Hasn't it?"
The faces of both Chinese diplomats subtly froze.
"What do you mean, Mr. Secretary?" Professor Yi inquired softly.
"I mean that the conference is over. The media has gone home, and now, maybe, we can do a little real statesmanship.
In short, gentlemen, cut the bullshit! We know!"
"You believe that you know what, Mr. Secretary. And who constitutes ''?"
The list didn't include Lucena Sagada, as her puzzled expression indicated. Van Lynden's conversations on this subject had taken place on levels rarefied even for her. Now was as good a time as any to bring her into the loop.
"The '' are the other ministers of the Pacific Rim states.
And we know that you set us up! This whole thing. This crisis. The nuclear civil war. Our intervention in Shanghai.
This was all part of a plan. Yours."
"That is a remarkable statement, Mr. Secretary," Ho said.
"What could prompt you to say such a thing?"
"Are you asking for evidence?" Van Lynden smiled.
"We're beginning to compile it in bits and pieces. Primarily, at the moment, it's just instinct. And what we've learned from watching you operate.
' ' example, I must congratulate you for conducting one of the most magnificent acts of realpolitik to be conducted in the past century. The first Chinese civil war really didn't end back in 1949, did it? You have been planning this operation, the reconquest of the mainland, for almost fifty years, haven't you? Piece by piece. Detail by meticulous detail.
Planning for every eventuality. Except apparently one."
Van Lynden watched the two men like a mongoose studies cobras. ' ' was the atomic eventuality. How were you going to get around the Red Chinese nuclear arsenal?"
"We had made our preparations there as well, Mr. Secretary," Ho replied, the last vestige of the statesman's professional bonhomie evaporating.
"We trusted in the deterrence of our own force of arms."
"No, you didn't, sir. You knew full well that the handful of bombs that you possessed would be inadequate to deter a cornered and desperate Communist government. You had to know! They were of your people! Your culture!
"Your arsenal was just large enough to guarantee that any use of atomic weapons would rapidly escalate into a full scale nuclear exchange. One that would prove cataclysmic to the entire Pacific Rim if it occurred.
One that would force the United States and the other nations here to intervene to prevent it from happening."
Van Lynden leaned in across the table. "You set us up," he said, pronouncing each word with deliberate succinctness.
' This entire crisis was a Nationalist sting operation from the start.
You used us to help take out the last of the Red atomic arsenal. The one remaining block on your road back to Beijing-"
Professor Yi smiled as he might have at a favored student.
' ', Mr. Secretary, think of us as encouraging your nation to make an appropriate choice. The Red dragon is dying.
Soon, China shall be free again. Is this not a good thing?"
"Yes," Van Lynden said, straightening. "Yes, it is. But you took us all out on the edge to do it. The end justifying the means' is a line out of the dragon's book."
"Mayhap so. But it is over now."
Harrison Van Lynden chuckled. Even to Lucena Sagada, it was not a pleasant sound. "But you are wrong, gentlemen.
We're going to be working together for a long, long time on a number of things." "What do you mean?" Secretary Ho demanded sharply.
"There is an ancient tradition in your country, Mr. Ho. If one man saves another's life, then the first man becomes responsible for the second's actions. Well, guess what, gentlemen, we've just saved yours and we are now in the loop."
Van Lynden didn't give them a chance to answer. He leaned in across the table again, bracing his hands on the white cloth that covered it, his voice sinking dangerously.
"Soon there are going to be any number of very critical decisions to be made about the form postrevolutionary China is going to take. Its government. Its constitution. Its borders.
And we are going to be there. The United States, Japan, Korea, the Philippines ... everyone who would have been trapped in the fallout pattern if you had miscalculated. You have invited us in, and now, by God, we are not going home until the party's over!
"Congratulations on a successful operation, gentlemen."
SEA STRIKE 345
"Good evening, my friend."
"Good evening, General," Van Lynden replied, sinking down on the concrete bench beside the Red Chinese officer.
The fountain played at their backs and the first stars glinted out over Manila Bay. Looking around, the secretary of state noted that General Ho's usual cadre of security guards were not present. Van Lynden also noted a strange air about the man. Resignation? Maybe even peace.
"Do you wish to know something funny, Mr. Secretary?" Ho said quietly.
"What, General?"
"I find that I am grateful that your nation has attacked mine."
"That is a little unusual."
"Not really. Because tonight I know that I may go to sleep with the knowledge that there will still be a China when I awake. Soon, perhaps, it will not be my China. But it will be China. Had events been allowed to run their full course ... who could say what would have remained?"
"I don't know, General," Van Lynden replied, tugging the knot of his necktie down a couple of inches and releasing the button of his collar.
"In my experience, there are usually men of good conscience on both sides of any conflict. Men such as yourself. You might have found alternatives." Ho smiled grimly. "I think you overrate me, Mr.
Secretary.
As with many others, I, too, would be a desperate man with the tools of desperation at hand. For a warrior, the temptation to take one's foes down with you when you fall is strong. It is best that the temptation is gone. We shall die with the People's Republic. But our homeland will live on." "As I said, General," Van Lynden replied slowly, "you may be able to find alternatives. I notice that you came without your security team tonight. The United States Embassy is only a short walk across the park. I can guarantee you political asylum. The new China is going to need good men and strong leaders."
"That will be a task for the new Chinese. I am of the old.
Perhaps the People's Republic was not the best of states. But still, I have served it all of my life. I will die with it now--
346 James H. Cobb hopefully, in a battle lost before it was begun.
Possibly, before the firing squad of some tribunal.
"Be that as it may, there comes a time in a man's life when he is too old to change allegiance to his beliefs just because they happen to be wrong."
"I understand."
Ho rose to his feet. "I have enjoyed our conversations, Mr. Secretary."
"As have I, General," Van Lynden replied, also getting to his feet.
"Good-bye, sir."
"Goodbye."
The two men shook hands and then walked away along separate paths into the night.
THE WHITE HOUSE, WASHINGTON, D.C.
1337 HOURS, ZONE TIME; AUGUST 28, 2006
"How does it look?"
"Mr. President, according to our last set of projections, the probability of the China conflict going nuclear has been reduced to between ten and fifteen percent."
"A ten- to fifteen-percent chance that a million people could still die.
That's not good enough, Sam. But I guess that it's better than it was.
Maybe enough so that I won't dream about it tonight."
"Stay outside of it, sir. If you're going to command, you can't take it personally."
Ben Childress produced a brief, ironic snort of laughter.
"At one and the same time, Sam, that is both good advice and the rankest kind of bullshit."
"I know, sir. I was never able to manage it either."
&nb
sp; The two men were seated in the Oval Office, an afternoon situation briefing trailing off into a few minutes of conversation between friends.
"What else is going on out there? Has there been any indication of Red retaliation against us?"
SEA STRIKE 347
The National Security Adviser shook his head. ' ' Communists appear to have their hands full. The Nationalists have taken advantage of our disruption of the air-defense net around Shanghai and are bombing the hell out of the place themselves. I doubt that the Reds are really interested in picking a fight with anyone else just now."
"That's good news."
"And here's some more. Our conflict-simulation projections indicate that our intervention may have shortened the Chinese civil war by possibly as much as a month. God knows how many people are going to live who otherwise would have died if we hadn't stepped in. And that isn't even considering the bomb."
President Childress nodded to himself. "Every little bit of positive will help, Sam. Lord knows but there are a lot of people who want to know why I took us out on the edge like this."
"How about because it was the right thing to do, sir."
"That doesn't necessarily cut it in some circles these days, Sam."
"Then use the apartment-house comparison," Hanson grunted, settling deeper into his chair.
Childress cocked an eyebrow. ' The apartment-house comparison?"
"Yes, sir. Back in the good old days, the nations of the world were like individual farmsteads, scattered out across the country. Separated by time and space. If your neighbor's barn burned down, well, all that you'd see was the fire against the sky. You could get involved, or not, depending on how you felt about it.
"These days, though, the world's shrunk on us. We're all living in the same apartment house now. And if some son of a bitch is smoking in bed, we all need to be concerned about it."
"Good metaphor, Sam. What do you want for it?"
"Consider it a gift, Mr. President."
45 MILES NORTHWEST OF AMAMIO SHIMA ISLAND 0945 HOURS ZONE TIME; AUGUST
30, 2006
There are few private places aboard a warship at sea. A pair of such existed aboard the Cunningham, atop the superstructure.
Aft of the exhaust stacks and partitioned from each other by the mast array were two wedges of weather deck.
If a person, or a couple, came up to these isolated spots to watch the wake, the unspoken tradition aboard the Duke was that they were to be left undisturbed.
"Morning, Captain," Arkady said, coming to lean beside Amanda at the rail. He glanced across at her questioningly, waiting, letting her set the tone for their conversation.
"Good morning, love." She was in a mood for someone closer than a subordinate just now.
"What are you thinking about so hard, babe?" he replied, taking her cue.
"All sorts of things. Past, present, and future. Yours, mine, ours."
"Such as?"
"Christine knows about us, Arkady."
"Yeah, so?"
She lifted an eyebrow. "You know about that?"
"The subject has come up between Miss. Rendino and me.
I repeat, so?"
"If Christine has figured it out, others are bound to eventually as well." Arkady nodded thoughtfully, the wind of the ship's passage ruffling the dark hair beneath the edge of his aviator's baseball cap.
"Definite possibility."
"So, what are we going to do?"
"Good question. One of these days, I guess we'll need to come up with an answer for that."
Amanda chuckled softly. "Maybe. Who knows. The whole thing might just resolve itself here presently."
SEA STRIKE 349
"What do you mean?" It was Arkady's turn to cock an eyebrow.
"I've just been considering what comes next," she replied, letting her eyes trail back along the white and jade furrow the Duke had plowed in the sea. "All of my life, I've worked for one thing: having my own ship.
Well, I've got her. Professionally speaking, I'm at the peak of my career right now. But it's not going to last forever. I've got a year and a half left on my tour aboard the Cunningham. After that, I don't know."
"Hell, babe. I don't know what you're talking about and don't think you do either. You're just getting started."
Amanda shook her head slowly. "No. Not for what I want.
Back in the old Navy, it was different. After you captained a destroyer, you had a chance for a cruiser. And after a cruiser, maybe a battlewagon. Now, though, it's one combat command per customer, and the Duke's mine."
"You'll be due for another ship when you get your fourth stripe."
Amanda shook her head again. ' ' AOE or a tender. At best, maybe an amphib. But not a ship of the line. An aviation officer like you can get a shot at a carrier. But for a surface-warfare specialist like me, your destroyer command is it.
"There's nothing wrong in serving aboard a ship of the train, but I've already put my time in there. The next combat command that I could hope for would be as a rear admiral in command of a surface action group. I'd probably be in my early fifties at least, and that's granting I get my flag.
That's another fifteen years on the beach, a whole second career. That's too long, Arkady."
"Then what are you going to do?" he prompted. There was a look in his eyes that indicated that he was suddenly intensely interested in the course this conversation was taking.
"Finish my time on the Duke. Then there are some doctrine papers I want to write. Then, I don't know. Maybe take my twenty and out. Go somewhere and raise babies and petunias while I have a few ticks left on my biological clock.
I don't know."
She was leaving Arkady a massive opening just then, and 350 James H.
Cobb she regarded her young lover steadily, wondering how he was going to fill it.
He was, too. She watched as he studied the horizon for the duration of a dozen heartbeats before replying. "I'd say that you don't have to decide anything yet. I think we have a little time left. Let's use it the best way we can."
It was as good an answer as any that she had come up with. Amanda leaned deeper into the straps of the railing and let her elbow lightly brush his in the covert caress they had developed. "Do me a date, Arkady."
"Where?"
"Japan. And I'm going to hold you to this one. We're going to be laying over there awhile to make repairs." "Japan, huh?" the aviator smiled reminiscently. "Now, that is one place I know my way around. Let's see.
Have you ever been to a real, traditional Japanese nosan"?
"I don't know. What is it?"
"A hot-springs resort. I know this one place, owned by the same family for the past couple of centuries or so, totally traditional. The real Japanese cuisine. The rooms are all furnished with the classic sleep-on-the-floor-style futons, the traditional bathing pools, the whole nine yards. Not many non-Japanese can get a reservation, but I might just be able to swing it."
"That sounds like fun. I ... Wait a minute. Traditional bathing pools?
You don't mean the kind where men and women ... total strangers ...
together!"
"Fraidy-cat, babe?"
"Is that a dare, Lieutenant?"
Arkady was right--they did have a little time left.
OVER THE PACIFIC 1910 HOURS ZONE TIME; AUGUST 30, 2006
The VP-3 Orion transport, the conversion of a war-weary naval patrol plane, churned slowly to the southeast, its propellers flickering against the sky. Its eventual destination: Hawaii and Pearl Harbor.
SEA STRIKE 351
Inboard, Admiral Elliot Macintyre shifted position, trying to find a little comfort in the worn bucket seat. Giving it up as a lost cause, he returned his attention to the eternal backlog of paperwork in his briefcase.
A message hard copy tucked into an odd corner diverted him. It was that last one Amanda Garrett had sent him on the night of the Shanghai operation.
All sheep have been returned to the fold.
GLOSSARY Aegis A mating of a sophisticated cybernetic battle management system with a series of advanced planar array radars, giving a surface warship a sea- and air-control capacity out to a 250-mile radius.
The augmented SPY-2A variant deployed aboard the Cunningham-class DDG
combines increased range and firecontrol capacity with improved definition and simplicity of operation.
AEW (Airborne Early Warning) The doctrine of mounting a high-powered search radar aboard an aircraft to enhance its coverage area. The Boeing AW ACS is the premier example of this technology.
In Stormdragon, both the Taiwanese Air Force and the U.S. Navy also utilize variants of the Grumman E-2 Hawk eye, a venerable but still effective twin-turboprop AEW aircraft, while the Cunningham's Sea Comanche helicopters can mount a padded version of the British-built Clearwater radar.
ASW (antisubmarine warfare) The delicate and deadly art of submarine hunting.
Barracuda The Mark 50 Barracuda is the U.S. Navy's latest-generation antisubmarine torpedo. A small, highspeed weapon utilizing multimode guidance, it is designed to be dropped from ASW aircraft, delivered to target via a V-ROC antisubmarine missile, or launched from the deck tubes of a GLOSSARY 353
surface warship. It is also being studied as a possible "interceptor"
torpedo for use in an active antitorpedo defense system.
Black Hole System A combination of anti-infrared technologies used to reduce the heat signature of a military vehicle.
Aboard the Cunningham-class destroyer, blowers mix cooler outside air with the ship's engine-exhaust gases before they are vented outboard, reducing the thermal plume from the turbines. Likewise, seawater is circulated through cooling jackets surrounding the ship's funnels to prevent "hot spotting," which could provide a target for home-on-heat guided munitions.
Ching-Kuo Produced by Taiwan's Aero Industry Development Center, the Ching-Kuo is that nation's first domestically produced combat aircraft.
A light, twin-engined, air-defense and antishipping fighter, its design was inspired by the U. S.-built F-5. Its development, along with that of the rest of Taiwan's rapidly developing aerospace and armaments industry, has been spurred by Red China's continuing policy of interfering with international arms sales to the Nationalist government.
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