When he was finally alone in his cabin, away from prying eyes and listening ears (or so he hoped), Hubbs finally relaxed. He sat down on his bunk and sighed, knowing he had to pull himself together, knowing he was here to do a job, and knowing that he was a professional with hundreds of hours of deep-saturation dives under his belt. And with all that, it should have been doable if not exactly easy.

Yet, as soon as his ass hit the cushion of the bunk, it was as if all the muscles inside him had gone limp and loose. He had all he could do to stay upright. His mouth was dry. His hands shaking. His limbs boneless.

And as this occurred, a small voice that seemed to come from somewhere south of his rational brain, said, They’re talking about you right now and you know it. They were just waiting for you to leave. It’s Javy. Fucking Javy. She’s leading the charge. She’s been acting weird around you ever since you got back from the city. She suspects you of…of something.

His forearm itched madly and he scratched it manically, fiercely through the sleeve of his jumpsuit. As he did so, he thought about Javonivic. She’d always had his back. Maybe they’d never been exactly close (he didn’t even know where she’d been born or anything about her beyond the most basic generalities), but they worked together well in the DSU. One op after another, they’d gotten the job done. They were pros.

But now…God, he just didn’t know. This whole Lake Vordog thing was one for the books, all right. It was hard to gauge it objectively because they’d never been involved in anything like this. Orr had put it best when he told them, “The…bigness of this one is more than a little overwhelming.” And that was it exactly: the bigness of it. Things were happening down here. Things in the shadows or behind your back or just behind the scenes.

Hubbs knew that much.

Everyone was acting a bit off. He figured they were all scared like he was, but being DSU, they’d never admit it in a million years.

Oh, there’ so many things no one will admit to.

Himself included. That was the problem with an outfit like the DSU—things were very rigid, protocol set in stone. If you deviated from that, you were out. The Navy brass didn’t fuck around. They expected you not only to be in perfect physical fitness, but mentally balanced and solid as a rock. And if Hubbs was to admit to the things he’d seen, well, it would all go down in his file (Bell would see to that) and his career would end right there.

Trust, he thought, there’s no trust now.