“I see. And the maintenance of your good will is something the people of the sea
should be concerned about?”
“It would be most wise to do so.” The voice on the far end of the satellite circuit was almost gentle, as if Ketalaman felt himself talking with a child.
“What assets of mine would you desire, Admiral?” Harconan replied.
“We can discuss the exact details when we meet.” Ketalaman sounded pleased. “Suffice to say that I will have sealift requirements for both personnel and
supplies. There will be various Intelligence matters I’m sure you’ll be able to assist me with, and my forces will require access to the arms
stores you have positioned around the archipelago.”
“Is that all you will require of me, Admiral?”
“For the immediate future, yes.”
“Then you may kiss your own ass, Ketalaman. I didn’t seek to deliver the peoples of Indonesia from a petty tyranny just to hand
them over to a greater one.”
Harconan heard the ghost of a sigh over the channel. “Very dramatic but vainglorious, Mr. Harconan. I will contact you at this time
tomorrow. You will have changed your mind by then.”
The circuit broke. Harconan slammed his own receiver back into its cradle and
hit the off switch. He had found his new enemy. Now he must start his search
for new allies.
East of the Pilau Sibu Group,
45 Miles North North East of Jakarta
2220 Hours: Zone Time, October 31, 2008
“Captain, this is Air One. Admiral MacIntyre’s aircraft is on approach. The ship is across the wind and we have clear
horizons.”
“Very good, Air One,” she replied into her headset. “Bring him aboard.”
She was alone in the topside darkness. She had no personnel to spare for an honors party. All hands labored below, racing to meet the “Trick or Treat” timeline. Nor did the tactical situation permit ceremonials. The Shenandoah was circling at her initial point, positioned to jump off into the attack.
Amanda stood at the foot of the short ladder that led to the top of number four MacGregor hatch. Instinctively, she took a grip on one of the rungs as a wisp of vertigo brushed her. The Shenandoah rode easily on the low swells and she had both her sea legs and her darkness-adapted vision, but night on a blacked-out deck could still be disorienting.
All of the commando carrier’s topside illumination had been extinguished and the coastal lights of Java lay below the southern horizon. Even the sky glow of Jakarta was absent. The city was blacked out, but not by choice; its power grid had collapsed in the chaos.
There was only the horde of stars in the dome of the sky and the uncertain, transitory biolight kicked up by the turbulence of the Shenandoah’s passage.
“Captain, the Admiral’s aircraft is turning final.”
Now Amanda could hear the moan of turbines over the hiss of the bow wave and the rumble of the ship’s engines. An MV-22 Osprey was coming in from leeward with its power pods already lifted into helicopter mode. Skimming the sea like a titanic bat, it was visible only as a mobile patch of occluded stars.
The tilt-rotor flared back and decelerated as it came in over the Shenandoah’s deck and Amanda was whipped by her own hair as the lift wash passed over her. She felt the thump of the Osprey’s undercarriage slamming down on the helipad.
She scrambled up the ladder to the hatch top in time to see a single shadow spring down from the transport’s open tailgate. Then she had to close her eyes and duck back below the hatch edge, clinging to the ladder rails as the renewed blast of the rotor-props battered her. When she could lift her head to look again, the Osprey had climbed clear. Swinging away from the ship, it headed for its distant home aboard the Pelelieu.
The figure it had left behind tugged open the zip on his wind cheater and removed an officer’s cap. Pulling it on, he strode toward the corner of the helipad carrying a single B-4 bag with him.
Amanda finished the climb to the hatch top. Straightening, she snapped off her salute.
“Welcome aboard the Shenandoah, sir.”
“It’s a pleasure to be aboard, Captain.” MacIntyre hesitated and she heard a hint of wryness creep into his voice. “Damn it, Amanda. You’re setting the protocols out here. What am I supposed to do about honoring the
colors? Damned if I’m going to salute the Panamanian flag.”
“Carry on, sir. We’re flying our battle flag tonight.”
*
The green-tinted image on the flat screen wavered as the hand-held NiteBrite
camera panned across Merdeka Square. “As you can see,” Christine Rendino’s voice narrated from the overhead speaker, “we don’t have a lot of action in the square itself. The rebels seem to be keeping the
entire government district isolated. I think that’ll work to our favor. We’re not going to have to worry about a lot of collateral casualties. They lost a
couple of tanks to our Predator rockets. You can see the burned-out wrecks
right there.”
The plasma displays spaced around the bulkheads of the Command Block briefing room were filled with continuously updating tactical maps and status charts. Even this real-time data stream was proving inadequate and stacks of printer hardcopy were mounting up on the large central table, along with a steadily growing number of coffee mug rings.
“How many Predator rounds do your boys have left?” Stone Quillain looked up from the strip of printer paper he’d been consulting.
There was a murmur of mixed voices off mike on the Jakarta screen. “Lieutenant Trennan says we only have three left,” Christine replied. “But the Indonesians are keeping their vehicles pulled back onto the side streets
around the square. They don’t want to give us any more freebies. They do have infantry and security troops
deployed on the roofs and inside the buildings around the square though. I’ll try and give you a zoom in.”
The camera image rushed in on the roof of the Gambir train station on the eastern side of the square. Then it traversed unsteadily down the length of the flat roof line, showing helmeted heads peering over a sandbagged revetment.
Amanda leaned forward, her arms crossed on the table. “What about anti-aircraft, Chris?”
“It’s like with the AFVs, Boss Ma’am. There’s no heavy stuff within line of sight of the Embassy. There could be MANPAD SAMs
on any of these roofs around here though. Fa’sure you’ve got light automatic weapons and grenade launchers – I think there might even be a heavy machine gun position on the roof of the
Defense Ministry. I’m going to try to show you …”
The image swung back to the west side of the square and elevated, the person aiming the camera standing erect to get the angle.
“Chris, stay down!” Amanda snapped into her headset. “That’s an order!”
The video image blurred and bounced back below the concrete balustrade. The
camera came out of telephoto mode and reversed onto the face of Christine
Rendino, peering out from under a camo-covered K-Pot helmet. “Hey, it’s okay. They’re playing nice. We haven’t taken any fire for hours.”
“Those would make excellent famous last words, Commander,” MacIntyre interjected severely from where he stood behind Amanda’s chair. “Don’t claim them for your own. You are ordered to stay alive until we can get you
out of there. ”
“Will comply, Admiral sir. That’s about all the tactical I have. Everything else, the drones and sats can give you better than I can.”
