flight suit swelled satisfyingly as the cotton fibers soaked up water
and held the air in.
Thor gathered up his strength and lunged onto the inflated flight
suit.
According to what he’d been told, floating instead of treading water
accomplished two things. First, he could conserve his strength,
extending his stay time in the warm water. Second, by relying on the
natural buoyancy of the flight suit, he could avoid the frantic
flailing motions of treading water that attracted sharks.
Was there anything else? Of course. He turned the flight suit over,
unzipped one leg pocket, and drew out the standard Navy-issue shark
repellent and dye marker. He cracked both open, spilling the contents
into the water. A sickly yellow tint spread through the water,
highlighting his position for the sea-air rescue helos that he hoped
would be overhead shortly.
But would they? He considered the matter, his heart sinking.
He and the tanker had been far off course when the collision occurred,
well outside of the group’s flight pattern.
While Jefferson’s radar had undoubtedly held them, it would take some
time to get the helos vectored over.
How long? Too long.
The tanker crew could they have made it out? Not likelyhe’d seen the
fireball, and no chutes. For better or for worse, he was the only
passenger the SAR helo would have.
He glanced nervously at the water around him, imagining sharply raked
dorsal fins lurking behind every swell, and started stroking for the
life raft.
0610 Local (+5 GMT) USS Jefferson “Where the hell is he?” Batman
slammed his hand down on the TAO’s desk. “Damn it, what was he doing
inside the no-fly zone? And why didn’t you give him a vector back to
Tanker Alley?”
The TAO was pale and shaken. “Sir, they didn’t look that far
out-of-bounds.” He gestured at the large-screen display covering the
wall before him. An ominous stick figure marked the spot where Thor’s
Hornet had last been detected. The estimated location was being
transmitted to every ship in the battle group, along with the air
assets overhead.
“He’s not too far out of area. Admiral.” The TAO tried to sound
confident. “We should have him back on deck in ten minutes.”
Batman stared at the TAO, cold anger lighting his eyes.
“You better, mister. You damned well better.”
0615 Local (+5 GMT) 50 Miles North of Cuba Maybe the tanker crew had
gotten out? Thor felt a moment of irrational hope. Maybe they were
just over the next wave, drifting in closer. He tried to believe that
they’d ejected in time, but the memory of the massive fireball he’d
seen just as he ejected kept intruding.
Just at that moment, he would have given virtually anything not to be
alone in that warm, churning water.
He tried the PRC-70 one more time, speaking slowly and loudly into the
small handheld radio tuned to military air distress frequency. “Home
Plate, this is Hornet Three-zeroone. Do you copy?” He held the radio
to his ear, desperately concentrating on the hissing static.
Had that been a small, extra crackle, an indication that someone was
keying a mike on the other end? He felt a surge of hope, followed
immediately by despair. No, it hadn’t been. Whether the problem was
the notoriously unreliable batteries or some malfunction in the radio
from the force of ejection was impossible to tell. The only thing that
mattered was the end result no communications. And without that,
trying to vector Jefferson’s SAR assets to his location was an
impossibility.
He turned the radio over and studied the back. The tough casing was
partially shattered, and he figured he must have hit it against the
canopy during ejection. The radio might have even saved him from
breaking a leg. But just now, it seemed like a bad tradeoff.
The life raft looked farther away than when he’d started swimming
toward it. He set out for it again, alternating between keeping it in
view and searching the sky for the SAR helo.
0700 Local (+5 GMT) USS Jefferson “As of two minutes ago, there was
still no contact on Major Hammersmith.” The Marine Corps colonel’s
voice was grave, but professionally detached. “All six helos are