giving it up.”
Dan thought about this. Wenck had said the same, but he’d chalked that up to the more senior chiefs resenting a newly fleeted-up E-7, plus the natural distrust any organization had toward someone a new leader brought with him. “How do they feel about losing the old CO, the previous CMC, all those people?”
“Basically, I won’t deny there’s grumbling. Some say the good went overboard along with the bad.”
“Probably not totally untrue. Collateral damage.”
“What’s that, sir?” Tausengelt cupped his ear. “It’s goddamn noisy in here.”
“Nothing. Yeah, it’s pretty loud in here at full power. How’s that command philosophy going? XO seen it yet?”
“Got a draft, sir. Should be in your mailbox.”
Dan half turned and brought it up on his screen. He scrolled down it, gaze snagging on clichés. Mission accomplishment first. Make your own quality of life . But he couldn’t fault a Navy document for clichés. The shorthand might sound tin-eared or repetitive to outsiders, but it conveyed concepts in efficient, almost digital bursts. “I’ll look it over and get back to you. How’s the junior enlisted feel?”
“I don’t get much of a sense either way from the deckplates. Basically, they’re focused on their jobs. Your inspection—that shook them up. You got into places Imerson never went.”
“Or Almarshadi?”
Tausengelt remained diplomatically silent.
“The first-class lounge?”
“Pretty much the same.”
“The JOs?” Strictly speaking they weren’t Tausengelt’s business, but an experienced chief knew what the junior officers were thinking. Usually, before the JOs knew it themselves.
Tausengelt took his time. Dan waited, hoping he didn’t start his next sentence with “Basically.”
“Basically, sir, there might be a problem. One of the lieutenants. She was on the bridge when the ship hit.”
“Really? Who?”
“The Indian girl … woman. Lieutenant Singhe.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“She was the officer of the deck. But you notice, she didn’t get shitcanned.”
He rubbed his chin. Yeah, that was strange. Even personnel who hadn’t been on the bridge were gone. But the examining board, and the admiral, had exonerated the OOD? “What’s the story there? Do you know?”
Tausengelt shook his head as the ship leaned. Something creaked in the bulkhead. Dan tilted his watch. They were halfway through the first hour of the full-power run. “Basically, no idea, sir. But the chiefs, the other JOs—they all clam up tight when she walks in. I’ve seen it. It’s weird.”
“Okay, well, thanks.” Dan slapped a palm on his desk, realized only after he’d done so that he was unconsciously mimicking Niles. Not a pleasant thought. “Thanks for coming up. I’ll get back to you on the command philosophy.”
“I’ll look for it, sir.”
His guest was standing, about to let himself out, when a tap sounded at the door. “Come in,” Dan called.
“Lieutenant Uskavitch, Captain.”
“I remember you. Come on in, Ollie.” The weapons officer had to be the largest man aboard; he filled the doorframe and looked down even on Dan. Right now, he looked tense and reluctant. “The master chief was just leaving. Whatcha got?”
“Maybe he should hear this too. Not good news, sir. We’re missing a firearm.”
Dan sat back down. “Please tell me somebody saw it go overboard.”
“Not gonna be that easy, sir. Seaman Downie was the messenger of the watch, on the quarterdeck, while we were aground. He left his sidearm on the log table for a couple of minutes, while he got relieved. When he came back, it was gone. We tore the quarterdeck apart. Interviewed everybody we can identify who went through there. No joy.”
Dan shook his head, mood going even darker. Of all the paperwork nightmares, losing a pistol was about the worst. Not to mention the fact that an unsecured, unaccounted-for firearm could now be floating around his ship.
Dan thought about this. Wenck had said the same, but he’d chalked that up to the more senior chiefs resenting a newly fleeted-up E-7, plus the natural distrust any organization had toward someone a new leader brought with him. “How do they feel about losing the old CO, the previous CMC, all those people?”
“Basically, I won’t deny there’s grumbling. Some say the good went overboard along with the bad.”
“Probably not totally untrue. Collateral damage.”
“What’s that, sir?” Tausengelt cupped his ear. “It’s goddamn noisy in here.”
“Nothing. Yeah, it’s pretty loud in here at full power. How’s that command philosophy going? XO seen it yet?”
“Got a draft, sir. Should be in your mailbox.”
Dan half turned and brought it up on his screen. He scrolled down it, gaze snagging on clichés. Mission accomplishment first. Make your own quality of life . But he couldn’t fault a Navy document for clichés. The shorthand might sound tin-eared or repetitive to outsiders, but it conveyed concepts in efficient, almost digital bursts. “I’ll look it over and get back to you. How’s the junior enlisted feel?”
“I don’t get much of a sense either way from the deckplates. Basically, they’re focused on their jobs. Your inspection—that shook them up. You got into places Imerson never went.”
“Or Almarshadi?”
Tausengelt remained diplomatically silent.
“The first-class lounge?”
“Pretty much the same.”
“The JOs?” Strictly speaking they weren’t Tausengelt’s business, but an experienced chief knew what the junior officers were thinking. Usually, before the JOs knew it themselves.
Tausengelt took his time. Dan waited, hoping he didn’t start his next sentence with “Basically.”
“Basically, sir, there might be a problem. One of the lieutenants. She was on the bridge when the ship hit.”
“Really? Who?”
“The Indian girl … woman. Lieutenant Singhe.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.”
“She was the officer of the deck. But you notice, she didn’t get shitcanned.”
He rubbed his chin. Yeah, that was strange. Even personnel who hadn’t been on the bridge were gone. But the examining board, and the admiral, had exonerated the OOD? “What’s the story there? Do you know?”
Tausengelt shook his head as the ship leaned. Something creaked in the bulkhead. Dan tilted his watch. They were halfway through the first hour of the full-power run. “Basically, no idea, sir. But the chiefs, the other JOs—they all clam up tight when she walks in. I’ve seen it. It’s weird.”
“Okay, well, thanks.” Dan slapped a palm on his desk, realized only after he’d done so that he was unconsciously mimicking Niles. Not a pleasant thought. “Thanks for coming up. I’ll get back to you on the command philosophy.”
“I’ll look for it, sir.”
His guest was standing, about to let himself out, when a tap sounded at the door. “Come in,” Dan called.
“Lieutenant Uskavitch, Captain.”
“I remember you. Come on in, Ollie.” The weapons officer had to be the largest man aboard; he filled the doorframe and looked down even on Dan. Right now, he looked tense and reluctant. “The master chief was just leaving. Whatcha got?”
“Maybe he should hear this too. Not good news, sir. We’re missing a firearm.”
Dan sat back down. “Please tell me somebody saw it go overboard.”
“Not gonna be that easy, sir. Seaman Downie was the messenger of the watch, on the quarterdeck, while we were aground. He left his sidearm on the log table for a couple of minutes, while he got relieved. When he came back, it was gone. We tore the quarterdeck apart. Interviewed everybody we can identify who went through there. No joy.”
Dan shook his head, mood going even darker. Of all the paperwork nightmares, losing a pistol was about the worst. Not to mention the fact that an unsecured, unaccounted-for firearm could now be floating around his ship.
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