The roar from the fire almost, but not quite, drowned out the noise of the two other bombs blasting apart the fuel control center. In the middle of all this the coils of det cord, wrapped around the main electricity cables by Dallas MacPherson and Mike Hook, exploded with sufficient force to blow the manhole cover 60 feet into the air and permanently wreck the electronic fuel-control system.
And way over on the other side of the inlet, an unbelievable blast right by the main boiler in the basement of the control-and-communications center paid further tribute to the smooth black skills of Buster and Rattlesnake. The explosion literally caused the entire building to cave in, crushing all of its five occupants to death.
Residents of the base, at least those not gunned down in their tracks by the marauding U.S. Navy SEALs, believed they were witnessing the end of the world. Any other explanation seemed utterly inadequate. And the whole spectacularly awful scenario had erupted in under two minutes; out of nowhere. There was zero evidence of an attack either from the air or the sea. The place just seemed to be blasting itself to pieces.
Meanwhile, struggling through the woods on the north side of the base, the SEALs were still 1,200 yards from the edge of the marsh. Buster was losing blood, and he was still in pain despite the morphine. Rick Hunter ordered them to stop while he examined the wound, and to his dismay he discovered the bullet was still lodged in the flesh on the right side of Buster’s upper back, and he was losing blood fast.
He took Dallas MacPherson aside and told him to bring out the rest of the medical kit. Between them they had sticky and plain bandages, plus disinfected swabs for just this kind of wound, plus more disinfectant. But they had no groundsheets and they had to kneel Buster down, and he kept losing consciousness, and Rattlesnake held his head and splintered shoulder. Dallas held the tiny pinpoint light beam they had brought, and Rick Hunter gritted his teeth, and using a large pair of tweezers, designed for this particular task, gripped and pulled the bullet out.
Blood cascaded from the wound and Dallas tried to stop it with a strip he tore from his own shirt. Rick used a gauze pad soaked in strong disinfectant to clean it. And for the first time, Buster Townsend screamed, and Rattlesnake Davies, one of the toughest men ever to wear the trident, broke down and wept at the agony of his lifelong friend.
Rick Hunter kept going. He used another gauze pad and pressed it on the wound. Dallas fixed it tight with a roll of bandage that he wound around Buster’s chest, then stuck it down firm with the sticky tape. They stuck another length of this around Buster’s upper arm, taping it tight to his side. Then Rick Hunter injected him with more morphine, and the SEAL climbed back to his feet, and Rattlesnake just said, “I’m taking him.”
He put Buster’s good arm over his shoulder and held his wrist, and with his own arm around the wounded man’s waist, they pushed forward, walking as well as they could through the undergrowth of the Burmese forest.
“I’m glad we did that,” said Rick. “We’ve stopped the blood, stopped the infection, and it isn’t going to get worse before we reach a doctor.”
Moments later Mike Hook’s radio, tuned to the frequency, picked up the bleep-bleep-bleep of the homing device in the inflatables, now parked somewhere down by the Letpan Stream. “Got ’em, sir. They’re waiting.”
“Good job, Mike…we just gotta stay on this course,” said Rick. “It’s due west and right now the attack board compass has us headed two-seven-zero. We’re right on the money — gonna pop right out of these woods on the left-hand fork of the stream, right where Shawn drew the spot.”
“You want a couple of us to make a bolt for it?” asked Lt. MacPherson. “Just to let the boat drivers know we’re on our way — tell ’em we got a problem?”
“Good call. Why don’t you, Mike and one of the rookies take that other little radio and get down there. Bobby’ll handle the transmitter. And use your compass — you know they say it’s impossible to walk through trees in a straight line?”
“Okay, boss. See you in about fifteen minutes.”
The watch changed at 0400, and Lt. Commander Dan Headley still had the ship. No sign yet of Commander Reid, who had remained distant throughout the SEAL operation at Haing Gyi. Dan Headley knew he was not coming, at least not formally, to take over the watch. Although he thought the CO might show up casually a little later. He had just seemed extremely relieved when the XO had requested that he handle Shark during the Special Forces operation.
At that moment Lt. Pearson came into the control room and said the CO wished to see him in his room immediately.
“Any clue why, Shawn?”
“None, sir. He just stuck his head out of the door when I was passing and said to tell you.”
“Okay…Officer of the Deck, you have the ship.”
“I have the ship, sir,” replied Lt. Matt Singer.
Dan Headley made his way down to Commander Reid’s room, and was surprised to find the CO unshaven and looking fraught, which he considered was several degrees worse than worried.
“Hello, sir,” he said. “What’s up?”
“We have a very serious problem,” replied the boss of USS Shark.
“We do?”
“We certainly do. And before I elaborate, I want you to understand that I am talking about a subject on which I am something of an expert.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Mercury, XO, is just coming into retrograde.”
Dan Headley had rarely, probably never, been quite that bewildered.
“No shit?” he said, lamely.
Commander Reid glared at his second-in-command. “Do you, XO, have any idea how serious that can be? ANY IDEA WHATSOEVER?”
“Who, me?”
“Plainly, Lieutenant Commander, I am addressing you.”
“Well, sir. I’m not quite sure what you mean.”
“MERCURY, XO! One of the greatest planets of the universe, will be in retrograde by dawn. MOVING BACKWARD. CAN YOU UNDERSTAND THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THAT, XO?”
Commander Reid’s voice was rising. And so were Lt. Commander Headley’s antennae.
“Astrology is what we are discussing, Mr. Headley. Astrology. The ancient study of cycles — created originally by the Chaldeans of Babylonia three thousand years before Christ. Babylon, XO, Iraq in the modern world.”
“Oh, Saddam’s mob. Guess I hadn’t figured them as students of the universe.”
“Maybe not, maybe not. But I am a student of the universe. And I must tell you that when the planet Mercury begins to turn in an apparent backward motion, things can become extremely difficult. It’s one of the ancient laws of the zodiac.”
“Sir, look, I am sure this is all very fascinating, but I’ve got twelve brave men trying to get out of a Chinese Naval base under the most terrible circumstances. Could we go into retrograde some other time?”
“XO. ARE YOU ACCUSING ME OF IRRELEVANCE? THERE IS NOTHING MORE RELEVANT THAN MERCURY IN RETROGRADE. I’M TALKING OF MATTERS AS OLD AS TIME, FOR GOD’S SAKE!”
“Sir, I’m talking about high explosives, the destruction of a major Chinese Navy installation. I’m talking about life and death.”
“And what could be more significant to that matter of life and death than the slow reverse motion of a mighty planet, stilled briefly in the heavens? MERCURY IN RETROGRADE, SIR! WE ARE ABOUT TO BE BOMBARDED BY THE TIMELESS, MADDENING EFFECTS OF THE PLANET THAT CONTROLS US!” And his voice rose even higher. “CAN YOU UNDERSTAND THAT, XO?”