CHAPTER 8
Five-star General Marcus Chilton entered the room with James Carter, the Secretary of Defense. They spoke softly for several seconds, and then Chilton shook the man’s hand before they broke apart and Carter took his seat. Chilton nodded to the other members already around the long table — General Walt O’Gorman’s bulldog expression didn’t flicker. He sat with other armed forces generals, chiefs of staff, and a smattering of other senior politicians.
His staff sergeant, Jim Harker, mouthed the word, ready, to him. Chilton nodded and placed a hand on the back of his chair and remained standing. “Ladies and gentlemen, a collision of events is occurring.”
The table quietened, all eyes on him. “Many of you remember the experimental submarine, code named Sea Shadow, that disappeared in the Southern Ocean, along the edge of the South Sandwich Trench in 2008. The miniaturized submarine had an innovative electric drive and high-energy reactor plant and was as close to invisible and soundless as a sub can get. Inexplicably, it was lost with all hands, and never found.”
He looked at the faces around the table, everyone was hanging onto his words. “Never found, perhaps until now. As long as the submarine is intact and has power, it will continue to call to us.” He looked at each person in the room again. Secretary of Defense James Carter nodded imperceptibly, and Chilton continued, “Well, we have recently detected what we believe to be our missing submarine calling to us.”
There were murmurs and then a round of applause. Chilton held up one large hand.
“That was the good news.” He smiled without mirth. “So, here’s where it gets messy. The signal was found buried among other old data, and it was detected coming from approximately 2.25 miles below the Antarctic ice and rock — from Area 24.”
Frowns, and then rushed voices. Chilton held up a hand again. “It sounds impossible, I know. All our submarines have a coded emergency beacon running on an undisclosed frequency. Its unique call signature is as identifiable as a fingerprint — and it’s ours all right.” He exhaled. “And how is it possible? Damned if I know. We have theories, none of them verifiable… from here.”
“Is a salvage mission being organized?” General Steve Warneke asked evenly.
“Yes, and it seems not just by us. At 0800 hours EST, the Chinese Luyang III class destroyer, the Kunming, entered the Southern Ocean. It is fully armed, and has refused to state what its purpose is, or to even respond to international hailing.”
He picked up a remote and clicked it once. It brought up the Chinese base on the edge of the Antarctic. “This is the Xuě Lóng Base. We expect it is the anticipated destination, and is situated only three miles from Area 24.”
“Oh shit, you think they’re making a run for the sub?” a senator asked, leaning forward in his chair. “They heard the signal as well?”
“I believe so,” Chilton said evenly and moved to the next image. The screen now showed a sea of white, with a few flat roofs poking up from the snow. The camp was in a basin valley, and there were a few small mountain shoulders crowded in behind it.
“Bill Monroe took a little trip over there a few hours back for a look-see. He reported a couple of helicopter loads of personnel arriving. He said the size and the way some of them moved made him think they were serious military. Interestingly, no people were rotated out.”
“How many does that base hold?”
“About two dozen… mostly engineers, science staff, and a few standard soldiers. Now there is easily that many packed in there. Way too many people to inhabit the base. Above ground, that is,” Chilton said, lifting the remote again.
He clicked and the next image shown was taken from a high altitude satellite. “We knew they were mining, but kinda makes you wonder what else they’ve been up to. Our Aussie friends had picked up quite a bit of chatter that abruptly shut down about a week ago — the radio and comm. sets were still functioning, and open, but nothing was being transmitted — they simply stopped talking. Beijing is understandably frustrated.” He shrugged. “If it was our base, and they went dark, I’d want to know what happened as well.”
“They all disappeared?” General Warneke’s brows raised.
Chilton tilted his large head. “From above ground anyway. So…”
He clicked again. This time the images were stratigraphic sonar images that peeled back the surface layers, one after the other — the snow, the ice, then the rock. “Now we can see what they were up to: serious mining.” The next image was a computer model of an interpretation of all the sonar readings represented as a 3D graphic. It showed tunnels leading out, and down, for many miles. “They’re digging — mining, or building deep fortifications. Whatever it is, their actions are expressly disallowed under the International Antarctic Treaty of ’59.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, but what does is, we believe they’ve detected the sub’s signal, determined what it is, and have decided to investigate.”
He tapped some more keys, increased the range and depth of the sonar mapping. Hundreds of miles of tunnels and cave systems were shown like dark threads, leading to the massive dark mass of an underground lake.
“Reaches all the way to the Area 24 quarantine zone. I think they broke into one of the natural caves. Had to, they were already close.” Chilton waved the image away and turned. “I don’t care if they have a birthday party down there, or a funeral.” He rolled massive shoulders and sat down. “But they’ve dropped soldiers onto the ice, and now they’re going to plant a warship down there.” He clasped his big fingers together. He turned to James Carter, waiting.
“Talk to them,” Carter said. “Get someone on the line right now. Before we bump chests, let’s see what they have to say.” The secretary of defense tapped his knuckles on the table. “Then we can decide on what comes next.”
“I’ve tried,” Chilton said.
“Then try again; I want to hear,” Carter responded quickly.
Chilton nodded and swung around to Jim Harker. “Jim, get me General Banguuo in at the Central Military Commission. Patch it through right here, right now. He’s a straight shooter, and someone who won’t hide behind protocol.”
Harker stood and called through on a small secure line. Chilton waited, looking up at the screen. It still showed the tunnel systems under the Chinese base that extended towards Area 24. In the center of the large table, a black disk with a speaker in the top crackled for a moment. There were some clicks, and then an educated, relaxed voice came through.
“General Chilton, this is a pleasure to talk to you again. How long has it been?” General Banguuo seemed to be barely holding the smile embedded in his words.
“Long time, General.” Chilton leaned forward. “The last summit was nearly three years ago now.”
Banguuo grunted. “Only three? Hmm, and now, here you are again.”
Chilton noticed that there was no surprise in the man’s tone. “General Banguuo, you’re a very busy man, so am I, so let’s get right to it.” Chilton stared straight ahead. “Why is the Kunming in the Southern Ocean?”
“Simply supporting our citizens.” The answer was too quick.
“You don’t need a Luyang III class destroyer for that, General. Or twenty Special Forces soldiers dropped onto the ice. We would be happy to extend our own resources from our base at McMurdo, if you feel you need more support. Just ask.”