Alpha Strike

CHAPTER 30

The ambassador’s stomach churned uneasily. Even with the president’s words of confidence still ringing in her ears, the thought of the next few hours filled her with an ineluctable dread. She paused for a moment, and the flock of staffers and assistants behind her almost ran her over. She heard a few angry whispers, the almost imperceptible thud of elbows on ribs.

None, save her Chief of Staff, had any inkling of what was about to happen. There were no position papers, no carefully thought out amendments or resolutions. Just her own instincts, honed in years of political maneuvering and international intrigue, to get her — and the nation — through this crisis without irrevocable harm to America’s interests.

She sighed and started forward again. This, as the president had said, was why they paid her the big bucks.

“The ambassador from the United States.” The chairman of the Security Council recognized her. She ignored the puzzled flurry of comments from her own staff behind her.

“Thank you, Mr. Chairman. The United States appreciates your courtesy in allowing us to proceed with our message of support for our valued allies in China.”

T’ing looked up sharply. His features quickly smoothed themselves back into inscrutability. He started to speak, then thought better of it.

“Support?” the chairman said doubtfully.

“Yes, of course. By now each member has probably received reports from their own sources,”—read “spies” here, my esteemed colleagues, she thought, allowing a faint smile to reach her lips—”and are no doubt preparing their own statements. However, we wished to be the first.”

She glanced around the room. Only years of experience allowed her to read the turmoil bubbling within the other delegations. Not an ambassador flinched, nor were there any guarded whispers to their respective staffs. Instead, each one adopted the same expression as T’ing wore on his face, an air of calm knowingness.

She wiped the smile off her face. Be damned hard for them to know anything about it — since it never happened.

“I’m advised by our military staff that at 0600, during joint operations off the coast of Brunei, the People’s Republic of China suffered a tragic accident. While all peace-loving nations of the world understand that such incidents are an unavoidable part of the price of freedom, we nonetheless extend our deepest sympathies to the families of those injured and killed during the incident. The ambassador from China, no doubt not wishing to slow down the work of this important body, will not mention the incident. But I feel compelled to publicly recognize the bravery of the military forces involved.”

She glanced at the faces again. Still no reaction.

“This morning in the South China Sea, operational forces from Vietnam and China were performing joint maneuvers off the coast of Vietnam. According to the Master of the Kawashi Maru, a commercial vessel in the area,” she continued, holding up a message, “winds and seas reached typhoon strength in a matter of hours, completely without warning. Fifty aircraft engaged in training exercises were lost. The United States carrier group on hand in international waters attempted to offer aid in locating the downed airmen and the sailors from the ship. Working together with our allies, a few men were recovered. As soon as practical, they will be repatriated to their respective homelands. In the meantime, the United States regrets that a tragedy of this proportion could occur, and offers its condolences to the families of the men involved.”

T’ing cleared his throat and looked down, as though overcome by emotion. A staffer reached around from behind him, placing a piece of paper before him. T’ing slapped the hand away, glanced at the paper, and then shoved it aside.

“Does the ambassador from China wish to respond?” the chairman asked uncertainly.

She intercepted a keen look of distrust and anger from T’ing, a millisecond-long flash of belligerence. It was gone as quickly as it had come. Then T’ing stood.

“On behalf of my government, we thank the ambassador for her condolences. The events of this morning …” T’ing stopped, feigning momentary emotion, and thought furiously. If he disputed the ambassador’s version of that morning, it would inevitably follow that word of China’s defeat would be circulated immediately. It was intolerable — the loss of face in front of the Pacific Rim tiger nations would set China’s plan for regional leadership back generations. On the other hand, her proffered explanation would buy China time, time to rebuild and rearm, time to further insinuate itself into the countries bordering the South China Sea.

He glanced at Vietnam and saw Ngyugen’s almost imperceptible shrug. Whatever China decided, the Vietnamese ambassador would support. Brunei didn’t even matter, and Malaysia had no proof. In that instant, pitted one-on-one against the American devil, he decided.

“… are indeed a tragedy,” he continued. “We thank the United States for her assistance and look forward to the immediate return of our airmen and seamen.”

The ambassador from the United States rose again. “Those events only point out the ever more pressing need for a regional plan for the South China Sea. We must be prepared to move swiftly, to act in concert, to prevent further loss of life in future storms.”

T’ing gritted his teeth and nodded. It would do no harm to agree now. Sun Tzu would have understood using the tactical advantage of peace to buy time to prepare for the next conflict.