"And I have to say, I've been around, sir, but this is my first time aboard a Virginia-class sub. Pretty amazing."

Gummerson grinned and nodded. "I've been riding boats for thirty years, but Montana still makes me a little bug-eyed." The captain motioned to a seat near his bed. "Relax a minute. I need to run through a few things, and I need to get radio to bring in your message board. You have some update traffic from your boss. Once submerged, the radio messenger will come to you with that message board whenever you have incoming traffic."

"Okay, sir."

"Scott, right now we're situated on the midlevel deck. I call it Main Street. Forward of my stateroom is the control and attack center. Aft of this space is a head that I share with the XO, the XO's stateroom, and aft of him is the VIP stateroom. Aft of that is a bulkhead with a hatch accessing the reactor compartment tunnel. From that hatch aft is off-limits to all but engineering personnel." Gummerson paused.

"Uh, understood, sir."

The captain grinned. "Don't lie. Even I don't remember what I just said. But you'll be taken on a tour."

Mitchell returned the grin. "Good idea."

"I've kicked the ops officer out of the VIP stateroom to turn it over to Sergeant Diaz."

"No need for that," Mitchell assured him. "Sergeant Diaz digs her own latrine just like the rest of us. We never offer her special treatment."

"I appreciate that, but Montana is a twenty-first-century machine crewed by stubborn geeks following the old naval traditions. Hell, until these guys got to sub school in New London, they never heard of Rick-over. They thought Jules Verne was the father of the atomic submarine. You don't think Verne was the father, do you?"

Wearing a grin, Mitchell shook his head.

"Whew. Now, once we're under way, we don't adhere to any specific dress code, meaning we're pretty lax on what we wear--and don't wear--especially in the berthing compartment area. Diaz will share the head with the XO and me. We'll work out a schedule for the three of us."

"I understand, sir. If we can address this issue as subtly as possible, I'd appreciate it."

"No problem." Gummerson glanced at his notepad before continuing. "The lock-out trunk has a nine-man capacity, which means you and your team can lock out in one evolution, but you'll need training and help from my SEALs, as I indicated to General Keating."

"No arguments here, sir."

"You'll get with SEAL Chiefs Tanner and Phillips between here and China. We'll work in two drills, once with lights, once in total darkness."

Gummerson was about to go on when the radio messenger knocked and entered with two message boards. "A good place to stop," he said. "Let's step back to the wardroom, get some coffee, introduce you to the other officers, and plow through some of this latest traffic."