Submerged Secrets
Flash Fiction from the Vault
In the port town of Baybridge, John drove his niece, Emily, to her Sea Cadets meeting. They arrived at the bustling community centre, a hub that included a library and a sports complex.
“Have fun, Emily. I’ll pick you up in a few hours,” John said, watching her join her friends. Even on his day off, his instincts stayed sharp.
John, deciding to grab a coffee, wandered through the reading room.
A man huddled in the corner caught his eye: Alec Hanson, though John recognised him only just. His appearance surprised him—unkempt clothes and his features drawn and haggard.
Curious, John chose a nearby computer, glancing at Alec’s screen and seeing a video chat with a mature, attractive black woman. He could overhear fragments: financial woes and tech talk. Alec’s voice sounded desperate.
“I just need a bit more time,” Alec pleaded into the computer’s microphone. “The lawsuit has taken everything I have. I’ve nowhere to go.”
The exchange piqued John’s curiosity. Hanson worked in cybersecurity and information technology, specialising in data protection and network security. Yet Hanson lost access to his own company. John didn’t need to ask; it all shouted a man at the end of his tether, out of luck and money. Desperation changes people, and desperate people do desperate things.
John, piecing together the conversation, realised that Alec’s presence in the library made sense; a public computer insulated him from a trace leading back to his own devices.
He overheard snippets of a clandestine exchange about Russians using the centre’s servers to transmit information—intelligence about submarine systems on both sides.
Later, he found Hanson at a bar, and John struck up a conversation, feigning casual acquaintance.
“Didn’t we meet at a conference last spring?” John asked, playing his part.
Alec seemed surprised, but he went along. “It’s been a tough year. My business almost collapsed. My own employees sued me.” His tone bled bitterness.
John sympathised. A few drinks later, he steered the conversation toward military security. “I read about Space Force’s new initiatives against cyber threats. Big money, huh?”
Alec nodded, a glint of something undefinable in his eyes. “Yeah, everyone’s looking for an edge.”
As the investigation progressed, John found Alec’s contact: Agent Monica Harris, Naval Intelligence.
They met in a shadowed corner of a secluded coffee shop. “Agent Harris, I’ve been digging into Alec Hanson’s situation.”
Monica’s expression became severe. “What you’ve stumbled upon is far more dangerous than selling intel.”
John’s eyes narrowed. “The Russians—they’re not the real threat, are they?”
Monica shook her head. “Just a cover. Domestic actors. Alec’s company—they used it as their front. When he got nervous, they pushed him out. It comes down to Hanson’s security software.”
“The boats?”
“Sure, our submarines, you bet. How, where, why? Hanson never explained—fear, I think.”
An idea crossed John’s mind, and he didn’t like it, but he still confronted Alec.
“Hanson, if I know you talked to Monica, it’s only a matter of time before they do. Then what?”
Alec’s façade crumbled, revealing a man out of options. “I never meant for it to go this far,” he admitted, defeat etched in his voice.
Hanson explained everything he’d discovered.
“The Cabal, they wanted a backdoor and remote access.”
“To the sub? To the weapon systems?”
“Especially the weapons.”
John walked away, relief and sadness tangled in his chest. He stopped the threat, but the cost followed him: upended lives, broken trust, and questions no victory could answer.
Back at the community centre, John watched Emily laughing with her friends, blissfully unaware of the shadows her uncle navigated. John protected national security, guarding places like this—sanctuaries in a world submerged in secrets.