“That’s all you’re having?” said V-12.
“That’s it,” said Jabo. “I had a big breakfast.”
“You worried about getting fat?”
“My wife is hot,” he said. “I have to stay in shape.”
“Let’s see some pictures,” said Burkhardt.
“Never,” said Jabo. “None of you will ever see her.”
They were laughing as the Captain came in. “What’s going on in here? Plotting a mutiny?”
“No sir,” said V-12. “Lieutenant Jabo was just telling us how hot his wife is.”
“Nice, Jabo, real classy.” He looked at Jabo’s mini-sandwich. “Is that why you’re eating like a sorority girl?”
“Yes sir,” he said. “And I’m going to make myself puke it up before I take the watch.”
“You’re ongoing?” he said, the smile frozen on his face. “Aft?”
“Yes sir,” said Jabo. He got the distinct feeling that the captain had wanted Jabo up front now, and that the XO had chosen to ignore his wishes.
“Hm,” he said, and a slightly nervous silence descended in the wardroom as the officers processed his obvious displeasure. Just then the XO walked in.
“Midrats!” he exclaimed. “Spencer! Where’s my special mustard?”
His eyes swept the room and he quickly detected the tension that had preceded him. He nervously glanced down at the platters of food on the table.
“Cold cuts!” he said with artificial enthusiasm. “Did you know that cold cuts are one of the most expensive meals you can serve on the boat? The crew always thinks it’s the chop going cheap, but really it’s the opposite.” He was proud of his knowledge.
The captain wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I had no idea,” he said.
“Well,” said V-12, breaking the silence and standing up. He looked at Danny. “Little hand says it’s time to rock and roll.”
Everyone stared.
“What the hell is that, V-12?” said the captain.
“It’s from the movie!” he said, pointing at the screen. “It’s from
Everyone laughed out loud even as the captain shook his head.
Jabo and V-12 made their way to the engine room, and into maneuvering, where they took the watch. It was the same team they’d had, including James, the Marine Corps veteran, staring dutifully into his panel, as always somewhat aloof from the rest of the watchsection, even in those closed quarters. There was a flurry of activity as they took the watch, signing into the logs, looking at the night orders for the slight bit of activity that would be taking place on their watch: securing the port motor generator. But soon, in the quiet of the midwatch, Jabo started to feel resentment creep back over his exile in the engine room. Not because of pride — but because of his deep certainty that he could serve the ship, and the mission, best in the control room, driving the ship and leading the crew. He tried to think of it as a learning experience, as the captain had suggested, but the lessons eluded him: instead he seemed to be wasting a lot of energy because of some weird personal vendetta belonging to the XO. He sighed heavily.
“Something bothering you?” asked V-12.
“Yeah. I heard we’re almost out of real milk.”
“I guess that never happened on the Trident,” said the reactor operator.
“Never,” said Jabo. “We kept two dairy cows in missile compartment lower level, Bossy and Flossie, gave us fresh milk all patrol. I was Chief Dairy Officer.”
“I heard it was more exciting than that,” said V-12. “On that particular Trident.”
“Hm.”
The watchstanders nodded expectantly.
“Seriously,” said V-12. “Why don’t you tell us what happened? We’ve all got secret clearances.”
As they waited for him to tell the story, it occurred to Jabo that he didn’t talk about his last patrol on the
“It was our navigator,” he said. “Mark Taylor. Academy guy, wound really tight. He was crazy, but none of us knew it until he tried to kill us all.”
“Nobody knew he was crazy? Nobody suspected?” asked the electrical operator.
“We had our suspicions,” said Jabo. “Just like I’m sure you’ve had about every officer on this boat at some point.”
“How did he do it?”
“A couple of ways before the collision, but we didn’t know. Started a fire. Actually killed an A-ganger by dumping all our Freon.”
“We trained on that incident,” said the electrical operator. “Turned to Phosgene gas.”
“That’s right,” said Jabo. An image of Petty Officer Howard flashed through his mind, the first victim of Taylor’s madness. It brought back a familiar combination of sadness and anger. “After that, he deliberately ran us into a sea mount at Ahead Flank.”
“That’s fucked up,” said Brady, the reactor operator.
“Yeah,” said Jabo. “It is. He wanted to sink the boat, and he nearly did it.”
