junior up from behind. Once the calf is caught, the captain will circle back to the Mogamigawa, leading Mom and Dad into the tanker’s big trawl nets. The two adults must be sedated before they’re removed from the water and placed in their holding pens or they’ll bash themselves to death.” She nodded at Commander Sills, shutting off her laptop.
“Thank you, Ms. Buchwald. I’ve divided the night into two shifts. Colton Wright and Paul Rudd are in Manta-One from nineteen hundred hours to oh-one hundred; Chris Mull and David Taylor in Manta-Two . Second shift runs until dawn. I’ll be in One with Chris Coriasco; Matt Evans and Eric Stamp are in Two . If there are no other questions—”
“Nick’s my sonar guy,” David said. “I promised him the gig.”
The other pilots snickered.
Commander Sills’s expression cut them off. “Mr. Porter is not on the duty roster, Mr. Taylor.”
“You’re in charge, Commander; put him on.”
Sills stood very slowly. “Gentlemen … Ms. Buchwald, let Mr. Taylor and I have this room.”
Jackie followed the pilots out of the galley, Nick Porter the last one out.
Commander Sills hovered over David and leaned in until the tips of their noses nearly touched.
And then both pilots cracked up in laughter.
“David Taylor, half Jap, one hundred percent kamikaze pilot. How in the fuck are you?”
“Good.”
“Sure you are. Let me see those wrists … sweet Jesus, you meant business, didn’t you?”
“That was a bad time; I’m better. What are you doing out here? Last I heard you were in Iraq. Aren’t you a little old for that shit?”
“You sound like my wife and daughters. I was in the Green Zone solely as a trainer; you know, sittin’ by the pool stuff, teaching rookies younger than you how to keep from getting blown up. Then the surge happened, and well … I couldn’t handle worrying about my guys, wondering who’d come back in a body bag. I figured they’d be safer with me going out on patrol with them. One day we were in Tikrit and an RPG-7 hit a propane tank on a local’s house. I ran in and dragged two kids out, only to be hit by hot frag during the explosion. My legs were badly burned, plus there was shrapnel that required surgery to remove. They shipped me to Guantanamo, then back to Kauai. Two surgeries and three months later this guy bin Rashidi contacts me and says Dubai needs a submersible trainer and lead pilot to capture live sea species. Easy stuff; good money. They sent me video footage of that Dunk and that sealed the deal. I had no idea the institute had sold them Manta subs until I arrived. Four months at sea and we’ve barely gotten wet.”
“Just the same, please don’t tell my father I’m out here.”
“He already knows. When you skipped town, he called his Scottish pal, Zachary Wallace, who has connections in Dubai. Wallace told him you’re on board. He also convinced your old man to reconfigure the Tonga ’s two subs with Valkyrie lasers.”
“Lasers? What the hell for?”
“Who knows? Your dad ordered me to restrict your activities and not to allow you to set foot on the Tonga .”
“Screw that, Kenney. I’m the best pilot you’ve got.”
“For the daredevil stuff … maybe. When it comes to staying within mission parameters you’re a royal pain-in-the-ass. I’m giving you one mission at a time; take an unnecessary risk and I’m pulling you off the duty roster. And what’s this stuff about Nick Porter riding shotgun with you?”
“I looked into his eyes; he’s not afraid.”
“Then he’s stupid.”
“His father said he graded out tops in sonar.”
“Which would actually mean something if you were nine miles down in the Panthalassa Sea, covered by a rock ceiling. Here you’ve got a trawler and supertanker patrolling the surface, equipped with sonar and the best hi-tech fish-finders oil money can buy. I’ll be in your ear telling you where to turn before Porter can utter a word. The kid’s a gamer,
“Thank you, Ms. Buchwald. I’ve divided the night into two shifts. Colton Wright and Paul Rudd are in Manta-One from nineteen hundred hours to oh-one hundred; Chris Mull and David Taylor in Manta-Two . Second shift runs until dawn. I’ll be in One with Chris Coriasco; Matt Evans and Eric Stamp are in Two . If there are no other questions—”
“Nick’s my sonar guy,” David said. “I promised him the gig.”
The other pilots snickered.
Commander Sills’s expression cut them off. “Mr. Porter is not on the duty roster, Mr. Taylor.”
“You’re in charge, Commander; put him on.”
Sills stood very slowly. “Gentlemen … Ms. Buchwald, let Mr. Taylor and I have this room.”
Jackie followed the pilots out of the galley, Nick Porter the last one out.
Commander Sills hovered over David and leaned in until the tips of their noses nearly touched.
And then both pilots cracked up in laughter.
“David Taylor, half Jap, one hundred percent kamikaze pilot. How in the fuck are you?”
“Good.”
“Sure you are. Let me see those wrists … sweet Jesus, you meant business, didn’t you?”
“That was a bad time; I’m better. What are you doing out here? Last I heard you were in Iraq. Aren’t you a little old for that shit?”
“You sound like my wife and daughters. I was in the Green Zone solely as a trainer; you know, sittin’ by the pool stuff, teaching rookies younger than you how to keep from getting blown up. Then the surge happened, and well … I couldn’t handle worrying about my guys, wondering who’d come back in a body bag. I figured they’d be safer with me going out on patrol with them. One day we were in Tikrit and an RPG-7 hit a propane tank on a local’s house. I ran in and dragged two kids out, only to be hit by hot frag during the explosion. My legs were badly burned, plus there was shrapnel that required surgery to remove. They shipped me to Guantanamo, then back to Kauai. Two surgeries and three months later this guy bin Rashidi contacts me and says Dubai needs a submersible trainer and lead pilot to capture live sea species. Easy stuff; good money. They sent me video footage of that Dunk and that sealed the deal. I had no idea the institute had sold them Manta subs until I arrived. Four months at sea and we’ve barely gotten wet.”
“Just the same, please don’t tell my father I’m out here.”
“He already knows. When you skipped town, he called his Scottish pal, Zachary Wallace, who has connections in Dubai. Wallace told him you’re on board. He also convinced your old man to reconfigure the Tonga ’s two subs with Valkyrie lasers.”
“Lasers? What the hell for?”
“Who knows? Your dad ordered me to restrict your activities and not to allow you to set foot on the Tonga .”
“Screw that, Kenney. I’m the best pilot you’ve got.”
“For the daredevil stuff … maybe. When it comes to staying within mission parameters you’re a royal pain-in-the-ass. I’m giving you one mission at a time; take an unnecessary risk and I’m pulling you off the duty roster. And what’s this stuff about Nick Porter riding shotgun with you?”
“I looked into his eyes; he’s not afraid.”
“Then he’s stupid.”
“His father said he graded out tops in sonar.”
“Which would actually mean something if you were nine miles down in the Panthalassa Sea, covered by a rock ceiling. Here you’ve got a trawler and supertanker patrolling the surface, equipped with sonar and the best hi-tech fish-finders oil money can buy. I’ll be in your ear telling you where to turn before Porter can utter a word. The kid’s a gamer,
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