Empire Rising

by Rick Campbell

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  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

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  To mom and dad—I wish you were still here.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks are due to those who helped me write and publish this novel:

  First and foremost, to my editor, Keith Kahla, for his exceptional insight and fantastic recommendations on how to make Empire Rising better. To others at St. Martin’s Press—Hannah Braaten and Justin Velella—who helped me in numerous ways while I wrote and revised Empire Rising. And finally, thanks again to Sally Richardson and George Witte for making this book possible.

  To those who helped me get the details in Empire Rising right: to U.S. Navy captains and former SSN and SSGN commanding officers Steve Harrison and Murray Gero for reviewing the submarine chapters and helping me with the SSGN scenes, to Navy Captain and former commander of Strike Fighter Wing Atlantic—Craig “Spot” Yager for assisting with the air combat scenarios, to Commander Rob Kurz for the aircraft carrier chapters, Commander Mike Wheeldreyer for the cruiser scenes, former Navy SEALs Matt Maasdam and Brandon Webb for the SEAL scenes, and to Lieutenant Colonel Billy Dubose and Major Joshua Roberts for imparting a basic understanding of Marine Expeditionary Force operations. Thanks also to Lisa Brackmann and Cindy Pon for helping with the scenes in China and the nuances of naming Chinese characters.

  To my writer friends in Purgatory and The Pit, thank you for your support on this long journey and for your inspiration while writing Empire Rising.

  And finally, to the men and women who have served in our armed services. My heart and thoughts will always be with you.

  I hope you enjoy Empire Rising!

  PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS

  (A COMPLETE CAST OF CHARACTERS IS PROVIDED IN ADDENDUM.)

  UNITED STATES ADMINISTRATION

  KEVIN HARDISON, chief of staff

  CHRISTINE O’CONNOR, national security advisor

  NELSON JENNINGS, secretary of defense

  STEVE BRACKMAN (Captain), senior military aide

  PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA ADMINISTRATION

  XIANG CHENGLEI, president of China and general secretary of the Party

  HUAN ZHIXIN, chairman, Central Military Commission

  BAI TAO, prime minister

  SHEN YI, Politburo member

  YANG MINSHENG, head of President Xiang’s security detail

  UNITED STATES JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF

  MARK HODSON (General), Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff

  MEL GARRISON (General), Chief of Staff, Air Force

  GRANT HEALEY (Admiral), Chief of Naval Operations

  ELY WILLIAMS (General), Commandant of the Marine Corps

  UNITES STATES MAJOR MILITARY COMMANDS

  VANCE GARBIN (Admiral), Commander, Pacific Command

  CARL KRAE (Major General), Commander, Cyber Warfare Command

  MICHAEL WALKER (Rear Admiral), Commander, Naval Special Warfare Command

  TIM MOSS (Rear Admiral), Program Executive Officer (Submarines)

  USS MICHIGAN (GUIDED MISSILE SUBMARINE)

  MURRAY WILSON (Captain), Commanding Officer

  PAUL GREENWOOD (Lieutenant Commander), Executive Officer

  KASEY FAUCHER (Lieutenant Commander), Engineering Officer

  KELLY HAAS (Lieutenant Commander), Supply Officer

  KARL STEWART (Lieutenant), Weapons Officer

  STEVE CORDERO (Lieutenant), Junior Officer

  KRIS HERNDON (Lieutenant), Junior Officer

  JOE ALEO (Commander), Medical Officer

  JEFF WALKUP (Chief Electronics Technician), Radioman

  SAM WALSH (Machinist Mate Second Class), Torpedoman

  BILL COATES (Electronics Technician Second Class), Quartermaster

  USS NIMITZ (AIRCRAFT CARRIER)

  ALEX HARROW (Captain), Commanding Officer

  HELEN CORCORAN (Captain), Air Wing Commander

  SUE LAYBOURN (Captain), Combat Direction Center (CDC) Operations Officer

  MICHAEL BERESFORD (Lieutenant Commander), Officer of the Deck

  NATHAN REYNOLDS (Lieutenant), Conning Officer

  USS RONALD REAGAN (AIRCRAFT CARRIER)

  CHARLES “CJ” BERGER (Captain), Commanding Officer

  EMIL JONES (Captain), Air Wing Commander

  TIM POWERS (Captain), Executive Officer

  DEBBIE KENT (Captain), Combat Direction Center (CDC) Operations Officer

  ANDREW FELLOWS (Commander), Chief Engineer

  USS ANNAPOLIS (LOS ANGELES CLASS FAST ATTACK SUBMARINE)

  RAMSEY HOOTMAN (Commander), Commanding Officer

  TED WINSOR (Lieutenant Commander), Executive Officer

  DON MILLER (Lieutenant), Weapons Officer

  MIKE LAND (Lieutenant), Junior Officer

  ARMANDO HOGARTH (Lieutenant), Junior Officer

  USS JACKSONVILLE (LOS ANGELES CLASS FAST ATTACK SUBMARINE)

  RANDY BAUGHMAN (Commander), Commanding Officer

  BECK BURRELL (Lieutenant), Officer of the Deck

  USS TEXAS (VIRGINIA CLASS FAST ATTACK SUBMARINE)

  JIM LATHAM (Commander), Commanding Officer

  JOHN MILLIGAN (Lieutenant Commander), Executive Officer

  COLBY MARSHALL (Petty Officer First Class), Fire Control Technician

  NAVY SEALS

  JOHN MCNEIL (Commander), SEAL Team Commander

  JAKE HARRISON (Lieutenant), SEAL Platoon Officer in Charge (OIC)

  DAN O’HARA (Chief Special Warfare Operator), SEAL Platoon Chief

  DREW GARRETSON (Special Warfare Operator First Class), Communicator

  TRACEY MARTIN (Special Warfare Operator Second Class), Breacher

  KELLY ANDREWS (Special Warfare Operator Second Class), Rappeler

  CHINESE MILITARY

  TSOU DESHI (Fleet Admiral), Commander, People’s Liberation Army (PLA) Navy

  GUO JIAN (Admiral), Commander, East Sea Fleet

  CAO FENG (General), Commander, Fourth Department

  ZHANG ANGUO (General), Commander, Nanjing Military Region

  ZHOU PENGFEI (Captain), Commander, 34th Hong Niao Missile Battery

  CHENG BO (Captain), Officer-in-Charge, East Sea Fleet Command Center

  ZENG YONG (Commander), Commanding Officer, submarine CNS Chang Cheng

  ZHAO WEI (Commander), Commanding Officer, submarine CNS Jiaolong

  PROLOGUE

  BEIJING, CHINA

  IT WOULD HAVE BEEN PERFECT.

  Bai Jiao’s pulse raced as she stood stiffly under the bright lights, her cold hands gripping the bouquet of flowers as tightly as the white gown squeezed her waist. The veil across her eyes partially obscured her vision, but she could see enough to make out the cavernous Grand Ballroom of the Pangu Hotel, an immense chandelier suspended from the center of the thirty-foot-high ceiling. The white carpet runway beneath her feet, passing by row after row of guests, stretched to infinity.

  Feeling a nudge on her right arm, Jiao remembered she wasn’t standing alone; she felt her father’s arm intertwined with hers. Turning her head, she
sought his wizened face. Tao was looking down at her. He smiled, and for a moment she was a little girl again, sitting in her father’s lap as he imparted words of wisdom to his precious qianjin. He patted her arm, conveying his love and support. She knew that, even now, she could call it off. Even though the arrangements had cost over two million yuan, Tao would not think twice about the loss. The shame he would endure, however, if his daughter backed out on her wedding day …

  It was just nerves, after all. She loved Huang, and was ready to begin their life together. She forced a weak smile and nodded her head.

  Slowly, in rhythm to the music that began with her first step, Jiao and her father proceeded down the center aisle of the ballroom, passing the four hundred guests turned out in tuxedos freshly pressed and formal evening gowns sparkling under the ballroom lights. Jiao kept her eyes focused at the end of the long white carpet where Huang waited, standing at attention in his maroon and pine-green military uniform.

  Along the perimeter of the room, men in black suits, with a coiled cord hanging from one ear and tucked inside the collar of their jackets, cast a watchful eye over every entrance to the ballroom as well as the guests. For as long as Jiao could remember, men like these had guarded her family. It wasn’t until her teenage years that she gained an appreciation for the power her father wielded as one of the Party’s nine Politburo members and now as China’s prime minister.

  As China’s economic czar, Tao was charged with infusing capitalistic traits into the country’s socialist economy, so Jiao was not surprised when her father requested her wedding be a blend of Western and traditional Chinese ceremonies. As Jiao proceeded down the aisle in her white wedding gown, she looked forward to the Tea Ceremony that would follow in the adjacent ballroom. She would change into the traditional qi pao dress, its red color symbolizing good luck, warding off evil spirits.

  At the end of the white runway, her father released her arm. Jiao stepped up to the altar, turning toward Huang. As she looked into his eyes, a warm glow spread through her body, chasing away the nervous chill. The day she had dreamt of as a young girl had finally arrived. She knew with certainty they would spend the rest of their lives together. Nothing could tear them apart.

  As Huang lifted the veil from her face, a flash of movement distracted her. Men in black suits were sprinting down the sides of the ballroom, headed behind a beige curtain that hung from the ceiling, forming the backdrop of the altar. Over Huang’s shoulder, she spotted Feng Dai, her personal bodyguard since she was a child, racing toward her. A commotion penetrated the curtain, accompanied by a mosaic of dark shapes shifting behind the sheer fabric. She turned back toward Huang, and as she met his questioning eyes, there was a deafening boom.

  Jiao was buffeted by a blast of hot air and she had the odd sensation she was flying through the air. Her vision clouded in an orange, blossoming haze, and white-hot pain stabbed into her body as her limbs bent in directions they weren’t designed for. There was a vague feeling of her back hitting something hard and sharp, the pain piercing through her stomach. Her vision slowly cleared and a thousand yellow lights came into focus, swaying above her.

  She was lying on the floor somewhere, gazing at beautiful lights swirling above. It was peacefully quiet at first, but then faint sounds greeted her ears, growing gradually louder until they coalesced into a dissonance of high-pitched screams of terror mingled with low moans of pain. As if responding to the sound, her mind was reminded of the sensations slicing through her body. The slightest attempt to move—breathe, even—magnified the excruciating pain.

  Jiao turned her head slowly to the side. She was surrounded by a nightmarish collage of sight and smell. Bodies strewn across a red-streaked floor. Bloodied hands reaching toward heaven, splayed fingers clawing the air. Men and women wreathed in fire were dancing under the ballroom lights, collapsing onto the floor, their charred features shrouded in an orange, flickering haze. The scent assailing her nostrils was foreign but unmistakable: the stench of burning flesh.

  A few feet away, Jiao’s father lay on his back, his neck at an awkward angle, his eyes frozen open. Just out of reach, Huang was facedown, a dark stain spreading out from under him across the white carpet. Jiao felt warmth ooze across her stomach, moving up her chest and down her legs as liquid saturated her wedding gown. She looked down at her tattered garment, and as her thoughts faded into darkness, Jiao wondered when she had changed into her red dress.

  OPENING MOVES

  1

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  A light rain was falling from a gray, overcast sky as a black Lincoln Town Car merged onto the 14th Street Bridge, fighting its way north across three lanes of early morning traffic. In the back of the sedan, Christine O’Connor gazed through rain-streaked windows at the Potomac River flowing lazily east toward the Chesapeake Bay. She ignored the rhythmic thump of the sedan’s windshield wipers, focused instead on the radio tuned to a local AM news station. As she listened to the morning’s headlines, she wasn’t surprised the most important news of the day was absent from the broadcast.

  As the president’s national security advisor, Christine was briefed daily on events occurring around the world with the potential to affect the safety of American citizens. This morning, she was returning from the Pentagon after her weekly intelligence brief with Secretary of Defense Nelson Jennings. Near the end of the meeting, the discussion had turned to yesterday’s assassination of China’s prime minister. There would be instability within China’s Politburo Standing Committee as its eight remaining members determined the replacement for the second most powerful person in China. Concern was voiced about the loss of Bai Tao, a staunch opponent to using military force to resolve China’s conflicts. Considering what the United States was contemplating signing, that was not an insignificant issue.

  The MAER Accord—the Mutual Access to Environmental Resources Accord—was the exact opposite of what it purported to be. Christine opened the manila folder in her lap, revealing the one-inch-thick document on the right side and her notes on the left, and began reviewing them one final time before her meeting with the president. Upon reading its title, one would think the accord ensured equal access to the world’s supply of natural resources, which were straining to meet the demands of the industrialized and developing countries. Oil and natural gas production were simply not keeping pace, and within three years, there would not be enough to go around.

  Instead of ensuring every country would receive their fair share, the MAER Accord included complicated price calculations that favored the United States and its allies. Less fortunate countries, including China, would be forced to pay much higher prices. Additionally, it included a military defense assurance between the United States and the Pacific Rim nations, who were fearful of an aggressive China, which had been rattling its sword and staking claim to many of the region’s natural resources. The future lay in vast Asian offshore oil fields, and the half-century-long MAER Accord assured America and its allies would have access to the resources their economies would require for the next fifty years. In return, America would respond to any attempt by another country to claim the natural resources of another.

  Christine’s Town Car turned right on West Executive Avenue, bringing her closer to the White House and her final meeting on the accord with the president and Kevin Hardison. The mere thought of the president’s chief of staff threatened to bring on a migraine. They were once close friends, working together on Congressman Tim Johnson’s staff twenty years ago, when Hardison, ten years her senior, had been her mentor. But all that changed once she became the president’s national security advisor, when she surprised Hardison with a mind of her own, refusing to subordinate herself to his orders.

  Unlike most administrations, the president preferred to have counsel from both political parties. Unfortunately, Christine was the outsider, which meant she had the burden of fighting the uphill battles. Still, she had won a surprisingly large percentage of them, which was probably one of the reas
ons for the animosity between her and Hardison. Their disdain for each other wouldn’t help in a few minutes when they met in the Oval Office, with one last opportunity to convince the president of the dangerous repercussions of signing the MAER Accord.

  The Lincoln Town Car pulled to a stop under the north portico, next to two Marines in Dress Blues guarding the formal entrance to the West Wing. Standing between the two Marines—almost a head taller—was a Navy Captain wearing the Navy’s version of its Dress Blues, with four gold stripes on each sleeve. Steve Brackman was the president’s senior military aide, with whom she had forged a close working relationship. Christine had called ahead and asked him to meet her when she returned to the White House. As she prepared for battle with the president’s powerful chief of staff, she preferred to have the military on her side.

  Brackman greeted her as she stepped from the sedan, polite as always. “Good morning, Miss O’Connor.”

  Christine returned the Captain’s greeting, and Brackman followed her to her corner office. She entered and dropped off her leather briefcase, but Brackman stopped at the entrance to her office. Christine returned to the doorway.

  “I’m sorry, Miss O’Connor. Mr. Hardison requested I meet with him in a few minutes. Is there something quick I can help you with?”

  Christine frowned. Hardison apparently had the same battle plan she had. She answered, “The president is going to make his decision on the MAER Accord today. Hardison is pushing the president to sign it while I’m advising against it. I wanted to spend a few minutes with you, so you fully understood my concerns.”

  “I think I understand both sides of the argument,” Brackman replied.

  Christine pressed her lips together. As the president’s senior military aide, Brackman could tip the scales. “And your recommendation will be…?”

  Brackman’s eyes searched hers for a moment, and it seemed he was about to answer, but he checked his watch instead. “If you’ll excuse me.”