by Tyler Totten
“Missiles entering our point defense envelope!” Sensors called out.
“What’s the status of our missiles.” Rogov snapped back. I can’t do anything with the inbounds, but I need to know about the damn outbounds!
“In battlestation’s point defense in ten seconds!” Sensors wilted under Rogov’s fierce glare.
Rogov turned his glare on the tactical display, though it seemed unaffected. He watched his missiles as they were slowly obliterated from the display. Only two got close enough to do any damage, destroying one of the remote missile launch units and badly irradiating another. The rebellious crews of both were killed.
A poor start. Rogov grimaced.
Sol System: Earth Orbit
PRC Shanghai
Grand Admiral Chen Qiang walked briskly into the Flag conference room aboard the PRC’s newest battleship. Under construction in the only shipyard to survive, her pressurized dock had been punctured by small fighter-bomber sprint missiles, but their warheads had been conventional, sparing the dock and its precious battleship. Repairs to the dock and final fitting out of the battleship had been rushed in the last few weeks. While she was still not one-hundred percent, she was close enough. In particular, close enough for Qiang’s purposes as he had no intention of losing this one to a gunboat attack, the fate of the previous incarnation. As he swept into the room, he saw that the Major from the ISS he had met earlier was present, Major Lin. Rear Admiral Chu was not present, otherwise engaged laying the groundwork for the steps that would follow the events that were about to occur.
“Admiral, it is almost time.” Lin informed him. “All is in place. Rear Admiral Chu sent a communiqué that he is ready to initiate his portion of the plan as soon as he receives word.”
“Very well. Let’s be done with this unfortunate business.” Qiang said as if he’d tasted something bad. Regardless of how much the Party men deserved what was about to happen to them, Qiang couldn’t help but think of the innocents he was about to kill in the process. It didn’t sit well, but there was no other way to end this madness.
“Distasteful it may be, but we must do it to safeguard the future.” Major Lin said with conviction.
“So it is Major. When you are responsible for as many deaths as I have been responsible for, we can sit and discuss your convictions of what must be done. I think you’ll find that it becomes harder and harder to swallow the pill of ‘The Greater Good’.”
Lin didn’t respond. Qiang stared hard at the tactical display, this one a flat two-dimensional display of the Party bunker. The bunker was located at the bottom of the Yellow Sea, burrowed one-hundred meters under the seabed which was in turn under almost two-hundred meters of water. The pressure at that depth would be nearly thirty times atmospheric pressure. The Party bunker had been designed with this threat, among others, in mind. To combat this the bunker was divided into four sections: transportation, engineering, personnel quarters, and Party quarters. Transportation was the hub to which each section was connected. The transport section was served by small submarines but was primarily served via a twin-track rail line from Dalian.
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The high-speed train rocketed down the rail, hurtling at two-hundred kilometers per hour towards the bunker. The operator was dead, killed by the man now at the train’s controls. He had no name, at least none that he remembered. He served the state and nothing else mattered. His handler had informed him that his new target was housed within the bunker and had provided him with the means to eliminate his target, nothing else mattered and no questions were asked. Another nameless servant would ensure his target was eliminated, sabotaging the only line of defense available to his target. He would not fail.
“Train six-seven-three. You have no sent the recognition protocols. Transmit the recognition protocols or we will not open the blast door for you. Respond immediately!” Insisted the voice on the other end of the radio. Trains didn’t leave Dalian without authorization, so this was more of a formality and thus the caller assumed that the operator was merely being forgetful. Having memorized the code, the nameless agent transmitted the proper code.
The bunker transport control received and logged the code before initiating the door opening procedure. The heavy door was unlocked and the hydraulics began lifting the massive door into its overhead slot. The pressure door was capable of not only holding back the massive pressure of the sea, it could also absorb a tactical nuclear blast. The train, having slowed to entry speed of just fifty kilometers per hour, slid under the door. As the third car passed under the door a carefully timed detonation occurred. The strategic, city-killing nuclear warhead hidden in the car was arranged such that it would concentrate its blast upward and the immense heat and pressure warped the massive door. The rail line and its foundation also evaporated as the blast was not entirely directed upward. The combination meant that the door would never seal again. This alone would not have been overly hazardous if not for the second detonation. Another city-killer, this one was housed in the last car in the train nearly a kilometer behind the locomotive, was also directed upward. Instead of encountering a tough armored door, this blast found only a reinforced tunnel and less than ten meters of seabed. The result was a spectacular detonation that expelled the tunnel’s overhead structure into the Yellow Sea and momentarily created a large hemispherical pocket at the bottom of the sea. The sea almost immediately reclaimed the space and, finding the way open, plunged into the rail tunnel. Greedily replacing the air in both directions the water rushed on. As it reached the still cooling blast door it surged into the transport bay. Inside, automatic safeties kicked in and began slamming interior doors and sealing off the sections, The actions were largely futile, however, because the inner doors were not built to withstand such immense pressures and one at a time, the doors failed.
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The other nameless agent moved swiftly, pushing his heavy cart ahead of him. The whisper quiet electric motors in each wheel propelled the service trolley down the passageway in an easy glide. He knew he had little time, the train would be reaching the transport hub any moment. He rounded another corner and his target came into site. The lock-down door to separate the transport section from the Party chambers was in site. As he approached from the Party side he heard the first alarm. The red strobing lights started almost immediately and the siren warned of the blast door closure. He propelled his cart the final meters, bringing it to rest exactly across the path of the descending doorway. As he did, he flipped open the cover of the cart’s control panel to reveal an added switch. As he flipped the switch, four thermite charges ignited, burning through the connection points for the wheels first. The wheels ceased to support the heavy cart and the cart dropped to the floor with a loud clang. As the thermite charge expended itself, the rapidly cooling floor plate and the cart welded themselves together. Nobody would be moving the cart now.
The agent watched with interest as the door descended. He figure he might as well see his work complete, for he knew there was no escaping this watery tomb. As the door met the cart, logic would have it that the thin sheet metal of the cart would simply fold under the weight of the door and have no effect. This was not a normal cart, however, instead being a thickly reinforced structure of the same high-strength plate used in the construction of battleships and power armor. The modified cart stood fast and held the door. The door settled onto the cart, creaking and groaning, but a gap of nearly a meter still remained. This pressure door would not be sealing.
Hearing the oncoming roar, he turned and faced his death.
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“It is done.” The Major whispered softly. Qiang nodded, still watching the display. It showed the status of the bunker and they were also tapped into the ISS monitoring of the bunker communications. There was cries for help and additional chatt
er and shock at the events of the last ten minutes.
“The Japanese just picked it up and are sending it out. The Americans will know inside of five minutes.” Called a junior operative wearing no recognizable insignia other than the ISS badge.
“Rear Admiral Chu should initiate.” The Major recommended in turn.
“Yes, and we must move quickly. Make sure all the teams move as one.” Qiang said, turning to head to the flag bridge.
“Yes Grand Admiral, right away sir!” The Major perked up, action and more pressing concerns turning them both away from the thousands of deaths that had just occurred.
“Alea iacta est.” Qiang whispered to himself as he strode down the passageway.
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“Sir, you need to take a look at this.” The technician pushed his headphones down around his neck and waved the watch commander over.
“What have you got?” The commander asked as he came up behind the technician.
“Hydrophones just picked up some massive activity in the vicinity of the Yellow Sea.” The technician replied, queuing up the playback. The watch commander nodded and he played it over his workstation’s speakers. The sounds were unmistakable, rumbling and escaping air noises.
“Better pass this up the chain.” The commander stepped briskly over to his own desk and lifted a timeless red phone. The connection to Pacific Command was nearly instantaneous.
“Pacific Command.” Came the gruff voice.
“Sir, this is Guam Undersea, we just picked up noises of probably underwater collapse in the vicinity of the Yellow Sea.” The Watch Commander said quickly, gesturing to the technician to forward the data along. “The raw data is headed to you now.”
“Damn, alright son. We’ve been getting some other indications of activity in that vicinity as well. Stay on it. The order is going to come down in a few minutes anyway, so you might as well bring your command to DEFCON TWO levels on my authority, Admiral Theodore Wallace. Computer will confirm authority and identity.” Admiral Wallace said, his voice sounding containing more tension and less of a gruff demeanor.
“Aye, sir. DEFCON TWO.” Every technician in the room swiveled at that.
“PACOM out.” The line went dead.
“You heard me, we are at DEFCON TWO. Let’s act like it. Look alive people, this is the real deal!” The Watch Commander snapped out. He was glad for the flurry of activity around him. Everyone was too busy with the tasks they needed to carry out to notice his cold sweat.
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“Mr. President, we have confirmation. Satellite imagery and thermal scans confirm the detonation of at least one nuclear warhead in the strategic-class and flooding of the main bunker site for the PRC Party members. Our intelligence indicates that all of the Party members were inside at the time of the incident.” Jamie McCreary, President Bill Samuels’ Secretary of Defense, placed the comm back into its cradle. She had just been conferring with PACOM and NORAD.
“And the Politburo?” Samuels asked quickly.
“Their status is unknown sir.” McCreary responded.
“That bunker is very well subdivided, Mr. President. My staff judges it highly unlikely that a single nuclear warhead could have done sufficient damage. Additionally, it is almost inconceivable that any group could have infiltrated enough of the facility to deploy a second warhead in such a way as to breach the subdivision. We’ve thought about this to some length.” The Director of the NSA, Carl Brilliant argued.
“We just can’t say either way at this point.” McCreary countered. “I must concede, however, that we need to consider the worst case scenarios.”
“Such as?” Samuels wanted it all laid out in front of him. Sometimes getting information from his staff was like pulling teeth.
“First sir, if the Politburo leadership has been eliminated, there could be a coup underway or even a serious power vacuum. This could lead to highly unpredictable actions on the part of the PRC military and intelligence apparatus. Second, whether they have been eliminated or not, it is likely that we or one of our allies will be implicated in this attack. That runs its own risk of fallout.” McCreary explained.
“Alright. We’ve already gone to DEFCON Two. I will not place us at One unless something much more direct occurs.” Samuels said forcefully. Nobody argued.
Chapter XIV
“Admiral, sir!” Admiral Mondragon’s Communications Officer jerked her head up quickly. “Incoming transmission from the PRC battleship Shanghai! It’s Grand Admiral Qiang, sir.”
“Now that is interesting.” Mondragon said with studied nonchalance. “I’ll take it on my personal line.” Mondragon picked up his helmet and put it on. He then locked the visor down and gestured for his communications officer to connect him. “This is Admiral Mondragon.”
“Admiral Mondragon, thank you for taking my call.” The video call connected and Mondragon saw the image of Grand Admiral Chen Qiang. While the PRC admiral had something of an accent, his English was excellent. “Troubling times we live in.”
“Some are more troubling than others, Grand Admiral Chen.” Mondragon tipped his head slightly in recognition of the higher ranking officer, even if he was the enemy. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Mondragon noticed with some satisfaction that his flag captain, Captain Olivia Twining, had brought Missouri quietly to GQ. Admiral Chen noticed his slight smile and glanced off-screen briefly, returning with his own smile.
“I see your battlegroup has gone to general quarters. An appropriate precaution. How paranoid war makes us?” He said with obvious humor.
“Or perhaps it is man’s paranoia that makes war?” Mondragon countered cautiously.
“Perhaps, indeed.” Admiral Chen seemed to pause. “Admiral Mondragon, there is much to discuss. Perhaps a meeting, on neutral ground? Face-to-face.”
“Neutral ground would seem to be in short supply. Indeed, even this solar system is hardly neutral ground.” Mondragon responded with slightly more bitterness in his tone that he had intended.
Qiang winced involuntarily at the jab. “That much is true.” He paused again, seemingly in thought. “I will fly to a set of coordinates in one of my ship’s cargo shuttles, alone. Once there, I will vent the aft bay and you can dock to meet me there. Would this be acceptable?”
Admiral Mondragon considered it for a moment. He could already see his Communications Officer reacting with horror to the mere thought of her commander heading out to meet in the middle of space with an enemy admiral, all with only a thin pressure suit protecting him from the void. Not to mention the enemy.
“I accept your proposal. Should anything happen to me…”Mondragon allowed himself to trail off.
“One should hope so.” Qiang responded without hesitation. “Very good. I will send the coordinates directly to your number two laser comm panel. Wouldn’t want anyone else to know these coordinates, now would we?”
“Just so.” Mondragon responded, watching as his Chinese counterpart nodded and began typing into his own command console. Mondragon turned to his communications officer. “Betty, I need the number two laser comm panel locked out of the main computer, my override.”
“Aye, aye sir.” She responded hesitantly.
Mondragon commed Captain Twinning. “Olivia, I have a favor to ask.”
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Mondragon had barely managed to get to the bay, let alone take off with all of the officers trying to stop him. After he had finally managed to persuade enough of them that he was going and that he was going alone, he had managed to get onto the flight line. Once there, he had inspected the SAR bird. As he had ordered, the small chin turret had been hurriedly removed and the wing pylons were bare of ordinance. He nodded his approval at the crew chief who simply nodded in return before drawing up to a full salute. Admiral Mondragon solemnly returned the salute.
“She’s all set?”
“Yes sir, she’ll take you where you need to go just fine.”
“Thank you Chief.”
Mondragon settled into the seat and watched as the strobing lights announced a spacecraft in motion. Mondragon noticed that the Deck Chief personally guided his SAR bird into the launch tube. Once the craft was settled into the multi-use tube and locked into the launching rails, Mondragon gave a quick thumbs up. The launch officer returned the thumbs up and indicated launch with a flick of his arm. An instant later, Mondragon was thrust back into his seat, even with the dampeners. As he was flung out into space, he expertly adjusted his trim and moved in a wide sweeping turn. He had waited to enter the coordinates, only now withdrawing his small tablet and punching the displayed coordinates into the nav comp. His small craft adjusted its heading and adjusted its heading to angle towards the point in space.
Behind him, aboard Missouri, another launch coil energized and fired, but at a somewhat reduced charge. Four black shapes flitted from the tube in tight formation, their armor stealthed and giving away no hint of their presence. Inside the lead suit of power armor, Captain Raymond Lockhart unclenched his jaw. The launch rails were a damn unpleasant way for a Marine to launch from a ship. Still, not nearly as unpleasant as the reason for the launch. When Admiral Mondragon had approached him, in person no less, and explained the mission the only thing that had prevented him from swearing on the spot was the Admiral’s very presence. The mission was insane, regardless of the Admiral’s assurances that they were merely a precaution. Lockhart didn’t like it, not one bit. But marines didn’t have to like it, not even Force Recon officers. They were marines and they went where they were told.