The bulk carrier Andronicus, a.k.a. Galaxy Shenandoah disappeared into one such squall and did not emerge again. Instead, from the heart of the squall, flights of sea-skimming helicopters fanned out, preparing the battlefield.
*
The low, forested ridge on Sebangka island overlooked both its verdant sister island, Lingga, and the deep-water channel that separated the two.
One isolated section of the ridgeback had been scalped by hardwood logging and this pale patch of sun-bleached scrub drew in two Air Commando SPEED Hawks. Flying in the nape of the Earth on the inland side of the ridge, one of the helos dropped off a sling-loaded cargo pallet, while a Green Beret A-Team fast-lined down from the second.
Under the direction of the team’s Engineering and Demolitions Sergeants, det cord was used to blast out stumps that might interfere with a landing zone and camouflage nets and anti-IR tarps were rigged to receive and conceal aircraft.
Lower on the ridge, where the old logging road fed into the cut area, other members of the A-team established an interdiction and capture site. Any curious individuals coming up that road to investigate the unusual activity along the ridge wouldn’t be returning for a while.
*
Some eight miles to the south and slightly to the west of the hide site, a tiny island lay close to the Lingga shoreline on the southern side of Sebangka Strait. It was too small to warrant a population or even a name on the charts. Just a meager few acres of coral sand, salt grass and mangrove, it served no purpose beyond being a navigational hazard to passing ships.
Nonetheless, another flight of half a dozen sea-skimming SPEED Hawks invaded it. More cargo pallets were dumped in the heart of the mangrove patch, Marines and Army Rangers slithering down the fast ropes after them.
The helos departed with all speed and the labors of the firing detail began. Mortar tubes, base plates and shell cases were wrestled into firing positions. Stable weapons platforms were improvised on unstable soil. Sighting and designation platforms were established in the tops of the tallest trees. Sand flies and mosquitoes were swatted and cursed.
And above all, meticulous care was taken not to disturb the vegetation cover or to put a single boot print on the islet’s perimeter beaches.
*
A hundred miles to the south, an Army AH-6 Little Bird went to hover over the stern of a Bugi Coaster. One after another, an Army Intelligence linguist, a Navy Special Boat Officer and an Air Force electronics technician were lowered by sling to the small vessel’s rear deck, a heavy aluminum equipment case following them down.
A Bugi captain awaited them on the deck of the coaster, stony featured until they presented him with the introductory envelope they bore. The Bugi read its contents, then smiled a gap-toothed smile and welcomed them aboard his ship.
*
Thin drizzle filtered down through the gap left by the retracted elevator pad, the water pooling up on the antiskid.
“Did you check to make sure all onboard batteries were replaced and fully
charged? We’re not going to have the luxury of a starter cart out there.”
“Checked, checked and double checked, Vince.” Pinkerton looked up from his data pad. “We got it covered. Push the button and we’re gonna go.”
Around them the final phase of pre-launch was underway, the ordnance teams shackling stumpy, multi-finned shapes onto the hard points of the strike group.
“Just doing some of that commander’s shit, Pink,” Arkady replied, taking the pad from his exec and checking the figures display. “How are we doing on aircraft availability?”
“They’ve got oh-six put back together. It looks like we’ll be able to launch all eleven. But that leaves us another problem. With Murph
gone, we’re going to be putting a singleton up if we launch a maximum effort strike.
Somebody’s not going to have a wingman and that’s not good.”
“I know it, Pink,” Arkady agreed, handing the pad back. “But we’re going to have some big hulkin’ ships out there tonight. We’re going to need to put every round on target that we can.”
“I’m aware of that, sir,” Pinkerton said formally. “I’d like to suggest that Ensign Rollins fly your wing tonight. I’m volunteering.”
“Forget it!” Arkady looked levelly into Pinkerton’s eyes. “You’ll lead Echo flight. Cheryl is on you. I fly the singleton. The matter is not
open for further discussion, Lieutenant.”
“Shit … sir.”
Arkady slapped his friend’s shoulder and grinned. “I’ll be fine, Pink. It’ll do me good to watch my own ass for a change. Don’t sweat it.”
“Is that an order or a request?”
*
It came time to saddle up.
Arkady donned his flight and survival gear. Reaching up, he patted the SPEED Cobra’s pretty genie nose art in a personal luck ritual. Then, swinging himself into the cockpit, he harnessed in and started to work down his preflight lists as his plane crew trundled his aircraft onto the deck lift.
“Good luck.” Arkady looked up to find a pair of blue-gray eyes regarding him from close range. Christine Rendino was standing on the fuselage step, her arms hooked over the canopy rail.
“I’ve always got good luck, sis,” he said, puzzled but pleased. “What are you doing down here?”
“Oh, nothing better to do for the moment,” she replied airily, the rain starting to slick her blonde hair. “By the way, how come you always call me ‘sis’?”
“Heck, I dunno. I have to call you something I guess.”
“Come up with something else. I don’t want to be a sister.”
*
Back aft, Amanda caught herself just as she was rounding the tail of a parked utility copter. She’d been coming down to see Arkady off herself. Taking a step back into the shadows, she watched Christine standing on the fuselage step of the Jeannie II, speaking animatedly with its pilot.
Again Amanda felt that momentary surge of jealousy. Then she smiled at herself
and the universe. One of the most important skills a good officer had to learn
was the delegation of authority. From the look of things, taking care of Vince
Arkady was going to be someone else’s duty from now on.
The Joint Intelligence Briefing Center, USS Shenandoah
1912 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
