Piranha

“Team Two checking in,” said Powder, in charge of the second squad. “Hey, Cap, can we go for a swim when this is over?”

“Only if there’s a school of sharks nearby,” said Liu.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout,” said Powder.

“Hey, Cap, you ever have grilled shark?” asked Bison. “Serious food. You get a little lemon, maybe some herbs. Very nice.”

“I thought you only ate burgers and pizza,” said Da

“Burgers, pizza, and shark.”

They were eight miles from the atoll.

“All right. Sixty seconds, Hawk Leader,” said Da

“Copy that.”

Da

“Alpha,” he told Fentress.

“Alpha acknowledged,” said Flighhawk pilot. And the show began. “Welcome, my friends, to the show that never ends… .”

All Da

No, not a rock. A housing for a radar.

“Infrared feed,” Da

“We’re dancing,” said Da

“Everyone hold your fire unless we’re fired on,” he reminded them. “You know the drill. Two—if they move toward the boat, sink it.”

“Aw, Cap,” said Powder. “Can’t we take it out for a spin first?”

“Hawk Leader to Whiplash One. You need another run?”

“Negative, Hawk Leader. Hold your orbit as pla

“Godspeed.”

The Quick Bird pilot threw everything he had into the helo’s turbine engines, flooing the gates with the remains of a thousand long-gone dinosaurs. The tail whipped around and the helicopter tilted hard, pulling two or three Gs as it swooped into an arc. Once pointed at his target, the pilot began to back off the throttle, and somehow managed to come at the island like a ballerina sliding across the stage.

The effect on his passengers, however, was more like what might be felt in the cab of a locomotive throwing on the brakes and reversing steam at a hundred miles an hour. Da

If felt damn good.

“We’re hot!” said the pilots as something red erupted on the left side of the island.

“Missiles in the air!” said Da

The mini-gun at the side of the Quick Birds’s cabin spit bullets toward the cottage. A burst from the ground, and the helo pirouetted to the side, flares popping as it whipped into a quick series of zigs and zags to avoid a shoulder-launched SAM. The missile sniffed one of the flares and shot through it, igniting above and behind the helicopter. The small scout shot downward in a rush; Da

“Let’s go, let’s go,” screamed Da

Stoner grabbed the rope after Sergeant Liu disappeared. Even though he wore thick gloves, the friction burned his hands. He had taken the team’s smart helmet and carbon-boron best, but because the Whiplash issue seemed a bit bulky, had opted to use his own gloves. Obviously, a mistake, but it was too late to bitch about it now. He felt the dock under his boots and let go, collapsing into a well-balanced crouch.

Ten times hotter than he imagined, everything was exploding. In the back of his mind, he heard his boss’s boss, the Director of Operations himself, bawling him out for going ahead with only six guys in broad daylight.

Yet the atoll’s defenders throwing up all this lead and blowing up so much equipment—for surely that was what they were doing—argued that hitting them as soon as they could had been the right thing to do.