My
Journal
By
Harriman Nelson
~In
God We Trust~
7
The
granulated powder was difficult to measure this morning, and I faced the
infused water with some discouragement. The first ‘just like real’ OJ was too ‘orangy’, the second too bland, and this one, well, it was
difficult not to compare it unfavorably (not to be confused with unfavorably)
with the real thing. But I was in need of something other than coffee, so I
gulped it down, disposing of the empty paper cup in my cabin’s waste basket,
already almost full of discarded calculations, papers and notes.
I
wondered how well Chip’s meeting with Kowalski was going, but didn’t want to
disturb them, so I turned my desktop computer to the various shipboard
cameras...finally settling on the one with Kowalski reporting to Chip in the
Control Room, and then their heading to
the Observation Nose. Adjusting my
scrolling to the front porch, I watched and listened.
Riley,
at sonar, had watched Ski depart with Chip sympathetically. They had been best
buddies. But now, there was a division between them dictated by naval protocol,
which Seaview, as a Reserve vessel and now on active status, had to maintain.
It was difficult for both Ski and his friends to comply. But so far had
managed.
“Take
a seat, Ski.”
“Sir,”
Ski said sitting back down.
“You’re
probably wondering why I want to speak with you.”
“I’m
sorry if I’ve done something wrong, but I can’t figure out what.”
“You’ve
done nothing wrong. This is something else...Ski, the admiral, chief, and I
can’t help noticing, it doesn’t appear as if your heart’s in your trying to
become an officer....”
“I
want to be the best damn officer I can be,” Ski interrupted.
“No
doubt, and officers don’t interrupt so freely.”
“Sorry,
sir.
“Now, tell me, just why are you trying to become an officer?”
“To
do my duty, sir. Especially now.”
“Everyone
aboard is doing their duty. There’s got to be more to it than that....”
Ski
hesitated.
“Is
it something you really want to do?”
“I
told you, I want to do my duty...and the skipper wants me to. Sorry, sir, I
mean the president.”
“President
Nelson-Crane asked you to apply to college and NROTC last semester? All HR got
was a notice of termination with NIMR a few months ago....”
“But
it was him! Remember when we all thought his was dead? He wrote in his letter
that he wanted me to go officer’s candidate school or ROTC. Even though things
turned out okay in the end, I felt I should do what he’d wanted, especially
once we were at war...”
“He’s
recognized your leadership skills, sure enough, we all have. But
Kowalski, you can’t take a last
will and testament statement as an order. Four years of college, four of NROTC,
and five years obligated service as an officer in the Navy or Reserves?”
“Don’t
forget I also have the option for the Marines and Coast Guard...”
“Marines?”
“Well,
it’s kinda’ close to SEAL training and spy stuff that
he liked doing and...”
“I
know you want to please the skipper, er, president,
but I think he’d rather you do what you want to do, not something he simply
wanted you to know how much he believed in your abilities.”
“I’d
do anything for him, sir. And if he feels I’d be good enough to be an officer,
then that’s what I want.”
“Because
you really want to or just because he thought you’d be a good officer?”
“I
guess both, sir. Though I would like to be a professional artist too. But that
I can do on the side...or maybe a writer. I have a knack for it...but those are
both pipe dreams...I’m a sailor. I like being a sailor. I want to stay a
sailor...”
“Very
well, Ski,” Chip sighed. “Continue on with the cruise as a midshipman. After
three months of at sea duty along with some specialized instruction from
O’Brien, Sharkey, and myself from your NROTC program, if you still think
becoming an officer is what you really want, we won’t say another word about
you continuing. But during this cruise, I want you to seriously consider what
your heart wants. Understood? Something nobody, not even the president, has
suggested you can do.”
“But
making the skip happy makes me happy and, oh shit, sorry sir. I know you’re the
skipper of the Seaview now, but it’s hard not to still call him that and....”
“Well,
technically, as the captain of the ship of state, I suppose it’s
okay to call him that. And even I still have a problem not calling him Skipper
at times. Very well. Report to the chief before your next watch.”
“Aye,
sir.”
Only
I saw the little smirk on Chip’s face. We were all used the hero worship the
crew had for Lee, but with Kowalski it was an obsession.
I
suppose we should check with the Navy’s protocol office if that ‘skipper of the
ship of state’ really does mean that the president really can be referred to as
‘Skipper’.
A
knock on the side of my door frame interrupted.
“Ah,
Chip. Come on in.”
“Thank
you, sir,” he said remaining standing, reaching over to my computer and turning
it toward him, “Next time you want to spy, you might want to make sure you turn
off the green light on the monitor. By now it’s all over the boat that somebody
was eavesdropping. And there are only
two souls aboard with permission to do so. You and me and since I was busy...”
“Oh
gawd, Chip,” I said, as he turned off my computer’s spy cam on/off button. “I’m
sorry...I should have discussed it with you first, but I was simply
anxious...no excuse. Won’t happen again.”
“You’re
the admiral. You can do whatever you want,” Chip said, “but I think we have a
problem with Ski.”
“He does have the potential to be a good
officer.”
“I
won’t deny that, but still, maybe we should ask Lee to say something to Ski, to
help him make a better decision than just taking the skipper’s last wishes
literally.”
“Lee
sent him to us, so I don’t exactly think Lee is against the idea.”
“I
suppose. But Ski’s friends are here...he can’t buddy-buddy with them now. Does
he really want to lose that? Well, enough of that for now, are you are trying to figure things out to
neutralize radiation and bio hazards even though there is no task force?”
“Of
course I am.”
“Even
though the scientific community keeps saying it’s utter nonsense to try?”
“Of
course it’s nonsense. And we know enough about nuclear power to know it. Still,
top scientists in the country have been clamoring to be appointed to the task
force. You’d think they’d get the hint that it’s bogus since none of them have
been appointed.”
“They
why bother yourself?”
“Because,
like Ski, and probably like you, and everyone else aboard, I’ll do anything for
Lee.”
“Surely
he’s had top scientists tell him it’s useless.”
“No
doubt.”
“He
doesn’t even know you’re trying to figure out the impossible?”
“He
doesn’t have to know,” I said, knowing full well that he probably did.
~***~