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“We’ve detected a missile lock,” Hali answered. “They’re preparing to fire.”
SEVENTEEN
Juan glanced at the radar projected on the wraparound screen of the Oregon’s op center. The high-definition flat-panel display could show a one-hundred-eighty-degree view of the ship’s surroundings from any of the multitude of external cameras. Juan saw the tiltrotor diving toward the sea and the still smoking waterpark behind it in the distance. However, he was more concerned about the radar signatures of two F-16s flying toward them. They were forty miles out, but the AMRAAM air to air missiles carried by Indonesian fighter jets had a range of sixty miles. At that range, it would take less than a minute for a missile to hit the tiltrotor, and the jets were closing fast.
“Hail them again,” he said to Hali Kasim, who had his eyes closed as he concentrated on whatever he was hearing over his headset.
“I’ll try, Chairman.”
Although the ship had a bridge at the top of her superstructure like any other cargo carrier would, the Oregon’s was merely for show. The real heart of the vessel was the op center buried deep in the middle of the armored ship for protection. The op center had a tiered design, with the captain’s chair at the center of a semicircle of workstations and the entrance at the room’s rear. Cool lighting and smooth finishes made the space feel like the bridge of a futuristic starship. Except for a few dedicated switches and buttons for use in emergencies, all of the controls were touch screens, including one in the arm of Juan’s chair, which allowed him to drive the ship on his own if required. Everything was controlled by computer, and the purpose of this shakedown cruise had been to test out their systems while supporting the Bali operation.
Hali shook his head in frustration. “The fighter pilots won’t respond.”
“Then tell Lang that the Indonesians are about to shoot down a plane with the families of two U.S. Senators aboard.” Langston Overholt IV, the Corporation’s CIA liaison, had given them this mission, and he was currently monitoring the situation. Their best bet to stop an attack was Overholt’s backchannel connections to the Indonesian government.
“Aye, Chairman,” Hali said.
“Stoney,” Juan said to Eric Stone, who was seated at the helm, “all stop.”
“All stop, aye,” Eric said. Like the previous Oregon, the new ship was equipped with an advanced magnetohydrodynamic propulsion system that could push the 590-foot-long ship to speeds normally seen only in hydrofoils, while thrust-vectoring nozzles made her more agile than ships a quarter her size. The Oregon was powered by stripping free electrons from the seawater, providing a virtually limitless operating range.
Juan turned to Max Hanley at the engineering station.
“If those fighters fire their missiles, we’ll have to give Gomez some help. Is the Kashtan software working yet?”
The dual Gatling guns that had performed so well to destroy the Dahar’s lifeboat had since developed a problem with their code that Max and Eric had been struggling to diagnose. There were three of the weapons systems on the Oregon, two in the crane towers, plus another hidden on the stern.
Max shook his head, even more frustrated than Hali had been.
“I’ve finally gotten the cannons operational, but now the sleeves covering them won’t come down.”
“Then we’ll have to try out the LaWS.”
Max frowned. “We haven’t even had a trial run with it yet.”
“Then this will have to be our first try. It worked with the rail gun.”
“Yeah, and then it promptly overheated on the first shot. I’m working on that next after I get the Kashtans online.”
“Then we’re fortunate that Linda is a crack shot.”
Juan’s gaze shifted to Linda Ross, her green hair shining in the screen’s light. She was seated at the weapons station, a spot normally reserved for Mark Murphy.
“We can’t count on Lang getting to them in time,” Juan said. “Bring the LaWS online.”
“LaWS activating,” she answered.
“Put it on-screen.”
A portion of the exterior view was replaced by an image of the Oregon’s black smokestack, non-functional since there were no diesel fumes to exhaust. The top of the smokestack peeled back, revealing a white device that looked like a telescope. It rotated on a turntable and pointed up in the direction of the fighter jets.
LaWS was an acronym for Laser Weapon System. The defensive armament allowed them to target incoming enemy missiles and aircraft without revealing the origin of the attack. Although the Oregon would eventually be equipped with other weapons such as anti-aircraft missiles, anti-ship missiles, and torpedoes, they had to sail before any of those weapons could be installed.
“Linda, what’s its status?” Juan asked.
“Functioning . . .” Linda hesitated as her attention was caught by something on her screen. “Missile in the air.”
“Estimated time to impact?”
