Sky Masters полностью

“I know, I know,” Tamalko said. He readjusted his heads- up display for air-to-ground strafing, resetting the depression angle on the HUD to 37 mils. “Where are the damned ships?”

There was a slight pause, and Tamalko thought that Pilas was either not going to answer or was suffering a nervous breakdown. Then: “Radar contact, one o’clock, ten miles. Come right ten degrees. Target heading two-six-zero.” Tamalko made the turn and began pushing up the throttles in military power, saving afterburner thrust for the final few miles of his pass…

“High-speed aircraft approaching Wenshan, sir,” Captain Lubu reported. “Range sixteen kilometers. No contact on second aircraft. Wenshan maneuvering to put his aft 57- millimeter guns on the target.”

“He’d better stop turning and start shooting,” Admiral

Yin said half-aloud. “If those planes are carrying Harpoon antiship missiles, he’s run out of time already.”

“Emergency message from Wenshan!” a radio operator called out. “They’ve run aground!”

“What?” Yin shouted. For the second time, the deep-draft patrol boat Wenshan had fallen victim to the shoal waters of the South China Sea — and the second time it had done so at a critical moment, while under attack from hostile Philippine forces. The image of the dragon drowning in the ocean rushed upon the Chinese Admiral once again — the battle, it seemed, always came to him.…

“Wenshan is taking water,” the radio operator reported. “They are requesting fire support and assistance. Casualties reported.”

“Range to that fighter?”

“Range to Wenshan, eight kilometers,” the Combat technician reported. “Fighter still headed inbound. Passing eleven hundred kilometers per hour.”

“Sir, radar reports the second frigate has appeared over the horizon to the east,” Captain Lubu reported. “Range thirty-two kilometers, closing slowly.”

The Philippine ships were pressing the attack, Yin thought. So close to utter destruction, and now the mouse is turning to bite the nose of the tiger. “Order Fuzhou to intercept—”

“Sir, radar reports another contact off to the south,” Lubu interrupted. “Range thirty-seven kilometers, approaching at medium speed. They appear to be helicopters, sir. Three helicopters approaching.”

“Missile-launch detection!” Combat reported. “Frigate to the east launching missiles, sir!”

The battle was on in earnest.

The reports were flooding past Admiral Yin almost faster than he could assimilate them. Faces glanced at him, some doubtful, others accusingly, most of them fearful. Voices were bombarding him, rising in intensity and volume — the racket was getting loud, almost deafening…

“Fighter closing to within five kilometers, sir,” another report cut in. “Wenshan listing to starboard. Captain Han reports his stern is resting on the bottom and is unable to move…”

“Vessel to the south identified as PS-class corvette,” Lubu reported. “There was a fifth ship out here, Admiral. The helicopter landing platform… it must have separated from the rest of the Philippine task force and maneuvered to our right flank…”

“Missile-launch detection! Corvette to the south launching missiles…”

“Radar contact, third vessel, identified as LF-class fire- support craft…”

“Shoal water dead ahead, three meters under the keel. Suggest hard starboard twenty degrees…!”

“Execute turn…!”

“Missile-launch detection! Helicopters launching missiles, sir!”

“Chukou reports missile strike on the waterline, sir!” another report came. “No damage report… lost contact with Chukou…”

“Lost data link with Xingyi, sir. No reports yet…”

“LF-class fire-support vessel on suspected torpedo run, sir,” Lubu shouted. “Range down to eighteen kilometers, speed thirty knots…”

“Radar contact aircraft, range fifty-two kilometers, heading west at high speed,” another report came. “Fighter aircraft from Puerto Princesa. ETA, five minutes.”

“Sir,” Captain Lubu said, stopping and standing as close to Yin as he dared, “we are running out of maneuvering room, one patrol boat is grounded, and the other ships are scattering and disoriented — they are unable to defend themselves or defend the flagship. Recommend we reduce speed and provide fire-support coverage for our escorts. Once we are reorganized, we can steam out of the passage…”

Yin appeared not to have heard him. Not four inches from Captain Lubu’s face, Yin was breathing heavily through his nose. Perspiration was running down the sides of his temples. His face was flushed, his brow furrowed, his mouth a tight line. It was as if he were not there, but instead somewhere else far, far away, thinking…

… about how there was no way out.

… about his duty to protect his men, his ship.

… about saving face at all costs.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, but was really less than fifteen seconds, Yin unbuttoned the top button of his tunic, reached inside, and withdrew a large silver key.