Red Tide, стр. 85

That made Ryson feel slightly better, but not much. “Well done. Get on deck, Lieutenant. And I mean now. We’re taking water.”

Ryson stepped out of the wheelhouse and onto the main deck. Distant thumps were heard. Two of them. “Look!” a sailor yelled, as he pointed east.

Ryson had to squint into the light reflecting off the sea. Something was wrong with the Chinese destroyer. Smoke was billowing up from a fire below deck and the ship had taken on a pronounced list. But why? There weren’t any Allied planes in the sky—and Allied surface vessels were nowhere to be seen.

Then it came to him. The North Dakota! It seemed that the submarine still had a set of torpedo tubes. And a captain who knew how to use them. “Clear the ship!” Ryson yelled. “Get clear!”

An eight-person raft was bobbing two yards away. Chief Bossert waved. “Jump Skipper!”

Ryson remained where he was. “Is everyone accounted for?”

“Yes, sir!” Bossert replied. “We had to leave the dead behind.”

That, unfortunately, was a fact of life. Or death.

Ryson jumped, landed in the water, and surfaced to discover hands reaching for him. Strong arms pulled him up and over the side. And there, sitting no more than a foot away, was Kelsey. Her sister was slumped in the stern.

Ryson pointed a finger at Kelsey. “Throw the bitch overboard.”

Kelsey blanched and tried to pull away. “Sorry, sir,” Bossert replied. “No can do.”

Ryson was about to give the order a second time when the sea started to boil, and a conning tower appeared. “Paddle!” Chief Bossert ordered. “Paddle hard!”

The remaining jet had been circling. Now, upon spotting the sub, it attacked.

***

Aboard the United States submarine SSTN North Dakota in the South China Sea

Orders flew as the submarine North Dakota surfaced. “Missile teams, on deck! Rescue teams, on deck! Prepare to take personnel aboard. Some could be wounded.”

Sailors boiled up out of the conning tower and descended to the deck. The Stinger teams were the first to arrive with launchers loaded. Ford was in charge. “Here they come! Acquire targets! Fire when ready!”

The fighter was already diving on the sub. So there were only seconds in which to aim and fire. The missiles leapt out of their tubes, seemed to pause for a second, and took off trailing spirals of gray smoke behind them. “Reload!” Ford ordered. “Prepare to fire!”

But there was no need. Both Stingers hit the jet. There was a flash of light followed by a resonant boom as the Sukhoi ceased to exist.

Meanwhile the first raft came alongside. It wasn’t easy to bring people up and over the sub’s rounded hull. But ropes were thrown. And except for the wounded, the incoming sailors managed to pull themselves up, shoes slipping as they fought for traction.

Two of Ryson’s crewmembers weren’t in any condition to do that. Fortunately, Chief Bossert was there to expertly rope each casualty, so the sub’s crew could pull the casualties up and carry them below.

As the second raft arrived, a missile fell on what remained of the missile boat. Chinese warships were arriving from the west with orders to finish the Camo Queen off. There was a thump, followed by a muted boom, and the Type 22 was gone.

Strangely, Ryson felt badly about that. The Camo Queen had been his boat. For a while anyway, and he’d been fond of her.

The surviving members of Ryson’s crew were below deck by that time, and the sub was beginning to submerge. The Dakota was designed to carry up to sixty special forces personnel. That meant there was plenty of space for the survivors.

Ryson was sitting on the edge of a bunk, wrapped in a blanket, and staring at the deck under his bare feet. The mission had been a lie, precious lives had been lost, and the Sea Dragon continued to prowl the seas. It was the worst moment of his life. Depression pulled him down.

***

The mood in the Dakota’s control room was different. “The destroyer is on her side,” Hardy said exultantly. “She’ll sink soon.”

“Wonderful,” Bonner said. “Did you take pictures?”

“Of course,” his XO replied. “Why?”

“Because no one will believe us if you didn’t.” Bonner answered.

Hardy laughed. “The fast attack submarine, Gas Can. We rock.”

***

Aboard the semi-submersible cruiser Sea Dragon, off Sumatra

Captain Ko eyed the most recent weather report. A storm was brewing. And a good thing too, since it would be critical to a successful attack on Bangkok, Thailand’s capitol.

The mission came as a surprise to Ko because the PRC had been friendly with Thailand since 1975, and been regarded as a regional ally until the month before.

The country was governed by a military junta, a prime minister and, to a lesser extent, a king. All of which worked well from a Chinese perspective. But when Rama X died unexpectedly, and his son Rama XI inherited the throne, everything changed.

The young King Yingluck Chulaloke had been educated in the west, was demonstrably empathetic to his subjects, and therefore popular. So popular, that the majority of Thai citizens supported Chulaloke’s decision to join the Alliance, despite the dangers that posed.

It was a bet really, a bet that the Allies would win the war, thereby placing Thailand on the right side of history. And a gamble that China wouldn’t invade.

Much to everyone’s surprise the ruling junta backed Chulaloke’s plan. After all, they reasoned, if China sent troops to Thailand—they’d have to pass through either Myanmar or Laos. And if the invasion went poorly the Allies might attack China from the south.

But President Lau wasn’t about to sit still for that sort of thing, and summoned Vice Admiral Chao who, as the architect of the attack on Okinawa, was something of a favorite.

After explaining the strategic situation, Lau made his pitch. “Since a land invasion might fail, what about an attack from the sea? The sort of attack that would turn the populace against Chulaloke and, if properly planned, might even result in his