Page 21 of Under His Command

Chapter 6

Several video chatsand conference calls with Gary occurred before they identified the glitch and had things up and running again. This latest update was the third since implementation nearly six months ago. The others had gone off without a hitch, but this time she couldn’t pinpoint the issue on her own. And she was very much on her own. Gary had recovered, but he never joined her on the base. After proving herself early on, both he and Director Forester decided she didn’t need him.

This time, it was something beyond her control, a coding error in the new LITSABR simulation, which was the Navy’s new Star Wars type multi-venue laser scattering technology. In layman’s terms, it identified laser threats before they could lock onto a target—on sea, land, or air.

With the program back online, Cassie ran through it successfully at least a half dozen times, but she wanted to test it further before the next training class. She contacted the captain and asked for volunteers, creating an evaluation and issues form for feedback.

Over a dozen instructors signed up, all of them needing time with the new weapons system to become proficient before their students got a shot at it. Because of their rigorous schedules, which included early morning and late-night dive training, and the twenty-hour days common during hell week, not to mention the other classes and various drills, she left the lab open 24/7 to get them all in.

The Tuesday before class, she arrived earlier than her regular start time and wasn’t at all surprised to see three stations occupied. The control room was dark when she entered, and she took advantage of the opportunity to watch the performances on-screen.

She noticed right off one man needed a lot more hours in the simulator. The second was putting on a good show, his percentage of neutralized targets high and his collateral damage minimal, but the third, engaged in an urban assault mission, was off-the-charts accurate. In fact, she’d never seen scores that high before. The first man, a young lieutenant, failed his mission and stomped out while muttering to himself in frustration, while the second, earning a respectable score, hung around to watch as the one remaining put on a show.

With bated breath, she did as well, seeing him take out one insurgent after another. He spared the robed cleric who unexpectedly popped out of an unmarked building and the Burka-shrouded woman who came running from the market.

Wanting to see how much he could handle, Cassie punched a code into the system override and upped the difficulty in his simulation. Targets and civilians came at him faster now, snipers appeared on rooftops, and IEDs exploded in the street. The computer even created a nondescript van that drove up in front of a crowded shop.

The SEAL at the controls recognized the threat and took out the enemy, no less than a dozen armed men, as they emerged from the vehicle, and he did so without a single civilian casualty. He identified the sniper on a rooftop armed with a laser rifle, activated his LITSABR without hesitation, and neutralized him, too.

Cassie was so impressed, when the simulation ended, she turned up the lights and rushed to congratulate him.

She was rounding the platform on which he stood when he pulled off his headgear. It was Flynn. Thrilled for his success, she squealed, “HOOAH!” and, while bouncing with excitement, threw her arms around him in congratulations.

“That was fah-reaking awesome!” she gushed. “No one has scored 99.8 percent on the urban sequence before, and you implemented the new laser scatter perfectly. You are not human, my man!”

“Maybe you need to teach the class, Dalton,” the other instructor joked, “rather than Miss Barely Legal - Legally Blonde here.”

His comment quashed her enthusiasm in a blink. She’d heard the comparison many times. Reese Witherspoon’s pint-sized pixie-like character may have made it into Harvard Law School, but Cassie’s IQ was much higher, as was her cup size. It would have ticked her off most days, and today was no exception. Dropping her arms from around Flynn, she spun on Lieutenant Avery Meyers.

While twirling a loose curl around her finger, she spoke in a ditzy airhead accent that couldn’t be mistaken. “Oh my God, Lieutenant, you’re like totally right.” Then she leaned in, continuing with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Here’s the thing though. I’m not eighteen, not even close. I graduated from high school a long time ago, got my undergrad, and earned a master’s degree in computer science, which means I’m not a dumb blonde and am a helluva long way past barelylegal. It also makes you a complete bonehead.”

She stomped away, too mad to see straight. Out in the hall, she leaned against the wall and took a deep breath to get a grip on her anger.

“Nice work, Meyers, you putz,” she heard Flynn say with disgust.

“I didn’t know she’d be so sensitive. With an ass like that and a name like Hardwick, which most of the men change to Hard-dick—something they all have while around her—you’d think she’d have thicker skin.”

A loud crash and a thud followed, then the commander’s angry growl resonated through the room and out into the hallway. “Shut your mouth. She’s a nice girl and doesn’t need to be subjected to your crude attempts at humor. You got me, Meyers?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I didn’t know you two were so close.”

“She’s a sweet kid. And close or not, no woman needs to hear your brand of bullshit.”

“Right.” To Cassie, the lieutenant’s voice sounded strained and raspy, like he was choking. “I said I’m sorry.”

Another thud and coughing preceded boots thumping against the rubber mat on the floor. She pictured Flynn stalking across the room, which was Cassie’s cue to leave. She didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, especially by the commander. As she rushed down the hall, tears burned her eyes, having heard “kid,” well intended or not, yet again from his lips. The image of a freckled face, braces-wearing, tagalong little sister flashed in her head. He’d come to her defense with the jerk, but that’s the kind of man he was, as an officer, a gentleman, and in her case evidently, a protective big brother.

Footsteps drawing closer sent her into a panic. She took the nearest escape route, ducking into a janitor’s closet. She stared at the knob without a lock and prayed it wouldn’t turn at the sound of him calling her name. When she heard his footsteps pause out in the hall, close, as though right outside the door, she held her breath, not daring to move an inch.

“Cassie!” His raised voice faded as he moved on. “Damn. She’s not in the control room. She’s left.”

“I’ll apologize next chance I get, Commander.”

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