The first rounds were over, and Kirov had now single handedly cut the Chinese carrier fleet of six pre-war ships in half.
“Comrade Samsonov,” he said. “I hereby award this ship and crew the Medal of Ushakov for outstanding service in naval combat, and you, my friend, will be the man who wears that medal on your jersey.”
The crew gave a cheer, and Samsonov beamed. He was a man of very few words, all muscle, a warrior thru and thru, but the light in his eyes clearly showed how buoyed he was by that praise.
Part III
Broken Arrow
“Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat.”
Chapter 7
Admiral Wu Jinlong was outraged to the point that his face reddened as the anger simmered and boiled within him. Zhendong, the ship he had fought so hard to save in the South China Sea, was gone. The smoke still hung heavily over the scene, making a mockery of his entire operation. He watched through the view panes on the flag bridge of Taifeng, seeing the desperate effort to rescue the stricken crew, so many men in the water as the ship died. He was now standing on the only carrier in the Chinese Navy operating south of Taiwan.
All 36 bombers failed to put even one American airfield out of operation, he thought sullenly, and Beiying, the North Star, is a wreck. Now this…. That entire air wing is gone, except for ten planes that were aloft. It was the Siberians, damn their souls. Something has to be done about them. They make peace on the Amur River line, but continue their war at sea. This is the third carrier they have sunk with those demons they fling at us. Beijing has now ordered me to return to the South China Sea.
I cannot bear this shame….
The victory I had hoped to win here has eluded me. Oh, I have at least done one thing in establishing a strong outpost at Davao, but how long can one Knight stand in the center of the board alone? This fleet was the Queen, the two carriers my Rooks, the bombers my Bishops, and now the enemy plays for checkmate.
“Are the Americans still heading south?” he growled.
“Yes sir.”
“And the Siberians?”
“They appear to be on a heading to join the Americans.”
“Very well, the fleet will assume standard cruising order three, and come to two-four-two degrees southwest. Increase to 25 knots.”
“Yes sir. We also have a message from Zamboanga.”
“Send it to the terminal my ready room.”
The Admiral strode away, his brow wet with sweat, eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed. He plopped his heavy frame down into the chair by his desk, and activated his messaging terminal. Zamboanga reported they had just come under heavy cruise missile attack, and all planes based there, 10 precious J-20’s, were destroyed. Admiral Cook had turned south for the Makassar Strait, but he threw salt over his shoulder to sting the wounds he had already inflicted. The vital airfield at Zamboanga was wrecked…
The big Chinese Admiral put his fists to his forehead, and let out a roar that could be heard all the way out on the main bridge of Taifeng. More than one head was turned, but not one officer said a word….
“Mister Kane, will you look at the goddamn Siberians? We threw 60 MMT’s, 96 GBU-53’s, 24 LRASMs and another two dozen HAWC’s at these guys and didn’t lay a finger on them. That Siberian cruiser runs out twelve of those hot new missiles they have, and gets eight hits, sinking five ships, including a carrier and a Type 055 class cruiser.”
“That’s one hot missile sir. You can’t go after the damn thing while its inbound. It flies over 100,000 feet high, then dives to sea level like a rabid banshee. It’s one hell of a speed demon.”
“And it gets hits. It thinks on its feet. I don’t believe the Siberians targeted those frigates. Those missiles recalculated and redirected to those ships. That’s one slick missile.”
“I wonder if SM-6 could catch the damn thing,” said Kane.
“Speaking of that, how many of those stallions do we still have in the barn?”
“Zero, sir. But we still have 48 SM-2 Block-III. That will give us some reach out to 90 miles, and we’ve got the fighters, sir.”
“What’s on deck?
“A dozen Panthers rigged for air to air, and then we have the six Super Toms on BARCAP.”
“Good enough. What about the TacToms?”
“Fifty left on the destroyers, sir, and we still have 90 MMT’s. Are we going to hammer Davao?”
“No, we’ll leave that to the Washington. The Chinese fleet is headed our way, so we move to a neutral corner and get ready to tangle with them again in the morning. Air wing rearming on schedule?”
“Yes sir. Everything is rolling over, except for Avengers Flight-2. They switched to Slammers.”
“Better with the GBU-53,” said Cook. “They were able to get right in there, and I’ll bet they pulled a lot of SAM’s. Otherwise, I don’t think those hot Siberian missiles would have run up the score like that.”
“Do you want me to send down an order to switch back, sir?”
“No, proceed with the Slammers. We’ll look at the situation at 06:00. In the meantime, I think a good bunk and a warm blanket would do you some good. The Captain will be up to take his bridge watch in about ten minutes. Get some rest.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Enterprise was now maneuvering, steering 190 degrees south, back into the Makassar Strait. The waters ahead would be friendly, so both of the two Virginia Class subs had been detached to continue operations in the Celebes Sea. Just in case the Chinese snuck in another diesel boat, the Siberian submarine, Kazan, would be operating close at hand.
Admiral Cook had been understandably curious about the Siberian ships. Going to fleet intelligence data yielded nothing on any of them. Either the information was being suppressed, or it just wasn’t there. How does a nation with no significant maritime presence, or even major ship building facilities, manage to produce a ship like that big battlecruiser out there? Making a discrete inquiry to PACOM received a terse reply—CLASSIFIED – NO INQUIRIES PERMITTED. The question would not be answered, not even to an Admiral, and beyond that, the inquiry itself was deemed off limits.
Very well, he thought. The Siberians are here, that much is certain, and they are certainly pulling their weight. Better let sleeping dogs lie. I can see what the fleet learned about them later, but for now, its war time security, and no one rocks the boat.
They were about 325 miles from the Chinese fleet now, and scooting south at flank speed, 35 knots. That speed in the carrier strike groups has been one of their best fighting assets over the long decades of service. They could run like the wind, and very little on or under the sea could catch them when they did.
From the present course of the Chinese fleet, they were trying to close the range with him now, but he would not permit that to happen. He had moved into the Celebes Sea, put in his first naval strike, then blasted the airfield at Zamboanga. Now he would keep the enemy at arm’s length, and strike them again at dawn.