Beyond his fantail, firecracker strobes peppered the water, and wave tops echoed their anger. Lei recognized the explosions as anti-tank rounds jettisoned from flying warheads, designed to pierce armor and damage multiple dispersed small targets.
He dared to hope that every round would hit water until an ominous beacon carved a semicircle in the blackness. Dark plumes wafted from the silhouette of a patrol craft that rode low in the water.
The air felt moist as his ship slowed, and a thunderclap signaled that another craft absorbed a hit.
“Damage reports, all vessels,” he said. “Report in order.”
Before anyone responded, anti-tank munitions pelted the burning piers, and the blinded frigate to the north erupted under the barrage of two huge anti-ship warheads.
The maelstrom of noise died, and Lei heard his executive officer reporting that his ship had been spared.
“One, no damage.”
The next craft chimed in.
“Two, no damage.”
Lei heard controlled terror in the voice of the next man to speak.
“This is Craft Three. We took a round in our combat control center. Approximately ten casualties, but we have back up combat capabilities and full propulsion.”
“Very well,” Lei said. “Do you need assistance?”
“Negative. The fires are contained.”
Lei swallowed the guilt and sadness of his dead warriors and sought the condition of the rest of his team.
The fourth through sixth ships confirmed they were unscathed, but silence filled the gap where Lei expected to hear from the seventh.
“Go ahead, Seven,” he said.
“One, this is Eight. Seven is burning. I think they took a round in their fuel tanks. It’s bad.”
“Very well,” Lei said. “Six and Eight, head toward Seven to spray water and pick up survivors.”
Golden exhaust flashes from a single-arm launcher outshone the burning harbor, and Lei heard Standard Medium Range missiles roaring overhead.
He watched the surviving frigate, the pier’s dancing flames revealing smoke rising from its multiple wounds, prove it remained in the fight.
Damn it, Lei thought. I forgot the remaining aircraft.
He depressed a button on his headset, switching to his ship’s internal voice circuit.
“Navigator, receive the remaining data reports. I want to know if anyone else has been hit.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Executive officer,” Lei said. “What’s still out there identified as a threat?” he asked.
“All eight remaining enemy aircraft vectored north and are now heading back south at low altitude. The Cheng Kung is engaging them with Standard missiles, but they are too many. I believe they mean to strafe our ranks!”
Lei refocused on the remaining threat. Eight aircraft — minus whatever the frigate could eliminate — were overrunning his squadron. And his ship stood first in line for the beating.
“Navigator,” he said. “I want the Stinger team and the twenty-millimeter gun to bear against the incoming aircraft. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bring us to a full bell, turn us away from the minefield, and show the intruder a quarter bow aspect.”
Lei’s thighs stabilized him as the ship rolled. He shifted his voice circuit to all ships.
“All units, this is Lei. We are being strafed from the north. All units engage with Stingers and twenty-millimeter guns. Evade in random directions at random speeds. Be unpredictable. Force them to maneuver and adjust fire. Pop chaff and throw off their radar.”
His executive officer told him that the frigate’s Standard missiles had eliminated three of the enemy. Of the survivors, four held their formation while the fifth skimmed the wave tops and vectored toward his ship.
“Range to target?” Lei asked.
“Three miles,” the executive officer said.
Lei stepped to the superstructure’s railing and looked to the Stinger missile team on the fantail. Legs spread, one sailor pressed his eye to launcher optics while holding the weapon on his shoulder. His partner crouched below him, balancing a reload against his thigh.
Lei muted his mouthpiece and screamed.
“Shoot! Damn it! Shoot!”
Light sliced the sky and sketched a curve toward the inbound jet. Lei heard rapid gunfire echoing off wave tops and saw his ship’s gun’s tracer rounds. Retaliatory muzzle flashes popped in the sky, followed by chirps and splashes.
As the splashes became discordant clanging, Lei dropped his belly to the nonskid. As the bullets fell silent, he craned his neck and saw the Stinger missile fall in a ballistic death-dive. He crawled to his knees and saw his Stinger team flattened.
He jumped to the ladder and slid down to the fantail. He darted to his reload man and found him lying motionless with dark holes across his torso. Beside him, his launcher man writhed on the deck, clutching his shin.
A blood-speckled white shard extended through severed skin, and Lei recognized a future amputee. He grabbed the man’s jaw and crouched over his face.
“Can you shoot?” Lei asked.
The man winced and ignored him. Lei released him and grabbed the launcher. He found the reload round, fumbled with it, and then inhaled to clear his mind. The missile slid into the launcher, and he hoisted it over his shoulder as he knelt by his sailor.
“I need you to shoot! Get up!”
Lei curled the sailor forward and stuck his head under his shoulder.
“Up!”
Lei lifted, and the man howled as he stood and dangled mangled flesh. Lei reached for the strap and extended the launcher in front of his partner.
“Take it and shoot!” he said. “Lean on me for support.”
“Yes, captain.”
The man balanced the weapon over his shoulder and pushed his eyes into the optics. Lei heard a violent swoosh and braced against a mild kickback. Rocket exhaust illuminated a trail of smoke.
Lei heard his ship’s gun belching bullets, and he heard new chirps and splashes as his assailant adjusted its flight and targeting. Bullets punctured his ship again, and he dragged his injured sailor to the deck.
Engines whined as the formation of four mainland jets sought the rest of Lei’s squadron. He learned the fate of the fifth jet as he rolled to his side and saw its fiery fuselage plummeting.
He rolled to his hip and adjusted his earpiece.
“Executive officer,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“Sir, the Stinger missile took down the inbound bandit!”
“Excellent,” Lei said. “We can do this!”
“No, sir! Friendly Fighting Falcon aircraft have arrived. They’ve ordered us weapons tight.”
“So be it,” Lei said.
He shifted his frequency.
“All units, this is Lei. Friendly aircraft inbound. Weapons tight! Weapons tight!”
He shifted his frequency once more and asked the executive officer to send the medic to the injured Stinger operator.
He unbuttoned his shirt and twisted it tight while walking to his injured sailor. Wrapping the fabric into a tourniquet, he heard enemy aircraft climb and run from incoming Fighting Falcons. Friendly jets rumbled to the south as they chased away the remnants of the menace.
The sailor looked to Lei.
“What happened, sir? Did we get him?”
“Make no mistake,” Lei said. “You hit him. You fought through your pain and performed your duty with honor. No matter the outcome of this campaign, and whether or not you need a prosthetic to walk again, you will recover in your hospital bed knowing that you are a hero.”
A smile beamed behind a grimace, and the man lay back.
“We can triumph, can we not, sir?”