Red Tide

to battle stations?”
“Yes,” Hoyer replied. “You should.”
***
Aboard the Chinese aircraft carrier Henan, west of Luzon
Lieutenant Junior Grade Jev Jing was required to monitor the command conference to ensure that there weren’t any technical glitches, but would have done so anyway, just out of curiosity. All of the Sea Dragon’s personnel were at battle stations. Why?
Was a battle in the offing? Or, was Admiral Wen putting the strike group through yet another training exercise? Jing assumed the latter.
But Jing was wrong—as became apparent once the call was underway. Wen came right to the point. “An American carrier strike group is approaching Luzon from the east. We have orders to attack the Gweilos (westerners) and sink their ships. We will obey.
“Aircraft flying off the Henan, and missiles fired by our destroyers, will catch the Americans by surprise and lay waste to their fleet.
“Meanwhile our submarines will circle around the north end of Luzon, and launch missiles. Then they will close with the enemy, and make good use of their torpedoes.”
Jing noticed that no mention had been made of the Sea Dragon. Because Wen thought of the semi-submersible cruiser as a barge? Yes, Jing thought so. He wasn’t surprised when Captain Ko spoke. “I have a suggestion, sir. Since our submarines are to circle around Luzon, the Sea Dragon could accompany them, and flank the Americans to the north.”
The suggestion was met with a long moment of silence. What was Wen thinking? The admiral had to deploy the Sea Dragon, Jing reasoned, because the semi-submersible concept was popular with the “new wave” admirals, as well as certain members of the Central Military Commission. Even junior lieutenants knew that.
Wen cleared his throat. “That makes sense, Captain Ko … Although I suspect that the American carrier will be sinking by the time your ship gets into position.
“You have your orders. Execute them.”
***
Aboard the aircraft carrier USS Concord, east of Luzon
Admiral Hoyer was still on the bridge. Captain Danby was in the Combat Direction Center (CDC) where he could best monitor the Concord’s tactical and operational defense systems. The lighting was dim, amber colored data scrolled down screens, and the subdued buzz of conversation could be heard.
The air defense weapons coordinator (ADWC) was responsible for defending the ship. LT. Commander Nancy Allard had the duty, and was feeding information to Danby. “Both Phalanx close-in weapons systems are on line sir. The second transport is en route to Palau. The Chinese are launching fighters. Chinese missiles are enroute from the west. Our RIM-Six-Sixes are in the air.”
The U.S. frigate and both destroyers were armed with RIM-66 medium range surface-to-air missiles. It was Danby’s hope that the weapons would intercept most, if not all, of the incoming threats.
“We have five, no six, F-16s in the air on a course to intercept,” Allard continued. “The incoming fighters appear to be Shenyang J-15s, which have twin engines, and are likely to be armed with Kh-41 ramjet powered anti-ship cruise missiles.”
Danby felt an emptiness in his stomach and strove to ignore it. Odds were that the Six-Sixes would intercept the incoming weapons. Failing that, the Phalanx CIWS “sea-wiz” close-in weapon system could handle the job. Meanwhile Danby knew that the Concord was launching fighters at the rate of three every thirty-seven seconds. And it wouldn’t be long until every flyable plane was in the air.
The air battle was going to be fought over the island of Luzon which, if memory served, was something like 460 miles long, and 140 miles wide. And, since Luzon was the largest and most populous island in the Philippines, collateral damage was a lead pipe certainty.
Danby could imagine President Costas in front of the cameras, complaining about the Americans, and demanding reparations without any mention of the Chinese. But that wasn’t his job. No, his job was to defend the strike force, and take the battle to the Chinese if he could.
“The Johnson took a hit,” Allard announced. “No, two hits.”
Danby swore. The dying had begun.
***
Aboard the Chinese semi-submersible cruiser Sea Dragon off the north end of Luzon
Junior Lieutenant Jev Jing listened as the submarine captains delivered their reports in quick succession. Each boat was armed with sixteen JL-2 ship-to-ship missiles, all of which had been fired. And that, according to the chatter from the CIC, was one of the reasons why the Americans were losing. The combined throw weight of the Chinese destroyers, along with the submarine launched weapons, was more than the enemy’s anti-air missiles could handle.
And that was to say nothing of the air launched Kh-31 air-to-surface supersonic missiles which were capable of reaching Mach 3.5. Two 31s had been able to target an enemy destroyer which was, according to multiple reports, sinking.
Hits had been scored on the American frigate as well. All of which was good, but not good enough, since the carrier was the grand prize.
“I’m watching you,” a voice said. And, when Jing turned, there was Lieutenant Commander Ang standing with hands on hips.
“Sir, yes sir,” Jing replied. His face was empty of all expression. But secretly, deep within, Jing was filled with hatred. I will find a way to screw you, Jing thought, and you won’t see it coming.
***
Aboard the aircraft carrier USS Concord, east of Luzon
LT. Commander Jayson Greer, aka “Gun Daddy,” felt the usual butterflies in the pit of his stomach as he taxied up to the catapult. It was the same sensation he’d felt stepping out onto the football field as a high school kid, only worse, because this was the real banana. A combat mission.
Planes were going off every minute or so, and Greer’s would be among the last to get airborne as Chinese missiles and planes swept in from the west. Greer took a moment to scan his controls and instruments, found all of them to his liking, and tossed a salute.
After looking to make sure everyone was clear, the catapult officer, or “shooter,” put one knee on