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“That’s a good question Jay. I asked the same thing of the admiral. The official line is that we’re not proliferating because we’re not giving them the warheads — we’re allowing them to store them on our behalf. Or something like that. But your intuition is sound — I have no doubt that this will stir up a shitload of controversy, at home and abroad, and will antagonize the Chinese beyond belief. But I believe, as everyone at this table should, that our national leadership has thought this through completely and that they’ve decided the benefits are worth the risks.”

“What do we tell the crew?” asked Kincaid.

“Nothing,” snapped the XO. “No one knows where we are going or why. We’ll tell them the day before we pull in that we are going to Taiwan, but not why. This is all ‘need to know,’ and you guys need to know, since you’re going to be looking at the chart every night and making sure we’re headed in the right direction. You, you, and you,” he said, pointing in turn at Kincaid, Jabo, and Jay Hein, “will be straight up three-section OOD starting with the next hour. Get to know and love those charts. Outside this room, only quartermasters and a handful of Nav ETs will know. And I guess we’ll have to tell the engineer sooner or later.” Everyone chuckled.

“You, you, and you,” said the XO, pointing to Morgan, Morrissey, and Retzner, “are our three-section EOOWs.” They all happened to be sitting next to each other on one side of the table, all friends and roommates on their second patrol. They nodded in unison. “And you,” he said, pointing to Duggan, “Your job is to qualify EOOW, get on the watchbill, and make life a little easier for your six shipmates here.”

“Aye, aye sir,” said Duggan. Jabo heard the urgent sincerity in his voice. It was a shitty feeling to be the only one in the room without a real role to play.

The XO continued. “All of you can regard any information about our mission just like targeting information— no one else needs to know.”

“The rumor mill is already running like crazy…” said Hein.

“Then let it run. I frankly don’t give a shit,” said the XO. “This is a vitally important, vitally secret mission, one that will have historic consequences. I am honored that they’ve chosen us to carry this out, and woe to the sailor or officer who fucks it up. Understood?”

Everyone nodded. The XO had made it clear that the question and answer period was over.

“Ok,” he said, waving a hand toward the nav. “Let’s get on with it. The navigator, as we mentioned, just found all this out. After spending the better part of the last week getting our charts in order for a patrol of the northern pacific, he’s got to revise everything. But show them what you’ve got.”

The Navigator pulled down the sheet to reveal a small-scale chart of the entire Pacific Ocean. On it, he’d penciled in a great-circle route all the way to Taiwan. While it looked curved on the flat chart, the course was actually a straight-line across the curved surface of the earth. A large red dot, on the far right hand side of the chart was labeled PA: Papa Alpha. The track connected it to a point on the other side of the Pacific: PZ, Papa Zulu. Point A to Point Z. “This is all I’ve got so far,” he said meekly.

Jabo noticed for the first time behind the nav a small pyramid of tightly rolled up charts that looked freshly-delivered from Group Nine. They must have come over in the last mail bag off the tug. Every one would need to be reviewed by the nav, updated, and approved. And every chart he’d already done this for in their normal patrol areas, working day and night for weeks, was now useless. The captain had delivered on his promise in one way, Jabo thought, in revealing to him orders that were spectacularly different from anything they’d done before, an exciting unforeseen mission for them and their boat. But he’d also confirmed that the navigator’s life was pretty fucking miserable.

“We’re going to have to really burn it up,” said the Navigator. “To make it there in time, across the operating areas they’ve given us, we’re going to have to have a speed of advance of twenty knots the entire time, day and night.”

“This is going to preclude a lot,” said the XO. “Our sonar will be degraded, we’ll be limited in the drills we can run. And we’re going to have to keep our heads up. That means you, OODs. You’re going to be covering a lot more ground each watch than you’re used to — keep an eye on the chart, on the fathometer, all that good shit. Make sure we are where we are supposed to be. You hear me?”

“Yes sir,” they all said in unison.

“What’s after Taiwan, sir?” asked Jabo.

The XO looked at the captain, who nodded. “After we complete this mission, we’ll make another two-week transit, assume a target package, and begin a normal strategic deterrence patrol.”

No one said what everybody was thinking: they were going to be at sea for a very, very long time.

“Ok, everybody get the fuck out of here and get some rest,” said the XO. “You’re going to need it.”

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