The briefer glanced at the sealed door, and the sentry beside it. With one outside, at the ladder landing, too, no doubt. “All right. Gentlemen, ladies… Everything from here on out is classified TS.”
The group stirred; notepads and PDAs were turned off and put away. The first slide read:
This Briefing Is Classified
(TOP SECRET/SACHEL ADVANTAGE/IRON NOOSE)
OPLAN 5081
CHINA
Dan blinked, recognizing the same op plan Niles had showed him at the Pentagon. The next slides backed up and amplified aims, intents, and threats. The slide after that read
This Briefing Is Classified
(TOP SECRET/SACHEL ADVANTAGE/SABER POINT)
OPLAN 5027
NORTH KOREA
The four-striper pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. “OPLANs 5081 and 5027 have been activated. 5081 is operations against China. 5027, against North Korea. After a good deal of to-and-fro with civilian leadership, JCS has managed to get the trigger pulled on the time phased force and deployment orders. Which is why we’re headed east.
“Obviously, we’re never going to invade and conquer mainland China. For one thing, they have a thermonuclear arsenal. For another, we couldn’t defeat the Chinese army in 1953, so we sure aren’t going to now.
“The side that strikes first will gain a significant advantage. When the light turns green, we will move rapidly to disrupt command, control, and communications, breaking the kill chain that allows hostile forces to localize and target us. That includes deep strikes by Air Force stealth… and other measures to degrade space and cyberspace assets and sensors.”
For some reason, Dan got a glance then too.
“Meanwhile, we take, hold, or neutralize offshore assets that threaten the inner island chain, while our allies mobilize and we bring up additional battle groups from the States and the Med.
“Incidentally, the cyberattacks against the continental U.S. have been traced to China. We also expect major efforts in anti-access areas and area denial, along with a push to degrade and compromise our own C4I.”
The briefer shrugged. “There may be initial confusion, minor initial losses, but once we’re fully mobilized, have sealed off their exits and mined their ports, we can sit tight and wait for them to come out. The East and South China Seas and the Sea of Japan will be kill zones.
“The biggest factor in our favor is economic. The U.S. and most of our allies are self-sufficient in food and energy. But China has to have imports, and exports. Our estimates are that they’ll run out of oil and food within six months. They’ll have to lay off millions, and ration food. Unemployment, inflation, food shortages: either the Zhang regime falls, or it has to deal. Economic exhaustion, hunger, plus force attrition… leads to the conference table, and conflict termination.”
The chief of staff looked to Simko. “That concludes my briefing. Admiral?”
The battle group commander flicked to a final slide, with bulleted points. “Our terms are: regime change; renunciation of their claims to Taiwan, the Senkakus, and in the South China Sea; an end to support of North Korea; and a significantly reduced conventional order of battle. Leaving us in control in the western Pacific, and China weakened and with a more democratic government.”
Simko inspected the overhead again. “Faced with those choices, we expect — or maybe it would be more accurate to say, Washington expects — their leadership to back down. Withdraw from India, and de-escalate with Japan. If they don’t, a short war, with a compressed time frame and limited aims.
“But success will depend on speed and coordination. Strike Group One has to be ready. We will conduct a combined exercise en route to Singapore.” He glanced at the door. “Your go-home packages contain a training schedule and briefings outlining the OPLANs just discussed. Restrict access and read-in to TAOs, intel, comms, strike, and AAW officers. A supplement specifies what crypto to draw and which broadcasts, settings, and other terminations to set up for follow-on data. Also, expect unannounced MDUs and practice strike operations.”
Simko clicked the display back to the group logo. “All right, maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves, but I wanted you all to have the SI picture as we see it at the flag level. So there won’t be any doubts, or surprises. Questions?”
Dan sat knitting his fingers. A war without doubts or surprises? The Air Force was going to conduct deep strikes, and the Chinese weren’t going to retaliate? What if they thought their nuclear deterrent was being targeted?
A hand, in the back. “You mentioned the Russians, Admiral. Any idea where they’re putting their chips?”
Simko shook his head. “Russia and China have been close over the past few years. A lot of arms deals. But Zhang’s also mentioned a Chinese claim to Siberia. My sense is, Moscow will try to profit from both sides.… No other questions?” He caught Dan’s eye again. “Captain Lenson, come back to my in-port cabin before you fly off.”
A petty officer wheeled in a cart and began handing out sealed packages and getting signatures. The aide called “Attention on deck,” and everyone rose as Simko left.
Dan blew out and stood. Even if escalation could be avoided, why should the Chinese, with the biggest army on the planet, sit on their hands until they ran out of oil and food? That didn’t sound like Zhang. He was already feeding troops and support into the Chinese periphery — Pakistan, Bhutan, Myanmar, maybe North Korea. His cyberattacks had crippled U.S. transportation, financials, and security markets. Actual hostilities hadn’t even started, and already both sides were wrecking each other’s economies.
Brinksmanship. Bluff. And if they failed, a “six-month” war. The optimistic phrases echoed all too familiarly.
But there didn’t seem to be anything concrete he could object to. And no one else had any more questions — or at least any they voiced. Leaving in the enclosed air only a stir, a subdued murmur. Above it, the aide called out the order in which they should report to the flight deck.
Trying not to look as doubtful as he felt, he started to follow the others out. Then remembered: Simko. He turned in midstride, and went through a back door into the admiral’s cabin.
19
The sun roared, sundering the sky. The sea shimmered flat in a burning summer heat. Already over a hundred degrees, and not yet 0800. Dan leaned over the splinter shield of the bridge wing, careful to keep his bare skin off broiling-hot steel. Looking down into a bright, deep blue, heart-stopping, sight-inviting, pulling the gaze and the mind down along the slanting shadows Savo Island cast like the beams of black searchlights. And here and there, every so often, a sea snake lifted its head, trailing a glittering V.
He was contemplating, once more, the advice Tim Simko had had for him, before Strike Group One had begun threading the strait. His actions off Pakistan were being viewed with disapproval in Washington.
“Grave disapproval, or so Fleet says,” Simko had told him, the two classmates alone in the in-port flag cabin, high in Vinson’s island. “But in view of the situation, I asked to hold on to you. There’s no one else I can slot in to command my only antiballistic missile unit. They can fight until the cows come home about whether you should’ve shot or not, but you’re still maintaining a 50 percent knock-down record. Which I gather is better than anyone back at Dahlgren expected.”
Dan had rubbed the back of his neck, where it usually hurt. Actually, where it almost always hurt, if he was honest about it. “Uh, that’s due more to my team than to me. I wouldn’t count on those numbers every time. But… you stonewalled them?”