Chapter 40

13:05 PDT Monday, October 21^st, 1991

NROTC, Room 152

Hearst Gymnasium

University of California, Berkeley, CA 94720

"Hey, Ell-tee," Candidate Collins greeted him, "got a moment?"

Lieutenant Wheeler spine stiffened in his chair and he felt the hair on the back of his neck start to lift, slightly. "Candidate, you probably don't know, but it's inappropriate to greet an officer so familiarly, when you don't have a lot of history with him. Likewise, it's not acceptable to refer to an officer by rank, only, when you're addressing him." He still remembered how confident she'd been when she walked in the office, back in August, and asked about NROTC. The memory rankled.

"Aye aye, sir," she said.

Only slightly mollified, he asked, "How can I help you today, Candidate?"

"Sir, I had been hoping to see the XO."

"The Commander's on leave this week, Candidate."

"Yes sir, I know. Sir, I'm asking for permission to miss a week's classes and formation. I'll need to ask someone to get my assignments, and for the classes that have midterms next week, to see if I can take them early."

Not quite sure he'd heard what she said, Wheeler asked for confirmation. "Excuse me, Candidate. Did you suggest that you'd need the Commander to get your assignments and ask your other professors to allow you to take your midterms early?"

She seemed uncomfortable, which, he thought, was the effect he was looking for. She surprised him, however. "No sir. I think I can set up with Midshipman DiPietro to get my assignments, and I'll ask my other professors about the midterms. It's that the Commander knows what I'll be doing for that week, sort of."

Wheeler was sure his eyebrows, thin as they were, were reaching his receding hairline. "And, what will you be doing that week instead of attending school, Candidate?"

Collins looked uncomfortable. "Sir, you know I've got affiliations with that office in Suitland. I can't talk about the purpose of what I'm doing, but I'm spending a week with a Special Warfare platoon in Coronado. I've spent two weekends with them, and they want me for a week, sir. Next week."

"Special Warfare Platoon"? What the fuck! "Collins ... I don't know what to say. Civilians don't get sponsored into NROTC by the Office of Naval Intelligence, and then, three months later, tell me they're working with the Navy SEALs on a classified mission. What the hell am I supposed to say?"

She gave him a calm look. "I'd find it helpful if you said, 'Yes', sir."

He knew he was staring, but the situation was bizarre. "Collins," he said, finally. "The Commander knows about this?"

"Not about me wanting next week off, but yes, sir, otherwise, he does. Sir, you could call my boss, Commander Fales, for verification."

Wheeler closed his eyes. It would be easiest to just act as if I believe her. Then, to his surprise, he realized he did, in fact, believe her. "Collins, I'll collect your homework, and help, if you need me, to talk to your other professors." Before he could give the matter much more thought, he found himself telling her, "God knows why, but I believe you. I think ... I think I want to know more about you and your history, but right now, I guess I want to know why you have to be gone next week in particular."

She smiled at him, then, and he really felt it. Christ, she's beautiful. Drop-dead gorgeous, and it has been far too long since you've had a girl, Wheeler. It's time to give the ol' cruise sock the heave-ho. And get your goddamned mind back on what she's telling you.

"Sir, I think the platoon OIC wants to test me, and then train me, I think because I'd be better camouflage on the boat than his guys. I've shown them I can handle the boat, and we've moved past the load-plan I think. I expect after I prove I can be relied on physically, they'll start me in the technical surveillance part of the mission, and then we'll be working on schedules and rendezvous, identification protocols, and the like."

"'Handle the boat'?" he said, weakly. "You're driving a boat for a Special Warfare platoon, on a classified mission for ONI. The Battalion Executive Officer knows about it. Collins, why in hell do you need my permission?"

"Sir," she said, and the note in her voice was quizzical, "because I'm an Officer Candidate and attached to the Student Battalion?"

Wheeler began to laugh. "Collins," when he recovered enough, "you can call me 'LT' in private. I'll get your homework for you. Get out of here, you're dismissed."

Tuning out the voice of the professor during her Business Ethics class, Lenore reflected on the conversation with Wheeler while the professor droned away. Is this all too easy? Nothing about this has seemed really hard, except maybe backing the Joy Redux in with Dillon. Everyone's making this so easy, it worries me. Like I'll get to the end of the line and it'll suddenly cost me everything I've got for pretending I could play and I won't know why or what happened, and I'll just fail and fall short. Just five months ago I was happy, I guess, doing nothing with my life, and now I'm really worried I won't be able to handle it when the real thing happens, whenever it does.

Wheeler said 'Navy SEALs'. I wonder why I hadn't heard that earlier or connected the dots ... it makes sense, and I guess I should have known. It's not a term I've heard a lot before, though. Not like, say, 'Airborne Ranger'. They don't have a silly song like the Rangers do, one that every kid knows before leaving Junior High – "I wanna be an Airborne Ranger". Ben's a Ranger, now. But I'll never be like him, jumping out of airplanes, and I don't think they'll let a girl be one, anyway. I guess that's sinking in, that even if I do a good job with them I won't get to keep playing. But I want to do a good job, and I'll do my best, and then do some more, and then I'll graduate, and I guess go on to whatever the Navy has for me, and the Chief will get his boat back.