Chapter 27

12:40 Tuesday, October 1^st, 1991

Leaving Dwinelle Hall

University of California, Berkeley CA 94720

Lenore checked her watch; it was going to be close. She'd had to stay late to talk to the Teaching Assistant (TA) about giving her PolySci (Political Science) assignments to Lynne DiPietro while she was at sea ferrying the Joy Redux to Coronado, and the man had been, she thought, naturally curious.

She was getting practice at deflecting questions with non-answers, something Ben had mentioned to her in her last letter from him. Sandy had sent a letter, too, from Fort Sam Houston, saying she was on her way back to Arizona, and laughing about the impromptu Spanish lessons Lenore and her family had given Sandy while driving to California a few months back. She'd told the TA (who had asked what she'd be doing while she was away from his class) that she was still on active duty, and had a routine errand to run in Coronado, some "Navy admin stuff", having to get a boat a berth for when it came into the Amphibious Base. She'd managed to make it sound routine and dull, and for all she knew, it would be.

Finally, she was free, and trotted down the stairs to where she'd left the Gunny's pickup. Not too much longer for the world, she gauged, the Gunny and I are going to need to go car shopping, and soon. The rusty S-10 was burning oil, to the tune of a quart or so in 500 miles, and the exhaust had a definite acrid smell of burnt hydrocarbons to it.

With a silent groan, she picked up the parking ticket neatly tucked under the passenger side windshield wiper, wondering if she could somehow put the ticket on the expense report she would send Commander Fales this month. With a sigh, she figured probably not, that the Navy would deem it her expense for choosing to park at a meter not located outside the Hearst Gym where there were signs for Navy Personnel parking on official business. Just then, Lenore saw a clear picture in her mind's eye of Chief Kostowe working the system in his favor, and she began to wonder if Fales would pay for a campus-wide parking permit instead. If I pitch it as avoidance of fees and as a convenience for him, probably. But I'll have to wait until we get a new car.

The Gunny's paychecks were just rolling in, and their bank account was climbing. Lenore wanted to speak to Deb about mutual funds and stocks, though it was a problem – another one – for another day. Still, the Gunny was making noises about a new car for them. Also somewhere in the back of the Gunny's mind, Lenore knew, was moving to a better neighborhood, though this one was close enough to Berkeley to suit Lenore.

They hadn't come close to having a problem in the neighborhood, even getting salutes from the black gang members returning home after a long night doing whatever it was they did, as Lenore and the Gunny jogged by in the mornings. The Gunny told Lenore that he'd seen the gangs off and on for years, and the turnover in the faces was pretty high, but they had never once offered him any trouble. On the days that the Gunny didn't run with her, Lenore ran uptown, toward Berkeley, instead of downtown or down the hill toward Alameda. She figured the 'USMC' tee-shirts she ran in might offer her a slight amount of respect from the local gangs.

Still, it wouldn't do to show too flashy a car in the neighborhood, Lenore figured. So ... she expected they'd move after graduation. Until then, she'd probably get another used car, probably a Ford or Chevrolet generic six-cylinder.

The air is definitely crisper, Lenore thought, it'll get colder here sooner than it did in Texas. For the first time in three weeks, Lenore drove toward the Oakland Yacht Club, keeping an appointment with the Chief. He'd told her he only planned on light maintenance while she was studying. He'd met her at the office in the small building on the NAS the day before, in between classes. Together they'd filled out and sent a Plan of Intended Movement to Fales, who had forwarded it on to Yard Control at Coronado.

The Chief called Lenore on the phone to tell her he'd received orders in return, with some procedural details on moving the boat through the NAB Coronado yard. Today, she was going more to drop off uniforms and clothes, toiletries and the like than for any other purpose.

Since the visit with the French to her mother's vineyard, Lenore had made another trip back for clothing. She'd also placed an order with the tailor in Washington that the Admiral used, and received another officer's Service Dress Blue uniform. The Bank of America gave her and the Gunny a joint Visa card when she changed her Direct Deposit information to a joint account with the Gunny. Her contribution was a relatively small seven hundred and forty dollars a month with the various allowances and the stipend for attending the university that Lieutenant Wheeler had gotten for her – roughly a tenth what the Gunny was putting into the account each month. Still, it was a joint account. The Gunny simply handed her her card when it came in the mail and went to activate both with the obligatory phone call. "Keep your grades up," he said with a smile, in a paternal manner, and both of them had laughed. She knew he was as proud of her for doing well as she was for him succeeding at turning his office around.

Lenore had been doing well, she thought, and with justifiable pride. Her first set of mid-terms had come back with 'A's, her first term paper for her business and Political Science classes had come back with very little red ink on what she'd written – and both had had a lengthy paragraph at the end added by each professor, commending her. Her twice-weekly homework for Economics had been, she was completely unsurprised to learn, perfect, and she'd done well with her Math and Spanish classes. Her professors had all been supportive of her, surprised in some cases to learn that she was on Active Duty.

Her XO gave her an assignment, too. She was to think of a topic and speak to the assembled Battalion for twenty minutes, her oratory to be completed the week before Finals. Lenore gave him a mock-put-upon look, then had accepted the assignment with good-natured grace. "I thought it was going too well, sir," she'd told him. He'd only grinned at her and told her she'd do well with the assignment.

There was a price, though, for good grades – paid in lost sleep and lost Gunny-time, the time she spent with him alone. Between his job and hers, and her school, there was less and less time for them to spend alone, it seemed. Lenore hoped it made their experiences together richer for them both. She privately held the belief that surely there was some recompense for the lost time together.

Kostowe had told her that there could be weather on the trip down the coast, and that Service Dress might not be the best choice of uniform. Lenore bought Utilities from the Navy Exchange Uniform Shop, a kind of tough light-indigo uniform shirt over dark indigo dungarees. She had her nametag sewn over her breast and a second one over her right back pocket, paying for them with a check from her joint account. With great pleasure, she had a photographically-reduced and laminated set of the Joy Redux' movement orders made at the local Kinko's copy shop, to keep in her utilities pocket.

She also bought silk long underwear, just in case it got cold or rained, and a uniform sweater.

The anticipation was getting to her. As prepared as she thought she could be, she was still going to visit the Chief and show him what she'd put together, and to ask him what she might have forgotten.

"Hello, Chief," Lenore called.

"Ah, Collins!" He was as pleased to see her as she could ever remember. "You've brought your gear?" He straightened up from what he'd been doing – screwing some sort of bracket into the pilothouse by the stair.

"Yes, Chief," Lenore replied, the excitement and exuberance she felt at being free from school growing. "What've you got there?"

"It's a bracket for a Winchester," he said. Puzzled, Lenore entered the pilothouse and saw that the Chief was installing mounts into the wall. He quickly finished the job, and then picked up a chrome-plated shotgun – Lenore guessed it was a shotgun by the pump action slide – and clipped it into the bracket.

"While we're at sea or at a Navy facility. I have another one for the flying bridge, and one more at the transom. They're Winchester Marine Model-Twelves, the new kind, of course. You'll have to release the trigger to fire again, you can't just pump the action." Seeing Lenore's confusion, he told her, "It's a normal shotgun except that the internals that matter are stainless steel, proof against salt. The barrel and receiver are steel, but nickel-plated, and the magazine isn't plugged." Seeing her further confusion, he went on. "Normal waterfowl-hunting shotguns have a plug in the magazine to restrict its capacity. These have a five round capacity. I've loaded them with number-two shotshells, which is fine for repelling boarders. I've got a forty-five pistol under the chart table, and one under the shotgun on the bridge, and one more in my cabin. We'll probably mount some AR-fifteens on board over the winter."

Lenore gave him a half-smile. "Chief, I get that we might want guns to keep unfriendly people away. I get that we, being in the Navy, might go places where unfriendly people are, and might need guns. I don't know how to use a gun, though."

The Chief frowned at her. "Hebert hasn't shown you how to shoot?"