The Bear And The Dragon Part 80

Secretary Bretano didn't want to admit that he hadn't really thought about that eventuality. Thinking things through was one of the things he was paid for, after all. "How ready are you?"

"The electronics stuff is okay, but we don't have any SAMs aboard. They're stashed at some depot or something, up on the York River, I think they said. When they load them aboard, I can upgrade the software on the seeker heads. The only missiles aboard, the ones I've been playing with, they're blue ones, exercise missiles, not shooters, I just found out. You know, the Navy's a little weird. The s.h.i.+p's in a floating dry dock. They're going to lower us back in the water in a few hours. He couldn't see his former boss's face at the moment. If he could, he would have recognized the oh, s.h.i.+t expression on his Italian face.

"So, you're confident in your systems?"

"A full-up test would be nice, but if we can loft three or four SAMs at the inbound, yeah, I think it oughta work."

"Okay, thanks, Al."

"So, how's this war going? All I see on TV is how the Air Force is kicking some a.s.s."

"They are, the TV's got that right, but the rest-can't talk about it over the phone. Al, let me get back to you, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

In his office, Bretano switched b.u.t.tons. "Ask Admiral Seaton to come in to see me." That didn't take very long.

"You rang, Mr. Secretary," the CNO said when he came in.

"Admiral, there's a former employee of mine from TRW in Norfolk right now. I set him up to look at upgrading the Aegis missile system to engage ballistic targets."

"I heard a little about that. How's his project going?" Dave Seaton asked.

"He says he's ready for a full-up test. But, Admiral, what if the Chinese launch one of their CSS-4s at us?"

"It wouldn't be good," Seaton replied.

"Then how about we take our Aegis s.h.i.+ps and put them close to the likely targets?"

"Well, sir, the system's not certified for ballistic targets yet, and we haven't really run a test, and-"

"Is it better than nothing?" the SecDef asked, cutting him off.

"A little, I suppose."

"Then let's make that happen, and make it happen right now."

Seaton straightened up. "Aye aye, sir."

"Gettysburg first. Have her load up what missiles she needs, and bring her right here," Bretano ordered.

"I'll call SACLANT right now."

It was the strangest d.a.m.ned thing, Gregory thought. This s.h.i.+p-not an especially big s.h.i.+p, smaller than the one he and Candi had taken a cruise on the previous winter, but still an oceangoing s.h.i.+p-was in an elevator. That's what a floating dry dock was. They were flooding it now, to make it go down, back into the water to see if the new propeller worked. Sailors who worked on the dry dock were watching from their perches on-whatever the h.e.l.l you called the walls of the d.a.m.ned thing.

"Weird, ain't it, sir?"

Gregory smelled the smoke. It had to be Senior Chief Leek. He turned. It was.

"Never seen this sort of thing before."

"n.o.body does real often, 'cept'n those guys over there who operate this thing. Did you take the chance to walk under the s.h.i.+p?"

"Walk under ten thousand tons of metal?" Gregory responded. "I don't think so."

"You was a soldier, wasn't you?"

"Told you, didn't I? West Point, jump school, ranger school, back when I was young and foolish."

"Well, Doc, it's no big deal. Kinda interesting to see how she's put together, 'specially the sonar dome up forward. If I wasn't a radar guy, I probably woulda been a sonar guy,'cept there's nothing for them to do anymore."

Gregory looked down. Water was creeping across the gray metal floor-deck? he wondered-of the dry dock.

"Attention on deck!" a voice called. Sailors turned and saluted, including Chief Leek.

It was Captain Bob Blandy, Gettysburg's CO. Gregory had met him only once, and then just to say h.e.l.lo.

"Dr. Gregory."

"Captain." They shook hands.

"How's your project been going?"

"Well, the simulations look good. I'd like to try it against a live target."

"You got sent to us by the SecDef?"

"Not exactly, but he called me in from California to look at the technical aspects of the problem. I worked for him when he was head of TRW."

"You're an SDI guy, right?"

"That and SAMs, yes, sir. Other things. I'm one of the world's experts on adaptive optics, from my SDI days."

"What's that?" Captain Blandy asked.

"The rubber mirror, we called it. You use computercontrolled actuators to warp the mirror to compensate for atmospheric distortions. The idea was to use that to focus the energy beam from a free-electron laser. But it didn't work out. The rubber mirror worked just fine, but for some reason we never figured out, the d.a.m.ned lasers didn't scale up the way we hoped they would. Didn't come up to the power requirements to smoke a missile body." Gregory looked down in the dry dock again. It certainly took its time, but they probably didn't want to drop anything this valuable. "I wasn't directly involved in that, but I kibitzed some. It turned out to be a monster of a technical problem. We just kept bas.h.i.+ng our heads against the wall until we got tired of the squishy sound."

"I know mechanical engineering, some electrical, but not the high-energy stuff. So, what do you think of our Aegis system?"

"I love the radar. Just like the Cobra Dane the Air Force has up at Shemya in the Aleutians. A little more advanced, even. You could probably bounce a signal off the moon if you wanted to."

"That's a little out of our range gate," Blandy observed. "Chief Leek here been taking good care of you?"

"When he leaves the Navy, we might have a place for him at TRW. We're part of the ongoing SAM project."

"And Lieutenant Olson, too?" the skipper asked.

"He's a very bright young officer, Captain. I can think of a lot of companies who might want him." If Gregory had a fault, it was being too truthful.

"I ought to say something to discourage you from that, but-"

"Cap'n!" A sailor came up. "Flash-traffic from SACLANT, sir." He handed over a clipboard. Captain Blandy signed the acknowledgment sheet and took the message. His eyes focused very closely.

"Do you know if the SecDef knows what you're up to?"

"Yes, Captain, he does. I just spoke to Tony a few minutes ago."

"What the h.e.l.l did you tell him?"

Gregory shrugged. "Not much, just that the project was coming along nicely."

"Uh-huh. Chief Leek, how's your hardware?"

"Everything's a hundred percent on line, Cap'n. We got a job, sir?" the senior chief asked.

"Looks like it. Dr. Gregory, if you will excuse me, I have to see my officers. Chief, we're going to be getting under way soon. If any of your troops are on the beach, call 'em back. Spread the word."

"Aye aye, sir." He saluted as Captain Blandy hustled back forward. "What's that all about?"

"Beats me, Chief." "What do I do? Getting under way?" Gregory asked.

"Got your toothbrush? If not, you can buy one in the s.h.i.+p's store. Excuse me, Doc, I have to do a quick muster." Leek tossed his cigarette over the side and went the same way that the captain had.

And there was precisely nothing for Gregory to do. There was no way for him to leave the s.h.i.+p, except to jump down into the flooding floating dry dock, and that didn't look like a viable option. So, he headed back into the superstructure and found the s.h.i.+p's store open. There he bought a toothbrush.

Bondarenko spent the next three hours with Major General Sinyavskiy, going over approach routes and fire plans.

"They have fire-finder radar, Yuriy, and their counter-battery rockets have a long reach."

"Can we expect any help from the Americans?"

"I'm working on that. We have superb reconnaissance information from their movie-star drones."

"I need the location of their artillery. If we can take that away from them, it makes my job much easier."

"Tolkunov!" the theater commander yelled. It was loud enough that his intelligence coordinator came running.

"Yes, Comrade General!"

"Vladimir Konstantinovich, we'll be making our stand here," Bondarenko said, pointing to a red line on the map. "I want minute-to-minute information of the approaching Chinese formations-especially their artillery."

"I can do that. Give me ten minutes." And the G-2 disappeared back out to where the Dark Star terminal was. Then his boss thought about it.

"Come on, Yuriy, you have to see this."

"General," Major Tucker said by way of greeting. Then he saw a second one. "General," he said again.

"This is General Sinyavskiy. He commands Two-Six-Five. Would you please show him the advancing Chinese?" It wasn't a question or a request, just phrased politely because Tucker was a foreigner.

"Okay, it's right here, sir, we've got it all on videotape. Their leading reconnaissance elements are . . . here, and their leading main-force units are right here."

"f.u.c.k," Sinyavskiy observed in Russian. "Is this magic?"

"No, this is-" Bondarenko switched languages. "Which unit is this, Major?"

"Grace Kelly again, sir. To Catch a Thief with Cary Grant, Hitchc.o.c.k movie that one was. The sun'll be down in another hour or so and we'll be getting it all on the thermal-imaging systems. Anyway, here's their leading battalion, all look like their Type-90 tanks. They're keeping good formation discipline, and they just refueled about an hour ago, so, figure they're good for another two hundred or so kilometers before they stop again."

"Their artillery?"

"Lagging behind, sir, except for this tracked unit here." Tucker played with the mouse some and brought up another picture.

"Gennady Iosifovich, how can we fail with such information?" the division commander asked.

"Yuriy, remember when we thought about attacking the Americans?"

"Madness. The c.h.i.n.ks can't see this drone?" Sinyavskiy asked, somewhat incredulously.

"It's stealthy, as they call it, invisible on radar."

"Nichevo."

"Sir, I have a direct line to our headquarters at Zhigansk. If you guys are going to make a stand, what do you want from us?' Tucker asked. "I can forward your request to General Wallace."

"I have thirty Su-25 attack bombers and also fifty Su-24 fighter bombers standing by, plus two hundred Mi-24 helicopters." Getting the last in theater had been agonizingly slow, but finally they were here, and they were the Ace of Diamonds Bondarenko had facedown on the card table. He hadn't let so much as one approach the area of operations yet, but they were two hundred kilometers away, fueled and armed, their flight crews flying to practice their airmans.h.i.+p and shooting live weapons as rehearsal-for some, the first live weapons they'd ever shot.

"That's going to be a surprise for good old Joe," Tucker observed with a whistle. "Where'd you hide them, sir? h.e.l.l, General, I didn't know they were around."

"There are a few secure places. We want to give our guests a proper greeting when the time is right," Gennady Iosifovich told the young American officer.

"So, what do you want us to do, sir?"

"Take down their logistics. Show me this Smart Pig you've been talking to Colonel Tolkunov about."

"That we can probably do, sir," Tucker said. "Let me get on the phone to General Wallace."

So, they're turning me loose?" Wallace asked.

"As soon as contact is imminent between Russian and Chinese ground forces." Mickey Moore then gave him his targets. "It's most of the things you wanted to hit, Gus."

"I suppose," the Air Force commander allowed, somewhat grudgingly. "And if the Russians ask for help?"

"Give it to them, within reason."

"Right."

LTC Giusti, SABRE SIX, got off the helicopter at the Number Two fueling point and walked toward General Diggs.

"They weren't kidding," Colonel Masterman was saying. "This is a f.u.c.kin' lake." One and a quarter billion liters translated to more than three hundred million gallons, or nearly a million tons of fuel, about the carrying capacity of four supertankers, all of Number Two Diesel, or close enough that the fuel injectors on his tanks and Bradleys wouldn't notice the difference. The manager of the site, a civilian, had said that the fuel had been there for nearly forty years, since Khrushchev had had a falling-out with Chairman Mao, and the possibility of war with the other communist country had turned from an impossibility into a perceived likelihood. Either it was remarkable prescience or paranoid wish fulfillment, but in either case it worked to the benefit of First Armored Division.