Piranha program needs a liaison. Someone who can work with the Navy people to help them move it to the next phase.’
‘Right up my alley,’ said Mack. ‘A big part of my job in Brunei was interfacing with Navy people.’
He was referring to his position as head of the Brunei air force, which had in fact required him to work with members of the country’s other military services. From all reports – including Mack’s – it had not gone well.
Piranha was one of several Navy projects being developed under contract at Dreamland. An underwater robot probe, it could be controlled by ship, submarine, or aircraft and operate for several weeks without needing to be refueled. The technology that guided it was similar to the technology used in the Flighthawks, which was one of several reasons it was being developed here. Dreamland had used Piranha to halt a nuclear war between India and China.
‘What else do you want me to do?’ asked Mack.
‘Let’s start there. Remember, you’re a liaison, not the program director.’
‘I’m the idea guy,’ said Mack. ‘Got it.’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Don’t worry, Colonel. I have it. Listen, I really appreciate this. I won’t forget it, believe me. I’m happy to be back. Like I said, Brunei taught me a lot. This is a new Mack Smith you’re looking at.’
As the major rolled out of the office, Dog struggled to keep his opinion of how long the new Mack Smith would last to himself.
Aboard the Abner Read 3 November 1997 1942
‘We have a lock on the Osa missile boat,’ reported Weapons.
‘Marcum, he’s yours to sink,’ said Storm.
‘One of the patrol boats is turning toward us,’ warned Eyes.
‘Torpedo in the water,’ warned the computer.
‘Fire,’ said Commander Marcum.
A deep-throated rap from the front of the ship drowned out the acknowledgment as the number one gun began spitting out shells, one every five seconds. The holographic display did not delineate every hit – the designers thought this would be too distracting – but the target flashed red as the barrage continued.
‘Direct hit,’ reported Eyes. ‘Target demolished.’
‘Evasive action,’ said Marcum. ‘Evade the torpedoes.’
The crew sprang to comply. One of the torpedoes stayed on target with the Abner Read despite the countermeasures, and the lithe vessel swayed as the helmsman initiated a fresh set of maneuvers. The torpedo finally passed a hundred yards off their port side, detonating a few seconds later.
‘Close the distance on the patrol boat that fired at us,’ Marcum told the man at the wheel.
The helmsman pushed at the large lever that worked the computer governing the ship’s engines. They were already at full speed.
‘UI-1 is about a minute from Yemen waters,’ reported Eyes. ‘Outside of visual range. The others are well beyond him.’
‘I have a lock on target designated as UI-1,’ said the weapons officer.
‘Captain, it’s my responsibility to report that the target ship is approaching Yemen territorial waters,’ said Commander Marcum. ‘Our rules of engagement prohibit sinking a vessel outside of neutral waters.’
‘Are you giving me advice?’ Storm asked.
‘Sir, I’m operating under your orders. I was to notify you of our status prior to engagement …’ Commander Marcum paused. ‘I want to sink the son of a bitch myself.’
‘Noted. Sink him.’
‘Weapons: fire!’
‘Firing.’
Both guns rumbled. Within thirty seconds the patrol craft had been obliterated.
The three other pirate vessels had disappeared. Relatively small contacts, they were easily lost in the clutter near the irregular coast. The computer generated approximate positions from their last known citing, rendering them yellow clouds in the holographic projection. They were well inside Yemen territorial waters – out of bounds.
Storm turned his attention to the three Shark Boats. He directed One and Two to sail westward, hoping to catch the patrol boats if they went in that direction. The third would remain to the east, in case they went that way. The Abner Read, meanwhile, would search for survivors from one of the two vessels they had just sunk; if recovered, he might be persuaded to share what he knew.
Storm clicked his communications channel into a public address mode that allowed him to communicate not just with all personnel aboard the Abner Read, but with everyone in the combat group.
‘All hands, this is Captain Gale,’ said Storm. ‘The DD (L) 01 Abner Read has sunk its first enemy combatants in action this November 3, 1997. I was privileged to witness the finest crew in the U.S. Navy undertake this historic mission, and I commend everyone, from Commander Robert Marcum to Seaman Bob Anthony – Bobby, I think you’re our youngest crewman,’ he added. Storm turned and saw Marcum grinning and nodding. ‘It was a hell of a job all around. Xray Pop has been christened, ladies and gentlemen. Now look sharp; there’s still a great deal to be done tonight.’
Humboldt County, northwestern California 3 November 1997 1205
Lieutenant Kirk ‘Starship’ Andrews got out of the car he had rented in Los Angeles and walked across the gravel parking lot toward the church. He could hear the strains of an organ as he approached; he was late for his friend’s memorial service.
He was thankful, actually. He felt he owed it to Kick to be here, but didn’t particularly want to talk to anyone, Kick’s parents especially. He just didn’t know what to say.
The music stopped just as Starship came in through the back door. He moved quickly toward the last pew in the small church, eyes cast toward the floor. The minister began reading from the Second Book of Chronicles, a selection from the Old Testament of the Bible concerning the bond between Solomon and God: ‘“Give me now wisdom and knowledge, that I may go out and come in before this people.”’
The passage spoke of wisdom and riches; the minister used it as a starting point as he asked God for the wisdom needed to accept a young man’s death. The reverend spoke frankly of the difficulty of comprehending the loss. ‘Lieutenant James Colby was a hero,’ he said. ‘But that does not make his loss any easier for us to take.’
Was Kick a hero? wondered Starship. He was a decent pilot and a hard worker; he’d been brave and seen combat. But was he a hero?
Kick had died in the line of duty, caught in a Megafortress when it crashed during an aborted takeoff in Malaysia after guerrillas had seized the
