Sea of Shadows

Firewalker.”

The captain’s eyes traveled over the faces of the men and women of the CIC crew. “Cross your fingers and say a prayer,” he said. “If Firewalker pulls this off, the show’s over, and we’re out of here.”

“Amen to that,” the XO said.

Firewalker Two-Six’s buoy cross-fixes began popping up on the CDRT. Chief McPherson rolled the trackball until her cursor was centered over the first cross-fix symbol and began playing connect-the-dots. The CDRT’s computer gave her a rough course of three-five-seven at an estimated speed of sixteen knots. Gremlin Zero Four was headed north, toward the minefield. Toward Zubayr harbor and safety.

* * *

The TAO watched on the Aegis display screens as Firewalker Two-Six’s green friendly-aircraft symbol vectored across the screen toward the red V-shape of Gremlin Zero Four’s hostile-submarine symbol. He cocked an ear toward the speaker, expecting to hear Firewalker’s attack report at any second.

But the next report came from the Weapons Control Officer. “TAO — Weapons Control. Scratch another Silkworm launcher. Shifting to the next target at this time.”

“Two down,” the TAO said.

“We’re not getting them fast enough,” the captain said. “At this rate, we’re going to run out of SM-3s before they run out of Silkworms.”

The Air Supervisor’s voice came over the net. “TAO — Air. The Bogies are moving!”

“TAO, aye. Are they closing us?”

“Negative, sir,” the Air Supervisor said. “They’ve going after the helo!”

“TAO — EW, the Bogies just lit off their radars! French-built.

Thomson-CSF Cyrano IVM series. That makes our Bogies either Mirage F-1s or Mirage F-50s.”

“There aren’t any F-50s in-theater,” Captain Bowie said. “So our bad guys are F-1s, which means we still can’t shoot them. They might be Siraji, but they might also be from Iran, Jordan, or Kuwait. Mirages aren’t exactly rare in this part of the world.”

The TAO keyed Navy Red. “Firewalker Two-Six, this is Towers.

Watch your back, you’ve got two Bogies inbound from the north, over.”

“Towers, this is Firewalker. Copy inbound Bogies. Keep them off my back for another thirty seconds, until I get off my shot, over.”

“We’ll try, Firewalker,” the TAO said. “But the Bogies have not satisfied Rules of Engagement criteria to be designated as hostile.”

* * *

On the Aegis displays, ten friendly-missile symbols merged with seven flashing red Viper symbols. When the display finished updating itself, the flashing red missile symbols were gone.

The Air Supervisor’s voice came over the net. “TAO — Air. Splash seven! We got them all!”

* * *

The Tactical Action Officer was about to key his mike to acknowledge when another report came in.

“TAO — EW, Bogies just lit up their fire control radars!”

“That’s it!” the captain said. “Batteries released! Take them out!”

The TAO keyed the net. “Weapons Control — TAO, Bogies have been designated as hostile. You have batteries released. Engage and destroy!”

Without waiting for acknowledgment of his order, the TAO shifted to Navy Red. “Firewalker Two-Six, this is Towers. The Bogies are setting you up for an attack! Abort your torpedo launch and get the hell out of there!”

“Just another three seconds,” Firewalker Two-Six’s copilot said over Navy Red. “Here it comes … Weapon away — now, now, NOW!”

* * *

Under the starboard side of the helicopter’s fuselage, solenoid-controlled latches snapped open, releasing Firewalker Two-Six’s torpedo.

The weapon dropped like a rock until its parachute pack deployed a fraction of a second later, slowing the torpedo’s rate of descent and drawing it into a slightly nose-down angle for optimum water insertion.

The copilot keyed his mike. “Towers, this is Firewalker Two- Six. My torpedo is away. I am going evasive to avoid Bogies.”

* * *

“TAO — Air. Bogies are launching. I count two missiles, both targeted on the helo.”

The ship shuddered as two SM-3s blasted out of their missile cells and turned toward the enemy jets.

“Can we intercept their missiles?” the captain asked.

“Not a chance, sir,” the TAO said. “By the time our birds get there, Firewalker will already be toast.”

The little drama played itself out on the Aegis display screen, two hostile-missile symbols merging with the helicopter symbol. Somewhere out in the night sky, twisted metal and burning flesh were falling toward the darkened wave tops. On the screen, Firewalker Two-Six’s symbol changed to a last- known-position marker, and the helicopter and its crew of three were gone.

“TAO — Weapons Control. Our birds have acquired the Bogies.”

Seen from the Aegis display screen, the destruction of the enemy jets was no more dramatic than the loss of the helo had been. Two friendly-missile symbols converged on two hostile-aircraft symbols. Each of the missile symbols touched the symbol for one of the hostile aircraft, and the Bogies were gone. The destruction of two aircraft depicted in the sterile exchange of computer icons. No hint of the fire and violent death that those symbols represented.

“I hope they suffered,” the XO said. “I hope those bastards shit their pants when they saw our missiles coming, and I hope they burned and bled and screamed for Allah — all the way down to the water. And I hope their souls fry in hell!”

Captain Bowie laid his hand on his second-in-command’s shoulder and quietly said, “That’s enough, Pete.” He gave the shoulder a quick squeeze.

“I understand what you’re feeling, but we don’t have time for that.”

As if on cue, the Weapons Control Officer’s voice came over the net.

“TAO — Weapons Control. Silkworm launcher number three is down for the count. Shifting to launcher number four.”

* * *

Out on the forecastle, the 5-inch gun fell silent for a second, swung to cover its new target, and began hammering out another barrage of shells.

* * *

The Sonar Supervisor’s voice came over the tactical net. “USWE — Sonar, we have weapon start-up. It’s Firewalker’s torpedo, sir. Placement looks pretty good.”

A friendly-weapon symbol appeared in blue on the CDRT.

Chief McPherson keyed her mike. “Sonar — USWE. Has the weapon acquired?”

“USWE — Sonar. That’s affirmative. Firewalker’s weapon has just now acquired the target. It’s a tail-chase, Chief. Even odds as to whether it can catch the sub.”

“USWE, aye.”

* * *

U-307:

“Kapitan!” the Sonar Operator shouted. “The American torpedo has acquired us!”

“Calm down!” Groeler snapped. “Estimated range?”

“Close aboard, sir! The signal strength is high. Estimated range — less than fifteen hundred meters.”

“Very well,” Groeler said. He nodded, as though he had been expecting this. The Americans were good — far