Sky Masters полностью

He tried to ignore his stomach and ordered his ships in the best formation in which to approach a hostile island. The minesweeper would execute a zigzag pattern in front of Chagda perhaps a kilometer wide, clearing the path of any hidden mines while maintaining good forward speed toward the target. With his two Hainan-class patrol boats in trail position, one behind the other and spaced about a kilometer apart, whoever was on that island might not detect the two trailing vessels until the shooting started. The two patrol boats, each one configured for both antiaircraft and antisubmarine warfare, would be scanning the skies and seas ahead and to each side of the formation, searching for hostile aircraft, ships or submarines.

“All ships are at general quarters,” the officer of the deck reported with a bow. Chow was just donning his life jacket and baseball cap, in lieu of a combat helmet. “All ship’s weapons manned and report ready.”

“Very well. I want range to Phu Qui Island every kilometer,” Chow ordered. “Have the vessels maintain ten knots until—”

“Sir! Acquisition radar detected, bearing zero-five-zero,” Combat reported.

“Well, what in blazes is it? Analysis! Quickly!”

There was another interminable delay; then: “C-band acquisition, sir… probably Sea Giraffe 50, OPS-37, SPS-10 or -21 surface-search system… slow scan rate… Calling it an SPS-10 now, sir…” Chow scowled at the reports from his Combat section; they were rattling off Swedish and Japanese radar systems when they knew that the only C-band radar in the Spratlys had to be Filipino.

“Nineteen kilometers to Phu Qui Island and closing,” came the range report from the navigation officer. “Speed ten knots.”

“Negros Oriental class,” the officer of the deck announced. “Latest intelligence reports had the Nueva Viscaya putting out to sea. It may have arrived here in the Spratlys.” Chow nodded his agreement. The Nueva Viscaya was one of two active ex-U.S. anti-submarine-warfare vessels operated by the Philippine Navy as coastal patrol boats, another fifty-year-old rust bucket rescued from the scrap heaps. It was small, slow, and lightly armed. They used old American C-band SPS-10 or French Triton II surface search and acquisition radars as well as older-model ULQ-6 jammers. Fortunately, its heaviest weapon was a 76-millimeter cannon, as well as 40- and 20-millimeter antiaircraft and antimissile guns that might be a danger to the Hong Lung's helicopter as far as six kilometers away.

“Relay to Hong Lung that we suspect the Philippine vessel PS80 to be in the vicinity of Phu Qui Island,” Chow ordered. “Inform them we have detected acquisition C-band radar emissions and that—

“Message from Baoji, sir!” the radio technician yelled. “Radar contact aircraft, bearing one-niner-zero, fifteen kilometers!”

“Air-defense alert to all vessels,” Chow shouted. “Order five-kilometers free-fire to all vessels. Broadcast on emergency frequencies for all aircraft to stay out of visual range of Chinese warships.” He dashed over to the radar display on the center bridge pedestal. The composite radar images showed nothing but Pearson Reef and Cornwallis West Reef, two very large coral formations on the southeastern edge of the Spratly Islands — and it was then obvious what had happened. The single blast of radar energy from whatever vessels were near Phu Qui was enough to divert all attention to the northeast, while aircraft managed to sneak around behind Chow’s task force, hide in the radar clutter created by the coral reefs, and slip in close.

“Radar now showing three aircraft, altitude less than ten meters, speed sixty knots,” Combat reported. “Suspect rotary-wing aircraft. Range now thirteen-point-five kilometers and closing…” The radar display suddenly showed several bright white spikes radiating out from center. The spikes seemed to spin around the scope, dim, disappear, and reappear seconds later with even greater intensity. “Jamming on all systems.”

“All ships, defensive maneuvering,” Commander Chow ordered. “Active ECM and decoys. Signal Dragon in the clear, report possible air attack from the southeast—”

“Missile in the air!” someone screamed. Directly ahead, right on the dark horizon, a bright flash of light could be seen, followed by an arc of light that flared quickly, then disappeared. Another flash of light followed, the trail of the missile straight this time — headed right for Chagda.