by Jeff Edwards
He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “No matter what I do, the shit is going to hit the fan.”
“You’re probably right,” Frank Chandler said. “But you can’t let that stop you.”
The president opened his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“It sounds to me like you’re trying not to screw up.”
“Of course I’m trying not to screw up,” the president snapped. “If I handle this the wrong way, a lot of people are going to get killed over there.”
Chandler turned his hands palm-up. “Well, I don’t exactly get Sit Room briefings any more, but from what I’ve seen on CNN, people are getting killed over there already. Tibetan protestors. A whole village full of Indian civilians. Chinese sailors. Indian sailors. Some of our own fighter pilots. And it’s only going to get worse as this situation drags on.”
The president stared at him. “What’s your point?”
“My point is this,” Chandler said, “you can’t lead by trying to avoid trouble.”
He smiled. “Let me share a piece of genuine wisdom with you. Sometimes, we get so wrapped up in trying not to do the wrong thing that we forget to do the right thing.”
“That sounds familiar,” the president said.
Chandler nodded. “It should sound familiar. You said it to me about six hours after my first inauguration.”
Wainwright waved a dismissive hand. “I was babbling. As I recall, we went to nine or ten different inauguration parties that night. The champagne was getting to my head.”
Chandler shook his head. “Pardon me for saying so, Mr. President, but that’s pure unadulterated horseshit. You were as sober as a judge. And that turned out to be a damned useful piece of advice. It kept me moving forward every time I found myself with a tough choice that I didn’t want to make.”
He smiled again. “So, now I’m handing your own advice back to you. Stop trying not to screw up. That’s a recipe for permanent indecision. Forget about it, and concentrate on doing what you believe is right. There might be consequences. Hell, there almost certainly will be consequences. That’s the nature of the game.”
He stood up. “Listen to your people, but make your own decisions. It’s all you can do. That’s all anyone has ever managed, including the men who sat in this office before us. And now, Mr. President… It’s your turn to do it.”
Without another word, Frank Chandler walked to the door and was gone.
The president sat for several minutes after the former commander-in-chief had left the room.
Finally, he stood up, walked to his desk and picked up the phone. He punched the number for the Situation Room Duty Officer.
“This is the president,” he said. “Start waking people up. I want the full battle staff in the Sit Room in an hour.”
He hung up the phone. It was time to get to work.
CHAPTER 40
FOX NEWS CHANNEL STUDIOS
1211 AVENUE OF THE AMERICAS
NEW YORK, NEW YORK
MONDAY; 01 DECEMBER
5:30 AM EST
The screen filled with an establishing shot of a computer-generated globe, circled continually by a swarm of CG satellites, each casting a translucent ring of simulated coverage on the rotating earth below. Superimposed over the lower left hand corner of the screen was the red, white, and blue logo of the Fox News Channel.
The voice of early morning news anchor, Ted Norrow, cut in—providing background narration for the animatic.
“This is low earth orbit, where approximately thirty-eight-hundred manmade satellites are circling the world at any given time, providing telephone communications, television broadcasts, GPS navigation signals, weather tracking, internet access, and many other services that are indispensible to modern civilization.”
The view cut to a close-up of Ted Norrow’s handsome face, staring into the camera with a charmingly somber expression. After two beats, the camera pulled back to a medium shot of the Fox News studio desk, with the satellite animatic reduced to a cameo window over Norrow’s left shoulder.
A teaser bar at the bottom of the screen flared with the Fox logo and a wireframe graphic of a satellite bracketed by an artist’s conception of targeting crosshairs. The words ‘Breaking News’ appeared in simulated chrome lettering below the graphics.
“Approximately seventy percent of the satellites in low earth orbit are commercially owned and operated,” the news anchor said. “The other thirty percent belong to the militaries and intelligence services of the United States, and other countries.”
The animatic changed to a close-up of a satellite hanging in the blackness of space.
“According to unconfirmed reports,” Norrow said, “approximately five hours ago, a U.S. Navy warship engaged and destroyed a Chinese military surveillance satellite in orbit over the Bay of Bengal.”
“Again,” Norrow said, “I have to emphasize that these reports have not yet been confirmed. We’re expecting a statement from the Department of Defense shortly, but for the moment, we do not have corroboration from a reliable source.”
The scene cut to a moving helicopter shot of the Pentagon. Ted Norrow continued in voiceover. “In view of the escalating hostilities between the U.S. and the People’s Republic of China, the downing of a Chinese satellite could have serious international repercussions.”
Another cut revealed a pair of side-by-side video windows, each containing a head-and-shoulders shot of a man in a suit. The man on the left was middle aged, with an immaculately tailored charcoal jacket and a maroon necktie bearing the Harvard crest. His political opposite in the window on the right was younger and more casually dressed, in a rumpled tweed sport coat and an open necked shirt.
The news caster’s voiceover continued. “From our Fox affiliate studios in Arlington, Virginia and Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, we have Dr. Martin Crane from the National Institute for Strategic Analysis, and Jason Walsh from the Center for Global Progress. Gentlemen, thank you both for joining us at this early hour.”
The older man nodded. “It’s a pleasure to be here, Ted.”
The younger man smiled and nodded as well. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Dr. Crane, let’s start with you,” Norrow said. “If this report is true, and the U.S. Navy has—in fact—downed a Chinese military satellite, what are the most likely implications for the current conflict? And, perhaps more importantly, could this be the beginning of an escalating cycle of satellite warfare?”
The man in the left hand window straightened his necktie. “First, let me say that it’s a little early to be jumping to conclusions. We don’t have any reliable information about the engagement, if—indeed—it even took place. Second, if we assume—for the sake of discussion—that the U.S. Navy has destroyed a Communist spy satellite, then we can’t judge the wisdom or the implications of that action until we understand the circumstances in which it was supposedly carried out.”
The screen cut to a three-shot, with Ted Norrow shown in profile at the anchor desk, facing the video windows containing his interview subjects.
The anchor man nodded. “Can you expound on that?”
Before Dr. Crane could respond, the other interviewee laughed. “That’s a silly question, Ted. You should know by now that our learned doctor can expound on anything, whether he understands it or not.”
Crane ignored the barb. “We have to look at the situation in the Bay of Bengal,” he said, “beginning with China’s unprovoked attack on two U.S. Navy aircraft, and the death of an American pilot in the hours leading up to the satellite incident. And even before that, when the Chinese crippled the Indian aircraft carrier, INS Vikrant. What Mr. Walsh doesn’t seem to understand—”
The other interviewee cut him off. “I’ll tell you what I don’t understand, Dr. Crane. I don’t understand why we’re getting involved in yet another military confrontation that doesn’t concern us. I don’t understand why we’re still trying to play policeman to the entire world. Didn’t we learn anything
at all from Iraq and Afghanistan?”
Ted Norrow raised a hand. “Just a second… Are you suggesting that the stability of Asia is not a legitimate concern of the United States?”
Walsh shook his head. “I’m not saying that at all. But why do we keep assuming that military intervention is an effective tool for regional stabilization? When has that ever been the case?”
“What about World War Two?” Dr. Crane asked. “Do you honestly believe that Hirohito would have relinquished his stranglehold on the Pacific if we had sent him a letter of complaint? And how about Adolf Hitler? If the Allies hadn’t thrown their combined strength at the Third Reich, most of Europe and Africa—if not the entire world—would be living under the iron boot heels of the Nazis at this very moment. Except for the Jews, of course, because they’d be completely exterminated by now.”
Walsh rolled his eyes. “Oh, here we go with Hitler again. Whenever you need a boogieman to justify your military expansionist theories, you always trot out the Nazis. I hate to break it to you, doctor, but that was nearly three-quarters of a century ago. How is any of that relevant to the current political situation in Asia?”
“We’re wandering off the topic here,” the news anchor said.
“No,” said Dr. Crane. “We’re not off topic. Because, apart from Mr. Walsh’s inability to learn from history, there’s a strong correlation between World War Two and the present conflict with China.”
Ted Norrow lifted his right hand in a gesture of invitation. “Can I ask you to explain that?”
“Yes, please,” Walsh said. “Enlighten us. Dispel our ignorance.”
“I can sum it up in a single word,” Dr. Crane said. “Isolationism.”
He punctuated this one-word proclamation with a sardonic smile. “In the late nineteen-thirties and early nineteen-forties, the isolationist movement in America was powerful enough to keep our troops at home,” he said. “We sat on our hands while Germany and Japan were carving up the rest of the earth, and massacring millions of people. Back then, the isolationists were singing the same tune that Mr. Walsh and his buddies are singing today. Stay out of foreign problems. It’s not our business. We’re not the policemen of the entire planet. But where would the world be right now, if the isolationists had gotten the final word?”
Walsh snorted. “Once again, Dr. Crane is oversimplifying my position. I didn’t say that U.S. military intervention is never necessary. Of course it’s necessary in some situations. I’ll go a step farther, and say that—in certain cases—American military action is not just the best answer, it’s the only answer. But does that make it the solution to every foreign conflict that occurs? Are our options always so limited that we have to reach for our guns every time there’s a crisis somewhere in the world?”
Crane opened his mouth to respond, but Ted Norrow raised a hand to forestall further comment.
“I’m going to have to interrupt,” the newscaster said. “My producer informs me that Fox News has just received a statement from the Pentagon, confirming that the USS Towers did indeed shoot down a Chinese surveillance satellite over the Bay of Bengal. We’re expecting additional details in the next few minutes, but for now, we can confirm that the initial reports were accurate.”
“So much for our supposed role as impartial peacekeepers,” Walsh said in a sarcastic tone. “Just remember, whatever happens next, we brought it on ourselves.”
CHAPTER 41
USS TOWERS (DDG-103)
BAY OF BENGAL
MONDAY; 01 DECEMBER
1721 hours (5:21 PM)
TIME ZONE +6 ‘FOXTROT’
Captain Bowie was alone in the wardroom when Commander Silva arrived. An American Forces Network news broadcast was playing on the television, but Bowie had the sound muted while he jotted down a few changes that he wanted to make to the ship’s night orders.
He looked up when Silva walked in. “How’s it going, Kat?”
She headed straight for the coffee maker. “Pretty good,” she said. “But I’d wrestle a medium-sized alligator for a cup of Starbucks right now.”
She peered into the interior of the pot, bent to sniff the aroma, and decided that it was fresh enough to drink. She poured herself a cup, and then looked up at Bowie. “You want one while I’m pouring?”
“Sounds good,” Bowie said. “I’ll have my usual… a Grande Caramel Macchiato and a blueberry scone.”
“Coming right up,” Silva said. She poured him a cup of the plain black Navy coffee. “Will that be credit, or debit?”
She handed Bowie his coffee, and dropped into a chair from which she could see the television.
On the screen, a throng of demonstrators was waving handmade signs and banners, across the street from a high-walled enclosure. The protestors were visibly agitated, but they appeared to be respecting the line of police barricades that kept them from approaching the walls. Many of them were clearly shouting, but no sound came from the muted television speakers.
The image cut to another crowd scene. The people were dressed differently and the architecture and color of the walls were not the same, but the anger of the picketers was just as palpable.
The news feed cut to yet another crowd, and this one seemed on the verge of riot. Some of the demonstrators were hurling rocks and bottles over the top of the wall. Occasionally, one of the bottles would smash into a wall and shatter, splattering the stone façade with what must have been red paint. In the background, trucks were disgorging squads of helmeted riot police.
The scene cut again. Another crowd, this one lighting red flags on fire, and dropping them in the street to burn.
Silva looked at Bowie. “What the hell’s going on?”
Bowie glanced up at the screen. “I was watching that earlier,” he said. “From what I can tell, Chinese troops gunned down about a hundred protestors in Tibet last week. The PRC kept a lid on the story until a video popped up on CNN. Some American tourist—McDowell, or McDonald, or something like that—witnessed the whole thing from his hotel window. He recorded the whole thing on his cell phone, and gave the recording to the media. This is the backlash. Tibetans and Tibetan sympathizers are protesting outside of Chinese embassies and consulates all over the world.”
“Some of those demonstrations don’t exactly look peaceful,” Silva said.
“Yeah,” said Bowie. “And the Chinese government is blaming this on the U.S.”
Silva stared at him. “What?”
Bowie set down his pen. “A politburo spokesman was on a little while ago, reading a statement. They’re saying that this tourist guy, McDonald, was some kind of CIA plant, sent into Tibet to stir up unrest. They’re also claiming that the American news networks are operating on instructions from the federal government, and the United States is deliberately trying to turn global opinion against the People’s Republic.”
Silva raised an eyebrow. “The media taking orders from the U.S. government? They obviously don’t understand how that whole freedom-of-the-press thing works.”
“They understand,” Bowie said. “But they’ve gotten themselves into one hell of a mess with India, and they’re trying not to come off like the bad guys—at least in the minds of their own population.”
He rotated his cup on the table, causing the coffee to swirl within its porcelain confines. “If I’m reading the tea leaves correctly, we’re going to see some action pretty soon. China is pretty pissed at us about this Tibet thing, and shooting down their satellite probably hasn’t done anything to improve their mood.”
Silva was about to respond when the wardroom door opened and the executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Matthews, walked in with a routing folder in his hand.
The XO nodded to each of the other officers. “Good evening, Captain. Evening, Commander. I apologize for interrupting.”
He strode across the room and held out the folder to the captain.
Bowie accepted the folder and flipped it open. “What’s up, Brian?”
“A change in
ROE,” the XO said. “Our Chinese pals have just been officially designated as hostile.”
Bowie gritted his teeth, and scanned the message rapidly.
//SSSSSSSSSS//
//SECRET//
//FLASH//FLASH//FLASH//
//011027Z DEC//
FM COMPACFLT//
TO COMCARSTRKGRU FIVE//
COMDESRON ONE FIVE//
USS MIDWAY//
USS TOWERS//
USS FRANK W FENNO//
USS DONALD GERRARD//
INFO COMSEVENTHFLT//
CTF SEVEN ZERO//
SUBJ/RULES OF ENGAGEMENT SUPPLEMENT//
REF/A/DIR/CJCSI 3121.01F/
REF/B/RMG/COMPACFLT/210114Z NOV//
NARR/REF A IS THE CHAIRMAN OF THE JOINT CHIEFS STANDING RULES OF ENGAGEMENT (ROE) FOR U.S. MILITARY FORCES//
NARR/REF B IS THE PREVIOUS RULES OF ENGAGEMENT SUPPLEMENT, ISSUED TO U.S. NAVY UNITS IN THE INDIAN OCEAN AND BAY OF BENGAL OPERATING AREAS//
1. (SECR) REF B IS HEREBY CANCELLED. YOUR ROE ARE AMENDED AS FOLLOWS:
2. (SECR) PEOPLE’S LIBERATION ARMY (PLA) MILITARY ASSETS WITHIN YOUR AREA OF RESPONSIBILITY ARE NOW REGARDED AS HOSTILE. YOU ARE DIRECTED TO ENGAGE AND DESTROY PLA MILITARY FORCES TO THE MAXIMUM EXTENT POSSIBLE, CONSISTENT WITH LAWS OF ARMED CONFLICT.
3. (SECR) MILITARY ASSETS OF THE REPUBLIC OF INDIA ARE TO BE CONSIDERED FRIENDLY. ALTHOUGH NO JOINT U.S./INDIAN OPERATIONS ARE CURRENTLY PLANNED, YOU ARE DIRECTED TO AVOID INTERFERENCE WITH INDIAN MILITARY ACTIONS TO THE MAXIMUM EXTENT POSSIBLE, CONSISTENT WITH LAWS OF ARMED CONFLICT.
4. (SECR) THERE ARE TIME-CRITICAL GEOPOLITICAL FACTORS WHICH NECESSITATE A QUICK AND DECISIVE END TO THIS CONFLICT. THOSE FACTORS CANNOT BE DISCUSSED AT THIS LEVEL, BUT SECNAV CAUTIONS ALL RECIPIENTS THAT FAILURE TO ACHIEVE RAPID MILITARY DOMINANCE IN YOUR REGION MAY HAVE FAR-REACHING CONSEQUENCES TO NATIONAL SECURITY AND GLOBAL STABILITY.