Synthesis
Bits
Back ashore the many connections between the vessels and their compliments were examined. All appeared reasonable and explainable. Connections between the hijackers and commanding officers were examined. Nothing that raised red flags was found. The ONI continued its work.
Pieces
The ocean made a cold wet grave. The Polidor found its grave deep, deep down in the perpetual dark. The wreck wasn't even a whole boat. Just pieces. Those thousands of bits of the Polidor lying on the bottom were intermingled with the bits of thousands of bones. Bones fragmented, scattered and indistinguishable as the individual men they once were. Implosion didn't leave a nice whole boat to serve as a casket for the bodies of the men who sailed her. Boat and men, all were just pieces. The deep was a single grave for the many men who set out to test Admiral Nelson's new submarine. Silt would slowly cover the men whose families could never stand at a graveside to bury their dead, to sprinkle the first earth of finality on their loved one's coffin. No headstones to commemorate the spot where they lay; just the cold, the dark, the deep.*
* The Fear Makers