"They would never find your body."
"Are… are you threatening me?"
"Simply making sure we understand one another, Seaman O'Brien."
"Please do not discuss this interview with other members of the crew."
"You may go now."
"Hey! Wait! I want to know—"
"Dismissed, Seaman O'Brien!"
Moments later, he was back on the boat's forward deck topside, rejoining the working party.
"Man, O'Brien," one said. "You look white as a ghost! What happened?'
"I'm not supposed to talk about it."
"Yeah, well, they don't call us 'the Silent Service' for nothing, do they?"
"C'mon, people," the COB said. "Who said you could stop working?… "
"So what did those guys want?" Benson asked. "They had you guys in there for hours, it seemed like."
"I'll tell you," Scobey said, shaking his head. "Those dark suits? The glasses? Them not sayin' who they were from? They were perfect MIBs."
"MIBs?" Douglas asked. "What the hell are you talking about, Big C?"
"Men in Black. Mysterious guys in black suits who always seem to show up when there's been an important UFO sighting. They question the witnesses, confiscate the film and any evidence, and tell everyone to forget what they've seen, and never tell anyone. They may be from some ultra-secret government organization. Or they could be ETs themselves, disguised as humans."
"Whoa, wait. Hold up a sec, Big C," Jablonski said. "Are you saying those guys were investigating a UFO sighting? Like … like little green men?"
"Nah," Benson said, "he's saying they were little green men!"
"Actually, they're gray," Scobey said. "And some of 'em look so much like you and me we'd never blink if we saw them in the corner 7-Eleven. But yeah!"
"Well, I dunno," Douglas said. "I've seen some pretty damned strange things in my 7-Eleven."
"Uh-uh," Mark Doershner said, leaning back on the bench and folding his arms. "I'm not buying that one. They kept asking me about our last mission. They especially wanted to know if any of you guys were acting suspicious. Nothing about flying saucers!"
"Huh. What'd you tell them?" Douglas asked.
"That I thought you all were Russian spies, but that I had you under close surveillance."
"Geeze! Russian spies! If they come after us, we're taking you down, too!"
Doug O'Brien entered the mess hall. Doershner nudged Scobey in the ribs. "So! Nub! How'd your little chat with our visitors go?"
"Uh, okay, I guess." He looked scared.
"What'd they ask you?"
"I–I'm not supposed to talk about it, okay?"
"No, it's not okay, nub! We gotta stick together on this! What happened?"
"Well, nothing, really. They wanted to know why I was sitting next to some Navy commander on my flight out last weekend. And they showed me pictures of people I didn't know and asked about them."
"Yeah? And what'd you say?" Doershner asked, pressing.
"Well, after a while I got tired of them threatening me, see? So I said I wanted a lawyer, that it was my right, and I told them I wanted to know what they were charging me with, if they thought I'd committed a crime."
"Whoa!" Douglas exclaimed. "Way to go, nub!"
"Yeah, the little shit's got real promise!" Doershner said, grinning.
"I still think we got a genuine case of MIBs here, gentlemen," Scobey said. "So, the way I figure it, now we have to work out which of us has seen a UFO!"
"A what?" O'Brien asked.
"A UFO. Flying saucer. You know, like Roswell? Those were government agents, son. Somebody on board has seen something, and they're trying to cover it up, see?"
"Must be a conspiracy!" Douglas and Jablonski chorused.
"Nah, I think you twerps've got it all wrong," Doershner said. "They was government agents, all right, but I think they were looking for something else."
"Like what?" Jablonski demanded.
"Well, what do you expect to find on board a nuclear submarine, huh?"
"Nukes?"
"A nuclear reactor, is what. I think those guys were from the AEC, checking up on the old Pittsburgh, here."
"What," Douglas said, looking alarmed. "You think there's been a leak? Contamination, maybe?"
"It's possible. I heard of this sort of thing happening before. The guys in black show up, start checking out the crew. One of them's a doctor, kind of sneaky-like looking each guy over for signs of radiation poisoning."
"Radiation poisoning!" O'Brien exclaimed. "What … what signs?"
"Oh, c'mon. You know. You heard it all at school. Nausea. The shakes. Vomiting blood. Oh, the first thing is, usually your hair starts falling out. Usually that happens before you start feeling bad, before you even know you've been contaminated."
"Wouldn't they evacuate the boat if they thought that?" O'Brien asked.
"Sometimes," Scobey said. "But, you know, if they don't want to cause a panic, they might not say a word."
"It's a conspiracy," Douglas said, and he winked.
Mike Chase held the telephone to his ear. "Damn it, Admiral, these people are turning my command upside down! What the hell gives, anyway?"
"I'm sorry, Mike," the voice on the other end of the line said. "I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you."
Chase almost growled. The man he was talking to was Admiral Hartwell, commander of SUBRON 5 and just a few rungs above Chase in the chain of command. "It's a secure line, Admiral."
"And the information is compartmentalized. Strictly need-to-know."
"And maybe I need to know! They are using nothing short of Gestapo tactics on my people," Chase said, "and I won't have it!"
"Mike, simmer down. It's strictly temporary and completely pro forma. Pittsburgh is going out on another op soon, and there are people up the ladder who want to make sure your crew's loyalty is… unassailable."
"My crew's loyalty! Good God, Admiral! Has anyone told these Nazis that we're Americans? That we're on the same side?"
"Possibly, Mike, there are some… concerns in that quarter. Since the Walker case…. "
The Walkers. So that was it. Someone in Military Intelligence, or maybe the CI fucking A, was staying awake nights because of the Walker family spy ring, wondering what they may or may not have compromised.
"It's not right that my boys pay for that, Admiral. If they have a case under way, if they suspect one of my people, okay. But these terror-squad tactics are destroying morale and interfering with the efficiency of my boat. I will not sit by and watch my people attacked by these bastards!"
He heard Hartwell sigh. "Mike, there's not much I can do. We have some bigwigs coming up there to talk to your successor in a few days. These clowns are probably part of the show. All I can tell you is to button up and keep your head down."
"One of my men told them he wanted a lawyer if they were going to question him any more."
"Son of a gun! Sea-lawyer type?"
"Not hardly. Fresh out of school. A good kid, from what I've seen. Not a troublemaker. And he doesn't have an attitude. He just got pushed too far. I don't want him to get in trouble with these characters. And I don't want my command disrupted!"
"Okay, okay. I'll see what I can do. But I'm telling you,
this goes all the way up to Washington. It's not something SUBRON 5 has a thing to do with."