“What the hell happened?” Arkady exclaimed. Bobbing back above the ridgeline, he regained his situational awareness and was appalled at what he found. The enemy transport line was in flaming chaos, but it wasn’t the right kind of chaos.
As per the strike template, the last escort in line behind the two big passenger ferries, the frigate Silas Papare, was falling away behind the formation, dead in the water and burning heavily from multiple missile hits. That was fine; it was everything else that was wrong. The fleet flagship, the Teluk Surabaya, was also showing flames on her deck – but she was still standing on, swinging wide to evade the shapeless inferno that had enveloped the second ship in line, the LSM that wasn’t supposed to have been hit at all.
But most critically, the point frigate, the Slamet Riyaid, was still in the fight. Her silhouette was distorted from blast damage and she showed the lingering thermal aura of onboard explosions – but she wasn’t burning and she was still maneuvering under control, standing on to the eastward and closing the range with the Shenandoah.
And the Slamet was the stone killer of the rebel task force. While not of the latest mark, the eight American-made Harpoon missiles carried by the frigate were the deadliest and most sophisticated ship-killers available to the Indonesians. Should they lock and launch on the Shenandoah, it was unlikely that the commando carrier’s point defenses and countermeasures could stave off the attack.
Arkady’s tasking had been to stop that from happening and he was failing!
An urgent electronic warble issued from the SPEED Cobra’s threat board, an alarm keyed for just such a contingency. Harpoon fire control radars were activating.
“Shenandoah! Vampire! Vampire! You got missiles coming in!”
Even as he made the warning call, Arkady’s mind was racing ahead, patching together a new contingency plan. He squeezed off his last Penguin round, aiming it at the Teluk Surabaya. He had to keep their guns and missile off of him. He had to live at least for a few seconds more.
Then he firewalled the SPEED Cobra’s velocity controller, turning the Jeannie II itself into yet another antiship projectile, this one aimed at the Slamet Riyaid.
*
On the bridge of the Shenandoah, Amanda heard the vampire call, the warning of an imminent missile attack – but she believed it to be related to the last of the Fatahillah’s the Commando carrier was facing. The commander of the single surviving element of the Indonesian battle squadron had gotten a grasp on the tactical situation and was reacting. He’d fired his own countermeasures and was using the gas turbine acceleration and the nimble handling of his smaller ship to bring his own weapons to bear on his larger, clumsier attacker. Given the jittering radar returns on the threat boards, he was trying for radar locks with both his gun and Exocet systems.
It was fast draw time. “CIC,” Amanda snapped into her headset, “are we valid with the portside missile bays?”
“We have the angles on target Master 3!” MacIntyre replied, the heat of the battle creeping into his voice. “Portside batteries are hot and standing by!”
“Very well! Take Master Three! Portside missile bays, fire as you clear!”
More concealing panels toppled outward along the Shenandoah’s port flank, revealing squat, ominous rhomboid shapes crouching like predatory animals in their hull pockets. Explosive bolts detonated, blowing off launcher cell caps and, one after another, six surface launch variant Penguin missiles roared away into the night, snuffling hungrily for the heat scent of their prey.
Amanda saw the string of hit explosions pulse through the rain like an interconnecting sequence of lightning bolts. The radar emissions of the third Fatahillah disappeared. Finished! The battle force was down! Whatever was left out there was no longer a threat.
“Helmsman!” a powerful masculine voice rang behind her. “Hard over! Come left to two eight five.”
Harconan!
Amanda hesitated only an instant. “Helm, make it so!”
“Aye aye. Coming hard left to two eight zero!”
“My apologies, Captain,” Harconan said, turning to her. “But you were running out of channel. The water shoals rapidly into a reef line
through here. Your fathometer wouldn’t have given you enough warning and, as they say, running aground can ruin your
whole day.”
“Apologies accepted.” Amanda hesitated only a moment more. “Helm, Mr. Harconan is an authorized pilot for these waters. He is cleared to
give emergency helm commands.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
Amanda blipped her laptop display back from the threat boards to tactical. Leaning into the screen, her eyes narrowing, she assessed the developing situation. The rebel ship formations were disintegrating. The Shenandoah had dealt with the battle squadron and Arkady and Stone had done for the light gun and missile forces. Only the primary transport column remained less than four miles off the commando carrier’s bow.
Hit flags glowed beside the warships in the column and the tail end charley was falling away behind the transports, apparently dead in the water. But the point ship, the Harpoon-armed Van Speijk was still out there.
“CIC, what’s the word from strike lead? What’s the status on the transport escorts?”
“Strike lead reports all Penguins expended,” MacIntyre fired back. “But Strike Lead is also reporting that the Van Speijk is still a factor. I
repeat! It is still a factor and we are picking up Harpoon guidance radars!”
“Damn! Damn! Damn! Helm, maintain your turn to two three zero! Unmask and clear
starboard Penguin bays! Countermeasures, fire full patterns! All point
defenses, stand by to engage incoming!”
“Strike Lead reports he is continuing the attack!”
Amanda caught herself. “Say again, Elliot? I thought Arkady reported all missiles expended?”
“He did.”
*
Arkady held the Jeannie II just off the treetops as he planed down the ridge
slope toward the strait, the SPEED Cobra accelerating swiftly through
helicopter to airplane mode. “Vince, do you mind telling me just what the hell we’re supposed to be doing?”
“We?” Arkady almost went into a treetop as he twisted around in his harness. A second SPEED Cobra was following him down the slope, angling into his wingman’s slot.
“Pink, what in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Arkady blurted over the inter-aircraft link.
“Being incredibly stupid, just like my squadron commander?” Pinkerton replied. “What are we doing and how are we going to do it?”
It was useless to argue about it now. They were streaking over the beach line
and were still gaining speed. “We’re taking out that point frigate!”
“I say again, Lead, how? All we’ve got left are the 20 millimeters?”
“They’ll be enough. Follow me in and target what I target!”
Heavy caliber antiaircraft fire suddenly began to materialize around the two racing aircraft; they were within the firing arc of both the Teluk Surabaya and the Slamet Riyaid.
