Ho glanced around desperately, aware that no one was answering. Why not? The answer was clear to him — the lives of the people onboard Marshall P’eng were not nearly as important to them as their precious fighter aircraft.
Ho approached the admiral, anger surging under the calm he forced on his face. He waited to be recognized, as would be appropriate in his own culture, but no one even acknowledged his presence.
He cleared his throat. No one even looked in his direction.
Finally, he spoke, his voice coming out harsh. “Admiral, my captain — he has asked for instructions.” He waited.
Coyote was still deep in conversation with the commanding officer of the Viking squadron. “Get two more tankers ready to launch — and no, I don’t want to see Rabies on the flight schedule for that. You know what we’re up against — put him on the submarine. He’s the best we’ve got.”
Ho Kung-Sun tried again. “Admiral. The Marshall P’eng.”
Coyote was turning to his air operations officer. “You have to cover for the AWACS. I don’t want to lose another one. Gas in the air is going to be the limiting factor. Refueling is our top priority.”
“Admiral!” Surprising even himself, but his fury knowing no bounds, Ho Kung-Sun reached out to touch Coyote on the arm.
On a ship from his own country, such disrespect would have ended his career immediately. Yet the American admiral turned to look at him with no more than minor annoyance on his face. “What is it?”
“Captain Chang — he wishes to know whether you want him to continue to attempt to locate the Chinese submarine, under the circumstances. Or should he move closer to the carrier and return the helos to your operational command?”
“Keep the helos and keep them looking for a submarine,” Coyote said. He noticed the look of concern on the young Taiwanese major’s face. “Look, he’s well within our air umbrella. I know he heard one sub breaking up, but there’s no guarantee there’s not another one out there.” Coyote said a silent prayer that it had been the Chinese diesel that had taken the hit, not the Seawolf. But until Seawolf checked in, the admiral couldn’t be entirely sure. “P’eng is in no more danger than the rest of the surface ships are, and getting that submarine is a major priority right now. Ask him what he needs — set up the second separate coordination circuit if you need to.”
Ho turned to study the plot, Coyote’s dismissive words ringing in his ears. Was Marshall P’eng really within the air umbrella protection? How could that be? — she was so much further away than the other ships. No, the admiral was keeping his own ships in closer, risking Marshall P’eng for some purpose of his own. Perhaps as a decoy to draw Chinese fighters away from the carrier — yes, that would make sense. A missile sump — that’s all they were.
A radioman touched Ho on the arm, and he drew back, seriously affronted. For an enlisted man to touch him — that was what came of his touching the American admiral. Now a very junior man felt free to do the same to him. “You want a separate circuit, sir?” the radioman asked, his voice urgent but polite. “I got to know now, Major.”
A separate circuit, even. More evidence — they were relegated to the sidelines, not part of the main battle. Yet still, this could be turned to his advantage as well.
“Yes — a separate circuit. That will be good.”
“Five minutes, sir. Maybe less.” The radioman turned and picked up a telephone and spoke with the communications center. He hung up, and began setting dial switches to the appropriate channels. “You need a speaker, sir? Or just a mike and a headset?”
“A headset will be fine, thank you. After all, this is just to speak to one ship on one issue.”
The radioman nodded, as much as admitting it was true.
Moments later, Ho heard the circuit come to life. The radioman handed him a headset. “It’s all yours, sir,” he said.
Ho slipped the headset on. It was, indeed, all his now. And the Americans would understand — if they survived this — that they could not treat the Taiwanese nation in such a cavalier fashion.
Captain Chang listened to the words coming over the speaker with a growing sense of unreality. After the first sentence, he clicked off the feed to the speaker and listened to the call on a headset. His astonishment grew with every sentence that came out of Ho’s mouth.
“I have told you repeatedly, my captain, that these people are not to be trusted entirely. It is good I am on the scene, because had I not heard the derogatory remarks and seen the disrespect toward our forces, I would not have believed it myself. Even you can have no doubts at this point. We have been removed from the main battle circuit, Captain, removed and relegated to this link. And as you can see from your screen, you are further away from the American carrier and the cruiser than any other ship. It is the admiral’s intent to use you to draw off fighters from his carrier, knowing how much the Chinese hate us. He believes that they will attack you first, giving his forces a chance to follow-up to prevent damage to the American ships.”
“He said that?” the captain asked, still not believing what he was hearing. It was so inconsistent with everything he had seen from the Americans so far, completely inconsistent.
And yet it was possible, wasn’t it? American support for Taiwan had always been difficult for the Taiwanese to understand. In their mind, there should have been a massive retaliatory strike against China at the first offense. But the Americans temporized, talking about free trade, the need to maintain relationships with those nations. Taiwan, in the end, could count it as nothing more than a betrayal.
“You know how they speak,” Ho said. “With the Americans, it is better to watch what they do instead of listen to what they say. And can you have any doubts yourself at this point? Look how exposed the ship is — and all because of the submarine that poses the primary threat to the Americans.”
“And to us as well,” Chang pointed out. “And I am using American helicopters to pin her down as well, do not forget.”
“And what of the American fighters that he sent for defense? If you’re truly within his cruiser’s protection envelope, why would he send fighters at all?” Ho Kung-Sun asked.
Why, indeed? Chang pondered this for moment, a sinking feeling in his gut. Had he so misjudged the admiral, this Coyote? A slip of information from his cross-cultural studies class came back to mind. In the Native American culture, the Coyote was considered the trickster, the one who was always pulling a sly prank on a trusting person. Could it be that this admiral, this Coyote, was very correctly named?
“If you go further north, you risk more,” Ho said. “Captain, it makes sense to break off prosecution and return close to the carrier. You can take the submarine just as easily from here as from there.”
“And risk her coming in closer,” Chang said quietly. “Additionally, the water to the south is not as favorable as these conditions. We would lose in terms of our detection capabilities from the noise generated by the American ships alone. No, it is better to prosecute here. If that is the only factor considered.”
“But it is not, is it?” Ho said, now certain that he had Chang worried.
“No, it is not. Are you absolutely certain that this is the American admiral’s intention? Certain?”
“Yes. I am, sir.”