Kraken Rising

CHAPTER 27

Staff Sergeant Jim Harker knocked once and pushed right into General Marcus Chilton’s office. “Banguuo, secure line — urgent.” He shut the door behind him.

Chilton raised an eyebrow and pointed to a chair. He then pressed the secure line link. Harker held up a hand, mouthing: I don’t think he’s alone.

Chilton nodded. “General Marcus Chilton, go ahead, General Banguuo.”

“I always thought you were a friend, and an intelligent man, General Chilton.” There were no pleasantries, and that immediately sent a red flag up. Instead, the voice had a hard edge. “I always thought our mutual interests, and mutual power, meant all things would be discussed before anything… precipitous, would be embarked upon.”

“I’m not following you, General.” Chilton stared straight ahead, waiting.

“And I do not follow you anymore. Our Xuě Lóng Base has been destroyed.”

Chilton frowned, and pointed to Harker who immediately pulled a computer towards himself and rapidly began to access their link to the VELA satellite data.

Chilton waited for Banguuo to continue. “After our first team vanished, we sent in a new team to find out what happened. Now they are gone too.”

Harker turned the screen around, showing satellite images of the Antarctic ice. There was just a blackened scab on the pristine snow where the Chinese base used to be. He shrugged.

Chilton exhaled, looking skyward for a moment. “General Banguuo, I promise you, this is news to me, and I can absolutely guarantee that we had nothing to do with it.” He grimaced, knowing there was no way he could be sure of that.

“I see,” Banguuo said. “Then who was it that sabotaged the Kunming destroyer in the Southern Ocean? A ghost maybe? A ghost that blows holes in our ship, and then swims towards your submarine?”

Chilton remained silent, until a new voice cut across the line.

“Maybe if someone were to destroy McMurdo, you would be more interested.” This new voice was high with agitation.

Harker mouthed: Chung Wanlin. The minister of national defense. But it wasn’t a surprise, as Chilton had expected that man would be standing beside his old friend.

“Mr. Wanlin, nice of you to speak up.” Chilton’s hand clenched into a fist. “But I would strongly suggest you back off that form of language, sir. You don’t know where that might end.”

“Our people are missing, we think dead. Our base is destroyed, our ship sabotaged. We hold you responsible.” Wanlin’s voice was cutting. “Our nation demands a response for these insults. You…”

It was Chilton’s turn to cut across the Chinese minister. “General Banguuo, I know you have dispatched more naval hardware. I suggest we meet, urgently, so we can — ”

“Too late.” Wanlin’s voice was like a screech. “You ask, where will this end? Perhaps you should have asked yourself that before you began your aggression.”

“Listen here, there’s something you need — ” Chilton spoke through clenched teeth.

The line went dead.

“Goddamnit.” He pushed back from the table.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Harker said.

“Neither do I.” Chilton’s eyes narrowed. “Banguuo has been sidelined; that’s bad news. That little prick Wanlin is a bureaucrat who wields power without knowing what the effects of that power will be.”

He looked up at Harker. “We’re committed, but we’ve got to move this up a level, whether we like it or not. Find out what naval assets we’ve got available. I want them down there, yesterday… and get me Jack Hammerson.”

Colonel Jack Hammerson disconnected the call from General Chilton and set a digital time banner on his computer for the US contingent of fourteen destroyers, including the new Zumwalt destroyer — a hundred feet longer than any other destroyer, and featuring radar deflective angles and a new type of gun that could shoot rocket-powered warheads up to a hundred miles. Added to this firepower, there would be eight cruisers, six Fast Attack submarines, and two Ballistic and Guided Missile submarines. All were expected to arrive in the Southern Ocean in a little over twenty-six hours, to face off against the massed Chinese vessels. The brass were taking this seriously, and the countdown had begun.

Hammerson sat for several seconds, thinking through the recent events and his next actions.

He fully expected the destroyer to be sabotaged; after all, he had planned it, and the Arcadian had executed it, perfectly. He swung in his seat, hitting keys on his computer. The Hammer, as he was known to friends and foes, was the leader of the HAWCs and not one to die wondering. He and his teams relished the hard jobs, and when the going got tough, he just got even tougher.

It was his job to anticipate what his adversary might do. In this regard, he fully expected the Chinese to hit back, and to try and give us a little taste of what they think we’re dishing out. He smiled; General Marcus Chilton didn’t need to tell him to move things up a level. He already had the third portion of his strategy in motion.

Hammerson’s screen showed the lifeline of the huge HAWC, Sam Reid, now approaching his drop point on the Antarctic ice sheets. The lifeline was strong and calm. Sam would lead another small HAWC team in and secure McMurdo from any intrusion. He grinned, remembering the huge man’s enthusiasm when he had told him of the mission.

Get the Bravo team to the pad, you’re going in — and then the kicker — and get down to Special Weapons, I’ve requisitioned a full MECH; we’re going to take this one head-on, show ’em what real warfare tech looks like.

Sam had clapped once, springing to his feet, the whine of the pneumatics of his external framework only just perceptible. The big man was still crippled from the lower vertebrae down, but you couldn’t tell. Technology had allowed him to function normally — better than normally. Hammerson’s grin widened. On arrival, Sam would be a two-legged tank.

Hammerson would certainly pay a dollar to see the look on Sergeant Bill Monroe’s face when the big HAWC dropped in on McMurdo wearing the formidable body armor. Better yet, he’d give a month’s pay to see the look in the PLAs’ eyes, when they came face to face with American lethal determination combined with advanced warfare technology.

Hammerson turned back to his screen, sobering. There were three primary mission threads in play now: one, Alex Hunter, still dark; two, Dempsey’s team, also now dark; and three, Sam’s team, strong and enroute.

“Third time lucky,” Hammerson said, sitting back with hands clasped behind his head.