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it seems to me if you got a male thing, um—you know, not your thing, I mean a male animal thing, you could get some baby things and sell them. I know you don’t really need the money, but I could help you breed—” She smiled and gave him a sly wink. “Well, that too, but I mean breed your animal things and we could be partners, you know?”
    Stone nodded. “Nice suggestion, Petty Officer Ryte. I’ll think about it. However, if you’ll excuse me, I do have a meeting in Lieutenant Commander Butcher’s office.”
    “Really? I’m headed down to office A-316. Is that near his office? I don’t know my way around officer’s country and maybe you could, you know, like, guide me?”
    Stone gave a small internal sigh. A-316 was the waiting room for a dozen officers. A pair of senior chiefs, acting as gatekeepers, staffed the room. He didn’t see how he could avoid showing her where to go, as Butcher’s office was one of the dozen offices branching off that waiting room. He simply nodded his agreement and was startled when she hooked an arm through his and began chattering away about some vid or other on the entertainment channels.

FIVE
     
    LCDR Butcher’s angry glare slid over Stone, transforming into a smile and greeting at MCPO Thomas. Stone’s supervisor glanced at the time on his dataport and went back to reading through a series of reports displayed on his desk. There wasn’t an announced time for this meeting and clearly Butcher was impatient to begin, but he didn’t. The commander showed more patience than Stone suspected was possible, but the man ground his teeth in anger or frustration about something other than the delay.
    Seated on a hard plasticrete-molded chair, Stone glanced around the room and cursed under his breath. “Dammit!” Since the call was broadcast for the meeting in Butcher’s office, MCPO Thomas managed to get a haircut, change into his class B uniform, complete with ribbons, decorations, and awards, and polish his shoes to a mirror-like gloss. The man was completely irritating whether he said anything or not. Stone still wore his everyday utilities with standard shipboard boots that couldn’t be polished, just wiped clean.
    The senior chief gatekeeper in the lobby determined PO3 Ryte was called for the same meeting and sent them into Butcher’s office together. Now, she was seated in the corner smiling back at him. Earlier in the day, she’d been wearing an undersized duty uniform, yet sometime between getting the call to go to A-316 and bumping into him in the corridor, she’d managed to change to her class A uniform, resplendent with medals, braids, and shiny brass. Sitting alone in a corner, reading something on a dataport was a young, navy lieutenant senior grade. Stone didn’t know the man, yet even he wore a class B uniform with polished shoes and a shave so close it gleamed.
    Stone wondered what was going on and why Ryte was here. He hadn’t had anything more than navy business with Ryte, except dodging her overt advances. She was in communications and often contacted him to hand-deliver notices from the court, navy correspondence, and notes from Allie. Family letters were routed directly to his personal dataport and all official messages were subject to review, revision, and routing through channels. Stone understood why. There was a war on, after all. However, why was she here? He hadn’t even come close to sexually harassing her, never making suggesting comments, not even leering, ogling or eyeballing her perfectly formed backside as she sashayed down a corridor in front of him, at least not so much anyone caught him at it. If anything, Ryte had harassed him. He’d never made any official complaints, as Ryte’s innuendos and advances didn’t ever measure up to Barb Tuttle’s common, blatant, and quite often public offers to give him the giggles.
    Maybe Ryte had filed a harassment complaint against him. He hadn’t harassed her, he was actually trying to ignore