“No,” the Leader said. “It is far too late for that. We attacked Alaska and took Hawaii from them. We destroyed their satellites, cyber-attacked their industries and helped terrorists set off a nuclear weapon on their soil. They hate us, Foreign Minister. The Americans thirst for vengeance. Their rearmament proves it.”
“They fear us,” Deng said. “They are simply trying to defend themselves from three giant coalitions. There are eleven million soldiers in Mexico, if one counts the Mexican Home Army. That is reason for the Americans to fear.”
“With such forces in place,” the Leader said, “now is the time to attack. We have kicked America when she was down. We must never let her get back up to gain vengeance against us.”
“This is not the school yard,” Deng said, “but international politics.”
The Leader shook his head, glancing at the others. “You must not forget that our analysts agree on the coming forecast. The glaciation will continue, likely worsening for many years to come. The world starves, Foreign Minister. In the end, farmland equals power. China has stepped onto the path of conquest, gathering the world’s best farmlands. One does not step off that path without serious repercussions. Now is the moment in time for us to build a peaceful world. We must break the Americans before they recover their power. We must add their lands to our Imperium.”
“President Sims has given them hope again,” Deng said. “He is a strong man busy uniting his countrymen. I think we have given them too much time to strengthen their defenses to now want a continental war.”
“It is the reason why we have powerful allies,” the Leader said. “The South American Federation adds millions of troops to our side. The Mexican Home Army adds another million. Once the German Dominion ferries greater numbers to Cuba, our combined might will dwarf the American defenses into insignificance.”
“Am I the only one who thinks this continental war a grave risk?” Deng asked the others.
“With your permission, Leader?” the Navy Minister asked Jian.
“Speak,” the Leader said coldly.
“Our merchant marine is finding it increasingly difficult to supply our Occupation Army in Mexico. A war would only increase the risk of stretching our naval supply line too thin. American submarines would likely operate against us, ensuring substantial losses.”
“What about you, Agriculture Minister?” the Leader asked.
The minister did not look up as he stared at the table. “We could use American farmland, Leader. This accursed glaciation freezes our rice fields while leaving the North Americans untouched. It is a travesty of nature.”
“Permit me to disagree,” Deng said. He glanced sidelong at the Agriculture Minister, his usual ally in these debates. “Our masses are fed and relatively content. What we—”
“We live on a razor’s edge of existence,” the Leader said. “The European and Russian heartlands have begun to freeze, due to the change of the warm Gulf Stream that once helped heat them. They along with the Americans once produced the masses of foodstuffs to an already hungry world. India no longer exports any foodstuff. Thailand used to export great quantities of rice. Now it can barely feed its people. The Germans hope to turn deserts into paradises, but it is a pricey gamble. We all harvest the sea more than ever. The problem is that China uses too much of its wealth buying up the meager resources of other lands. What happens when the greedy in those lands no longer wish to sell to us? No. We must conquer the American breadbasket. In this dark age of growing cold, it is the only answer to our food dilemma.”
Deng bowed his head. “You paint a glum picture, Leader, and I suspect you may be right.”
“Then do not fight against me, Foreign Minister.”
Deng shook his head. “I ask your permission to disagree. I do not fight you, Leader. My blood simply runs cold when I think about a continental war in North America. You spoke of them being a hollow people. Their war record says differently. We learned that in Korea in the last century during the early 1950s.”
“Bah,” the Leader said. “We used primitive weapons back then and nearly defeated the American alliance.”
“Initially we drove them headlong in retreat from the Yalu River,” Deng said. “I have studied the records. Afterward, they slaughtered us in great numbers. It was a bloodbath.”
“All the more reason to attack now that we have better weapons and more numerous allies,” the Leader said. “Let us remember Korea and gain our revenge on the bloody-handed Americans.”
“But if we have lost the use of Blue Swan…” Deng said.
The Leader stiffened, and he slapped the palm of his hand against the table so his ring clicked against the wood. “We have not lost it. We have only lost the surprise of it.”
Marshal Nung cleared his throat. He had been waiting for them to get around to this.
The Leader scowled, looking down the table, until he noticed who had made the noise. “You have a point to make, Marshal?”
“Leader, Ministers,” Nung said. “We may have lost some of the surprise of Blue Swan, but not all of it.”
Deng glanced at his computer scroll, reading something there before addressing Nung. “The East Lightning report clearly indicates the Americans escaped with most of the warhead. They will know what the missile does. Or do you disagree with me on that?”
“No, Foreign Minister,” Nung said. “I agree with your assessment.” He had read the report many times. It was too bad Military Intelligence hadn’t interrogated the woman. Why had East Lightning murdered her to extract such valuable information?
Deng appeared perplexed. “You just said the surprise won’t be lost. Or do you deny that?”
“I was speaking in a strategical sense,” Nung said. “If commandos managed to take some of the warhead, it will still take time for American scientists to uncover the missile’s function.”
“Or so you hope,” Deng said.
“Even if the Americans know exactly what we’re going to do with the missile,” Nung said, “it won’t help them if we attack immediately.”
Silence filled the chamber. Nung smiled inwardly, although outwardly he remained placid. A truism of war was to boldly attack and gain surprise. Surprise left people in shock, unable to react. Under those conditions even bolder attacks won a commander everything. He was beginning to suspect that this truism worked in other fields as well.
“Attack immediately?” Deng asked softly.
“Again, Foreign Minister, I am speaking strategically,” Nung said. “It would take another two weeks perhaps seventeen days to ready my Front’s assault troops and position reinforcements for a continuous attack.” He had been working out the parameters over the Pacific Ocean, realizing this was the opportunity of a lifetime. “During the final preparation week, even given the Americans knowing about Blue Swan, they will not be able to change their deployments significantly enough to change the outcome of a swift assault.”
Marshal Kao had turned toward him. The old man opened his mouth, likely to blister the idea with a scathing rebuttal. Few in Chinese High Command cared for hasty perpetrations, preferring carefully calculated plans and setups. Kao particularly wanted every situation known to the smallest detail. It made for plodding, unimaginative strategies.
“A moment, Marshal Kao,” the Leader said in a silky voice. “Let Marshal Nung continue.”