“We’re not going to be able to do it,” repeated Stewart, her eyes welling.
In all the time since the missile struck the Megafortress, Breanna hadn’t even considered the possibility that she would have to scrub her mission. She’d thought of everything else—everything—but that.
“We have to try.”
“If we’re down to two engines, it’ll take a miracle to position ourselves for a Scorpion shot,” said Stewart.
“You’re right,” said Breanna. “We’ll get the Flighthawk.
Zen can make the interception. Plot a course.”
ZEN FOLDED HIS ARMS, LEANING BACK AGAINST THE STIFF
seat. He hadn’t completely given up the chance to walk, just put it off.
The docs might be pissed, Vasin especially. But they’d get over it.
Was he afraid to walk?
They might accuse him of that. But he knew why he was here.
“Hey, Major, Lieutenant, we’re changing course again,”
said Bullet, the relief copilot who’d climbed down from the upper deck. “Bree wanted you to know. We’re going to try and pick up the Flighthawk if we can. Have it target the Tai-shan aircraft.”
“Sure,” said Zen. “How’s the engine?”
“Not very good. I’m surprised it’s gotten us this far. Breanna’s babying it, but unless she can crawl out on the wing, it’s a goner.”
“Do me a favor. Don’t suggest that to her.”
END GAME
385
*
*
*
“COLONEL, WE MAY NOT BE ABLE TO MAKE IT TO THE CARRIER
in time for the intercept,” Breanna said, speaking over the Dreamland communications network to the Wisconsin.
“Engine four is gone, and I’m going to have to shut down engine three in a few minutes. We’re going to try and rendezvous with our Flighthawk. Once we hook up with it, we’ll head that way. I’m sorry, but I can’t give any guarantees. We’re going too slowly.”
“All right, Breanna. We have Chu and the Abner Read.
Your priority is your aircraft and crew. Hear?”
Maybe it was because he was her father, but she thought he sounded as if he were telling her to hurry home after a late date.
“Thanks,” said Breanna. She killed the connection.
“Engine three’s going critical,” said Stewart.
“All right, let’s shut it down. Work with me, Jan. Let’s do this together.”
Aboard the Wisconsin,
over India
0646
DOG CLICKED INTO CHU’S CHANNEL ON THE FISHER.
“Wisconsin to Dreamland Fisher. Chu? What’s your situation?”
“I have two J-13s shadowing me, Colonel. The Chinese carrier has launched a dozen planes within the last ten minutes. They’re headed in the direction of the Indian task group.”
“How close are you to the Deng?”
“Sixty west. You wanted me to back off.”
“The Tai-shan order has been given. Set up an intercept on the aircraft after they come off the carrier.”
“Fisher.”
386
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
Aboard the Abner Read,
in the northern Arabian Sea
0647
STORM RELENTED AND LET THE CORPSMAN TREAT HIS WOUND, daubing at the ripped flesh with gauze that felt as if it had been dipped in kerosene. He squeezed his fingers into a fist and ground his back teeth together, trying unsuccessfully to ward off the pain.
“Sir, communication from Dreamland Wisconsin for you,” said the commo officer. “Colonel Bastian.”
Never had Storm been so glad to talk to Bastian. He put up his hand, stopping the corpsman mid-swipe.
“I have to talk.”
“Sir, if it hurts—”
“It doesn’t hurt,” snapped Storm, holding the headset up.
“Gale here.”
“The Chinese have issued the Tai-shan order. Levitow has been hit and won’t be able to help in the attack. DreamlandFisher is moving into position for the intercept.”
Storm struggled to his feet. “All right. Good. We’ll proceed. We have to move farther east.”
“You all right, Storm?”
“Don’t worry about me, Bastian.” Storm reached to the communications controller. “Eyes—the Chinese have issued the Tai-shan order. Move us east. Get ready to intercept those aircraft. We have roughly twenty minutes.”
“We’re not in good position for the intercept, Captain.
The action against the Shiva took us away.”
“Then get us back into position. We have to back them up.”
“Aye aye.”
Storm leaned against the hologram table, orienting himself. They weren’t that far out of position. Granted, taking the aircraft was a long-range shot from here, but they were still within the targeting area.
He was close enough to sink the damn carrier. That’s what he should do. Sink the damn thing. His order justified it.
END GAME
387
“Captain, Dreamland Fisher reports two J-13s coming hot at us,” said Eyes a moment later. “Dreamland’s radar analysis shows they’re armed with antiship missiles.”
The bastards knew what they were up to! They were going to sink them so they couldn’t interfere.
Attack. Attack them now!
“You’re sure about this, Eyes?”
“They’re just coming into our radar range now. Should I target them?”
He had four Standards left. He wanted to fire two apiece at the Tai-shan planes, guarantee a hit.
Two now? Two later?
If they sent another wave of planes, he’d be defenseless—or he’d fail his mission.
“Target the carrier Deng Xiaoping. Same mix we used against the Shiva. Have the Sharkboat fire as well.”
“The carrier?”
“They’ve just launched an attack on us, Eyes. And they’re about to drop a nuke. We have to take them down.”
“Agreed,” said Eyes. “But if we use the same mix, we won’t have any missiles left for air defense.”
“We’ll use the close-in weapons against these two airplanes. If we sink the carrier, we won’t need anything else.
Do it. Give it everything we’ve got.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
Storm steadied himself against the holographic display.
Two aircraft carriers in one day? His name would be linked with Nimitz, with John Paul Jones.
“Captain, you have to let me treat you, sir,” said the corpsman. “We need to clean the wound.”
“Later.”
388
DALE BROWN’S DREAMLAND
Aboard the Fisher ,
over the northern Arabian Sea
0648
LIEUTENANT CHU HAD EIGHT SCORPION AMRAAM-PLUSES
in his bomb bay, but even twenty more would do him no good if he wasn’t close enough to use them. The planes would be most vulnerable when they came off the carrier, and to guarantee a hit he wanted to be as close as possible.
At the same time, the Chinese were watching him carefully—they’d sent two J-13s to shadow him, and the four planes flying combat patrol above the carrier were prowling the area he wanted to be in. Chu decided that his best approach would be to extend his patrol area as noncha-lantly as possible, widening his orbit and flying south before going farther east.
“The J-13s are right on our wings, Tommy,” said his copilot. “I’m afraid that once we open the bay to fire the Scorpions, they’re going to pounce.”
“The Flighthawks will hold them off,” said Chu. “We’ll hang in and fire everything we’ve got.”
“Everything?”
“Too important to take a chance.”
“What about the patrol near the carrier?”
“We’ll go toward the Abner Read, get coverage from them. The Flighthawks can hold them off in the meantime.”
Chu told the Flighthawk pilots what they were going to do. Neither man said anything more than “Understood.” He started his turn, focusing on the heads-up display in his windscreen. A calmness settled over him; his muscles relaxed; he felt almost as if he were watching himself from the comfort of a living room sofa far away.