Kraken Rising

CHAPTER 57

“Sink the USS Texas.” Minister Chung Wanlin stood immobile at the head of the group in the large meeting room, his expression implacable. Around the polished table, General Banguuo sat in the center and fanned out to his left and right were eight other generals of the Chinese armed forces. This was a war council, and Banguuo knew that cautious words mattered now.

Banguuo felt his comrade peers waiting on him, as he was the ranking officer in the room. Though Minister Chung Wanlin was the senior party official, when it came to military matters, it was not up to him to drive armed forces strategy.

“Then what?” Banguuo asked.

Wanlin narrowed his eyes. “Then, General, we will have educated them. We will have shown them what happens when they disable our ships, blow up our bases, take our soldiers captive, and kill our personnel.” He smiled coldly. “Should I go on?”

Banguuo observed that the man looked agitated, energized, and there was a fire of zeal behind his eyes. He needed to be careful with him.

“Honorable Minister…” Banguuo remained ice calm as he leaned forward. “The moment I order that strike, China and America… the entire world as we know it, will change forever. And perhaps not for the better for us.”

Wanlin’s lips compressed.

“Dear Minister, do you know how many nuclear warheads China has?” Banguuo asked. Wanlin stayed motionless, and Banguuo responded for him. “About 280.” He tilted his head. “Do you know how many nuclear warheads, including tactical, strategic, and nondeployed weapons, the Americans have?”

Banguuo waited for a moment, and then smiled with little humor. “Approximately 4,800.” The general held out his hands. “I am not afraid to die for my country. But I will not consign millions of my citizens to the same fate, over some minor friction, which history might contend we initiated. We should be careful about poking a bear, Minister.”

“A bear?” Wanlin harrumphed. “A dragon eats bears.” He stared unblinking at Banguuo. “I did not know that courage was something in such short supply.” Wanlin craned his neck towards the general, his face going red. “I have already discussed first strike option with the president.” He smiled. “We can contain them, and minimize our own losses, if we strike first — hard and at multiple targets.” He scoffed and leaned back. “Do not fear bears in the age of the dragon, General Banguuo.” He lowered his brow. “You will initiate a strike against the American submarine. That is the order, General. Launch the strike or resign your post.”

Banguuo didn’t move, didn’t even blink. He feigned indifference, even though he had a burning urge to leap from his seat and pound this upstart into the ground. Neither of the minister’s options were acceptable to him. But he needed more time; Wanlin was a politician, not a soldier, and that meant he dealt in persuasion, subterfuge, and outright deception. Wanlin was moving too fast. Banguuo needed to slow him down.

“Show me the order.”

Wanlin bristled. “I just gave it to you.”

Banguuo smiled, his eyes calm. “Not from you. An order of this magnitude needs to be sighted by all the generals… and myself. Please show me the directive from the General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party.”

At the use of the president’s full title, Wanlin’s face looked about to explode. But after a moment, the angry color leaked away, and he seemed to ease. Then he smiled. This worried Banguuo more than anything else.

“Then you shall have your presidential order.” Wanlin’s phone beeped and he took it from his pocket. He looked at it briefly before putting it to his ear. He grunted, and turned away for a moment.

“Put it up on screen,” he said quickly, and immediately, the wall behind him came to life. He stood to the side, with his back to it, facing Banguuo and the other generals at the table. “You think the threat is over? While you hesitate, they murder us, and then insult us by picking over our corpses.”

The satellite screen image drilled down from the heavens to focus on the blackened stain on the snow and ice. The wreckage of the Chinese base could barely be made out among the still smoldering debris. A figure in a white snow suit, with an American military snow ski parked to the side, walked in among the debris, stopping now and then, lifting items and dropping them.

Wanlin’s eyes slid to Banguuo. “A further insult. Deal with it, forcefully. Show them your metal!” He turned and left the room, the door banging shut behind him.

Banguuo sat staring at the screen. He sighed. “Dragons eat bears,” he whispered, shaking his head. He turned to the man next to him. “I have no choice; get me the Kunming, priority one.”

“Launch — launch — launch.” Klaxon horns blared within the USS Texas, bulkhead doors were sealed and the interior lights switched to red. Men moved to their posts, fast but calm.

Commander Carmack ran to the bridge, yelling orders as he went. “Who fired, what and where?”

In the bridge room, Hensen was beside him in an instant, and the pair quickly took to their stations. Here too, the lighting was now a hellish red, with multiple screens making the attending officer’s faces glow an alien green.

“The Kunming, sir, fired one ship-to-shore missile. Possibly a silk worm or dragon claw.” The officer stared hard at his screen, reading lists of data as it rapidly scrolled. “Reaching Mach 1 now; determining course and target.”

Hensen went and stood behind the man, reading the data along with him. His face green with the light and his eyes fixed.

“Goddammit.” Carmack gritted his teeth and prayed it wasn’t on its way to McMurdo. If it was, he would have no choice but to retaliate.

“Prepare to dive.” He licked suddenly dry lips.

Hensen looked up, frowning. “Target is the Xuě Lóng Base, their base.”

“What?” Carmack rubbed a hand up through his hair.

“Maybe they’re sanitizing the site?” Hensen said. He turned back to the screen. “Forty seconds to impact.”

“Sanitization… I hope that’s all it is.” Carmack folded his arms.

Sergeant Monroe’s guts ached. His people were out of range, missing or even dead, for all he knew. He cursed Jack Hammerson for involving his team — they were regular soldiers, not Special Forces. He kicked a smoldering beam from his path, and cursed some more.

Monroe bent to pull up another smoking piece of debris — there was nothing that remained of the Chinese base — no survivors, no clues, and he had no idea what he was looking for or actually doing on the foreign nation’s site. Rendering assistance, he might have said if someone asked him.

He lifted something that might have been the sole of a boot. In reality, he just wanted some sign, anything, any clue, that might tell him his team had all gotten into the tunnels, and even better, that there was a way he could get them out.

Sergeant “Wild’ Bill Monroe paused and tilted his head, listening. He could swear he heard a bird whistling. He turned.

The missile impact and detonation carved a crater fifty feet deep and a hundred wide. It melted snow and blasted ice and rock far out over the landscape. Nothing remained of the already decimated base, or the last human being to ever set foot there.

Sam leaned over Sulley, watching the wonders and monstrosities that passed in and out of Orca’s tunnel of light, which was thrown forward into the black water. A while back, a fish, if that’s what it could be called, had glided into the light. It was big, its head armor plated, and its eye was like something set in a mechanical swivel. Sulley had halted the submersible, lest the living battering ram decided to turn and make a run at them. It circled for a minute or two, and then glided off into the darkness.

Earlier they had been traveling on the surface, using the blue twilight to navigate, instead of the energy hungry lights… but that too had proved a mistake. They had been forced to dive again, as something the size of a glider swooped down from the huge cavern’s ceiling. It was all leathery wings and needle toothed snout, and it had snatched at Orca, but probably been surprised to find there wasn’t flesh to sink its talons into, but hard shell. Orca had dropped back into the water and they had immediately dived again.

Sam straightened, wondering what it would have been like to be in that warm water, free floating, exposed to all that. Or maybe worse, in that land with just your wits and a truck load of courage. This was the job they did, he knew. But this was one helluva tough gig. He grimaced, remembering that Aimee Weir was also down there somewhere.

Sam’s comm. unit pinged, and he walked a few paces away from the scientists. It was Hammerson on the line.

“Boss.”

“Sam, please tell me Jack Monroe is with you.”

Sam frowned. “No, sir, haven’t seen him for several hours.”

“Ah, goddammit. He must have gone over to the Chinese base.” Hammerson exhaled. “The Chinese just put a ship-to-shore missile on their base. There’s nothing left.”

“Fuck it.” Sam had liked the McMurdo sergeant. “Did they know he was there?”

Hammerson snorted softly. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, no accident. They wanted to send us a message,” Sam said.

“Time’s just about up. Tell me what you’ve got.”

“Nothing more than what we know — we think Alex survived, and we’re following the shoreline. The Brits here have calibrated their submersible to pick up the Sea Shadow’s distress beacon. We’re following it along a type of coast where we believe Alex has entered. All we can do is watch and wait.”

“Time is the enemy now, Sam. The Chinese fleet has assembled in the Southern Ocean, and we’ll be there within the hour. The president has moved us up to DEFCON-2, so a lot of fingers are on buttons across the globe. Pray Hunter gets to that submarine first.”

“Pray for sanity,” Sam said.

“And if that doesn’t prevail, then pray for a quick and overwhelming war,” Hammerson responded evenly. “Keep me updated.” He clicked off, and Sam turned back to the screen, feeling a knot of impatience coil inside him as he watched and waited.