“Yes, sir,” Mcdonne answered.

“Executive Officer, scuttle the ship!” Kane ordered.

Mcdonne twisted the rotary knob on a small radio transmitter.

“Officers, hand salute!” Kane ordered. The men on the railing brought their right hands to the brims of their caps, the white gloves and dark blue sleeves stark against the gray of the deck and the sea. A bosun’s whistle blew mournfully into the sea air, the note dying on the wind from the east.

On the deck of the submarine several plumes of vapor rose high into the air. Slowly it settled into the sea until all that was visible was her sail, until that settled and eventually disappeared from view. The ship sank beneath the surface, gaining momentum as it plummeted for the bottom.

On the surface there was nothing left to mark the passage of the hull of the USS Phoenix.

“Officers,” Kane called. “Ready, two!” The men dropped their salutes in unison. “Officers, fall out.”

Kane looked at the spot where the Phoenix had been, then back to Mcdonne. “Hard to believe she’s gone,” he said.

“Wasn’t much left of her when that torpedo got done with her,” Mcdonne said, looking out to sea. “At least they let us scuttle her at sea instead of scrapping her.”

“With the reactor compartment gone, there wasn’t anything to contaminate or pollute the ocean with. All that’s in the Labrador Sea.”

Kane turned when Admiral Steinman walked up. The two men chatted for a moment, Mcdonne discreetly moving off.

“Well, David, sad to see her go,” Steinman said. “A shame we couldn’t fix her up, but it does leave you free for another command. You know, we’ve got the second hull of the Seawolf-class coming out of the yard next month, and the new construction captain is ready to retire. What do you say? How would you like to be the commanding officer of the USS Barracuda. Best submarine in the fleet, and a chance for you to go back to sea.”

Kane looked up at Steinman, but instead of seeing his eyes, saw the last mission of the Phoenix, the vision flashing past in a heartbeat. Realizing Steinman was waiting for an answer, he put his war face on one last time.

“I don’t think so. Admiral. It’s over. I’m done going to sea.”

Steinman looked at him in surprise, not really understanding, then walked away to look at the sea from the fantail.

The Diamond turned west and sped up to full speed for the trip back to Norfolk. Kane looked at the horizon, actually looking forward to the feel of dry land beneath his feet.

Hours later, when the survey vessel tied up at the submarine piers. Captain David Kane walked onto the pier without looking back.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

MICHAEL DIMERCURIO is an honors graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis, and has served as a paratrooper, Navy diver, and as a lieutenant and Chief Propulsion Officer aboard the U.S.S. Hammerhead. He is the author of the submarine thrillers Voyage of the Devilfish, Attack of the Seawolf, Barracuda Final Bearing, and Piranha Firing Point.