The deadly burst marched forward along Karma’s waterline, ripping it open in a frenzy of explosion, fire and fragmentation. The deafening roar of the BOER cannon stunned everybody but the crew of PCQ-83 had this down to well-honed routine. Up on the bows, Lillee, her blonde wig now discarded on the deck was kneeling behind the armor plate while aiming an RPG at the blazing pirate ship. The rocket seemed silent as it streaked across the sea surface, but its explosion ripped at the bow, tearing a huge hole in the wooden structure. Karma was already listing hard, her whole portside in flames and her shattered bow rearing at the sky like a dying shark. Her crew were trying to abandon ship but they had to do so in the face of fire from two machine guns mounted on PCQ-83’s bridge. They didn’t make it. The converging streams of bullets cut them down on the deck, tossing their bodies around like rag dolls.
By the time the ready-use magazine on the BOER was empty, it was all over. If anybody had been timing, it was less than ten seconds from the time the pirate ship had opened fire. Now she was sinking fast and PCQ-83 closed in on the wreck, taking pictures of her death. After the crashing roar of the BOER, the silence was almost uncanny, the sailors could hear the water lapping at the hull of PCQ-83 and the crackling as Karma’s wooden hull burned. Then, Captain Vichai saw movement in the water. There was a survivor swimming in the oil-filled waste that was staining PCQ-83’s pristine white hull. “Hey Khun Lillee. We have a survivor, would you like to do the honors?” The girl waved and trotted aft, pulling a T-shirt over her swimsuit as she went.
In the water, Ismail saw the figure leaning over the side and throwing him a rope. He was still stunned by the suddenness and enormity of the disaster. One second he had been looking forward to an evening of looting and rape, then all hell had broken loose and he had been blown into the sea by a deafening, overwhelming blast of gunfire. His beautiful Karma was a blazing wreck, already slipping below the sea. He had just enough presence of mind to catch the rope and felt himself being pulled towards the patrol ship. A girl reached down, stretching out her hand to him. He reached out but, instead of pulling him on board, she slapped a handcuff around his wrist. The other end was attached to a 10-kilogram lump of pig-iron.
“Pirate. You think you are a holy warrior? Well, if a holy warrior is killed by a woman, he goes to hell for all eternity. Enjoy eternity, pirate.” The girl blew him a kiss then pushed the lump of iron over the side. As it dragged the pirate to the bottom of the sea, Captain Ismail wished he’d had the sense to listen to his mother. She’d always told him to stay away from infidel women.
Hindustan Aviation Gnat F.2, Vishnu-1, 10,000 feet over the North West Frontier, India
The Gnat was a pilot’s aeroplane. Unlike the monster American fighters that hurtled around the sky so wrapped in speed and electronics that the pilot might as well be driving a train. Unlike the Alliance Aviation Arrow that was no better. The Gnat was the minimum possible airframe that could be wrapped around a pilot, an engine, and two 30 millimeter cannon. It was so small that, standing beside it, Squadron Leader Kintha could hardly believe he would fit in it. But fit he could. Just. He didn’t even need steps to get in, he could swing a leg into the cockpit the same way he could swing over the door of his sports car.
For all its diminutive size, the Gnat was a formidable little aircraft. Its two fast-firing 30 mms, semi-copies of the German MG-213C designed by Mauser in Switzerland and license-built in India, gave it respectable air-to-air and air-to-surface firepower. Under its short, stubby wings, the Gnat had four hardpoints. Today, the outer ones carried fuel tanks, the inner ones a pack of six five-inch rockets on each side.
The Gnat had other advantages, not obvious ones, but important. It was rock-steady, making it a perfect gun- and rocket platform. It was agile and had a blinding roll rate, in a dogfight it could reverse its turns so fast that an enemy would be dazzled into bewilderment. In mock dogfights it had wiped the floor with the old F-80s and F-84s.
Above all it was cheap, easy to build and easy to maintain. Hindustan Aviation boasted that they could supply an entire wing of Gnats for the cost of one of the American’s fabulous F-108s. It was true, too, and a lot of countries had appreciated the fact. Hindustan Aviation had an order backlog for Gnats that stretched for years and the Indian Air Force were in two minds on that. It was good that the company was making so much money on their export orders because they subsidized the Indian’s own production. The bad news was that deliveries to export customers meant that the Indian Air Force was getting fewer Gnats than it would have liked.
Still, his wing had them now. Three squadrons, each with 16 Gnat F.2s. a section of four Gnat R.3s and another of the two-seat T.4 conversion trainers. It was about time too. The rules had been changed along the north west frontier and this flight was being made to announce the fact. Until now, the terrorists crossing the border had had sanctuaries in Afghanistan and Iran but no more. Under international law, the victims of cross-border raids had a right of hot pursuit and now, India was going to take advantage of it. The previous night, a patrol from Skinner’s Light Horse had detected a group of terrorists crossing the border. They’d set up an ambush, caught the terrorists and bloodied them badly. Now the terrorists were retreating for what they believed was their sanctuary. It wouldn’t be of course, not this time.
Early that morning, one of the Gnat R.3s had done a sweep along the border. Its cameras had picked up another ambush, one the Caliphate was laying for the SLH. They’d fire across the border and rip up the Indian unit, then retreat into the trackless wastes their side of the border. So they thought, anyway. Kintha looked down at the map marked with the enemy positions. They were just about there. This was going to take some timing.
“All Vishnu Elements. Time to go.” He pulled the Gnat’s nose up and did a perfect wingover, translating his forward motion into a 30 degree dive at 90 degrees to his original course. The Gnat was supersonic in a dive and its little airframe went through the sound barrier with hardly a shudder. Behind him, the remaining three Gnats of his section were following his move, turning their finger four formation into a diagonal line diving on the Caliphate position.
Discipline always had been a Caliphate problem; their troops were tribal levies and did more or less as they wished. This time, they fired on the Gnats with their rifles and machine guns. That made what the Gnats were about to do legal, although the consideration made very little difference. It also gave away the Caliphate positions and that made a very big difference.
Kintha adjusted his dive slightly and waited to the position grew to fill his sight. Then, a gentle squeeze on the firing switch and the rockets Hashed out from under his wings. He started to pull back, seeing as he did, the explosions roll across the target area. He was watching for the corkscrew stream of smoke that would mark one of the shoulder-fired anti-aircraft missiles coming his way but there was none. That was good, but those missiles had taken so much of the fun out of a day’s work. The days when fighter-bombers could go on a low-level rampage through the enemy defenses were going fast. As he climbed clear, Kintha saw the second section of Gnats dive on the target area, releasing napalm tanks.
“This is Pegasus-four-three hee-ah.” The voice on the radio had the upper-class English nasal drawl that Indian cavalry officers affected. It was said in the Triple Alliance that the Gods, in their wisdom, had decided Englishmen were necessary and since the English weren’t really English any more, Indians were taking their place. Pegasus four-three was the Skinners Light Horse unit they were supporting. “Thank you my faithful flying fiends. We’ll take it from here.”