Piranha

Da

“Captain, we think we got another one,” said the crew chief.

“Where?” Da

“Pilots wants to talk to you.” The chief pointed him toward the bulkhead separating the flight deck and the cabin area. Da

“Here’s the deal,” said the copilot. “Beacon off a survival radio about a hundred miles east of here. Top speed, we can make it in roughly twelve minutes. Means we’ll have to tank on the way home, but we got a KC-10 en route with all the stops pulled out, so we think we can do it.”

“Well, let’s go,” said Da

The copilot looked across at the pilot.

“It’s right near the Chinese task group,” said the pilot. “And I mean right near.”

“Well, let’s get the fuck over there,” said Da

“That’s what we say,” said the copilot. “Navy has its own package en route with Tomcats and Hornets as escorts, but even with all the stops out, their helos are a good half hour off, if not more. Escorts’ll have to stay with them, pretty much.”

“Screw ’em.”

The pilots answered by mashing the throttle to max.

Dreamland Command

August 28, 1997, 0050 local (August 29, 1997, 1550 Philippines)

Thirty seconds after the Dreamland Osprey told Dog they were headed to the new location, Admiral Woods’s voice came over the line. The screen remained blank.

“Bastian, we understand you have another beacon.”

“Yes, we do,” Dog told him. “My Osprey is en route.”

“It is? I thought they were on another rescue.”

“They’ve completed that.”

“I see. I’m told we have a package on its way already.”

“It’s likely we’ll get there first,” said Dog.

“We’ll coordinate. Very clever using another aircraft,” added the admiral.

It was impossible to know how he meant that—was he mad that Dog had sent another airplane into “his” territory? It could be interpreted as going against orders.

“The platform was scheduled to be tested,” said Dog.

“Yes,” said Woods. “Good recovery. Lets’ work together on this next pickup.”

“We have been.”

“Good.”

The line snapped clear.

Aboard Shiva in the South China Sea

1612

The temptation was overwhelming. The Chinese destroyer was no just within his range; he could get his torpedoes off before they had time to spot him, but they had heard other contacts in the distance. Admiral Balin was determined to see what other targets the gods were presenting.

“Sonar Contact One is changing course,” relayed the sonar room, referring to the destroyer. They gave a distance and a bearing. It was heading roughly across their path, bit not quite on a direct course.

Attack now and destroy it? Or let it pass and hope for a juicer target?

“Other contacts?” asked Balin.

“Negative,” came the reply. They were using only their passive sonar.

“Periscope.”

If the destroyer attacked, they would lose their easy shot, and perhaps not get another one.

If a better target was nearby, though, he would not forgive himself.

Greed?

“Active sonar,” decided Balin. “Prepare torpedoes to fire.”

Twenty seconds alter, the sonar room reported a large contact two miles beyond the destroyer.

“What is it?” asked Captain Varja.

“Unknown,” was the answer. “Large, very large.”

“Direct our course for it,” Balin told Varja.

“The destroyer is changing course. They’re heading for us.”

“Target the largest contact,” said Balin.