Invasion: China (Invasion America) (Volume 5)

by Vaughn Heppner

  Alan looked up from his monitor. “Yes, Director,” the thin, glasses-wearing Chairman of the Joint Chiefs said.

  “Is the Air Force in Manchuria ready to strike?”

  “It is,” McGraw said.

  “Are the Navy submarines’ Tomahawks set to launch?” Harold asked Admiral O’Hara.

  “I’ve put as many as I dared on station off China’s coast,” the admiral said. “They’re not as numerous as we wanted. As you know, the Chinese have a highly effective coastal waters defensive system and it’s been difficult maneuvering our submarines into position there.”

  “I don’t want to hear that tonight,” Harold said.

  “I understand,” O’Hara said. “Although I think I should warn you that we might lose whatever submarine launches Tomahawks.”

  “With our inland attack scheme,” McGraw said, “we’re also going to lose most of our Manchurian-based planes and drones—at least those making the deep strikes.”

  Harold nodded in an approximation of an easy manner.

  It’s an act, Anna realized. He’s nervous, more frightened than I’ve ever seen him. Maybe he finally realizes what David went through all these years. The pressure can be debilitating.

  Harold cleared his throat, putting his hand in front of his mouth. He laid the hand on the table and began to speak.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, these past few years, the Chinese have shown us some tricks. I’m not above learning from anyone if it will help me win. We’re going for the kill tonight. This is victory or bust. We’re holding nothing back. Either we win, or we’re going to lose in China, which will be a massive setback for our country.”

  “High stakes,” McGraw said, with a scowl that put a deep vertical line between his eyebrows. “I don’t like it.”

  “I know,” Harold said. “But we have no choice. I believe Dr. Levin’s reports. Premier Konev has lost his nerve. He’s making moves as if he’s still America’s ally, but I’m sure he’s planning to sell us down the river. We have to strike tonight and win big enough to keep the Russians with us for a while. We have to keep the Premier greedy, thinking he can get a little more. That’s Konev’s weak point.”

  I wonder what your weak point is? Anna asked herself.

  “If our Marines are successful,” McGraw said, “just how many enemy cities are you willing to atomize?”

  The chamber fell silent as every eye fell on Director Harold. He gave them a wintery grin. “General, if I have to, I plan to destroy every city in China to bring true peace to America.”

  “We don’t have enough hypervelocity missiles to level their country,” McGraw said. “The number is not even close.”

  “So very true,” Harold said. “It is the reason I have given the hypervelocity missile launchers new targets.”

  McGraw bristled. Anna wondered why. Maybe the missiles were under his jurisdiction normally. With those words, the tension built in here. America attacked tonight, but the country’s leaders jockeyed for supreme power among themselves. Alan seemed to have sided with Harold, while McGraw probably had Levin.

  “The hypervelocity missiles will demolish every Chinese ABM laser site they can reach,” Harold said. “I mean to yank China’s pants down around their ankles. If Hong refuses our deal, we’ll launch the ICBMs, and China will no longer have anything to stop them.”

  “Genocide,” McGraw whispered.

  Harold shook his head. “No. They’ll still have millions of people left. Tens of millions. This is payback, General, for what the Chinese did to us in Oklahoma. Hmmm, for even thinking to invade our country, I will obliterate them. Tonight, one way or another, we destroy China’s power.”

  The silence stretched, almost becoming painful.

  Harold turned to the communications people. “It’s time. Give the order.”

  ORION LAUNCH SITE, MONTANA

  First Sergeant Paul Kavanagh of Second Squad, First Platoon of Third Company, First US Orbital Drop Marine Battalion lay on an acceleration couch. He wore his battlesuit. Romo lay on the couch to his left and Dan French to the one on his right.

  This was it. They awaited countdown orders.

  I never figured I’d become a space paratrooper.

  He still had his faceplate open. So did everyone else in the compartment, all twelve of them of Second Squad. Each Orion ship carried three hundred and thirty-three effectives, three companies of the most elite soldiers in the world. The vessels were honeycombed with compartments, built to survive the enemy’s defenses in order to bring as many Marines to battle as possible.

  “Amigo,” Romo said.

  “Yeah?” Paul asked.

  “I hope this works.”

  “You worried?”

  “I am,” Romo admitted.

  “Why would you be worried? They’re only going to light nuclear bombs under our asses.”

  “Ah,” Romo said. “Yes, never mind. I feel better now.”

  “Crazy way to taxi into battle,” Paul said. “But it does have one advantage.”

  “What is that?”

  “It’s never been done before.”

  “Oh,” Romo said. “Yes. That makes me feel even better than before. You are a genius.”

  “Why don’t you ladies pipe down?” Dan French asked from his couch. “This is no worse than exiting a submarine underwater in the freezing Arctic. I’ve done that a hundred times.”

  “Si, you are right,” Romo said. “And no worse than riding a helo across a nuclear wasteland—have you done that?”

  “Pfft,” Dan said. “That ain’t nothing. If you want to brag—”

  “I leave that to you media hounds—the SEALs,” Romo said.

  “Who you calling hounds?” Dan asked.

  “I do believe—”

  A blaring klaxon cut Romo off. After it stopped, the silence seemed to ring in Paul’s ears.

  “Seal up, Marines,” the captain said over the intercom. “We’re launching in a few minutes.”

  “Good luck, my friends,” Romo said. “I wish I were home in Mexico.”

  “Or Tallahassee,” Dan French said.

  For one of the first times in his life, Paul’s words dried up. A feeling of unease struck. Would he ever see his wife again?

  He didn’t remember saying “Good luck,” but the faceplate slid closed. As a metal cocoon, he waited.

  “One minute to liftoff,” the captain said in his headphones.

  Three Orion ships were about to lift from the United States of America. They would reach Low Earth Orbit over China. The vessels would have to be going just the right speed at the correct orbital spin to launch them. Then— “Thirty seconds to liftoff,” the captain said. “It’s going to be rough, gentlemen. But no worries, the greatest technicians in the world built this little thing. The Chinese figured we were down and out. Now they’re going to learn that you might be able to win a few battles against America, but in the end, we’re going to come a-knocking and give you an old-fashioned ass-whupping.”

  Paul couldn’t believe it, but he grinned from ear to ear. The bombastic talk struck a chord in him. In the end, he believed exactly what the captain said. If you come at me, you might get the first swing. But I’m going to finish it. These Orion ships are the beginning of the end, China. And I’m in on it.

  “Ten,” the captain said. “Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one…America, we have liftoff.”

  BANG!

  A powerful nuclear explosion thrust up against the acceleration couch. It slammed with terrific force, threatening to crush Paul’s chest.

  BANG!

  BANG!

  The most powerful propulsion systems known to humanity lifted the massive Orion ship into the air. Weapons-grade U-235 was the fuel, nuclear bombs, baby. An immensely thick metal plate absorbed the blast, pushed higher and higher each time.

  BANG!

  BANG!

  BANG!

  It proved impossible to breathe during a blast. Paul had to do so during the betwe
en times. This was crazy. Tons of hardened ablative foam lay behind the metal plate. The foam’s single purpose was to cushion the shock for those riding ship into Low Earth Orbit.

  BANG!

  BANG!

  Each nuclear explosion poured x-rays, heat and neutrons onto the ground below. That’s why the three ships lifted off in this part of “empty” Montana. The nuclear bombs lifted thousands of tons of mass. That allowed each Orion ship to hold three hundred and thirty-three Marines in their armor with their weapons systems. It meant each vessel had missiles to fire down at the enemy, and several lifters to drop with the orbital-paratroopers. That meant, too, that a crew and damage control party rode along for the mission. No other propulsion system gave as much quick lift out of Earth’s gravity well as these.

  BANG!

  BANG!

  BANG!

  Paul Kavanagh endured the hell-ride into the heavens. The blasts took the heavy craft up and up, and they propelled the Orion ship toward the People’s Republic of China on the other side of the Pacific Ocean.

  LEXINGTON, KENTUCKY

  General Foxx of the C and C THOR Missile Station stood with his mouth agape as he watched the big screen. Three giant craft brightened like the sun. From his vantage, they looked like rounded, titanic bricks, farting nuclear explosions for propulsion.

  “Orion ships,” a woman said in awe at her terminal.

  Foxx closed his mouth, nipping his tongue. He winced and then stood straighter, ignoring the pain. “This is it, people. The United States is sending its Marines into the fight. That’s why we’ve been timing our bundles of THORs. We’re using everything, as you know. Are there any questions?”

  No one spoke or raised a hand. He’d briefed them, and these folks knew their stuff.

  “We’re going to take out the Xi’an and the Lanzhou Particle Beam Weapons antimissile sites,” Foxx said. “Now I know we haven’t been able to touch one of these strategic locations so far. But we also haven’t built up as big a fleet of THORs at one time or expended them all at once on anyone yet. Tonight is the night. The war rests on us doing our part. So keep at your stations and report even the slightest change to me. We must destroy those two sites if this is going to work.”

  After he finished talking, everyone went back to his or her tasks. He knew some of what was supposed to happen. The rest he would find out.

  We made the THORs work for us once against the German Dominion, why not against the Chinese? And why not orbital dropping Marines? This is America. We’re the masters of high-tech warfare. Tonight, we’re going to teach the world that one more time.

  BEIJING, CHINA

  A breathless Shun Li with Fu Tao beside her raced into the Ruling Committee chamber in the basement. The Chairman sat transfixed in his chair, staring at a wall image.

  Shun Li frowned. On the wall appeared three strange missiles rising from North America. As she watched, they bloomed with light.

  “May I ask a question?” Shun Li asked.

  While keeping his gaze fixed on the three objects, the Chairman nodded.

  “Do you know what those are, Leader?” Shun Li asked.

  “Giant missiles,” Hong said. “My experts have informed me the Americans are attempting to put orbital bombs into space.”

  “What? Why?”

  The Chairman swiveled his head to stare at her, an unpleasant feeling. “Isn’t it obvious? They wish to annihilate China from space.”

  “But…”

  “We must retaliate with everything!” Hong cried, slamming a fist onto the table.

  “But…” Shun Li said again.

  “I disagree with your reaction, Leader,” Marshal Kiang said, striding into the chamber. Behind him followed several Army men with pistols at their belts.

  Hong’s eyes widened as he noticed them. So did the Lion Guardsmen along the walls. Tang lurched forward as he smoothly drew a gun.

  “How dare you come armed into my presence,” Hong said.

  “You said to rush here,” Kiang said.

  One of the Army men noticed the advancing Lion Guardsmen. He went for this gun.

  Three loud retorts from three different pistols cut the soldier down. The other two Army men let their arms hang limply at their sides.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Kiang asked. “You just shot my son.”

  Hong glanced at the dead Army officer on the floor before examining Marshal Kiang.

  “This is an outrage!” Kiang shouted. “I’ll have you—”

  Hong made a slight gesture. This time seven guns discharged. Marshal Kiang crashed to the floor beside his son, as did the two other Army officers. Another salvo finished them. The stink of gunpowder drifted through the chamber and blood pooled around the dead men.

  Shun Li watched in frozen horror. Beside her, Tao seemed indifferent.

  “I had no choice,” Hong said to no one in particular. “You shot his son,” he told Tang.

  “That was an unpardonable sin, Leader,” Tang said, lowering his head. “I request—”

  “Silence,” Hong said. “I will tell you what is unpardonable. You will not tell me.”

  Tang went to one knee.

  “No, no, get up,” Hong said. “Pick several men. Clean up this mess. I have no more time for it. These Americans—we must launch a full scale nuclear attack against them.”

  “Leader,” Shun Li said in a submissive tone. “You are the wisest among us. You shine like a star in the heavens compared to us.”

  “All true, but what is your point?”

  Shun Li nervously licked her lips. It dazed her how quickly Hong could order the murder of his most important servants. Kiang had saved China, and now Hong had killed the marshal. It was astonishing, and frightening.

  “If these are orbital missiles—”

  “Orbital bombs,” Hong said, “nuclear bombs to rain down on China.”

  “Ah, I stand corrected. Cannot the PBW sites knock them down?”

  “Possibly,” Hong admitted.

  “Can our strategic missiles—our ICBMs—pierce the American ABM defensive net in any number?”

  “It is doubtful,” Hong said slowly. He studied the wall image. “The treacherous Americans have beaten us into space. That is unpardonable.”

  “We have the power to knock down satellites over China,” Shun Li said. “Can it be that the Americans have made a terrible mistake with this launch?”

  “Explain yourself,” Hong said.

  “I do not have your expertise, but could not our laser stations shoot down or annihilate these orbital bombs—once they are in range?”

  “Yes, yes, you may be right.” Hong tapped on a screen embedded in the conference table, putting an order through to the ABM laser stations. Then he, Shun Li and the rest of the people in the chamber waited to see what would happen next.

  SHANGHAI, CHINA

  Generators roared with power, pumping the main laser coils. Outside, a concrete clamshell rotated open. A huge laser focusing system poked out the tip of its snout.

  Radar arrays tracked the three American super missiles. They appeared over the horizon, lifting from North America. The chief operator believed it would be better to wait until the US missiles came closer, but the Chairman had given the order.

  An invisible laser beam shot out of the mirror, clawing upward into the heavens, racing to intercept the giant missiles that used nuclear fireballs to propel themselves into orbit.

  USS TEXAS

  In the East China Sea between Japan and Taiwan, two hundred miles from Shanghai, a Virginia-class submarine glided under the surface. It slowed, and hatches opened.

  The captain had his orders. He began launching nuclear-tipped Tomahawk II missiles. Three Tomahawks per Chinese ABM laser station. One after another, the missiles burst out of the ocean, heading for their destinations.

  Before the submarine could leave the area, a Chinese land-to-sea missile appeared.

  Klaxons wailed in the submarine, and the vessel glided
away, diving into the depths. It wasn’t fast enough, though. The missile struck the water, detonating a nuclear warhead.

  The blast destroyed USS Texas, sending the twisted, torn submarine and crew toward the bottom of the East China Sea.

  BEIJING, CHINA

  Shun Li sat at the great table, with Fu Tao behind her at attention.

  Technicians strode into the Ruling Committee chamber. Behind them, workers rolled in portable command units. The techs sat down as Tang returned from the grisly task of disposing of the bodies in the incinerator.

  Chairman Hong watched the wall image. It was spilt into four quadrants now. One the lower right square, the Shanghai ABM station disappeared in a mushroom cloud explosion.

  “No, no!” Hong cried. “That is the third laser site destroyed so far.” He glared at Shun Li. “Can you have any doubt, Police Minister? The Americans are attempting to grab our throat. Somehow, they must have discovered Konev’s treachery.”

  “What about the orbital bombs?” Shun Li asked. “I know we’re hitting them with some lasers. Send nuclear missiles at them. Knock them down from space.”

  “Is that possible?” Hong asked the chief technician.

  “Leader,” the slender woman said. “I don’t think the Americans have launched giant missiles or orbital bombs.”

  “What are they then?” Hong asked.

  “I remember studying about various spaceships,” the chief technician said. “These are Orion vessels, using nuclear bombs as fuel, as propellant.”

  “What?” Hong said. “That is preposterous.”

  “It works in theory, Leader.”

  “What do they hope to achieve with these Orion vessels?”

  “Perhaps they are going to build an accelerator on the moon.”

  “Are you mad?” asked Hong.

  The chief technician shook her head. “We have similar plans, Leader. You yourself gave the go-ahead for them.”

  “If those spaceships are headed to the moon,” Hong asked, “why are the Americans using their submarines to attack our coastal ABM stations?”