3
Petty Officer Legalman Second Class Jennifer Coates was feeling indecisive. This was not a normal state of affairs for her. She was impulsive by nature and usually went after what she wanted, guided by an instinct for what was right and what was wrong. And this whole situation with the Commander, the Colonel and the Admiral went way beyond wrong. She wasn't aware of all the facts, hell, no-one in JAG HQ knew exactly what had happened down there in Paraguay, but it had been painfully obvious when the Colonel and Commander had returned that they were barely on speaking terms. Now the Admiral had refused to take the Commander back, the Colonel seemed to be dating Mr Webb, the CIA agent who had got them all into trouble in the first place, and the Admiral seemed to have had a sense of humour by-pass. Now the Imes' case had placed an ever-increasing strain on an office that was already creaking under the weight of losing the one man who seemed to have been able to motivate the entire Ops section.
Jen gulped, apart from the ill-effects of the Commander's absence from JAG, she considered that she owed him an enormous personal debt. Two and a half years ago, he had convinced her that under her façade of a rebellious trouble maker that there was a sailor worth saving, and that he had cared had been enough for her to make an effort to save that sailor. His faith in her had been sufficient for her to make the effort to turn her life around, and she felt that she needed to make the same sort of effort to help him. So knocking on Colonel MacKenzie's doorjamb she nervously waited for permission to enter.
Mac looked up at the knock, "Come in Legalman, what is it?"
"Ma'am, what's happening with the Commander, please?"
Mac sighed; like so many of the enlisted personnel at JAG when Jen said 'the Commander' she wasn't talking about Sturgis Turner, she meant Harm. "Petty Officer, there is no 'Commander'. Mr Rabb resigned from the Navy."
"Yes, ma'am. Ma'am, permission to speak freely?"
Mac resigned herself to being on the receiving end of an outburst of insubordination, but she was aware of how Coates regarded Harm as little less than a god, and knew that the Petty Officer saw herself as indebted to him. She threw a resigned look at Jen and said, "Alright Legalman, let me have it."
"Ma'am, the Comm… Mr Rabb resigned from the navy to go to Paraguay to save you. And when you came back you were barely talking. No, that doesn't really matter ma'am, but you just stood by and let the Admiral kick him out, and ma'am, no matter what happened between you, don't you think that that's being just a little ungrateful?"
Mac felt her cheeks warm, but keeping her voice level said, "Legalman, whatever passed between myself and Mr Rabb is none of your business. Is that understood?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am, perfectly clear; but I wasn't talking about your personal lives, I was asking why you didn't stand up for the… for Mr Rabb when the Admiral threw him out."
"Petty Officer, I tried talking to the Admiral, but he told me quite plainly that if I persisted in my advocacy of Mr Rabb, then I would face charges of insubordination."
"Then ma'am, that's worse than ingratitude. That's cowardice! The Commander gave up everything to go and look for you, and you're worried about an insubordination write up!"
Mac winced, there was just enough truth in Coates' accusation to sting. "I think, Petty Officer, that permission to speak freely or not, that you are in very grave danger of crossing the line! Dismissed!"
"Aye, aye, ma'am!"
Mac watched Coates leave her office, and buried her face in her hands. This was all turning into a nightmare! She was distracted by a second interruption, and looked up to see that Gunnery Sergeant Galindez was waiting for her attention. Mac felt like smiling, Galindez was not only a marine, with an entirely different outlook on life than all the squids they were surrounded by, but he had been in Paraguay and with the Commander's… no, with Harm's help, had extricated herself and Clay from Sadiq's clutches.
"How can I help you, Gunny?"
Galindez looked at her intently, his dark eyes not leaving hers as he handed her a folded sheet of paper. "Application for posting, ma'am."
"Posting Gunny?" Mac was startled. As far as she knew, Victor Galindez was happy with his job as well as being damn' good at it, not only as an administrator, but also as a disciplinarian. The enlisted personnel in Ops had never been quite so smartly turned out and never before had they been so much with the programme.
"Yes, ma'am!" He was stood at attention, but his eyes remained locked on hers.
Mac unfolded the sheet of paper… yes; all the blanks were filled in, but…
"Gunny, under 'reasons for request', you've put down 'personal reasons'…"
"Yes, ma'am. Safer… uh… More diplomatic that way."
Mac looked at him as she re-folded the application and idly tapped a corner of it on her desk. "OK, Gunny, give; what's the real reason?"
"Do you want the truth, ma'am? Are you sure you can handle it?"
"Yes, Gunnery Sergeant, I can handle it!"
"Ma'am, I have applied for a posting back to a Marine Corps unit because I no longer have any faith in the command here!"
"Wow! Where did that come from, Gunnery Sergeant?"
"Since we were sold down the river in Paraguay, ma'am! Since we came back here and the one man who had our backs was kicked out of the navy!"
Mac blinked; this had come straight out of left field. Galindez had been the back-up for Webb's operation in the Chaco Boreal, they hadn't needed Harm to come roaring to the rescue with all guns blazing, and his damn' hotdogging in that farmer's plane had nearly killed them both!
"You're way out of line there, Gunny," she reprimanded him.
"If you think I'm out of line, ma'am, then I might as well go for broke. Why haven't you applied for a posting? How can you stay here, working for a man who abandoned you in the middle of an op, a man who left you to face God knows what before Sadiq killed you!"
"But you were there Gunny, we only had to hold on until Webb's back-up got to us!"
"Ma'am, I was Webb's back-up - all of it! When Sadiq took you and Mr Webb, I went back to Ciudad Del Este to see the CIA guy there, - Hardy? Yeah, and when I told him that you and Webb had been taken, he shrugged his damn shoulders and said that was the price for screwing up. Ma'am, the CIA weren't going to do diddly squat to save your six, and neither was JAG! I thought the Admiral was a SEAL, and had the same sort of code as we do: you don't leave a man behind, and if you do, then you damn' well go back in and get him! Well, I knew where Sadiq was holding you, but I was on my own, I had no supplies, no weapons, no nothing. I was never so happy in my life to see anyone when I saw the Commander in that shit-hole of a town! Without the Commander there, I couldn't have done a damn thing to help you, and you ma'am would be dead. So don't ask me to serve here anymore, I can't work for someone who'd sell-out his own people!"
Mac looked at the angry NCO, her mouth open in shock. Webb had had no back-up? Galindez hadn't been able to get them out? The Admiral had abandoned them? Then with an even deeper sense of shock she realised that the Gunny could as well have been talking about her and the way she had abandoned Harm.
x-x-x-x-x
Oh-nine-hundred hours, or nine in the morning, he supposed he'd better get used to civilian time, saw Harm astride the Indian and on the road to Charlottesville. After a little awkwardness, last night's visit to Esther Gale had turned out to be, taking the location into account, fun. Catherine's mother had a lively, if not a wicked, sense of humour and had delighted in teasing both Harm and Catherine about the unorthodox way in which they had decided to have a try at a relationship. It was only later, after they had left the hospital and were having dinner in a quiet little restaurant in Pimmit Hills that either of them realised how much that they had intended to keep quiet she had managed to uncover.
It had been Catherine who had first realised just how much they had disclosed, and putting her fork down, took a drink of water before saying in a conversational tone, "You know, you really did entertain mom this evening. She loved your story about how you and Colonel MacKenzie met."
Harm looked across at her, "She did, didn't she?" he said slowly.
"Yes, although she wasn't quite so amused at hearing about your marathon swim." Catherine hesitated slightly before continuing, "Uh… and neither was I, come to that. Harm, so much of your life seems to have been bound up with Colonel MacKenzie… are you really sure that this…" she indicated herself and her swollen stomach, "is what you really want. I know what you told me, and I know what you told mom, but hearing everything you said this evening…"
"Yes, Catherine I am certain that this is what I want and if everything I said… You're right you know, it was me doing most of the talking, and that's not something… Catherine, your mom would have made a great attorney - once she learned to stop leading the witness!"
"H'mmm," Catherine smiled, "Where do you think I got it from?"
Harm looked at her suddenly caught by an indescribable feeling, "Yeah," he said thoughtfully.
The rest of their meal had passed in inconsequential and desultory conversation as each of them explored the other's tastes in music, books, films, and theatre. Most of Catherine's choices Harm could accept with equanimity, but her declared preference for the genre of films he had no difficulty in categorizing as 'chick flics' caused him to wince, while his confession that he'd only had a TV since the days of the Angelshark investigation made her wonder what he did for entertainment.
"It's going to be a big adjustment, Harm, for both of us. Neither of us is really used to sharing our lives with other people. Oh, I'm sure you've had girlfriends, and I've had at least one boyfriend," she grinned, the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkling in way that showed she was in the habit of expressing her happiness.
"Yeah, I can see that!" Harm felt revived by Catherine's flash of humour and the genuine amusement of her smile. He had, he realised become used over the years to have a woman's smile used as a weapon, to coerce him into something he really didn't want to do, or as a reward, but rarely had he seen it used as an expression of honest emotions.
The meal ended, he had walked Catherine to her car and gently kissed her on the cheek she proffered for that purpose before making arrangements for them to meet at his loft the following evening and bidding each other a good night.
Now it was just short of ten forty five hours as he gently braked to a halt in front of Grace Aviation's hangar, where Mattie, his boss, he reminded himself with a huge grin, was giving one of her ground crew a bit of a hard time, as he pumped chemicals into the reservoir of the Ag-Cat, "Hurry up! This should have been loaded by now!" she told him in an exasperated tone, and then turning to Harm she carried on with her briefing, "You'll be spraying def on two hundred acres of mature cotton…"
"What is def?" Harm demanded as he checked the movement of the control surfaces of the airplane, "and why would I spray it on a mature crop?"
"Def is a defoliant, it tricks the cotton into dropping its leaves, it makes it easier for the mechanical harvesters."
"Got it!"
"The application is five gallons per acre. We've taken care of the mix and the spray nozzles are set to the correct pressure."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah, you should walk the field first, check for power lines and any other obstacles, and also make sure you watch the wind speed and direction; we don't want any off-target drift, so stay low," Mattie broke off her briefing and turned to the ground crewman, "Hey, hey, hey, Frank!"
"How low is low?" Harm asked, wanting to make sure that he had all the necessary instructions. As he'd had it hammered into him a flight school, hope for the best, but prepare for the worst.
Mattie turned back to him for an instant before she continued reprimanding the hapless Frank, "Optimum, is eight feet above the deck!"
Forty-five minutes later he was flying eight and eighty. Eight feet above ground level at eighty knots and climbing at each end of the field to gain enough height to make a turn without dropping a wing tip into the ground, and Harm was enjoying himself, or at least he was enjoying the novelty of flying so low, much lower than could ever be done in a Tomcat and the closeness of the ground made his apparent speed much greater. Whoa! That tree at the far end of the field was right on his line, more throttle, pull back on the stick and oh, yeah, shut off the flow of def! Yep, made it, but as he turned for the next down-wind leg he noticed a battered pick-up truck tearing up a cloud of dust along the dirt road that bordered the cotton-field. He was just able to make out the faded legend 'Grace Aviation' on the door panel, but was easily able to identify Mattie behind the wheel, her copper-coloured pony tail flying behind her as she craned out of the window as she looked up at her newest employee. But what the hell was Mattie doing driving? He could have sworn that she'd told him she was fourteen, and that was eighteen months younger than the minimum age to apply for a learner's permit! What was she thinking! But even with the distance between them he could see the huge grin on her face and couldn't help but respond to the first really friendly, open smile he'd seen in weeks. Weeks? Hell, months! Whoops! Power lines at this end of the field, back on the stick and, bank right for the upwind leg.
Two legs later he saw that the pick-up had stopped and Mattie was sat on the flatbed of the truck and appeared to be enjoying her lunch, at least she'd had the sense to stay more or less upwind of the field so she shouldn't get a lungful of the crap he was pouring out over the cotton! Well, another two, maybe three legs and he'd be heading back for the airstrip, and his own lunch. Yeah, he could just about go a pasta salad, and maybe a beer to wash it down.
Two runs later the hiss of compressed air and the gauge-needle bouncing of the 'Empty' stop told him his work was completed, so one more fly-by where Mattie still sat on the truck's bed and he waggled his wings and turned back towards home-base.
A smooth turn upwind and a few seconds of gradually reduced power brought the Ag-Cat's wheels gently rolling down the asphalt and on to the taxi-way back to Grace Aviation's hangar. Like the Stearman, the high nose of the airplane made it essential that he weave from side to side in order to make sure his path was clear. Blipping the engine to clear the cylinders, he rolled to a stop outside the hangar and climbed out of the cockpit, flipping a friendly half-salute to Frank and another of the ground crew as they trotted forward to push the airplane into the hangar.
As Harm stretched his back - Ag-Cats weren't exactly designed for six feet plus tall pilots - the Grace Aviation Pickup rolled around the side of the hangar and a cheerful Mattie jumped out of the cab and strode towards him.
"You're good!" She exclaimed happily, "Real good!"
"Well, thanks," he grinned, slightly amused at having his flying abilities evaluated by a teenager. "I've been flying since I was your age. So how long have you been driving?"
Mattie smiled, a little self-consciously, "The sheriff knows me, so it isn't a problem. Here's your pay. We run an all cash business here, so it's up to you to report your income and pay your taxes. You're not going to count it?" She asked with a note of surprise in her voice as he tucked the envelope into his pocket.
"I'm sure it's all there," Harm replied with a straight face, but with a twinkle of amusement in his eye.
"Well, I've got work for you tomorrow…"
"Good! See you later, boss," he called as he turned towards the Indian.
"What's your hurry? You got a hot date?" She called after him.
Harm chuckled and gave her a half-wave, half-wave off as he continued on his way to his motor-cycle, leaving Mattie to stare after him with a half-smile on her face
x-x-x-x-x
"I can get those, Harm," Catherine told him as she put her weight on the edge of the table to help herself out of her seat.
Harm stopped in the middle of clearing the dirty dishes from the table. "Catherine, you are not going to pull all this feminist 'I'm a modern woman and I don't need a man' BS on me, are you?"
Catherine glowered at him, but biting back the angry retort that was on the tip of her tongue, she said in a tone of sweet reason, "Well, I am a modern woman, and I've managed my life pretty well so far without a man… Uh, why are you looking at me like I just said something particularly dumb?"
Harm stayed silent, but just cocked an eyebrow and stared meaningfully at Catherine's baby bump, which was particularly evident this evening in the charcoal grey stretch-knit wool dress she had chosen.
Catherine followed the direction of his glance and looking down suddenly gave a gurgle of laughter. "Oh, I guess, in this situation what I said was pretty dumb, after all!"
"Yeah, it was a bit. Let me just drop this stuff at the sink, then I'll get some cushions sorted out for you, and then you can complain about your day while I brew a pot of tea… or if you prefer, decaf coffee?"
"Oh, let it be the tea, please. If I drink coffee, then I'd much rather have the real thing." Catherine lamented as she made her way to the couch,"But this young lady here," she stroked her bump, "has decided that I can't have any coffee for a good while yet! I just hope I'll be able to have the occasional cup while I'm nursing!" She waited for a few seconds while Harm stacked a couple of cushions for her back and then sank back onto the couch with a sigh - almost a groan - of relief. She leaned back and out of the need to relieve tension she closed her eyes… just for a second.
"Catherine… Catherine… Hey, boo'ful… your tea's ready."
Catherine blinked and as her eyes opened she realised that she had slid down in the couch and that she had been completely out of it for… "Oh, how long was I out?" she asked, her cheeks and ears showing a faint tinge of embarrassed pink.
"Only for as long as it took to make the tea, but you were really gone for those few minutes!" There was amusement in Harm's voice, but his eyes showed a touch of concern.
"Well, it gets a bit tiring, hauling this around with me all day!" Catherine grumbled, but in a not-very-serious tone and taking an appreciative sip of her tea. "Ohhh, this is good! What is it?"
"Raspberry and rose hip," Harm said, sitting beside her.
"Is this all part of the care package you've been cooking up?" she challenged him.
"Yes, ma'am. It all goes together, like…" Harm broke off in confusion, he'd been about to say 'like a horse and carriage', but that line had connotations that he didn't think Catherine was ready to face, and for certain sure he wasn't… well, not yet anyway.
"Like?" Catherine prompted him
"Abbott and Costello?" he ventured.
"Yeah, right!" Catherine looked at him suspiciously over the rim of her mug. "And what else does this care package involve?"
"Well, just like I said," Harm told her as he draped his arm along the back of the couch behind her, "You get the full package, foot massages, back rubs. I go shopping with you, so you don't have to carry anything heavy. I go to your ante-natal appointments - if you want me there, and the same for your Lamaze classes, unless you already have a birthing partner?"
Catherine turned her head to look at him in some surprise, "You really mean all that, don't you?"
"Yeah, of course, I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't meant it!"
Catherine lay back against the cushions and either didn't notice, or didn't mind that her head was now resting on his arm. "OK, then, next Tuesday - monthly visit to the OB/Gyn at Kresge."
"Sure. What is your schedule for visits?"
"Next week is the last monthly visit. Then after that they step up to once every two weeks for the next six weeks, then once a week from there on in until she decides to put in an appearance." And then with a somewhat sheepish expression Catherine admitted, "Umm… I haven't got a Lamaze partner, so I… Uh… haven't been going to any classes."
"You haven't? I thought all women went to Lamaze these days!" Harm's face was such a picture of surprise that Catherine nearly laughed outright, until she suddenly gasped, and pressed a hand to her stomach.
"Oof!" She exclaimed on a sharp exhalation.
"What is it? Are you alright? Should I call…?"
"No, no… everything's fine! It's just that somebody is being a little more active than... Ouch! There she goes again. Here, give me your hand." Catherine grasped Harm's hand and placed it on her bump. "There do you feel that?"
Harm's face took on an expression of awe as his hand felt a definite impact as Catherine's unborn daughter kicked out vigorously. "Does… does that happen often?" he asked in a whisper.
"M'mmm… although she's a bit early this evening." Catherine smiled fondly, "the little monster usually waits until I'm just dropping off to sleep, before she decides to take her exercise. Perhaps it's all this healthy food you're forcing on me; and what she really needs is a nice juicy steak…"
"Ugh! You're as bad as…" Harm stopped in confusion.
"Colonel MacKenzie?" Catherine supplied.
"Uh, yeah. But look Catherine, you don't have to worry about Mac, but it's like you said last night, she's been in my life for years, and there are bound to be things that crop up that remind me of her. But I am over her, my sole focus of attention now is you and… have you thought about a name?"
"Oh… nice deflection, counselor," Catherine said in mock admiration, "but I'll let you slide on that." For some reason his words had caused a small slight warm glow inside her and she smiled up at him shyly, "As for her name… Elizabeth, after my grandmother, but I haven't decided on a middle name yet, perhaps," and her voice took on a teasing note and her eyes suddenly sparkled with mischief, "Harmony?"
Harm almost shot upright, "God no!"
"What's this? Are you ashamed of your name?"
"No… I'm actually quite proud of it now, but growing up… The poor girl deserves better than that! Can you imagine what a hell her life would be at junior high?"
Catherine regarded him gravely, "Was it bad for you, those years?"
"Yeah, until I got back… uh… until my junior year in high school, the other kids seemed to think that my name wasn't that weird after all, and hey, it wasn't my choice. But an ordinary, plain name is something I would have killed for. It was a relief really to get to the academy where I was either Rabb or Maggot for the first year and Rabb or Midshipman from the second year on."
"Ummm… yeah, I s'pose. Kids can be really cruel, can't they?"
"Hey, what's this? Are you getting all solemn on me?" Harm teased her, trying to coax the sudden melancholy out of her voice.
"No… I'm alright, I guess… probably just a sudden rush of hormones."
"Uh-huh."
x-x-x-x-x
The following morning saw Mac leave the conference room after staff call and follow the admiral to his office.
A J Chegwidden raised an eyebrow, "Was there something in particular bothering you, Colonel?"
"Just a staffing matter that I thought I'd best bring to your attention, sir."
Chegwidden sighed, "Come on in then Mac, and take a seat." He waited until she had made herself comfortable, and then walked around his desk to occupy his own big chair. Mac raises a mental eyebrow at his actions. This time last year he would have taken a seat in the other wing-chair.
"So, what's grabbed your attention, Colonel?"
"We need a replacement admin non-com, sir."
Chegwidden froze in his seat and glared her for a good ten seconds. "Excuse me?" he finally said.
"Gunnery Sergeant Galindez has applied for a posting back to a Marine Battalion, sir." She slid a file folder containing Galindez's completed application across his desk.
Chegwidden reached out and opening the folder read through the application. "Personal reasons?" he queried her.
"Yes, sir."
"And seeing that you have endorsed this application am I to understand that you are aware of these reasons?"
"Yes, sir."
"Would you care to enlighten me as to why the Gunny wants to return to a line unit?"
"No, sir."
"No?" Chegwidden looked at his Chief of Staff in total amazement. "Colonel, I need to know what the hell is going on here - and don't tell me that you don't know or that you can't tell me!"
"I could tell you sir, but I don't think that you really want to know."
"Dammit Colonel, I could order you to tell me!" Chegwidden stood and planted his fists, knuckles down on his desk.
"You could sir, but if you did, you could never be certain that I was telling you the truth."
Chegwidden continued to stare at Mac as he sat down and then dropped his eyes from hers as he passed a hand over his scalp. "What the hell's going on, Mac?"
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
Chegwidden raised his eyes and looked at her in some surprise, "You've always said what you thought, Mac, and you've never asked me that before."
"Permission, sir?"
"Yes. Granted, go on."
"First off, I asked permission to speak freely because things around here have changed, sir. You've changed. And those changes have made people very uneasy. Gunny Galindez asked to go back to a line unit sir, because he doesn't trust you anymore."
"What?"
"He doesn't trust you to have our, his back, sir."
"What the hell?"
"For one thing, sir, he feels you betrayed him, you betrayed me and you betrayed your code, by leaving us to Sadiq Fahd's not-so-tender mercies." Mac hesitated, "and I'm not so sure that I don't agree with him, sir."
Chegwidden felt his anger rise, "Stand down, Colonel, you're getting dangerously near insubordination!"
"There's more, sir," Mac said, inwardly trembling, but hell, she'd faced up to Sadiq, she could face the admiral's anger.
Chegwidden's face became an icy mask. "Go on then, Colonel."
"Sir, there's also the matter of your treatment of Mr Rabb. People are asking why you threw him to the lions last year when he was charged with Loren Singer's assault, and why you felt it necessary to publicly humiliate him when we got back from Paraguay." Mac was proud of herself, she had just delivered those last two sentences in an unemotional, non-confrontational manner, and she hoped her outer calmness might help convince her CO to respond in the same manner.
"Colonel, I did not throw Rabb to the lions last year. He did that all by himself with his obsessive secrecy concerning Lieutenant Singer's pregnancy, and neither did I publicly humiliate him!"
"Harm… uh… Mr Rabb may have caused the finger of suspicion to be pointed at himself, sir. But he did not issue orders that no-one from this office was to make any contact with him whatsoever while he was awaiting trial. He was denied visitors, and I know this, because despite your orders, I tried to visit him, and was turned away at the Brig by MPs who said they were acting on your instructions. Coates wanted to visit him, but you threatened her with charges. As for your not humiliating him in public, sir, I think that sometimes you forget how penetrating your voice is, and that it can on occasion be heard quite clearly in the bull-pen. Not forgetting of course, sir, that I was present too. If you had caught me reprimanding a member of staff in front of another, you would have ripped me a new one on the spot sir!"
Chegwidden stood again, his face pale with suppressed rage. "There were factors at work in Rabb's case, Colonel of which you were and still are unaware."
"You could try making me aware, sir." Mac shot back at him.
"Watch your tone Colonel! That was insubordination! I will consider your future here when I am calmer, Colonel. In the meantime, dismissed!"
"Aye, aye, sir!" Mac rose to her feet, braced to attention for a count of two and then about faced to let herself out of the door. Closing the door behind her, she let out a sigh of relief and met the anxious stare of Jennifer Coates.
"Ma'am, what's happening, is the Commander coming back… I mean, I heard some of what was said… the Admiral got kinda loud… Sir!" Her last word forced was out of her as the admiral suddenly emerged from his office and silently thrust his empty coffee mug into her hand.
Mac waited until she heard the door click shut behind her before speaking, "Jennifer, tread very, very lightly from here on in. Harm wouldn't want you to end up facing charges because of any sense of personal loyalty, or mistaken belief that you somehow owe him for something. Go and get the admiral his coffee, and try to stay out of trouble, OK?"
"Aye, aye, ma'am. What are we going to do?"
"Like I said, you are going to stay out of trouble; I am going to draft my resignation." With that bombshell bursting behind her Mac left an open mouthed Jennifer and headed for her office, already mentally composing her letter.
Jennifer headed for the galley where brewing a fresh pot of coffee, she returned to the admiral's office and knocked on the doorjamb and on receiving permission to enter, she carefully placed his mug in from of her principal., and then stood at attention.
Chegwidden looked at her over the top of his reading glasses and asked, "What can I do for you, Petty Officer?"
Jen decided to take the bull by the horns, and although desperately nervous she replied, "Sir, I wanted to explain my actions... "
Chegwidden interrupted her, and in a voice roughened by exasperation he said, "No, let me explain them for you. You are meddling in affairs that are none of your business..."
"All I wanted was..." Jennifer tried gain to explain.
"No..." Chegwidden stood, removed his glasses and leaning stiff-armed on his knuckles he stated his position, "Petty Officer, I am not interested in what you want, I'm interested in what I need, and what I need is an administrative assistant who does her job and that job only. Is that understood?"
"Sir, I'm still defining the parameters of my duties..." Jen defended herself, wilting as the admiral glared at her, but then made a swift recovery, "with your input, of course, being paramount."
Chegwidden started incredulously at his new Yeoman. Tiner, despite his seven years with Chegwidden, would never have dared to answer him in such a fashion, yet this slip of a girl… "Petty Officer, did... did you just handle me?"
"Of course not, sir."
Again remembering Tiner's surprising disclosure that he was approaching his final year at law school having paid for his own tuition, Chegwidden asked suspiciously, "You are not, by chance, going to law school at night, are you?
"No, sir. Why do you ask?"
Chegwidden replaced his glasses and sighed, and then growled, "Starting to parse the truth like a lawyer!"
"No, sir. I am, however starting to look deeper into the truth, like a psychologist. 'The Human Mind, 101'; the course I'm taking on line."
The damn' girl was laughing at him, that was a definite hint of a grin! He glared at her in disbelief, and then lowering his voice to a hiss he ordered, "Dismissed!"
"Aye, aye, sir!"
Chegwidden watched the door close behind his Yeoman. Absolutely unbelievable. The young woman had been totally respectful, but at the same time had been strikingly insubordinate without a single syllable that he could take exception to crossing her lips!
Jen quietly closed the admiral's door behind her and sagged back against the oak-panelled walls, not certain whether her legs would support her, sighing with relief and closing her eyes. When she opened them again she saw Mac looking at her quizzically.
"Are you alright, Coates?" The young woman looked like she'd just had a rough passage and was definitely looking paler than usual.
"Ma'am, what's 'parse the truth like a lawyer' mean?"
"Uh… it means that you massage the truth to make it say what you want."
"Has he ever accused you of that?"
"All the time," Mac grinned in an effort to encourage and show sympathy for Jen, "I like to think of it as a compliment. Is he free?" she added, nodding at the admiral's door.
"Yes, ma'am, but ma'am… he's pretty mad, ma'am, and when someone is that angry, you know they're hurting inside." Jen froze and turned even paler as Mac assumed an expressionless brace, her gaze fixed at a point over Jen's right shoulder, as the admiral soundlessly pulled open his office door.
"Petty Officer?" Chegwidden's voice was full of menace.
Jen executed a drill-field-crisp about face and whispered through suddenly dry lips, "Sir, I'm so sorry!"
Chegwidden glared at her, thrust a six inch thick stack of files into her hands and glared at her again before stepping back into his office and closing the door.
Jen looked despairingly at Mac, "I can't do anything right, ma'am!"
Mac shook her head in dismay, "None of us can."