Drone Command

SIXTY-NINE

Ji hovered over the shoulder of the mission-control officer. The computer screen was tracking the Wu-14’s downward trajectory.

“Speed, Mach 9 and accelerating,” the officer said. “Fifteen seconds to impact.”

A second targeting screen kept the George Washington in the center of a red target reticle. So long as the laser targeting reticle remained fixed on the center of the deck, the HGV couldn’t miss. A massive white wake trailed behind the nearly eleven-hundred-foot American carrier, which was now turning sharply.

“He won’t escape,” the officer said, grinning. “Mach 10!”

Admiral Ji stood, erect. Every eye in the room was focused on the main overhead screen, intently watching the hapless American carrier attempt to execute its futile escape maneuver.

Ji flushed with pride. Any second now and he would deal the Americans their worst naval defeat since Pearl—

The Liaoning erupted in a cloud of fiery steel as the Wu-14’s explosive warhead plowed into the main deck at 7,680 miles per hour. The thirty-year-old carrier hull shattered beneath the thundering strike, breaking in two amidships when several thousand tons of munitions exploded, sending both halves of the broken carrier to the bottom. A thousand Chinese sailors perished in the first three seconds, another nine hundred in the next minute.

The fate of the pilots and crew of the dozens of Chinese jets and helicopters still in the air remained uncertain; they suddenly had nowhere to land.

In the Kantei’s situation room, the Japanese were on their feet cheering, clapping, laughing at the flaming wreckage of the breaking hulk until Tanaka threw two fists in the air and shouted, “Banzai!” Several others echoed him back. Tanaka threw his arms into the air and shouted again and again, “Banzai! Banzai! Banzai!”

Everyone else in the room joined him in chorus, throwing up their arms, joyously crazed.

Everyone except Myers.

She still sat in her chair staring at the video screen, incredulous.