Fireburst by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2012-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The Sea of Japan

It had started as a beautiful day, but now the sky was heavily overcast, the roiling clouds dark and low. The ocean below was calm and serene. There were a few low swells, and a gentle breeze coming in from the northwest. Aside from the colossal U.S.S. Esteem there were only a few other vessels in sight, mostly fishing trawlers, and a few pleasure boats skimming along the waves.

The nuclear generators and electric engines of the U.S.S. Esteem revved toward overload as the colossal aircraft carrier desperately raced toward its home port of Yokohama. The armored prow of the vessel didn’t plow through the waves, it crushed them aside, the aft propellers kicking up a frothy wake that spread outward for hundreds of yards. Along both sides of the vessel, deadly Phalanx autoguns scanned the area with their radar beams probing for any incoming danger.

Hundreds of sailors were scrambling to get the last couple of jetfighters onto the waiting elevator. The motorized trawl normally used to move the aircraft into position had unexpectedly blown a fuel gasket, and instead of waiting for the second trawl, the grim sailors swarmed over the jets like ants, using sheer muscle power to push, pull and drag the F-18 Super Hornets toward the waiting elevator.

The hydraulic lift was already loaded with an Apache gunship and a Tomcat, but the crew was grimly determined to get one more jet safely below before all hell broke loose.

“We don’t even know if this is going to help!” a sailor groused, putting his back into the task.

“However, we do know this baby is a sitting duck on the flight deck!” a lieutenant replied gruffly. “So, more muscle, less lung!”

“Yes, sir!”

There had been no official announcement from the White House, the Pentagon, or the Pacific Fleet’s commander, but they all watched television. For some unknown reason, lightning was systematically destroying military and civilian targets around the world. American, Russian, French, British: it made no difference, people were dying in droves, and the grim crew of the Esteem had absolutely no intention of joining the ranks of the dead just yet.

The minute dark clouds formed overhead, the captain began shouting orders over the PA system, and everybody scrambled to get the jets quickly off the flight deck and safely inside the carrier.

Theoretically, the crew and jetfighters were both safe enough; the ship’s steel deck was eighteen inches thick, the armored hull over three feet thick, proof to anything short of a nuclear torpedo. However, while lightning strikes had been considered in the original calculations, multiple strikes coming in nonstop for minutes at a time certainly hadn’t.

But since there was no way of knowing if their standard antilightning safeguards were sufficient to the task at hand, the captain and crew were playing it safe and trying to clear the flight deck. The standard complement of eight jetfighters, full of fuel and high-explosion munitions, normally the greatest defense of the Esteem, were now its deadliest threat.

On

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