immediately, and was unconscious before he hit the ice.
“Jesus,” the copilot said. He stared back at the figure, too astounded to feel the reflexive anger the gesture ordinarily invoked in him. “Hell, Brian,” he said, aware that his voice sounded distant. “One of them damned invaders just flipped me off.”
“What do you mean?” Brian replied, concentrating on maintaining safe altitude and level flight in the offshore burble of air. “You got the middle finger?”
“Yeah.” The copilot frowned, trying to remember his college days’ tour of Russia. “Only thing is, that gesture doesn’t mean the same thing in Russia that it does in the U.S. Now why would — oh, hell!”
“Get on the horn to Mother,” the pilot said, his voice hard. “Tell them that we just got a confirmation that our missing SEAL is alive.”
“We have to get him out of there,” Huerta said. The senior chief petty officer had no compunctions about standing up to anyone, including admirals, when it came to the safety of a fellow SEAL. “We don’t leave our people behind. Not ever.”
Batman rubbed a hand over his eyes wearily. How long had it been since he’d slept? “Of course we need to get him out,” he said, trying to concentrate. “Now that we know he’s alive.”
The old, grizzled SEAL shook his head. “Doesn’t matter to us either way, Admiral,” he said neutrally. “Dead or alive, we never leave a shipmate behind. Never.”
Batman looked up, saw the cold determination on the man’s face, and felt the beginning of hope. “Tough odds. According to all the reports, there’s thirty to fifty men on that island.”
“You might be better off just leaving the planning to us, Admiral,” the chief said, his demeanor defrosting slightly. “We’ve done this a time or two before.”
“But the odds?” Batman persisted.
The SEAL smiled coldly. “Who cares if they’re outnumbered?”
“You realize how stupid you were?” Batman glared at the two aviators.
The pilot met his stare defiantly. “We weren’t doing any good where we were. And at fifteen hundred yards, I’ve got time to get away from a Stinger.”
“But not at thirty yards. Which is exactly where you were, skimming over the surface of that island at ninety feet.” Batman pointed at the copilot. “And you, young man — even if your pilot doesn’t have any sense, have you forgotten that quickly what they taught you at OCS about obeying orders?”
The copilot blushed, glanced at his compadre, then faced forward. “No, Admiral,” he said softly, “I haven’t forgot at all. We spend a lot of time talking about getting the job done.”
Batman sighed. As much as he’d like to continue chewing them out for their foolishness, they both had a point. More importantly, they’d been right. And that made up for a hell of a lot of disobedience. If I try to discipline them, he thought ruefully, I’m liable to wake up surrounded by the SEALS. These two are heroes to them. He continued to glare at the two aviators.
Finally, as the tension built to unbearable levels he sighed. “You’re going to be pulling every Alert Five your squadron has for the next three months, you realize that?” He tossed the two aviators’ flight training folders on his desk. “And hell may freeze over before you ever get liberty.”
Both men nodded.
“And for your little role in this escapade, I think you’ve just volunteered for another mission,” Batman continued. “Seems like the information you brought back was important to a couple of fellows on this boat. To all of us, but to five others especially. You got any idea who that might be?”
“The SEALS?” the pilot asked.
Batman nodded. “Exactly. And they seem to think they can get in, grab their teammate, and get out. They have a little transportation problem, though. You men might be just the people to solve it for them.”
“Yes, sir,” the copilot said. He glanced at his pilot, suddenly aware that he’d usurped something that wasn’t his privilege.
The older aviator looked pale. “We’d be honored to fly them in, Admiral,” he said. “And out. If they’re anything like the man I saw on the ground, the outcome’s not in question.”
Batman fixed the aviator with a steely look, trying to hide the note of concern in his voice. “The outcome’s always in doubt, sir,” he said coldly. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
Senior Chief Huerta looked doubtfully at the two men. “You ever flown Special Forces before?” he demanded.
“Only once. About half an hour ago, when we found out your man was still alive,” the pilot retorted. “That good enough for you?”
“It will have to do.” The chief’s face softened slightly. “And don’t think we’re not damned grateful for that, too, sir.”
“You just make sure we get out in one piece,” the pilot said. He bent over the plotting table and studied the chart before him. “What’s the plan?”
“A few details still to be worked out, sir,” the chief responded. He pointed to a flat spot near the entrance to the ice cavern the pilots had seen. “We figure we’ll want you to set down here. Our man may be injured.” He glanced up sharply. “You said there was someone else with him?”
The pilot nodded. “I couldn’t be certain, but it looked like two of them were prisoners, from the way the guards were herding them around.”
“Well, we might as well bring two out as one.”
“Chief, that does look a mite risky, setting down right in the middle of them, don’t you think?” the copilot said doubtfully. He looked up, and his eyes met the faded blue eyes of the chief.
“It would be, except they’re not gonna be there,” he said. He patted the copilot on the arm. “Don’t you worry, youngster, we’re a little bit smarter than that. Maybe in an armored helicopter we might come in closer, but as fragile as your bird is, we’ll need every advantage we can get. We’ve got a little diversion planned.”
“A diversion?” the pilot asked. “Like what?”
A lighter look lit the chief’s face. “Let’s just say we’ve got some allies we didn’t know about before,” he said carefully. “Up until now, they’ve been only voices on the radio. But one of the things we always try to do on a mission is to get indigenous forces to support us. Maybe not spearhead it — they’re usually not trained enough for that — but for something like a diversion, or harassing action, they’re damned fine.”
“Indigenous?” the copilot wondered. “But there’s nothing on that island — not apart from the intruders and your man.”
The chief traced one finger east along the Aleutian chain, touching several larger islands briefly. “Maybe not on that rock, but there are on other ones. This whole chain is almost an island nation. Inuit tribes live on most of the larger ones, and travel back and forth to the smaller ones as needed.” He reached across the table and pulled a brown folder toward him. “Did you guys get briefed on the native transmissions?”
Both aviators shook their heads in the negative.
“Didn’t think so,” the chief said. He handed the folder to the senior pilot. “You’ll want to have a look at this, sir.”
The pilot read rapidly, the copilot crowding in next to him to read over his shoulder. “Cold War trainees,” he said finally. He closed the folder with a sharp snap. “And still in place. Who would’ve thought?”
“Nobody. And that’s the point. If the U.S. Navy forgot about ‘em, you can damn well bet the Russians did.”
“But they barely have a radio,” the pilot said. “What? You’re gonna assault that island with shotguns?”
The chief shook his head. “No, we’re not. Fortunately, we brought along a little extra armament.” A grim smile cracked his face. “Plus a few fancy toys they’ve probably never seen before. Hell, we didn’t get ‘em till last year. But I’m betting those men will catch on pretty damned fast how they work.”
The pilot shook his head doubtfully. “Aren’t you depending an awful lot on an untrained mob?”
“Remember, they’re only there as a diversion,” the chief argued. “Here’s what’ll happen.”
The chief spent the next ten minutes laying out the plan, covering all aspects of the diversion, the tactical
