But Yin did not order the RK-55 warheads removed from the Fei Lung-9 missiles.
He still had two Fei Lung-7 missiles and the firepower of the rest of his task force to use, and besides it was somewhat dangerous for the crew to download a missile from its launch canister and change high-explosive warheads at night during a combat situation — never mind that two of those warheads would be nuclear.
“Status of Talon Eight-One,” Yin ordered.
“Combat-ready, sir,” Captain Lubu replied after relaying the request to Combat. “Armed with six NTL-90 torpedoes. Data link is still active in all modes. Loiter time… estimated at one more hour for min fuel return to the Paracels, one point five hours for an emergency landing on Spratly Island. They’re still transmitting targeting data and awaiting orders to re-attack.”
Yin nodded. The Murene NTL-90 dual-purpose torpedoes, capable against both surface vessels and submarines down to depths as great as five hundred meters, were substantial weapons of their own. Their maximum range was slightly greater than the eight kilometers — which was greater than the range of the guns on Philippine warships, although it was much less accurate against surface targets and, for greatest accuracy, the Shuihong-5 patrol aircraft would have to move in to four or five kilometers to drop the torpedo. Yin hesitated sending the Shuihong-5 back in within gun range, because if the patrol aircraft was struck down, he would have no choice but to move his precious Hong Lung in closer to the enemy to target his remaining antiship missiles, but he knew he had little choice.
“Order Talon Eight-One to attack with torpedoes,” Yin told Captain Lubu. “Order them to specifically target the northern frigate. I want targeting information for the southern frigate and a second Fei Lung-7 salvo launched against it immediately.”
“The waters in the Palawan Passage may be too shallow for torpedoes, sir,” Lubu reminded Admiral Yin. “The torpedoes dive as far as fifteen meters before beginning their climb to the surface — there may not be enough depth in the area to accommodate that.”
“Then order Talon Eight-One to attack at slower speeds,” Yin ordered, “but I want the northern frigate prosecuted immediately. If the Filipino fleet is allowed to cross the Passage toward Palawan, we will have to withdraw before shore forces can react. I do not want these people to escape, Lubu, do you understand me? I will teach these Filipino cowards a lesson — the People’s Republic of China will defend its territory and its borders with all the power at its command. We will destroy ten ships for every one of ours that is attacked. Now carry out my orders, Captain.”
If there was a room in all the huge expanse of desert known as HAWC in the restricted area known as Dreamland that was more classified or more restricted than any other, it was Building Twelve, otherwise known as Hassle Hall. It was so named because every occupant undergoes a scrupulous security check before entering the building, and each and every room in the complex conducts it own security check for every individual, arriving and departing.
On the second-floor offices of the project known as PACER SKY, a huge high-definition TV monitor had been set up against one wall. A bank of computers and control equipment fed satellite data from the expansive Earth station mounted atop Skull Mountain within the Dreamland complex, and the digitized satellite data was unpacked from its microburst transmission format, decoded, processed, reassembled, and displayed on the huge monitor.
The four occupants of that super-secret room could scarcely believe what they were seeing — a real-time image of a Chinese warship over eleven thousand miles away, taken from a satellite about the size of a welder’s acetylene tank traveling five hundred miles overhead at seventeen thousand miles per hour. The image was so clear that they could count the different antennae on the vessel.
“My God, that’s incredible,” Air Force Colonel Andrew Wyatt, one of the Joint Chiefs of Staffs senior project officers, exclaimed. “And that photo was taken at night? It’s amazing.”
“We can do everything but read the name on the stem, sir,” Major Kelvin Carter said proudly. Carter was one of the heads of the EB-52 Megafortress strategic escort “battleship” bomber project, a command pilot, and the special project officer in charge of interfacing the PACER SKY satellite system with the Megafortress fleet. “It’s not an actual photo — it’s a composite image, combining radar, infrared, and low-light visual-spectrum data. We can do this with every ship that’s out there. We’ve spotted whales, dolphins, schools of fish, and even people on some of the smaller inhabited islands. But keep in mind, this is not the usable display.”
Carter motioned to the console operators, who switched the display to a larger-scale map of the area. The screen was filled with icons representing different vessels, along with data blocks near each icon. “Here’s the plan view of the area around the vessels out there. The computer issues identification icons to each and computes its track, speed, and plots past and probable courses. In attack mode, the computer will plot routes around the different threats displayed, select weapons to strike each target, and prioritize targets according to parameters entered by the commander.” Carter turned to a young Air Force officer beside him. “Ken?” Air Force Captain Kenneth F. James, assisting Carter with his presentation to the Joint Chiefs of Staff representative, motioned to a smaller monitor on another console. “As you know, Colonel McLanahan is out flight-testing his modified B-2 Black Knight at SWC. Here’s what he’s watching in the bomber, sir,” James explained. “It’s an instant intelligence and operations display. With this, a bomber doesn’t need to launch with a completed flight plan, decode targeting messages, or even stay in touch with his headquarters or task force commander. He can launch and drive right to the target, knowing that he’ll have the best and most current intelligence and flight plan available.”
Wyatt shook his head with amazement. “Incredible. Really incredible. Do you see that display in your plane someday, Captain? I understand you’re involved in a very futuristic fighter program.”
James glanced at Carter, momentarily unsure how to respond. “Captain James is a stickler for security, sir,” Carter explained. James smiled, apparently relieved that Carter had stepped in to intercede for him. “He’s understandably hesitant to talk about his DreamStar project, even to you.”
“I understand,” Wyatt said. “You guys live with security measures that really infuriate the Joint Chiefs. I don’t think there could be a bad guy within five miles of this place, right, Captain James?”
The young test pilot looked a bit startled at the question directed at him, but gave Curtis’ aide a weak smile and replied, “Security becomes a way of life around here, sir. You get very close-lipped after a while.”
“I’ll bet you do.”
“I think we can safely say that DreamStar is light-years ahead of even PACER SKY, sir. In my Megafortress strategic escort project, which I know you are well familiar with, PACER SKY would be ideal. One EB-52 acting as escort to a flight of bombers on a long-range strike mission will use PACER SKY to plan and update strike routes, pre-plan defenses, and optimize weapons usage.”
“All this… from a satellite that weighs only four hundred pounds,” Wyatt said. “Amazing.”
“It looks like Colonel McLanahan is getting ready to enter the low-level route, sir,” James pointed out. “When he switches between his Super Multi Function Display modes, we’ll be able to watch his entire run on this screen.”