are secured.”
“We have checked with all operational units in the area, and none are conducting a training exercise tonight.”
Chisnall held his breath, trying to work out what to say next.
Barnard said, “Ask her what she thinks.”
Chisnall nodded. That was a smart move. “What is your assessment of the situation, Coastal Command?” he asked.
“We are still working on that,” came the reply.
“Now plant the idea that they could be Fezerker,” Barnard said.
Chisnall looked at her. Evaluating her. They had told him she was smart. They just hadn’t told him
how
smart. That in itself was a worry. She was certainly smart enough to fool him. As Brogan had been.
To Coastal Command, he said, “One of my crew thinks they may be Fezerker.” The Fezerker units, almost a Bzadian equivalent of Recon Team Angel, were so ultrasecret that their existence had not been confirmed until Uluru. That had worked to the Angels’ advantage then, and it might again now. The Fezerkers’ operations were so clandestine that not even the Coastal Defense Command would know their movements.
He got the reaction he wanted from Coastal Command.
“Fezerker.” The voice sounded hushed, as if she did not want to be heard.
“Can you find out anything?” Chisnall asked.
“I will try,” she said. “The SONRAD station picked up your Zodiac a while ago, heading into port.”
“Spare parts,” Barnard murmured.
“They have gone to find some spare parts for our repairs,” Chisnall said.
“Understood,” the voice said.
Chisnall hung the microphone back on the hook by the steering controls. “You think they fell for it?” he asked.
“We’ll know when we get to the island,” Barnard said.
“How’s she handling, Monster?” Chisnall asked.
“The ship, she is doing fine,” Monster said.
“Do you think you’ll be able to dock her cleanly at the wharf?” Chisnall asked. “It will make the Pukes a bit suspicious if we ram the boat into the wharf when we try to dock.”
“Monster will do his best,” he said.
Chisnall nodded. No matter what the situation, Monster’s
best
would always be good enough.
He turned his attention to the large video screens that were mounted on the ceiling, showing the view from outside in every direction. He focused on the weapons station. The ship’s only gun was an M242 Bushmaster, a twenty-five-millimeter chain-fed autocannon mounted on the front deck.
He sat down and examined the unit. A series of cables ran into the top of a metal console. In the center was a screen that showed a view from the gun barrel. A thin cross indicated the aiming point. Buttons and lights to the left of the screen indicated the status of the Rafael Typhoon gun mount, while similar buttons to the right of the screen showed the status of the weapon itself. The firing controls appeared to be triggers on twin joysticks below the screen.
After a short time playing around with the controls, he was able to preselect targets and lock them in. The automatic fire control would register the visual signature of each target and automatically acquire them again at the press of a button.
The gun was on the bow of the vessel, in front of the superstructure, and was very close to the depth-charge launcherwhere the blast had happened. Chisnall was surprised that it had come through unscathed but was happy that it seemed to be working. Just in case.
“Where on the island is the wharf?” he asked.
“To west, at the end of spit,” Monster said, glancing at a chart laid out in the center of the bridge.
“Head to the east side. We’ll circle around the island counterclockwise,” Chisnall said.
“What you are thinking?” Monster asked.
“I’m going to be prepared,” Chisnall said. “I’m going to send in the Phantom.”
Monster grinned. “God help the Bzadians.”
6. KRIZ
[2325 hours Local time]
[Bzadian Coastal Defense Command, Brisbane, New Bzadia]
MAJOR ZARA KRIZ WAS NERVOUS, ALTHOUGH THERE was no
“We have checked with all operational units in the area, and none are conducting a training exercise tonight.”
Chisnall held his breath, trying to work out what to say next.
Barnard said, “Ask her what she thinks.”
Chisnall nodded. That was a smart move. “What is your assessment of the situation, Coastal Command?” he asked.
“We are still working on that,” came the reply.
“Now plant the idea that they could be Fezerker,” Barnard said.
Chisnall looked at her. Evaluating her. They had told him she was smart. They just hadn’t told him
how
smart. That in itself was a worry. She was certainly smart enough to fool him. As Brogan had been.
To Coastal Command, he said, “One of my crew thinks they may be Fezerker.” The Fezerker units, almost a Bzadian equivalent of Recon Team Angel, were so ultrasecret that their existence had not been confirmed until Uluru. That had worked to the Angels’ advantage then, and it might again now. The Fezerkers’ operations were so clandestine that not even the Coastal Defense Command would know their movements.
He got the reaction he wanted from Coastal Command.
“Fezerker.” The voice sounded hushed, as if she did not want to be heard.
“Can you find out anything?” Chisnall asked.
“I will try,” she said. “The SONRAD station picked up your Zodiac a while ago, heading into port.”
“Spare parts,” Barnard murmured.
“They have gone to find some spare parts for our repairs,” Chisnall said.
“Understood,” the voice said.
Chisnall hung the microphone back on the hook by the steering controls. “You think they fell for it?” he asked.
“We’ll know when we get to the island,” Barnard said.
“How’s she handling, Monster?” Chisnall asked.
“The ship, she is doing fine,” Monster said.
“Do you think you’ll be able to dock her cleanly at the wharf?” Chisnall asked. “It will make the Pukes a bit suspicious if we ram the boat into the wharf when we try to dock.”
“Monster will do his best,” he said.
Chisnall nodded. No matter what the situation, Monster’s
best
would always be good enough.
He turned his attention to the large video screens that were mounted on the ceiling, showing the view from outside in every direction. He focused on the weapons station. The ship’s only gun was an M242 Bushmaster, a twenty-five-millimeter chain-fed autocannon mounted on the front deck.
He sat down and examined the unit. A series of cables ran into the top of a metal console. In the center was a screen that showed a view from the gun barrel. A thin cross indicated the aiming point. Buttons and lights to the left of the screen indicated the status of the Rafael Typhoon gun mount, while similar buttons to the right of the screen showed the status of the weapon itself. The firing controls appeared to be triggers on twin joysticks below the screen.
After a short time playing around with the controls, he was able to preselect targets and lock them in. The automatic fire control would register the visual signature of each target and automatically acquire them again at the press of a button.
The gun was on the bow of the vessel, in front of the superstructure, and was very close to the depth-charge launcherwhere the blast had happened. Chisnall was surprised that it had come through unscathed but was happy that it seemed to be working. Just in case.
“Where on the island is the wharf?” he asked.
“To west, at the end of spit,” Monster said, glancing at a chart laid out in the center of the bridge.
“Head to the east side. We’ll circle around the island counterclockwise,” Chisnall said.
“What you are thinking?” Monster asked.
“I’m going to be prepared,” Chisnall said. “I’m going to send in the Phantom.”
Monster grinned. “God help the Bzadians.”
6. KRIZ
[2325 hours Local time]
[Bzadian Coastal Defense Command, Brisbane, New Bzadia]
MAJOR ZARA KRIZ WAS NERVOUS, ALTHOUGH THERE was no
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