Kevin Miller - Raven One

She did look good. If only Camille could see this… The thought of her mother reminded Olive of Camille’s recital stage coaching tips: One foot in front of the other, suck in your tummy, shoulders back, chin up. Never forgetting she was an officer 24/7/365, Olive checked her outfit again and was satisfied it did not cross the line of too much.

After speaking to a stagehand, Olive went back to observing the crowd. Three JOs from the Spartans took the stage to perform a Black Eyed Peas favorite. By playing with her hair and laughing at whatever he said, Psycho had successfully cornered Crusher. The flight attendants were completely surrounded by air wing JOs and were not a factor. Perfect.

After a momentary lull, the DJ’s Filipino accent boomed over the speakers. “An’ now, ladies and gem’men, please welcome, Miss Kristin!”

Smile! Olive thought again of her mother as she took the first step.

Olive walked up and tried to gauge the hushed crowd but could not with the blinding and hot spotlight on her, hearing the whispers as the air wing tried to figure out who this creature was . Unfazed, she grabbed the microphone.

The following day Wilson and the others who had remained behind for duty departed the ship and headed to the rented squadron hotel room, the admin , which the first wave of Raven officers had set up the day before. Wilson enjoyed Dubai, but even with this first Gulf port call of the deployment, he’d been there and done that. Dubai would be here for several more nights before they got underway again, and, no doubt, for several more visits this cruise.

Once off the bus, he and Dutch took a cab to the hotel, admired two Asian women employees in fashionable business suits in the lobby, took an elevator to the 15 thfloor and found their way to the admin. This room, which they had each chipped in for during the port visit, served as a base from which the officers could relax, explore Dubai and, in many cases, spend the night after an evening on the town. When they entered the room, a familiar sight, no matter where the Ravens set up shop, met their eyes.

Sleeping bodies were sprawled across couches and chairs. Some still wore clothes from the night before; one, with his head back and mouth agape, slept on a chair wearing nothing but boxers; and yet another had rolled up in a ball under the desk and covered himself with a sheet stripped from the bed. At first, Wilson couldn’t place the sheet-covered body but soon identified him as Blade.

Empty Fosters beer cans littered the room. Pieces of open luggage and other detritus from the previous night’s activity were strewn about or heaped up on the floor. Room service items cluttered every furniture surface. The curtain to the sliding glass door was open, and sunlight streamed into all corners of the room except into the brains of the “dead bodies” sleeping it off. The squadron drinking flag with the Raven emblem was still flying in proud defiance above them, despite being held aloft by only two of three rings.

Wilson and Dutch walked into the adjoining bedroom. Wilson identified five bodies in the darkened room, two each on the double beds and one on the floor under a blanket. Everything smelled of beer. One of Wilson’s sleeping squadronmates stirred to see who was there. It was Sponge Bob. “Hi, OPSO,” he croaked.

Dutch was quick to roll in on his hungover LSO trainee. “Sponge, did we get a little large last night?”

“Yeeesssss…” he groaned.

“And your impression of Dubai?”

“Needs more water,” Sponge said, rolling over and hoping Dutch would go away.

“No, you need more water. Did you take your aspirin?”

“Noooo.”

“Man, I told you to take a preemptive aspirin and hydrate. You never listen.”

“Yes, Dad,” came the muffled reply from Sponge, face down in his pillow.

One of the “dead bodies” spoke up from the other bed. “Dutch, shut the fuck up or leave, or both.” It was Stretch.

“Paddles, is that you ?” Dutch replied, feigning hurt. “I’m a brother, know the secret handshake, two mike clicks on the ball and all that.” Dutch relished any attention, and, despite his low tone, his voice boomed throughout the suite.

“But today you’re a dick,” Stretch answered.

Sponge added, “ Today he’s a dick?”

“LSO, dick, Dutch, all the same thing.” Clam spoke from under a bedspread.

“Hi, Admin O!” Dutch replied with an exaggerated cheer. “XO was just asking for you before we left the ship. I’m sure there’s a dental readiness report that AIRLANT needs right away, or tomorrow’s plan of the day to be chopped by you. ‘Where’s Lieutenant Commander Morningstar? Where’s Lieutenant Commander Morningstar?’”

“Eat me, Dutch,” Clam mumbled, motionless under the bedspread.

“Glad to see you doing so well, sir! And it’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood — this exotic desert country! Say, any of you guys wanna get up and drink ?”

In unison, and with their heads pounding, the Raven officers pummeled him with obscenities and ordered him to leave. Wilson took it all in with a knowing smile. Same morning-after scene, different port.

As Wilson went back to the living room, the door of the admin opened. Weed entered, saw Wilson, and said, “My brother, how’re things bak sheep ?”

“Fine, where’s the skipper?” Wilson asked.

“CAG rounded up all the COs and XOs to play golf at Dubai Creek. They left at eight… Cajun was huge last night, booming till 0400. I don’t know how he does it.”

“XO was still aboard when we left. Where were you guys last night?”

“The Highlander, and it was amazing. The whole air wing was there.” Now, from across the room, voices of the veterans from the previous evening’s activities, joined in.

“They had this Filipino karaoke band with this smokin’ hot lead singer chick. They were real good, and the place was rockin’,” Blade said as he got up from the floor. “Then they opened it up for volunteers, and Killer, Hondo, and Wanda from the Spartans took the stage and did Pump It . They were damn good. Killer had the rhyme down, and Wanda did this dead-on Fergie impersonation. Even the Filipino chick was impressed.”

Little Nicky took over. “Then from out of nowhere comes Olive. She’s in this black minidress with stiletto heels, hair flowing, makeup. I mean, she looks good —for Olive . We’d been there for hours, but hadn’t seen her all night. Then she takes the stage and does Zombie . Flip, I’m tellin’ ya, nobody moved. We were captivated. She can sing, and she knew how to move on stage. Incredible .”

Prince Charming rolled over and added, “She belted it, especially that last part. You would have sworn it was off the CD.”

Nicky continued. “She finishes, and the place goes nuts . I mean our Olive owned that place, and now the Filipino girl thinks she’s out of a job.”

“Where has she been keeping this?” Wilson chuckled.

“That’s what the CO said,” Nicky replied. “So we’re yelling at the Spartans, ‘You got served!’ And we’re trying to find Olive, and she disappeared. Gone.”

“Where’d she go?”

“Dunno. I guess back to her admin … She and Psycho went in on a cathouse someplace.”

“I knew under that zoombag and hair bun was a hammer,” Dutch chimed in.

“Still a head case though,” someone shouted from the other room.