Red Tide

by William C. Dietz

  “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

  “Of course.”

  “The Filipinos will claim they chased us away.”

  “True,” Ryson said soberly. “Plus, they won’t mention that they lost two jets or the fact that three people escaped the country in a stolen plane. But it wouldn’t be right to kill two dozen Filipino sailors for the sake of a headline.”

  “Will Admiral Nathan agree with you?”

  Ryson smiled. “I don’t know. It could go either way.”

  Barkley nodded. “I will notify the Fractus.”

  ***

  Aboard the Chinese cruiser Sea Dragon in the South China Sea

  Ex-Premier Li Lau had taken over in the wake of President Enlai’s “suicide.” A well-organized purge followed. Enlai’s financial crimes were revealed to the public, including his ongoing investments in Alliance countries, some of which were clearly treasonous.

  A timeline was released detailing the year-long inquiry that preceded Enlai’s death, along with “confessions” from members of his personal staff, detailing how they learned of the investigation from an informer, and warned Enlai. Then according to the government approved narrative, Enlai chose to murder his family and commit suicide rather than face the punishment he so richly deserved.

  But, as newly named President Li Lau made clear, “The moral rot does not end with Enlai. No, it reaches much deeper into our government, and that includes the military. Painful though it will be, we must find each tendril of corruption and cauterize it, just as the ancient text, the Su wen, recommends.”

  Few if any Chinese citizens were fooled. They knew Enlai had been assassinated. But they also knew that he was a profligate spender. That made the evidence against him all the more compelling. Plus, who in their right mind would go up against Li Lau? He was president now … And all powerful.

  So more than a thousand public officials and military officers were fired, imprisoned, or “disappeared.” Among them was a Ministry of State Security official named Diu Zang, an MSS agent named Bo Ang, and Senior Captain Peng Ko’s commanding officer, Admiral Jinhai Wen. All of whom had been sent to work in the cavernous gypsum mine in Pingyi County, Shandong Province.

  A development that left Ko, and his Chief Engineer Bohai Hong, free to employ the Sea Dragon as a semi-autonomous raider. And that’s what they were doing.

  It was just past 0500 and the cruiser’s YJ-91 surface-to-surface missiles were almost within range of Singapore, which was located 252 miles to the southwest. Its port had been ranked as the world’s top maritime hub prior to 2005, when it was surpassed by the Port of Shanghai in China. Singapore’s container facilities alone boasted 50,000 feet of docks, 52 berths, and 190 quay cranes. Which was to say nothing of the terminals, warehouses, and other structures related to shipping.

  Any other ship of the Sea Dragon’s size would have been identified by that time and attacked by Singapore’s modern navy. But the Sea Dragon wasn’t just any ship. Traveling at barely ten-miles-per-hour, the cruiser managed to creep into Singapore’s primary defensive zone with only her twin conning towers showing above the water. A stratagem that made the cruiser look like two fishing-boat-sized blips on Singapore’s radars. Blips like hundreds of others.

  As for sonar, Singapore had both the money and the expertise to deploy a system similar to the U.S. Sound Surveillance System (SOSUS), which made use of fixed arrays on the sea floor to track submarines as they approached Singapore.

  But thanks to the Sea Dragon’s nuclear-powered waterjet propulsion system, she was as quiet as the submarines assigned to protect her, all three of which managed to penetrate Singapore’s outer defenses.

  Captain Ko was eager to unleash the full weight of his arsenal on the enemy. The Sea Dragon’s primary target was the port’s container docks and cranes. But there were secondary objectives as well, including the Changi Naval Base, the Tuas Naval Base, and carefully selected government structures.

  To whatever extent possible, civilians were to be spared. And for good reason. Nearly 75 percent of Singapore’s 5.6 million population were ethnic Chinese. A group that President Lau hoped to subsume after the war. A war which Lau was certain the Axis would win.

  Present among Singapore’s Chinese population were hundreds of spies. And thanks to their efforts, cameras had been placed throughout the city, which meant Ko would be able to monitor the effects of his bombardment in real time via encrypted video feeds. The time had come. “Prepare to fire the railgun.”

  “All indicator lights are green,” the gunnery tech replied ritualistically. “The railgun is ready to fire.”

  Ko took a quick look at the faces around him. They were largely expressionless, the single exception being that of his executive officer Commander Shi. He was smiling. “Fire!”

  The deck lurched as the popup railgun fired and sent a smart shell arching high into the air. No sooner had the first shell departed than another was loaded and sent toward a preprogrammed target. Death was falling from the sky.

  ***

  Newly promoted Lieutenant (OF-2) Jev Jing was stationed in the CIC as the shells landed. As a result, he could see the screens and witness the devastation first hand when the first shell struck the container cargo terminal. The resulting explosion tossed pieces of wreckage high into the air, threw cranes to the ground, and destroyed a freighter.

  The other shots were no less impressive as a shell scored a direct hit on a navy frigate, another plunged down through the roof of a submarine pen, and a third laid waste to the building where Singapore’s naval operations staff were headquartered.

  And so it went. Nine shots were fired before the railgun’s barrel burned out. But the attack wasn’t over. Ko still had 150 individually targeted surface-to surface missiles to call upon, along with 50 anti-aircraft weapons, which the Sea Dragon could use to protect herself from planes.

  The YJ-91s had a maximum range of about 75 miles, could be launched from ships and planes, and used against shore targets if necessary. Once in flight the supersonic weapons would travel at a speed of Mach 2.5 before slamming into their targets.

  “Prepare to fire missiles 1 through 150 in sequence,” Ko ordered. “Fire!”

  Jing could feel the deck shudder as missile after missile shot out of their vertical launchers and rocketed upwards before reorienting themselves for horizontal flight. Each weapon was traveling at roughly 1,900 miles-per-hour. That meant Singapore’s armed forces would have very little time in which to detect the incoming YJ-91 and intercept them.

  Fortunately, Singapore was a wealthy state. Wealthy enough to buy and install Raytheon’s S-3 Interceptor system, which was designed to destroy short to intermediate range missiles. Rather than an explosive warhead the interceptor missiles were designed to “hit-to-kill.” A process which had been likened to intercepting a bullet with another bullet. And they worked.

  But the magnitude of the incoming onslaught was beyond anything Singapore’s military planners had anticipated. And even though half of the Sea Dragon’s YJ-91s were intercepted, the rest struck their targets. As Jing watched the monitors, he witnessed dozens of hits on everything from warships, to power plants, and two of Singapore’s three desalinization plants. That allowed Ko to attack the populace without actually blowing them up.

  The combined effect of the explosions was to send more than fifty columns of smoke up into the sky, where they came together to block the light from the rising sun, and throw a gray pall over the “Lion City.”

  In spite of the hits it took, the shared Singapore and United States Air Force base located in the central-eastern part of the city, still managed to launch fighters. And the Allies knew where their tormentor was by then.

  Captain Ko expected to be attacked from the air and gave the necessary orders. “Fire anti-air missiles as the enemy planes come into range. Reverse course, give me flank speed, and make for Hainan Island. Contact the 323rd Home Defense Squadron on Mischief Reef and order them to take off.’
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br />   Jing knew that Mischief Reef was an atoll that surrounded a large lagoon in the east Spratly Islands. And he knew that the Chinese government had spent years transforming the reef into an island, complete with buildings, defenses, and a military air strip.

  The fact that Mischief Reef was located along the Sea Dragon’s line of retreat was no accident. Thanks to Ko’s foresight and influence, twelve Chengdu J-20 fighters were prepositioned at the reef, ready to provide air cover while the arsenal ship made its way home.

  The jets, along with the fifty HQ-9A anti-air missiles in the Sea Dragon’s launchers, should ensure a safe escape. Jing certainly hoped so, because he didn’t want to die.

  ***

  Aboard the ship Agger, in Manado Harbor, Indonesia

  After arriving in Manado, and turning both Lieutenant Commander Greer and Roberto Dalisay over to navy intelligence, Ryson returned to his cabin aboard the Agger. A message was waiting: “Admiral Nathan requests your presence at breakfast at 0800 tomorrow morning.” Ryson looked at his watch. It was 0230. But there was no helping it. He made a point of setting his alarm for 0700 this time, laid out a white uniform, and took a nap.

  Ryson awoke a 0658, looked at the clock, and turned the alarm off. By then Ryson knew he could phone the galley and order a half pot of coffee before the breakfast meeting.

  With that out of the way he took a shower, shaved, and emerged to find the coffee waiting. It was good. Damned good. Which shouldn’t have been a surprise since Indonesia was one of the leading coffee producers in the world.

  After getting dressed, and consuming two additional cups, Ryson left the cabin. A slim binder was tucked under his right arm as he made his way to the Penthouse Verandah Suite. A steward was waiting. “Good morning, sir. Admiral Nathan was called away. He’ll be back soon. In the meantime, he suggested that you start breakfast without him. You want a pot of coffee and an order of crispy bacon. Is that correct?”

  “You have an amazing memory,” Ryson replied. “Thank you. And I’d like to have an English muffin too, if one is available.”

  “It is,” the steward assured him. “Please have a seat.”

  A pair of binoculars, a tablet computer, and a half empty cup of tea marked Nathan’s chair. So Ryson took the one next to it. An awning had been rigged to throw some shade on the table. His coffee arrived. Ryson settled in to watch a pair of tugs guide a container ship into port. “There you are,” Nathan said, as if Ryson had been MIA. “Pretty, isn’t it? Of course, it is. Glad to see you have your coffee.”

  “Sorry to be late,” Nathan added, as he sat down. Even though Ryson knew he wasn’t. “I had to take a secure call,” Nathan added importantly. “The Sea Dragon attacked Singapore shortly after 0500 this morning. The bastards went after the container terminal first, followed by the navy bases, and individual targets. They sank three frigates. Then, after firing their damnable railgun and more than a hundred missiles, they ran for the Spratlys.

  “Our fighters gave chase. But twelve Chinese fighters were waiting for them, along with dozens of surface-to-air missiles fired by the Sea Dragon. All of which is to say that they kicked our asses and returned to Yulin Harbor without sustaining so much as a scratch. General Haskell is furious.”

  Ryson knew that Haskell was in command of the United States Indo-Pacific Command, under which non-NATO countries like Australia had agreed to fight. The news that Singapore had been attacked, and severely damaged by a single ship, would come as a terrible shock.

  Their breakfasts arrived at that point. And, in spite of the terrible news, Ryson discovered that he was hungry. “Haskell is of the opinion that none of his people are doing enough to find the Sea Dragon,” Nathan said. “And that includes you and me. Normally your effort to snatch an escaped flier out from under Costa’s nose would have produced an ‘attaboy.’ Not this time.

  “In fact, when I raised the matter, Haskell’s response was, ‘Well, that’s just lovely. What’s the sonofabitch doing to find the Sea Dragon?’”

  Ryson took a sip of coffee. “I understand the general’s pain. And, as it happens, I have something in mind. A plan which will increase my squadron’s chances of finding the Sea Dragon. It’s all in here.”

  Nathan accepted the binder. “Strike while the iron is hot, eh what? Pour yourself another cup of coffee while I take a look.”

  Ryson was both pleased and fearful. Pleased that Nathan was going to read the proposal, and fearful of how he might react.

  There were two kinds of senior officers in Ryson’s experience. Skimmers and divers. When skimmers read a document, they’re looking for the big so-what.

  And when divers read a document, they’re were looking for the so-what plus the who, what, why, when and how. Which group did Nathan belong to?

  As minutes passed, and Nathan turned pages, it soon became obvious that the admiral was a diver. That meant Ryson could expect a detailed grilling. And that was fine with him.

  Finally, after fifteen minutes of uninterrupted reading, Nathan looked up. There was a frown on his face. “My God man, you want the sun, the moon, and the stars.”

  “Yes sir,” Ryson replied. “But that, in my judgement, is what it’s going to take.”

  “All right,” Nathan replied. “You want your own island. Justify that.”

  Ryson was ready. “Yes, sir. As things stand now, we’re too far away from the enemy. Half of each patrol is spent traveling north into enemy waters and returning to base.

  “You mentioned the Chinese base on Mischief Reef in the Spratlys. I want to establish an FOB (forward operating base) on one of the islands south and west of there.

  “So, if we learn that the Sea Dragon is steaming south from Hainan island for example, we would be able to quickly intercept her. Slow her down if you will, and call for help.”

  “That makes sense,” Nathan said grudgingly. “And, if you get approval for the island, you’ll need all the rest of it. A supply ship, a C-RAM system on a barge, and a land-based air defense system. To protect your supply ship and patrol boats. Did I miss anything?”

  Actually, he had. The squadron would need an oiler too. But Ryson sensed it would be best to ignore that requirement for the moment. “No, sir. I think that pretty well covers it.”

  “All right then,” Nathan said. “I will take your proposal to General Haskell along with a wild estimate of how much it would cost. In the meantime, keep on keeping on. I’ll get back to you when I have an answer.”

  Ryson knew a dismissal when he heard one. He stood. “Sir, yes sir.” The meeting was over.

  The rest of the day was spent on the minutiae of command: requests for supplies, fitness reports, three disciplinary actions, a pissing match between two skippers, the need to motivate a recalcitrant dockyard crew, an emergency leave for an engineman on the Arcus, and the need to take part in a promotion celebration. It was being held at a waterfront tavern, and that’s where the Australians found him. The Australians being an army captain and a lieutenant. “Sorry, to crash the party sir,” the captain said. “My name is Dancy. And this is Lieutenant Kapoor.”

  Dancy was wearing a green beret, and looked like the rugby player that he probably was. Kapoor was a Sikh. And the camo pattern on his turban matched his uniform. His parachute wings were sewn on.

  Ryson glanced from Dancy to Kapoor and back again. “Don’t tell me, let me guess: Special ops.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dancy replied. “The 2nd Commando Regiment to be exact. We’d like to have a chat if that’s possible.”

  “Of course,” Ryson said. “We can step outside if you like.”

  “Sorry, sir, but that won’t work. With your permission we’ll take you to the other side of the harbor where our chaps are prepping for an ocean cruise.”

  Ryson sighed. It was already 1930 and he was functioning on a couple hours of sleep. “Alright, if that’s how it has to be. Give me a moment.”

  Ryson went over to congratulate the newly made E-6, before handing command off to
his XO, Lieutenant Commander Linda Vos. “You’re in charge Linda. Your people want me to attend some sort of meeting.”

  Vos eyed the army officers. “Yes, sir. Be careful what you agree to. Those blokes are batshit crazy.”

  Ryson laughed. “Will do. I have my radio. Call me if the Sea Dragon enters the harbor.”

  “Count on it,” Vos replied, and turned away.

  The army officers led Ryson outside. A dark green Land Rover was waiting at the curb. Ryson sat in the back next to Dancy. The ten-minute drive took them along the waterfront to a dilapidated warehouse. The driver honked and a much-abused steel door rolled out of the way. The SUV then entered the building. Ceiling mounted lights threw pools of light down onto oil-stained concrete. Ryson could see men moving about, vehicles parked to one side, and piles of equipment.

  The Aussies got out and Ryson did likewise. Together they made their way over to a door marked “Manager.” It opened into a large office. And there, seated at a long wooden table, were Admiral Nathan, Kelsey Parker and two strangers. “They found you,” Nathan said. “Well, done. Sorry I couldn’t brief you this morning, but we were still putting the pieces together, and waiting for a green light. You know Kelsey. The man sitting opposite me is Lieutenant Commander Greer—the pilot your people pulled out of the drink—and a very resourceful man.”

  Greer stood and came around to shake hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir … And thanks for saving my ass. This is Roberto Dalisay. He leads the Filipino resistance movement. Without the resistance I’d be sitting in a prison cell waiting for a trip to China.”

  Ryson shook hands with Dalisay as Nathan nodded approvingly. “That’s right. And thanks to the underground we have an opportunity to rescue three American pilots. Believe it or not Commander Greer was able to enter the prison where the POWs are being held and take photos!

  “But time is of the essence,” Nathan added. “The Chinese want to put the pilots on trial in Beijing. And President Costas agreed to give them up. That’s where Dancy and Kapoor come in. They’re going to lead the rescue.