CARRIER 8: ALPHA STRIKE By: Keith Douglass

his ears automatically, trying to block the sound waves assaulting him. As

the MiG raced in over him, he felt his eyes shut involuntarily. The noise

consumed him, vibrating through his bones and rattling his guts.

As the sound dropped lower in frequency, down-dopplering from the

relative motion of the aircraft and the ship, he opened his eyes again. The

MiG raced off toward the horizon, turning as it reached a point near the

horizon and heading back in toward the ship.

The intership telephone buzzed, sounding faint and fuzzy after the

assault on his ears by the aircraft’s passage. The captain, he suspected,

wondering what idiotic aircraft was finding amusement in buzzing the heavily

laden RO-RO. He raced back into the pilot house and watched the aircraft

approach as he lifted the receiver.

As the captain testily demanded an explanation, the thunder of the MiG’s

engines filled the pilot house again. Gringes covered the mouthpiece with his

hand for a moment and then opted for protecting his own ears rather than those

of his captain. As the aircraft passed over again, he craned his head to look

at its underbelly. No weapons, as far as he could tell.

Third Mate Gringes waited for his ears to stop ringing and then started

drafting a radio message to the home office. They’d do the right makee-talkie

to ensure that those damned Vietnamese quit disrupting his quiet watches.

0930 local (Zulu -8)

Operations Center

Hanoi, Vietnam

The operations analyst burst into Mein Low’s office, tension evident in

his plain face. “A Flanker just picked up some interesting changes in the

Americans’ operating pattern. They’ve stationed an unarmed surveillance

aircraft, an E-2C, over the islands. It’s alone.”

“Where are the fighters?” Mein Low demanded.

“South of Mischief Reef.”

“And our assets near the fighters?”

“None.”

“This presents a problem, I believe.”

“Not an insoluble one.”

Mein Low stared at the chart. The blip representing the American

aircraft cut lazy circles over a piece of empty ocean to the south. Almost

empty. His overlaid projection showed that the tip of one small rock

protruded from the ocean at times. Hardly large enough to support an asset,

much less any firepower.

Still, it couldn’t be helped. Obviously, the Americans had decided that

that piece of ocean warranted their attention. The schedule called for

another incident in three days. Unless the Americans changed their patrol

patterns, it would be a problem.

Perhaps they could be lured in toward Mischief Reef again. Rebuilding of

the extensive camp there had already begun. Surely that warranted more

American attention! What would catch their interest the most, ensure that

they resumed flights over the new camp?

A new structure resembling a rocket launcher of some sort or a new radar

signature might get their attention. The Americans were compulsive about

collecting intell photos and new electromagnetic signatures for their threat

libraries. It need not be an actual weapons control system–it merely had to

look like one. A high frequency source with a high rotation rate should do

it, perhaps a frequency modulated one. He’d ask the engineers–they ought to

be able to come up with something.

“Watch them,” he said finally. “See if they establish a pattern, how

often they schedule their flights, whether they are tanking or doing short

cycle operations. We have some time to plan.” The operations analyst nodded.

“And have air ops schedule me for a flight. I want to see their

reactions myself.”

1000 local (Zulu -7)

Hawkeye 623

“Sure don’t like being out here by our lonesome,” Fingers grumbled. The

E-2C RIO tweaked and peaked her radar display for a few moments.

“Help is only a squawk away,” her pilot said.

“It’d be better if it were only a TER away.”

“Oh, right. Like there’s any place on this antiquated airframe to hang a

triple ejection rack. You’ve got jet envy, Fingers. Worse than penis envy, I

hear.”

“Funny, I’d heard the same thing about you,” she said.

“Oh, good one. Fingers, you realize if they ever catch us talking like

this on the boat we’re both going to get court martialed?”

“Yeah. But that’s on the boat. As long as we’re up here, different

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