There had been no Island Class Submarine waiting for them and they were hiding now well off the coast of Iwo Jima in deep water, still at Battle Stations. In a ragged semicircle between his chair and the steps stood Sam Aldridge, Tom Stanhope, and Sebastian. “I’m betting Sebastian’s right, gentlemen. That means we’ve got a bunch of our GIs in shit up to their elbows back there on Iwo Jima. And aboard the Reagan we’ve got Doctor Rourke’s daughter, a German officer, and Major Tiemerovna, the two women certainly potential bargaining chips our garden variety Soviet enemies could use as a wedge with the Soviet forces on the surface. An alliance like that could mean the end for all of us. There’s one clear course of action. And that’s our only chance. Sebastian?” “Yes, Jason.” “You’ll take the Reagan and make best speed toward Mid-Wake. Once you’re out of range of the Island Classer our Marine Spetznas friends came from, attempt to contact the Wayne. Notify them of the situation and ask them to come to our aid.
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