Thirty minutes later the radar began picking up strong returns from the beach. There were six distinct metallic contacts. Five of them were actually grounded on the coast while another, presumably a tugboat, held station in deeper water a hundred yards from shore.

Juan wanted to send up their last aerial drone to photograph the area, but George Adams told him the light radio-controlled plane wouldn’t last ten seconds in the wind. Juan considered his offer to risk a quick scout flight in the Robinson. Having the tactical data about what they were getting into was important; however, the element of surprise was just as crucial. Also, the atmosphere was still heavy with ash that would likely overwhelm the helo’s air filtration system and bring the chopper down.

“Thanks, but I want to keep you in reserve,” Cabrillo spoke into a pin mike headset. Adams was in the Oregon’s hangar. “Maintain ten-minute alert but be ready to push it to five once we engage.” Five-minute alert meant the hatches over the hold were opened and the Robinson had been lifted up to the deck with her engines running and up to temperature.

“Roger that, Chairman.”

“Senior staff, give me a status report.” One by one his people called in. Murph at the weapons station had lowered the plates covering the Gatling gun and the 40 mm autocannon. The deck-mounted gimble .50s were locked and loaded, and a pair of torpedoes were in the twin tubes with the outer hull doors closed. He also reported all cameras were up and functioning. Hali was going to run double duty on the communications and radar systems so Linda Ross could accompany the assault team. Max Hanley was grumbling his way up from the engine room where he would take overall command as well as direct the damage control teams. Linc and his gun dogs were kitting up in the boat garage and reported Linda had just arrived. Doc Huxley was ready in the medical bay, having co-opted the entire kitchen staff for nursing duty.

Juan switched to the ship-wide channel. “Attention all hands, this is the Chairman. Here’s the score. One of our own is on that beach. Each and every one of us has owed our life to Eddie Seng at some point since we started serving together, so his rescue is our top priority. Secondary to that is saving as many of the Chinese immigrants as we can. We don’t yet know their number or condition, so our response to them has to remain flexible. Number three is the volcano above the site that’s about as stable as the psych ward at Bellevue. That, along with the storm that’s barreling down on us like the hammers of hell, means speed is of the essence. We’re in and out as quickly as possible. I will not risk the ship or crew if it looks like we’re running out of time.