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them.
    “They didn’t want to miss the big show,” Brodie explained, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
    COB watched his friend as Brodie continued to stare out to sea. COB knew something was troubling him. Up until recently, COB had chalked it up to this being Brodie’s last patrol. With each day gone there was one less day of command he would have. But recently, COB had become worried by Brodie’s increasing isolation. The two of them used to spend hours on the bridge when in port, sipping coffee and talking about nearly anything. But his captain had become increasingly moody, and their morning routine was no longer a given.
    “How did she look?” Brodie asked, breaking the silence.
    COB hadn’t expected the question. He knew Brodie took a personal interest in the welfare of everyone aboard, but assumed he’d already dismissed their hungover lieutenant. She was hardly the first young officer to return to ship drunk, and COB hoped she wouldn’t be the last. “She looks like she’s been out all night partying,” he replied honestly, watching Brodie out of the corner of his eyes as his friend exhaled a great flood of thoughts instead of speaking them as usual.
    “I imagine she’ll finally get a good night sleep,” COB added, hoping to provoke Brodie to respond more than with a brief nod or a short quip. “But I think this might take more than just a one night’s drunk.” There was still no response from Brodie, and COB watched him for a few more seconds, not even certain his long-time friend was listening. “She hides it well, but I think she’s still pretty shaky.”
    “Wouldn’t you be?” Brodie asked pointedly.
    “Maybe,” COB admitted. “But I think this might be a little more than some combat fatigue.”
    “What’re you talking about?”
    COB didn’t immediately answer, not certain if Kristen would appreciate him saying anything.
    But Brodie insisted. “Spike?”
    COB wished he’d kept his mouth shut. He shook his head in anger with himself. “Her father,” he said simply, “I knew him.”
    “So?” Brodie asked. “What’s her father got to do with what she’s been through?”
    “Maybe you should ask her.” COB felt like he was betraying an unspoken trust.
    “I’m asking you.” An edge had returned to Brodie’s voice, something COB had heard a thousand times but never directed toward him. Brodie clearly didn’t understand what COB was driving at.
    COB hesitated, cursing himself for not keeping his mouth shut. But he’d never held anything from Brodie before, even though he hated revealing what he knew of Kristen’s past. She was one of the two finest Nubs he’d ever seen. Brodie had been the other.
    “Spike?” Brodie pressed in the direct and special way only he could.
    COB lowered his voice and then said softly, “Her father and I served together on the Memphis nearly twenty years ago.”
    COB saw that Brodie, who’d been preoccupied all morning, was now listening intently. COB again glanced about the sail to make certain he wasn’t being overheard by someone who’d climbed up without his knowledge. “I didn’t know him well. I was a junior petty officer in engineering, and he was the Sonar Chief.” COB hesitated again, feeling he’d already said too much. “Sir, maybe you should talk to her about this.”
    “Dammit, Spike,” Brodie demanded harshly, “what happened?”
    COB looked at Brodie with a hint of surprise, not accustomed to Brodie displaying such emotion. “All right,” COB relented. “We were in New London, just back from a patrol. One morning her father wasn’t in formation,” he explained uncomfortably. “Well, like I said, I didn’t know him too well. I’d seen him around the boat, but we didn’t know one another…”
    “What happened?” Brodie asked with a growing seriousness in his voice.
    “The Chief of The Boat and a couple of petty officers from the sonar shack drove out to the apartment he had off base.” COB lowered his voice