Red Ice

by William Dietz

  RED ICE

  WILLIAM C. DIETZ

  Copyright © 2018 by William C. Dietz

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art by Damonza

  This is for my lovely wife Marjorie.

  Thank you for, well, everything.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Other Books by William C. Dietz

  AMERICA RISING SERIES

  Into The Guns

  Seek And Destroy

  Battle Hymn

  MUTANT FILES SERIES

  Deadeye

  Redzone

  Graveyard

  LEGION OF THE DAMNED SERIES

  Legion of the Damned

  The Final Battle

  By Blood alone

  By Force of Arms

  For More Than Glory

  For Those Who Fell

  When All Seems Lost

  When Duty Calls

  A Fighting Chance

  Andromeda’s Fall

  Andromeda’s Choice

  Andromeda’s War

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank the following people for their advice concerning the military aspects of

  RED ICE . I couldn’t have written it without them. All technical errors, if any, are mine.

  Robert Crichton, Electronics Technician First Class, US Navy Submarine Service

  Major Troy C. Bucher, USA

  Lieutenant Colonel Dane Franta, USAF

  Major Matthew T. Kealy, USAF/TACP

  Major Brian “Bear” Privette, USAF

  And many thanks to my editor, Marjorie Dietz

  Chapter One

  South China Sea, aboard the Zumwalt Class Destroyer, USS Stacy Heath

  I t was a bright sunny day, the sky was achingly blue, and fluffy white clouds were reflected in the waters of the South China Sea. There were no whitecaps, just an orderly procession of gentle swells, each following the rest south. So as the USS Stacy Heath’s inverted bow sliced through the water, Captain Mary Franklin felt nothing other than a slight vibration. Franklin was five foot eight and slim. She had short rusty red hair, most of which was covered by a navy ball cap. A spray of freckles crossed the bridge of her nose prior to spilling down onto her cheeks. Franklin had graduated from Annapolis eighteen years earlier, and been in the navy ever since.

  To port and starboard two dozen nearly identical Chinese fishing trawlers could be seen. The rusty boats were about 75 feet long, had open bows, and two story superstructures. Some of the vessels were uncomfortably close to the Heath despite repeated warnings. Were spy ships hiding among them? Sent to track the warship’s movements? Yes, of course. Such was the way of things, and had been for a long time.

  As for the real fishing boats they were an international source of concern due to their well-documented tendency to hoover up fish at a rate that the world’s oceans couldn’t sustain. But fishing was only a small part of it. There were indications that substantial reserves of oil and gas were waiting to be plundered beneath the seabed. And that, many analysts believed, was the real reason for Chinese expansionism. The Heath’s mission was to “… challenge the Chinese government’s claims of sovereignty in the entire South China Sea,” as part of the ongoing effort to prevent China from annexing the entire area.

  The immediate source of concern was the smudge of land visible up ahead. It was called Mischief Reef. And, having spent hours studying satellite photos of the circular coral formation, Franklin had a mental image of it. The passageway to the inner lagoon had been enlarged to a width of 900 feet so that Chinese dredgers could pass through. Dredgers the Chinese had been using to pump white sand up onto the existing land. Enough sand to support buildings. And Franklin knew that similar reclamation efforts were underway elsewhere.

  According to the Chinese government all of the projects were peaceful in nature, like the airstrips that could be used for “… search and rescue missions.” A pretense that no one believed. Least of all the men and women who ran the Pentagon, and wanted to reaffirm America’s right to send ships through international waters “… any fucking time we want to,” as one admiral put it.

  Franklin approved of the mission. But, like her peers she understood how uncertain the current political situation was, both internationally and at home. Part of that stemmed from the fact that the president of the United States was notoriously unpredictable. On Monday he might be in favor of lifting sanctions on Russia. By Tuesday he could oppose it. And the president’s posture regarding China was no different.

  According to Hayden’s supporters it was all part of a clever strategy to keep opponents off balance. Those on the other side of the aisle suggested that the lack of clarity resulted from a short attention span, and a tendency to follow whatever advice he’d heard during the last ten minutes, including that provided on FOX News.

  Franklin’s thoughts were interrupted by the shrill sound of a whistle, followed by an announcement over the ship’s PA system. “Man overboard! Man overboard! Starboard side! This is not a drill … This is not a drill.”

  Franklin felt something like cold water enter her bloodstream as the OOD (Officer Of the Deck), Lieutenant Commander Lambert began to issue orders. Some idiot had fallen into the drink … And, given the ship’s circumstances that could be disastrous. What if the Chinese managed to get their hands on him? Shit! Shit! Shit! They would use the sailor for propaganda purposes at the very least, and might take the opportunity to harass the ship with flybys, or other forms of intimidation. After reducing power, and checking to make sure the man in the water was well clear of the destroyer’s screws, Lambert ordered “Slow astern,” followed by “Standby.”

  “Launch a boat,” Franklin ordered. “Put an officer on board, and arm the crew. Who’s the floater? Do we know?”

  “Seaman Larry Wilson, ma’am,” the navigator replied.

  “What the hell was he doing?”

  “We don’t know, ma’am.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “As far as we can tell … He’s wearing a life jacket, and swimming toward the ship.”

  “Sound general quarters … This might turn into a shit show.”

  “Aye, aye, ma’am.”

  Franklin heard a shrill whistle, followed by a klaxon, and the announcement every sailor was familiar with. “General quarters! General quarters! All hands man your battle stations!”

  That was little more than a formality in this case, since all the ship’s sections were closed up, and on high alert. “Tell Lieutenant Chow to get on the horn, and warn the trawlers off,” Fr
anklin ordered. “They are not, I repeat not , to approach Wilson. I’m going aft.”

  The Heath’s Mission Center had been compared to something from Star Trek. Huge flat panel screens were mounted against the starboard bulkhead. Rows of computer stations faced the monitors, and the twenty people stationed in front of them were trained to handle all of the ship’s communications, weapons, and engineering functions.

  TAO (Tactical Action Officer) Chow was waiting for Franklin. She was short and intense. “I can’t raise any of the trawlers, ma’am. But they’re gabbing with each other.”

  “Keep trying,” Franklin ordered. “Maybe we can herd them like cattle.”

  The Heath was equipped with two Northrop Grumman MQ-8 Fire Scout unmanned helicopters which could be launched and controlled from the Mission Center. She leaned in between the UAV pilots. “Are your birds ready to lift?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lisa Rafferty replied.

  “What kind of loadout are they carrying?”

  “Hellfire missiles,” Derek Foster answered. “Two each.”

  “Excellent. Put ’em in between the trawlers and Wilson. See if you can push the fishing boats away from him.” The techs said “Aye, aye,” in unison, and went to work.

  Franklin’s next stop was the com section. The lead Information Systems Tech was a woman named Sims. “There’s bound to be at least one spy ship out there,” Franklin said. “They’ll start squawking soon. ID them if you can, and pass the information to the weapons officer. We’ll kill them if we have to.”

  Sims had short hair, dark eyes, and mocha colored skin. “Aye, aye, Captain. We’ll find ’em.”

  Franklin heard her name, and pressed the transmit button on the radio. “This is the captain. ”

  “Lambert here,” the XO said. “One of the trawlers is trying to cut us off from Wilson. A second boat is moving in to pick him up.”

  Franklin swore silently. So much for her plan to scare the trawler captains. They were calling her bluff. Franklin found herself in a no-win situation. She could destroy both trawlers in seconds. But, if she did, China would accuse the United States of attacking peaceful fishermen as they attempted to rescue an American sailor. Not the sort of story the president or the chairman of the Joint Chiefs would want to see on the front page of the New York Times .

  And, if Franklin allowed the Chinese to grab Wilson, the bastards would parade him in front of cameras in Beijing as “proof” that the U.S. had violated Chinese waters, or some equally ridiculous bullshit like that. And Franklin had seconds in which to decide. Lieutenant Chow was watching her. “Fire a warning shot in front of the first boat,” Franklin ordered. “And prepare to do the same with the second. Execute.”

  A rating named Rigg had control of the ship’s six-inch guns. Franklin went over to stand beside him. “Don’t hit the bastards,” she cautioned. “Just scare the shit out of them.”

  Video and targeting data was visible on the screen in front of Rigg. He used a joy stick to swivel a deck gun around. Franklin watched the crosshairs settle on a patch of open water. A key clicked and there was a muted thump as the gun fired. A column of white water shot up in front of the incoming boat. It veered away. “Good work,” Franklin said. “What’s the other target up to?”

  “It’s still coming our way,” Chow replied.

  “Fire another warning shot,” Franklin instructed. Then, as Rigg tapped a key, Franklin spoke into her radio. “Lambert? Is the boat in the water yet?”

  “Yes, ma’am. But it’s going to take at least ten minutes to reach Wilson, and take him aboard. ”

  “Tell them to hurry,” Franklin said, and immediately came to regret it. The boat crew knew they were supposed to hurry—and unnecessary orders were self-indulgent. “Belay the last order,” Franklin added. “They know what to do.”

  “One of the trawlers is talking nonstop to what might be a shore station,” Sims interjected. “And the transmissions are encrypted.”

  A fishing vessel carrying military grade com gear. That served to confirm Franklin’s suspicions. “Put in a call to the GW (USS George Washington ) and tell them we need air cover ASAP.” The carrier was just over the horizon, and sure to have at least two planes in the air.

  Franklin could have called on the fighters earlier—but had been hoping to keep the rescue low key. That was impossible now, and if the military trawler was calling for help, the situation was going to get worse. A lot worse. “Yes, ma’am,” Sims replied, and went to work.

  “They’re pulling Wilson out of the water,” Lambert announced over the radio. “We’ll have him back aboard in fifteen.”

  Fifteen minutes! Franklin thought to herself. That was like an eternity.

  “We have four, repeat four , bogeys inbound from the north,” Operations Specialist Cory Moore announced. He was seated in front of a SPY-3 radar screen and could monitor everything for miles around. “I have confirmation from the GW’s Super Fudd,” Moore added. “The ETA for the bogeys is five minutes.”

  Franklin knew that Super Fudd was a nickname for the navy’s E-2 Hawkeye airborne early warning aircraft. Five minutes wasn’t a whole lot of flight time, and a good indication that the Chinese planes had taken off from the base on Hainan Island. “They probably have orders to buzz us,” Franklin told Chow. “But you never know. ”

  “We’re ready,” Chow assured her. “The boards are green, and the ESSM system is hot.”

  ESSM stood for the Evolved SeaSparrow Missile System, also known as the RIM-162. The SeaSparrows were “quad packed” in Mark 41 vertical launchers, and capable of destroying all of the incoming planes. That offered some comfort, but not much. The Heath was virtually dead in the water, and the very definition of a sitting duck.

  “I have the GW on the horn,” Sims announced. “The admiral is waiting for you on a secure video link.”

  Franklin was surprised to say the least. “You must be shitt­ing me.”

  “No, ma’am, and they say it’s urgent.”

  “I’ll take it in the booth.”

  “The booth” was a small enclosure where it was possible to have a private conversation. Franklin had no idea what Admiral Geary would say, and didn’t want the bridge crew to listen in. She stepped into the cubicle and closed the door.

  Geary was visible on the screen. He had a buzz cut, hollow cheeks, and an uncharacteristically dour expression. “I’m sorry Mary,” he said, “but I don’t have enough time to grease this up for you. Don’t fire on the Chinese regardless of the provocation. That’s straight from the commander-in-chief. Hayden is trying to reach Premier Lau. He says the premier is a ‘good guy.’ And the two of them can do a deal.”

  Franklin could hardly believe her ears. Yes, she understood the stakes involved, but what about “Peace through strength” and all the rest of the campaign bullshit? Now, based on Geary’s comments, it sounded as though the president was going to cave. Franklin struggled to maintain her composure. “Even if they fire on us?”

  “Even then,” Geary said grimly. “And I can’t send the planes you requested. Not until I get the green light from Washington. The National Security Adviser fears that the planes might be seen as provocative.”

  “Provocative?” Franklin demanded. “Who cares? What about my crew? And my ship?”

  “I’m sorry,” Geary said miserably. “Those are my orders.”

  Franklin heard a muted roar. “Chinese fighters are buzzing the ship, Admiral … I have to go.” And with that Franklin broke the connection.

  Another roar was heard as she left the booth. “They’re looping us,” Chow said, as Franklin reappeared. “But that’s all so far.”

  Franklin spoke into her radio. “Lambert? Is Wilson aboard?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “Change course and head for the GW . They can’t send planes, but we can go to them.”

  “They can’t send planes?” Lambert demanded. “Why not?”

  “Because the president said so. Full speed ahead. Tak
e evasive action.”

  Lambert liked that. “Yes, ma’am!”

  Franklin could feel the additional rpms through the soles of her shoes as Lambert demanded more speed. The destroyer was capable of 20 knots and could clear the area quickly. The deck started to slant as the Heath made a turn to the east. Franklin felt better. The Chinese had driven the American destroyer off, taped it, and could feed the video to the world. But the Heath and her crew were safe.

  “Here comes another one,” Chow said.

  Franklin looked up just in time to see the laser guided bomb drop free of the J-8 fighter plane’s belly, and head straight for the Heath. Franklin opened her mouth to shout a warning but it was too late. The 1,000 pound bomb hit the destroyer’s superstructure and exploded. The jolt threw Franklin and Chow to the deck. Fortunately the Heath’s armor was thick enough to withstand the blow. The Chinese had been planning to attack all along. The initial flybys were intended to put the Americans at ease.

  “Engage those planes!” Franklin ordered, as she scrambled back to her feet. “Kill them!” The response was instinctual, and made without regard to Admiral Geary’s orders. Fuck Geary and the president, Franklin thought. There’s no way in hell that the Heath will go down without a fight.

  The ship shook as a second bomb struck the superstructure, damage control parties rushed to respond, and Rafferty spoke up. “The Fire Scouts are still airborne, ma’am … Can we kill the trawlers? The ones that called the planes in?”

  “Smoke ’em,” Franklin ordered. “And recover the Scouts if you can.”

  The ship’s ESSM system was firing on the Chinese planes. “Six missiles, four kills,” Chow reported calmly.

  “More bogeys on screen,” Moore announced. “Six targets inbound from the north.”

  Franklin swore. It was clear at that point … The attack on the Heath was more than a misunderstanding. The Chinese were all in. They were going to war … And sinking the Heath would give them a Pearl Harbor like victory right off the top.