End Game

They got one break—rather than firing all of their weapons en masse, the Chinese launched a first wave of only four missiles.

“Helm, hard right rudder,” he said. They turned the ship to lower its radar profile, making it more difficult for the missiles to acquire them on final approach. This also limited the number of Phalanx guns he could put on the missiles, but it was an acceptable trade-off if the Chinese were only firing four weapons at a time.

Two of the Chinese missiles quickly lost their target and exploded in frustration. The final two kept coming in their direction.

“Status!” barked Storm.

“Neither missile has locked, Captain.”

Storm studied the holographic display. The missiles looked like they were going too far east. They looked like they were going to miss, though not by much.

One did. The other veered toward the ship. Before Storm could even say “Defensive weapons,” the Phalanx operator had shot down the missile.

Four down. Twelve to go.

STARSHIP STAYED SOUTH OF THE ABNER READ AS THE CLOSE-in weapons system fired; the automated system had mistaken Werewolves for missiles in the past, nearly shooting them down.

Besides his Hellfires and the chain gun, he had two 408

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

Sidewinder missiles for air defense on the Werewolf’s wingtips. The Werewolf couldn’t take on the J-13s in anything like standard air combat; it might be fast for a helicopter at 450 knots top speed, but that was far slower than the Chinese jets.

On the other hand, if he could set up the right circumstances, he knew he might be able to take one of the planes.

As a fighter jock, he was aware that helicopter pilots were taught to turn and fly toward their attacker, staying as low to the ground, zigging, and making a straight-on shot hard to line up. As the pursuing fighter passed, the chopper should then turn and fire.

Assuming, of course, it was still in one piece.

The J-13s had split into two groups. Two tacked to the east and launched a fresh pair of missiles. A second group of two planes was swinging around to the west, obviously aiming for their own try from that direction.

“Tac, I’m going to the west and take on one of those fighters,” said Starship. “Probably Bandit Four.”

“Werewolf?”

“I’m going to take on one of these fighters. No, belay that,” he said, using a Navy term for the first time in his life.

“I’m going to nail one of those fighters.”

“COLONEL BASTIAN FOR YOU, STORM.”

Storm clicked into the circuit. “Gale,” he said.

“The Tai-shan aircraft are almost ready to launch,” said Dog. “Are you in position to shoot them down?”

“I regret to say …” The words stuck in Storm’s throat.

The close-in guns were firing again. “I regret to say it’s unlikely we will be in position to shoot down the planes. We may be sunk ourselves.”

THE J-13S DROPPED THEIR SPEED AND ALTITUDE AS THEY APproached the Abner Read. Starship singled out his target.

The enemy plane, flying at only a hundred feet, ignored him at first, too focused on his target to notice the tiny bug com-

END GAME

409

ing straight at him. For a second Starship thought he might be able to fly into the jet, but the J-13 began to climb, either because he’d spotted him or to launch his missiles.

Time to improvise.

Starship leaned on his stick, pushing the Werewolf’s nose nearly upright. He fired two Hellfires in the general direction of the Chinese fighter, hoping to distract him rather than shoot him down. Then he slammed the helicopter around and leaned on the throttle, trying to pick up some momentum as the plane passed overhead. He cued the Sidewinder, got a growl—or thought he got a growl—indicating a lock, and fired.

The missile immediately went off to the right, a miss from the get-go. But Starship was still on the fighter’s tail.

Spooked, the Chinese pilot abandoned his target run and started a turn north to evade him. The Sidewinder growled again; Starship fired.

This time he watched the missile run right up the rear end of the Chinese plane and tear it to pieces.

THE CHINESE CRUISE MISSILE HIT THE ABNER READ SO HARD

that the ship’s bow rose several feet under the water. Storm tried to grab onto something but could not; he was thrown against the helmsman and rebounded against the jumpseat near the holographic display.

“More missiles! Four more missiles!” warned the defensive radar.

“Jam them,” said Storm, even though he knew his crew didn’t need his order to do so. “Jam them—get them. Destroy them.”

He tried to get up to see the holographic display tracking the missiles. But his head was light and his legs were shaky.

He found himself back on the deck.

I’ll be damned if I’m going to die on my back on the deck of my ship, he thought, struggling to get up.

410

DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND

Aboard the Wisconsin , over the northern Arabian Sea

0708

DOG TURNED AROUND IN HIS SEAT. “CREW, PREPARE FOR

emergency bailout!” he shouted. “Dish, tell them downstairs. You’re going out in sixty seconds.”

“Sixty seconds?” said Jazz. “Why are we bailing?”

“Because it’s time to get out. That’s my order.”

Dog turned his attention back to the plane. They were thirty miles north of the carrier. He could see one of the aircraft on combat patrol in the distance.

“Colonel, why are we bailing?” demanded Mack Smith, appearing behind him.

“I have to stop those planes from taking off,” Dog told him. “Go prepare to eject.”

“You’re going to crash into the carrier?”

“I’ll bail out at the last minute.”

“Then I’m going with you,” said Mack.

“No.”

“I’m going too,” said Cantor, appearing behind him.

“I appreciate the sentiment—but get the hell back to your stations.”

“Colonel, Jed Barclay on the Dreamland cha

Dog turned the Megafortress south. “Tell him we have it under control. And then everyone bail out. Bail out!”

NSC Situation Room,

Washington, D.C.

2110, 14 January 1998

(0710, 15 January, Karachi)

“THE POINT IS VERY SIMPLE, MR. PREMIER.” PRESIDENT

Martindale paused to let the interpreter translate his words END GAME

411

for the Chinese leader. “I’ve just stripped India and Pakistan of their nuclear weapons. I can do the same to China.” He looked over at Jed. “Not just those in the Arabian Sea, but all of your weapons. Under those circumstances, some of my people might strongly advise me to end our China problem once and for all.”

Jed glanced at the display from the U-2 near the Deng Xiaoping. The planes were getting ready to take off. Would an order even reach them in time?

They could physically link the phone conversation through the Dreamland communications network through the Situation Room’s communications setup, but they could not get it to the ship. The Wisconsin could not broadcast on regular radio frequencies.

The Abner Read could. Maybe they could retransmit it over the radio frequencies.

“Yes, the hawks are extremely strong in my country,”

President Martindale told the Chinese premier. “A shame.

I’m really very powerless against them. Very regrettable.”

Freeman rolled his eyes, and even Martindale winked.

“Can you broadcast that command immediately? I’ll stand by.” Martindale cupped his end of the receiver. “He’s agreed to rescind the order.”

“I think we can broadcast it from the Abner Read to the carrier,” said Jed. “If you can get him to say it over the phone.”