Shattered Trident

8. ESCALATION

31 August 2016

1400 Local Time

August 1st Building, Ministry of National Defense Compound

Beijing, People’s Republic of China

The Central Military Commission usually received a carefully polished and rehearsed intelligence brief before each meeting in their posh conference room. This time, though, they’d assembled in the operations center, below ground level.

Admiral Wei Zi’en watched the near-chaos of the intelligence staff as they updated the screens and plotted what little data they had on the attackers. He appreciated what they were going through, and knew what they had to work with. The data was pathetically thin and conflicting; he shared their frustration. This was his problem, his fight, his responsibility, and he felt as helpless as the workers updating the master plot. Maybe more so. At least they had useful work to do.

Colonel Xi Ping, one of the deputy commanders of the intelligence service for the General Staff, was the senior officer currently in charge of the operations room. Xi explained, “General Bao regrets not being here to brief you personally. Unfortunately, he is still heavily involved in counterintelligence issues. I have just spoken with him, he sends his apologies and asks your indulgence in allowing me to brief you.”

Wei could hardly complain. Normally, the brief was presented by a major or an ambitious captain. But the general’s absence had been noted by several members of the commission.

The operations room walls were crowded with maps and flat-screen displays, as well as the obligatory portraits. The staff paid little attention to the visitors crowded in the back, although they must have noticed that some of them matched the pictures on the wall.

“The status boards there, and there,” Ping said, pointing to the opposite wall, “display merchant traffic and the movements of all known foreign naval vessels, including submarines. The white symbols on each board show where our merchant ships, all tankers, have been attacked.”

Admiral Wei barely listened to the brief. He’d already received the bad news over the course of the day, and in more detail than it was being presented here. He knew the real reason the intelligence staff had brought them to the operations center. It was to show the Central Military Commission that the intelligence section, so surprised by the earlier Vietnamese mining of Liaoning, was now making every effort to avoid further embarrassments. And if there was so much bad news, it wasn’t their fault.

After an unsatisfying report, the council’s twelve members, including the president and the entire General Staff, elected to stay below ground level, and trooped across the hall. There was no point in going back up five floors just to have a meeting.

The utilitarian conference room was less opulent than their normal meeting place. It was large enough, and obviously well used. Posters on the walls showed comparisons of Chinese and foreign military hardware. The classroom-like setting seemed to encourage the colonel to use a more casual manner than he might have otherwise.

“Please, ask your questions,” Xi prompted.

General Shi was head of the political department. He said, “During the brief, you continually referred to the ‘unknown attackers.’ Why can’t you tell us who is sinking our tankers?” Shi’s frustration was clear.

The colonel answered, “As long as they only attack unescorted merchant ships, we have no way of detecting them, making identification impossible. Passive sonar could pick up a submarine’s acoustic signal, enabling us to identify the class, and thus the nationality of the attacker. But they have avoided our warships so far. It’s a clever strategy.”

“So you approve.” Shi’s tone was almost threatening.

“Only of their tactics,” Xi quickly responded. “They attack anonymously with no risk to themselves. We don’t know where to strike back.”

“There is one obvious choice,” Shi replied.

“If we attack Vietnam now, without proof, we become the villain,” Vice Chairman Li Ju countered.

“They’re behind it,” Shi affirmed.

“If it is the Vietnamese,” Xi was careful to say, “they cannot be acting alone. They only have three Project 636 subs in service. It’s physically impossible for only three submarines to cause this much destruction over such a wide area.”

“More than one nation? Has Vietnam shared its information with others? Is it the Americans?” Wei could hear genuine fear in Shi’s voice. He wasn’t as concerned as Shi, but American naval superiority was still a fact of life for China. If they threw their full weight against his PLAN, the outcome might be grim. Just their submarine forces alone…

“How can they know which ships to attack?” Vice Chairman Li asked.

Xi answered patiently. As a PLA general, Li Ju was unfamiliar with the maritime environment. “There are automated communication systems in place that allow the real-time tracking of virtually all merchant vessels. The information is widely available. Unlike during World War Two, when submarines had to search for their targets, now they can steer straight to them.”

Xi sighed. “In a way, we’re lucky our enemies are concentrating on tankers. It takes them some time to move from one to the next. If they were to simply attack all Chinese merchant ships, the losses in the last thirty-six hours would have been far greater.”

“This is quite bad enough,” replied Admiral Wei. “And of course we can’t easily suspend our participation in the system while our ships are at sea.” His voice was full of irony. “With only Chinese tankers being targeted, the rest of the world’s merchant fleets will make doubly sure they are clearly identified.”

“What about introducing false data, altering their identification?” Shi asked.

Xi shook his head. “Hostile naval intelligence would be quick to pounce on a ship that suddenly appeared in the same place a tanker disappeared. General Bao’s people in the cyber warfare section are investigating ways to switch two ships’ identities, but it’s not trivial.”

“Then should we be escorting our tankers?” Wen Feng, the minister of defense, asked Admiral Wei. He was careful to include General Su, the chief of the General Staff and Wei’s superior, in his question, but Su deferred to the admiral. Wei was the expert.

The admiral sighed. “It’s the obvious counter to a submarine campaign, but it would mean deploying escorts to many commercial ports, then waiting for enough merchants, or in this case tankers, to arrive before sailing. Once they have been convoyed across the danger area, the escort group must either return to the first port or exchange roles with another group that takes its place.”

Looking around the room, Wei saw everyone nodding understanding, including General Su. Wei continued, “It’s resource-intensive, requiring large numbers of escort vessels—numbers we currently lack. It would also reduce oil imports by as much as twenty-five percent because of the delays inherent in the convoy system. And that’s assuming no more ships are lost.”

Wei paused for a moment, then added, “Of course, if we were to begin convoying, those escorts would have to be taken away from our upcoming ‘exercise.’” Even in this supposedly secure area, Wei was circumspect. “We would probably have to cancel it altogether.”

The council’s expressions at that suggestion ranged from simple frowns, to shock, to near anger.

General Shi, listening to Wei’s explanation, turned back to Xi. “Colonel, I apologize. Our opponents are more than clever. They know our plans and present us with an unpleasant choice.”

“We have taken some steps,” Wei continued. “Patrol aircraft are flying along the routes of the heaviest shipping. It’s impossible to be everywhere at once, but they can react more quickly to news of a sinking than surface ships, and hopefully catch a submarine after an attack. Even if they can’t sink it, they can lay sonobuoys and possibly record its acoustic signature.”

“So we can’t prevent them from robbing another bank, but we may, with luck, be able to get the criminals’ license number as they speed away.” General Ye of the logistics department didn’t sound pleased.

“Confirming their identity is exactly what we need, General.” President Chen Dao had been silent since the start of Xi’s briefing in the operations room. Everyone turned to listen. “Economists on my staff say that on average, it takes a large tanker a day to meet China’s oil import needs. Thus, we’ve lost over twelve days’ supply in the past thirty-six hours,” he swept everyone in the room with his gaze, “without a hint of how to stop it. This will mean drawing even more heavily on our strategic reserves.”

Chen stood and moved toward the front of the room. Xi quickly stepped aside and sat down in an out-of-the-way corner. “Our enemies have correctly identified and struck at our greatest weakness. This does not change our needs. It highlights them. The ‘exercise’ will proceed with all possible speed. Its success will remove our vulnerability. It will also give our enemies something else to think about.

“China is strong enough to endure this attack, even if it grows worse. I will tell our economic planners to prepare for additional losses, so we can follow our chosen path without distraction.

“Colonel Xi, thank you for your hard work. Redouble your efforts to identify our antagonists. Also, inform General Bao that I wish to see him immediately. I have several questions for him.

“General Su, at this time we may not be able to demonstrate that Vietnam is behind this, but we must have a plan in place when their culpability can be proved. Develop one that inflicts punishing damage on their economy and armed forces, particularly their submarine base. However, do not use any of the units needed for the ‘exercise.’” Su nodded, but looked worried.

“Admiral Wei, determine if there is any way to speed up the timetable for the exercise. The sooner we consolidate our position, the better. Have a report ready by the end of the day.”

After Chen left, the commission members headed back aboveground. Wei at least felt hopeful. They had a plan, and he had something useful to do.

31 August 2016

USS North Dakota

Off Hainan Island, South China Sea

Jerry sat in the wardroom, fidgeting, fighting the urge to go to the control room. The troops had seen his disagreement with Thigpen, and had heard about his dressing-down by Commodore Simonis. Although he’d done his best to stay positive, he was still frustrated. The crew picked up that vibe and their tension rose.

Bernie Thigpen poked his head in. Seeing that the wardroom was empty except for the captain, he came through the door, and after pouring a cup of coffee, sat down near Jerry. He wasn’t near enough to crowd his skipper, but close enough to show something was on his mind.

“What’s the latest scuttlebutt, XO?”

“A lot of the crew is wondering what we’re up to out here. One of the snipes described it as, ‘All the risks of combat but none of the laughs.’ A lot of them also think the Vietnamese are nuts starting a war with the Chinese.”

“What do you think, XO?”

Thigpen sighed. “I’m worried about what happens when you decide to stretch our orders again.”

He paused, waiting for a reaction, but Jerry didn’t respond immediately. Thigpen continued, “Nobody on this boat has ever done this before. That makes everyone nervous, me included, and the last thing the crew needs on top of the external situation is a disconnect between the CO and the XO.”

“Do you think I was wrong?” Jerry kept his tone even and nonconfrontational. He wanted a discussion, not an argument.

“It isn’t about being right or wrong. You’re the skipper, and it’s your call, but I think you violated the spirit, if not the letter of our orders. I understand why you did it, and I’m glad it worked. I like it when nobody dies, especially us. But the commodore was seriously pissed, which confirms my suspicion that the brass wants us to keep well clear.”

After a few moments, Jerry nodded. “You’re right, of course. I thought we could walk right up to the line without crossing it. In hindsight, though, I did cross the line, and you were right to point it out. But I can’t promise that something else like it won’t happen in the future.”

Thigpen made a face. “Where does that leave me, Skipper? It’s my job to warn you at times like that, but we can’t be seen disagreeing by the crew, especially now.”

“Also right,” Jerry answered. “Do you believe me when I say I’m listening when you raise those objections? That I’ll always act in the best interests of the mission and the boat?”

“Of course,” Thigpen answered almost automatically. Then he added firmly, “No doubts, Skipper.”

Jerry smiled. “Good. Doubts are my job. Since my orders have been ‘clarified’ by the commodore, I’ll do my best to follow them precisely. But you’re also right that this is a unique situation. If I have to leave our guidance behind, I’ll listen hard to your counsel, but it’s always going to be my decision.”

“And I’ll do my best to implement it,” Thigpen confirmed.

“If you want to take notes, or keep a separate log, I understand. If the fertilizer starts flying because of something I did, I’ll do my best to keep it away from you.”

“Thanks, Skipper, but that’s negative thinking, and the last thing I need is more paperwork. We’ll get it done somehow.”

The XO got up and left, his coffee untouched. Jerry thought about what Thigpen had said. Nothing had changed, really, but it was good that each had spoken his mind. And Bernie had started the conversation. Jerry felt he’d been assigned a very good XO.

Jerry made it a point now to always be in control during the UUV data downloads. The vehicles were on a four-hour collect-and-report cycle, sending their accumulated data to a satellite. He wanted to look at the data immediately, and was willing to risk coming shallow at predictable four-hour intervals to get that information the instant it was available. Of course, North Dakota did it at a different spot each time, and always made sure nothing was nearby.

Putting a communications mast up also allowed them to get the latest intelligence update from the squadron and to take a sniff of the local airwaves. That gave Jerry three good reasons to be in control.

Thigpen was working with Lieutenant Covey in the same back corner of the control room as before when he reported, “Skipper, you will want to see this.” The XO sounded worried.

As Jerry walked over, he tried to sound positive. “At least Fargo’s earning its keep.”

Thigpen didn’t smile. He just pointed to the display. “It’s another submarine.”

The screen showed a familiar mix of lines—the straight lines of merchants’ tracks, clustered to the north, as they sailed from Point A to Point B; the irregular shape drawn by Fargo’s path; and a highlighted line that entered from the southwest corner of the screen. It zigged once to the west, and some time later turned north again.

“This track data was collected ninety minutes ago. I’m starting the replay from that point. This is at ten to one.” The XO pressed a key and then stood aside.

Jerry watched the highlighted line advance. It seemed fast, even with the replay in fast-forward. He paused the display and checked the readouts. “He’s transiting at ten knots. This is not a diesel boat.”

“We both concur,” Thigpen replied. “It’s not a Chinese nuke, either. The quick ACINT analysis says it’s an Improved Akula I, so it has to be Chakra, the attack sub India leased from the Russians.”

“The Indians?” Jerry was so shocked all he could do was stare at the display, disbelieving.

“It’s the only thing that fits. I have sonar confirming the signature, but it can’t be the Russians. I checked the latest ONI data and all the Russian PACFLT Akulas are either in port or in the local operating areas. Which leaves only the Indian Akula. And watch what happens.” He pressed the key to resume the playback.

The submarine made another small course change and closed on one merchant’s track. Jerry didn’t need the computer’s help to see it was an intercept course, and a perfect setup for a torpedo attack. As the range closed, Jerry slowed the display rate down to three to one. The boat continued to close on the unsuspecting vessel, and at four thousand yards, almost point-blank range for a modern torpedo, the sub fired four weapons. They hit a few minutes later, with the explosions appearing on the display as a series of bright bearing strobes. The merchant’s track stopped moving and ended at the point of intercept.

The attacking sub turned away from its target and headed west. It was still in the UUV’s patrol zone when the playback ended ten minutes later.

Jerry had just watched what could have been a simulation in the attack trainer, or a video game. He was chilled by the destruction the attack had caused, but also felt detached. He had to make a conscious effort to remind himself that this was real.

“Four weapons, four hits. It must be—” He corrected himself. “—must have been a big one. Do we know who it was?” he asked.

“Thanks to the intelligence update, yes. It was MV Hai Tun Zuo, 43,718 gross registered tons. She’s a tanker last known headed for Tianjin, China, with over 75,000 tons of refined petroleum products. Chinese-flagged, too. You were right, Skipper, for a target that big they would have used four torpedoes. She sent out an incomplete distress call less than an hour ago, and her emergency-position-indicating radio beacon has been activated. There was no information on survivors, or even her crew size.”

Jerry tried to estimate their chances of survival. A big ship like that could take a lot of damage. Depending on where the weapon hit, the crew could be hundreds of feet away from the impact point. But the crew quarters were right above the screw, if the weapons were Russian wake-homing torpedoes…

That wasn’t his problem. “Did the update from squadron include anything about this?”

The XO answered, “No, which is why we’re doing the analysis. They got Fargo’s sensor log the same time we did—” Thigpen glanced at the time. “Fifteen minutes ago.”

Jerry almost laughed. “So do you think they’re taking this any better than we are?”

“This isn’t the only thing they’ve got on their plate, Skipper. If this is the local situation, here’s the big picture.” He gestured toward the starboard VLSD. Jerry saw the image zoom out from the local area to include the entire South China Sea. The shipping lanes were marked by dozens, perhaps over a hundred symbols for merchant ships moving along the coast, and through the different straits. A heavy band of traffic moved straight across the middle, cutting from southwest near the Vietnamese coast and heading northeast, passing south of Taiwan.

Dotting the shipping lanes were red circles, each with a time. Jerry could see four, including one that corresponded with the loss of Hai Tun Zuo. He checked the times.

“All in the past eight hours?” Jerry asked incredulously. The circles were scattered all over the South China Sea and just south of Taiwan. He shook his head sadly; the attacks had already claimed twelve ships. Resigned, he said, “It’s become a war. Twelve ships lost while we sat here and watched.” Thigpen heard his CO’s frustration.

Jerry started looking at the information on the ships that had been sunk. Maybe there was a pattern he could squeeze some data out of.

He didn’t have to work too hard. “Look at this. They’re all tankers, and all bound for Chinese ports.”

“Which means they’re loaded,” Thigpen continued.

“At least we know their intentions,” Jerry remarked. “Shutting off Chinese oil imports. This is going to get very bad.”

31 August 2016

0415 Local Time

Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

Ray Kirkpatrick had called Joanna at her home. There was no need to explain, nor could he give her details over a cell phone. And it didn’t really matter that it had been 3:30 A.M., after a very long day.

By the time Joanna had dressed and given her happily sleeping husband a good-bye kiss, the car had arrived. The streets were empty, of course. She used the ten-minute ride to check her smartphone and clear away the last of the cobwebs.

She was in the situation room ten minutes after that. Kirkpatrick didn’t even bother greeting her. “We went to DEFCON III in the Pacific an hour ago. All exercises have been canceled. Detached personnel recalled to their units, the whole banana. The president gave the order and went back to bed. I doubt he’ll get much sleep, though. There have been three more sinkings since you left.”

“Have there been any attacks on U.S.-flagged ships?” she asked.

“No, only Chinese-flagged and -owned tankers bound for Chinese ports. It’s probably the only thing that will keep oil prices from tripling tomorrow morning. They’ll still go up somewhat, of course, but that’s somebody else’s problem.

“And frankly, I’m glad we’re at DEFCON III,” Kirkpatrick remarked almost casually. “It means we’re better able to react, and the rest of the world knows it, too. But there’s more bad news: the Indians have joined the party.”

Joanna was pouring coffee and almost dropped the pot. She did spill some, and had to force herself to carefully set it down before answering. “I don’t suppose the Indian government’s issued any statement about the South China Sea lately.”

“Not a one,” Kirkpatrick said calmly. “We should be so lucky. The latest sensor dump from North Dakota’s UUV shows Chakra sinking a Chinese tanker. You can pull it up and watch it later, if you have the time. You probably won’t. Squadron Fifteen says they are ninety-five percent certain of their analysis. Commander Mitchell’s crew came up with the same conclusion. That isn’t why I woke you up, though.”

Patterson had just started processing the implications of Indian involvement in the crisis. “What could be worse than that?”

Kirkpatrick pointed at the screen displaying the South and East China Seas. It was overlaid with the four subs’ patrol zones. “Commander Dobson’s boat, Oklahoma City, is up in the East China Sea, and he sent in a disturbing contact report that Squadron Fifteen just forwarded. He picked up a very faint submerged contact and spent almost an hour trying to close and get a better look. It moved off before he could identify it, but he is convinced that it was quieter than any Chinese boat or a Vietnamese Kilo.”

“He lost contact?” Patterson was surprised. Los Angeles subs had very capable sonar suites, and could maneuver quietly at speeds that would exhaust a diesel’s batteries in a few hours.

“Oh, he’s still looking,” Kirkpatrick explained. “In fact, according to Commodore Simonis, he’s pissed. He’s not used to losing. More to the point, this was the first indication…”

A naval officer, almost breathless, came up to the pair, stopping short, but then offering Kirkpatrick a sheet of paper. “Another sinking,” the officer explained, “the tanker Da Ming Hu, 84,855 GRT, Chinese flagged, near Wenzhou, north of Taiwan.”

“That’s in Dobson’s patrol area,” Patterson remarked.

“The first one that far north, as well. Look,” he said, pointing to the Chinese fleet boundaries, “and the first one in the East Sea Fleet area.”

“So the Vietnamese… and the Indians have the southwest, and somebody else the northeast?” Patterson asked.

“Does Mongolia have submarines?”

“Don’t joke about it, Ray,” scolded Joanna.

“India seems about as likely,” Kirkpatrick countered. “And now somebody else? We don’t even know why Vietnam is fighting. The only thing India and Vietnam have in common is that they both see China as a threat. So who else doesn’t like China?”

“That’s a long list,” Joanna replied.

“Good point.” Already frowning, Kirkpatrick asked, “How do we know it’s only one more player?”

She didn’t bother giving the obvious answer. Patterson felt frustrated by being so clueless, and fearful for the future. If you don’t know where you are, it’s hard to know where you’ll end up.

She thought about the latest tanker to be sunk. The printout said 84,855 gross registered tons, deadweight tonnage 160,000 tons. Deadweight tonnage was a measure of a merchant ship’s carrying capacity.

Years of working on environmental issues kicked in. At a little more than seven barrels per ton, that meant something over a million barrels of crude oil was spreading though the East China Sea. The prevailing winds would carry the slick into the Pacific Ocean…

“Now you know why I called you in,” Kirkpatrick observed. “I’m forming a crisis team. You’re in charge, of course. I’ve already notified State, DoD, and CIA to send reps, and not low-level ones either. Also, you’re getting someone from the council of economic advisers. We have to know just how much pain China’s feeling. If you think of anybody else, don’t even bother asking me first, just grab them and fill me in when you can.”

She’d done this before, Joanna reminded herself. But she still felt chills. War was breaking out, and they didn’t even know who was fighting, or why. And she had to find answers.

“My charter is to give the president options to guide U.S. policy. I believe the best U.S. policy right now is to find out what the hell is going on.” Kirkpatrick sighed and took a long drag on his own coffee cup.

“You haven’t slept yet, have you?” she asked.

“No, and I have to brief the president at 0700 hours this morning. That gives you,” he glanced at his watch, “less than three hours to come up with intelligent suggestions for me to offer the president. Don’t be subtle. The rest of the world is going to start reacting to the sinkings very soon. Wake people up, reach out to anyone in the government you think can help. I’ll be back here at 0630.”

“Are you going to get some sleep, I hope?”

“No, I’ve got a few bodies of my own to exhume. If they have anything useful, you’ll be the second one to know.”