Sky Masters pm-2

by Dale Brown

  “Daniel, you cannot do this, ” Mikaso said earnestly. “Samar and Mindanao will not join your revolution-they will fight your annexation, resist your attempt to overthrow them, and split themselves off from the rest of the Philippines altogether-“

  “Yes. Vice President Samar is proving to be difficult, ” Teguina admitted. Jose Trujillo Samar, Second Vice President of the Philippines, was the governor of the state of Mindanao. “But once the city of Davao falls, Mindanao will be ours as well.” Mikaso sat back in the chair behind his desk, trying to absorb everything Teguina was saying. This was insane. Teguina had taken the nuclear detonation and allowed the Philippines to be raped by it. His entire country-the nation he loved and served-was evaporating before his eyes. Even its very form of government. He had to stop this, had to buy himself some time. … had to stop Teguina. But he needed time. Moments, if nothing else. “Daniel, ” Mikaso said, “what about these Chinese troops here? How do they fit into your master plan?”

  “Glad you asked, Mikaso, ” Teguina said smugly. He motioned to the officer in the helmet and blue bulletproofjacket. “This is Admiral Yin Po L’un, commander of the Spratly Island flotilla, the fleet that your traitorous soldiers bombed and strafed three nights ago. As a fellow Communist, he has agreed-with the full support of the People’s Republic of China, communicated to us from Beijing by Ambassador Dong-to assist in establishing my new regime. In exchange I have granted the Chinese Navy complete ownership of illegitimate Philippine holdings in the Spratly Islands. I have also authorized them access to our ports on Palawan and, once the rebel military forces have been eliminated, the naval base at Zamboanga and the airfields at Cebu and Davao. They will also have access to the former American military bases at Subic Bay and Angeles…”

  “You’re giving the Chinese four military bases?” Mikaso gasped incredulously. “You’re insane, Teguina! The people will never allow it-the world will never allow such a domination!”

  “It is already being done, Mikaso, ” Teguina said. “Not if I can help it, ” Mikaso said, reaching into his desk drawer to pull out a pistol he’d kept there for years. But it was too late. Several Type 56 automatic rifles, variants of the Soviet AK47 assault rifle, swung in his direction and someone fired. Mikaso jerked from the impact of the shot and slumped over the desk before finally collapsing on the floor. Teguina stood staring at the assassinated President, his mouth slightly agape. He had never meant to kill Mikaso, simply arrest him and have him confined. He continued to stare at the body and realized his breathing was labored. He felt a tap on the shoulder. “Comrade President.. .” Admiral Yin said, a slight smile on his face. Teguina had never heard those words before. The reality was dawning on him. Within a few seconds he had become the new President of the Republic of the Philippines-no, the President of the New Democratic Federation of Aguinaldo. He liked the sound of that-President of the Democratic Federation of Aguinaldo. It was a name that recalled the glory days, the days of fervent revolutionaries like Emilio Aguinaldo, a peasant farmer who rose to become the leader of a nation over two world superpowers, Spain and the United States. No matter that Aguinaldo was finally captured by General Funston, capitulated, and swore allegiance to America-it was his indomitable spirit that survived. It would become the rallying cry for a new nation. The Republic of Aguinaldo. The name sounded perfect. The body in a brown suit had been hastily covered with a tablecloth and was carried out by Chinese soldiers. “Wait!” Teguina shouted. “1 want the badge.” He pointed to his lapel, then motioned to the body that had been taken away. A Chinese officer went out, returning a few seconds later with the Philippine Badge of Honor. Teguina’s eyes registered dark stains spattered across the officer’s fingers, but ignored them as he pinned the Badge of Honor to his own lapel. The doors to the President’s office were closed by the Chinese troops, and Daniel Francisco Teguina set about the task of planning the important next steps to consolidating his power. THE WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE WEDNESDAY, 28 SEPTEMBER 1994, 1035 HOURS LOCAL The President was at his desk, staring out of one of the bulletresistant polycarbonate windows looking into the Rose Garden, when the men were ushered in. He didn’t even look up. His mind was on something more personal, more immediate than whatever brought the gentlemen in for this next appointment. Secretary of State Dennis Danahall and the President’s Chief of Staff, Paul Cesare, were standing near the President’s desk. The President’s secretary ushered General Curtis into the Oval Office. Curtis had been summoned for a meeting with the NSC and the President. “Sir.. .” General Curtis said, letting the President know he was present after Taylor’s secretary had shut the door behind him and disappeared back into the outer reception area. The President said nothing for a moment-nor did the others-and then, finally, he turned and took a deep breath. “Arturo Mikaso may be dead.” Curtis felt his heart skip a beat. “What? Mikaso dead?” Danahall said, “It’s unconfirmed, but we got a report a few minutes ago from British Intelligence, who had a Filipino clerk working in the palace at the time. The clerk says Mikaso was shot by a Chinese guard about an hour ago when the troops moved in. Some other Cabinet members and most of Mikaso’s staff and guards were also shot.”

  “Mikaso could still be alive.” The President sighed. “But I doubt it.”

  “What about the Chinese? Are they assisting in the coup?” asked Curtis. “The Chinese have occupied a military base on Palawanthey have in fact occupied the entire island-and have been given authorization by Teguina to occupy four more installations in the south, ” Secretary of Defense Preston said. “There are Chinese infantry and armor units in the capital already, and they are augmenting rebel troops by the hundreds.” Curtis looked at the President of the United States, understanding the terrible anguish within him. President Taylor and Mikaso had been friends despite the removal of U.S. troops from the Philippines, and Taylor had always pledged to protect Mikaso and his island country no matter what the political situation was. The news of his murder in his own house, by invading troops, must have been devastating to the President. “Mr. President, I’m very sorry. “I haven’t even briefed the rest of the NSC or the Cabinet about it yet, ” the President replied quietly. “Dammit, I should have been smarter. 1 should have realized Arturo was in danger from the beginning.. .” The President swiveled his chair and faced his advisers. “Well, what the hell do we do now?”

  “The Chinese have closed off the airport, ” Danahall said. “It’s too late to evacuate American citizens in Manila. We should demand that all American citizens that wish to leave be allowed to leave.”

  “Yes, absolutely . . . see to it immediately, ” the President said. His mind was moving quickly from item to item, all the while interrupted with the thought of his friend murdered in cold blood by a Chinese soldier. “What about the carriers? Are they in danger from the Chinese now?” General Curtis said, “1 believe the carriers can adequately protect themselves from any sea-based threats, including Chinese submarines. Their main threat would come from longrange, land-based strike aircraft or antiship missiles, and we need to determine the seriousness of that threat before sending any carrier task forces too close to occupied territory. The main thing is, we’ve got to get all the data we possibly can on the composition of the Chinese invaders. But if I may speak freely, sir-the most important question here is what you intend to do about the Chinese in the Philippines, ” Curtis concluded. “I want the Chinese out, that’s what, ” the President replied testily. “I want the democratic government in Manila restored. We will open negotiations with Premier Cheung immediately, of course, but I want them out. Unconditionally.”

  “But if they are invited by the Philippine government? Do we have any right to go in with military force to try to remove them?” Secretary of Defense Preston asked. “If they pose no direct threat to free trade and free access to the South Pacific or Southeast Asia, why do we want them out of the Philippines?” “What do you mean… ? Of course we have the right to remove them from the Philippines, ” President Taylor said.
“They’re a destabilizing force, a military and political threat to the democracies in the area. Aren’t we in agreement on this?”

  “I don’t think there is any question about that, ” Danahall said. “A three-way balance of power-us, the Soviets, and the Chinese-offers the best stability. Reduce it to one nation and the Cold War heats up all over again.” Curtis said, “But Secretary Preston’s point is valid, sir. We might not have any legitimate right to try to bump the Chinese out unless we can prove that the invasion is not in our best interests or unless we are asked to intervene.”

  “We have every right to make demands on the Chinese, ” Cesare interjected. “They don’t own the South China Sea. No nation can just move in and occupy another country.”

  “Exactly, Paul, ” the President said, “Mikaso was our friend and ally. I’m sure he didn’t give his life to allow the Chinese to march into his capital and take over his country.”

  “Curtis and Preston have a point, Mr. President, ” Danahall said. “If the present government-even Teguinasays he invited China in to quell some sort of national uprising, that forces us into a defensive situation. We have to explain to the world why we want to send troops in.”

  “We’re always put in a position to defend our actions, ” the President scoffed. “What else is new?”

  “That’s often true, Mr. President, ” Danahall said. “But we’ve got to try to work in concert with other countries-the more we try to go it alone, the more we’re accused of bullying and imperialism. We should get some interested countries involved and get them to ask for our help.”

  “Like who?” “ASEAN, for example, ” Danahall replied. “Most or all of the ASEAN nations have had territorial arguments with ChinaASEAN was developed as a counterweight to Chinese aggression. And then there are things we can do to advance our own military position without unnecessarily provoking the Chinese or alienating ASEAN…”

  “Well, sending in a second carrier battle group and a Marine Expeditionary Unit seems pretty provocative to me, Cesare said. “I think that action can be fully justified in the context of a nuclear-armed Chinese naval group that has moved into the South China Sea. I mean it’s right in the heart of ASEAN, ” Curtis replied. “So would sending in the Air Battle force for support “I don’t want to send in the damned B-52 bombers, ” the President grumbled. “Sending them in would be tantamount to saying we want a nuclear exchange. Christ, Curtis. “Sir, the biggest threat facing our carrier battle group in the South China Sea is not sea-based threats, but land-based threats, ” Curtis argued. “Heavy bombers and large antiship weapons launched from shore could devastate the fleet . “You said that already.”

  “The same argument applies to the Chinese, sir. Even a small squadron of Harpoon-equipped B-52s could devastate a Chinese surface action group-each bomber could destroy two to four vessels, with minimal risk to themselves.” The point, however grudgingly, was made on the President. “So what can the Air Force do?” the President asked after a brief pause. “We don’t have bases in the Philippines . “We’d operate out of Guam, sir, just like STRATFOR is doing, ” Curtis replied. “We’d deploy the First Air Battle Wing and have the manpower and equipment out there on hand for both fleet defense, sea interdiction, and ground attack. I’m not asking for permission to send the entire Air Battle Wing, sir, ” Curtis concluded. “We’ll need time to set up-at least five to six days. But General Elliott of HAWC has devised a special combat-information exchange system aboard several of his aircraft-including several modified B-52s and a B-2 stealth bomber-that could be extremely valuable to us if the shooting starts. I’m requesting permission to send Elliott and one aircraft, the stealth bomber, to Guam-under absolute secrecyto help get things set up.”

  “Elliott?” the President asked, rolling his eyes. “Brad Elliott? He’s involved in this… already?” Curtis went slowly, calmly, trying not to inflame the President any further. “It was his Center’s satellite system-PACER SKY-that got the photos of the Chinese ship launching the nuclear missile at the Philippine Navy. We want to expand that same satellite system on all the Air Battle Force aircraft. “But why send a B-2?” the President asked. “The B-2 is a part of the Air Battle Force now, sir, ” General Curtis explained. “It requires a lot more security and a bit more ground-support pre-planning. In addition, this particular B-2 was General Elliott’s prototype with the full PACER SKY satellite system installed. It also has greatly enhanced reconnaissance and surveillance capabilities that we will need immediately if the Air Battle Force is activated.” The President thought about the proposal a bit, then, with a weary and exasperated sigh shook his head. “Listen, Wilbur, I can’t decide on any of that now. Continue with current directives and keep me advised. I’ve got some thinking to do.”

  “Sir, may I?” “Save it, Wilbur. Thank you.” The meeting was definitely over. RESIDENCE OF THE PREMIER, BAIYUNGUAN TERRACE BEIJING, REPUBLIC OF CHINA THURSDAY, 29 SEPTEMBER 1994, 0602 HOURS LOCAL (WEDNESDAY, 28 SEPTEMBER, 1702 HOURS WASHINGTON TIME) The streets were still relatively empty as the small motorcade of dark, unmarked cars raced down Shilibao Avenue westward past Tian’anmen Square, then north past Yuyan Tan People’s Park toward the Premier’s residence in Baiyunguan Terrace, a complex of residences, green rolling hills, parks, and temples built especially for the Communist government leaders. Outer security at the twisting single-lane entrance was provided by a single unarmed guard who would politely point and describe the complex to tourists and children and even offer to take pictures for visitors; inside the narrow portal, however, was a detail of three thousand heavily armed soldiers, hand-picked by Premier Cheung Yat Sing himself, that guarded the sixtyacre complex. Once inside the complex, the motorcade sped past willowlined streets and meticulously tended sidewalks as they curved upward toward the center cluster of buildings, the private residence of Premier Cheung. The motorcade came to a sudden halt underneath a long breezeway, and the limousine’s occupants hurried inside the reception hall. If they had paused to look, they could have seen one of the grandest vistas in all Beijing-Yuyan Tan Lake to the west, the expansive Peking Zoo to the north, and the massive brick monuments of the Imperial Palace and Tian’anmen Square to the east, now glowing fiery crimson in the rising sun. But the limousine’s occupants were hustled directly inside and to the immediate meeting with the Premier himself in his private office. Leing Yee Tak, ambassador to China from the Republic of Vietnam, hardly had time to remove his shoes before none other than Premier Cheung himself entered the office, along with members of his Cabinet. This was highly unusual: the Premier never met with lowly ambassadors, only heads of state or occasionally minister- or Cabinet-level officials. Leing waited until the Premier had taken his seat at the center of a long dark granite table, then bowed deeply and approached the table. Cheung immediately offered him a seat with a gesture, and Leing sat. His interpreter aide remained standing behind him. Cheung was old, incredibly old even for a Chinese politician. The ninety-one-year-old leader of the world’s most populous nation still moved fairly well without assistance, although two burly Chinese Marines were on hand to help him in and out of his chair. His hair was dark, obviously dyed at the insistence of his advisers or from some deep-seated vanity, but his face was deeply etched from age and his fingers gnarled from arthritis. But Leing had been taught from his first days in the Vietnamese Socialist Party and the People’s Foreign Ministry that the eyes were the giveaway-Cheung’s eyes were still gleaming, still quick, still alert. Despite rumors to the contrary, Cheung still appeared to be in charge… But after quickly scanning the faces of the other Cabinet members, perhaps not. The Chinese Foreign Minister, Party Counsel, and Minister of Commerce were present, but the Ministers of Interior, Finance, Defense, and Industry were all replaced by their military counterparts. This was a military tribunal represented here, not a peacetime government. And Leing knew well the Supreme Commander of the People’s Liberation Army, High General Chin Po Zihong. Chin was young for a Chinese government official-si
xty-seven, if Leing remembered correctly-but he appeared to be half that age. He was a short, barrel-chested, dark-haired Mongol that instantly reminded one of how the Mongol hordes of centuries past had struck fear into the hearts of soldiers throughout Europe and Asia. Unlike most other high-ranking military officers, Chin wore few accoutrements on his plain, dark grey uniform. He didn’t need ribbons and badges to demonstrate his power and authority to others. Cheung spoke, and afterward his interpreter said, “The Premier extends his government’s greeting to Comrade Leing. The Premier wishes to know if there is anything that would make the ambassador from the Republic of Vietnam more comfortable.”

  “Nothing, Comrade Premier, ” Leing replied. “I thank you for your generous offer. I too wish to extend the greetings of the Republic of Vietnam.” Cheung bowed slightly at the neck, and the civilian members of the Cabinet did likewise-the military members did not move. Chin appeared as immobile as stone, unblinking and inscrutable. “The Premier wishes to extend an invitation to the ambassador from Vietnam to attend a briefing on the situation in the Philippines and the South China Sea, ” the interpreter said. “High General Chin will conduct the briefing. We will outline the actions and events that precipitated the current military actions in that nation and explain our objectives and intentions.” Leing could have fallen over backward in surprise. The Chi nese Chief of Staff himself, conducting a briefing on his military actions-for a member of the Vietnamese government? The offer was astounding. China and Vietnam had a long, off-again and on-again relationship over the past fifty years. Both were Communist republics; Vietnam’s government was fashioned as a smaller copy of China’s. Both were military powers in the Pacific, with Vietnam having the world’s fourth-largest army and the world’s eighth-largest small-boat navy. But political relations were based on expediency and short-term interests, and those relations were usually stormy at best and warlike at worst. Currently, relations were at the simmering but nonbelligerent level. The Spratly Islands question, long a point of contention, was at an impasse, with China having the definite edge. Vietnam had countered with its full membership in ASEAN, and with improving its relations with the Soviet Union, the United States, and many other countries. The brief but violent war over the Spratly Islands in the late 1980s was all but forgotten, border skirmishes were rare, and things were tense but bloodless for a few years now. Why would China feel the need to advise Vietnam on its current conflict in the Philippines? “On behalf of my government, I accept your gracious offer, Comrade Premier, ” Leing replied warily. “The incidents of the past few days in the Philippines have caused much concern in my country. “Allow me to assure you, Comrade Ambassador, ” the interpreter said, “that the People’s Republic of China harbors no ill feeling toward Vietnam. Our forces will not threaten any Vietnamese facilities or vessels in the region. You have the word of the Premier.”