"We shall see," Sabah said. 'The Indonesian shipper is worse than an infidel. He has fallen from Islam."
"May Allah cast him into Hell to be roasted by Satan!"
"Such a fate is written for those who turn their backs on the merciful and benevolent Allah," Sabah said. "Now I want to inspect the cargo."
The wooden vessel, its sails furled, continued under engine power toward its destination.
.
MERRITT ISLAND, FLORIDA
11 SEPTEMRER
1000 H0URS LOCAL
THE three Brigands had gone to their reserved rooms at the Radisson Hotel in Cape Canaveral to wait for the arrival of the engineer who would make a detail technical inspection of the ACV.
They had to endure almost seventy-two hours with nothing to do before the phone call they had been waiting for came through. It was Harry DuBose passing on a message to them.
'That Navy engineer is here with a crew," the inventor told Lieutenant Bill Brannigan. 'They got in day before yesterday and really crawled all over the Waterflyer."
"Why wasn't I notified of their arrival?" Brannigan asked angrily.
"The engineer said there was a lot to do before you'd be needed," Harry explained. "They didn't even go to a hotel. They've been with the Waterflyer since they got here."
"I see," Brannigan said, thinking the engineer and his crew were among those dedicated nerds who sucked up nourishment from technical manuals and circuit boards.
"Anyhow, they seem to like the ACV, and they went right to work making alterations. They say they're ready for y'all to come on out here for another ride."
"Why are they making alterations?" Brannigan asked. "As far as I know, the vehicle hasn't been approved for government purchase."
"I don't know," DuBose said. "But they want to see you."
"Right. We'll be there in twenty minutes."
Brannigan hung up, then dialed up Cruiser's and Dawkins's rooms to roust them out.
.
1030 H0URS LOCAL
AFTER arriving at the DuBose compound, the SEALs parked and went around the house to the dock. Brannigan and his two companions were surprised to see that a dozen people were crawling all over the ACV installing instrumentation and other equipment. But they were particularly unnerved by the sight of a beautiful young lady clad in the khaki uniform of a lieutenant junior grade. She was slim with honey-blond hair and blue eyes that had a slight Oriental cast to them.
"Good morning!" she said brightly to the arrivals who were dressed in civilian clothing. "I'm Lieutenant Rivers, the engineering officer assigned to this project."
Jim Cruiser had a silly grin on his face. "I'm Jim. Jim Cruiser, that is. Also a lieutenant JG."
"Veronica Rivers," the young woman said, giving her first name.
"I'm Lieutenant Brannigan," the skipper interjected. "And this is Senior Chief Dawkins."
"I understand you are SEALs," Veronica said. "And that this ACV will be going on a mission."
"You're a few steps ahead of us at this moment," Brannigan said. "We haven't made our report yet."
"I called mine in last night with my complete approval," Veronica said. "I was told to inform you that you wouldn't be going back to Coronado. Orders are being cut assigning you to this ACV. Your whole detachment is included."
Senior Chief Dawkins glanced at Brannigan. 'They must have a mission lined up for us, sir."
"That's a fact," Veronica said. "When I came into the Navy I never thought I'd be going on a real live SEAL operation."
The senior chief scowled. "What do you mean, going on a SEAL operation?"
"I've been assigned as the navigations and weapons systems officer," Veronica said.
Cruiser's grin grew slightly sillier. "Well! Welcome aboard!"
"Thank you," she replied.
Brannigan nodded toward the other people working on the vehicle. "I didn't think the crew was going to be this large. And it doesn't look there's room for that many people. Especially if a SEAL detachment has to be aboard too."
"Don't worry, sir," Veronica Rivers said. "Only two of them--the helmsman and the turbine technician--will stay as crewmen. The others were sent down to take care of their particular equipment. The two DuBose brothers are also lending a hand."
"I see," Brannigan said. "Let's go over to the ACV and you can give us the Cook's tour so we can see what you've done so far."
They crossed the dock and stepped onto the Waterflyer. The busy people paid them no mind as Veronica led the SEALs into the cabin. They saw a cramped but efficient design that included four bunks and one head for nature's calls. However, it was obviously not designed to be lived aboard for any great length of time. A small refrigerator and microwave oven were situated on the port side that served as a tiny galley. Just to the front of that was a table with benches bolted to the deck.
"That would be our wardroom, would it not?" Jim Cruiser asked.
"Yes," Veronica answered. "Such as it is. That door on the stern bulkhead leads to the engine room. It's a very tight, compact space ."
Brannigan turned his attention forward. He noted three leather chairs located in front of the instruments on the small bridge forward of the galley and bunks. One, a leather swivel model, was to the rear and slightly higher than the others. Veronica walked over and patted it. 'This is your position, Captain," she informed him, following the custom that the skipper of a vessel always be addressed in that manner even if he actually ranked lower. She next touched the starboard seat. 'This is where I sit to do my navigational-and-weapons-officer duties. I also man the chain gun during combat operations. The weapon is aimed by radar and fires 30-millimeter rounds at six hundred twenty-five rounds a minute."
Brannigan nodded. "It's obvious the port chair is for the helmsman." He noted the pair of control yokes for manipulating the variable-pitch airscrews, as well as the foot pedals used for the rudders. The throttle was to the right of the sticks. "What about the rest of the ordnance? Who's the designer?"
"That'd be me, sir," Veronica said. "It's all installed and the technicians have returned to their home stations. I'll operate it all from my position at the chain gun." She took them out to the deck and pointed to two weapons wings that had been added to the sides of the cabin. Each held three pods. "The first is a Penguin antiship missile," Veronica explained. "An AIM-9L antiaircraft missile is mounted on the second, and the third sports a seven-round 2.75-inch rocket launcher. All this is aimed inside by me from my station. I have combination radar and laser target-acquisition systems. I also spew out chaff and flares to throw off incoming enemy ordnance when appropriate."
"This was all done pretty fast," Brannigan remarked. "When we arrived here on the eighth, this was pretty much an empty shell."
"We've been working around the clock, sir," Veronica explained. "And a lot of this weaponry and equipment comes in kit form."
"I'd like to meet the two crewmen," Brannigan said.
"Aye, aye, sir."
The two sailors left their tasks when summoned and formed up as directed by the female JG. Brannigan walked up to them, stopping in front of the first. "Name and duties."
The sailor, a short blond man with intelligent eyes, presented himself. "Petty Officer First Class Paul Watkins, sir. I'll act as the helmsman as well as assist Lieutenant Rivers to navigate, maintain charts, and plot courses."
"Very well, Watkins." As Watkins stepped back, Brannigan turned his eyes on the second sailor, who was a kid with a happy-go-lucky expression on his face. "And you?"
"Sir, I am Petty Officer Second Class Bobby Lee Atwill," he responded in a marked Southern accent. He was covered with grease and oil, and was as short as Watkins but darker and more easygoing in appearance. "I'm the turbine system technician. I run and fix our engine."