The pilot keyed the mike of his inter-phone and shouted, “Goddamn it, Perkins! Snap out of it! We don’t have time for this shit!”
The Sensor Operator jerked as though he’d been slapped. “What? What? I’m sorry, what did you say, sir?”
“Did you get a fix on the spot where those Vipers left the water?”
The Sensor Operator scanned his console. “Um, I think so. Ah … yes, sir. I’ve got a fix.”
“Good,” the pilot said. “Shoot me a fly-to point.”
The SENSO nodded. “Yes, sir.” He used his trackball to roll a cursor to the screen coordinates that corresponded to the point where the missiles had popped up on radar. He punched a button. “Fly-to point coming up now, sir.”
“Got it,” the pilot snapped. He tweaked the cyclic and the collective, swinging the helo around until his instruments showed that they were pointing toward the appropriate spot in the ocean. “Start your weapons check- off list,” he said. “Cut corners if you have to, but get that weapon ready now! The longer we wait, the farther that sub’s going to be from the spot where he launched those missiles. We’re only going to make one pass. We’re going to make it low, and we’re going to shove a torpedo up that bastard’s ass.”
“Yes, sir!”
The copilot keyed the radio. “SAU Commander, this is
The pilot looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Who’re you talking to?”
“SAU Commander.”
The pilot jerked his head in the direction of what was left of USS
“Who’s the next most senior captain?” the copilot asked. “He’s the next in the chain of command, so he’s the SAU Commander now.”
“Fuck the chain of command,” the pilot snarled. “Our people are dead or dying down there. We’ve got maybe sixty seconds to kill the bastards that did it. After that, they’ll be outside the search envelope of our torpedo.”
“Weapon is ready, sir,” said the Sensor Operator. “Standing by to launch on your order.”
A voice came over the radio. “All units, this is the commanding officer of USS
The pilot pitched his aircraft into a shallow dive. “Weapon away on my mark”
“Aye-aye, sir.”
The ocean rushed up toward them. “Here we go,” the pilot said.
“Launch — now, now, NOW!”
The Sensor Operator jabbed a button. The airframe of the helo jerked as it was suddenly relieved of its five- hundred — pound burden. “Weapon away, sir!”
The pilot pulled back on the stick. “Eat that!”
“Oh shit!” the Sensor Operator shouted. He began pointing frantically out the window at a bright flare of light down on the water. “Missile emergence! We’ve got a missile coming out of the water, bearing three-three- zero!”
“Chaff!” the pilot screamed as he threw the helo into a wild side-slip.
“I need chaff right fucking …”
He never finished the sentence. The sub-SAM came through the port side of the aircraft, just forward of the sonobuoy launchers. The detonating warhead flash-fried the air crew, even as it blasted the fuselage of the helicopter into burning bits of wreckage.
“TAO — Air Supervisor.
“TAO — Bridge. Lookouts are reporting a fireball on
Captain Bowie slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. “Damn it! What the hell were they doing below two thousand feet? They had specific orders to stay high enough so the subs couldn’t hear their rotors.
If they had followed their orders, they’d still be alive.”
The TAO looked up at the Aegis display. “All right, guys. We need a break here …”
As if in answer, the Sonar Supervisor’s voice came over the net.
“USWE — Sonar, we have weapon start-up. It’s a Mark-54. Looks like
Chief McPherson nudged Ensign Cooper’s elbow. “Ask them if it’s acquired, sir.”
The ensign nodded. “Sonar — USWE. Has the helo’s weapon acquired?”
“USWE — Sonar. Affirmative, sir. Sounds like it locked on right after it started up. They must have dropped it right on top of the target.”
Ensign Cooper gritted his teeth and held up his fingers to show that they were crossed.
The Sonar Supervisor’s next report came over less than a minute later.
“USWE — Sonar. We have a loud underwater explosion, bearing two-eight-two. Sounds like secondary explosions on the same bearing. I think
“USWE, aye,” Ensign Cooper said. “I hope you’re right, but we don’t have any confirmation yet. But even if you are right, there are still three hostile submarines out there somewhere. This engagement may not be over, so stay sharp!”
“Sonar, aye!”
But the engagement was over. The ships continued searching, even while they were rendering assistance to the stricken
CHAPTER 35
Commander Moody stood at the foot of the admiral’s desk with a yellow folder in one hand and a green folder in the other.
Admiral Rogers looked up at the clock. “What do you suppose would happen if we actually knocked off before midnight some night?”
Commander Moody’s eyebrows went up. “One of us would turn into a pumpkin, sir.”
“Which one?”
“I don’t know, sir. I’d have to check the duty roster. But I think it’s your turn.”
“Figures,” the admiral said. He sighed. “What have you got for me, Troy?”
Moody opened the yellow folder and flipped through several pages, scanning rapidly. “The latest SITREP from USS
