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The XO pulled out a cigar. They were selling Cubans on the pier. He probably got it there. He looked up the dock and saw that they were getting ready to fuel the ship. He cursed and placed the cigar back in his breast pocket. “Come on, Victoria, I ain’t got all day. Get your civvies on. Let’s get out of here. We all need to have a stiff drink tonight.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright. I guess it’s time for our mandatory fun.”

* * *

While Victoria wasn’t excited about hanging out with the captain, she had to admit that the meal was excellent. Steak and lobster at one of the best local restaurants, and as an appetizer, the most delicious ceviche she’d ever tasted. They hadn’t stayed out long. The duty van brought them back almost as soon as their meal was done.

Now, the captain, Victoria, and the XO sat at a picnic table about one hundred yards down the pier from where the USS Farragut was parked. The captain wanted to smoke his cigar before they got back on the ship.

She had no objections. There was a distinct pull that all seafaring men felt. Whenever in port, it was best to be off the ship.

The captain removed two more cigars and handed them to the XO and her.

“No, thank you, sir.”

“Suit yourself.”

She was a little tipsy from the wine from dinner. “Oh, what the hell. Pass it over. I don’t think I’ve had a cigar since college.”

The XO smiled. “This stuff is the secret to happiness.”

The rich, pungent aroma of Cuban tobacco filled the air.

The captain began, “Alright, folks, here it is.”

She had wondered when he would get down to business. It had been all small talk and football over dinner. A few sea stories. But oddly, nothing about what was coming up. And nothing about the mysterious visit from Chase and the other commander.

“We’re going to get underway tomorrow afternoon.”

The captain turned to the XO. “When we get back on board in a few minutes, tell the officer of the deck to cancel all leave and liberty starting at zero eight hundred tomorrow. Once people return, they are to stay aboard. I don’t even want people getting off the ship to go to the vendors. Air Boss, you are to start drilling your aircrew for multimission operations. XO, I want a general quarters, unannounced, right at lunchtime tomorrow.”

“While we’re ashore, Captain?”

“Yes.”

Victoria said, “Sir, what exactly does ‘multimission operations’ mean?”

The captain shrugged. “Hell if I know. Everything, I guess. You’re the aviator.”

Victoria wasn’t sure if she should admit that Chase had given her any hints, but she had to try and get more information. “Sir, is there a mission packet for me?”

The captain eyed her. “There is. But my instructions were to leave it in my safe unless we get told to open it.”

Victoria said nothing.

The XO said, “Sir, may I ask what’s going on?”

The captain took a puff from his cigar and slowly exhaled. “I wish I could tell you, XO, but to be quite honest, other than the geographic box they want us to stay in, I don’t really know.”

* * *

Juan watched in amusement as Plug lost his shirt. The night started off innocently enough. The four pilots had gone to their hotel — the Marriot — in Panama City. The other two junior pilots were both married and immediately attempted every possible method of communicating with their families. With much of the Internet’s functionality still seriously damaged from the attacks of a few weeks ago, all video chat options — normally a mainstay of liberty stops — were out of the question. That meant that they had to call via good old-fashioned telephone.

Juan would have been happy to just grab a meal and hang out by the hotel’s outdoor pool, relaxing in the seventy-five-degree December weather in Panama.

But Plug had other plans. He wasn’t married, but he was always looking. And he was a HAC. A Helicopter Aircraft Commander. Aside from Victoria, Plug was the only other HAC on this deployment. So inside the aircraft, he was in charge when flying with one of the junior pilots. He was a rank higher than the three junior pilots but treated them as peers when they were out of the cockpit. Unless it suited his needs to pull rank — say, for instance, if he wanted to go out drinking, and others didn’t.

In a way, the social structure resembled high school. Juan and the other junior pilots were like freshmen, and Plug was like a senior. It was cool to hang out with a senior, if given the opportunity. So Juan agreed to go “out on the town” with Plug.

What could go wrong?

When Plug finished off a twelve pack of beers before they even left the hotel room, Juan began to wonder if perhaps he had made the wrong decision.

Several hours of bars, “exclusive nightclubs,” and casinos later, Juan sat nursing an ice water, exhausted. They were in a private poker room at the Casino Panama. Throughout the night, it had become apparent that Juan was going to be Plug’s babysitter. As Juan saw it, Plug was going to drink, smoke, and hit on as many women as he could until he either self-destructed or passed out.

Juan looked at him and shook his head. Plug had just reraised the ante at his table before they had even dealt the cards. This was a faux pas in a friendly game of poker, let alone the high-roller table he sat at now. Plug had finagled his way into a seat at this private game.

“Sir, please wait until it is your turn,” said the dealer in heavily accented English.

Plug scraped his chips back to the pile in front of him.

The other players all seemed to know each other. Juan could tell because they were having friendly conversations in Spanish together. Plug could barely understand English in his current drunken stupor, so he was at what one might call a disadvantage.

Juan was pretty sure the other players were colluding, although they didn’t have to. Plug was quite capable of giving away all of his money without any help. Several times he had even shown his cards by accident. A mix of groans and laughter erupted from the table each time.

“Sir, are you with him?” The man who spoke to Juan looked like the manager.

“Unfortunately.”

“I’m afraid that we’ll have to ask him to leave after this hand.”

“I understand. Thanks,” said Juan.

Juan went up and tapped Plug on the shoulder.

He turned and looked surprised. “Juan! What are you doing here?”

“I’ve been with you all night.”

“Tremendous! Have a seat. We were just playing cards. Me and my new buddies.”

Juan glanced up at the table. A few waved at him. Juan said, “Plug, man, listen, we need to go after this.”

Plug looked serious. “Got it.” He turned to the dealer and said, “All in.”

“Señor, you just folded.”

“Okay, next hand, then.”

The dealer shot Juan a look.

Juan tried another tactic. “Hey, Plug, I know a place where we can get some really good pizza near the hotel.”

Really?

“Yeah, come on.”

He turned back to the dealer. “Sorry, guys, I gotta run.”

Smiles and waves. Card sharks loved drunks and amateurs more than they loved aces.

Once outside the casino, they ran into a horde of enlisted sailors from the ship. They were hailing cabs, about to head back to the pier. Only the E-5s and above were allowed overnights.

Plug yelled, “Hey! I know you guys! Say, you guys wanna have some fun?”

Juan tried to steer Plug away, but it was too late. Some of the sailors, happy to laugh at a drunken officer and pilot, replied in the affirmative.

As the sailors got into their cabs, Plug took out a wad of cash from his wallet, handing what must have been two hundred American dollars to each cab driver.