"Sir, Captain Chandler is requesting a visitation with Ms. Cooper."
Maylen scoffed. Not more than 30 minutes had passed since he'd taken command of this ship, and he was already requesting her.
"Why does that not surprise me?" he mumbled out loud.
"Sir?" his Ensign asked in confusion.
He'd been on Nathan James for less than 48 hours, and he'd already witnessed a dozen instances of blatant disregard for the structure of command expected of them. This was a strange crew, of that there was no doubt. But he was genuinely confused as to why a former Navy Intelligence officer, with no rank, was afforded complete freedom on the ship, and the ear of the CNO.
Yes, she had valuable intelligence about the region, but this was something else that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Until breakfast, that was.
He and the senior leaders of his crew had been invited to dine in the wardroom along with Chandler, Captain Slattery, Commander Garnett, the Master Chief, and Cooper. What he'd seen was a leadership team who were either completely oblivious to the fact that their CNO was likely sleeping with someone in his present command, or who just didn't care.
By the time she'd walked in, her coffee was already waiting for her, prepared by Chandler and a seat left open—next to him, of course. When their food arrived, he'd watched in bewilderment as they wordlessly switched things on their plates. She, an extra piece of Bacon. He, an extra slice of toast—a different packet of jelly… her leftovers once she was done. A coffee re-fill without asking when he'd gone to replenish his, stirred very specifically with three sugars and a splash of milk. The way they sat closer than was customary, the knowing looks and softer timbre of voice when he addressed her than he used with others in the crew. He was acting like she was his wife.
Maylen was at a loss. Dismissing the Ensign's question, he responded. "They have 10 minutes."
No, he was not surprised at all.
"Tell me the goddamned plan."
Tom laid it out, every detail.
"Okay."
Just like that, no questions, no retort… no mention of the fact that if they did this—if he was wrong—she'd be court-martialed right along with him. She'd lose her career, the thing she loved most in this world. Tom searched her eyes. "If we do this, there's no turning back. I won't be able to protect you if it all goes south."
A small, knowing smile curled. "I know, Tom. I've got your back. Hardly the first rule we've broken together."
He chuckled softly and returned the smile—there he was, she thought. Tom. The mood shifted from playful to intense. He was saying things again with his eyes that his mouth couldn't speak. Seeing now that maybe she had been with him all along… maybe he was right. She held his gaze, expression open and honest. Vulnerable. Something that Tom still thought of as a gift. For a long moment, they stayed that way, until a loud bang on the door made her flinch.
"10 minutes is up!"
The moment was gone. She looked at him one more time, taking his resignation letter with her, and stepped through the door.
They entered the wardroom together. Air heavy and thick. This was uncharted territory—bullets she could do, facing a foreign enemy? Walk in the park. But this? This had her adrenaline pumping and her palms sweating.
What they were about to do…
Meylen peered up from the file, reticent and ominous. "Take a seat, please."
Sasha made eye contact with Tom—here we go.
"Captain Chandler… before we begin, you're entitled to make an opening statement," Meylan instructed.
Tom turned his head. No turning back. Eyes meeting again, conviction shining in hers. He didn't want to ponder the swell in his chest.
"I've spent half my life in the Navy. Like you, I did everything right. Worked my way through the pipeline just to get my chance to lead. Nathan James was my first command. Suddenly… I was thrust into a situation that no one can prepare you for. The world was turned upside-down, and all the rules were thrown out." Tom stood purposefully, and she watched intently. Heart beating wildly in her chest.
"But… the Navy taught me many things"—he continued, pushing the chair back to its original position—"Most importantly, it taught me to adapt. I had to make some difficult decisions. God knows I made some mistakes. But never once did I waver from what I knew to be right. The core values that run through all of our veins. Honor, courage"—He turned to her then, directly holding her gaze—"Commitment"—in a softer tone, emotion filling her eyes—"And I served my sailors as they served me and as we all serve this great country of ours"—Tom paused—"I didn't ask for this. I could have taken this uniform off at any time."
Looked at her again, seeing the way she lifted her head in encouragement, the pride. He was born for this, that much she'd always known. But his words were simply affirming her absolute belief and understanding that this crew, that she would follow him willingly down whatever path they needed to go.
"But I always believed in the work that we were doing as a team, and the decisions that I was making as a Captain."
Sasha glanced over at Meylan, wondering if Tom's words were having the same effect on him.
"And though my tactics changed to address an insane world… my resolve and my dedication to the Navy never faltered"—Tom pursued the Captain, making no attempt to hide the proverbial fuck you in his features as he finished resolutely—"I stand by my record."
The door opened, Meylan's expression registering shock. Right on time. Sasha smiled and joined Tom in standing as the Japanese pirates swarmed, quickly followed by Green and Slattery, who handed her a gun.
Meylan looked between them. "What the hell is this?"
Sasha turned calmly to face the panel assembled and stood firm in the line. Damn near perfect. Couldn't believe how excellently they'd pulled this off. No one responded but the message was clear. Alliances formed. Lines crossed and then drawn.
"I see," Meylan conceded. "This was never about your guilt or innocence." He looked almost disappointed. Like he'd wanted to believe the same way that she did, that Slattery did… that they all did in Tom Chandler.
Tom tilted his head. "You forced our hand here, Captain."
Meylan closed the file. Affixing Chandler with a remonstrate glare. "There was a moment today… where I actually had my doubts. Thank you for removing those for me," he deadpanned.
Tom towered from the opposite side of the table. Cool, calm, and collected as ever with the glory and weight of a devoted crew at his back. "When the chips fall, if I'm proven wrong, I'll face justice from a higher power than you."
That's right. And she'd follow him into that hell in a heartbeat. Knew it now with a kind of peaceful clarity. She would follow him until the end of the earth if she had to. Weapon drawn, she rounded the table and approached the Captain's XO. "Come on, on your feet."
Meylan glanced sideways at her, shaking his head.
No, he was not surprised at all.