She perched herself under its barrel-shaped radar and rotary cannon, and swung her boots from its base. Several stories down flowed the black water. Churned by the ship’s four gigantic propellers, organisms phosphoresced and laid a neon carpet that was both wondrous and worrying, a big, glowing arrow that pointed right at the American supercarrier. Pelletier glanced at the sailor. He had stopped pretending to work on the engine. Smoking again, he looked thoughtfully to sea. Pelletier got a tight feeling in her stomach. She decided it was time to go back to bed.
Stationary above the western Pacific, an American Defense Support Program satellite performed a graceful orbital pirouette. Squinting through a telescope, its infrared sensors detected the heat plume of ballistic missiles rising from Chinese soil. The satellite alerted the 460th Space Wing in Aurora, Colorado, which informed Strategic Command at Offutt, Nebraska.
In the war room deep below Offutt Air Force Base, a bearish four-star general — an old WWII Mustang pilot— studied the computer-generated missile plots presented on the bunker’s screen. My hibernation den for the coming nuclear winter, he thought. “Take us to DefCon 3,” the general growled. On a colorful countdown board that went from DEFCON 5 to DEFCON 1—Armageddon — the big green number ‘4’ changed to a yellow ‘3,’ and the armed forces of the United States increased their defense readiness condition. Security zones around Midwestern Minuteman III inter-continental ballistic missile silos doubled, strategic bombers were loaded with nuclear cruise missiles and gravity bombs, and Trident missile subs—‘boomers’—were alerted that they may be needed.
“Get SBX on this. And cue Beale…” The general ordered the beams of Sea-Based X-band radar, and the big pyramidal radar in California, swung toward China. “Those missiles could be headed our way.” The general grumbled, as he crossed thick arms.
Off Midway Island’s shallow barrier reef, an old Japanese Val bomber rested on the sandy bottom. Upright, it sat in the water, as though still being flown by a spectral pilot. However, the old warplane dripped with rust and colorful fish congregated in its nooks and crannies. SBX floated above it on twin torpedo hulls. As if teed up for King Neptune himself, the converted oil rig had in place of its drilling tower a giant white ball. From inside this weatherproof dome, an antenna bounced powerful radio waves off the ionosphere, bent them around the curvature of the Earth, and found the boosting Chinese ballistic missiles.
Pulling in SBX’s data, US Strategic Command analyzed trajectories with superfast computers, and confirmed that the Chinese launch was intra-theater rather than intercontinental. Impact zones were projected. They were located within the Philippine Sea, the current operating area of the George Washington carrier strike group. Word was forwarded to Hawaii, and then on to the American supercarrier.
White Pacific dolphins frolicked in the supercarrier George Washington’s bow wave. They vaulted acrobatically and led the gargantuan warship and its procession through the Philippine Sea. Some of George Washington’s anti-submarine warfare helicopters, early warning aircraft, and fighter-bombers perched on the deck. Just beneath their beefy landing gear was a dimly-lit and chilled environment better suited to electronics than human beings: the combat information center, or CIC.
Vibrations from aircraft landing and launching overhead transmitted down bulkheads. The sounds melded with the murmur of sailors speaking into headset microphones while seated at computer terminals. The combat information center’s Kevlar-lined walls were covered with flat video screens that displayed anti-air, anti-surface, and anti-submarine tactical data. A strike controller communicated with planes coming and going from the ship, as four different tactical action officers watched respective warfare teams. Cold, hostile stares stayed glued to perpetually refreshing data, and each waited and watched for any threat to the George Washington.
The air defense officer brought up a large graphic of the western Pacific on his screen. Parabolic lines represented several missile tracks reaching from China and advancing toward a large diamond that represented the carrier strike group. The officer in charge lifted a telephone and notified George Washington’s command.
The carrier’s executive — a rear admiral with a face like an old sea chart — stood from his flag bridge chair and ordered the strike group to battle stations. Aboard ship, hatches closed and locked, and damage control parties reached their ready stations. The anti-air warfare commander observed the menacing advance of the Chinese ballistic missiles.
“It’s up to Lake Champlain,” he said.
Like Pallas Athena — the goddess of warfare and truth — the American guided-missile cruiser Lake Champlain bore her own buckler. Her protective shield was not of tightly woven gold tassel. Instead, it bristled with electronics and kinetics. Lake Champlain’s Aegis combat system included networked radar, powerful computers, and capable weapons. Aegis could track 100 targets out to 100 miles. Under the supervision of seasoned sailors, Aegis controlled the cruiser’s vertical launch system — the VLS — a grid of lid-covered cells on Lake Champlain’s after and forward decks. Each cell contained Tomahawk cruise missiles in the anti-ship and land-attack variety, or a Standard Missile — the US Navy’s primary long-range surface-to-air missile. Several third-generation Standard Missiles had been loaded at Pearl onto Lake Champlain. Each Standard lofted a sophisticated lightweight exo-atmospheric projectile, or LEAP, able to kill ballistic missiles at the fringes of space — a bullet to hit a bullet. Lake Champlain’s crew hustled to general quarters. Captain Ferlatto departed the bridge and rushed below to the cruiser’s combat information center.
The Chinese missiles advanced within range of Lake Champlain’s radar, their steady approach shown as white lines on the CIC’s big blue screens. Ferlatto joined several sailors huddled around the glowing panels.
“Update,” the tactical action officer demanded.
“SM-3s are targeted and ready for launch, sir,” the weapons officer reported.
“Shoot,” the officer barked. Buttons were pushed at the fire control terminal.
A sheet of crackling flame vented from between Lake Champlain’s five-inch deck gun and her forecastle. The first Standard Missile lifted away. It roared skyward on a pillar of fire and white smoke. Aegis contacted the interceptor and guided it out. Another SM-3 fired, and then a third. An unnatural fog wrapped Lake Champlain as her surface-to-air missiles dashed for the Chinese ballistic ones.
The East Winds skirted the upper mesosphere, pointed back toward Earth, and started their plunge at the ships on the Pacific. Along with the warheads, polyhedral decoys released from the East Wind’s booster buses. They would generate heat and reflect radar, confusing and drawing away the American interceptors, while the real warheads used their aerodynamic shape to generate lift, and used actuating chine tabs to swerve during their charge at the American ships.
A sprinting Standard Missile closed with an East Wind. However, it blew across the sky and, seemingly pushed by a gust, missed. A second Standard Missile passed its target and another flew into a Chinese decoy.