The view from Good Faith’s bridge was magnificent. Off the bow of the ship were three US Navy vessels, ghost gray paint and surging in the ocean, still churned from the storm only a day before. At the stern of the cutter the helicopters swooped in low, quickly offloaded teams of men in heavy equipment and with rifles bouncing off their chests as they leapt from the sliding doors, slid down ropes, and smashed boots on the deck before clearing way for another helicopter to come in behind. They moved with the well rehearsed precision of dancers on a crowded stage, a wonderful display of planned chaos. The coasties gathered at the edge, watching the elite drop in and position around the perimeter of the landing pad. By the time the last helicopter offloaded its team Ke had counted 36 men in combat equipment, fins strapped to the outsides of their human sized packs.
“So that’s what that looks like.” Said Wells, leaning forward casually on the rails.
“That’s what what looks like,” replied Akin, who was still trying to fathom the logistics required to have thrown this much war machine into the middle of the ocean.
Perry had heard this line from his dive-partner before, had seen this sort of display of raw military might too many times to be impressed any longer, “That’s what it looks like when the cavalry arrives.”
Ke looked from the deck, filled with men in all black fatigues, black face masks, rifles, heavy packs, conventional weapons, and asked out loud, “How the hell are they gonna invade a submarine?”
As if to answer her question, Akin connected some of the final dots. Ahead of Good Faith, rising and falling on the currents, a surge of white rose from the whirling current. Then a blast of water as the bow of a massive US Submarine surfaced, crashing into the water like a breaching whale. The crowd of coasties below rand back and forth on the deck, the show was getting better and better.
The familiar tap of shoes walking up a ladder well grew louder and Akin turned to greet the ringleader of this traveling circus. Around the corner walked a group of four men, three in blank Navy Fatigues and a forth in the standard operational payload of the SEALs. The leader of the group made himself known instantly with the glance he swabbed over Akin, Perry, Wells, and finally Ke.
“My name is Captain Miller and this is now a Navy operation.”
If the words were meant to rattle Akin they failed miserably, he nodded, presented a salute. Miller returned the gesture and Akin spoke, “Didn’t realize it took two SEAL teams to secure a Coast Guard vessel.”
The SEAL behind Miller made no reaction, nor did Miller. He simply carried on, “Lieutenants Perry and Wells will be coming with us to the USS Pennsylvania,” Miller gestures to the submarine that was still settling in the swells.
Akin nodded, then gestured to Ke, “I strongly recommend you take this one here with you. She has intimate knowledge of the U-Boat and its current captain.”
Millers eyes appraised Ke once again, from black boots to her black hair. Had he been a Roman looking to purchase slaves in Pompeii he would have fit right in. Ke remained unfazed. Millers eyes continued to scan the coastie until she broke silence first.
“I think Burton is going to nuke New York.” She said, sounding like a college graduate trying to sell their thesis.
“No he isn’t.” The voice came flatly from one of the others behind Miller. Ke looked to him, the balaclava masking his expression, her eyes fell to his name tape and her stoic expression melted away.
Perry and Wells looked to the same golden letters and read and reread them.
“I see you have the logs.” said Kessler