From: Nora Rivkis <nrivkis@worldnet.att.net>
Date: Mon, 25 Aug 1997 12:22:09 -0400
Subject: USS CHESAPEAKE: In Which David Gets Annoyed, Lonely And Probably In Debt

>MD 14.2300
>Scene: Reception

>He raised his brows, as well, then looked around for the Security 
>Chief.  He spotted her still speaking to Shachor.  He caught her 
>attention and beckoned her.  Both Keyrin and the MCO both trotted 
>over to them.  Fielding noticed the small crowd, and joined them, 
>as well.
>
>"Yes, sir?" asked the Ensign.  Keyrin, Shachor, and Fielding 
>looked at Brennan, Miris, and th'Tellan, in turn.  "Problem?"
>
>Brennan nodded.  "Possibly."  He lowered his voice.  "Our errant 
>helmsman is supposed to be in this room."

David stifled an acid comment. He couldn't forgive what O'Greach
had done to Galia, T'sharet and the rest.

"The mad Irishman?" Shachor asked.  "What's he done now?"
>
>"I see it's not the first time," said Miris, sighing.  "I believe 
>we're talking about the same man."  She opened the tricorder.  
>"We'll need to clear the room."  She looked at Brennan.  "Sir?"
>
>"Go ahead, Commander."

David left them to it. He'd been up in ambassador's country
too long anyway. His troops were like children at this stage,
they couldn't be left alone for long without something happening.
When he'd found them, they'd been like babies, unable to do
anything for themselves. He was proud of the way they were
progressing. Eventually, they'd be good soldiers, if he could
avoid overextending them till they got there.

That's the problem with this kind of corps, he realized suddenly.
No children. None of the boys coming back from leave with a hefty,
smiling toddler to show off, nobody's husband or wife coming around 
the base bringing clean laundry and a laughing young torpedo to
try to play tag with the soldiers or tease to be shown inside one
of the merkavot. 

He didn't understand how a soldier could live without their
family there to support them. He still wasn't sure how he was
managing it. And he had no idea how his troops were taking it.

They might not mind, he realized almost immediately. They're all
more experienced space troopers than I am. They know the routine.
They're not Jews; blood family probably matters a lot less to them.
And after their trauma he could believe that some, at least, would
have a hard time facing their families' sympathy.

In recovery, before they'd been reassigned, the doctors' notes
suggested they'd formed their own family and support. That was
still strong. Sometimes, it threatened to spill over into David
himself, but he suppressed the feeling ruthlessly. He couldn't
afford to get close to them. They wouldn't stand for it, not in
a commanding officer.

He found himself standing in the doorway of the men's barracks,
watching them go through the minor detritus of a day. Krauss was
mending his boot; he could get a new pair easily enough, but it
was a matter of pride for Marines to take nothing from the ship
they could make themselves or do without. Except alcohol, and they
went through enough of that to make hosting a Marine corps a fairly
expensive proposition, David thought wryly. He wasn't going to
stop them; not one had ever yet been drunk on duty. And despite
the fragile nature of his unit, they were one of very few depart-
ments on ship that had not yet caused a major public scene. He
didn't count the thing with O'Greach; that had been O'Greach's 
fault. As most things usually were.

Jim Handy, a big man who was cleaning out his footlocker, looked
up. "Oh, hi David. Something?" Jim came slightly to attention 
even though he was still on his knees on the floor. At the mention
of the CO's name, the rest of the group looked up as well, alert
but not threatened. David hid a smile. Krauss' unit was starting
to trust him, and even Galia's men would use his first name now.

He waved them down. "At ease. Just visiting. You men are a lot
better company than the bigshots at the reception up there."

It was what they wanted to hear, and it drew laughs from many,
grins from most. Handy had lost interest. He was squatting by
his footlocker holding something in his hands, but he no longer
seemed to be working with it. He just held it and did not take
his eyes away.

David stepped over a card game to get to him. "What've you got
there?" he asked, in a tone that made very clear that Handy did
not need to answer if he didn't want to.

The big Marine handed it over without a word, a slightly blurry
holo of a girl of maybe eight or nine. She had shiny brown hair
and glasses, and her braid came down well past the middle of her
back.

"Yours?" David asked mildly. Jim nodded, with a lopsided smile of
pride and longing both. 

"Rebecca -- we call her Becca. She'll be nine in two months."

David handed the holo back. "We'd call her Rivka where I come
from," he said, smiling. "She's a beauty." Jim nodded again,
smile wider but eyes weary.

David whistled for attention from the room. "Listen, everybody,"
he began. For once he wasn't using command-voice. He spoke in
his ordinary voice, he spoke from himself. "Anyone who wants to
call home for ten minutes or so, the Marines will pick up the
bill. Any time in the next few days that you're off duty."

A few of the men murmured; a few looked surprised or pleased or
simply dreamy. Krauss just looked as if he were going over mech-
anics. "What happens if the ship won't cover it, David? It's not
going to bounce back on us later?"

"No," David said firmly. "If the captain won't sanction it, I'll
pay for it myself." The cost would be exorbitant. But he had 
nothing else to spend it on, not now.

Handy had already left, probably searching out a screen and a
comm channel. David left as well, after a minute, to repeat his
announcement to the women. Then, trying not to think about the
possibility of failure, he went to talk to Brennan.

NRPG: 

Brennan: Thanks for letting me know where David was! Your move;
he's on his way to see you.

Fielding: Aww... I *liked* Anne. Galia will be upset. Anyway, yes,
I'm still using the nrivkis@worldnet.att.net address for now. Never
mind the hdavidow that's at the top of this letter; it automatically
puts my father's name in the from field, but I don't read that
account.

Everyone: I'm back! Look for the Marines to get a lot rowdier now
that they're starting to recover.

Respectfully submitted,

Naomi Rivkis
1LT David Shachor
MCO, USS Chesapeake

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