Cunningham looked at Admiral Vaughn. His eyes were bleak, but steady.
Vaughn nodded, and the ship’s captain turned back to the TO. “Fire!”
ARMAGEDDON MODE
253
A closed-circuit television monitor displayed a view of Vicksburg’s forward deck. Between the bridge tower and the number-one five-inch turret, the twin arms of the ship’s forward Mark 26 Mod 1 missile launcher slewed about and elevated, until the twin darts of the Standard missiles slung from its launch rails were pointed straight up.
At Cunningham’s command, there was a burst of smoke and flame that engulfed the launcher and washed across the forward deck, blotting out the TV image. When the smoke cleared, the missile was gone, arrowing vertically into the sky. Almost immediately, the second Standard missile flashed skyward after its brother.
On the deck, the launcher swiveled again, realigning itself. Two hatches slid open automatically, one beneath each launch rail. Out of the deck, another pair of Standard SM-2(MR) missiles slid up the rails, reloading the empty launcher.
Seconds later these missiles followed the first two, shrieking into the wet morning air. Spray lashed across Vicksburg’s bow as the VLS reloaded once again.
Vicksburg’s weapon systems were so highly automated that it was theoretically possible for a single well-trained man to handle die ship in combat. Forward, she carried twenty-nine Standard SM-2(MR)s. Aft were sixty-one more, each with a range of thirty-five miles at Mach 2. When combined with her two Mark 15 Phalanx CIWS mounts, one port, one starboard— Vicksburg’s weaponry made her arguably the deadliest AAW vessel afloat, as well as one of the most complex.
As Vaughn watched the Indian aircraft approach the heart of the battle group, he wondered which would count for more in the coming fight, deadliness … or the complexity that more than once in the past had lead to errors, and disaster.
CHAPTER 24
0852 hours, 26 March SN Harrier 101
Tahliani had been able to round up only five other Sea Harriers out of his flight. The others, evidently, had scattered or fled when two of their number had been downed by American Phoenix missiles earlier.
He checked his fuel gauge and winced. It would be a near filing making it back to Viraat now. His earlier maneuvers had spent far too much fuel.
Risking discovery, he brought the Harrier’s nose up and climbed. At ten thousand feet his radar display showed his target, now less than eighty kilometers away but still well over the horizon from the Harrier formation that continued to bug the surface below. He did not chance using his own radar but remained in passive mode, recording the radar emissions of the target rather than sending out signals of his own.
The target plotted, he dropped to wave-top height once more. Carefully, they stalked their enemy, staying unseen below the horizon.
The American E-2Cs were the greatest danger, but those
watched northward now, toward the heart of the vast, churning
dogfight sprawling from Kathiawar to the fringes of the
-, American fleet. The Harriers still had a chance to strike without
being detected.
Tahliani had led his formation far to the south, circling past the Jefferson’s last-known position. At such a low altitude, and with nothing like the American Hawkeye to coordinate the battle, they had to rely on guesswdrk to find their prey.
255
256
KtiUi Doughs*
“Target ahead,” he said, breaking radio silence now for the first time since he’d decided to make this strike. “Range seventy-nine kilometers. Arm missiles!”
One by one the others reported their Sea Eagle ship-kilters armed and ready for launch. The Sea Eagle had a range of one hundred kilometers. By narrowing that distance, they would shorten the enemy’s reaction time once the missile had locked on.
If they got much closer, though, the enemy ship’s radar would be certain to see them, if they hadn’t been spotted already by the circling Hawkeyes.
“Blue King Leader to Blue King,” Tahliani said. “Launch! Launch!”
His Sea Harrier leapt into the sky as the Sea Eagle dropped free and fired. He could see the reflection of the exhaust on the sea, a dazzling flare of orange and gold. One by one, the other Harriers dropped their deadly packages. In seconds, eleven missile contrails were speeding across the water toward their distant target.