suck, over."
"What took so long?"
"Tell that Herky-Bird driver to get a new eye doctor. The Marines you sent here got their boss killed, and their sergeant ripped his ankle up."
"Have you been spotted?"
"Negative. They landed in rocks. It's a miracle they weren't all killed. We're back on the hilltop. We covered our tracks."
Sergeant Nichols was a smoker. He and Smith found a sheltered spot to light up.
"Sounds rather excitable, your lieutenant."
"He's only a wing-wiper, but he's doin' all right. How's the ankle?"
"I'll have to walk on it whether it's fit or not. Does he know what he's about?"
"The skipper? I watched him kill three Russians with a knife. That good enough?"
"Bloody hell."
33
Contact
USS REUBEN JAMES
"Captain?"
Morris started at the hand on his shoulder. He'd just wanted to lie down in his stateroom for a few minutes after conducting helicopter night landing practice, and--he checked his watch. After midnight. His face was sweaty. The dream had just started again. He looked up at his executive officer.
"What is it, XO?"
"We got a request to check something out. Probably a snow-bird, but--well, see for yourself."
Morris took the dispatch with him to his private bathroom, tucked it in his pocket, then washed his face quickly.
" 'Unusual contact repeated several times, have attempted localization without success'? What the hell is this supposed to be?" he asked, toweling off.
"Beats the hell out of me, skipper. Forty degrees, thirty minutes north, sixty-nine, fifty west. They got a location but no ID. I'm having the chart pulled now."
Morris ran his hand through his hair. Two hours' sleep was better than none. Wasn't it? "Okay, let's see how it looks from CIC."
The tactical action officer had the chart out on the table next to the captain's chair. Morris checked the main tactical-display scope. They were still far offshore in accordance with their orders to check out the hundred-fathom curve.
"That's way the hell away from here," Morris observed immediately. There was something familiar about the location. The captain bent over the chart.
"Yes, sir, about a sixty-mile run," Ernst agreed. "Shallow water, too. Can't use the towed array there."
"Oh, I know what this place is! That's where the Andrea Doria sank. Probably somebody's got a MAD contact and didn't bother checking his chart."
"Don't think so." O'Malley emerged from the shadows. "A frigate heard something first. The winch on their tail was busted. They didn't want to lose it, so they were heading into Newport instead of New York because the harbor's deeper. They say they copied a strange passive-sonar contact that faded out. They did a target-motion analysis and generated this position. Their helicopter made a few passes, and its magnetic anomaly detector registered right over the Doria, and that was that."
"How'd you find that out?"
O'Malley handed over a message form. "Came in right after the XO went to get you. They sent an Orion to check it. Same story. They heard something odd, and it faded out."
Morris frowned. They were chasing after a wild goose, but the orders came from Norfolk. That made it an official wild-goose chase.
"What's the helo status?"
"I can be up in ten minutes. One torpedo and an auxiliary fuel tank. All the gear's on line."
"Tell the bridge to take us there at twenty-five knots. Battleaxe know about this?" He got a nod. "Okay. Signal them what we're up to. Winch in the tail. Won't do us any good where we're going. O'Malley, we'll close to within fifteen miles of the contact and have you search for it. That puts you in the air about 0230. If you need me, I'll be in the wardroom." Morris decided to sample his new ship's "mid-rats." O'Malley was headed the same way.
"These ships are a little weird," the flyer said.
Morris grunted agreement. The main fore-and-aft passageway was on the port side instead of the centerline, for one thing. The "figs" broke a number of long-standing traditions in ship design.
O'Malley went down the ladder first and opened the wardroom door for the captain. They found two junior officers in front of the TV set, watching a taped movie that had mainly to do with fast cars and naked women. The tape machine, Morris had already learned, was run from the chiefs' quarters. One result of this was that a particularly attractive chest was instant-replayed for all hands.
Midwatch rations, or "mid-rats," was an open loaf of bread and a plate of cold cuts. Morris got himself a cup of coffee and built a sandwich. O'Malley opted for a fruit drink from the cooler on