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