by Ted Halstead
Wen tolerated this weakness for several reasons. First, Duan never pushed questions into outright disobedience.
Second, Duan's questions weren't born of stupidity or obstinance. His concerns were always reasonable, and sometimes Wen even shared them. On one occasion, Wen had drafted a new regulation based on one of Duan's objections and forwarded it through channels.
Wen was hardly surprised that he never heard back. The Chinese Navy's admirals were not known for their concern over input from lower ranks.
"Captain, sonar contact. Likely Tomahawk launch, sir," Duan said.
"Tomahawk launch! How many, Commander?" Wen asked.
"Just one so far, Captain. Sonar knows to report immediately if more launches are detected, sir," Duan replied.
"One," Wen repeated and sat thinking for a moment.
Duan stood by respectfully. Another thing Wen liked about him. Duan knew there were moments a leader needed to be free to think without interruption.
"One Tomahawk sounds like a test of some kind. I have seen Naval Intelligence reports suggesting the Americans are trying to add new capabilities to those old weapons. And a single Tomahawk could hardly do much damage, even to bases as small as the ones we have out here," Wen said.
Duan nodded. "I agree, Captain. There is another possibility, though. If the Tomahawk targeted our newest base, it might be meant to send a signal of American displeasure at the steps we have taken to assert our territorial rights."
Wen grunted and thought some more. Yes. Duan had also risen in rank despite asking questions because he always said the right thing politically.
"Assert our territorial rights?" Wen had wondered for years when the Americans would finally respond to being pushed around by China's Navy and Air Force.
Had the day finally come?
It wouldn't have surprised Wen even a little to learn that an American submarine captain not too far away was having similar thoughts.
"How good is our fix on the submarine that launched the Tomahawk?" Wen asked.
"Only a general bearing, Captain. Nothing solid enough to allow a torpedo launch," Duan replied.
Not a surprise, Wen thought. The Americans would have one of their most modern submarines carry out such a mission. Whether it was a test or an attack. Maybe a Virginia class?
If that guess were right, he would have to be careful not to turn from hunter to hunted.
"Rig us for ultra-quiet running until further notice, Commander. Once that is done, set best silent speed towards the American submarine. Assume they are headed east back towards their base," Wen ordered.
"At once, Captain," Duan said and hurried off to carry out Wen's orders.
"Ultra-quiet running" meant taking every possible precaution to avoid making a noise that could be detected by the enemy submarine. All routine maintenance work was suspended. No cooking meals. No showers. In short, any activity not absolutely required to keep the submarine operational stopped.
"Best silent speed" meant that instead of relying on the submarine's nuclear reactor for propulsion, they would use power from lithium-ion batteries to approach the Americans. Those batteries were one of the new capabilities of the Type 095 that made it superior to its predecessors.
The batteries were also a real worry to Wen. They had already been used in China's much cheaper and more numerous diesel subs. But until now, they had been considered too risky to install in its nuclear submarines.
Lithium-ion batteries could leak hydrogen gas. Colorless and odorless, hydrogen gas could only be detected by special instruments. It could build up quickly and lead to an explosion powerful enough to rupture the hull.
Wen had been told that the batteries in his submarine would not leak hydrogen gas. And that even if they did, the instruments the Navy had installed would detect it. And that if hydrogen gas were detected, it could be safely vented out of his submarine before it caused an explosion.
Wen wanted to believe all three assurances.
But today would be the first time he put them to the test. Because Wen was sure of one thing.
Hydrogen gas might pose a real hazard to his submarine.
But a Virginia class opponent was an even greater danger.
Chapter Forty-Three
Ziyou Island
South China Sea
Colonel Xia smiled to himself as he walked down the makeshift runway. Though it was a dark and moonless night, lights blazed up and down both sides of the runway. This meant he could see the runway in detail, but nothing outside it.
It was the first time since he'd arrived at "Freedom Island" that anything close to a smile had touched Xia's lips.
But finally, things were starting to go right.
He'd overheard a joke this afternoon. Since it was at his expense, some might have wondered why he liked it so much.
It went, "Want to find out if there really is a God? Lift a match!"
Xia understood the key point immediately. Not "light a match," which would have meant the joke was about the consequences of lighting a match in the presence of temporary fuel lines.
No, the soldier had been joking about what would happen if you merely "lifted" a match.
Xia had every soldier and construction worker searched upon arrival. So far, only one soldier had been found with a pack of matches that only had two remaining. The soldier had sworn he hadn't intended to bring them to this assignment, let alone use them.
Xia had the soldier held under armed guard until the next transport off the island for immediate court-martial.
But not before mustering every soldier and worker on the island for an assembly where he displayed the handcuffed soldier. And explained – again – what would happen to anyone caught with anything that might ignite the temporary fuel lines.
This morning the missiles and bombs needed to arm the fighter jets that would use the runway here had been offloaded and stored in one of the prefabricated buildings that had just been slapped together. In spite of Xia's repeated pleas that munitions storage wait for the construction of proper concrete weapons bunkers.
An Air Force officer had explained to Xia that it was safer to launch aircraft coming to the base without weapons. Unarmed planes also had a greater range, making it easier to reach this distant base.
But the clinching argument had been that without munitions on-site, this base could not be declared "operational."
Xia had placed the munitions as far from the fuel storage as he could. However, with much of the island already occupied by the runway and all the finished structures, that wasn't very far.
Tomorrow Xia would finally get the pumps, reinforced pipes, and qualified work crew necessary to replace the fire hazard that lay all around him. He understood why his superiors had done it this way. To report as quickly as possible that the base was "ready" to the politicians.
But Xia deeply resented the danger that everyone on this island had been exposed to as a result. It simply wasn't professional.
Along with the immediate prospect of ending the danger of fire engulfing the base, Xia was also enjoying his walk.
Xia smiled at the solid feel of the metal mats under his feet. Yes, it wasn't a paved runway. But he had walked the length of the runway twice already and seen no flaw or gaps.
On this third walk, Xia was still looking for problems. But by now, he was confident that if he found one this time, it would be minor and easily fixed.
What was that?
It sounded like something had flown overhead, but no nighttime helicopter flights had been authorized since the base had been built. And a helicopter would have made much more noise.
Xia frowned as a mist settled on his skin and all around him.
His first thought was that no precipitation of any kind had been forecast for the rest of the week, and if that was wrong, it might interfere with construction.
Almost immediately, though, Xia knew this wasn't water. It had a sharp smell that reminded him of…gasoline.
Xia had
just completed the thought when the Tomahawk's laser ignited the vapor it had dispersed moments before.
Everything around Xia turned as bright as the sun. He felt as though he were flying.
And then he felt nothing at all.
Japanese Self Defense Force AWACS
South China Sea
Haruto Takahashi had pioneered the concept of integrating data from multiple sources on a single airborne platform. Ordinarily, an Airborne Warning and Control System (AWACS) would rely exclusively on its massive rotating radar to detect possible threats.
However, Haruto had been the first in the JSDF to spot the opportunity provided by their Boeing 767 airframe. It offered more room than the older Boeing 707 model used by the Americans and all of their other allies.
Haruto smiled to himself. Sometimes, it paid to be late to the party.
Additional computer and communications modules of Haruto's own design, as well as one extra crewman, made all the difference. In previous missions, he had been able to integrate data from other JSDF aircraft and drones into a single package.
Haruto had spent the past several years building on this accomplishment. In particular, he had managed to improve the stability of the interface linking the different platforms. This meant each data source, such as a drone's visual image or radio intercept picked up by a JSDF reconnaissance aircraft, would display along with their AWACS radar return.
Just as important, if a single data source was interrupted, it wouldn't affect the display of the others.
But Haruto was starting to think this latest project might be a bridge too far. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Kaito Watanabe appeared at his side. His supervisor since the start of the project, Kaito knew little about its technical details. But as the AWACS commander, he knew its original capabilities inside and out.
Kaito also had a disconcertingly deep understanding of his crewmen, which he now demonstrated.
"Have we bit off more than we can chew?" Kaito asked.
Like all AWACS commanders, Kaito's initial JSDF training on AWACS operation had been supplemented by additional courses in America. He had brought a slew of American idioms back with him. Just when Haruto thought Kaito's store must be exhausted, he came up with another.
At least this one was easy to understand. "More than one way to skin a cat" wasn't just a horrifying image. It was also difficult to fathom. Who besides a sociopath would want to devise a single way to do so, let alone many?
Haruto also had to admit reluctantly that this time, the idiom was apt. Japan had signed a defense pact with Australia in 2020, its first bilateral military agreement since its 1960 agreement with the Americans. The pact’s initial focus had been on base visits, joint exercises, and disaster relief coordination. The agreement had since expanded to information sharing.
Like the data collected from the MQ-4C Triton drone operated in the South China Sea by the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF), one of six it had purchased from the Americans.
The RAAF Triton had several declared purposes, none of which China could find objectionable. Protection of Australian commercial shipping. Detection of drug and people smuggling on its way to Australia. Early warning of threats to Royal Australian Navy ships.
This particular Triton had been launched from the RAAF base at Tindal in Australia's Northern Territory. Not far from the South China Sea.
The Chinese had complained bitterly about Triton overflights of their claimed airspace in the South China Sea. Australia had rejected these complaints. Given the importance of Australian-produced raw materials for China's economy, so far, its leaders had been unwilling to authorize its military to shoot down an RAAF Triton.
After first getting their Australian allies to agree, the Americans had asked the JSDF to relay data from the RAAF Triton to one of its submarines. The Americans had also provided the JSDF with full technical details on the Triton. Details they said would be sufficient to carry out their request.
Haruto looked up from his display at Kaito and nodded. "Yes, sir. It looks like the Australians have been tinkering with the Triton's systems since they purchased it from the Americans. I've had no trouble obtaining useful data from the drone. However, fully tapping into its data feed has been difficult so far. It's been very frustrating."
Kaito smiled. "Tinkering, you say. You mean, the way someone in the JSDF has been monkeying around with the original design of the American AWACS?"
Haruto sighed. "Monkeying around?" He could guess what this American idiom meant, and it didn't sound very complimentary.
But Kaito was right. He was in no position to complain about whatever the Australians had done to their Triton after buying it from the Americans.
"I'll put it this way, sir. The Americans want a damage assessment sent directly to their submarine as quickly as possible. I can get that to them. Fine detail, though, will have to come from the Australians," Haruto said.
Kaito nodded. "Understood. Not long now, right?"
"Yes, sir," Haruto replied, tapping a large monitor to his right. "This is the Triton's visual feed, currently trained on the Chinese island base targeted by the Americans. In a matter of minutes, their weapon should strike it."
Kaito frowned. "We have waited many years for the Americans to respond to Chinese provocations. So have the Australians. I wonder whether the Americans really needed our help on this operation or if they're doing things this way so we can see their attack for ourselves."
Haruto shrugged. "Maybe a little of both. You've spent a lot more time with them than I have. How often have you said their real intentions are not so easy to read, even though they pretend to be what you call an 'open book'?"
"Well, from what the Americans have told us, this won't be much more than a slap on the wrist. A single missile that will take out their runway for a day or so. Since the Chinese have still got a full construction crew there finishing up the base, maybe only a matter of hours. Honestly, I'm not sure why they're even bothering to launch such a limited strike," Kaito said.
"I suppose they have to start somewhere. At least the Americans will be sending a clear signal that more island-building will come at a price," Haruto replied.
"And there's the signal," Kaito said, as a pinpoint of light appeared on the center of Haruto's display.
The pinpoint almost instantly widened to a brilliant rectangle.
And then expanded far enough that the dazzling light shining from the display made them both look away.
But only for a few moments. Almost immediately, the bright light was replaced with a sullen red glow.
That appeared to encompass the entire island.
"What was that!" Kaito was the first to exclaim. "That was no lone missile!"
Haruto's fingers were flying over the keyboard, and at first, he was too busy to say anything.
Finally, Haruto looked up at Kaito. "I've cut the image brilliance so we can stand to look at it as the replay unfolds. I've also slowed down the attack's progression by a ten to one ratio. Maybe most important, I've zoomed in on areas with data, and I'm putting it up on the main display," gesturing towards the massive screen mounted on the wall behind them.
Haruto began the replay.
Almost immediately, Kaito gestured for Haruto to stop the playback.
"The Americans somehow managed to engulf the entire runway in fire with a single missile. But if we imagine the runway as a rectangle, look at how the rectangle widens almost instantly on both sides. What would explain that?" Kaito asked.
Haruto frowned. "What if the Chinese ran temporary fuel lines so they could gas up planes on the runway?"
Kaito shook his head. "No way. No fighter pilot I know would land his plane anywhere near a plastic hose full of aviation fuel. We'll have to think of some other explanation. Resume the playback."
Both sat silently as two thin lines of fire stretched from the runway towards…what?
The answer appeared almost immediately, as more light bloomed on the scr
een.
Kaito sighed and gestured for Haruto to pause. "My apologies. You were right. That must have been fuel lines leading back to the tanks that supplied them. Continue."
Now that they had slowed the playback, they could see multiple fires' progression rather than a single inferno.
Seconds later, there was another brilliant flare of light. This one, though, was…jumpy?
"Back up twenty seconds, and refocus on the source of that last light flare. Slow down playback again by half," Kaito ordered.
Haruto nodded, and a few moments later, the display resumed.
"Stop," Kaito said seconds later, shaking his head. "Those are munitions exploding. At first, a few, but then nearly all detonate at once."
Kaito paused. "What can we use besides these visual images to confirm what happened?"
Haruto frowned. "Ideally, I'd want an analysis of multiple light wavelengths, and all the other data picked up by the Triton's active electronically scanned array. But because of the Australian modifications, I don't have it here. The Australians will need to pass that data to the Americans for a detailed analysis. For what it's worth, though, I agree with your interpretation of the information we do have."
"One last point before you relay our assessment to the American submarine. What would you estimate the casualty rate to be, based on the extent of the fires and the power of the explosions we witnessed?" Kaito asked.
Haruto looked at him soberly. "I think the real question is, how many bodies will the Chinese be able to identify?"
Kaito shook his head. "I'd like to argue with you but can't. I think we're going to be flying more missions in these waters for a long time to come."
Chapter Forty-Four
Shanghai, China
Chen Li Na had read the news coverage of Forward's successful attack on the Shanghai Stock Exchange twice. First, the version in China's state censored media. There, the outage that followed was portrayed as a minor technical issue, quickly fixed the same day.
Chen's Gateway gave her access to coverage from the foreign press, where the story was very different. With only about three hundred billion US dollars invested, foreign investors accounted for less than ten percent of the Exchange's value.