Shattered Trident - Страница 65

Anti-radar missiles wouldn’t care about chaff. They simply homed in on the SPY-1’s radar signal, using it like a spotlight. And he couldn’t turn the radar off because his own SM3s needed it to find their targets.

Another roar echoed outside, the beginning of the second salvo, another six missiles following ten seconds behind the first.

The Chinese Flankers had turned away, diving back down to low altitude now that they’d launched their missiles. One of them suddenly disappeared, and the air controller reported, “Splash one.”

Okubo felt no joy in revenge. The incoming missiles were fast; labeled now as Kh-31Ps, speed Mach 3. He knew his air cover had shot at them, but it was a four-way race now.

“Splash one, splash two!” The missile officer’s near-shout was overtaken by a rattling sound. Atago’s Phalanx point-defense guns firing. One long burst from each, then a second burst from the forward mount.

He had to see. Okubo left CIC and ran forward, but as he stepped onto the bridge, the windows were suddenly filled by black smoke laced with orange streaks. He’d felt no shock, but now there were metallic bumps and bangs, as if someone were throwing rocks, large ones, at Atago’s side. The doors to the bridge wing were open, and acrid smoke made them all cough.

Holding on to the doorframe for support, he fought for air, and finally cleared his lungs. Looking up, he saw the night sky outside the bridge.

The bridge phone talker reported, “Captain, damage control says we’ve taken a secondary hit. Ship control is good, but the radar’s been hit!”

There was nothing to do here. He was back in CIC in moments, but many of the displays were dark. The main display still showed the tactical situation, but it was all secondhand data.

“We missed the last two, sir,” Takagi said, upset, almost shaking. “I’m sorry, sir. The radar went offline before the terminal seekers were in range. The secondhand data wasn’t as accurate, and we only splashed one more missile. Air defense was watching, they’ll engage with Patriots soon.” He was breathing hard, fighting for control. “I should have—”

“Forget that. What happened to the radar?” Okubo demanded.

“We lost two radar faces to fragments. The datalink showed missiles from Falcon flight splash two of the Kh-31s, and our Phalanx systems got the other two, but one was so close we got caught in the fireball.”

“Sir, those missiles were aimed at Tokyo.” Takagi was staring into space. “If…”

“No,” Okuda said sharply. “It couldn’t be helped. You did well. And whatever will happen is already under way.”

9 September 2016

0215 Local Time

Littoral Alliance Headquarters

Okutama, Nishitama District

Tokyo, Japan

There was no siren. They hadn’t been there long enough to have a warning system installed. Instead, every cell phone, tablet, and computer suddenly beeped, buzzed, and rang while displaying the simple message: Take cover immediately.

Komamura’s shelter was in the house, but farther back, where the structure burrowed into the hillside. It was solid rock, they said, and would withstand anything short of the unthinkable.

The shelter had been used for storage until quite recently, and even as he’d hurried in, staffers were shifting boxes and cartons to make more room for the thirty-plus people, most of them in pajamas, crowded into a space the size of a large bedroom.

In deference to his rank, or age, or both, Komamura had been ushered to a fairly comfortable spot in the far corner, farthest in and farthest from the door. Sitting on a sturdy crate, he waited with the others, his back leaning against the cool rock wall. It had already become stuffy, and he could only wait for— What? An explosion? An all-clear?

The air defense people had promised them about fifteen minutes’ warning. According to his cell phone, the alert had been sent almost that long ago. It had taken them far too long…

There. He felt a sharp, sudden movement in the rock behind him, and for a moment he thought of earthquakes, but it lasted only a fraction of a second, and then the sound reached them all a moment later—a deep, hard, boom loud enough to prevent speech, if the surprise and fear hadn’t stopped it anyway. There was no sensation of blast, but a little dust fell from the ceiling.

A few people tried to speak but were hurriedly shushed, as if to not attract attention. The all-clear signal, like the alert sent to everyone’s cell phone, made most of them jump, then laugh nervously. Everyone started to file out, and some made space for Komamura to go ahead of them, but he waved them on. He was comfortable, and suddenly reluctant to leave his place.

He was the last to leave, and had planned to head straight back to bed. Instead, a commotion in the hall outside carried him forward to the front of the house. Shouts and sirens prevented him from asking any questions, and he finally worked his way into the open.

A hundred meters away, on the hillside, a missile had struck. The impact point was easy to find by all the blown-over, burning trees. There was a lot of smoke, and small fires littered the nearby blast area. Helmeted rescue workers in bright-colored vests were already working with fire hoses to stop them from spreading.

He was still working to grasp the force of the explosion. A DF-21 supposedly had about a half-ton warhead. If that had stuck the building…

“Sensei!” It was Miyazaki, running again, but tearful and breathless. There was a dark, shiny patch of blood on her blue tracksuit, and the alarm must have shown on his face, because she quickly stopped and shook her head. “No, sensei, I’m fine, but the admiral…” That was all she could say before her legs gave out.

With Komamura on one side and a staffer on the other, they lowered her to the ground. She sobbed, then pointed, back toward the explosion. “The storage shed, they were in there.”

Komamura knew she meant another one of the shelters, separate from the main house, but solidly built, with rock walls and a timber roof. Admiral Kubo had been in that shelter, along with many others. Hisagi was in a third. They’d collectively decided that if the alliance headquarters were attacked, no country should have its entire delegation in the same shelter.

He noticed rescue workers now, reflective white vests marked with red crosses, running around to the far side of the estate. Some of the staff headed in that direction too, but the professor stayed put. He didn’t want to see.

Breathing carefully, Miyazaki spoke softly. “It was the closest shelter to the blast. After the all-clear sounded, I ran over to see how they were, but there was no shed, just rubble with the roof collapsed on top. We tried to pull it off, and some of it came away in pieces. Then I found Admiral Kubo, or at least I could see the top half of him. The rest was buried, and he wasn’t breathing, but his eyes were open…”

She started shivering, and the professor found himself putting an arm around her shoulders. He intended to comfort her, but he found some strength in it as well. “There were more people killed, I think, and everyone in there must have been hurt. I’m sorry I didn’t stay to help. I don’t know first aid and when I saw the admiral I just panicked.”

“It can’t be helped, child.” Komamura stood, then helped her to her feet. “We must move forward. Go change your clothes, then find Minister Hisagi for me. I’ll wait here.” Blinking and still sniffling, she bowed quickly and ran off. By the time she came back, he’d have thought of some other chore for her.

Keeping busy was the best tonic. He tried to do the same thing, making a list of tasks, but found himself tripping over the first item: notifying Kubo’s family. His wife was dead, but he had three children. But could they even release such news? Wouldn’t the Chinese brag about such a thing?

His thoughts jumbled together. The oldest was a girl. Natsuki. She lived outside Ueda. As he tried to remember the other two children’s names, Kubo’s face and voice filled his memory and the tears came.

9 September 2016

0130 Local Time

41st Group Army Forward Headquarters

10 km South of Pingxiang, Near the Vietnamese Border

Lieutenant General Luo Shi found his chief of staff waiting outside the communications tent. “If we have to go tonight, are we ready?”

Qu Ding almost saluted. “Yes, sir. Everything is in place.”

“Good, because General Su himself just gave me the order. Get the staff together. I’ll speak to them in five minutes, but get word to the first-echelon units now. The infiltrators and engineers have to step off within the hour.”

The ground campaign for Vietnam was under way.

19. EVACUATION

9 September 2016

0120 Local Time

USS North Dakota

West of Hainan Island, South China Sea

The captain was in a foul mood. Jerry paced silently around the confined control room looking first at the sonar operator’s screens, then the useless fire control displays—still no trace of Chakra. After putting some distance between them and the Akula following Minot’s sinking, North Dakota had lost contact, but that was expected. Some forty hours later, Jerry’s sonarmen still hadn’t reacquired the elusive Indian. The only clues they had of Chakra’s whereabouts were two sets of distant explosions leading them northward, toward the Gulf of Tonkin.