Power and Empire

Any death was tragic, and watching Lupe’s body float facedown in the pool, Clark felt a certain amount of remorse about killing her. But ten minutes later, after he’d freed the two cowering teenagers chained to five-gallon buckets of concrete — and then walked through a tall red door to watch even a few seconds of the horrific videos — he wanted to go outside and shoot her again.

28

Electrician’s mate Petty Officer 2nd Class Raymond Cooper sat wedged against the bulkhead on the long booth seat. The USS Rogue, a Cyclone-class patrol ship, or PC, was not a huge vessel at fifty-five meters, but what she lacked in size she made up for in personality. Her crew of twenty-eight, including four officers, had multiple jobs. The lack of real estate on board made each space pull double — or even triple — duty as well. Meals were eaten, briefings given, and movies watched in the padded booths just around the corner from the one-oven galley.

Finished with chow, Petty Officer Cooper — Coop to his peers — pored over an open notebook, using the space to study for his next systems exam. The five sailors sitting in the booth around him were all coming off duty and lingered for a few minutes before hitting the rack for a few precious hours of sleep.

“You’re pissed because you believed the stories about the tennis balls,” a petty officer 3rd Class named Goldberg said, wagging a spoon full of chocolate pudding at the sailor across the table.

In truth, most of the newer men on the Rogue were more than a little upset about the lack of female attention they’d suffered in the Port of Darwin. They’d all heard stories from older hands about Australian girls who would scribble their phone numbers on tennis balls, then line up on the docks and throw the balls at arriving Navy ships.

As exciting as the prospect was of willing women lining the docks in order to spend the evening with an American sailor, Australian girls turned out to be pretty much like girls everywhere. Some of them were gorgeous and some were not. Much to the heartbreak of the sailors of the USS Rogue, the gorgeous ones didn’t have to hunt the docks for men — and nobody showed up to throw so much as a glance.

Coop looked up from his studies. “Don’t listen to him, Peavy,” he said. “Goldie’s as disappoint—”

The XO’s voice came across the intercom on the bulkhead above the table.

“Set, Counter Piracy Condition Bravo. Set, Counter Piracy Condition Bravo.”

All the men in the booth felt the telltale shift in power as Rogue picked up speed.

The teasing around the table stopped, and the sailors slid out of the booth, each moving to his predetermined battle station. They might have been new to the port call in Darwin, but they’d all spent time on this tour conducting counterpiracy ops, training with the Malacca Straits Patrol. Condition Bravo meant a pirate vessel had been reported. They were in hunting mode.

The intercom squawked again.

“Petty Officer Cooper, report to the foredeck.”

The other men made a hole, allowing Cooper to hustle forward. None of them had to ask why.

• • •

Six minutes later, Lieutenant Commander Jimmy Akana, the skipper of the USS Rogue, stepped out of the bridge and made his way forward, to where Petty Officer Cooper was busy with the contents of two large OD green Pelican cases. What looked like an oversized model airplane sat on the deck beside Cooper as he busied himself with a boxy viewfinder.

The sun was well below the horizon and the apparent wind from Rogue’s thirty-two knots caused a stiff breeze across the deck.

“Let’s get that bird in the air,” the skipper said.

“Aye, aye, sir.” Cooper gave a nod to a petty officer 2nd Class named Rich Davies. “Ready to launch.”

The cook aboard Rogue, Davies was responsible for feeding the twenty-eight-man crew, but like every other pair of hands on board, he pitched in where he was needed. A Cyclone-class patrol ship was not a lazy sailor’s vessel.

“Ready to launch,” Davies repeated. He picked up the bird from the deck next to him and held it above his head like a javelin, facing into the wind.

The “bird” was an AeroVironment RQ-20 Puma unmanned aerial vehicle — commonly called a drone. Weighing in at thirteen pounds with a wingspan of nine feet, two inches, the RQ-20 carried a sensor suite known as Mantis i45, boasting powerful cameras capable of daylight, low-light, and night visibility.