Page 142 of Clive Cussler's Quantum Tempest

Fierro’s neck cracked like a dry twig inside the fatal torque of the Sikh’s twisting hands. He relaxed his grip, dropping the Colombian to the steel deck with a dull thud.

“Nicely done,” Stokes said.

The silent Sikh nodded curtly to the captain.

Stokes and Bose both previously agreed they had no need for Fierro, and every need to control Project Q.

And now they did.

Stokes felt a sudden surge of power. And control.

But both evaporated with the first explosion high in the rigging—and sent Stokes running for the CIC.

The second explosion cracked overhead seconds later as he raced along the corridor. He was breathless by the time he reached the combat center.

“Status!”

?

Aboard Peng’s helicopter

Peng was strapped into the copilot’s seat for the short hop from theFuzhouto theBaktun.He wore body armor over his civilian clothes and a semi-auto 9-millimeter pistol on his hip.

The helo’s actual copilot was strapped in the back along with a dozen burly Marines kitted out in body armor and QBZ-191 bullpup rifles.

Peng’s eyes were fixed on theBaktun’s helo deck when suddenly the air cracked with a blistering light high up near theBaktun’s satellite mast. The cockpit shuddered with the shock wave.

“Hang on,” the pilot shouted. “Diving low.”

The pilot shoved the cyclic forward and stomped his anti-torque pedals, rolling a hard left while shoving the collective down, dropping the airframe below the roiling shrapnel cloud.

“Dumping flares.”

Peng’s face was bathed in a sheen of sweat when the pilot called out, “Jinking,” yanking the cyclic left and right, weaving the aircraft violently, trying to avoid any kind of radar lock. Peng felt his body strain against the harness when another shell cracked over theBaktun, rocking the sky with shock waves and shrapnel.

Peng’s vision narrowed as the pilot continued his high-g maneuvers. He reached for the mic to call Zhao and issue an attack order, but he couldn’t reach it.

?

Aboard theOregon

As soon as Cabrillo gave Murphy his marching orders, he turned to Stoney.

“Helm, set a course for theBaktun—midships. Flank speed.”

“Sir?”

“Run it right down his throat.”

Max could hardly contain his glee.

“Everybody hold on.” Eric slammed the throttles and whipped the joystick. Moments later, theOregonstepped into a sharp turn, then rocketed at full speed toward theBaktun.

“What’s the play?” Linda asked. “You really going to ram her?”

“Our orders were we couldn’t sink theBaktun. Doesn’t mean we can’t ruffle her skirts.”

Linda scowled with confusion as the first explosion ripped above theBaktun.