Kraken Rising

CHAPTER 53

The Seawolf class submarine, the USS Texas, had finally surfaced. There was no need anymore for the cat and mouse game of only a few hours ago.

Commander Eric Carmack in the conning tower smiled ruefully and lowered his field glasses, as he watched the wall of steel maneuver into place. The People’s Liberation Army Naval Force had now assembled five more Luyang III class destroyers to add to the Kunming’s presence. Each of the sleek vessels bristled with weaponry. There were also two submarines just below the surface and, imposingly, an aircraft carrier, called the Liaoning. This last one was a veritable mountain on the water.

Carmack exhaled, knowing that way up on the deck of this floating monstrosity they had a dozen Shenyang J-15 carrier based fighter craft. The planes were fast and furious darts known as Flying Sharks. Bad news.

“Armed to the teeth and ready for war.” He handed the glasses to his COB, Alan Hensen.

Hensen took them, scanned the vessels, and then turned to look over his shoulder at the horizon. “Our muscle is still hours away. Gonna get real crowded here soon.”

Carmack grunted, leaning forward on his forearms. This morning there’d been only two vessels of war on the water. Soon there’d be two mighty fleets — two horned bulls, squaring off against each other, both pawing the ground, and breathing fire.

“Think they’ll try anything while they’ve got us outgunned and outnumbered?” Hensen asked.

Commander Eric Carmack was the ranking naval officer and was given control of the approaching fleet. He knew that the naval war machinery arrayed, for and against, was formidable, and even deep diving would give little protection against the technology that could be brought to bear. He also knew that the modern Chinese ships had computer assisted guidance systems in their depth charges — good ones — of course they were, because the tech plans were hacked straight from one of the US secret military R&D databases.

He smiled; perhaps in the future there would be no need for armed head-to-head conflict, as everything would be fought in the cyberspace. Maybe that’d be better, but who knew.

He exhaled a breath that danced away from his lips like a small frozen ghost. Carmack looked down into the iron-gray water; it was cold, and deadly. His job was to make sure his men and women didn’t end up in it, and if it came to it, to make damn well sure the other guys did.

“Unlikely,” he said, clasping his fingers together. “We can shoot over the horizon, they know that, and already our satellites are probably staring right down the noses of their officers.”

“Good,” Hensen said. “Sanity prevails.”

“Sanity?” Carmack shrugged. “In war, sanity is in short supply. Right about now, I’m betting there’s a lot of nervous fingers on a lot of launch buttons over there. Someone gets excited or has a rush of blood, and a lot of people will die. Then, like a goddamn disease, the infection would spread to both our mainlands.” He turned to Hensen, leaning on one arm. “Then onto their allies, and then… fiery death on a global scale.”

Carmack turned back to look at the Chinese ships. They were so close he could see the individual officers on the bridge, glasses up, watching him. He waved. If it came to it, the Chinese were too close to miss. Unfortunately, so were they.

General Chilton turned to the blinking phone — that phone — the red one that was a direct line through to the Oval Office. Jim Harker stood up, and motioned towards the door.

Chilton nodded. When President Paul Banning, the Commander in Chief, called, it was never just to ask how his golf swing was looking. And today, the potential for conflict in the Southern Ocean was a clear and present danger.

He waited until the door was closed, sat down, and lifted the receiver. Encrypters and randomizers immediately went to work ensuring that their communication would be invulnerable to all attempted intrusion.

“Mr. President.” Chilton stared at the picture on his wall. It showed the USS Nimitz coming over the horizon at dawn; it always lifted his spirits.

“Marcus, the secretary of defense has just informed me that I may need to prepare for some time in the mole hole. Yesterday, I’m planning my holidays, and today I need to be secured beneath a million tons of concrete and steel because we could be going to war. You told me you had this under control; just what the hell is happening down there?”

Chilton smiled. He knew the president had read the briefings. But it was ever the way, that as soon as the rubber looked about to hit the road, then the questions, doubts, and nerves set in.

“Sir, the Chinese have assembled a small fleet in the Southern Ocean, just as we expected and planned for. I’m afraid things may get worse before they get better.”

“That goddamned sub. In future, we should have a remote self destruct on all prototypes.” The president exhaled long and slow. “How the hell do they think they’re going to benefit from this, let alone be able to get it out, and then get it past us?”

“They’re obviously going to claim international salvage rights,” Chilton said.

“Oh c’mon, Marcus, that’s bullshit, and you know it. Even I know it doesn’t apply to military vessels.”

“You’re right, sir. In fact, at the International Convention on Salvage in London of 1989, we all agreed that the uniform international rules regarding salvage operations, of which we and the Chinese attended and were signatory to, was that in no way would these rights apply to warships.”

“So they haven’t got a leg to stand on.” The president sounded relieved.

“Correct, but they’re relying on an earlier set of rules,” Chilton said, and then quoted what he had just read. “Those from the Brussels agreement of 1910. They state that the law of salvage applies to anyone who recovers a ship or cargo after peril or loss at sea, and after a period of two years. They are entitled to a reward commensurate with the value of the property saved, or to the property itself.”

“Jesus Christ, that’s a joke, they know warships are a red line,” the president said quickly.

“We know it, and they know it. But all they want is time and a distraction. We’ll need to take them to the International Maritime courts. Of course we’ll win, but by then, they’ll have pulled the Sea Shadow to bits. Bottom line, sir, is that the Chinese are poor initiators, but great imitators — in a decade they’ll have reproduced enough Sea Shadow type vessels to sneak in off the coast of most of our major cities. These are gifts we just cannot afford to give away.”

Chilton heard the president groan.

“Well, Marcus, what do we do here? I do not want to go down in history as the guy that started a war with China.”

“For now, sir, we do nothing but wait. Our assets are enroute, and will be there within a few hours. In the meantime, the Chinese will be making some aggressive displays to try and scare us off. But we don’t back down, we don’t even blink. We don’t need to. We’re the 300 pound gorilla here, sir.”

“So, we stare ’em down.” The president clicked his tongue. “I need more options, Marcus. You said it might get worse before it gets better. If that’s the case, then you bring me those options, ASAP. I want more choices than backing down or sinking ships, understood?”

“Yes, sir. At this time we have deployed two teams under the Antarctic ice. Both under Jack Hammerson’s oversight.” Chilton leaned towards his computer screen to see if there were any updates from Hammerson — there were none.

“That’s good. Progress?” The president asked.

“Some, but not all what we want to hear. We have lost contact with both teams, but we believe at least one of them is down under the ice making progress towards the submarine. That’s all I know for now, sir.” Chilton knew Banning would want more, but he didn’t have it.

“You believe? Can’t exactly take that to the bank, can I, General?” The president’s voice sounded strained.

“Our teams just need time to secure or destroy the vessel. I trust Hammerson and his people. It’s still the best option for a non-conflict outcome we have,” Chilton responded calmly.

“Sounds more like the only option.” The chair squeaked as if the president sat back. “Okay, Marcus, we stay cool for now, but you keep me informed of anything else; priority one. We’re all on the edge of the abyss here.”

“Yes, sir.” As the head of the US Armed Forces, Chilton knew it better than anyone.

“At 1800 hours, I will authorize the raising of the security level from DEFCON-3 to DEFCON-2. I pray your team wins the day, Marcus. God help us all.” The president disconnected.

General Marcus Chilton swung back to the picture on his wall. He breathed easily, calmly. He always stayed cool; that’s why they called him chilli. He also stayed cool because he prepared for anything and everything. He had his primary Chinese targets chosen, and they were following every ship, submarine and aircraft they had via satellite. The first launch flare confirmation he got, he’d unleash hell.

His eyes slid to a time banner on his computer screen — 04 hours, 01 minutes, 08 seconds until his war fleet arrived. God help us all, President Benning had said. He sat back. “Amen to that.”

Joshua had the two superhero figures, one in each hand. Iron Man to his left, and the Hulk in the other. He was sitting on the floor in Margie’s office in the big building where Mommy had talked to the gray-haired man with all the lines on his face. Jack, he remembered. The man smiled a lot, but Joshua knew that he didn’t tell the truth all the time. He had to see past his words, and pull the truth directly from inside his head. Doing this gave both of them a headache, but the more he tried it, the easier it got… at least for him.

The door opened again, and Jack came out. He handed something to Margie at her big desk, and then looked down and waved and saluted. Joshua grinned, and returned the salute, Hulk and all.

He held the man’s eyes. “When is Mommy coming back?”

Jack crouched and ruffled his hair. “Soon, I hope. She just has to finish some important work for us.”

Joshua continued to stare, reading the man. “You don’t know where they are, and you think they might be lost.”

Jack continued to smile, but inwardly he winced from the pain in his head that Joshua knew he was feeling. He could also sense that he was momentarily frightened. No, that wasn’t right. The man didn’t scare, but he sure didn’t like it.

Jack ruffled his hair again, and stood. “I promise you, Joshua, as soon as I hear something I’ll let you know. Mommy will be fine.” He turned then to Margie, a brief look passing between them, and then he was back in his office.

Joshua looked at Margie, and sensed the waves of sympathy rising from her. She thought Mommy was lost too.

He liked Margie. He smiled at her. “She’s fine.”

She was alive, he knew it, and so was his father. He couldn’t wait to meet him, to talk to him. Peter was nice, but Peter wasn’t like him. Where Alex Hunter was just like him.

He lifted the posable plastic figures in each hand. He turned to Hulk, and made words for him.

“Don’t worry, Mommy is happy and safe, and coming home soon.”

He nodded and grinned and lifted Iron Man. His smile fell away and he stared, his brows coming together. The words came again, but they weren’t his own this time.

“They won’t make it out alive. The thing, the monster, knows they are there now. It wants them… to eat them both.”

Joshua continued to stare, his eyes shining wet for a moment more as his teeth ground together.

“Joshua?” It might have been Margie’s voice.

He stared, unblinking, and his tiny fingers closed on the hard plastic figurine. Iron Man crushed into shards.