Counter Strike (Command and Control Book 2), page 16
Focus, he realized, was a good thing. Whatever the future held for the strike force, his sailors were ready.
There had been issues to iron out, of course. The sailing configuration of the strike force was a headache. In EMCON condition Alpha, use of radar was prohibited and the fleet sailed without running lights. At thirty knots, things happened fast. The last thing his armada needed was a collision, so he’d relaxed the sailing formation.
The three carriers sailed in a diamond formation with Enterprise in the lead and Nimitz and Teddy Roosevelt 2,500 yards off her port and starboard quarters. The escorts were arrayed in a loose circle around the carriers at distances ranging from five thousand to twenty thousand yards. Unlike the nuclear-powered carriers, most of the escorts needed to break off from the strike force to slow down and conduct underway refueling.
Meanwhile, the carriers charged forward, never slowing their forward progress. In practical terms that meant that there was always a string of escorts either peeling off to refuel or running at a flank bell to catch up with the rest of the strike force.
It wasn’t the prettiest formation, and it was most definitely not taught at command school, but it got the job done.
Chief of Staff Zachary appeared on the opposite side of the BattleSpace display. Drops of rain spattered his uniform.
“What’s the weather topside, Tom?” Sharratt asked.
“Shitty, sir.” He broke into a grin. “Just what we ordered. Cloud ceiling at fifteen hundred feet, visibility less than two miles. I’m told this’ll last at least another day, maybe two.”
“Your lips to God’s ear, my friend,” Sharratt replied.
Even with the Chinese spy satellite fleet degraded, Sharratt welcomed the thick cloud cover as added insurance against a chance sighting by a PLA air patrol or surface ship.
Each carrier kept a combat air patrol aloft at all times with another team on the catapults in an Alert-five status. The CAPs, directed by an Air Force AWACS platform on overwatch duty, ranged three hundred miles ahead of the strike force. If there were any Chinese aircraft out there, Sharratt wanted to intercept them well before they got a sniff of the strike force.
In fact, all of their sensor data came from the AWACS platform. The strike force remained in an EMCON-Alpha status, and he directed the air assets to operate passively as well. Sharratt was taking no chances about giving away their presence until he was ready.
If their luck held, the Enterprise strike force would be within striking range of Taiwan in another day, a full three days earlier than the PLA probably expected them.
Sharratt nodded to the BattleSpace operator to expand the range of the holographic display. Sharratt had spent so much time at the plot that by now the operators knew what the admiral wanted to see without receiving a verbal order. Sometimes they adjusted the plot before he even knew himself what he wanted to see next.
He studied the display. One hundred fifty miles in advance of the strike force was his secret weapon, a vanguard of unmanned seaborne assets. With Chinese satellites out of commission and strike force CAPs in place to intercept enemy air and surface assets, that left subsurface threats as his main concern.
Sharratt was of mixed mind about his robot flotilla. There was so much new technology packed into these platforms that his people were still discovering new features and struggling to integrate the remote sensors into the decision-making process. The US Navy had put to sea a fleet of R&D platforms for a live fire test in combat conditions.
On the other hand, he was grateful for anything that might offer an edge, any advantage at all, in the upcoming battle. There would be a battle, Sharratt was sure of that. He’d not been a fan of the new president, but Serrano showed no signs of backing down. The move to drive the Lincoln up the South China Sea as a feint for the Enterprise strike force’s southwesterly sprint was breathtakingly bold.
Assuming Sharratt’s strike force wasn’t detected first.
As he stared at the BattleSpace display, a red dot appeared on the line of their future track.
“We have a possible submerged contact on our track, Admiral.” The Battle Watch Officer was a lieutenant commander, recently promoted from BattleSpace operator to watch officer. He strode to the plot, full of nervous energy, and pointed to the red dot.
“If it’s a sub, it’s not one of ours, sir,” he said. “We’re conducting a localization sweep to confirm and identify the contact.”
The BattleSpace display zoomed in on the vanguard unmanned fleet. Sharratt saw a string of blue tracks. “Talk me through this, Tim,” Sharratt said.
“The two advance lines are Sea Skates, sir. Those are the sailboat things. We got a hit from the magnetic anomaly detector on one of the Skates. They’re programmed to converge on a possible contact and run cross-hatching search patterns to isolate and confirm the target.”
A second red dot appeared on the holographic display. Then a third.
“Three submerged contacts, Admiral,” the watch officer said. “We’re vectoring in an MQ-4E Triton drone to drop sonobuoys. ETA in three minutes.”
Three minutes passed very slowly when you watched the clock. Sharratt’s mind raced ahead to the next decision point.
“What are you thinking, sir?” Zachary asked.
“I think we just found a wolfpack,” Sharratt replied, referring to German U-boat tactics in World War Two. “The question is, who’s the alpha? Russia or the PLA?”
“Admiral!” the watch officer announced. “We have an ID on one of the contacts. Confirmed as a Kilo-class submarine.”
“Very well.” Sharratt cut a glance at Zachary. That identification of the submarine did not help matters. The Russians had sold Kilo-class diesel electric submarines to many countries around the world, including China.
“Watch Officer,” Sharratt called out, “how many Stingray drones do we have on Alert-five that are armed with torpedoes?”
The officer consulted his status board. “Three, sir.”
“Launch ’em. All three.”
“Launch drones, aye, sir.”
Sharratt caught Zachary’s look. “Options, Tom. I want to have options.” He nodded at the BattleSpace display. “What are the odds that we’re showing up on the submarine sensors?”
His chief of staff had far more experience in submarines than Sharratt.
“It’s possible, sir,” Zachary said. “In deep water like this, we’re two, maybe three convergence zones away. Even if they can hear us, they’ll have no idea on range yet.”
“Drones are in the air, sir,” the watch officer reported. “Time to intercept is one-five minutes.”
The military maxim of “hurry up and wait” applied equally well to battle operations as well as military life. As the minutes dragged by, he was treated to an inside look at how the unmanned naval assets operated.
The Sea Skates acted as advance sensors, silently crisscrossing the ocean ahead of the strike force. The sailboats, patterned after America’s Cup vessels, could reach speeds of over forty knots under ideal weather conditions, all controlled by computers. They operated as a pack. If one unit registered a detection, they collaborated to triangulate and identify the target.
The picture that emerged from their search pattern was of three submarines running on parallel tracks at eight knots.
“Sir, we have IDs on the last two subs.” The watch officer approached the BattleSpace display just as the data tags on the submerged contacts updated with the new information.
Two Kilo-class and one Yuan-class boat. Three People’s Liberation Army Navy submarines were in the path of his strike force. Did the Chinese already know the location of the American fleet, or were these submarines advance pickets?
“Sir,” the watch officer said, “the torpedo drones will be on station in three minutes.”
Decision time, Sharratt thought. Battle Watch had gone quiet. He could sense that all eyes were on him, waiting for his orders.
“Thank you, Tim,” Sharratt replied without looking up from the holographic display.
He deliberately relaxed his grip on the steel railing, took a deep breath, and raised his head.
“Battle Watch Officer, position the incoming drones behind the submarines’ track. I intend to launch a simultaneous torpedo attack on all three targets as soon as they are in position.”
The watch officer’s eyes were wide. “Understood, sir. Repositioning the drones now.”
Zachary sidled up to Sharratt. “You sure about this, sir? It might be a hard sell to say that a submarine a hundred fifty miles away represents an imminent threat. That’s what the ROE calls for.”
“The rules of engagement allow for command discretion,” Sharratt said. “We’re about to sail into harm’s way against an enemy with superior numbers and very short supply lines. This is not the time to be timid.” He smiled. “Besides, the only way they can court-martial me is if we live through this.”
The blue arrows representing the ASW drones with their deadly torpedo payloads were now lined up behind the PLA submarines.
“Battle Watch Officer,” Sharratt said.
“Sir!”
“Weapons free. Put those subs on the bottom of the ocean.”
26
Beijing, China
Mission Clock: 156:15:59
Mission Status: Green
“Minister Fei, my concern deserves an answer.” The speaker was the Chair of the Party Committee on Commerce, a short, stout man with thinning hair and soft, weathered features. But today, his grandfatherly face was red with passion, and from behind thick glasses, his flinty gaze bored into the Minister.
He pounded the table and shouted. No one flinched. The People’s Committee for the Reunification of Taiwan was meeting in a subterranean chamber beneath the Great Hall of the People. The room was soundproofed, and the Minister had ensured the cameras were turned off.
“You told us the United States was powerless,” the Commerce Chair continued. “You said our commercial relationships would not be impacted.” He snatched a sheet of paper off the table and shook it in the air. “As of this morning, the United States has seized two hundred and seventeen of our commercial ships, including some that were hundreds of kilometers from shore. We are powerless to respond. How do you explain that, comrade?”
The Minister could not explain it. In all his planning scenarios, he had not foreseen this maneuver by the United States. Not only had President Serrano found a pressure point in the seemingly invincible Chinese armor, but he had the balls to put that plan into motion. No hesitation, no dithering, no political backchanneling. Just clear, direct action.
Impressive, Fei thought. Brilliant. Perhaps some of the old men in this room could learn a lesson from the American leader.
Using something called letters of marque to place a bounty on Chinese ships was a master stroke. The perpetrators of the crimes against China were not United States government assets but private companies. Breathtakingly simple, yet highly effective.
“I am waiting for an answer, Minister Fei!” thundered the Commerce Chair. He balled the paper he’d been brandishing, and for a second, Fei thought the man might throw it at him.
The Minister wanted to sigh but held it in. Yes, this move by Serrano was unexpected, but it did not change anything, not really. The pain of lost trade would be temporary. It was only money. China would negotiate for the “lost” ships, trade would flow again, and they would make more money.
A lot more money. With the commerce from the province of Taiwan added into the mainland Chinese economy, they would make more money than any country in the history of humanity.
But these idiots failed to see the big picture. They were no more than a gaggle of old men, ever anxious to protect their cherished Party status.
The Minister got to his feet, an expression of solemn contrition on his face. He was acutely aware that the full attention of the room was on him, including the General Secretary of the Communist Party. He still had the leader’s confidence, but the man’s patience was not infinite. The Minister needed to make this performance worthwhile.
“Comrades,” Fei began, “for decades the People’s Republic of China has sought to reunify the rogue province of Taiwan with greater China. It has been a goal of our generation, our fathers’ generation, and even our grandfathers’. Today, we have the power to achieve that goal.”
He reached into his breast pocket and extracted his Shandian tablet. “We will land nearly one hundred thousand troops on the island of Taiwan. There is no way the United States or any other power is going to dislodge us. We need to stay the course, comrades.” He sat down, wincing as his backside touched the chair seat.
The pain in his body had changed over the last few days. He had almost gotten used to the fickle pain that came and went. It changed depending on his level of activity or his diet, moving and gnawing at his insides like a parasite seeking sustenance. What remained now was a dull, throbbing ache that ran through his body like waves hitting the shore. Washing in, washing out, never stopping, this new pain was a constant companion.
Before, he limited himself to doses of half a pain pill. As of yesterday, he now took a full pill every few hours. His doctor told him he could take up to three at a time, multiple times a day, but the Minister resisted. Narcotics would only dull his senses, and he wanted—no, he needed—to remain sharp.
In addition to the added pain burden, the Minister began to experience twinges of worry about the invasion progress. He told himself that was only because the initial invasion had been so successful. After all, by the end of the first day, the PLA was nearly a full day ahead of schedule. But as the hours turned into days, the momentum appeared to be fading. According to the Shandian tablet, their success of the first few days had regressed back to the original timeline. Barely.
The lost satellite coverage had always been a contingency, albeit an unlikely one. But that also did not matter in the grand scheme of the invasion. The PLA had control of 75 percent of the island population. Soon, they would begin their drive down the western side of Taiwan to crush the remaining remnants of the Taiwanese military and complete the job.
Even at best speed, the Enterprise strike force was still far to the north of Taiwan. The United States had only a single aircraft carrier, the USS Abraham Lincoln, entering the South China Sea. A few Marine air squadrons on Okinawa and US Air Force assets on Guam were mere pinpricks against the PLA airpower occupying Taiwanese airspace.
No, Fei decided, the American president was holding a losing hand. But that did not mean Serrano wasn’t playing his hand well.
The Minister turned his attention to the large television screen dominating the end of the table.
“Play the video again,” the General Secretary rumbled.
President of the United States Ricardo Serrano stood tall at the lectern in the United Nations General Assembly. With all the setbacks and humiliations his country had suffered in the past year, Fei would have expected the American president to look haggard and worn, but the man on the screen appeared vigorous and vital. His showy hairstyle glinted in the soft light, and his eyes glowed with intensity. Typical American politician, Fei thought. All flash and no substance.
Serrano rested his clenched fist on the podium. “The invasion by the People’s Republic of China against the people of Taiwan cannot go unanswered. I call on China to leave the island of Taiwan and restore the status quo to the region that has lasted for over eight decades.”
He paused, gazing over the assembly. “I do not expect China to simply heed my words. Action is required to show the resolve of the international community against this senseless aggression, and America will lead the way.
“Effective immediately, the United States is creating a one-hundred-mile exclusion zone around the island of Taiwan. The PLA forces have twenty-four hours to depart the exclusion zone, after which time those forces will be considered hostile and will be removed using whatever means necessary. This will not be a US-only action. Already a dozen nations have agreed to participate, including the AUKUS alliance. Today, I call on the ASEAN members to join my country in freeing the people of Taiwan from the yoke of Chinese aggression.”
Every seat in the General Assembly was filled, and people lined the walls two and three deep. With a collective roar, the entire assembly rose, and the room echoed with applause. The camera focused on the Chinese delegation. They remained seated, staring impassively into space, lips pursed in sour grimaces.
The Minister scanned the crowd. Even the Russians were on their feet, clapping politely.
Disgusting, Fei thought. After their invasion of Crimea he would have thought the Russians would offer some diplomatic cover. But no, they were looking to see which way the wind was blowing before they took a stand.
Of course, Fei mused, the way we framed the Russians for everything we did to the Americans over the past year might account for their lack of support for China on the UN floor.
The video ended.
“Honorable General Secretary.” The Vice Chairman of the Central Military Commission got to his feet. As he waited for an acknowledgment, he fiddled with an unlit cigarette. “Comrade, I could not help but notice that the United States president left us an opening for compromise.”
The Minister couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He started to get to his feet, but the General Secretary stayed him with a hand gesture. The leader nodded for the speaker to continue.
In his agitation, the Vice Chairman managed to shred the cigarette wrapping. Tobacco flakes littered the table. “For all their bluster, the United States did not insist on Taiwan independence. If we reconsidered our action, we still preserve our right to absorb the province of Taiwan at a future date. I only mention this because the invasion seems to have stalled—”
The Minister couldn’t contain himself any longer. He shot to his feet. “That is a lie! We are exactly on schedule with our plans.”
