Battlecraft (2006)

Battlecraft hit a respectable ninety-four miles an hour. Bobby Lee Atwill swore he would be able to add another two or three mph within a couple of weeks.

'The Dan Daly is in sight, Captain,' Veronica reported.

'All right, Watkins,' Brannigan said, 'take control and bring us into the well.'

'Take control and bring us into the well, aye, sir.'

Brannigan had realized that the custom of having the helmsman repeat every order was a thorny habit to follow during docking procedures. 'I tell you what, Watkins. When you take over control of the vehicle to bring her into our mother ship or a dock, just do your thing without repeating what I say.'

'Aye, aye, sir.'

'If you do something wrong, I'll let you know,' Brannigan said.

Senior Chief Dawkins added, 'And I'll make a comment or two myself.'

'I hear you both loud and clear,' Watkins said with a grin.

When the throttle was cut back, Atwill came out of his engine compartment to join the crew. Watkins moved on a perpendicular course across the Daly's stern, then made a sharp turn and brought the ACV into the ship's well in a smooth maneuver at one-third speed, reversing the airscrews at just the right time to ease into the tight area at a slow crawl.

Chief Petty Officer Warren Donaldson of the Daly's well-operations crew, whistled in admiration. 'Damn nice job!' He looked into the cabin. 'Hello, sir!' he called to Brannigan. 'Welcome to the Dan Daly.'

'Nice to be aboard,' Brannigan said, stepping across the deck and jumping up on the well ramp. He pointed to the Battlecraft. 'What do you think of our toy?'

'Jesus!' Donaldson said. 'It looks like somebody took a helicopter fuselage and sat it on an ACV deck. Look at them weapons wings.'

'It's pretty much the same idea.'

Dawkins, Veronica Rivers, and Jim Cruiser joined them while Watkins and Atwill helped the ship's sailors secure the vehicle prior to the closing of the well. As soon as the task was finished, Brannigan introduced them to Donaldson. This was more than a formality. The chief petty officer would be sending them off on missions and greeting them when they returned.

'Sir, your detachment is up on deck waiting for you,' Chief Donaldson said.

This unexpected linking up with the Brigands lightened Brannigan's mood. He motioned to the others to follow him, leading them to the ladder that would take them topside. The SEAL detachment, under the command of Chief Petty Officer Matt Gunnarson, had observed assault-section and fire-team integrity when they formed up to meet the skipper. Brannigan took Matt's salute, asking, 'What about the gear for Lieutenant Cruiser, Senior Chief Dawkins, and me?'

'It's all waiting for you in your quarters, sir,' Matt said. He caught sight of the attractive female officer. 'Who's the hot chick?' he asked under his breath.

'That hot chick is Lieutenant Rivers, who is going to be our radar and weapons system officer aboard the ACV.'

'You mean she's coming along on the mission with us?'

'Yeah,' Brannigan said. He lowered his voice. 'And tell the men to be extra nice to her. I'm beginning to think that Lieutenant Cruiser is developing a special interest in the lady.'

'Aye, sir!'

Brannigan took over the formation and introduced Veronica, Paul Watkins, and Bobby Lee Atwill. He was about to give the SEALs a quick orientation on the Battlecraft when he was interrupted by the arrival of a young Marine lance corporal.

'Captain Gooding is waiting for you in the aft ready room, sir,' the sharp kid said to Brannigan. 'He told me he wanted you and your entire crew up there immediately if not sooner after you dock.'

'Tell him we're on our way,' Brannigan said. 'And pass this on to your buddies. We're a detachment, not a crew.'

'Understood, sir!'

Brannigan didn't bother with formalities as he ushered his people across the flight deck. The ship's crew eyed the strangers with friendly curiosity. The scuttlebutt had it that there were exciting times ahead for this mini- assault ship.

Brannigan hurried his people to the island and went up to the second deck and down a corridor. When they walked in, they didn't find the ship's skipper, as expected. However, the man waiting for them was not a stranger to the SEALs.

'Hello, Lieutenant,' Commander Tom Carey said.

'You're a hell of a long way from home, sir,' Brannigan remarked. 'How did you manage to sneak out of Coronado?'

'I've been given the honor of acting as both your N2 and N3 from the Dan Daly Carey said. 'You and your people sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I'll give you a quick briefing and then you can settle in.' Carey waited for Brannigan's detachment to situate themselves in the available seating before continuing. 'Your mission will be to take your ACV out to designated patrol areas to look for vessels carrying arms shipments toward Pakistan. The terrorist group al-Mimkhalif has suffered grievous damage to their delivery program. Our intelligence tells us they have reorganized the system to a new methodology. We are going to discover what that is, and deal it a death blow--literally. As you've probably already figured out, we don't have a clue as to their supply sources, exact routes, or points of pickups and deliveries of weaponry under their latest SOP. So you and the intrepid Brigands are facing some real serious challenges.'

'Will we be doing all our work at sea, sir?' Matt Gunnarson asked.

'Negative,' Carey answered. 'We expect raids on coastal areas too. That means fighting ashore. You'll develop your own SOPs for this activity as you go along, so I want you to all feel free to make suggestions. In other words, share all lessons learned. You'll be going up against a bunch of loonies who think that killing or being killed by those who they consider nonbelievers guarantees them an eternity in Paradise in luxurious surroundings with beautiful women.'

'The same old shit we went through in Afghanistan,' Bruno Puglisi said from the back.

'Right you are,' Carey said. 'We're going to be given a constant feed of the latest intelligence from several sources. This guarantees you the latest information that will throw some light in this dark tunnel you're going into. Any questions? No? All right then, get settled in. You'll go out as soon as we get the word to launch the operation.'

Brannigan glanced at Dawkins. 'Senior Chief, take over the detachment.' 'Aye, sir!'

Chapter 4.

MANILA, THE PHILIPPINES

16 SEPTEMBER

2200 HOURS LOCAL

THE seedy little waterfront bar had a name as did all such establishments, but in this case only the neighborhood inebriates knew it. The hand-painted plank that once identified the shabby establishment had blown off during the typhoon of 1998 and had not been replaced. The dinginess of the interior displayed even more careless attention to maintenance and housekeeping. A pair of handles to a broken beer tap remained mounted on the bar after becoming dysfunctional years earlier, the mirror on the wall to the rear was cracked and dirty, while an out-of-date pornographic calendar near the front door showed the faded likeness of a naked blonde lying back in a love seat with her legs invitingly spread open. A decade or so before, a Portuguese merchant seaman who fancied himself quite the artist had drawn a crude phallus entering the model's body.

Abduruddin Suhanto, chief operating officer of the Greater Sunda Shipping Line, sat at a corner table, nursing a cheap gin drink that had been served him in a dusty glass. He patiently awaited the arrival of an old antagonist who had intercepted dozens of his narcotics voyages over long years of smuggling. This bribable, focused opportunist was Commander Carlos Batanza of the Philippine Navy.

The barmaid, a faded corpulent veteran of a long-ago career spent entertaining sailors in dockside cribs, walked over to the table with another serving of gin. She brought a clean glass since Suhanto had tipped her a peso for the first drink. She scooped up some change from the table, including another tip, and went back to the bar,