Dale Brown - Dale Brown's Dreamland 04 - Piranha(and Jim DeFelice)(2003) (42 page)

 
          
They
were turning again, this time south. Zen made another course correction, then
studied his sitrep map on the far-right screen. He guessed the subs were making
an end run around the back of the carrier task force.

 
          
Zen
glanced over at Jennifer. She seemed more herself, her nose almost touching one
of the computer screens. The only signs she was still upset were that she
wasn’t talking to herself or sipping her diet soda.

 
          
“Hey,
Jen, we’re going to have to drop a buoy soon.” He said.

 
          
“Yeah,”
she said. “I just want to make sure they’re going to hold roughly this course.
I’ll work it out with Captain Stockard.”

 
          
“You
have to watch the carriers.”

 
          
“I
know.”

 
          
“I
know you know.”

 
          
“There’s
a comeback for that, but I don’t remember what it is.”

 
          
Zen
turned his attention back to the screen. He realized he’d slipped a big
off-line, and started to correct a little too quickly. The probe went too far
right, then wallowed a bit as he overcorrected. He backed off, easing his grip.

 
          
A
warning tone buzzed in his ear. He started to frown, thinking the computer was
scolding him, then he realized it was showing a new contact.

 
          
“Jennifer—I
have a new contact. No range markings,” he said. He flipped back into the
thermal mode—there were only two funnels. He went back—the third shadow was off
to the left; it didn’t seem to be moving.

 
          
Jennifer
punched buttons at her station. “Roughly thirty-eight miles away, but the probe
isn’t sure. Very quiet, angled away—could be a submarine using only its
battery. I’m guessing it’s the Indian sub.”

 
          
“Not
one of ours?”

 
          
“Hang
on.”

 
          
He
could hear her pounding her keys.

 
          
“Doesn’t
appear to match. We can check with
PacCOm
, though, see
if the position would match. I think it’s the Indian. It’s got to be. Can you
hold your position while I talk to the Piranha people and see if I can get more
data?”

 
          
“The
Chinese subs are trucking,” he told her.

 
          
“Well,
hang back a little while I get Commander Delaford. They’re not using active
sonar?”

 
          
“They
haven’t since we came on.”

 
          
The
probe’s nose began to oscillate; he’d moved it too fast. Zen gently applied
pressure to get it into a wide circle, where it stabilized.

 
          
“The
Indian sub is supposed to be further south and to the east,” said Jennifer.
“Commander Delaford says it’s possible it is one of the American attack subs at
a good distance, beyond what the probe is reading. He can go through the data
later. Stay with the Chinese. We’re going to check in with
PacCom
.”

 
          
“We’re
going to need that buoy soon,” Zen said, pushing up his speed.

 
          
Aboard the trawler
Gui
in the South China Sea

 
          
It
would not be an exaggeration to say things had gone in completely the opposite
direction from what Chen Lo
Fann
had intended. Now
that he had all of the data and weighed all of the evidence—the attack on his
post, the interception of the missiles, the communications showing the American
and Chinese pilots joked freely—it was clear a secret agreement had been
reached between the two countries. They somehow saw India as a common enemy,
and if they joined together against India so quickly after the animosity of a
few months past—what would that mean for his Free China?

 
          
Annihilation,
surely.

 
          
The
course must be reversed. To do this, however, he would have to go well beyond
his mandate. He would have to violate his orders. In a way that was most
unambiguous.

 
          
There
was no choice, though. He would use the robot planes; not to spy, but to
provoke the Communists. They would think they were American U/MFs; they would
attack in turn. The Americans would have to retaliate. It would be a replay of
the events a few months before, but this time the Americans would have no
reason to stop. This time, they would annihilate the Communists. China would
once more be unified under a free government.

 
          
His
own government would be displeased with his methods. Despite the outcome, he
would be punished. But Chen had no choice. Disaster loomed, and he could not
count on fortune reversing herself without his own action.

 
          
As
he went to board the helicopter that would take him to the dragon ship,
Fann
told himself that this was the way it must be.

 
          
Aboard Quicksilver

 
          
“
Redtail
One to Quicksilver. You reading us there, Air
Force?”

 
          
Breanns
clicked the talk button. “We have you,
Redtail
,” she said, acknowledging the communications from
the S-3B, an ASW aircraft launched from the USS Independence. The two-
engined
Lockheed Viking was an incredibly versatile craft
developed primarily for antisubmarine warfare. Packed with electronic
equipment, it could launch and monitor up to sixty sonar buoys; it was also
equipped with an inverse-synthetic-aperture radar for finding surfaced
submarines at long range. When feeling aggressive, the S-3s could pack
everything from
antisub
torpedoes to Harpoons and
even
Rockeye
cluster bombs. They could also carry
nuclear depth charges, though as a general rule these were not deployed.

 
          
Like
all Vikings in the Navy, this one was scheduled to lose its ASW role in the
next few months. In fact, if it hadn’t been for the conflict with China, it
probably already would have changed roles.
Orions
and
helicopters were set to take on the task, though as this plane’s presence
showed, neither aircraft could quite completely take the versatile little
Lockheed’s place.

 
          
This
particular S-3B happened to be a member of a storied squadron, the oldest
dedicated carrier ASW group in operation, the Fighting
Redtails
.
While their planes and detection gear had changed dramatically since the
squadron was first organized in 1945 (it didn’t gain its nickname until 1950),
the pilots and crew members still showed the determination born in a period of
worldwide strife.

 
          
They
also liked to rag on the Air Force whenever possible.

 
          
“What
the hell you doing out over water, Air Force?” mocked the
Redtail
pilot. His plane was roughly fifty miles to the southeast, approaching at about
320 knots. “You lost?”

 
          
“We
hear you Navy boys needed your hands held,” replied Breanna.

 
          
“Hey,
Air Force, either you’re a woman or real popular with the choir.”

 
          
“Want
to hear me sing?”

 
          
“Only
if it’s ‘Anchors Away.’ ”

 
          
“Sorry,
my plane is programmed to self-destruct if I sing that. You want a fix on our
contacts or what?”

 
          
“Roger
that, good-
lookin
’.”

 
          
“My,
what a charmer,” Bree said to Chris. “Give the joker what he’s looking for.”

 
          
“A
punch in the mouth.”

 
          
“Just
the coordinates for now,” she said. “You can protect my honor later.”

 
          
As
Chris filled
Redtail
in on the submarine contacts,
Torbin told Breanna the Chinese were scrambling a pair or fighters after the
S-3.

 
          
“
Redtail
, be advised you have some tagalongs,” Bree told the
Navy flight.

 
          
“We
always dig a little faster and a little harder when people are watching,”
answered the pilot.

 
          
“Come
again?”

 
          
“Line
from ‘Mike Mulligan,’ ” explained the Navy aviator. “You know, Maryanne and the
Steam Shovel. Kids book.”

 
          
“You
got me.”

 
          
“You
don’t have kids?”

 
          
“Negative.”

 
          
“I’ll
give you one of mine.”

 
          
Two
Sukhois from one of the Chinese carriers rode out to shake hands with the S-3.
Chris tracked them for the Viking, then helped Breanna get ready for the buoy
drop, now less than five minutes away. After they opened the bay doors and
started to nose downward, the radar picked up a new flight taking off from the
T’ien
, the Chinese carrier that had recently entered the
arena.

 
          
“Sikorsky
SH-3,” said Chris, his voice jumping an octave. “Wow. Where’d that come from?”

 
          
“Range?”

 
          
“One
hundred miles. That’s a Sikorsky. The Chinese don’t have it,” added Chris. The
venerable SH-3 had served with many countries, but wasn’t listed in the
inventory of Chinese aircraft. “Those are ours.”

 
          
“Want
me to tell them to give is back?”

 
          
“Captain,
I have an active search radar off a Sea King AEW Mark 2 British helicopter,”
reported Torbin. “Hey, this is pretty interesting stuff—the Chinese have a Sea
King bag on that Sikorsky.
Searchwater
. Getting
parameters.”

 
          
Torbin
was using the slang term for the special airborne early warning system
installed in Royal Navy Sea Kings. The British had pioneered the use of AEW
systems on helicopters, installing what they called
Searchwater
radar with a data link to their Harrier aircraft. Mounted in what looked like a
large spaghetti pot off the starboard side of the aircraft, the radar gave
roughly a hundred-mile coverage when the helicopter reached ten thousand feet.

 
          
“Chinese
don’t have this sucker,” added Torbin.

 
          
“Yeah,
so you think the Queen defected?” asked Breanna.

 
          
“More
like someone from Spain. They use this configuration. Wait, though. You know,
it’s not exactly a
Searchwater
.”

 
          
“Does
he have us?”

 
          
“Uh,
negative on that. Our profile’s too small for him.”

 
          
“Okay,
everybody take a breath,” said Breanna. “Let’s drop the buoy, then recheck your
gear and make sure our
Ids
are right. Major Stockard,
Ms. Gleason, we’re about thirty seconds away from the drop.”

 
          
Philippines

 
          
Danny
Freah’s legs wobbled as he stepped out of the Quick Bird; he had to grab on to
Stoner to keep his balance. The rest of the team was waiting near the edge of
the runway. For some reason, he had expected Powder’s remains to be waiting
there as well, though, as protocol demanded, the dead man had already been
removed to a proper area to await disposition.