Sam comes over to the Oval Office and asks Charlie if Jed's back yet. He's not. Sam asks Charlie if he's decided yet. Charlie says, "Theology 201: Intro to Biblical Literature." Sam: "Why?" Charlie: "So the President'll stop bugging me. And English 201: Texts and Context." Sam asks what happened to Molecular Biology. Charlie says it's closed out for the summer season. Sam asks how many AP credits Charlie has from high school; Charlie replies, "I have six in English, six in Math and Calculus, three in European History, and three in French." We don't have the same system involving AP credits here in Canada, but I gather this is impressive. Sam says, "You're telling me you've never been to college, and after taking two classes this summer, you're going to be, like, a junior?" Charlie replies, "With a pretty decent GPA." Sam, somewhat nervously: "Charlie, just how smart are you?" Charlie, honestly but with no arrogance at all: "I've got some game." Ginger appears to summon Sam to a meeting. He excuses himself.
Sam walks out into the hall where a woman in uniform is waiting, looking at a display case. Sam says, "Lieutenant," and shakes her hand. She says, "Mr. Seaborn." He then says, "Sam," and she says, "Emily." He tells her she looks exactly the way she sounds on the phone; she says he looks exactly the way he looks on the news. He thanks her for coming by, and says he's surprised to see her in a dress uniform on a day like she must be having today. She points out that they're required to wear their Class-A uniforms for any business on the Hill or in the White House. Sam apparently didn't know that. She asks, "You never noticed that every soldier, sailor, and Marine who's walked in here has been in a dress uniform?" Sam says quietly, "I'm less visually observant than others but I make up for it." Emily: "How?" Sam: "With cunning and guile." If you say so, Sam. They sit. He wants to know what happened with the ship. There was a steering problem, so the captain dropped anchor ten miles out to avoid colliding with other marine traffic, but the anchor broke. Sam is astonished to learn that anchors break. News flash: there is nothing manufactured by humans that can't break. I wave some smelling salts under Sam's nose to revive him. Emily goes on to ask him to guess how long it takes for a ship of the Indio's size, steaming at eighteen knots, to come to a complete stop. Sam guesses that it would be the length of a couple of football fields. Sam's not even in the ballpark, to mix metaphors. Emily informs him that it takes six miles, and there's no anchor that can stop that boat at eighteen knots. The Indio was out there drifting around, so they dispatched the Tallahassee to tow it in, but it was hit with twenty-five-foot seas, and the wind at forty knots. It returned to port with every intention of going back out, but the winds pushed the Indio into shore before that could happen. Sam asks, "How bad is this going to end up being?" Emily says it's very bad; and cites the many agencies that are involved. But she points out that there are only so many pairs of hands, and suggests that Sam trying getting oil out of water sometime. Sam thanks her for coming by. She offers to keep him posted during the day, and he wishes her luck.