in the lock. The SPY-1 computer took over from there.
For the next ninety seconds, being inside Arsenal was like rolling down
a hill in a steel garbage can. The hull rang and shivered with
multiple explosions as Tomahawk cruise missiles were ejected from their
vertical launch tubes. Each missile came out impossibly slowly, seemed
to hover over the deck for a few minutes, scorching the nonskid and
gray paint with hellfire from its propulsion section, then picked up
speed and darted out toward the horizon. Within moments of leaving the
ship, the missiles were traveling too fast and far for the naked eye to
follow.
But the SPY-1 system held radar contact on each one, sorting out the
tiny pulses of returned radar energy, comparing them with the launch
vector and destination of every missile, and assigning a serial number
to each green lozenge blip on the screen. The launching went quickly,
and completely without incident. When it was finally over, the TAO
turned back to the captain. “Weapons package complete, Captain. All
stations report no damage.”
Captain Heather tried to grin. “Feels better when you get to do it
yourself, doesn’t it? Now let’s just hope those men make it into
shore.”
“Men?” The TAO looked puzzled. For just a moment, he thought the
captain might have finally lost his mind. But no, glancing at the
self-satisfied visage, he knew better. TAO or not, there were still
things the captain knew that he didn’t.
0305 Local (+5 GMT) Ten Miles West of Cuba “Jesus! Will you look at
that?” Sikes pointed toward the horizon. “Looks like they started
their Fourth of July celebration a little early.” He smiled, a cold,
twisted line to his lips. The amusement never reached his eyes.
Behind him in the RHIB, three other SEALs shifted slightly to keep
their balance as they also turned to watch.
“Makes for a nice diversion, doesn’t it?” one of them said to no one
in particular. “Beats a helicopter gunship, anyway.”
“Yeah, like you’d know anything about them,” Huerta said mildly. “Boy,
I was taking helicopter gunships into areas that didn’t have any names
while you were still sucking on your mama’s tit. You use ’em right,
there’s nothing that beats it.” He turned back to the horizon as three
new far-off explosions echoed in the air. A trace of respect crossed
his face. “Have to admit, though, this is nice.”
“Let’s see if it works first.” Sikes’s voice was still grim.
“How will we know if it works?” Garcia asked, more out of curiosity
than any real need to know.
Huerta and Sikes exchanged an amused look. Huerta turned back to the
younger sailor. “If there are people standing on the beach waitin’ to
offer us a friendly greeting when we show up, it didn’t work.”
Huerta smiled. “And it won’t be the first time nor the last that
that’s happened to a SEAL.”
0310 Local (+5 GMT) USS Arsenal “Lost contact over land,” the TAO
reported. He slipped one of the earphones off so that he could listen
to the chatter inside the compartment. The sailors were starting to
talk now, breaking into professional discussions of how the launch had
been executed as well as exchanging congratulations.
“Good work.” The captain’s voice was warm. “Nice to have the first
operational test out of the way, isn’t it?”
The TAO nodded. “Sir, you mentioned some men . . ” he ventured.
The captain smiled, real relief crossing his face. “Let’s just say
that we’re doing our part for a SAR mission and leave it at that.”
0320 Local (+5 GMT) One Mile off the Western Coast of Cuba “Okay,
gents, just like last time. You know the drill.” Sikes touched his
gear, verifying the tightness of the connections, then took a hard look
at Garcia. Behind him, Huerta and Carter were performing similar
services for each other.
Finally, satisfied that all their gear was operational, they slipped
into the warm water and headed for shore.
Twenty miles to the southeast, the other team was repeating the same
maneuver. The diversion to the north, in the form of Arsenal’s cruise
missiles bombarding isolated military targets, drew Cuban forces away