CARRIER 3: ARMAGEDDON MODE

And now, like raptor birds circling above their prey, the Russian MiGs were stooping on the Sea Harriers from above.

The American carrier was less than sixty kilometers away . . . close enough! Admiral Ramesh might have vowed vengeance against the American and Russian forces . . . but Ae fight was over. Over! India had thrown everything she could muster at the invaders off her shores, and the result had only served to weaken her in the fight against the reed enemy, Pakistan.

“Blue King Leader to Blue King,” he radioed. “All aircraft . . . lock on primary target and launch missiles!”

311

312

Kettrt Dougtess

He had already let his payload “see” the target and store it in its mindless memory. His thumb came down on the firing trigger.

“Blue King Leader! Launch! Launch! Enemy missiles . . .”

He saw the telltale blips of enemy missiles sprinkled across his own VDI. There wasn’t much time left now.

He pressed the trigger and felt his Sea Harrier leap as the pair of Sea Eagle missiles dropped away, one following the other.

Within seconds, a spread of twenty missiles were racing toward the Jefferson, now thirty-six miles away.

1241 touts, 26 March

Soviet Fulcrum 515, Over the Arabian Sea

‘ ‘They have launched antiship cruise missiles,” Kurasov said. “Lavrov! Call the Americans. Warn them.

“Da, Captain.”

He was already plunging through the sky toward the sea, adding power to his paired Tumansky R-33D turbofans as he brought his nose up, following the Indian missiles. The electronics of his cockpit suite were as sophisticated as any in the West. Course, range, and elevation flashed onto his HUD in precisely lettered Cyrillic characters. He locked on. . . .

Captain Kurasov carried six AA-lOs slung beneath his wings. Code-named Alamo by NATO, the AA-10 had been designed for use widi die MiG-29 but had not been part of the various arms packages sold to India. Kurasov’s ordnance load consisted of all radar-seekers, with look-down/shoot-down lock-on capability that let him target the speeding Indian missile.

In his headset he heard the warble of target acquisition.

“Strelyat!” he yelled, calling to no one in particular. “Fire!”

His thumb closed on the firing switch, and an AA-10 speared from beneath his wing. He shifted his aim, locking onto a second missile.

“Strelyat!”

ARMAGEDDON MODE

313

1242 hours, 26 March

CC, U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson

“We have missiles inbound, Captain,” Commander Barnes announced. “The Hawkeyes have a good plot … at least twenty missiles, range thirty miles. Our Russian friends just alerted us.”

Captain Fitzgerald nodded. “What do we have that can reach them?”

“Kearny is in a good position, sir. So’s the Winslow. They’ll take out some along the way with Standard missiles. We can begin launching Sea Sparrow in another . . .” He checked his watch. “About two minutes, sir.”

“Very well. Defenses on automatic.”

“Aye, sir.”

Fitzgerald watched the battle board, the pattern of blips closing on Jefferson’s position. Strange … but he’d never gotten used to fighting a battle this way. In the cockpit of an F-4 Phantom, with SAMs lighting up the sky and MiGs turning and burning all around, yes … but this sterile, button-pushing war of nerve and waiting . . .

1242 hews, 26 March

The Kearny was an Arleigh Burke-class guided missile destroyer (DDG). One of the newest ships in the U.S. inventory, she was equipped with the SPY-1 radar and was intended to supplement the Ticonderoga-class Aegis cruisers. Her primary weapons were two sets of Mark 41 Vertical Launch Systems set into her forward and after decks, loaded with Standard SM-2(MR) SAMs and Tomahawk cruise missiles.

Her SPY-1 had been tracking the missile flight for several minutes already, their course and speed fed into the ship’s CIC computers.

Missiles broke from Kearny’ & deck, fore and aft, in clouds of white smoke, and a shower of plastic shavings blasted from the protective covers of the Mark 41s. Guided by the Aegis

314

computer system on board, the Standard SAMs accelerated into the sky, locked onto their targets, and descended.

1243 hours, 26 March Russian Fulcrum 515

The last of his AA-lOs left the launch rail on a trail of flame. “Strelyat!” He’d winnowed twenty cruise missiles down to sixteen and perhaps given the Jefferson a fighting chance.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *