The Flying Sharks broke into two groups of three planes each. One group went high, the other, low. One of Pelletier’s missiles speared a Flying Shark and the ones fired by the Super Hornets took out two more. A Lightningbolt struck a Super Hornet and zapped it from the sky. Another of Pelletier’s missiles detonated in the face of a Flying Shark, killing the pilot and ripping the Chinese warplane’s nose off. Confused by the multi-axis attack, the last two Flying Sharks dove to gain speed. They squirted chaff and flares as they rolled over. The Super Hornets fired two Sidewinder heat-seekers as Pelletier brought her Lightning II around. Should the Sidewinders fail to bring down the Chinese heavy fighters, Pelletier decided she would come in from the side and fire her own close-in missiles. The Sidewinders chased down the two Flying Sharks and practically flew up their tailpipes before their warheads exploded. Both Flying Sharks became burning balls that somersaulted and ripped apart in the sky. Pelletier looked around for parachutes, but spotted none. One airplane for six, she counted. Having lost one friend for six strangers, the cost was still too steep, she determined, although the admiral would certainly be happy. The Super Hornet peeled off for the boat. Pelletier turned to meet another one that had already pulled tanker duty.
Fifteen Flying Leopard fighter-bombers flew in from Hainan Island, belonging to the South Sea Fleet, 9th People’s Liberation Army Navy Air Force. The Flying Leopards began a low-level attack run on the American ships. They yanked up and fired Eagle Strike supersonic anti-ship missiles that winged off in a deadly flock. Climbing, the Chinese fighter-bombers continued to charge the American formation. Lake Champlain’s Aegis combat system scrutinized the horizon and detected the threat.
Sea Sparrows and Standards burst from their launch cans and vertical cells on Lake Champlain, Mahan, Ronald Reagan, and Winston S. Churchill. They whooshed into the sky, their blastoff enveloping the task force in a bank of propellant smoke. The Standard Missiles were still climbing out when the Sparrows intercepted several Eagle Strikes that skimmed in over the water. More of the Sea Sparrows then reached the Flying Leopards that were coming in high. Able to penetrate the American defenses with sheer numbers, the Chinese anti-ship cruise missiles threatened Ronald Reagan herself.
Power from the supercarrier’s twin reactors was diverted to laser turrets arrayed beneath the ship’s flight deck. They fired and held their beams on the lead Eagle Strike. The Chinese missile heated and exploded. Ronald Reagan’s laser turret swung over to the next target.
Lake Champlain kicked in a Rolling Airframe Missile that burst from a stern-mounted turret and skipped off. The task force’s Gatling guns came alive. Their ripping sound added to the chorus of sea battle. Eagle Strikes were cooked by laser, shredded by Phalanxes, or knocked down by RAMs. Some of them exploded so close that they sprayed the American ships with debris. Part of an Eagle Strike’s ramjet crashed onto the deck of Mahan. Otherwise, Task Force 24 was undamaged.
Lieutenant Pelletier broke her Lightning II from the tanker’s drogue hose. Ronald Reagan’s air controllers immediately put her on a vector to intercept the incoming bandits. They advised her that eight Super Hornets had just launched, as well, and that an EA-6 electronic attack aircraft was already on the prowl. Pelletier’s Lightning II turned hard and rushed at the bandits.
Seven People’s Liberation Army Air Force Flankers joined the fray, dashing for the American supercarrier with loads of Krypton supersonic anti-ship missiles. The Chinese pilots locked their missiles on the largest surface target and fired. Ramjets sprinted the Kryptons to over Mach 4 as the launch aircraft turned back to the mainland.
Lake Champlain’s Aegis combat system selected Mahan’s surface-to-air missiles for a defensive broadside. The Evolved Sea Sparrow Missiles ascended from Mahan’s missile deck. Already damaged by a mine, Thach maneuvered to shelter on Ronald Reagan’s starboard side. Lake Champlain reported that Standard Missiles had brought down several Chinese ballistic missiles that threatened the group. Rear Admiral Kaylo enjoyed a fleeting moment of relief. Then a new missile report came in. More ballistic and cruise missiles had departed the Chinese mainland. Kaylo looked to the sparkling sea and worried his defenses were being overwhelmed, and contemplated retreat for a fleeting moment. Then he pushed this dark and disheartening thought from his mind, got back to work, and had Essex put up two fighter-bombers to round out the task force’s combat air patrol.
Kicking up spray from Essex’s wet deck, an olive-drab Lightning II stealth jump jet rolled several feet and then leapt into the sky. Its engine nozzle, lift fan, and roll jet balanced the machine until adequate forward speed had been achieved. Once there was enough forward speed for the wings to generate adequate lift to keep the heavily loaded machine in the air, the engine nozzle rotated to horizontal and the lift fan door closed. A second stealth jump jet followed. It rose vertically on a cushion of black fumes, retracted its landing gear, nosed down, jetted off, and the two Marine Corps Lightning IIs met up and went supersonic. Ronald Reagan launched two Super Hornets. The American combat aircraft united and climbed to their patrol sector.
Task Force 24’s fast boats—the littoral combat ship Fort Worth and the guided-missile frigate Gridley—put themselves in front of the inbound Kryptons. The warships put up clouds of chaff and a wall of metal from their Gatling guns. Gridley kicked in an ESSM as well, firing it at near point blank range. An explosion low to the water confirmed a hit. Fort Worth’s close-in weapon system sprayed more big bullets and sent fratricidal rounds into Gridley’s rear deck, impacting and ricocheting around her helicopter hangar, shredding the walls, stowed equipment, and personnel working on a Seahawk engine. A Krypton homed in on Fort Worth, and she took the supersonic ship killer amidships. Fort Worth rocked with the energy of the hit. The Krypton penetrated her superstructure and went off inside, blowing her top off. With her bridge gone and the rudder locked over, the burning American littoral combat ship began to circle.
Sneaking past the task group’s outer defensive line, one Krypton screamed in at 2,000 miles-per-hour. Lake Champlain fired a Rolling Airframe Missile, and Mahan, her Phalanx. Ronald Reagan powered up her close-in lasers. Before the RAM and Gatling gun bullets hit, before the lasers had time to cook it, the last Chinese anti-ship cruise missile slammed into Ronald Reagan’s side just above the waterline, and took a deep supersonic stab at the American titan. It sliced through the supercarrier’s outer hull and penetrated her secondary skin. The Krypton’s mid-body warhead triggered a half ton of high explosive. Pipes burst, wires were ripped, fires kindled, and sailors died.
Several Flying Leopards continued their drive on the American ships. Frictional heat from the Chinese fighter-bombers forward quarters displayed on Pelletier’s cockpit screen and those of the two Marine Corps Lightning IIs on her wing. Three minutes later, burning wreckage tumbled from the sky. One Flying Leopard’s hot engine slammed into the water near Michael Monsoor.
Michael Monsoor kicked up sea-spray and punched through choppy seas. She slipped to within 90 miles of Liaoning as the nuclear attack submarine Connecticut crept in even closer. Vertical launch cells along the American stealth destroyer’s periphery yawned open. Tomahawk anti-ship cruise missiles rose and flashed off into the black night. Then Michael Monsoor’s deck guns emerged, elevated, and fired 12 shots in rapid succession before tucking back into their vaults. Michael Monsoor’s engines surged and she sped from her firing position.
“Intermittent surface radar contact,” Liaoning’s surface warfare officer announced. He had spotted Michael Monsoor for a moment, although the blip on his screen had disappeared again.
“Air-search radar has several projectiles coming in. Profile looks like cruise missiles,” the air warfare officer cried out.
Michael Monsoor powered up her sea-search radar, got a quick fix on the Chinese vessels, fired off six more railgun shots, and shut it down again. She rapidly changed course and then sped off. As Michael Monsoor misbehaved topside, Connecticut glided quick and quiet through the dark
waters.
“Shoot,” was the order from Connecticut’s captain. Eight Harpoon anti-ship cruise missiles slid from the submarine’s torpedo tubes. Connecticut crash-dived and accelerated away as the Harpoons broached and climbed out on boost motors. With Harpoons and Tomahawks on their way, the Chinese carrier battle group readied to take them down and slammed the water with sonar, trying to sniff out the enemy submarine that had to be close by. With her two big destroyers blocking the axis of attack, Liaoning prepared to lash out.
Liaoning’s deckhands opened the missile canisters forward of the carrier’s island. Inside the waterproof cylinders were the pointed intakes of fighter plane-sized missiles. Machinery started and gears turned, and two Granit surface-to-surface missiles were coaxed from inside their enclosures. They displayed shiny silver bodies with menacing skull and crossbones painted upon them. These long bodies tapered at the tail and ended with folding stub winglets and a stunted fin. Sailors in fire suits and gas masks attached hoses to the missiles and began filling their tanks with liquid propellant. When fueling was complete, the Granits’ turbofans started up.
Black smoke covered Liaoning’s flight deck as the missiles burned off a film of factory oil. A technician checked readouts and began programming the missile guidance packages with the American supercarrier’s approximate position. Onboard flight computers completed preflight checklists and brought engines to full power. The Granits’ launch rails were cranked-up and angled skyward, and personnel cleared the area.
With a howl, rocket assist packs lifted the Granits into the sky, where they dropped free and skipped into the sea. The huge Chinese cruise missiles leveled off, dipped to wave top, and flew toward the horizon. When done with this latest launch, Liaoning added her surface-to-air missiles to those already put up by Maanshan, Qingdao, and Zigong, and Chestnut-shaped turrets around Liaoning’s deck fired their Gatling guns and small Grisom surface-to-air missiles.
Several intruding American anti-ship cruise missiles were taken. Finally, getting dangerously close, the last Harpoons were knocked down, and a Tomahawk also succumbed to the hail. Two Tomahawks fought through, however. The stealthy American cruise missiles popped-up, climbed for a moment, and then nosed over to dive into Liaoning’s flight deck.
From Liaoning’s towering island, the Chinese admiral saw the American cruise missiles arcing in and instinctively crouched against the blast. There followed the sickly tearing of metal followed by a rumble from deep within his ship. He touched one of the bulkheads and felt Liaoning shimmy. The admiral stood and bellowed to his stunned officers: “Start damage control sirens and automated firefighting systems.”
Ronald Reagan was still turned into the wind. A brisk sea-spray drenched her flight deck and her hulk rose, fell, and rolled in the chop. Most of her air wing was in the air. Her decks were bare, save for yellow aircraft towing and weapon hauling equipment. A bright reflection emanated from close to the sea. One of Ronald Reagan’s deckhands pointed it out.
The big, shiny Chinese Granits approached low, skimming just over the white-capped waves. Lake Champlain’s radar spotted the Chinese cruise missiles, but the sea’s state interfered with targeting. Aegis sent several missiles anyway. When they missed, Mahan’s forward Phalanx opened up and shredded one supersonic missile in a hail of tungsten bullets. A sickly greenish-brown cloud formed where the Chinese missile had been. It expanded and drifted like an unholy fog. Lake Champlain fired two Rolling Airframe Missiles and Winston S. Churchill’s Gatling gun spit fire. The Granit approached and crossed the American supercarrier’s stern.
The Chinese missile dispersed an aerosol. The Granit overflew the flight deck and left a mist in its wake. Once over water again, the missile was slammed from three sides by bullets and missiles, and exploded in a huge fireball off Ronald Reagan’s port side. Rear Admiral Kaylo watched from the supercarrier’s flag bridge, believing his ship had survived a near miss. Then, when several sailors on deck began to convulse and grab at their throats, Kaylo went to the plate glass and pressed against it. Men flopped on the ground, gasping for air like fish out of water. Something was terribly wrong. Kaylo called the bridge to order countermeasures.
Ronald Reagan’s wash-down system pumped seawater through thousands of deck sprayers. Vents in the supercarrier’s air handlers were isolated from the outside and the public announcement system ordered everyone to get below decks. Those caught outside began to super-convulse as a nerve agent caused violent muscle contractions. Their contortions snapped bones and ripped tissue. When the VX was done tearing bodies apart, flaccid paralysis set in and shut down respiration. With his face pressed to the flag bridge’s thick green glass, the American rear admiral watched his kids die a painful death. He pounded the window with his fist and swore. Lake Champlain sailed through the periphery of the toxic cloud the Granits had created over Ronald Reagan.
Ferlatto ordered Lake Champlain’s wash-down system activated, and her sailors to event positions, sealed stations that protected against biological, chemical, and radiological attack. Ferlatto turned the cruiser radically to avoid contamination and blew the horn to warn of his unannounced maneuver. Although Ronald Reagan remained undamaged, the Chinese nerve agent had delivered a mission kill.
High above the scrambling American ships, a Hawkeye airborne early warning aircraft spotted and announced a new raid.
Fresh Super Hornets climbed from lower-level combat air patrol position to replace Pelletier, and then new orders came in. Although her bird was getting low on fuel, Ronald Reagan’s controllers sent Pelletier at the inbound bandits, and informed her that the raiders profile indicated Flankers. “Busy night,” Pelletier mumbled through an exhale. She touched the cockpit display. The weapon load-out came up and showed that just two Sidewinders remained. The cupboards are bare, she thought.
Pelletier dropped her thrust back to minimize the Lightning II’s heat signature and fuel burn, and began a slow climb to gain altitude. A solid tone indicated that the bandits were now within the engagement envelope of the Sidewinders and that they radiated enough heat to offer her heat seekers a target. In Pelletier’s helmet, the two enemy aircraft were highlighted and ‘30,000 feet’ and ‘Mach 1.8’ were listed beside the red diamonds that framed them. Pelletier stepped her Lighting II up in altitude again, climbing to 45,000 feet. Despite the whine from the Sidewinders, she hesitated to take unreliable frontal shots with the last of her weapons. Instead, she planned to use stealth to sneak around on her enemy’s six. Then I’ll fire my snakes right up their ass, she thought.
A cockpit alarm interrupted Pelletier’s sly stalk. She instinctively fired off decoys, and then pointed the aircraft’s nose down and over. Pelletier called out to the Hawkeye and Ronald Reagan, and pleaded for information on any other known bandits. Air controllers confirmed just the two known plots and reassured her that back up was three minutes out. That is when streaks of tracer fire zinged past the Lightning II’s canopy. Pelletier jerked the airplane away hard and punished herself with extreme G-force. More flashes of tracer fire. She screamed with frightful surprise, powered up the radar, and looked back over her shoulder. Shrouded and illuminated by shimmering plasma, Lieutenant Pelletier’s ‘black knight’ slid into view.
“That’s no Flanker,” she declared aloud, noting the enemy’s canard delta layout, canted vertical stabilizers, stealthy body shaping, and frameless canopy. Looking at her rear-facing radar, Pelletier saw only sporadic reflections from her new challenger. As the big jet pulled up high, she caught a glimpse of the big red star on its dark grey airframe. Pelletier recognized the supposedly experimental Chinese stealth air superiority fighter and muttered reiteration of an intelligence brief: “J-20 Black Eagle: Not yet in service.” She gave an ironic laugh. The missile warning sounded again.
Pelletier pushed the boundaries of consciousness as she dove and turned. The grey grew bright again, and she had the presence of mind to recognize the alarm and release decoys. Then she grunted into the radio: “Stingtown
One, totally defensive.” Pelletier zagged instead of zigged, and heard and felt thumps as rounds ripped into her machine. “Fuck,” she exclaimed. The airplane jerked. With a sharp crack, her wing’s aluminum beam failed, and the Lightning II lurched. Composite wing skin tore and peeled away. Finally, the wing folded, bending at a right angle.
Pelletier’s helmet slammed against the canopy.
A vision flashed: Her father looked sad. Hobbes the cat meowed and gave a nictitating blink.
The wing ripped from the fuselage and knocked off part of the airplane’s tail. The Lightning II went into a violent flat spin. Pelletier’s head was pinned to the canopy. The world outside swirled. Pelletier struggled to stay conscious. A wave of nausea swamped her, and her vision tunneled. As Pelletier was about to pass out, there was a burst of white light.
Cynthia saw herself at a big dining room table wearing a birthday cap. An aroma from a cake baking in the oven, and wax candles slowly melting away teased her nostrils. Her boyfriend from high school was there, and in this vision, made a handsome husband. They had a beautiful daughter as well. The little girl drew a deep breath, and with puffed cheeks and a wish, blew out candles on a frosted cake. Pelletier’s father bounced in his chair and clapped loudly.
He froze suddenly, looked at Cindy, and screamed, “Wake up, Cindy.” Pelletier came to and pawed for the Lightning II’s ejection handle. G-forces had pinned her arms in her lap. Chimes; red flashing lights; and, a whooping warning assaulted her senses. The mortally wounded Lightning II bucked. Pelletier’s head was thrown backwards. With a sickening pop, her helmet split. She tasted blood.
Just one more jarring yaw and a deep rumble…
And then, a bright light, warmth, and peace.
An explosion bloomed over the Pacific. From it, fingers of smoke and debris reached down to the water’s surface.
Fourth Crisis: The Battle for Taiwan Page 24
