“Chief, prepare to surface,” instructed Okura.
The diving officer answered without glancing away from his instruments.
“The Katana is ready when you are. Captain.”
Okura quickly scanned the half-dozen manned stations set alongside the diving console. From these various positions, the sub was navigated and its weapons fired. Of particular interest to him was the sonar station, where a young, crewcut technician appeared totally absorbed in the sounds being relayed into his cars by the bulky headphones that he wore. Okura walked over to the sonarman and addressed him while gently massaging his neck.
“I hope that’s not the signature of another submarine or surface ship that’s got you so absorbed, Saigo.”
The sonar operator looked up from his monitor screen and eagerly replied.
“Captain, our hydrophones are picking up only the mating sounds of a bunch of amorous shrimp.”
“This appears to be a night filled with lust, Saigo,” said the captain with a cryptic wink.
“Now let’s see if our special passengers are ready to earn their keep.”
Okura reached out for a bulkhead-mounted telephone and spoke into the handset’s transmitter.
“Number two, is the team ready?”
The amplified voice of Senior Lieutenant Fukashigi answered.
“The squad has assembled in the forward torpedo room and is awaiting your orders to disembark, Captain.”
“Understood, Number Two,” said Okura.
“We’re on our way topside.”
The captain hung up the handset, turned toward the helm and firmly ordered.
“For the glory of the Emperor, surface the boat!”
Chief Mikio addressed his console, and the control room filled with the roar of venting ballast. At the same time, the planesmen pulled back on their steering columns and the Katana’s bow angled sharply upward.
Fighting the slope of the deck, Okura returned to the periscope well. He was in the midst of a hurried three-hundred-and-sixty-degree scan, when Chief Mikio’s gruff voice sounded.
“We’ve cleared the surface. Captain. Shall I pass on the all clear to the torpedo room, to open the forward access hatch?”
“That’s affirmative, Chief,” replied Okura ashe turned the scope due eastward, and surveyed that portion of water between the Katana and the distant beach.
“Captain, sonar reports a surface contact, bearing two-one-zero, relative rough range forty-eight hundred yards!” exclaimed Saigo.
“It sounds like it could be a small patrol boat that’s in the process of rounding Naha Point.”
Okura instantly swung the periscope to bearing two-one-zero and increased the lens’s magnification to maximum. It didn’t take him long to spot a dim red light just visible on the horizon.
“Shall I inform the senior lieutenant to pull back the squad and then put the Katana under, Captain?” asked the diving officer.
“By all means, no!” replied Okura.
“We should have the all clear any second now. Just be ready to pull the plug the moment we get the word.”
With a deft movement of his right hand, Okura decreased the lens’s amplification and swung the periscope back to that portion of the sea separating the Katana from the shoreline. The calm waters were still clear as Saigo shouted out the latest update.
“Captain, sonar reports that the surface contact continues to close. Relative rough range is down to forty-five hundred yards.”
This was followed by the concerned voice of Chief Mikio.
“If it’s indeed a patrol boat, we should be just about within their radar range. Captain.”
Well aware of this disturbing fact, Okura backed away from the scope and impatiently looked up to the bulkhead-mounted clock. Their mission’s ultimate success depended upon total secrecy. Detection by the surface vessel’s radar would compromise this allimportant factor, and Okura knew that he couldn’t afford to keep the Katana in its current position any longer. He was in the process of reaching out for the telephone handset to inform his executive officer of this decision when the unit activated with a growling buzz. Okura, quick to answer it, listened as Senior Lieutenant Fukashigi relayed the report he had been waiting for.
“Captain, the team is free of the boat and the access hatch has been sealed!”
Okura’s reaction was immediate.
“Take us down, Chief! Dive! Dive!”
The control room reverberated with the raucous cry of the diving alarm and the sound of onrushing ballast.
As the hull began to angle downward, Okura hurried back to the periscope. He anxiously peered through the lens, which filled with a closeup view of five wet-suited individuals smoothly paddling toward shore in a black rubber raft.
Airman First Class Vie Taylor felt like he had died and gone to heaven. For the past quarter of an hour, positioned atop him, Etsumi had made love like a woman possessed. She was wet and tight, and displayed arising passion that seemed to have no bounds.
Sprawled out on his back on the moist sand, Taylor returned her urgent kisses while stroking the smooth, hot skin of her constantly plunging buttocks. No words were needed to express his own desire. With no thought to duty, the Texan concentrated solely on satisfying his lover’s desperate needs.
Soothed by the gentle sound of the crashing surf, Taylor was further aroused by a series of deep French kisses. His lover’s tongue touched his own, then probed his lips and mouth with sensual fierceness.
This was accompanied by a wild, grinding of her hips, hinting that her need would soon be satisfied.
Taylor’s stiff, nine-inch manhood plunged deep into Etsumi’s hot depths. Time after glorious time, she took his all, until his rhythm was further intensified by the first hint of rising seed. Etsumi sensed this excitement and momentarily pressed her hips forward and halted all movement. Taylor assumed that she wanted him to hold back, so that they could share the pleasures of orgasm together. With all the self-control he could muster, he did so. And after a brief rest, they were able to resume intercourse without the Texan having to worry about leaving his lover unfulfilled.
A spirited rhythm was once more established, only to be interrupted by a distant, metallic clanging noise.
This alien racket immediately diverted Taylor’s attention.
He broke off the deep kiss he had been submerged in and looked out into the black night.
“What in the hell was that?” he queried.
“It’s nothing, cowboy,” said Etsumi breathlessly.
“So please, don’t quit now. I’m so close I could burst any second.”
Heedless of this request, Taylor pushed Etsumi away, the erotic spell that had captivated him now broken.
Ashe struggled to stand and pull up his pants, she vainly protested.
“Don’t be such an old lady. There’s nothing out there but the wind and the sea.”
“That’s easy enough for you to say. Little Bit. But if that’s the sarge, hell throw me in the brig and then lose the key.”
Taylor was doing his best to brush the sand from his chest and arms when the clanging noise was repeated.
It appeared to be emanating from the direction of the sea, and sounded louder.
Not bothering to put on his shirt, Taylor turned toward the breakwater, where he had left his rifle. Ashe pivoted, Etsumi grabbed his arm and whined.
“Taylorsan! What’s gotten into you?”
The Texan violently yanked himself free and, not bothering to reply, sprinted for his weapon. Raw, heart-pounding fear guided his steps ashe spotted the M-16 propped up against arounded boulder, only a few feet distant. Well aware of his sworn duty and his exposed position, he desperately extended his hand.