Drone Command

TWENTY

The vessel was the first drillship ever constructed in a Chinese shipyard, though it relied heavily on a Norwegian corporation for its automated dynamic positioning (ADP) system. The Tiger II, the second ship launched in the series, was no exception. ADP allowed the vessel to find and maintain a fixed position in deep water without the need for anchors or other fixed assemblies typical of many deep-water drilling platforms. Proprietary computer algorithms used the data gleaned from motion and vertical and draught reference sensors along with the ship’s hydro-acoustic navigational system to automatically fire bow and stern thrusters as needed, putting and keeping the forty-five-thousand-ton drilling vessel in place at sea without human intervention. The Tiger II needed to remain perfectly positioned in order to begin and sustain drilling operations. Unnecessary movement would destroy the drill assembly as it bored into the ocean floor and, worst-case scenario, cause irreparable damage topside, even possibly sinking the ship.

The blue water boiled beneath the red-hulled vessel as the azimuth thrusters fired, driving the vessel sideways and leaving a perpendicular wake. The oil derrick loomed more than two hundred feet above the center of the deck, far higher than the rear-mounted helicopter pad. The guided-missile destroyer Kunming circled on patrol in the distance, keeping a careful watch on the much larger but vulnerable drillship.

A massive bloodred, gold-starred PRC national flag perched on top of the derrick, and a forty-foot-long flag was painted on both sides of the ship. Feng didn’t want any confusion about the nationality of the mobile drilling platform.

The Tiger II captain, her first officer, and the entire crew were civilian employees of the Chinese National Offshore Oil Corporation. CNOOC was owned by the PRC government and was the third-largest oil producer in China. The CEO of CNOOC was a protégé of Vice Chairman Feng’s, who mentored the younger man before he left his high-ranking position at CNOOC to begin his political career. In fact, the CEO owed his position to the personal intervention of Feng, who used his political clout to guarantee the appointment. Feng maintained close relations with CNOOC and several other oil concerns, most of which were populated with strong political allies or Feng family members, including his murdered nephew, Zhao Yi, who had been the president of the Sino-Sahara Oil Corporation until he was assassinated by unknown killers in Mali.

The captain and her bridge crew were all proficient in computer systems. Two of her officers were dedicated computer specialists, while she and her first officer and the deckhands below were also seasoned sailors. The oil-drilling operations were run by a separate supervisor with his own handpicked operators, but even he and his gang of roughnecks were under her authority. The drilling supervisor stood silently by her side as the captain watched the video monitors detailing thruster direction, propeller RPMs, and engine status.

A few minutes later, the ADP system computers signaled that the Tiger II was finally in place. The captain nodded to the drilling supervisor, signaling that his work could now begin. They were both devoted members of the Party and loyal CNOOC employees, so they took on the potential risk of an American or Japanese attack on their operations with stoic pride. Feng characterized their actions today as heroic and every bit as important as a military victory in China’s quest for energy independence. The knowledge that they would also each be granted one percent of gross revenues from the rig operation in perpetuity — paid into untaxed secret offshore bank accounts — was equally motivating.

Perhaps more so.