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Stand by for GPS coordinates.”
    Northern Arabian Sea
    0825
    T HE NOISE REMINDED M ACK S MITH OF HIS BROTHER’S whiny two-stroke weed whacker—assuming it had a blanket thrown on it.
    The water to the east seemed to bubble up into a moving volcano.
    “Chopper,” said Tommy. “Ours or theirs?”
    They were too far away to see it clearly, but the sound gave it away.
    “That’s a Werewolf,” said Dish.
    “Yeah,” said Mack. “Has to be from the Abner Read .”
    The robot aircraft banked southward, moving away.
    “Yo, Werewolf—where are you going?” grunted Mack. The mouthpiece for his survival radio was integrated with the collar of his Dreamland-designed flight suit, but the radio was in a sleep mode to conserve battery power and had to be manually turned on. Mack reached down to the vest and did so, then repeated the hail, this time with more formality.
    Dog, not the Werewolf, answered.
    “Mack, that’s the Abner Read ’s aircraft,” said Dog. “He’s scouting your position.”
    “ Wisconsin, can you connect me with the pilot? He’s flying to the south.”
    A transmission from the Werewolf overrode the reply. Neither were intelligible.
    “Mack Smith to Werewolf. Yo, you just flew south of us.”
    “Just getting the lay of the land, Mack,” responded Starship.
    “Hey, Junior, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re flying over the sea.”
    “Oh, that’s what that blue stuff is. I thought I was upside down.”
    “You’re a joke a minute, kid. How long before you get that tin can you’re in up here?”
    “ Abner Read will pick you up in about an hour and a half.”
    Mack glanced over at Cantor. He was out of it.
    “Give me a vector and we’ll meet it halfway,” said Mack.
    “Major—”
    “Give me a vector, kid. We’re not hanging here all day.”
    Aboard the Wisconsin,
over the northern Arabian Sea
0835
    D OG PULLED BACK ON THE STICK, COAXING THE M EGAFORTRESS into a gentle climb. With the Abner Read on its way and the Werewolf close enough to talk directly with the downed airmen, there was nothing more for him to do here.
    He got Catsman on the Dreamland Command frequency and through her spoke to the KC-10 tanker that had been tasked to Dreamland for the operation. They arranged a rendezvous about an hour’s flying time south of his present position.
    When Dog finished making the arrangements, he turned back to look for the Chinese frigate. Not spotting it right away, a shiver of panic flew through him. He’d blundered too close, he thought, and was now in range of another missile.
    Then he saw the frigate in the distance. It had given up chasing him and was once more sailing back in the direction of Mack and the others.
    Northern Arabian Sea
0850
    T HE W EREWOLF PICKED UP EVERYONE’S MORALE, BUT M ACK soon realized that could be too much of a good thing. For while they kicked ferociously for a few minutes, pushing the raft in the direction of the approaching American ship, they quickly ran out of energy. And with the Abner Read still far in the distance, they had to conserve their strength.
    “All right, new plan,” Mack told the others, and felt his teeth chatter as he spoke. “One guy kicks at a time. Two guys, one on each side, rest. Other two stay in the raft. Jazz, how’s your leg?”
    “Much better.”
    “Great,” said Mack, though he knew the lieutenant was lying. “All right. I’ll kick and steer. Idea here is that we’re saving our strength. All right? We’re all about endurance right now.”
    “I’ll swap with Dish,” said Jazz.
    “Nah, it’s OK,” said Mack.
    “Dish looks cold.”
    “I’m OK,” said Dish.
    Jazz slipped into the water next to him. Mack watched his shock as the water hit him. Then Dish pulled himself into the raft, Mack could see he was both reluctant and grateful.
    Mack leaned over toward Jazz. “You hanging in there, kid?”
    “I’m with ya, Major.”
    “Kick slow if you have to, to stay warm.”
    “Staying warm.”
    Mack