The bursting of more fuel drums on the pier, the roar of the still-burning fuel barge, and the creaking of the toppled crane, along with the patrol boat's exploding ammo, combined to form a brilliant beacon of devastation easily seen and heard for kilometers, especially by those situated along the powerless coastline.

And those in the air.

"There he is!" cried Diaz, as they sailed directly opposite of the burning pier. The marksman had already taken aim with her secondary rifle, the Cx4 Storm SD.

"Got him," replied Mitchell, spotting the helicopter, whose doors had been removed to allow gunners to hang out either side.

The chopper's searchlight painted a gleaming puddle in the harbor as thick smoke wafted through its beam. Mitchell squinted as the light momentarily blinded him.

And then, just as the beam shifted, two helmeted soldiers lifted their rifles.

"Weapons free, fire!" ordered Mitchell, cutting loose with his own MR-C, Diaz's weapon rattling a second after his.

The pilot reacted immediately, banking hard left and pulling up, the chopper's belly gleaming with ricocheting rounds for a few seconds until the pilot finally ascended out of the fire.

"Give him more lead, more lead," cried Mitchell, seeing how much faster the chopper was than his team had anticipated.

Jenkins, who was still at the wheel, turned the boat left, bringing them past several long piers crowded by old sampans and a few junks with crimson sails waiting to be unfurled. A trio of more modern ferries was moored behind them. Jenkins made one more turn, now heading directly toward the gap between Haicang and Gulangyu Island.

"He's not coming back," said Smith, lowering his rifle. "What the hell?"

The downlink channel appeared in Mitchell's HUD. "Better step it up, son," warned General Keating. "Remember, Montana won't surface till you get past that gap. And she won't surface with that chopper up there." The general turned away from the camera. "What is it? Hold on, Mitchell."

"Can't you go any faster?" hollered Beasley.

Jenkins shook his head.

"Aw, man, look at that!" cried Ramirez.

As Mitchell turned toward the bow, Keating appeared once more in the HUD. "All right, Mitchell. You don't have one chopper to deal with--you got two."

And Mitchell didn't need that new intel now. The second bird swept in behind the first, and now both soared back toward their boat, noses pitched forward, gunners taking aim.

If the Ghosts survived this, there was a great lesson to be learned: Never bring an old fishing boat to a helicopter battle.

He cursed then shouted, "Alpha Team, target left chopper. Bravo, take the right. Diaz, go for the pilots. And Smith? Hold fire and deploy my drone!"

Smith dove to the deck and sloughed off his pack. He withdrew the MAV4mp Cypher and tossed it hard like a Frisbee over the side, while the others began firing at the choppers.