Carnifex

UEPF Spirit of Peace

"They're launching aircraft!" Robinson shouted. "Why the fuck are they launching aircraft?"

It was true. It was more than true. Robinson had watched this ship, off and on, for months and he'd never before seen such a frantic attempt to get as many aircraft into the air, as quickly, as he was witnessing now. As soon as a plane came up the elevator, a deck crew was manhandling it into position and sending it off. Pilots were lined up waiting for any bird to fly. Once, when an engine refused to start, the deck crew had unceremoniously dragged the protesting pilot out and pushed the thing over the side. Pilots, themselves, were boarding with small arms, an indicator that the planes were being thrown up either unarmed or so lightly armed that even a rifle could make a difference.

Robinson relaxed slightly when he saw the two trails of underwater torpedoes streaking from under the jungle layer which had hidden them. His spirits revived considerably with the appearance of a larger number of cruise missiles coming from the same jungle.

* * *

Abdul Aziz had, early on, thought that torpedoes and cruise missiles might be a useful adjunct to the Hoogaboom and its mission. Further reflection, however, had convinced him that the risk of detection, if placed aboard ship, was too great. This had not meant the idea was without merit, only that it needed further refinement.

Large torpedoes were out for a number of reasons, chief among these was that "large" equaled both "noticeable" and "too heavy and bulky to transport and set up in the jungle along the straits." There were, however, much smaller torpedoes available, from various Volgan crime syndicates, and for surprisingly little money. These torpedoes were not suitable for sinking a major warship, of course, but that wasn't their purpose. Rather, they were designed to home on engine noise to kill submarines. What would kill a submarine, Abdul thought, was likely to severely damage an AZIPOD.

This both torpedoes were trying to do, streaking under the water straight for the AZIPODs mounted at Dos Lindas' stern.

* * *

"Fish in the water! Fish in the water! Fuck! Fish in the water!"

Fosa heard the sonar man's announcement and dread filled his heart. Looking at the screen and seeing the torpedoes aligning themselves for a run at the propellers, he was about to give the command to kill power when radar screamed, "Moonbats! Moonbats! Moonbats! Cruise missiles incoming . . . Raid count: three . . . no, four . . . ah, shit! Six! Skipper, Moonbats six, all quarters."

"Surface Action, Port and Starboard," Fosa ordered. "Weapons free."

There was a whining overhead and a sudden CRACK as the laser mounted above the tower engaged one of the cruise missiles. Two more, much more muted, CRACKs sounded as the fore and aft lasers likewise engaged. In the distance, and it was not nearly enough distance, two explosions that had to be in the half ton of TNT range, told that the lasers had scored, if imperfectly. There were still four cruise missiles incoming and the smoke, apparently, made engagement more than a little problematic.

Again, the defensive lasers fired. Again, only two hit, creating huge angry clouds of hot gas and flying metal. But there had been six missiles. There were still two . . . and there was no more time.