by Ralph Kern
Behind them were the heavier boats containing even more people. And behind them, the ships which would circumnavigate the island and launch the attack.
***
“Ignatius is casting off and requesting we secure ourselves.” Kendricks watched the CCTV camera image of the wounded destroyer. The smoke was rapidly clearing as a last flickering flame was unable to take proper hold on the warship’s armored structure.
“By all means, let’s give them a little room,” Solberg nodded. “And get our security team ready. It looks like we could have big problems coming our way.”
“Sir, the majority are on the island on a training exercise.”
“What the fuck is the use of a ship security team if they’re not on the ship?” Solberg barked incredulously. Shaking his head in disgust, he keyed the intercom. “Whoever’s left in security, get ready. And someone get that LRAD up on deck.”
***
A thin column of black smoke was visible to Jack back in the direction of the ships.
“Guys, secure your weapons, we’re heading back. Now.”
It was then that the first of the popping sound of gunshots came from the direction of the fields.
Chapter 40 – Day 17
“General Quarters. All hands to general quarters,” Slater’s measured voice rang out over the 1MC.
Mack pulled on her olive green flight suit and grabbed her helmet out her locker before running for the flight deck on the stern of the Ignatius.
“Come on, people, let’s go,” she shouted to her crew who were following on behind.
Climbing into the cockpit of her Seahawk, she tugged on her gloves, began flicking switches, going through the process of bringing her helicopter to life. Her copilot dropped into his seat next to her. Quickly they worked through the pre-flight checklist, stopping just before engine start-up.
Fuel still had to be saved.
“Ignatius, Sierra Hotel 1-1. We are holding at engine start-up. Let’s get loaded up with a couple of AGM-114s while we’re waiting to see what’s what. I don’t want to be caught short this time,” Mack called out.
The armorers quickly responded, drawing two of the missiles out of the blast lockers. They were loaded onto dollies and wheeled over to the helicopter.
***
“Come on folks, get loaded up. Those that have handled rifles before, take one.” Jack picked up one of the M16A4s. He loaded a magazine into it before pulling back on the charging handle and releasing it. The handle slammed forward, making the weapon ready.
A couple of the others did the same while the rest quickly started pushing bullets into the handgun magazines. The security team nervously started every time the sound of a gunshot echoed over the island while exchanging tense looks with one another.
Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket. It showed no reception. They were too far away from the Atlantica for her masts to service it. Goddamnit! Okay, don’t show panic, give clear decisive orders. “Listen up, folks. Somethings obviously happening back at the ranch. Here’s what we’re going to do—objective one, we head back toward the coast and get some kind of communication going with Atlantica or Ignatius. Objective two, we find out what the hell is going on.”
Jack waited while the others got themselves ready, loading up their weapons.
“Objective three... we’ll figure out when we get there. Let’s move out.”
Okay, maybe objective three could have been clearer, Jack thought as he began jogging back in the direction of the Atlantica.
***
“Ma’am, we are getting sporadic reports of gunfire from the island.” The technician was holding the earphone tightly to his head to better discern the crackly voices coming over the much-diminished radio network.
“Very well, the games definitely afoot.” Slater nodded, and pressing the intercom key she called to Donovan on the shattered bridge. “Perry, advance to steerageway. I want us able to maneuver.”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
The four General Electric LM2500-30 gas turbines hidden deep within the bowels of the ship began to roar, powering the two five-meter screws on the rear of the ship. The warship pulled off, leaving a frothing white wake behind her.
***
“The first wave has secured the beach. The second wave will make land in a few minutes,” Bautista released the microphone key and looked at the steadily growing peak lying in the center of Nest Island.
“Let’s start circling the island. I want at the Atlantica before she even thinks of moving off.”
The Liliana and the other faster ships of the fleet leapt forward to full speed and, in a coordinated move, began to hug as close to the coast as they dared.
***
“Captain, we have returns on the radar! They’re circling around the eastern side of the island.”
Solberg looked at Kelly Maine, freezing for a long moment. We’re actually under attack! We are not a fucking warship, what the hell are we supposed to do?
“Captain, do you want me to update Ignatius?” Maine prompted in a sharp tone, cutting through Solberg’s indecision.
“Yes, yes. Please do.” Solberg said finally.
Maine quickly and concisely summarized what they were seeing. A collection of radar returns circling the island, their destination obvious. They were coming right at them.
“Thank you. Atlantica,” Slater’s voice crackled, half the words dropping out. “You are... to have to be ... eyes until we... repairs.”
Solberg looked through the bridge windows at the warship pulling away. The blackened and warped masts and tower would obviously not be repaired anytime soon.
***
The Seahawk finally lifted off the helipad, now loaded with a pair of deadly Hellfire missiles. With Ignatius’s weapon systems so reliant on the brutally damaged radar systems, Mack and her crew would be the principle defenders.
“Geraldine is locked and loaded,” Hank called out.
The large grey helicopter dipped its nose toward the sea and raced forward.
“Mack... Ig,” Slater spoke, her voice nearly occluded with static. “Take a look at the... and for us... I want to see... going on. Then... you... recon those bogeys... around to the east... of the island.”
Mack blinked, interpreting the orders of her commanding officer.
“Roger that, Ignatius Actual. Beginning recon mission. Confirm Ignatius is receiving the datalink from our LAMPS.”
“Neg...” came the broken reply.
Mack gave a scowl. With the datalink down, Ignatius couldn’t feed off of the Seahawk’s sensors. The ship was blind and deaf until they could affect repairs.
The Seahawk accelerated toward the island, rapidly crossing from the rolling blue sea, across the band of golden sand over to the lush green vegetation and central peak.
Mack craned her head as they swung around the mountainous terrain at the center of the island. There was a small collection of boats nestled onto the shore and more coming in.
“This isn’t an attack, it’s a fucking invasion,” Mack’s copilot growled.
“Yeah, roger that, and update the Iggy,” Mack said distractedly as she banked over toward the east. “Let’s go take a look at those returns.”
“Mack, look.” The copilot pointed. “The horizon.”
She glanced in the direction her copilot was indicating. A large dark ship was visible. At this distance it was little more than black shape yet the fact it was even visible from this distance a testament to its sheer size. It was miles away.
“Ignatius, Sierra Hotel 1-1. We have a large ship of some description. Want us to go take a look?”
“Negative... near targets... first... You... go... hunting... after.” Static washed through the radio, then the voice repeated. “Negative—“
“Roger that, I received your first, Ignatius.”
The helicopter swept toward the targets speeding around the coastline, heading toward the Atlantica and Ignatius.
“Looks like o
ur old friend from the attack a couple of weeks ago,” Hank called from the back. “She’s got some friends with her too. Shit! We have incoming.”
From the collection of seven ships came a deluge of fire, far more concentrated than the last time the Seahawk had been attacked. This time their opponents were ready for them, and had the firepower to keep their attacker at bay.
“Evading.” Mack snapped the Seahawk around, descending sharply and making for the safety of the mountain.
“We have seven fast-moving vessels. Repurposed ferries mostly. They are heavily armed,” Mack called out.
“Roger... engage... will. Weapons free.”
Mack gave a wolfish grin. “It’s on, boys.”
***
Jack watched the helicopter thunder overhead, desperately evading the streamers of tracer fire reaching for it. From the open side door, the helicopter answered with a stream of fire from her minigun. He couldn’t see what the Seahawk was shooting at, but it was giving them hell.
“Come on. Let’s move, people.”
Jack turned and began marching as quickly as he could, not even bothering to go to the effort of hiding his limp. It was all about getting back to the jetty as quickly as he could now. The scrubby paths they followed had been lightly beaten down by the passage of people over the last couple of years, yet they were not paved roads by any stretch of the imagination.
The other security officers followed him, fear and uncertainty in their eyes. They were going to go into combat a lot sooner than they had ever imagined.
Within minutes they had reached the more populated area of the island. Dozens of people were milling around in panic.
“Make for the jetty, everyone. We need to get you back to the Atlantica,” Jack roared out. The milling continued, no one listening to him. Giving a weary sigh, Jack pointed his rifle in the air and let off a shot.
“Back to the lifeboat, move, move, MOVE!”
Finally, the general direction of the milling started to head toward the pier. There were far too many people to people to fit on the one lifeboat, mega or not, Jack realized grimly.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we need to set up a perimeter,” Jack called out to his security team. Using a handy stick he’d found lying on the floor, he quickly scratched out a rough diagram of the jetty area and began gesturing with it as he pointed out where he wanted the security officers to position themselves. “You, you and you, take up position here. You two, over at the hut. You four, stay by the pier, you’re my reserve to bolster the line. Until then, keep people moving onto the boat, no matter what. Everyone, keep cool, keep calculated, and check your targets. And most of all, keep them the hell off our beach.”
Quickly, the security officers ran to their assigned positions. Jack pulled out his phone and checked the reception. He had a couple of bars and rang in to the bridge of the Atlantica.
“Captain, this is Cohen. What’s our situation?”
“Our goddamn situation is that the island is under attack and someone has already damaged Ignatius.”
“How the hell has Ignatius been hit?” Jack called, glancing at the tree line and fields. He watched the helicopter swing back into view and heard the rumbling growl of its gun firing.
“We don’t know, there was an explosion and most of her radar arrays are smashed.”
“Is she still combat effective?”
“Damned if I know, but she’s moving,” Solberg said.
“Okay, Captain. We have a lot of people on the beach. We’re going to need another boat to come get them. There’s no way they’re all going to be able to fit on the one here. We need them safe back on the Atlantica.”
“I hear you, but we are going to have to see about that once we get the situation under control.”
“Captain, there is no guarantees we will get the situation under control. We need them safe now!” Jack barked.
“I said we’ll see about it, Cohen! Atlantica, out.”
“Fucking asshole,” Jack muttered, resisting the urge to throw the phone on the floor. Pocketing it instead, he glanced back at the tree line. There was movement in the shadows. Small silhouettes of figures darting amongst the trees.
Running to the side of a hut, Jack planted the butt of his rifle in his shoulder and sighted back toward the figures. Lining the sights over a distant body, Jack breathed in, then exhaled. He paused before taking his next breath, steadying his aim, and squeezed the trigger.
Chapter 41 – Day 17
The Ignatius surged forward to twenty-five knots, thundering toward the seven ships that were circling the island in the opposite direction—both forces on a collision course.
“We are not going to be able to bring the VLS into play, people, so we’re going old fashioned on this one. The five-incher, bushmasters, and CIWS are all we have, so I need you aiming straight and true,” Slater said calmly. The captain’s demeanor was a carefully effected mirage. A gnawing worry had infested her belly, not that she would ever show her crew.
“Ma’am, without radar control, the Mk-45 is going to be pretty hit and miss,” the weapons officer called over to her from the console.
“I need you to do your best, George. Give me more hits than misses and I’ll be happy. I want the bushmasters locally controlled.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.”
“Weapons free.”
The Mk-45 five-inch cannon situated near the bow of the ship swung up with the whirr of motors, sighting toward the seven ships advancing toward the Ignatius at flank speed.
“Shot out!” George cried.
With a deafening boom, the cannon fired. The heavy shot fell between two catamaran ferries. A fountain of white frothy water erupted meters high in the air. With mechanical efficiency, the autoloader in the turret slammed another round into the chamber.
“Adjusting fire,” the weapons officer called. “Shot out.”
The cannon boomed again.
***
“Get us zigzagging. Now!” Bautista shouted to Davey as the second shot plunged into the water a few meters off the port side of the Liliana, causing the whole ferry to rock in response.
The Liliana and her escorts, already peppered by bullets from the helicopter, began weaving toward the grey warship ahead of them. Bautista watched as the cannon on the bow of the Ignatius flashed again. A second later a whistling noise pierced his ears.
The shot slammed into the bow of the small ferry running alongside the Liliana, the explosion as the shell detonated driving its prow deep into the water. The stern flipped over the top, a summersault of thousands of pounds of metal. In seconds, the wrecked carcass of the small ship had rolled and disintegrated before slipping beneath the waves. It was obvious to Bautista that there would be no survivors.
“Boss, we’re moving into range,” Davey shouted.
“Wait for it,” Bautista called back, snapping his attention back to the warship. “We’ll open up on them when we have a chance of hitting something important.”
Bautista looked back at the heavily armored ship steaming toward them. Not that there was much of a chance of penetrating her thick hide.
***
“Good work. Now do it again,” Slater said.
“Ma’am, they’ll be in our M242 firing arc soon, after they pass through their arcs, we’ll just have the CIWS until we can come about.”
Slater leaned back in her chair, regarding the map that one of her technicians was quickly updating on his console. With the radar down, he was having to update as fast as he could, the semi old-fashioned way, with a stylus on a touchscreen.
“By the time we do come around,” Slater leaned forward, “I want us mopping up nothing but floating Swiss cheese. You hear me?”
“Aye, ma’am.”
“Good. Now give ‘em a broadside!”
***
The pirate fleet and Ignatius drew closer. The fast ferries began to spread out, three on each side, striving to pass close by the warship. The Seahawk that had been harassing the
m with minigun fire swept away. The ships were going to pass so close there was the very real danger of friendly fire.
The Mk-45 cannon traversed to the port side, attempting to follow a fast-moving craft before stopping movement as it reached the limit of its firing arc.
With a repetitive thud, the bushmaster 25mm cannons, one situated on each side of the Ignatius, opened fire. This time, the ferries answered with their own weapons.
***
“Now!” Bautista shouted.
Along the flank of the ferry, windows dropped and guns poked out. A volley of fire began pinging off the Ignatius’s thick hide. More crew began throwing their explosives. Some were basic Molotov cocktails, a few were the same mining demolition charges they had used to so sorely wound the Ignatius.
Many of the projectiles bounced off the hull. The Molotov cocktails smashed, spreading fire over the grey ship. It achieved little more than to give the vessel a fearsome burning visage. Some of the bombs arced onto the deck, exploding and putting dents in the armor. One, more by luck than judgement, skittered to the base of the Mk-45 cannon turret before exploding. A brutal dent was smashed into the thick armor of the turret near the base.
The noise was deafening to the pirates, yet still they persisted as the ferries tore past the Ignatius.
The Ignatius answered with the roar of her bushmaster cannons. The heavy rounds from them ripped into the flanks of the ferries. Each 25mm shot that landed smashed huge holes in the delicate ferries. The onslaught was brutal. One of the small ships was shattered into little more than a floating hulk, her superstructure nothing but twisted metal. Another fell behind, something vital damaged in her engines or controls. Still, the crew on the deck fired toward the Ignatius. Without mercy, the orbiting Seahawk pounced, riddling the crippled ship with gunfire.
***
Bautista picked himself off the deck and shook his head clear from the ringing of the explosions and gunfire. Liliana’s bridge was shattered, her consoles smoking with fried electrics and not a single intact window. He realized the Liliana was slowing.