SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

"Yeah, we noticed," the captain said. "But maybe they do know you’ve cracked their codes and this is a trap. We’ve been doing a lot of damage to their merchant fleet. They must be looking for ways to kill more of our subs."

"I’m not here for a conference, Captain," Markey said. "You have your orders."

"I’ve got a question," the XO said.

Markey looked up at him. "Yes?"

"Let’s suppose this kraken is real," the XO drawled, "and as powerful as you say it is. How come the Japs haven’t already woken it up and sicced it on us?"

"The people of Japan live on a collection of small islands surrounded by the entire Pacific Ocean," Markey said. "Most of their mythology tells of how dangerous the sea and its inhabitants can be. They live with that danger every day. The Japanese aren’t going to risk waking the monsters under their bed." She turned back to the captain. "But we can."

"Okay, fine," the captain said. "If the Japs are busy fighting off this kraken, they’re not making war on us. Good plan. But we have to find the damn thing first."

Markey smiled. "That’s why I’m here, Captain."

Lieutenant Markey insisted on using the head right after leaving the control room. I didn’t understand why she would need to piss when it had been only minutes since she’d left the comfort of Main Navy. There was no privacy door for the toilet, so I stood in front of Markey with my back turned while she squatted. My body also blocked the sound of her voice when she spoke.

"So how long have you been using that glamour, Miss Hatcher?"

My stomach leapt into my throat and my heart rate must have tripled. I was glad she couldn’t see my face. "I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m not sure what you mean."

"Please. I know a conjured disguise when I see one. Can I give you some advice?"

My fear soured to irritation. "Can I stop you, ma’am?"

"You need better scent concealment," Markey said. "I’m guessing that’s a fake bandage on your hand, to explain the smell of blood, right? But that trick won’t work every month. And you don’t want to get a reputation for being clumsy."

My hands were both behind my back, at parade rest, and I fidgeted with my bandaged left palm. "Do you have a suggestion, ma’am? Other than dousing myself with cheap cologne?"

"Yes." Markey stood and flushed. "But we should talk in private."

The COB wasn’t happy about giving up his quarters for our visitor, but the captain refused to have a woman sharing rack space with a bunch of sailors. I wondered what he would do if he ever found out the truth about me.

Markey interrupted the COB as he and I were preparing to carry his personal effects to a temporary bunk. "Excuse me, Master Chief. I’d like to speak to Seaman Hatcher alone."

I winced. The COB looked from Markey to me and back again, his eyes wide. I had no doubt I’d get a good yelling-at later. "Of course, ma’am." He glared at me. "You know where to find me, Seaman."

"Aye, COB," I said. He shut the door behind him.

I turned back to Markey, who was already making herself comfortable on the COB’s bed. She kicked off her shoes and rubbed the soles of her feet.

"With all due respect, ma’am," I said, "I’m trying to not call attention to myself here—"

"Relax," Markey said. "I’m just a crazy dame from Washington. They won’t suspect anything. Now."

She reached into her wavy hair and pulled out a bobby pin. Then she twisted the metal—it looked like copper—until it became an impossible shape, and even I could see the energy rippling off its surface like a heat mirage.

"You’re using a visual glamour," she said. "This will extend the illusion to mask odors. Just keep it in contact with your skin at all times."

She held out the object and I took it with a trembling hand. If Lieutenant Markey could turn a bobby pin into a charged talisman, and if the Navy had sent her, alone, to locate a kraken, she would be one hell of a powerful friend to have.

She also scared the shit out of me. People who seem too competent always make me nervous.

"Thank you, ma’am," I said. "This is—I mean, I don’t know how I can repay you." What I really meant was: I don’t know why you’re helping me.

"Well," Markey said, "you can start by finding me some trousers and boots. I don’t plan to spend the next two weeks showing off my legs."

"Yes, ma’am." I tucked the hairpin under the bandage wrapped around my left hand. "If there’s nothing else?"

Markey looked at me with dark, unfathomable eyes. "Tell me how you ended up here."

"In the Navy?" That was easy: I wanted to kill Japs. I tried to think of a nicer way to say it.

"On the Bowfin ," she said.

I frowned. "I didn’t exactly get to choose my posting."

Markey shook her head. "Why disguise yourself as a man?"

I should have figured she’d ask that. "I knew Uncle Sam wouldn’t let a girl do any real fighting. And that’s bullshit. Pardon my French."

"Why do you want to fight?"

"You’re kidding, right?" I gaped at her. "They attacked us! Stabbed their damn aluminum planes through the Pacific defense screens and into Pearl Harbor. I was born in Honolulu. When I saw the photos—all that black smoke filling our sky—I hated them. I wanted revenge, I’m not afraid to say it."

I felt my hands shaking, and I folded my arms to hide them. "Not to mention their Nazi pals are killing or enslaving their way through all of Europe. If we don’t stop the Axis, ma’am, they’re going to take over the world, and I don’t want to live in that world."

Markey nodded and seemed to relax. "Sorry to interrogate you like that, Hatcher, but I’m never sure whether to trust people in disguise."

"Yeah, well, we can’t all look like movie stars."

"Don’t imagine for a second that makes things any easier for me," she snapped. "And I will thank you to address me as Lieutenant or ma’am , Seaman Hatcher."

I looked down at the floor, my face warm. "Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am."

"This is not a costume I’m wearing." Markey touched her uniform. "I earned my rank. I had to fight to get this job, and I fight every day to keep it.

"Yes, there are advantages to men finding you beautiful, but that perception also limits you. They think all you are is a pretty face and a nice body. They only care about what they can see." She shrugged. "But I don’t have to tell you how appearances can be deceiving."

"No, ma’am."

Markey sighed. "What you’re doing now is very brave, Hatcher. But when this war is over, you’ll have to go back home—back to being a woman. Have you thought about how you’re going to handle that?"

"Well, ma’am, since most of my time in the Navy’s been spent cleaning one thing or another, I expect I’ll be well trained to be a housewife." My words came out sounding more bitter than I intended.

"You have the talent, Hatcher," Markey said. "More than that, you clearly have the will. These two things are powerful in combination."

This conversation was becoming very uncomfortable. "With all due respect, ma’am, why the hell do you care? You don’t even know me."

Markey stood and walked over to me. "I won’t be pretty forever. I’ll get old, and men won’t want me anymore. But this?" She held up a hand, then snapped her fingers to create an illusory flame bobbing in midair. "The talent will be with me until the day I die. And to know that, to have that and not use it for something good—that would be such a waste."

I couldn’t decipher the expression on her face. Was she feeling some misplaced maternal pity for me? Or did she have another agenda?

After a moment, I decided I really didn’t care.