A dim blue overhead light illuminated the captain as he spoke to the tactical action officer. Together, they were studying the tactical picture. The USS Michael Monsoor, a brand-new Zumwalt-class destroyer, was five miles to their west. Their captain was in charge of the Farragut’s surface action group.
“SAG is directing us to adjust the screen, sir.”
The captain said, “Very well. Get it done.”
Victoria watched the combat team as they prepared to fire antiship missiles at targets for which they still had no coordinates.
The captain, seeing Victoria, waved her over. “Sir, is there anything I can do to help?”
“I wanted to bring the helicopter inside the hangar in case we take any fire. I figured that would help the aircraft survive better so we can launch you when we get closer. Be ready to go.”
“Yes, sir.”
One of the operations specialists turned from his computer terminal and said, “TAO, Seventh Fleet just informed us that friendly aircraft will be transiting overhead for the next hour. They expect to give us targeting information soon.”
Twelve B-52s launched in rapid succession from Anderson Air Force Base on Guam. The aircraft had deployed to Guam from two squadrons: the Twenty-Third Expeditionary Bomb Squadron and the Sixty-Ninth, both out of Minot AFB, North Dakota.
Dark trails of exhaust flowed from the engines as they climbed. Soon after, ten more aircraft launched. These were B-1Bs from the Thirty-Fourth and Thirty-Seventh Bomb Squadrons. Within minutes of launch, the B-1s went supersonic, heading to a position southwest of the Chinese fleet. Once there, they slowed and spread their wings, loitering while the B-52s flew into position.
F-15 and F-22 interceptors flew combat air patrol, stationed in between the two groups of bombers. An E-3G AWACS aircraft, with its round radar dish fixed atop the large Boeing airframe, acted as the command-and-control platform.
On board the E-3, airmen watched as the Chinese fleet appeared on their screen. Radar and other sensors picked up over fifty ships, all headed towards Guam at twenty knots. The Air Force’s electronic sensors matched the fleet’s radar and other signals to their archives of Chinese military systems.
An Air Force major on board the E-3 spoke into his microphone. “Send the execute order to all aircraft.”
Within seconds, the bomb bay doors of the B-1s and B-52s opened, revealing the blue ocean twenty thousand feet below. From the bomb bays fell dozens of the US military’s new AGM-185 long-range antiship missiles (LRASM). These missiles had been specially transported to Guam the week before.
Thin wings and a small vertical fin extended from the sleek black missiles. The LRASMs used all of the data that had been shared between the attacking Air Force squadrons to chart their course, making continuous corrections as they dove towards the sea at just under the speed of sound. They skimmed low to the water to avoid radar detection and used their inertial navigation systems since the Chinese had destroyed GPS.
The missiles coordinated with each other autonomously, widening their formation to make it harder for the Chinese to defend. Their attack profile had been preprogrammed by Air Force experts prior to launch. Now they sped closer to the Chinese fleet, setting themselves up to attack from three directions simultaneously.
On board the E-3G command-and-control aircraft, the mission commander stood in the tunnel, watching a digital display over the shoulder of one of his men as over two hundred missiles closed in on their targets.
“Everything look good?”
“Yes, sir. Fifty miles out. Any second now.”
The mission commander knew that the weapons would be in their final phase of flight now, using onboard electronic sensors to home in on enemy radar to—
“What the hell? What just happened? Where did the missiles go?”
Victoria melted into the wall of Combat, unable to stop watching as the battle unfolded.
An operations specialist petty officer said, “Sir, we’re losing contact on friendly air tracks.”
“Are they hitting their targets?”
The OS said, “Not sure, sir.”
“Is it a datalink issue?”
The petty officer shot a look to the OS chief standing nearby. The chief had his arms folded across his chest. “Sir, I don’t think it’s the link. I think our missiles got shot down.”
“All of them?”
A sickening feeling formed in Victoria’s stomach.
“Another dozen aircraft just launched from Guam, sir.”
The captain said, “Do we have targeting coordinates yet?”
“Negative, sir.”
Victoria could hear radio calls going to and from each of the ships in company. The ships were adjusting their formation for combat and acknowledging the change to the screen commander. The familiar sounds of young military voices over the radio, static noise, and electronic beeps.
The TAO’s voice was subdued. “Captain…”
“What is it?”
“Seventh Fleet is saying that all twenty aircraft we launched from Guam have been shot down.”
No one spoke for a moment. Then the captain said, “What’s the expected range of the enemy fleet?”
“The data is time-late, sir…”
“I understand. What’s the range?”
“One hundred twenty miles, sir.”
Victoria could feel the tension in the room. The tacticians operating the ship’s weapons systems needed targeting data if they were going to engage the enemy.
An electronic alarm emanated from the air-defense section of the space. A split second later, Victoria heard a voice over the net.
“VAMPIRE! VAMPIRE! Multiple missiles inbound!”
The room erupted in shouted commands and reflexive movements. Then a rumble in her chest and a roar from outside the skin of the ship as surface-to-air missiles fired off.
“What’s the count?” asked the captain.
“Ninety-six, sir. Ninety-six missiles inbound.”
Victoria watched as the ship’s combat team coordinated with the other destroyers in their group. Much of it was done electronically over the datalink. Deciding who would target which inbound missile, how many to fire, and when. Every few seconds, she heard the roar of another SM-2 missile launching off the USS Farragut.
Her heart beat faster as she watched the tactical display, the incoming missiles growing closer by the second.
Admiral Song sat in his elevated flag officer’s chair in the expansive combat operations center. Until today, the Jiaolong’s directed-energy air defense technology was untested.
But not anymore. Within the past few minutes, it had worked exactly as the engineers and scientists claimed it would, shooting down hundreds of targets without breaking a sweat. Admiral Song almost felt sorry for his opponents with how outmatched they now were. The Jiaolong technology was truly a step change in sea power. He was now one of the privileged few commanders in history to be the first to use a powerful new technology in combat. He found himself thinking of other examples. The first Gatling gun, or the tank, or—
“Admiral, we detect American surface-to-air missile launches.”
“How do the numbers match up?” the admiral asked.
“The Americans are matching their surface-to-air missiles with our antiship missiles nearly one for one.”
“Good.” He wanted the Americans to use up their inventory.
“Range to American fleet is now two hundred kilometers, sir.”
The admiral rose from his chair and walked to the massive chart table nearby. Two of his senior officers joined him.