Guarding Savage

by Edlund, Dave;

  “Fortunately, the Pioneer, an Avenger-class Navy minesweeper, was in port at the White Beach Naval Facility in Okinawa. She’s equipped with a CURV-21 ROV—it’s the largest and most capable ROV the Navy has and well suited to underwater exploration and limited salvage operations. With the Pioneer’s towed side-scan sonar we’ll get a detailed map of the sea floor in order to locate and map the wreckage, then the ROV will investigate. We’ll get high-res video, and the pincher arm can even grab samples for further analysis. Admiral Baxter has ordered the ship to put to sea and she’s en route now—should be on station within a day. Still, as Colleen has already explained, it could take some time just to locate the debris field.”

  “I understand. Any concern of interference from other navies?”

  “You mean the Chinese? No, sir. The wreck is in international waters. Plus we have the other Japanese and U.S. task force ships from the exercise remaining on station. Captain Wallace of the Shiloh has overall command authority. The area is secure.”

  “What about air power?” Taylor asked.

  “Kadena Air Base is nearby, also on Okinawa. The Eighteenth Wing is based there and can launch F-15s at any time, backed up with tankers. Plus we have an E-3 Sentry over the site 24/7 for long range surveillance. If necessary, the Sentry would also coordinate defensive and offensive air combat.”

  The President nodded his approval. “You’ll let me know if we should move a carrier group into the vicinity.”

  “Of course, sir. But at this time the Joint Chiefs do not feel that is a necessary redeployment. And I concur.”

  “Okay, so the next question, then, is who did this. Paul?”

  The Secretary of State was Taylor’s most trusted advisor. Short and rotund, Paul Bryan was a brilliant statesman who had guided the administration through many trying times.

  Bryan cleared his throat. “No party has claimed responsibility. It is very odd. Logic dictates that it must be a government that carried out the attack, since no terrorist groups have access to ballistic missiles.”

  “Is that true, Colleen?” Taylor asked.

  “Yes, sir. The best that any known terrorist group can field are shoulder-fired heat seekers. But those are short range weapons—maybe five miles or so—usually used against aircraft.”

  The President had resumed pacing and swirled his index finger in the air, a habit when he was trying to recall an important fact. “What about those Russian long-range anti-aircraft missile batteries that were used in Ukraine. I recall the militia used one to down a Malaysian airliner. Could some terrorist group—maybe one we’ve haven’t heard of yet—have gotten hold of a ballistic missile? Maybe from Russia?”

  Colleen and Paul Bryan exchanged a glance before she replied. “We’ve considered that possibility, sir. But it just doesn’t hold water. First, the radar tracking from the Shiloh indicates the missile was fired, most likely, from the South China Sea. The trajectory indicates this was a medium range weapon system. That’s a big candle, sir, and it takes a well-trained crew and sophisticated facilities to carry out a launch.”

  Bryan said, “Taken as a whole, the possibility that a terrorist group could have executed this attack is so remote as to border on the impossible.”

  “That leaves governments, then,” Taylor said. “I can think of several regional states that don’t care for Japan, for one reason or another.”

  “That’s assuming Japan was the intended target.” Bryan raised an eyebrow, causing Taylor to pause in contemplation.

  “Okay. And you’re suggesting that maybe we were the intended target, and they—whoever ‘they’ is—simply missed?”

  “Why not? It’s a valid possibility. I think it is important to be precise in our choice of wording and avoid interjecting assumptions into this discussion unless it is clearly understood what the assumptions are.”

  “Very well. Please, continue.”

  “Japan and the U.S. were engaged in joint naval exercises. And since we are close allies, I suggest we look at all regional governments who have a dislike for the U.S. and Japan, as suspect.”

  “That puts China at the top of the list,” Hale said. “Or North Korea.”

  Colleen and Paul Bryan nodded agreement.

  “The trouble is that we have nothing linking China, North Korea, or any other country to the attack. I have personally called ambassadors from the countries ringing the South China Sea, and none have betrayed even a hint of prior knowledge—not that I expected them to.”

  “Very well, keep at it. Colleen, be sure to pass along any relevant intelligence—and I mean any.”

  “Understood, sir. We’re working on it, top priority. I’ve also reached out to the intelligence agencies of our allies. So far, nothing.”

  Taylor took his leather chair and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the historic wooden desk and rubbed his temples. “Okay then. On to the final question. What type of weapon did this?”

  Howard Hale leaned forward as he answered, “Based on the eyewitness reports and radar tracking data, we know it was a ballistic missile. But the terminal velocity exceeded anything we know of. It actually accelerated just prior to impact, perhaps to avoid our SM3s—”

  “Our ships tried to shoot it down?”

  “Yes, sir. High-velocity guided missiles designed to take down ballistic missiles and anti-ship missiles.”

  The President nodded, and Hale continued, “Like any object falling from the sky, a warhead will enter the Earth’s atmosphere at high velocity and then either maintain that speed or slow somewhat due to friction with the air. But this warhead accelerated to phenomenal velocity—probably by a rocket motor of some kind—reaching Mach 15 just before it struck the Izumo.”

  Colleen said, “And it was still accelerating, sir, when it struck the Japanese destroyer. Best guess is that the warhead was a kinetic penetrator, not an explosive payload. It would have passed through the ship in less than six milliseconds.”

  “I’m not following,” Taylor said.

  “Think of it this way, sir,” Colleen explained. “A kinetic penetrator is like a giant, hyper-velocity bullet.”

  “The warhead that sunk the Izumo struck her at more than 18,000 feet per second. To put that in perspective, a rifle bullet leaves the muzzle at less than 3,000 feet per second.”

  “But still, that was a modern steel warship. How could this, this… penetrator… cause such extensive destruction?”

  Colleen held the President’s gaze. “Our analysts suggest it is made of an extremely hard alloy, much harder than steel, and very dense. They calculate that if the warhead is only ten inches in diameter and three feet long, at this speed it would have the equivalent energy of nearly three tons of TNT. And all that energy would be focused upon a ten-inch circle as the warhead passed through the ship. Anything in the direct path would be vaporized. Extending out from the direct path of the warhead, metal would melt—steel decks and bulkheads would offer no more resistance than plywood. The shock wave would shatter structural plates and rip electrical conduit and fuel lines just as if it were a high explosive detonating within the ship.”

  Hale said, “The extremely small size of the warhead combined with its super-dense construction means this thing is virtually immune to our anti-missile weapons. A proximity explosion and shrapnel can’t destroy it. And getting a direct hit with an SM3 on the kinetic warhead is very low probability, especially given the hyper-velocity of the attacking kinetic penetrator.”

  “And if our assets are targeted next time?”

  Hale drew in a breath and exhaled before offering his answer. “We have no defense.”

  “My God…” Taylor replied.

  Chapter 5

  South China Sea

  August 22

  The Royal Seeker was making minimum headway at about six degrees north latitude and roughly 115 degrees east longitude. It was just after 1:00 a.m. and Captain Rei would have preferred to be sound asleep in his cabin. Instead, he busied himself overseeing the
project. He consulted the radar display again. There were no green blips, no reflections. Within a radius of sixteen nautical miles, they were alone.

  The captain exited the dimly lit bridge and stepped out onto the port wing. The air was cool and humid. Looking up, thousands of stars stood brightly against the blackness of space. He shifted his attention below, to the business at hand.

  Below on the central deck, the Hwasong-12 missile body, payload absent, was already erected in the midst of the three towers. The second stage, employing a modified solid-propellant motor, was still lying horizontal on the deck. Workers were attaching a lifting cable to hoist it into place.

  The three towers normally supported long sections of pipe for drilling into the seabed in search of oil. Now, the interlocked grid work of steel provided ample access to the rocket as it was being erected and the multiple stages assembled. Up close, one could see that portions of each tower were scorched from intense heat, the type of short-lived heat from a rocket plume.

  The cylindrical missile body, about five feet in diameter, was barely visible through the crisscrossing steel girders and beams. An effective camouflage, Rei thought. Diffuse lights provided minimal, but adequate, illumination for the workers. The sleek missile was painted the same shade of green as the towers, and devoid of markings that would indicate nationality or manufacture.

  The First Officer approached Captain Rei. He was taller than his captain, muscular, and twenty years younger. He spoke with confidence and strength. “Soon the second stage will be installed. I estimate that the warhead will be in place within twelve hours.”

  The captain didn’t respond, his gazed fixed on the activity below.

  “Captain. The first-stage fueling process is underway. What are your launch orders?”

  After a long pause, Rei turned. “I will inform you at the proper time. Just keep the technicians on schedule.”

  “Forgive me, Captain, but sunrise is only a few hours away. The sky will be clear, and we could be detected by aircraft or satellite imagery. The towers provide camouflage, but that is no guarantee that the missile will remain hidden.”

  Rei nodded, and then resumed watching the swarm of technicians and engineers busily at work. The First Officer turned to leave.

  “Chang,” the captain said, “you must trust me. Our mission is of historic proportions, but we have a difficult and dangerous journey ahead. When we succeed—and we will—China will emerge as the dominant global power, and those who have attempted to conquer and enslave our people will become nothing more than dogs who lay at our feet.”

  s

  Within an air-conditioned and dark control room, a Navy technician was skillfully driving the CURV-21 ROV over the suspected debris field. Only a few hours ago, the side-scan sonar had detected the first elements of wreckage. Within ninety minutes, the entire field was mapped. The most noteworthy features were two large reflections, initially interpreted as the fore and aft sections of the Izumo.

  After descending 2,773 feet, the ROV—or remotely operated vehicle—was hovering only a few dozen feet above the silty sea floor. Trailing behind the unmanned submersible was the umbilical line, a collection of steel cable, electrical power, and fiber-optic communication conduit.

  Powerful lights provided illumination, piercing the blackness. The operator turned the machine slowly 360 degrees, taking in the immediate area, while multiple monitors around the control room displayed the high-definition, black-and-white video. As the light beam traversed the depths, a shark-like creature suddenly darted across the field of view. But otherwise, there was nothing noteworthy to see.

  Captain Stoddard stood behind the technician, his arms folded, watching intently. Before the ROV operator were two screens: One displayed the video feed from the submersible and the other was the sonar map of the debris field. Superimposed on the map was an arrow point. This was the location of the robotic craft.

  “Start with the largest piece of the wreck. Let’s take a closer look,” Stoddard instructed the technician.

  He moved a joystick and the CURV-21 picked up speed and cruised forward. After many long seconds, most of the superstructure and the bow section of the Japanese warship appeared—first as a dim, ghostly image. Quickly it took shape as the distance decreased and the remains fell under the intense lights.

  “It’s resting upright, on her keel,” the technician observed. “We’re lucky—the decks didn’t pancake—so we should be able to explore the inner structure. I’ll move the ROV closer toward the aft where the ship fractured in half.”

  Stoddard nodded and watched as the video panned alongside the hull. Suddenly, the smooth lines were abruptly halted by a jagged line of bent and torn steel, cables, and pipes. Maintaining a safe distance to avoid entangling the umbilical cable, the ROV traversed to the gapping maw and pointed toward what was once the interior of the Izumo.

  “Start on the top deck,” Stoddard ordered. “Let’s see where the warhead struck the vessel first. Then work your way down toward the keel.”

  “Looks like the keel is buried in silt, sir.”

  “Nothing we can do about that now.”

  “Yes, sir.” The submersible moved in and soon was amongst the steel remains projecting from the fractured hull. He zoomed in the video to get a clearer image of the top deck and successively lower decks as the ROV descended toward the sea floor. The deck plates were buckled downward and rent by a tremendous force.

  “I don’t see any significant impact holes from shrapnel,” the operator said. “If there had been an explosion, we’d see evidence of the blast sending substantial fragments through bulkheads and deck plates. That’s totally absent.”

  “Hold your position and zoom out. I want a perspective across the beam from port to starboard.”

  On the monitor they could see the extent of the damage. The path of the warhead was marked by downward-bent deck plates. In comparison to the beam of the ship, it appeared direct damage followed a vertical channel about forty to fifty feet across in some areas deep into the hull. Stoddard let out a low whistle.

  “I’ve never before seen any damage quite like that, have you?”

  “No, sir,” replied the technician.

  “See if you can maneuver in without entangling the umbilical. Get me several samples. Later we can have them tested for explosive residue.”

  The technician deftly propelled the ROV in closer and then engaged the manipulator arm. At the end of the arm was a sophisticated titanium pincer. He eyed a piece of metal that appeared to be mostly fractured from an inner deck plate. It was several inches wide and a little over a foot in length but held in place by only an inch or so of steel. He locked down with the mechanical hand and then reversed the thrusters. The craft backed away a foot and then stopped. The sliver of steel was still holding fast.

  “I’ll see if I can work it loose,” he said. “It’s already mostly broken away.” He moved the manipulator arm up and then down. Through the video feed they watched as the sliver of steel moved back and forth. He repeated the process several times; each time the sample moved farther. Then he gunned the thrusters in reverse and the robotic craft shot backwards. With a jerk, the sample broke free. The technician moved the arm and released the specimen into a basket at the front of the ROV. The open-top basket was designed for heavy specimens such as rock and metal. Then he moved on to another location.

  This time, it was a piece of conduit, electrical cables fanned out from the conduit like spaghetti. He locked the titanium pincer on the conduit and then engaged a second arm fitted with a guillotine-like cutter.

  “Hopefully, the cutter will slice through this tube,” he said as he worked another joystick equipped with a spring-loaded grip. When he squeezed the grip the tool snipped off a section, including electrical cables. He repeated the process several more times and after nearly an hour had collected five samples from various decks within the shattered hull.

  “Let’s move on to the stern,” Stoddard ordered.

/>   The CURV-21 turned and propelled to the second main section of the Izumo, only a few hundred yards away. It was laying at a right angle to the bow section, and was resting right side up, but tilted about thirty degrees to port.

  The operator moved the submersible in so they could get detailed video of the deck surface. Immediately, he understood the importance of the images, and he stopped the ROV, hovering it in place. “See, the deck is buckled downward.” He was pointing at part of the video image. If the warhead had been high explosive, the force of the explosion below deck would have pushed these plates out and upward.”

  Stoddard leaned in closer. “You’re assuming detonation was below deck. But what if the fuze was defective and the warhead detonated on contact with the deck?”

  The operator was shaking his head. “No, sir. That scenario doesn’t fit the evidence. Had that been the case, the radius of destruction would have been significantly greater at deck level. But we don’t see that. In fact, it looks to me that the warhead passed entirely through the Izumo, leaving a roughly cylindrical channel of primary devastation. If anything, I’d estimate the radius of primary destruction might be slightly larger about halfway through the vessel.”

  “Like a bullet passing through a target…” Stoddard muttered.

  “Sorry, sir?”

  “Nothing. Gather samples like you did from the bow section. Half a dozen should do it. Then bring the ROV up topside so we can get your treasures off for analysis. If it was an explosive warhead, there should be trace residues.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Chapter 6

  London, U.K.

  August 22

  The luxurious accommodations onboard the Sultan’s private jet were beyond anything Peter could imagine. Totally absent were the rows of seats found on commercial passenger planes. Instead, the cabin was divided into large rooms that one might expect to find in a luxury home or hotel suite. The cabin door opened onto an entry that connected to the sitting room, furnished with chairs and a large sofa, all upholstered in ivory leather and well padded. The paneling was maple, the floor covered in teal carpet, and a large flat screen with the latest electronics was centrally featured on the bulkhead.