Dale Brown - Dale Brown's Dreamland 04 - Piranha(and Jim DeFelice)(2003) (39 page)

 
          
What
listening post was worth this?

 
          
“We’ll
wait for the fire to go down; then we’ll inspect the building,” Danny said.
“Everybody just relax. Powder, those bodies near you got Ids?”

 
          
“Negative.
Look Chinese, but no dog tags or anything. No names.

 
          
There
was one more burst of fire from the walls of the hut, followed by an explosion
that seemed to shake the island up and down an inch. Danny half-expected a
volcano to open up in front of him.

 
          
Then
everything was quiet. In less than two minutes, the flames had consumed
themselves. Danny pushed the visor back on his helmet, and unbuttoned two
buttons on his vest. He walked toward the ruins of the cottage, now a thick
line of black and gray soot in the sand. The air was still hot, as if he was
walking into a sauna.

 
          
“Looks
like they had an underwater long-wave-communication system,” said Stoner from
down the beach. “Most of it’s in pieces, but if that’s what it is, they’re very
sophisticated.”

 
          
“You
figure that’s what they were protecting?” Danny asked.

 
          
“I
don’t know,” said Stoner. “Sure blew everything up in a hurry.”

 
          
“They
must have realized we were coming when the Flighthawks came in,” said Danny.
“Or they picked up the helos with their radars.”

 
          
Powder
and Liu had moved up from the beach toward the cottage, and were now poking at
the dust of its remains.

 
          
Powder
scooped up something in his hand and started toward Danny.

 
          
“Hey,
Captain, look at this….”

 
          
Danny
raised his head just in time to see a mine explode beneath his sergeant’s foot,
blowing him in half.

 
          
Aboard Iowa, over the South China Sea

 
          
Once
the Chinese planes turned back, Dog pushed the Megafortress south, tracking
ahead of the submarines to a point about seventy-five miles away from the
carrier’s air screen. Dog began running a figure-eight at two thousand feet,
then ducked lower to drop the transponder buoy. It settled under the waves and
began transmitting perfectly from its wire net. Delaford made sure he had the
probe on the new channel, then sank the first buoy.

 
          
We’re
looking good,” said Delaford as Iowa climbed back up through five thousand
feet. “Buoy is gone. We have our two contacts now at fifteen miles, still
moving at thirty-one knots now. Interestingly, the two subs are sticking pretty
close together,” he added.

 
          
“Why
is that interesting?” said Rosen, listening in. Delaford gave a short lecture
in submarine tactics. It began fairly basically—splitting up made it more
difficult for the two submarines to be followed—and progressed into a
discussion of the wolf packs used by the Germans during World War II. Delaford
had a theory the two subs might be talking to each other somehow, though there
was no indication of that from Piranha. He had interesting ideas on short-range
acoustical and light-wave systems that sounded more like science fiction than
doable technology, even to Dog. His chatter, though, helped relieve some of the
boredom of the routine; Dog’s job now consisted primarily of lying the same
figure-eight pattern again, and again, and again, holding a steady course while
Piranha did its thing.

 
          
Meanwhile,
the submarines continued on a beeline for the position of the Chinese carriers.
The Iowa began plotting the next buoy drop, deciding how close they would get
to the Chinese task force.

 
          
As
Dog found the coordinates for the next launch, a communication came in from
PacCom
, restricted for Dog.

 
          
“What
the hell is going on up there?” said Admiral Woods, flashing onto the small
video screen in front of the pilot’s console. The computer automatically
restricted the communication to his headset.

 
          
“We’re
deployed Piranha and are tracking two Chinese submarines. I’m told they’re
making good time—thirty-two knots.”

 
          
“The
MiGs.”

 
          
“The
F-8’s? They played cowboy and Indian for a while, then went home. We reported
that.”

 
          
“Your
orders were to steer clear of all Chinese aircraft.”

 
          
“Admiral,
I think you’re being a little picky,” said Dog. “The fighters came out and met
us. We took no action against them. What would you have me do?”

 
          
“I
would have you follow orders.”

 
          
“With
all due respect, sir,” said Dog, who felt anything but respect was due, “I
think you’re just looking for things to criticize. I can’t seem to tie my shoes
without you objecting.”

 
          
“My
people don’t talk that way to me, Colonel.”

 
          
“Maybe
they should.”

 
          
“You
want to go toe-to-toe with me, fine.”

 
          
“Admiral,
really. What’s the problem here?”

 
          
“You’re
used to running the show, Tecumseh. I understand, but you’re under my command
now.”

 
          
Dog
stared at the screen. Woods stared back.

 
          
“Well?”
said the admiral finally.

 
          
“I
was following my orders as best as I knew how. That’s all I can say.”

 
          
“I’m
sending a patrol plane to help track those submarines,” answered Woods.

 
          
“I
don’t see that as necessary, Admiral. We’re tracking sufficiently.”

 
          
The
line snapped clear before Dog could finish.

 
          
An atoll in the South China Sea

 
          
Danny’s
brain split in half, one playing an endless track of sorrow, the other stepping
back calmly, decisively, peering at the scene from above. The second half
realized—belatedly—the area near the cottage had been thickly laid with mines
and booby traps.

 
          
“Stay
where you are. Everybody!” the calm half yelled. “Stay!” He pointed at Stoner,
who’d impulsively taken a step toward Powder. Liu, who’d been about ten or
twelve feet away when Powder got hit, lay slumped over on the ground, moaning.

 
          
Get
Liu out, then decide what to do.

 
          
Danny
flipped the shield on his helmet back down. Any metal in the area ought to be a
little warmer than the rest of ground, and metal might translate into mines or
trip wires—he pushed the IR sensor, went to maximum sensitivity, and began
scanning slowly.

 
          
Nothing.

 
          
God
damn, screamed the other half of his brain. God, God damn.

 
          
Try
again, said the other half. He readjusted the setting, took a long breath, then
moved his helmet slowly.

 
          
He
could see rocks, or something like rocks. Flipping back and forth from IR to
optical, he realized there were some rocks that had a triangular shape at the
bottom. These were mines, or attached to mines.

 
          
Liu,
twenty yards away, curled between two of them. Danny continued to scan. There
were two other mines behind where Powder had been blown up.

 
          
There
were more mines over to his left. And a row of mines directly in front of him;
another step and he would have blown himself up.

 
          
Powder
had saved him.

 
          
He
had a pretty straight path to Liu on his right, assuming he wasn’t missing any
of the mines.

 
          
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.