by Dale Brown
“Because I put it there, Jon.” And, she thought, if we’d done it your way and continued the countdown, Masters might be splashing down in the Pacific right now, right behind our twenty-million-dollar booster-if the thing didn’t cook off first. “Well, ” Masters said expansively, “it’s dead on course, dead on speed, dead on altitude. It’ll be in orbit in eight minutes and the friggin’ Air Force can get a look at all that shit going on in the Philippines.”
“Whatever you say, Jon. “Helen, come on. “Drop it.” And he did. PALAWAN PASSAGE, NEAR ULUGAN BAY PALAWAN PROVINCE, THE PHILIPPINES THURSDAY, 22 SEPTEMBER 1994, 0417 HOURS LOCAL The Hong Lung task force had driven to within twenty kilometers of the fleeing Filipino fleet when the first Shuihong-5 antiship flying boat arrived on the scene. The Chinese flotilla was picking its way through a series of reefs and shoals along the Palawan Passage on the west side of the island of Palawan, the westernmost province of the Philippines. Most of the island was remote and sparsely settled, but Ulugan Bay, the Filipino fleet’s obvious destination, had the best-outfitted port facilities at Nanan. It was also only forty-five kilometers north of Puerto Princesa, a former United States Air Force base on Palawan that was now a Philippine Air Force base; that base was the largest airport on Palawan and the center of the isolated island’s meager population. “Talon Eight-One, this is Dragon, ” Admiral Yin Po L’un radioed to the pilot of the flying boat. “Reconnoiter the Filipino attack fleet to the east. Report on any hostile activity. Authorized to return fire if fired upon. Warning, Chinese vessels have already been attacked and destroyed by this combat group. Proceed with caution.” It was a moot warning for the Shuihong-5 crew-if they followed their previous pattern, the Philippine vessels would fire on the flying boat. The Shuihong crew would then return fire with their murderous cargo and destroy most of the Filipino warships. But it did not happen. Several minutes later, the pilot of the Shuihong-5 antiship aircraft reported, “Sir, Talon Eight-One reporting. We are in contact with four surface vessels, repeat, four vessels. The larger vessels identified as PF-class frigates, repeat, two PF-class frigates. Two smaller, probably PS- or LF-class patrol vessels. Over.” “Commander Chow had reported possibly two PS patrol boats out there, ” Captain Lubu said. “He mentioned a corvette… “But there are two frigates instead of two patrol boats, ” Yin said. “Chow can’t identify ships very accurately at night at distances over five kilometers, even with ISAR radar.” Lubu nodded, not quite convinced but accepting the explanation for now. “The PS patrol boat is probably the Rizal identified as the helicopter platform, ” he added. “We should be on the lookout for another missile attack from the helicopters.”
“They’re running, ” Yin said confidently. “The fight has gone out of the cowardly bastards. What is the status of the enemy ships now? Why haven’t they opened fire on the patrol plane?” A large patrol plane like the Shuihong-5 was a major threat to any ships such as those of the Filipinos’, which had no antiaircraft missiles. “What is his range?” “Nine kilometers, ” Lubu reported, relaying the information from the Combat section. “They detect search and navigation radar only-no target-acquisition radars detected. He is awaiting instructions.” Incredible, Yin thought-how could the frigate captain stay so cool in the face of an airborne hostile contact? Surely he must realize that the Chinese Air Force had such strike aircraft in the region? And then he realized that the Philippine vessels probably had no antiair weapons other than their guns, which had a maximum range no farther than four to five kilometers; the Hong Lung’s Hong Qian-9 surface-to-air missile had a range of about seventy kilometers, and Yin would not hesitate to use them against any unidentified aircraft that flew within range of his ship. “Close to five kilometers, maintain contact, report any change in hostile status, ” Yin ordered the patrol plane. “I want positive identification of all vessels in that formation.” The Shuihong-5 pilot hesitated for a few long moments-he realized that his commanding officer had just ordered him to fly within gun range of the Filipino vessels. The pilot responded hesitantly, “Yes… sir. Talon Eight-One copies.” There were a few warning messages broadcast in English on international emergency channels, but Yin ignored them all. The plane drove only a few kilometers closer before the slowscan P-band air-search radar switched to a high-PRF X-band fire-control radar, and soon, at precisely five kilometers range between the largest ship in the Filipino battle group, Admiral Yin heard the satisfyingly terrified voice of the pilot screaming in the radio that he was under fire from heavy antiaircraft artillery. “Return fire, ” Admiral Yin ordered angrily. “Clear to launch air-to-surface missiles. Stay out of gun range and at high altitude; Dragon task force will be attacking as well.” Yin turned to Captain Lubu. “Are we receiving target telemetry from the patrol plane?”
“Yes, sir, ” Lubu responded, double-checking with his Combat Information officers. The Shuihong-5 patrol plane could transmit radar data from its Heracles II surface-search radar to other ships capable of accepting the information; the Hong Lung could use this information to target the Fei Lung-7 antiship missile as if it were picking up the radar data from its own transmitters. “Very well, ” Yin said smugly. “Begin our attack. Launch two Fei Lung missiles from long range, get a strike report from the plane, and re-attack with two more. I want this battle concluded as quickly as possible, Lubu.” PUERTO PRINCESA AIRFIELD, PALAWAN, THE PHILIPPINES The naked young girl lying on Colonel Renaldo Tamalko’s chest was so thin and lithe that he inadvertently tossed her onto the floor as he reached for the incessantly ringing phone. He grunted an apology to the girl as he picked up the receiver. “What?”
“Command Post, Sergeant Komos, sir, ” the voice of the NCO in charge of the tiny Philippine Air Force base at Puerto Princesa, Palawan, replied. “We’ve received an urgent message from a naval task force group west of Palawan, requesting immediate assistance.”
“Wait a second.” Tamalko flicked on the light and rubbed his eyes sleepily. All that registered to the Philippine Air Force squadron commander was that his command post senior controller was excited, and that usually meant bad news. The old window-mounted air conditioner was on full force, but the room was still hot and steamy. He motioned toward a glass of clear liquid on the table in the center of the room, silently ordering the girl to bring it to him and hoping that it wasn’t more booze. He watched the young maid’s gentle curves and tight butt as she brought the glass over to him-she didn’t look any older than fourteen or fifteen, but her sexual skills were certainly well developed, he thought. He grabbed her wrist, pulled her back over to him, and guided her hand back to his crotch. The glass had a bit of whiskey mixed with several melted ice cubes, so he contented himself with pouring the liquid over his face to help wake himself up. “Say again, Sergeant?”
“A Navy captain Banio of the Thirty-first Patrol Group from Zamboanga has issued a tactical emergency warning message to all military units, ” the NCO said. “He states that a Chinese naval force is in pursuit and is approaching Palawan, about forty miles west of Ulugan Bay. He requests immediate air support.”
“A Chinese naval force? In pursuit? Of who? Pursuing him? What kind of air support does he need? What the hell is going on out there?”
“We’re trying to raise him again, sir, ” Komos said. “There was a brief radio message about an attack in progress, but no more details are available.”
“Shit, ” Tamalko swore. Fucking Chinese. To Komos he said, “This had better not be some kind of joke, Sergeant. Did you receive any kind of verification? Was the message authenticated?” “No, sir, ” the controller replied. “Contact has not been reestablished.” Tamalko swore to himself. This could be some kind of drill or exercise-it was similar to the kind of stuff the Americans liked to pull, when the Americans used to be here. But since the Americans had been kicked out of the Philippines, things had been very, very quiet… Too quiet, as matter of fact. The Communist guerrillas, who were numerous and strong on Palawan and the other outlying provinces, had stepped up the
ir recruitment drives and had certainly become much more active, but incidents of violence were not as commonhe hadn’t had one of his officers shot or beaten up downtown in weeks. Before the Americans departed, it seemed to happen every weekend. As much as almost everyone in the military hated having a Communist like Daniel Teguina as First Vice President, it was obvious that his election had a stabilizing effect. Tamalko would probably have shot the bastard if he met up with him in a dark alley, but if, because Teguina was in office, the peasants liked him and quit shooting up the villages, so much the better. So what was this shit with a Chinese invasion? It had to be bogus, an exercise cooked up by some know-nothing staffer in Manila. He had been involved with many such scenarios with the American Navy and with other military units in ASEAN, the Association of South East Asian Nations, whose member nations frequently ran joint exercises with the newly independent Philippine military. But bogus or not, Tamalko knew he had to act decisively. He had to do everything he could to make sure that his cushy job here at Puerto Princesa, one of the most beautiful seacoast towns in all the world, was protected. Puerto Princesa was a diamond surrounded by jungle and mountains, far enough from Manila to retain a very relaxed atmosphere. He was in charge of a small squadron of F-4E fighter-bombers and F-5R day fighters purchased from the United States, and he also maintained the base for other miscellaneous military and civilian air operations. There was no job on Earth better than his, and he guarded it jealously. The girl was halfheartedly trying to arouse Tamalko with a rather distracted pumping action, obviously hoping he would leave soon so she could get some sleep. He pushed her head into his crotch, watched her begin her work, which she did as if completely bored, then turned back to his phone: “Sergeant, start a squadron recall immediately. Tell Captain Libona in Maintenance to get two F-4s fueled and ready to fly in twenty minutes; I will take one, and I’ll take the first sober crew that shows up with me. The girl between his legs nipped at him, and the sudden pain sent a bolt of dazzling blue energy radiating from his penis through the rest of his body. “I want a full combat generation begun immediately-no simulated weapons or procedures-until I give the word, ” Tamalko continued. “Major Esperanza will command the battle staff until I return. Inform the flight leaders that I will have Security arrest any crew members they find that do not respond to the recall. “After you start the recall, call headquarters at Cavite and advise them that we are generating combat sorties in response to an all-units emergency message, and give them the details. Then call Zamboanga Naval Yard and get a confirmation on this Captain Banio. That is all.” Tamalko let the receiver drop back into its hook. Well, a squadron recall was the most active thing he could have ordered, he thought. He had no alert fighters, no aircraft configured for combat on a day-to-day basis. Launching two fighters, even if unarmed, would be a positive action as well. As long as the first follow-on fighters were armed, fueled, and manned within the next sixty minutes, he would have done everything possible to respond to this “exercise.” Finally relaxed, knowing that he had done the right thing, Tamalko turned his attention to the young girl’s oral ministrations, and he was quite pleased to find that his nearly fifty-year-old body still responded quickly to the task at hand. CHINESE REVOLUTIONARY NAVY DESTROYER H0NG LUNG THIRTY MINUTES LATER “Talon Eight-One reports one vessel afire, the PS-class patrol craft, ” came the report from Admiral Yin’s combat section. “One vessel believed to be an LF-class fire-support landing craft has moved alongside to assist. The PF-class frigates have split up north and south of the stricken vessel and appear to be in position to provide fire support.” Admiral Yin pushed himself away from his seat on the bridge of the destroyer Hong Lung and cursed everyone he could think of, especially the manufacturers of the once-vaunted Fei Lung long-range antiship missile. The sonofabitches responsible for the missiles should be shot. The Shuihongz5 attack plane had fired both its C101 antiship missiles and had hit the patrol boat with one, but four Fei Lung-7 missiles launched from Hong Lung had either missed or been destroyed. In Yin’s long experience with the missile, this was by far its most miserable performance, and coming at the worst possible time. His destroyer had only two Fei Lung-7s remaining. With those two missiles he would have to defend himself against two of the Philippines’ largest warships. He cursed angrily at the gods while pacing the bridge, feeling more boxed in by the moment, seeing his glorious career destroyed by the tiny, insignificant Philippine nation. That would not happen. Could not happen. It would be a dishonor to himself, to his commanding officer, to his Premier, to all Chinese. He calculated his options. The Hong Lung did carry two more long-range missiles, the Fei Lung-9 supersonic missiles. Unlike the Fei Lung-7s, the 9s were designed for extreme long-range naval attack, as far as one hundred and eighty kilometers, and the missile could travel as fast as Mach 2.5 during the high-altitude portion of its deadly flight. The Fei Lung-9 was an unlicensed copy of the French-German ANS missile, which had been intended as a high-performance replacement for the Exocet missile (of which the C801 was a copy-the Chinese were never shy about stealing other weapon designs). Fei Lung-9 was similar in size to Fei Lung-7 and was launched by four solid rocket boosters and sustained by a boron-hydride ramjet engine . And they had nuclear warheads. Each Fei Lung-9 carried a single twenty-kiloton-yield RK-55 thermonuclear warhead, a copy of the Soviet RK-55 warhead carried on sub-launched cruise missiles and nuclear-tipped torpedoes. All deployed Chinese flagships carried nuclear weapons, and Admiral Yin’s Spratly Island flotilla was no different-even though the RK-55 warhead was the smallest and “dirtiest” warhead in China’s arsenal. Roughly equal in yield to the weapon that destroyed Hiroshima in World War II, it could easily sink the largest aircraft carriers or devastate a port city. Admiral Yin had never considered the use of these missiles, and still did not consider it-as distasteful as it was to him, he would withdraw from the fight and run for the safety of the Spratly Islands or the Paracels before employing them. The nuclear warhead could be removed, however, and a conventional 513-kilogram shaped-charge warhead installed. The Fei Lung-9 was a superior weapon, much more accurate, much faster, and was much more difficult to shoot down. 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 reattack. ” 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.”
