“I’m staying too,” Hal Briggs said.

“I’m not leaving,” Chris Wohl said with pure titanium in his voice. “We’ve got two Stingers and some ammo left— that should be enough for the last two SS-N-2s.”

Patrick nodded. He was happy to have such good fighters and close friends on that fantail with him. He had no way to fight off two big antiship missiles by himself, but he had been ready to order both of them to the lifeboats anyway.

“Here they come, guys,” Hal shouted. It seemed as if he barely had time to raise his Stinger missile before he fired. The antiaircraft missile missed, plunging into the sea without ever locking onto the target. Wohl’s cannon fire hit the missile, but it still continued on, skipping across the ocean like a stick of dynamite thrown across a pond before slamming into the Catherine near the bow. Patrick’s last Stinger missile shot missed as well, and the second SS-N-2 Styx missile hit just aft of the first missile’s impact point. The ship shuddered, which soon progressed with terrifying speed to an earthquake-like trembling. The deck heeled upward, slammed down hard, then heeled up again. The bow was already going under.

It took every bit of strength for the three commandos to struggle to the port-side lifeboats. Luger had already lowered a boat to the water and had its engines started, and it took only seconds for the three to climb down, unfasten their lines, and motor away from the Catherine.

Through his electronic visor, Patrick could see the big Libyan frigate on the horizon. It was already turning toward them—the rapidly sinking salvage ship could no longer screen them. The lifeboat could only putter along, barely making five or six knots—the frigate would catch up to them in no time. Moments later he saw a muzzle flash, and seconds later a huge geyser of water erupted just a few dozen yards away—the Libyan frigate was already firing on them!

Wohl was twisting and pulling the lifeboat’s tiller, trying to spoil their targeting. “Come and get us, sucker,” he muttered. “Just hope there’s nothing left of me when you catch up to me.” Another geyser of water and an earsplitting BOOM! erupted, closer this time—they were getting the range. Another couple shots and ...

Suddenly a fountain of fire appeared on the horizon. “Something hit the Libyan frigate!” Patrick shouted. “The FlightHawk! It must’ve kamikazied on the frigate! Not a moment too soon!” On the command net, he radioed, “Wendy, this is Castor. Are you in contact with the Egyptian patrol ships? They should be able to screen you against any other Libyan fighters. Are you heading toward Egypt?” No response. “Wendy, you copy?”

“This is the Hammer,” the pilot of the CV-22 Pave Hammer tilt-rotor aircraft replied. “Are you trying to call us?”

“I was wondering if Wendy got in contact with the Egyptian navy.”