“Aegis will take them out as soon as they come into missile range.”
The captain shook his head. “Negative. Prohibit auto-engage on all Bogies.”
“But, sir,” the TAO said, “you said yourself they’re going to shoot us as soon as they get missile-lock.”
“We can’t shoot them,” the captain said. “Not now, anyway. The Rules of Engagement won’t let us. We can’t even technically classify them as hostile.”
“Captain, I don’t understand,” the TAO said. “The Sirajis have already launched two dozen missiles at us. What more do we need?”
“For one thing,” the captain said, “we don’t even know for certain that those planes are Siraji.”
“They’re coming out of Siraji airspace, and they’re flying strike profiles,” the TAO said.
“Not good enough,” the captain said. “We fly planes through Saudi air space all the time, but it doesn’t make our planes Saudi. As much as I hate to say it, under U.S. Rules of Engagement, flying low and fast without radar is not considered a hostile act. As soon as one of them launches or lights off his fire control radar, they all become fair game. Until then, keep an eye on them but concentrate on your Vipers.”
The TAO sighed. “Aye-aye, sir.”
Three hostile-missile symbols disappeared from the Aegis display screens.
“TAO — Air. Splash three more. Two of them got jammed, and the third one got suckered by chaff.”
“TAO, aye. Break. EW — TAO. Nice job. Stay on it.”
The ship gave a rapid sequence of shudders, accompanied by a series of thunderous roars.
“TAO — Weapons Control. Eighteen more birds away, no apparent casualties. Targeted two each on the inbound Vipers.”
“TAO, aye.”
A trio of red octagonal symbols appeared on the tactical display, each of them superimposed over a different part of the Siraji coast. “Captain — Radar Supervisor, I’ve got cross-fixes on three of the enemy missile launchers, sir!”
“Punch them into the link!” the captain said. “Weapons Control, you have batteries released. Engage those missile launchers, now!”
A few seconds later, the ship jerked as the 5-inch deck gun fired for the first time. The report of the big gun was astonishingly loud, even in the insulated confines of CIC. The gun quickly fell into a rhythm, punching out a high-explosive shell every three seconds, with a series of teeth-rattling booms.
The TAO keyed his mike. “Air — TAO. What’s going on with those inbound Bogies?”
“They’ve sheared off, sir, but they’re not bugging out. They’re staying outside of our engagement circle but just barely. I think they’re waiting for their shore-based Silkworm launchers to saturate our defenses. Or they could be hoping we’ll run out of missiles.”
The captain said, “At the rate we’re using up SM-3s, either one could be a good bet. Keep an eye on them, son. They might decide they want a piece of this fight at any second.”
“Aye-aye, sir.”
On the Aegis displays, eighteen friendly-missile symbols merged with the nine flashing red symbols that represented inbound Vipers. For a few seconds, the converging array of symbols made a confusing knot on the screen, and then they began to disappear as the Aegis computers sorted out which missiles had been destroyed and which were still providing valid radar returns. When the display finished updating itself, only two missile symbols remained — both shown in flashing red.
“TAO — Air. Two of the Vipers have gotten past our first salvo of interceptors.” There was another quick series of shudders, followed by the thunder of launching missiles. “Four more birds away, no apparent casualties. Targeted two each on the inbound Vipers.”
“TAO, aye.”
Twenty seconds later, the interceptors merged with the inbound Vipers on the tactical display, and — when the display updated itself — one of the Viper symbols remained, still closing rapidly.
“Shit!” the Weapons Control Officer shouted. “TAO — Weapons Control, one of the Vipers got through. It’s kicked into terminal homing phase, and it’s too close to re-engage with missiles.”
“It’s up to CIWS, now,” the XO said.
As if in answer, the forward Close-In Weapon System locked onto the incoming missile and opened fire. The six-barreled Gatling gun rapped out a burst of 20mm tungsten rounds. Somewhere out in the darkness, a brief flash of exploding fuel announced the destruction of the Viper.
“TAO — Weapons Control. Got the bastard!”
“Good job,” the TAO said. “Break. Air — TAO, what’s the status of our Bogies?”
“They’re just inside our missile range, sir. And still circling.”
“Don’t lose track of them,” the TAO said. “And watch for more Vipers.”
The next missile attack wasn’t long in coming. “TAO — EW, I’ve got five more inbounds! Make that ten; they’re all getting off a second bird!”
“God damn it!” the Radar Supervisor shouted. “I’ve got ’em too!
Confirm, ten inbound Vipers! How many are they going to throw at us?”
“TAO — Weapons Control. I think we’ve got a kill on one of the missile launchers, sir. I’m shifting my fire to the other two cross-fixes. I’m going to need position data on the remaining three sites pretty quick here, sir.”
“I’m working on it, sir!” the Radar Supervisor shouted.
Captain Bowie keyed his mike. “Radar Supervisor, this is the captain. Calm down, son. I need you to keep a clear head right now.”
“Yes, sir! I mean, I’ll try, sir!”
The 5-inch gun continued to hammer out high-explosive rounds every three seconds or so.
Navy Red warbled. “
The XO’s voice was incredulous. “How in the hell do they do that?
How do they always manage to show up just when the shit is hitting the fan?”
The captain keyed Navy Red. “
Take your shot. Try to make it a good one.”
On the Aegis display screen, three of the ten incoming-missile symbols winked out.
“Splash three Vipers,” the Air Supervisor said over the net. “Chalk up two to jamming and one to chaff.”
A quick series of rumbles announced the launch of another salvo of missiles. “TAO — Weapons Control. Ten more birds away, no apparent casualties. Targeted two each on the first three inbound Vipers and one each for the remaining four Vipers.”
The odd report stopped the TAO cold. He keyed his mike. “Weapons Control — TAO, why did we only launch one interceptor on the last four Vipers?”
“We’ve expended more than fifty percent of our SM-3 inventory,” the Weapons Control Officer said. “The computer has throttled us back to a
“Fifty percent?” the TAO said. “We carry ninety-two SM-3 missiles.
How in the hell can we be at fifty percent of our inventory?”
“Fifty percent of ninety-two is forty-six, sir,” the Weapons Control Officer said. “We’ve launched fifty missiles.”
The TAO looked at the captain.
The captain nodded. “Stick with it. The shooting’s not over yet.”
“Well,” said the XO, “at least we know what those Bogies have been waiting for.”
“
The TAO keyed Navy Red. “
