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This is how it’s supposed to feel, Starship thought again. The ship grew in his screen, its upturned bow on the right side. He realized he should slow down for a more detailed view, but by now it was too late; he was already beyond it.
“One more pass, low and slow,” he said aloud. He nudged his throttle back and took a breath, reminding himself to stay in control. He could feel his pulse thumping in his throat.
Get too excited and you lose it.
That was Kick’s saying, wasn’t it?
You with me, Kick?
Get too excited and you lose it.
Yeah.
Starship exhaled very slowly as he took the Flighthawk into a turn, trying to stay calm. But just as he reached the far point of the turn, the computer warned that he was at the far end of his control range.
“Three seconds to disco
“Colonel, I need you to come east.”
“It’s u
“I just need one more pass.”
“Back to the Wisconsin,” said Dog.
Starship opened his mouth to argue, then realized it was a moot point—the computer was counting down to disco
“My bet would be it’s on its way to the scrap heap,” said Delaford, examining the video scans of the ship again. “A lot of metal.”
“What about the crates on deck?”
“Possibly more junk inside them,” said Delaford. “Or else like I said, someone’s trying to use it to bring cargo back and SATAN’S TAIL
169
forth. I kind of doubt that but you never know out here. People can be very resourceful.”
“Maybe they’re going to invade someplace.”
“These warlords have enough trouble keeping control of their little spits of land,” said Delaford.
Starship reached for the steel coffee mug, draining the last bit of coffee. Flying circles around the sky for hours on end was bad enough, but doing it on such little sleep was sheer torture. He had some caffeine pills he could take—as well as stronger medicine if absolutely necessary—but he preferred to hold them in reserve.
“Hawk One, we have two ships approaching from the north,” said Dog. He gave him a heading and a GPS location about sixty-five miles ahead of the Megafortress.
“On my way, Colonel,” replied Starship. He nudged the Flighthawk’s control stick forward, descending gradually toward the two ships.
“Big one in front looks like an oiler,” said Delaford as he got close, “the sort of ship that carries diesel fuel for others.”
“Like a tanker?”
“More like a floating gas station. There are a few of these ships that were used by navies in the past, mostly the Russians, and then were sold off and used with very little conversion as transports. Database is working on it.”
The computer needed twenty points of reference to identify a ship and compare it to the database for identification.
The points could range from size measurements to mast and stack configurations.
An ID flashed on the screen as Starship’s Flighthawk closed to within two miles:
DUBNA CLASS, OIL
“Database is comparing it to a Fi
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
some other supplies. I have it in the registry—it’s a Turkish ship, looks like it was bought from Ukraine two years ago.”
“What’s the other one?” asked Starship.
Before Delaford could answer, the computer gave its opinion:
BUSHRA CLASS PATROL BOAT
OMAN NAV
“That’s incredibly far from home. Couple of hundred miles,” said Delaford.
“Maybe they’re protecting them from the pirates.”
“Maybe.”
DOG LOOKED AT THE LOW-LIGHT VIDEO AS IT PLAYED IN THE
panel on the Megafortress’s “dashboard.”
“The Oman ship doesn’t look particularly hostile,” he told Delaford.
“Granted,” said the lieutenant commander. “But there are a couple of things out of place. There’s an Exocet missile launcher on the deck behind the smokestack. You can see it in the view of the starboard side. That’s not standard equipment on those boats. Oman does have Exocets, but they’re usually on their Dhofar missile boats, which are a little newer. There’s also an antiair battery, a missile system on the forward deck.”
“Doesn’t add up to pirates,” said Dog. “So they’ve updated the ship, so what? It might be protecting the other ship.”
“Very possibly. Or perhaps pirates have taken over the Oman ship and have used it to capture the oiler. It’s filled with fuel. It can fuel other ships at sea, or at least bring fuel supplies to ports.”
“But most of the patrol boats don’t use the heavy fuel it has.”
“Good point,” said Delaford. “I’m not saying I know what’s going on. Quite the opposite.”
“All right. Let’s try hailing them and find out what they’re SATAN’S TAIL
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up to,” said Dog. He turned to his copilot. “McNamara, ID
us as a Navy flight on a routine patrol. See if you can hail the Oman ship.”
“On it, Colonel.”
“How’s your fuel, Starship?”
“Going to need to tank in about twenty minutes,” said Starship.
“Get some close-ups of both of those ships,” said Dog.
“Then we’ll set up for a refuel.”
“Roger that.”
“Not acknowledging us,” said McNamara.
“Try the oiler.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Delaford, the Oman ship isn’t talking to us,” said Dog.
“Anything except the obvious occur to you?”
“No.”
“Radar,” said McNamara. The copilot was warning Dog that the Oman ship had just turned on an antiaircraft radar.
“Shouldn’t be able to see us at this range. Not sure about the Flighthawk as it goes over, but they don’t have a lock at the moment.”
STARSHIP PUSHED THE UM/F TOWARD THE OMAN VESSEL, accelerating for a quick fly-by.
“People moving on the deck of the second boat,” he told Dog. “Up near the, uh, front, the bow, near the gun.”
If they were fanatics, killers, he could erase them with a squeeze of his trigger. They deserved it—murderers. They’d killed Kick.
Would that bring him back?
Of course not.
Would it feel good?
Not really. Not in the way he wanted it to.
“What should I do, Colonel?”
“Just stand by,” said Dog. “Let me talk to my friend, Captain Gale.”
172
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
Aboard the Abner Read , Gulf of Aden
2150
STORM PRESSED THE BUTTON ON THE COMMUNICATION CONtrol, co
“What is it, Bastian?”
“Hold on, sir,” said a voice he didn’t recognize.
Bastian came on a second later.
“We have something that you may be interested in, Storm,” he said. “Some sort of tanker being trailed by a gunboat that’s supposed to belong to Oman. We’re not sure if it’s an escort or if it’s joined the pirates.”
“Hail them.”
“We’ve tried that. No answer from either ship. I’m going to patch you over to Commander Delaford,” said Dog. “He can fill you in on what the ships look like and what he thinks they may be up to. I’ll stand by. Using the satellite phone to co
“And what do you propose instead?”
“As I tried to tell you earlier, we have mobile communications units that will let you tie into the Dreamland network.
If you work with me instead of against me, we might actually get something done.”
“I’m getting plenty done, Bastian. Put Delaford on.”
The line descended into static for so long that Storm was about to call in his communications expert to get the Dreamland people back when Delaford came on.