“Diving Officer, make your depth six-two feet,” he called out.

“Depth six-two feet, aye, sir,” Wallich responded. He leaned forward, placing his head between his two young charges, and spoke. “Okay, you two, let’s do this right. Don’t embarrass me in front of the skipper. Rudder amidships. Full rise on the bow planes. Seven-degree up angle with the stern planes.”

Toledo rose from the dark depths toward the light above. As Wallich called out the depth changes, there was no other sound in the control room. Every ear was strained to hear Durand’s call if he should see an unexpected shape. To a man, the crew was thinking what he needed to do to get Toledo back down to the safety of the deep if an obstacle appeared.

The periscope broke through the surface. Durand swung the scope around through two complete circles, looking for ships close enough to hit Toledo. Glass had moved over to watch the TV monitor, showing him what Durand was seeing.

The young lieutenant called out, “No close contacts.”

It was safe to breathe again.

Glass leaned over to Durand and said, “Raise the BRA-34 and download the broadcast. Let’s find out why the boss wants to talk to us so bad.”

The submarine had a pair of BRA-34 communications masts for both receiving and transmitting radio signals over a wide range of frequencies. They allowed the boat to stay safely hidden below the surface and yet still be in radio contact with ships and stations around the world.

Within minutes the radioman on watch was reporting over the 21MC circuit.

“All traffic on board and receipted for. Request captain come to radio.”

Glass stopped next to Edwards as he headed aft to the radio room. “XO, keep an eye on things out here while I see what radio wants. Let’s stay up at PD until we’ve taken a look at the traffic.”

He stepped out the back door to the control room, ducked around the ESGN inertial navigation gyros hanging down from the overhead, and punched the combination into the cypher lock on the door to the radio room. The door opened to a cramped world of electronic panels, humming communications gear, and red-painted crypto equipment. This was the most secure room on the boat, and for good reason.

The radioman handed Glass an aluminum clipboard with the words TOP SECRET painted in two-inch high letters on its cover. Glass flipped it open, signed a disclosure sheet saying he had seen the message, and began to read:

TOP SECRET, SPECIAL HANDLING REQUIRED

TO: COMMANDING OFFICER USS TOLEDO, SSN 769

FROM: COMSUBLANT

BT

1. IMMEDIATELY PROCEED AT BEST SPEED TO RN SUBMARINE BASE FASLANE. MOOR PIER NOVEMBER TWO.

2. LOAD DSRV MYSTIC AND OTHER EQUIPMENT.

3. UNDER WAY IMMEDIATELY UPON COMPLETION ON-LOAD.

4. FOLLOW-UP ORDERS AND AMPLIFYING INFORMATION TO BE DELIVERED BY SPECIAL COURIER UPON ARRIVAL.

BT