“…where we will meet up with the USS Jimmy Carter, already on station.”
The Jimmy Carter was a Seawolf-class submarine, one of the most advanced submarines on the planet.
“Once aboard, the Carter will get us within range of the Chinese space warfare launch facility near Hainan.”
The room went quiet. Some wore looks of disbelief. Others were shaking their heads.
“Sweet,” said one of the SEALs.
“To do this, we’re going to have to fly through heavily guarded airspace. We’ll be escorted by electronic warfare UAVs — which will jam enemy radars — and a section of F-22s. Our flight path and the electronic attack package are designed to allow us to arrive on station undetected. But the good news is if anything goes wrong, we should know pretty quick.”
“Yeah, we’ll be a fucking fireball.”
“Pretty much.” Chase depressed a button and the screen switched to their mission brief. “All right, this is what we’ve been training for. Let me take you through it once without interruption. Then I’ll take you through it a second time and you can ask any questions you want.”
The briefing took about two hours. There were plenty of questions. When they were finished, most of them slept, knowing it would be their last rest for a while.
Twelve hours later, with two Air Force electronic attack drones jamming every radar within two hundred miles, the C-17’s rear door opened, revealing the black abyss below. Dim red lights lined the cargo bay floor.
Wearing their masks and pressurized jump suits, the SEALs looked like futuristic warriors from a science fiction film. Weapons and gear were secured tightly to their bodies.
The cargo was dropped first. A series of water-tight trunk-sized containers, each parachute triggered by a twin set of radar altimeters.
Chase stepped forward, his heart pounding as he watched the elite soldiers in front of him jump out into the night sky, their limbs extended.
Then it was his turn.
His stomach was in his throat.
The sound of his breathing through the oxygen mask echoed in his ears.
He jogged forward. The roar of jet engines and hurricane-force winds and sub-zero temperatures enveloped him as he leapt.
Then the feeling of falling…
Falling into the black night sky.
Eventually he reached terminal velocity, small IR lights on each suit visible through his augmented vision device. A heads-up display showed a digital countdown as his altitude dropped from thirty-five thousand feet to less than a thousand. His chute deployed. Chase steered toward the IR buoy the submarine had enabled, a floating beacon only they could see.
Then he landed in the water with a splash and began unclipping himself from his chute before swimming toward the other SEALs already in the inflatable boat they’d brought with them.
It took less than five minutes from splashdown until the submarine surfaced. Soon they were aboard, getting dry and checking their gear. Then the USS Jimmy Carter submerged again, quietly heading into enemy waters.
37
PLA Air Force fighter jets circled high overhead as Admiral Song watched the port fill with Chinese warships and cargo vessels. Cranes moved the ballistic missiles first. While several of the hypersonic cruise missiles had been flown in, these larger medium-range ballistic missiles were not suitable for air transport.
A young communications officer entered the admiral’s observation tower. “Admiral, General Chen wants to know when the hypersonic weapons will be operational.” The communications officer could see the distaste on the admiral’s face. “I apologize, sir. Would you like me to delay our response?”
“No. Tell him we estimate forty-eight hours.”
“Yes, sir.”
Admiral Song despised General Chen. He thought him an idiot, although he had to admit it was impressive how rapidly the man had consolidated power.
The rumbling of tanks and armored fighting vehicles could be heard outside. Admiral Song looked through his binoculars, watching the heavy vehicles load onto the transport ships on the pier. Rows and rows of PLA military vehicles were lined up, preparing to roll onto the dock landing ships. These tanks had been dropped off on the Pacific coast of Colombia. They had been held in reserve in case they were needed for the push north, but General Chen had other plans. Using chemical weapons, he had broken through the American lines in Panama, and so these reserve armor units were sent to Venezuela.
Admiral Song was instructed to load up the reserve troops and armor and sail north to ports on the American Gulf Coast. Russian and Chinese attack submarines — which were now entering the Caribbean — would target American surface ships and submarines to clear his path.
But first, the American air defenses must be destroyed. That’s where these hypersonic missiles would be used. Once that happened, Admiral Song’s bombers could begin large-scale strikes on American soil, softening coastal defenses prior to the PLA’s landing on the US mainland.
Admiral Song hoped to use the port of New Orleans, but that would depend on the battlefield conditions. With any luck, in a few weeks’ time, he would be watching Chinese ships offload just like this, but in an American port.
“Sir, General Chen has responded. He said forty-eight hours is not good enough. He wants our ships moving north within twenty-four hours.”
Admiral Song nodded. “You see, Lieutenant? Even at the highest levels, it is the same. Why do they ask questions when they already have your answer? Very well. Tell the general that we will change our plans and intend to have our fleet moving north within the next day.”
“Yes, sir. Do you want me to tell our operations team?”
Admiral Song frowned. “No. Allow them to do their work. General Chen’s whining won’t change the physics of how long it takes to move a tank onto a ship.”
“Yes, sir.”
Admiral Song left the port via helicopter, heading to the tactical operations center at their base near Caracas. Once there, he studied the upcoming plans with his staff. He was nervous. Twenty destroyers and a handful of submarines would escort nearly two dozen transports through American-controlled waters. It would take at least a week for his ships to travel the distance without delays. But he expected delays.
One of the intelligence officers said, “Admiral, we have received some alarming reports of a large number of American ships and submarines leaving port during the past few days.”
Admiral Song frowned. “How is that possible? Those vessels are supposed to be out of commission. Show me.”
The intelligence officer snapped his fingers, and one of the analysts brought up images on a computer screen.
“Our surveillance personnel located near America’s naval bases take note of all activity. This all occurred very recently. A large sortie of many units. Twenty-two destroyers. Two carriers. Several cruisers, frigates, supply ships, and submarines. The numbers are here. But I urge caution. This is new information, and unsubstantiated. It may be that our human assets have been compromised, and the Americans are sending us false information.”
Admiral Song had heard of such treachery. The deception of spies. Some of their intelligence could be part of an American misinformation campaign. The Chinese MSS did the same thing, he knew. The MSS was trying to get the Americans to believe that his unit would be conducting its amphibious landing on Costa Rica when they were actually headed to the American Gulf Coast.
“Do we have surveillance imagery on the American military strength at Norfolk?”