“Max, get me a damage report. Hali, get ahold of the Doc, I’m sure there are going to be injuries. Mark, get another UAV in the air as soon as you’re able. I want eyes on that ship. And for the record, I think you saved our lives.”

“Chairman?”

“You got the shot off, didn’t you?”

“Barely.”

“In this game, barely counts. Nice shooting.”

It took twenty minutes for the engineering staff to reboot the power system and get the computers back online. But they were forced to use battery backup because the magnetohydrodynamic system was still down. Dr. Huxley patched up one broken arm and diagnosed two concussions among the crew, and Mark Murphy utterly failed to get a drone into the air. As bad as the magnetic pulse was on the ship’s hardened electronics, it destroyed those not protected. Small devices like PDAs, electric shavers, and food processors had all been fried. The remaining UAVs were nothing more than toy gliders now. Cabrillo was forced to lead a team in a RHIB, and even that had to have its engines started manually with old-fashioned pull cords.

The going was tough as the storm intensified. Icy needles of rain pelted any exposed skin, though the sturdy craft rode the waves well. When they reached the spot where the stealth ship had been hit, they found a debris field encircled by a slick of diesel fuel that was rapidly breaking up. Cabrillo ran the RHIB to one of the largest pieces of flotsam, a section of composite material that looked as if it had been part of the ship’s pointed prow. He and Eddie Seng lifted the lightweight chunk of debris into the RHIB and lashed it to the deck so they could examine it back on the Oregon.

“What do you think?” Eddie asked.

“I think when that shell hit, the boat blew apart like a grenade. Whatever powered the magnetic pulse generator had to be very unstable.”

“You think when the field failed it cratered the ship?”

“That’s my guess. I’ll run the idea past Murph and Stone to get their opinion, but I think I’m right.”

“What about the rendezvous ship?”

Juan looked around the darkened sea. “Gone the instant they figured out what happened to their buddies here.” He added grimly, “If we can’t get the Oregon running in the next hour or two, we’ve lost them.”

They headed back home.

When the civilian radar finally came back online, the seas around them were empty, as Cabrillo predicted. The military radar came up a short time later, and its extended range showed a pair of ships, but neither was traveling in the right direction to be the rendezvous vessel. They were approaching, not fleeing. The main engines were finally refired five hours after the EMP blast. As chief engineer, Max insisted that they be brought up to full power in slow, carefully monitored increments.