ON A BLACK MOON SEA ~A Halloween Anthology~

The Golden Depths

Captain Revis stands on the massive hull of the USS Norfolk, watching as a man in a dark suit leads his prisoner down the gangway from the USS Philadelphia and onto the Ohio-class, nuclear-powered submarine. The other man is handcuffed to a wheelchair, with a sackcloth over his head. When they land, the man in the suit salutes and holds out a pair of envelopes.

"Captain Revis, the top letter is your assignment from P-Two Ops. This is a test run for the asset. There won't be a lot of maneuvers on your part. Maintaining the asset's working environment and tracking him are your main mission. The letter has the details, for you and your ship's doctor.

"The second envelope has ways to contact us should the asset defect or go rogue. It also has a control command for the asset if you should need to contain him. It's a verbal command, so I need you to memorize it and destroy it."

"We're in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Where exactly is the asset going to defect to?" Revis asks.

"In case of emergency." He gestures at the papers that Revis has taken.

The Captain opens the letter and reads a small piece of paper with only two words on it. He mouths them silently, committing them to memory. "Synagogue Six, Synagogue Six." Revis rips the paper into small strands and lets the wind carry the shreds out to the water.

"He's yours now," the man says. "You're going to have to bring him to the edge, but P-Two needs this asset. Make sure he stays alive."

The suit salutes Revis farewell, then turns to walk the gangway back up to the carrier ship. At the top he shouts out, "And stick to the mission. I'm assured that the punishment for deviation will make Leavenworth look like Sunday School."

***

Alan Wolfe takes a deep breath as the bag is lifted from his head. He has been uncuffed and led down into the submarines sick bay, which is little more than an operating room with a pair of recovery beds crammed in. There is just enough space to cram the occupants along with Alan's wheelchair. Again, he is restrained. To his left, a doctor fills a syringe from a vial of hallucinogen. Directly in front of him, a baby-faced man tapes a series of papers to the wall.

An official-looking man stands next to Alan, the one he assumes is Captain Revis. His craggy face and strong jaw befit the look, framed by his service khakis. The doctor approaches from the side and swabs Alan's neck with alcohol. Alan goes to lift a hand in protest, but the handcuffs clack against the wheelchair's rails.

"I need a few things before we begin." Alan's unused voice catches like gravel in his throat. He looks from the doctor to the Captain. Revis raises the missive to his face, a letter stamped with the words 'Venture Mike Kilo'.

"Mission instructs to provide the asset with any paper goods and non-sharpened writing utensils requested. What can we get you, Mr. Wolfe?"

Alan surveys the wall where the young man has posted a large map of the Atlantic Ocean and a schematic of the Norfolk. "First, I need to know where we are. Mark it on the map, along with our destination. I need you to be as exact as possible." His tone becomes stronger, gaining an assuredness that comes from experience.

Captain Revis pushes a button on the comms and hails the Navigator. "Allante, what's our position?"

Static crackles from the communicator. "Same coordinates from the rendezvous. Ballast tanks filled neutral to hover at one-hundred-fifty meters, zero bubble."

The Captain reaches into his pocket and retrieves a red pen, strides over to the map and scrawls an 'X' on the map in the Newfoundland Basin of the Atlantic Ocean with '150 m' under it. He marks another 'X' and '35 m' in the Baltic Sea, just off the coast of Estonia.