Drone Command

SIXTY-FIVE

The task force was still two hours away from Mao Island and the Diaoyu Islands. The PLAN marines were making final preparations for loading into their hovercraft, and the Liaoning’s fighter-bombers and surveillance aircraft were launching as fast as the air boss could get them safely into the air. The deck thundered each time the catapult exploded, throwing another multiton airplane into the sky from the angled waist ramp, while more powerful jets rocketed into the air on their own power with the aid of the forward bow “ski jump” ramp. Neither Admiral Ji nor the ship’s captain was taking any chances. They were supremely confident the Americans would hesitate and offer no resistance, but putting all their aircraft in the air would serve as both a training exercise and a wise precaution.

Admiral Ji resented Vice Chairman Feng’s presence on the carrier, let alone in the CIC, the high-tech nerve center where combat operations were conducted. The heavily air-conditioned room looked like the deck of a starship to Feng, bathed in blue digital light and crowded with dozens of computer monitors manned by young officers and enlisted people wearing the familiar blue camouflage uniforms of the PLAN. In the center of the room was the threat assessment display (TAD), a giant digital monitor showing the Liaoning in the center of the vertical transparent glass.

Feng’s arrival on board ship was an obvious attempt by him to share in the glory of Admiral Ji’s impending victory over the hated Japanese and arrogant Americans. When Feng’s helicopter appeared on the horizon, Ji seriously considered shooting it down, but there would be ample time after the coup to deal with him and his cronies. For now, he was still a useful tool in the struggle with President Sun.

A wide-eyed lieutenant called out from his comms station. “Admiral Ji! The Tiger II has gone off-line. We can’t raise her!”

Ji and Feng rushed over. “What do you mean, can’t raise her?” Ji demanded.

“She’s not answering radio calls. Text messages, e-mails, cell phones — nothing’s getting through.”

“Is she sunk?” Feng asked.

“No, sir. She’s still on our radar.”

“Contact the carrier air group commander. I want two more surveillance aircraft overhead in five minutes or I’ll have him court-martialed.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” The lieutenant snatched up a phone and dialed in the commander’s number.

“What does this mean?” Feng asked.

“Software malfunction. Power outage. Could be any number of things,” Ji offered.

“The Americans?”

Ji nodded. “Who else?”

Alarms suddenly blared throughout the CIC. The TAD flashed hundreds of inbound aerial bogies less than a quarter mile away — striking distance — coming at the ship from all directions. Automated chaff rockets exploded above decks, throwing radar-confusing aluminum clouds into the air as antiaircraft missiles and Gatling guns roared.

A bespectacled lieutenant next to Ji shouted, “We’re under attack!” The room exploded with nervous chatter as operators called out status reports.

Ji laid a firm hand on the shoulder of the nervous officer. “Calm down.”

“Sorry, sir.”

Ji turned to another officer. “Someone get me the CAP.”

“The CAP commander reports no visual sightings, but his radar has locked on to multiple targets, closing.” The commander of the combat air patrol flew the latest Shenyang J-15 Flying Shark fighter aircraft, which possessed its own long-range radar, also tied into the TAD.

“Air defense. Status report,” Ji said. The TAD screen exploded with dozens more aerial blips. More antiaircraft missiles roared out of their launchers above his head.

“No splashes, sir!”

“Our missiles hit nothing?”

“No, sir.”

“What kind of aircraft?”

“Indeterminate, sir. Too slow for missiles.”

“Super Hornets? Lightnings?” Ji feared the strike capabilities of the latest American carrier fighter-bombers, the F-35Cs.

“Too small. American CAP and surveillance aircraft all accounted for.”

“Shut down automated air defenses,” Ji ordered.

“Aye, aye, sir!”

“Is that wise?” Feng asked.

“We’re just wasting ammunition.” Ji turned around. “Damage control. Report.”

“Sir, damage control reports—”

Another alarm screamed.

Dozens of red blips suddenly appeared beneath the Liaoning, swarming in from every point of the compass. Station operators shouted out the information on their screens.

“Contact bearing 173, distance, 1,000 meters!”

“Contact bearing 238, distance, 950 meters!”

“Contact bearing 049, distance, 1,200 meters!”

“Contact bearing 313, distance, 800 meters!”

The ship’s captain called out, “Emergency flank speed!”

The other officers called out their status reports, but Ji ignored them. His eyes told him everything he needed to know.

“Torpedos?” Feng cried out. He was sweating despite the room’s low temperature.

“Too slow,” Ji said.

“What then? Submarines?”

Another dozen red blips appeared as the others drove toward the Liaoning.

“No.” Ji’s calm demeanor masked his grave concern.

Feng’s eyes grew as wide as boiled eggs. “The Americans have infected our computers!”

The commander in the chair next to Feng ran the ship’s IT systems. “Negative. All computers are functional, no viruses detected.”

Another alarm sounded. “Surface contacts, bearing 040, 122, 274!”

“I don’t like this,” Feng squealed. “We’re vulnerable.”

Ji called over to the mission-control officer. “Put the Wu-14 online. Make all necessary preparations for an immediate launch.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”