Before Danny could hit the interphone line on the communications system to talk to the pilots, the Osprey veered sharply to his right.
“Chinese aircraft is challenging us, and trying to lock with weapons radar,” said the pilot. “I have to get out of here.”
“Go ahead, go!” Danny told him. And before the word was out of his mouth, the Osprey had settled her tilt-rotors and jerked back toward shore.
Aboard the Levitow ,
over the northern Arabian Sea
0321
BREANNA ACKNOWLEDGED THE KARACHI TOWER’S INSTRUCtions, telling the Pakistani flight controller that they were END GAME
193
clearing out of its airspace. The transmission was overrun by a radio call from another group of aircraft.
“Dreamland Levitow, this is Whiplash leader,” said Danny on the Dreamland channel.
“Levitow.”
“Bree, we’re being targeted by some Chinese aircraft.”
Breanna glanced at the sitrep. The Levitow was thirty miles due west of Karachi, over Pakistan. Whiplash Osprey was three miles south of the city, close to the oil terminal.
Apparently the J-13s that had been following them had broken off once the Megafortress changed course. They were now approaching the Osprey.
“Hang on, Danny,” she said, jerking the control stick to turn the big aircraft around. “Cavalry’s on its way.”
Aboard the Shiva ,
in the northern Arabian Sea
0321
THE FIRST MISSILE LEFT THE SHIVA WITH A THUNK AND HISS, steam furrowing from the rear. Two more quickly followed.
The missiles seemed to stutter in the sky, as if unsure of where they were going, but their noses straightened as they reached the black edge of the night beyond the darkened ship. All three were P-700 Granits—known to NATO as SSN-19 Shipwrecks. The Russian-designed weapons were potent, long-range cruise missiles with thousand-kilogram explosive warheads.
Memon watched as their shadows disappeared, oblivious to the chaos behind him. The carrier was simultaneously maneuvering to launch another set of fighters and to fire a round of missiles. These were P-120 Malakhits, better known as SS-N-9 Sirens. The weapons required mid-course guidance to strike their target; this would be provided by a data link with a specially designated Su-33.
“The Chinese aircraft are attempting to lock their 194
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
weapons radars on us!” warned one of the officers on the bridge.
Memon felt himself strangely at peace. India’s new age was beginning; the future held great promise.
Northern Arabian Sea,
offshore of the Karachi oil terminal 0323
CAPTAIN SATTARI GRIPPED THE SEAT RESTRAINT AS THE SUBmarine sank. At every second, he expected an attack. The Parvaneh was not armored at all; a few bullets through the hull would cause serious damage.
“There are many aircraft above,” the submarine captain told him. “It may be difficult to take the course as planned.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We move farther offshore, and remain submerged for a few hours before proceeding. The nearby ships will launch a search, you see. The more we move, the easier we will be to find.”
The other submarines were already moving toward the rendezvous point. If they waited, they might miss them and the A-40 that was to pick them up in two days.
“No,” said Sattari. “The chaos will help us escape. The Indians and Chinese will be concerned with each other. Allah is with us. Let us place ourselves in His hands.”
Aboard the Levitow ,
above the northern Arabian Sea
0325
MACK HAD TO SCRAMBLE TO STAY WITH THE MEGAFORTRESS
as it twisted back toward Karachi. A pair of Pakistani F-16s were flying out of the east on a collision course, but the J-13s targeting the Whiplash aircraft were his priority. He END GAME
195
pushed his nose down, accelerating as he aimed to get between the Chinese fighters and the Osprey.
“Fighters are still not acknowledging,” said Stewart over the interphone.
“Tell them I’m going to shoot them down if they fire on my people,” snapped Mack, jamming the throttle for more speed.
Aboard Whiplash Osprey,
near Karachi
0326
DANNY FREAH FLEW AGAINST THE BULKHEAD TO THE COCKPIT
as the Osprey veered downward, trying to duck the Chinese fighters. The gyrations spun the Whiplash captain around like a pinball, slapping him against one of the benches and bouncing him back toward the cockpit. Danny grabbed for one of the strap handles near the opening, checking his momentum like a cowboy busting a bronc.
“Tell them we’re Americans, damn it,” Danny said to the pilot.
“I keep trying, Captain. They’re not listening.”
Flames leapt up in front of them.
“I’m going to stay near the fire,” said the pilot. “They won’t be able to use their heat-seekers.”
“Don’t burn us up in the meantime,” said Danny, nearly losing his balance as the Osprey veered hard to the left.
Aboard the Deng Xiaoping,
in the northern Arabian Sea
0327
CAPTAIN HONGWU COUNTED THE ENEMY’S MISSILE LAUNCHES
as they were announced, listening with a Buddhalike patience that would have impressed his ancestors, though 196
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
Hongwu himself did not put much stock in the religion’s basic beliefs. He was surprised by the Indians’ attack, but not caught off guard; tensions between the two countries had been increasing for years, and ships from the two nations had engaged in a bloody battle in the Pacific months before. The Chinese had not done particularly well in that battle, but Hongwu had carefully studied it, and planned now to apply its lessons.
He had another advantage besides knowledge: a considerably improved anti-cruise-missile system. The Pili, or Thunderbolt, had been developed from the LY-60 Falcon, with insights gained from the Italian Aspide. The weapon flew at Mach 4 and could strike a cruise missile at twenty kilometers.
Or so it had on the testing range. It was about to be put through a much more grueling trial.
Listening to the reports, Hongwu grasped the Indian commander’s mistake; rather than concentrating his attack, he was launching small salvos against the entire fleet.
“Prepare to defend the ship,” said Captain Hongwu. “And then answer the attack. Have Squadron One attack the Shiva. Direct the others to attack any target they see south of us.”
“Any ship, Captain?”
“Any ship. There are only Indian warships south of our fleet.”
Northern Arabian Sea
0327
STARSHIP MISTOOK THE VESSEL THAT LOOMED AHEAD IN HIS
screen for the Deng Xiaoping, even though he knew from the sitrep that he should be at least five miles from the Chinese aircraft carrier. A flood of tracers erupted from midships, a fountain of green sparks in the screen. He started to veer away before realizing the gunfire wasn’t aimed at him; END GAME
197
it leapt far off to his left, extending toward a dark shadow that rose from the sea like a shark. Lightning flashed; the ship, fully illuminated for a moment, seemed to be pushed back in his screen. Another flood of tracers began firing, and a missile launched from the forward deck near the superstructure of the ship, which he now knew must be one of the Chinese destroyers.
Two seconds later there was another white flash, this one partially blocked by the ship. A geyser of light erupted near the destroyer’s funnel. Two, three, fireballs rocketed above the ship.