Armageddon

“There’s one of the ships on the horizon,” said Bison, pointing toward it. “The smaller one.”

“Our best bet is to get as far down the south coast as possible,” said Liu.

“I should have taken the LADS control unit with me,” said Je

“There wasn’t time,” said Liu.

She looked back at the building. “It has to be destroyed.”

“Not worth the risk,” said Liu.

“If we don’t switch it over, Dreamland can’t take control,” said Je

“You can’t rig something up with your laptop there?” asked Bison.

“No, not without the hookup unit and the satellite ante

“It’s not your fault,” said Liu.

“I can climb up there. It’s easy.”

“It’s not a question of difficulty,” said Liu. “It’s a question of safety.”

“We have to destroy that unit,” she told him.

“We could get some of our weapons, too,” said Bison. “All we have right now are pistols.”

“Ships are a good distance off,” said Garcia. “I think they know they hit it. Helicopter’ll keep them busy for a while.”

Liu nodded, then looked back to Je

“If the ships come close, or if the platform is too dangerous, we can leave,” she told him. “But we have to try.”

“All right. Let’s take a quick look,” said Liu, frowning as he turned the boat toward the shattered platform.

Southwestern Brunei, near the Malaysian border

1729

McKe

“Brunei MiG to Brunei Army One,” McKe

There was no answer. She tried again a few minutes later with the same result, and then twice more before getting a response.

“Brunei Army One reads you, MiG. What a glorious day to liberate our country.”

“Kick ass,” she replied.

The controller, an army major who had taken a course in working with aircraft from the U.S. air force, gave her a good brief on their present situation, then asked for intelligence on the capital.

“Give you a verbal snapshot in zero-five,” she said, double-checking her position on the paper map. “Hang on.”

Southeastern Brunei

Exact location and time unknown

As soon as Mack heard the pistol shot, he went to the side of the doorway, flattening himself against the wall. The woman who had spoken to him earlier handed off her child to another mother, then got up and went to the other side, reaching it just as the two men came in.

Mack hesitated for half a second—the smaller one was closer to him, but there was no way to change positions with the woman. He threw himself forward into the man and they crashed down to the floor, the terrorist’s pistol flying across the room. Mack’s fury erupted and he pummeled the man’s head with an insane, obscene rage, pounding the flesh with a ferocious force that rose not from him but from the earth itself. Mack’s bare fists crushed the bones of the man’s jaw and nose and even the side of his skull. Blood gushed as he leapt out toward the pistol, grabbing it and rolling backward in the same motion, crashing against the wall and firing into the two forms that appeared in the doorway with their rifles. He kept firing until he emptied the gun; it took that long for both men to totter backward.

Mack scrambled to get up. He reached his feet in time to see the last terrorist standing above the woman who had helped him, pistol drawn. Mack launched himself as the man began to shoot. His momentum took the man down and they tumbled against the wall. This time, rage wasn’t enough. Mack’s hands suddenly went limp, his fingers raw and his wrists sprained from his earlier assault. He struggled to hurt the other man, hitting him with his elbow and leg, rolling his body against him and trying to batter him with the side of his head. The man had lost his pistol but pounded him with the flat of his hands, the blows like the shock of an ice pick hitting Mack’s kidney. With a scream Mack tried to get his feet under him, levering himself away. He pulled the terrorist up with him, and they pushed each other against the side of the doorway. Mack felt something swipe him on the side—his enemy had taken out a knife.

Mack threw his head forward and bit at the side of the man’s face, wholly animal now, wholly a creature of violence determined to survive. He threw every part of his body against his enemy and the knife clattered away. But Mack tumbled down, out on the wooden walkway, thrown by the other’s fury. Mack’s face landed against something soft and wet; he smelled salt and sweat. Realizing he’d landed in the chest of one of the men he’d killed, he looked for a weapon; he found the hilt of a knife and pulled it from the man’s belt.

The other terrorist had recovered his knife and charged him. Mack thought he would impale him as he came but he missed, his enemy ducking away in a bizarre dance and toppling to the ground. Mack tried to jump on him but tripped, as well. The knife flew toward the other man, who managed to duck it.

As Mack sprawled he saw one of the rifles. He grabbed at it desperately, trying to swing it up and fire. But he couldn’t reach the trigger quickly enough and the terrorist kicked it away. Mack grabbed at the leg, pushing forward just enough to make the man lose his balance. As the terrorist’s knife waved in front of his face, Mack grabbed at it but missed. He was able to hit the terrorist’s leg and groin, but his blows were weakened by his injuries and pain and the terrorist fell back, regrouping.

The gun, thought Mack. The gun. He threw himself on it. His enemy came once more, diving toward him with the knife.

This time, Mack’s finger found the trigger. The rifle roared beneath his chest, and his whole body reverberated with its ferocious roar.

Aboard “Pe