Pride and fear have brought you here.
As the San Francisco-registered fishing trawler creaked among the bay’s waves, Lu flexed his pectorals. They were iron-hard. He could bench-press four hundred and forty-five pounds and had once broken a man’s hand simply by squeezing it. He’d apologized afterward and had felt guilty. Still, it had let everyone in the combat group know how strong he was.
Lu Po sighed. He was strong, and he was smart. He wondered what winning wrestling matches had to do with aiming a Dragon Claw missile. Practically nothing was the answer. The wrestling matches had been about winning the chance to go on a suicide mission for China. It was a morale-booster. It showed the remaining White Tigers what a hero the winners were. It made the others proud to belong to such a warrior elite.
We wrestled for the chance to die heroically for China.
While shaking his head, Lu looked up at the fleecy clouds. It was funny, but there were clouds just like this in Taipei Harbor where he’d trained. Yet this was America. To be precise, it was San Francisco and the City by the Bay housed two precious American supercarriers.
As Lu listened to the waves lap against the fishing trawler, he spied a soaring seagull.
It’s such a perfect day. I’d like to fly away from here. Yes, what is my pride worth now? I won the matches, but none of the others will remember me fifteen years from now.
Lu scanned San Francisco Bay. He avoided looking at the two supercarriers docked four kilometers away. It was too painful just yet. The city with its large buildings looked like Taipei. He’d liked to visit San Francisco and go to Chinatown to taste their clam chowder.
Blowing out his cheeks in frustration, Lu knew that would never happen. He was here to win eternal glory for his country. He’d joined the White Tigers for the same reason many young men did, to win a marriage permit. He’d never have sex with a woman now, and he wanted to do that more than anything else in life.
Instead, I’m about to die.
“First Rank, when do we begin?” shouted Fighter Rank Wang from a distance.
Lu winced and his iron-hard stomach tightened. If he’d had his shirt off, that tightening would have shown his muscled abs. He’d always wanted to sit naked next to a girl on a bed and flex for her, letting her see what a strong man was about to lay on her. He’d always wanted to listen to a girl exclaim how powerful he looked. Then he wanted to make her sing with urgency as she and he became one. But in China there were no longer enough girls to go around.
“First Rank—”
“I heard you!” shouted Lu.
A ‘fisherman’ in yellow slicker-garb turned abruptly, staring at him. The fisherman was a Dong Dianshan, an East Lightning political officer, here to bolster their resolve.
He means to shoot us if we lose our nerve.
Lu Po scowled. He resented the fisherman, the need for East Lightning to sully the operation by their presence. If Lu changed the order of procedure, he and his fellow Commandos could more easily make their escape afterward. The fisherman staring at him would never agree to change the procedure, however. The change would lower the odds of mission success by several percentage points.
Puffing, Fighter Rank Wang reached Lu’s place at the back of the trawler. “We must begin the operation,” the smaller Commando said. “It is time and we have reached the optimum location.”
“Do you want to die?” Lu asked him.
Wang was smaller and lighter. He’d won the martial arts combat. The White Tiger was phenomenally quick and stronger than his skinny muscles would lead one to believe.
“I want to destroy the carriers,” Wang said.
“As do I,” said Lu. “But that wasn’t my question. Do you want to live?”
“Not at the price of cowardice.”
“No one is suggesting such a thing.”
“I think you are,” said Wang. “You are showing hesitation in the face of the enemy.”
“I can crush a man’s hand with my own,” said Lu.
Wang cocked his head.
“Stand aside,” said Lu. “The political officer wishes to make a speech.”
The East Lightning political officer in the slicker garb approached warily. He had narrow features, with a stray lock of hair over his eyes.
“It is time to destroy the carriers,” the political officer said.
“Yes,” said Lu.
“You must arm the missiles and fire them.”
“First,” Lu said, “I would like to lower the T-9s into the water, activate their batteries and don my wetsuit and scuba gear.”
The political officer blinked rapidly before shaking his head. “You will follow procedures.” He snaked a hand through the front of his slicker, no doubt to the butt of a pistol tucked behind his belt.
“Of course I shall,” said Lu, bowing his head and hardening his resolve. All along, he should have realized it had to be this way. He was a White Tiger Commando. He would do what needed doing and with a minimum of fuss.
“I apologize for being tardy,” Lu said. It was difficult to do, but he tried to look contrite.
The political officer squinted at him and nodded slowly as he removed the hand from inside the slicker. “We are making the ultimate sacrifice,” he said.
“No,” Lu said. “You are.” He grabbed the man’s nearest hand and squeezed with all his strength.
The political officer’s eyes bugged outward. His mouth opened and a bellow began. Lu yanked the political officer against him and clamped his free hand over the man’s mouth. He took a two-handed grip around the man’s head, laying his right forearm against it so part of his arm lay over the man’s right ear. Then he twisted his arms hard and fast. The political officer shuddered as his neck broke. The cracking sound was quieter than Lu would have imagined. He felt the strength ooze from the dying man. He released. The political officer thudded onto the deck, banging his head. Lu knelt and withdrew the police automatic.
“What have you done?” cried Wang.
“Increased our chances for survival,” said Lu. His heart pounded as a great sense of exhilaration flowed through him. He noted Wang’s shock. Standing, and with the gun negligibly pointed at Wang’s belly, Lu said, “I must ask you a question, soldier.”
Wang glanced at the gun and into Lu’s eyes. He nodded without fear.
“Are you my brother,” asked Lu, “my fellow Commando?”
“I won’t tell anyone…how the political officer lost his life in service to China,” Wang said.
Lu shook his head. “That isn’t what I mean.”
“You must speak to me, brother, and tell me what I should do.”
“Do you still have your knife?” asked Lu.
“…yes.”
“Then go below and kill the third political officer.”
“What about the second Dong Dianshan with the captain?” Wang asked.
“I will kill him myself.”
“Then?” asked Wang.
“Then we will lower the T-9s, don wetsuits and scuba gear—”
“What about our mission?” Wang cried.
“Calm yourself, Fighter Rank. We will complete it after we’ve readied our escape.”
“The others on the trawler—”
“Are under deep cover and will still take their inflatables to shore and blend in among the mongrel hordes of America.”
Wang hesitated several seconds, glancing a second time at Lu’s gun. Finally, he nodded.
“Good,” said Lu. He hadn’t wanted to kill Wang, but he couldn’t trust the man unless Wang helped him murder the rest of the East Lightning political officers and thereby comprised himself. “Let’s go,” Lu said. “We don’t have much time.”
***
The High Commander of the White Tigers hadn’t explained the strategic importance of the mission to Lu. He hadn’t needed too. Lu understood perfectly.
The American Navy had six supercarriers. Twenty years ago in 2012, they’d had eleven such ships. Money had been tight for th
e American Defense establishment and cuts had been made all around. During the bleakest years, the American Navy had decommissioned carriers, along with other vessels.
The Chinese Navy on the other hand had known massive growth. China presently boasted eight supercarriers, meaning any aircraft carrier over 70,000 tons. If the White Tigers could destroy these two American carriers, that would give China a two-to-one advantage. The short-term advantage would be even larger. Two American supercarriers were on the other side of the continent in the Atlantic Ocean. It would take time for them to sail around the South American tip and then to Alaska. During that time, China would have a four-to-one advantage in carriers.
The Chinese carriers were also newer, with newer fighter-jets and better electronics. The fighters had superior air-to-air missiles and the pilots had logged three times the flight hours as their American counterparts. Taken all together, it should grant nearly total sea superiority to the Chinese Navy during the Alaskan Invasion.
However, these things could only be achieved if the American carriers sheltering in San Francisco Bay were destroyed. The importance of the present mission was critical, the reason no doubt why the High Commander had wanted his best warriors performing the operation. Lu wondered if that had been the reason for the wrestling and martial arts matches.
***
First Rank Lu Po helped Wang struggle into his wetsuit. Using heavy-fiber rope, the other White Tigers splashed the two T-9s into the water beside the trawler.
“If we fail because of this…” whispered Wang.
Lu laughed grimly. He’d shot the second political officer in the gut. The policeman had actually asked him why. For an answer, Lu had finished him with a shot to the heart. Lu had then explained the new order of procedure to the trawler captain. The deep-cover Chinese aboard ship acting as crew were not going to be a problem.
“We will destroy the carriers and live to earn our rewards,” Lu said.
“Someone on shore or in a nearby boat might have noticed our actions and radioed about us to the Americans,” Wang said.
“Look around you. No one is near, and we’re kilometers from the carriers.”
“Do you think a submarine will really be out there for us?”
Lu paused. He hadn’t thought about that. A second later, he shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do about the rescue submarine. We will proceed with the plan and hope that the Navy possesses men of honor.”
“You mean proceed with your altered plan,” Wang said.
With one arm, Lu hoisted Wang’s scuba tanks. He used the other hand to slap his comrade on the back. “You’re a worrier, so worry if you want. I’m telling you, though, that we’re about to turn ourselves into legends.”
“How can you be so calm about this?”
Because I’ve just improved my percentages of survival. Lu didn’t say that aloud. Instead, he told Wang, “This is China’s hour, and the Americans are living on borrowed time. Didn’t they borrow our money for decades?”
Wang laughed, nodding.
“Let’s do it,” Lu said.
In their wetsuits, the two moved to a large tarp. The knots had already been undone. Wang gripped the tarp and dragged it off, revealing a missile-launcher. Inside the giant tube was a Dragon Claw missile. It had a turbojet engine with solid propellant fuel. The warhead was two hundred and thirty kilograms of CHKR-57 explosive. Its wingspan was one point seven meters, and the missile was a ship-killer.
Lu unclipped a walkie-talkie from his belt and pressed a button. “Are you ready?”
“Roger,” came the reply.
Clipping the walkie-talkie back to his belt, First Rank Lu Po went to the firing location. He’d practiced this in Taipei Harbor over one hundred times on a simulator and two times with live missiles. He put his eye to the rangefinder, locating the massive carrier several kilometers across the bay. The Americans had called it a turkey-shoot once against the Japanese Navy during an air-naval battle off the Marianas Islands during World War Two. This would be a Chinese turkey-shoot.
Lu’s palms unaccountably became moist. Now was the moment and he had become nervous. It troubled him. The High Commander had told them they were the best soldiers the world had ever produced and were therefore superior to normal men. Normal men shook and sweated under stress. A White Tiger calmly went about his duties. The truth was otherwise, it seemed. Lu wiped his moist palms on his wetsuit as he said, “Turn it on.”
Wang clicked on the radar, and in three seconds, it beeped. “We have lock-on,” Wang said excitedly.
Lu nodded, stared at the huge carrier through the rangefinder and reveled in the feeling in his stomach. It fluttered with butterflies, with nerves. He rather liked the feeling. It told him he was alive, on the edge of life. Ah, life was indeed precious and to risk it, what a keen moment this was. He would never forget this. Slowly, he pressed the firing button.
There was a loud ripping sound. The entire trawler trembled. The ejector blew out the missile as its thrusters roared into life. The noise was tremendous—indescribable. Lu kept the rangefinder centered on the mighty vessel. He would use radio beams to guide the altered missile onto target. He would do this by keeping the ship in his sights, just like an ATGM.
“It’s skimming over the water!” shouted Wang.
A second missile roared into life. If the others had done their task correctly, it would hit the second carrier.
“This is beautiful,” Wang said in an awed voice.
Lu wanted to look up and see. Instead, he kept his eye glued to the target. No jets catapulted off the flight deck. No anti-missile rounds streaked into the air. Instead—
The Dragon Claw missile smashed into the side of the USS Ronald Reagan. A microsecond later, a titanic explosion erupted. Men, flight deck and jet parts flew skyward. An intense fireball barreled into existence. Then the second missile hit and ignited within the second American carrier.
“We must fire another round!” shouted Lu.
The shockwave hit them then. It was a victorious feeling and ruffled Lu’s hair.
Together, the two teams launched two more missiles. Their training proved exquisite and more than justified. Two more altered Dragon Claw missiles skimmed the water and struck the burning supercarriers in the distance. Now at last, far away in the sky, two specks appeared.
“Aircraft!” shouted Wang.
“It’s time to leave!” shouted Lu.
He and Wang sprinted for the other side of the trawler. By following the old procedure, they would never have had time to don wetsuits and scuba tanks. This way, they could possibly escape and dive with the T-9s into the depths of the harbor.
The deep-cover trawler crew already roared away in their inflatables.
“Jump!” shouted Lu. He leaped overboard, plummeted and hit the water with his feet. His flippers were attached to his belt. Curling, with water gurgling in his ears, he halted his descent and groped for his flippers. It seemed like forever before they were on his feet. With several sharp kicks, he headed for the surface. Soon, he spied the nearest T-9 floundering in the sea. He swam harder and climbed aboard at the controls.
“Go,” said Wang, who had crawled on with him.
Lu turned on the T-9. It vibrated with power. He yanked the controls and began to dive, the craft’s propeller spinning wildly. Behind him, he heard the roar of fighter-launched air-to-ship missiles. Then a terrific explosion occurred. He looked back at the last moment. Debris was flying from the trawler. Then Lu’s head was underwater and he faced forward. There was another explosion that hurt his ears. He revved the T-9 and fled at full power, all the time diving deeper and deeper into the bay.
He had done it. He’d eliminated two American carriers and he was making his getaway. If the rescue submarine was out there, he would return to China as a hero, provided Wang could keep his mouth shut about killing the East Lightning political officers.
As Lu turned the T-9 slightly, aiming for the San Francisco Bay exit, he wondered if he
should stop along the way and kill Wang for good measure. It was probably better to be sure than to trust a talker.
He’d think about it. There was no need to do it yet. He would make the decision once he’d actually gotten away and was out at sea. For now, he needed his wits, some luck, and more than his share of good karma. Ah, life was glorious indeed. He was a legend, and he’d broken an East Lightning political officer’s hand before killing him. Life was not only good—it was sweet.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
It had been several days now since Anna had confronted Colin Green. She had gone home, as he’d ordered. Shortly thereafter, several of Mr. Green’s security people had shown up. To her astonishment, they had told her she was recuperating from an illness and would need to stay inside for the next few days.
She’d tried her cell phone, but it hadn’t work, nor had her computer.
“This is kidnapping!” she declared.
The chief security agent had merely shaken his head. “We’re here to see that you have a full recovery, Ms. Chen. Then you’ll return to work.”
Anna presently sat in her living room, switching between CNN news, Fox and NBC. She watched the ongoing coverage of the sneak carrier attack.
The two supercarriers were wrecks. Susan Salisbury of Fox News, a stunning redhead and a former Miss America Queen, stood at the end of Fisherman’s Wharf in San Francisco with a microphone in her hand. Behind her in the distance was the USS Ronald Reagan. She spoke about possible repairs, mentioning the Japanese sneak attack in World War Two. The Japanese then had damaged a carrier named Lexington. With her glossy red lips, Susan Salisbury told the audience how American service men had repaired the vintage carrier so it could fight in the critical battle of Midway in 1942. Her manner suggested the same sort of repairs might occur today with the Ronald Reagan.
Looking at the wreckage on the TV, Anna Chen doubted that.
Invasion: Alaska Page 15
