Peter David: Battleship

Slowly Stone looked around the apartment, surveying the visual record of his and Hopper’s life together. The living room was lined with photographs that sent such a distinct message to what their futures would be that it was hard to believe the current situation was anything other than inevitable. There were the young Hoppers, ready to go trick-or-treating. Stone was dressed as a cop; Alex was a burglar. There they were as teens, standing on either side of their father, who was dressed in his crisp Navy whites. Stone Hopper was standing at proud attention; Alex Hopper was standing with his shoulders slumped, looking vaguely bored. There was Stone, having just graduated Annapolis, his arm around Hopper. Alex was smiling, but not into the camera. Instead he was looking off to the side and Stone remembered that a gorgeous redhead had been walking past.

It was literally the story of their lives, ever since they were kids.

What was it that Einstein said? The definition of “insanity” was doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result .

Something had to change. And it had to change immediately.

Stone heard the sloshing of water in the bathroom. Hopper was soaking in an ice bath, trying to prevent swelling and numb the pain.

He called to Hopper, “I told Tony that you’re gonna pay Maxine double for all the damage. Double .”

“The little witch,” Hopper’s muttered response came back to him. “Mean… nasty…”

“Hey!” Stone bounded up from the couch and headed toward the bathroom.

Hopper gazed at him through bleary eyes. His lips were starting to turn blue. If he stayed in there another ten minutes, he’d look like a Smurf. “It was her fault in the first place,” he said defensively. “I was a paying customer. She threatened to pepper spray me. What kind of business model is that? If she’d just—”

“She was within her rights to go home! You were not within your rights to break into her store! Let me say that again: You broke into her store! ” Stone was amazed at his brother’s attitude. “She presses charges and you’re in jail for at least six months! I talked her out of it, and all you can do is blame her? Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorry.” Hopper winced in response to Stone’s escalating volume. “But could you please talk a little quieter?”

If there was one thing that Stone had no patience for at that moment, it was his brother’s hangover. He fought to keep his voice steady. “That girl you were trying to impress—her father runs the whole damned fleet. Rear Admiral Shane. So now you’re messing with my job.”

Instantly all his aches and pains were forgotten. Hopper looked up at Stone with renewed interest. “The burrito girl?” He could not have sounded more excited if Stone had told him that the secrets of the universe had been revealed to him. Actually he probably would have been less excited over that prospect. “You know the burrito girl ?”

“Y’know, Hopper, you can be so freaking single-minded…” He shook his head. “If you could just, for once, devote that single-mindedness to something worthwhile… God, you could go anywhere. Do anything. Instead…”

“Sorry to be such a disappointment,” said Hopper. Which would have annoyed the hell out of his older brother except, somewhat to Stone’s surprise, Hopper really did sound somewhat contrite. More so than he ever had before, at any rate.

Something has to change…

Naked and bruised, Hopper pulled himself out of the ice bath. He moaned softly as he reached for a large towel and wrapped it around his middle. Every step he took was an exercise in agony, his body screaming at him over the way he’d abused it in the past twenty-four hours.

Hopper stumbled into the living room and then flopped onto the couch that doubled as his bed. “Pants,” he said groggily.

Stone ignored the request. If Hopper put on pants, there was nothing to impede his departing, and he needed to hear what Stone had to say. He stood over his younger brother, his arms folded across his chest. “Here’s the deal, Hopper. I’ve stayed out of your business for the last five years. I’ve watched you throw away every opportunity, every job, every break. You’ve got sixty-five dollars to your name, a car that does not start, you’re living on my couch…”

Hopper pulled a pillow over his head. From beneath it, his muffled voice said, “You know where I can find that girl? That admiral’s daughter?”

This was a typical Hopper approach to situations that he didn’t want to deal with. He would try to change the subject, or send Stone completely off track. Not this time . Stone summoned his best impression of their father, adopting the tone with which he would speak to his sons when he’d become completely fed up with whatever stupidity they’d gotten themselves into. Something has to change . “As of now,” he said sharply, “as of right this second, there’s a new dynamic at play. This dynamic is the following.” He held up his hand and started ticking off the points on his fingers. “From here on out, until I state otherwise, there is no more debate. No more discussion. No more compromise. There is, from here on out, me speaking and you listening. Me saying and you doing. It’s time for a new course of action. A new direction. A game change.”

Slowly Hopper emerged from under the pillow. He looked wearily at his brother. “What did you have in mind?”

Without a word Stone pointed at the tattoo on his arm.

“You’re kidding,” said Hopper.

“Do I look like I’m kidding? First we get you a proper haircut because, as much as enlistments may be down, I’m not entirely sure they’d take you looking like the slob that you are.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“Second, we get you inked up.”

Hopper looked uncertainly at his brother’s anchor. “Navy requires tattoos these days?”

“No, I’m requiring it. Think of it as a promissory note. Or a reaffirmation of brotherhood. Or proof that you’re serious about making changes.”

“Who said I’m serious about it?”

“ I did. Because this is it, Hopps. This is the bottom line for you. One way or the other, you’re out of here. And it’s either into the arms of the Navy or it’s out into the street.”

“You’d do that to your own brother?”

“That’s nothing compared to what you’ve done to yourself.”

Hopper seemed as if he was about to fire off a response, but then he gave it a moment’s thought. “Touché,” he said reluctantly. Slowly he sat up and stared wearily at Stone. It was as if the fight had been knocked out of him.

Still, Stone felt uncomfortable. If all he did was force Hopper into doing this, then how much commitment was his brother likely to have to it? He could easily go AWOL, try to desert. Considering how he routinely screwed up everything, there was a tremendous likelihood that he’d wind up getting caught and sent to prison. How much good would Stone be doing his brother if his actions led to Alex being incarcerated?

It couldn’t be all one way. There had to be motivation for Alex beyond doing things because his brother told him to. Stone knew exactly what that motivation would be, and reluctantly decided it was pretty much the only card he had left to play.

“Sam,” he said.

Hopper looked confused.

“Burrito girl. Her name is Sam. Samantha. She’s studying to be a physical therapist. And she told me she was impressed by you.”

“She… She did?” Physical therapy. Jackpot .

“Well, actually what she said was that she thought you were nuts, but in a good way. But she said that if she went out with a guy who wasn’t in the Navy, her father would go ballistic. It’s a family thing. Can’t argue with family.”