Sherman and the Texas hadn’t been with the USS Ford when it was hit; his sub had just left Guam after a minor refit, and had been heading out on patrol to the South China Sea. They’d been rounding the southern tip of Taiwan when they’d been informed. It had been the worst moment in Sherman’s long and storied professional career, and Sherman and his crew could swear that they felt the impact through hundreds of kilometers of open sea. They had been ready — and eager — for immediate retaliatory action. He well remembered being told by Admiral Kincaid Jones, Chief of Naval Operations — on the orders of the president herself — to stand down, not to enter the East China Sea, to leave the Ford crippled and alone.
There’d almost been a mutiny onboard when he’d informed his crew of the president’s orders, and he had felt like leading it himself. But his professionalism had won through in the end, and he had done as he was told. And in the end, he’d been forced to admit that his country really had no choice if she was to avoid war with China.
But, Sherman reasoned, why not go to war with China? Despite Chinese advances, her navy — in fact, her military generally — was still no match for that of the United States. It wasn’t all about who spent the most money, who had the most troops, who had the best equipment — although admittedly, all these things helped. No, Sherman knew it was the experience and expertise of the military personnel themselves who made the real difference — and China’s were still poorly trained, unmotivated, and inexperienced in comparison. Sherman had no doubts about who would win.
Still, he knew that nobody ever really won a war — too many lives would be lost to ever make it a political possibility. And then there was the thorny issue of General Wu’s mental state, and his readiness to use China’s unknown nuclear resources if pushed too far. And even Sherman knew that the possible rewards of counter-attacking China could never be worth the repercussions of nuclear war.
Sherman was a man who was used to conflict. From the Arabian Gulf to the Arctic Ocean, he had seen action all over the world and now — as captain of his own advanced attack submarine, he badly wanted to do something — anything — to help.
It had been Sherman himself who had come up with the idea of probing the Chinese defences, in preparation for a potential counterstrike if negotiations broke down. The LA-class attack sub USS Chicago had been accompanying the Ford, but it might as well have been hit too for all the good she could do now; the new Chinese government had ordered the submarines that were part of the carrier group to remain on the surface when they pulled out of the area, so that they could be monitored. Sherman had argued that the Chinese had no idea where the Texas was, and so wouldn’t know to look out for him so soon after the incident. But he was close — he could be there within a day and a half, ready to go silent and enter the lion’s den. There was opposition to his suggestions in some quarters — many felt that it wasn’t worth the risk of the Chinese finding out, that it would make things much worse — but Sherman argued that if the situation deteriorated, then the US navy would need as much intelligence on Chinese displacements as it could possibly get.
Admiral Jones had finally agreed, and Sherman had been slipping his near-silent ship in and out of the Chinese naval perimeter ever since, gathering data for future military action and — so everyone hoped — a rescue mission to the Ford.
He had been incensed when the order had come for him to pull back, to return to the safe waters of White Beach Naval Base, a sheltered port in Nakagusuku Bay on the eastern side of Okinawa — far from the Chinese naval presence in the open waters northwest of the island. Had Jones lost his nerve, he’d wanted to know? Was there so little will to combat the Chinese that even reconnaissance missions were being banned?
But then he’d been told to await the arrival of the C-5 Galaxy and its cargo of the Dry Dock Shelter and SEAL Delivery Vehicle, and he’d instantly felt better.
The DDS and SDV meant special operations.
Which meant that things were changing up a gear instead of down — the US military was finally going in.
The Galaxy had arrived from Pearl Harbor just in time to meet Sherman’s sub, and its crew had gone to work immediately. As well as the engineers who were fitting the Dry Dock Shelter, there was also a team of trained divers from SEAL Delivery Vehicle Team 1.
The SDV was a mini-submarine launched from the DDS, and used to infiltrate onto a target area further and faster than divers could hope to achieve alone.
Even though a team of SEALs had arrived from Pearl, Sherman knew that their job was merely to get the SDV out into the water — they were not the commandos who were going to go into action.
Sherman knew nothing about the special operations unit who would actually be performing the mission, only that they were travelling from a further location, and he would have to liaise with them at sea.
Despite his unease at not knowing all the details, Sherman was nevertheless grateful that it was the Texas which had been given the honor of running the blockade, and the potential dangers of his mission only made him happier.
He still hadn’t been given his full mission orders — apparently they would come once he had returned to sea — but he assumed he would be attempting to infiltrate the special ops unit onboard the USS Ford, the first action of what he hoped would be a full-scale rescue attempt.
He gazed across the dock at his beloved ship, its sleek black hull glowing wetly above the warm Okinawan waters. All base personnel had been removed from this area except for the skilled technicians who had flown in on the Galaxy, and the area was camouflaged from above by corrugated roofing and expansive blue netting due to the presence of Chinese surveillance drones which flew over the area on an increasingly regular basis. From the air, nobody could ever tell that an eight-thousand ton, three billion dollar, nuclear-powered fast attack submarine was resting beside the half-mile long Navy pier that stretched out into Nakagusuku Bay.
Captain Sherman checked his Rolex diver’s watch, then looked up again at the crew working away feverishly, determined to get the job finished within the shortest possible time. The DDS could be comfortably fitted and tested in three days, a timeframe that could be narrowed down to a single day in emergency situations. The specialist team working on the Texas right now had been given an even more onerous task — to fit the DDS in just twelve hours. Sherman wanted to get sailing by last light.
He had been told to set sail from Nakagusuku Bay by twenty hundred hours tonight, and head around the southern tip of Okinawa Island and then head back north towards the East China Sea. They would liaise with the special operations team before first light, and then Sherman would receive the rest of his orders.
He threw the butt of his cigarette onto the pier and ground it to dust under his boot, striding towards his submarine with a smile.
He couldn’t wait.
3
General Wu De adjusted his corpulent frame in his chair, getting himself comfortable for his first real press conference since becoming Paramount Leader of China.
He had made a brief statement to the Xinhua News Agency — which had since been seen worldwide — the day after he had assumed power. It had been mere window-dressing, a short speech just to let his people know who was now in charge. The Politburo was no more — the military reigned supreme.
Just as it should be.