Armageddon

“Yes, sir,” said Boston. “Uh, Colonel, no need to shout, sir. I have the headset.”

“Sorry,” said Dog. He flipped the com cha

“Give us a minute,” said the scientist.

“I don’t even have the feed I had earlier.”

“Give us a minute,” repeated the scientist.

An image of the ocean popped onto the screen. It looked peaceful, but slightly out of whack—there was an oil platform at the left-hand side, and Dog thought the image’s perspective was pushed over. Then he realized the image wasn’t askew; the platform was.

There were two ships on the opposite side of the screen. Something flashed from one.

“Colonel, do you have an image?” asked Rubeo.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“It would appear the blimp that is providing the video image right now is being targeted,” added the scientist in his vaguely condescending voice. “We believe they knocked out the jammer when they struck the platform and now realize it is there. Press the ‘D’ and ‘E’ keys on your keyboard simultaneously.”

“Now?”

“Now, Colonel. After the screen flashes you should be able to select any image you desire. It may take a moment longer if they strike the blimp”

Off the coast of Brunei

1754

Dazhou watched as the second missile shot upward. From working with the Barracuda, Dazhou knew there were many different varieties of electronic countermeasures, but the ability of the American device—surely it had to be American—to so thoroughly confound the radar aboard the corvette seemed incredible. Not only was the shipboard radar convinced that there was an object hovering eight thousand feet overhead, but the guidance system on the missiles had declared it was there, as well. Yet both veered off to the west, obviously confused.

“Try firing the gun,” he ordered.

The twin forty-millimeter weapon began to revolve, firing its shells in a wide pattern. Black dots filled the sky.

Dazhou started to put his binoculars down in disgust. As he did, a gray rectangle appeared in the sky to the right of the stream of bullets. It was as if a panel had been knocked from a ceiling; it folded outward then blew into twisted spirals of black and red.

“A blimp!” said one of the officers nearby. “How did they make it invisible?”

“Clever Americans,” said Dazhou. “Prepare the missile to fire at the platform.”

“It is ready, Captain.”

“Fire.”

THE SHIFTING OF THE PLATFORM HAD TORN A LARGE GASH IN the deck on the second level, making it impossible to reach the ladder.

“We can go over the side,” suggested Bison, pointing to the rail. “Then climb around on that girder there.”

“Good!” yelled Je

Je

“Whoa, shit!” yelled Bison above her.

“I’m all right!” Je

“Worth a shot,” said Bison as Je

“You’d have to go all the way back up to reach that.”

“That or fly,” he said.

Sergeant Liu began working his way over, picking through a mangled gate of metal and thick wires to reach a solid, open girder that ran about ten feet across open water. “It’s doable,” he said, starting across.

Je

“Get rid of the packs,” she told him, but either the sergeant didn’t hear or, like all Dreamland perso

Je

A piece of jagged metal had snagged his vest and one of the backpacks; he was literally hanging by threads, his body twisting. “You with me, Bison?” she shouted down.

“I think.” He sounded dazed.

“You are one lucky motherfucker,” she said.

All of a sudden, Bison seemed to become fully aware of where he was. He started to reach for the metal that held him. He couldn’t quite get it.

“No,” said Je

“I don’t think it’ll hold.”

“The girder?”

“This metal. I think I’ll just unhook and jump.”

“It’s too far. And if you miss, you’ll smack into the metal below.”

“I ain’t going to fall.”

Bison pulled on the pipe, trying to swing.

“It’s not going to work, Bison,” said Je

“Maybe that is the best way,” he said. He started to pull himself up, then lost his balance. As he swung down, the pipe shifted an inch downward, taking him further away.

“I don’t like this,” he said.

“It’ll be easier if you let go of the packs and the two machine-guns,” she said.

“No,” said Bison. “I can make it with them.”

“Let go of the fucking packs!” she yelled at him, furious.

Bison looked around and, finally, dropped the guns and pack that hadn’t snagged. They crashed against the metal, then rebounded into the water. He pulled himself up, groping over and across the girder to a large flange at the side of the pier where she was. The metal, about the size of a manhole cover, formed a kind of seat and he rested there for a few moments. Je

“You got a dirty mouth for a girl,” he said when she reached him.

“And you’re as stubborn as a mule.”

“As a buffalo. That’s how I got the nickname,” he said proudly.

They climbed down about thirty feet to a platform that completely surrounded the pier. The only way to get down would be to hang off and try and get a foothold on the girder before stretching down. It was impossible to see the work ladder from above. Je

Another girder extended out over the water a few feet above the platform; a pulley set at the bottom of the metal beam was all that remained from a small lift that had been used to move equipment.