Danny lowered himself to his knees, the pulled his knife out of its scabbard. He began crawl-walking slowly, examining the area in front of him as carefully as he could. It couldn’t have taken him more than two minutes to reach the sergeant, but they stretched out forever. Liu turned toward him as he came forward.
“Don’t move,” Danny told him. He pointed near Liu’s head. “There’s a mine right there.”
“Helicopter,” said Liu, suggesting he be pulled out from above.
“Yeah, but I’m afraid of the rotor wash and we don’t know if there are any timers,” Danny explained. “We can do this. Just relax.”
“I got nicked in the arm and in the leg,” said Liu. “I think I’m okay.”
“Just hang there a minute,” Danny said. he bent over the first mine, sliding around it. Until he started to move sideways, his balance had been perfect, but now he started to lose it; he tottered forward toward the trigger of the explosives. With a quick jerk, he changed his momentum. His leg slipped and he fell backward.
He’d missed the mine by a good measure, but still he expected an explosion. When it didn’t come, he started to laugh uncontrollably. The spasms shook his body, emptying it not only of tension but of doubt. Sure of himself now, Danny got back up and made his way to Liu, scooping him into his arms.
“Powder?” asked the sergeant.
“No,” said Danny. He’d left a good trail and it was easy to take Liu back. He paused and got his bearings before moving, made sure the area to the south was clear. Once he started, he moved quickly.
“You okay, Captain?” said Bison when he reached him. The trooper had inflated a stretcher.
“Get him out,” Danny said. “Get the mine detector on the Osprey down here too.”
“Inbound,” said Bison. The MV-22 was just approaching the dogleg part of the atoll.
“All right. Get him back ASAP. Just go,” Danny said.
“I’m okay,” Liu protested.
“Go.” Danny returned to the spot where he’d retrieved Liu, then began moving down toward Stoner.
“You got a mine detector in that helmet?” Stoner asked.
“I got infrared.”
“That works?”
“Seems to,” said Danny.
“This ain’t worth getting blown up.”
“Now you fuckin’ tell me that,” said Danny. “There’s a wire over there. I can’t tell what it’s attached to.”
“You see it?”
“Not well,” Danny admitted. “Temperature in metal’s a little different than the sand. I got it on maximum. Problem is, there’s rocks on top of some of those mines, or they’re set up in the same. Pretty clever. I’m doing okay so far.”
“Yeah,” said Stoner.
“Yeah.” Danny was now ten yards from the CIA officer. Part of Powder’s leg lay directly to his right. “How the hell did they work around these mines?”
“Maybe they weren’t armed. Get attacked, they hit the radio and turn it on,” suggested Stoner.
“Yeah,” said Danny, working closer. Eve though the way looked clear, his paranoia felt overwhelming.
“Protecting something.”
“I think that was a long-wave-communication device out by the shore they blew up,” said Stoner. “Looked like big fishing poles? Use it to communicate with submarines.”
“So this was an Indian post?”
“Guys looked Chinese to me.”
The Osprey, already loaded with Liu, buzzed low over the water and headed out, its large rotors whipping it toward its top speed of 425 knots, twice as fast as any helicopter in the world.
“He gonna be okay?” Stoner asked.
“He said he would. He’s just about a doctor, so he’s probably right,” said Danny as he reached Stoner. “Now we go back the way we came,” he told him. “Easy.”
“Yeah.”
“My footsteps.”
“I’m right behind you.”
Bison had started toward them with his gear, moving very slowly and marking the mines with reed-thin flags. It was as if he were laying out an odd golf course.
“They must’ve had some pretty high-tech stuff here,” said Stoner as they walked. “They sure as shit fought to protect it.”
“Yeah, they did.”
“That hump down by the water didn’t blow completely. Was probably a radar.”
“Yeah,” said Danny.
“Look at it once the mines are clear.”
“After we secure my sergeant’s body, yes.”
“We’re ready,” said Jennifer. “We should have it.”
Zen stared at the screen. “Nothing. Didn’t work, Jen.”
“All right, hold on.”
Zen pushed back in the seat. The sim program included a short-handoff module, but it wasn’t much of a workout — on the program, the screen appeared and you went.
No screen, no go.
“All right, let’s try again,” said Jennifer.
Zen’s main screen turned green. White axis lines dissected it into four quadrants. Two white blobs sat in the upper quarter, percolating like tiny Alka-Selzer tablets.
“Hey, got radar feed,” said Zen.
“Sonar!” corrected Jennifer.
“Yeah, sorry. Got it. Okay, this is the synthetic thermal feed?”
“Right.”
“Looks like I’m flying in soup. Except for the grid, there’s no reference.”
“You’re swimming, not flying.”
“Whatever. Running diagnostic set. You out there, Delaford?”
“I’m watching everything you do,” said the Navy commander from Iowa, which was orbiting the ocean a short distance away.
Zen’s Flighthawk controls had been replaced by two oversized keyboards and a control stick large, but considerably less flexible, than the Flighthawks’. While Piranha’s full range of commands could be entered through the keyboards, Zen’s interest — and training — was confined to a very small subset, which could be handled by preset buttons carefully marked with tape. He could flip between a view synthesized from either passive sonar or temperature-deviant sensors. The computer automatically processed the contact data, displaying a small amount of its information in captions beneath each of the white synthesized images on his main screen; more information on each could be called up on the auxiliary screen. His speed controls were also worked by dedicated keys on the left board.
“How are you looking over there, Quicksilver?” asked Delaford.
“Uh, well, the sea is kind of a brownish green,” said Zen.
Delaford laughed. “I can tell you how to change the colors if you want.”
“I’m just fine,” Zen told him.
“All right. Those two white blobs are our submarines. We’re twelve miles behind the closest one. This is as close as we want to get. They’re oblivious to us. All their attention is ahead. Pretty soon they’ll be turning around,” added Delaford. “They’ll pull a quick spin in the water to make sure there’s no one behind them.”
“What do I do then?”
“Just stop. Their active sonar can’t see us beyond roughly five miles, if that. Truth is, we could probably get right on their hulls and they’d never know we were there.”
“Okay.”
“Temperature sensors are not nearly as sensitive. Here, look at the screen.”
Delarod fed in the display. It took Zen a second to realize the orange funnels in the milky greenish-brown field were the target subs.
“Very obvious what sensor you’re looking at,” noted Delaford.
“Clever.”
Delaford ran through some of the routine, then repeated things Zen had already heard from one of the Navy briefers as well as Jennifer. Zen felt a little like a high school backup quarterback being crammed with information on the sideline after the star went down. Best things to do, he thought, was just get into the game and work it out on his own.