what follows.”
It took only thirty seconds for the American officer to explain the situation to the helo pilots, and after the first ten seconds, they were already turning and heading for the SAR location. When it became apparent they had located the men, Captain Chang broke one off to join his Sea Sprite and head north. There was plenty of fuel on board, and he had one last piece of business to take care of before he dealt with his own conscience.
The submarine.
The voice of Chang’s senior enlisted man came over the speaker, firm and competent. “I have an initial detection on the diesel submarine, sir. Her range is eight thousand yards, bearing zero one zero.”
Dead ahead. Captain Chang stepped over to the bitch box. “Hard right rudder — Combat, I want a recommended intercept course
The sailors on deck sprang into action at the announcement. Chang gazed at the water ahead of the replenishment ship with malice in his eyes. So a submarine was trying to take out the replenishment ship, was she? This far from friendly ports, that would do far more damage to the American battle group than attacking any other ship.
Well, that was not going to have to happen. Not if
Captain Chang Tso-Lin picked up the mike to call the carrier. This was one conversation that he intended to have directly with the admiral.
Coyote had just sat down to supper when the buzzer next to his seat sounded. He picked up the handset and said, “Admiral.” He listened for a moment, then shoved himself back from the table, reaching out to grab a sandwich as he did so. “You’ll excuse me, gentlemen. That was my TAO. That little Taiwanese frigate is about to kick some serious ass and I want to be there to see it.”
In TFCC, Coyote hovered over the TAO’s shoulder as he watched the action unfold. The American liaison officer onboard the frigate was reading off the datum, his voice excited. A few words were spoken in firm Mandarin, and he paused for a moment, then continued. “Captain Chang Tso-Lin wishes me to convey his utmost respect, Admiral, and we’d be pleased to eliminate this submarine from the ocean if that comports with your desires. He also told me,” the officer continued, his voice slightly embarrassed, “to calm down and not look so excited. He said it is not appropriate.”
“I agree,” the admiral said gravely. “Please tell the captain that I appreciate his courtesy in correcting one of my officers, and I regret any inconvenience or embarrassment it may cause.”
“Admiral?” Now the officer sounded uncertain.
“Tell him what I said.” The admiral’s voice was low and courteous. He listened as the officer translated his remarks. Finally, he heard the line go quiet for a moment, then click back on as a new voice came on.
“It is my honor, Admiral,” a heavily accented voice said carefully. “I shall take the submarine, yes?”
“Yes. Please to send two — we do this quickly, yes?”
“Yes. Quickly.” The admiral paused for moment, uncertain as to how to continue, then took the plunge. “Captain, if there have been any misunderstandings, I deeply apologize for them. You should know your ship and your command have my utmost confidence, and we consider it an honor to serve with such a ship, officers, and crew.”
This time there was a longer conversation, and then the American officer came back on with a horrified note in his voice. “Admiral, the captain has given me permission to add my own remarks as necessary to clarify for his esteemed American colleagues. He says that he believes that there have been some misunderstandings, but perhaps they were not necessary. And sir, I think I can clear up a lot of this in just a few minutes here — the captain has asked me to explain to him the difference between a gook and a geek.”
The watch officer sitting in front of Coyote slapped his forehead. “Oh, man — that was it, wasn’t it?” He turned to Bird Dog. “Remember that day — two days ago. Ho Kung-Sun was standing behind us and you were shouting for the geeks. He must have thought you said—”
“Shit,” Bird Dog said softly. “Don’t repeat it now… come on, please.”
Coyote turned to Lab Rat. “Find Major Ho Kung-Sun. Take Lee with you. Explain it to him. Dammit, man, move!”
TWENTY-FOUR
Norfolk stared at the screen, swearing quietly. He turned to his TAO. “Dammit, get on the horn to the E-2— they have to keep those fighters out of my airspace. Right now, it’s so clobbered I can’t risk taking a shot.”
The TAO relayed the captain’s orders to the Hawkeye, then listened as the response came. The fighters were all too closely engaged for the E-2 to risk breaking any of them off. Consequently, the Hawkeye was recommending truncating the missile engagement envelope along that bearing.
“
Coyote’s voice came booming back. “You got it, Skipper. Stand by — I’ll give the order in fifteen seconds.” He switched immediately to an airwing call-up. “All flights, this is Coyote. On my mark, disengage, and buster for angels three one. Get as high as you can, boys and girls, and we’ll let the Aegis make your job a little bit easier for you.”
The pilot heard the call, but couldn’t spare any attention to count down the seconds. He turned it over to his RIO as he fought desperately to keep out of the clutches of the MiG on his ass. With his wingman gone, it was becoming increasingly difficult, as the smaller aircraft cut them off with every maneuver. The rest of his flight was engaged with their own bogeys, and the HUD display showed that a second wave was just taking off from the mainland.
“Ten seconds,” his RIO shouted, his voice audible in the cockpit even without the ICS. “Bruce, pay attention — you can’t screw this up.”
But the pilot had just cut hard to the left, hoping to drop back in behind the MiG for a killing shot, when the nimble MiG flipped wing over wing, circled above him, and dropped back in behind him. The pilot cut hard right, saw that bought him a few seconds, then dropped his speed breaks down to peel off airspeed like a ripe banana.
“Five seconds!” the RIO said. “Come on, you can do it.”
The pilot hoped to hell he could. If he couldn’t get out of the way, there was every chance that one of the Aegis missiles would decide that his massive metal airframe was just as good a target as a Chinese Craft. But to break off now and simply head for altitude, even though he could do it more quickly than the MiG, would be to expose his warm and tasty tailpipes to Chinese heat seeker missiles. It would be over quickly, too quickly, and he wouldn’t have to wait for the Aegis missiles to pepper this guy with deadly expanding-rod antiair missiles.
There was a chance, just one chance — they could keep this game up forever until one of them got lucky or the other ran out of gas. But the Aegis plan had just put limitations on that as well.
The words of his military science instructor from ROTC came back to him: “Consider the terrain, the fatal
