“These things are known to us,” Deng said. “Sir—”
“Let him speak,” the Chairman said. “You have laid the charge. Now let him defend himself—if he can.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jian said. “My point is that these barbarians have long conspired against China. In our days of weakness, they carved our glorious nation into separate spheres of influence. It was you, sir, who finally brought the last of our stolen lands home. We are strong again, the strongest nation on Earth. Can any of us truly believe that the Anglo nations will accept this and roll onto their backs for us?”
“You are deluded,” Deng said. “The Western powers gave up their chauvinism long ago. This is the nuclear age—”
“China needs fear no nuclear attack!” Jian said forcefully, banging his fist on the table. “We have the most modern anti-ballistic missile and laser defense system in the world. If the Americans dare launch their ballistic missiles, our defensive systems will knock them down. Then they would lie supine before us, dreading our missiles that could rain upon them with impunity.”
“How does destroying the American breadbasket help China?” Deng asked.
“It doesn’t,” admitted Jian. “I merely point out the ludicrous idea that America, or any other nation, can threaten China with nuclear weapons.” He pointedly glanced at Admiral Qiang and the Police Minister, yearning for their verbal support.
Xiao Yang, the Police Minister, was lean. He wore thick glasses and possessed strangely staring eyes. He gave Jian a nearly imperceptible nod of encouragement. The man’s eyes seemed to shine behind the thick glasses, but he didn’t say anything. Admiral Qiang seemed lost in thought, perhaps not even listening to the argument.
“You viper,” Deng said. “You mouth war when peace can serve us better. The Americans were about to increase their grain exports as we ship them more oil.”
“Do you trust these Americans?” Jian asked. “Aren’t you aware of their new space program? They aren’t foolishly attempting to land men on Mars or return to the Moon. Instead, they are building a laser launch-site. They are on the cusp of building a system to put items into space at a cheap cost per ton. With it, they will build a Solar Powered Satellite that collects the sun’s rays and micro-beam the free energy to Earth. It is the next step in industrial power.”
“It already changes our weather patterns,” Police Minister Xiao said.
Deng glanced at the Police Minister before he said, “You both spout folly.”
“Do you deny the fact of their space program?” asked Jian. He hoped Xiao didn’t say anything about Henry Wu, the supposed CIA agent. It had helped sway Admiral Qiang earlier, but it wouldn’t help here.
“Our technologists are hard at work on a similar space system,” Deng said. “This is all beside the point.”
“If the Americans build enough of these satellites,” Jian said, “they will no longer need our oil. What then shall we trade for their badly needed grain?”
Deng stared at Jian before he turned to the Chairman. “He confuses the issue, a tactic he has perfected as Agricultural Minister.”
The Chairman nodded slowly. “Make your point, Jian Hong.”
Even as the small hairs prickled on the back of Jian’s neck, he spoke out strongly. “Now is the moment to strike, sir. Now is the time to fix the American food market in our favor—forever.”
“By destroying oil platforms?” the Chairman asked sarcastically.
The old man’s eyes seemed like twin lasers stabbing into Jian’s heart. He took a deep breath. This was coming on much faster than he had planned. Jian wished Admiral Qiang or Xiao would speak up in his defense. Unfortunately, like everyone else, they were afraid of the Chairman. Maybe they were also afraid of Deng Fong. In that moment, Jian realized that he must lead the other two, and to lead them, he would have to persuade the old man in the wheelchair.
“Sir, if I may,” Jian said, “I’d like to point out the example of Cheng Ho.” He knew the Chairman loved the history of Cheng Ho. The dictator kept a large model of one of the medieval sailing ships on the bottom floor of the Politburo Building.
Cheng Ho had been an admiral in Chinese history. He had explored the Indian Ocean and the eastern coast of Africa several decades before the Europeans crawled down the African coast in the other direction. Cheng Ho’s ships and fleet had been huge, especially when compared to the Portuguese ships of the day. Due to Chinese inwardness and other political factors, the emperor recalled Cheng Ho and forbade further marine exploration. Thus, the Europeans had “discovered” and eventually conquered the East instead of the East discovering the West.
Deng laughed. It was a triumphant sound. He glanced at the Chairman. “I believe that our Agricultural Minister has become unhinged. What does medieval history have to do with blowing up oil wells or hoping to start a nuclear war?”
“You are incorrect,” Jian said. “The oil rig was destroyed in order to strengthen China’s hand.”
“Do you believe we are fools?” Deng said. “You did it to sabotage my talks. Can you truly think the Americans will back down as we destroy their oil industry? If you want historical examples, I will give you one from the last century: Japan attacked Pearl Harbor and thereby brought about their empire’s destruction.”
“Are you so afraid of the Americans that you fear they will destroy China?” Jian asked.
Xiao gave another of his nearly imperceptible nods of encouragement.
If only the Police Minister would speak openly, leaving out any of his fantastical nonsense, Jian thought.
“Once the Americans discover we destroyed the platform,” Deng said, “they may begin destroying our offshore wells in turn.”
“Our navy is superior to the deteriorated American Fleet,” Jian said. “If they dared such attacks, we would hunt down their ships and sink them on sight.”
“You are quite wrong,” Deng said. “Study history. No English-speaking nation has lost a naval war in five hundred years.”
Admiral Qiang frowned as he began to shake his head.
Xiao’s nostrils flared.
Seeing these things, Jian asked in seeming disbelief, “Do you truly pour such contempt upon the Chinese Navy?”
“It is not a matter of contempt,” Deng said. “Reality must guide us. American submarines are still better than ours. Yes, the Debt Depression and secessionist unrest has hurt them. Their defense expenditures are but a ghost of their former outlays. But their navy is still formidable, quite possibly a match for ours.”
“Then why didn’t the Americans face us off the shores of Taiwan?” asked Jian. “During the reunification, their vaunted Pacific Fleet sailed to Hawaii, afraid of our massed fleet.”
“They were afraid of our land-based attack craft and Yuan ship-killers,” Deng said. “Our air armada dwarfed anything they could muster near Taiwan.”
“I would have silence,” whispered the Chairman.
Jian had been about to retort. Now he closed his mouth as he felt his heart hammering. Deng glanced at the old man before nodding.
The Chairman leaned forward, with his elbows on the table. He breathed heavily, and there was anger in his eyes.
“Agricultural Minister,” the Chairman asked, “have you been speaking with Admiral Qiang?”
“Sir?” asked Jian.
“Do not practice your evasiveness with me, young man. Have you plotted with the admiral?”
“I have spoken with him concerning our mutual distrust of the Americans, sir.”
“You are testing my patience, Jian Hong.”
Jian reached for his water glass and noticed that his fingers shook. He quickly put his hand on the table.
“Did you suggest to the admiral that he launch the attack on the American oil facility?” the Chairman asked.