The Supernova Era

by Cixin Liu

  *

  The Supernova War was the first children’s war in human history, and from the start it demonstrated their society’s idiosyncrasies. The adults of the Common Era had no capacity to imagine a war that took the form of a game and proceeded according to the rules of a sports tournament.

  Despite the deployment by all the countries of over a million troops, and the bases lined up at fifty-kilometer intervals, peace and calm reigned. There was even communication and interchange among the bases. Were it the adults’ era, war would already have broken out. For example, sea transport lines between the countries and their Antarctic bases were fragile and it was impossible to obtain supplies locally from the untilled land, which meant that a strike severing those supply lines would cause a disastrous collapse of an enemy’s land base. The children did the opposite: the fleets of major powers assisted weaker countries in transporting personnel and material to take part in the games.

  Why this occurred is one of the strangest aspects of the children’s war: None of the countries had yet learned who their opponents would be. They were all just athletes at the Olympics, and only when the order of play was set would they know who they would be fighting. And they would be pitted against different opponents in each competition. Although diplomacy was constantly being conducted both openly and in secret, no alliances were formed, and all countries maintained complete nonalignment as they waited on the Antarctic playground for the start of the war games.

  *

  After they left the Japanese base, it was another two-hour drive before the Chinese children reached the American base. It was their first visit, and the scale of the place amazed them. It stretched out along the coastline for twenty-odd kilometers, dense clusters of tents and temporary buildings as far as the eye could see. Some of the buildings were quite tall, and sprouted forests of antennas from the rooftops. Radar antennas were distributed in large quantities throughout the base, half of them in white radomes that looked as if some gigantic bird had laid a clutch of eggs at random.

  Surrounding the base was a web of rough roads on which all manner of military vehicles were passing by, kicking up clouds of dust alien to Antarctica and befouling every last stitch of snow along the way. Nearer to the impromptu harbor along the coast, mountains of goods of all kinds were piled up near the water. A row of large landing craft had just arrived and opened their black maws toward the shore to disgorge tanks and armored vehicles. The giant iron beasts crossed the shallows to dry land, and the ground shook as they rumbled on both sides of the Chinese children’s snow track. An unending line of transport planes flew low overhead, their enormous shadows flitting across land and sea in the direction of the airstrips, which had been set up in a hurry out of specialized perforated steel plates.

  The summit of participating countries was held in an expansive hall constructed out of inflated building material. It was brightly lit and heated to springtime, and the ceiling was filled with balloons in all colors. A military band was playing a cheerful tune, as if this were a holiday celebration. When the Chinese children entered, most of the other leaders were already there. President Davey came over to greet them, and then led them to a long table in the center of the structure where other leaders were munching heartily. Over a hundred metal helmets were laid out on the table, each of them brimming with some sort of shiny substance.

  “Try it. Krill from the Ross Sea.”

  Huahua picked up one of the translucent krill, and then peeled and ate it. “Raw?”

  Davey nodded. “Don’t worry. Everything is clean in Antarctica.” He handed Specs a glass of beer, and then took a few chunks of ice out of a tray on the table and dropped them in the glass, where they hissed and fizzed. “Natural Antarctic ice. It’s got high gas content. The finest restaurants in Europe used to source it specially. It’s quite expensive.”

  “It’s all going to disappear pretty soon, judging from the oil slick along the shoreline,” Specs said.

  “I’d like to discuss a topic not on the agenda of the meeting,” Huahua said, finding Ōnishi Fumio on the opposite side of the table and pointing a finger at him. “You need to stop the Japanese children from overfishing whales. If this goes on, whales will be wiped out in Antarctica in short order.”

  Ōnishi set down his krill and answered with a sneer, “Focus on the games. Otherwise you’ll be wiped out.”

  “That’s right, focus on the games,” Davey called out eagerly. “That’s the goal of this meeting. It’s been four months since the last one in D.C., and now that every country has brought a decent amount of naval and land forces to Antarctica, the games can begin. The thing is, no one knows how to play! That is the focus of this discussion. First off—”

  “Mr. President, I should be chairing this meeting!” Yagüe said from one end of the table, banging on it with an empty helmet.

  “Oh, fine. Mr. IOC President, if you please,” Davey said with a slight nod.

  Throughout the first, and final, UN session of the Supernova Era, Yagüe in his capacity of secretary general had tried to restore the doomed international organization, but eventually even he came to the realization that his efforts were pointless, and he ended up sitting all by himself in the ruins of the UN Secretariat with nothing to do. The tower was dark and rumored to be haunted. It was said that when the light of the Rose Nebula shone through the collapsed roof of the General Assembly building, Roosevelt seated in his wheelchair would appear on the half-ruined rostrum, with the UN secretaries general taking turns pushing him. If it was moonlight that shone in through the roof, the hall would echo with the sound of slapping, as if Khrushchev’s ghost were rapping his delegate desk, not with a shoe, but with Kennedy’s skull. . . . ​These rumors gave Yagüe the creeps, bad enough that he had to resort to liquid courage at night. Just as he reached his breaking point, he received an invitation from the newly re-formed International Olympic Committee, tasked with organizing the war games, and gladly accepted this new position.

  Yagüe waved to either side. “Stop eating, everyone, and sit down. Act like you’re in a meeting.”

  The leaders took their seats along the table and put on their translation earpieces, although some of them still snitched a krill or two from the helmets in front of them.

  “I told you to stop eating! Mr. President, please have someone take all that away!” Yagüe said.

  Davey looked sidelong at him. “Mr. Chairman, you need to understand your position here. You’re just the moderator of the games. You have no power to give orders.”

  Yagüe stared at him for a few seconds, and then spat to one side. “Fine. Then let’s begin. I’m sure you all know the national leaders present, so there’s no need for introductions. However, also present today are each country’s top military commanders. Shall we have them introduce themselves?”

  The young generals took turns. In their tailored officers’ uniforms with gleaming golden stars on their epaulets and colorful ribbons and medals on their lapels, they cut far more impressive figures than the adult generals had and added considerable luster to the venue.

  The last to make an introduction was the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff of the United States, General Scott. When he first took office, he had waffled over modeling himself after Eisenhower or Bradley or Patton or MacArthur, and had changed styles daily, to the bafflement of his young staffers. Today he had chosen MacArthur. He had ordered a staffer to prepare him a corncob pipe, but such a thing couldn’t be found in Antarctica. The staffer brought him a big, shiny black briar, sending the general into a rage. Now he didn’t salute as the other generals had done, but waved the pipe at everyone and said, “You twerps, just you wait! I’m gonna beat you so hard you’ll piss your pants.”

  His words elicited laughter. “General Scott, we’re intrigued by your pips,” said the chief of general staff of the Russian Armed Forces, Marshal Zavyalova, her tone sarcastic. Scott had seven stars on his shoulder.

  “You have reservations about the number of s
tars? True, the highest rank ever created by the US Army was a six-star general, and that was a posthumous, ceremonial promotion. But I want seven stars on my shoulder. Patton himself could covet decorations, so why can’t I wear one more star? The president hasn’t criticized me, so what are you going to do?”

  “I’m just wondering why you’re not wearing eight stars. That would be more symmetrical.”

  “No, the layout would be too rigid. I’d prefer nine!”

  Lü Gang put in, “Just slap on an American flag, why don’t you?”

  Furiously, Scott said, “You’re mocking me, General Lü. I can’t permit this! I won’t!”

  “Can you go a single day without getting into a fight?” Davey said.

  “He’s mocking me!” Scott said, pointing at Lü Gang.

  Davey grabbed the pipe out of Scott’s hand and threw it onto the table. “From now on, no messing around with that wacky crap. Also, take three of the stars off that idiotic shoulder mark. Don’t give the media anything to gossip about.”

  Scott’s face reddened as he realized that the day’s choice of style had been a mistake. MacArthur was inappropriate for the president’s presence.

  Yagüe rapped the table again with the helmet serving as a gavel. “Okay now, let’s continue. There are two items on the agenda for today’s meeting. First, to set out general principles for the war games, and second, to determine the events. We’ll proceed to the first agenda item. Our proposal for general principles are as follows: To make the games thrilling and fun, the six major military powers taking part, namely the United States, Russia, the European Union (counting as a single country during the war games), China, Japan, and India, as permanent members of the World Games, must abide by the package principle; that is, they must take part in all events. Other countries may selectively participate in the events as they so choose.”

  The general principles gained unanimous approval from all countries, and Davey said with delight, “Excellent. A commendable beginning.”

  Yagüe rapped the helmet again. “Next we’ll move to the second item, determining the events.”

  “I’ll propose one first,” Davey called out. “Carrier battle groups!”

  The other children were shocked into silence for a moment, and then Yagüe asked tentatively, “Isn’t that a little too . . . ​big? A carrier group? With all the aircraft on the carrier, and the escort of cruisers and destroyers and submarines? It’s too big.”

  Davey said, “That’s the point! Don’t kids want to bring out the big guns?”

  Huahua stood up. “American kids, maybe. We can’t play that game, though. China doesn’t have an aircraft carrier.”

  “Japan doesn’t, either,” said Ōnishi.

  Prime Minister Jairu of India said, “We’ve got one, but an old model with traditional propulsion. And we can’t put together a battle group.”

  “What you mean is that it’ll be the EU, Russia, and us, and you all watch from the sidelines?” Davey asked.

  Yagüe nodded, and added, “That’s not in line with the package principle.”

  Huahua shrugged. “That can’t be helped. We can’t fabricate an aircraft carrier.”

  “And you all won’t let us make one,” Ōnishi said, and snorted.

  Scott pointed at the two of them and said, “The games have only just begun and already you’ve spoiled them!”

  Standing up, Lü Gang suggested, “How about this. We use our cruisers and submarines against your carrier groups?”

  “No way!” Davey shouted.

  “He’s a smart kid,” Lü Gang whispered into Huahua’s ear after sitting down, and Huahua smiled slightly and nodded.

  Davey was actually well aware that the adults’ aircraft carriers were an entirely different beast in children’s hands. Child naval aviators had only just learned to fly solo, and their strike rate against ship and ground targets was very low. At the same time, carrier group combat was a highly sophisticated technical process that children could not master in such a short time, so in an actual battle, ships launched from the carrier might be unable to locate their targets. More dismaying to the US Navy was carrier security. Carriers had few defensive capabilities of their own, but relied on the escort in the carrier group for protection. The hardware and software of the Aegis-based carrier defensive system that consolidated the various weapons systems of cruisers, destroyers, and submarines was so complicated it made even the adults’ eyes blur, and there was no way that children could operate it normally. Although the carrier had as usual sailed out surrounded by attending ships, it was actually quite poorly defended, and its ponderous bulk made it an excellent target on the open sea. Lots of weapons were scary to the American children; the Chinese Navy’s C-802 antiship missile (the “Chinese Exocet”), for instance, presented a huge combat threat. It only took a single missile breaking through the Aegis perimeter and striking the carrier to sink it. As the commander of the Pacific Fleet said, “Right now our aircraft carrier is as fragile as an egg floating on the ocean.” A tyrant of the waves in former days, now the best it could do was serve as a transport craft for fighter jets. But it could not be permitted to sink. It was a spiritual support for the American children, a symbol of American power, and so during this event, America’s carriers were off cruising the Pacific, far from shore. Davey had only been bluffing.

  “Very well,” Davey said with a sigh. “Let’s make it a destroyer game.”

  The permanent members approved unanimously, and Yagüe wrote the event down in a notebook. Then he looked up and said, “Continue suggesting—”

  “Submarines!” shouted Prime Minister Green.

  “That won’t be any fun, a bunch of kids playing cat and mouse in the dark,” said Marshal Zavyalova, but Yagüe wrote it down anyway.

  “Don’t stick to the ocean. How about a land game?” Huahua asked.

  “Fine. A tank game!” Russian president Ilyukhin said.

  “That’s a major category, so we should be more detailed,” General Scott said. “I have a suggestion: head-on combat. Tank formations start from a distance and advance toward each other simultaneously, and commence firing.”

  “That’s well-suited to the flat geography here. To make it more fun, restrict it to the tank’s gun. Don’t use guided missiles,” said Marshal Zavyalova. No one objected.

  “Then there ought to be threshold distance. The two sides can only start firing when they’re within that distance,” Lü Gang said, seizing on the key issue. The Abrams, T-90, and Leclerc had far more advanced fire-control systems than the Chinese children’s Type 99.

  “Thirty-five hundred meters,” Scott said.

  “No, a thousand meters,” Lü Gang said.

  The children began arguing, but Yagüe interrupted, “Fine, fine. The technical details can be sorted out by each event’s task force. We’re only deciding on the events in general.”

  “This is critical. We need to decide it now,” Huahua said, refusing to give an inch. But they were outnumbered and ultimately a distance of three thousand meters, highly unfavorable to the Chinese children, was decided upon.

  “We propose another tank event,” Huahua called out, raising a hand. “Ultra-close wall smashing!”

  “What’s that?” The other children were mystified.

  “The rules are that opposing tanks each start out behind two parallel brick walls, and when the start command is given, they topple the wall and attack each other. The walls erected on-site are only separated by ten to twenty meters.”

  “Hah! Now that’s a thrilling game!” Davey said, laughing. Scott whispered to him that since the Bradley weighed fifty-seven tons, heavier than both the Chinese Type 99 and Russian T-90, and could go from 0 to 30 kph in just seven seconds, it wouldn’t be outclassed in wall tumbling, so he didn’t object to the event.

  “There’s an even more thrilling tank game. Foot soldiers versus tanks!” Marshal Zavyalova said.

  “Awesome!” Lü Gang exclaimed, and everyone else agreed.<
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  “There’s bound to be lots more fun tank games, but let’s set out these for the time being. We can add new ones as we please,” Yagüe said, writing down the events.

  “Jet fighters!” Scott shouted.

  No one objected, but someone asked whether the event would be divided into two parts—air-to-air missiles, and guns.

  Marshal Zavyalova shook her head. “I don’t see the point. Kids aren’t proficient at flying yet, and it’s tough enough to manage dogfights. Add in extra restrictions, and I’m afraid it won’t be any fun.” And so the event was decided upon.

  “Infantry with light weapons,” called out Huahua.

  “Hmm. That’s a basic event. But it needs to be subdivided. First, define light weapons,” Marshal Zavyalova said.

  “Anything under twenty millimeters.”

  “Then maybe we should first divide into two games, fortified positions and charges. In the first, the two sides shoot at each other from within their fortifications. The second is like the tank-charge game, where the two sides advance toward each other and open fire when they reach a certain distance. That distance . . . ​doesn’t need to be set right now.”

  “It’s like a Russian-style pistol duel,” someone murmured.

  “Armored helicopter duels!” Davey shouted.

  China and India opposed that game, and Japan remained neutral, but with the US, Russia, and the EU in support, the event was approved.

  “Grenades!” Huahua shouted. “Oh, right. That should be a subdivision of the infantry and light weapons.”

  “Why are you only pitching that backward stuff?” Davey asked the Chinese children.

  “Why are you only pitching the advanced stuff?” Huahua asked back.

  Again, it was Yagüe who smoothed things over. “It’s all good. Everyone has the same goal, to play fun games. You’ve got to be understanding. If everyone only picks their strong events and rejects their weaker ones, how are we going to have games to play?”