Eagle Station

Liu’s brow furrowed in thought, but only for a moment. “I recommend that we attack using our YJ-62 anti-ship cruise missiles, Comrade Captain,” he said confidently. “The Americans are only twenty kilometers offshore. That is practically point-blank range for our weapons. By the time the enemy detects our missiles in flight, their close-in defenses, jammers, and decoys will have little or no time to react.”

Yang nodded. Liu’s thoughts matched his own. His island garrison had two full batteries of YJ-62 missiles — each equipped with four launch vehicles carrying three missiles. Attacking each enemy destroyer with a full salvo of twelve sea-skimming missiles should guarantee at least three or four hits, and probably more. And each of those cruise missiles carried a 210-kilogram, semi-armor-piercing warhead. Even a single hit could send an Arleigh Burke—class vessel straight to the bottom… or leave it a burning cripple that could easily be finished off later.

His teeth flashed in a quick predatory smile. “Let it be so, Commander. Order both coastal defense batteries to open fire at once. We’ll hit the Americans before they finish congratulating themselves on avoiding our last attack.”

Scion Special Action Unit, Aboard USS McCampbell

That Same Time

“Warning. Emissions from the enemy’s land-based Type 366 radars indicate transition to fire control mode,” Brad McLanahan’s threat analysis computer announced.

He frowned. “These bastards aren’t giving up.”

“Would you?” Nadia Rozek asked.

“Probably not,” he admitted. “Okay, it’s showtime. Cue SPEAR.”

Nadia’s fingers danced across her touch-screen displays as she brought their ALQ-293 Self-Protection Electronically Agile Reaction system online. Like most of their advanced equipment, including the S-29 Shadow spaceplane, SPEAR was the product of Sky Masters Aerospace — easily the world’s most innovative aviation, electronics, and weapons design company. When it was active, SPEAR transmitted precisely tailored signals on the same frequencies used by enemy radars. Altering the timing of the pulses sent back to those radars enabled the system to trick them into believing their targets were somewhere else entirely. And for this mission, Sky Masters technicians had integrated SPEAR with McCampbell’s incredibly powerful AN/SPY-1 phased-array radar — massively increasing both its speed and accuracy and the range of frequencies it could cover.

Her eyes widened in delight as she realized the full range of capabilities now at her fingertips. Operating the basic SPEAR system was like being a highly gifted musical soloist as she single-handedly fought for the attention of an audience. But this merger with the destroyer’s enormous radar was like conducting an entire symphony orchestra made up of the world’s finest musicians — effortlessly wrapping thousands of listeners in an intricate cocoon of sound and rhythm.

Within seconds, Nadia effectively controlled every military-grade Chinese radar on Woody Island. None of their surface search or fire control radars showed an accurate position for the two American ships. And not one of the garrison’s air search radars could offer a clear picture of the airspace anywhere within a hundred nautical miles. They were all dazzled by hundreds of false contacts moving along random courses on dozens of different bearings.

She turned toward Brad with an exultant expression. “SPEAR is active. The enemy radars are completely blind. They cannot provide correct targeting data to any of their missile launchers or antiaircraft batteries.”

“Nice work!” Brad felt his own eagerness for battle rising. He’d hated just sitting helpless while those damned Chinese ballistic missiles plunged down out of space toward their slow-moving ship. Now it was their turn to hit back. He looked at Vasey. “All right, it’s your turn, Constable. Go ahead and slip the leash on our Ghost Wolves.”

The Englishman nodded, with his own fingers already blurring across his interactive displays. “Attack parameters laid in. Flight systems are nominal.” He tapped a final icon with deep satisfaction. “Autonomous programs engaged. The Wolves are on the hunt.”

Ghost Wolf Force, over the South China Sea

That Same Time

Twenty miles south of the two U.S. Navy destroyers, a group of six black flying-wing aircraft orbited in a tight circle barely one hundred feet above the surface of the ocean. Abruptly, one by one, they broke out of the circle and darted north toward Woody Island at more than five hundred knots — accompanied by the shrill howl of wing-buried turbofan engines going to full military power.