Sky Masters

6

General Wilbur Curtis and the other Joint Chiefs of Staff were seated around the triangular table in their Pentagon conference room, the Tank, listening to Navy Captain Rebecca Rodgers give her morning briefing.

Since the nuclear device had been detonated, things had still not cleared up. If anything, save for the fact that no other devices had gone off, the situation was worse.

“The Chinese government continues to deny any knowledge or claim any responsibility for the nuclear blast,” Rodgers told the assembly. “The official announcement from Beijing stated that People’s Liberation Army Navy Forces came under sustained and unprovoked attack by Philippine naval and air forces, and that an F-4E attacked their flagship in the vicinity of ground zero before the blast. They claim that the attack was a retaliation by President Mikaso for the patrol action against the so-called illegal oil-drilling platform in the Spratly Island neutral zone. The Premier denies that Chinese warships carry nuclear devices, but they do point to the presence of nuclear weapons at several former American bases in the Philippines…”

“That’s bull,” General Falmouth of the Air Force retorted. “We took all special weapons out of the Philippines years ago.”

“I know, Bill, I know,” Curtis said. “We’ve got inspection records from the United Nations and from the Soviet START Treaty inspection teams to verify it — the President will authorize disclosure of those inspection reports soon. Let Captain Rodgers finish.”

Captain Rodgers continued. “ASEAN, the Association of South East Asian Nations — the Philippines, Brunei, Thailand, Indonesia, Singapore, Malaysia, and most recently Vietnam, who are, in effect, a counter-Chinese economic and military coalition — have not made a comment on the disaster. But they are meeting tomorrow in Singapore in emergency session to discuss the issue.”

While the Joint Chiefs weren’t surprised at China’s denial of launching the warhead, they were surprised how readily others in power, namely the President and his advisers, were willing — for the time being — to accept it.

Whatever was going on, and whoever was behind it, one thing Curtis knew without a doubt was that the situation was going to escalate. In fact, it seemed to have already…

Captain Rodgers, standing at the end of the triangle behind the podium, kept going. She informed the Joint Chiefs that in accordance with the 1991 START Treaty, the Soviet Union had activated six mobile ICBM battalions in Central Asia, a response to the United States’ DEFCON Three status. Along the Chinese and Mongolia borders, the Soviet Union had activated four missile battalions, equaling forty missiles, and were generating nuclear-capable forces at four bomber bases in south-central Russia. Although eleven hundred other known main, reserve, dispersal, rail-mobile ICBM, and cross-country road-mobile ICBM sites were under manual or satellite surveillance, it didn’t appear that the USSR was gearing up for a major counteroffensive — at least with long-range nuclear forces.

Rodgers switched to an enlarged chart of the mainland of China. “The source of continuing tensions in the past forty-eight hours continues to be the buildup of Chinese tactical forces in deployments along the Mongolian and Soviet border,” Rodgers said. “This is being done, according to the Chinese, as a response to the Soviet buildup.”

General Curtis and the others listened as Captain Rodgers rattled off the Chinese deployment numbers: nineteen total active divisions, four reserve divisions, four hundred thousand troops along a two-thousand-mile front in the north and north-central provinces. The units included twenty-one infantry divisions, seven mechanized divisions, one heavy missile division, four air defense divisions…

There was an uneasy rustle among the Joint Chiefs. Captain Rodgers was talking about a force that was almost as large as America’s and the Soviet Union’s combined.

General Curtis was shaking his head. Thirty-three divisions — over one-half of China’s ground forces and one-third of their total military, and what had the President of the United States given him?

Two aircraft carrier groups and the STRATFOR.

Worse, the President later cut Curtis and the Joint Chiefs out of the loop by insisting that Admiral Stoval, the Commander in Chief of Pacific Command, who was responsible for the carrier task force moving to the South China Sea, report to Thomas Preston, the Defense Secretary, through the National Security Council. That left Curtis not only seething, but in a rather embarrassing position with the other Joint Chiefs, who knew what the President had done.

Rodgers switched her electronic screen to a zoomed-in view of the South China Sea region. Specifically, the Spratly Island chain.

“The Chinese are moving half their fleet into the area,” Curtis observed with some alarm. The other Joint Chiefs murmured in agreement. “Captain, I want to know what ships they’re moving in there and why. I also want a letter from State spelling out precisely what the Philippine government has authorized the Chinese Army Navy to do. This makes me pretty damned uneasy.”

“Well, it should,” Chief of Naval Operations Randolph Cunningham grumbled. “We don’t have diddly in the area and the damn Chinese know it. They set off a nuke, then rush in and claim it’s a major threat to their sovereignty. They’re taking over the South China Sea faster than you can blink — and we’re just sitting here. This is bullshit.”

It certainly was, but what could Curtis do?

He answered his own question thirty minutes later, after the briefing, when he got back to his office. His aide, Colonel Wyatt, entered and said, “Sir, you have a scrambled phone call from CINCSAC — General Tyler. He says it’s a conference call.”

“Conference call? With who?”

“General Brad Elliott and a Doctor Jon Masters…”

Elliott? A smile came across Curtis’ face. He took a sip of the coffee Wyatt had just brought in. He hadn’t seen Elliott in months, even though he was one of his favorites. Elliott had had some up and down times — first as Deputy Commander of SAC, then as Director of HAWC, then as head of the government’s Border Security, only to be fired and bounced back to HAWC, again.

And Masters?… Of Sky Masters, Inc.? The NIRTSats? Curtis took the phone call. After pleasantries were exchanged all around, Elliott and Tyler got right to the point: “General Curtis, we need clearance on something we think we’re going to need down in the Philippines.”

Curtis’ ears picked up. “Go on…”

“We want to deploy the NIRTSat recon system that Doctor Masters has built, with a few of my Megafortress escort bombers that are out at the Strategic Warfare Center. We also want some on a few of the RC-135s that’ll be deployed for STRATFOR. We need your blessing, though.”

Curtis thought about the briefing he’d just come out of. Two carriers in the face of a possible Chinese land-grab. The President had authorized STRATFOR into position on Guam. They’d have to be ready. “Doctor Masters,” Curtis said, “you can really put that reconnaissance system on tactical aircraft?”

“You bet I can, General,” Masters said over the pop of the scrambled line. “We can make the Megafortress the most high-tech flying machine this side of Star Trek.”

“Plus I’ve got a B-2 Black Knight bomber equipped the same way, except with even more surprises,” Elliott said. “They’ve all been tearing up the Air Battle Force in exercises out at Jarrel’s SWC, and if we have to go out against the Chinese in the Philippines, I think you’ll want them out there.”

Curtis smiled. “Do it, you old warhorse. You just made my day.”

Daniel Teguina was ushered into President Mikaso’s residence by a Philippine Presidential Guard, then left alone in front of the door to Mikaso’s office. Teguina straightened his tie and his shoulders, cleared his throat quietly, then knocked on the door. After receiving a curt “Come,” he entered.

Teguina paced before the small desk in the center of the room and stood impatiently as Mikaso continued to work on something. Everything in this room was small, understated, almost peasantlike — Mikaso kept this office spartan, with only a few native wall hangings, simple wood furnishings, and bookcases crammed with every type of book, written in several languages. It was here that Mikaso did his best work, as productive as a monk in solitude.

Look at him, Teguina thought. An old man trying to act as if he is in control. Teguina wanted to laugh out loud at the absurdity of the scene. Since the nuclear explosion in the Palawan Strait there had been a panic throughout the islands. Here in Manila rioting had broken out, troops were in the streets trying to restore order, and the presidential palace had been besieged by protests from thousands of citizens and rebel troops — troops, he smiled inwardly, who were loyal to him. No, things were definitely not in control, no matter what this old man wanted to believe, and if Daniel Teguina had anything to do with it, they would continue to spin into chaos.

“What is your report, Daniel?” Mikaso finally said.

Teguina squinted at Mikaso, feeling anger flush into his temples. Mikaso was dressed in a brown suit, with a miniature Philippine Badge of Honor pinned to his lapel. Teguina knew that the sight of that badge on television made many Filipinos proud — it was the highest honor the military could pay to a civilian. Teguina had never even been considered for such an award. “I have nothing to report,” he said lamely.

“You have spent two days in Palawan, with almost no communication with my staff the entire time,” Mikaso said. “Yet I see editorials and articles in the newspaper, condemning the United States and the military for releasing the nuclear weapon and praising the Republic of China’s navy for its relief efforts. I have been told nothing officially — communications are still disrupted in and out of Palawan. Do you have a report for me?”

“I was not aware that I was required to—”

“I have learned that you have ordered New Armed Forces personnel in Puerto Princesa to surrender to the provincial police, and the airfields there and at Buenavista to be shut down,” Mikaso interrupted. “I hear reports that say that Chinese patrol boats were seen in ports throughout Palawan, including Puerto Princesa, Buenavista, Teneguiban, and Araceli, and that Chinese vessels patrol the Cuyo West Pass and even the Mindoro Strait. I hear the screams in the streets outside, saying that you accuse me of being a traitor to our country. Are these reports true?”

“The Philippine Navy is severely crippled, sir,” Teguina replied. “The Chinese patrol boats were graciously loaned to provincial police officers in an effort to restore order to the province—”

“Is the Army assisting the provincial police in restoring order?”

“No, Mr. President,” Teguina sniffed. “According to my research and the reports I received, it was an American B43 bomb that exploded off the coast of Palawan; the experts I consulted said that the weapon was old and thankfully did not produce a full yield.” Teguina knew enough about nuclear bombs to know that it takes a smaller nuclear explosion to trigger the main explosion; this obscure factoid made the lie even easier. “The Chinese vessels were attacked without provocation by a Philippine Air Force F-4 fighter-bomber carrying this American nuclear weapon. The jet fighter crew, who was working for the American Central Intelligence Agency, destroyed a Chinese ship, along with several Philippine ships, during the attack.

“Because I am not sure as yet exactly who is responsible for the unprovoked attack on those Chinese vessels, I thought it best to turn all local police and military functions over to the provincial police and to curtail all military operations until an investigation is completed.”

“General di Silva is in command of the Palawan defense forces?” Mikaso asked. Reregistered surprise for a moment, then relaxed and studied Teguina. “I see,” the aged President finally said. “So. Did you encounter resistance when you decided to occupy the Air Force base with provincial police officers and Chinese troops?”

Teguina’s eyes widened in surprise when Mikaso mentioned using Chinese troops in his operation; then he realized his mistake in registering such a surprise. Mikaso had suspected all along — whether or not he got the information first hand or simply guessed, it was obvious he knew now.

“The traitors put up a brief battle, but, as all cowards will, they turned and ran when confronted by legitimate forces,” Teguina replied. “The Chinese troops supplied transportation to Puerto Princesa, that’s all, and they were forced to protect themselves as well as graciously protecting the provincial police units as well. We thanked God the rebels did not drop another nuclear bomb on us.”

“I have a simple question, Mr. Vice President,” Mikaso said, a gleam of humor now shining in his eyes and a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Do you honestly expect the Philippine people to believe this fairy tale? That the Chinese were victims of Filipino aggression… the Chinese graciously offered the use of their warships… the Chinese only protected themselves when you overran Puerto Princesa? Do you honestly expect the world to believe that the Chinese suddenly became our staunch ally simply to fight off the evil, corrupt New Armed Force troops and install your own Communist puppet into power?”

“They will believe it, Mikaso,” Teguina said slowly, “because… you will tell them.”

“Me? You expect me to betray my country, my homeland, just because of your threats and a Chinese rifle pointed at my head? Certainly you are joking,” Mikaso scoffed.

“This is the end of the American puppet regime in the Philippines, Mikaso…”

“No, it is not. I know you, Daniel. I am not the tottering old fool, the white-haired, senile figurehead you always believed I was. I chose you to become my vice president because your flowery speeches and socialist ranting and raving has awakened the political fire in a lot of people that never cared much for national politics.”

“You would not have been elected if it were not for me!” Teguina snarled.

“That’s right, Daniel, that’s right,” Mikaso admitted. “And you will not succeed without me. I understand the importance of a coalition government, and I understand that there are factions in this country that desire change. I was willing to accept the opposition party in order to carry our nation forward into the future after the departure of the Americans. You can do the same. If you want change, Teguina, then have your National Democratic Front form its own coalition and defeat UNIDO. Have your party enact laws to give more funds to the people and less toward defense, if that’s what you propose. You are the Vice President. You carry considerable political power, more than your confused brain realizes.

“But… if you enlist outsiders’ help to overthrow the legitimate government and close down the parliament, people all over the world will fear you, and your own people will condemn you. And if you continue to rob the treasury, install yourself in luxury in the presidential palace, and turn our nation into a battleground, you will eventually feel defeat. There is always someone around the corner with a bigger gun and a bigger army—”

Teguina reached over, grabbed Mikaso by the lapels of his jacket, and said in a low, burning voice, “I don’t want your prostituted government anymore, old man.” He then pushed the President back into his seat and yelled, “Admiral! Enter!”

Mikaso stared as a contingent of about fifty Chinese troops rushed into his office. Several Presidential Guard soldiers were led in, some carrying the dead bodies of other policemen or soldiers.

Behind them all was a Chinese naval officer, about sixty years old, in white uniform slacks, dark helmet, a dark-blue jacket that appeared thick enough to be a bulletproof vest, and a sidearm. Beside the military officer, to Mikaso’s complete surprise, was the ambassador from the People’s Republic of China, Dong Sen Kim, who averted his eyes and would not look at Mikaso directly. Along with the Chinese troops came several of Mikaso’s Cabinet officials, most of whom were National Democratic Front members — but they also included Eduardo Friscino, the Minister of Interior.

“This is the new governor of the People’s Republic of the Sulu Islands, Eduardo Friscino,” Teguina said to Mikaso. “He has seen your frail attempts to restore American dictatorship to the Philippines and has agreed to join with me to form a better nation, separate but equal, different yet fused together for the good of all.”

Mikaso stared in disbelief at Friscino. “Eduardo—”

Eduardo looked like a whipped dog. Standing in front of all those armed soldiers, he already seemed on the verge of collapse; now, under Mikaso’s incredulous glare, he seemed to practically wilt into the floorboards, but said nothing.

“Because of the political and cultural separation that exists between the southern islands and the northern island,” Teguina continued, “I have decided to create a new state, a federation of provinces that will be independent yet closely allied to the north. Luzon and the Sibuyan islands will be known as the Democratic Federation of Aguinaldo. It will be under my control, protected by loyal military forces as well as New People’s Army groups formed into provincial militias.

“Palawan, Mindanao, and the Sulu Archipelago will be known collectively as the People’s Federation of the Sulu Islands,” Teguina went on. “Once joined officially, Aguinaldo and the Sulu Federation will once again become the Democratic Republic of Aguinaldo.”

“Daniel, you cannot do this,” Mikaso said earnestly. “Samar and Mindanao will not join your revolution — they will fight your annexation, resist your attempt to overthrow them, and split themselves off from the rest of the Philippines altogether—”

“Yes. Vice President Samar is proving to be difficult,” Teguina admitted. Jose Trujillo Samar, Second Vice President of the Philippines, was the governor of the state of Mindanao. “But once the city of Davao falls, Mindanao will be ours as well.”

Mikaso sat back in the chair behind his desk, trying to absorb everything Teguina was saying. This was insane. Teguina had taken the nuclear detonation and allowed the Philippines to be raped by it. His entire country — the nation he loved and served — was evaporating before his eyes. Even its very form of government. He had to stop this, had to buy himself some time…

… had to stop Teguina.

But he needed time. Moments, if nothing else.

“Daniel,” Mikaso said, “what about these Chinese troops here? How do they fit into your master plan?”

“Glad you asked, Mikaso,” Teguina said smugly. He motioned to the officer in the helmet and blue bulletproof jacket. “This is Admiral Yin Po L’un, commander of the Spratly Island flotilla, the fleet that your traitorous soldiers bombed and strafed three nights ago. As a fellow Communist, he has agreed — with the full support of the People’s Republic of China, communicated to us from Beijing by Ambassador Dong — to assist in establishing my new regime. In exchange I have granted the Chinese Navy complete ownership of illegitimate Philippine holdings in the Spratly Islands. I have also authorized them access to our ports on Palawan and, once the rebel military forces have been eliminated, the naval base at Zamboanga and the airfields at Cebu and Davao. They will also have access to the former American military bases at Subic Bay and Angeles…”

“You’re giving the Chinese four military bases?” Mikaso gasped incredulously. “You’re insane, Teguina! The people will never allow it — the world will never allow such a domination!”

“It is already being done, Mikaso,” Teguina said.

“Not if I can help it,” Mikaso said, reaching into his desk drawer to pull out a pistol he’d kept there for years.

But it was too late.

Several Type 56 automatic rifles, variants of the Soviet AK-47 assault rifle, swung in his direction and someone fired. Mikaso jerked from the impact of the shot and slumped over the desk before finally collapsing on the floor.

Teguina stood staring at the assassinated President, his mouth slightly agape. He had never meant to kill Mikaso, simply arrest him and have him confined. He continued to stare at the body and realized his breathing was labored. He felt a tap on the shoulder.

“Comrade President…” Admiral Yin said, a slight smile on his face.

Teguina had never heard those words before. The reality was dawning on him. Within a few seconds he had become the new President of the Republic of the Philippines — no, the President of the New Democratic Federation of Aguinaldo. He liked the sound of that — President of the Democratic Federation of Aguinaldo. It was a name that recalled the glory days, the days of fervent revolutionaries like Emilio Aguinaldo, a peasant farmer who rose to become the leader of a nation over two world superpowers, Spain and the United States. No matter that Aguinaldo was finally captured by General Funston, capitulated, and swore allegiance to America — it was his indomitable spirit that survived. It would become the rallying cry for a new nation. The Republic of Aguinaldo. The name sounded perfect.

The body in a brown suit had been hastily covered with a tablecloth and was carried out by Chinese soldiers. “Wait!” Teguina shouted. “I want the badge.” He pointed to his lapel, then motioned to the body that had been taken away. A Chinese officer went out, returning a few seconds later with the Philippine Badge of Honor. Teguina’s eyes registered dark stains spattered across the officer’s fingers, but ignored them as he pinned the Badge of Honor to his own lapel. The doors to the President’s office were closed by the Chinese troops, and Daniel Francisco Teguina set about the task of planning the important next steps to consolidating his power.

The President was at his desk, staring out of one of the bullet-resistant polycarbonate windows looking into the Rose Garden, when the men were ushered in. He didn’t even look up. His mind was on something more personal, more immediate than whatever brought the gentlemen in for this next appointment. Secretary of State Dennis Danahall and the President’s Chief of Staff, Paul Cesare, were standing near the President’s desk.

The President’s secretary ushered General Curtis into the Oval Office. Curtis had been summoned for a meeting with the NSC and the President.

“Sir…” General Curtis said, letting the President know he was present after Taylor’s secretary had shut the door behind him and disappeared back into the outer reception area.

The President said nothing for a moment — nor did the others — and then, finally, he turned and took a deep breath. “Arturo Mikaso may be dead.”

Curtis felt his heart skip a beat. “What? Mikaso dead?”

Danahall said, “It’s unconfirmed, but we got a report a few minutes ago from British Intelligence, who had a Filipino clerk working in the palace at the time. The clerk says Mikaso was shot by a Chinese guard about an hour ago when the troops moved in. Some other Cabinet members and most of Mikaso’s staff and guards were also shot.”

“Mikaso could still be alive.” The President sighed. “But I doubt it.”

“What about the Chinese? Are they assisting in the coup?” asked Curtis.

“The Chinese have occupied a military base on Palawan — they have in fact occupied the entire island — and have been given authorization by Teguina to occupy four more installations in the south,” Secretary of Defense Preston said. “There are Chinese infantry and armor units in the capital already, and they are augmenting rebel troops by the hundreds.”

Curtis looked at the President of the United States, understanding the terrible anguish within him. President Taylor and Mikaso had been friends despite the removal of U.S. troops from the Philippines, and Taylor had always pledged to protect Mikaso and his island country no matter what the political situation was. The news of his murder in his own house, by invading troops, must have been devastating to the President. “Mr. President, I’m very sorry…”

“I haven’t even briefed the rest of the NSC or the Cabinet about it yet,” the President replied quietly. “Dammit, I should have been smarter. I should have realized Arturo was in danger from the beginning…” The President swiveled his chair and faced his advisers. “Well, what the hell do we do now?”

“The Chinese have closed off the airport,” Danahall said. “It’s too late to evacuate American citizens in Manila. We should demand that all American citizens that wish to leave be allowed to leave.”

“Yes, absolutely… see to it immediately,” the President said. His mind was moving quickly from item to item, all the while interrupted with the thought of his friend murdered in cold blood by a Chinese soldier. “What about the carriers? Are they in danger from the Chinese now?”

General Curtis said, “I believe the carriers can adequately protect themselves from any sea-based threats, including Chinese submarines. Their main threat would come from long-range, land-based strike aircraft or antiship missiles, and we need to determine the seriousness of that threat before sending any carrier task forces too close to occupied territory. The main thing is, we’ve got to get all the data we possibly can on the composition of the Chinese invaders. But if I may speak freely, sir — the most important question here is what you intend to do about the Chinese in the Philippines,” Curtis concluded.

“I want the Chinese out, that’s what,” the President replied testily. “I want the democratic government in Manila restored. We will open negotiations with Premier Cheung immediately, of course, but I want them out. Unconditionally.”

“But if they are invited by the Philippine government? Do we have any right to go in with military force to try to remove them?” Secretary of Defense Preston asked. “If they pose no direct threat to free trade and free access to the South Pacific or Southeast Asia, why do we want them out of the Philippines?”

“What do you mean…? Of course we have the right to remove them from the Philippines,” President Taylor said. “They’re a destabilizing force, a military and political threat to the democracies in the area. Aren’t we in agreement on this?”

“I don’t think there is any question about that,” Danahall said. “A three-way balance of power — us, the Soviets, and the Chinese — offers the best stability. Reduce it to one nation and the Cold War heats up all over again.”

Curtis said, “But Secretary Preston’s point is valid, sir. We might not have any legitimate right to try to bump the Chinese out unless we can prove that the invasion is not in our best interests or unless we are asked to intervene.”

“We have every right to make demands on the Chinese,” Cesare interjected. “They don’t own the South China Sea. No nation can just move in and occupy another country.”

“Exactly, Paul,” the President said, “Mikaso was our friend and ally. I’m sure he didn’t give his life to allow the Chinese to march into his capital and take over his country.”

“Curtis and Preston have a point, Mr. President,” Danahall said. “If the present government — even Teguina — says he invited China in to quell some sort of national uprising, that forces us into a defensive situation. We have to explain to the world why we want to send troops in.”

“We’re always put in a position to defend our actions,” the President scoffed. “What else is new?”

“That’s often true, Mr. President,” Danahall said. “But we’ve got to try to work in concert with other countries — the more we try to go it alone, the more we’re accused of bullying and imperialism. We should get some interested countries involved and get them to ask for our help.”

“Like who?”

“ASEAN, for example,” Danahall replied. “Most or all of the ASEAN nations have had territorial arguments with China — ASEAN was developed as a counterweight to Chinese aggression. And then there are things we can do to advance our own military position without unnecessarily provoking the Chinese or alienating ASEAN…”

“Well, sending in a second carrier battle group and a Marine Expeditionary Unit seems pretty provocative to me,” Cesare said.

“I think that action can be fully justified in the context of a nuclear-armed Chinese naval group that has moved into the South China Sea. I mean it’s right in the heart of ASEAN,” Curtis replied. “So would sending in the Air Battle force for support—”

“I don’t want to send in the damned B-52 bombers,” the President grumbled. “Sending them in would be tantamount to saying we want a nuclear exchange. Christ, Curtis…”

“Sir, the biggest threat facing our carrier battle group in the South China Sea is not sea-based threats, but land-based threats,” Curtis argued. “Heavy bombers and large antiship weapons launched from shore could devastate the fleet…”

“You said that already.”

“The same argument applies to the Chinese, sir. Even a small squadron of Harpoon-equipped B-52s could devastate a Chinese surface action group — each bomber could destroy two to four vessels, with minimal risk to themselves.”

The point, however grudgingly, was made on the President. “So what can the Air Force do?” the President asked after a brief pause. “We don’t have bases in the Philippines…”

“We’d operate out of Guam, sir, just like STRATFOR is doing,” Curtis replied. “We’d deploy the First Air Battle Wing and have the manpower and equipment out there on hand for both fleet defense, sea interdiction, and ground attack. I’m not asking for permission to send the entire Air Battle Wing, sir,” Curtis concluded. “We’ll need time to set up — at least five to six days. But General Elliott of HAWC has devised a special combat-information exchange system aboard several of his aircraft — including several modified B-52s and a B-2 stealth bomber — that could be extremely valuable to us if the shooting starts. I’m requesting permission to send Elliott and one aircraft, the stealth bomber, to Guam — under absolute secrecy — to help get things set up.”

“Elliott?” the President asked, rolling his eyes. “Brad Elliott? He’s involved in this… already?”

Curtis went slowly, calmly, trying not to inflame the President any further. “It was his Center’s satellite system — PACER SKY — that got the photos of the Chinese ship launching the nuclear missile at the Philippine Navy. We want to expand that same satellite system on all the Air Battle Force aircraft…”

“But why send a B-2?” the President asked.

“The B-2 is a part of the Air Battle Force now, sir,” General Curtis explained. “It requires a lot more security and a bit more ground-support pre-planning. In addition, this particular B-2 was General Elliott’s prototype with the full PACER SKY satellite system installed. It also has greatly enhanced reconnaissance and surveillance capabilities that we will need immediately if the Air Battle Force is activated.”

The President thought about the proposal a bit, then, with a weary and exasperated sigh shook his head. “Listen, Wilbur, I can’t decide on any of that now. Continue with current directives and keep me advised. I’ve got some thinking to do.”

“Sir, may I?”

“Save it, Wilbur. Thank you.”

The meeting was definitely over.

The streets were still relatively empty as the small motorcade of dark, unmarked cars raced down Shilibao Avenue westward past Tian’anmen Square, then north past Yuyan Tan People’s Park toward the Premier’s residence in Baiyunguan Terrace, a complex of residences, green rolling hills, parks, and temples built especially for the Communist government leaders. Outer security at the twisting single-lane entrance was provided by a single unarmed guard who would politely point and describe the complex to tourists and children and even offer to take pictures for visitors; inside the narrow portal, however, was a detail of three thousand heavily armed soldiers, hand-picked by Premier Cheung Yat Sing himself, that guarded the sixty-acre complex.

Once inside the complex, the motorcade sped past willow-lined streets and meticulously tended sidewalks as they curved upward toward the center cluster of buildings, the private residence of Premier Cheung. The motorcade came to a sudden halt underneath a long breezeway, and the limousine’s occupants hurried inside the reception hall. If they had paused to look, they could have seen one of the grandest vistas in all Beijing — Yuyan Tan Lake to the west, the expansive Peking Zoo to the north, and the massive brick monuments of the Imperial Palace and Tian’anmen Square to the east, now glowing fiery crimson in the rising sun. But the limousine’s occupants were hustled directly inside and to the immediate meeting with the Premier himself in his private office.

Leing Yee Tak, ambassador to China from the Republic of Vietnam, hardly had time to remove his shoes before none other than Premier Cheung himself entered the office, along with members of his Cabinet. This was highly unusual: the Premier never met with lowly ambassadors, only heads of state or occasionally minister- or Cabinet-level officials. Leing waited until the Premier had taken his seat at the center of a long dark granite table, then bowed deeply and approached the table. Cheung immediately offered him a seat with a gesture, and Leing sat. His interpreter aide remained standing behind him.

Cheung was old, incredibly old even for a Chinese politician. The ninety-one-year-old leader of the world’s most populous nation still moved fairly well without assistance, although two burly Chinese Marines were on hand to help him in and out of his chair. His hair was dark, obviously dyed at the insistence of his advisers or from some deep-seated vanity, but his face was deeply etched from age and his fingers gnarled from arthritis. But Leing had been taught from his first days in the Vietnamese Socialist Party and the People’s Foreign Ministry that the eyes were the giveaway — Cheung’s eyes were still gleaming, still quick, still alert.

Despite rumors to the contrary, Cheung still appeared to be in charge…

But after quickly scanning the faces of the other Cabinet members, perhaps not. The Chinese Foreign Minister, Party Counsel, and Minister of Commerce were present, but the Ministers of Interior, Finance, Defense, and Industry were all replaced by their military counterparts. This was a military tribunal represented here, not a peacetime government.

And Leing knew well the Supreme Commander of the People’s Liberation Army, High General Chin Po Zihong. Chin was young for a Chinese government official — sixty-seven, if Leing remembered correctly — but he appeared to be half that age. He was a short, barrel-chested, dark-haired Mongol that instantly reminded one of how the Mongol hordes of centuries past had struck fear into the hearts of soldiers throughout Europe and Asia. Unlike most other high-ranking military officers, Chin wore few accoutrements on his plain, dark grey uniform. He didn’t need ribbons and badges to demonstrate his power and authority to others.

Cheung spoke, and afterward his interpreter said, “The Premier extends his government’s greeting to Comrade Leing. The Premier wishes to know if there is anything that would make the ambassador from the Republic of Vietnam more comfortable.”

“Nothing, Comrade Premier,” Leing replied. “I thank you for your generous offer. I too wish to extend the greetings of the Republic of Vietnam.” Cheung bowed slightly at the neck, and the civilian members of the Cabinet did likewise — the military members did not move. Chin appeared as immobile as stone, unblinking and inscrutable.

“The Premier wishes to extend an invitation to the ambassador from Vietnam to attend a briefing on the situation in the Philippines and the South China Sea,” the interpreter said. “High General Chin will conduct the briefing. We will outline the actions and events that precipitated the current military actions in that nation and explain our objectives and intentions.”

Leing could have fallen over backward in surprise. The Chinese Chief of Staff himself, conducting a briefing on his military actions — for a member of the Vietnamese government? The offer was astounding.

China and Vietnam had a long, off-again and on-again relationship over the past fifty years. Both were Communist republics; Vietnam’s government was fashioned as a smaller copy of China’s. Both were military powers in the Pacific, with Vietnam having the world’s fourth-largest army and the world’s eighth-largest small-boat navy. But political relations were based on expediency and short-term interests, and those relations were usually stormy at best and warlike at worst.

Currently, relations were at the simmering but nonbelligerent level. The Spratly Islands question, long a point of contention, was at an impasse, with China having the definite edge. Vietnam had countered with its full membership in ASEAN, and with improving its relations with the Soviet Union, the United States, and many other countries. The brief but violent war over the Spratly Islands in the late 1980s was all but forgotten, border skirmishes were rare, and things were tense but bloodless for a few years now. Why would China feel the need to advise Vietnam on its current conflict in the Philippines?

“On behalf of my government, I accept your gracious offer, Comrade Premier,” Leing replied warily. “The incidents of the past few days in the Philippines have caused much concern in my country.”

“Allow me to assure you, Comrade Ambassador,” the interpreter said, “that the People’s Republic of China harbors no ill feeling toward Vietnam. Our forces will not threaten any Vietnamese facilities or vessels in the region. You have the word of the Premier.”

“I thank you for your assurances, Comrade Premier,” Leing said. Leing risked a full glance at General Chin, to perhaps see if Chin, the real power where Chinese foreign intrigue was concerned, would give similar assurances; he did not. His return stare was powerful enough to make Leing silent: “Your assurances are important, since Chinese naval vessels patrol the entire Spratly archipelago, within striking distance of Vietnamese-settled islands. My government will be relieved to hear that these warships mean no harm.”

It was General Chin’s turn to speak now, and he did so without waiting for permission. “I give you my assurance that no Chinese vessel will approach any Vietnamese-claimed islands or interfere with Vietnamese naval operations in any way,” he said through the interpreter. Leing’s own interpreter gave a slightly different version of Chin’s statement — he said that no Chinese vessel will land on a Vietnamese-claimed island or interfere with legitimate Vietnamese naval operations in any way. Leing nodded. The exact wording was not important: these men were not to be trusted no matter what they said. Actions spoke louder than words, and so far their actions suggested the Chinese Navy was in the Spratly Islands to stay.

“So I am to assume, Comrade General, that Chinese warships will continue to patrol north of the neutral zone, in violation of international treaty?”

“We were invited by the government of the Philippines to assist in national self-defense matters,” Chin said. “The request included patrolling their islands for signs of rebel activity. We are protecting their interests as well as yours, since as we have seen the rebel military’s actions are a threat to all nations.”

Lies, Leing thought, struggling to keep his face as impassive as possible. The whole world knows it was a Chinese nuclear warhead that exploded in the Palawan Straits. Do they really expect me to believe this fairy tale? “My government appreciates the truth in your words, Comrade General,” Leing said evenly, “but also prefers that international treaties be strictly followed.”

“The terms of the treaty between us have been altered by recent events,” the Chinese Foreign Minister, Zhou Ti Yanbing, said. “Because of the nuclear explosion, we felt our forces were at substantial risk in the South China Sea and that an escalation of our naval presence was necessary. At the same time, we were invited by the government of the Philippines to assist them in putting down a suspected coup and a violent military attack by well-armed forces. Those are the facts, and we speak the truth.” Not the whole truth, Leing noted: it was the Chinese who set off the nuclear explosion, the Chinese who posed the greatest risk to neighboring nations. The Philippine coup was just a fortuitous opportunity for the Chinese to complete their long sought-after conquest…

“However, the situation has become even more unstable. for us and for all nations involved in this incident,” Zhou continued. “We realize that new priorities must be established and new ties formed between the affected nations — especially between China and Vietnam.”

“What sort of ties are you referring to, Comrade Foreign Minister?”

There was a pause, an uneasy silence notably between General Chin and Premier Cheung — although no words or glances were exchanged, the two men were on edge. Then Cheung spoke, and the interpreter said, “We wish to issue a ninety-nine-year irrevocable lease to the Republic of Vietnam to occupy, develop, patrol, and regulate affairs in the entire Nansha Island archipelago.”

Leing was stunned. “I… Please, Comrade Premier, if you would be so good to repeat your last statement…” General Chin made a sudden outburst, and Cheung replied hotly without turning toward him. “The General said, ‘This is nonsense,’ and the Premier ordered him to keep quiet,” Leing’s interpreter whispered into the ambassador’s ear."

“I believe you heard correctly, Comrade Ambassador,” Foreign Minister Zhou said through his interpreter. “We wish to turn over control of the Nansha Islands to Vietnam. We will surrender all interests we currently hold in the islands to you for a period of ninety-nine years, after which time we will agree to enter into negotiations for outright transfer of ownership or an extension of the lease to you.” Then Leing’s interpreter added, “It appears to me that General Chin is opposed to the plan.”

Leing was shocked. China, which patrolled the Nansha Islands — the Chinese term for the Spratly Islands — as if they were a mainland province — had even defended their rights to the islands with atomic weapons. Now they were willing to just give the islands up? And give them up to Vietnam, which was once an ally but was now a clear adversary? As early as 1988, China had come a hairsbreadth away from invading Vietnam over the Spratly Islands…

“This is most unexpected, Comrade Premier,” Leing said, finally regaining control over his numbed senses. “It is a most attractive offer. Naturally, I assume there is a condition to this transfer?” Of course there was — and Leing finally realized what it might be…

“You are correct, Comrade Ambassador,” the interpreter said for Foreign Minister Zhou. “Although we freely admit that an adjustment to the turbulent situation in the Nansha Island chain meant that this action was far overdue:

“We realize that a vote will be forthcoming when the Association of South East Asian Nations meet in Singapore and the question of our occupation of the Philippines is brought forward. We have tried to assure all countries involved in this situation that our involvement was requested by the Philippine government and that we are acting in strict accordance with international law; however, we realize that outside, non-Communist sympathizers will attempt to undermine our efforts to restore peace to the region. China has not been offered an opportunity to voice our side of the matter, which precludes any sort of fair and equitable resolution of this incident.

“We are therefore asking that when the vote is called, the Vietnamese vote against any ASEAN resolutions to interfere in the Philippines, and that you urge other nations in ASEAN to vote against any resolution as well. Since a unanimous vote is necessary for ASEAN to take military action or impose severe economic embargos, your action would postpone any serious consequences.

“In addition, if you agree to assist us militarily in defending our right to remain in the Philippines, the Republic of China will propose a similar lease agreement to the Republic of Vietnam for the western group of the islands known as the Crescent Group in the Xinsha Islands archipelago.”

The offer was astounding. China was in effect offering the Vietnamese a controlling position to the entire South China Sea in exchange for cooperation in its operation in the Philippines. In terms of value and strategic importance, it was not an equitable trade — the Philippines was by far a much brighter gem than the Spratlys or the Paracels — but by establishing offshore bases, Vietnam would once again be able to build a blue-water navy and exert its will in Southeast Asia. It could finally be able to counter the growing democratic-oligarchic influence of the Moslem nations of Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore, and Brunei by being able to effectively operate naval and merchant fleets far from home ports.

“I do not see how such an action can be construed as anything else than conspiracy and duplicity,” Ambassador Leing said. Premier Cheung’s face was impassive, but Leing measured the government’s reaction in General Chin’s face — it was obvious the warlord didn’t enjoy taking any lip from a Vietnamese politician. “But the return of our territorial islands of Dao Quan Mueng Bang and Dao Phran-Binh would be of immense pleasure and gratification to my government.”

The ploy worked. Instead of calling the contested islands by their Chinese names, Leing used the ancestral Vietnamese names — Dao Quan Mueng Bang for the Spratlys, Dao Phran-Binh for the Paracels — and those names infuriated General Chin, who launched into a furious tirade, first at Leing and then at Premier Cheung.

“He says that this is a crazy idea, that it will never be, that Vietnam cannot be allowed to take…” his interpreter quickly responded. “He is now telling me to be silent or he will cut off my… my penis, and stuff it in my… General Chin is very angry, Comrade Ambassador. Perhaps we should leave…”

“No,” Leing said in Vietnamese in a low voice. “There is obviously a power struggle going on here. We must be witness to it before we can take this proposal to Hanoi.”

“We will take nothing if we are dead!”

“Keep your comments to yourself and tell me what they are saying,” Leing hissed.

“The Premier is telling Chin to be silent… Chin is saying to the Foreign Minister that he will not agree to release the Spratlys to Vietnam… the Premier repeats his order for silence.” The last order seemed to stick; General Chin stopped his bellowing and was content for the moment to shift his weight impatiently from foot to foot and glare at Leing.

The Premier spoke up. “Please deliver this request to your government with all speed and confidentiality. We await your reply.”