“A wise call, Commander. It appears you’ve already dealt with all of the appropriate preliminaries. I propose we give him one more challenge and then we go for a forced three point boarding. My helicopter team will go aboard at the bow and my boat team on the starboard side astern. Your people will hit port side astern. Do you concur?”
“I concur, Captain. We will go on your command. And of the warning?”
“I’ll give him one last radio hail, and if we don’t get an answer, I’d like for you to put a three-point-nine across his bow. If that doesn’t work, I’ll hit his bridge with some fifty caliber. That should get his attention. When he heaves to, we position to cover our boarding parties and we send them in.”
Behind her, Amanda was aware of Stone Quillain speaking into his own headset, already passing the word to the Marine boat and helicopter crews.
“Very good, Captain Garrett,” the French officer’s filtered voice came back. “We are standing by.”
Amanda went off radio and back down to intercom. “Everybody get that?” she inquired.
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Steamer called back over his shoulder. “Where do you want me to keep her parked? Back here on his quarter?”
“For the moment. When he stops his engines, I want you to move us up to his midships line and hold us bow-on to him at about a hundred yards. I want to be able to put covering fire in for both the boat and helo teams.”
“My boys are set,” Quillain added grimly. Reaching over head, he slid back the gun-ring hatch. Chief Tehoa’s beloved twin-mount fifties belonged to him now.
“Very good, Stone. Danno, this is the cockpit.”
“Fire control ’by. What can we do for you, ma’am?”
“Rig for heavy antiship. I want Hellfires on all the rails. If I pass the word, I want you to take apart this tub’s bridge and deckhouse. If we’re going to have trouble, that’s where it’s likely coming from. We’re going to need precision and called shots. We’ve got an awful lot of gas and oil out there, and we don’t want to make it mad at us.”
“All you have to do is tell us which portholes you want ’em through, ma’am.”
“Will do… and heat up the Harpoons as well. Just in case.”
“Aye, aye.”
Amanda ran down a fast mental checklist, seeking for any point she might have left uncovered. There didn’t seem to be anything. And yet…
She shook her head, angry with herself for taking the counsel of her fears.
“All right, then, everyone,” she said. “Here we go.”
Her fingers played across the communications deck, calling up the international maritime guard frequency. “SS Bajara, SS Bajara, this is the United Nations African Interdiction Force. You are in violation of a U.N. exclusion zone. Stop your engines and prepare to be boarded. I say again, stop your engines and prepare to be boarded. This is your last warning. If you do not heave to immediately, we will open fire. I repeat, if you do not heave to immediately, we will open fire.”
Her decks still eerily empty, the tanker continued on its drive for the African coast.
“That’s it. She’s had her chance. La Fleurette, this is Little Pig Lead. Put one across her bow.”
A moment later, the forward gun turret of the corvette spat out a single round. The flat crack… wham of the cannon shot and shell detonation sounded over the moan of the Queen’s turbines and a geyser of white spray jetted out of the sea just off the bow of the Algerian tanker.
“No reaction so far,” Christine Rendino reported over the link from the drone control center. “Wait a minute…. We’re getting men on the decks…. We got a lot of uniformed men on the decks! They look like Union soldiers…. I’m seeing missile launchers! We got launchers setting up all over the place! Get those boats and helos out of there! That thing’s a Q ship!”
Amanda’s finger smashed down on her own transmitter key. “Boarding craft sheer off! Helicopters! Evade! Evade! Evade!”
The French Sea Lynx and the U.S. Blackhawk flared out like a pair of startled quail. Turning steeply, they dove for the wavetops, accelerating away from the threat. The Queen’s miniraider came hard about as well, almost capsizing as a wave broadsided it. Shaking off its burden of white water and foam, it clawed away from the Algerian vessel, opening the range.
A gout of orange flame pulsed at the tanker’s rail and a shell exploded in the wake of the fleeing boat. At her stern, the green and white banner of the Algerian flag dropped away, replaced by the blue and white of the West African Union.
“Queen of the West and La Fleurette,” Amanda yelled into the command mike. “Target the tanker! Guns free! Engage! Engage! En—”
“No!” Christine Rendino’s urgent cry overrode the order. “Hold your fire! There are kids on that ship!”
“Check fire! Check fire! Check fire! Damn it, Chris! What are you talking about?”
“Check your screens,” Christine said despairingly. “They’ve got kids crawling all over that ship. They’re using children as human shields.”
Hastily Amanda accessed the Mast Mounted Sighting System and focused on the tanker’s decks. Acquiring one of the weapons crews now on station along the tanker’s rail, she zoomed the camera in.
There were three actual combatants present, the gunner of the antitank team, kneeling and shouldering a Carl-Gustav recoilless rifle, and his two assistants, standing ready to feed reloads into the weapon. Flanking the Union soldiers, however, were a half-dozen small, gaunt and raggedly clad figures. Boys, none of whom could have been more than twelve years old. Lined up at the rail, they stared uncomprehendingly into the camera lens.
“The goddamn cowards,” Quillain growled. “The goddamn, shit-eating, sheep-fucking cowards. They’re holding babies in front of them.”
Amanda spoke carefully into her lip mike. “Chris, how many fire teams are you seeing?”
“Six AT teams on the main deck and a couple of Blowpipe antiair launchers on the bridge wings. All of them with human shields. I think they’ve got some more kids on the bridge itself.”
“Acknowledged.” She lifted her finger off the radio button. “Stone,” she asked quietly. “Assessment, please. Is there any way we can get past those launcher crews and get aboard that ship without firing on it?”
The Marine shook his head. “No. No way in hell. Without covering fire, they’d cut us to pieces.”
Amanda nodded and called up Fire Control. “Danno. This is Captain Garrett. Think about this one carefully. Could you take out that tanker’s rudder with a Hellfire shot?”
The reply was a long time in coming back. “She’s heavily laden, ma’am. Her rudder post is right down there on the water. I can’t get a line of fire on it. I could try to put one into her steering engine room, but they got a bunch of kids standing on the fantail right above it. If I got a little high—”
“Okay, Danno. I understand. Stand easy.”
Christine’s filtered voice came back on the command circuit. “Little Pig Lead, this is Floater,” she said almost apologetically. “I know you guys have enough trouble out there as is, but I have a situational change at Port Monrovia.”
“Go, Chris. What’s happening?”
“An army convoy has just arrived at the Port Monrovia tank farm, a refugee convoy. The soldiers are herding a couple of hundred people into the petroleum-storage area. Families, men, women, and children. It looks like they intend to hold them there for a while.”