveiled in the office—but suspected the Captain had had plenty of opportunity to get to know—and long before their marriage—and turned to her former commanding officer. "It was the first time where I outranked him—he went undercover as a 'gunny sergeant'—a 'gunny sergeant' with wings, even! --and I had to remind him"—and she had one of the cutest quirks on her face as she recalled the event, "'it is customary to salute an officer—gunny.'" Then she broke up in laughter. "I just loved it!" Greg glanced at Captain Rabb—and damn if that "flyboy" grin didn't appear once again.
"Those damn wings. . ." Greg thought he heard the colonel mutter. Keeter caught that and just grinned.
"Problem, Mac?" Keeter asked. Before she had a chance to answer, he turned to his old friend and classmate. "Can anyone imagine Rabb without wings?" There was a skipped beat, then, "You know, pal, for a lawyer, it seems like you got in the air a lot!" There was a startled look from the new Captain, and then a look of guilt. Greg thought he saw an element of fear cross the colonel's face, but it was gone when he took a second look. He wasn't sure he had even seen it.
Captain Krennick broke in. "When did you get your wings back, Rabb? If I remember correctly, you weren't wearing them when I was first here. And for damn sure, I don't remember any cases where you actually flew." Greg thought he detected a challenge in her voice.
"Oh, that." Greg saw the Captain look at Admiral Boone, as if to ask permission. The Admiral shrugged. "It's your story, Harm."
Attention shifted back to the Captain. "That happened before Admiral Chedwiggen arrived as CO. Admiral Boone had promised a reporter he could go up in a tomcat as payback for holding onto a story about a missing female aviator." The Captain just shrugged. Greg saw the admiral lean back.
"Harm, you're just not going to give, are you?" Admiral Boone looked at the Captain, and there was that little shrug, again.
"Hey, it's your story as much as mine," The Captain protested.
"Fine." The Admiral turned to the group and leaned forward. "Harm had promised the reporter two—mind you, two—rides in return to hanging onto the story until all the facts were in. Neither the captain of the carrier—I forget which one—nor I appreciated it." Greg glanced at the admiral and saw a look of bemused familiarity. "The first ride he went up in, I turned up the heat in the backseat." The aviators in the crowd chuckled, including the Captain.
At the look of mystification from the remainder of the group, Commander Keeter explained. "When you combine heat with a certain number of g-forces, it creates a mess—unless you have a barf bag!" He chuckled, took another sip from his beer, discovered it was empty and motioned to the hovering waitress he needed a refill.
Attention turned back to Admiral Boone. "Yeah, well, as a result, the reporter decided he didn't want to go back up for the second ride. Harm went up, instead. It's a good thing, too—we took some fire and the bird was damaged. I took a blow to the head and bordered on unconsciousness for a while. Harm got the bird down despite it being five years since he had trapped." Admiral Boone shook his head and then glanced at the Captain. "I owe him my life that day—I wouldn't have survived a punch out at the point."
Captain Rabb snorted and took a drink from his beer bottle, glanced at the admiral. "I was a naval aviator—it was my job to bring you home. Besides that, I really didn't want to punch out again. Man, oh, man, if I had only known. . ." He unconsciously rubbed his knee. He looked at Captain Krennick, "As to actually wearing the wings, it took months to get the paperwork processed to get actual authorization to wear them again—properly."
The colonel looked at Captain Krennick as she nudged her husband. "You might want to tell the Captain how you changed your designator, too, a couple of years later." Greg sensed some underlying tension between the Captain and the colonel on that issue. He saw him give her a look of exasperation, but then yielded. He looked directly at the other Captain at the table.
"You know about the diagnosis of night blindness? Turns out, I was misdiagnosed. I had laser surgery done on the eyes to get rid of scar tissue, and I was fine for flying, day or night. I decided I wanted to go back to flying full time." He glanced at the Admiral. "That created some friction, if I remember right." Greg saw him squeeze the colonel's hand, and added, "with more than one person."
Admiral Chedwiggen snorted, putting his drink on the table and leaned forward. "Damn right. I really did think it was career suicide." He leaned back and a look of satisfaction came onto his face. "I'm glad I was proven wrong on that issue."
Admiral Boone shot a pointed look at the colonel. Apparently, Greg decided, he felt close enough to both to "rag" the colonel as well. "It seems like every time a trip to a carrier was longer than a day or so, the colonel wasn't far behind you!" Greg heard, rather than saw, Admiral Chedwiggen grunt. "Here's another story about the Captain and his fighter jets." All attention turned to Admiral Boone. "It was at Christmas time—and he and I both had business out on a carrier—I forget which one. We both were trying to get home before the holiday—and the COD broke the trip wire that meant we weren't going to get home. The CAG just so happened to have an F-14 he wanted ferried back to the states and Harm conned the jocks scheduled to fly it home into letting us do it instead." The Admiral grinned at the Captain, and Greg thought he heard, "'Jennifer Lopez' my ass!'" (Greg sighed to himself; another "insider" joke—would he ever hear all of the details?) "The CAG wasn't too happy about the substitution—that F-14 Harm dumped into the sea the summer before happened to his 'bird'—but he let us go ahead, with one proviso: if Harm deviated in any way, shape, or form from the flight plan in the tiniest detail, the CAG was going to have his wings, if not his stripes. On the way back to Norfolk, there was a Marine cargo flight loaded with 'Toys for Tots' that had lost their instrument landing equipment due to a malfunction and they needed a visual guide in. Harm decided it was a worthy cause, although I did ask him just how many people he intended to piss off that day." Admiral Boone got a wicked smile on his face and he looked at the other Admiral. "You want to know what his response was?"
Admiral Chedwiggen kept a straight face as he replied, "Do I really want to know? With Rabb it's hard telling what his response was."
Admiral Boone laughed. "'Everybody but you.'"
Greg saw Captain Rabb wiggled a little in his chair, leaned over to whisper in the colonel's ear, and then broke in. "In my own defense, I had nothing to do with those circumstances—we even inadvertently found a weather balloon for the weather people!"
At that, Admiral Boone laughed out loud. "Yeah—we crashed into it!"
The crowd around the table, including Captain Krennick, burst out in laughter.
Greg sensed a restlessness in Captain Rabb and he was right. The Captain let loose of her hand, stood up, and leaned over. "I think it's time for a dance, Mac." She looked up at him and stood, reaching for that missing hand. "Lead on, Sailor."
The general spoke up for the first time in a long time. "I've seen his service record—the classified one, and it's incredible what that man has done." He glanced at his current staff. "At the risk of losing authority, I will confess to a certain amount of admiration."
Admiral Chedwiggen chuckled. "General, I can only hope most of that 'wildness' is gone. Otherwise, you're in for a very interesting time. I was already bald when I became Judge Advocate General—but I'm certain, between the two of them, I lost what hair I might have regained."
Admiral Boone, beckoning for a refill of his own drink, spoke up. "You know what 'gets' me? He's a genuine American hero—good thing, with those looks—but he just doesn't 'get' it. For a naval aviator, he's incredibly modest" He accepted the refill from the waitress with a mumbled "thanks" and then continued. "Reminds me a lot of his father—except his father was never the aviator Harm has turned out to be."
This caught Greg's attention. "You knew his father?"
Admiral Boone just nodded. "I was 'Hammer's' wingman in Viet Nam."
Greg sipped his nearly empty beer and thought about that. One mystery cleared up, anyway. He almost missed Admiral Boone's next comment, it was said in such a low voice—but Admiral Chedwiggen also caught it and looked up sharply at his fellow flag officer. "I owe that boy my life and career two—three—times over."
"Never mind, I got dumped in the National Forest flying with him!" Admiral Chedwiggen chuckled. "I got a dog out of the deal, so I guess it wasn't all that bad.." The admiral pretended to be thinking. "Let's see—he shot up a courtroom ceiling, he threatened to resign his commission at least twice—and actually did, once—got court-martialed once and was threatened with another one, dumped how many—what, three--four?—F-14s into the ocean. And the man ends up one step below JAG! The man has more lives than a cat!"
Admiral Boone's voice was sharp; Greg decided this had to be because of a lifelong friendship with Captain Rabb. "Don't forget he brought 'home' more planes than he dumped—when any other pilot would have punched out or left someone behind. He has also saved the Navy in millions of dollars through his sleuthing of potential payroll thefts on aircraft carriers of one kind or another."
Greg saw an amused look exchanged between the two flag officers. His mind was numb with all the stories he had heard about the Captain—he didn't think he was capable of shock anymore—he just made a note that Rabb had managed to dump a 2-star from an F-14 to add to his internal file. He would have to try to find out more about the courts-martial, though. That was a new one on him. Better yet, he had to figure out a way to read the unedited service record of the Captain—without being caught. Project number 20, he figured in his own mind, to be filed under the category "Rabb/MacKenzie".
"So, Admiral," there was an easy camaraderie between the two flag officers, "do you think Mac's going to be good for him?" Admiral Boone was casually draped on his chair and Greg saw the question in the raised eyebrows. He saw Admiral Chedwiggen's brows come together in a frown thinking. He finally answered Admiral Boone.
"Hell, yes! She's the only one in the office that stood up to him—besides Turner and Roberts, that is. She keeps him on his toes and calls him on his obsessions. Turner and Roberts won't even do that." Greg saw the admiral frown grow deeper, as he concentrated more. "Of course, Commander Brumbe gave him a good run for the money—and in more than one way, especially where the colonel was concerned." Greg thought if the general was a dog, his ears would have picked up.
"Want to enlighten me, gentlemen? I still have to deal with him—if not her." That cryptic remark drew sharp glances from both flag officers and Greg's face showed his astonishment. Commanders Turner and Roberts both looked at each other. There was something in the works that no one was prepared to say anything about. The general just shrugged his shoulders.
Admiral Chegwidden turned to the current JAG. "Sir, Turner was his old Academy classmate—and his stint as 'acting JAG' damn well nearly destroyed that friendship." Greg saw Turner's nod of acknowledgement. He figured the retired JAG still had his sources—and, in this case, he suspected Commander Turner himself. He noticed the Admiral was still frowning in concentration. "Although I think there was more to that than just being 'acting JAG'. Roberts, here, has gotten under the radar screen, so to speak." He chuckled. "I remember when Mac and Rabb both, individually went up against Roberts when Roberts first became an attorney. His 'aw-shucks, I don't know anything' attitude, genuine as it was at the time, threw both of them off their game and the finest lawyers I've ever had the privilege of knowing, both lost. I understand, though," and Greg was impressed the admiral displayed knowledge of the rumor mill as it had existed at the time, "he warned her about that—and it still did no good." He raised his glass in salute to Commander Roberts, "Remember I told you, you had the makings of a great litigator?" Greg saw Commander Roberts nod. "Congratulations, Roberts. You've arrived." The Admiral drew a gulp from his drink.
Greg saw the blush of pleasure at the compliment going across the Commander's face. "I learned from the best," he said simply. The warmth of the glance the retired JAG gave Commander Roberts was almost embarrassing. "I've heard both of them mutter under their breaths they thought perhaps they had trained you too well, Commander."
Greg made still another mental note to himself—maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to pay more attention to Commander Roberts' litigating style—especially since he, himself, had suffered a defeat at the Commander's hands. He looked at the Commander with something like new respect. In the meantime, there were two ladies at the table that had been practically ignored. By this time, Captain Rabb and the colonel had finished their dance and were making their way back. He turned to Captain Krennick. "Can I have the pleasure of this dance, ma'am?"
For his efforts, he got a cool look, a shrug, and then a "Why not?" She nodded to the rest of the party at the table, "If you will excuse us. . ." The rest of the party just nodded their heads.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .
A/N: This has been the most difficult chapter to write—there's so much material to work with—hard to know what to include and what to leave out. There's more coming, though—already partially written. Broke this up into two chapters—at least. And a note to those of you who want email from me—please email me back. I wear bifocals and I have a difficult time, if not impossible, making out the email addresses the way has them set up. (Giving away my age, I know.)