“Hey, Lieutenant,” Chief Gary Nichols called out. “Better move or you’ll get your toes run over.”

Perkins jumped backward as the trailer rolled past. As usual, Nichols was doing his best to keep him out of trouble. Best damn chief he had ever worked with.

Perkins walked over to stand next to him and watch the process together. “Chief, you get any skinny on where we’re headed?”

Perkins had learned a long time ago that the old Navy axiom was true: A chief always knew what was going down long before it came through official channels.

This time Nichols shook his head and frowned. “Not a word. Just the order for a full load-out. I suspect it’s just another drill. You know. Fly us off to some godforsaken air base and back again, just to prove we can do it.”

“Yep, I suspect you’re right.”

Perkins’s reply didn’t sound so certain. Something felt different about this one.

The DSRV with its trailer was moving up the ramp now and sliding into the gaping maw of the C-5 aircraft. It filled the giant bird’s massive cargo hold with mere inches to spare all around.

The front cargo door hissed down and locked closed. The DSRV crew jumped into the aircraft through the diminutive crew hatch.

Minutes later, the four giant General Electric TF-39 turbofan engines dragged the bird upward and into the night sky. Within minutes the cheerful lights of San Diego disappeared behind them.

“Dimitriy, how is the crew holding up?” Captain Second Rank Sergei Andropoyov asked.

He had just looked up from the manual over which he had been poring for the past half hour.

“We’ve lost two more of the injured,” Pishkovski answered sadly. “I expect we will lose Ludmila in the next few hours. He was burned badly by the steam pipes. There is nothing we can do but keep him drugged.” He slammed his fist into a sheet-metal locker door in frustration. “Where is that damned American? What happened?” Tears spilled from his eyes and down his face. “Captain, why did he leave us down here to die?”

Andropoyov put a firm hand on his first officer’s shoulder. “Easy, Dimitriy. I need you to be in control of yourself. The crew needs to see us both as strong and confident.” He bent closer and, in a whisper, he added, “I suspect the explosions we heard may be why we haven’t had more contact from the American. I’m beginning to suspect he may be suffering the same fate as we are.”

Pishkovski looked at his captain, his eyes wide with fear. “That means what happened to us was not an accident!” Andropoyov nodded. “What of the Volk, Captain? He should have been here by now anyway.”