4.

Unaware of their fate, Marten and Omi continued to talk. Then, over twenty kilometers away, an amazingly bright flash lit up the dark clouds. A huge, ominous mushroom cloud arose. It towered higher and higher. Marten and Omi stared at it in shock, their mouths open.

Omi tried to speak, but failed.

Marten’s chest tightened with terror. He couldn’t believe what he saw. There had been rumors. Turbo had said—His chest unlocked and his numb mind started working from its momentary stoppage. “Get below!” he shouted, shoving Omi toward the nearest hatch.

They turned and ran, staggering and stumbling along the pitching deck. So did other men, babbling sailors who sprinted for the hatches. They jammed the nearest hatchway. Fists started flying, until a boatswain bellowed orders.

The hovers and ships of Convoy A22 acted amazingly fast. Perhaps the ships’ captains had been given secret instructions in case a nuclear bomb should explode in their vicinity. Not as smoothly and as in unison as some of their earlier maneuvers had been done, they veered from the nuclear blast. Each ship throttled up, until they fled at full speed. One hover lifted onto its cushion of air, higher and higher as it leapt past the other hovers. Then a glitch hit its engines. The hover’s nose sank. A wave rolled and crashed down hard, and the airborne hover flipped onto its back.

That was Marten’s last sight of it as the shouting sailors shoved him through the hatchway. He fell down the steps and landed on his hands and knees, and twisted away as others landed on top of him. He crawled, and then unsteadily arose and staggered into the rec-room.

“Nuke!” he bellowed.

Omi shoved in behind.

Shocked, paling faces stared up at him.

At that moment, loudspeakers crackled, and the captain spoke. “All personnel are to grab hold of something solid. A nuclear shockwave will soon hit the ship. Please be prepared. That is all.”

In a bedlam of shouts men scrambled for safety. Marten thrust himself at his spot at the card table, clutching the bolted down furniture with all his strength. Seconds later the shockwave hit. The transport shuddered and groaned, and they skipped across the ocean waves like a flung stone. Howling, screaming winds tore over them, and a hot flash caused men to open their mouths. Marten knew they were wailing in terror, but the winds were too loud for their shouts to be heard. Somehow, their hover kept upright. These ships had been built to take a pounding.

Across the table, Turbo stared slack-jawed at Marten. Stick mumbled prayers. Omi squeezed his eyes shut. Finally, no one knew how long, the winds died down and the pitching lessened.

Wide-eyed soldiers sat up. A few of them wept. More than one had broken bones.

“This is war,” Omi said grimly, at last opening his eyes.

“I wonder if they targeted a convoy ahead of us?” asked Marten.

“Our baptism of fire,” mumbled Stick.

Turbo laughed. “We haven’t seen nothing yet, is my guess.”

“You’re crazy!” Stick shouted in outrage.

“Earth has gotta hold somewhere if they’re going to win,” said Turbo.

“So?”

“So maybe Tokyo is where they’re gonna hold.”

“Tokyo is where we’re going,” Omi said.

“Yeah,” said Marten.

“Tell me one thing,” whispered Stick.

“What?” asked Turbo.

“How do I go AWOL and survive?”

They each glanced at one another, perhaps all wondering the same thing. Marten knew he couldn’t get the image out of his mind of lasering those four poor fools in the desert. Maybe he didn’t deserve to live.