They waited a moment, made sure there were no more blips on the screen, and then all three men got out to look at the wreckage.
Debris was scattered everywhere, centered on a small crater the drone had created in the asphalt. None of the pieces had any kind of markings or identification on them. Both sergeants took pictures. It was the closest Pete had been to a drone since leaving Eris Island. After a few minutes of catching their breath and walking around the wreckage, they got back into the truck without a word.
The driver drove slowly around it, into the median, to avoid the destruction.
The soldier in the passenger seat was the first to speak. “Those things are bigger than I thought.”
“We’re almost there,” said the driver. They’d driven about another hour since the drone attack and were approaching the submarine base. They’d slowed down to an almost leisurely pace to make the rendezvous at the exact right time, which seemed painfully slow after their brief one-hundred-mile-per-hour sprint.
The soldier in the passenger seat turned and shook Pete’s hand. “We’re not going to hang around after we drop you off, I’m afraid, so let’s say goodbye now.”
Pete took his hand.
Suddenly they were at the head of the dock. They exchanged documents with two men in a machine gun nest that was topped by a heavily camouflaged metal shield. He waved them on and then ducked back below his cover after a quick survey of the sky.
“Go,” they said to Pete. “Good luck.”
He jumped out of the vehicle with his seabag, and as soon as he did, his companions sped away inland, as fast as they could drive.
Pete looked around. The soldier in the machine gun nest was deep inside his shelter, invisible.
“Is there a submarine around here somewhere?” Pete yelled toward him.
“That way,” said the soldier. His hand appeared out of the shadows, and pointed down the pier.
Pete didn’t see a submarine, but he started walking in that direction anyway.
After a few minutes it came into sight, a dark shape emerging from the ocean. When he got to it, the brow and a single set of lines were the only things that connected the vessel to shore. Water still dripped from the dark steel of its hull; Pete got the impression that it had surfaced just moments before his arrival. A man waited for him topside, in a full captain’s uniform.
“Welcome aboard,” he said.
“I’m happy to be here,” said Pete, extending his hand. The captain was wearing regular Navy ribbons; Pete thought he probably wanted him to notice that.
“I’m Captain Finn McCallister,” he said.
“Pete Hamlin,” he answered, taking the captain’s extended hand.
An alarm screeched belowdecks. “Let’s get going,” said the captain. “Sounds like they’re near.”
“Who?”
The captain looked at him like he was making a bad joke. He pointed at the sky, just like the soldier who had driven him there a day before.
“The drones?” asked Pete.
“Of course not,” said McCallister, striding toward the ladder. “The drones are perfectly engineered to defeat the enemy and protect the Alliance. But all the same we should get submerged before they start dropping bombs on our heads.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
At the bottom of the ladder, a young officer was waiting for them, a weary smile on his face and a stack of linens in his hands.
“Lieutenant Ramirez will show you to your bunk,” said the captain. “He’s your new roommate.”
“There’s a uniform here, too,” said Ramirez, patting the top of the stack. “So you can look like a submariner. We even put your name on it.”
“Sorry for all the trouble,” said Pete.
“Don’t apologize,” said Ramirez. “This is the first time I’ve seen the sky in five months. I’ll be forever grateful.” He gave the hatch a longing glance as the captain spun it shut, preparing the big submarine to go to sea again.
“I’m going to control,” said the captain. “I need to get us to the dive point as quickly as possible. As soon as we get in deep water, I’ll bring you to my stateroom so we can have a look at your orders.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“In the meantime, Ramirez will show you around.”
“Come on,” said Ramirez, no longer interested in lingering now that the last sliver of sky had been shut off to them. “First stop, our stateroom.”
As it turned out, it was right around the corner.
There were two bunks, one of which had been stripped bare revealing its thin, Navy-issue mattress.
“Here,” said Ramirez, handing him the stack of sheets and pillowcases. For the first time, Pete noticed that a pamphlet was sitting on top: WELCOME ABOARD THE USS POLARIS.
“What’s this?”
“That? A little bit of a joke. A thing we used to hand out to visiting bands of Cub Scouts and Rotarians. A memento of happier times. But there is some info that might be useful to you in there. Ever been on a submarine before?”
“Never,” said Pete. “Spent a lot of time in the simulator in Charleston. But this is my first time on a real boat.”
“You get used to it after about five years,” he said. The fatigue from all the years showed in Ramirez’s face, but his smile was genuine. Pete thought Ramirez was one of those guys who could suffer through anything, probably a job requirement for a career in the submarine force. Or maybe he was just glad to have somebody new to talk to.
“Well,” said Pete. “Hopefully this won’t take that long.”
There was a sharp knock on the stateroom door, and a strikingly beautiful woman appeared, with commander’s insignia on her collar.
“Already hanging out in your stateroom?” she said. “Looks like Ramirez’s bad habits rubbed off on you fast.” She had shoulder-length blond hair and a turned-up nose. Her body was small but powerful, athletic, reminding Pete of a cheerleader. Her eyes were hard, though, and she stared Pete down.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Ramirez, unfazed. “Now that I’ve shown him his rack, I’ll show him where we watch movies and take showers.”
“That will cover a normal day in your life,” she said with a snort. She extended her hand to Pete. “Commander Hana Moody,” she said. “I’m the XO.”
“Pete Hamlin,” he responded.
“I know,” she said. “You must be important.”
“Not at all,” he said. “It’s all about the mission.”
“Which is?”
There was a pause as she waited for Pete to disclose something. Anything.
“Ma’am, I’m not really at liberty to say. I haven’t even reviewed my orders with the captain.”
She tossed her head and exhaled loudly. “Jeez, some manners from you. A guest on my ship, given this prime bunk, and you’re keeping secrets from a superior officer.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Once I tell the captain, it will be up to him to share with anyone on a need-to-know basis.”
“I’m familiar with the requirements,” she snapped. She was looking him up and down now. “Ever been on a submarine?”
“Never,” he said.
“Are you Navy? Alliance?”
Pete shook his head. “I’m not at liberty to say.”
“Jesus, you’re a pain in the ass. I’m told you have officer of the deck training?”
“Correct, ma’am.”
“Then I guess we’ll treat you like an officer. We can use the help.”