Veronica asked, "Are you going to issue us an OPORD, sir?"
"I just have, Lieutenant," Carey said. "You will go immediately to the Battlecraft after this briefing for a final inspection of the ACV's condition. You will begin your mission tomorrow from the Daly's docking well at 0530."
"Oh-dark-thirty," Brannigan remarked. "The regular ol' SOP."
"Right," Carey said. "Good luck and Godspeed, Battlecraft:'
Everyone stood to attention as the commander left the room.
Chapter 13.
ACV BATTLECRAFT
ARABIAN SEA
VICINITY OF 15deg NORTH AND 65deg EAST
22 OCTOBER
1100 NOONS
PALI L Watkins had programmed the way point data into the automatic pilot, and the ACV ran the proper azimuths at a steady sixty-two miles per hour on two-thirds speed. Lieutenant Bill Brannigan, sitting in his captain's chair, ordered the fuel-consuming velocity for the dual purposes of attracting attention and making the ACV easy to identify by any unfriendlies who might be looking for her.
Over to Watkins's sight, Lieutenant Veronica Rivers maintained an electronic surveillance of their environment while keeping her weapons systems ready for a violent response to any aggressive actions directed toward the Battlecraft Bobby Lee Atwill sat in the doorway to his engine room, sipping hot coffee from a grease-stained cup.
Lieutenant Rivers spoke tersely into the intercom. "I've got a target at three-two-one, twenty-miles. Estimate it's moving at forty-plus miles per hour. That's got to be our bad boy."
"I agree," Bannerman replied. "Helmsman, steer three-two-one. Maintain speed."
"Steer three-two-one, maintain speed, aye, sir!" Watkins said.
The autopilot automatically disengaged when Watkins manipulated sticks and rudder for the change in course. This was one of the times when the SOP and common sense called for manual control.
Veronica checked her instruments. "We're in their radar," she reported. "I'm locked onto it."
"Roger," Bannerman said.
"I've picked up six more signals, Captain," Veronica said. "Jesus! The little bastards are moving fast as hell. Seventy-plus miles per hour."
"Concentrate on the faster blips," Brannigan ordered.
"Aye, sir," Veronica replied. "They're spreading out now, getting into positions all around us."
"Roger," Bannerman acknowledged. He picked up the radio microphone and raised the Combat Direction Center on the USS Dan Daly, where Commander Tom Carey stood by with the two CIA men, Paulsen and Koenig. When Bannerman's initial contact was recognized by a reply from the CDC radioman, the SEAL delivered a short meaningful transmission:
"We are engaged. Out."
.
THE BATTLE
1140 HOURS LOCAL
THE half-dozen speedier enemy craft were the Zauba Squadron's Spica-Class fast-attack boats. Commodore Muhammad Mahamat knew that the ACV had an estimated speed advantage over the vessels of twenty kilometers per hour. He directed his battle plan from his flagship Harbi-min-Islam, and he ordered the smaller craft to spread out and come in at the ACV from various directions to neutralize that plus in the Americans' favor. Proper positioning would be the key to victory that day.
The Number One Attack Boat swung over to the outside, faking an envelopment maneuver, then quickly cut straight in at the ACV. This was the Battlecraft's first target, and a fire-and-forget Penguin antiship missile kicked off the weapons wing. Its Mach-1.2 speed carried it with merciless swiftness to the target, and the warhead hit the attack boat less than a foot above the waterline. The hull split open as the upper structure bent and twisted in the blinding detonation. In less than five seconds there was no sign of the boat on the sea except for bits of debris and boiling water.
"Incoming!" Veronica reported.
"Evasive action!" Bannerman ordered.
Watkins kicked the ACV up to flank speed, quickly closing in on ninety miles an hour as he made several sharp turns, alternating port and starboard directions. Meanwhile, Veronica released chaff and flares to draw off the enemy missile. It sped straight to some flares floating down toward the ocean and went through them. Then, unable to match the ACV's erratic maneuvering, the deadly rocket continued harmlessly away until it hit the waves and exploded.
"Incoming neutralized," Veronica said.
Watkins was given a new course, and he slowed down to eighty miles an hour as Veronica chose the Number Two Attack Boat as the next target. The young skipper of the Oman boat took a couple of seconds too long to order a launch. Battlecraft's second Penguin slammed into the small ship just aft of the bridge. Both the hull and stem whipped inward as the explosion violently split the port amidships frame.
"Incoming!" Veronica reported again.
"Evasive action!" Bannerman responded.
"Incoming!" Veronica repeated.
With two missiles streaking toward the Battlecraft, Watkins first threw the ACV into a series of powerful tacking maneuvers while kicking her back up to flank speed. The first missile was drawn off by the chaff while the second, coming in from a different angle, was not affected by it or the flares. Watkins made a sharp turn to starboard, waited a couple of beats, then whipped around again in the same direction. The second projectile was unable to match the swift maneuvering and flew toward the distant horizon.
Veronica was not distracted by the violent turns. She managed to get a solid lock on Number Three Attack Boat and kicked off the third Penguin. It hit the bow of the enemy vessel at a three-quarters angle, sending the force of the warhead's explosion down the entire length of the boat. In one terrifying millisecond, bolts popped, welds split, and flesh charred in the total destruction that was blown across two square miles of ocean.
Bannerman jumped down from his chair to stand behind the female weapons officer. He noted the blips of the remaining three attack boats. "Watkins," he yelled out leaning toward the helmsman. "One-quarter left rudder! Two-thirds speed."
"One-quarter left rudder, two-thirds speed, aye, sir," Watkins said as calmly as if he were making ready to move into the Daly's docking well.
Veronica needed no orders. She picked out two of the remaining fast attack boats, locked on, and launched. In short seconds they disappeared from the screen. She glanced up toward Bannerman, her face lit with a fierce surge of happiness.
"Fish in a barrel."
.
FLAGSHIP HARBI-MIN-ISLAM
1155 HOURS LOCAL
COMMODORE Muhammad Mahamat's face was blanched with fear. His mighty Zauba Fast Attack Squadron was down to his flagship and a single, solitary surviving attack boat. He looked at his watch, shocked to note that in some fifteen minutes he had been roundly and solidly defeated by a cursed infidel air-cushion vehicle.
He jumped on his command frequency and raised the Number Six Attack Boat. "What is your situation? Over."
"I am fully armed," the young skipper answered. He tried to put a tone of bravado in his voice, but a slight tremble was detectable. He had seen his five sister ships disappear off the radar one by one.
"Then with the blessings of Allah," Mahamat said, speaking rapidly, "you will make an immediate attack on the enemy vessel. Over."
"I obey, Amid" the young skipper replied in the full realization that he and his crew were about to be martyred.
Mahamat turned toward the deck officer. "Set a course for Taimur Naval Base. Flank speed."
The deck officer turned away and breathed a surreptitious sigh of relief, then gave the orders to the helmsman.