“Energize all radar systems and elevate all weapon systems,” Cahill said.
The executive officer tapped keys.
“Pierre’s video is coming through,” Walker said.
The Frenchman’s face appeared on a screen next to a display showing the tactical scenario. As Renard spoke, the icons on the adjacent screen hopped to their updated locations.
“Bloody hell. It’s even worse than I feared.”
“I assume you’re seeing the real-time information on Jake’s situation,” Renard said. “It’s dreadful, but he’s managing as well as could be expected. He appears to have sunk a pair of Seagull hunters without suffering any damage, but he needs help with the aircraft.”
“It’s the helicopters,” Cahill said. “It’s always the helicopters. Shall I start shooting? Say, ten rounds at each aircraft?”
“Agreed,” Renard said. “I will have them guided on target.”
Cahill knew better than to ask in front of Dahan how Renard would control his rounds, and her silence conveyed her acceptance of the secret. His experience suggested American satellite technology, local NATO airborne military assets, or both.
He tapped keys as he talked.
“I have control of both cannons. I’m aiming ten rounds at each of the four Israeli helicopters. Commencing fire.”
He saw Walker lift binoculars to his face and point them off the Goliath’s quarter as the first duo of hypersonic rounds cracked overhead. From the corner of his eye, he saw Dahan’s startle response. For the first time in his presence, she’d revealed a hint of frailty.
“I apologize, major. I should’ve warned you of the sound. You get used to it.”
“No need to apologize. It’s just, with the railguns so far aft, I didn’t expect the explosions to be so loud up here.”
“It’s the sonic boom, major. It’s loud anywhere near one of the moving rounds.”
Every five seconds, the Goliath’s computers ordered the railguns to send a pair of projectiles over the horizon.
“Why hasn’t Jake tried a Sidewinder?” Cahill asked. “It’s not like him to wait for me to bail him out.”
“Good question,” Renard said. “Perhaps his tubes were all loaded with torpedoes.”
“Why would he do that?”
As the Frenchman’s answer came, Cahill realized his mindset had changed from commanding a submarine to commanding a ship with railguns.
“It’s my fault,” Renard said. “I hampered him with the rules of engagement. I denied him the use of his heavyweights, and he may have loaded all his tubes with slow-kills to allow multiple shots at the ships and robots.”
“He’s smart enough to reserve at least one tube for a Sidewinder,” Cahill said.
His boss’ eyes grew wide as he looked away from the screen.
“Wait. He’s launching a Sidewinder now.”
Cahill wanted to see the images the Frenchman saw, but he exercised restraint in front of Dahan. Then shadows cut across Renard’s face as he frowned.
“Merde. A miss.”
“That’s okay, Pierre,” Cahill said. “Sometimes the Sidewinder misses. The targeting is crude.”
“No. A well-defended miss. The helicopters are using defensive flares.”
“Your Sidewinder attacks in the Arabian Sea are known,” Dahan said. “The fleet is adjusting.”
“I need to hurry to Jake,” Cahill said. “He just gave away his location to a nearby helicopter.”
“The Sidewinders come with timers,” Renard said. “I pray he used a delay to clear the location before it launched.”
“He may have,” Cahill said. “But I’m still coming for him. Shifting propulsion to the gas turbines. Coming left to course zero-two-zero.”
Liquid sheets walking over the dome began spitting spray, and the deck’s undulations increased.
“Let’s see what I can do with your rounds,” Renard said.
After a minute of hypersonic flight, the arcing icons of railgun projectiles reached the helicopters. On the adjacent screen, the Frenchman’s face became ashen.
“Merde. They’re jamming our guidance and using chaff.”
“Your tactics for shooting down aircraft are known, too,” Dahan said. “I expect the helicopters have transmitters in the same frequencies you use to guide your rounds. The chaff is blocking your airborne tracking systems. They’re probably defending themselves both ways.”
“You don’t seem too disappointed,” Cahill said.
“You’re trying to kill my countrymen.”
“Fair enough,” Cahill said.
“Damn,” Renard said. “All the rounds are missing.”
“Are you at least forcing them into evasive maneuvers?” Cahill asked.
“Yes. We’re keeping Jake safe for the moment. They can’t hunt while they dodge bullets.”
“Let’s see how brave they are if I make this harder on them,” Cahill said. “Pierre, order Jake to transmit his location and give him mine. Have him drive straight towards me at high speed. I’ll get the helicopters off his back by raining down metal above him.”
“Yes, I see,” Renard said. “That could work. I’ll send him word of your location and get an update from him.”
As the Frenchman rattled off commands in his native language to a man seated off screen, an alarm whined in the Goliath’s bridge.
Cahill looked down and noticed two supersonic aircraft coming from the east.
“I thought the Israeli Air Force was against the prime minister and was staying on the sidelines,” he said.
“The helicopters you’re shooting at are staffed by the Air Force,” Dahan said. “I suspect you’ve created a new enemy.”
“What’s coming at me?”
“To drop bombs on us, my assessment is that those are F-15 Strike Eagles,” she said.
“She’s right,” Walker said. “They’re painting us with APG-70 radar. They’re Strike Eagles.”
“Very well, Liam. Take charge of the starboard cannon and start shooting the Strike Eagles.”
The Frenchman’s voice carried the day’s first shred of enthusiasm.
“Splash one helicopter!” he said. “I had all your rounds diverted to the one closest to Jake, and it’s finally down. It looked like a controlled water landing.”
“That buys us some breathing room,” Cahill said. “But the next one is only five minutes away per your data link.”
“You can use four of those minutes to defend yourself,” Renard said.
“Liam, use both cannons against the Strike Eagles.”
The sonic booms became gentler as the rounds streaked towards the eastern horizon.
“What could those Strike Eagles hope to accomplish?” Cahill asked. “We already have them on our phased array radar. They can’t jam that very easily.”
“I think it’s just a distraction,” Walker said. “Every round we aim at them is a round a helicopter doesn’t need to dodge.”
An alarm whined again, and another pair of supersonic jets appeared.
“Another distraction?” Cahill asked.
“You said it yourself,” Dahan said. “The Air Force is neutral in this conflict. I suspect all the strike aircraft are distractions designed to protect the helicopters.”
“You’d bet your own hide on that?” Cahill asked.
“I’m standing next to you, aren’t I? If they bomb you, they bomb me.”
“I now have the APG-70 radar systems painting us from the new Strike Eagle contacts,” Walker said.
Cahill felt the satisfaction of having seen through a ruse.
“Don’t the strike aircraft seem too obvious about advertising their interest in us?” he asked. “A bit aggressive with their radar use, but a bit timid in their flight speed?”
“Agreed,” Liam said. “I think this confirms they’re just trying to distract us.”