Sea Strike

by James H. Cobb

  Crossing over the foredeck, Arkady kicked the tail of the dying helo around and staggered down the length of the destroyer's hull, trying for the helipad aft.

  "Brace yourself, Gus! This is going to be a bitch!"

  Another pedal turn and a wild side-slip to try to line up over the giant H in the landing area. The belated flash of the landing markers. The flicker of flame reflected in the marred canopy plastic and the shriek of metal binding on metal. The sight of the deck crew scattering away from the developing 334 James H. Cobb disaster. A single, sudden, panic-stricken thought.

  LANDING GEAR!

  "Aw, to hell with it." Arkady released the throttle trigger.

  Hitting the "Power Kill" switches, he let Retainer Zero One fall.

  The helo hit hard and flat on her belly, then rolled onto her side. Her rotor blades exploded into flying composite fragments as they touched the deck, the fuselage floundering on the flailing stubs like a landed fish.

  As the helo went still, there was a rush to open the cockpit as the crash crew moved in. Arkady released his seat harness and shoved at the canopy overhead. It didn't budge, and the aviator was suddenly very aware of the smell of hot metal and smoke. He heard crash bars start to pry into the cockpit frame.

  Arkady got his feet up into the seat pan and his back braced against the top of the canopy. He heaved with adrenaline-fueled strength. The canopy tore loose, and he sprawled out onto the antiskid.

  Half a dozen fire extinguishers were being emptied into the engine compartment as Arkady rolled to his feet. Joining in with the aviation hands, he helped to yank open the rear cockpit and drag his S.O. clear.

  Only when Gus was out and on his feet did Arkady take a second to enjoy taking a breath.

  He turned to face the superstructure and the monitor camera that he knew would be there. Lifting both arms, he clasped hands over his head, sending a message to someone he knew would be watching.

  On the Cunningham's foredeck, Digger Graves groggily lifted his head from the deck. Bubbles lay at his side, and he heard the faint whisper of a moan from her.

  Damage-control hands and a first-aid team were hurrying toward them from the destroyer's deck house. Graves tried to come up on one elbow and suddenly realized that something was missing. The burning pain that had been ravaging his shoulder was almost gone. The strain of the lift or the impact of his fall had popped the dislocation back into place.

  The aviator goggled at his free-moving arm for a moment and murmured,

  "Well, I'll be a son of a bitch." Then, for the third time that night, Digger Graves passed out.

  SEA STRIKE 335

  On the bridge wing, Amanda looked up from the helipad image on the repeater screen. Arkady was home. Up forward, the two rescued aviators were also being carried belowdecks.

  She still had to get them out, but at least they all were under her hand now. She bit her lower lip lightly and wiped away a couple of unbidden tears.

  "Helm, rotate on station by hydrojet. Come about to one zero zero degrees true. Set reciprocal course downchannel."

  The Duke came about within her own length, aiming her prow toward the sea, gathering herself for the dash toward freedom.

  Suddenly, flickering light outlined the headlands to the south and the sound of a new volley of explosions rolled upstream from the mouth of the estuary.

  "CIC, something's taking place down river. Do you have anything on this?"

  "Oh yeah, Boss Ma'am. Indeed we do!" Christine Ren dino's jubilant voice responded. "We have the word from Task Flag. We have a support strike rolling in on those bad boys down on the beach! The coastal batteries are being taken out now. They are holding the door open for us!"

  "And we are going through it! Lee helm, all engines ahead one third!

  Let's get out of here!"

  "Sir, signal from the Cunningham They have just cleared the Yangtze mine barrier and are taking departure from the Chinese coast. All personnel accounted for. All mission objectives completed. They are closing out the Stormdragon time line!"

  "Yeah!" Admiral Tall man's fist crashed onto the console top. "Yeah!"

  The tension in Pri-Fly snapped like a rubber band. Yells, cheers, and whistles made the round in the compartment, men and women alike slapping palms and exchanging embraces as they welcomed a shipload of fellow warriors back to life.

  Macintyre smiled in the semilight. "Well, Jake. I told you she could pull it off."

  "That you did, Eddie Mac! Goddamn! I wish my son wasn't already married.

  I'd like that woman in my family!"

  "I wouldn't mind it myself."

  336 James H. Cobb "Admiral Macintyre." Nolan Walker handed across a sheet of hard copy. ' ' message in from the Cunningham.

  Personal. Captain Garrett to CINCSPECFORCE."

  "Thank you, Commander." Macintyre couldn't help but note that even Walker had a grin on his face.

  Stepping back to the bulkhead, Macintyre held the message form up to one of the battle lights.

  All sheep have been returned to the fold.

  Macintyre smiled again. Folding the paper, he slipped it into his shirt pocket.

  EAST CHINA SEA 0534 HOURS ZONE TIME; AUGUST 28, 2006

  There was another mission waiting for the replacement CSR helo: medevac for the Cunningham's wounded. With the helipad still blocked by the wreckage of Retainer Zero One, the four more critical cases had to be lifted by sling stretcher up to the Oceanhawk as it hovered over the forward replenishment point.

  Doc Golden had accompanied his patients topside to supervise the transfer. Now he gave the deck controller the all clear for departure.

  Nodding a response, the controller passed the word to the helo pilot with a sweep of his wands. The SH-60 dipped its nose down and pulled away into the lightening sky.

  Golden took a deep breath, letting it trickle out from between his lips.

  One more immediate job left. He picked his medical bag up from the deck and started back toward the superstructure, past his colleagues in the damage-control teams who were tending to the ship's wounds.

  Up on the battered bridge, Ken Hiro slouched tiredly in the captain's chair. Things were coming back together again here as well.

  Electrician's mates were replacing damaged telescreens and systems modules. There was only going to

  SEA STRIKE 337

  be so much that the crew would be able to do, however. The Duke was going to need a long stretch in the yards before she could be pronounced fully healed.

  "We've got all of the bad cases on their way, sir," Golden reported.

  "How about the aircrew, Doc? I didn't see you loading them."

  "We're going to be hanging on to them for a little while," Golden replied. "The docs over at Task Hag concur with me that they have no critical trauma that requires any immediate heroic treatment. Bouncing them around in a hoist basket isn't probably the best thing in the world for them either."

  The physician rubbed his tired eyes. "We'll let them stabilize a little more and move ' out after we get the helipad clear."

  The Duke's exec nodded. "Good enough."

  "Speaking of helicopters, what's the word on Zero Two?"

  "They recovered safely aboard the Antietam. The Annie is enroute to rendezvous with us now. We'll have Lieutenant Delany and her S.O. back aboard in time for lunch."

  "Glad to hear it, sir. Especially that part about the rendezvous."

  Golden leaned against the side of the captain's chair and peered out at the horizon. "Things are a little bit lonely out here to suit me just now."

  "Not really, Doc. The Antietam already has us under their Aegis screen, and straight up at about thirty thousand feet, we've got half a squadron of Super Hornets flying top cover for us. It's all over, Doc."

  "Not quite. Do you know where the Captain is, Commander?"

  "Wardroom."

  "Thanks."

  There were three of them there: the Intel, alert and radiating a near hostility, like a small a
nd wary watchdog; the helo pilot, sprawled back on the couch, his eyes closed and his flight gear stacked on the deck at his feet; and the Captain, sitting upright in one of the lounge chairs, a mug of tea cradled forgotten in her hand.

  Golden crossed the compartment and knelt down beside the chair. Taking cotton and disinfectant from his bag, he

  338 James H. Cobb began to clean the encrusted cuts and scratches on her face and forearms.

  Amanda didn't seem to notice until she felt the first sting of the alcohol-soaked swab. "I'm all right, Doctor," she said, jerking her head aside. "See to the crew ... "

  "Don't worry, Captain. You're the last one. All wounded have been treated and have either been medevaced out to the carrier or are resting comfortably. Now, shut up, if you please, and let me do my job."

  She accepted his touch and treatment then, sitting quietly as he worked.

  "How many wounded?" she asked after a few moments.

  "Ten. All either on the bridge or in the ammunition handling compartment under the forward Oto Melara. Four of them are serious, but in my judgment, all of them will recover."

  Captain Garrett nodded again, slipping back into her state of somnolent, postmission neutrality.

  "Hey, Doc." Arkady's eyes were open now, and fixed on the auburn-haired woman seated across from him. "Do you think that it might be a good idea for the Captain to have something to help her sleep?"

  "Sounds like a winner to me," Golden replied, applying a bandage to a cleaned cut on Amanda's forearm.

  "No ... Lieutenant." Captain Garrett shook her head emphatically.

  "I'm all right. I need to stay clear for a while longer. I'm all right."

  "Your choice, ma'am," Golden said judgmentally.

  "However, in my professional opinion, you're probably going to keel over on your own here presently."

  "I know, Doc. I've been here before. I can feel it coming.

  I've just got to get some things cleaned up ... Doc, did we lose anyone?"

  "One killed in action, Captain. In the ammunition- handling room."

  "Who?"

  "Seaman Langdon. One of the new people we took on board at Pearl."

  "I never did get a chance to talk with him," she almost whispered.

  Golden finished and began to stow away his first-aid SEA STRIKE 339

  materials. "Just cuts and bruises, Captain. Nothing major. But I do advise that you get some rest."

  "I will, Doctor. I had to do it ... "

  The slight rise in her voice drew the attention of them all.

  Arkady sat forward on the couch, and Christine Rendino took a quick step forward. Amanda Garrett's eyes refocused on the real world and she looked around at each of them.

  "I couldn't leave them out there!" Her words were a plea for understanding. "I put the ship at risk. I got our people injured. I got one of them killed. But I just couldn't leave them out there. I guess it doesn't make much sense ... "

  "It makes perfect sense to me," Golden replied quietly, "and I expect it does to Mr. Arkady here, and Miss. Rendino, and just about every other man and woman aboard this ship as well."

  He rocked back on his heels, thinking carefully for a moment.

  He was prescribing for a patient just now.

  "Captain, I am not a real military officer. I can't do what you do, or make the kind of decisions you make. Nor, speaking frankly, would I want to. However, as a doctor. I do have a certain nodding acquaintance with matters of mortality.

  "Last night, it cost you one life to get two back. That's a rather tragic kind of mathematics. However, that still puts you one up on death. And anytime you can manage that, Captain, you are doing pretty damn good."

  SICK BAY, USS CUNNINGHAM 0601 HOURS ZONE TIME; AUGUST 28, 2006

  Digger Graves awoke in one of the upper berths in the cramped little ward compartment. He was bucking a massive dose of sedation, but he vaguely realized that there was something that he had to do, something that he had to say.

  "Bub? Hey, Bub?"

  "I'm here," a blurry voice responded from the curtained berth beneath him.

  "How you doing?"

  340 James H. Cobb "If you must know, I feel like shit."

  Unsteadily, Graves lifted his arm over the bunk-edge rail and extended it down toward Bubbles's voice. After a moment, a smaller hand clasped his with a brief, tight grip.

  "We made it, Bub."

  "Yeah."

  "Know what else?"

  "What?"

  "I'm staying in."

  "I knew you would."

  "Yeah." The haze was closing in again, and Graves struggled to keep the words put together. Woozily, he grinned up at the overhead. "It only makes sense, Bub ... I mean, if I get out, where am I going to find this kind of job security again?"

  "Digger."

  "Yeah."

  "Will you please shut the hell up."

  HOTEL MANILA, REPUBLIC OF THE PHILIPPINES 1818 HOURS ZONE TIME; AUGUST

  28, 2006

  "This was a flagrant act of war!" The bland exactitude of the English issuing from the translator earphone did not match the pale-faced rage being displayed by Vice Premier Chang. That rage was the key point at the moment. Harrison Van Lynden stayed focused on the Chinese statesman.

  "We prefer the term ' action,' Mr. Premier," the secretary of state replied levelly.

  "We are not interested in your sophistry, Mr. Secretary," Chang nearly shouted. "Call it what you will. You admit before the world that the United States is now taking active part in this criminal aggression against the People's Republic of China!"

  The crisis talks were in full session, the national delegations spaced out around the great O-shaped assembly of tables.

  However, this day, the majority of the diplomats were SEA STRIKE 341

  there only as the witnesses to the confrontation between the United States and Red China.

  "I admit that the United States has acted on behalf of the other Pacific Rim nations gathered here at this conference.

  We were seeking to end the threat of the nuclear holocaust that was being held over us all."

  "This was purely an internal matter of China!"

  "No, Mr. Premier!" Van Lynden's hand slapped down on the white tablecloth in front of him. "The utilization of weapons of mass destruction, be they chemical, biological, or nuclear, can be the affair of no single nation in the world today. We all live on the same planet, sir!"

  "And you believe that this gives you the right to conduct acts of gangsterism against my nation!"

  Lucena Sagada sat quietly at Van Lynden's side, her attention focused soberly on the secretary of state. Across the room, General Ho sat at his station beside the Vice Premier, his gaze fixed impassively on the center of the room.

  "We believe that it gave us the responsibility to act on behalf of our allies who would have been caught downwind of your holocaust, Mr.

  Premier. No non-Chinese state here has ever interfered in China's current internal conflict. Nor has any state here had any desire to do so, until you threatened to spread your devastation beyond your own borders."

  ' The United States will be held responsible. I promise you that, Mr.

  Secretary."

  Van Lynden leaned in over the table. "Mr. Premier, my government believes that the imminent threat of the Chinese civil war going nuclear has been eliminated," he stated with almost ironic calmness. ' ' am authorized by my president to assure you that the United States plans to initiate no further military actions against the People's Republic of China.

  "However, I am also authorized to inform you that the United States now has over three hundred armed strike aircraft and an equal number of cruise missiles within range of key targets within PRC territory. We are also prepared, if necessary, to initiate a full naval blockade of the Red Chinese coast, as well as an immediate airlift of military equipment and supplies to the Nationalist and UDFC factions.

  "If the People's Republic desires to expand its conflict with the Unit
ed States, that will be your choice. However, 342 James H. Cobb Mr.

  Premier, I believe that your nation has enough on its plate at the moment. Anything more would not be advisable."

  The stocky Chinese statesman could find no further words.

  Abruptly he rose to his feet, obviously intent on stalking out of the conference room, General Ho silently following suit.

  "Premier Chang!" Van Lynden's voice rang like a pistol shot, freezing the man in place.

  "I am also authorized to inform you of one thing further. In the event that the People's Republic should consider any further 'extraordinary actions' in this matter, be advised that a number of major military installations within PRC territory have been targeted by American ICBMs.

  This targeting will remain in effect until the conflict in your nation has ended ... one way or another."

  The conference was adjourned. The crisis that had brought them together had been resolved. The talks had been an aspect of that resolution, although not quite in the way Van Lynden had expected. Nonetheless, he'd call it a win. This phase, anyway.

  "It's `;/54' been a great pleasure working with you, sir," Lucena Sagada said, securing her final page of notes in her briefcase.

  "I've learned a great deal. I appreciate this opportunity."

  "What in the world makes you think it's over, Lucena?"

  "Isn't it?"

  "For us, it's just beginning. Come on. We need to talk to some people."

  The Nationalist/UDFC delegates were still seated at the master table, Secretary Ho and Professor Yi speaking quietly together. At the approach of Van Lynden and his assistant, the two Chinese rose, smiling.

  "Mr. Secretary," Ho said, "the people of China can only express their thanks at the moment. Someday, perhaps, we will be able to return your assistance in kind."

  "Perhaps," Van Lynden replied, coming to stand across the table from the two men.

  Professor Yi nodded, a faint glitter in his aged eyes. ' ' were all most fortunate in this matter. Most fortunate."

  "It has been my experience, gentlemen, that we usually SEA STRIKE 343

  create our own fortune ... and that has certainly been the case here.