The Cruise

Her airwing was deployed on the USS John C. Stennis in the Persian Gulf, when one night the phone in her stateroom rang and it was the CAG wanting to see her immediately, in the Intel Center. She dressed quickly in khakis and headed to the meeting. When she keyed in her passcode to enter the secure space, she knew something bad was afoot. Not only was the Carrier Air Group Commander outside of her office, but the ship's Chaplain also was there as well. 'Shit' she thought, 'This is a really bad sign.'

The Senior Petty Officer on duty brought them all coffee as Janice opened her office for them. The CAG, a crusty older (by only three-years) fighter pilot named Dennis Johnson, call sign 'Bingo' asked her to sit down as he dragged the other chair in the small space next to her and said, "Janice, something bad has happened and Comms (the ship's communications center) just received an American Red Cross message," and offered a printed message to her.

She didn't exactly remember what happened after that. She knew she hadn't fainted or blacked out. Like the flipping of a light switch, she just couldn't remember.

Later, she was told that she started yelling, screaming, and cursing. Bingo and the Chaplain had to struggle with her to calm her down and medical was called to send a Corpsman with a sedative. When she came back to her senses, she was in sickbay, in a curtained area of the main ward. When they told her later what happened, she was appalled she had acted that way.

She had etched the AmCross message into memory and knew the wording from heart, after having read it a million times on the way home from the ship. Jace and members of his team had been deployed to Afghanistan on a special mission and the helicopter they had been aboard had crashed, with everyone aboard perishing in the mishap.

After his funeral in which he was laid to rest with full honors at Arlington National Cemetery, the Navy gave her the time she needed to grieve. While she was home, she decided she would transfer from active duty to the reserves. She called the Admiral who oversaw Naval Intelligence. He owed her a favor and she was calling it in. He arranged for her to be assigned to the Reserve Detachment at Dam Neck and serve as the command's reserve det CO. She found a full-time job as the Analytics Director for an up-and-coming IT firm in Virginia Beach. Lastly, she bought a beach house along the Chesapeake Bay and tried to start over.

It took some effort to make the transition to the private sector. She continued to work out and rock climb to stay fit, to combat the grief. She discovered what she dubbed her guilty pleasure to enjoy -- the 'reality show,' Survivor. She binge-watched the many years of the show and was an avid follower, in prime time. She came to associate the challenges of the survival show, with her quest of becoming a mother. She tried several sessions of invitro, all for naught.

Her big brothers stayed in contact with her, to ensure she was well cared-for. That's what SEALs did for the members of their family. Try as she might, she couldn't get any of them to help fulfill her dream. Many of those she had known back in the day had gotten married and had established families of their own. The rest were still too immature to take on the actual responsibility of parenting.

She had recently been promoted to Captain and had arranged this cruise as the last-ditch effort in her quest. Like a good intelligence analyst, she had begun journaling her ovulation cycles. She had planned this vacation so that she would be at the best day to make a baby and that was today. In her quest to become a mother she had maintained rigorous workouts to stay healthy, watched her diet and had even stopped drinking alcohol or caffeine of any kind. She had planned to get completely shit-faced and let some young stud fuck her brains out.

All those plans changed; however, when she saw Captain Richards. It was then she remembered his words, "Please let me know if I can do anything to help you, in the future. You're still one of my officers."

She sat up and began gathering her things, a plan began forming in her mind, she took a soft beach towel and tied it around her slim waist and knotted the end. She remembered he had been a very honorable man. At the same time, she wondered at how progressive he had become in the twenty-years since she had last seen him. "All I can do is ask," she said, as she stood and placing the strap of her gym bag over her shoulder, began walking toward the Purser's Desk on the Main Deck.

As she passed one of the many bars on the open deck, she muttered with a grimace, "There's always plan B."

Weaving her way through the crowded open deck, with its many families and groups having fun in the sun gave her a chance just to enjoy a leisurely stroll. This was nothing like being stationed on a destroyer or even an aircraft carrier. None of these people would hopefully ever have to experience that sense of separation. That level of stress.

She rode the escalator down to the main deck and wearing a pleasant smile approached the Purser's Desk, which was a bustle of activity. Smiling even more, this was a perfect time to practice another SEAL trick Jace had taught her.

Patiently waiting her turn she pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. Stepping up to the desk, she greeted a harried Purser with a cheerful, "How are you, today," and smiling as sweetly as she could, she slightly thrust her chest forward just enough, as she leaned on the counter.

The Purser was surprised that someone was speaking to him politely and offered to help her.

Janice shot a glance at his uniform shirt and saw his name was Miguel and said, "Miguel, my friends the Richards told me they are having dinner with the Captain, tonight. I wanted to meet them for drinks, afterwards. Can you tell me their seating time?"

She went on explain that she forgot after having several of the ship's wonderful drinks by the pool and didn't want to embarrass herself. Batting her blue-gray eyes several times, to hopefully prompt his assistance.

Miguel politely said, "Happens all the time, ma'am," in heavily accented English.

He called up the information on his computer screen and told her that Michael and Sharon Richards were scheduled for the formal main seating, at 6:00 pm. He also apologized that there were no other seats at the captain's table but offered her a seat at another table. She politely accepted and selected a table that wasn't too far from them.

She thanked him and as she was turning to leave, a small inflatable ball hit her on the side of her head, catching her off-guard and knocking her shades off. Turning in the direction the ball came from was a little girl of no more than five years-old, in a bright pink two-piece bathing suit, blonde hair in ponytails and arm floaties. Her young mother, carrying a load of beach items and toys was horrified. "Carrie," she scolded, "Watch what you're doing!"

Janice knelt to retrieve her glasses and the ball, as the little girl came tottling up to her. The mother was beside herself with apologies and asking her to forgive them.

"It's fine," Janice said with a good-natured smile and handed the ball to Carrie.

"Look mommy," said the girl pointing to Janice's arm and exclaimed, "Tinkerbell has a gun!"

Carrie examined her tattoo closely and then looking at Janice with big blue eyes, asked, "Why does Tinkerbell have a gun?"

Janice smiled and brushing the tip of the little girl's button nose with her finger said with a smile, "To protect you and all the other kids from the bad guys."

After Dinner That Evening...

"Who the hell was that Michael," demanded Sharon, as they entered their cabin.

Sharon was upset that her husband had been clearly shaken by the encounter. He plopped onto the couch of their cabin's sitting area and loosened the bow tie of his tuxedo and Sharon sat down beside him and reached around him with a hand to clasp his shoulder and draw him close. She had never seen her strong and steady husband so distraught. They remained in silence for several minutes. During that time Sharon's thought went back to the wonderful evening they had been enjoying up to that point.

On their way back to their cabin from the Sports Pool, they had passed several shops and one of them sold very lovely and expensive necklaces, earrings, and other bling. Michael steered her in that direction and said he wanted to give her something nice, to remember their honeymoon. Although she didn't normally wear a lot of jewelry, he told her money was no object and she could select anything she wanted. She jokingly said, "Never tell a girl 'money is not an object,' especially when you take them to a jewelry store!"

They spent an hour browsing, as she tried on various necklaces and earring sets. Finally settling on something that would go nicely with the formal she was planning to wear that evening. She thanked him for the gift and as the clerk processed the payment, he hugged her and said softly, "No amount of money is worth more to me than your happiness," and kissed her deeply.

Later, as they dressed, she asked him to zip up her dress and then put on the necklace. After he did so, he patted and rubbed her bottom and admired how the necklace caught the light and laid above her amazing cleavage, observing, "You look amazing," as he kissed the nape of her bare neck.

She reached a hand back to stroke the crotch of his pants and cooed wickedly, "Olive Oil has a reward for Popeye, later tonight," and turned to kiss him.

On parting their embrace, she turned and dabbed on a bit of make-up and put on the earrings, while Michael donned his cummerbund and jacket. Then she helped him pin his miniature gold SWO pin and command star to the lapel of the jacket.

Once dressed they stepped back to admire each other. He in his black tux and her in a deep blue, long formal dress with a hem that brushed her high heels. The neckline's plunge was tasteful yet inviting and a side slit that exposed just enough of her long, shapely legs. Then, Sharon took out her phone to take a selfie of them, to send to her daughter, Sheri.

Michael put their key card in the inner pocket of his jacket and out the door they went. They arrived at the main dining room, just as the doors were opening. Large and small groups of passengers in formal dress, from conservative to gaudy filed in and found their table sets for dinner and the immense main ballroom soon became filled with the din of conversation and revelry. As they were entering, Sharon thought she saw someone in what appeared to be a formal naval dinner dress uniform. A petite, blonde, wearing white and black with four bands of gold braid on the sleeves of her jacket and numerous miniature medals on the lapel of her jacket. From seeing Michael's uniforms, she knew that she was a Navy Captain.

She was going to bring it up with Michael, but he led her to the Captain's table and found they had the fortune of sitting to his right and immediately became engaged in conversations with their tablemates, who were arriving as well. She took a seat and looked around the room, while chatting with the other guests who were taking their seats, to dine with the liner's Commanding Officer.

The main dining room was one of the largest spaces on the liner and could easily accommodate several hundred guests. It was ornately decorated in white and gold, with crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and deep red carpet covering the floor. All the tables were adorned with fine china, crystal stemware and crisp linen table clothes and napkins. She found the pretty blonde Captain, seated in the right center of the room at a table with several older couples. A smiling waiter soon arrived with a pitcher of ice water and offered her a glass, which she gratefully accepted and sipped at.

As the vessel's Captain entered the room, with his other officers in their formal uniforms, the assembled guests stood and gave them a round of applause. The Captain and First Officer personally greeted everyone at the Captain's table with a polite handshake for the men and gentle hugs for the women. Taking their seats, Michael gave the Captain a firm handshake. Introducing Sharon and himself, he thanked the Captain for inviting them to dine with him.

As they enjoyed a wonderful multi-course meal, The Captain asked Michael about his experiences in the Navy and answered Michael's questions about the ship. Sharon joined into the conversation when Michael told the Captain they ran a non-profit organization. She enjoyed a few sips of the various wines but didn't want to overdue things and she noticed Michael was doing the same.

Before dessert was served, the Allure's Captain rose and offered a toast. Sharon was certain this was part of a script that he had memorized, but it was a touching oratory on friendship and good spirits. With that several tremendous baked Alaska were wheeled out and set aflame with rum, to everyone's applause. The event was over after the dessert was served and soon the crowds slowly began to thin. Most of the guests were likely heading to the casinos, shows or nighttime gathering locations around the expansive ship. While Michael and several other guests stood talking, she let him know she needed to excuse herself.

When she returned from the rest room, she saw Michael was talking with the pretty blonde Captain. As they were talking, her husband appeared stunned and seeing her approach, quickly said a goodbye. He turned and began walking toward her and when they met, Michael indicated he wanted to leave and putting a hand on her hip, steered her toward the salon's main doors. She had tried to ask several questions as they boarded the elevator, but he said they would talk when they got to their room. He clearly looked shaken.

"Michael," she repeated, as they sat on the sofa in their cabin, "Who was that Captain you were talking to?"

Clearing his throat, he said in a husky voice that was full of emotion, "Her name is Janice Monroe, and I knew her as an Ensign on the Mahan."

He went onto describe how she along with Karen Carter were the first two female officers to serve on the ship and that she had run into a spot of trouble. "I gave her career a second chance by having her transferred."

"Wow," She said and remarked, "Well if she's a Captain, obviously that second chance worked. Right?"

"I guess," he agreed, his voice trailing off as her rubbed his chin, starring at the night through the open glass wall of their stateroom.

She had never seen her husband act like this before. He was always so confident and assertive. Quietly joyful. Now he bordered on being a nervous wreck. Comforting him, she implored, "Michael, what has gotten you so upset about seeing this officer who used to work for you?"

Clearing his throat again, he looked at her and said deadpan, "She wants me to help her get pregnant."

A Wish Granted...

She had walked the main deck thinking about the dinner and what happened afterwards, for about an hour. Several obliviots gave her wolf whistles of approval and one intoxicated gentleman had made the slurred comment, "Goddamn, the captains of these boats are getting prettier all the time."

She ignored the cat calls but did thank the drunk for his compliment.

She enjoyed the balmy evening and paused for a moment to gaze at the remnants of the sunset. She thought the dinner had gone quite well. Giving a quiet chuckle, she was particularly impressed with her self-control. She had been working on her speech etiquette in preparation for the cruise and only let one 'fuck' and a couple of 'shits' slip her lips, as she chatted with her tablemates.

She had been seated with three other couples and this single elderly lady, named Maggie. Maggie had also made a comment that their captain was a lot prettier than the ship's commander, which caused her to blush -- an exceedingly rare event indeed, she thought. She then thanked her for the compliment. The other couples were a group of friends from a senior living community in Los Angeles.

All of them were curious about what she did in the Navy, and she provided her pat answers about working in the intel community. She commented that she had worked with the SecOps teams. One of the husbands, a jovial, bear of a man with a grey beard and handlebar mustache, she thought his name was Chuck, made the comment that he had served in the Green Berets, in Vietnam and had retired from the Army as a Command Master Sergeant. She raised her glass of water and toasted his service.

While they dined, the ladies asked her about some of her medals. Afterwards, Maggie asked, "What's the gold star for?" She was referring to the only non-uniform ornament she regularly wore to formal functions. It was a small circular gold pin, with a star on a purple field and surrounded by a wreath of gold leaves that she had pinned to her left jacket lapel.

Before she could answer Chuck responded, "Ma'am, that's a Gold Star pin and it's given to someone who lost a family member in combat."

The table got briefly quiet and then Chuck's wife, Patty, reached over and patted her hand and said, "We're sorry for your loss."

She dabbed her eyes with her napkin and expressed her thanks. She then told everyone that it was her husband, who had died and that he had been a SEAL. Chuck raised his wine glass and saluted her, and everyone followed suite.

During the dinner, she maintained control on her appetite and didn't over-indulge. All the while engaging in pleasant conversation, but using her fieldcraft to observe the Richards, who were sitting at the Captain's Table. She silently thanked Jace for the lessons he had taught her. Although Sharon had glanced her way a few times, Michael it seemed had yet to notice her.

When dinner was finished and as she stood to leave, Chuck came around the table and offered her his hand. She shook it and he reached into his suit jacket and withdrew a business card.

"Captain... Janice, please take this card," he implored, "It's a contact card for a Spec Ops family grief helpline I volunteer with."

She thanked him and asked if she could give him a hug. He gratefully accepted and standing on her tip toes embraced him tightly and kissed his hairy cheek. He gave her a gentle hug in return. She then looked for the appropriate time to approach Captain Richards and spotted it, when she saw his wife had left, walking in the direction of the ladies' room.

Now having finished her walk, Janice was now sitting on the couch in her cabin when her phone vibrated and chimed softly. She picked it up and said, "Hello."

It was Captain Richards. "Hi, Janice," he said, and asked, "Can you give us about 30-minutes and come up to our stateroom?"

He chatted with her briefly and she said, she too needed to change. He said that would be fine and gave her their deck and stateroom number.

She felt like a castaway on Survivor, waiting to go before the jury on the last tribal of a very rough season. She reached into her bag and withdrew her tablet and powered it on. Clicking on the app that she used to track her ovulation to study for the hundredth time that day -- or so it seemed. She had been doing it religiously for the past several months, as she conducted her personal intelligence analysis. Verifying the data, it showed that sometime during this day an egg had been released from her ovaries and was just waiting for a sperm party.

She stood and walked over to the bed of the modest size cabin, undressed, and hung her formal wear in the closet. She stripped off her underwear and slipped on black spandex shorts with a snap of the clinging synthetic material that rode low on her hips, she began assembling her argument as to why she should be the sole survivor.