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The thought made him feel stronger, as he listened to the repetitive slapping of his Nikes on the belt beneath his feet. He didn’t listen to music when he ran. The treadmill ran on a non-vital electrical bus, the first busses, by design, to start shutting down if things went wrong with the ship’s electrical plant. On his first patrol as an officer, he’d been on the bike when the 2MC announced a reactor scram. Another JO was listening to some heavy metal on his head phones, trotting along dumb and happy on the treadmill. Kincaid yelled out to him, but he didn’t hear him any more than he heard the announcement. A second later the bus dropped, the treadmill shut off, and the JO ran clear over the rails, flipped over, and broke his collarbone. So Kincaid decided he could live without the music, listening instead for any announcement, bang, or alarm that would make getting off the treadmill a good idea.

He saw Jabo climbing down the ladder at the far forward end of the compartment. He spotted Kincaid and struck a Kung Fu pose. Kincaid jacked up the speed a couple of more tenths, feeling competitive. Jabo was strong, a natural athlete, one of those guys Kincaid would want next to him if he ever needed to be dragged out of a smoke-filled compartment. But he didn’t want Jabo to think for a minute that he was in better shape. For a variety of reasons, Kincaid usually had a chip on his shoulder about other junior officers. But liking Jabo was effortless. And in addition to being his best friend, he was a superb naval officer: smart, loyal, and good. He took on every task with a complete devotion to getting it done properly. A word popped in Kincaid’ head that he didn’t think he had ever used to describe another human being. Jabo was dutiful.

Jabo had made his way to his side. “Come on Hayes, let’s go.”

“Let’s go what?”

“We’re burning Enter the Dragon.”

Kincaid looked down at the console. “Two and a half more miles.” He consciously made his words sound as easy as he could. “Almost done.”

“Thirty minutes on the treadmill,” said Jabo, pointing to a laminated sign that hung on the bulkhead. “That’s the limit. I’m here to enforce the rule.”

“Fuck that. You see anybody else down here?”

“Maybe I want on it.”

“When I came down here, it still had my stats from yesterday on it. Ten miles in an hour and twenty-two minutes.”

“Maybe it was somebody else.”

“No one else on this pig could do that run,” he said.

Jabo put his hand over the red emergency stop button.

“Don’t you fucking do it!” said Kincaid, laughing now.

Jabo feigned he was hitting the button again. Kincaid was losing his rhythm laughing. He finally dialed down the speed, and brought the treadmill to a stop. “Alright, motherfucker. Seven point five miles. Let me go write it down and I’ll meet you in the wardroom.”

“An old guy like you shouldn’t be running like that anyway,” said Jabo. “Gonna fuck up your joints.”

“Old guy? Feel like going for a race?”

“I feel like watching a movie,” he said. “Eating some shitty food, drinking some watery Coke, and watching a movie while we still can.”

• • •

The movie ended just in time for Jabo to complete his pre-watch tour prior to relieving Hein on the conn. In missile compartment third level, the level where the majority of the crew slept in nine-man bunkrooms, Jabo stopped at the ship’s laundry. Petty Officer Howard was wearing boxers and a t-shirt, doing laundry while reading a well-worn copy of The Shining.

“Shouldn’t you be studying for your quals?” asked Jabo, pointing at the book. Howard was his favorite kind of sailor — enthusiastic without being a kiss ass, smart, and funny — the kind of guy you didn’t mind spending a couple of hundred days a year with sealed in a steel tube. He’d gotten himself in trouble after the last patrol, driving drunk from the E Club on base to the barracks. It was a classic kind of stupid, avoidable, young man’s mistake — the distance from the E Club to the barracks was about two hundred yards. Howard had said he wanted to get his car out of the E Club lot because he was worried his stereo would get stolen. Jabo was one of several officers who’d gone to bat for him after the incident.

Howard thumped his chest, where his silver dolphins would have been if he’d been wearing his uniform. “I qualified last patrol, sir! You know that.”

“What about Diesel watch? Chief of the Watch? Diving Officer? There’s always something to qualify for.”

Howard rolled his eyes. “Ok sir, let me get my poopie suits clean and I’ll get right on it.” He stood and peered into the small glass window on one of the ship’s two dryers. “Looks like they’re almost done.”

“Excellent. You can come up to the conn on the next watch, I think we may be going to periscope depth to get the broadcast, you can sit with the Chief of the Watch.”