had a chance to sleep in a week, it catches up to you.’
‘Who hasn’t slept in a week?’
Ax rose from the chair.
‘I’ll do what I can, Ax,’ said Dog. ‘But I’m not sneaking through the back corridors of Congress to get what we need.’
‘Yes, sir. Major Smith is outside, reporting for duty.’
Ax opened the door before Dog could say anything else. Mack Smith was sitting in the outer office, flirting with the secretary.
‘Mack,’ said Dog, getting up. ‘I thought you were in rehab.’
‘I am,’ said Smith. He turned awkwardly in his wheelchair and rolled toward the doorway. Even though the door had been widened after Zen returned to active duty, it was a tight squeeze. It took Mack a few seconds to maneuver through the doorway.
‘Major Mack Smith, formerly of the Brunei Royal Air Force, reporting for active duty,’ said Smith.
‘I thought we agreed you would use the facilities here but wait to get back to work until the doctors gave you a clean bill of health.’
‘Ah, the doctors say I’m fine.’
‘The doctors said there’s no reason you won’t get your legs back. That’s not quite fine.’
‘What do the doctors know? Besides, Zen didn’t wait.’
‘Zen’s circumstances were different,’ said Dog.
‘Sure. He had a high-powered lawyer read the Air Force and the DoD the riot act,’ said Mack. ‘And he was related to the base commander.’
Dog bristled. Zen was his son-in-law, but he had had nothing to do with his reinstatement.
‘Zen was posted here before I arrived,’ said Dog.
‘Look, Colonel, the thing is – I’m bored out of my skull, right? I’m going through rehab. I have to come onto the base every day. Might as well put me to work, right?’
‘It’s not that I don’t want to put you to work, Mack.’
‘I can get a high-priced lawyer if I have to,’ said Mack. ‘I hear Zen’s is available. Us gimps have to hang together.’
Dog felt his face flush at the word ‘gimps.’
‘You’re worried that I won’t do the crap work, right?’ added Mack. ‘You’re looking at a new man, Colonel. Brunei taught me a lot.’
‘One of the things it taught you is that you don’t like administrative crap work,’ said Dog. ‘You told me that yourself. Several times.’
‘I don’t like it, but I’ll do it. Same as you. We’re not that different, you and me, Colonel. We like to have our sleeves rolled up,’ he added.
God help me, thought Dog, if I have anything in common with Mack Smith. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘There are a lot of things that need to be done. None of them involve flying.’
‘Who’s flying? Bring them on.’
‘The 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,