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“I can slip into the system with a surveillance and messenger entity through our ‘manhole-cover’ entrance to the sub network at the Unified Fleet Communications Group at Annapolis, Maryland. My mission entity can become invisible to their NavSecGru net-hot and carry the message to the queue with the other outgoing messages, and then through the encryption machines. When the message is encrypted it will be transmitted on a burst pulse with rapidly changing frequencies to the Comm Star satellite for later transmission to the submarine. The message will be one of a thousand being encrypted and transmitted during that one-minute interval. At first, since the message will only be addressed to the Snare, no one in the communications facility will be able to read it, and it will stay in the outgoing Comm Star satellite buffer for eight hours. During that time period the Snare, by procedure, will come to periscope depth and receive its broadcast from the satellite, which transmits the message every fifteen minutes whether the sub is listening or not. After eight hours, the message in the satellite buffer will be dumped, erased completely and permanently. I had thought it would linger at the shore facility in an electronic sent-message-suspense-file, but since sub communications are highly passive, there is no pending suspense file for sub traffic, only an archive directory of transmitted messages. I can delete our message from the archive and no one knows the difference. I’ll need to send a test message to the Snare to test the breakin, test the appearance of the message in the archive, and test to see if I can delete it.”

“Why do you think no one at the communications facility can read the message?”

“We’re using the system’s security procedures and protocols against it. The system is designed to prevent the compromise of messages by anyone but the receiving satellite. Since classified radio messages up to top secret and higher are transmitted, the entire system treats each message as if it were the highest classification. It’s simpler architecture rather than treating unclassified messages differently than secret, and secret differently from top secret. You understand?”

“No. What about a system administrator, the one authorized to troubleshoot problems and monitor the process?”

“The process is automated. No human-directed administrator can get in, only automated and programmed ones. And my messenger entity is invisible to them — it masquerades as a virus-protection subroutine.”

Krivak felt a headache coming on. “But this message would linger in the satellite memory for eight hours and transmit to the world every fifteen minutes. That is thirty-two transmissions. Are you telling me no one but Snare will receive that?”

“I am. You see, the system is designed to make sure no one other than the recipient can receive that recipient’s message. Not even the communications facility. That’s what I mean when I say we’re using the system’s security features against it.”

Krivak waved. “Go ahead with a test message, but it must be unclassified — a maintenance message. And it has to be correctly formatted so that it will look normal to anyone who does see it. Did you get the formats?”

“I don’t have a procedure or a manual for the formatting, but I have a hundred thousand examples. It will look like an authentic message from fleet maintenance to watch out for high temperature at an engine bearing.”

“How will we know it worked?”

“I’ll require a response. I’ll tell it to write a report of the bearing temperatures for the last forty-eight hours. We’ll intercept the response as it comes in, before it can be rerouted to the maintenance facility.”

“Fine, fine. Proceed. Let me know if the system becomes wary of us. And good luck.”

Krivak returned to his suite and lay down on his bed, fully clothed, exhausted, and troubled by the risks they were taking.

“Mr. Krivak?”

“Yes, Pedro,” he said, sitting up in the bed.

“The message went out two hours ago. We got the Snare’s reply an hour ago, with two days of bearing temperatures. I and my surveillance entity monitored the network since the reply came. We did it, sir. It worked — there are no messages on the system about an intruder.”

“Excellent,” Krivak said, fully awake. “It is just too bad you did not ask it about its location.”

“I found a month-old message in the network archive that requested a situation report, a ‘sitrep.” The sitrep format includes a line for latitude and longitude. And a tactical summary. If I send an order for the Snare to provide a sitrep, we’ll not only know her position but her mission details.”

Krivak considered. “It’s risky — this is not about bearing temperatures, but tactics. The system could be more aware of this. And the fact that the shore commanders did not demand a sitrep for a month indicates to me that a new one coming in may alert the command.”

“Do I need to explain this to you again?”