TAO until further notice. Got that?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
“Very well. Now get that ship back in position. We believe you have
about five minutes, at the most, until you start picking up inbound long-range
cruise missiles. I’m counting on Vincennes to stop them. Any questions?”
“Uh, no. Admiral, the captain-” the TAO paused, and Tombstone heard
screaming in the background noise “-Captain Killington, I mean, is demanding
to speak to you.”
“Let him listen, then. Captain Killington, you are to station yourself
in your helo hangar until I give the orders for your helo to transport you to
Jefferson. Under no circumstances are you to remain in CIC, nor are you to
give any orders on any subject to any member of your crew. TAO, you will call
the ship’s security force to CIC, and have Captain Killington removed. You
understand?”
“Admiral,” a new voice broke in, “this is the Executive Officer. I’ve
heard your orders, and we will follow them. And my apologies,” he said, his
voice suddenly hitched up a few notes, “but the rest of this will need to
wait. I’m about to be real busy.” Abruptly, the circuit went dead.
“I guess you are,” Tombstone said quietly, and handed the handset back to
his own TAO. Plastered on the tactical screen, in single-file formation, were
ten LINK tracks with missile symbols imposed over the radar, just leaving the
coast of China and heading south. “Now let’s see if the Aegis is all it’s
cracked up to be.”
1850 local (Zulu -7)
Pri-Fly
USS Jefferson
“Get that bastard off the cat!” the Air Boss screamed. The Hornet five
decks below him waggled its control surfaces forlornly as the pilot cycled the
stick again. One aileron refused to move. “We don’t have time to
troubleshoot on the cat. Move, people, move!”
The Hornet backed down from the catapult, pivoted, and then taxied aft of
the island. Green-shirted avionics technicians swarmed over it as it rolled
to a stop, popping panels off of it to find the cause of the stuck aileron.
Another Hornet rolled smartly up to the catapult. Within moments, it was
airborne. The JBDs, or jet blast deflectors, dropped down, and the next
waiting fighter rolled forward.
“Goddamn Hornet,” the Air Boss snarled. The Mini Boss carefully stifled
his agreement. It was the first time he’d ever heard the Air Boss admit that
the Hornet was anything other than the most superb fighter ever built. “What
was our time on the alert fifteens?”
“Five minutes. Not too shabby,” the Mini Boss replied.
“Not too hot, either, with a strike inbound. I sure hope to hell
Tombstone knows what he’s doing.” The Air Boss glanced at the relative wind
indicator, watching it quiver. “Tell the OOD I want another five knots of
wind. We need another three Vikings airborne. If the admiral’s right, we’re
going to have some submarines making themselves conspicuous right quick.
Hunter 701 has contact on one of them, but those slimy little bastards could
have a couple more in the area.”
The Mini Boss toggled the bitch box and relayed the message to the
Officer of the Deck. With enemy fighters inbound and the threat of
submarine-launched missiles, there were a hell of a lot of things he’d like
more than Vikings. The Aegis snugged in closer for instance, or more aircraft
in the pattern. And maybe, just maybe, a little luck wouldn’t hurt.
1840 local (Zulu -7)
Hunter 701
“Rabies! Get us the hell out of here!” the TACCO said urgently.
“One more shot,” Rabies snapped.
“If we’re going to get back, we have to leave now,” his copilot argued.
“If we leave now, we may not have anywhere to go back to! You think that
sub’s just here for the fun of it? Don’t you know what overwhelming force is
all about? Those fighters are there for a reason, to distract us while this
bastard takes his next shot!”
“MAD, MAD, MAD,” the TACCO sang out suddenly. “That’s it, Rabies!
Attack criteria.”
The torpedo was off the wing an instant later. Rabies fought the sudden
change in weight, as the strong winds caught the now asymmetrically loaded
Viking. He quickly retrimmed the sturdy jet, reestablished level flight, and