By the time Hudson had made it back to the boardroom he had regained outward control. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, if you hadn’t already worked it out, we are now officially at war with China,’ announced Hudson. ‘Ambassador Xian has advised me of China’s intentions to forcibly procure our resource mining industry. He has assured me that they are not interested in our cities or way of life, only the mines. So our civilian population is not directly in harm’s way. But I will not allow this to happen without a fight. We must coordinate our defences immediately. General Draven, you will lead the development of our military defence plan. I expect a full report ready to be implemented by tonight.’
Hudson reached over and took hold of Lang’s arm. ‘Get me President Allen on the Virtucon. He’s got us into this mess and he can damn well help get us out.’
Once again Lang stood up and left the room to arrange the meeting with the US president.
General Draven began. ‘Sir, we’ve already been working on an immediate response plan. Now, based on our intel, the Chinese navy has approximately 100 ships in a holding pattern off the Gulf of Carpentaria. We could send in the air force to slow them down, but their anti-aircraft technology will see our airborne attacks fairly well neutralised.’
‘So why bother?’ snapped the prime minister, a little too aggressively.
‘Well, it may slow down their landing, allowing time for the army to mobilise and congregate near the Gulf,’ replied General Draven, keeping an even tone. ‘So, if we can buy some time, we can get our troops there in numbers and have a shot at pushing them back.’
Hudson stared at the table. ‘What about the navy? What sort of response capabilities do they have?’
‘Well, sir, since we decided a decade ago to reduce our fleet and focus on the task of managing immigration, we don’t really have any naval response capabilities. We need a sizable submarine fleet, but we just don’t have that at our disposal. Of the 12 subs we do have, only a few are capable of actually doing any damage to the Chinese fleet.’
Hudson stared at Draven in disgust.
General Draven continued. ‘Though it would be far easier to take out the Chinese forces while they’re seabound, the reality is we simply cannot. So we must plan for a land-based confrontation. Now, we could have 25,000 troops near the Gulf in less than four days. They can go head-to-head with the Chinese and stop them in their tracks.’
‘One hundred thousand Chinese troops, stopped in their tracks?’ repeated Hudson, his eyes narrowing. ‘I’m a politician, not a soldier, but even I know the numbers don’t stack up.’
‘Sir, that figure is closer to 150,000, we think,’ said General Martin Stephens, one of the country’s most decorated senior military officials. The physically imposing man had been silent up until this point, his blue-grey eyes observing the room carefully.
‘When we are outnumbered four to one, what’s an extra 50,000?’ Hudson seethed at General Stephens, directing a splintering look at him.
General Stephens was unperturbed by Hudson’s display. Although Stephens, at only 47, was relatively young compared to his fellow generals, what he lacked in years he made up for in combat experience and smarts. His time fighting in Africa and Afghanistan had toughened him up enough not to be affected by the prime minister’s disdain. ‘Mr Prime Minister, I have an alternative strategy.’
‘Well, let’s hear it,’ said Hudson as the others around the table shuffled uncomfortably in their seats.
‘We do nothing,’ said Stephens.
‘Nothing?’ repeated the prime minster incredulously.
‘Yes, nothing. Let them land safely, then mobilise and begin their journey to South Australia.’
‘Quit being a smart arse, Stephens. Why the hell would we just let them start Waltzing Matilda down the centre of Australia?’ guffawed Hudson.
General Stephens remained calm and even. ‘Sir, it’s not as ridiculous as it first sounds. Five years ago we conducted extensive simulations and modelled a number of potential invasion scenarios. The analysis clearly showed that, based on a northern landing, there was only one defensive strategy deemed to have a significant probability for success — we called it the Cosgrove Response. It basically entails waiting for them to come to us. It’s nearly 2000 kilometres from the lowest point of the Gulf to Woomera in South Australia. That’s a lot of hard outback land to cover during summer, regardless of their technology. Let’s draw them into the centre of the country, let nature soften them up, and when they think they’re close, then we engage.’
General Draven had heard enough. ‘Mr Prime Minister, the Cosgrove Response is flawed for one very simple reason. The Australian public will not accept a government that simply allows an invading army to walk down the middle of the country!’
Hudson looked at both men. ‘So General Stephens, what happens if our military forces are overwhelmed once China has a foothold here in the Gulf? The Chinese will be in our backyard and there will be no room for a Plan B.’
General Stephens intensified his stare at Hudson. ‘Sir, if our armed forces are overwhelmed at any point now, it really doesn’t matter. The Chinese will take control of the mines and whatever else pleases them and we will be powerless to stop them.’
Chapter 2
On the same day President Hudson received the news that would change Australia forever, Finn Hunt was going about his usual Tuesday pre-work ritual.
It was 6:45 am and he was walking down the steps to the Boy Charlton Pool at Woolloomooloo. The air was crisp and cool, laced with salt from the harbour. The sun was rising over the imposing old cranes at the naval base across the bay. Berthed along the wharf were nearly a dozen warships, permanently docked in the harbour — decaying, rusting hulks going largely unnoticed by the populace. Finn had often thought of the irony of the forgotten ships — rotting away in clear view of the modern, thriving city.
Still, even the rusting ships couldn’t put a damper on the pleasure of an early morning swim — for Finn there was no better way to start the day. He met his mates Sam, Jack, Zak and Jacob there every Tuesday and Thursday for swimming training before work.
Walking from the changing room to the pool, Finn felt the chill of the early morning southerly breeze on his skin.
Seeing Jack at the end of the pool, Finn smiled. ‘What’ve you done, mate?’
‘Five hundred, you’ve got some catching-up to do, fella,’ replied Jack.
‘Yeah, I better get cracking. You seen the others?’
‘Yeah, everyone’s here except Zak, he’s training for some ridiculous bike race.’
‘Shit, right, wait for me before you do the sprints,’ said Finn, jumping into the water. Diving in, there was an immediate chill as his nerve endings registered the cool water, but it was relatively mild and he told himself to harden up.
The usual routine was a one-kilometre warm-up, followed by a lengthy chat with the guys, then a series of sprints to finish up. Finn was fast and had picked up the pace a lot since starting with the guys nearly two years ago, but it was Jack, 42 and as strong as an ox, who dominated the pool.
After Finn had powered through his kilometre, he spotted the guys in another lane, standing waist deep in water, bantering. As he breathlessly ducked under the lane ropes to join the pack, Jack slapped him on the back. ‘Right Finn, ready for the fifties?’
‘Gimme a second,’ gasped Finn.
‘No chance, that’ll teach you for being late,’ said Sam, an ex-rugby-player from England. ‘Besides, a 26-year-old like you shouldn’t have a hard time keeping up with an old bugger like Jack, right?’
‘Come on, two minutes guys. Hey did you see the cricket last night?’ Finn asked, trying desperately to buy himself a few minutes of rest.