and pushed the throttle forward from stop to one-third speed ahead . The ACV moved smoothly in the direction indicated, easing away from the dock.
"Steady on course," Brannigan ordered.
"Steady on course, aye, sir," Watkins replied straightening up with some deft manipulation of the controls. They moved over the water and to the inlet that allowed access to the Indian River. A trio of sailboats was to their direct front, and was allowed to move out of the way before the Waterflyer went to the channel in the river.
"I've been told we can't really open her up here," Brannigan said. "Too bad. Left full rudder and follow the channel markers."
Watkins eased them into the channel marked by the square red and round green markers. He played with the controls a bit to familiar himself with them.
"Half speed."
"Half speed, aye, sir."
It took only moments before the Waterflyer moved down the river, spewing out a spreading cloud of mist around her. The rate of travel was a steady forty miles per hour according to Watkins's electronic speed indicator. Rivers began running a drill with her system, picking out various targets on both the river and land. Her lock-ons registered quickly and exactly, and she turned to Brannigan with a thumbs-up signal.
The skipper felt confident and optimistic as they continued down Merritt Island and past the town of Cocoa.
.
THE short shakedown cruise had proven a success. The Waterflyer needed no more than some minor tuning from Bobby Lee Atwill's skilled hands to have the Poder-Ventaja gas turbine humming at top efficiency. All other navigational, observational, and weaponry systems checked out to Veronica Rivers's satisfaction.
As soon as the vehicle was tied up at the dock, Brannigan led his crew into the shop for a briefing. After getting sodas out of the refrigerator, they settled down around the electronic work bench.
"Okay, people," the skipper began. "The first thing I'm going to do is change the name of this ACV. Waterflyer is too candy-ass to suit me. It sounds like some kind of bug."
Senior Chief Buford Dawkins sighed in relief. 'Thank God, sir! Have you thought of another name?"
"I sure as hell have," Brannigan replied. "From now on the name of our sturdy vessel will be the ACV Battlecraft. Get used to it. We're all in this together."
Lieutenant Veronica Rivers took a swallow of her Diet Coke. "Do you remember that last line in the movie Casablanca when Claude Raines and Humphrey Bogart were walking off together in the fog? This looks like the start of a beautiful friendship.'"
"That does seem apropos at the moment," Brannigan commented. "At any rate, I want Lieutenant Rivers, Atwill, and Watkins to go back aboard and button down their equipment. Make sure it'll be ready for the next run. We'll be taking the ACV Battlecraft out on the Atlantic Ocean."
"Aye, sir," Veronica said.
The helmsman and turbine technician followed her back to the dock while the SEALs stayed behind. Brannigan summed up their collective mood. "This is going to be a hell of a lot different than anything the detachment has done so far."
Cruiser shrugged. "As long as Lieutenant Rivers and those two guys do their job, we'll be all right."
"I don't have a problem with that," Dawkins said. "The Battlecraft is basically our transportation to and from missions. We jump off, kick some ass, and jump back aboard again."
"It's a bit more than that," Brannigan said. "If we're caught at sea, we may have to use the weaponry to save our asses." He finished his can of soda. "I hope Lieutenant Rivers understands that."
"It wouldn't hurt to have a word with her, sir," Dawkins suggested.
Brannigan walked from the building to the ACV, stepped aboard, and joined Veronica in the cabin. He nodded to her. "You seem satisfied with your systems."
"I am, sir," she replied. "They responded to today's testing with flying colors."
"Keep 'em that way, Lieutenant," he said. "There's a good chance we might need 'em for something as