Hallorann felt himself breathe, and reluctantly pulled his hands from his ears just as an announcement came from maneuvering, Hein’s voice: “Number three high pressure air bank is isolated! Engineering Watch Supervisor investigate!” Hallorann could hear in Hein’s voice that he didn’t understand, even as Hallorann understood, that with Jabo’s action the noise and the crisis were over. A chief brushed by Hallorann, the same chief who’d preceded him in maneuvering, walking briskly toward Jabo with a book open. Jabo smiled at him and pointed toward the valve that he’d just shut.
The chief handed Jabo the book and began banging on an adjacent valve, first with his fist, and then with a rubber mallet that another watchstander had appeared with in hand. There were several watchstanders who’d gathered around now, all of whom had been invisible when Jabo first approached the roaring machine. The chief seemed to hear something, stopped banging, and then gestured toward Jabo. The lieutenant slowly opened the valve that he’d shut, braced, Hallorann could tell, to shut it if the roar to began again. When it didn’t, he removed his ear protection and put them down around his neck.
“Number three high pressure air bank is restored,” came another announcement. Hallorann made his way toward the cluster of men near the machinery. A few cast disapproving glances at him, but Jabo smiled. “Hey, a nub!” he said. “Here to learn something?”
“Yes, sir.”
“These are High Pressure Air Compressors,” said the lieutenant. “Or ‘hipacs.’ They compress air into our air banks at three thousand PSI. That sound you heard,” he said, pointing to the top of the middle compressor, “was this relief valve lifting. And it wouldn’t re-seat. Pretty loud, wasn’t it?”
“Yes sir,” said Hallorann, moving closer. “It was just air?” That seemed incredible to him.
Jabo nodded. “Yes, but anything at that kind of pressure has to be treated with respect.” Hallorann noticed for the first time that the piping immediately around the relief valve was caked in a thick, knobby, coating of white ice. Jabo touched it. “Besides being loud, a stream of fluid at that pressure could put a hole right through you. Or cut your arm clean off. Like a scalpel.”
“Really?”
“I’m not shittin’ you,” said Jabo.
“So what did you do, sir?” said Hallorann.
“I isolated the relief by closing this valve,” said Jabo. “That’s why you heard that announcement…because that’s not a normal configuration, obviously, the hipac isolated from its relief. Then the chief here came down and fixed our sticky relief valve according to the casualty procedure.”
“It’s called ‘mechanical agitation,’” said the chief, tapping the mallet to the palm of his hand.
“That caused the valve to re-seat, so we were able to un-isolate the air bank and get on with our day.”
Hallorann nodded. He was so impressed he didn’t know what to say.
“Is there anything in your little yellow book about relief valves?” said Jabo.
Hallorann hesitated. “I’m not really sure, sir.”
“Well, take a look,” said Jabo. “And come get me to sign it if there is.” He slapped the chief on his back, and then departed the engine room while they all watched.
Angi Jabo waited only a moment outside Captain Soldato’s office before she was called in. Soldato looked slightly lost behind the enormous wooden desk that befitted his status as the new Commodore of Submarine Squadron 17. A television behind him showed CNN with the sound down; Angi knew it was a story about the latest breakdown in negotiations between the US and China, some scrap about a Taiwanese merchant ship. When the story broke, Danny pointed out how many American wars had begun with an attack on a ship: the Maine, the Arizona, the Gulf of Tonkin. It was something Danny clearly took pride in. It made her feel a little nauseous; she’d been avoiding the news ever since. Captain Soldato shut off the TV, stepped quickly around his desk, and hugged her tightly.
“Angi! Congratulations. Congratulations to you both!”
He stepped back, and Angi found herself surprisingly touched. So far, other than Danny, who’d been a nervous witness to the pregnancy test, she’d told only two people, both of them on the phone: her mother, back in Tennessee, the moment she knew for sure. And Cindy Soldato, the captain’s wife. Mario was the first person other than Danny to congratulate her in person, and his enthusiasm for her pregnancy felt downright great.
“Thanks, Mario.”
“How do you feel?” he said, a huge grin still plastered across his face.
She shrugged. “Better, now. I was pretty sick for a couple of weeks. How about you? How do you like being Commodore?”
He offered her a chair and sat down on another one, beside her, not behind his desk. “It’s depressing as hell. I’ve been on seven submarines, Angi, punched a lot of holes in the ocean. Now I’m ‘one of them,’ just another air breather who they’ll scrub the decks for once a month when I show up at the end of a patrol.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” she said, laughing at his theatrical self-pity. “Can’t you boss them all around now?”
“When you’re an officer in the navy, your entire career, you strive to be the commanding officer of a warship. There’s no higher calling. Everything after that, no matter what rank they give you, is just bullshit. Excuse my language.”
“Well, at least you’ve got this beautiful office,” she said. She could tell he hadn’t completely unpacked, but he did have the plaques from seven submarines in a line on the wall behind his desk: Sunfish, Skipjack, Baton Rouge, Jacksonville, Archerfish, Omaha, and the last one from SSBN731, USS Alabama.
“I’d rather be driving ships and leading men,” he said. “You’ll see what I mean someday, when Danny takes command of a boat.”
She froze her smile at that, and looked down at the polished surface of his desk.
“Isn’t that the plan?” he said.
She cleared her throat. “It seems I can’t keep any secrets from you, Mario.”
He patted her hand. “Has he turned his letter in yet?”
“I think so — needs to do it soon, before he hits the four-year point.”
“Are you doing it because of the baby?”
“No! I mean — I hope not. Lots of reasons. Danny just wants to do something different.”
The captain looked genuinely stricken, and Angi noted again the difference between how Captain Soldato seemed to feel about Danny in her presence, and how her husband perceived it. Danny would come home and relay the tirades he’d endured from Soldato, sometimes alone and sometimes as part of a group. On Mario’s last patrol, during a botched firing of an exercise torpedo, he’d said, “Jabo, how do you keep the ants off your candy ass?”
But whenever Mario mentioned Danny in front of her, he was like this: pure paternal concern and professional admiration. She thought it a shame that the captain could never show this side of himself to Danny, but after three patrols together, she’d assumed it was impossible, because of some combination of nautical tradition and masculine inhibition.
“Well, Angi, take comfort in this: whatever Danny decides to do, you’re going to have this child in a Navy hospital. And Cindy and I are here to help in every way possible. Now that they’ve taken me away from the boat, I’ve got plenty of time on my hands.”
“Thanks Mario, I really do appreciate it. I do feel sometimes like I need someone to help guide me through the insurance process…”
He waved his hand. “Consider it done. I know all the people at Group Nine who manage this stuff, and I went to the Academy with the CO of the hospital in Bremerton. Everything will be fine.”