by Andrew Watts
Lena thought about their relationship and the way that he complimented her and made her feel…what? Like a daughter? Ironically, it had been he who had removed her from her family. Sent to the United States to eventually be placed as a mole in the CIA. And now he had placed her real father in charge of China’s military. It was a lot to process.
She wondered how much of Jinshan’s affection was real. Was it part of his act, as a master manipulator? Did he care at all about her, or just appreciate how effective she had been as one of his agents?
When Jinshan had found Lena, she had been a young and innocent girl. She reminded herself that Natesh had been innocent too, when Jinshan had spotted him. He had only made one mistake when recruiting Natesh: assuming motive. Natesh was unlike many of the other rising stars Jinshan was used to working with. He had thought that the young man was interested in power. But it was not power he was after. Lena saw that after working with him.
Natesh was a gardener. He was addicted to growing things on a massive scale and improving them: companies, industries, technologies. He had confided in Lena over the past few weeks. Natesh had told her about his recruitment, and why he had been so excited to work for Jinshan.
When Jinshan had pitched Natesh the opportunity to change the world for the better, Natesh had seen the opportunity of a lifetime. The ultimate cultivation project. There were so many problems with the way governments were structured. Watching politicians lie their way into office frustrated him to no end. The world was collapsing, and at the mercy of the worst impulses of mankind. Greed. Fear. Treachery.
What Jinshan talked about was doing away with the systems of government that plagued the globe. He envisioned a single elite class of decision makers that were hand-picked to ensure the long-term success and well-being of mankind.
Natesh would have an important role to play, Jinshan had promised him. Lena recognized this for what it was. Classic recruitment. Jinshan was flattering Natesh, appealing to his ego and idealism.
Lena knew the truth. If he was to be with them, Natesh had to forfeit his high moral ground. The only way to remove the governments of the world and get to the utopia that Jinshan envisioned was through deception and violence.
The Chinese soldiers and intelligence operatives inside this room were under the impression that China would be attacking America. But that was merely the beginning. This wasn’t about China. It was about the world. Jinshan had seen that China’s government control and economic prosperity weren’t sustainable. Not when the billions rose up from poverty and demanded better. But in order to achieve their goals, the millions of Chinese who were now conducting military operations needed to believe in the cause. That brainwashing was in progress. For now, they just needed to know what buttons to push.
But in the coming days, a flood of propaganda would be unleashed in Chinese media. The US would be accused of starting a nuclear war against North Korea. Chinese propaganda campaigns would convince the world that the unstable American leadership, now driven by religious zealots and political extremists, could no longer be ignored. China needed to act in order to keep the peace and protect the homeland.
None of this was true, but it didn’t matter anymore. People believed what they read on their smartphones. If the state controlled the information, like it did in China, it could ignite public opinion and convince the masses to move towards any objective.
Lena kept wondering if she herself was susceptible to Jinshan’s charms. Was she just his zombie assassin, following orders without thinking? Lena wasn’t one to soul-search much, but she knew herself well enough to know that she had changed after she had killed President Wu and his family. Lena would have been fine if it had just been the president. Maybe even if it had just been the president and his wife. But she hadn’t wanted to kill President Wu’s daughter. The teenage girl had reminded Lena of herself.
So did Natesh, a little—due to his innocence upon recruitment, and his natural talent, however different his skill set might be from Lena’s own. She admired his belief in Cheng Jinshan’s vision for the future. Natesh wanted a better world, and he had been forced to sacrifice his integrity in an attempt to achieve it. Lena was in the same boat, in many ways.
She looked to the duty officer. “I’m headed to the other side of the island. Inform the air operations center to fuel my plane and have a pilot standing by. I will need to travel to Japan immediately.”
The duty officer looked at her like she was crazy. “But Miss Chou…”
“Do it.”
29
Chinese aircraft carrier Shangdong
Several hours later, Admiral Song stood on the bridge wing of China’s newest aircraft carrier, the wind blowing in his face. He gazed out at the gray ocean, wondering what lay ahead.
After the EMP attack, he had boarded one of the destroyers just before it had departed the internal pier on the island. It had sailed out into the South China Sea. Within minutes, a pair of Chinese naval helicopters had approached, one landing on the destroyer. The helicopter had taken him fifty miles to the north to his small and nimble fleet, where his commanders were already preparing for their opening wave in the attack.
Now, he stood on the admiral’s bridge on the magnificent aircraft carrier Shangdong—the flagship of his fleet. It was China’s second aircraft carrier, but the first that had been built domestically. Their first aircraft carrier was an old Soviet-era carrier, refurbished by the Chinese some forty years later. But this…this was something special.
The Shandong carried three squadrons of Chinese fighters and sixteen helicopters. It had modern radars and armaments and was flanked by a dozen of China’s most lethal warships. Two attack submarines protected her beneath the surface of the sea. Drones, reconnaissance aircraft, and satellite feed would allow Admiral Song to see and know everything that took place in the Pacific.
That was, if the satellites still worked after the EMP bursts—that was something that the scientists had argued about. And if the Americans hadn’t begun taking out their networks. That was something that his planners had agreed on. All the more reason to strike while the iron was hot.
He walked inside the admiral’s bridge, where his commanders and watch standers were able to give him instant updates.
“Do we still have GPS?”
“There have been some sporadic outages, Admiral Song, but right now it is still functional,” a captain in charge of cyberoperations and communications replied.
“Very well.” He turned to the captain of the aircraft carrier. “How long until we are ready to launch our aircraft?”
“A little over four hours, sir. We will be through the Luzon Strait at that time, and within range. The land-based tanker aircraft should be taking off shortly. But we anticipate American warships may be in the strike area. That could slow us down.”
“Make best speed, Captain. And ensure that our escorts keep a tight screen around us. We will need protection from the American fast-attack submarines. They will have been unaffected by the EMPs, and we should assume that they will attack us if given the opportunity.”
The captain nodded. Song knew that their own attack submarines and maritime patrol aircraft had spent the last twelve hours pinging away in the South China Sea. The maritime patrol aircraft had had to land during the EMP strike, for safety concerns. But the amount of active sonar activity throughout the Luzon Strait, and to the east, should have scared away most American submarines that could pose a problem to their launch.
Right now, the Americans were shell-shocked by the North Korean assault, timed to occur within hours of the Chinese-launched EMP and cyberattacks. With luck, the Americans wouldn’t be sure that the EMP and cyberattacks were Chinese in origin. But they would strongly suspect it. The North Koreans simply weren’t capable of that level of military sophistication. The confusion might mean that the Americans would be wary of taking retributive action against the Chinese. Jinshan had talked up “the fog of war” in his preparations. He was convince
d that the Americans would suffer from confusion and indecision in the first few days.
This hesitation by the Americans was a key part of the Chinese strategy. Their desire for moral authority was their weakness. A strong leader should not wait until he had one hundred percent certainty that an enemy was responsible for an attack. If it was probable, then he should strike back. But the morally conservative American attitude demanded certainty. He had worked with them before in naval exercises and spoken to them at their diplomatic parties in China. If he had been in charge of their response, nuclear missiles would be flying toward Beijing right now. But Jinshan and his planners on the island had been certain that the Americans would not respond with nuclear weapons until it was their last possible option. And by then, it would be too late.
Admiral Song hoped to sail his fleet through the picket lines of a stunned American Pacific Fleet. There were two American aircraft carriers operating in the Western Pacific theater, and dozens of warships and submarines.
Song knew that the Chinese air force and missile force intended to strike the carriers and most warships within the next few hours. And while the military planners projected victory, in his mind, he knew that these were the optimistic presentations of eager young officers. Combat and experience would quickly season his men. Their bright looks and fearless attitudes would give way to realism and a thousand stoic stares. Blood and loss were a taste not easily forgotten.
But if China was to succeed, they must move swiftly, before the United States comprehended what was happening. And he fully intended to use the element of surprise to his advantage.
30
USS Lake Champlain
East China Sea
“Anything yet?” the captain asked.
“Radars are coming back up now, sir.”
They had done a full restart of every air defense system that wasn’t working properly. A flash like the sun, the lookout had said. That poor seaman was now down in sick bay, blind in one eye. The kid had been looking at some of the F-18s flying overhead when it happened. The captain shook his head.
A flash like the sun.
Inside the skin of the ship, many of the electronics had begun malfunctioning. Some didn’t work at all. The captain had been in his stateroom, typing up an email, when it had started. His computer screen had gone dark. No blue screen of death. Just completely off, and it wouldn’t turn back on.
He had walked into the combat information center, witnessing the chaos in there. Then the TAO had gotten word through the sound-powered phones of the “medical situation” with the forward lookout.
A flash like the sun.
The captain had read about the danger of electromagnetic pulse weapons while at the Pentagon. Thankfully, most of the military equipment on board the Ticonderoga-class cruiser was hardened against that sort of thing. But no one really knew what would happen if a real EMP went off above them. No one knew how powerful it would be, or how all the different systems might react. Would some of the “hardened military hardware” rely on weak links somewhere in the chain of electronics?
Another question was, who had fired the EMP weapons? The big stink this week was North Korea. But to his knowledge, North Korea didn’t have that capability. China was the big kid on the block over here. The USS Lake Champlain’s officers and crew had received the recent messages about a sortied group of Chinese merchant ships, and an unusual Chinese surface action group deployment. Everyone was on edge after the exchanged fire between US and Chinese warships several weeks earlier. But they couldn’t be completely sure who was responsible. The North Koreans had begun their attack on South Korea and Japan hours earlier. So, it made sense that they would launch EMPs out here—if they had them.
They needed intelligence, and they needed orders.
The USS Carl Vinson was off the starboard beam. The Lake Champlain was the shotgun cruiser in the Carl Vinson Carrier Strike Group. Two more destroyers were within twenty miles of their location. Between the destroyers and his cruiser, they were responsible for the defense from enemy air threats, whether they be fighters, bombers, or missiles. But for the last thirty minutes, the captain of the Lake Champlain hadn’t been sure just what their air defense capability was. A pretty sad admission from the air defense commander.
He looked at the TAO. “Any orders from strike group?”
“No word from the carrier sir.”
No one had responded to radio communications since the EMP. That was a bad sign. The captain had been scheduled to join a video conference with the carrier strike group. He had expected to discuss rules of engagement as they headed towards the Korean peninsula. The last message that the Lake Champlain had received said that North Korea had attacked the South, and that North Korean forces should be considered hostile. But these widespread electronics and communications outages were greatly effecting their situational awareness.
Diagnostics on the air defense systems showed that technically, most of their equipment was unaffected by the EMP. But he could see with his own eyes that the display screens were not working properly.
A tech rep happened to be on board. He had been working on their SPY radar the week before and was due to leave for the carrier later in the day. Instead, he was removing panels and replacing parts, assisted by the ship’s own enlisted radar experts. It took them twenty minutes, but they managed to get things working the way they were supposed to.
“What the hell are they doing over there?” The captain was pointing at the carrier.
“Not sure, sir. We now have them on bridge-to-bridge. But none of our other comms circuits are working yet.”
“Nothing?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Then get someone up on bridge-to-bridge who knows what the hell’s going on.”
“Yes, sir.”
The captain shook his head. He felt bad for raising his voice. He knew it wasn’t the fault of the operations officer. But he needed information. They could be under attack, for God’s sake. If he had to get the admiral to come up to the bridge of the carrier and speak to him there, he would do it. He left the combat information center to go to the bridge.
No sooner had the captain climbed up to the bridge than he heard a 1MC call asking him to return to CIC. “Captain, TAO, you’re needed in combat. As soon as possible, sir.”
Urgency in the woman’s voice. No—fear. The woman was one of his best officers, and she didn’t get rattled easily. Today was different.
The captain hurried back into the combat information center.
“Sir, AEGIS is now coming back online—we don’t have everything operational yet, but we have enough to see multiple unknown air contacts inbound bearing two-six-zero for eighty miles.”
“Altitude?”
“The system was having trouble…”
A loud aural warning tone went off.
“VAMPIRE! VAMPIRE! VAMPIRE!” a petty officer manning one of the air defense stations yelled. “TAO, enemy missiles inbound. Bearing two-four-zero for fifty miles. I show…forty…no, sixty inbound missiles headed towards our position.”
The captain looked up at the screen. It was filled with little icons moving at a high rate of speed. “You know what to do, folks. Let’s go!”
The combat information center erupted in organized shouts of information and rehearsed commands. The 1MC speaker said, “All hands stand by for heavy rolls.” Then the alarm, followed by, “General quarters, general quarters, all hands man your battle stations…”
Sailors from the combat fire control division evaluated the information on their displays, their hands moving swiftly over buttons and keyboards. Sweaty palms and foreheads. Fast-beating hearts and dizzying levels of adrenaline. These sailors followed their years of training, trying not to think about the dozens of missiles skimming the surface of the water at just under the speed of sound, headed right towards them.
The cruiser shuddered as dozens of the ship’s own surface-to-air missiles began launching up towards their targets
, towers of flame shooting up from the vertical launch system, followed by smoke trails leading off towards the horizon.
“TAO, we now have an additional fifty missiles inbound from the same bearing line.”
The captain gripped the armrests of his chair as the deck tilted. The bridge team was executing evasive maneuvers now. He gritted his teeth as he watched the little blue surface-to-air missile icons race towards the dozens of inbound missile tracks.
Something wasn’t right.
“The destroyers aren’t firing,” the captain said. He turned to the TAO. “Have you been able to raise them?” A chill went down his spine. With this many inbound missiles, he desperately needed the other warships in company to help defend the carrier—and themselves.
“No, sir. Comms are down.”
“There aren’t enough.” He was looking at the numbers, calculating and tapping his fingers on his armrest. The enemy simply had too many missiles. He wondered if the destroyers were still dealing with the effects of the EMP attack. Were their radars up? Did they even know that there were missiles overhead?
He wrung his sweaty hands together as dozens of the red missile symbols began to reach their battle group.
The first strike was with EMPs.
The second was with anti-ship missiles.
Hundreds of them. More than could be accounted for by air defense measures currently employed by the US Navy, let alone the slightly inferior technology of the Koreans and Japanese.
