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very grateful the U.S. had the capability before anyone else. “Conn, bring us to heading 010. Make our depth 400 feet.” He would turn the boat north of the shipping channel into water that would have less surface-noise clutter.
    As the order was acknowledged and implemented, Bishop picked up the intercom and switched it to 1MC. “ Nevada , this is the captain. We just nudged an Akula away from the coast, and the Seawolf is giving chase. We’re turning toward home. Secure from all-quiet.”
    Crewmen began discussing the sequence of events of the watch, in good spirits and laughing occasionally. Bishop pulled the notepad from his left shirt pocket, scanned the original plan for this day. Engineering wanted to run a test on the batteries, he’d penciled in a fire drill, and a second watch meeting with his senior chiefs would review the repair and maintenance situation on the boat in preparation for homecoming. A missile drill prompted by a flash EAM—Emergency Action Message—was scheduled during third watch to pull together the entire crew on their primary time-critical mission. A rather routine day had started with an unexpectedly nice opening move, compliments of the Akula.
    Bishop put the list back into his pocket. “XO, would you like the deck?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    The executive officer checked with every chief in the control room, conferred with the weapons officer the longest,studied the navigational chart, scanned every status board, then looked to Bishop. “I am ready to relieve you, sir,” Kingman stated.
    The XO was going to be ready to command a boat as his next duty station if Bishop had anything to do with it. Hours in control mattered. And toward the end of this watch, the boat was going to get hit with a fire drill, a good experience for his second-in-command.
    â€œI am ready to be relieved,” Bishop said.
    â€œI relieve you, sir.”
    Bishop picked up the intercom. “This is the captain. The XO has the deck.”
    Bishop stepped back from the captain’s chair as the ship log was updated to show the change in command. Rather than leave the command-and-control center, he settled in next to the weapons officer and out of habit checked the pressure status in every missile tube. Bishop would offer quiet counsel, suggestions, watch for trouble, step in if needed—he had his XO’s back. He doubted it would be needed. Kingman was learning fast. As his experience in the job grew, the list of events he’d already handled successfully was getting longer.
    When the XO’s first order of business was to contact sonar, ask for an update, then contact the chief engineer, Bishop relaxed even more and changed his plan. “Officer of the deck, a visual confirmation of the weapons board status seems prudent.”
    The boat was a lot more than what could be seen from this room. It was also conversations with those who had their hands on the parts that made up the whole. Over-reliance on what was visible from here could leave a captain vulnerable to a stuck gauge or a misreading indicator light.
    His XO took the suggestion immediately. “I concur. Petty Officer Hill, please join the commander for a visual inspection of the missile firing system.”
    Petty Officer Hill, who had managed to avoid one-on-one time with Bishop so far during the patrol, paled as he stood. “Yes, sir.”
    Bishop only smiled, sympathizing with the young man’s obvious nerves but not giving much allowance for them—or for the fact that the petty officer would turn 22 a few days after this patrol ended. This crew was young, but well trained. The pop quiz was going to last until they returned. Once Hill got a few answers right, his confidence would find its footing.

    Bishop headed with Hill down one level, his plan to stop first at the missile control center, where two security officers armed with Beretta M9s would be standing guard, then go down