"Nope. More than likely they're setting up something new."
Arkady gave himself a second to sweep the horizon ahead, another to check his instrumentation, and a third to try to analyze the vibration starting to feed back through his controls. Feels like a possible rotor hit. Sure hope a blade doesn't go. Then a check of the tail guard radar.
Somebody was back there, but he was coming in slower than before. Arkady skidded the helo a little and took a look aft. There was a pair of glowing landing lights on the horizon, aimed dead-on at them.
Uh-oh, he thought, this guy's been staying at home, reading his manuals, when he should have been out chasing the hot women.
A hundred and fifty miles away, Dix Beltrain reported. "First missile closing on engagement zone. Time to give them the count."
"Make it so," Amanda replied tonelessly.
"Gray Lady to Retainer Zero One. First round coming in.
We are giving you a ten count."
Arkady didn't bother to acknowledge, he just threw the helo into the tightest possible pedal turn it could make. Instead of the 20mm Galling gun carried in the nose of the Army's RAH-66 attack helicopter, the SAH-66 Sea Comanche mounted a variant of the same Hughes APG-65 multimode radar used by the F/A-18 Hornet strike fighter. The system had search and target-designation capacity, but
it covered only a 270-degree forward arc. They had to face their enemy to fight.
"Okay, Gus, light him up as soon as she bears."
In the rear cockpit, Grestovitch stared into his tactical display, struggling with his joystick controller to lay a targeting box on the blip of the attacking Tornado. Succeeding, he keyed in the lock and heard a confirmation tone.
"We got designation!"
"All right! Now let's see if we can get us a missile!"
Over the radio circuit, the distant TACCO droned down the count.
"… four… three… two… one… zero."
"Shit! Missed it!" Grestovitch yelled.
"Second round coming in. Three… two… one… zero."
"No capture! Still no capture!"
The combined speed of the two aircraft annihilated the distance between them. There was no pursuit curve to cut inside. No jinking or dodging that would make the least difference now. The Tornado would open fire in a matter of seconds.
"Third round coming in. Three… two… one…"
"Shit! Shit! Wait a second…. We got capture. We got capture!"
Twenty-five thousand feet up and five miles to the southwest, the LORAIN detected a familiar preceded pattern and frequency of radar impulses reflecting off an airborne target. Its onboard guidance package activated and fixed on it. The target's close proximity to the moving wave pattern of the sea complicated the lock. The LORAIN compensated with Doppler shift scanning and by sensing the passive microwave emissions radiating from the Tornado's own metallic structure. Its nose dipped and the missile dove.
The combined pull of gravity and the thrust of its engine pushed the LORAIN to the near hypersonic. The leading edges of its composite fins were starting to char as it punched down into the lower atmosphere. So great was its velocity that the warhead's proximity fuses didn't have the chance to function properly. It made little difference. The missile scored a direct hit.
There was a blue-white glare like a stroke of heat lightning and Cristobal's Tornado disintegrated, shredded wreckage spraying out across half a square mile of ocean.
Arkady got rid of a long-delayed breath. "Got capture? Offhand, Gus, I'd say you killed that puppy."
"Gray Lady, this is Retainer Zero One. Splash the third Tornado. The sole survivor is bugging out for home, and so are we. Resuming EMCON and proceeding to point item for recovery."
Amanda made no attempt to stop the cheering this time.
In the fading gray glow of the Antarctic twilight, Arkady spotted the Cunningham's distinctive shark's fin silhouette ahead of him. As he circled it, the big destroyer turned across the wind and the marker strobes outlining the helipad began to pulse, welcoming him home.
He popped his landing gear and got three green indicators down and locked. As he began to ease in over the rail, he saw the slender figure in the heavy duffel coat watching from the top of the superstructure, her red-amber hair whipping in his rotor wash. He grinned and flared his landing lights at her, and she replied by lifting a clenched fist over her head in a salute of mutual victory.
23
"Bullshit, sir!"
Harrison Van Lynden's words exploded within the Argentine President's office like a hand grenade.
"The proposition that your aircraft were acting in their own self-defense deserves no politer terminology."
"I do not enjoy being called a liar, Mr. Secretary," Sparza replied stonily from behind his desk.
"I do not enjoy calling a national leader and statesman of your caliber a liar, Mr. President. Could it be possible that your own military command has failed to fully inform you of the reality of this situation?"
"On the contrary, Mr. Secretary. I am quite aware of what has occurred off our coasts, and I completely stand behind the press release issued by our Ministry of Defense. Allow me to quote…" Sparza lifted a sheet of paper from his desktop and read aloud from it: " 'Realizing that the United States vessel was taking hostile action against them, the flight leader ordered his aircraft to open fire.'
"Those are the facts, Mr. Secretary."
Van Lynden's voice was controlled as he replied. "I have been informed by our own Department of Defense that a complete data download of the attack has been received from the USS Cunningham's Aegis computers. Analysis of that data will show that your warplanes and not our ship initiated aggressive action. The Cunningham did not return fire until she was fired upon and was in imminent danger of being sunk."
Sparza let the press release flutter back to the desktop.
"Perhaps we have a problem in semantics here. Our pilots did indeed see your ship conducting hostile acts against them. They are Argentine, and your ship has been interfering with Argentina's lawful freedom of the seas. This is clearly an act of aggression against their homeland; thus their actions were taken in defense."
"You might be able to sell that particular brand of sophistry to your own people, but the United States government isn't buying. I must warn you, President Sparza, that you have greatly escalated an already serious situation. My government will not accept having its ships fired upon and its sailors endangered!"
"Then withdraw your ships from waters where they do not belong! It was the United States that triggered this escalation with its reckless and unlawful blockade of the San Martin Peninsula!"
Sparza caught himself. Taking a deep breath, he cooled his temper. Van Lynden grimly waited for him to continue.
"Mr. Secretary," the Argentine finally said. "This kind of shouting match is as futile as the clash between our armed forces. This is a matter best dealt with by open and honorable negotiations among all of the involved nations. Argentina desires this above all else. Can we not put aside this childishness and proceed along more constructive paths?"
"The United States would welcome open and honorable negotiations, if they were in fact 'open and honorable.' However, we are aware of your plan to sow discord among the Antarctic Treaty states, and of the scenario by which you intend to seize power in Antarctica. It won't work, Mr. President."
Van Lynden rose from his chair and picked up his briefcase. "I have been in communication with my President. He wishes me to inform you that he condemns the Argentine attack on our vessel in the strongest possible terms. He also wishes me to inform you that he is authorizing the captain of the Cunningham to utilize whatever force is necessary to defend her ship and to maintain the blockade.