The XO scratched his chin. “And this water is definitely too shallow?”
“Yes, sir,” the chief said. “An ASROC torpedo will hit the water, run its motor for maybe ten seconds, and then crash into the bottom. It’ll make a bunch of noise, but it won’t do anything useful.”
The XO’s eyebrows went up. “If the water is so shallow, what’s going to keep our tube-launched torpedoes from hitting the bottom? Or any torpedo dropped by the helo?”
Chief McPherson held up two fingers. “Two things, sir. First: over-the-side torpedoes and helo-dropped torpedoes hit the water with only a slight nose-down angle, so they’re much closer to being level when the motor starts up. And second: they don’t fall as far, so they don’t build up much inertia. Our torpedo tubes are only about twenty feet above the water. The helo drops its torpedoes from an altitude of only a few hundred feet, not ten thousand feet like an ASROC. They’re not moving all that fast when they hit the water, so they don’t sink very far before they can level off.”
“I see,” the captain said. “And there’s no way to program the ASROCs to drop their torpedoes from a lower altitude? Or maybe program the ASROC torpedoes to strike the water at a shallower angle?”
“Sir, it would take a complete redesign of the ASROC missile,” Chief McPherson said. “A team of engineers with a billion-dollar budget could probably figure out how to do it if they had a couple of years to play around with the idea. But there’s nothing we can do here and now.”
“So we’re stuck with over-the-side torpedoes,” the XO said.
“Afraid so, sir. We’ll have Firewalker running interference for us. If we get lucky, he’ll be able to put a torpedo on Gremlin Zero Four before the sub knows what’s up.”
“Or he’ll get blown out of the sky by a sub-SAM, like Antietam’s helo did.”
“That’s one of the risks, sir. But by the time the sub is close enough to shoot at Firewalker, he’ll also be close enough to shoot at us. We’re all going to be in the line of fire.”
“We can’t afford to forget about Vipers,” the XO said. “The 212B can carry three Exocet missiles. They’re supposed to fire them one at a time, but these bastards have shown a preference for launching them all at once.”
“There were four subs left when we got into this fight,” Captain Bowie said. “That makes twelve Exocets. We saw them shoot nine, so there are three left.”
“There might be three left, sir,” the TAO said. “We’ve sunk three out of the four submarines. There’s an excellent chance that this guy has launched one or more of his birds.”
“Forget percentages,” the XO said. “Until he’s dead, as far as I’m concerned, this guy is armed with Exocets. Hell, with the kind of luck we’ve been having, he’s got a couple of extras lying around for a rainy day.”
Chief McPherson half-smiled. “Good thing it doesn’t rain much in the Middle East, sir. Or we’d be screwed.”
The XO glared at her for a couple of seconds, and then turned to the Tactical Action Officer. “TAO, I want Aegis ready-auto, CIWS set to auto-engage, and the Electronics Warfare guys standing by to jam or launch chaff. Set Tac-Sit One; I want all four .50-caliber mounts manned, and both 25mm chain-guns. Make sure that the 5-inch gun is loaded with HE-rounds. We have no friendly units within weapons range. If anything out there so much as farts, I want a missile, a torpedo, or a 5-inch shell shoved up its ass before its sphincter can slam shut.”
“Aye-aye, sir.” The TAO keyed into the tactical command net and began issuing orders.
Towers steamed back and forth, a wounded but determined sentry guarding the harbor against the approaching enemy. The crew settled in for a long wait, but less than twenty minutes had passed when the call came from the Electronics Warfare module. “TAO — EW, I have six active J-band radar seekers! We have in-bound missiles from the coast.
First cut looks like Siraji HY-1 Silkworms.”
The TAO was about to acknowledge the report when the Electronics Warfare Technician cut him off with a follow-up report. “TAO — EW. Make that twelve! We have a second flight of six. I say again, we have twelve in-bound Vipers! Request permission to initiate jamming protocols.”
“EW — TAO. Initiate jamming and stand by on chaff. Break. Air — TAO, can you confirm inbound Vipers?”
“TAO — Air. That’s affirmative, sir. We just picked them up about two seconds ago. Twelve inbounds!”
“TAO — aye! Break! All Stations — TAO, we have in-bound Vipers! I say again, we have missiles in-bound! This is not a drill! Weapons Control, verify that we are in Aegis ready-auto and CIWS is set to auto-engage.”
“TAO — Weapons Control. Affirmative, boss. We are locked and cocked. Bring ’em on!”
“TAO — EW. Standing by on chaff. Recommend new course three-one-zero to minimize our radar cross-section.”
The TAO looked up at the Aegis display screens. Twelve hostile-missile symbols had appeared, and all of them were rapidly closing on the Towers. “TAO, aye. Break. Bridge — TAO. Come right to new course three-one-zero.”
“Bridge, aye! Coming right to three-one-zero.”
All around CIC, operators began glancing up from their own consoles to steal looks at the big screens. Twelve missiles? They’d never trained for that many at one time.
“This is going to get ugly,” an unidentified voice said.
“All right, people,” the captain said. “Stay focused. Do your jobs, and everything will be okay.”
Suddenly, three of the missile symbols veered away and disappeared off the display.
“TAO — Air. Splash three.”
“Maybe that jamming gear is finally going to pay for itself,” the XO said.
The TAO frowned. “Why only three? We’re transmitting a broadband jamming strobe. It should be hitting all of those Vipers at the same time.
If Silkworm missiles are impervious to jamming, we shouldn’t have gotten any of them. If they’re vulnerable to jamming, we should have gotten them all.”
“Not necessarily,” the XO said. “Remember, Siraj has been under an arms embargo for nearly two decades. Their arsenal is composed of what they had prior to the embargo, supplemented by whatever hardware they’ve been able to smuggle in. Those Silkworms they’re launching may span three or four generations of technology.”
“Launching chaff,” the EW announced. His voice was followed by a rapid series of muffled thumps. “Six away.”
“So far, so good,” the TAO said.
The captain keyed his mike. “Weapons Control — Captain. How much longer until the Vipers come within our missile-engagement range?”
“Vipers are entering the Auto-Engage Circle right … about … now, sir.”
The Aegis computers transmitted pre-launch programming data to eighteen SM-3 missiles, two for each of the enemy missiles remaining.
This shoot-shoot-look-shoot-shoot doctrine would remain in effect until Towers expended fifty percent of her available SM-3 missiles. Then the Aegis computer would automatically fall back to a shoot-look-shoot-shoot doctrine, firing only one initial missile at each incoming Viper before checking to see if it had been destroyed.
On the forecastle, nine armored hatches flipped open in rapid succession, and nine SM-3 missiles blasted free of their launch cells and climbed into the darkness on actinic pillars of fire. The combined roar of the solid-fuel missile boosters reverberated through the ship like the rumble of an earthquake.