Two lumbering M927 trucks grumbled across the yard. The dark green, canvas-topped, 6x6 army trucks growled as their monstrous diesel engines drove them up onto the long, wide wharf that the HMS Dauntless was moored against. It had taken considerable coordination to align the arrival of Major Toranssen, his team, and his assistant Mike Lombardi in Pearl Harbor with the brief stopover of the HMS Dauntless. In the end, Jack, Colonel Milton, and Martin Sobleski had had to work through the night getting the final shielding components ready for shipment once the Dauntless’s schedule was confirmed. But when you had the explicit support of the US Navy’s senior admiral, and thus the Pentagon Security Council, you could open a lot of doors. Jack’s orders had been written and rewritten in order to factor in the plans of the HMS Dauntless, though neither the crew of the Dauntless nor the satellites watching them all had ever been aware of it.

But orders from the US Navy could only get them so far, and while they had debated getting some of the Royal Navy’s senior command involved in the plot, they had decided that this would open up the group too much to the risk of discovery. Once they had destroyed the satellites, they could start to disseminate the news of the coming attack more widely, but if the deaths of their friends in India, and the more recent confrontations in DC and Florida, had done nothing else, they had taught them that the need for secrecy was paramount.

The two trucks pulled up next to the Dauntless, and John jumped down, running up the main gangway to the two armed ratings zealously guarding the top of the gangway. The two men presented arms as John approached.

“No, no, lads, no need for all that, it’s just me. Listen, I’ve got a favor to ask. Bill and I were supposed to get these pallets on board today for stowing before the captain rejoins the ship tomorrow morning, but they weren’t ready on time. Now they are, and if the captain finds out they are ready and we haven’t loaded them, it will be my arse. I’m going to sign them in and get them loaded, OK?”

The two ratings did not need reminding that they were stuck on board while most of their friends were off drinking, and they eyed the officer suspiciously. Lead Rating Peter Killarney summoned up his resolve and said to the well-liked officer, “Loading up, sir? Well, if you have to load then you have to load, but you’ll understand of course that we can’t leave our post to help you.” The man glanced at his colleague for support and they both stood firm. It was one thing to be stuck on board on guard duty when in port, especially in Hawaii, but it was a whole other level of punishment to have to work as well.