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the assemblage of naval officers, looking to find his friends while trying to make sure he didn’t draw any attention to himself.
    He finally located Stone and slid in next to him. His brother kept his attention focused on the podium upfront, but said out the side of his mouth, “Nice of you to show up, lieutenant commander.” He was big on invoking Hopper’s rank and getting formal when he was pissed off with him. It was Stone’s way of letting Hopper know that he was annoyed, not to mention underscore their difference in rank and reminding him who was in charge. “You ready for this? Or would you like to sleep in and we’ll just do the war games without you?”
    “Hey, at least I’m here. I made pretty good time considering I woke up on the wrong island this morning,” he whispered back.
    “The wrong
island?
Which one? Gilligan’s?”
    “Ha-ha. Think the Jedi Master noticed?” It was the nickname that the officers had for Admiral Terrance Shane behind his back, because of his knack for saying things that his subordinates somehow felt compelled to repeat word for word, as if he were controlling their minds.
    “Considering he’s glaring right at you, I’d say yeah.”
    Hopper turned his attention to the podium and felt his heart sink to somewhere around his shoes. Sure enough, the admiral was staring down at him with clear disapproval. He was a towering presence, well over six feet, with aquiline features that made him appear like a cross between a hawk and a Roman senator. He spoke with a gravelly voice that had a lyrical Irish lilt to it.
    “First off, I’d like to welcome all of you to the RIMPAC International Naval War Games,” said Shane. The way he was looking at Hopper, Alex had a feeling he personally wasn’t all that welcome. Shane then turned his attention back to the rest of the assemblage. “And I’d like to welcome you on board the greatest fighting ship in American naval history. The Mighty Mo. The USS
Missouri
, where, in Tokyo Bay, on September 2, 1945, Japan surrendered to General Douglas McArthur.”
    There was applause throughout, although Hopper couldn’t help but notice that the response from the Japaneseofficers was, to put it mildly, muted. Either Admiral Shane didn’t notice or else he simply didn’t care. More likely the latter. He was going to say what he had to say, and obviously he didn’t give a damn who he pissed off.
    Which pretty much guaranteed that he would have no difficulty whatsoever—when Hopper asked for Sam’s hand—of providing a detailed list of every single one of Hopper’s shortcomings, verbally making mincemeat out of him before showing him the door and telling him never to utter Sam’s name in his presence again.
    We should just elope
. It would run contrary to Sam’s fantasy of having her father perform the ceremony at sea, standing on the bridge of a ship in his capacity as captain. But hell, at least they’d be married and there wouldn’t be a damned thing the admiral would be able to do about it.
What am I saying? Of course he could. He could have me court-martialed for … for any reason at all. Or just throw me overboard late one night. Hell, he could probably order Stone to do it, and depending on Stone’s mood that day, he just might be happy to obey. Oh God … I think my chest is tightening up. Is this what a heart attack feels like—?
    Stone reached over and straightened Hopper’s ribbon bar, looking at him with genuine concern. “Jesus, man, you look like death warmed over,” he said softly. “You’re a mess.”
    “Can’t breathe.”
    “Relax.”
    That was easy for Stone to say. He wasn’t the one who was preparing to walk into the lion’s den, hand the lion a knife and fork, expose his chest to him and say “Chow down.” Still, Hopper tried to do as Stone said and get his breathing under control.
    “He hates me,” said Hopper.
    “It’s gonna be fine. Just keep your distance from him today.”
    Which was, of