Empire Rising (53 page)

The J-11 dispensed chaff and banked hard left, but the AMRAAM detected the aircraft speeding away from the chaff burst and adjusted course. Shrek turned his attention to the second J-11B as it launched one of its missiles, and a moment later Shrek's
Barracuda
classified it as a PL-12, an air-to-air missile similar in capability to the AMRAAM.

There was a bright burst of an explosion to Shrek's left. His AMRAAM had found its target, evidenced by the disappearance of both the AMRAAM and the J-11 from his touch-panel display.
Splash another one
. However, that still left the second J-11, along with the PL-12 missile, closing fast.

Shrek banked right and went inverted, turning his F-35 upside down. He pulled back on his flight stick, aiming his jet down toward the water, fifteen thousand feet below. He pushed the throttle past the détente, engaging his afterburner. As he rocketed toward the ocean's surface, he checked his touch-screen display. The PL-12 was chasing down after him. With a speed of Mach 4, the missile would reach Shrek in a few seconds. He had even less time before he hit the water. The F-35's
Bitching Betty
audio warning system activated, a woman's soothing voice informing Shrek of the impending danger. “Altitude. Altitude. Altitude.”

“Shut up, Betty.”

The F-35's voice recognition system turned off the alarm.

At five thousand feet, Shrek dispensed a round of chaff and yanked back on the stick. He eased off on the throttle as he monitored the g-force displayed on his touch screen, praying he didn't pass out as his F-35 hit eight g's. The legs of his G suit filled with air, helping to keep the blood in his head. He tightened his abdominal muscles and grunted through the turn, attempting to keep as much blood in his brain as possible.

Shrek leveled off at a thousand feet, then banked right to get a visual. The PL-12 missile had passed through the chaff, but the chaff had done its job. The missile had stayed focused on the reflective cloud of aluminum-coated fibers, allowing Shrek's F-35 to slip out of the missile radar's field of view. The missile continued downward, plowing into the ocean.

He turned his attention to the J-11. The pilot had followed Shrek down and was just now leveling off at a thousand feet, two miles behind him. Shrek didn't have much time to think about his next maneuver, because
Betty
came across his headset again.

“Missile inbound.”

The J-11 had fired another missile, classified by Shrek's
Barracuda
as another PL-12. He had only one more burst of chaff left and wanted to save it, so he tapped the glass display again, activating the F-35's electronic jammer. He watched the missile closely to see what happened. The missile immediately adjusted course, aiming toward his jet. Shrek turned off the electronic jamming. This PL-12 variant had a home-on-jam feature.

He checked his display. A mass of forty JH-7s was approaching fast, and Shrek decided he couldn't afford to get tied up with this J-11 in a dogfight that could last who-knew-how long. He needed to shed this guy fast. The home-on-jam feature gave him an idea.

Shrek banked left again, returning to his original course, putting the missile and J-11 behind him. Just as the PL-12 closed the remaining distance, Shrek dispensed his last burst of chaff and went vertical, kicking in his afterburners. The missile stayed locked on the chaff and passed through the reflective cloud. With Shrek above the chaff and climbing, the missile lost contact. The missile turned left for a few seconds, searching for its target, then right for a few more seconds. Finding nothing, the missile turned skyward.

But Shrek had already gone inverted, turning back toward the incoming J-11. He rolled his F-35 back to a normal orientation, then checked the distance to the PL-12 and J-11. His adversary was staying close to the water, avoiding Shrek while his missile was still in play.

Shrek activated his electronic jammer again. The PL-12 missile immediately turned in Shrek's direction and increased speed. As the PL-12 gained on Shrek, he adjusted the trajectory of his F-35, angling down on an intercept course with the incoming J-11. The Chinese pilot realized what Shrek was doing and turned away. But Shrek adjusted course and passed barely a hundred feet above the J-11 as it continued its turn. Shrek turned his electronic jammer off as he passed above the Chinese fighter, and the PL-12 resumed using its radar-seeking head. The missile locked on to the larger radar signature of the Chinese fighter, slamming into the fuselage of the jet a second later. The J-11 morphed into a cloud of fire and shrapnel.

Checking his display again, Shrek located the group of JH-7 fighter-bombers. They were surging through a gap in
Reagan
's Combat Air Patrol six thousand feet above. The Chinese fighter-bombers were headed in at Mach 1.7 and Shrek's F-35 was capable of only Mach 1.6. He wouldn't be able to run them down once they got past. Shrek kicked in his afterburner, climbing quickly toward the Chinese aircraft. His
Barracuda
alarmed again. Not far behind, two more J-11Bs were headed his way.

Now that Shrek was out of missiles, his only recourse was to fall in behind the JH-7s and shoot them down with his Equalizer four-barrel Gatling gun. To Shrek's left, another F-35 and two F/A-18 Super Hornets were also falling in behind the Chinese fighter-bombers. Apparently the three aircraft were also out of missiles, as they engaged the inbound JH-7s with their guns, the interspersed red tracer rounds streaming toward the fighter-bombers. The JH-7s weaved all over the sky to avoid the cannon fire, but maintained their overall inbound track.

Shrek checked the J-11s behind him. The two J-11s must also be out of missiles, because none were headed his way. But the J-11s were dangerously close now. He had only a few more seconds before they were a threat. Shrek steadied up behind the nearest JH-7, selected his Equalizer gun on his flight stick, then squeezed the trigger. The 25mm bullets and red tracer rounds streamed toward the Chinese aircraft, missing it just to the right. Before the pilot could react, Shrek tweaked his aim left and the tracers cut across the fuselage of the Chinese jet. The JH-7 began trailing orange flames and black smoke from its starboard engine, and seconds later the fuselage exploded. Shrek juked to the right to avoid the debris from the expanding fireball.

Red tracer rounds passed over his canopy. The nearest J-11B was firing. Shrek juked left and right at random intervals, hoping to prevent the Chinese pilot from getting a bead on him. Although the J-11Bs were his most pressing concern, Shrek had another problem. The inbound JH-7s were approaching the range at which
Reagan
's cruisers and destroyers would engage incoming aircraft with Standard missiles. This was as far as he could follow the Chinese fighter-bombers. The other three U.S. planes disengaged and turned away from the JH-7s, met by a half-dozen J-10s and J-11s in pursuit. Shrek activated his radio, contacting his strike controller on
Reagan
.

“Alpha Papa, Knight One. Disengaging from incoming Hostiles. You've got thirty-five Leakers.”

It was now up to the cruisers and destroyers.

Shrek banked hard right, looking through the cockpit window at the two J-11s. Both adjusted course, angling toward him.

*   *   *

Inside
Reagan
's Combat Direction Center, Captain Debbie Kent stared at the displays on the Video Wall. She had watched their Combat Air Patrol almost disintegrate under the Chinese onslaught; less than a third of their fighters remained. They had performed admirably, shooting down an impressive number of Chinese aircraft, but a significant number of Chinese fighter-bombers made it through. As Kent counted the number of inbound aircraft on the display, she realized they weren't dealing with Leakers. It was a flood. Between the three streams of contacts headed toward
Reagan
and her escorts, there were over one hundred inbound Hostiles.

Now that the Chinese aircraft had penetrated
Reagan
's Combat Air Patrol, the cruisers and destroyers would take over. Kent would be a bystander for this phase, watching as
Reagan
's escorts engaged with Standard SM-2 and SM-6 missiles. There were so many contacts that they would have to turn things over to the computers aboard their ships. The Air Warfare Commander aboard USS
Chosin
reached the same conclusion.

“All units, this is Alpha Whiskey. Shift Aegis Warfare Systems to auto. You are
Weapons Free
.”

Kent watched as the computers aboard the two cruisers and four destroyers began automatically “hooking” contacts, assigning them to missiles in the ships' vertical launchers. The Aegis computers worked together, communicating with each other so that no ship targeted the same contact. Missiles began streaking skyward from the six ships.

As the missiles headed toward the incoming Chinese aircraft, the number of contacts on Kent's display began to multiply. In a few seconds, the original one hundred contacts had morphed into over five hundred. The
Reagan
Task Force had engaged the Chinese fighter-bombers too late, and they had launched their air-to-surface missiles, which apparently had a longer range than expected. The Aegis computers continued to hook the incoming targets, now concentrating on the faster-moving group of four hundred contacts rapidly closing
Reagan
and her six escorts. Kent did the math. There were more incoming missiles than Standard missiles.

It was like watching a video game, streams of blue icons headed out in three directions, approaching the incoming red icons. The two waves of icons intercepted each other, and the Standard missiles intercepted the majority of inbound contacts. But not all. Over fifty missiles continued inbound, targeting
Reagan
and her escorts. It was time for the self-defense phase. Kent looked over at her Tactical Action Officer.

“Shift SSDS to auto.”

The TAO acknowledged, then shifted
Reagan
's SSDS—Ship Self-Defense System—to automatic. Like the Aegis Warfare Systems aboard the cruisers and destroyers,
Reagan
's SSDS would automatically assign contacts to their RAM and ESSM missiles, then target any Leakers with their CIWS guns. It was out of Kent's hands now. All she could do was watch.

The TAO called out, “Inbound missiles. Brace for impact!”

Kent reached up and grabbed onto an I beam, watching as the SSDS automatically targeted the missiles streaking toward
Reagan
. It all happened in a matter of seconds. Two missiles made it through and Kent felt the ship shudder twice as the missiles impacted
Reagan
. On the Damage Control Status Board, red indications on the starboard side of the carrier marked the missile impact and damage radius. Thankfully, the Hangar Deck hadn't been penetrated, nor the carrier's Island superstructure damaged.
Reagan
had survived the Chinese missile onslaught relatively unscathed.

The surviving Chinese aircraft swept past the
Reagan
Task Force, their missiles expended, headed back to China. Kent examined the display in front of her, surveying the carnage. Only thirty of the ninety-six American fighters remained aloft. However, China had paid dearly. The American fighters and Standard missiles had shot down over three hundred Chinese aircraft. Kent let out a sigh of relief.
Reagan
had survived, as did the amphibs, which hadn't been targeted. The cruisers and destroyers, however, did not fare as well.

Several of the screens on the Video Wall in front of Kent switched to real-time video feeds. Black plumes rose from all six escorts, and USS
Chosin
was engulfed in flames, black smoke billowing upward.
Chosin
was their Air Warfare Commander and one of only two cruisers. They could ill afford to lose her.

Kent picked up the Navy Red phone next to her. “Alpha Whiskey, this is Alpha Papa. Report operational status, over.”

There was no response. Only static on the line.

Kent repeated her request. “Alpha Whiskey, this is Alpha Papa. Report operational status, over.”

A few seconds later, there was a response, but it was from the other cruiser, USS
Port Royal
. “Alpha Papa, This is Alpha Bravo. Alpha Whiskey has dropped off the grid. I am assuming duties of Air Warfare Commander.”

“Alpha Bravo, this is Alpha Papa. Understand. What is the status of the destroyers and air-defense inventory?”

“Three destroyers are operational, but all units on the grid are Winchester on SM-2 and SM-6 missiles.”

The last part of
Port Royal
's report hit Kent in the gut. They were out of Standard missiles, leaving only close-in self-defense systems. They could now only target missiles approaching their own ship.
Reagan
and the amphibs were on their own. It was time to bring the remaining thirty F/A-18s and Joint Strike Fighters back for refueling and rearming.

As Kent turned her attention to the aircraft on the display, icons began populating the edges of her monitor. Three more streams of contacts were inbound, and the icons soon switched from Unknown to Hostile. It was a second wave of Chinese fighters—another four hundred.

Kent hung her head. With only thirty fighters aloft, their missile inventory and decoys no doubt expended, their CAP would be wiped out. With no Standard missiles to shoot down incoming fighter-bombers or their missiles, it was going to be a one-sided bloodbath. There was no way the
Reagan
Task Force would survive.

 

77

BEIJING

Christine had no idea how long she lay sprawled on the floor of Xiang's office; the room was spinning and she fought the urge to vomit. Blood was seeping into her right eye, and the side of her head throbbed with every heartbeat. She wiped the blood from her eye, and as her vision slowly cleared, she saw Huan standing above her, a one-foot bronze statue of Mao Zedong in his hand.