Red Tide, стр. 14

“Roger that,” Shag replied cheerfully. Over.”

Meanwhile the Mammatus continued to hurtle toward the Russian battle group at 52 knots. “I see smoke,” Sterling said. “The bastards are just over the horizon.” Then, to all hands, “Prepare for a surface action. I want the RPGs and the SLMs on deck and ready to fire.”

It was crazy really. A single hydrofoil attacking six enemy ships. But Ryson hoped that Shag and Digger would make a difference. As would the missiles fired by the Alto. Time seemed to slow.

***

Aboard the Russian cruiser Omsk, on the Black Sea

Vice Admiral Viktor Belkin was standing on the cruiser’s bridge trying to reconcile his expectations with reality. His line of defense towers had been penetrated. And, even though the mighty Omsk had been able to destroy most of the incoming missiles, two had been able to penetrate the ship’s anti-air defenses. One hit the stern, punched a hole in the plating, and started a fire below. The other sea-skimming missile slammed into the port missile launchers, where it triggered a secondary explosion. None of which was supposed to happen.

“Two enemy planes in from the west,” a voice said. “They’re a match for Pindo F-16s.”

“One, 2, 3, 4 missiles in from the west,” a second voice said. “Where’s our air cover?”

Elsewhere, Belkin thought morosely. Or dead. He saw a blur and was trying to process it when his world exploded.

***

Aboard the USS Mammatus, in the Black Sea

“Four Harpoons, and four hits,” Shag reported. “The big boy is dead in the water, and burning. Over.”

Ryson felt no sense of joy. Not after the loss of two boats. Just a feeling of relief. He opened his mike. “Roger that, and thank you. I hereby retract all the things I’ve said about the ‘chair force’ in the past. Destroy as many escorts as you can. Hit the largest ones first. And be sure to stand off. There will be incoming from the west. Over.”

“Your apology is accepted,” Shag replied. “Going in. Over.”

Ryson thumbed his mike. “Six to the Alto. You are to engage the cruiser’s escorts. At least one Harpoon each. And be careful. The Mammatus is to the south. Over.”

There was a squawk of static followed by a female voice. “This is Three actual. One each. The Mammatus to the south. Over.”

Ryson could see the enemy by then. Smoke trickled out of the cruiser’s badly mangled superstructure as waves washed across the Omsk’s main deck. Boats and rafts were in the water. A corvette was in close and pulling sailors aboard. Ryson turned to Sterling. “Don’t attack the corvette unless it opens fire.”

No sooner had he spoken than the missiles from the Alto arrived. Some were blown out of the air, two followed decoys into oblivion, and four found targets.

A missile boat disappeared in a flash of light, a destroyer took a hit, and so sadly enough, did the corvette. And, after additional hits from the F-18s, it began to sink.

That left a tug and a patrol boat. Sterling went after them with a vengeance.

The patrol boat tried to fight, but quickly fell victim to Guns and his cannon. The tug had a heavy machine gun mounted in the bow. But the HE rounds from the starboard .50 caliber machine gun, as well as a solid hit from an RPG, destroyed the gun as the Mammatus roared past. A sailor pulled the Russian flag down while another waved his white tee shirt.

“The Omsk sank,” Sterling said.

Ryson turned to look. There wasn’t much to see. Just an oil slick, flotsam, and a flotilla of dead bodies. “Call fleet. Tell them that we sank the Omsk with assistance from two zoomies. And tell them that we neutralized a missile boat, a corvette, and a destroyer. Three enemy vessels remain afloat, but are no longer offering resistance.”

Sterling eyed him quizzically. “That’s all?”

“Yes,” Ryson replied. “And that’s enough.”