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lso alerted the Americans to the presence of a Soviet submarine in the Florida Straits。 To be used as a vassal was one thing； to have his country used as a base for a war without being informed was too much。
The sailors didn't know all of this； just that no serious opposition was expected。 They took it with a grain of salt； as they did all intelligence reports。 Their helicopters had laid a string of sonobuoys； and their ESM radar receivers listened for the pulsing signal of a Soviet…made radar。 Aloft； lookouts trained clumsy starlight scopes around the sky； searching for aircraft that might be hunting them visually…which would not be hard。 At twenty…five knots； every ship left a foaming wake that seemed to fluoresce like neon in the darkness。
Maalox didn't work anymore； one frigate captain grumbled to himself。 He sat in the mand chair in his ship's bat Information Center。 To his left was the chart table； in front of him （he faced aft） the young tactical action officer stood over his plotting scope。 The Cubans were known to have surface…to…surface missile batteries arrayed on their coastline like the fortresses of old。 At any moment the ships might detect a swarm of ining vampires。 Forward； his single…arm missile launcher was loaded and trained out； as were his three…inch gun and CIWS topside。 The coffee was a mistake； but he had to stay alert。 The price was a stabbing pain in his upper abdomen。 Maybe I should talk to the corpsman； he thought； and shrugged it off。 There wasn't time for that。 He'd been working around the clock for three months to get his ship ready for action； racing through the acceptance trials and conducting continuous workups； working his men and ship hard； but working himself hardest of all。 He was too proud to admit that he'd pushed too hard； even to himself。
It came just as he finished his third cup of coffee。 For all the warnings； it was a pain as severe and surprising as a thrown knife。 The captain doubled over and vomited on the tiled deck of CIC。 A sailor mopped it up at once； and it was too dark to see that there'd been blood on the tile。 He couldn't leave his post； despite the pains； despite the sudden chill from the blood loss。 The captain made a mental note to keep off the coffee for a few hours。 Maybe he'd see the corpsman when he got the chance。 If he got the chance。 There'd be a three day layover in Norfolk。 He could rest a little then。 He knew he needed rest。 The fatigue that had been building for days hammered at him。 The captain shook his head。 Throwing up was supposed to make you feel better。
VIRGINIA BEACH； VIRGINIA
Morris found his home empty。 At his suggestion； his wife was gone home to Kansas to stay with her family。 No sense having you and the kids home worrying about me； he'd told her。 He regretted it now。 Morris needed the pany； needed a hug； needed to see his kids。 Within a minute of opening the door； he was on the phone。 His wife already knew what had happened to his ship； but had withheld it from the kids。 It took two minutes to assure her that he was indeed all right； at home； and uninjured。 Then came the kids； and finally the knowledge that they couldn't arrange a flight home。 All the airliners were either ferrying men and supplies overseas or booked solid until mid…August。 Ed saw no sense in having his family drive all the way from Salinas to Kansas City to wait on standby。 Good…byes were hard。
What came next was harder。 mander Edward Morris donned his whites and from his wallet took a list of family calls he had to make。 They'd all been officially notified； but another of the duties that came with mand was to make the trips himself。 The widow of his executive officer lived only half a mile away。 A good man with a barbecue； the XO； Morris remembered。 How many weekends had he spent in their backyard watching steaks sizzle over charcoal？ What would he tell her now？ What would he tell the rest of the widows？ What would he tell the kids？
Moms walked to his car and was mocked by the license plate； FF…1094。 Not every man got to carry his failure around with him。 Most were fortunate enough to leave it behind。 As he started the engine； Morris wondered if he'd ever be able to sleep without the fear of reliving again that moment on the bridge of his ship。
ICELAND
For the first time Edwards had beaten his sergeant at his own game。 For all his alleged expertise with a fishing rod； Smith had e away with nothing after an hour's effort； and handed the rod to Mike in disgust。 Ten minutes later； Edwards landed a four…pound trout。
〃Ain't that some shit；〃 Smith growled。
The last ten kilometers they'd covered had taken eleven hours。 The one road they'd had to cross； they learned； was a busy one。 Every few minutes a vehicle headed north or south。 The Russians were using this gravel strip as their principal means of overland travel to Iceland's northern coast。 Edwards and his party had spent six hours hiding in the rocks of yet another lava field； watching and waiting for a safe time to cross。 Twice they'd seen Mi…24 helicopters patrolling the area； but neither had e close。 They'd seen no foot patrols either； and Edwards had concluded that Iceland was too big for the Soviet force to control。 At that point he'd taken out his Russian map and set to analyzing the symbols。 The Soviet troops were concentrated in an arc extending north and south of the Reykjavik peninsula。 He'd radioed that into Scotland； spending ten minutes describing the Russian symbology。
Road traffic had dropped off at dusk； allowing them to cross the road on the run。 They'd found themselves without food in another area of lakes and streams。 Enough was enough； Edwards had decided。 They had to rest again and began fishing to get themselves some food。 The next leg of their journey would keep them well clear of inhabited areas。
His rifle and other gear lay next to a rock； covered with his camouflage jacket。 Vigdis was with him。 She'd hardly left his side all day。 Smith and the Marines had found places to relax while their lieutenant did most of the work。
The local bug population was out in force today。 His sweater kept most of them off his skin； but his face attracted their share。 He tried to ignore them。 Quite a few bugs had found their way to the surface of the stream； and the trout were going after them。 Every time he saw a ripple； he cast the feathery lure toward it。 The rod bent again。
〃Got another one！〃 he hooted。 Smith's head came up； shook angrily； and went back down in the bushes fifty yards away。
Edwards had never done this sort of fishing。 All his experience were in his father's boat； but the principles were pretty much the same。 He let the trout pull against the line； but not too much； just enough to wear him out as Edwards worked the rod up and down； drawing the fish upstream and into the rocks。 Suddenly he tripped over a rock and fell into the shallow water； managing； however； to keep his rod…tip high。 Struggling to his feet； he stepped back； his fatigue pants black and wet against his legs。
〃This is a big one。〃 He turned to see Vigdis laughing。 She watched him work the fish in and began moving toward it。 A minute later she grabbed the leader and pulled the trout clear of the water。
〃Three kilos； this one