Ghost Sub полностью

He nodded and considered it. While technically he wasn’t qualified on any of his new ship’s systems, he’d been qualified everything on a previous ship, and wore the gold dolphins of a qualified submariner. On the Alabama, when a new department head had arrived, they’d typically given him a token watch or two in the engine room, followed by a few observed watches on the bridge as OOD, and then they put his name in the watch qualification book. They hurried the process both out of respect for the officer’s previous experience and the dire need for qualified watch officers. So maybe that’s what this was, just a token watch. But as he took note of the XO’s small, neat signature at the bottom of the strangely wrinkled sheet of paper, and absorbed the fact that he would be ostensibly supervised by his lower-ranking roommate, he felt certain that at least part of this was deliberate — an attempt to put him in his place.

“This is crazy,” said V-12.

“Yeah, well.”

“You were the only officer of the deck who could find the drone on the range!” he said. “What do they want you in the engine room for?”

“Do I hear some questions about the watchbill?” The XO had appeared behind them, a tight grin on his face. “If so, you can address them to the Number 4 torpedo tube.”

“No questions, XO,” said Jabo, not taking the bait. The XO continued anyway.

“I know you qualified on an S8-G reactor on that Trident,” he said, emphasizing the word. “Thought you might need time in a fast attack engine room: S6-G.”

“Good idea, sir. Looking forward to it.”

The XO nodded, disappointed that Jabo wasn’t more pissed about it.

V-12 spoke up. “XO, what’s wrong with the watchbill?”

“I put people where they need to be, V-12. Everyone contributes, everyone qualifies, no exceptions.”

“No, not that. I mean — it’s all crumpled up.”

The other JOs chuckled and the XO’s smile disappeared. He did an about face and stormed down the passageway.

“Well,” said V-12, looking at his watch. “I guess we should do our pre-watch tour.”

Danny marveled at how much smaller the engine room of Louisville was, compared to the Alabama’s, where he’d learned the trade of nuclear propulsion. Everything was smaller: the air conditioners, the air compressors, the evaporators that made their freshwater out of the sea that surrounded them. And that equipment was jammed into an engine room that was smaller still, machinery crammed from the deck to the overhead, and every move required ducking and twisting to avoid a piece of gear. The Alabama had been designed around her twenty-four ballistic missiles, a huge suite of weapons that stretched everything out, making the ship longer and wider on every axis. The Louisville seemed very crowded in comparison.

“I’m sure this all looks familiar,” said V-12, as they walked through the engineering spaces prior to taking the watch.

“Some of it does,” said Jabo. “Some of it doesn’t.”

While Danny was learning about the S6-G propulsion plant, he was also learning more about the crew, including V-12. He was efficient and knowledgeable, reviewing the logs thoroughly as they conducted their pre-watch tour and noting anything amiss in the space: a dead light bulb by the evaporator, a damaged piece of lagging near the port main engine. If Danny had a critique of him it was that he was a little chatty as he talked to the watchstanders. Submarining was serious business, and being the EOOW was a grave responsibility. V-12 was here to give these men orders, but sometimes it seemed like he was running for student council.

But hell, thought Danny as he stepped into maneuvering. I’m supposed to be here learning from him.

“Lieutenant Jabo is the Engineering Officer of the Watch,” he announced. “Under Instruction.”

“Throttleman, aye.”

“Reactor Operator, aye.”

“Electrical Operator, aye.”

He recorded it in the logs.

“So sir, what’s a naval hero like yourself doing a UI watch?” It was Brady, the Reactor Operator.

“I just do what I’m told,” said Jabo. “Just like you guys.”

“Seat?” V-12 was courteously offering him the EOOW’s chair.

“Maybe later,” said Jabo.

“What did they have for the EOOW on a Trident?” asked the electrical operator. “A recliner?”

“Hammock,” said Jabo, and they laughed.

He looked at the panels in front of him, which didn’t look all that different from what he’d learned on Alabama. The watchstanders, too, seemed familiar. The nuclear enlisted men of the submarine force fancied themselves, with some justification, as the smartest men on the boat, if not the smartest men in the navy. They were unquestionably the biggest smart asses. They grouped all the other crewmen together, calling them “coners,” as they occupied the front part of the submarine. While all the boat’s officers were also nuclear trained, as well as college graduates, the enlisted men didn’t mind challenging their intellect as well. It made the watch go faster.