Satan's Tail

The Flighthawk had dropped below fifty feet, and the SATAN’S TAIL

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computer gave him a warning as he came out of the turn.

“Thanks, Mama,” he told it.

A message flashed on the Flighthawk control screen: INDECIPHERABLE COMMAND. PLEASE REPEAT.

“Never mind,” Starship told the computer.

The warship filled his viewer, the superstructure looming in the right quadrant. The cursor flashed yellow, then red.

Starship pressed the trigger, watching as the bullets tore into the metal.

“TWENTY SECONDS!” SHOUTED THE COPILOT AS THE ENEMY

missile approached.

Dog counted off five more, then yanked the stick and fired off more chaff, trying to roll the Megafortress out of the way.

It worked—kind of. The missile sailed toward the spot the Megafortress had been, and then, sensing it had missed, ignited. The Wisconsin was far enough away to miss the main force of the explosion, though a ripple through the controls and a red warning light on the panel told Dog they hadn’t escaped completely.

“Damage to the right stabilizer,” said McNamara, monitoring the system status screens at the copilot’s station. “Not critical.”

Dog had his hands full for the moment, steadying the big plane as a fresh volley of missiles were launched upward from the amphibious vessel.

“ECMs,” he told the copilot. “Let’s put a little more distance between us and them.”

“ECMs active. Harpoon one has its target—impact!

We’ve got it.”

“Bastian, are you there?” asked Storm on the Dreamland circuit. His face appeared in the video screen; it was rounder than Dog had expected, younger as well, but the scowl seemed familiar.

“Missiles headed your way,” said Dog.

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DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

“Yes, we’re taking evasive action. Where are you?”

“We’ve fired two Harpoon missiles at the Oman ship,”

said Dog. “He’s fired surface-to-air missiles and we’re taking evasive action.”

“Good,” said Storm.

He started to say something else but it was drowned out by an explosion. The image shook; Storm fell to the side and then the screen blanked.

“We’re flying east, Starship,” Dog a

“More missiles coming off the ship!” said Starship. “A whole barrage! Looks like they’re launching everything they’ve got! The front of the ship’s on fire!”

“Exocets,” said the copilot.

“Better warn Storm,” said Dog.

Aboard the Abner Read , Gulf of Aden

0121

AS STORM FELT HIMSELF FALLING BACKWARD HE REALIZED THE

close-in guns had somehow missed one of the Exocets. He hit the side of the holograph table before he could brace himself, and saw black as he fell to the deck of the bridge, floundering there for a moment before managing to roll over and get to his knees. He glanced across the bridge and saw that the helmsman had strapped himself into his seat and remained at his station.

“Damage control, report,” said Storm, pulling himself to his feet.

There was no answer, or at least none that he could sort out through the cacophony of voices over the open intercom.

He punched the control pane on the holographic display for the ship’s system report. The Phalanx close-in gun had actually struck the missile, but it had done so very close to the SATAN’S TAIL

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ship and the explosion had sprayed the Abner Read with shrapnel from the warhead. They had taken several hits amidships and there was a fire in the seamen’s quarters be-lowdecks. Propulsion, Weapons, and Guidance were all operating normally.

“We’re fighting a fire,” said a garbled voice, presumably one of the firefighters.

The damage wasn’t that bad.

Storm pulled the headset off his ears, still partly dazed.

He tapped the hologram’s controls, bringing the image back to the bird’s-eye view. One of the forward guns began firing outside.

There were three patrol boats, all ru

“Helm, come about,” said Storm. “Pursue those ships.”

“Captain, there are missiles in the air,” said the ship’s executive officer, who had come up from Tac to make sure Storm was all right.

“Pursue those pirates!”

“Aye, Captain. We’re tracking incoming missiles.”

“Shoot them down, don’t track them!” snapped Storm.

“Cap, the Dreamland aircraft pilot is trying to contact you,” said the communications officer. “They want to know if we need assistance.”

Storm went over to the captain’s chair, pulling up the handset. “Bastian?”

“We’re en route. They’ve barrage-fired several missiles at you, firing everything they have. We’ve hit them twice.

They’re on fire.”

“Help me pursue these patrol boats. There are three of them left. They’re beyond our radar range.”

Outside, the Phalanx close-in antimissile gun began clat-tering, trying to ward off the missiles.

“We are en route. Be advised those patrol boats are in Somalian coastal waters.”

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DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

“You want me to call Washington and ask permission to sink them?”

“I just want to make sure you know where everything is.

Bastian out.”

Gulf of Aden

8 November 1997

0121

ALI SAW THE SHELL LAND IN THE WATER A FEW HUNDRED

yards away. It streaked from over his shoulder, a ghost in the air.

“To port,” he told the helmsman. “You’re steering closer to their fire.”

The helmsman didn’t answer. The boat continued to run in the general direction of the shells. Ali turned and reached to physically move his helmsman’s hand. It was only then that he realized the man had been killed and was being held up only because he had strapped himself in place.

Ali took his knife and cut the belt, pushing the man aside so he could take the wheel himself. He angled toward the dark shadow of land to his right. Satan’s Tail had never followed them this close to land before—but then, he’d never made such a bold attack before. They weren’t going to give up now, territorial waters or no.

The missiles must have missed. Another failure.

He turned and shouted to his crewmen at the rear of the vessel. “The mines. Unleash the mines. Then the smoke. We will hide beyond the Prophet’s Rocks. Signal the others.”

Aboard the Abner Read , Gulf of Aden

0123

BUILT BY FRANCE, THE EXOCET GAINED FAME AS AN AIR-launched missile, but it was originally designed as a ship-

SATAN’S TAIL

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board weapon. The MM38 family—which included the versions launched at the Abner Read—had a range of sixty-five kilometers, or forty miles, and were designed to sink a good-sized warship. After launch, the missile entered what was called an inertial phase, flying in the general direction it had been aimed. A radar altimeter aboard the missile kept it at ten meters above the waves. The relatively low altitude made it difficult for some radars to detect and harder to intercept.

As the Exocet neared its target, an active radar seeker in the head switched on, looking for the biggest bull’s-eye it could find. At the same time, the missile tucked downward to about three meters above the waves, greatly increasing the difficulty of shooting it down. The MM38 had been superceded by newer designs, but the missile was still potent, especially when a number were used and programmed to attack from different directions.

As the missiles approached the Abner Read, the ship’s Advanced Close-In Weapons System (ACIWS) prioritized each missile and directed its Phalanx guns at the threat, opening fire at a little over fifteen hundred yards. The AbnerRead’s ACIWS succeeded the earlier Close-In Weapons System (CIWS) standard on most American vessels. Among other improvements, the ACIWS activated “hot,” which meant that the system was ready to fire as soon as it was turned on, not needing the sixty-second activation time required by the CIWS. The ACIWS also did a better job identifying threats. Its guns, however, were exactly the same as those controlled by the older system—the venerable M61