Out in the Indian Ocean, Spiritist Carrier Task Force 6 received the frantic messages from Base Starr.  They had just completed a supply mission to their bases in Antarctica, and were returning to India.  Fleet Commander Donna Nixon read the reports with a shocked expression.  "By an incredible miracle," she muttered, "we're twenty-six hours away!  But that's going to do them no good in the immediate future.  Tell all our Air, Land & Sea to report to the flight deck, just their duty uniforms, no equipment.  Load all of them you can into our four transports, and into our two scout planes, and launch them immediately!"
     A startled officer remarked "But they'll need their weapons, ma'am!"
     "There's plenty of weapons there," the commander snapped, "plenty of equipment, and nobody to use it.  They need manpower!  Send our fighters as escort to make sure the transports can land and refuel safely. Then, have them return for more.  Tell the galley crew to finish the meal they're cooking then shut down.  They've just become shore troops.  As soon as the gung ho people are away, start sending them out.  We'll eat cold rations 'til this emergency is over.  Tell the engineering staff to give me their third line crew.  Signal all other ships in the task force to give me their cooks and their third line engineers. We're the only source of restaff these people have.  We'll have to get as many people in to them as we can, and we may have to do it under fire.  But by The Lords these people need help, and we're going to get it to them!  Damn these bastards to hell!  I hope The First Speaker orders full retaliation!  These people have to pay.  Damn!"
     Those in the Task Force quickly gathered all they had.  Carrier capable planes flew out to them and soon an air bridge was going back and forth between the Task Force and the Base.  But back off the island Commander Do suddenly got encouraging news.
"Sir!"  one of his officers screamed, "Telemitry from the Base!  Their censors are up and running!  We're getting far better detail than from the drones.  We can now distinguish the enemy's warships from the merchantmen.  They are ignoring all signals, continuing to come on."
     Do studied the screens carefully.  "We have nothing on the left," he complained.  "Ask the Base if they're capable of covering the center.  We'll cover the right, and do all we can until our ordinance is gone.  Has anything changed with The Patrick Henry?"
     "No, sir!"  Mr. West answered.  "She's still sailing at slow speed in a circle.  The chances are, sir, everybody on her is dead by now."
     A seaman handed West a note.  He scanned it and snapped, "Sir, we may have something on the left!  We've found The Detroit!  She's on the reef, off the west shore.  She seems to be stuck fast, but she's level!  She sent a laser to the drone with a message saying 'Our weapons systems functional!  Are targeting those vessels nearest to us.  We will fire when you do.'"
     "Damn!"  Do snapped.  "They'll be sitting ducks if they can't maneuver, but we need those weapons."
     "Signal from the Base, sir," an officer snapped.  "It says 'Understand your signal.  Agree.  Most of our systems operational but will only be able to fire one volley.  No personnel to reload.  Mark the ships you want us to target.'"
     "Weapons officer," Do snapped, "do so, and give me the frequency the Mozambique ships are broadcasting on."
      "Yes sir!"  the officer snapped.  "You have it, sir," he continued after a moment. "
     "Mozambique ships," Do began, "reverse your course immediately!  You are approaching our territorial limits.  You have proved your hostility.  We will not permit you to approach our colonies.  Reverse your course NOW!"

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