The sonar tech said, “Orca Alpha is making way. Bravo is too, sir. Standby for confirmation. Sir, I show both vessels moving on the proper course and accelerating. Their speed is now thirty-five knots, sir, closing in on the Chinese fleet.”
“Captain, Sonar reports two submerged contacts approaching from the north.”
The Chinese ship captain frowned at his junior officer, who was relaying information from a phone. “Two?”
“Yes, sir. Unknown type. ASW dirigibles have been assigned and are en route.”
The captain rose from his chair. “Go to battle stations.”
“Yes, sir.”
An alarm rang throughout the ship. Sailors began running toward their stations, preparing for combat.
The officer of the deck looked at his captain. “Sir, shall I turn away from the threat?”
The captain frowned as he looked at the navigational chart, weighing his options.
They were almost in air defense range of the Panama coast. By the end of the day, their ship was supposed to provide Chinese land forces with air defense cover as they surged north of the Panama Canal.
If he turned south and took evasive maneuvers, their ship would get off track, likely adding several hours to their schedule. The captain knew that PLA air force, ground force, navy, and even space-based assets were being deployed for today’s offensive. It was a massive undertaking, and his ship was to be a key part of it.
The Jiaolong was unmatched in anti-submarine warfare. Only one of its class had been defeated in combat, at the Battle of Johnston Atoll, and that was due to American trickery. The ASW system of dirigibles with advanced dipping sonar, reusable sonobuoys, and AI computers guiding every decision made him confident that he was not in danger.
Still, two American submarines approaching at once?
That was quite unusual. American submarines did not usually operate in teams. Two submarines complicated his battle problem, but he still held the advantage. The Jiaolong carried eight ASW dirigibles. Six were flying right now. The ship’s AI computers would place each buoy and sonar dip in the optimum position, using buoy fields to block the attackers’ advance and quickly employing their lightweight torpedoes in the perfect attack location.
“Do not change our course and speed. The Americans are trying to slow us down. We can’t let them. I am heading to the combat information center to monitor the anti-submarine warfare progress.”
“Yes, sir.”
Just before the captain walked out of the bridge, a junior officer on the phone called for him again.
“Sir, the combat systems officer is on the phone with an urgent update.”
The captain walked over and grabbed the phone. “What is it?”
“Sir, we are being jammed. An electronic attack originating from the north.”
The captain looked at the tactical display on the wall. “There are no surface contacts to our north.”
“I believe the attack is coming from American aircraft, sir.”
LT Kevin “Speedracer” Suggs gripped the yoke and throttle of his Navy fighter jet as he gained altitude. They had just launched from the USS Ford and were now joining up with the other three aircraft in his section. His weapons systems officer, LTJG Norman “Root” Laverne, monitored the mission from the rear tandem seat.
“Electronic attack just started. Shouldn’t be long now.”
“Roger,” replied Suggs.
Suggs kept his eye on the lead aircraft as it approached, making ultrafast micro corrections with his stick and throttle until his sight picture matched the perfect formation profile.
“JSTARS and AWACS are both on station,” said LTJG Laverne.
Suggs looked down at the cockpit computers, using his left hand to quickly toggle to the tactical display.
Laverne could tell what he was doing. “You just fly, man. Ask me what you wanna know.”
Suggs shook his head. “NFO’s always trying to tell me what to do… just enjoy the ride back there, would you?”
“Look, man, you’re just a monkey that can fly. NFOs are the brains behind the operation. Now shut up and drive.”
Suggs laughed. “I was just checking on where everybody’s at.”
His rear-seater said, “You can see everybody and their mother from Ford stacked up outside your window…”
Suggs glanced to his left. At least sixty jets in groups of four, just like this one, were flying racetrack holding patterns at different altitudes, thousands of feet above the aircraft carrier. Burning precious fuel while waiting for permission to head south.
“The Screwtops have hooked us up with datalink from the AWACS — thank you, my brethren NFO overlords — and we now have the Air Force on the display. Holy shitballs that’s a lot of planes, man.”
“How many?”
“I mean…”
Suggs could hear him counting.
“At least two hundred, I think. And there’s probably more still launching.”
During the brief, the squadron’s intelligence officer had told them this was the largest military aviation mission since the days of the Mighty Eighth during World War Two. The planning had taken weeks, and they probably could have used more time. They didn’t have the number of aircraft or Long Range Anti-Ship Missiles requested by the mission planners. Rumor had it there were production and training bottlenecks. One pilot who had recently transferred to the squadron claimed hundreds of aircraft were just sitting on deck on the east coast.
But the attack order was pushed up.
The Chinese naval fleet was fast approaching, and Chinese ground forces had commenced military operations in Panama. The final reason for the “go” order was today’s Chinese mass satellite blastoff from some military space launch facility in the South China Sea. By the end of the day, the Chinese would have satellite comms and datalink… at least until the Air Force could shoot them all down. But that took time. And American ground forces in Panama needed help now.
“Okay, here we go. New update from the Screwtops. Fly-to points are in. Lead should be turning soon.” The E2-D radar control aircraft were using encrypted communications to task the fighters and attack aircraft with specific waypoints and targets.
On his external radio, Suggs heard, “Gunslinger bravo flight, turning south, coming down to angels four.” Suggs held his position on the lead aircraft’s wing as it banked left.
“Two,” he said.
“Three.”
“Four.”
The four Superhornets turned and began descending as one. Dozens of other formation flights did the same. Gray metallic fighters, armed to the teeth, diving toward the sea. And heading directly for their targets.
“Conn, Sonar, second torpedo in the water.”
“Sonar, Conn, aye.”
Captain Davidson announced, “This is the captain, I have the conn. Lieutenant Everett retains the deck. Pilot, all ahead one-third, come left to course one-six-zero.”
“Ahead one-third, left to course one-six-zero, Pilot, aye.”
Now the American submarine was speeding up and turning to better intercept the Chinese fleet.
“Conn, Sonar, transient. Fish in the water. Orca Alpha just fired on the Jiaolong, sir.”
A muffled cheer from the control room. They all knew that was good news. Every one of them had been worried that the Orcas wouldn’t even get a shot off. Even as expensive decoys, they might still win the day. But if one of them could get a hit on the target, that would be a huge help.
“Conn, Sonar, enemy ships are taking evasive maneuvers.”
“Conn, aye.”
The sonarman held his headset, his eyes widening. “Sir, I have an underwater explosion. I think Alpha just got hit.”