The Second Chinese Revolution (The Russian Agents Book 5)

by Ted Halstead

  Peng nodded and said, "I certainly will."

  And he meant it. Before the National Assembly approved construction of the Three Gorges Dam in 1992, many had argued that the power China needed from hydro sources could be obtained at far less risk by only building dams on the Yangtze River's upstream tributaries.

  Usually a rubber stamp for the President and the Politburo, a full third of the Assembly refused to vote for the Three Gorges Dam's construction.

  Maybe more in the Party should have listened to the dam's critics, Peng thought.

  Then Peng shook himself. No. There was no point in reliving the past. They had to live in the present and face its problems head-on.

  Maybe it was time to give Shen some reassurance. "Though typhoon season is about to start, I think there's no need to panic. After all, in the years since 2020, we've had no repeat of that year's scare," Peng said.

  From the look Shen gave him, he knew exactly what Peng was trying to do. Still, he did manage to reply, "I'm sure you're right."

  "I think we've seen enough for today," Peng said. "Let's get back inside." Shen nodded, and they walked together back to the elevator going to the power production management level.

  Taking in the view one last time as they walked, Peng reflected that he was now one of the few privileged to see it. The Three Gorges Dam had been a prime tourist destination until recently. There had been boats full of camera-toting visitors and buses bringing others to the dam's viewing platform located some distance below Peng's current vantage point at its crest.

  No longer. Deformation had been spotted as far back as 2020 through satellite images made available online and had finally become too obvious to deny.

  Peng scowled as they reached the elevator. Covering up the problems with the dam's structural integrity was all well and good.

  But could those problems really be managed?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Near the Chinese-Indian Border

  Sergeant Xu had talked over their last patrol with his Lieutenant, an officer on his first border deployment. For that matter, Xu suspected the young man was straight out of the Academy.

  Of course, that was the sort of question Xu could never ask.

  His Lieutenant had offered no objections when Xu suggested changing the time of their patrol. Xu had given quite a bit of thought to the change and was almost disappointed when he didn't have to explain.

  Almost. One of the first lessons you learned in the Chinese Army was taking yes for an answer and keeping your mouth shut afterward.

  Xu had no way to know it, but that lesson worked equally well in any country's armed forces.

  Not that Corporal Guan was a big fan of the change. For that matter, like most enlisted men, he was not in favor of change in general.

  In a way, Xu didn't blame him. Like most enlisted men, Guan had learned the hard way that change was rarely to the good.

  Today's change, though, was designed to keep them alive.

  Neither Xu nor Guan had detected the Indian sniper and, almost certainly, his spotter. But the shot that had nearly hit Guan had given Xu a pretty good idea of where they had been.

  Of course, they wouldn't have stayed in the same precise spot. But Xu doubted they'd moved far.

  Armed with this knowledge, Xu had spoken with the company weather officer. At first, he had been puzzled by Xu's request. Once the weather officer had understood its purpose, though, he'd cooperated enthusiastically.

  Armed with a topographical map, Xu's guess of where the sniper had been, and the weather officer's charts, he had learned several details that should be useful.

  First, that today would be cloudless.

  Second, the period when the sun would be shining directly into the eyes of the Indian sniper and his spotter.

  Of course, the simplest way for the Indians to deal with the problem would be to avoid deploying a sniper at that time. The Chinese side didn't keep snipers out constantly, and Xu doubted the Indians did either.

  But something told Xu he was out there. Waiting.

  Several methods helped to reduce glare so a sniper could still zero in on his target.

  But they all affected accuracy.

  If Xu was going to go up against a Barrett again with any hope of success, he needed an edge. And an Indian opponent arrogant enough to think he could hit him first, sun or no.

  Xu and Guan were making their way to the position Xu had picked out for their patrol using another change Guan didn't like.

  There was only one trail from their base camp to the patrol area. Today, they wouldn't use it.

  The grass and low brush on both sides of the trail were no particular obstacle for a man with a rifle. Guan's long-range observation binoculars and tripod only weighed a bit over twenty kilos, even with their case. But, Xu had to admit, the case was a bit bulky.

  So, Xu compromised. They would stay off the trail. But they wouldn't venture very far from it, so the terrain was still reasonably easy to navigate.

  Then Xu had it again.

  The same feeling he had when a round had nearly hit Guan.

  But they were still out of sight of that sniper. Xu was sure of it.

  It didn't matter.

  Xu held up the clenched fist that meant "hold" in a surprisingly large number of the world's armies.

  Guan froze.

  Xu looked in every direction. Nothing.

  An instant of frustration swept Xu, and he nearly decided to march on. After all that effort…

  No.

  Xu made the hand signal telling Guan they were returning to base.

  Guan turned to obey, but when he did, he tripped and fell. The case holding his spotting binoculars and its tripod left his hand and flew towards the trail.

  A loud roaring filled Xu's ears, and the earth seemed to rise to meet him.

  Then everything went black.

  When Xu opened his eyes again, he was confused to be looking at Colonel Chang. Then he looked around and realized he was in the base medical unit.

  Xu's uniform had been cut off and bandages were wrapped around him at many points. But, he was relieved to see that nothing appeared to be missing.

  "Sergeant, I must not have been clear enough when I told you to keep your head down. I meant to keep all your parts intact," Chang said with a smile, gesturing towards Xu's numerous bandages.

  "Yes, sir," Xu said tiredly. "How is Corporal Guan?"

  Chang nodded approvingly. "The right question, Sergeant. The Corporal is in about the same shape you are," he said, pointing towards the bandaged figure lying at the other end of the medical unit.

  "Which is to say, lucky to be alive. Or, maybe not so much luck as skill. After we heard the explosions, the men sent to retrieve you said they found you some distance from the trail. Too far to have been thrown there by the explosions, they thought," Chang said, in a tone that made it clear he expected an explanation.

  "Yes, sir," Xu replied. "I didn't think the trail was safe."

  Chang looked at Xu thoughtfully. "Well, you were right about that. If you'd been even a meter or so closer to it, we wouldn't be having this conversation. The trail had been mined, and the mines set to detonate simultaneously as soon as one was triggered. We're not sure how yet, but I had the mine fragments collected and sent back to headquarters for analysis."

  Xu shook his head and immediately regretted the action. "Sir, I don't understand. We have remote cameras, drones, and even aircraft covering that area, right? How could the Indians have mined the trail without being detected?"

  Chang nodded shortly. "That's a good question, Sergeant. Since you and your spotter appear to have been its first victims, I'm going to clear you to receive a highly classified answer. The Indians may have developed a mine-laying drone small enough to avoid detection. Probably operated at night, using GPS and infrared sensors to place the mines."

  Xu thought about that for a moment. Then Xu asked, "Sir, do you know how long it will be before we're cleared to return to
duty?"

  Chang smiled. "Good attitude, Sergeant. But you and your Corporal will be here a little longer. The good news, though, is that the doctors have decided neither of you need to be evacuated to a regional hospital. So you'll both be back on patrol soon."

  Chang paused, and now his smile made Xu think of a hunting tiger spotting unaware prey. "I believe Headquarters will approve my proposed response to this latest provocation. It's time to remind the Indians they aren't the only ones who can produce surprises."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Wenchang Satellite Launch Center

  Hainan Island, China

  General Yang Mingren sat restlessly in front of a console at the Mission Command and Control Center.

  Power had been cut to the console. Yang had been both amused and annoyed to see that, in addition, a combination of black fabric and electrical tape had been used to conceal and immobilize the console's buttons and switches.

  Mission Director Gao had smiled apologetically when he'd seen Yang's reaction, explaining that experience had proved the steps were necessary.

  Yang had immediately thought about a few ill-advised flights with non-pilots in the back seat of combat aircraft and told Gao he understood completely.

  Yes. Far too much was at stake to risk failure because of a mistakenly tripped switch.

  A large digital display occupied most of the wall directly in front of Yang, showing the Long March 5B rocket on the pad. Not China's latest rocket, but that was fine.

  The maiden flight of the Long March 7A from this same spaceport in 2020 had failed. Yang was happy with tried and tested.

  Even better, less than half of the Long March 5B's twenty-five thousand kilo payload capacity was needed for the Air Force's new laser weapon. Two commercial satellites were also included in this launch, which would be critical to maintaining security for this mission.

  Yang had previously overseen the launch of an Air Force communications satellite from the Jiuquan Satellite Launch Center in the Gobi Desert near the Mongolian border. That had the advantage of being far from prying eyes and the sensors of American reconnaissance aircraft, which continued their provocative flights off China's coast.

  This launch, though, had to go from Wenchang. Hainan Island was China's most southern territory, aside from the "islands" it was building in the South China Sea. At only nineteen degrees north of the equator, its low latitude was necessary to launch the Long March 5B's heavy payload.

  At Jiuquan, Yang had discovered there was both a Launch Control Center and a Mission Command and Control Center. He had spent all his time in the Launch Control Center because all he cared about was a successful launch. Not because Yang took it for granted that if the launch were successful, the satellite would function.

  But because Yang knew that if the satellite didn't work, there would be nothing he could do about it from Jiquan.

  At Wenchang, though, he was at the Mission Control and Command Center. This time, there would be a mission for him to command.

  Yang watched as the launch countdown clock crawled towards zero. He was calmed by the quiet, purposeful hum of activity all around him as dozens of technicians worked. It was a familiar sound for a high-ranking military officer like Yang.

  As the clock reached zero and the Long March 5B's engines lit, Yang tensed involuntarily. Over ninety percent of China's launches over the years had been successful. But two failures in less than a month in 2020, not so long ago, had made many dependent on China's launch capability skittish.

  This time, though, luck was on his side. Yang watched with relief as the rocket climbed smoothly into space. Cheers erupted around Yang, which he found himself joining.

  And why not? Few other countries could match China's space capability, so their pride was deserved.

  Even better, today, China would deploy a new capability no other country could equal.

  The words were foreign, so during his first launch at Jiquan, Yang hadn't understood that "payload fairing" and "nose cone" meant the same thing. Now, though, Yang understood that they had reached the next critical step in the launch as the display in front of him reported the rocket had reached deployment altitude.

  The sudden hush around him told Yang everyone else knew it too.

  Then on the display came the words, "payload fairing separation successful," followed quickly by "payload separation successful." That meant the two commercial satellites and the weapon were free of the rocket and ready for movement to their operational positions.

  More cheering, but this time very brief. Because now control passed to them, and they ceased being spectators.

  About half of the technicians in the Mission Control and Command Center with Yang were responsible for ensuring that the two commercial satellites would reach their assigned positions and begin broadcasting.

  The rest were under Yang's command and dedicated to the laser weapon. They already knew which SpaceLink satellites to target in an attack plan that Yang had designed to remove those broadcasting to China as quickly as possible. Yang was only there in case something went wrong.

  Yang scowled as he thought again about the plan's only weakness. The distance between the satellites meant eliminating all of them would take hours, in fact nearly a full day.

  Then Yang's expression cleared as he saw the technicians send the weapon towards its first target.

  Yes, it might take a while to rid the space above China of the cursed American satellites threatening the Party's control of the information available to its citizens.

  But it would also take time for the Americans to realize what was happening. And anyway, what could they do to stop the attack?

  Chapter Sixteen

  SpaceLink Pacific Mission Command Center

  Vandenberg Air Force Base, California

  SpaceLink project manager Mark Rooter frowned as he looked at the display. There were thousands of SpaceLink satellites circling the globe, and every so often, one would fail.

  But two within an hour? And both, while not really "close" to each other, still closer than any other satellite.

  Huh. Both satellites were providing Internet coverage to countries bordering China. A coincidence?

  Rooter charted the two satellites that had gone dark and then located the one closest to the second to fail.

  Hmm. That third satellite also gave Internet service to a country bordering China.

  Well, that wasn't so surprising. After all, those satellites would be close to each other, right?

  Rooter pulled up the optical feed from the satellite he'd just identified. He'd pointed out to his boss Eli Wade that it would be useful to see what was around the satellites in case of problems. He was sure, though, that the fact optical sensors were both light and dirt cheap was really what had convinced Wade to agree.

  It was lucky that these satellites had the optical sensors since they were only present on satellites launched within the past two years. Rooter had suggested they avoid publicly announcing the presence of the sensors, and Wade had agreed.

  Rooter suspected, correctly, that Wade had agreed to both proposals so easily not because he saw their value. Instead, it was to make it easier to refuse Rooter's other more expensive requests.

  Of course, as his boss, Wade could say no to anything Rooter suggested. But as long as he considered Rooter a valued employee, Wade would do whatever he could to keep him happy.

  Within reason.

  Rooter was about to justify Wade's belief that he was worth keeping.

  Well, Rooter thought, nothing to see here, it seems. He panned the view from the third SpaceLink satellite in every direction. In some of those directions there was nothing but the blackness of space, punctuated by the pinpoints of distant stars. The satellite's broadcast antenna was naturally pointed at Earth, and there the view was spectacular.

  Every time Rooter saw a view of Earth from space, it reminded him of why he'd worked so hard to get to his present position as SpaceLink's project manager.

/>   OK, it was crazy. And paranoid.

  But Rooter calculated the position of the second satellite to go offline relative to this one. And then, he focused the optical sensor in that direction.

  Nothing. Rooter increased the sensor's gain to its maximum resolution.

  Still nothing.

  Rooter was simultaneously relieved and annoyed. OK, time to move on to other possibilities.

  But he left the sensor running and the monitor on, just in case.

  Rooter sat down at the adjacent console and pulled up production records for the two malfunctioning satellites. Yes, they were both manufactured at the same time, at the same facility. So, maybe the explanation was…

  Whoa! What was that?

  For an instant, a flood of white light poured from the monitor relaying the optical feed of the third satellite.

  Then the monitor's screen turned jet black.

  A quick check confirmed that power was still going to the monitor, and switching it to a different input source confirmed that the monitor was working fine.

  There was no longer a signal coming in from the third satellite.

  So, did that mean… Yes. The third satellite wasn't working either. Dead, just like the other two.

  A production problem could account for two failures, or maybe even three. But all within less than two hours?

  Fingers flying over his keyboard, Rooter pulled up the digital recording made by the third satellite's optical sensor while he'd been researching production files.

  Then he played back the last few minutes at half-speed.

  There! Rooter couldn't say he saw anything directly.

  But he could see that something was blocking the light from several stars. And whatever that something was, it was moving closer to their satellite.

  Rooter almost forgot to freeze the playback at a moment before the monitor flooded with light but hit the right key just in time.

  Then he reached for his phone.

  "Boss, where are you?" Rooter asked Wade without preamble.

  "Santa Barbara," Wade answered.