The War Cloud

32

“Use ‘em or lose ‘em?”

General Block watched President Sachs make a face on the big screen from his office perch overlooking the underground Northern Command. But he was more concerned with the two big screens in the operations center below. The left screen displayed TOT MISL 50 — total number of Chinese DF-5 ICBMs launched. The right screen displayed TTG -34.07.12 — time to go before detonation. Meanwhile, six other screens providing real-time data from the USAF Space Command’s early warning radar sites at Clear AFS in Alaska and Beale AFB in California projected their trajectory toward Minutemen III missile fields in Montana, Wyoming and Colorado.

“That’s what I’m saying, ma’am,” Block told her along with Generals Marshall and Carver on the split screen. “These Chinese DF-5s are silo-killers. We either launch our M-III’s or lose them, along with the ability to retaliate.”

He could see Sachs flinch at the either-or scenario, and sure enough she said, “Two options are a dilemma, General Block. Three options is at least a choice. What about our satellites? Do we have any visuals from space? Or even our forward-deployed fleet in the South China Sea?”

Block paused. “Our satellites over China were blinded minutes before the DF-5s launched, and neither our air base at Kadena in Japan nor the 7^th Fleet has a visual confirmation.”

“Then maybe they haven’t launched, General Block,” Sachs said. “Maybe this is a phantom missile strike generated by the War Cloud cyberweapon. Isn’t it convenient that we’re denied visual verification at the same time our radars are registering incoming missiles? General Marshall?”

Marshall was visibly taken aback. “You’re probably half right, Madame President. The Chinese technically could have used the War Cloud to blind our satellites, but in political and military terms it would make no sense for them to fake a missile launch and prompt a massive U.S. nuclear retaliation.”

“Not for the Chinese,” Sachs said. “But maybe for another party.”

There she goes again, Block thought, refusing to accept the obvious for some shadowy conspiracy.

Sachs addressed Brad Marshall again, and said, “General Marshall, do you agree with General Block?”

Block could only hope the kid could make Sachs see straight. Or use his baby blues to hypnotize her or something. Anything.

“I have to, Madame President,” he told her. “Right now we have the advantage of not only firepower but accuracy in striking Chinese military targets. We would spare most of the civilian Chinese population while degrading their military’s ability to destroy ours.”

“Even if that prompts them to strike back?”

“Well, it looks like they already have, Madame President. And if they haven’t, I don’t see how they could strike back if we hit them now while we can.”

Block could see Sachs try to keep a poker face, like she was thinking it through. But that was two votes of the NCA to her one, with Carver left to cast his ballot.”General Carver,” she finally said. “If the Chinese attack is for real, and if we do lose our land-based ICBMs, will our nuclear-armed bombers and submarines survive the attack?”

Block knew Carver had to nod a yes, which is what he did.

Carver said the only thing he could in his position: “The airborne and seaborne legs of our defense triad will indeed survive, Madame President, with enough firepower to destroy the world several times over and, per our war plan, preserve the continuity of government for the United States of America.”

Block could see that was enough to satisfy Sachs and give her what she needed: a 2–2 split between the four of them. Worse, she clearly interpreted her vote as commander-in-chief to count as two in a tie. “So we can live without land-based ICBMs.”

We can live without ICBMs? Block sensed that this failed Cabinet secretary was losing her grip on reality.

“Of course,” Marshall cut in, “you realize that if you allow the enemy to attack yet again without retaliation, you’ll only encourage further aggression against America.”

Block watched her reaction on the screen. The woman looked positively constipated.

“General Marshall, you’re the one who told Congress that great care and billions of dollars have been spent to construct American nuclear weapons systems that will survive a nuclear attack,” Sachs replied testily. “The point was to give the president — that’s me and not you — the luxury of determining his or her response after the shape of the battle is clear.”

Marshall said, “But you’re letting the enemy shape it.”

“No,” she insisted, summing up. “We’ve got conflicting signals about the reality of this incoming attack. Northern Command says DF-5 silo killers are coming our way. But our satellites show nothing. The best course of action is to ride this out and determine our response after the shape of the battle is clear.”

Ride this out? Block thought with almost unbearable frustration. This has ing to do with conflicting signals. She’s incapable of pulling the trigger.

“With all due respect, Madam President,” he said, knowing the inflection in his voice sounded anything but respectful, “the shape of this battle looks pretty clear on my screens, and that looks like one big mushroom cloud over Cheyenne Mountain in 24 minutes and 53 seconds.”

“Then I suggest you prepare for impact,” she said. “General Marshall, please send me a prioritized target list for those Mavericks you talked to me about earlier. The bunker-busters we’ve got up in the air now that we can always recall. I think you called it the Tall option.”

She had to put that little tweak in the nose at the end, thought Block. Couldn’t leave well enough alone. But at least this was something.

“On its way,” Marshall said and cut out.

Sachs moved on to Carver. “General Carver, American citizens have to prepare themselves for any eventuality. Issue a national attack warning. Move our subs into attack position. I want every plane from Keneda and the USS George Washington airborne. We’ll reconvene five minutes before impact. Over.”

Sachs disappeared from the screen, leaving Block on the video conference with Carver at Strategic Command. If anything, Carver was the one most at risk here, as Block always considered Cheyenne Mountain a far more formidable fortress than Carver’s underground operations center beneath Offutt Air Force Base in Omaha.

Block said, “I say we go ahead and launch, sir.”

Carver frowned. “You can’t be serious!”

“Come on,” said Block. “What are we talking about here? A woman who can’t make up her mind. I say we remove her from the chain of command.”

Carver was adamant. “We can’t do that, Block.”

“Technically, the National Command Authorities are running the show now. That’s us. She’s only one vote out of four in the NCA.”

Carver said, “She is our commander in chief.”

“What the hell kind of commander in chief is this, Carver?”

“The only one we’ve got, understand? Look, she’ll come around. It’s Colonel Kozlowski and Captain Li who are advising her.”

“The Pollock and the chink,” Block said. “She’s got a goddamn rainbow coalition behind her. All she needs now is a Vulcan.”

“Just prepare for impact,” said a stone-faced Carver, obliging him with the split-fingered Vulcan “live long and prosper” salute from the “Star Trek” TV series. “I’ll sound the National Attack Warning.”