CARRIER 8: ALPHA STRIKE By: Keith Douglass

the Tactical Action Officer, or TAO, sat side by side at desks in front of the

display. Around them, enlisted technicians monitoring aircraft manned radar

and data consoles. In a separate room immediately behind the TAO, another

group of watch standers managed the ASW problem, coordinating their tactics

over the bitch box with the DESRON five decks above their module. At one end

of the compartment, two parallel rows of consoles were reserved for Tracker

Alley, the group of Operations Specialists that correlated and deconflicted

the radar inputs from every ship and aircraft in the battle group.

“What’re they loaded with?” the TAO asked, as she watched the Hornets

power up on the catapults.

“Two Sidewinders, two Sparrows, plus a cluster bomb on the Hornets.

Harpoon only on the alert Vikings, although the airborne Viking has two

torpedoes. We’re out of luck if 701 loses him and the sub dives,” the watch

officer replied.

“That S-3 is out of luck if she doesn’t. And the Hornets aren’t going to

be wild about going in, either.”

Suddenly, the speaker over the TAO’s head came to life. “Homeplate,

Hunter 701. Looks like the SAM has fallen off. We’re RTB.”

Twenty-two people in CDC simultaneously let out the breaths they’d been

holding. Freddie, the traditional handle for the operations specialist

controlling an ASW aircraft, answered for them all, relief evident in his

voice. “Roger, Hunter 701. Say state.”

“Four thousand pounds. We’re fine, Freddie, enough gas for a couple of

passes.”

“Hunter 701, contact Pri-Fly,” the OS said, adding the flight control

frequency.

The speaker hissed as Hunter 701 left that circuit to contact the Air

Boss who would control its return to the carrier. “Close one,” the TAO

muttered.

“Too close,” the CIC watch officer responded. “I guess now we know what

launched those other two attacks.”

Maybe. And maybe not, the TAO thought, glancing at the surface warfare

officer who was her assistant. Never heard of a SAM being targeted at a

land-base or a ship. SAMs are anti-air weapons. Still, it might be possible,

so better safe than sorry.

If the submarine had launched the other two attacks, the mystery was

solved. And if it hadn’t–well, the carrier still had something to worry

about.

CHAPTER 5

Thursday, 27 June

1100 local (Zulu +5)

The United Nations

Battle-ax, thought T’ing. He’d just learned the meaning of the word from

one of his aides. It suited the ambassador from the United States. She was

two inches taller than he was and twenty pounds lighter, but her iron demeanor

and uncompromising insistence on the American view of the world made the word

fit her too perfectly. Pity that American women don’t age more gracefully. A

Chinese woman is perpetually of a certain age, until she suddenly grows old

and dies. That is the way it should be with women. The American compulsion

to thrust them into every arena ages them too quickly.

Still, battle-ax or not, Ambassador Sarah Wexler was the only opponent

that concerned him on the Security Council. The little charade he was about

to play had been carefully crafted for her alone.

“it is regretful that I must make this complaint on such short notice,

but events leave my peace-loving country few alternatives,” the Chinese

ambassador said silkily. T’ing paused for a moment and surveyed the members

of the Security Council.

The Russian ambassador already knew what China would say, the result of a

carefully worded briefing earlier that day. Both countries had played

political games with the United States for too long not to understand the

rules.

“The Council understands that sometimes circumstances require immediate

action. Please, continue,” the Russian ambassador, currently chairman of the

Council, said solicitously.

“Very well. It is our hope that this distinguished body can intervene

immediately to short-circuit what appears to be an escalating state of affairs

immediately off our coast.” T’ing kept a careful watch on the ambassador from

the United States. Surely she must have some hint of the subject he was about

to broach! But her face wore the carefully schooled blank look of polite

attention so characteristic of professional diplomats.

“At approximately eight o’clock yesterday morning, American forces

conducted an unprovoked and completely unlawful attack on Chinese land located

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