Invasion: Alaska (63 page)

“Sir,” said Ling, “most of our fuel requirements go to the fleet. The land—”

“Why haven’t you protected your tankers better?”

Admiral Ling hesitated. This was an odd situation for the richest oil-nation in the world. Because of Siberia, Chinese oil refineries brimmed with petrochemicals: with diesel, kerosene and gasoline. What the Navy lacked was enough transport tankers to bring those fuels across thousands of kilometers of ocean to the battlefield. The Chinese merchant marine was too small and until only a few years ago, the Navy had never been designed as a blue-water fleet. As it was, the supply line had been stretched. Then the Americans had continually destroyed tankers, zeroing in on them with ruthless efficiency. That had created real difficulties. The torturous land route through the Kenai Peninsula only added to the supply nightmare.

“I have tried to protect our tankers, sir,” Ling told the Chairman. “The Americans are cunning, however. They have attacked our fuel transports, preferring to destroy them to carriers. Through espionage, CIA spies must have learned about our fuel troubles.”

“I hope you are not accusing anyone, Admiral.”

“Sir?” asked Ling, wondering what the Chairman was driving at.

The old man in the wheelchair leaned forward, staring at Ling through the screen. “My nephew has spoken to me.”

The Vice-Admiral
, Ling thought to himself.
Nepotism has crippled the war effort. I should have never agreed to this command while saddled with his fool of a nephew
.

“My nephew has informed me that you gave him the toughest route and yet you withheld the needed soldiers,” the Chairman said.

“Sir, I must object. It is your nephew’s incompetence that has cost us dearly.”

“What are you saying?” the Chairman asked ominously.

Commodore Yen shook his head, but the bile in Ling from the Vice-Admiral’s blunders welled up in a rush.

“Your nephew first lost all his helicopters trying to storm Seward,” Ling said. “Next, his drive up Moose Pass has become a study in wasteful frontal charges. I could use those dead soldiers now as we attempt to grind down the remaining Americans. Then his bungling charge through the Junction that entangled our troops at the precise moment I—”

“I have heard enough,” the Chairman said. “This slander mars your reputation. You will not
grind
the enemy. That is not how you win. You must shock him, bewilder him by the power of your assault. Storm Anchorage with Chinese fury as General Nung took Dead Horse. Then I shall send you Army reinforcements.”

“I would rather that you send me fuel first, sir.”

“Bah!” the Chairman said. “My nephew has assured me he could take Anchorage like that.” The old man snapped his fingers.

Admiral Ling’s eyes bulged. He opened his mouth.

“Sir,” whispered an obviously worried Commodore Yen.

Admiral Ling turned to his friend and advisor, noticing the worry on Yen’s face. Ling closed his mouth, even as a vein on the side of his head pulsed with shame.

“Is there someone else with you in the room?” asked the Chairman.

Admiral Ling spoke in a mumble. “I shall take Anchorage, sir. I shall give China another glorious victory, another superlative feat of arms as I achieved in Taiwan.”

“…do you promise this?” asked the Chairman.

“It is already done,” said Ling, his humiliation turning to anger. Yet he was still practiced enough to contain his words. For the sake of his family in China, he must attempt to please this old, old man in the wheelchair.

“Take Anchorage and all your sins will be forgiven,” the Chairman was saying.

“Yes, sir,” said Ling.

“Fail in your appointed task—”

“I have already said it is done, sir.”

Instead of anger at being interrupted, a slow smile spread across the Chairman’s face. “So you have, Admiral. So you have.”

In an instant, the screen blanked out.

Admiral Ling bowed his head. This was inexcusable. How could the Chairman speak to him this way? After all that he had done for China and done for the Chairman—no. This was unbearable, an insult. He turned to Commodore Yen. “That creature the Vice-Admiral….” Ling’s humiliation was too much now for speech.

“Sir,” Yen said, “You have given your word concerning Anchorage. How can you be so certain you can conquer the Americans?”

Admiral Ling ignored him. He adjusted his computer screen as he studied the situation. He kept noticing the huge fuel depots in Anchorage. The Americans had blown the Seward depot, but the ones here were different. These supplied the Americans. Therefore, the enemy could not afford to blow them. If he could capture the depots, it would solve his fuel problem.

Ling began to nod. He brought up battle charts and force readiness numbers. “I beginning to see the way,” he said.

“Sir?” Yen asked.

“The Chairman has shown me the way. We must storm Anchorage before the Americans rush more reinforcements into the city. Our soldiers rested during the storm. We will now rush forward more supplies as our soldiers use speed, violence and fury to capture the Anchorage fuel depots.”

“They are on the other side of the city, sir,” Yen said.

“With the T-66s we shall smash through everything the Americans put in our way,” Ling said. “Call the ground commanders. I have new orders to give them.”

“May I suggest you first wait an hour, sir?” a worried-sounding Yen asked. “You have…endured hard words today. Maybe it is time for reflection first and action soon thereafter.”

Ling looked up and stared at the careful Commodore. “No you may not suggest such a thing. What you may do is obey my orders.”

Yen’s neck stiffened. After a moment, he stood and saluted. “It shall be as you say, sir.”

***

Some time later, Ling read a brief report from his chief ground commander. The Chinese infantry officers before Anchorage had received their orders as the last of the supplies at the front were divided up. More ammo and food came to the front at a trickle, as the majority of the Number One Highway was still clogged with snow and ice. The officers returned to their sub-commanders, who in turn explained the attack orders to the junior officers. The junior officers spoke to the NCOs. Those gruff men told their soldiers how tomorrow they were going to bring glory to Greater China, win the campaign and the right for each of them to screw the girl of their choice once they returned home as heroes.

BEIJING, P.R.C.

Deep underground in his bunker under Mao Square, the Chairman spoke with Jian Shihong.

“Did you listen to our conversation earlier?” the Chairman asked.

Jian nodded. He’d been ordered to listen. Didn’t the Chairman remember?

“That is how you light a fire under an ancient warrior,” the Chairman said. “Niu Ling conquered Taiwan for me. Now he will give me the rest of Alaska.”

“May I ask you a delicate question, sir?”

“You have given me the oilfields, Jian. You may ask me anything.”

“Did your nephew really say those things, sir?”

Some of the Chairman’s mirth evaporated as he stared at Jian.

I shouldn’t have asked that
, Jian told himself.
How could I have been so stupid?

“Yes,” the Chairman finally told him, “my nephew said those things.”

“Given that is true, sir, shouldn’t we place your nephew in charge of operations?”
There, that ought to satisfy his touchiness
.

“Don’t be absurd,” the Chairman said. “Now go,” he said, waving a feeble hand. “I’m tired. We shall talk tomorrow.”

A steel door swished up, and two Lion Guards looked in, giving Jian a hard stare.

Jian wanted to gush his apologies. He was still surprised about General Nung and his victory at Dead Horse. That victory—the other Ruling Committee members now gave Jian greater respect because of it. He knew, however, that the Chairman loved results, not weak words like ‘sorry’ or ‘I shall do better.’ By his response, the Chairman had shown himself sensitive about his family, particularly his inept nephew the Vice-Admiral. Jian would remember that.

“Good day to you, sir.” Jian said. “To victory in Anchorage!”

The irritated Chairman waved him away. The interview was over.

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Anna Chen rubbed her eyes as she sat at her desk. She was exhausted from too much work and a growing sense of guilt for what she had unleashed.

She’d moved out of her West Wing cubicle and no longer worked for the Third Assistant to the National Security Advisor. She no longer worked for Colin Green at all. Instead, she had her own West Wing office as the new Chinese Affairs Advisor to the President. She had a three-person staff and direct access to the President. During the continuing crisis, Clark spoke to her an average of three times a day, and that didn’t include the meetings.

Her guilt concerned the nuclear attack in the pristine Arctic environment. Now there had been a second attack. She dreaded the Chairman’s response.

It surprised her Clark hadn’t told her about the latest nuclear attack. She’d learned about it through Alfredo Diaz of the NSA. He’d given her another memory stick, the information only hours old.

Anna clicked a button, replaying the information on her computer. A dark image leaped onto the screen. She was viewing this through the shoulder-cam of a 1st SFG A-Detachment master sergeant. By the shot, the Green Berets soldier must be laying on the pack ice. There were lights in the distance: a vast Chinese supply dump.

“It’s their main base,” the master sergeant whispered, likely into a microphone. “I count thirty snowtanks leaving it.”

Anna listened carefully, studying nuances this time.

“Give us the targeting coordinates.” The voice belonged to the USS
Atlanta’s
radio operator.

“Hey Sarge!” someone unseen said. Anna assumed it was another Green Berets. “You hear that?”

The scene changed, showing the breathtakingly beautiful night sky with its Northern Lights. The master sergeant must have looked up. Anna heard the unmistakable
whomp-whomp
of a helicopter.

“They’ve spotted us, Sarge!” A snowmobile started. “Come on! Let’s go!”

“You go,” the master sergeant said. “I’ve still got a job to do.”

Anna wanted to weep as she shook her head. No matter how many times she heard this, she still hoped somehow in her heart that he could escape.

Other snowmobiles whined into life. None of the others tried to argue the master sergeant out of his grim decision. That amazed Anna most of all. The others drove off, the sounds of their engines quickly dwindling.

“That’s it,” the radio operator said after a time. “We have it. Don’t wait around, Sarge.”

Onscreen, Anna witnessed the Chinese lights again, the distant supply dump. That changed as the master sergeant must have looked up. By the sounds, an enemy chopper moved toward him. Then there were sparks in the night. Anna realized now those were Chinese machineguns firing from the helicopter. She heard icy crunching sounds a few seconds later, the bullets striking.

Anna hunched closer, listening carefully.

“Damnit,” the master sergeant said. He must have rolled onto his back. Anna saw the barrel of a weapon appear as it aimed skyward. A second later, the master sergeant grunted, and the scene changed so Anna stared at the ice. In time, his blood trickled into view.

She fast-forwarded. In the distance was the sound of many vehicles.

The Chinese must be fleeing the base
.

Suddenly, a nuclear explosion occurred and the video picture shook. It became intensely bright and a shrieking wind began. That wind howled across the pack ice until it stopped abruptly as the video ended.

“It is a terrible thing we do,” a man with a deep voice said.

Startled, Anna looked around. Tanaka, her bodyguard, stood just inside her West Wing office. She’d asked Colin Green to transfer Tanaka to her service.

“You should have knocked,” she said.

Tanaka stepped nearer, his eyes locked onto hers.

Something had changed in Anna. She saw in his eyes that he thought she was beautiful. If she looked closely enough, she could see her reflection in his pupils. Once, having a man look at her like this would have made her shiver in dread. Now, with the things she’d been through….

Anna stood up and approached Tanaka. Then she stepped even closer, putting her arms around him as he hugged her. She lifted her head, her lips pressing against his. Then she opened her mouth, and their tongues touched. Anna shivered, but not in dread. Was this love? She didn’t know, maybe. Instead of worrying about it, she continued to kiss the iron-muscled Tanaka.

ANCHORAGE, ALASKA

Stan was in the forward lines as dawn came late the next day as it had been for some time.

There was activity in the Chinese line. Then 200mm self-propelled tubes began to fire. It was thunderous. From a drone’s cam, Stan saw a tank-like vehicle with a long artillery tube shake and rock. The enemy used computer-directed fire control, with target acquisition and laser ranging. Most fired HE shells,
High Explosive
. Others shot HEAT with guidance systems for homing in on bunkers and command posts. Many had proximity fuses for creating an airburst over the trenches. The falling shells hammered Stan’s area. He crouched in a foxhole, covering his head.