A flare of machine-gun fire, hopping across the churning sea, caught
the side of _Odyssey II_ and sprayed flecks of wood around him. But the
swell was making him an elusive target. The line of fire had not really
done any damage, not this time.
They knew he was there, though. Now the chopper was banking and
returning for another pass.
Maybe, he thought, they're going to stick with the nose cannon. They
won't bother wasting rockets or a multi- thousand-dollar Swatter
missile on the wreckage of a raft. The bastards are just having some
target practice, a little fun and games.
He saw the flames from the nose cannon begin as the massive Hind
started its second pass. This was it. _Odyssey II _was about to be
history.
But not before he gave her one last blaze of glory.
Holding to the gunwale and readying himself, he took careful aim at the
starboard Swatter, still perched like a thin white bird on the stubby
wingtip. He steadied the Walther, on semiautomatic, and began firing--
oblivious to the line of strafing coming his way.
He saw the rounds glancing off the armored wing, and the sparks guided
his aim. The clip was going fast, but then . . .
Bingo.
A flare erupted, then an orange fireball, neatly severing the starboard
wingtip. The missile had detonated, but just as it did, the Hind's
strafing caught _Odyssey II_ right down the middle, shearing her in
half.