Invasion: Alaska (2 page)

Soldier Rank Kwan’s favorite cousin Mengyao had been Ru’s best friend then. Mengyao had died in Taipei Harbor, and Ru was certain Soldier Rank Kwan blamed him for surviving. Second cousins were rare and therefore cherished in China. Ru’s limpet mine had destroyed the Light Cruiser
Quicken
. He still had nightmares of that time. Both his eardrums had burst and he still experienced nosebleeds much too easily. The government had publicly hailed his performance. Not only had he gained the Medal of Excellence for the successful assault, but he’d also won a coveted marriage permit, a
jiehunzheng
. He had been paraded on TV as a Hero of the People.

That had been eight years ago. It had taken three of those years to woo Lu May. A woman in China had many suitors. Many richer men had sought out Lu May, a beauty, a rare and wonderful prize. In the end, she had chosen him, although he was only a First Rank Commando.

In the submarine’s diving chamber, the cold saltwater surrounded Ru. A
clang
sounded. Reaching up, Ru turned the wheel until he heard a click. He pushed, and the hatch opened into the Pacific Ocean one hundred meters below the surface.

Kicking his fins, Ru swam through the hatch. Even after years of training, this was an eerie experience. The attack submarine was the only visible thing in the darkness. Lights shined on the hull, allowing enough visibility to see the numbers painted below his fins.

First checking to see that his partner followed, Ru headed toward the bow. He kicked smoothly, expertly using his muscles to propel himself through the murky underworld. The trick was to relax, to pretend he was a shark or a barracuda. Soldier Rank Kwan was bigger, stronger and tougher, but none of his men was a better swimmer. It had been the key to Ru’s success.

The submarine’s hull shuddered and a mass of bubbles rose ahead of him. Ru slowed. He was near the bow, near the torpedo tubes. The captain ejected a T-9 SDV or Swimmer Delivery Vehicle. It was torpedo-shaped, made of ceramic-plate so it had a negligible radar signature and ran on Japanese batteries. There was a cage around the propeller so none of them could accidentally cut themselves on it. Hydroplanes would guide the vehicle.

Ru kicked his fins, moving away from the submarine so the yawning darkness of the deep spread out below him. The SDV floated in the murk at neutral buoyancy, with an emitter guiding Ru to it. Soon, he straddled the T-9. What looked like a small motorcycle-screen protected the controls and compass. Through his thighs, he felt the other
Bai Hu
securing himself to the saddle-seat behind him. Ru switched on power so green lights blinked into life. He checked the panel. A red light appeared, the other T-9 was ready.

Ru fed power to the propeller and adjusted the T-9’s hydroplanes. He moved away from the submarine and toward the Californian coast almost sixty kilometers away. The vehicle’s vibration was slight and water rushed against him, as he was only partially protected by the forward screen.

Ru twisted back. The Commando seated behind him leaned out of the way. Farther behind followed Kwan and his partner on their T-9. Nodding, Ru faced forward as he felt the rush of water against his chest. He peered about the dark world, with millions of tons of water surrounding him. It was nearly silent with his rebreather and full-face mask. He felt terribly alone in the vast Pacific Ocean.

This was possibly the longest distance combat swim in Chinese history. It would have been impossible without rebreathers. They were a marvel of marine technology and were a closed-circuit scuba, almost akin to a space suit’s tanks. As a person breathed, his lungs used-up oxygen and created carbon dioxide as waste gas. With open-circuit scuba or the familiar aqua-lung, a diver only used some of the oxygen in each of his breaths. He breathed out unused oxygen together with nitrogen and carbon dioxide waste, blowing the bubbles of gas into the surrounding water. That meant oxygen escaped that he could have used, and it meant he needed to carry more diving cylinders than otherwise.

The rebreather, on the other hand, re-circulated the exhaled gas for re-use. It did not discharge the unused oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide waste into the water as bubbles. Instead, the rebreather absorbed the carbon dioxide by
scrubbing
it. If left un-scrubbed, the carbon dioxide would accumulate in the system and cause carbon dioxide poisoning. The rebreather also added oxygen to replace the consumed gas. Because of this, a diver only needed a fraction of the gas he would have used in an open-circuit system. It meant he needed to carry fewer cylinders on his back.

The rewards of using a rebreather were many. Because a diver needed less gas, he could swim longer at one time and go deeper. Except during an ascent, rebreathers produced no bubbles. Bubbles could give away a diver’s position while swimming in enemy territory. Bubbles also created noise, making it harder to listen as closely. The rebreather minimized the amount of inert gases in the mix and therefore minimized the decompression needed later. In other words, the diver didn’t get the bends as easily. There were other rewards. In an open-circuit cylinder, the cold breathable gas became uncomfortable over time and caused dehydration. The rebreather air was warmer and moister. Lastly, as a regular scuba diver inhaled, the expanding gas entering his lungs caused him to rise slightly and then lower as he breathed out. He lost his neutral buoyancy. In a rebreather, this didn’t occur.

Keeping a constant speed on the T-9 and straining to see in the darkness, Ru endured the lonely voyage. He understood the mission’s parameters, but he had little feeling for its importance. The Siberian oilfields under China’s control combined with offshore drilling and domestic production had turned her into the largest oil-producing nation in the world. China had more than enough energy, but with her teeming population, she lacked enough food. Despite her superpower status, stiff rationing was practiced throughout the country. Ru had listened to lectures concerning the return of a small ice age and harsher weather patterns, but he’d usually fallen into a daze during them. Crop yields were down all over the world, although a few southern countries had increased food exports. America was the leader of the new Grain Union of Canada, Argentina, Australia and others, and China demanded preferred status. Her chief bargaining chip was oil, the limited resource that still ran much of the world’s industries and the majority of the transportation systems.

America had grain and China needed more. The Party leaders would do whatever they had to in order to feed China’s hordes. Ru shook his head in disgust. Grain. Oil. What else did he need to know other than the government had lied to him? Men with marriage permits were supposed to be exempt from frontline service. They had told him he was the best frogman and China now desperately needed her favored son to save the nation in this bleak hour.

First checking the instruments, Ru brought the T-9 toward the surface. He had been doing so slowly throughout the voyage. Even with rebreathers, their bodies needed time to adjust to the nitrogen levels in their bloodstreams. If they rose too quickly, the nitrogen would expand in their blood, giving them the bends.

Finally, Ru’s masked head broke the surface and then his body as the T-9 moved through the ocean like a fast-floating log. He switched the set/air valve and breathed the cold atmosphere around him. With a flick of his fingers, he shut down the caged propeller so they glided to a halt.

 The torpedo-shaped vehicle soon rode a mighty swell. The mass of water hissed around him, while the stars glittered above in amazing profusion. After a week underwater in the submarine, the stars were a glorious sight. In Shanghai, Lu May and he liked to walk in the park at night gazing at the constellations.

A pang squeezed Ru’s chest. He had the terrible feeling that he would never see his wife again. His wife would remarry. A Chinese woman had no choice about that. If his unborn daughter wasn’t aborted first, she would gain a stepfather and she would never know he’d existed.

Ru tried to control his anguish. He was the best frogman in China. He would survive and he would return to Shanghai. In several weeks, he would hold Lu May and shower her face with kisses.

Ru shifted in his saddle-seat as Soldier Rank Kwan slowly drove his T-9 near.

A big ocean swell passed underneath him and Ru’s T-9 sank into a watery trough. Another swell barreled toward him, with tiny phosphorescent plankton glowing like ghosts in the water. It was so peaceful here, almost surreal. Yet he had come to attach explosives to an oil platform.

The Americans had sonar and radar on their oil platforms. Secessionist terrorists had attempted sabotage on various oilrigs in the past. Security details now accompanied the deep-sea workmen. It was the reason the attack submarine had released the White Tigers so far from target. It was why they used ceramic-plate T-9s, and it was the reason they would swim the rest of the way. No one must ever realize that Chinese soldiers had attacked Americans.

By hand, Ru signaled Kwan. They hadn’t attached any communication wires to each other yet, nor did Ru use his mask’s speaker. He liked the silence and the four of them knew what to do.

Shutting down his T-9, Ru set the timer to the directional emitter. If they were to survive the combat swim, they would have to return and find the T-9s. He switched the set/air valve, tasting the rebreather’s warm mixture again, and slid into the water.

The four of them shoved and dragged the vehicles beside each other, using clamps and lines to attach them. When they were finished, the others gathered around Ru.

Kwan held up his hand. Ru frowned. Kwan pointed north. Ru heard a motorboat then. At this distance, he didn’t know how big the boat was or who it belonged to. They watched, seeing lights. The motorboat headed west. Had someone spotted the submarine? That was bad, but there was nothing they could do about it now.

Ru pulled out his compass. The others knew what it meant. They must continue with the operation. Ru submerged and reentered the dark waters, a human seal in the womb of the endless sea. After riding for so long, it felt good to use his thighs. Ru kicked in a steady rhythm, propelling himself to the target. Every time he glanced back, he saw the other White Tigers following, their faceplates aimed at him. He glanced several times into Kwan’s hard eyes. That tightened the muscles in Kwan’s face.

The White Tiger Commandos were unique to the Socialist-Nationalist government ruling China. That government had risen to power in 2021 under the present Chairman. The White Tigers had been the first to implement the new enlisted rankings. They had dispensed with the old order of private, corporal and sergeant. Instead, it went Fighter Rank, Soldier Rank and First Rank. After several years, the Chinese Army, Navy and National Militia had incorporated the new enlisted rankings. In everything military, the
Bai Hu
led the way.

Many kilometers later, Ru’s head and shoulders broke out of the water. Like sea otters, the others soon surfaced around him. Ru pointed. There in the distance was the giant oil platform, with its bright lights shining in the night. The Americans had built it several years ago. According to the briefing, it had taken a special act of Congress and fierce debates among the environmentalists of the country. The Americans needed oil, and they were breaking long-held taboos to acquire it wherever they could. This new platform was supposed to be the first of many in the Californian coastal region.

Ru took out his binoculars, which could switch to infrared scan. A dark chopper swooped around the platform, and he spotted a patrol boat. The Americans took security seriously. The oil companies used reliable Blacksand mercenaries for the job.

First signaling to the others, Ru submerged once more. It was a long swim. He heard the motor first as a tiny sound. The sound grew as he neared the giant oilrig. According to his briefing, the patrol boats carried armed mercenaries and heavy machine guns. The patrol boats were equipped with APS radar. Normally it was used as a fish-finder, but for a short distance, it could detect swimmers.

Ru headed down into the darkness, down, down, down. Flicking on a heel-light, Ru looked back. Other heel-lights appeared, three of them. With a nod, Ru resumed his dive. The temperature became steadily colder. Even after years of training, this was an uneasy experience, the knowledge that hired killers patrolled above, seeking to find and destroy him.

Ru and the others carried high explosives, and they each had a TOZ-2 underwater pistol. It was similar in design to the SPP-1 pistol developed in the old USSR. Ordinary-shaped bullets were inaccurate underwater and extremely short-ranged. Therefore, their pistols fired a round-based 4.5mm steel dart 115mm long. Each dart weighted 12.8 grams, and each dart had a longer range and greater penetrating power than a speargun’s spear.

The TOZ-2 had four barrels, each holding one cartridge. None of the barrels was rifled. Each dart was kept in line by hydrodynamic effects. It meant that the TOZ-2 was inaccurate when fired out of the water. Ru had practiced with the pistol. All of them had. The deeper one dove, the less range their pistols had. The effective range out of water was fifty to sixty-six feet. In water twenty feet deep, a steel dart could kill at one hundred and thirty feet. In water fifty-six feet deep, the steel dart’s range shrank to sixteen feet.

By using his compass and rangefinder, Ru unerringly reached the oilrig. He switched on a lamp and used the light to scan the darkness. A wahoo darted before him, a scombrid fish like mackerel or tuna. Fish densities around an oil or gas platform were twenty to fifty times higher than the open water. It told Ru he was near. Then a great stanchion appeared. Although the oilrig was new, the stanchion was already encrusted with sea-growth.