by Andrew Watts
Henry said, “Yeah, so not everyone’s got money to pay right now, but we’re keeping a very detailed set of IOUs to make sure that everyone knows how much they owe me when we get back to the States.”
David smiled. This was a small but welcome distraction from worrying about Lena and her plans.
Natesh said, “Oh, no, thank you. I don’t think I would be so good. I actually don’t know how to play.”
Henry said, “Are you kidding? Usually those are the best kind of poker players! And definitely the kind of people I enjoy playing with the most. If you’re afraid of gambling your own money away, I’ll spot you twenty dollars with only fifty percent interest. So even before I take your money, you’ll already owe me. It’ll be great. It’s like I tell the kids that I sell cigarettes to…first one’s always on the house.”
David said, “Who had the deck of cards?”
Henry said, “Actually, we had to make them with pen and scrap paper from the classroom. Most of the hearts and face cards have dog-ears from that cheating swindler Brooke. Don’t trust her. I think she may be part Canadian. Anyway, you guys should come. It’ll be great. We’ll plan World War Three by day and then blow off steam and play cards at night. We have room for two more. What do you say?”
Natesh laughed and held up his hands. “I give up. I’ll come for a few minutes. It may be a good release.”
David was going to decline, but then thought better of it. If he spent a little extra time with a few of the people here, he could possibly gain insight into who he could trust. And a closed-door card game might be a good pretense for gathering together a few allies.
David said, “Sure. I’ll be there.”
Henry said, “Wonderful. So, Natesh, what’s on the meeting agenda today?”
“Well, I think we’re at the next stage of planning. Today we should be starting to prioritize targets, align on methodology, and link up activities among different teams.”
“How do we do that?” David asked.
Natesh said, “Sure. So let’s say one of the objectives of our team was to shut down the Internet, for instance. We had discussed cutting submarine cables going across the Atlantic and Pacific, as well as cutting power sources inside the United States. I will try to mesh our objectives with those of the other teams. If multiple teams want to kill power sources, for example, we should focus our energy on that—no pun intended. Kill two birds with one stone, that type of thing. If we have a choice between cutting power and cutting the cables, we need to decide the priority. The point is that we want to maximize efficiency. Complete the highest-priority objectives with the least work and least complexity.”
The cafeteria was alive with conversation. About fifteen of the consultants were in there, eating and talking. Behind the buffet line, two stewards cleaned dirty pots and pans. David saw Major Harold Combs, the Air Force officer who had checked everyone in on day one, enter through the cafeteria doors. He grabbed a hard plastic tray and filled his plate, then sat at the farthest table from David’s. He sat alone, like he always did. Every few bites, the Major would scan the room and look at the others like a warden looked at his prisoners.
Henry nodded. “Actually, that example brings up a question. What about after an attack? Would China really want to cut all of the undersea cables that link it to the US if they are planning on occupying us? I would think not.”
Natesh said, “That is something we need to talk over today. The Psychological Operations team and Comms team need to figure out some of the longer-term goals. I know Lena said that week three will be when we go over the occupation details, but I think we’re all starting to realize that the choices we make at this stage in the project will affect the occupation results.”
David drank from his plastic cup filled with orange liquid and crushed ice. Efficient plans drawn up by some of our best experts. This thing was spinning out of control. He needed to tell someone what he had seen and what he was thinking. He needed an ally. And he needed one soon.
Henry said to Natesh, “Along those lines, we’re supposed to give you and the Major any requests for external information, right? I will need you to get me some info from the Internet later. I’ll write it down for you.”
Natesh said, “Sure, no problem. What do you need?”
Henry said, “Exact maps of the undersea cables. I was going to do an options analysis of which locations to target. But I need those maps. Can you get them?”
Natesh said, “I think so. I will check before our afternoon break.”
David tried to sound innocent. “Natesh—I’m just curious—I know you are somewhat of an expert with computers. Are the firewalls that they use in the Comms building really that good? I mean, it seems really inefficient for you to have to go through their censored search engine system. Could you just…I don’t know…hack your way to the regular Internet and communicate that way?”
Natesh shot him a grin. “Well, I am going to follow their protocol. A lot of the information that we are asking for is classified, so the middlemen that we work through are obtaining it through special channels. But yes, I believe their security to be somewhat rudimentary. I am confident that if I really wanted to, I could find a workaround.”
“Oh, sure. That makes sense. I was just curious,” said David.
Natesh typed his code into the keypad of the Comms building and heard the beep, followed by the clicking sound of the door unlocking. He pulled the hefty metal door open, walked inside, and then pulled it shut behind him. It locked with a sharp, metallic clang.
Inside, rays of dusty sunlight reached like fingertips from the narrow slits high up on the concrete walls. There were two computer terminals. Major Combs sat at the first computer, typing away. Combs didn’t bother to greet him. He barely looked up from his workstation. Natesh thought that was rude. But from what he’d seen of the Major thus far, just about everything he did was antisocial. Natesh walked over to the empty computer station.
The Major was housed with the rest of the group in the barracks, but he was treated differently by Lena. At each of the meals, Major Combs had eaten alone, even when others asked him to join their table. His behavior suggested that he didn’t want to fraternize with any of the regular crew. It was like he thought that he was special in some way. He never smiled or spoke to the others unless it was to perform a specific duty. Unlike the other military members in the group, who had all switched over to more comfortable civilian attire at the first opportunity, the Major insisted on wearing his regulation Air Force blues. It looked like he had even brought an iron to press them each night.
The gun was what Natesh really noticed. It was an Air Force-issued Beretta M9, the primary sidearm of the US military. A 9mm semiautomatic pistol, it held fifteen rounds in a detachable box magazine and had an effective firing range of fifty meters. And it was holstered snugly on Major Combs’s belt. Natesh had seen several of the members of the group eyeing it uneasily. What he needed a gun for here was beyond Natesh. But apparently, Lena had asked him to wear it.
The Major was the administrative officer of the Red Cell. He, like Natesh, had been given a few special responsibilities, including the use of the Comms room for Internet searches and closed-circuit email communication. So now Natesh typed on his computer, in a small concrete room, next to an armed and antisocial man.
Natesh decided to be friendly, regardless of his companion’s behavior. He said, “Hello, Major. Good to see you. How has your day been?”
The Major paused from his typing to peer at Natesh over his rimmed glasses. “Good day,” he replied. He then resumed his intense keystrokes.
Natesh rolled his eyes and sat down at his console. Well, so much for that.
He looked at the computer. There were only two icons. One that said SEARCH and one that said EMAIL. Natesh had learned quickly that the SEARCH icon wasn’t very useful. Whoever was in control of their Internet access had blocked such a large portion of the web that it was almost useless to attempt an organic searc
h. Natesh was quite a talent when it came to computers. He had little doubt that if he wanted to, he could hack right past the firewalls. But he had been asked to play by their rules. Instead, Natesh pulled out his notepad that he had used during the day’s meetings and began to type up an email.
* * *
From: Natesh Chaudry
To: Red Cell Support Center
Subj: Day 7 Morning Information Request
* * *
I request the following information:
-Geo-coordinates of all undersea fiber-optic cables that enter the US (would prefer a map)
-Weapons capabilities of Chinese depth charges—are they able to destroy undersea cables? Do they have nuclear depth charges? Are there safety concerns for the deploying asset?
-Information on all large-scale TV and radio broadcast towers in US: frequency ranges, power sources, security, locations
-Information on converting shipping containers to personnel transports/lodging containers. Is it possible to convert large cargo ships into troop transports? Please send schematics of these ships and any examples of this being done in the past. Please also send schematics of shipping containers, and the names of companies in China that create these items.
* * *
He hit SEND and shot the email off, expecting to get the information back within the hour. They were very prompt. He looked at his watch. Almost lunch. He would come back in the afternoon to get the information and then take it to the teams.
Natesh looked over at the Major’s screen. The Major was reading an email reply that he had just received.
* * *
From: Red Cell Support Center
To: Major Harold Combs
Subj: Weather Update
* * *
Weather conditions fair for next 24 hours. After 48 hours weather will deteriorate and reduce Site Support capability to Level 3 (remote). Tropical Cyclone #16 now at 50% probability of impacting Red Cell Site. Please notify Site Supervisor and confirm intentions.
* * *
The email contained a map that showed a tropical system approaching their island. The funny thing about the map was that it had been sanitized. There was no land around them in any direction. So Natesh couldn’t figure out where they were in the world based on looking at the map. These people were nuts about security.
Natesh said, “Are we expecting bad weather?”
Major Combs turned and sneered at Natesh. He said, “You should keep to your own screen.”
Natesh cocked his head. “Hey, we’re all on the same team. No need to get upset. What’s the weather report? What are you reading?”
The Major still looked angry, but he relented. “They’ve been talking about it since we got here. Some tropical storm they’ve been monitoring. They weren’t sure if it was going to head this way but now it appears that it may. It looks like the worst of it should blow through the day after tomorrow. Might not get the airplane to resupply us that day. It shouldn’t be a big deal.”
Natesh said, “Aren’t tropical storms a pretty big deal when you’re on a small island?”
“Don’t be a coward.” The Major turned back to his screen.
He said, “Intelligence isn’t cowardice, Harold. Tell me, what else are you working on in here? I am the moderator. I have a right to know. What information have you been looking up for the groups?”
The Major glared at Natesh. Apparently he didn’t like volunteering information. He also didn’t like some twenty-something Indian-American kid pulling rank. The two stared at each other for a moment, neither budging.
The Major said, “Fine. I’ve been doing a little work for the defense team. They’ve been getting into the weeds about warfare at sea. Ranges, sensor frequencies, depths, altitudes, limits, capabilities. The sorts of things that you civilians wouldn’t understand. It’s military stuff.”
Natesh wasn’t sure whether Major Combs didn’t like him personally, didn’t like civilians, or was just an ass in general. But he sure wasn’t making a friend. Part of Natesh said to just leave it alone. He would get everything he needed later that day during the team debrief anyway. Another part of him was angered by the Major blowing him off. He decided to press.
“What sort of stuff? What is the objective of your line of inquiry?”
The Major rolled his eyes. He sighed but then said, “Well, in sea battle, the goal is to destroy your enemy’s high-value unit. So in this case, the group that is working on the Pacific theater plan quickly migrated towards finding ways to kill the American carriers.”
Natesh said, “And what was the conclusion? Did they come up with a preferred method?”
“Two, actually. One was old-fashioned, and one was what we’re calling the ‘Play Action’ method.”
Natesh said, “Go on. I need to know this, Major.”
The Major grinned. “Well, it’s like this. The old-fashioned way to destroy a high-valued unit at sea is by submarine. It’s hard to stop and highly effective. The Chinese have dozens of submarines, and many are nuclear. That matters. Because nuclear submarines can go really far away. They aren’t limited by having to refuel like their diesel cousins. They just need to resupply—food and stores. That’s still no small task, if you’re trying to stay hidden. The Chinese have very recently proven their ability to deploy their submarines over long distances. Really long distances. Transoceanic distances. That’s very hard to do. But it greatly increases their value. If they can get those subs in torpedo range of our ports, it’s theoretically possible that they could cripple our carrier fleet…and worse.”
Natesh said, “What’s worse than that? And don’t we have carriers already overseas? Like in the Middle East?”
Major Combs said, “‘Worse than that’ can be a lot of things, once you have a vessel that carries missiles off the coast of the United States. And yes, we do have carriers overseas. We in the military call that deployed. The US military has a very large amount of deployed assets at any given time. As a matter of fact, our most capable and battle-ready assets are usually deployed. So at any given time, because of the wars that we’ve been fighting and the high optempo our military is asked to keep up, what’s left over at home is usually either in training or in maintenance. But the team has cooked up a plan to bypass them. That’s the Play Action method. It is pretty brilliant, really. Lena offered a few of the ideas. The members of the team did the rest, connecting the dots.”
“What ideas?”
“For the Play Action method. It refers to faking out the American military. Play Action is a football term. It’s when you fake a running play and get the defense to react to that, but then throw a longer pass play. This is what the team decided on—getting the American military to commit to one type of defensive reaction and freezing them in place, then bypassing their assets and going for the main objective where there is less protection in place.”
“I don’t follow.” Natesh did follow. In fact, it was very similar to what he had discussed with the group on the first day. But the Major seemed excited, and this was the best way to tease out more details of the plan.
The Major was shaking his head, smiling. He obviously liked this a lot. Like it was a game to him.
Combs said, “We’ve already talked about some of this. The Chinese should create a staged war, right? United States versus Iran is what we decided on.”
“They are sure they want to go with Iran?”
“They’re sure. But which country we choose is not the point. The point is, the United States shifts a whole ton of assets to the Middle East—again—to fight Iran. There are a lot of things left to plan here, and we’re still working out the details. And there would still be a decent-sized contingent of ships in the Pacific and allied military assets in places like Korea and Japan.”
Natesh said, “I read the informational documents. Those bases are pretty sizable. And the US Pacific fleet has a very large amount of ships and submarines. I wouldn’t think that a war with Iran would draw everything o
ut of there.”
“No, it wouldn’t. But it would help. And that’s when this ARES software goes off. It takes out GPS, and the Chinese, we presume, will launch a cyberattack on all of our communications. Now the Play Action plan also calls for an EMP attack here.”
“EMP?”
“Electromagnetic pulse. Are you familiar?”
“I am.”
“Well, then, you know that it cripples electronics. It would leave the US Pacific fleet helpless. The Chinese will know it’s coming, so they will have all of their assets far enough away from the target zone that they’ll be safe. After the EMPs are set off, the Chinese fleet will sail for the Eastern Pacific…and on to a variety of target locations. The Chinese subs would have static, defenseless targets where the EMPs are used.”
Natesh said, “Could this really work? I’m a bit skeptical. Do the Chinese really have that capability?”
“Skeptical? Well, you keep being skeptical. The Chinese have been developing these weapons for decades.”
“You sound like you admire them.”
Combs shook his head in disgust. “Well, I admire that they take care of their military. Meanwhile we’re ruining ours with budget cuts and mismanaged programs. Anyway—the Pacific Theater team gave me all of the info they need me to look up. Just need a few specs on the exact Chinese EMP capabilities. Some of the Red Cell scientists are going to crunch the numbers later once I give them the data. The engineers said it would be relatively simple to build and program if they had the right information. And the military guys gave us almost all of the details we needed on how our carrier groups defend against that sort of thing.”
Natesh said, “Well, this is why we’re here. Finding these vulnerabilities will help us plan the actual defense later, right?”