Dale Brown - Dale Brown's Dreamland 04 - Piranha(and Jim DeFelice)(2003) (59 page)

 
          
“Here
we go!” said the sergeant.

 
          
As
they cruised parallel to the raft at low speed, Danny stepped off the aircraft,
walking out as if walking off a board at the swimming pool. He felt his knees
knock together as his feet impacted the water; his joints
twinged
a second, but then fell away. The water was cold—very, very cold. He pumped
hard toward the raft, waiting for the surge of blood and adrenaline to warm
him.

 
          
Bison
got there a stroke ahead of him. The Whiplash trooper pushed Stoner into the
raft, threw one of the preservers over his head.

 
          
“Here!”
Danny yelled to Breanna as he reached the side. “Hey! Take the life preserver!
Take it!”

 
          
Her
face looked as if it had been pounded with a baseball bat. Her fingers were
swollen and puffy. Danny pushed himself into the small boat, wrapped the
preserver around her.

 
          
“We’re
going home. We’re taking you back.”

 
          
Aboard Iowa

 
          
Zen
watched the Osprey come in as he climbed back—picture, next picture. It
approached, it started to hover, someone was leaning from the door, a line was
down, she was okay, she was okay.

 
          
He
floated out over her, happy she was okay. He reached toward her but she was
gone, the Osprey veering off.

 
          
“Jeff,
we have that radio—it’s a PRC beacon,” said Major Alou.

 
          
“Roger
that. I need the coordinates.”

 
          
“Dreamland
has them. They’re plugged in. Thank God
Bree’s
alive.”

 
          
“Yeah.”

 
          
“You
okay?”

 
          
“Roger
that,” he said.

 
          
South China Sea

 
          
Danny
stumbled as he got into the Osprey, falling against Pretty Boy, who was helping
one of the Marines wrap a blanket around Stoner. The other two Marines were
stooped over Hernandez, who was kneeling over Breanna on the floor. The two
rescuees
had to be treated for shock and dehydration as
well as wounds. Every member of Whiplash was trained in emergency medical care,
and his two men were moving promptly and competently to treat the pair. Danny
couldn’t help thinking of Liu, who nickname “Nurse” had earned several times
over.

 
          
“Captain,
we think we got another one,” said the crew chief.

 
          
“Where?”
Danny asked.

 
          
“Pilots
wants to talk to you.” The chief pointed him toward the bulkhead separating the
flight deck and the cabin area. Danny leaned between the two pilots, who were
just completing a circle to make sure there were no other survivors in the
area.

 
          
“Here’s
the deal,” said the copilot. “Beacon off a survival radio about a hundred miles
east of here. Top speed, we can make it in roughly twelve minutes. Means we’ll
have to tank on the way home, but we got a KC-10 en route with all the stops
pulled out, so we think we can do it.”

 
          
“Well,
let’s go,” said Danny.

 
          
The
copilot looked across at the pilot.

 
          
“It’s
right near the Chinese task group,” said the pilot. “And I mean right near.”

 
          
“Well,
let’s get the fuck over there,” said Danny.

 
          
“That’s
what we say,” said the copilot. “Navy has its own package en route with Tomcats
and Hornets as escorts, but even with all the stops out, their helos are a good
half hour off, if not more.
Escorts’ll
have to stay
with them, pretty much.”

 
          
“Screw
’
em
.”

 
          
The
pilots answered by mashing the throttle to max.

 
          
Dreamland Command

 
          
August
28, 1997, 0050 local (August 29, 1997, 1550 Philippines)

 
          
Thirty
seconds after the Dreamland Osprey told Dog they were headed to the new
location, Admiral Woods’s voice came over the line. The screen remained blank.

 
          
“Bastian,
we understand you have another beacon.”

 
          
“Yes,
we do,” Dog told him. “My Osprey is en route.”

 
          
“It
is? I thought they were on another rescue.”

 
          
“They’ve
completed that.”

 
          
“I
see. I’m told we have a package on its way already.”

 
          
“It’s
likely we’ll get there first,” said Dog.

 
          
“We’ll
coordinate. Very clever using another aircraft,” added the admiral.

 
          
It
was impossible to know how he meant that—was he
mad
that Dog had sent another airplane into “his” territory? It could be
interpreted as going against orders.

 
          
“The
platform was scheduled to be tested,” said Dog.

 
          
“Yes,”
said Woods. “Good recovery. Lets’ work together on this next pickup.”

 
          
“We
have been.”

 
          
“Good.”

 
          
The
line snapped clear.

 
          
Aboard Shiva in the South China Sea

 
          
The
temptation was overwhelming. The Chinese destroyer was no just within his
range; he could get his torpedoes off before they had time to spot him, but
they had heard other contacts in the distance. Admiral
Balin
was determined to see what other targets the gods were presenting.

 
          
“Sonar
Contact One is changing course,” relayed the sonar room, referring to the
destroyer. They gave a distance and a bearing. It was heading roughly across
their path,
bit
not quite on a direct course.

 
          
Attack
now and destroy it? Or let it pass and hope for a juicer target?

 
          
“Other
contacts?” asked
Balin
.

 
          
“Negative,”
came the reply. They were using only their passive sonar.

 
          
“Periscope.”

 
          
If
the destroyer attacked, they would lose their easy shot, and perhaps not get
another one.

 
          
If
a better target was nearby, though, he would not forgive himself.

 
          
Greed?

 
          
“Active
sonar,” decided
Balin
. “Prepare torpedoes to fire.”

 
          
Twenty
seconds later, the sonar room reported a large contact two miles beyond the
destroyer.

 
          
“What
is it?” asked Captain
Varja
.

 
          
“Unknown,”
was the answer. “Large, very large.”

 
          
“Direct
our course for it,”
Balin
told
Varja
.

 
          
“The
destroyer is changing course. They’re heading for us.”

 
          
“Target
the largest contact,” said
Balin
.

 
          
“It
is a good day,” said
Varja
.

 
          
“Yes,”
said
Balin
.

 
          
Aboard Dreamland Osprey

 
          
“We
have a destroyer bearing down on the marker,” Iowa copilot told Danny over the
Dreamland circuit.

 
          
“Yeah,
we got him on long-distance radar,” Danny replied. “We’re still a good five
minutes away.”

 
          
“I
have the raft,” said Zen. “Somebody’s in it. One person.”

 
          
“Understood,”
replied Danny. “How close is the destroyer?”

 
          
“Two
hundred yards. Shit,” yelled Zen. “They’re firing at them!”

 
          
Aboard Shiva in the South China Sea

 
          
The
first depth charge exploded well off the port side. The second and third were
even farther. As the sub shook ever so slightly from the fourth, the sonar room
reported the large contact was slowing, probably to turn. It was now less than
two and a half miles away.

 
          
“Is
it the carrier,” answered
Varja
.

 
          
“Prepare
to fire.”

 
          
The
submarine rocked with a fresh explosion. The lights blinked off; it took a
second for the systems and the crew to recover.

 
          
“We
have severe damage—we’ve lost control of the diving planes,” said
Varja
as the reports came in. “Ballast tanks blown—we’re
surfacing.”

 
          
“Keep
us down.”

 
          
“We’re
trying, Admiral.”

 
          
Varja
said nothing else, but it was obvious what he meant
to tell the admiral—they were no longer in position to fire. The ASW weapons
had jammed the hydroplanes upward and mangled the controls on the ballast
tanks, robbing them of their ability to maneuver below the water. “Surface,”
said
Balin
, accepting the inevitable. “Then we will
fire.”

 
          
Aboard the Dreamland Osprey

 
          
“Hey,
Captain! Navy’s found something south of us,” reported the Osprey crew chief as
Danny and Bison hunkered by the door. “The
helo
that
was coming north for this raft, backing us up—they just spotted some wreckage.
They think they may have a body.”

 
          
“A
body or a person?” asked Danny.

 
          
“They
said body, sir. They’re checking it out. They want to know if we need them, or
if they can concentrate on that.”

 
          
“Yeah,
release ’
em
,” shouted Danny. “What about the
Hornets?”

 
          
“Inbound.”

 
          
“Chinese
answer the hails?”

 
          
“No,
don’t worry. The F/A-18’s’ll nail the bastards.”

 
          
Danny
didn’t answer. They were still a good two minutes off; he couldn’t see the
Chinese ships from where he was standing.