On the bridge wing, Amanda looked up from the helipad image on the repeater screen. Arkady was home. Up forward, the two rescued aviators were also being carried belowdecks.
She still had to get them out, but at least they all were under her hand now. She bit her lower lip lightly and wiped away a couple of unbidden tears.
“Helm, rotate on station by hydrojet. Come about to one zero zero degrees true. Set reciprocal course downchannel.”
The Duke came about within her own length, aiming her prow toward the sea, gathering herself for the dash toward freedom.
Suddenly, flickering light outlined the headlands to the south and the sound of a new volley of explosions rolled upstream from the mouth of the estuary.
“CIC, something’s taking place down river. Do you have anything on this?”
“Oh yeah, Boss Ma’am. Indeed we do!” Christine Rendino’s jubilant voice responded. “We have the word from Task Flag. We have a support strike rolling in on those bad boys down on the beach! The coastal batteries are being taken out now. They are holding the door open for us!”
“And we are going through it! Lee helm, all engines ahead one third! Let’s get out of here!”
“Sir, signal from the Cunningham. They have just cleared the Yangtze mine barrier and are taking departure from the Chinese coast. All personnel accounted for. All mission objectives completed. They are closing out the Stormdragon time line!”
“Yeah!” Admiral Tallman’s fist crashed onto the console top. “Yeah!”
The tension in Pri-Fly snapped like a rubber band. Yells, cheers, and whistles made the round in the compartment, men and women alike slapping palms and exchanging embraces as they welcomed a shipload of fellow warriors back to life.
Macintyre smiled in the semilight. “Well, Jake. I told you she could pull it off.”
“That you did, Eddie Mac! Goddamn! I wish my son wasn’t already married. I’d like that woman in my family!”
“I wouldn’t mind it myself.”
“Admiral Macintyre.” Nolan Walker handed across a sheet of hard copy. “message in from the Cunningham. Personal. Captain Garrett to CINCSPECFORCE.”
“Thank you, Commander.” Macintyre couldn’t help but note that even Walker had a grin on his face.
Stepping back to the bulkhead, Macintyre held the message form up to one of the battle lights.
All sheep have been returned to the fold.
Macintyre smiled again. Folding the paper, he slipped it into his shirt pocket.
57
There was another mission waiting for the replacement CSR helo: medevac for the Cunningham’s wounded. With the helipad still blocked by the wreckage of Retainer Zero One, the four more critical cases had to be lifted by sling stretcher up to the Oceanhawk as it hovered over the forward replenishment point.
Doc Golden had accompanied his patients topside to supervise the transfer. Now he gave the deck controller the all clear for departure.
Nodding a response, the controller passed the word to the helo pilot with a sweep of his wands. The SH-60 dipped its nose down and pulled away into the lightening sky.
Golden took a deep breath, letting it trickle out from between his lips. One more immediate job left. He picked his medical bag up from the deck and started back toward the superstructure, past his colleagues in the damage-control teams who were tending to the ship’s wounds.
Up on the battered bridge, Ken Hiro slouched tiredly in the captain’s chair. Things were coming back together again here as well. Electrician’s mates were replacing damaged telescreens and systems modules. There was only going to be so much that the crew would be able to do, however. The Duke was going to need a long stretch in the yards before she could be pronounced fully healed.
“We’ve got all of the bad cases on their way, sir,” Golden reported.
“How about the aircrew, Doc? I didn’t see you loading them.”
“We’re going to be hanging on to them for a little while,” Golden replied. “The docs over at Task Hag concur with me that they have no critical trauma that requires any immediate heroic treatment. Bouncing them around in a hoist basket isn’t probably the best thing in the world for them either.” The physician rubbed his tired eyes. “We’ll let them stabilize a little more and move ‘out after we get the helipad clear.”
The Duke’s exec nodded. “Good enough.”
“Speaking of helicopters, what’s the word on Zero Two?”
“They recovered safely aboard the Antietam. The Annie is enroute to rendezvous with us now. We’ll have Lieutenant Delany and her S.O. back aboard in time for lunch.”
“Glad to hear it, sir. Especially that part about the rendezvous.”
Golden leaned against the side of the captain’s chair and peered out at the horizon. “Things are a little bit lonely out here to suit me just now.”
“Not really, Doc. The Antietam already has us under their Aegis screen, and straight up at about thirty thousand feet, we’ve got half a squadron of Super Hornets flying top cover for us. It’s all over, Doc.”
“Not quite. Do you know where the Captain is, Commander?”
“Wardroom.”
“Thanks.”
There were three of them there: the Intel, alert and radiating a near hostility, like a small and wary watchdog; the helo pilot, sprawled back on the couch, his eyes closed and his flight gear stacked on the deck at his feet; and the Captain, sitting upright in one of the lounge chairs, a mug of tea cradled forgotten in her hand.
Golden crossed the compartment and knelt down beside the chair. Taking cotton and disinfectant from his bag, he began to clean the encrusted cuts and scratches on her face and forearms.
Amanda didn’t seem to notice until she felt the first sting of the alcohol-soaked swab. “I’m all right, Doctor,” she said, jerking her head aside. “See to the crew … “
“Don’t worry, Captain. You’re the last one. All wounded have been treated and have either been medevaced out to the carrier or are resting comfortably. Now, shut up, if you please, and let me do my job.”
She accepted his touch and treatment then, sitting quietly as he worked. “How many wounded?” she asked after a few moments.
“Ten. All either on the bridge or in the ammunition handling compartment under the forward Oto Melara. Four of them are serious, but in my judgment, all of them will recover.”
Captain Garrett nodded again, slipping back into her state of somnolent, postmission neutrality.
“Hey, Doc.” Arkady’s eyes were open now, and fixed on the auburn-haired woman seated across from him. “Do you think that it might be a good idea for the Captain to have something to help her sleep?”
“Sounds like a winner to me,” Golden replied, applying a bandage to a cleaned cut on Amanda’s forearm.
“No … Lieutenant.” Captain Garrett shook her head emphatically. “I’m all right. I need to stay clear for a while longer. I’m all right.”
“Your choice, ma’am,” Golden said judgmentally. “However, in my professional opinion, you’re probably going to keel over on your own here presently.”
“I know, Doc. I’ve been here before. I can feel it coming. I’ve just got to get some things cleaned up … Doc, did we lose anyone?”
“One killed in action, Captain. In the ammunition-handling room.”
“Who?”
“Seaman Langdon. One of the new people we took on board at Pearl.”
“I never did get a chance to talk with him,” she almost whispered.