Retribution (4 page)

Dog babied the stick, putting the Megafortress into another turn, this one as gentle as he could manage. He slid down to one hundred feet and came over the patrol boat. The 40mm gun turned again in his direction, but if it fired, Dog never saw the shots. He pulled off as he passed, and by the time he glanced down, saw that the vessel had turned back in the direction of land.

Northern Arabian Sea
0810

M
ACK WATCHED THE
M
EGAFORTRESS DISAPPEAR TO THE
northwest, once again chased away by the Chinese destroyer. At least it had taken the ship with it this time.

They’d lashed the two inflatable rafts together and put Cantor in one. Mack told them that they’d take turns in the other once they got tired. For now, they were all going to kick in the direction of the
Abner Read
.

Forty or fifty miles on the open ocean was a very, very long distance. But Mack figured that moving was better than floating, and every hundred yards was a hundred yards away from the Chinese.

“Aw, shit,” yelped Jazz. “Ah, man.”

“What’s up?”

“My leg. Feels like I got an iron chain in it.”

“It’s just a cramp,” said Mack. “Work through it.”

Jazz continued to curse.

“Take a break, Jazz,” Mack told him finally.

“I’m OK, Major.”

“Your lips are turning blue. Get in the damn raft. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was only after Jazz pulled himself into the raft, leg twitching, that Mack realized everyone’s lips were blue.

“Kick,” he told the others. “Let’s go. Kick!”

Aboard the
Abner Read,
northern Arabian Sea
0810

T
HERE WAS ONLY SO MUCH THAT COULD BE DONE TO MAKE
a helicopter stealthy, but the Werewolf was small and its ability to fly extremely low would make it hard for the Chinese ships to spot it until it was very close. Starship figured that if he moved fast enough, he could get by any of the ships before they could react and try to shoot him down.

A Chinese guided-missile cruiser presented a particular problem, since it sat almost directly in his path. But the cruiser had been heavily damaged in the battle, and smoke poured from three different places on the ship. The radar warning receiver aboard the Werewolf indicated that the vessel was not using its weapons or even early warning radar; most likely the radar systems had been destroyed. Still, Starship kept an eye on the infrared warning panel as he shot past no more than a mile away, worried that the ship might try firing a heat-seeking missile without locking him up on radar.

With the cruiser in the rearview mirror, Starship put the pedal to the metal and sped over the waves. About three miles from the GPS point he’d been given as the fliers’ location, he began rising to get a better view for his radar and other sensors.

The first thing he saw on the synthesized radar screen was
a Chinese destroyer, six miles to the east. Dreamland
Wisconsin
was eight or nine miles north of the destroyer.

So he had the neighborhood, at least.

Starship slowed his speed to eighty knots and did a quick scan of the area around him; he couldn’t see anything in the water. He instructed the computer to set up a search pattern; when the grid came up on the screen, he chose the segment closest to the Chinese destroyer as a starting point and told the computer to go.

The Werewolf hadn’t actually reached the point when he spotted a pair of rafts and several swimmers three miles to the west. He took back control and turned toward them.

“Werewolf to Tac,” he said. “I have our subjects in view. Counting—four—no, five men—two in the raft, others in the water. Stand by for GPS coordinates.”

Northern Arabian Sea

0825

T
HE NOISE REMINDED
M
ACK
S
MITH OF HIS BROTHER’S
whiny two-stroke weed whacker—assuming it had a blanket thrown on it.

The water to the east seemed to bubble up into a moving volcano.

“Chopper,” said Tommy. “Ours or theirs?”

They were too far away to see it clearly, but the sound gave it away.

“That’s a Werewolf,” said Dish.

“Yeah,” said Mack. “Has to be from the
Abner Read
.”

The robot aircraft banked southward, moving away.

“Yo, Werewolf—where are you going?” grunted Mack. The mouthpiece for his survival radio was integrated with the collar of his Dreamland-designed flight suit, but the radio was in a sleep mode to conserve battery power and had to be manually turned on. Mack reached down to the vest and did so, then repeated the hail, this time with more formality.

Dog, not the Werewolf, answered.

“Mack, that’s the
Abner Read
’s aircraft,” said Dog. “He’s scouting your position.”

“
Wisconsin,
can you connect me with the pilot? He’s flying to the south.”

A transmission from the Werewolf overrode the reply. Neither were intelligible.

“Mack Smith to Werewolf. Yo, you just flew south of us.”

“Just getting the lay of the land, Mack,” responded Starship.

“Hey, Junior, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re flying over the sea.”

“Oh, that’s what that blue stuff is. I thought I was upside down.”

“You’re a joke a minute, kid. How long before you get that tin can you’re in up here?”

“
Abner Read
will pick you up in about an hour and a half.”

Mack glanced over at Cantor. He was out of it.

“Give me a vector and we’ll meet it halfway,” said Mack.

“Major—”

“Give me a vector, kid. We’re not hanging here all day.”

Aboard the
Wisconsin,
over the northern Arabian Sea
0835

D
OG PULLED BACK ON THE STICK, COAXING THE
M
EGAFORTRESS
into a gentle climb. With the
Abner Read
on its way and the Werewolf close enough to talk directly with the downed airmen, there was nothing more for him to do here.

He got Catsman on the Dreamland Command frequency and through her spoke to the KC-10 tanker that had been tasked to Dreamland for the operation. They arranged a rendezvous about an hour’s flying time south of his present position.

When Dog finished making the arrangements, he turned back to look for the Chinese frigate. Not spotting it right away, a shiver of panic flew through him. He’d blundered too close, he thought, and was now in range of another missile.

Then he saw the frigate in the distance. It had given up chasing him and was once more sailing back in the direction of Mack and the others.

Northern Arabian Sea
0850

T
HE
W
EREWOLF PICKED UP EVERYONE’S MORALE, BUT
M
ACK
soon realized that could be too much of a good thing. For while they kicked ferociously for a few minutes, pushing the raft in the direction of the approaching American ship, they quickly ran out of energy. And with the
Abner Read
still far in the distance, they had to conserve their strength.

“All right, new plan,” Mack told the others, and felt his teeth chatter as he spoke. “One guy kicks at a time. Two guys, one on each side, rest. Other two stay in the raft. Jazz, how’s your leg?”

“Much better.”

“Great,” said Mack, though he knew the lieutenant was lying. “All right. I’ll kick and steer. Idea here is that we’re saving our strength. All right? We’re all about endurance right now.”

“I’ll swap with Dish,” said Jazz.

“Nah, it’s OK,” said Mack.

“Dish looks cold.”

“I’m OK,” said Dish.

Jazz slipped into the water next to him. Mack watched his shock as the water hit him. Then Dish pulled himself into the raft, Mack could see he was both reluctant and grateful.

Mack leaned over toward Jazz. “You hanging in there, kid?”

“I’m with ya, Major.”

“Kick slow if you have to, to stay warm.”

“Staying warm.”

Mack kicked slowly himself, pushing the raft almost imperceptibly. He told himself he was in a survival tank bank at Nellis Air Base, just having a grand ol’ time with the instructors, one of whom had been
Sports Illustrated
model material.

Luscious, that.

Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm.

In the raft, Dish shifted around to get closer to him.

“Hey, Major,” he said in a barely audible voice. “That Chinese ship. I can see it on the horizon, getting bigger.”

Damn, thought Mack, doing his best not to turn around.

Aboard the
Abner Read,
northern Arabian Sea
0855

T
HE RADAR DETECTOR ABOARD THE
W
EREWOLF BLEEPED TO
let Starship know that the Chinese frigate was looking for it. The ship had changed course and was now making a beeline for the life raft.

“Tac, I need you to take a look at this,” Starship said. In an instant, Eyes appeared at his side.

“The frigate is heading in their direction. You think it knows they’re there?”

Eyes squatted and looked at the Werewolf control screen, which displayed a situational representation of the area. The sitrep provided a bird’s-eye view, augmented with information about the contacts, their speed and bearings. The control computer could gather and synthesize the information from a variety of sources, but in this case it was working primarily with the Werewolf ’s regular and infrared radar. The destroyer was about four miles from the men.

“They’re too far to know exactly where they are,” decided Eyes. “But I’d say they definitely know they’re in the vicinity.”

“How long before they actually see the raft?”

“Hard to tell. It’s too small and low on the water to be detected by any radar the Chinese have.” Eyes straightened. “That leaves human lookouts. Good glasses, good lookouts…”

Eyes didn’t finish the sentence. Starship knew that his own Mark 1 eyeballs were capable of picking out a silver speck in a bright sky at four or five miles, no sweat. Here, the lookouts would have a nice orange target on a field of deep blue.

“We have to figure out a way to get them out of there,” said Starship.

“That, or get the frigate out of there.”

Aboard the
Wisconsin,
over the northern Arabian Sea
0900

T
HE SUN POURED THROUGH THE HATCHWAY ABOVE THE
copilot’s seat as Dog turned toward the Chinese ship. Wind surged through the cockpit, grabbing at the folds of his flight suit. He could barely hear his breath in the face mask, which was just as well—he’d started to hyperventilate, too revved on adrenaline.

“Wisconsin
to Werewolf. Starship, can you go over to the Dreamland Command channel?” he asked over the emergency frequency.

“Werewolf. Affirmative, Colonel.”

“Do it.” Dog guessed that the Chinese were monitoring the emergency frequency and didn’t want them listening in.

“I’m on, Colonel.”

“The Chinese frigate is heading toward Mack and the others. How close is the
Abner Read
?”

“Roughly an hour and a half,” said Starship.

“Are you armed?”

“Only with. 50 caliber bullets.”

The bullets were fired from machine guns in the Were
wolf ’s skids. The weapon wouldn’t do much against the frigate, and to use it Starship would have to fly well within range of the Chinese ship’s missiles.

“
Wisconsin,
he’s activated targeting radars,” warned Starship.

“Yeah, roger that,” said Dog. He took a hard turn, hoping to “beam” the radar, flying in the direction of the waves, where it was more difficult to be detected.

“Still targeting you.”

“Just tell me if he fires.”

“Werewolf,” said Starship, acknowledging.

Dog began a bank, aiming to circle in front of the destroyer and make himself a more inviting target.

It was hopeless, wasn’t it? Sooner or later the captain of the frigate was going to figure out what he was up to, if he hadn’t already. And by now he’d have realized that the Megafortress was unarmed and impotent.

Well, he was weaponless, but was he impotent?

An hour and a half before, he’d been willing to give his life to keep the Chinese from launching a nuclear weapon and involving the world in a nuclear war.

He could do that now, he thought. If he hit the frigate right, he’d sink it.

He’d have to stay at the stick to do it.

Dog hesitated, then pushed the stick back toward the frigate. He reached for the throttle glide, ready to put the engines to the wall.

“Missile launch!” screamed Starship. And as he did, Dog saw two thick bursts of white foam erupt from the forward section of the Chinese ship.

Northern Arabian Sea
0908

M
ACK SAW THE MISSILES STREAK FROM THE
C
HINESE
destroyer but couldn’t tell what they were firing at. The
Wis
consin
, he guessed, though he couldn’t see it in the sky.

The Werewolf was skittering around two miles to the east.

Cantor groaned.

“Maybe the chopper can take him back to the ship,” said Dish.

“Maybe,” said Mack, though he knew that the small helicopter wasn’t normally equipped with rescue equipment. “Hey, kid, you still up there? Werewolf?”

“Werewolf.”

“We got an injured airman here. It’s Jazz—you think we can rig a stretcher up or something?”

“Uh, negative, Major. I have a line running down from the bird and there’s a collar attached, but I don’t know about hooking up a stretcher. It’s a long way back, and he’d have to hold on. I don’t think he could make it.”

“That’s it, kid. You just gave me a great idea. Get overhead right now,” he added, as two more missiles flew from the destroyer.

Aboard the
Wisconsin,
over the northern Arabian Sea
0908

O
NE HAND ON THE POWER CONTROLS AND THE OTHER ON
the stick, Lieutenant Colonel Tecumseh “Dog” Bastian goaded the
Wisconsin
to the southeast, urging her away from the missiles. The weapons were smaller and faster than the Megafortress, and didn’t have to worry about dealing with holes in their fuselage. On the other hand, the Megafortress had a five-mile head start and a human pilot guiding her.