Chapter 4

Carter stood off to the side as she observed her division practice their marching skills. "My division." She thought with a touch of pride and a bit of fear. This assignment was very unusual and more than a little intimidating. Carter had never done anything like this before. She wasn't that far off from training herself. She was a scant two years into her service. Ships received promotions like their human counterparts did. Based on eval scores but the process was much faster. A human could serve 20 years and receive 5 promotions. A ship could earn twice that number. Carter had enlisted as an E3 a Fireman. She had jumped four ranks already. A testament to her skill. Something she kept in mind as she followed her division's movements carefully.

The way ships march is both simple and beautiful. To be "in step" means each ships' propeller turns at the exact same time. Each individual blade needs to hit the same spot in the water column at the same time. Out front they were guided by a Recruit Chief Petty Officer or RPOC. At the moment, Carter had selected a young carrier for the task. She was small still and had much growing up to do but she was more squared away militarily than the others. She called out the directions as best she could. In the back came AROC who sang cadence ensuring each ship stayed in step. No songs were used, that would come later. So numbers were substituted, odd for left, even for right. Going up to 4 then repeating.

Carter kept close, settling into her own rhythm even as she limped to keep up. Her side ached, more than she anticipated but she had a job to do and she would damn well do it. Their barracks were a covered shelter area. One of several on base. Like all the berthings it was named in honor of a famous navy ship and this one was called Triton. Carter felt a flash of pride at seeing the name. Nautilus' firstborn was her grandmother. Her short but storied career was and still is a hot topic in the navy. Carter knew she would have fun quizzing her new division on Triton's history. "I want those seabags unpacked and all items placed on the dock! Then I will show you how to fold and stow them properly. You have 5 minutes! Chop chop!" As the division scrambled to reply, Carter took a station in a large empty berth close enough to observe the activity but far enough away to avoid the bulk of prying eyes.

But not all of them. Traeger had been watching Carter for some time now. She had finished sorting through her stuff ages ago and she could see the submarine looked tired which was understandable. Traeger herself was tired. She couldn't imagine the strength it took to do everything she just did and yell at everyone else while she was doing it. But Traeger was gifted with an inherited nursing skill and a corpsman's eyes despite not choosing the rate herself. She could see the sub was hiding something. Carter leaned on the dock strictly more than necessary, her eyes half closed. A submarine's inherently still nature meant her flanks barely moved even though she was breathing quite heavily. Traeger could see the way her nostrils flared as she struggled to control her breaths. Every time she winced, a simple twinge of her front fins but it was enough of a betrayal from the stoic sub to tell Traeger that Carter was in serious pain. From what exactly remained a mystery. And Traeger was not about to pry. Not yet at least. She understood that Carter was new at this. And resolved to give her some slack. But she also decided to keep one eye on her just in case. Submarines were notoriously stubborn and while Traeger didn't think that Carter would hide and try to push through her own injury she didn't rule the possibility out. Carter may've been a senior chief, many ranks above her and liable to beat her ass without any explanation but that didn't make her any less eligible to be looked after.