The massive black steel cylinder of the submarine loomed ahead of us.

Steam vented from the auxiliary exhaust ports near the stern.

The hum of the boat’s generators vibrated through the concrete under my feet.

I climbed the metal gangway, my hands gripping the cold, wet handrails.

Hayes was right behind me, his boots thudding against the wooden planks.

We stepped onto the slippery black rubber coating of the submarine’s deck.

A sailor in a blue utility uniform was coiling a heavy mooring line near the bow.

“Where’s the deck officer?” Hayes shouted over the roar of the generators.

The sailor pointed toward the sail, the tall structure rising from the middle of the hull.

“Downstairs, Chief,” the sailor yelled back.

“They’re buttoning up for departure.”

“Have they closed the hatches?” I asked.

“Just started the checklist,” the sailor said.

We scrambled toward the base of the sail.

The main access hatch was a circular steel opening leading down into the dark interior of the boat.

I reached the edge of the coaming and looked down.

A steep metal ladder disappeared into the brightly lit corridor below.