Piranha

“Where?”

Bison thumbed toward a “Frog”—a general-purpose transport helo that looked like a Chinook shrunk to half size. “Blow’s with ’em,” said Bison, referring to Sergeant Geraldo Hernandez. “They thought you might like to go, so they waited a little. Been two or three minutes.”

“Yeah, maybe I will. All right. Stoner?”

“I gotta make a report.”

“How’s Liu?” Da

“Claim’s he’d rather fix himself than let a corpsman near him.”

“Good,” said Da

He began trotting toward the waiting Navy helicopter. The crewman at the door waved and helped him in; a moment later the helicopter lifted off.

The villagers didn’t have much, but the rear of the chopper wasn’t all that big, and in order to fit, Da

The spot they’d found for the village was on another island about fifteen minutes to the south. Blow, squeezing over to Freah, told him some Navy SeaBees were at the new village site already; they’d cleared it with a dozer, erected some temporary canvas tent, and were digging so they could pour foundations—three small prefab housing units had been located by the ever-resourceful engineers and were en route.

“Build a skyscraper if you let ’em,” said the sergeant. “Peterson really kicked some butt. Gotta give it to the Marines. Except that they’re Marines, they’d be okay.”

“Yeah,” said Da

“Not really. Just the silent treatment. I’m sorry about Powder,” added Blow. “That sucks horseshit.”

““Yeah,” said Da

“Not really. Just the silent treatment. I’m sorry about Powder,” added Blow. “That sucks horseshit.”

“Yeah.”

“You see it happen, Cap?”

Was he asking because he was accusing him of screwing up?

Da

“Yeah. He was a few yards away,” Da

“Dedicated,” said Da

“Crazy fucks.”

“Yeah.”

The helo settled down. Unlike the last village, this one had a good view of the shoreline, which lay a quarter mile below the settlement area. Da

“Got a Lieutenant Simmons wants to see you,” said one of the sailors on the ground. “He’s a liaison guy. He helped set this up. Some paperwork, and I think he needs some advice on classification or some such thing.”

“Yeah, okay. I gotta get back, thought,” said Da

It was as if he wasn’t there, just another ghost in the jungle. Da

“Hey,” said Da

she reared back her head. if it hadn’t been for the wind from the blades of the helo, he spittle probably would have struck him in the face.

Aboard Quicksilver, over the South China Sea

2140

The consensus was clear—definitely a Sikorsky, definitely something very similar to Searchwater, though

not quite an exact match. It looked like it might be a bit harder to jam, according to Torbin, who immediately volunteered to try.

“Let ’em be,” said Brea

The helicopter climbed into an orbit over the aircraft carrier. As interesting as it was, the Sukhois that had charged after the Viking were a higher priority; and so Brea

“They’re crazy,” said Chris. “They’ll hit ’em for sure. They can’t fly that well in the damn daylight, let alone in the dark.”

The radar shoed the Chinese fighters merging with the Viking and, looking at the display, it seemed as if they had crashed. Instead, they had simultaneously sandwiched the S-3 swooping across in opposite direction. It would have been an impressive move at an air show.