The line went quiet for a second, save for the low hum of his air conditioner.

“The prototype was a mistake from the beginning, Sarah,” he said.

“It was too unstable. This is the only clean way out for all of us.”

“For you,” I spat. “To cover up the budget deficits and the faulty welds.”

“Step off the gangway, Doctor,” he said. “Before it takes you down too.”

The line went dead.

I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at the dark screen.

Below my feet, the deck plates groaned as the angle of the submarine shifted further to the port side.

A thick jet of black water and hydraulic fluid sprayed out from a vent near the sail, slicing through the darkness.

“Carter!” I screamed, turning back toward the concrete pier.

The young lieutenant was still standing under the dim security light, his body frozen.

He held the emergency key ring in his left hand, but his fingers were locked around the brass ring.

“Get over here!” I shouted, taking a step toward the narrow gangway.