Red Tide, стр. 91
Ryson thumbed a mike. “This is Six. All PHMs will prepare to fire all missiles on the count of 3. One, 2, 3, fire!” Ryson felt a series of jolts as Moy’s crew fired every Harpoon the Arcus had. The other hydrofoils did likewise. Death flew through the air.
***
Aboard the Chinese semisubmersible cruiser Sea Dragon, in the Mischief Reef lagoon
Ko could see the incoming blips. All he could do was grit his teeth, because the ships which launched the missiles were still too far away to strike back at.
There was another problem too. Or could be. And that was the way the ship was listing to port. Would that have a negative effect on the Sea Dragon’s anti-air missiles? Causing them to miss their targets?
Not according to the man in charge of the ship’s missiles. “Ships roll,” Lieutenant Commander Yoo pointed out. “And our missiles were designed to compensate for that.”
Once the incoming Harpoons were sufficiently close, the anti-air weapons raced off to intercept them. That wasn’t all. The Mischief Reef base had SAM launchers of its own. And those missiles joined the fray.
One by one the Harpoons were intercepted and destroyed. But the sheer number of them was more than the Mischief Reef’s combined defenses could handle. And three of the forty-eight weapons made it through.
One scored a direct hit on the airstrip’s radome, destroying the antenna inside, and blinded the base. Another struck a SAM site where it caused a series of explosions. The third nailed the Sea Dragon.
Conning Tower 2 was badly mangled. In fact, the access hatch was open to the sky, and couldn’t be closed. But, because the opening was well above the waterline, it wouldn’t matter unless it rained. And at that point a mop and a bucket would be enough to handle the problem. Conning Tower 1 was untouched.
That was bad. But Chief Engineer Hong’s patch was in place and the tide was rising. My turn is coming, Ko thought. And the Yemen ren will be sorry.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Aboard the USS Arcus, northbound in the South China Sea
Each PHM, and each Armindale, had two Stinger teams—which meant the squadron could fire eighteen missiles at once. Then, as the anti-air teams hurried to reload, the fire would become more sporadic. So Ryson wanted to make the most of the initial broadside.
“This is Six,” Ryson said. “Odds are that the enemy planes will attack one at a time. Let’s give their flight leader a warm welcome. Lock onto the bastard, and ignore the rest of the bastards for the moment. And when I say, ‘Fire,’ let him have it. Maybe we can kill their leader. Over.”
The Chinese attacked exactly the way Ryson anticipated they would—in a line, like beads on a string. He made the call as missiles flared from the lead plane’s wings. “Fire!”
Stingers spiraled up into the sky, all searching for heat. The first Chengdu J-20 fighter fired chaff and three Stingers fell for it. Each exploded in turn.
But as those missiles were transformed into gray puffs of smoke, the rest of the Stingers zeroed in. And the combined explosions turned the J-20 into confetti. Now the assistant flight leader was in charge. And, Ryson assumed, was scared shitless.
All the boats were firing chaff. White wakes twisted, turned and crossed each other as the boats took evasive action. “Call your targets,” Ryson ordered. “Coordinate your fire. Over.”
That was when two Chinese missiles hit the Contrail, exploded, and caused the boat to slew around. Lieutenant Dan Torres and his bridge crew were killed instantly. Then the 30mm ammo bin blew, destroying what remained of the hydrofoil.
There was a steady stream of chatter from the Stinger teams. “Targeting the plane to the south. Firing.”
“Bandit in from the north. Tracking, tracking, tracking … Firing!”
A fireball marked the spot where the Chengdu had been. Two down, Ryson thought, two to go.
“Target to the west,” a sailor said. “Let’s gangbang him. Prepare to fire.”
That was followed by a chorus of “Rogers.” Then came the order to fire, not from an officer, but the E4 who had taken charge. Explosions bracketed the plane. A wing sheared off. And, like a seed pod falling from a maple tree, the remains of the enemy plane twirled into the ocean. “Nice job,” Ryson said. “Keep it up. Over.”
One plane remained. And the boats were running out of Stingers. But that, as it turned out, didn’t matter. The remaining pilot loosed all his remaining missiles and rockets on Kalbarri, failed to score a hit, and performed a gun run on an empty patch of water. Then he turned, and flew north.
Ryson could imagine what the pilot would tell the people at his base. “They had missiles, lots of them, and the other guys went down! I destroyed one of their ships though … But, after I ran out of ordinance, I was forced to return.”
The fact that the survivor’s racks were empty would serve to support the lies. A medal would follow. But Ryson didn’t care. He was all for it. The way was open now … And the Sea Dragon was waiting.
***
Aboard the Chinese semisubmersible cruiser Sea Dragon, in the Mischief Reef lagoon
Captain Ko was in Operations 1. The Sea Dragon was afloat, but just barely, as the tide continued to rise. Ko was determined to destroy the Allied boats before they could inflict further damage on his ship. They were well within range by that time. And the remaining ship-to-ship missiles were ready. “Prepare to fire,” Ko ordered. “Fire!”
Every ship-to-ship missile the cruiser had shot into the air. All forty-eight of them. They arced to the south, spent a minute in flight, and fell like thunderbolts.
***
A Chinese missile went straight for a decoy fired