If only the Patriot battery south of Taipei had had a couple of rounds left. They’d been in prime geometry for a boost-phase intercept.
On the very thin plus side, he didn’t have to worry about interference from another antimissile radar.
On this hand, on the other hand. But it didn’t really matter, did it? This was what a U.S. Navy cruiser was built for. Protecting the carrier. This time, though, he wasn’t being asked to throw his ship under the bus. Just expend his last rounds. However marginal their chances.
Singhe called, “One-minute warning. Fire gate selection. Launchers in ‘operate.’ Two-round salvo. Warning alarm sounded. Deselect all safeties and interlocks. Stand by to fire. On CO’s command.”
Dan crossed back to his desk. Bending past Fang, who was speaking urgently in Chinese on his net, he flicked up the cover over the Fire Auth switch. Even as it was tracking, ALIS was busily computing the probabilities of kill. He set his finger firmly on the switch, and snapped it to FIRE.
The bellow vibrated the stringers, the deckplates. A brilliant sun ignited on the previously black camera display, lighting the fantail, illuminating Savo’s wake, whipped-cream white against a heaving midnight sea. “Bird one away,” the combat systems coordinator announced. Another roar and rattle succeded it. “Bird two away.”
“That’s it,” Singhe breathed. “We’re shit out of Block 4s.”
Dan bent over the desk, watching the Aegis picture. Two symbols had departed Savo’s blue-circle-and-cross, heading south. He unsocketed the red phone again. “All stations this net, this is Ringmaster. Break. I have taken incoming missile with my last two Block 4 Standards. P-sub-K below ten percent. IPP remains centered over FDR strike group. Impact in six minutes. Over.”
When a hollow voice acknowledged, he signed off. Snapped to Singhe, “Make a separate report. Magazines empty except for antiair rounds and land-attack Tomahawk. No fish left. Full loadout of gun rounds remains. Increasing air activity over the mainland, north of Taiwan. Fuel state nearing critical. Awaiting orders.”
He lifted his gaze to meet Noblos’s. The scientist was leaning against the door again, his habitual station, elbows cupped in palms. He gave back a lazy, insolent smirk. Glanced at Terranova. Then back at Dan, still smiling.
Dan straightened, suddenly ignited with rage. Shit! Was this asshole laughing at him? Had he discovered the missing DVDs? The missing blade? Did he know they knew?
No. He couldn’t. Not yet. Noblos thought he was above suspicion. And, thanks to his equivocal status aboard, exempt from the Uniform Code. In international waters. Beyond prosecution.
But… fuck that! Dan gripped the back of his chair. He wouldn’t give up until, somehow, the guy paid for what he’d done. To Terranova. To his other victim, Celestina Colón. For the fear and distrust he’d spread between men and women. And not least, for his violation of Dan’s trust, and the duty and respect every sailor owed his shipmates.
“Stand by for intercept, salvo one,” the Terror muttered. “Stand by… now.”
They stared up at the screen.
The brackets, blue for own-ship missile, red for target warhead, nearly merged.
Nearly. But the blue bracket seemed to lag.
Then fell behind, altitude callouts dropping. Slowly at first, then quickly.
“Maneuvering burnout,” Wenck murmured, just loud enough to carry.
Noblos sniggered. Dan clenched his fists, but said nothing. Not yet.
ALIS’s lock-on faltered. The brackets winked off, then back on. They jittered before locking on again. A nimbus of ionized gas was forming, a ghostly halo circling the now-plunging warhead. “Juliet, starting terminal phase,” Terranova called.
The second set of brackets, where Aegis was tracking Savo’s other round, paced the speeding target for long seconds. The distance between them narrowed. Then held steady.
Then it, too, began to fall behind.
“Told you so,” Noblos said cheerfully. “Another five million down the drain.”
“I heard you, Bill,” Dan said. “I had to try.”
“Hey, it’s only money. And now you all get to go home! I understand. Believe me.” He chuckled. Waved a hand. Turned away, and undogged the forward door, before Dan could respond. The heavy steel protested as it came open, then thunked closed behind him. He didn’t bother to operate the dogging bar. Chief Wenck stepped over and, in one swift, violent chopping shove, sealed it behind the civilian.
“Permission to self-destroy,” Terranova said in a resigned voice.
Dan hesitated, wondering if it was necessary. If they shouldn’t just let the terminal stage drop, vanish, into the wastes of the far Pacific. Then nodded. It was just conceivable it might endanger some lone fishing vessel. “Granted, Terror. Self-destruct.”
“Mark, Meteor Juliet time on top,” Amarpeet Singhe said in a subdued voice.
The Aegis display flickered, then blanked. They blinked up at a Blue Screen of Death. “What just happened?” Dan said.
Wenck muttered, “Not sure… suddenly lost power out. Maybe that hinky driver-predriver blew. Shifting to backup.”
“Let’s get out of BMD mode. Go to normal air,” Dan ordered. He wanted a look around.
The screen came back on, but took several seconds to repopulate. The air activity over the mainland came up again, if possible, denser than before. It was concentrated opposite Okinawa now. Two U.S. F-15s were orbiting out in the strait, between Okinawa and Socotra Rock. Which, he recalled, the Chinese had just occupied.
“TAO, Radio.” The 21MC on the command desk.
“Go.”
“This is Radio. Dropped comms with Shangri-La.”
“This is the captain. What did you lose? Data link? Slow Lead?”
“All comms, Cap’n. Tried to reestablish on voice coordination. They’re not answering up.”
Dan told them to keep trying. He was double-clicking off when another station came up. “CIC, Bridge.”
“TAO, go,” Singhe said into the remote in front of her. Glancing at Dan.
“Something funny up here… lookouts report a flash way out on the horizon. Bearing relative zero three zero. Still kind of a fading glow out there.”
Dan glanced at the heading indicator, and converted the bearings in his head. To the southeast. The sun? He checked his Seiko. Too early. Their own self-destructing Standards? Not that small an explosion, that far away. “Bring up the aft camera.”
It came up almost at once. The horizon was clearly visible, jagged with the growing seas. But it shouldn’t be visible at all at this time of night. As they watched, the sky faded, very slowly, until all was dark again.
“What the hell,” Wenck muttered, “was that?”
Fang breathed, “It can’t be. Zhang’s mad. Insane.”
Dan gripped the edge of the command desk, breathing hard. Trying to keep it together. He clicked the Send lever again. “Radio, Captain. Any contact with the battle group yet?”
“Nothing heard, Skipper.”
“Keep trying. All circuits. Keep me advised.”
The Aegis screen jumped back, zoomed out. A patch of return shimmered. An elongated blob, where there’d been distinct contacts. Where six ships had steamed… “Ionization effects, bearing and range consistent with strike group,” the Terror pronounced tonelessly.
No one else said anything. Until Dan said, “Make a voice report. Navy red flash. Nuclear detonation report. You know the drill.”