She knew her sudden shift of topic had thrown Arkady off-balance. “Begging your pardon, Captain, but that’ll be my squadron out there!”
She continued before he could further challenge her. Lifting her hand, she
extended two fingers. “Two reasons, Arkady. For one, you are my air group commander. You’re senior command personnel now. You need to be out there, doing the big job of
coordinating air ops while letting your people do theirs. Get used to it. You’re going to be doing a lot of it from now on.”
Personal time was over. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Now for reason number two. I have to know that you and your wingman are out
there, over the primary engagement zone, in fully armed and undamaged aircraft,
ready to act at a moment’s notice. I know your capabilities and I am holding you in reserve. You are my
thunderbolt, Arkady. If something should go radically wrong out there, and I
have every reason to believe that it will, I will be counting on you to pull us
out. Are there any problems here?”
She caught the glint of his grin. “None whatsoever, Captain.” He held out his hand and they gripped palms tightly.
“Captain?” The voice sounded faintly from the headset looped around her neck. The
handclasp broke as she one-eared the headphones and spoke into the lip mike, “Captain by.”
“We’re being hailed by the rebel frigate. They’re maneuvering to cross our bow. Range fifteen thousand yards and closing
slowly.”
“Initiate deception program and prepare to engage. All elements, stand by to
initiate primary mission timeline!”
Arkady already had the bridge hatch undogged and open. “Luck, Captain,” he called back.
“Luck, Arkady and good hunting.” She hoped he could hear the unspoken “And thank you, love,” she added.
*
“Merchant vessel, merchant vessel! Identify yourself. ” The warship, an ex-East German Parchim class frigate cut slowly across the
shipping channel. “This is the Wiratno of the Indonesian Navy of National Reunification. You are
violating our national waters. Identify yourself!”
“This is motor vessel Chiku Shan of Taipei,” a thickly-accented voice replied over the Talk-Between-Ships circuit. “We are inbound to Jakarta.”
“The port of Jakarta is closed to all shipping. Reverse course! Reverse course
now!”
“This is Chiku Shan. We do not understand!” The voice on the TBS was plaintive. “We are scheduled for a Jakarta port call. We are scheduled!”
“Chiku Shan, reverse course and leave this area or we will fire on you.”
Amanda lowered her nightbrite binoculars, and glanced down at the laptop screen. They were live-streaming video from the submersible launch bay.
The Remora had been jacked up to the highest level of its hangar, and the midnight blue depths of the open moon pool roiled with the turbulence of the ship’s passage. The drop collar arms extended over the pool from the port and starboard bulkheads, each cradling the cold steel length of a Mark 48 ADCAP torpedo.
“CIC,” she spoke deliberately into her lip mike, “do we have a range and firing solution on surface target, Master Zero One?”
“Bridge, range is now fifteen hundred yards and we have a valid firing solution.”
“CIC, clear your safety interlocks. You are cleared to fire … Fire one.”
A Mark 48 fell away from its drop collar, the forward shackle releasing a split second before the aft so that the torpedo sliced into the moon pool in a clean, angled dive.
“Fire two.”
The torpedo drives engaged as they pulled out of their dive below the Shenandoah’s keel. Accelerating smoothly, they raced toward their target, guidance wires unreeling from their spinnerets.
“Torpedoes away, Captain. Running hot, straight and normal.”
Amanda lifted her binoculars once more and leveled them beyond the Shenandoah’s bow. She reacquired the slim, low-riding hull of the frigate, shimmering a soft blue-green in the night vision optics.
The accented voice barked from the overhead speaker once more: “Chiku Shan, this is your last warning! Reverse course now or we will fire on
you!”
Through her glasses, Amanda could see the frigate’s autocannon turrets indexing to bear on the Shenandoah. In a few moments more it would be irrelevant.
They would have no further warning. The trudge of the freighter’s propellers on the same bearing as the torpedoes would mask the hot, venomous hiss of the propulsors. Guided by the commando carrier’s sensors, the Mark 48s steered in under the target. As they reached the end of their run, they pulled up sharply and knifed into the belly of the frigate.
Amanda’s night vision glasses momentarily overloaded with the blue-white glare beneath the sea. Then she caught an impression of the little warship, buckling upward amidships, her back broken over a boiling dome of water.
The Shenandoah’s deck and running lights blinked out as the Commando Carrier returned to blackout. Amanda let the glasses drop to her chest, rapid-firing a string of orders. An entire chain of events must take place instantly, before the rebel military command shore-side could react. She would sing the verse, her officers replying in chorus.
“Lee Helm! All engines back full! Bring the ship to full stop.”
“All engines backing full, ma’am!’
“Air One! Be advised you are cleared to convert the deck! Launch the air group!”
“First flight on the elevators, Captain.”
“Landing Force Operations Center, you may land the landing force!”
“Landing force going over the side.”
“CIC, inform the Embassy and Sky Base! We are initiating the Operation Trick or
Treat timelines. All phases – commence, commence, commence!”
That was all she could do. The Shenandoah’s moment as a shooter had passed. It was all in other hands now.
Over the Java Sea.
