The Command

Assuming they were Osas, the most likely possibility, they carried the SS-N-2, some variant of the infamous Styx. Not welcome news for a Spruance, which wasn’t well equipped for hard-core antimissile engagements. The Styx had a maximum range of about forty-five nautical miles. But without over-the-horizon targeting assistance, its practical firing range was no more than twenty-four miles. He doubted Horn would show up on their radar at less than twenty miles in this sea state, and with his radars shut down, they couldn’t tell he was a warship. If he timed this right, he could simultaneously appear on their radar and issue a voice radio challenge commanding them to heave to.

Unfortunately, one of those prickly questions was starting to loom. His orders were to prevent transit of his barrier area. But so far, he had no rules of engagement, nor did they have a designated enemy, nor instructions on what to do if somebody didn’t feel like cooperating.

But if they kept coming, at some point he’d have to either shoot or let them go by. Since he couldn’t open fire unless somebody told him to, he’d have to give them a free pass. But he figured first, if they kept coming after the challenge, he’d illuminate them with his SPG-60. It was clearly identifiable even with rudimentary electronic surveillance equipment as a fire control radar. A bluff, a threat he couldn’t back up, but the best he could do.

With this in mind he pulled a red handset out of its clip. Keyed the scrambled satellite phone, waited for the beep that meant it was synched. “Vigilant Dragon, Blade Runner, over.”

A hiss, a beep. “Vigilant Dragon, over.”

“Tracks 2383 and 2384 are approaching Blockbuster Mike from the west at high speed. ESM tells me they’re Osas, but not whose. Unless otherwise directed, I’m going to challenge, then illuminate, but if they don’t stop, I’m letting them go by. Advise, over.”

“Vigilant Dragon. Stand by, over.”

He turned up the volume so he wouldn’t miss the callback and re-socketed the handset. The spring popped it out again and he had to reseat it hard to make it stay. The Harpoon engagement planner was twisted round, looking at him. Dan nodded to him. “Take it easy. This isn’t a combat situation. But you might as well get set up. Just for grins.”

“Double-round engagement?”

He nodded, reflecting that though two rounds per target was doctrine, on two boats it would leave him with only half his loadout of Horn’s most effective antiship weapon. His magazines were still heavy with Tomahawks, but he had only eight Harpoons. The Sparrows aft had a secondary antiship capability, though, and as a last resort he had the guns. He left the petty officer keying and went over and talked to the EWs about how they’d go about jamming a Styx. Then went back to his chair. 2383 and 2384 were still closing. They hadn’t detected him yet.

“All right,” he said. “Time for their wake-up call. Cancel emission control, illuminate, and challenge.”

* * *

As he watched them close in he mentally reviewed tactics and countermeasures against missile boats. Material that was as much a part of the core knowledge of surface line officers as how to tie off an artery was to a surgeon. He’d studied them years before aboard USS Barrett. Refreshed when he went to the Gulf in Van Zandt as exec, and again during tactical training before taking command of Horn. If these were hostiles, and if they were actually running an attack profile, the next thing that’d pop up when they realized he was here would be a Drum Tilt fire control radar. Big ifs, but that was what made the Med interesting. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been shot at out here.

“TAO, EW. I have a Drum Tilt bearing 237. Associated with SS-N-2 Styx missile.”

Camill looked at Dan. “Captain?”

Now they were radar illuminating each other. But were they both bluffing? He felt the first tension in his shoulders. “Fight the ship, Herb,” Dan told him.

“TAO, EW. Drum Tilt’s locked on to us.”

The lieutenant cleared his throat. Dan hoped he didn’t clutch now, this was where the rubber might just meet the road. He called out, “SWC, Harpoon solution?”

The surface weapons coordinator, five feet from Dan’s chair, had been talking into his headset, studying his orange plasma screen. Satisfied he had it under control, Dan twisted where he sat to look past him at the Harpoon plotting team. He asked the chief in charge, “Jay, how’s the solution look?”

“Time of flight three and a half minutes, STOT, two Bulldogs each on targets one and two. Recommend air warning yellow. Recommend weapons posture one on all ASUW and AAW systems. Recommend CIWS in auto air ready and man all gunnery stations. Mount 51, HE-CVT, Mount 52, HE-IR.”