Larry Bond - Shattered Trident

Someone called “Brace!” and Sun tried to comply, then discovered he’d already done so. He barely had time to think about finding a better position when the first shock came, a crash that turned into a rumble under his feet. The deck jerked suddenly, but that was all, and Sun was starting to think about damage control when the second and third missiles slammed into the ship within seconds of each other.

This time the shock was brutal enough to knock Sun and everybody else to the deck. A pressure wave passed over him, and the stench of burning metal and plastic made him cough, then gag. One deafening crash followed another and another, and his mind gave up trying to understand what was happening.

The crashing stopped, but was replaced by a roaring sound—it was a fire, a big one, and close by. Sun could also hear screams and moans, and then metal bending and tearing, as if under great stress.

Sun pulled himself up, first kneeling, then standing, although a sharp pain ran up his left leg into his back. Battery-powered lights were the only illumination, making white beams in the haze. He could still see through the smoke, although his eyes burned.

The admiral drew a breath, coughed, then drew another and managed to croak, “Everybody topside.” Most looked at him dumbly, and he said, a little louder, “We’re finished here.”

Ly Thai To

The report from the targeting systems matched the patrol plane’s exactly. At the same moment the aircraft’s radar showed the incoming Yakhont missiles reaching one of the Chinese destroyers, the signal from the Dragon Eye radar had abruptly ceased. “The contact also appears to be slowing,” the radar operator reported.

Trung let them cheer for a moment. The linchpin of the Chinese defense, a Type 052C guided-missile destroyer, had been disabled. Perhaps it would sink, if they didn’t beach it on the island. It might limp home and eventually be fixed. But it was out of the fight.

Their own Uran missiles were only moments away.

Trung moved to the Monolit console. The combat center was much less crowded now, since they didn’t have to track the Chinese formation so closely. Instead, they watched the radar picture data-linked from the aircraft, and compared what they saw with the Monolit operator’s report.

At this point, Trung was as much a spectator as the rest of his crew. He’d made all the decisions before launching his missiles. All that was left was reporting the results and defending his ship.

“I’m getting new radars,” the operator reported. “Type 354, Type 344G, Russian MR-123 radars—those last ones are point defense.”

Mai pointed to a pair of blips. One was the stricken destroyer, the other a missile frigate. “That’s the only ship directly in their path. For everyone else, our missiles will be crossing targets.” A missile passing across a ship’s line of sight, instead of holding steady, was harder to shoot at—much harder.

With the most powerful missile ship out of action, the patrol plane had been able to get closer to the formation. Its radar was sharp enough to actually provide rough images of the different ships, and could see the Uran missiles as they closed. It was also smart enough to identify ships by class, and labels appeared next to different blips as the radar’s computer identified the vessels: two Type 054A missile frigates, a Type 052B missile destroyer, the Type 071 landing ship, a Russian-built Sovremennyy guided missile destroyer, the container ship, and two older frigates, not counting the crippled destroyer.

His eyes were on the two targets: the landing ship and the container ship. Altogether, his force had launched seventy-two missiles, an unholy amount of firepower. He’d been tempted to use part of them to attack the frigate, but it was a moving target in its patrol zone. The two primaries were stationary, or had been, and that made for easier targeting. The moving container ship was a worry, but with luck, it would not have time to get too far from the aim point.

Trung knew they wouldn’t be able to see the defender’s fire, but he could watch their Uran missiles disappearing, as defending missiles and guns had their effect. The Type 054A had a good SAM system, and it was well placed. The Urans wouldn’t attack the frigate because Trung had ordered the missiles’ radar seekers to stay off until they were past the ring of defending ships.

He tried to count, and quickly lost track. He knew that analysts would play these recordings later and count the losses, refining their estimates of the Chinese weapons systems. All he cared about now was seeing enough missiles reach their destination.

He saw an older frigate in between the missiles and the container ship. It was close enough to absorb some of the missiles. Had the captain done it deliberately?

By rights, he needed only four or five missile hits on each target to cripple it, but he didn’t want to just cripple them. Crippled ships could be repaired, their cargo salvaged. He wanted to destroy the invaders. Killing the entire formation would not be enough to satisfy him, but killing the two largest ships would be a good start.

“Captain,” Mai pointed to the radar screen, “the helicopter has disappeared.” His voice was full of concern. “How long has it been gone?”

“It didn’t land,” Trung remarked. It hadn’t approached a ship. That meant it must have climbed to a higher altitude. The Vietnamese patrol aircraft’s radar was designed to detect ships and aircraft close to the sea surface. The Chinese Helix was above the radar beam now.

“Find the helicopter’s radar! Plot its position!” Trung ordered. People scrambled around the plotting table, setting up the tracking team again.

The missiles reached the center of the formation, and Trung cheered inside every time a small radar blip reached one of the ships. “That old frigate is absorbing some of the missiles meant for the container ship,” Mai observed.

“Just find the helicopter!” Trung ordered, although the climax of the battle was hard to ignore. Clusters of blips raced toward the ship symbols and disappeared. The amphibious ship had its own point defenses. Had those missiles been shot down? Or had they reached their target? The container ship was defenseless, but the old frigate guarding her was serving much the same purpose by absorbing some of the missiles.

The radar receiver operator reported, “I can’t find the helicopter’s radar signal. It’s gone.” There was no emotion in the report. He didn’t understand what it meant. The Chinese knew that their opponents could detect the radar signal. Now Trung had no way of finding its position. Their enemy’s move was obvious: fly down the launch bearing, then snap on the radar to search for their now-fleeing attackers.

But how far would it fly? In which direction? The Chinese knew the maximum range of the Uran, but could they know that Trung’s ships had fired from much shorter range? Trung turned on the intercom. “Bridge! Double the lookouts. Keep your eyes peeled for a helicopter.”

Trung’s ships were running west at flank speed. His top speed was twenty-seven knots, but the Molniya boats could make almost forty-three, and were already several kilometers ahead. That was fine. There was no security for them in a formation.

Run, or slow and mimic fishing boats again? If they could get far enough away from the Chinese warships, then they’d be out of missile range and they could thumb their noses at the helicopter.

But it had only been a few minutes since they’d launched, then turned. The Chinese YJ-83 missiles had almost double the range of his Urans. It would take hours at flank speed to be completely clear.

“Captain, we’ve picked up the Octopus radar again.”