Drone Command (29 page)
Authors: Mike Maden
ON BOARD THE
TIGER II
NEAR MAO ISLAND
EAST CHINA SEA
19 MAY 2017
09:58 A.M. (JST)
T
he waters surrounding the
Tiger II
were a welter of mechanical noise. The grinding metallic acoustics of the incessantly turning drill bit carried for miles beneath the waves, the bit itself driven by enormous diesel engines thrumming on deck like a slow-moving freight train. Enormous thrusters beneath the hull of the giant drillship erupted periodically, churning the sea in a delicate dance choreographed by the finely tuned electronic sensors and blazingly fast computers that kept the forty-five-thousand-ton vessel perfectly positioned in the turgid waters. Without benefit of anchors or fixed assemblies, the automated dynamic-positioning system was the only way to keep the drill assembly perfectly aligned. Otherwise, disaster.
The tired radar operator kept a bleary eye on his scope, trying to stay focused. He crushed another Red Bull can and tossed it in the garbage. It was his third double shift in as many days, midnight to four p.m. Graveyard was the worst. The most exciting thing he ever saw on his scope was the occasional school of fish passing by. He paid little attention to the small blip approaching the rig two hundred meters below the surface. But when the blip reached the spinning drill shaft, he became more interested; most fish didn't approach the noisy assembly that closely. As the blip rose, it came into underwater-camera range. He smiled. It was a manta ray, its large smooth wings flapping effortlessly in the dark
waters below. Apparently, it was curious. He wondered what a manta ray would taste like. Probably like shark, which he favored. Fishing was his passion on the mainland. He wanted to cast a line off the rig's deck in his off-hours, but the tight-assed captain had forbidden it.
The manta ray passed out of camera range. The sleepy radar operator clucked his tongue in disappointment. Another long shift, boring as hell.
Until the manta ray exploded.
ON BOARD THE
SWORD DRAGON
EAST CHINA SEA
19 MAY 2017
09:58 A.M. (JST)
T
he manta ray was actually a mantabot, another example of beautifully engineered biomimicry. Nature was the best designer and the manta ray was an ideal underwater foil, a graceful swimmer that could carry massive amounts of weight but expended little energy as it glided on its winglike pectoral fins between long, slow, powerful strokes. The mantabot's pectoral fins were constructed out of highly flexible silicon wrapped around articulating titanium bones, but its main body was an aluminum storage compartment containing onboard electronics, power supply, and payload. In this case, the payload was an electromagnetic pulse (EMP) bomb.
Pearce had earlier deployed the autonomous underwater vehicle from one of the torpedo tubes of Commander Onizuka's submarine, the
Sword Dragon
. Swimming virtually undetected until it reached the platform, the mantabot's stealthiest device was its appearance. Nobody would guess that the familiar shape of the silently swimming batoid was anything other than a manta ray, even as the mantabot breached the surface, an unusual activity for the large fish.
The EMP explosion instantly fried all the electronics on the civilian drillshipâcomputer chips, motherboards, sensors. Every video monitor, camera display, iPod, and chip-based device was immediately taken out of service, including all the computers and sensors powering the
automated positioning system keeping the
Tiger II
in place. Even the massive diesel motors were governed by computers. They shut down as well. The drill bit ground to a halt.
To the scrambling crew, it appeared as if a massive power outage had just occurred. But the automated power-backup systems couldn't bring the diesel motors or the automated positioning system back on line. Within a few minutes, the churning seas battering the hull of the
Tiger II
nudged the forty-five-thousand-ton vessel out of alignment, snapping the drill assembly in half. The ship was in deep water; no anchor chain on board could reach the bottom. With no engines online, the ship was now helplessly adrift.
Thanks to his mantabot, Pearce was able to completely shut down the entire drilling operation without firing a shot or shedding a single drop of blood. The Japanese submarine crew shouted triumphantly as Commander Onizuka reported the results. He and Pearce shook hands.
“So far so good,” Onizuka said.
Pearce nodded. “Yeah, but that was the easy part.” He glanced over at Dr. Ashley. She understood.
Even if they managed to pull off the second half of the mission, Pearce doubted they would get out of it alive.
ON BOARD THE
LIAONING
, STEAMING TOWARD MAO ISLAND
19 MAY 2017
09:59 A.M. (JST)
T
he task force was still two hours away from Mao Island and the Diaoyu Islands. The PLAN marines were making final preparations for loading into their hovercraft, and the
Liaoning
's fighter-bombers and surveillance aircraft were launching as fast as the air boss could get them safely into the air. The deck thundered each time the catapult exploded, throwing another multiton airplane into the sky from the angled waist ramp, while more powerful jets rocketed into the air on their own power with the aid of the forward bow “ski jump” ramp. Neither Admiral Ji nor the ship's captain was taking any chances. They were supremely confident the Americans would hesitate and offer no resistance, but putting all their aircraft in the air would serve as both a training exercise and a wise precaution.
Admiral Ji resented Vice Chairman Feng's presence on the carrier, let alone in the CIC, the high-tech nerve center where combat operations were conducted. The heavily air-conditioned room looked like the deck of a starship to Feng, bathed in blue digital light and crowded with dozens of computer monitors manned by young officers and enlisted people wearing the familiar blue camouflage uniforms of the PLAN. In the center of the room was the threat assessment display (TAD), a giant digital monitor showing the
Liaoning
in the center of the vertical transparent glass.
Feng's arrival on board ship was an obvious attempt by him to share in the glory of Admiral Ji's impending victory over the hated Japanese
and arrogant Americans. When Feng's helicopter appeared on the horizon, Ji seriously considered shooting it down, but there would be ample time after the coup to deal with him and his cronies. For now, he was still a useful tool in the struggle with President Sun.
A wide-eyed lieutenant called out from his comms station. “Admiral Ji! The
Tiger II
has gone off-line. We can't raise her!”
Ji and Feng rushed over. “What do you mean, can't raise her?” Ji demanded.
“She's not answering radio calls. Text messages, e-mails, cell phonesânothing's getting through.”
“Is she sunk?” Feng asked.
“No, sir. She's still on our radar.”
“Contact the carrier air group commander. I want two more surveillance aircraft overhead in five minutes or I'll have him court-martialed.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” The lieutenant snatched up a phone and dialed in the commander's number.
“What does this mean?” Feng asked.
“Software malfunction. Power outage. Could be any number of things,” Ji offered.
“The Americans?”
Ji nodded. “Who else?”
Alarms suddenly blared throughout the CIC. The TAD flashed hundreds of inbound aerial bogies less than a quarter mile awayâstriking distanceâcoming at the ship from all directions. Automated chaff rockets exploded above decks, throwing radar-confusing aluminum clouds into the air as antiaircraft missiles and Gatling guns roared.
A bespectacled lieutenant next to Ji shouted, “We're under attack!” The room exploded with nervous chatter as operators called out status reports.
Ji laid a firm hand on the shoulder of the nervous officer. “Calm down.”
“Sorry, sir.”
Ji turned to another officer. “Someone get me the CAP.”
“The CAP commander reports no visual sightings, but his radar has
locked on to multiple targets, closing.” The commander of the combat air patrol flew the latest Shenyang J-15 Flying Shark fighter aircraft, which possessed its own long-range radar, also tied into the TAD.
“Air defense. Status report,” Ji said. The TAD screen exploded with dozens more aerial blips. More antiaircraft missiles roared out of their launchers above his head.
“No splashes, sir!”
“Our missiles hit nothing?”
“No, sir.”
“What kind of aircraft?”
“Indeterminate, sir. Too slow for missiles.”
“Super Hornets? Lightnings?” Ji feared the strike capabilities of the latest American carrier fighter-bombers, the F-35Cs.
“Too small. American CAP and surveillance aircraft all accounted for.”
“Shut down automated air defenses,” Ji ordered.
“Aye, aye, sir!”
“Is that wise?” Feng asked.
“We're just wasting ammunition.” Ji turned around. “Damage control. Report.”
“Sir, damage control reportsâ”
Another alarm screamed.
Dozens of red blips suddenly appeared beneath the
Liaoning
, swarming in from every point of the compass. Station operators shouted out the information on their screens.
“Contact bearing 173, distance, 1,000 meters!”
“Contact bearing 238, distance, 950 meters!”
“Contact bearing 049, distance, 1,200 meters!”
“Contact bearing 313, distance, 800 meters!”
The ship's captain called out, “Emergency flank speed!”
The other officers called out their status reports, but Ji ignored them. His eyes told him everything he needed to know.
“Torpedos?” Feng cried out. He was sweating despite the room's low temperature.
“Too slow,” Ji said.
“What then? Submarines?”
Another dozen red blips appeared as the others drove toward the
Liaoning
.
“No.” Ji's calm demeanor masked his grave concern.
Feng's eyes grew as wide as boiled eggs. “The Americans have infected our computers!”
The commander in the chair next to Feng ran the ship's IT systems. “Negative. All computers are functional, no viruses detected.”
Another alarm sounded. “Surface contacts, bearing 040, 122, 274!”
“I don't like this,” Feng squealed. “We're vulnerable.”
Ji called over to the mission-control officer. “Put the Wu-14 online. Make all necessary preparations for an immediate launch.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
ON BOARD THE
SWORD DRAGON
19 MAY 2017
10:09 A.M. (JST)
T
roy, the Wu-14 is online!” Ian's brogue thickened on the comms as his adrenaline kicked in. “The bot is active. Repeat, bot is active!”
Troy felt his blood pressure drop. Whenever extreme danger arose, his body always responded by slowing down. It brought him a preternatural calm, one of the reasons he was so effective in combat.
The third software bot that Pearce told Ian to plant in the Wu-14's onboard computer lay dormant until now. It was the only way to guarantee it couldn't be detected until this point. Now that the Wu-14 and the mission-control station on board the
Liaoning
were linked and the satellite connection was active, the bot was in play.
ON BOARD THE
LIAONING
19 MAY 2017
10:09 A.M. (JST)
A
video screen above the mission-control officer's head displayed the Wu-14 on its mobile launcher at Ningbo.
“All systems go. You have operational control, Admiral.”
Feng dashed over to Ji, grabbed him by the arm. “Are you mad? We're vulnerable. We should retreat.”
“We'll never have a better chance than this,” Ji said. “The Americans will be better prepared next time.”
“They appear to be prepared for us now. I order you to retreat.”
Ji's mouth thinned. “A gutless mouse. I should've known.”
“Don't be foolish. There's always another dayâ”
WHAP! Ji backhanded Feng across his jaw. The minister yelped, grasping his bleeding mouth with both manicured hands.
“Throw this coward into the brig!” Ji commanded.
Two armed guards grabbed the whimpering politician by his arms. Feng cried out as he was dragged out of the CIC, “He's a madman! Turn around before it's too late!”
“Where's the
George Washington
?” Ji demanded. Another mission-control officer had a God's-eye satellite view of the American carrier on his monitor. Joysticks and a computer screen were also fixed at his desk. He would be the one to guide the Wu-14 to its hypersonic final destination.
“The
George Washington
is still holding just outside the red line, sir. But within strike distance.”
“Are they launching more aircraft?”
The officer glanced at his monitor. The
George Washington
's deck was covered with fighter-bombers waiting to launch.
“They're holding so far.”
Ji took a deep breath. The Americans were hesitating just as he predicted. They were fearful of provoking his own powerful fleet. Fortunately for him, the
George Washington'
s crowded flight deck was crammed with fully fueled and bomb-laden aircraft. That made it even more vulnerable to a missile strike.
Perfect.
SITUATION ROOM
THE KANTEI
TOKYO, JAPAN
19 MAY 2017
10:10 A.M. (JST)
P
rime Minister Ito's situation room was modeled on the American one, though its video displays and electronics were superior. One of the large video displays was linked to American satellite feeds of Ningbo naval base, and a second featured a live video link to the
Liaoning
at sea, its aircraft scrambling into the air as it turned a hard circle in an evasive maneuver.
A third video monitor was used for a live video conference feed between Ito and his cabinet with President Lane and his circle of civilian and military advisors back in Washington. Other video feeds showed the
George Washington
at sea and the remote North Korean launch complex at Musudan-ri, where the North Korean's DF-41 MIRV was still on the launch pad.
Myers sat next to Ito. Pearce was still on board the
Sword Dragon
and wasn't visible to either room but was audio linked to both.
“The Chinese are panicking,” Shafer said. Lane's advisors were seated around the table while he stood, pacing.
“Maybe,” Lane said.
“Your handiwork, Mr. Pearce?” Ito asked. He was surrounded by his cabinet as well, along with the uniformed service chiefs of the ground, air, and naval forces of the JSDF.
“Yes, sir,” Pearce said over the speakers. “My drones are only throwing large electronic signatures to fool the Chinese. So far, they're working.”
“By now Admiral Ji must realize they're not really under attack,” Myers said.
“But at least we've rattled their cage,” Lane said on the video screen.
Tanaka shook his head in disbelief. “And when they figure out they're in no danger, won't they simply resume their assault?”
“Would you?” Lane asked.
“Of course!” Tanaka barked.
“Frankly, it's that North Korean missile that scares the hell out of me,” Lane said.
“Join the club,” Ito said.
A collective gasp filled the room as a flash of light exploded on the Ningbo screen.
