Danny almost ran into James as he looked for the captain. He saw the copier in pieces behind him, a red danger tag hanging from it marking it as OOC, or Out of Commission. If he’d been a junior officer with more time on his hands, he would have cornered James to explain his plan for the machine. Jabo’s dad had been a heating and air condition repairman, a gifted mechanic himself, and he was interested in such things. But he didn’t have time.
The captain and XO were both outside the captain’s stateroom, heading down to the wardroom for breakfast.
“Jabo!” said the captain. “Join us for some fake eggs?”
“I think we just detected the Boise,” said Jabo, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.
Both the captain and XO stared.
“Then why aren’t we at battle stations?”
“You need to ask Bannick that,” he said. “I recommended it.”
“Tell us what happened.”
Jabo sighed, trying to keep cool. “Sonar heard a regular, active signal, along the right bearing. Bannick dicked around, and we lost it before he called anything away.”
“It’s gone?”
“Completely,” said Jabo.
“Shit,” said the captain.
The XO smirked skeptically. “Active sonar? If it’s the Boise, why in the hell would she be using active sonar? I’ll want to listen to those tapes myself.”
“Good idea,” snapped the captain.
“And aren’t we too far?” continued the XO. “We’re still outside the red zone — as you plotted it.”
“Considering what we know and don’t know about her position — no telling. But yes, by my very rough estimates, we’re pretty far. Either we’re closer than we think, or it was a really loud noise. Or both.”
The captain furrowed his brow and thought hard. “Ok, fuck it. Maybe that is her. Jabo, you give the training after lunch. We’ll station the tracking party right after. Everybody agree with that?”
“Yes sir,” they both said.
“Good. Jabo, come down and eat with me. We’ll tell Alabama stories and irritate everybody.”
“Aye, sir.” They all started toward the wardroom, but the captain stopped and turned to the XO.
“I thought you were going to go listen to those tapes.”
The XO turned around and walked to sonar without a word.
In the wardroom, Petty Officer Sheldon was setting out a silver pitcher of orange juice.
“Sheldon!” said the captain. “What’s real and what’s fake? Report.”
The cook smiled. “Morning, captain. Real milk, still,” he said. “For probably another two days. Real bacon. Fake eggs.”
“Orange juice?” He pointed.
“Real.”
“Real concentrate? Or real fresh squeezed?”
“Squeezed it myself.”
“Outstanding — give me real bacon, fake scrambled eggs, and a large real orange juice.”
“Aye aye, sir. Nav?”
“Just coffee for me,” said Jabo.
“What?” said the captain. “In the final days of real orange juice and real milk?”
“Yes sir, I’m good.”
“It’s rude to let your captain eat alone. Don’t they teach you ROTC guys wardroom etiquette?”
In truth, Jabo didn’t need much convincing. Like Bannick, the smell of bacon was making his stomach growl. “Alright, in the spirit of good manners,” he said. “I’ll take the same as the captain.”
“Very good,” said the cook, disappearing into the galley.
“So,” the captain said as they sat down. “What do you think of our little ship? We haven’t had much time to reflect together since you reported.”
“Loving it,” said Danny. “Ship and crew.”
“What are your first impressions? Any weaknesses? I value your opinion.”
“Well, captain, I can give you a good assessment of the engine room.”
The captain smiled at that. “You’re not enjoying your time back there?”
“Honestly — I think I could serve the ship better up here.”
“Maybe so,” said the captain, nodding.
Sheldon came in with their orange juice, and the captain waited until he left to resume. “He’s a good XO,” he said.
Danny nodded. “I didn’t know we were talking about the XO.”
“Bullshit. You’re pissed because he put you in the engine room. And I don’t blame you— a hot shot like you wants to be up front, where the action is.”
“Wouldn’t you, sir?”
“Of course. And trust me, this is a very small world we’re living in. If and when you are needed on the conn, you’ll be on the conn. I can personally guarantee you that.”
“In the meantime?”
“In the meantime, consider this a learning experience.”
“On the S6-G propulsion plant?”
The Captain shrugged. “It wouldn’t kill you. It is different than what you’ve learned before, and you are a lot more likely to run into the S6-G on future boats than another S8-G. And I don’t mind at all having one of my more experienced officers back there watching over that engine room. But that’s not all.”
“Sir?”
“Consider it a learning experience on how to work with difficult officers. Officers who aren’t like you. Officers who perhaps don’t have your talent, officers who are at different places in their careers. Trust me. Much like the S6-G reactor, this won’t be the last time you see one.”
The door burst open and V-12 entered the wardroom, bounding with energy.
“Captain! May I join you for breakfast?”
“Certainly, young man.”
V-12 turned to a cabinet behind them, opened it, and began rooting through a huge pile of single-serving boxes of cereal.
“We’re having bacon and eggs,” said the captain. “You can give Sheldon your order…”
“No thank you, sir,” said V-12, his back still toward them. “There’s Lucky Charms in here somewhere, I saw them yesterday.”
Danny worked on the charts for about two hours, fueled by coffee and the excitement that they were about to begin the hunt. Adequately prepared for the training, and utterly exhausted, he snuck down to his stateroom when the rest of the crew was gathering for lunch, and slept for forty-five minutes, fully clothed in his rack. That forty-five minutes was the only sleep he’d gotten in the last day, and it was interrupted twice: once by the radioman needing him to review messages downloaded at periscope depth, prior to routing to the captain. The second time an engineering laboratory technician from aft needed to remove Jabo’s dosimeter from his belt for routine measuring and chronicling of how much radiation he’d absorbed. He would have been interrupted a third time, by an ET needing a signature on a training plan, but V-12 intercepted him at the door and told him that it could wait, giving his roommate about ten more minutes of sleep before he had to head down to the wardroom and begin training.
Danny spread out the chart on the wardroom table. The last known positions of the Boise were on it in red X’s, the SOSUS hit and the BST buoys. He had also drawn an X for noise they’d heard that morning, and the bearing, at least, did fit along his predicted track.
Their position, too, was drawn over it, a series of slow snake-like motions across the Boise’s faint trail. They had slowed to eight knots, and were angling their way westward, listening keenly at the slower speed. They were hunting.
And he knew they were close.
Two of the three OOD’s arrived early for the training, and studied the chart, which Jabo appreciated: Lieutenants Perez and Burkhardt. The third OOD of the three-section watchbill was Bannick, who apparently didn’t feel he needed the extra time. They also looked over the special procedure, which the captain’s night orders the night before had required them to memorize. It contained the actions that would, theoretically, alert the Boise to their presence when they finally located her and got within range.