Satan's Tail

“Invaders!”

That was the term they used, translated by the translation software in the Dreamland Command trailer. And they said it loudly enough for the microphones in the video camera to pick up, even though the Osprey hovered overhead.

“Invaders!”

“This is relatively calm,” Da

“Until some jerk drives up in a truck full of explosives,”

said Dog.

“He won’t get past the gate. We’ve set up bullet panels on the approaches to our sector, along with tear-gas mortars.

We have the Osprey overhead. I’m keeping the Werewolves in reserve. But if they get past the tear gas and bullet panels and we have to shoot, it’ll get bloody. We can withstand an attack, but it won’t be pretty.”

The bullet panels were large rectangles filled with 9mm rubber bullets. They were considered nonlethal deterrents for use against a stampeding crowd; when triggered, they fired a hail of hard rubber in the air. Combined with the tear gas, they would turn back all but the most determined protesters.

The Osprey’s guns were loaded with live ammunition, as were the Werewolves. Da

“This couldn’t have been spontaneous,” said Dog.

“No,” said Da

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“I’ll talk to Washington. We have to relocate. Probably to Diego Garcia.”

“What about Captain Gale?”

“I’ll talk to him too. Though frankly I’d rather get my teeth pulled.” Dog glanced at his watch. Wisconsin was scheduled to launch at 2000, and he was slated to lead the mission. He hadn’t even started pla

“Starship is outside,” said Da

“Send him in.”

Dog got up from the video station and walked to the large common room at the front of the trailer. Starship flinched when he saw him.

“Colonel.”

“Lieutenant, I believe you forgot to ask if you had permission to go into town this afternoon,” said Dog.

“I thought it would be OK.”

“So what happened?”

“It didn’t seem like that big a deal. I went with a Saudi pilot. We were in the town and, uh, there was a mosque, and I asked if I could take a look.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful. I was just—if I went to church, I mean it was the same thing. You know? I was looking around. I just want to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“I want to understand why Kick died and I didn’t.”

Starship’s eyes widened momentarily, as if he’d seen something passing behind them in the room. They held Dog’s for just a moment, then turned down, settling on the dark shadows at the base of the floor.

Dog wasn’t the kind of officer who could play father figure or priest, which he knew was what Starship really needed. He did understand, however, what the young man was going through. He’d experienced it himself, or at least something like it, much earlier in his career when he’d lost a SATAN’S TAIL

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friend. But now he felt powerless to help the lieutenant, to do anything more than tell him the riot wasn’t his fault, which it wasn’t.

“All right, Starship. I understand that you meant no harm.

The situation at the gate has nothing to do with you. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. This was organized before you went near the mosque.”

“I don’t think Bandar—the pilot—I don’t think he set me up,” said Starship. “I didn’t go inside or anything. I was just looking around.”

“It’s immaterial now. We’re supposed to fly in two hours.

Better get ready for your mission.”

Gulf of Aden

1830

ALI GRIPPED THE ROPE, PULLING HIMSELF UP THE SIDE OF THE

ship. His AK-47 clunked at his back as he clambered over the side of the tanker, helped by two of his men. The ship’s captain stood a few feet away, frowning in the dim light.

“I thought we were not to be stopped again,” said the captain as Ali approached. “You told me this yourself.”

“I am flattered that you remembered me, Captain,” said Ali. They had stopped the ship three months before, and Ali had, in fact, made that promise. “It is regrettable that circumstances made it necessary to engage you again.”

Bari, Ali’s second-in-command, approached from the side. Bari had led the first team over. “Plenty of fuel,” he told Ali. The tanker carried marine gas oil and marine diesel, the heavy grade of fuel oil commonly called “bunker oil,” which was used by large ships.

“Set the course,” Ali told him.

“Should we wait for the Al Bushra to come alongside?

The crew here seems compliant enough. They remember our last encounter, and most are Muslim brothers from Indone-

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sia and Pakistan, with a Turk or two for discipline. There were no weapons.”

“Good. Have the Al Bushra come about and stand by to assist if necessary. But if you judge the situation acceptable, don’t lose the time bringing more men aboard,” said Ali.

“Transmit the message telling the Sharia to sail. You should be able to meet them in six hours so they can fuel and return to the mooring before the Russian satellite passes. The boats will come with me. God has graced us and made things easy this evening.”

“What are you saying?” demanded the captain of the tanker.

Ali raised his rifle. “Pray,” he told the captain. The man made no sign to comply, and so he shot him where he stood.

Aboard the Wisconsin , over the Gulf of Aden

2125

STARSHIP CHECKED HIS POSITION ON THE SITREP MAP, TRYING

to get a feel for the night’s mission. Xray Pop was located about twenty miles north of Bandar Murcaayo in the Gulf of Aden; the Piranha unit was exploring an area of the Somalian coast near Bullaxaar. They were supposed to bring the probe eastward toward the task force; this would take between six and eight hours. The realignment would allow the Dreamland team to cover Xray Pop and run Piranha at the same time. Colonel Bastian had ordered two more Megafortresses and additional Flighthawks to join them; once they arrived, the search for the submarine and support of Xray Pop could proceed independently.

“Ready for Flighthawk launch,” said Dog.

“Flighthawk launch ready,” said Starship. He authorized the launch verbally for C3, the Flighthawk control computer, then curled his fingers around the control stick. His heart pounded steadily as the Megafortress tipped forward and picked up mo-

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mentum. The big aircraft lifted upward as the release point was reached, using the wind sheer off the wing as well as gravity to push the Flighthawk out of its nest beneath the wing. The computer had already ignited the robot plane’s engine, and by the time Starship took over, he was zooming into a layer of clouds that seemed to last forever. The milky soup furled in all directions; he felt as if he were flying into someone’s dream.

Unlike Zen, Starship preferred using the computer screens at the control station to guide the plane, instead of the command helmet. He found it easier to tap the screen to change views and get data. He had a standard pilot’s helmet and mask, but often left them at the base of his ejection seat, resorting to them only during obvious combat situations.

Zen argued that a “normal” helmet made working the board difficult, but Starship disagreed; the weight of the control helmet tended to twist his neck and give him headaches if he wore it for more than an hour.