Piranha

“Fentress, we have to get moving here, friend,” said Bree.

“I’m still having trouble with the link,” he said. “We’re too high. I need you as close as you can get. The jinking’s not helping.”

“Getting shot down won’t help either.” She regretted snapping back like that, but there was no time to apologize—one of the ships launched antiaircraft missiles.

“SA-N-4, basicallt an SA-8 tweaked for shipboard use,” reported Torbin. “We’re at the far end of their envelope. Jamming.”

“Chaff, flares, kitchen sink,” she said.

Brea

Brea

As the gray veil pulled back, Brea

“Damage to our right wing,” reported Chris. He was breathing hard. “Lost the Sukhois at least.”

“All right,” said Bree, suddenly conscious of her own breathing. “Kevin, we need that co

“You have to get closer.”

“They’re launching more planes,” reported Collins.

“Indians too. This it total war,” said Chris. He was gasping for breath, hyperventilating.

“Dreamland Command to Quicksilver.” Major Alou “Gat” Ascenzio’s voice sounded a little ti

“Quicksilver.”

“Get out of there.”

“We’re trying,” she said. then. Remembering the line was in the clear—and hopefully being intercepted by the Chinese—she added. “We’re taken no hostile act. We believe an Indian submarine fired torpedoes at a Chinese aircraft carrier.”

“We confirm one hit and one near miss,” said Gat. “Serious damage. Fires. Get out of there.”

“Quicksilver,” she said.

“I got it!” said Fentress.

“Sink the first buoy.”

“I need you to get lower. Get over it.”

“Bree,” said Chris. He didn’t have to say anything else; his meaning was clear—we have to leave now.

“I’m trying, Kevin,” she told Fentress.

“Missiles in the air!” said Torbin.

Philippines

1840

“Fuck!”

Once again the video feed in his Flighthawk control helmet dissolved into a test screen. Zen slammed his fist on the console and leaned back, cursing.

“I know, I know,” said Je

“Yeah,” he said. He slid the headset back off his head, letting it fall around his neck. He was restless, frustrated.

It was more than difficulties getting the Flighthawk linked back into the circuit—he could feel his heart pounding.

He thought of Bree.

He was pissed at her for acting like a jerk before.

That wasn’t it.

She had been a jerk, but he wasn’t pissed at her, not exactly.

He was worried about her.

He picked up the headset, put it back on. His heart pounded so badly, he could feel the phones reverberating against his ears.

“Hey, Jen, I’m going to take a break,” he said.

“Okay.”

“Yeah. I’m going to go get something to eat. Ring-Dings or something.”

“Ring-Dings? I thought you couldn’t stand Ring-Dings.”

He couldn’t—they were Bree’s favorite pig-out food.

“I’m going to swing by the trailer and see what’s up on the way,” he told her.

“We’ll have it ready by the time you get back.”