Chapter 9

Logistics officers can be fun. They are also a royal pain in the butt. I was still bummed that the LT was not wearing her tight khaki uniform.

“This ‘C’ language, is it a common programming language? And can we use the stuff you write on other types of machines?”

Damn, The LT has some good questions. If her brain is big as her tits, she could be a genius.

“Dunno, ma’am. I think that FORTRAN is more common, which I’ve used on a DEC PDP, but was not available for my Kaypro. So I bought the BDS compiler.”

“And is ‘C’ suitable for use on other machines?”

“I am guessing about this, but I do know that C was originally developed on a DEC mini, so yeah, its useable on other machines.”

“Tell me about dBase Two.”

“Its data management system.”

“Which is?”

“Computer programs that organize, store, and search data. I’m guessin that ‘dBase’ is short for the term ‘database’. dBase is all of that, plus it has a built-in way to write stuff to automate all of that shit. Sorta like a specialized programming language to talk to all of the programs that make up dBase.”

“And what is this assembler that is being used? And why are we using another programming language?”

“Assembly language, ma’am. That’s the human-readable stuff that directly corresponds to the stuff that a particular microprocessor does. Why? because its easy to call hardware-control assembly stuff from a program written in C, and because it easier to control the bits and bytes of the Kaypro’s serial and parallel ports.”

“Where did you learn computers?”

“Some in the military, some in college.”

“I see. Excellant. I will declare you a ‘subject matter expert’ for this project.”

Whoa. Back up the boat. Get control of your tits. I’m no such animal.

“Uh, don’t think so ma’am. There are experts out there that do this stuff.”

“Whom?”

Well duh, LT Tits. Like all of your fuckin Aegis contractors.

“Uh, like Lockheed-Martin, and my company, ALS. They have tons of programmers and engineers that do this shit.”

“Do they understand ship systems interfacing, logistics, and the U.S. Navy?”

“Dunno.”

“Mister Watson, may I call you Mark?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Mark, in a singular package, you have everything the navy requires for this endeavor. You can take advantage of this opportunity and grow with it, or you can allow the DOD procurement system to grind its gears and, after a year or two and millions of dollars, perhaps give us something we may or may not be able to use, and that may or may not fulfill our requirements. Work with me, Mark. You can benefit both yourself and the Navy. We have the full support of Admiral Sorensen and the Dahlgren teams.”

“I would have to quit my job. And if this project goes down in flames, or is canx’d, where am I?”

“It is worth the risk, Mark.”

This elitist twit is telling my peon butt to take risk? She and her tits aren’t risking a damn thing. What the fuck, over.

“What do you know about risk? Your rich daddy paid for your school, influenced a senator to get you a commision without ROTC. You got a freebie masters degree at Monterey from the taxpayer, and you recently wrangled a regular comission. I had to quit school. I was living out of my truck in campus parking lots, working two or three jobs at once. You don’t know shit about risk. Fuck you, lieutent. And fuck the mule you rode in on. And fuck Admiral Sorensen.”

Made Miss BigTits speechless, did I? Maybe she’s not as smart as I thought. You had better remember this, bitch, there is nothing I do not know about any of you elitist officer fuckers. I own your machines, so bite my lily-white ass. Oh, looky here, her highness is recovering.

“I do not ... uh, Mark, your personal opinions about my character are not part of this discussion.”

“Tell ya what, lieutent. I’m gonna give these programs to my employer. You can talk to them. Get outa of my office, I supposed to be helping build a ship for the navy.”

What I had enjoyed the most about this encounter was how the stunned expression of Seaman Anderson changed to a smirk. Good to know I could amuse the kid. Not every day that a peon gets to see someone hand an officer her ass. I would have rather handled her officer tits. Whatever.

“Anderson, take these drawings to doc control and meet me at the starboard ring-share box.”

It did not escape my astute powers of observation, yeah right, that Seaman Apprentice Hartley Anderson danced out of my office. Glad to have helped with the young lady’s attitude.

“She’ll be launched in early fall, Mark. Coming out for that?”

“Why? Don’t let any idiots fuck with shit and the 480 volt power bus will be okay, senior chief. If the sixth tub finishes laying the keel on time, I might see you in San Diego in a year or two, unless if they send me out for the fifth one, but that’s gonna be in Maine; so I may be out of it for a while. When’s Helen making the move?”

“After we get PCS orders to the homeport. This is my last tour, Mark. Have you thought about Ral’s idea? Unless Helen says no, I’m doing it. We need you, Mark. I don’t think his business plan works without you.”

“If I decide to not jump ship, I have a good friend that can be your man. I’ll let you know. Where’s Helen and where’s my Nyota?”

Removing Nyota from Helen’s cradling grasp, I put my little panther in the U-Haul truck cab. Helen moved into me with a crushing hug. Seperating myself and giving the chief an anemic half-salute, I then headed west.

“Nyota, you’re gonna like California.”

I think that Dave was happy to have a kitty running around the hacienda moreso than having me back. I can understand that. What I could not understand was why Dave was treating me with kid gloves. I’m no worse for wear, and I had learned how to understand and control and guard my emotions around females. Which was a good thing, because there were other felines on the prowl.

For one or two days per week, I was, metaphorically, shacked up with the programming dweebs. For another one or two days a week, I was sitting in the Test Director’s office re-writing ATPs with the DOD DCAS reps and the boss’s boss.

For the remainder of each week, I floated around the test department, going to the highest bidder. Fucking literally. Every Wednesday or Thursday morning, the four leads of the test department would gather in Dave’s office, submitting ‘bids’ for my services. To the amusement of many, I was technical chattel to be auctioned off. Whatever. Its a living.

“The navy approved your inverter module screenng process. Should we buy another curve tracer?”

“Why ya asking me, Dave?”

“It’s your thing, man.”

“You’re the boss, man.”

“You fucking with me?”

“Always, dude. Next question?”

“What about your new inverter driver?”

“Gave the schematic to the proto shop. The project engineer has it on his desk, so waiting on that. Wanna send your gopher to get his signature?”

“Still avoiding Jane? She’s a damn fine-lookin woman, dude.”

“Give me a break, Dave. That woman is a gold-diggin predator. Don’t know why she’s after my peon ass. And why does Jay put up with her?

“Jay is too old to give a shit about her games. She’s been his secretary for years. And he likes woman with a set of large ta-ta’s. You seen his ol lady?”

“Nope. What about her?”

“Think a slavic of Dolly Parton.”

“Whatever. Send your fucking gopher to get the signed prints.”

“Coward. How are they coming with your project controller program?”

“Finished the spec. The software dweebs have completed the flow charts for my code. The company bought them some fancy S-100 machines. I think that they’re fucking up. They should be using the new IBM PCs.”

“Why?”

“Two reasons. The guy that wrote the CP/M operating system is a fool; brilliant, but still a fool. I don’t think that OS is in it for the long haul. The other reason is the S-100 bus. It’s too big. The backplane connectors are fucking huge. The bus connector in the IBM box is smaller and uses less power, and anything those turd-brains at IBM make will be adopted as industry standard - so we don’t have to re-invent wheels everytime we wanna connect the system to something else.”

“You tell Ashley?”

“I told the programmers’ boss, and put in in black and white. As for Mister Ashley, I’m peon, you’re supervisor. You tell him. Besides, I know you have a thing for Janice. Like you would need an excuse.”

“Yeah. Excellant point, dude.”

It was obvious that Dave was thinking of his many trysts with the engineering director’s secretary. Dave may have thought they had been discrete, but I was certain that it was common company knowledge. I wondered if Dave was falling for the woman. He had never stood still with any other woman for more than a few months. This would be monumental and earth-shattering if true. There would be ripples in The Force. As Jenny had said, ‘its time for Dave to get married and be miserable along with the rest of us’.

The demonstration I set up was for Dave’s and Nyota’s eyes only. Actually, Nyota had already seen my stuff in action, and she approved. Dave had wanted to know how I knew what the ALS brass were planning, so it was time to let him know about the dirty underworld of computers.

“Dude, how the fuck you doing that?”

“Remember the Wargames movie, a few years ago?”

“Yeah. So you found the password?”

“Didn’t need to find shit. I have two legit computer accounts. But more than that, I set up a dedicated line. The company has a block of unused phone numbers, so I programmed a Pac Bell switch to connect to this ALS number. My computer looks like a remote VT101 terminal to one of the PDPs.”

“Could they catch you?”

“Easily. But they would need a reason to bother looking. Those computer room dweebs are too busy running around loading tapes and shuffling print-outs to see if there is other stuff connected.”

“None of this is classified?”

“Nah. And they had better not have any secret shit on that PDP. But it is company confidential.”

“So they wanna lay off half of the sales department, and transfer engineers to this new software branch. And freeze hiring?”

“It makes sense, Dave. Engineering is doing nothing but customer support and production support for the Aegis-related contracts and the navy ain’t asking for any new designs, and the sale turds aren’t getting new contracts. I’m tellin ya Dave, the future of the company is in writing code and doin support contracts. If you’re not one of the big guys, defense contracting is drying up.”