*
The sentry had Harconan precede him down the now familiar passageways, working their way through the series of watertight doors to the bank of guest cabins. The young Marine was gravely courteous, intent and watchful, his hand resting lightly on his holstered sidearm. But he was young.
With all hands at their battle stations, the living spaces corridor was deserted as they reached Harconan’s guest quarters. Harconan was just entering his cabin when he grunted in pain, clutched at his chest, and collapsed against the door frame.
For a split second, the Marine’s professionalism cracked and he took a step forward, extending a hand.
Harconan’s elbow whipped back with the force of a kicking mule, driving into the Marine’s stomach, folding him over with a gasp of agony. Before he could recover, Harconan straightened and landed a sharp chopping blow on the Marine’s neck, angled to incapacitate but not to kill.
Harconan caught the unconscious sentry before he could collapse, hauling him through the door and laying him on the cabin deck.
“Battle protocols, my friend. I won’t secure the door.”
Harconan began to work his way aft, moving silently through the red-lit passageways.
*
Amanda shrugged into the combination flotation and flak vest and settled the slightly oversized K-pot helmet over her command headset, the familiar cladding-on of armor she had performed so often before.
The Shenandoah’s bridge had been rigged for action and a thin spat of rain licked at the windscreens. She could not have asked the ancient gods of Indonesia for better than this murky night.
Below her and forward, on the water-washed main deck, the MaGregor hatches parted and the three aircraft elevators lifted topside. Only this time they carried no aircraft.
When the Shenandoah was being designed, a great deal of sweat had been expended on the nature of its anti-missile and anti-aircraft defense systems. They must be highly compact, self-contained, readily concealable, rapid to deploy, not dependent on elaborate radar and sensor arrays, have a secondary anti-surface attack capacity and, if possible, be of use to the Sea Demon force on land deployment.
The answer to this complex challenge proved to be amazingly simple. Parked and tied down in the center of each deck lift was a standard Avenger Antiaircraft vehicle, an armored Humvee with a twin-armed missile launcher on its rear deck. One arm carried the standard quadpack of Stinger SAMs, the other an adapter rail that permitted the launching of navalized Hellfire anti-tank missiles.
As each lift locked into position, the Avenger it carried extended its sensor masts and a deckhand dashed across to the Humvee, jacking a coaxial cable into the vehicle, integrating it into the Shenandoah’s fire control matrix. The launcher arms swiveled and elevated as the gunners checked their systems. Other hands crouched beside the Avenger Hummers with cases of reload missiles.
Additional close-range weapons teams were deploying as well. Around the superstructure, railing stanchions were being lifted out of their unusually deep and heavy deck sockets and replaced with pintle mounts and monopods. The Marine heavy weapons teams further augmented the Shenandoah’s armament with .50 Caliber “Ma Deuce” heavy machine guns and Javelin anti-tank missiles.
On the bridge, Amanda tapped her lip mike key. “Moon Pool, you are cleared to flood down and open the belly doors. Rig and arm
all drop collars, Mark 48’s. Program for surface engagement.”
Anything and everything that could punch a hole or even make a dent in another
ship’s hull would be pressed into play tonight.
Flag Plot, INS Teluk Surabaya
2300 Hours; Zone Time, November 20, 2008
Soon … Soon … Soon …
Soon they would be back in open water with a clear run to Jakarta. Ketalaman felt the knots in his stomach start to loosen. He had lost himself for a time but he was regaining himself, regaining his precious control.
He had acted hastily. Out of fear. Out of stupidity. He had been stampeded into a potentially disastrous action in taking his precious ships through this narrow bottleneck of a channel. But, thankfully, Kediri and the Americans had placed nothing there to contest him.
It would have been far better to meet the government fleet in open battle. It would have made him stronger in the eyes of his followers.
Fool!
They were losing faith. He could see it in the sideways glances cut at him in the low-lit compartment. He could see it in the way his officers clustered in whispering cryptic clusters. In the way their eyes went to his Chief of Staff and to the Commodore first when he, Ketalaman, gave a command.
He must rebuild his stature in the eyes of his men. And he must order the Commodore and the CoS killed upon arrival in Java. That would help.
His wounded hand closed tight around the blood-stained rock shard in his pocket, relishing the pain.
In the corner of the Flag Plot, the talker straightened and pressed his headset
closer. “Surface contact report from the Pulau Raas! A large surface contact in the
channel! Bearing one three five relative! Speed eighteen knots! Range five
thousand meters relative! Closing rapidly!”
A quartermaster leaned over the channel chart and placed an unidentified contact marker off the bow of the minesweepers running ahead of the main force. The unspoken tension ramped up in the flag plot.
“Order the Pulau to close and challenge the contact,” Ketalaman said quietly.
“Yes sir.” The talker repeated his command to the radio room.
As the mountains. As … the … mountains!
Minutes crawled past. Ketalaman metered each breath, keeping them steady.
“Pulau Raas reports target is a large merchant ship, bulk-carrier type.”
The chartsmen replaced the unidentified contact marker with that for a merchantman.
“The captain of the Pulau Raas reports the merchantmen identifies itself as the
Greek freighter Andronicus.”
The MV Galaxy Shenandoah
2312 Hours: Zone Time 2008
“Mr. Carstairs, have countermeasures deploy their antenna arrays. Stand by to commence radar-range scrambling.”
