Page 136 of Clive Cussler's Quantum Tempest

“No need for dramatics just yet, Captain. After all, ‘the supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting,’ is it not?”

Peng marched over to the comms station and snatched up the microphone. He flashed an arrogant smile at Zhao.

“Let me show you how it’s done.”

?

Aboard theOregon

“Chairman, theFuzhouis hailing us,” Hali said. Like the rest of the op center team, he was harnessed to his station chair, ready for anything.

“All ofFuzhou’s systems are hot now,” Linda said. “She’s not hiding anymore.”

“Put her on the overheads,” Juan said. “This oughta be good.”

Hali nodded. “Fuzhou, this isOregon. Proceed with transmission.”

“Cargo shipOregon, this is PLA Navy DestroyerFuzhou-120. You are violating a temporary maritime security zone of the People’s Republic of China. You are instructed to leave these waters immediately. If you do not comply, you will be held responsible for any consequences.”

“DestroyerFuzhou,” Juan began, “we do not recognize your authority to declare a temporary maritime security zone, nor are we able to comply with your suggestion we leave the area. We are currently experiencing engine difficulties.”

An alarm sounded. “That chopper has weapons lock,” Linda said. She checked her monitor. TheOregon’s combat computer automatically put up the helicopter weapons specs on a wall monitor, but Linda read it aloud, as per protocols.

“Data profile indicates carrying two TL-2 anti-ship supersonic. Missiles with a range of eighteen miles. Fifty-kilogram warhead. Millimeter-wave targeting radar.”

“We got your message,Fuzhou,” Cabrillo said. “Stand down. We need thirty minutes to repair, and then we’ll depart the area.”

“Fuzhoujust opened two vertical launch system doors, Chairman.” Ross was referring to the coverings over anti-ship missile wells. “Likely firing YJ-21 Eagle Strikes. Hypersonics—Mach 10–plus.”

“Somebody got up on the wrong side of the futon,” Max said.

“Duly noted,” Cabrillo said to his number two. He then shouted to the overhead speakers, “Fuzhou, we need at least twenty minutes—”

Linda shouted, “TL-2s fired! Twenty seconds to impact!”

Alarms blared across the ship as battle station lights flashed red.

On the big port-side wall monitor, the two TL-2 supersonic missiles raced toward them like burning stars.

“Helm, full starboard yaw, forty-degree vector—execute now!”

Stoney slammed the throttles and thrusters, banking the ship hard like a fighter jet. Anyone or anything not secured was thrown across the deck or slammed into bulkheads as the op center crew strained against their harnesses.

As Stoney executed the breakneck turn, the ship’s AI defensive systems kicked in. Jamming signals were automatically pumped into the atmosphere as chaff rockets fired, throwing up a wide-area radar interference cloud of carbon-coated fiberglass strips.

Linda at the weapons station called out the automated plays like a football color commentator, her fingers hovering over switches and toggles in case of computer failure.

“Chaff and jamming no effect. EMP cannons firing,” Ross said as the two weapons surged with power high above decks. The invisible electromagnetic wave pulses rippled the ocean water like a stiff breeze on the incoming-missile monitor.

Suddenly, one of the TL-2s yawed violently, then spun out of control before splashing into the sea in an explosion of spray and shrapnel.

“Missile number two still on course—ten seconds to impact,” Linda called out. “Laser-point defense engaging.”

A white-hot invisible beam seared the air, lancing across the missile’s fuselage and slicing off a tail fin, its track now wavering and erratic, but still coming on fast.

The bank of three starboard Vulcan close-in weapons system Gatling guns opened up in a hellish crescendo that rang through thehull. The Chinese missile plowed into a wall of 20-millimeter armor-piercing rounds, breaking it apart. But the remaining wreckage lashed forward at supersonic speed.

Linda called out, “Three seconds to impact. All hands brace.”