by Ricky Sides
“Helm, hard to port!” Ramon shouted. He then ordered communications to warn the fighter escorts.
The pilot turned the Havana as ordered and that maneuver prevented any of the rockets from striking the windshield, but three rockets struck in close proximity to each other on their starboard side. The multiple explosions shook the ship violently, and opened a gapping hole in the side of the Havana. The lights went off inside the ship for a few seconds, and then the emergency lighting activated.
“Helm, set a course for Key West, and take us away from the enemy while the engineer inspects the damage,” Ramon ordered.
“Sir, I can’t. My control panel just went dead,” reported the pilot.
“Mine too, sir,” reported the gunner.
“I lost contact with my drone when my panel went dead, Captain. It will land and then shut down. It was over the ocean, so it will be lost,” reported a drone operator.
“I’m afraid the same is true in my case, sir,” reported the other drone operator.
“The missiles must have struck a power coupling, Captain,” the engineer stated.
“Communications?” asked Ramon.
“Operating on the emergency battery, sir,” stated the communication specialist calmly.
Ramon said, “Send a Mayday to the Peacekeeper. Apprise them of our situation, and…”
“Captain, we are going down,” the pilot reported.
“All hands, brace for impact,” the communications specialist said on the intercom without waiting for the Captain to order the message. Then she sent the Mayday to the Peacekeeper. She was still explaining their situation, when the Havana struck the sea.
The impact with the surface of the sea was brutal, but the Havana had sufficient forward momentum that it cushioned the impact to a degree.
“Grab your survival gear and get aft to the cargo bay, on the double!” Ramon ordered. He wanted the crew in the cargo bay so that they could access the life rafts the Havana carried, just in case they ever went down while flying over the sea. In the case of the Havana, the patrol ship logged more hours in the air over the sea than she did over land.
“Sir, a pilot is reporting that the pirates are coming about and that they are ten minutes out from our position.”
“Get aft with the rest of the crew,” Ramon ordered the woman. “Engineer, let’s take a look at the damage. It may be that we will stay afloat until help arrives, and we can defend the ship.”
However, when the men arrived at the damaged sleeping compartment, they saw that holding the ship with a hole that size would be next to impossible. Half the outer wall in the room was gone. Fortunately, the bottom of the hole seemed to be a couple of feet above the waterline, so they were in no danger of immediate flooding. “If we could close the door and seal it effectively, we might be able to hold them off, Captain, but with the power coupling blown, I don’t think we could seal it in time. If we had twenty minutes, I could probably accomplish the task, but not in the time we have available.”
“It’s time to get to the cargo bay,” Ramon stated.
The two men stepped out into the hallway leading to the cargo bay, but had only managed a few feet before they saw the crew returning from that section of the ship. “Report,” Ramon said tersely to the strike force leader.
“Captain, there’s insufficient power available for the cargo bay door seal to separate,” the man reported.
Ramon was about to respond when he heard the sound of lasers firing. Urgently, the captain said, “It appears that it is too late to try to escape in life rafts. Lieutenant, Get your men into defensive positions. Try to hold the breach. The fighters will be assisting.”
Turning to the control room crew, Ramon said, “Mary, get back to the control room. Tell the Peacekeeper we are preparing to repel boarders, and then get back to the cargo bay. We can barricade the door leading into that room. That is where we’ll make our last stand. I want the rest of you in the cargo bay at once. The strike team and I will hold this position as long as we can.”
One of the strike team members was standing inside the damaged cabin. He said, “Sir, the enemy is forcing our fighters to back off. They are firing missiles, and concentrating their machinegun fire on them; at least that’s what I think they are doing.”
The man darted back away from the opening. “The ships are near now. In a few minutes, the enemy will attack,” he reported.
“Man your positions,” the strike team leader ordered. The men under his command took cover as best they could, but they would have to fight from the cabin doorway, and that left little to no cover for most of the men. Turning to the captain, he said, “Sir, Mary could be cut off if she stays in the control room too long. Please escort her to safety before the enemy attacks.”
Ramon understood the strike force leader was exercising his right to safeguard the crew he had sworn an oath to protect, but he did not intend to remain in the comparative safety of the cargo bay. He darted toward the control room. “It’s time to go to the cargo bay, Mary,” he ordered.
“On my way, Sir,” she responded.
“The Peacekeeper?” Ramon asked.
“Very close now. The captain said we were to hang on just a few minutes,” Mary replied.
The Havana rocked violently. Both Ramon and Mary were knocked against the wall. “Get to the cargo bay. You lead and I will follow. Don’t stop near the breach. Move rapidly past it.”
The ship shuddered again, but this time the jarring wasn’t as violent as the last. Mary darted down the hall and soon she was past the strike team. When the two entered the cargo bay, the captain ordered the personnel to locate defensive positions. He reminded them not to shoot their own crewmates who may have to retreat into the cargo bay; then he returned to the strike team.
“Welcome back, Captain,” the strike team leader said. He nodded his head toward the breach in the hull, and Ramon noted the side of one of the enemy ships just a few feet away.
The captain was about to respond to the strike team leader when he saw a rope ladder descend into view. It was resting against the side of the enemy ship. He drew his pistol and lunged to his feet. Thrusting his pistol through the opening, Ramon fired five rounds. A body fell through the air and landed in the ocean between the two vessels. “The next men will be more hesitant to try that,” Ramon stated decisively as he returned to his men near the door.
“I would be a bit reluctant myself, Captain,” responded one of the strike team members.
“So would I,” Ramon said with a smile; then growing more serious, he added, “Remember, we don’t have to hold them off long. The Peacekeeper is only minutes away.”
“You three cover the hole in the side of the enemy ship while our men descend the ladders!” ordered a male voice that Ramon assumed was an officer on the ship beside them. He watched as several more rope ladders dropped down from the rail of the pirate vessel.
“When they come, try to catch them while they are still on the ladders,” the strike force leader stated. “Shoot their legs the moment they come into view. Remember to fire on an upward trajectory, so that ricochets will be less likely to come back inside the Havana.”
However, before the men descended the ladders, they tossed a smoke grenade inside the peacekeeper patrol ship. The strike team leader reacted quickly and ordered his men out of the room, and knelt in the doorway. Before the smoke completely obscured his vision, the peacekeeper tracked his rifle left and right, and then he tracked it up toward the upper edge of the hole. He now knew the approximate angles at which he would have to stop firing his weapon. Next, he drew three spare magazines for his M16 from their carrier on his side and placed them on the floor near him.
The lieutenant was just bringing his right hand back toward the trigger guard when he vaguely saw the form of a man’s legs through the thickening smoke. He took in a deep breath as he fired his rifle. Soon, the air would be too smoke filled for him to breath and he wanted to hold out as long as possible. The strike
force leader fired methodically, trying his best not to form a recognizable pattern that the men on the enemy ship could track to make a safe entry.
When his first magazine ran empty, the lieutenant worked rapidly. He dropped the spent magazine, and grabbed one of the fresh ones. Slamming it home, he then released the bolt, which chambered another round in his weapon.
While he was reloading the rifle, someone removed his hat and slipped a gas mask over his face, and then he took a few precious seconds to adjust the mask. He heard a pistol fire beside him, and knew that one of the other peacekeepers was keeping the pirates at bay while he donned his protective gear.
Picking up his rifle once more, the lieutenant shouted, “Ready!”
Again, the strike force leader fired methodically, but without an apparent pattern. This time, he heard splashes outside the ship during the short pauses between shots. He knew that he had either hit some of the pirates or forced them to drop into the sea to avoid his weapons fire.
The lieutenant then felt something slam hard into his leg and hit right above his hard armor thigh piece. His rifle fell from his fingers and he clutched at his leg. He felt hands grab him from behind, and he was pulled to the comparative safety of the hallway. Someone quickly took off his mask. “Be careful,” he said, gasping in pain as he saw another man with a gas mask disappear inside the damaged room. Then some of his men picked him up, raced through the ship with their wounded strike team leader, and took him to the cargo bay where the doctor could see to his wound.
Moments after the men arrived with the wounded lieutenant, another strike team member turned up in the cargo bay with the doctor’s large emergency medical kit. “I thought you’d need this, Doctor,” he said.
“Thank you and yes I do. I only took the time to grab the small kit,” the doctor explained.
“Who went in the room?” asked the lieutenant.
“The captain did, sir,” reported one of the men. “He insisted.”
“Get him out of there,” the lieutenant said angrily.
“Yes, sir,” one of the men said as they turned to leave.
The strike team members arrived to retrieve Ramon just as he was inserting his third magazine. One of the men, a burly private, reached inside and grabbed the captain; then unceremoniously dragged the man from the room. “Sorry, Captain, but the lieutenant said I was to get you out of there.”
The smoke was beginning to clear in the room. One of the other men went inside with his rifle at the ready. Ramon turned to watch as the man took up the position he had just vacated, saw a small blur of motion, and heard a metallic thumping inside the room.
“Grenade!” the man inside the room shouted; then batted at the grenade, which had rolled to a stop near him. The stock of his rifle struck the grenade a hard blow, sending it sailing in a low trajectory toward the hole in the side of the ship. The man went to the prone position and covered his head with his arms. A foot from the edge of the hole; the grenade detonated. A large portion of the shrapnel was directed outside the Havana, but a significant amount remained inside the room. Ramon and the burly private grabbed the prone man’s ankles and pulled him out of the room. Then the private jumped over the man’s body and began to fire just as he had seen the lieutenant doing earlier.
The medics did a hasty examination the man who had been in the room when the grenade detonated. The concussive forces partially trapped within the room stunned him. He had multiple wounds in his forearms. The explosion of the grenade had burned the back of his left hand; and for the moment, he seemed to be having considerable difficulty hearing. They got the man to his feet and one of them led him to the cargo bay.
Inside the room, the private stopped firing. “I think they’re moving away,” he said.
Looking inside the room, Ramon noted that the ship seemed to be in reverse. Then, he heard the unmistakable sound of a minigun firing a prolonged burst. “Come out of there,” Ramon ordered the private. He knew that Tim’s battle group had arrived, and it was possible that an explosion on the ship that was backing away from the Havana could easily send shrapnel or even burning fuel into the damaged room.
“Guard this doorway, but bear in mind a rescue team may try to board. I have to get to the control room and warn them to call out before they try to enter. Just be careful. I don’t want any friendly fire incidents,” Ramon warned as he turned and ran down the hall toward the control room.
When he reached the communications console, Ramon heard a partial message from the Peacekeeper, which stated that the enemy was running for Fort Jefferson once more. He contacted the Peacekeeper and requested that anyone attempting to board announce who they were before entering his ship.
Patricia informed Ramon that Pol had been working on the problem and that he had worked up a solution. He would be boarding with some tools and special equipment for the engineer of the Havana. She said that Pol would help the engineer get the ship airworthy enough to make the flight to Key West for more extensive repairs.
Twenty-five minutes later, the battle was over. The combined forces of the Cuban fighters and the American peacekeeper battle group made short work of the remaining ships, which had already expended much of their ordinance against the Havana and her fighter escorts. Those tenacious pilots had repeatedly engaged the ships while teams of pirates tried to board the Havana.
Shortly after the sea battle ended, Pol boarded the Havana. Pol’s plan had been implemented in an hour, and the Havana was underway for the short trip to Key West. She could manage only a quarter of her normal speed, because drawing the power needed to go to maximum speed would burn out the wiring that was being used to carry the load to the drive system. Likewise, the ship was restricted to twenty feet in altitude. Getting the weapons, and drone consoles working would have to wait. The navigation console was only partially restored. They had flight controls, but no navigational support, so they were flying blind. This wasn’t a major problem, because they could easily follow the Cuban fighters to Key West. Once there, they would have access to the mechanics and electricians who were there to maintain the battle group. Pol assured the crew that the Havana would be fully operational in a few hours.
***
“God, they must have been bringing in weaponry for months,” Tim said in disgust. He was staring at the video footage provided by a drone. Fort Jefferson was literally bristling with heavy machinegun emplacements. The pirates also seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of small shoulder fired rockets. The reconnaissance drone had located several such weapons in the hands of guards at the anchored ships and around the perimeter inside the fort.
There were so many missiles present that a head on attack before something was done about the lethal projectiles was out of the question. The drones would have to take on those munitions.
“Drones operators, pull back to our position,” Tim ordered. He saw no need for the continued risk of the drones being in close proximity to the fort.
Tim contacted the captains of the patrol ships and laid out his basic plan. The captains then spent several minutes making suggestions and tweaking the plan. All agreed that it would be best to wait until the sun was high enough to replenish at least some of the energy the ships were expending before engaging the enemy. They had already been low on power. The emergency flight and battle with the pirates that night had further depleted their energy reserves. Since waiting at sea would diminish their ability to recharge their batteries, and would be an undue hardship on the fighter pilots; they opted to return to Key West, but would leave two drones in the area to act as scouts. If the pirates decided to leave the island, the drone operators on duty would see it happening. The peacekeeper task force could be back on the scene from Key West in a matter of half an hour.
Chapter 15
As Lina held the big ship in a hover, Jim inspected the patched surface of the Valiant. “You did a good job, Max,” Jim told the engineer who was standing beside him.
“Thank you, Sir. It was a difficult assig
nment, but I managed,” Max replied.
Jim nodded his head, and said, “We’ll need her firepower when we take on the northern fleet of enemy ships.”
“Admiral Wilison, is it true that no reinforcements are coming to help us defend the city?” asked the engineer.
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that at the moment, because there are things happening in the Gulf of Mexico and the south Atlantic that could very well prevent additional ships and fighters from being able to join us. Much depends upon what the enemy does in the next twenty hours. If the remainder of the fleet in the south Atlantic continues to move back toward Europe, and it comes down to dealing with the enemy already in the Gulf, then it is possible that the southern task force could finish up in time to lend us a hand,” Jim explained.
“When I was a teenager, my parents visited Washington. They took me along with them as they toured the city. I remember being amazed at the sights. We spent an entire day just looking at the art. I must have seen thousands of paintings. We also saw items that belonged to the founding fathers. Now, I’m standing on the ground where soon an enemy will enter the city with the intentions of ransacking the national treasures that our American forefathers left to their posterity. I hope we win, Admiral, because if we don’t; future generations of American children will never have the opportunity I once enjoyed,” the engineer stated with feeling.
“We’ll do our best to stop them, Max, but you’re right to be concerned. I won’t lie to you about the gravity of this situation. When the pirates mass-fired those rockets they took out a huge percentage of our drones and seven of our fighters. They also took out the Valiant, so we know that this will be no easy victory. Frankly, we are hoping to stall them long enough that our southern task force can join us,” Jim said. He smiled and added, “This discussion just gave me an idea. Thank you, Max.”