Shattered Trident (30 page)

4 September 2016

2015 Local Time

Oval Office, the White House

Washington, D.C.

Milt Alvarez knocked on the door before opening it. Inside the Oval Office, President Myles and Secretary of State Lloyd were sitting in the easy chairs going over their strategy to confront the Chinese.

“Mr. President, the Chinese ambassador is here.”

“Ah, excellent, Milt. Please show him in,” responded Myles as he stood up.

“Took him long enough,” grumbled Lloyd.

“Be polite, Andy,” whispered Myles, smiling.

The chief of staff returned, opening the door wide, and ushered in the People’s Republic of China’s representative to the United States. Yang Jinping was a short, slightly portly man with a full face that always seemed to have an infectious smile. He was a seasoned diplomat, having served as China’s representative to the United Kingdom and the UN.

“Welcome, Mr. Ambassador. Welcome to the Oval Office,” greeted Myles in Mandarin Chinese.

Yang’s smile grew larger. He stopped, bowed, and said, “It is an honor to be received in my native tongue, Mr. President. I must say your pronunciation is quite good.”

Myles laughed, while shaking his head woefully. “You are being very diplomatic, Mr. Ambassador. But I fear my Mandarin instructor would not share your views. He always complained that my nasal tones sounded like I was about to throw up.”

Yang erupted into a full-blown belly laugh. The ambassador’s laugh sounded genuine; that was what Myles wanted to hear. The conversation he was about to have with Yang was going to get tense enough as it was; the president didn’t want it starting out that way. Coming forward, Yang shook Myles’s and Lloyd’s hands. Gesturing to the chairs, and switching over to English, Myles said, “Please, have a seat. Would you care for some coffee? Or perhaps tea?”

“No, thank you, Mr. President,” Yang said solemnly. “We both know we have a difficult discussion ahead of us, and I’d prefer that we just get to it.”

Myles saw the smile fade from the elderly statesman’s face. He
really
didn’t want to have this meeting. Perhaps he was uncomfortable with what he had been instructed to say. “I appreciate your candor, Mr. Ambassador. But I prefer to discuss our mutual problem, even if strong words are used.”

Yang’s smile returned briefly. Straightening his coat, he sat upright as he spoke. “I must first apologize for being unavailable, until now. But it was felt necessary by my government that we both have the same information. I trust you watched the announcement by the Littoral Alliance representatives?”

“Yes. Secretary Lloyd and I watched the news conference together.”

“Your impressions?”

“We have a very bad situation on our hands, one that is likely to get much worse if measures aren’t taken to stop the bloodshed.”

Yang’s eyes narrowed, carefully scanning the American president. “If I may, Mr. President, just who are you referring to when you say ‘we’?”

“The world, Mr. Ambassador,” Myles answered bluntly.

“That is very noble of you, Mr. President. But need I remind you we were attacked first,” countered Yang.

“If you mean that the Littoral Alliance fired the first shot, then you are technically correct. However, the Vietnamese would never have mined the
Liaoning
if you hadn’t already put into motion your plan to seize most of the islands and reefs in the Spratly Islands by force. The plan you are currently executing.”

Yang’s face showed no response. The man was indeed a professional, but he hesitated slightly and Myles pressed on with his prepared plan of attack.

“Yes, Mr. Ambassador, we know quite a bit about Operation Trident. Catchy name, I must admit, three prongs on a trident, and three attack vectors into the Spratlys, one to the north, one in the middle, and one to the south. We didn’t figure it all out at first, but after one of your Type 093 submarines torpedoed
Vinaship Sea
—”

“Really, Mr. President! I must protest!” interjected Yang indignantly.

“My dear Ambassador,” Myles responded lightheartedly. “One of my nuclear-powered submarines witnessed the whole attack. They’d been trailing your submarine since it left port the day before. We know the Type 093 fired two Yu-6 torpedoes, and we know about the large secondary explosion that followed. I’m willing to provide a copy of the recorded sonar files and fire control plots if you’d like.

“No, Mr. Ambassador, the People’s Republic of China is not an ‘innocent victim’ in this case. The Littoral Alliance may have fired first, but that’s only because they found out about your plan and beat you to the punch.”

“We have suffered terrible losses, Mr. President, far more than the Littoral Alliance. This is unacceptable.”

“That is not true, Mr. Ambassador, and you know it.” Myles heard the ambassador inhale deeply through his nose. He was insulted by Myles’s accusation that he was lying—good. Whether or not the ambassador knew what his countrymen had done was immaterial; the president now had the opportunity he’d been looking for.

“Oh yes, we also know the Fourth Technical Reconnaissance Bureau is responsible for causing the Sanyo Shinkansen tragedy. They hacked into the bullet train’s control circuit and caused the deaths of nearly 2,750 civilians. Your cyber intrusion specialists in the 61419 Unit are very good, so I’m told, but they left behind some electronic fingerprints.”

Yang remained silent at first, and swallowed hard. The American president seemed very well informed, far better than expected. There was no point in trying to fence with Myles given his disadvantaged position.

“What would you like us to do? Surrender?” he sneered.

“No, Mr. Ambassador. But your country is the key to ending this conflict. Withdraw your troops from the islands you invaded, and request a cease-fire. I will fully support it and will put considerable pressure on our allies to accept it. Once the fighting has been stopped, I will propose a mediation plan to resolve the dispute.”

“So you expect us to just absorb the losses inflicted by your
allies,
and then throw ourselves at
your
mercy. I seriously doubt my government will see any advantage in that.”

“I concede that it’s not the most palatable solution, but the alternative is far, far worse,” pushed Myles. “We have not supplied any of this information to any of our allies. Not even the British know what we know. I’m offering the People’s Republic of China the ‘right of first refusal.’

“I also don’t appreciate the position you’ve put me in by invading territories belonging to nonbelligerent nations that have security agreements with the United States; in particular, the Republic of the Philippines, which has absolutely no ability to threaten your country. If China continues down the current path, I sincerely doubt I’ll be able to keep my country neutral. And if that happens, then the information I’ve shared with you will be used against China. This will undoubtedly tip Western Europe over into the Littoral Alliance’s camp. You’ve seen the news reports as well as I; there are many who are already advocating such an action.”

“Are you now threatening us, President Myles?” Yang shouted angrily.

“No, Ambassador, I’m just trying to minimize the possibility of a misunderstanding. Your job is to faithfully inform your leaders where the United States stands on this matter. I need to be clear if you are to perform your duty properly.

“But consider this. With the rest of Asia’s trade already lost to you, if Western Europe and the United States join them, China’s economy
will
implode. This will plunge your country into chaos, along with the rest of the world. We don’t want to see that happen any more than you do. The economic and political repercussions would be severe, affecting virtually every nation on the globe, including my own country. And I doubt Russia would come to your aid. They would welcome seeing both our nations knocked down a notch.”

Myles noted that Yang was visibly shaking. The ambassador was incensed with the president’s message. But after an awkward moment, the elderly diplomat nodded his understanding, rose, and said, “I will convey your message to the Central Committee.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ambassador,” replied Myles as he stood. “I abhor being so blunt. It’s not my normal modus operandi to deal with a foreign government’s representative in such an unpleasant manner, but the current situation demands that I do nothing less.”

Yang nodded, looking depressed and suddenly much older. He extended his hand. Myles grasped it firmly and said, “Good evening, Mr. Ambassador.”

As Yang was escorted out of the Oval Office, Lloyd leaned over and whispered, “You were awfully generous with our information, Mr. President. Was it really necessary?”

Myles sighed. “I know, Andy. And that decision may come back to bite us in the future, but I had to convince Yang that we had detailed knowledge on everything China was up to. That information is one of the few weapons I
can
use. I can only hope he’s running a little scared right now.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, he looked pretty miserable to me,” observed Lloyd.

Myles smiled and patted his friend on the shoulder. “Yes, I’m afraid our friend Yang looked none too happy. And his night will undoubtedly get worse.”

5 September 2016

1100 Local Time

INS
Chakra

South China Sea

Captain Girish Samant surveyed his central post: the control room on a Russian-designed submarine. Everything was as it should be. The men were alert and attending to their duties as expected, despite the fact they’d been at action stations for several hours now. The war with China was only six days old and
Chakra
had already bagged four tankers, including one VLCC. Samant judged their performance thus far as adequate, but tankers are easy prey. Now they were hunting bigger game, a more elusive adversary, one that could fight back. Looking to his left at the Omnibus fire control consoles, he could see his first officer huddled with the two operators. The three men were having an animated discussion, their voices raised and excited. One of the operators pointed toward his circular display and commented on the target’s lack of proficiency. Samant frowned at such undisciplined behavior.

“Status, Number One,” he demanded sternly.

“Yes, sir. Contact four seven is heading westerly at four knots. Range estimate is ten thousand four hundred meters and opening. Recommend changing course to three one zero to intercept.”

“Very well, Number One. Helmsman, starboard fifteen, steer three one zero.”

The Indian captain was certain the fire control solution was inaccurate; he seriously doubted they could detect a new Type 041 Yuan-class submarine on the battery at ten kilometers. Still, the recommended turn was in the correct direction, and while
Chakra
swung to her new heading, he mentally ran through the math.

Girish Samant’s reputation as the finest submariner in the Indian Navy was not without justification. Not only did he finish at the top of his class in every course of instruction, he consistently had the highest ratings on the submarines he served on. But far and away his greatest accomplishment was that he was the first Indian naval officer to successfully complete the Royal Navy’s Submarine Command Course, or “Perisher.” Initially one of five officers in his class, and the lone foreign officer, he was one of only three who successfully made it through the demanding six-month course. The other two failed, or “perished.” Upon graduation, Samant was cited for possessing an exceptionally ordered mind and coolness under duress.

When he had been selected as
Chakra
’s second commanding officer a little over a year earlier, Samant considered it to be the pinnacle of his career. But then India joined the Littoral Alliance and he suddenly found his submarine thrust into war. With this change in perspective, his peacetime accomplishments abruptly seemed unimportant, trivial. Being the best submariner in the Indian Navy was no longer good enough. Now he was determined to become India’s most successful captain ever. So driven, he set out to sink as many ships as fast as he possibly could. And while tankers ran up the tonnage, sinking combatants, particularly submarines, brought more glory. This Chinese boat would not escape him.

As he studied the fire control solution at his command desk, a nagging feeling began poking at him. The bearing rate seemed a little too high, and this reinforced his earlier thoughts; the contact was closer to him. “Number One, reduce the contact’s range to seven thousand meters and recompute target course and speed,” he ordered.

“Aye, aye, sir,” replied Lieutenant Commander Maahir Jain. Within moments he reported back to Samant. “Captain, sir, revised target course is two eight zero, speed three knots. The starboard flank array has also picked up the contact, revised range estimate is seven thousand eight hundred meters.”

Samant’s expression remained an impassionate mask. Even though his range estimate was vindicated as accurate, the flank array’s information merely confirmed a fact. There would be no premature congratulations; it would have to wait until the target was sunk. “Very well, Number One, stand by for target setup. Helmsman, right fifteen, steer three four zero. Deck officer, set combat quiet condition.”

USS
North Dakota

“Confirm target zig, Sierra two-nine has changed course to the right,” reported Thigpen.

Jerry looked up at the port large-screen display. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to guess where the Indian was going. “Well, that cinches it. He’s heading straight for the Yuan.”

“Yes, sir. But it also means he’s turned toward
us,
” Thigpen replied with emphasis.

“Yeah, that too,” Jerry conceded. The geometry of the encounter was terrible. Turning to parallel the Akula made the most sense, except that it drove them toward the Yuan. Trailing six thousand yards off the Indian’s starboard quarter meant they risked getting closer, sooner to the Chinese boat. Worse yet, being loosely between the two hostile submarines increased their risk of getting caught in a cross fire.