“Go on,” Darius said. “Finish your thought.”
“A Chinese electronics officer might pick up our signal. In other words, it increases their chance of detection.”
Darius didn’t look around at the others in the control center. That might indicate he didn’t know what to do or couldn’t decide. It had been different in Lake Ontario. Then it had just been Khan and him. Those days had been like playing one on one basketball. You didn’t have worry about shooting too much, because there was only you. Here, as in regular basketball, it was a team effort. His wrong choices could hurt other people.
“Where will the drone go if it stays on its preselected route?” Darius asked.
“The range we’re seeing this at…” Khan shrugged. “The drone might drift off in a different direction. The program should cause it to veer toward those carriers. But you can never be sure when the sighting is so slight. These drones have a built-in glitch—”
“We’re the eyes and ears of Task Force A,” Darius muttered.
“Yes, sir,” Khan said. “But if the Chinese know we’re here…”
Darius chewed his lower lip. What was the correct decision? He wasn’t sure. He could ask the Chief of the Boat, an ancient enlisted man with by far the most experience. In fact, he should ask for opinions. But would that make him look weak-willed?
Allah, grant me wisdom, he prayed silently.
Darius squinted at the screen, and he felt more confident. He was the eyes and ears of Task Force A. He needed to do his job. “Give the drone a short burst command,” he said in a soft voice. “I want a closer look at those ships.”
“Yes, Captain,” Khan said, although the small man hesitated.
Darius noticed, and he waited for someone to tell him he was wrong. No one did, and Khan sent the transmission.
PRCN SUNG
Old Admiral Niu Ling commanded the carrier group from the supercarrier Sung. There were two flattops under his orders, together with their escorts of one battleship, some cruisers, more destroyers and various supply ships, submarines, helicopter tenders and other necessary vessels.
Sung was massive, displacing one hundred and eight thousand tons. She had fought in the Alaskan War in 2032 and helped launch the amphibious assault at Santa Cruz, California in 2039. The supercarrier had missed the Battle of Oahu in the Hawaiian Islands where the Chinese had annihilated the last American flattops. Instead, the super-ship had been near the coast of Australia with the waiting Chinese invasion fleet.
In 2032 during the Alaskan War, Sung held ninety modern fighters, bombers, tankers and electronic warfare planes. Now she had one hundred and sixty smaller UCAVs, giving her nearly double the punch. Her sister carrier had half as many drones. The North American War had devoured Chinese air power, just as the war kept eating the nation’s carriers.
Ling had been old during the Alaskan invasion. As always, he was missing his left arm, as he’d rejected a prosthetic replacement. He had the empty sleeve pinned against his uniform so it wouldn’t flap around at inopportune times. He’d lost the arm many years ago in a flight accident while attempting to land a plane on a carrier. The left side of his face was frozen flesh, although he had a new eye that gleamed with hideous life. Ling found that the artificial eye intimidated people more than his rank or age ever did.
He stood in the ship’s command center, once again off the coast of Australia. The Americans had finally come out with a fleet. It amazed him. They fought well enough on land. On the sea, however, their time had passed. This was still China’s hour.
Oh, he admitted to himself the Americans had come up with technological surprises. Even during the Alaskan invasion, his fleet had been forced to withstand anti-ship ballistic missiles. What a terrifying experience that had been. Fortunately, superior Chinese technology had blunted the attack. Two years ago, the crafty Americans used THOR missiles and ICBMs against the powerful GD Atlantic fleet. Combined with US airpower, the North Americans had annihilated the GD vessels. That had been impressive, although Ling wouldn’t allow that here.
Yes, the Americans knew how to use submarines. Grudgingly, Admiral Ling admitted that to himself. The Japanese during World War II had learned a similar lesson.
He had some surprises in case the Americans dared to attempt THOR attacks against his carrier group. The sole battleship had an experimental particle beam cannon, able, the technicians said, to knock down the THOR crowbars. The carrier group also possessed tested, laser-armed cruisers, while destroyers carried SM-4B missiles.
Despite that, Ling’s stomach churned. He admitted to worry. He was also far too old for any of this. Why couldn’t the Leader let him lay down his command? He did not care for nuclear depth charges or the nuclear-tipped torpedoes. The Americans used those, and now so did China.
In truth, Admiral Ling feared for his land. They had played the Game of Great Nations too boldly. Perhaps it would have been better in the beginning to tie down American forces with a powerful Mexico. Then the Chinese navy could have snatched up the entire Pacific basin. With Australia under their belt…
Could the Americans really believe they could lift Australia out of China’s hands? That was so preposterous. Yet sometimes, there was power in doing the unexpected.
He studied the command center personnel. No one seemed to watch him, but that didn’t fool Ling. They always watched him, usually out of the corner of their eyes. His electronic orb recorded everything for him. Even a year ago, he would sit alone in his office and study the videos from his mechanical eye. The sessions had taught him much about human nature. Now he no longer bothered to watch the videos. He knew all he wanted to know about human proclivities.
Despite the knowledge that everyone watched him, he touched his artificial eye. Yes, the doctors had told him the thing would not hurt, but it often did during times of increased stress. Did several officers recoil at his touch of it? That was possible. He could check recordings later, but why bother. How would it help him to know if they found him repugnant or not?
He was too old for this. He knew the depth of human depravity, and—
“Sir!” one of the ratings said, a young boy with such smooth skin.
Admiral Ling made an easy gesture. He might look and act as an ancient wreck, but he still had strength in his withered muscles.
“I’ve just picked up a radio signal,” the rating said.
Ling clapped his hands. It’s all he needed to do.
The command center burst into life. He had a well-oiled machine in these men. He was old enough to appreciate something well oiled.
That was another age. Electronics dominate this one.
“Sir,” a deck captain said. “I believe we can pinpoint the signal’s origin.”
“Please do so,” Ling said quietly.
Three minutes later, the captain put his discovery on the big screen. With an electric pointer, the meticulous man circled an area of sea.
“The signal must have originated from somewhere in there,” he said.
He means submarines, likely American ones. “Launch several drones,” Ling said. “Scour the area for underwater vessels.”
“I’ve spotted an enemy drone, sir!” the smooth-skinned rating shouted.
Ling allowed the boy this breach of protocol. These days, he hated it when others shouted. Everything should be done with decorum.
“Show me,” Ling said quietly, trying to teach by example.
“Transferring it to the big screen, sir,” the deck captain said.
Ling leaned forward. Oh yes, he saw it, a tiny thing really. “What am I seeing?” he asked.
“That is a Seagull-3,” the captain explained. “They are usually launched from Avenger VII submarines, using stealth broadcasts so we cannot pinpoint the location of the mother ship.”
“What did the signal you picked up earlier tell us?” Ling asked.
“The submarine captain must have sent the drone a movement order. In my opinion, Admiral…”
�
��Please, tell me,” Ling said.
“The Americans have spotted us.”
“Yes, that must be true. So we must spot and destroy him before he launches a nuclear torpedo. Afterward, we will find the American transports and annihilate the lot of them.”
“What about the American drone, sir?” the captain asked.
“I fail to understand your question,” Ling said.
“We can destroy it.”
“Yes,” Ling said.
“Perhaps we should wait, Admiral,” the captain said. “We might make them think we don’t know it’s there.”
“I doubt it,” Ling said. “It seldom pays to act with delicacy in these affairs. Brute force prevails. Hmm…I should think the Americans would deploy their THOR missiles soon.”
“Because of one small drone, sir?” the captain dared ask.
Ling allowed himself a soft chuckle. It made the command center personnel uneasy. He recognized the signs.
“Consider,” he told the captain, speaking to all of them now. “The Americans are attempting an amphibious invasion. How can they do that when we have the superior fleet? Because they have another weapon system. Yet what system could they employ so far from home? Their anti-ship ballistic missiles? No, I doubt that. What then? Why, their vaunted THOR missiles. Captain, destroy the drone and alert Chinese Space Command. We must stop the THOR missiles before they begin to fall on us.”
“And the American submarine?” the captain asked.
“We will begin using nuclear depth charges,” Ling said. He hated them, but they were useful. He could not allow China to lose any more of its precious aircraft carriers.
USS GRANT
Darius’s head dipped as his eyelids drooped. He was tired. He’d been up for two watches already. He knew he should—
“Captain Green!” Khan shouted.
Darius’s head snapped up. A smaller man might have lurched to his feet. Darius found that his bulk helped keep him calm. He’d never told anyone else his secret, but he was sure it was true.
“At ease, mister,” Darius said.
Khan faced him. “The Chinese took out our drone, sir.”
“It was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“They must know we’re here,” Khan said.
“I agree, sir,” the Chief said, a square-faced fellow from Kansas.
Darius dug sleep from his eyes with this knuckles. They were big and scarred from fistfights in his youth, with visible skin cracks in them. He nodded. What they said made sense. “Listen closely,” he said. “We’ll launch…three hunter-seekers. Then we turn around and—”
“We can’t lead them to the Task Force, sir,” the Chief said.
Darius’s eyes opened wider. What was this? Did the Chief second-guess him in front of the crew? Why did the man do it now all of a sudden?
He didn’t like my order earlier. Was it a mistake?
He couldn’t take it back, so there was no use worrying about it. Darius locked stares with the Chief. The man wasn’t backing down, though, and stared right back at him. Instead of getting angry, Darius turned away and thought deeply.
This was more than face, more than black and white animosity. He captained a submarine. Before Allah, that was an important responsibility. He wondered what his uncle would have done.
“Thank you, Chief,” Darius said. “I have considered your words.”
The crew watched him. His next order would determine many things.
“We have to launch our data, both to the Task Force and to Space Command. Afterward, we dive as deep as we can go. Then we crawl toward the enemy. If I’m right, there’s a shooting match starting. We have to work in and pop up later, and put a nuke up their Chinese asses.”
No one smiled. It was too grim a topic. If they could do that, launch the nuclear-tipped torpedo…none of them might live to talk about it.
“We joined the service to fight the enemy, gentlemen,” Darius said. “Sometimes, that means risking everything.” He watched them. Khan and he were Muslims. Allah could help a man die well, particularly during a fight. What about the others? Could they die well?
“Carry out my orders,” Darius said, and he stood. If anyone tried to second-guess him now—no, the crewmembers went about their tasks. Therefore, he opened his fist and let his fingers relax.
LEXINGTON, KENTUCKY
Alarms rang underground as General Foxx of the C and C THOR Missile Station burst through the door. They were deep in an abandoned mine shaft, the chamber well lit and cooled by massive air conditioners.
Men and women sat at their terminals, studying incoming data and checking with Space Command.
Foxx studied his tablet, rereading the latest text. The data links were tenuous, from a destroyer on the edge of the Tasman Sea, back to a message ship, to Antarctica and then to a relay station in South Africa.
“What code is—?” General Foxx never had a chance to finish his words. It was Code Red, ultra-priority. “You know what this means, people. We’re going to burn up satellites to get a fix on the Chinese carriers. This one is for real. Harris, how many are in range of—”
“One bundle, sir,” Harris said.
“Just one? That’s too bad. How long until its—”
“Two hours, sir,” Harris said.
Foxx nodded. He was a slender man. A year and a half ago, he’d been a colonel running an experimental unit. Now he was a general with a war-winning weapons system. It was time to get to work.
AUTOMATED ORBITING SENSORS, SPACE
Two American sensor satellites packed in stealth sheathing were passing Australia west to east at longitude south 30 degrees and 45 degrees respectively. The signal from Lexington, Kentucky bounced along towers to a hidden relay satellite over the mid-Atlantic to Senegal. From there, through various towers, it reached South Africa and shot to another hidden satellite over the middle of the Indian Ocean.
Once they acted—revealing themselves—the space assets would have a short shelf life. Whatever they had to do, they had to do quickly.
One sensor satellite moved over the curvature of the Earth before the signal originating in Lexington could reach it. So it remained hidden in its stealth material. The other satellite at 30 degrees south received the message. Its AI recognized the code and ordered the satellite to burst out of its sheathing. Immediately, it used powerful radar and other sensor arrays and found the Chinese carrier group in the middle of the Tasman Sea.
The satellite used a communications laser, sending the data back to the object that had woken it. Seconds turned into minutes. Then the carrier group down below reacted to the intruding satellite.
Chinese destroyers Rose Petal and Green Lily activated their defense grids, arming MIR-616 Standard Missile 4Bs. Fifteen seconds later, two weapons blasted off, one from each destroyer.
Each improved SM-4B was seven meters long. Each had a wingspan of two meters and an operational range of seven hundred kilometers. Its flight ceiling was one hundred and eighty kilometers—twenty more kilometers than its previous version, deployed in 2032.
INS semi-active radar from the Sung tracked the American satellite.
Each SM-4B missile used a solid-fuel Aerojet booster. The first one roared out of human eyesight, heading for space. As the first stage rocket fell away, the second stage dual thrust rocket motor took over. More targeting data reached the missile as it rapidly climbed out of the atmosphere. Once in space, the third stage MK 136 solid-fueled rocket motor used pulse power.
The American satellite lacked defensive measures. It merely collected data on the fleet, sending it west toward the middle of the Indian Ocean.
On the first SM-4B missile, the third stage separated. The lightweight exo-atmospheric projectile sent the kinetic warhead at the target. Seconds ticked away, and the warhead struck the sensor satellite. The SM-4B transferred one hundred and thirty megajoules of kinetic energy to the object, more than enough to obliterate it.
It hardly mattered. The original
telemetry data had already reached C and C THOR Missile Station under Lexington, and the attack order to the single THOR bundle heading into position went out.
LOW EARTH ORBIT
The THOR launch vehicle hidden in stealth cladding expelled cold gas propulsion as instructed by a burst of orders originating from C and C Lexington. As long as the vehicle stayed cool, Chinese sensors would have a difficult time finding it.
The only trouble was that time was critical. Even now, the Chinese carrier group would likely be racing elsewhere. The original data was extremely time sensitive.
The vehicle’s AI took over after the initial burst of orders. It expelled more cold gas, beginning to deorbit into attack position. A regular rocket exhaust would have created a bright plume—a beacon—for the enemy to see. Instead, the stealth vehicle continued to maneuver with a minimum signature. This was its most vulnerable stage. If the Chinese could find it now, they could destroy the weapons system.
Luckily, the THOR missiles did not need maximum penetration for their current objectives. Enemy silos or underground bunkers—hardened targets—demanded a nearly vertical attack from space. Ships were different. The THOR missiles could attack at a shallower angle. It meant the missiles could come from many different directions, making them harder to spot and defeat.
Unlike the attack against the GD Atlantic fleet in 2040, a single launch vehicle maneuvered into position, not many.
The Americans lacked high-flying UAVs or any over-the-horizon radar. Instead, several Seagull-3 drones converged on the enemy carrier group.
It seemed the Chinese understood the danger. Enemy attack UCAVs flew thick on combat air patrol, or CAP. They destroyed the small Seagull-3 drones as quickly as they spotted them. Fortunately for the THOR Launch Vehicle, its AI-enhanced receivers picked up the data needed. Another AI relayed the targeting intelligence to the individual missiles, giving them their priority objectives.
Invasion: China (Invasion America) (Volume 5) Page 21