Dale Brown - Sky Masters

“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. Lubu’s mouth dropped open in surprise. His eyes grew wide as he realized what it was. “Sir… Admiral, you cannot f”

“We cannot be razed like this, Captain, ” Yin said calmly. “I will not suffer defeat at the hands of these people.” He inserted the key into a lock on a flat panel on the instrument console in front of his seat, waited as the door popped open. Inside the compartment was a red-colored telephone handset with communications cords and several unmarked buttons. Yin pressed the yellow button. A buzzer sounded around the entire ship. With Lubu looking on in absolute horror, men throughout the ship scrambled to prepare for an order that had never before been executed. . Admiral Yin picked up the red-handled phone within the unlocked compartment before him on the instrument console. “This is Admiral Yin, ” he said. “Command is Battle Cry. Battle Cry. Over.”

“Initial code verified, ” a voice on the other end of the line asked. “Targets, sir?”

“Target the southern corvette, turn, and target the eastern frigate, ” he said in a low voice. “Execute in three minutes, system automatic. Authentication is Red Moon. Repeat, Red Moon. Over.”

“Understood, sir. Authentication verified. Full connectivity check … received. Execution in three minutes . . . mark. System automatic engaged. Countdown hold in two minutes. Combat out.” Yin replaced the red phone in its cradle. A crewman dashed up to the two senior officers, carrying heavy gloves, a heavy black smock that resembled a thick poncho, and a heavy helmet with large gold protective eye goggles and a plastic face shield with respirator. Lubu accepted his but did not don it. “Admiral, I ask you to reconsider. We should receive authority from headquarters before attempting this Yin allowed the crewman to help him on with the leadimpregnated smock, placed the helmet on his head, connected the interphone cords and breathing apparatus, and rolled down his sleeves. Inside the helmet, he could hear the reports coming in to Lubu as each desk and each station reported its Red Moon status. “Admiral, you must stop this.. .” Lubu persisted. “Two minutes to Red Moon execution, ” the loudspeaker blared. “Two minutes to Red Moon execution. . . mark. All decks report ready.”

“My fleet is surrounded, we are under attack, we are in danger of losing the Spratly Islands and indeed most of the South China Sea to the Filipinos, ” Yin said through the respirator. His flashblindness goggles and oxygen mask made him look sinister, even deranged, like a sea monster from a horror movie. “I have the power to stop them. My only other choice is to surrender to them, and that I will never do.”

“But this will create a disaster of international proportions, ” Lubu argued. “We are too close to the Philippine shoreline. The water is too shallow-we will do irreparable harm to the coral reefs and the sea bottom in these shallow waters. You must cancel the order.”

“Put on your protective gear and prepare for Red Moon execution, Captain, ” Yin said through the mask and respirator. “That is an order.”

“You cannot do this. We will be in a state of war, with the Filipinos, the Americans, the entire world.”

“Range to the south target?” Yin radioed to Combat. “Thirty kilometers and closing, ” came the reply. “Helicopters at seven kilometers, ETA three minutes… sensor warning missiles on intercept course, ETA forty seconds, AA batteries and close-in systems manned and ready. . “Admiral, please… Captain Lubu shouted, his hands on the armrest of Yin’s chair. “At least . . . at least broadcast a warning message, sir.” Yin shook his head, a slow, ghastly gesture that made it look like the Death’s Head itself refusing the pleas of the ones condemned to die. “You old fool, you can’t do this!” Lubu shouted. He turned to the officer of the deck, who was fully outfitted in his nuclearchemical-biological-warfare gear. “Cancel Red Moon execution on my order, Commander. Broadcast on emergency frequency that this fleet is disengaging and departing Filipino waters immediately.”

“Sir, I must have the cancellation code, ” the officer of the deck shouted through his mask. The officer of the deck was trained to respond to orders from the ship’s captain, not the Admiral on board; therefore there was no question that he would obey lawful orders from Lubu. But procedures still had to be followed, especially in combat conditions and with the flotilla commander on deck in active command. Lubu looked at the dark visage of Yin behind his mask. The Fleet Admiral made no movement, spoke nothing. Lubu said angrily, “On my authority, Commander. The codes are in a safe in my cabin. You know I have them. Until I retrieve the codes, I order you to cancel the execution order immediately.” The officer of the deck turned to look at both Yin and Lubu. Most of the rest of the bridge crew was watching the exchange as well. Then the officer of the deck said, “I’m sorry, sir, but the Admiral is still on the bridge and he has command. I cannot supersede his orders.”

“Sixty seconds to Red Moon execution. All decks report ready. . . fifty seconds. “Cancel the order, Admiral, ” Lubu warned him. “Don your protective gear and stand by, Captain, ” Yin said evenly. Lubu’s eyes telegraphed his next move-he lunged forward for the silver key in the lock of the Fei Lung-9 commandcontrol panel. Removing the key would disable the direct line to Combat, which would prevent the final execution order from being given from the bridge. The launch officer would hold the final launch countdown at twenty seconds if the final order was not given either by the direct phone or in person. Just as Lubu touched the key, a shot rang out. Lubu was thrown away from Yin’s chair and onto the floor, a dark red stain spreading across his belly. “You are a coward and a dishonorable man, Lubu Vin Li, ” Yin said half-aloud, placing the smoking 7.62-millimeter Type 54 automatic pistol on the instrument console in front of him. “You cannot change my destiny. You have disgraced yourself trying.” Yin then picked up the red phone, lifted his mask and helmet, and spoke: “Combat, this is Admiral Yin.”

“Combat. Entering Red Moon countdown hold.” “Execution order is Dragon Sword. Dragon Sword.” And he dropped the phone once more and lowered his respirator into position. As he closed the elastic seals on his gloves and neck of the protective smock, he spoke into the helmet’s interphone system: “Seal the bridge. Order all antennae and receivers into standby and-” But just then Yin heard the collision-warning horn sound on the bridge loudspeaker and the loud, angry buzz of the Phalanx Close-In Weapon System. The radar-guided Gatling gun automatically tracked inbound targets and opened fire with a murderous hail of 30-millimeter bullets when it computed the object within range-Yin knew it was a last-resort weapon, and that its chances of stopping an incoming missile were slim. Yin heard another warning horn blare-it was the T minus ten-second Fei Lung-9 launch-warning horn-just as a huge explosion erupted outside the port observation windows. The incoming Harpoon missile had been hit by the Phalanx cannon and detonated as it began its terminal pop-up maneuver, creating a huge overpressure in Yin’s ears seconds before the big, thick observation windows bowed inwards, then outwards, and exploded like a balloon. The overpressure seemed to suck the air out of Yin’s lungs, and the very air he was breathing seemed as if it were on fire. . ABOARD BEAR ZERO-ONE Tamalko saw the patrol boat at about three miles’ distance, and opened fire just inside one-half mile. The Chinese warship opened fire immediately with what appeared to be a solid wall of tracers, and for a moment he thought he would have to break off his run and try a different attack axis; but just then, a half-second later, the firing abruptly stopped. Tamalko walked his 20-millimeter shells up to the ship’s stern, using short bursts from the four-thousand-rounds-per-minute M61A1 cannon, then, banking hard left and controlling his fighter’s swaying action with rudder pressure, managed to stitch a line of bullets right down the centerline. He was rewarded with a few secondary explosions, and it even appeared that the ship was listing to one side, although he doubted seriously that single gun pass had anything to do with it. “Radar contact on another vessel, now one o’clock, three miles, ” Pilas called out. “Locked on, steering is good.”