He waited as the distant sound of the American warship’s alarms could be heard.
“Shiloh actual to Collins, go, over.”
“Captain, what’s up?”
“We may have an attack brewing thirty miles to the north. They started showing up on radar twenty minutes ago. Thought nothing of it at first, but their forces have built up quite substantially since.”
“Anything scary at this point? Over.”
“I don’t think it’s as heavy as their nighttime raid last night, but why take chances?”
“Got it. We’ll stay on Simbirsk. After this is settled, we must start getting the ships prepped for our attempt to get home, over.”
“Hang one, Colonel,” Johnson said as the radio went silent. Jack gave Carl and the others a worried look. “That damn master chief and crazy-haired Mr. Spock just stole one of the Zodiacs.”
“Alone?” Jack asked, forgetting to release the call button. Then he cursed and caught the tail end of Captain Johnson’s response.
“—took ten marines with him, over.”
Jack lowered the radio briefly and shook his head in wonder.
“Damn fools,” Carl offered.
“We have to send someone to help. Ten men and Charlie? Come on, not even the great Jenks can do that. No telling what in the hell they’ll run into.” Ryan kicked at the steel bulkhead.
“I hate to be the realist here, gentlemen, but what difference do the islanders make? It is not as if we can take them back with us.”
“We don’t play that damn mythical Prime Directive here, Colonel,” Ryan said, but Jack silenced him when he raised the radio.
“Captain, there’s not a lot we can do about your stolen boat. We’d better see what this gathering of ships is. Then I’ll let you keelhaul Jenks yourself — if you still keelhaul in the navy.”
“We do with pride. Now watch yourself over there, Colonel. Johnson out.”
Jack turned and nodded as he made for the hatchway and then quickly followed the others to the upper deck.
Men were scrambling everywhere. Russian sailors manned the twenty-millimeter and .50-caliber machine guns. Sailors lined the rails with their smaller close-quarter weapons, the venerable AK-47s. The Royal Marines had joined them, and all eyes looked to the northern seas.
“There,” Ryan said, pointing to the horizon.
Collins turned away from examining the readiness of both Peter the Great and Shiloh. He was relieved to see that, thanks to the overwhelming small-arms stores of the ancient Simbirsk, a ship out of time. The old girl had been filled to the brim with American-donated firearms from the days of the old alliance when the Soviet Union had needed everything the United States could ship to her in the earliest days of the war. Now Americans, Russians, and Brits all had either a Colt .45 semiautomatic tucked in their holsters or a weapon that every Axis soldier once feared, the venerable tommy gun — the Thompson submachine gun. One of these was tossed to Jack by Everett, who also slung a holstered .45 over his shoulder. Jack used the binoculars and finally saw what they were facing.
“Count, Mr. Ryan?” Jack asked as he focused on the distant ships.
“Fewer than sixty, no more.”
“Maybe we whittled them down a little more than we thought during their night attack,” Everett said as he too studied the distant fleet of sail.
Collins lowered the field glasses, and his look carried one of concern.
“You don’t have to say it, Colonel,” Henri said as he slammed a clip of ammunition into the Thompson. “Something is wrong. Why attack at midday? Why so few of them?”
“Well, since you have all the right questions, got any answers?” Carl asked, lowering his glasses and staring at the Frenchman.
Henri smiled and then charged the machine gun as he stepped to the railing. “In this world, Captain, I suspect that the answer is not going to be to our liking. I feel Salkukoff is out there, close by.” He again smiled as he faced the larger Everett. “And that is the man with a plan.”
“Yeah, great. I would have never guessed.”
Jack cursed when he saw Peter the Great casting off all her lines that linked her to the Simbirsk and in turn Shiloh. He started to raise the radio once more, but this time, Carl held him back. He shook his head and nodded toward the Shiloh. Jack turned and saw that Captain Johnson was doing the same thing.
“You can’t argue their logic, Jack. A captain is going to protect his ship at all costs. If they need to maneuver, they won’t want to be tied down. Without them, the Simbirsk doesn’t stand a chance anyway.”
Collins nodded in understanding. “What the hell. If this damn ship blinks out with all of us on deck, we’ll fry for sure, just like those boys on the Eldridge. Besides, if we don’t return with everyone we can, Niles will have our asses anyway.”
“See? No problem at all,” Everett said, commiserating with his boss.
“Here they come,” Ryan said.
They turned and watched the large sails of the ships unfurl and their outriggers dig into the violet waters of the sea. Some of the larger boats had to hold at least a hundred souls, the smaller, fifty.
An announcement in Russian and then one in English came across the loudspeakers: “Damage control parties stand by for fire suppression. Reserve units will stand by forward hatchway of turret number one.”
Across the way, Jack heard the now familiar announcement as broadcast by Captain Johnson. “Stand by to repel borders, port and starboard!”
The sterns of both missile cruisers churned to life. They sat unmoving, but still the microscopic sea life burst to the surface like a well of rainbow-colored water.
“Damn. This crap is getting real now,” Jason said as he watched from the port rail.
On came the fleet of processed wooden, shell, and skinned animal life that made up the Wasakoo seacraft. As all eyes watched, the sails were blown taut as the fast-attack craft came on far faster than anyone could believe. Some cut over the wakes of others, jumping high into the air and then coming down with a splash. The agility of the seamanship on display shocked the modern sailors. Other ships rolled heavily onto their outriggers. Again, the seamanship was astounding as the pilots of these strange and otherworldly ships almost defied the laws of gravity as they hopped over the swells their sisters were creating with their speed.
“Three thousand yards,” Ryan said as he finally placed the binoculars down and charged his own weapon.
As the speedy ships came closer, flags of different colors were hoisted by the strange creatures that sailed them. Suddenly, the sound of drums started thumping over the rush of sea and the cacophony of the men watching. The deep bass sound made the sailors of all nations lining the rails uneasy as they watched the attack unfold.
Before anyone realized it, the heavy weapons opened up. Large twenty-millimeter tracer fire lit up the afternoon sky as the missile cruisers opened up simultaneously. Being fed direct targeting from the spotty radar systems of both ships, the fire became deadly accurate as the exploding shells burst among the oncoming ships. Then the sixteen .50-caliber machine guns opened up. The green tracers streaked through the sky and started shredding the lead sails of the tough ships.
“My God, they’re chewing them up!” Ryan said, almost feeling sorry for the backward species in the crosshairs of a modern navy.