“John,” she said, “this can’t have anything to do with the Jihadist Freedom Party, can it?”

  His face closed up.

  “It does,” Dawnstar said in disbelief.

  He admired how she could do that, see things in his face. She knew him all right.

  “This is crazier than I thought,” she said. “The JFPs are savages.”

  “No. They’re idealists. I understand idealists even if I don’t agree with their particular ideals.”

  Dawnstar appeared to be thinking it over. Finally, she nodded. “Maybe that’s true. I still say… Okay. Go. But if you don’t come back…”

  “I’m coming back,” he said.

  A look of real sorrow crossed her face. That cut John to the quick. He was leaving in a minute, but he didn’t know how many more times he could go through with this. He couldn’t take that look. He loved his dear wife and kids, but he was a warrior. And if the truth were known, he loved the challenge.

  He didn’t admit one other thing, but he might have been a natural warrior, the kind of person that truly loved a fight. They were rare, and they likely had a mental problem, but that didn’t mean they weren’t sane. They just marched to a different drummer, and that John knew about himself.

  Thus, he kissed his wife one more time, squeezed her hard. Then he released, picked up his small kit, and walked through the door. In his mind, he changed from John Steele to just Steele. He was on the clock now, and thus he was Steele just like all his fighting ancestors had been in the past.

  -8-

  Later, First Lieutenant Steele peered out of a narrow window of a space plane as it began its long descent toward Earth. He had left OS Aphrodite spinning behind in the void of low Earth orbit.

  As Steele watched, the curvature of the planet gradually dominated his view. There was some shaking as the plane used the heat shield, several jerks as chutes deployed, greatly slowing their velocity. Eventually, the plane reached a thicker atmosphere and engaged its jets. By then, the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean sparkled in the sunlight. As the plane descended further, Steele spotted the Australian coastline. Soon, it came into focus, a rugged strip of land where the ocean met the desert.

  The landing was routine as the space plane touched down with a gentle thud. As it taxied to a halt, Steele unbuckled and stood, stretching his legs. Would the rest of the trip be as uneventful? He could only hope.

  He collected his kit, and with the other passengers, made his way to the exit. Everyone else boarded a shuttle bus. He walked to a black vehicle on the tarmac.

  As he approached, a stern-faced New World Conglomerate Military Police officer stepped out and opened the rear door. “Welcome to Australia, Lieutenant. They’re waiting for you,” he said, offering a brisk salute.

  Steele returned the salute and climbed into the back. The interior was cool, quite unlike the heat outside.

  The fifty-six-minute drive to the submarine base was quicker than Steele had expected. He’d gone over the route with a mission officer on Aphrodite. He noted armed guards patrolling the perimeter, a vast expanse of chain-link fence with razor wire. Their vehicle passed through several security checkpoints. Steele presented his credentials at each.

  Finally, they arrived at a hidden dock, concealed from aerial and satellite surveillance. This was through a combination of terrain and construction. The submarine was named the NWC Silent Thunder. Steele followed the MP through a secure tunnel until they reached a spacious hangar. The submarine was half-submerged, connected by a metal gangplank.

  Steele crossed it alone, showed his ID to a tower guard and then descended a narrow ladder into the submarine. It was dimly lit, with the cool air carrying a hint of metal and lubricant.

  Captain Morgan met him, and shook his hand. Morgan was stout and a little shorter than Steele. The man had thinning gray hair and lines in a weathered face.

  Steele had read his profile: Morgan had over three decades of experience, most of it in submarines. He was gruff and to the point, with three confirmed submarine kills. Those had all occurred in the past two years.

  “Welcome aboard,” Morgan said.

  “Thank you, Captain.

  “This may not be the Moon—”

  “Please,” Steele said, interrupting. “I appreciate what you’re going to do. I’ve read about you. You know your business. Frankly, submarines seem more terrifying than space capsules to me.”

  “There’s nothing like the pressures of the deep,” Morgan said.

  “I believe that,” Steele said.

  Morgan eyed him. The stout captain didn’t appear like the diplomatic kind. He appeared unhappy.

  “Our two sides need to work together,” Steele said.

  “You really believe that?”

  “You’re helping us.”

  “And you think this foray will pay off for both of us?”

  “That’s the idea,” Steele said.

  “I wish you orbital people would launch some missiles at the World Government. So far, we in the New World Conglomerate have done all the dying. Now we’re going on this mindless jaunt—” Morgan cut himself off. “Are you going to be a problem for me this trip?”

  “What could I do to cause trouble?” Steele asked.

  Morgan grunted, shrugged, and said, “I might as well show you the control room. Then I’ll have someone take you to your quarters.”

  The Silent Thunder carried a crew of 65. It was the stealthiest of the normal-sized submarines in the NWC Navy.

  The control room had a large display that dominated the chamber. It showed the sub’s current location. Technicians and officers manned their stations much as if this were a spaceship.

  “We’ll be using the Indian Ocean to the Arabian Sea to approach the Persian Gulf,” Morgan said. “Once we leave the Indonesian waters, the WG patrols will thicken. There might be delays if we run into heavy submarine packs.”

  “Is that usual?” Steele asked.

  “Where we’re going…” Morgan shook his head. “It’s going to be a challenge. I hope your little ops are worth the risk we’re taking for you.”

  “Me too,” Steele said.

  Morgan scowled, apparently not liking the answer.

  “I doubt I need to ask,” Steele said. “But you do have a UDV along?”

  UDV stood for underwater delivery vehicle.

  Morgan nodded. “You’ll meet our expert later.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Steele said.

  Morgan turned to an officer, giving the sense he wanted to get rid of his guest. “If you could show the lieutenant to his quarters…”

  “If you will follow me, sir,” a warrant officer said.

  Steele picked up his kit and did just that. He also recalled the last time he’d been on a submarine. He had met Dawnstar then. She had been a World Government enemy agent, and she had wrecked the intended mission. Whom would he meet this time?

  As the submarine left the Australian coast, Steele settled into his quarters, a compact space to pass the time.

  The NWC Silent Thunder was a diesel-electric submarine. The New World Conglomerate possessed the best submarine fleet, which had gone a long way to the victories against the World Government as various large islands seceded from the WG and jointed the NWC. This was a stealth sub, constructed for clandestine missions just as this. It had a hydrodynamic hull coated with anechoic tiles designed to absorb sonar waves, rendering it virtually invisible to enemy detection systems. Powered by a hybrid propulsion system, the submarine could switch between its diesel engines and ultra-silent electric motors. The latter allowed it to cruise stealthily through the ocean depths.

  The first leg of the journey took them past the Indonesian islands, though they didn’t see any. They surfaced at night, letting the diesels run and recharge the batteries. Then they went deep as they cruised into the Indian Ocean proper. The waters were dark and cold, as the Silent Thunder moved at a depth of five hundred meters, avoiding the shipping lanes and known patrol routes.

  This process took days. Steele exercised in the small gym, asked to see the UDV expert and read history chronicles of the Punic Wars between Rome and Carthage. Morgan didn’t introduce him to the UDV expert. That struck Steele as odd.

  He cornered the captain one day and asked him about it in the cramped galley.

  “No need to worry about that,” Morgan said gruffly.

  “I want to go over the specifics with him,” Steele said.

  “We’re still dealing.”

  Steele frowned. “What does that even mean?”

  “Higher command,” Morgan said, as if that explained everything.

  “You’re holding me hostage, trying to get a better deal for this little favor?” Steele asked.

  Morgan scowled, apparently not liking the answer.

  “Captain,” Steele said, “if you can’t perform your duties—”

  “Enough of that,” Morgan barked. “I run this ship. Is that understood?”

  Steele said nothing, wondering what was really bothering Morgan. Still, he dropped the request to see the UDV expert.

  More days passed as they neared the Arabian Sea. Steele learned that the waters grew warmer. The submarine adjusted its course, using shallower depths, at times navigating through underwater terrain.

  At times, Steele was in the control room, watching the seascape through the sub’s cameras. He spied bright coral reefs that later gave way to sandy plains. He even saw a massive school of fish flash past.

  One night, the sonar operator detected a faint, rhythmic ping—a signature of an approaching World Government submarine.

  Morgan ordered the Silent Thunder to descend to its maximum operational depth, reducing speed to a crawl. The submarine’s passive sensors tracked the enemy vessel’s movements as it approached.

  Once, Morgan pointed at an officer.

  The man deployed countermeasures, releasing decoy buoys.

  Steele watched the decoys float upward on the main display.

  “That should throw off enemy sonar,” Morgan muttered.

  It didn’t. The WG submarine drew closer, its sonar pings growing louder and more frequent.

  Steele was shocked. He could feel the vibrations through the hull. He noticed that the crew had become tense.

  Morgan cast an angry glance at Steele. “We don’t want to start an incident. Looks like it can’t be helped, though.” He turned to the others. “All right, gentlemen, we are officially at battle stations.”

  -9-

  Steele learned that the WGS Nemesis, the enemy sub hunting them, was the latest in the World Government’s line of Cerberus-class hunter-killer submarines. It was designed for stealth, speed, and lethal efficiency.

  The Nemesis boasted an 85-meter-long hull, constructed from advanced composite materials, giving it superior strength and durability. Its outer shell was coated with anechoic tiles that could absorb sonar waves to minimize enemy detection.

  Powered by a nuclear reactor, the Nemesis had an advanced pump-jet propulsion system, allowing it to achieve speeds of up to 30 knots while maintaining near-silent running. The propulsion system, combined with the submarine’s low heat signature and magnetic anomaly reduction systems, made it difficult to detect.

  Steele also learned that the Nemesis was equipped with eight forward-facing torpedo tubes. They could launch the latest in guided torpedoes. Additionally, the vertical launch system was able to deploy anti-ship and land-attack missiles, which greatly extended the Nemesis’s reach.

  Morgan muttered that the enemy’s navigation and control systems were second to none. The enemy had a crew of 70 and was the WG’s answer to the NWC’s submarine dominance.

  The key to this was that the Nemesis was cruising at a higher depth as it actively patrolled.

  The pings shook the hull. Soon, those aboard the Nemesis would pinpoint their location. It would be over then, because they could summon reinforcements.

  Morgan analyzed incoming data. “We can’t let them get a fix on us.”

  “They will soon,” the Chief said, a thin fellow.

  Morgan gave a single, quick nod. “Prepare to launch torpedoes.”

  The weapons officer nodded, inputting targeting data into the system. Soon, the man said, “The torpedoes are ready, Captain.”

  Morgan’s jaw muscles bunched tight. “I don’t have a choice. They’re too close to spotting us. Fire torpedoes, tubes one and two.”

  The Silent Thunder shuddered slightly as the MK-99 Sea Vipers launched from their tubes.

  This was an advanced torpedo. It measured 6.5 meters in length and weighed 1,750 kilograms. The warhead was a high-explosive 300 PBX (Polymer-bonded explosive) with enhanced penetration capabilities.

  The Sea Viper used a pump-jet propulsion system, which significantly reduced its acoustic signature, making it difficult for enemy sensors to detect and track. It could travel at speeds of up to 50 knots and had a range of 50 nautical miles.

  The guidance system of the Sea Viper had both active and passive sonar homing, allowing it to lock onto and pursue enemy submarines and surface ships. The torpedo’s AI-assisted targeting gave it greater accuracy and enabled it to use evasive maneuvers to counter enemy countermeasures.

  The two Sea Vipers moved swiftly, their pump-jet propulsion allowing near-silent operation.

  Morgan and others watched the display as the torpedoes cut through the ocean depths, their paths marked by thin, trailing lines on the screen.

  As the Sea Vipers homed in, the active/passive sonar systems engaged, locking onto the acoustic signature of the Nemesis. The torpedoes adjusted their courses, weaving through the underwater currents.

  “Impact in ten seconds,” the weapons officer said.

  Those ten seconds seemed to last far longer to Steele. He noticed many of the crew holding their breaths.

  The torpedoes reached their target. A split second later, two powerful explosions reverberated as the warheads detonated, sending shockwaves.

  The first explosion struck the Nemesis’s stern, tearing through the reinforced hull with a violent burst of energy. The second torpedo hit the midsection, the high-explosive warhead blasting a gaping hole in the structure. The Nemesis shuddered and convulsed as the explosions ripped through its compartments, water flooding in with terrifying speed.

  On the display, the image of the Nemesis flickered and then began to disintegrate as the submarine was torn apart from within. Debris and wreckage were flung into the surrounding water, the enemy submarine reduced to a sinking mass of twisted metal.

  “Target destroyed,” the sonar operator said.

  Morgan nodded briefly. “Resume course to the Strait of Hormuz. Maintain silent running.” He turned, glaring at Steele.

  Steele thought about the dead crew on the other submarine. He turned without a word and went to his quarters.

  Days later, they cruised through the Arabian Sea. Nothing extra happened. Steele asked to see the UDV expert, but nothing came of that.

  As they neared the entrance to the Persian Gulf, tension increased. The World Government heavily monitored the waters here.

  Soon, the Silent Thunder hovered at the Persian Gulf threshold. Morgan did that to wait for the cover of darkness.

  They had timed this for a moonless night. Morgan now started the process as he watched the main display. It showed a detailed map of the seafloor and the locations of known enemy patrols.

  “All systems to silent running,” Morgan said.

  The Strait of Hormuz was a narrow and heavily monitored passage. There was a maze of detection buoys, sonar arrays, and patrolling enemy vessels. These were meant to monitor any underwater movement, making the passage treacherous for any unauthorized vessel.

  “Enemy patrol at bearing 315, range 1,500 meters,” the sonar operator said.

  A WG frigate was sweeping the area, its pings echoing through the water like a hunter’s call.

  “Maintain course and depth,” Morgan said.

  The Silent Thunder glided forward, using the natural contours of the seafloor to mask its presence. The submarine’s anechoic tiles absorbed sonar waves, preventing them from bouncing back to the frigate’s sensors.

  As they neared the narrowest point of the strait, the pings from the enemy sonar grew more frequent and intense. The World Government seemed to be on high alert, possibly aware that something might be attempting to slip through their defenses.

  “Prepare decoys,” Morgan said.

  The weapons officer made preparations at his station.

  The submarine’s EW suite was designed to create false signals, leading the enemy to believe they had detected something where there was nothing.

  The frigate’s sonar pings became rhythmic, a steady beat that seemed to close in on the Silent Thunder.

  At the same time, the submarine slipped between underwater ridges, using the rugged terrain to break up its acoustic signature.

  “Deploy decoys,” Morgan said.

  The decoys were released, emitting signals that mimicked the acoustic signature of a submarine.

  Everyone waited.

  Soon, the frigate’s sonar pings shifted, clearly drawn to the false targets.

  “Enemy changing course, heading for the decoys,” the sonar operator said.

  “Maintain course,” Morgan said.

  The Silent Thunder continued its journey.

  The frigate moved away, allowing them to proceed undetected.

  As they cleared the strait and entered the relative safety of the Persian Gulf, the crew exchanged glances. The most dangerous part was behind them.

  Now, they could move to the next phase of the operation.

  -10-

  “We’ll hold position here,” Captain Morgan told Steele. “We need to assess the situation before we proceed.”

  Steele nodded. “What’s our strategy?”

  “I’ll introduce you to Senior Chief Petty Officer Alvarez. He’s a member of the NWC’s Aquatic Recon Division.”

  “Why have we waited for that?” Steele asked. “Can you finally let me know?”

  “We have our reasons,” Morgan said gruffly. “In…” He checked his watch. “An hour, I’ll introduce you and you can be on your way.”