depleted-uranium shells at the incredible rate of three thousand rounds
per minute. With a maximum effective range of only 1,500 yards, CIWS,
called “sea-whiz” by the men it protected, was definitely a last-ditch
defense against any attackers that managed to penetrate to what counted
for knife-fighting range in modern warfare.
The count of incoming missiles was still dwindling fast, but at the
ten-mile mark, the beginning of Jefferson’s inner defense zone,
twenty-three remained in the air, still boring in on their target with
deadly, single-minded purpose. With Jefferson’s own radar shut off, the
cruise missile threat would be scattered across a wide area, and many
must be tracking the Shiloh. All such missiles, however, could be
programmed to reach a given area through inertial guidance alone, and
then begin searching with their own on-board radars for the largest
target they could find.
A few of them were bound to spot the Jefferson.
Meanwhile, one of Jefferson’s escorts, the guided-missile frigate
Dickinson, had been providing close fire support from a position nearly
half a mile astern of the carrier and to starboard. Now, however, as
the enemy cruise missiles closed from starboard, Dickinson’s skipper had
ordered his ship to full speed ahead, racing up alongside the Jefferson
in an attempt to block the incoming missiles.
0745 hours
Combat Information Center
U.S.S. Thomas Jefferson
Fire Control Technician Third Class Frank Pellet was scared to death.
It wasn’t the battle. The drift of colored lights, the remote buzz of
voices from the speakers, the chirp and warble of various consoles of
data-linked electronics did not feel like what he had imagined combat to
be.
He knew there were cruise missiles out there, inbound, but that
information seemed curiously second-hand, remote, even unimportant.
No, Pellet was scared because of what had happened last night.
The fact that FCT3 Pellet was homosexual had nothing to do with his
skills as a sailor. He’d been in the Navy for almost three years now,
had learned his job well, and had consistently pulled in marks of 3.6,
3.8, and even 4.0 on his quarterly fitness reports.
He was under a hell of a lot of stress, though. The official ban
against gays in the military had been lifted a good many years ago, but
Pellet and tens of thousands of others like him continued to keep their
sexual preferences hidden, or tried to, especially aboard ship. The
Jeff wasn’t bad as Navy ships went–not like the Belleau Wood or a few
others he’d heard about–but in any assembly of thousands of people
there were always a few who detested gays no matter what the brass or
the Navy Department or the White House itself had to say.
He’d done his best to keep his secret. He’d approached none of his
shipmates, never made a pass, kept his eyes to himself in the showers,
and generally tried to maintain a low profile.
Of course, that meant he also hadn’t made many friends. When the
Jefferson had been laid up in Norfolk, he’d quartered aboard but gone
ashore three nights out of four. Usually, he hadn’t gone with his
shipmates, though, because they’d often ended their drinking binges with
a visit to one or another of Norfolk’s whorehouses, and he found the
very idea of doing that with some girl, well, disgusting. One memorable
night, he’d been practically shanghaied into going with some of the
other weapons techs and gunner’s mates.
Unable to get out of it, he’d ended up paying the woman to let him sit
with her in the room and just … talk. He’d told her everything and
she’d been understanding and really nice about it. Afterward, she’d
even endorsed his sexual prowess in front of the guys, telling them what
a stud he was and how he’d done her until she could hardly walk.
That incident should have made things safer for him, but despite what
she’d said, the story that he was gay had been spreading through the
carrier like wildfire. Some straight, he was pretty sure, must have
followed him one night when he’d donned his civies, taken liberty, and
headed into town and the Pink Slipper. That was a notorious gay bar,
and his secret would sure as hell be out if he’d been seen going in