With two hands, Bai’s arms lunged at the push bar. The cafeteria door flew open and bounced back, missing Bai only because he blew through the opening. The midday sun bathed Blood Moon in a tropical heat that matched Bai’s blood temperature. He continued, at a steady clip, toward his dormitory. Liu stepped outside and broke into a run to catch up.
“Bai! Bai Quon! Stop! Please!”
Bai heard her and stopped with hands on hips, turning toward her with his jaw set. Liu Qi was causing a scene, and wagging tongues would spread the picture of the girl running after the fighter pilot before the evening meal.
“Bai! What’s wrong?” Liu asked as she trotted to a stop, panting.
“Everything is fine, Liu Qi. I am going to study flight procedures concerning the People’s fighter aircraft. You need not follow.” Bai felt the eyes of passersby on them, the “it” couple of Blood Moon Atoll.
“Bai, what happened?”
“It is a military matter that women would not understand.”
“I’m sorry, Bai. I’m just a girl, but I can see you are troubled. I wish to help.”
“I do not need your help! I wish you would know that and leave me to my duties!”
“Bai Quon, why do you not show me kindness? I am your girl, here for you to help you support the People. Please let me.”
Exasperated to be seen arguing with Liu, and angry with the world, Bai wheeled for the operations building. Behind him, he heard a crushed Liu Qi burst into tears, frustrated by her failure to provide support to her man in his time of need.
Four FA-18Fs and an EA-18G Growler from USS John Adams approached the Philippines near Leyte as they flew into a setting sun.
All but one of the four Super Hornet aircrews were new to the ship, rushed out from Lemoore to replace crews detained in Hong Kong. Loaded with air-to-air and air-to-ground ordnance, they were aided by an E-2 behind them and two F-35s from Solomon Islands. With the ship 500 miles behind them, it was the deepest penetration American carrier aircraft had made into the Philippine Sea since hostilities had begun. Any vessels they encountered were considered a threat, and the sensors on the Growler, the JSFs, and the E-2 all added to the picture that the Hummer linked back to the ship. Before walking to their aircraft, they learned of the action by Hancock to the north, resulting in the loss of a Rhino by a probable microwave weapon from a Chinese trawler. All were conditioned to exact payback, especially the Growler guys who had so many of their mates held by the Chinese. They also knew that humble fishing boats had to be considered serious threats.
Transonic at 30,000 feet, they floated west and on the horizon saw gray mountaintops peek through low clouds and haze. Below, the surface vessels they encountered were identified on their link displays as friendly or neutral. The Rhino Weapons Systems Officers marked them nonetheless, and took FLIR images as they jotted down the course and speed of the contacts on kneeboard cards. The symbols on a linked-track 120 miles ahead showed hostile.
Two of the Rhinos were fitted with SLAM-ER missiles, which were long-range precision weapons that could be released beyond visual range of the threat vessel and, through data link, flown into it. The lead Super Hornet decided to shoot two weapons at the enemy vessel, after the E-2, in contact with the carrier, granted them clearance to engage.
At fifty miles, their FLIRs showed the vessel was big, a seiner of over 300 feet with a large superstructure forward and a towering A-frame kingpost on the stern. With the Growler and JSFs orbiting and collecting ELINT data on the seiner, as well as other vessels in the vicinity, the fighters began their run-ins.
With wings deployed and jet engines ignited, the two SLAMs descended toward their target as the delivery jets pumped east. With the WSOs controlling the SLAMs, the pilots could peer over their noses to see a small dot on the surface ahead that trailed a wake — the PRC seiner.
As the first missile got close enough for the WSO to break out features, the seiner attempted a lock-on. The missile held lock as it homed in. Then, with no warning, it broke lock and began a descent. The WSO “grabbed” it and slewed the crosshairs up, but the picture became grainy and showed an even steeper descent into the waves before it turned to video snow. What the…?
The WSO transmitted, “Lead’s missile just went stupid.”
At the same time, the number two WSO saw on his display a faint white puff of spray on the surface next to the seiner. Without the call from lead, he would have interpreted it as a whale spout, but he now guided his weapon in on the primary aiming point as they briefed. Soon, his screen, too, began to go fuzzy and then froze — followed by video snow.
“Just lost mine, too.”
The Rhino crews turned away and rejoined with each other and the lead jets. The division lead suspected the missiles were disabled by directed energy. A minute later, after receiving inputs from the supporting ELINT jets, the E-2 confirmed the seiner had a microwave weapon and short-range point defense radar. The Rhinos had more air-to-surface ordnance, but, not knowing what they were really facing, the lead retired to assess the intel they had collected. To fight another day.
But the Americans had a bigger problem as they pushed west across the Philippine Sea. The JSF sensors picked up faint ELINT bearings to the west: multiple, similar, and uniform in their frequency and band. To their electronic scanning devices, the ELINT hits were found along the entire horizon, and they appeared to be from airborne sources.
The raw data was collected aboard John Adams, and, when it was analyzed, the ship’s Intelligence Officer’s eyes widened in realization.
The entire horizon!
The information was sent via secure link to Solomon Islands and Hancock, then to their escorts, then to Seventh Fleet aboard Blue Ridge, then Camp Smith, then Washington.
The evidence was overwhelming. What was thought to be a Chinese technology demonstrator was fielded, and before anyone predicted, and in numbers no one could comprehend.
The Americans had a big problem indeed.
CHAPTER 48
Having played his hand, Admiral Qin was cautiously optimistic as he and his aide sat in the back of his staff car as they drove through the streets of Beijing. His mind wandered.
The PLA had “sea superiority” in the South China Sea. With their outposts full of warfighting men and material, they had a network from which they could interdict enemy shipping while riding cover for their own. With Vietnam’s air and sea capability degraded, their western flank was secure. To the east, the Philippines presented more of an island maze for the Americans to hide in than a direct military threat. With the deployment of Heaven’s Shield, he held the high ground from the Luzon Strait to the Sunda Shelf and, on his Spratly outposts, had interlocking rings of capable surface-to-air missiles that could target American aircraft from hundreds of kilometers away. The PLA(N) and Coast Guard were everywhere on the near seas: his Type 055 cruisers defended his northern flank from American aircraft, and his diesel boats lay in wait for American fast-attack submarines coming through the Luzon Strait. While the strait was a narrow chokepoint, it wasn’t a fortified wall, and even the Formosa Strait had to be guarded against American incursion. Naval aviation patrols could launch from Hainan or Guangdong province without fear of American attack, and little chance of encountering an American surface or aviation unit in the near sea. Outside the first chain, the Americans had to check everything from containerships to trawlers, and the militia had spilled blood and shed blood keeping the Americans guessing. True to form, American media attacks when Admiral Clark’s forces guessed wrong sowed doubt in his commanders, and, Qin hoped, in his young pilots. Meanwhile, the People’s fishermen harvested the bounty of the Southern Sea with no competition.