They both waited for more, but the XO seemed to have difficulty taking the reins of a conversation. They marched up the coral steps of a two-story building at the edge of a courtyard.

Inside the foyer their eyes adjusted to the dim light as a yeoman checked their IDs. The walls were lined with black and white photos of the base during World War II. One showed a tender surrounded by dozens of tiny diesel subs, probably more in one frame than made up the entire modern Pacific fleet. They made so many of them, Danny knew, because they were vital to the navy’s Pacific mission, the only thing holding back the relentless Japanese advance. And because large numbers of them tended to disappear.

“Right this way, gentleman,” said the yeoman, and he led them down a narrow hallway that was lined with faded battle flags, many of them adorned with tiny rising suns for every Japanese ship they’d sunk. They stepped through a doorway at the end of the hallway.

“Gentlemen.” Admiral Wells stood in his dress whites to greet them with a grim smile. He was extremely trim, his shoulder boards with their two stars extending slightly past his narrow shoulders. It was easy to picture him running Hawaii’s famed Ironman race, which he had completed three times. He shook each of their hands in descending order of rank, finishing with Danny.

At the admiral’s side was a lieutenant with the gold braid on his shoulder that marked him as the admiral’s aide. On the other was a commander from the Naval Investigative Service whom Danny took just a moment to recognize. They stared at each other a moment.

“Commander Carr!”

“Lieutenant Jabo.” They shook hands enthusiastically. Although they’d met only once, it had been a memorable day.

“You two know each other?” said the admiral.

Carr explained. “I did the preliminary investigation onboard the Alabama. After the collision. Lieutenant Jabo was the first man I spoke to.”

“Of course,” said the admiral, remembering, looking from Michaels to Danny. “You two were both on there. With Captain Sellers. We went to the Academy together.”

They both nodded their heads, silently acknowledging that among the lives that had been sacrificed during that patrol, so had their CO’s career.

“Danny, you lost a finger, didn’t you?” He mildly amused by the idea.

Danny felt the XO, next to him, tense up as the admiral called him by his first name.

“Yes sir, two fingers actually. Lost them and got them back.” He extended his left hand so they could see the scars around the base of his ring finger and middle finger, dark pink lines like rings around the bottom. Everyone except the XO leaned over it so they could get a better look. Danny made a fist as best he could.

“I didn’t get back the complete range of motion,” he said. “But still pretty remarkable considering they spent two days in a zip lock bag of ice.”

“They shut a hatch on it, right?” asked the admiral.

“Yes sir, that’s right.” The surprise was evident in Danny’s voice.

“Don’t be surprised,” said the admiral. “I’ve read that incident report many, many times. Everyone in this building has. That’s the closet we’ve come to losing a boat since the San Francisco ran aground.”

“The corpsman cut them off,” said Michaels. “Lieutenant Jabo went right back to fighting the fire after he bandaged it up. Danny got those cool scars to go with his Navy Cross.”

The admiral shook his head in admiration. “What you did — what you both did — was a credit to the submarine force.”

“Thank you sir,” said the Captain and Danny simultaneously, equally embarrassed by the praise.

There was a pause, and then the admiral sighed heavily. “Well I’ll give you young men credit. You have a knack for landing interesting assignments.” He nodded at Carr, and Carr stood to speak in front of the large chart of the Pacific that hung in front of the room.

* * *

“Three days ago, both emergency distress buoys were launched from the USS Boise, SSN 764. They began transmitting here,” said Commander Carr, tapping the chart with a telescoping pointer he’d pulled from his pocket. It was in the middle of the biggest, most remote part of the Pacific, equidistant, it seemed, between Japan and Hawaii.

“You know what that sounds like, right?” said the admiral.

“Yes sir,” said both Danny and the captain, two of very few men alive who’d heard the sound of those beacons launching and lived to tell about it. Danny heard the XO clear his throat, perhaps an unconscious attempt at getting the admiral to direct some of his comments to him, the Louisville’s second-in-command.

“We believe they were launched due to timer reset,” said Carr.

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