Shattered Trident

15. DELIBERATION

6 September 2016

0700 Local Time

August 1st Building, Ministry of National Defense Compound

Beijing, People’s Republic of China

Their well-appointed meeting room had become a command center. Considering that China had not fought any kind of conflict in almost forty years, Chen thought he and his staff were adapting well. Of course, knowing that they were rusty, they could have thought ahead, at least a little, Chen admitted to himself.

The room’s flat-screen display, usually used by briefers for carefully polished presentations, had been augmented by two other large displays and a standing bulletin board. Extra tables had been brought in to line the sides of the room. There was plenty of room, and they gave the new support staff places to work. Tea and coffee urns at one end of the room were always kept full. At least it was good tea.

The buzz of conversation washed over Chen, sitting at his customary place at the big table. It rose and fell as messengers arrived, or different working groups debated and discussed.

It was the pace and scope of the war. He understood that now. Chen and the other members of the Central Military Commission were used to making major decisions, of course, ones that would affect China for decades to come. But the decisions didn’t usually arrive piled one on top of another, or require split-second verdicts that could invite catastrophe. And they were all too well aware that the time they took to consider an issue was measured in lives.

Important decisions had to be made at any hour of the day or night, usually after subject matter experts and advisors were consulted. And what advisor wanted to be asleep when opinions were sought?

They resorted to catnaps and hurried meals. A doctor had been assigned to the staff to monitor everyone’s health and administer prescription medications as needed. After all, Chen was nearly seventy, and he was not the oldest man in the Central Military Commission.

With the exposure of the Littoral Alliance, problems could no longer wait for thorough analysis and the 0800 briefing. Finally identifying their enemy should have solved their greatest problem —who and where to strike. The announcement had answered that question, but the hundreds that replaced it now shouted for attention.

Chen sat at the head of the meeting table. He’d been there since five in the morning, and that was after only three hours’ sleep. His mind would not stop racing, like a rat on a wheel.

Vice Chairman Li Ju came into the room and approached Chen. The president greeted Li by pushing the tea set on the table toward an empty chair. “Join me, please,” Chen invited.

The general sat down tiredly and said, “Good morning, Comrade President,” as he helped himself to a cup of tea.

“Is it a good morning?” asked Chen expectantly. He’d set Li to work yesterday evening, and doubted that the general had slept at all.

“Yes, I believe so,” Li answered, with a satisfied tone. “We finally received the programmers’ report twenty minutes ago. The problem with the numerically controlled machines was not a virus. It mimicked a virus, though, so we would waste hours taking the wrong countermeasures. When we weren’t stopping its ‘spread’—”

“General Li,” Chen asked patiently, “what was the cause?”

“A back door in the control software. Camouflaged and appearing to function normally until it received the activation signal. Then it came to life and tried to wreck whatever device it controlled. Every controller that malfunctioned was imported from Japan, and not all from the same manufacturer.”

“And the countermeasure?” Chen asked.

Li shrugged. “Shut down every piece of manufacturing equipment in China that uses a Japanese controller, especially the ones that haven’t malfunctioned yet. Forgive me, but I gave the order in your stead some ten minutes ago. We’ve already lost too many machines, millions of yuans’ worth. Then there are the factory workers that have been killed, and many others injured.”

Chen shook his head, as if to clear it. “So, after losing millions in damaged machines and goods, we lose billions more in manufacturing capacity. And since the Japanese made the best control units, we used them in our most important factories. But it cannot be helped. We will all endorse your order.” Others around the table nodded.

“Our technicians will replace the firmware,” Li explained. “They have to remove the back door, of course, and make sure there aren’t any others. They expect it to take about a week, perhaps two. And to be sure it doesn’t happen again, they’re removing all networking capability. The machines will be less efficient, unfortunately.”

Chen laughed a little. “And we may have problems obtaining spare parts in the future.” His smile disappeared. “I wonder how many bombs it would have taken to do this much damage to our industry.”

“General Xi’s cyber warfare people are expanding their security screens. It’s the best we can do.” Xi, looking a little uncomfortable with his new rank and new job as head of intelligence, simply nodded quickly, but remained silent.

The other two vice chairmen, Vice President Zhang and General Tian, had joined the group, listening silently to Li’s report. Others came to listen as well. The “factory sabotage” had become the biggest story in China, after the war itself. By the time Li had finished his explanation, the Central Military Commission was assembled. In the edges and corners of the meeting room, others continued their work.

After Chen signaled that he was satisfied, Li turned to General Tian. “My condolences on the loss of your younger brother, General.”

Tian nodded his thanks. “Tian Ma was only one of hundreds that died on Jinggang Shan, not to mention more on Lanzhou, Xiangfan, and the container ship. I will miss my brother greatly, but I mourn them all.”

Chen added, “Admiral Wei is at Zhanjiang, but he sent me the total casualty list: six hundred and thirty killed, almost a thousand injured, three ships sunk and Lanzhou crippled. Sinking four Vietnamese missile craft is hardly adequate compensation.”

“It’s the only defeat we’ve suffered,” General Shi Peng offered. He was head of the political department.

“If you don’t count the massive tanker losses, the damage to our industry from sabotage and missile strikes, and the economic sanctions the West is beginning to impose.” Vice Chairman Zhang Fei replied sharply. Along with a handpicked team of experts, he’d taken on the task of limiting the damage to China’s economy. They now understood that was the Littoral Alliance’s true target. “We could use the political department’s help with the workers. Wild rumors about ‘killer viruses’ are spreading. We’ve had walkouts, disturbances, and even sabotage at some factories.”

Zhang paused for a moment, then asked, “General Shi, will the political department support immediate fuel rationing? No personal travel. Nonessential industries shut down. Blackouts during the evening hours.”

Everyone at the table reacted with alarm, and Shi, horrified, protested, “We don’t need to do that—we aren’t starved for oil, not yet, anyway.”

“And the sooner we start rationing, the longer that will be,” Zhang responded quickly. “With the loss of all oil imports, we will be drawing heavily from our strategic reserve, which if you remember was not at full capacity when this war began. Vehicle fuel consumption is tripled because of the movement of army units. Jet fuel, marine diesel fuel demand has quadrupled at the very least, it could be even higher. It turns out our strategic reserves were based on unrealistically low wartime expenditure rates, and did not assume such a complete cutoff of imports.”

President Chen stated flatly, “It is necessary, Shi. Do you want to use our strategic reserve to supply civilian cars?”

“No, Comrade President, the political department will not object.”

“The political department will do its best to prepare the country for the hardships it will have to face,” Chen said firmly. “Zhang, how long do we have with the rationing implemented?”

Zhang didn’t answer right away. Finally, he said, “By law, it is supposed to sustain us for ninety days. Even with rationing, we have at most five weeks. After that, we’ll have to start making more dramatic cuts—it appears the war effort will consume most of our indigenous production.”

Chen’s mind whirled with the implications. China needed fuel to run its farms, to move the food, for cooking and heating. It was late summer now, thank goodness. They had fuel for the harvest, but after that…

“We must do more!” Shi insisted.

Zhang, unhappy at having had to deliver such bad news, was visibly irritated with Shi’s remark, and started to speak, but then closed his mouth abruptly and sat back, glaring.

“Admiral Wei is in Zhanjiang organizing a submarine campaign,” Chen explained. “We will sink anything afloat with a Vietnamese or Indian flag, naval or civilian. Pakistan is willing to provide intelligence on Indian ship movements. There will be more cyber attacks, as well.”

General Su, chief of the General Staff, nodded approvingly, but added, “Unfortunately and obviously, we can’t attack Japanese or South Korean vessels. We can’t give the United States a reason to involve itself. My junior commanders, and even a few of the senior ones, want us to ‘take off the gloves.’ They want to punish them all, but my officers don’t want to consider the price we would pay.”

“What about North Korea?” General Wen Feng asked. “Can they act for us? Could they increase their sabotage campaign against the South? They have an extensive network of agents in Japan and South Korea.”

“No!” Chen and General Shi both answered at the same time, and so forcefully that Wen sat back in his chair, open-eyed with surprise.

Shi sighed, explaining, “Pyongyang has become a nuisance, agitating for more food and increased fuel supplies so they can increase their readiness to attack the South. Nobody in my department actually believes they intend to do so. And they are full of wild schemes to injure or embarrass Japan and South Korea, whatever the consequences. We have not shared these with all of you, because there are more important matters to consider.

“Besides,” Shi complained, “That ‘extensive network’ of agents is useless. It didn’t give us a hint of warning about Japanese or South Korean participation in the submarine campaign. If Pyongyang had discovered any useful information, they would have passed it on to us—for a price, of course, but they would not sit on something as valuable as that.”

General Su added, “And an increased threat from North Korea would require the United States to send more military units to South Korea. We must avoid anything that draws more American forces into this region.

“We will begin our ground campaign against Vietnam soon,” Su continued. “Our aircraft losses are higher than we’d like, but we are clearly taking control of the air. Once that is secured, we will seize control of Vietnam’s oil fields. That will be the beginning of their repayment…”

7 September 2016

0800 Local Time

USS North Dakota

South China Sea

“Watch her.” Dave Covey was the OOD, and Jerry watched silently as he conned North Dakota, following Chakra through another turn. It was obvious the sonarmen were watching the Indian sub closely, but Covey’s imperative referred specifically to the size of her turn. He needed to know when she was going to stop turning, or if she wasn’t going to stop at all.

“Doppler has not changed, OOD, she’s still in a slow starboard turn.” The sonar operator’s report involved a lot of subjective judgment, but after several days in close company with Chakra, they had gotten used to the way she moved.

“Pilot, make turns for three knots,” Covey ordered. The more the other boat turned, the slower North Dakota had to go if she was going to stay in her trailing position. The U.S. sub was well astern and offset to starboard, on Chakra’s “quarter.” The Indian’s hull-mounted sonars were blind at this angle, and at ten thousand yards back, her towed array would not detect the Virginia-class boat, mirroring her movements.

“Doppler shift is zero—she’s steadied up,” the sonar operator reported. A moment later, the fire control computer finished its analysis. “New course is zero two zero,” announced Ensign Andrews.

Covey checked the time, doing the math in his head for the fourth time on this watch… twenty seconds… and now. “Pilot, right fifteen degrees rudder, steady course zero two zero. Make turns for five knots.”

“Right fifteen degrees rudder, steady on course zero two zero, make turns for five knots, Pilot, aye.”

“Sonar, is there anything out there in front of Chakra?”

“No, OOD, the nearest contacts are in the first convergence zone, thirty-plus miles out, and thirty degrees to port. And this is not even close to an intercept course.”

Sitting in one of the empty fire control console chairs, Jerry speculated aloud. “Heading north to close on the shipping lanes?”

“Except there’s not a lot of shipping traffic left, Skipper,” Covey replied.

“Valid point, OOD. But whatever the reason, where he goes, we go.”

“Aye, sir. UUV operator, how’s Minot doing?”

“Minot is on station, five thousand yards abaft the port beam, matching Chakra’s new course.” Keeping the vehicle on station was trivial compared to North Dakota. Much smaller than any submarine, and quieter, she could turn on a dime. Software on the UUV actually calculated any course and speed changes, so the operator’s job was usually just making sure Minot was behaving itself.

“Watch the range, OOD. Make sure we don’t drift too far aft.”

“Aye, aye, Skipper. Sonar, keep an eye out for another maneuver. Pilot, make turns for six knots.”

Jerry watched his OOD and was more than satisfied with his performance. Covey had been busy like this since he’d taken over the conn, and had handled it well, but they were trailing a tiger on the hunt. This was a very different situation than when he’d trailed that Chinese Shang-class boat not so long ago.

Back then, Jerry had fought to keep his watchstanders alert, trailing a boat with the acoustic signature of a heavy metal band. The Russian-built sub was a different animal entirely. She was still noisier than North Dakota, but not by that much. And to make matters worse, he had to stay tucked in close. He could have trailed from twice this distance, or just let Minot track and report the Indian’s movements, but Jerry had to be ready to move in and spoil any attack Chakra attempted to make.

Jerry’s only hope was to use his smaller signature and better sonars to stay one step ahead of the Indian sub skipper—figure out what he was doing, and if it involved a potential target, get in his face. But it all depended on knowing what the other boat might do next.

INS Chakra

“There, sir. Do you see it?” The sonar operator pointed to a faint trace on the waterfall display, more a loose series of dots than a true line.

“I see something, but it’s not distinct enough to be a man-made source.” Captain Samant pointed to a different part of the screen. “This trace looks exactly the same. Probably a biologic.”

“But that one will drift aft. This one keeps a constant bearing. I’ve been watching it for some time now. When we made that starboard turn just now, it dropped aft, with a left drift, then drifted right again until it was at the same relative bearing.”

Samant didn’t appear convinced. At this point, Lieutenant Rajat, the sonar officer, added his opinion. “Sir, I compared this signal with the recording of the submerged contact two days ago. This type of trace was on that same bearing right before the torpedo appeared.”

“What’s your recommendation, then?” Samant was willing to let the sonar officer have his say. He certainly didn’t want to discourage this type of independent thinking, even if the boy was likely full of nonsense.

“There are no contacts nearby. Let’s attempt to close on it. Go and say hello. If we force it to maneuver or reduce the distance to the contact, we may get a decent acoustic signature.”

Samant considered the idea. The area was clear, and if there was indeed some extremely quiet platform out there, he wanted to know about it before it fired another torpedo.

“All right, Lieutenant, get your best people on the equipment.” Then, sticking his head out of the sonar room, Samant called to the deck officer. “Lieutenant Parul, sound action stations.”

USS North Dakota

“OOD, rapid left bearing drift, down Doppler… and now a speed increase! Chakra has turned sharply to port.”

“Pilot, make turns for seven, correction, eight knots. Make your depth two hundred fifty feet.” Covey’s response was immediate and correct. Jerry nodded his approval. If they were on the outside of the turn this time, they’d have to speed up to keep station.

Like everyone else in control, Jerry felt a jolt of adrenaline at the sonar supervisor’s report. Dave Covey was coping, but he looked worried.

“Skipper, he doesn’t normally increase speed when he clears his baffles.”

“Concur, OOD. Sonar, what’s the blade rate?”

“The rate jumped up quickly, sir, passing ten knots. Slight cavitation.”

This time both Jerry and the OOD frowned. “He’s not interested in staying quiet,” Jerry remarked. “What’s he up to?”

Covey looked at the port VLSD. “Skipper, new course is two seven zero, a one-hundred-ten-degree turn to port. Speed is thirteen knots.”

Jerry noted Chakra’s new course, and he didn’t like what he was seeing. “UUV operator, what’s Minot see?”

“Minot’s information matches ours, it’s turned to two eight five and gone to maximum speed. The logic is trying to compensate for the maneuver, but Chakra’s faster. Range is decreasing rapidly.”

INS Chakra

“There you are!” the sonar operator announced triumphantly. “Submerged contact, bearing two zero five, slow left drift, down Doppler!”

“Confirm down Doppler. It’s headed away from us?” Samant asked quickly.

“Yes, sir, it’s trying to open the distance, but we’re faster. Range is decreasing. It’s headed westerly.”

“Good, I’ll hold this course, then. What does it look like?”

“I can’t say, sir. Only a weak tone around forty hertz. Maybe an electric motor?” Lieutenant Rajat had put the senior sonar rating on the set. The captain trusted his ears.

“Nothing else?”

“It’s not like any submarine I’ve ever heard. It’s far too quiet. Forty hertz suggests a relatively high rotation rate if it’s a propulsion motor, but that’s all I can say. Contact is drifting slowly to the left.”

“What, we’re being shadowed by a blender?” An idea began to form in Samant’s mind. “Right ten, steer three one zero. I don’t want to get too close. Current range?”

“Just under three thousand meters.”

Samant ordered, “Confirm there are no other contacts close by.”

“Confirmed, Captain.”

“Very well. Go active with the port flank array. One pulse.”

USS North Dakota

“Skipper, Chakra’s gone active! She’s pinging Minot! Skat-3 sonar!” The UUV operator’s report mixed surprise with dismay.

“At that range, he’ll see the vehicle,” Covey remarked.

“Just keep us in trail. I’ll worry about the UUV,” Jerry ordered. “UUV operator, send Minot shallow, periscope depth.” The only chance of the vehicle breaking contact was to mix in with the surface return. If the Indian’s sonar beam had to point up, it would reflect off the surface, just like a radar beam from above the water. Hopefully, Minot could imitate a wave top.

“Chakra is turning again, this time to port.” As the sonar operator reported the sub’s movements, Covey turned North Dakota accordingly. At this point, they were expecting radical maneuvers.

“She’s headed straight toward Minot,” sonar reported.

“Active signal from a Mouse Squeak sonar. She’s turned on her mine-hunting sonar!” the UUV operator warned.

“Minot is well and truly busted,” Jerry concluded. Chakra, and most subs, including North Dakota, had a sonar fitted in their sail specifically designed to look for submerged mines in the submarine’s path. Operating at high frequency, it was worthless for area search, but it would provide high-resolution bearing and range information about nearby objects, exactly like Minot.

INS Chakra

The MG-519 display showed a very small object 2,450 meters directly in front of them. It was about the size of a torpedo, but it was moving far too slowly.

“It’s a damn UUV!” Captain Samant shouted, banging his fist on the console. “That’s what’s been spoiling our attacks! It’s not Chinese, or Vietnamese, for that matter. And Japan and South Korea are our allies. They have no reason to shadow us with this thing.”

“We won’t be able to hit it with a torpedo,” Lieutenant Commander Jain complained. “The torpedo seeker will reject anything that small as a decoy.”

“Then we’ll ram it, Number One,” Samant said grimly. He was smiling, but Jain thought his expression was a little disturbing.

“Sir, may I respectfully remind you that the bow sonar dome is only fiberglass. We don’t know what this thing is made of.”

“Helm, left fifteen, steer two nine seven, make your depth five zero meters, increase speed to fifteen knots.” Samant turned to face his executive officer. “I understand the risk, Number One, but I intend to strike it with the upper part of our bow or the sail. It’s my decision.”

“The contact is drawing left, new course two five zero, still at ten knots. That may be its maximum speed.”

Samant smiled wickedly. “Number One, read off the contact’s bearing every fifteen seconds. Helm, match the bearing.”

The MG-519 operator reported, “Range is decreasing rapidly!”

Jain picked up the microphone for the ship’s announcing circuit, and looked to Samant, who nodded. He warned, “All hands brace for impact!”

USS North Dakota

“OOD, keep us behind him. Use whatever speed you need.” Jerry couldn’t worry about Minot right now. Chakra’s radical maneuvers made it hard to stay behind the Indian sub. With the other boat increasing speed like that, Jerry could risk going faster himself, as long as he could keep astern.

“She’s pointed squarely at Minot,” the sonar operator announced. “Intercept course.”

“UUV operator, wait until the last minute and zig Minot to port.”

“Understood, skipper. Zig to port. UUV is still rising.”

Contact depth was hard to read with passive sonar, especially for a contact maneuvering like the Indian sub. With Minot rising, the question was, how well could the Indian skipper match the UUV’s depth? The only thing in their favor was that submariners were not taught ramming tactics.

“Zig to port sent,” the UUV operator reported hopefully.

The sonar rating called out, “Contacts have merged.” And Jerry found himself holding his breath.

INS Chakra

They braced for almost a full minute, long after the calculated time of impact. To the first officer, Captain Samant looked even angrier than he had yesterday when he’d lost the Chinese submarine.

Samant ordered, “Make a wide turn to starboard. Leave the MG-519 sonar on, and transmit on all three active arrays, maximum power. I expect it to maneuver, but it can’t get far with a maximum speed of ten knots. We’re going to get a longer run at it and build up enough speed so it can’t dodge out of our way.”

They waited as Chakra swung around the compass. At speed, nuclear submarines are agile—true sea creatures. They’d be pointed back at the vehicle in less than a minute.

“Sir, new active sonar contact, range ten kilometers, bearing one one five.”

“What? That can’t be the UUV.” Samant’s puzzled expression became one of alarm.

“It’s a weak return, sir, but it’s got to be much larger than the UUV if we can see it. Course is to the north, below us. It’s maneuvering.”

“Track him, but keep watching for the UUV. If he hasn’t shot at us by now, he’s not a threat. I think I know who that is.”

The mine-hunting sonar operator reported, “I have the UUV. Range is two kilometers. It’s much shallower, and above us, near the surface.”

Samant smiled. “He’s trying to hide it, but we’ll get there first. Helm, increase speed to twenty knots and match the contact’s bearing and depth.”

“Match the contact’s bearing and depth, Helm, aye.”

“Captain, rising at that angle, whether we hit the UUV or not, we’ll broach.”

“Sod that!” Samant answered. “I want to smash that thing while its master watches.”

South China Sea

Xing Bao knew there was a war going on. The television said so, but the empty ocean told him that as well. His fishing junk normally worked well south of the shipping lanes, but there were always merchant ships on the horizon, or sometimes passing by. Occasionally they’d get too close, and he’d have to quickly pull in his nets.

But for the past few days, aside from other fishermen, there’d been nothing but the flat horizon. And since everyone had their own spots, he’d worked his junk alone since just after dawn.

Luckily, warships didn’t care about fishermen. And with the war scares, prices had been—

“Captain, off the port quarter!” The lookout’s call became a scream of fear, and by the time Xing had put down his tools and turned aft, everyone topside was shouting, although the words made no sense.

Three hundred meters away, maybe less, maybe more, a patch of the sea was boiling, white with froth. As Xing and his crew watched, a round black shape roared out of the water and grew quickly until he could see the entire bow of what had to be a submarine. Other parts of it appeared, the conning tower on top, and a fin aft. Almost a quarter, perhaps a third of its length was out of the water.

It was immense, many times the length of his own boat, and he had one of the larger junks in the harbor. Behind him, he could hear his crew shouting, “I see it! What’s it doing?”

The vessel stopped rising, and the bow began to fall, landing heavily. Tons of water, enough to swamp the harbor, much less his boat, splashed out from the bow, and as quickly as it had appeared, the submarine was gone. The waves reached them, and he clutched a railing for support as the deck suddenly bucked wildly under him.

The patch of water remained disturbed, like a ship’s wake, for several minutes, until the waves finally erased the last traces.

All thought of work was gone from his mind as he tried to grasp what he had just seen. The vessel had been painted black overall, with no way to tell who it belonged to.

Xing had been raised on the sea, and he accepted its wonders as a part of normal life. But now his mind whirled as he tried to imagine some colossal struggle, taking place in the depths right below him.

USS North Dakota

“Minot is not responding,” the UUV operator announced. He sounded like a heart surgeon searching for a nonexistent pulse.

“Understood,” Covey answered. He looked at his skipper, still seated calmly in the chair.

“Open the range, OOD, before he stabilizes his depth and starts looking for us. It’s time to report in.”

7 September 2016

1000 Local Time

Okutama, Nishitama District

Tokyo, Japan

There was a car waiting at the Okutama station, the driver holding a sign saying HIRANO. Komamura was not the only passenger. A Korean in civilian clothes named Choi Jang-Kang was already in the car. One of the staff for the Korean delegation, he recognized Komamura immediately, and asked respectful questions about his book as they drove away from the train station. The professor pushed himself to answer intelligently, but his fatigue made speaking an effort.

The car quickly left the small town behind and began climbing through the thickly forested foothills.

Although technically part of Tokyo, Okutama was in the Nishitama District, the westernmost district in Tokyo. It had taken the professor forty-five minutes by train to reach Okutama station, the end of the Ome line.

The mountainous terrain was sparsely settled, and the area was laced with deep valleys and sharp peaks. The slopes were completely covered by trees, now brilliant with their fall colors.

The road took them north and west of town, first simply climbing, then switching back and forth through dense woods several times before coming to a pair of soldiers manning a barrier. After the driver and passengers had produced identification, they were allowed to pass. One final switchback took them to a timber-covered carport and a set of worn stone steps.

Their driver led the way up. “Please excuse the climb, but right now it is the only way to reach the estate. I understand a sloped path will be added in a few weeks.”

“This was a private estate?” Komamura asked, steeling himself for the ascent.

“Yes, sensei. The alliance purchased it because of its privacy and because it is relatively close to Tokyo. It is also within the footprint of Tokyo’s ballistic missile defenses.”

“But away from any population centers,” the Korean added.

“That, too,” acknowledged the guide. “Security here is very strict. Please refrain from making any cell phone calls or using the Internet until you have been briefed by Captain Madarame. That’s scheduled right after the meeting.”

The house was hidden by the hill until they were almost on top of it. The stairs took a hard turn to the left, leading around a sharp corner in the hillside, almost a wall of rock, before becoming a more or less level path.

Komamura, grateful to be at the end of his quest, looked up to see a large tile-roofed structure, in the Edo style, built into the hillside. Oversized eaves sheltered a wooden walkway that surrounded the structure and blended with the path. The wooden frame of the building, although well maintained, had weathered so that it appeared to be part of the forest. Many of the house’s outer walls had been folded back to take advantage of the warm weather.

Admiral Kubo, in uniform, and Hisagi Shuhei were both waiting on the veranda, along with several other members of the working group. Everyone bowed a welcome, and came forward to greet Komamura. After he’d said hello to Kubo and others he knew, a small, thin, dark-skinned man in uniform came forward. It took the professor a moment to recognize him, but then he greeted the newcomer warmly. “Captain Giring! You must have left for Japan immediately after my visit. I hope this means that Indonesia has made a decision.”

Giring nodded, smiling. “You were most persuasive, Doctor. I am the naval representative to the working group. Our civilian representative will be Minister Ganesha. He arrives tomorrow.”

Komamura smiled broadly. “You have made part of my report obsolete,” he said happily.

Kubo took his arm. “I’m sure you are very tired, but if you can last a short time longer, we would welcome your presence. Events are carrying us forward rapidly.”

The professor was exhausted, having visited three countries in a day and a half. It was possible that parts of him resided in different time zones. All he wanted was a quiet cup of sake and a long soak, but his obligations came first.

They walked into the central hall. Dark polished wooden floors contrasted with the brightly painted wall screens. They mirrored the fall scenes outside, making the room feel spacious, almost open.

Each delegation sat at a low table, with support staff behind them, and Komamura saw a table with the Indonesian flag and Captain Giring already seated. Another held the two representatives from the Republic of the Philippines, who had joined immediately after the Littoral Alliance had declared its existence.

More ships to add to the new crest, thought Komamura. He wondered what colors they would use.

The working group had a rotating chair. This time Minister Nehru, from the Indian delegation, ran the meeting. Gray-haired and just a little overweight, he wasted no time on formality. “Welcome back, Professor. We’ve received your reports during your travels. Do you wish to add anything?”

The professor stood and bowed. “I was going to say that my proposals were warmly received and that I was optimistic about all three countries joining our alliance.” He turned to Giring. “I am very pleased to be proven at least partially correct so quickly, and I am also pleased that I can thank Captain Giring personally for his hospitality during my visit.”

He sat down as the other members applauded, and Nehru announced, “We must decide on priorities for those submarines capable of firing land-attack cruise missiles…”

Suddenly very tired, Komamura poured himself a cup of tea from a pot by his elbow. He wanted to be pleased with the results of his trip. Indonesia had immediately joined, and he believed the other two nations, Malaysia and Singapore, would also. But that meant their armed forces would join the fight, and the war would grow. There were rumors that Pakistan’s military was assisting the Chinese, and Iran and North Korea were noisily promising their assistance. The economic costs…

“Professor?” Minister Nehru’s question startled him from a half-doze. “I’m sorry, sir. I know it isn’t within your expertise, but what do you think? Given the increasing lack of tanker targets, should submarines capable of firing land-attack missiles start attacking naval bases, or continue to use torpedoes against warships and what merchants they can find?”

“Neither,” Komamura answered quickly. “Please excuse me, but sinking warships will not hurt the Chinese economy. And the loss of merchant ships carrying random cargoes will have only a superficial effect. China has already suffered deep wounds in her energy sector—specifically oil. I respectfully suggest that we remain focused on that goal.

“If there are few productive merchant targets at sea, cruise missiles should destroy oil facilities within their range, especially oil refineries. The distillation units would be particularly vulnerable to precision munitions. We must continue to hunt down tankers, even if they are empty, and sink them, even in harbor. We should also consider attacking China’s deep-ocean oil-drilling rigs. Naval experts can provide guidance on the best method of attack.

“Although we are united, we still cannot beat China’s military. She could lose her entire navy and just build another one.” Bowing toward the Vietnamese table, Komamura said, “Your brave ships stopped the southern prong of the Chinese offensive, but only after the Chinese seized Spratly Island, and at the sacrifice of four vessels. We cannot afford many such victories.”

Like the others, the South Korean naval representative, Admiral Park Uchin, nodded agreement, but countered, “There are some military targets that would benefit our campaign, Professor: Command and control centers, patrol aircraft bases for example. Taking the long view, these attacks would help reduce our own losses, and thus we would have more boats available for the campaign.”

Komamura replied, “You have seen part of the way toward the goal, but are still intent on striking your opponent’s sword and shield. Better to strike at the man holding them. Weaken him quickly, and his blows will cease.” Komamura paused and took in all the delegates. “Time is against us, and our task is difficult. We have made the largest country on earth our enemy, and we must bring him down quickly.”

Admiral Park nodded. “Thank you, Professor. Your logic is indisputable.”

Nehru asked, “When will you be able to give us an updated estimate of the Chinese economic situation?”

Jetlagged as he was, the discussion had revived the professor. “I can tell you right now. I’ve kept in touch with my staff during the trip.” Komamura stood, as much to clear his head as to be better seen. “Our campaign is having effects. I expect to see rationing soon, the increased use of alternative fuel sources, and efforts to find new sources of oil from other countries. We know they have tried to buy more oil from Russia, so far unsuccessfully.”

“How will we know when they are near the breaking point?” Minister Hisagi asked.

“When their attempts to compensate for shortages are no longer effective,” Komamura responded quickly. It was the schoolbook answer, and he owed them a better explanation. “They won’t know themselves, until their increasingly desperate measures to make up for energy shortages cease to be effective. Spot shortages in food and energy will become widespread, leading to a rise in black market activity, civil unrest, and internal struggles for scarce resources.

“Internal security considerations will become an important factor in their decisions. The leadership will be under great stress, which will make their domestic political situation unstable and unpredictable. Their ability to reach consensus decisions, including a decision to cease hostilities, will be impaired. This will be the time of greatest danger.”

Komamura tried to hide his discomfort as he described the effects. He knew exactly what awaited the Chinese people if the Littoral Alliance was successful. It was hard to see hunger and hardship as a worthy goal. But there was more. This was what had kept him from sleeping on the plane. He hated himself, but he had to tell them.

“The Chinese government’s greatest nonmilitary energy priority in the short term will be the harvest, which has already begun in some places. Fuel stocks dedicated to that goal should have the highest targeting priority. Also, attacks by ‘other means’ should be concentrated here as well.” They all knew he meant spies, and sabotage.

“And how much longer?” Minister Nyguen’s tone was firm. The professor could tell he expected an answer. “We are bearing the brunt of the Chinese anger.”

Minister Hisagi countered, “We have all been attacked, and suffered damage.”

“Not by ballistic missiles or airstrikes! We also have armored formations massing across our border. We just want to know—must we plan again for an extended war?”

“China will probably reach a crisis point in about a month, but not less than three weeks,” Komamura replied carefully. That was his staff’s best estimate, and he agreed with their numbers. “That is an economist’s answer. I have told my staff to brief your intelligence people on what you call ‘indicators.’ They will know what to watch for. I encourage this working group to develop plans and policy to take advantage of the situation, whenever it appears. Other alliances have missed fleeting opportunities to seize victory.”

Nehru asked, “Are you still opposed to the United States joining our side in this struggle? Some here have proposed offering inducements to the Americans to join us, or at least stop interfering in our operations. Perhaps economic incentives could be found.”

Komamura fought the urge to answer immediately, and paused, as if considering the idea, but then responded, “We cannot replace the economic pull of China. There is also the widespread destruction that would come with open war, and the issue of nuclear weapons. These days, my nightmares are uranium-fueled.

“If more nations join the alliance,” he said, bowing slightly toward the Indonesian and Filipino tables, “our political strength will become a useful tool. China is seen as the aggressor now, and has few friends.

“Our task is to not only stop Chinese expansion in the South China Sea, but convince them that the cost of any future adventures will be more than they are willing to pay. They attacked because they thought we were weak and divided, but we have shown unexpected strength. That surprised and shocked the Chinese leaders, and we must continue to do so. Only such a shock will compel them to face the true situation, and make them cease their aggression.”

Komamura sat down, a little heavily, and first one delegate, then all of them, applauded. Surprised, embarrassed, he shook his head and motioned for them to stop. Nehru, smiling, led the applause for a few more moments, then as the minister spoke, it stopped immediately.

“Your leadership inspires us all, Professor. In keeping with your doctrine, can you provide our staff with a list of targets, based on your economic expertise?”

Komamura nodded tiredly. “Of course. And I will also include facilities that could help the Chinese compensate for their lack of oil.” Even as he said it, he hated what he was doing. But it was necessary.

7 September 2016

1600 Local Time

Luzon, Republic of the Philippines

The reporter was young, in her mid-twenties, and her wide-eyed excitement carried over into her report. She stood in front of a wide concrete tarmac, with the whine of jet engines a constant background to her narration.

“Today, Clark Air Base saw an amazing scene as U.S. fighters were joined by Japanese aircraft in reinforcing the Philippines’ air defenses.

“Following President Myles’s condemnation of the seizure of Spratly Island by the Chinese, the U.S. has promised to deploy air, ground, and naval units to the area to ‘guarantee the territorial integrity of its longtime ally and to deter further Chinese aggression.’” As she spoke, images flashed by of F-22 Raptors lined up at the air base, then supplies being unloaded at a port, and finally a U.S. aircraft carrier, in formation with other warships.

“As U.S. forces began arriving, and without any prior coordination, Japanese F-15Js entered Philippine airspace. According to a Philippine government spokesman, the Japanese reinforcements include not only a squadron of fighters, but patrol aircraft, surface-to-air missiles, engineers, and JDS Kirishima, an advanced Aegis destroyer with ballistic missile defense capabilities.” An image of the slab-sided warship cutting through the water at high speed appeared.

“In a related development, the U.S. secretary of state, Andrew Lloyd, gave a speech yesterday at Wesleyan University articulating the American position on the conflict. While he encouraged both sides to ‘find a path to peaceful resolution’ of the conflict, the speech also carried a blunt warning to China.”

A clip of Lloyd at a podium showed him speaking forcefully. “U.S. forces are deploying to guarantee the security of our longtime allies. There should be no misunderstanding about the dire consequences to China of further aggression.”

The reporter continued, “There has been no official communication between the Littoral Alliance and the United States, but an ad hoc conference between the on-scene commanders is taking place as I speak. These two onetime enemies, flying from a former battleground, must find a way to coexist in a volatile international situation and work toward the goal of guaranteeing Philippine security.”