gotta situation here. where are you? stuck in traffic?
all right, stand by, we're going to switch over to comsat.
okay, fresh stuff: lost a nato plane over the sea of japan. elb signals leads us to believe the pilot is alive and has made his way to the north korean shore, near a fishing village, "tamyung."
signals received only sparingly, in such a pattern that leads us to conclude it is a downed aviator trying to conserve his batteries.
you're the analyst for east china, o'neil. analyze.
halfway 'round the world. so that's the problem -- we can get the team in, just not out.
blank faces here, o'neil.
you expect the extraction team to ride the sub bare-back? is that correct, o'neil?
all right, sending the recommendation across the river. royce out.
that was good headwork, lieutenant.
probably hear back from cnn first.
intel has its own glory, lieutenant -- no matter how subtle.
by the way, i'll need that option paper by 11-hundred today so i can review it with admiral hanover. and do we have any of that breakfast tea around here?
jesus god, what now?
so why're you even considering it? are you?
spec-recon. those guys are world- class warriors. and they will not want you there, jordan.
well, you're doin' shit-hot at intel.
she's haze grey and underway.
so dump on me.
well, guess i don't even need to be here.
you're such a ball-breaker sometimes. especially at night.
i'll try to keep the door open. if you wash out, i make it so that --
i don't feel like doing an option paper on the rest of my life, jordan. maybe we should just let it happen.
sounded lame as soon as it came out of my mouth. but i'm trying to be honest, okay? three years is a long time. don't ask me to predict how i'll feel then, jordan, because i don't know. and either do you.
jordan.
goddamn. my poster girl.
not right now.
little slow, sir. when's the pentagon going to send me a good crisis?
you wait right here. i'll get the drinks.
lieutenant!
take a dance!
i've been trying you for five days. don't they give you messages?
how hard they making it on you?
that bad?
well, not this. i was doing the pentagon scene few nights ago. got some fresh stuff -- about you. you may be in a hostile camp. i think someone may be taking steps to ensure that you crash and burn.
don't you know? how they're talking about you?
i can't walk two blocks in washington without hearing about "g.i. jane." you're all over the place, and whether you wanted it or not, the feminists are sizing you up for that poster.
big symbols make big targets, jordan. i think someone's gunning for you.
i'm only trying to warn you in case --
that's not what i want, jordan. i mean.  it is and it isn't.
jordan. you watch your ass.
suitable for framing.
got time for a brain-pick?
o'neil, jordan.
you knew about us?
computer -- no transcription, no com-link, no data-link. in fact.  shut-down sequence 0-niner-0-8, mark.
the e-ringers? full integration is gonna cost the services billions at the worst possible time -- when congress is already swinging the axe.
the navy? they've made it clear they don't want to pull missiles out of subs to make room for women's heads. what's it gonna cost to make a fleet of trident's co-ed?
possibly. just to spite dehaven.
the first female president?
women.
i don't know. seems.
christ, i don't want to see her take a fall. she thinks i do, but.
even tough i don't talk to her every day -- i still talk to her every day. know what i mean?
i don't.  what, someone on base? a "mole"?
i want to kill them.  i want to kill the guys who made you cry like this.
and this class officer.  "wickwire." you think he was just trying to get even? striking back for.
almost like someone put him up to it. okay, who?
the chief? or maybe even turrentine? your c.o.?
somebody was yankin' your stings, jordan -- maybe from 3,000 miles away. i wanted to know who. i still do.
c'mon, jordan. do the headwork with me.
someone screwed you over like this, left unanswered charges hanging over your head, and you're not gonna fight back?
well, before you crawl off to die, jordan, give me five minutes of good headwork.
"john james urgayle." the chief.
or like maybe he was baby sitting a problem child for the navy.
well, pardon me if i do. now who else? who could've leveraged a class officer like that? c'mon, jordan, keep your head in the game.
what?
"wickwire, thomas dane".  second run at coronado.  and correct, they had him stashed in the "appropriation liaison office," whatever that is.
i'd sure like to know who.
government car -- tow it if you want. just point us to dehaven's office first.
capt'n.
get started here. i'll catch up.
look. it's not like you'd be completely out of reach. and maybe we could call in a few favors, get you stationed at norfolk instead of coronado. there are ways of dealing with these things -- i mean, if people are so inclined.
"yes, jordan -- i'll wait for you no matter how long."