Shattered Trident

by Larry Bond

  4 September 2016

  1950 Eastern Daylight Time

  CNN Headline News

  The transition from the press conference in Japan back to the New York studio took the anchorwoman by surprise. She hesitated for a moment, as she struggled to comprehend what the entire world had just heard, but recovered quickly as her producer waved feverishly behind the camera.

  “That … that was astounding! We are witnessing history in the making! That was the representatives from the new Littoral Alliance formally declaring that a state of war exists between them and the People’s Republic of China. This brings out into the open the hidden conflict that has been raging under the sea for nearly a week. And yet, our own Christine Laird has been able to keep on top of developments through the use of an unusual blog site. She joins us now to talk about this interesting Web site. Good evening, Christine.”

  “Good evening, Jackie.”

  “Christine, tell our viewers about this phenomenal Web site you’ve been using.”

  “Certainly, Jackie. The blog has undergone a number of name changes over the last two weeks and it is currently listed as ‘The Great Pacific War of 2016.’ I first came upon it when the blog’s administrator, Mr. Hector McMurtrie, a noted expert in maritime affairs, wrote an interesting entry on the loss of the Vietnamese merchant ship Vinaship Sea. In hindsight, this ship was probably the first casualty of the war. I contacted Mr. McMurtrie shortly thereafter, and he has provided a steady stream of incredibly accurate information and insight, long before our usual sources. I’ve asked Mr. McMurtrie to join us on Skype to talk about the situation in the South China Sea. Good evening, Hector, thank you for joining us.”

  “Good evening, Christine,” Mac replied. He looked up at the TV behind his desk and he saw his face. This was all very strange. His initial thought was the tie he was wearing was the wrong color; it made his face look pink. But he didn’t have a whole lot of choices. Mac hadn’t worn a tie in years, and the popular colors back then tended toward the louder hues.

  “Hector, the Indian ambassador to Japan just announced the blockade of the Strait of Malacca and Lombok Strait. What is the significance of these two waterways?”

  “They are two of China’s main lifelines. The Strait of Malacca is one of the busiest ocean highways in the world, with twenty-five to thirty percent of all oceangoing traffic passing through it each year. A lot of China’s inbound and outbound trade uses this strait. But as important as Malacca is, it’s rather shallow, only about twenty-five meters deep, which prevents the passage of oil tankers. They use the much deeper Lombok Strait.”

  “So if India can block both straits, China is largely cut off from Middle East oil?”

  “It’s much worse, Christine. This cuts China’s access to oil and other natural resources from both the Middle East and Africa. Ships carrying these vital raw materials will have to sail around the Philippines and approach Mainland China via the East China Sea—an approach that is effectively under Japanese military surveillance.”

  “Hector, if the Littoral Alliance is successful in bottling up China’s merchant fleet, what are the implications for the rest of the world’s economies?”

  “At the very least, raw materials and imported goods will cost considerably more, which will be an unpleasant shock to everyone. Rising insurance rates and fuel costs are already having a significant impact, and it will only get worse the longer this war goes on. People need to realize, Christine, that nearly ninety percent of the world’s trade is moved by ship.

  “And it only gets worse. China is the world’s largest exporter of finished goods and the second largest importer of crude oil. Her merchant fleet carries the lifeblood of her industrial engine. If the Littoral Alliance successfully strangles China’s trade, her economy could implode. The shock waves from such an event would ripple across the globe with frightening speed and effects. A worldwide depression is not out of the question.”

  “That’s not an encouraging picture you’re painting, Hector. What do you think that China could—”

  “Excuse me, Christine,” interrupted the anchorwoman. “We’ve just been told that President Myles will be addressing the nation at 9:00 P.M. eastern daylight time, undoubtedly to inform the American people on the actions his administration is taking. If you don’t mind, Christine, I’d like to ask Mr. McMurtrie a question.”

  “Not at all, Jackie.”

  “Mr. McMurtrie, given the negative economic implications you’ve described, what impact do you think this will have on President Myles’s reelection bid?”

  Hector chuckled; the question was a minefield that he had no intention of entering.

  “Jackie, I’m Canadian, and my personal opinions on the elections of my neighboring country are irrelevant, as I don’t have a say in the matter. What I think is about as useful as a used lottery ticket.”

  Laird grinned at Mac’s response; it was a good answer to a difficult question. Behind the camera she could see her producer making a slashing motion with his hand across his throat. She needed to wrap the interview up.

  “Well, that’s all the time we have for tonight. Thank you, again, Mr. Hector McMurtrie, for sharing your insights with us.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And now back to you, Jackie.”

  * * *

  Mac saw his face vanish from the TV screen and immediately he yanked off the wretched tie. He took a deep breath, relieved that the interview was over. He hadn’t felt such pressure in a long time, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to again. Suddenly, Christine Laird’s face popped onto his computer screen. “That was awesome, Mac! My producer is thrilled!”

  Mac jumped in his seat. The abrupt appearance of the CNN reporter startled him. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he wagged a finger at her and scolded, “Christine, I’m not a particularly young man and jolts like that have been known to cause heart attacks. So, if you want me to be alive for the next interview, please, don’t do that again.” He smiled at the end, to let her know he wasn’t angry.

  Laird looked appalled. The thought of her killing off her star “talking head” was horrifying. “I’m sorry, Mac! I was just so excited by how well the interview went, that’s all.”

  “So I see,” he replied wryly. He was about to suggest that she might want to consider drinking decaffeinated coffee when she hit him with another shock.

  “My producer wants to do more focused interviews. How soon can you get to New York?”

  “What?” asked Mac, dumbfounded.

  “He wants us to put together a number of features on the Chinese merchant fleet, the tankers that have been sunk, and the strategy of the Littoral Alliance. And we want you close by in case there are other fast-moving stories. The best way to do that is for you to come to New York.”

  “Absolutely not!” answered Mac sternly.

  Now it was Laird’s turn to be surprised. “Why not, Mac? We’ll put you up in one of the finest hotels in Manhattan, close to our studios in the Time Warner Center.”

  “Christine, I don’t like going into downtown Halifax, let alone a city with a population over ten times that of my entire province! I’m not a fan of concrete!”

  “I promise, you won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” Laird protested.

  “And who will keep my blogs updated?”

  “You can do that here just as well as from your home. We’ll give you an office with all the IT support you could possibly need,” argued Laird.

  Mac took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was very tired, and could feel himself getting curmudgeonly. “Young lady, not all of my references are electronic. In fact, I often use hard-copy articles, and these quaint oddities that are called ‘books.’” He emphasized his point by lifting a large volume of Jane’s Merchant Ships.

  “We’ll move whatever you need.” Laird was now pleading.

  “Hardly,” Mac snickered.

  “Mac, please—”

 
McMurtrie quickly raised his hand, stopping her in mid-sentence.

  “Ms. Laird, I’m going to stay here and keep my group’s blogs up to date. It’s what I like to do, and it’s my responsibility. I’m afraid you and your producer will just have to learn to deal with that.”

  4 September 2016

  2015 Local Time

  Oval Office, the White House

  Washington, D.C.

  Milt Alvarez knocked on the door before opening it. Inside the Oval Office, President Myles and Secretary of State Lloyd were sitting in the easy chairs going over their strategy to confront the Chinese.

  “Mr. President, the Chinese ambassador is here.”

  “Ah, excellent, Milt. Please show him in,” responded Myles as he stood up.

  “Took him long enough,” grumbled Lloyd.

  “Be polite, Andy,” whispered Myles, smiling.

  The chief of staff returned, opening the door wide, and ushered in the People’s Republic of China’s representative to the United States. Yang Jinping was a short, slightly portly man with a full face that always seemed to have an infectious smile. He was a seasoned diplomat, having served as China’s representative to the United Kingdom and the UN.

  “Welcome, Mr. Ambassador. Welcome to the Oval Office,” greeted Myles in Mandarin Chinese.

  Yang’s smile grew larger. He stopped, bowed, and said, “It is an honor to be received in my native tongue, Mr. President. I must say your pronunciation is quite good.”

  Myles laughed, while shaking his head woefully. “You are being very diplomatic, Mr. Ambassador. But I fear my Mandarin instructor would not share your views. He always complained that my nasal tones sounded like I was about to throw up.”

  Yang erupted into a full-blown belly laugh. The ambassador’s laugh sounded genuine; that was what Myles wanted to hear. The conversation he was about to have with Yang was going to get tense enough as it was; the president didn’t want it starting out that way. Coming forward, Yang shook Myles’s and Lloyd’s hands. Gesturing to the chairs, and switching over to English, Myles said, “Please, have a seat. Would you care for some coffee? Or perhaps tea?”

  “No, thank you, Mr. President,” Yang said solemnly. “We both know we have a difficult discussion ahead of us, and I’d prefer that we just get to it.”

  Myles saw the smile fade from the elderly statesman’s face. He really didn’t want to have this meeting. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with what he had been instructed to say. “I appreciate your candor, Mr. Ambassador. But I prefer to discuss our mutual problem, even if strong words are used.”

  Yang’s smile returned briefly. Straightening his coat, he sat upright as he spoke. “I must first apologize for being unavailable, until now. But it was felt necessary by my government that we both have the same information. I trust you watched the announcement by the Littoral Alliance representatives?”

  “Yes. Secretary Lloyd and I watched the news conference together.”

  “Your impressions?”

  “We have a very bad situation on our hands, one that is likely to get much worse if measures aren’t taken to stop the bloodshed.”

  Yang’s eyes narrowed, carefully scanning the American president. “If I may, Mr. President, just who are you referring to when you say ‘we’?”

  “The world, Mr. Ambassador,” Myles answered bluntly.

  “That is very noble of you, Mr. President. But need I remind you we were attacked first,” countered Yang.

  “If you mean that the Littoral Alliance fired the first shot, then you are technically correct. However, the Vietnamese would never have mined the Liaoning if you hadn’t already put into motion your plan to seize most of the islands and reefs in the Spratly Islands by force. The plan you are currently executing.”

  Yang’s face showed no response. The man was indeed a professional, but he hesitated slightly and Myles pressed on with his prepared plan of attack.

  “Yes, Mr. Ambassador, we know quite a bit about Operation Trident. Catchy name, I must admit, three prongs on a trident, and three attack vectors into the Spratlys, one to the north, one in the middle, and one to the south. We didn’t figure it all out at first, but after one of your Type 093 submarines torpedoed Vinaship Sea—”

  “Really, Mr. President! I must protest!” interjected Yang indignantly.

  “My dear Ambassador,” Myles responded lightheartedly. “One of my nuclear-powered submarines witnessed the whole attack. They’d been trailing your submarine since it left port the day before. We know the Type 093 fired two Yu-6 torpedoes, and we know about the large secondary explosion that followed. I’m willing to provide a copy of the recorded sonar files and fire control plots if you’d like.

  “No, Mr. Ambassador, the People’s Republic of China is not an ‘innocent victim’ in this case. The Littoral Alliance may have fired first, but that’s only because they found out about your plan and beat you to the punch.”

  “We have suffered terrible losses, Mr. President, far more than the Littoral Alliance. This is unacceptable.”

  “That is not true, Mr. Ambassador, and you know it.” Myles heard the ambassador inhale deeply through his nose. He was insulted by Myles’s accusation that he was lying—good. Whether or not the ambassador knew what his countrymen had done was immaterial; the president now had the opportunity he’d been looking for.

  “Oh yes, we also know the Fourth Technical Reconnaissance Bureau is responsible for causing the Sanyo Shinkansen tragedy. They hacked into the bullet train’s control circuit and caused the deaths of nearly 2,750 civilians. Your cyber intrusion specialists in the 61419 Unit are very good, so I’m told, but they left behind some electronic fingerprints.”

  Yang remained silent at first, and swallowed hard. The American president seemed very well informed, far better than expected. There was no point in trying to fence with Myles given his disadvantaged position.

  “What would you like us to do? Surrender?” he sneered.

  “No, Mr. Ambassador. But your country is the key to ending this conflict. Withdraw your troops from the islands you invaded, and request a cease-fire. I will fully support it and will put considerable pressure on our allies to accept it. Once the fighting has been stopped, I will propose a mediation plan to resolve the dispute.”

  “So you expect us to just absorb the losses inflicted by your allies, and then throw ourselves at your mercy. I seriously doubt my government will see any advantage in that.”

  “I concede that it’s not the most palatable solution, but the alternative is far, far worse,” pushed Myles. “We have not supplied any of this information to any of our allies. Not even the British know what we know. I’m offering the People’s Republic of China the ‘right of first refusal.’

  “I also don’t appreciate the position you’ve put me in by invading territories belonging to nonbelligerent nations that have security agreements with the United States; in particular, the Republic of the Philippines, which has absolutely no ability to threaten your country. If China continues down the current path, I sincerely doubt I’ll be able to keep my country neutral. And if that happens, then the information I’ve shared with you will be used against China. This will undoubtedly tip Western Europe over into the Littoral Alliance’s camp. You’ve seen the news reports as well as I; there are many who are already advocating such an action.”

  “Are you now threatening us, President Myles?” Yang shouted angrily.

  “No, Ambassador, I’m just trying to minimize the possibility of a misunderstanding. Your job is to faithfully inform your leaders where the United States stands on this matter. I need to be clear if you are to perform your duty properly.

  “But consider this. With the rest of Asia’s trade already lost to you, if Western Europe and the United States join them, China’s economy will implode. This will plunge your country into chaos, along with the rest of the world. We don’t want to see that happen any more than you do. The economic and political repercussions would be severe, affecting virtu
ally every nation on the globe, including my own country. And I doubt Russia would come to your aid. They would welcome seeing both our nations knocked down a notch.”

  Myles noted that Yang was visibly shaking. The ambassador was incensed with the president’s message. But after an awkward moment, the elderly diplomat nodded his understanding, rose, and said, “I will convey your message to the Central Committee.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Ambassador,” replied Myles as he stood. “I abhor being so blunt. It’s not my normal modus operandi to deal with a foreign government’s representative in such an unpleasant manner, but the current situation demands that I do nothing less.”

  Yang nodded, looking depressed and suddenly much older. He extended his hand. Myles grasped it firmly and said, “Good evening, Mr. Ambassador.”

  As Yang was escorted out of the Oval Office, Lloyd leaned over and whispered, “You were awfully generous with our information, Mr. President. Was it really necessary?”

  Myles sighed. “I know, Andy. And that decision may come back to bite us in the future, but I had to convince Yang that we had detailed knowledge on everything China was up to. That information is one of the few weapons I can use. I can only hope he’s running a little scared right now.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, he looked pretty miserable to me,” observed Lloyd.

  Myles smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder. “Yes, I’m afraid our friend Yang looked none too happy. And his night will undoubtedly get worse.”

  5 September 2016

  1100 Local Time

  INS Chakra

  South China Sea

  Captain Girish Samant surveyed his central post: the control room on a Russian-designed submarine. Everything was as it should be. The men were alert and attending to their duties as expected, despite the fact they’d been at action stations for several hours now. The war with China was only six days old and Chakra had already bagged four tankers, including one VLCC. Samant judged their performance thus far as adequate, but tankers are easy prey. Now they were hunting bigger game, a more elusive adversary, one that could fight back. Looking to his left at the Omnibus fire control consoles, he could see his first officer huddled with the two operators. The three men were having an animated discussion, their voices raised and excited. One of the operators pointed toward his circular display and commented on the target’s lack of proficiency. Samant frowned at such undisciplined behavior.