CARRIER 5: MAELSTROM By Keith Douglass

Marshal Timoshenko was halfway into a turn to port when the HARM plunged

from the clouds, cleaving through the air with a whistling shriek, and

exploded inside the antenna’s focus. The main radar dish was completely

destroyed. Fragments sprayed across the deck, killing or wounding several

crewmen, and showered into the water on either side of the cruiser. Shrapnel

ripped like a shotgun blast through the Head Lights array mounted atop the

bridge forward of the Top Sail, temporarily, at least, putting it out of

action. With both air-search and missile-fire control down, the Timoshenko

was blind. It had other radars still active, but specialized for navigation

or as fire control for 57-mm guns.

Captain First Rank Petr Shelepin immediately ordered the Timoshenko to

come right, to the northwest. For a critical few minutes, until the Yumashev

could get into position, the Soyuz was naked to the American attack.

0620 hours Zulu (0720 hours Zone)

Viking 700

Over the Norwegian Sea

Hunter could see the carrier now, a gray cliff looming above the horizon,

it seemed, a mountain of metal now less than ten miles distant.

“Say, Hunter,” his B/N said. “Time to boogie-”

“I think you’re right, Spock,” he said, his voice touched with awe. How

had they gotten so close?

“Threat warning.”

“Fire chaff! We’re out of here!” He brought the stick over, turning

sharply. He saw the carrier slide to starboard. Beyond, he could see the

towering pyramid of a capital ship’s superstructure.

The missile slammed into the Viking’s right wing. Plexiglass shattered

and a shrieking wind filled the cockpit. He felt his control going, but they

were low, low …

“Eject! Eject!” he yelled. Spock sat beside him, head down. Was he-

He yanked the ejection handle and the canopy dissolved in smoke and flame. It

seemed to take forever for the rockets beneath his seat to fire. When they

did, it was with a savage jolt. Then he was weightless, falling through

absolute silence.

His chute deployed with a savage yank to his harness. Spock! Where was

Spock? He looked around, twisting beneath the parachute shrouds, but he could

not see his B/N. He saw the tail of the S-3, though, several hundred yards

away, already sticking straight up out of the water and going down.

Hunter did not have time to watch. His boots hit the water with another

jarring shock. Training took over, survival school and countless hours spent

in classrooms and in swimming pools, learning how to land in water and get

free of the parachute before it dragged you under. He grasped the beaded

loops at the waist of his life jacket, yanking them out and down. With a

hiss, the jacket inflated, the stiff collar chaffing at his neck. Clumsily,

he fumbled under water for the Koch fittings that secured the parachute

shrouds to his harness. His mask filled with water and he pulled it free,

gulping down great gasps of clean, cold air.

He was numb with shock. It took him several more moments to realize what

had happened. He’d been shot down … he’d ejected … he was alive.

Alive and adrift in the middle of the Soviet task force.

At least no one was shooting at him now. His life raft, attached to his

ejection seat when he’d punched out, had inflated automatically and was

drifting nearby, moored to him by a line. Grimly, hand over hand, he began to

pull himself toward it.

0619 hours Zulu (0719 hours Zone)

Tomcat 200, “Viper One”

Over the Norwegian Sea

Coyote had stuck with the Intruders most of the way to the target. As

the range dropped to twelve miles, the four Intruders of Dealer Flight had

split up, taking widely spaced attack positions to further confuse the already

hard-pressed Soviet air-search and fire-control radar networks.

Now, he and Trapper had taken position wing-and-wing behind Dealer

Leader, Intruder 502, behind and above the Intruder as it began its attack

run.

“Uh-oh,” Teejay called over the ICS. “Bad news, Boss. We’ve got some

mean-lookin’ dudes coming in on our five, and they look pissed!”

Damn. The Soviet MiGs and Sukhois must have broken past Batman’s TACCAP

defense. “Okay. Whatcha got?”

“I make it two bogies at two-zero-five, coming in at Mach one-point-five.

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