We reached the deck hatch, a round hole of yellow light leading down into the steel belly of the boat.

The sound of diesel exhaust and auxiliary pumps hummed through the deck plates.

Hayes went down first.

I grabbed the wet steel rungs and followed him down into the light.

The air inside the submarine was dry, smelling of paint, ozone, and amine.

We stood in the narrow passageway of the upper deck.

A junior officer in blue coveralls looked at us with surprise.

“Chief? What’s going on?” he asked.

“Where is the Executive Officer?” Hayes asked.

Before the officer could answer, a door further down the passageway opened.

Lieutenant Commander Harris, the boat’s XO, stepped out.

He was holding a clipboard, his face tired.

“Hayes?” Harris said, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing on my boat? We’re about to pull the plug.”

“We have a security breach, sir,” Hayes said. “The wireless receiver in your radio room is active.”

Harris stared at us.

“Our radio room is secured,” Harris said. “Only the duty comms officer has access.”