Admiral Yin had never considered the use of these missiles, and still did not consider it — as distasteful as it was to him, he would withdraw from the fight and run for the safety of the Spratly Islands or the Paracels before employing them. The nuclear warhead could be removed, however, and a conventional 513-kilogram shaped-charge warhead installed. The Fei Lung-9 was a superior weapon, much more accurate, much faster, and was much more difficult to shoot down.
But Yin did not order the RK-55 warheads removed from the Fei Lung-9 missiles.
He still had two Fei Lung-7 missiles and the firepower of the rest of his task force to use, and besides it was somewhat dangerous for the crew to download a missile from its launch canister and change high-explosive warheads at night during a combat situation — never mind that two of those warheads would be nuclear.
“Status of Talon Eight-One,” Yin ordered.
“Combat-ready, sir,” Captain Lubu replied after relaying the request to Combat. “Armed with six NTL-90 torpedoes. Data link is still active in all modes. Loiter time… estimated at one more hour for min fuel return to the Paracels, one point five hours for an emergency landing on Spratly Island. They’re still transmitting targeting data and awaiting orders to re-attack.”
Yin nodded. The Murene NTL-90 dual-purpose torpedoes, capable against both surface vessels and submarines down to depths as great as five hundred meters, were substantial weapons of their own. Their maximum range was slightly greater than the eight kilometers — which was greater than the range of the guns on Philippine warships, although it was much less accurate against surface targets and, for greatest accuracy, the Shuihong-5 patrol aircraft would have to move in to four or five kilometers to drop the torpedo. Yin hesitated sending the Shuihong-5 back in within gun range, because if the patrol aircraft was struck down, he would have no choice but to move his precious
“Order Talon Eight-One to attack with torpedoes,” Yin told Captain Lubu. “Order them to specifically target the northern frigate. I want targeting information for the southern frigate and a second Fei Lung-7 salvo launched against it immediately.”
“The waters in the Palawan Passage may be too shallow for torpedoes, sir,” Lubu reminded Admiral Yin. “The torpedoes dive as far as fifteen meters before beginning their climb to the surface — there may not be enough depth in the area to accommodate that.”
“Then order Talon Eight-One to attack at slower speeds,” Yin ordered, “but I want the northern frigate prosecuted immediately. If the Filipino fleet is allowed to cross the Passage toward Palawan, we will have to withdraw before shore forces can react. I do not want these people to escape, Lubu, do you understand me? I will teach these Filipino cowards a lesson — the People’s Republic of China will defend its territory and its borders with all the power at its command. We will destroy ten ships for every one of ours that is attacked. Now carry out my orders, Captain.”
If there was a room in all the huge expanse of desert known as HAWC in the restricted area known as Dreamland that was more classified or more restricted than any other, it was Building Twelve, otherwise known as Hassle Hall. It was so named because every occupant undergoes a scrupulous security check before entering the building, and each and every room in the complex conducts it own security check for every individual, arriving and departing.
On the second-floor offices of the project known as PACER SKY, a huge high-definition TV monitor had been set up against one wall. A bank of computers and control equipment fed satellite data from the expansive Earth station mounted atop Skull Mountain within the Dreamland complex, and the digitized satellite data was unpacked from its microburst transmission format, decoded, processed, reassembled, and displayed on the huge monitor.
The four occupants of that super-secret room could scarcely believe what they were seeing — a real-time image of a Chinese warship over eleven thousand miles away, taken from a satellite about the size of a welder’s acetylene tank traveling five hundred miles overhead at seventeen thousand miles per hour. The image was so clear that they could count the different antennae on the vessel.
“My God, that’s incredible,” Air Force Colonel Andrew Wyatt, one of the Joint Chiefs of Staffs senior project officers, exclaimed. “And that photo was taken at night? It’s amazing.”
