temptation to be a smart-ass, and settled for telling the OS how much fuel he had left.
The Flanker was now sixty miles from the battle group and showed no signs of changing course or even acknowledging his escort. Thor could hear Aegis trying to contact the Flanker, requesting intentions and explanations on the unencrypted IAD — International Air Distress frequency.
Suddenly, the Flanker nosed down and headed for the deck. It traded speed for altitude, accelerating past five hundred knots. Thor followed it down, wondering what the hell the other pilot was thinking. The adrenaline that had subsided into a muted throb roared back through his body like a freight train.
The Flanker leveled off five hundred feet above the waves, its shadow racing like a pace car below it.
“Hornet! What the hell’s he doing?” the E-2C RIO demanded. “Aegis is demanding some answers — the contact’s dropped off their screens.”
“Tell them to figure it out for themselves! Their radar horizon can’t be more than forty miles, the altitude he’s at! Still getting video downlink. That ought to narrow the search area.”
“Unnecessary,” the E-2 RIO answered tartly. “Hunter 701 is sitting on top of his playmate, about fifty miles to your west. If you were paying attention, you’d have heard his reports.”
“I’m a little bit busy myself, buddy. This bastard moves a lot faster than some sewer pipe taking up water space.” Come to think of it, he had heard the S-3’s reports, he reflected. He’d been too focused on the Flanker to make the correlation.
Thor glanced at his altimeter, then took the Hornet up another hundred feet and selected an IR heatseeking Sidewinder. If the time came for it, he wanted to be in the best position for a killing shot from behind. The fastest way to eliminate the missile threat from the submarine would be to take out the platform providing targeting data to it. And for that little job, there wasn’t anything better than a Marine and a Hornet.
“Let me see the missile profiles for whatever that Flanker’s likely to be carrying,” Captain Killington demanded. “Are they sea-skimmers?”
“Here, sir,” his TAO said, handing him the tactical handbook. “Left-hand side.”
Killington studied it carefully. “Just because the Hornet didn’t see missiles doesn’t mean the Flanker’s not carrying any. Look at how they misidentified those U.S. helicopters as Hinds. Killed our own people with two war shots.”
“It seems a little different scenario,” his operations officer, now standing watch as the TAO, offered tentatively. The TAO tried to decide whether he’d heard a note of regret in his CO’s voice. “Circling around a helicopter doesn’t give you as good a view as pacing another jet. I don’t think they ever got closer than five miles to those helos. But Hornet was right up on this bogey.”
Killington glared at him. “You’re missing the point. Aircrews make mistakes. They do — everyone knows it! I’m not staking the safety of this ship and crew on what some airdale thinks he saw while playing grab-ass with another jet at five hundred knots. Besides, there’s another possibility, one you haven’t considered.”
“What’s that, sir?” the TAO asked quietly.
“That he’s on a suicide mission — a kamikaze, just like they did in the last war! Ever think of that? Huh?”
“A kami — Sir, that was Japan, I believe. Not China.”
“I know that! Do you think I don’t? Listen, mister, don’t try to smart off at me! There’s a reason they put me out here instead of giving command to a lieutenant commander. The Pentagon knows that a knowledge of history is absolutely essential to effective, aggressive command. That’s why over one-third of the curriculum at the Naval War College is military history — strategy and policy!”
“But, sir-“
“Don’t argue with me! It’ll make you feel like a fool later when I save your ass. Get those birds on the rail. That bastard’s not getting inside this air defense perimeter!”
The TAO glanced around for the XO, wondering if anyone else was listening to the irrational arguments. Of course they were — even with their radio headsets on, the OSs on Aegis had an almost telepathic ability to hear every conversation in CDC. He saw it in their studiously blank faces, their eyes carefully glued to their scopes. It wasn’t the first time that the CO had worried them all.
“Aye, aye, sir,” the TAO said. He spoke quietly into his headset microphone, then looked up. “Birds on the rails, sir.”
“Good. Now let’s hope we have a chance to use them,” the captain said sternly.
The TAO stared at his screen grimly. Captain Killington was known as an aggressive player, but his refusal to acknowledge the possibility — and danger — of a blue-on-blue engagement had been the subject of countless quiet discussions among the more junior officers on the cruiser. Every one of them knew the ship’s history, and few had any desire to repeat the tragic mistake committed by the previous crew in the Persian Gulf.
Captain Killington had done little to make them feel any easier about the possibility. Their CO repeatedly quoted extensive passages from the former CO’s book and steadfastly maintained that the shoot-down had been justified. According to him, there had been fighters tucked under the wings of the airbus, attempting to hide from radar by using the larger aircraft as a shield. Captain Killington believed that shooting down the airbus had prevented serious loss of American life.
Better to be judged by one than carried by six, the TAO thought, pondering the equally unattractive alternatives of facing a court of inquiry or a funeral. If it comes down to it, I’m shooting first and asking questions later. I’d rather be branded with Vincennes’s mistakes and history than the USS Stark’s record. The Stark had exercised restraint — out and out negligence, many claimed — in failing to fire on an inbound aircraft. That decision had cost her lives when she’d taken a missile amidships.
Not on my watch, buddy, the TAO thought, staring at the symbols tracking across the screen.
“Low level’s no trick, buddy,” Thor said out loud. “Just what the hell are you up to?” He watched the Flanker make a minute change in course and tapped the flight controls to follow it.
He glanced at the clock. In another ten minutes, it would all be over anyway. The Flanker would transit the battle group, and then either turn to make another pass or continue on to wherever it was bound. He could follow until the aircraft left the battle group’s airspace, take a quick drink from the tanker, and then head home.
Suddenly, the Hornet’s ALR-67 radar warning receiver buzzer went off. A radar was sweeping him, radiating a fire control signature. He felt a sudden chill.
“Hawkeye, I’m getting — what the hell is going on?” he said on the tactical net. “That’s a damned Aegis radar!”
“Roger, Hornet, we’re getting it. Aegis is locked on to the incoming bogey,” the E-2 replied.
“Oh, shit. Hawkeye, talk to me! They’re not thinking of shooting, are they?” Thor’s hand itched to push the throttles forward of its own accord. To be this close to a bad guy — or even a potential bad guy — with missiles in the air, wasn’t healthy. He fought down the impulse to get the hell out of Dodge. If the Aegis was planning on launching one of its SM-2 anti-air missiles in their direction, Thor had a burning desire to be very gone. The SM-2 was the same missile that Vincennes had used to shoot down an Iranian airbus in 1988, believing that the contact was an Iranian F-14 fighter. If their electronics emanations were any clue, the Vincennes was still confused about who the good guys and who the bad guys were.
The SM-2 was a long-range, high-speed missile, capable of attaining velocities exceeding Mach 2. Its 1,556 pounds of massed destruction carried a high-velocity controlled fragmentation conventional high explosive atop a single-stage dual-thrust Aerojet Mark 56 solid-fuel rocket. It had an inertial navigation system with two-way communications link for midcourse corrections from the Aegis ship, along with monopulse semiactive radar homing and a proximity/contact fusing system. It was the standard missile (SM) used by surface ships against any airborne target, aircraft or missile. A potent, lethal missile, and one that Thor was not interested in trying to outsmart and outmaneuver.
The Flag TAO’s voice came onto the circuit. Thor listened as the Admiral’s staff berated the Aegis cruiser and ordered them to cease targeting the Flanker. The signal blipped off his ESM warning receiver.
The Flanker kicked in its afterburners, and the twin Saturn/Lyulka AL-3 IF turbofans spat bright fire out the
