Damn Beltrain puzzled. How had the Lady been able to figure just when the Reds were about to open up?
“We see it, CIC,” Captain Garrett’s voice came back over the squawk box. “Secure EMCON! Bring up all radars and initiate full-spectrum ECM! All point defenses to Armageddon mode! I say again, all point defenses to Armageddon mode!”
Damn again, but if the Lady had balls they’d likely be solid brass and a yard wide. She actually sounded relieved about the fight being on.
A ram-sodden Chinese beach suddenly lit to a smoky orange glare. An HY-2 heavy antishipping missile lifted off of its launching trailer on a jagged plume of fire. Kicked into the sky by its solid-fuel booster rocket, it climbed up and out over the sea.
More commonly known in the West by its NATO code name of “Silkworm,” the HY-2 was another elderly weapon. A Chinese-produced derivative of the Soviet SSN 2 Styx, it was one of the first of its ship-killing kind. Literally a small pilotless airplane, delta winged and turbojet powered, it was designed as a robotic kamikaze, hunting down its target under radar guidance and diving headlong into it in a moment of mutual annihilation.
Despite its comparative crudity, its half-ton warhead could still deliver a shattering punch, granted it was allowed to hit.
The Cunningham herself answered to the threat. As her SPY-2A planar radar arrays detected the launch, a speed-of-light warning was flashed to the network of onboard computers that made up her Aegis battle management system. Possibly the closest thing to a true artificial intelligence yet devised by man coolly analyzed the threat and considered its options for a few microseconds. Her crew had enabled her to “Armageddon” mode freeing her to act in her own defense as well as their own. Thus she counterfired without waiting for human intervention.
Matching performance envelopes against intercept potentials the Duke took another microsecond to make an ordinance selection from her arsenal. She chose an Enhanced Sea Sparrow Missile, one of a quad pack of such weapons carried in a single cell of her forwardmost Vertical Launch System.
Relays closed and a charge of inert, high pressure gas hurled the slender twelve-foot long projectile out of its cell and clear of the deck. Its own rocket motor ignited and it arced into the sky. The gathering beams of the destroyer’s fire control radar acquired the Sea Sparrow and gave it guidance, hurling it toward the oncoming threat. Two miles offshore missile and antimissile met. The HY-2 had just leveled off from its climb when the smaller, triple sonic interceptor converged on it. There was a blue-white flare in the darkened sky and a smear of flame trailed down to the sea.
“Vampire down! Vampire down! Initial point defense intercept successful. HY-2 is no longer a factor.”
“I don’t want them to get another try at us Dix,” Amanda snapped “Kill that battery radar.”
She dropped her eyes to the tactical display again and gauged threats and distances. The lead Chinese hydrofoil had closed to a three mile range, close enough for both a possible radar return and a solid torpedo shot.
“Second target. Lay a Standard in on the lead Communist FAC as well.”
“On the way, ma’am.”
There was a soft thud from the cold-fire system and a pale, pencil-slender shape lanced out of a VLS cell. It seemed to hover over the foredeck for an instant, then an eye-searing dagger of flame stabbed downward from its exhaust nozzle. For an instant, ship and sea were illuminated as if by a gigantic arc light, then the fifteen-foot missile was away and accelerating toward the coast. The second round followed the first within half a dozen heartbeats, arcing back “over the shoulder” at the Cunningham’s pursuers.
The Standard SIN 2 had begun its life as a medium range antiaircraft weapon back in the late 1960s. Soon, however, it had developed a parallel service career as a HARM, a Homing AntiRadiation Missile. So used, it could be launched against an electromagnetic-emissions source, be it a radio transmitter or radar set, would ride in on the emitter’s beam, seeking it out and destroying it — a sharp stick stabbed into the eye of the enemy.
The Red coastal artillerymen were quite aware of the existence of HARM technology. As their air defense systems detected the Cunningham’s missile launch, a warning was flashed across their net and radar operators slammed hands down on kill switches, powering down their transmitters. Too late. The Standard has a superb memory.
Running on its last fixed range and bearing, the HARM blazed in across the beach. Just short of its goal, its proximity fuses triggered, detonating its 214-pound fragmentation warhead. The resulting shotgun blast of tungsten steel shrapnel shredded the HY 2 battery’s Square Tie radar van and antenna array.
Fortunately for the artillerymen, they had a wise battery commander. He had sited his transmitter well clear of his deployment area, operating it by remote link. As a result, he took only a couple of wounded among his launcher personnel.
The same could not be said for the crew of the lead hydrofoil.
The second Standard exploded directly over the small craft, the hail of hypervelocity metal sweeping all life from its cockpit and weather decks in an instant. With no one at its blood-spattered helm, the boat circled wildly for a minute or two until one of the two surviving crewmen belowdecks realized the totality of the carnage and closed the throttles.
“Bridge,” Lieutenant Mckelsie reported from the stealth bay. “All Red radars have powered down. We are no longer being painted.”
“Very good, Mr. Mckelsie. Fire a full decoy pattern from the RBOCS. CIC, down all radars! Cease radiating and resume full EMCON. Officer of the Deck come left to zero four five.”
The Cunningham began to list outward as she came about at high speed. As she did, stealthed hatches swung open on her foredeck and superstructure and launcher tubes hurled locket propelled grenades into the sky. Seeded out over a wide area the fireworks like bursts produced by the Rapid Blooming Overhead Chaff System spewed out clouds of highly reflective metal foil. If the Red radars came up again during the next few minutes, their operators would have to sort through a large number of false targets before they could hope to locate the true return of the fleeing destroyer. Amanda had no intention of making it any easier for them either. They had been running to the southeast, with the pursuing Red fast attack craft strung out in a line behind them. Now, by veering away to the northeast, she intended to put that line of small craft between herself and the more immediate threat of the mainland shore batteries.
“Mr. Mckelsie do you verify that the Communist radars are still down*?”
“So far, Captain I think we put the fear of God into.”
“Let’s hope it holds. Tactical Officer, if you get so much as a flicker, lay another round in on them. Don’t wait for my orders, Dix.”
“Got my thumb on the button, ma’am.”
Two minutes crept by. Three. The main squall line was rolling away to the north and a faint flicker of lightning haunted the horizon. The rain was beginning to slack off, and the quartermaster secured the bridge windscreen wipers and blowers. The sudden silence was unnerving.
Four minutes. The range from the coast continued to open.
Amanda felt a tightness in her chest and realized that she had literally forgotten to breathe. The FLIR systems were coming back on line as the atmosphere cleared, and they momentarily caught the wake of one of the Chinese hydrofoils, streaming away to the southeast. A little longer and the Duke would be clear.
“Square Tie going active on the mainland!” Mckelsie’s exclamation exploded from the 1-MC speaker like a bomb.”