Hamlin started to reach out to touch the damp wall when Moody grabbed his hand with surprising force.
“You know better than that,” she said. “We haven’t overhauled this yet, might still be energized and dangerous. We can’t lose you now.”
He put his hand down.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
He shook his head. He thought better of telling her about the complete amnesia that seemed to have befallen him. “My head,” he said truthfully. “It’s killing me.”
She reached up and touched his forehead with surprising tenderness. “The bastard got you good,” she said. “We’ll get that bandaged up. When we can.”
They walked by the radio room, where a half dozen computer monitors blinked and an acrid smell hung thick in the air. “He started with radio,” said Moody. “Took out communications before he did anything else. It’s completely wrecked, we’ll be lucky to get any of it working.”
As they continued forward they came upon a room that Hamlin knew was sonar. They approached a screen.
Moody pointed at a symbol, an upside down V in the center of the screen. “Our shadow. No change. We’ve made their job easy today, with all the noise we’ve been making. No change in range, about one nautical mile behind us, as always.”
She hit some buttons on the screen, and the display changed, a banner reading DRONE CLOUD appearing at the top of the screen. The thought of drones resonated with Pete; he knew that once he’d had deep familiarity with them. Along with all his memories, that was gone, but it left a shadow of dread inside him.
“Normal,” she said. “Medium density. Direct overpasses every fifteen minutes or so.” They continued walking.
“Propulsion is in good shape,” she continued after a moment. “I think that was probably going to be his next stop, before you got him. The screw is still turning and the lights are still burning. Most of the lights, anyway.”
Hamlin had a sudden vivid memory of close-quarters fighting: fists, blood, and screams. His head hurt with the memory.
They were nearing the control room, Hamlin knew. Immediately aft of it was an escape trunk, a large steel egg with beveled ends that was designed to allow an emergency escape from a crippled submarine. The bottom of the trunk penetrated from the overhead. Its access hatch at the very bottom was open, its ladder cast aside.
“You need to see this,” she said. “We converted the forward escape trunk into a makeshift brig. There’s actually a procedure for that, believe it or not.”
Hamlin stepped beneath the trunk.
“Be careful,” she said. “He’s dangerous.”
Hamlin looked up and saw that a heavy steel grid had been affixed to the bottom of the trunk, fastened by heavy bolts on the outside. He could also see the soles of two shoes on the grid above his head, a pair of standard-issue Navy oxfords.
Suddenly the prisoner looked down, between his legs, and saw Hamlin. He immediately threw himself to his hands and knees.
“Pete!” he said. “Thank god you’re here!”
His face was dirty and his eyes were frantic, but Pete thought he recognized something just as he had in Ramirez: a friend.
“Finn,” he said, surprising himself with the memory of a name.
“You’ve got to get me out of here!”
Suddenly Moody stepped to Pete’s side, into the view of the prisoner.
McCallister’s face darkened. “Moody? Pete, why are you with her?”
“That’s right, McCallister, he’s with me. And you’re in there, trapped like the animal you are.”
“Pete!” The intensity of his shouting made Hamlin wince. “You’ve got to get away from her!”
“Shut up, McCallister,” she said.
“She’s going to destroy us all!”
Moody suddenly pushed Pete aside and pulled something from her pocket. She pointed it up at the steel grid and fired it.
An electric blue arc jumped from her hands to the steel grid that McCallister knelt upon. Sparks shot across the chamber. McCallister howled and tried to jump away from the pain, but there was nowhere to hide inside the metal cell. He screamed and bounced off the sides of it in agony as Moody held her finger down on the trigger, a grim smile on her face.
When she finally relented, McCallister collapsed to the grid, his face pressed against it, breathless, almost unconscious. A thin stream of drool escaped his mouth and fell between Moody and Hamlin.
“I guess you’re done talking now,” she said, reholstering the Taser.
McCallister muttered in pain. “Pete…” he said. “Help me.…”
“Ignore him,” said Moody. “He’s a traitor.”
WELCOME ABOARD THE USS POLARIS
Captain McCallister is a native of Dennison, Ohio, and is the son of Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan McCallister, Sr. He received his commission in June 2009 upon graduation from the United States Naval Academy. Following graduation, he received Nuclear Power and Submarine Training.
Captain McCallister reported to the USS Alabama (SSBN 731) in December 2010. He served in division officer assignments prior to transfer in June 2013 to Naval Ballistic Missile School. Subsequently he was assigned to the USS Seawolf (SSN 21) from October 2013 to October 2015. Captain McCallister attended the Submarine Officer Advanced Course (SOAC) from October 2015 to March 2016 before reporting to the USS Newport News (SSN 750) as engineer for a three-year tour.
Starting in March 2019, Captain McCallister took a series of roles within Naval Sea Systems Command to design and build the new class of Polaris submarines. Working at the right hand of Admiral Wesley Stewart, the father of the Polaris program, he was an integral part of the team that designed the weapons suite as well as the long-life nuclear fueling program designed to increase the duration of submarines.
Captain McCallister assumed command of the USS Polaris in May 2027. He remained in command as the Polaris was assigned to support the Alliance in 2029.
Captain McCallister’s personal decorations include the Legion of Merit with a Gold Star, the Alliance Bronze Star, Meritorious Service Medal with a Gold Star, Navy Commendation Medal with three Gold Stars, and the Navy Achievement Medal with two Gold Stars.
CHAPTER THREE
Hana Moody and Pete Hamlin climbed a short ladder into the control room. Standing on the conn was a muscular lieutenant who was studying a green sonar console. He jumped to his feet when they entered.
“Commander Moody!” he said, clearly ecstatic to see her. His biceps bulged in his uniform sleeves and he practically leapt toward them. He was attracted to Moody, it was obvious. But as he started talking, it was evident to Hamlin that he craved her approval as much as he craved her body.
“Were you worried, Holmes? Think I can’t handle a few mutineers? And look what I found,” she said, waving her hand at Pete.
“Glad you could help out,” said Holmes with a sneer. “Now that the fighting’s done.”
“He did his share,” she said. “He killed Ramirez.”
“What?” said Frank, shocked.
“I saw the body myself,” she said. “Got him in the head, killed him with one shot.” Moody reached up and for the second time touched Pete’s wounded head. “So it looks like he was in the fight at least as much as you were.”