The Nine Dash War

Day One

USS CV Ronald Reagan, Aft hangar deck

One Day before Thanksgiving

2000 Zulu

4:00 Local Time

The USS Ronald Reagan had just turned her massive structure. For the crew that meant heading eastward and making best speed home with the rest of the carrier group. With a beam nearly a football field in width and over one thousand feet in length she was impressive to watch as her bow create an enormous wave that the dolphins were presently body surfing in the moonlight.

They were still on the outskirts of the South China Sea where their presence had been directed as the ever-growing tensions over the disputed waters were reaching a tipping point.

On the fantail one deck below the flight deck Senior Chief Charlie Dorsey lit up a cigarette. They were still in the South China Sea so it would be almost two weeks before they made it to their home port of San Diego, California.

Suddenly it dawned on him that the stars were in the wrong position if they were heading east. He tossed the freshly lit cigarette into the South China Sea and made his way to the galley. He knew he had a good chance of finding someone who would know if there was to be a change in orders. That was the home of most ship scuttlebutt and usually the first place to have news spread.

He had been to sea on many deployments and had seen his share of orders being changed. This one was not like the others though. This was going to be a disappointment for his son. He would miss his son’s First Communion. That was a hard pill to swallow. He was going to go to his Master Chief and see if he could hitch a ride on the next COD flight out and from there take a MAC flight to San Diego.

Combat Information Center

The Lieutenant Commander on duty watched the screen of the ANSBY V radar array and nudged his neighbor with a concerned look.

“Report it.” His neighbor urged.

“Commander. We may have an inbound track.”

“Let’s follow it. The Chinese have been lobbing missiles around the Spratly Islands and the Paracel Islands to harass us and the Brits. Likely one of those but don’t assume it is.”

“Roger that Sir. Inbound track designated Vampire One.”

“Sir, I am seeing more inbound tracks. The source is mainland China, but we are getting returns on more launches.”

“Roger that. I will send it to the Admiral.”

Now the tension raised with each second that passed.

The Combat Information Center had links to the National Reconnaissance Office and Space Command. This type of threat had been looming on the horizon for well over a decade.

One of the many scenarios the Admiral and Captain had both been trained to react to was just such a threat. The Chinese would mask an attack by making launches into open water near the fleets in question but far enough away not to be considered an act of war.

This was purposeful on the part of the Chinese. Such a threat cannot be ignored. Were the ships to wait until there was no question about the threat there would be no time left to react. On the flip side the continued harassment by these launches were designed to produce a fatigue and psychological numbing to the launches. The reactions would become cursory and more out of rote and less urgency. They were being baited and they could not react unless a real act of war had precipitated.

They were provocative but the Americans and British pilots had already been subjected to significant harassment by their Chinese counterparts to such a degree that one American pilot had fired an air to air missile as one of his Chinese tormenters hit after burners in an unnecessarily close pass. The pilot had the good sense to detonate the missile early, but the message was sent.

The message being that things in the South China Sea had become so volatile that an outbreak of some sort was nearly inevitable.

Now the missile tracks were all being watched intently as it was becoming increasingly apparent that there were six separate tracks from six separate remote launch sites. They were each one of a pair that would track toward one of the three carrier groups in the South China Sea.

For months, the President of the United States had tried to pressure the Chinese to cease such provocative actions. The Chinese response was always the same. The American and British presence was the real provocateur in the area. These demonstrations were merely to remind the hostile navies that the People’s Republic of China had the ability to deter such hostilities.

The press in American and Britain had taken great interest in the escalating tension in the region. There had been footage of the pilot firing the missile at the Chinese jet to force the Navy to prosecute the pilot instead of putting a less than favorable letter in his permanent jacket and some non-judicial punishment.

For the Chinese these were times that dared them to test their most touted weapon. It had been developed with one reason specifically and that was to take out an American aircraft carrier.

The Dong Feng 21D or DF21 D is a medium range theater missile that is been equipped with a reentry package and payload to pierce every deck of the largest warships on the water.

One of the problems with defending against such a threat was that the ideal time to destroy the weapon was while it was on its ascent. The first leg in the defense strategy against such missiles was airborne laser platforms that could disable the guidance system before the missile could establish the correct ballistic trajectory. The missiles were solid fueled and medium range. They could be launched rapidly since there was no need to fuel the rockets prior to launch. They were moved on trailers so tracking them was a task that the Americans had not yet found a way to master. The Brits fared no better.

Firing on such a threat as it ascended was against the standing rules of engagement. It was too early in its ballistic path to be determined an actual threat.

Now there were six inbound tracks and that was an escalation in behavior for the Chinese.

“Sir, it is estimated the missiles will reach their apogee and become ballistic in forty-three seconds.”

“Understood.” The CAG noted.

The Admiral was the CAG or Commander Air Group, and he knew that once they achieved ballistic flight the target would be smaller and no longer show an infrared signature from the discarded booster rockets. The payloads were equipped with deployable fins that would make final adjustments but that would come later in the descent. That was time they could not allow to lapse.

He went to a white phone lifted the handset and waited.

“Go.”

“We have six inbound. DF21s, Ds more than likely. They are taking tracks for each of our carrier groups. This is an escalation in harassment, and we are getting an itchy trigger finger. I am scrambling as many jets as I can in the event that we are a target. I am requesting you to authorize Thor’s Hammer.”

The phone line was clearly not disconnected but the silence could not be louder.

“We see your inbound birds.” The Secretary of Defense noted with a heavy sigh.

“What is your answer, Sir?”

“Shit. We are getting closer to a shooting war with each passing day.”

“I would rather explain this to a tribunal than watch my carrier become part of the landscape at the bottom of the South China Sea if you know what I mean.”

“That may be true, but this call is on me. I take it we don’t have time to get POTUS input.”

“Negative.”

“I will give the order.”

“Very good, Sir. I need to get back to it.”

“Roger that. I hope you survive this.”

“I am not sure how you mean that but thank you.”

The Secretary of Defense now made a call to Space Command.

“We have six inbound. Target appears to be our carriers in the South China Sea. Engage with Thor’s Hammer. This is not a drill. I am granting authorization to further prosecute threats to the CAG in theatre until further notice. For now, my order is to use all available assets in theatre to remove these inbound threats.” The Secretary of Defense now ordered.

The system known as Thor’s Hammer was not supposed to be in place as far as the world was concerned but this scenario was exactly the reason the weapon system had been secretly put in orbit. For years, the Chinese had been developing several significant military systems specifically designed to address specific American systems.

One system had been using ground-based lasers to blind American satellites in geostationary orbit over China. This had been successfully tested over the years as they had blinded American satellites on many occasions. Now they were doing their best to remove all eyes in the sky over the South and East China Seas.

The DP21 D had been fitted with a package specifically design to take out an American aircraft carrier. The Chinese had boasted this capability. Now that too was being put to use.

To counter this threat, Thor’s Hammer had been deployed among other counter measures.

Thor’s Hammer was a kinetic energy weapon system that was based upon NetCentric Warfare. The weapon was digitally married to radar and tracking systems in space and on the other ships in the carrier group. The primary component was a space-based rail gun that coordinated with numerous airborne, ground based and space-based radars to target incoming ballistic threats.

The interlinked radar systems provided a much more accurate snapshot of the ballistic projection of the inbound threats in a way previously unattainable.

Now it was about to get its first real world test.

The two AWACs in the South China Sea were tracking the six missiles as they continued their ascent. Time was running out, but the data had already been sent to the various stations waiting for the order.

Now over fifteen thousand miles away an operator clicked on each of the six tracks and hit send.

Two hundred miles above the earth a constellation of satellites had already come to life. Their onboard sensors were programmed to begin charging the rail guns in the event they were needed in a moment’s notice. That moment was now.

In the dead quiet of space, the tungsten carbide rods sat on a ‘heel’ composed of magnetized alloy. These magnets would propel them at Mach 12 were now pushing the sabots down the rail.

No sound was issued. No warning that a space weapon was shooting downward at the earth in anger for the first time in the history of mankind.

It took less than five seconds for each of the eighteen sabots to streak down to earth. From the South China Sea to Langley screens watched with concern as the rods closed on the tracks. They would never see the rods; they were too fast. The results were much easier to discern.

“I’ve got one, two, three…five. I have five kills. We still have one inbound track.” The Colonel announced from his Command Center in the Space Warfare Weapons Command.

“What is the target?” The Secretary of Defense queried.

“The Ronald Reagan.”

Fucking ironic. The Secretary mused to himself.

It had been President Ronald Reagan that had first proposed a space based anti-missile system. It had been a threat, a ruse. Even so, it had been enough, coupled with great economic pressure, to bring the Russians to the table for the first nuclear weapons treaties.

Now it just might be America’s savior.

The CAG was aware of the inbound threat. He also knew that the protocol to minimize casualties in such an attack relied upon getting his people near the bow.

They had run simulations on older carriers that were no longer in service. The older carriers were shorter and when the time came to get people relocated they had five thousand souls to move and in a typical drill six minutes did not get half of that number and a short range missile could hit them in well under three minutes.

He was not going to choose who lives and dies.

He ordered the boat to make a hard to port to be followed by a hard to starboard, often referred to by those with time under their belt as a Crazy Ivan based upon a similar, old, Russian submarine tactic.

He had no visibility above, but he knew American assets of numerous types and capabilities were working one hundred and ten percent to save them.

He stepped out of the bridge and looked up to the sky. He knew there were several YAL-1 variants. These started their life the same way a Boeing 747 did but were changed greatly. That platform was really a generation older, but he knew there were still several of the older variant that had been resurrected as China had become a greater threat than North Korea for a ballistic missile strike.

He remembered the tour he had been provided. More of a dog and pony show in his opinion. Seeing where people sit and how many workstations and what kind of laser mattered not in his world. He could not control nor influence those things so all he could do was rely on them. Knowing how vulnerable they might be was all the more unsettling.

In spite of all that he looked out into the sky hoping that the one remaining inbound missiles tracks was either not meant for his ship or that his guardian angels in space, in the air and on land and sea would somehow take the threat out.

His prayers were soon to be denied. There would be no answer to them on this day. As he stood with eyes upward, he could not see the re-entry portion of the package streaking at him until there was less than a second left before it impacted. By the time his eye caught a blur it was already happening.

The weapon had never been observed being tested by the Americans, or anyone else for that matter. Now as the penetrator portion of the warhead struck the main deck, the ship violently shuddered.

The carrier was making turns for twenty-five knots and the strike did affect the forward motion to a degree causing all aboard to suddenly feel themselves lurch forward. The ship was still moving but the penetrator portion had done its job and luckily only the starboard reactor was damaged.

Water was coming in from the hole that went from the flight deck to the keel.

That was the good news.

The second part of the weapon was designed to detonate .02 seconds after impact causing an enormous blast wave on the deck immediately below the flight deck, the hangar deck, where the jets resided for service. The damage was catastrophic.

It was this detonation that ensured the carrier was finished in terms of being capable of flight operations.

The blast damage across the hangar deck was significant. The overpressure killed or knocked unconscious those within three hundred feet of the blast. The flight deck and hangar deck had sandwiched the detonation creating a massive pancake-like shape charge that swept throughout the deck.

The missile had not struck directly down but had come in at a sixty-degree angle. As it exited the hole in the keel was near the starboard side as the primary charge was detonating. This put a gaping hole on the starboard side in two compartments below the bridge.

These carriers already went to sea with a minor list due to the enormous weight of the ‘Island’. Now the weight of the South China Sea filling part of her hull made her list heavily and with only her port side under power began a hard turn to port hoping to use her inertia to slow the influx of water.

The crew on every deck was now scrambling for something to hold. There was no doubt for any on the ship that there had been an attack of significant scale.

During the next moments all the crew reacted just as their years of training dictated. Those who were not critical to the Combat Information Center tended the wounded as best they could. The DC’s began securing watertight hatches and moving people out of the affected areas.

Their priority was to stop the bleeding so to speak. Control the amount of damage – hence their rating was DC or Damage Control. This they did while doing their best to assess who was in the spaces that needed isolating.

The Captain aboard was not yet aware that the Admiral had been hurled off the Island and into the sea. The ship was moving too fast to have any hope of recovering him for the moment. He had hit the water hard and the force of the impact had nearly knocked him out.

The Captain on the bridge was now staggering to get his bearings. He looked around for the Admiral and he was nowhere to be seen.

“Petty Officer Cook. See to it that the Admiral’s status is clear. Take three men and find him. Now dammit!”

The Captain climbed to the upper most section of the bridge. The ship was listing at a full ten degrees making movement on every deck a chore.

He looked out over the water at the other ships in the carrier group and he saw no damage. At least no smoke. He presumed that was a good thing.

One thing he knew for sure.

It was going to be a long day. On the aft hangar deck the Senior Chief had just began a cigarette break when it happened.

The Senior Chief was heading back inside when he heard the sound of a catastrophic breach. By the time his mind had barely begun to process the sound and categorize it, the flash had already happened. The human brain had not evolved to process this kind of threat and there was just no time for him to react in any meaningful way. The blast wave hit him in the next slice of a second knocking him airborne and over the rail of the fan tail and into the South China Sea.

There would be no man overboard response for now.

Not from the Ronald Reagan.

The ship had bigger problems.

Now, two hundred yards away the Admiral was floating in the water now barely conscious. His body ached from the impact and he was disoriented. With every second that past the massive ship moved further and further way.

The water temperature was 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Not enough to cause instant hypothermia but enough to drain the energy of anyone in it for long. It was the kind of cold that makes it hard to concentrate. Even so, the Admiral was not one to be shaken by the moment.

He was still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened, and it did not take long for his mind to begin thinking beyond the fog of the pain and the cold. He remembered the inbound missile and now he knew it had struck pay dirt.

His next thought was to assess who was in the water. There was no doubt that one of the Carrier Group boats would begin the man overboard drills. This time these would not be drills.

One hundred yards away he thought he could see the nearest sailors. At twelve hundred feet long, the ship had sent sailors into the water in the area that was now as long as the ship itself.

The sea state was sending swells of two to three feet which was mild for the South China Sea in November but not unusual given the recent weather. Even with the moonlight, the darkness and the motion of the rolling see made focusing on those distances difficult at best. Fortunately, the sailors working the flight deck had their EPIRBs on. The Emergency Personal Information Radio Beacons emitted a bright white strobe as well as a locator beacon and now the South China sea was decorated with a flickering of the strobes going off. This helped find those sailors wearing them, but for the Admiral it only made his ability to see the other sailors more problematic.

Almost five hundred feet away the Chief was conscious. He had been knocked overboard by the blast. His body ached all over, but his main injury had been a broken arm. He was not sure how he had been thrown over the rail but be vaguely recalled the searing pain in his arm in that second or so that he was being hurled over the side.

With each bob upward from a swell he noted the strobes of several other sailors in the water toward the direction the ship was still moving. As he began to swim, he realized how bad his arm really was. Despite the pain he did his best to swim with his one good arm toward the other survivors. Each stroke required tension in his shoulders and back, Though the water was cold, it did offer a small amount of relief for the pain in his arm. Still, with each stroke, the tension reminded him with knife like pain that his other arm would not be assisting in the swim.

Things were bad. He knew this. Even so, his thought became a selfish one for a moment. He reflected on the fact that he now knew he was not going to be there for his son.

The salt of his single tear was now lost in the South China Sea as was his hope of holding his son for his First Communion.

South China Sea

USS Charlotte Attack Submarine

South of their position by thirty miles the hunting was about to commence. With the sounds of the missile strike on the surface ships, the subs in the area had all heard this and knew by the sound it was an attack of some sort.

They followed protocol.

For now, the protocol was to get to an area where the submarine could go to comms depth and find out what just happened. Not only find out but send questions and provide real time intelligence about their Area of Operations. While the Captain knew he could receive traffic via the ELF network, he knew that communication over that network could be sketchy and this seemed as if it was worth getting right the first time.

He had other options as well.

For years American subs were fitted with a set of AUVs that would launch from a torpedo tube. Just the act of opening the torpedo tubes was a big risk due to the noise created. Even with the new and improved outer doors there was still a sound signature and with the doors open the risk of cavitation if they moved too fast. That was the big risk in communicating that way. There were a variety of tricks the submarine Captains had been trained to use to mitigate this as best they could.

For the Captain of the USS Charlotte, he had the good fortune of finding a particularly noisy commercial vessel. Carefully they moved under the ship matching speed as their courses merged. With this much sound as cover they could easily open their tube doors. The ship they chose to hide under was moving at a modest twelve knots for now. Enough sound to hide and slow enough to allow their doors to open with little or no cavitation had they wanted to do so. They were using their acoustic cover well. And now they were near enough to the surface that sending an autonomous device out was no longer necessary as the submarine had maneuvered under the commercial vessel and that allowed him to move at a shallow depth where the submarine’s long antenna could trail at a depth that would allow for secure communication. There would be no opening of the doors. That gave the Captain some solace.

Captain Morgan Holloway was a hunter. He grew up hunting in the woods and mountains of Montana, but he had always felt a pull to the sea. He was quick to decide he wanted to be a submariner. For him, it was this or become a sniper, both for him represented the ultimate hunter.

Now, as things were on a path to get very tense, he seemed at ease. He was in his element.

“No need to launch Commander.” The Captain noted to his Executive Officer as he referred to launching a message buoy giving a snapshot of what the submarine has been hearing and any relevant queries for new orders. “We are getting enough of a hide here we can slip back behind her and let the long line do the talking. Something is going on and we need to find out.”

“Aye sir.”

“Helm, ease back on the gas pedal and get cozy in the baffles of our new friend.” The Captain said as he settled into a deep think.

He looked about and he knew as did all the men around him that this was no drill. Things were going to get messy fast. He also knew his submarine was one of the finest put to sea and his crew was as sharp as any.

Knowing this did not change the weight of the moment. He knew that someone in his battlespace had just unleashed significant ordinance. That meant one way or another, something serious was going on and he needed to find out.

One thing anyone who knew him learned amazingly fast, he was a cool cucumber when things got tense. Those who worked with him soon learned was he had the ability to bring that out in his men.

He grabbed the microphone and addressed his crew.

“Well men, this is what we train for. This may be very serious, what may be going on up top, or it may be a fool’s errand, but this is what we do. I have a feeling this is the beginning of one very long day. Stay sharp. You will know more when I know more. That is all.”

He put the microphone back and took his seat. He looked about at the men he was surrounded by and began mentally preparing for various scenarios that he anticipated being the case when he finally learned what just happened. Each came with one conclusion.

“Well men, we can hide hear for a bit. I suspect nice noisy hides like this might get popular if that Russian we were tracking or one of the Chinese submarines wants to make use of this boat. We will get our new orders and move on.”

This will get very messy. He told himself.

Washington, D.C.

The White House

2010 Zulu

3:10 p.m. Local Time

The attack had not gone unnoticed in Washington. The nuclear detonation in the Wuhan Province had already flagged the attention of the Commander in Chief. It had become the topic of discussion. It was that detonation that had already begun to bring key people together.

The President had already made his way down to the Situation Room where there were numerous monitors that he and his most critical military and intelligence people could watch real time via the constellation of satellites as well as a host of well-placed cameras, airborne assets as well as real time information from assets on the ground across the globe.

Several monitors had the faces of key Pentagon Personnel who had conferenced in at the request of the President. Whatever was going on in their world just got pushed aside. This was now the most important thing on their plates.

It had not been suspected that the Province of Wuhan was a nuclear research facility and that was what the speculation was currently trying to figure out.

“So, what do we have.” The President asked with surprise and concern.

“We have a significant above ground nuclear detonation in the Province of Wuhan. I guess any hope of getting international inspectors a look see into their biological weapons facility is no longer on the table.” The White House Chief of Staff noted.

“That is true. The question of the day is what the hell happened?” The Joint Chiefs of Staff asked from his office in the Pentagon.

The White House Chief of Staff continued his conference contribution.

“The detonation was a low yield event. That is notable. We have no signs of any ballistic launches from the usual suspects currently. We are reviewing any satellite imagery to see if there might be a flight we can track to the location and time. That is really all we have at this time.”

“Do we have any reason to suspect they were conducting weapons testing that had an unplanned detonation?” The Secretary of the Interior asked.

“It does not work like that. Nuclear weapons don’t just go off. Tests are conducted with the strictest of controls. Most often underground to shroud the megatonnage of the device and minimize the radiation that would result. This was no accident. The real questions are who did this and why was this done?” The Secretary of Defense clarified.

“The real question, as I see it anyway, is whether this is the reason our ships were fired upon.” The President offered.

“They have been doing this for some time. This time, they actually fired close enough to hit us or just got lucky.” The Secretary of the Navy noted.

“I don’t believe in coincidences.” The President replied.

“Nor do I. And the Chinese have already hinted that they are sure we are behind the detonation.” The Secretary of Defense agreed.

“So, Richard, is there any chance we are behind this?” The President said as he directed his question to the head of the CIA.

“No. Absolutely no. There is no way we pulled a stunt like that. And besides, we wanted to see what the hell is going on in Wuhan as much as anybody. We had people in place trying to get into that facility for months now, for years if the truth be known.” Richard Gilmore answered.

“So, anybody?” The President asked. “Does anybody have a theory as to who nuked China?”

The room grew silent. Save one. Richard Gilmore was not new to the game and he knew when he smelled a rat. Even so, he was not one to mince words even at the risk of being the sacrificial lamb.

“Yes. I do have a theory. The Chinese. Sounds crazy at first but look at it from the big view.”

“You are saying the Chinese nuked their own city?” The President was incredulous.

“Why not. It saves them embarrassment. There is a host of illegal industries there aside from the Bio-Weapons facility. This destroys a plethora of evidence and they can blame us. It is not as if they have a labor shortage.” The Director explained.

The look on the President’s face was solemn.

“That is a very dark view of the world. But for argument sake, we go with it. Okay, what do we do now?” He asked.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” The Director noted as his eyes surveyed the looks of those assembled.

“This is going to get ugly, isn’t it?” The President asked with a rhetoric tone.

“Very ugly as I see it.” The Director added.

Diablo Canyon Nuclear Facility, California

2015 Zulu

12:15 p.m. Local Time

The flicker of the screen was annoying. It was more than likely a result of the faulty connection to the router. It had happened before, and it was likely to happen again. That was what Daniel Allred told himself as he watched the screen with annoyance. Rather than go into a full-on episode about connectivity issues he just sat and waited.

Then the lights went out.

This is odd. He thought.

This was supposed to be a secure facility. It was after all a nuclear reactor. It was true that it supplied power to over one hundred thousand people, but it was still a nuclear reactor. But it was supposed to have its own backup power.

As was procedure Daniel followed protocol. He sat at his station and waited for further instruction. Were there to be a breach or any radiological event he would be advised on how to proceed.

Right?

That was the training. He had spent his summer being trained on many aspects of security for a nuclear facility. It all made sense when he had been under instruction. Now with lights flashing and his mortality under question he looked through the world with an entirely new lens.

Then the lights came back on.

Surely this is a drill.

He watched his screen, but nothing appeared.

He looked again and again at the phone at his desk and it did not ring once.

This is odd.

He waited until he knew he could wait no longer. Now, as he continued to read the binder he had already opened on his workstation. He was going to follow protocol. That was how he had been trained and that was good enough for him.

He began his check list.

Remain at your station.

Verify the authenticity of the threat.

He read on.

Assess your situation.

Always be mindful of the radiological threat a breach might create.

Make sure there is no internal threat to remove or detonate nuclear material.

Who wrote this shit? How can I know if it is real threat?

He pulled out his walkie-talkie and followed protocol.

No answer. Damn. Now what?

He fumbled through the binder for more instruction.

He had been hired months before as a night security guard for a nuclear plant. The interview had seemed a bit intrusive but that was to be expected for something as critical as a resource as a power plant for major metropolitan area.

He was a college student.

They did not even issue him a firearm.

If you see something follow protocol.

He had no idea what to do.

Suddenly the lights dimmed again, only to return.

Now he was frozen with no clue what to do. That was about to change as he was now watching red lights begin flash. Now he noted that the television he had been watching went from CNN to having the screen locked to the emergency broadcast system.

Not likely a coincidence.

He got on his hand-held walkie-talkie again and called his supervisor. This time he got a response.

“Mr. McClain, this is Daniel in the lobby, is there anything I need to be aware of about now?”

“If by that you are asking why the power has flickered, I am not able to comment at this time.”

“But I work here. Should I not know if something serious is going on around here? The emergency broadcast system has taken over the television and is mentioning a threat to infrastructure.”

“They are? Well, shit. Yea, we have been hit. One of our employees turned out to be not so thrilled about nuclear power. Somehow the bastard got a high-power pistol in here and began taking shots at the control station in the main computer room. He tried to get to the reactor, but he was stopped.”

“Isn’t it odd that this made the emergency broadcast network?”

“Yes. And no. Any time there is an issue with a reactor an electronic message is sent to the capital for monitoring. Probably just that. But with our employee incident there will be reports. Even though there is nothing in your area of operation you will be asked questions so you may end up being here later than planned. You will get overtime for any extra time required.”

“Understood. Out.”

Washington D.C

2025 Zulu

3:25 p.m. Local time

The E-Ring, Pentagon

The men and women that sat at the table were career military and the best of the best. Now they all watched the screens that showed the attacks in the South China Sea.

The room was tense and for good reason. How America reacted in the next hours could not only change the nation but the world and potentially the fate of mankind.

The first to address the table was the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He had just returned from one of the SCIFs where he had joined the President in the first post attack conference call. He began with a somber request to take a moment of silence to remember all the souls that were lost on this day and to pray that the number does not reach its full potential.

It was not long before the other shoe would drop.

Now news was coming in of a more alarming nature.

The Watch Officer was quick to make the call.

“Sir, I am getting a report from the FBI. The Nuclear facility at Diablo Canyon has an active shooter.”

“Is there more?” The Secretary of Defense asked tersely.

“No Sir. But given what has already occurred, I thought this would be of interest to POTUS and I did not want you blindsided, Sir.”

“Thank you, Captain. I need to return to my conference call. Keep me posted if anything else comes up.”

“Roger that, Sir.”

The Situation Room

2030 Zulu

3:30 p.m. Local

The men and women in the room were focused on the nuclear event in China and the American carrier that was struck. Now they had one more thing placed squarely upon their plate as the news of the active shooter event at the Diablo Reactor made its way to their attention.

“Sir, we are getting a report there was a shooting event at the Diablo nuclear reactor. Still coming in. The reactor seems to be intact. Some nutcase snuck a pistol in and shot the control panels. At this point we do not know if there is a coordination with what is going on with China.” The Joint Chiefs announced.

“And now how many of you still believe in coincidences?” The President asked. “I sure as hell don’t.”

“It is too soon to know, Sir. We have to keep our cool.” The White House Chief of Staff said as he tried to reign in his boss.

“We just got sucker punched. Likely we are going to be blamed for Wuhan and now this. I am far from ready to keep cool.”

“We still do not know what the source of the nuclear detonation in Wuhan was about. Until we know that, we can assume that the attack on us was a knee jerk reaction.” The Secretary of Defense added. “What we do know is we need to move you. This has become a nuclear conflict and even if we survive in this bunker, we would be buried in radioactive rubble. Likely our escape tunnels would be targeted as well. We don’t know that, but we must assume so. I don’t plan on managing this via teleconference. I will be in shortly.”

“Very well. What is our nearest COOP?” The President asked.

“Not far, Sir. Time to go. We will do a head fake to Mt. Weather so as to keep them guessing. Then we slip you off to the newest COOP in the inventory. State of the art.” The Chief of Staff for the White House noted. “The rest of you, see your chain of command for instruction as to where to reassemble.”

With that he grabbed the white phone on the wall.

“Get Marine One ready. We are going to Site B.” The Chief of Staff ordered as if he did this all the time.

Those in the room were dispersing and the President realized at least for the moment, he was just there for the ride. Normally he was the one that was taken out of the room first and the others would follow according to place in the food chain.

The President was airborne in minutes, minutes the Chief of Staff was feeling pass as if they were hours. Just in time to miss the next flash message. He felt the vibration of his encrypted phone. He looked at the message.

“This is bad.” The President muttered. “Really bad.”

His voice now raised as he leaned to the Chief of Staff and pointed to his phone. The Chief of Staff seemed to turn pale as he read.

The Port of Los Angeles

2030 Zulu

12:30 p.m. Local Time

The cargo ship CSCL Seattle was one of the China Shipping Lines larger cargo ships. She was carrying three thousand six hundred containers of various goods destined for the shelves of stores across America.

As the ship neared The Port of Long Beach the Captain had no idea that he was not only delivering thousands of tons of merchandise, but the ship was also delivering a message to America. The ship was still just outside the channel between the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach. Just where her handlers needed her to be.

Thousands of miles away, her handlers were carefully monitoring her position. Without that critical data, the missiles that had disabled the Ronald Reagan could not have been launched.

The dominoes were falling exactly as was needed.

North of her one of her sister ships had just passed under the Golden Gate Bridge.

The inbound tide had already reached maximum which added more water to the catastrophe unfolding.

What neither Captain would ever know was in a container on the top of each ship was one container with lead lining housing a nuclear weapon. A weapon with ten megatons of explosive yield.

The ships had been selected so that their entry to their respective ports would be synchronized. This had been very carefully choreographed without the knowledge or consent of either Captain. In the minutes before they entered their final positions the missile attack in the South China Sea was begun.

Now the two largest ports on America’s West Coast were about to become useless for a long time to come.

The first detonation was in the Port of Los Angeles. The blast ripped the ship into tens of thousands of tons of irradiated molten shrapnel. That was just the ship.

As the spherical blast wave proceeded it displaced the water around the ship. Much of it was vaporized. This would add to the toxic rain that would fall. The water that was not vaporized now was forming a mega tsunami. Not so much a wave form but an apocalyptic mass of water adding millions of tons of mass to the supersonic wall of destruction.

The entire basin that formed the port was overcome by the blast wave and the subsequent electromagnetic pulse. In less than one minute the port went from one of the most prolific ports in the world to a radioactive disaster.

The electromagnetic pulse moved faster and now most vehicles across the nearby Los Angeles Basin were coming to a rolling stop. Homes now went dark.

The blast wave carried enormous heat along with the destruction caused as the force of the detonation leveled buildings in mere seconds. After months of summer heat, the nearest hillsides were still dry awaiting what little rain the area might receive in the next few months. The fires that began igniting were so numerous that there would be no meaningful way to respond.

Even if they wanted to the Fire Fighters had no way to help. They had their own problems.

A great many of the Fire Fighters had been taken out of the game now. Their trucks that were in the effective radius of the electromagnetic pulse’s destructive path now would not start. They were impotent. The Police were no better off for now. Even their emergency generators were taken out by the EMP.

Phones and handheld radios as well now had their circuits fried by the electromagnetic wave that sent more power through their circuits than they were designed to carry.

The good news, if such a thing existed on this day, was that the detonation occurred at sea level. Had the detonation occurred in the atmosphere the radius at which the EMP would be effective would have been considerably larger.

The blast wave leveled nearly every building within one half mile of the center of the detonation. Once it had passed, the landscape was devastated.

Those that had not been killed instantly from the blast wave were now composing a spectrum of injury from cuts resultant of flying glass shards as windows gave in to the force, all the way to the walking dead, those unfortunate enough to already have been exposed to more radiation than their bodies would be able to overcome.

And there were the equally unfortunate ones that were buried in rubble. Alive, unable to move. Forced to die slowly while help never arrived. Their unheard cries for help would form a silent echo of despair.

San Francisco Bay

2030 Zulu

12:30 p.m. Local Time

3:30 p.m. EST

Of the many cities that resided along the San Francisco Bay none completely escaped the carnage. It would take weeks to assess the damage done on this day, but one thing was certain. The San Francisco Bay Area was no longer one of the epicenters of culture.

In one swift strike the entire perimeter of the bay was rendered useless, potentially for decades to come. Ironically, Silicon Valley would suffer less than most of the Bay Area. Most were located a few miles from shore and on the southern end of the San Francisco Bay. The location had afforded them the benefit of geography to shield them from the EMP. The shallow bay was such the tsunami they experienced had lost a great deal of volume by the time it came onshore in San Jose.

They were not the target.

The Electromagnetic Pulse had affected much of the Bay Area to the north, closer to the Golden Gate, but the terrain along the Peninsula had enough hills and contour to provide a shield of sorts from direct exposure to the electromagnetic wave.

Parts of the South Bay were spared, but all of those who lived along the land closest to the bay now were overwhelmed with the surge of water that arrived at over one hundred miles an hour.

Traffic along the 101 had not yet begun to accumulate to the degree it would in the afternoon. Even though the hour was still early for those heading home, there were many cars on the road, and now on both sides of the bay those same cars were being washed off the freeway and slammed into buildings and other cars.

Up north, San Francisco and Marin County had felt the brunt of the actual detonation. The famous skyline, including the iconic TransAmerica Building were no more. The headlands of Marin had endured another dry summer and there was ample fuel to ignite a series of fires across the hillsides just north of San Francisco.

In the Market District the landscape was surreal. It was truly apocalyptic. The buildings had come down so fast from the blast and those who were there and working never saw it. The compression of the air from the supersonic shock wave overcame the senses of those unfortunate enough to be exposed. That moment would be the last sensory event for many.

Those hit literally did not have time to realize what hit them. The ones that did not die right away found themselves laying on the ground in pain, still not realizing what had just happened.

Like their brethren in Los Angeles, the first responders were being overwhelmed. The areas that lost power from the EMP were hardest hit and those with power were facing so many calls that it was difficult to assess where and how to respond.

Washington, D.C.

Pentagon E – Ring

2035 Zulu

3:55 p.m. Local Time

The men and women of the highest military echelons were already contemplating how they would advise the President when the news came in about the West Coast ports.

The screens were now showing imagery from the constellation of satellites that kept eyes on the world. The two that were getting everyone’s attention showed the ports of Long Beach and San Francisco as the mushroom clouds were forming.

“Now there is no question we are at war.” The Secretary of Defense noted as if it were news. “May we all have the wisdom to promote a policy that does not set the world aflame in a nuclear Armageddon.” He began. “It is too early to have an official statement from the Chinese, but the scuttlebutt is that they are claiming it was a coup of sorts to force us into a war. The military is making a play for the Chinese President if the story is to be believed. That is exactly what I would say if I did not want, or at least wanted to delay, a retaliatory strike. Now however, it will be hard for them to blame us for Wuhan. We sure as hell did not nuke two of our own major ports.”

“How is the Ronald Reagan, Sir?” The General of the Army asked notably concerned.

“She is out of the fight. May have two hundred dead and nearly as many in the water. That is just a guess at this time. Too much chaos to keep track so far. The CAG is unaccounted for. It will be hours before we have a real report.” The Joint Chiefs answered.

“How come they did not hit San Diego? Why has the attack come full stop? Who will fire the next volley? We don’t know this, and we do not have time to speculate.” The Secretary of Defense began as he rose and moved to the podium without cue.

“Agreed, what are you recommending at this time?” The Joint Chiefs asked.

“Well, Karl, clearly we need to make sure there is no incentive to continue this attack. That is the priority as the nation’s defenders so that is where we start. The National Guard and FEMA will handle the response at home. The Fleet, no doubt, is already taking sailors out of the water. The Reagan is practically dead in the water, at least as far as being in fighting condition. She has taken on a lot of water. With any luck she is salvageable. The missile may have managed to damage one reactor. She is moving under her own power for now. Let’s focus on our recommendations for a response. We need something that is strong and leaves the Chinese not wanting to stay in the fight.”

“So, we are talking about a proportionate but heavy-handed response in kind?” The General of the Air Force asked.

“Yes but no. By crippling, removing from use to be more correct, those two ports, the fifth largest economy in the world went in the shitter. That dominoes to the number one economy in the world, us. Without that economy the United States will cease to be the number one economy. We need a crippling military strike and one that also makes their economy tailspin worse than ours will. Guess who the winner there is?” The Secretary of Defense rhetorically added.

“I go with the Russians first, then the Taliban, the hardliners in Tehran and every port we have in a tenuous relationship. Oh yea, the cartels…I could go on.” The General of the Army offered with annoyance. As a West Point Graduate with a master’s degree in international commerce he was keenly aware of the repercussions. He knew all too well the intricacies of the global world economy.

“Something like that. Certainly, the Russians. After that it is a grab bag of opportunists. I can see the Iranians making a move all the way to Mecca and then south to Yemen. The only good news is such a large assault requires logistics and planning in place and they are not at that level of readiness. And that is just the tip of a big ugly shit bag of other opportunists. What we do need is a list of targets and strike options that are readily executed. Firing off some ICBMs is not an option I will advance.” The President said as the conversation only served to wind him up more.

“How about for starters a cruise missile strike into the Three Gorges Dam and we execute Operation Angel Dust.” The Director of the CIA blurted.

The conference call now was a flurry with talk of war.

The table paused. Some at the table were not briefed on what Operation Angel Dust was. The Secretary of Defense was new and was one of those men. His arrival to the meeting was key, with him having gotten the pulse of the President firsthand less than an hour earlier, even if it was on a conference call.

“Bring me up to speed on that one.” He requested curtly.

“We send Air Force One to Beijing to negotiate. They won’t let us too close. We escort her. Once we get close, we detonate the onboard nuke and take out most of that region’s electrical grid.” The Director explained. “We can fly it remotely, so we are not condemning good men or women to their death.”

“Not gonna work.” The Secretary of Defense noted. “They sucker punched us. They won’t let us send our own Trojan Horse. But I do like the EMP attack on Beijing. That will, however, send radiation over Japan and eventually our West Coast and even eventually inland.”

“Hold on.” The President intervened. “Now we have two questions that need answers, and we need them ASAP. First, who and how was the strike on Wuhan achieved? Second, why did we not see the missiles or aircraft that delivered the two weapons to California?”

“The President is on point.” The CIA Director began. “We need to quickly task all resources in order to get a full picture of what has happened, and my people are already on it, full throttle. California has to be first. I find it odd that we were struck as a retaliatory measure with no sign of missile launch and nothing from the President of China in advance. We need our Naval Intelligence to determine if there was a way that submarines could have been used to deliver nuclear torpedoes. Any delivery by air would have taken too much time to make that type of strike happen. Am I correct there, Kurt?”

“I would have to say yes. Without a carrier parked right offshore from both targets, which we know is not the case, a submarine delivery seems the only other way such a rapid response. We will scour the relevant satellite imagery over California and see if there are any submarine launched cruise missiles launched.” Kurt Cavenaugh, the Secretary of Defense acknowledged.

“There is another possibility.” The Director of the CIA offered.

Now everyone on the call listened even more intently.

“What if Wuhan was a ruse to justify a strike against us?”

“Can they communicate with their submarines in such a short time? And can they, do they, have submarines operating so close to our coast?” The President asked.

“I can answer that.” The Secretary of the Navy responded.

“Go ahead, William. Please explain this one.” The President implored.

Admiral William Henry Harrison was cut from military cloth from an early age and from family tradition. He went in enlist with the intent of becoming a commissioned officer from day one. He wanted to experience the entire gamut of naval service and he had done so in spades when he was named Secretary of the Navy.

“We know where their subs are, save three that seem to have slipped into the Atlantic. We know there are some off California as we speak but I have already sent a query to see if we have any type of launches detected. I am comfortable saying that if such a launch had occurred, my people would have run that up the flagpole from the very moment they knew.”

“So how did they deliver the weapons? Or, and here is an ugly scenario, the Russians or North Koreans are behind both to provoke a war.” The President conjectured.

“That is a dangerous road to go down.” The CIA Director noted. “For now, I would bet on the Chinese. Besides, that would still make all going on with Wuhan and the carrier groups a hard set of dots to connect.”

“So, we go back to plan A. Hit them with a quick strike. The EMP option we were discussing.” The Secretary of Defense was quick to offer.

“We have a special weapon made just for such a contingency.” The General of the Air Force noted.

“Explain.” The SecDef asked.

“Our friends at DARPA have created a Neutron Enhanced Weapon that minimizes alpha and beta radiation. The NEW EMP. Some gamma rays and a whopper of an EMP. Cleanest dirty bomb around.” General Sutherland explained. “And with a high altitude burst, the contaminant load that the atmosphere would suffer is much less than if we leveled a city with nuclear ordinance.”

As the head of the Air Force and a former bomber pilot General Mike Sutherland was aware of the weapon and its capability.

“Those are good…as options. I would recommend taking out every single submarine they have. We are tracking them and that would not be an image of retaliation the press gets to parade. Not against that other stuff but this reduces their ability to hit our Navy again.” The Secretary of the Navy injected sternly. “Speaking of submarines, there is another area of concern that we have to address as well.” The Secretary of the Navy added.

“And what might that be. The entire world is about to go apeshit, so if there is more, I need to know, now is the time.” The President said as his voice reflected his tone cooling off a bit.

Even by conference it was not difficult to note the stress in the President’s tone.

“The Chinese have moved five of their submarines to patrols in the Strait of Malacca, aka Pirate alley. This is a significant expansion of Chinese Naval projection. If it were the only thing on the radar, or sonar as it were, that would be a concern. We know that China is partnering in Pakistan for port access. That is not the flag. If it is true that, as the Chinese are claiming, the attack was by rogue elements of the military, why did they put five attack boats in the corridor where ninety percent of their commerce reaches their country. That is of importance because it is hard to explain an attack that was not intended, an attack that crippled our two big west coast ports and therefore our economy as a nation, while simultaneously fortifying the sea lanes they need to keep their commercial traffic safe. Hard to say they did not see it coming when they were preparing for a likely response scenario in advance of the attack.”

“I did read that.” The Secretary of Defense noted.

“We can rest assured that this was not a rogue attack. They wanted to cripple us economically and they want to make the South China Sea unpalatable for our navy. That is my guess.” The President was quick to note.

“Likely you are correct, Mr. President. We need to be sure.” The Director of Central Intelligence replied. “I think we all agree on that one. Folks, we have lots of options that have been red teamed in advance. Pick the ones that fit our present situation and make the needed adjustments. The President needs to engage with the Chinese, and it will be easier if he knows he has the biggest stick he can going into the talks. He does not need to tell them that but knowing it will let him press harder.”

“There is another contingency plan we have developed. To be sure there are volumes of them. The one I refer to is code named Fisher King. We have been quietly excavating an entry point for a small tactical nuke under the Spratlies. Our nuclear weapon specialists have determined this will simply drop the island about twenty feet. There will be a very small tsunami, but our allies should not be adversely affected. Some very minor damage at most.”

“Once we start a nuclear escalation the game will change unpredictably and that is a real concern.” The Joint Chiefs noted with reservation.

“That is the beauty of the plan.” The Secretary of Defense noted.

“And what is that?”

“The plan includes the option of detonation of five small non-nuclear weapons we already have in place. These will detonate in a daisy chain and escalate into what seems to be a seismic event. The nuke will be deep beneath the water. No signatures to betray what happen for a few days.” The CIA Director explained. “We have been preparing for a day such as this. Did not see this coming but we expected the Chinese to do something bold.”

“How soon can we execute it?” The Joint Chiefs asked.

“In normal times we need submarines to get to antennae depth to communicate. Our navy is not new at submarine warfare and we have a few tricks up our sleeves. We have what are a hybrid of sonobuoys slash USVs that we can drop in designated areas and broadcast a Morse code sonar message. In a pinch we use the ELF system. Technically we stopped using it, but every boat driver out there is trained to go to ELF depth at prescribed times in the event of war. The system has already been activated. The predetermined message will advise them what to do. Using the buoys is a one-use one-way message but it works. The way the coding works will not tell anyone else who hears it what it means. We drop numerous buoys with the same message in different areas. The bad guys will know something is up, but they won’t know who, what, where or when. Besides, who at this point in time does not realize something is amiss?”

Now Jacob Chu smiled. Jacob had been silent during the conference call and he was the Agency’s main analyst for the China division of the CIA. He had often voiced a concern that more discreet activities were needed to keep China from overtaking America’s economic advantage worldwide.

“I was not aware.” He noted.

“Like I said, we are not new at his. We have more.” The Secretary of the Navy added.

“Jerry, I suspect you are going to need many of your tricks pulled out before this day ends.”

“Pretty sure that is true. May God helps us.”

“I think this one is on us. God, it would appear, is taking the day off.” The President uttered so most did not hear.

Moscow, Russia

The Russian Parliament

2045 Zulu

11:45 p.m. Local Time

It was less than an hour before midnight in Moscow when the attack and occurred. For the Russian President this immediately resulted in a phone call to his residence. He had not yet retired for the evening and when the call arrived, he knew the time to take advantage of such an event came with a narrow window. He rallied his people as best he could given the hour.

It took a full hour to get key people assembled and he was surprised to get as many as had shown up.

The President of Russia now began addressing the emergency session of his military inner circle. Any attack across the globe and of such magnitude was one that needed instant attention. In addition, the suddenness of the events made for new opportunities. If what they were hearing was true, the Americans were not going to be challenging them in the Middle East or Africa any time soon. Or anywhere for that matter.

He approached the podium and looked to the group solemnly.

Some had been awakened. Some were still somewhat drunk from late dinner and vodka. Even he was still feeling the effect of his evening’s libations.

“It would appear the world is on the verge of economic and military upheaval and we are not invited.” He began trying to show some humor in his own way. The room was not full. Many were still trying to make their way in, but the urgency was less for them not having felt the attack up close and personal as did the Americans.

The President himself had only arrived moments before and was nursing a newly arriving hangover. None in the room looked pleased to be called in at such an hour.

“Now we are poised to improve our position globally. The Americans are not going to come looking to us as an ally. Even at this early hour I have already instructed our Cyber Warfare Division to be ready. I suspect their CIA will want to cripple us to minimize our ability to take full advantage of this opportunity.”

“What are we going to do if they do?” The Deputy Minister of Economics asked.

“We are already sending a message to Washington. If they leave us out of the fight we will not retaliate in kind. We have the ability to do this and they have enough on their plate. They will of course tell us not to make any foolish moves. But it is all of us who will determine what is foolish, not the Americans.”

“So, what is our first move?” The Minister of Defense asked.

“We watch. We do not know how bad this will get. We need to move quickly but smartly and see how far this cancer spreads. China has yet to offer any explanation to us. And we do want to see who is going to prevail. That will determine which side we take.”

“So, we want to be an ally of the victor no matter whom?” General Petrenko asked.

“No, we want to see who is stronger and surreptitiously aid the other side. Let them bleed each other for as long as is possible so we can emerge as the new superpower. Let them rot in their despair while we rebuild an empire.”

“Very well. I am going to get the military repositioned. We do not need a naval presence in the South China Sea. We do need more intelligence collection. We are going to move appropriate assets closer to the Korean Peninsula so we can gather more signal intelligence.” Admiral Vasily Ustinov added.

“That is good. Make sure all the Admirals know not to do anything provocative to either the Americans or the Chinese. We need to see who will win this little pissing contest.”

“As you wish. We are going to need more fuel for the navy and batteries. We do not have enough replacement batteries to deploy. There is more. We will scavenge what we can for now so that we can get part of our fleets ready to deploy. This will not happen overnight, however, but I will do my best.”

“This must be addressed. It is unacceptable for a nation of our power and prestige to not be deployable.” The President fumed as he slammed his hand on the table.

All knew it was unwise to point out that it was his administration that did not allow adequate funding to keep the navy and the army and the air force at the appropriate state of readiness.

“While we are repositioning, perhaps we need to consider more contact with our new friends in Yemen.” The President instructed.

“Our friends? In Yemen?” The Defense Minister asked recoiling. “Not yet...not yet our friends. But now is a good time to make a greater effort than we have been for such an overture. We shall keep this a very low-key event. Nothing that will draw undo attention from the Americans. There is a reason the greatest minds in chess come from Russia!” The President added with his typical pro-Russian tone.

“I see. And this would be a military overture?” The Minister of Defense asked.

“No, I will see to it that our ambassador in Saudi Arabia contacts the people who we need to negotiate with.” The President replied seeming annoyed at the effort to manage the situation as if as President he needed oversight.

“Very well. Perhaps we might take a few satellites of the Americans out of service and make it appear as if the Chinese did this.”

“The Chinese were clever. The sucker punched the Americans and then came to a halt if to say, ‘We did not mean this’ when in fact they clearly did.” President Korchenko noted.

“And the Americans have yet to respond.” The Admiral of the Submarine Fleet added.

“They will. They know what satellites are down. If more go down, they will track the source. We don’t have those types of assets located where they would not point to us. They like to think of themselves as very cerebral. The truth is they are cowards with a rich man’s military. In one sense it is good this happened. It will level the world from an economic perspective and that will in turn translate to military prowess.”

“So, we need to make sure that China does not rise to a dangerous level from this attack, yes?”

“We need a strategy that drains the resources of both. We want them to both suffer great loss in every way we can facilitate.” The President added. “Perhaps we should take out some submarines of theirs in that area now while they cannot figure out who did it.”

“Do you have a number in mind? We don’t know how many submarines they have in that operational area.” Admiral Petrenko noted with a keen interest.

“I will defer to your judgement my friend. Not too many but enough to make it look like someone is claiming control of the area, with no ambiguity, but keep it contained to that area. I do not mean to tell you how to execute you job, but I think you understand the idea is to hurt them. To add to their pain when they cannot react properly. I know I can count on you Dmitri. It is time for Russia to rise to the role destiny meant for us.”

“Should we consider removing some of the American submarines in the South China Sea, or elsewhere for that matter, can we make it look like the Chinese are trying to keep their war moving without being as obvious?”

“We need to consider that option very carefully. The Americans know where most of our submarines are. We don’t need to risk being seen as an agitator. We must be discreet in our actions. Besides, if I were the Americans, taking out all of the Chinese submarines would be my first move at this juncture.”

“Your point is well taken, Mr. President. We will emerge from this as the true victors.”

Sacramento, CA

The Governor’s Office

2100 Zulu

1:00 p.m. Local time

The State Emergency Response Team had their hands full. The leaders of the fifth largest economy in the world just had their two largest ports turned into radioactive rubble buried in several feet or so of bay silt. The death toll was incalculable for now and there was nowhere near the manpower to assess either one of the hot zones created by the blasts.

They were scrambling to get key people lined up to discuss the next move.

No one knew where to begin.

All the way inland to the capitol of the state there was mud and debris in many of the streets along the Sacramento River from the tsunami that had been driven up the waterway by the blast in San Francisco Bay.

The first of the first responders were already arriving at the Governor’s office discussing what had just occurred. Those that were too far away were calling in for direction. The mood was somber with most of them having friends or relatives in the Bay Area or the Los Angeles basin.

Their priority was to make their best determination as to what resources in terms of manpower would be needed just to understand the damage.

The HazMat Teams were being recalled from work that was not dealing with life or death. The people that were gathering had already noted many television and radio stations were no longer broadcasting. They all knew that did not bode well.

Maps were being laid out on tables with wind directions and drawn in estimations of hot zones. This had been foreseen as a scenario that they practiced for, hoping that day never arrived. Now they had a monumental task in assessing the loss of life and property.

That did not begin to address remediation. The Governor had wasted no time in declaring a state of emergency and now was listening as they explained all the problems involved in trying to go into a radiological hot zone with no power.

“So, give me the bad news first, then the really bad news.” The Governor began meekly.

“Sir, it is a mess of epic proportions, as you know this is going to be a slow, painful process. Those two ports, and Silicon Valley helped make California the fifth largest economy in the world. Not so much now.” Greg Stamos, Director of CERT noted.

He had been the Director of the CERT, the State Emergency Response Team for nearly three decades. He had seen fires, earthquakes, floods and more but this was the worst he had ever experienced.

This scenario was not a complete surprise. It had been one that their Red Team had offered as a training exercise. That did not matter.

Rare is the plan that survives the first shot. He reminded himself as he listened to the Governor go on.

“Our state is pretty much out of business for the foreseeable future, which unfortunately will be a long time.” The Governor mentioned somewhat rhetorically.

“As to the snapshot of where things are, well, Holy Shit. Let’s start with San Francisco. We have two primary ways in, by land of course, the Altamont pass and the Pacheco Pass. That is east and west. North and south, the One Oh One is still working. Mostly. That is the good news. The power lines going in from east of Vallejo were destroyed. And then there is the nut bag that attacked the Diablo reactor. We still are determining if this was part of the Chinese operation or not. Best guess is there is a thread. Too much coincidence for my experience. The National Guard has begun mobilizing. It is a given that we will be declared a state of emergency by the President himself.”

“And Los Angeles?”

“Well, the good news is it probably won’t be very smoggy for a while once the fires subside. The economy is pretty much a bust and I can say that without even looking at the map or the damage assessments. We are looking at around two to four million people in the state that will be relocated permanently. And the collateral damage…just the Port of Long Beach and Los Angeles account for nearly one third of the nation’s imports.”

“And so, as all of you know, I just got off the phone with Washington. They are still working on the appropriate response. They are still trying to figure out what is going on.” The Governor explained to those assembled as more were arriving.

“I got a response. Nuke the entire country. See how they like it.” The Lieutenant Governor offered.

“They know such escalation is not on the table unless we all want to kiss our asses’ good-bye.” The Governor pointed out solemnly. “Well, can’t worry about that anyway. We have a state to put back together. On the positive side I guess the U.S. government won’t be honoring the bonds China held against our national debt.” He added.

This drew a tepid chuckle.

“What are the odds of getting Stockton up and running again as a port?” He then asked.

“The nuclear tsunami did a great deal of damage. Walk outside. Notice the streets are kinda messed up? Stockton got it worse than us.”

“Is it usable?”

“We need the NEST Team to assess any radiation that might have been fed into the area by the surge of water. Likely the radiation will be such we can work. That port can only handle Panamax size container ships and she only has two large cranes. That will not put a dent in the lost capacity. Our priority is getting LA up and running. But the radiation may make that a nonstarter. We don’t have good radiation dispersion models for water level detonations. Up north we still have not assessed how much debris is in the section of the San Francisco Bay where the bridge was prior to the blast. We don’t know if the channel is deeper now or full of debris. Once we get a few tides in and out we will know more.”

“What about the Coast Guard? Wait, what about the Alaskan atolls we nuked? Isn’t there data from that?”

“Their big base, the one with the new Cutters, was Alameda. Gone. The have about three thousand folks working there. I will get on the Atoll question. It might be our best data points.”

The Governor paused. Loss of life was tragic no matter what but for an entire base to be erased was a visceral event for anyone. He looked out the window and went into a deep think.

“The good news sir is two of the Cutters were on patrol, one near Columbia and the other even further south. I cannot say if they have reported in yet.”

“Do you think either port can be converted to automation? Make the cranes and rails unmanned?” The Governor asked thoughtfully.

“Aside from the fact that you would need to send construction crews into hot zones to build such an infrastructure and that it would take a decade to do you still have to convince ships to enter the port.” The Director noted.

The Governor nodded in understanding.

“Get the Tesla guy on the line and every other innovative genius we can corral. This is not going to be easy to fix.”

“No, not one bit. You do know his real name is…”

The Governor held up a protesting finger.

“Yes, had lunch with him last month. One sharp fellow. Even so, better role up your sleeves. Now we are really going to earn our pay.” The Governor announced solemnly.

London, England

British Parliament

0130 Zulu

Like every nation the hour had not mattered. Governments were convening and reeling from the news.

Nuclear weapons had only been used in anger once in the history of mankind and now it appeared the genie was once again emerging from the bottle.

It was a somber day.

The Prime Minister was first to address the group.

“America has been attacked as we all know. For now, there has been no more military activity on either side. The main question that we and all of our neighbors in Europe need to ask is do we collectively cease trading with China to stifle their war machine?”

The room rumbled in discussion as they pondered the notion.

“Do we know with certainty that the Chinese were behind the attack?” One of the Lords offered.

“We know this much, missiles launched from China damaged an American carrier right prior to the attack. We know there was a nuclear detonation in China prior to the detonations in the United States and we know a madman went bonkers at one of the Yank’s nuclear facilities as well. That is what we know.”

This started a wave of comments and conjecture as the room became a froth of verbal exchanges.

“Order.” The Prime Minister commanded. “It would be a good guess that in some fashion the Chinese are involved. I am not advocating any military actions, but we need to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Yanks. They have stood with us in our hour of need and we owe them the same. That said, we need to prepare for the possibility that the Chinese did have a hand in all of this. We need to establish what dependencies we have with the Chinese and quickly yet quietly move to a strategy to replace those products or services.”

This again drew many exchanges. The emotions in the room were already seeming to approach a fever pitch.

“Order!” The Prime Minister again demanded.

“We don’t really have a way to produce much in the terms of rare earth metals for one. The Americans have a mine in California. They are a bloody mess about now. Afghanistan has some mines that are producing, and China has secured most of those contracts. We are starting to see some hope for such resources in parts of Africa and possibly another avenue in Venezuela. We all know what stodgy trading partners they have been. That is one of many imports that are considered of critical national importance, which means it has national security ramifications. There are, no doubt many more. This one just came to mind.” The leader from the House of Lords commented.

“To be honest we do need to assess our economic dependencies but first and foremost we need to stand with our ally, I am sure there will be other concerns as well. The most important piece is to ensure our naval forces have enough stand-off distance until we see what the Chinese are doing. For now, we are reaching out to the Yanks. They are going to need our help. We will be working with the French, Italians and Spanish to get several convoys of ships ready to go.” The Prime Minister said as he tried to reaffirm his position.

“It’s a bloody mess, that’s for sure. How will Saudi Arabia and our other so-called allies in the Middle East be responding to this?” The Minister of Health asked.

“That is an important question. It is far too soon to know any of this. We need to know where the world is standing on this. For now, we don’t know with certainty that China is the aggressor. We need a snapshot of the world fast. Let us be clear, our support for the Americans is and shall be unwavering. We can be sure that Washington did not unleash nuclear weapons on their two most important trade ports on the Pacific Coast. We need to know how the world is positioned so we move forward with forewarning.” The Prime Minister continued.

The room collectively nodded.

“Yes, Lord Archibald, what is your question?”

“Aside from pointing out it is a bit late to be forewarned, the one we all are wondering, will Britain be going to war in the near future?”

“God help us that this is not our future. Be clear, we stand shoulder to shoulder with our friends across the pond. There should be no ambiguity with regard to that. But this day can be compared to a game of chess that had a cricket ball knock off some of our major pieces out of the blue. But in this case, we are guessing the cricket ball did not land by chance.”

“Indeed.” A voice muttered.

The mood in the room was now notably somber. Britain had not been the victim, but all knew the world just had a major shift. Things would not be the same from this day forward.

“Like it or not, we are likely to be heading into a military action. Let us pray it is more posturing and less shooting. Unfortunately, that genie is out of the bottle. I will be speaking with the American President to let them know we stand behind them.”

The South China Sea

2100 Zulu

6:00 a.m. Local Time

It was still dark, but the coming day was showing in the east with a near orange glow that heralded the coming sunrise.

The water temperature was not cold like the North Atlantic. That was the good news. As Admiral Peterson surveyed the situation as best he could while treading water. With each swell that lifted him he tried to push out of the water more and gain some semblance of how bad things were. As he was able, he noted many sailors in the water. He was sure that the other ships in the carrier group were already going into the man overboard response.

As he continued to look, he did see two ships steaming toward one of the other groups that were forming.

He knew the coming daylight would not offer a pretty picture.

His body hurt. He could not remember the explosion during those fractions of a second that sent him overboard. He assumed his rib or ribs broke hitting the rail as he was thrown off the Island.

He also knew now was not the time to reflect upon that. He was not bleeding, and he could swim. Painfully he swam toward the nearest cluster of sailors in the water. To make matters worse he had just felt something bang him in the head. There was some debris in the water but given the severity of the missile strike there was not as much as he would have expected.

He did his best but now with each extension of his arm into the water ahead he felt the incredibly sharp pain. There was no doubt that at least one rib was broken. He closed his eyes and concentrated on smaller strokes. Even the act of kicking sent sharp waves of pain across his torso with each twist of his body.

Little by little he made his way to the first two sailors in the water. As the CAG he did not know all five thousand or so persons that worked in the floating city called the USS Ronald Reagan. It did not matter to him. They were all his people.

“How are we doing folks?” He asked forcing his voice to not only carry the fifty feet or so that remained, but to do so with confidence and authority.

“We are fine. Are you alright? You seem in pain.”

“Bruised a rib or something. I am fine.” He replied.

“Well, the good news is we don’t likely need an EPIRB and since none of us likely were wearing one that is good.”

They had not yet realized the man was the CAG. He was required to keep one on his person at all times while at sea. Not only as an emergency for going overboard but as a potential life-saving effort if he were under attack. The Emergency Personal Information Radio Beacon was pretty standard technology for any sailor that ventured out into international water.

“Oh yes…good call.” The CAG said as he was reminded by the conversation that he did have one on his person. “Let’s fire this up and see if that helps.”

“Yea. We should see a boat or two heading our way soon.” One of the men in the water offered hopefully.

“I am Senior Chief Ryan Reyes.” The man speaking said as he introduced himself.

“I was your CAG until moments ago. Now I am sure that duty has been reassigned.”

“Sir, what are your orders?” Petty Officer Nunez asked.

“See that group, nearest to us? We swim. We know that they will come get us. There is safety in numbers. The others in the water see this they will realize we are forming our rally point. They will join us if able. If not, they will form groups as they are able, as they have been trained to do.”

“Very good sir. May I offer to swim to that group over there and let them know this is the plan? It might speed things up.”

“That is a negative. We stay as a group. We don’t know what the day has in store for us.”

“Aye sir.” Two sailors replied nearly simultaneously.

“Besides. Senior Chief…your name again son?” The Admiral asked as he looked to one of the other men in the water near them.

“Dorsey, Charles Dorsey, Sir.”

“If I am not mistaken, Senior Chief Dorsey has a broken arm, am I right. Son?” The CAG asked with noted concern.

“Pretty sure. Yea, I’d say it is busted.”

“So, with his arm and my bruised rib we are not going to make much time. That said, we move along at the Senior Chief’s best speed and we make a perimeter. There are sharks in the water. The ones the Chinese haven’t turned to shark fin soup. That is the good news. Not too many left so it is more news good than not.”

“Aye, Sir. I just want to get back so I can join the fight.” Senior Chief Dorsey said as he winced in pain.

“We are not really sure what just happened. Let’s hope that cooler heads prevail and are at work to stop this from escalating. Unfortunately, we can be sure our boat is out of the fight.” The Admiral said as he worked now to speak.

There was no response. Everyone in the water knew what he had told them was their new reality.

Or so they assumed.

Six hundred feet below

The Submarine Severodvinsk

Though she was not as quiet as her main adversary, which was a Los Angeles Class Submarine, she was very quiet. She was a Yasen Class Cruise missile submarine. She had her keel laid in 1991 but the Russian economy had not cooperated. Finally, in 2014 she put to sea.

Now she was patrolling the South China Sea as Russia’s most advanced attack submarine. She had been assigned to watch the Americans as they were trying to establish freedom of navigation as the Chinese built islands in a clear effort to enforce the Nine Dash Line.

The Chinese referred to the Spratly Islands their unsinkable aircraft carrier.

Now the Russian sub was hearing all of the chaos in the water following the attack. It was clear whomever had been attacked had caught their quarry off guard.

It was also clear but not yet a certainty that the catastrophic signature they had heard was the American’s flagship aircraft carrier.

What was not clear to the Russian Captain was whether an event had precipitated a Russian response or maybe the North Koreans finally felt brave.

For every submariner active on this day the events up top was more of an unknown to them than they were to almost all others. They were in the dark literally and figuratively.

Not the North Koreans.What the hell is going on? The Captain thought. Not the time to surface.

“Vasily, move our boat south. Get us to a location where we can quietly surface and find out who just attacked that American aircraft carrier. If there is a shooting war going on, we need to know who and why.”

“Aye, Captain. Make our heading one-seven-zero and for now, steer clear of any of the boats we have been monitoring. Set revolutions for twenty knots.”

“Aye sir. There was a merchant vessel, likely a container ship due east we could hide under.”

“No, all of the other submarine navies with ships noisier than ours…which is everyone…will be trying to use the baffles of these ships. That is going to be too risky as a place to hide. One-seven-zero.”

“Aye, sir. I meant no disrespect.”

“None taken. Even a seasoned submarine Captain would be tempted by that eastbound source of moving cover.”

“We cannot do this. We do not have orders.” The Political Officer objected.

“I can follow orders and I am. This is my boat. It may belong to the Russian Federation but once we go to sea, she is mine. If you have any objection, I will let you off at the soonest opportunity. It is almost a certainty that the carrier we were assigned to track has been removed from any ability to conduct battle. If there is a battle, and clearly at this moment there has been an act of aggression, the piece we had, and let me say that word again, had, was an assignment to surveil and that piece is no longer a set piece within the battlespace that it operated in. They are done. Out. Not a factor. Can you put that in your pathetic report? More than likely they are trying to remove the American infestation in the South China Sea. That is no small act. We could also hear other detonations further away. But note that the carrier was attacked but not the fleet that surrounds it. This was a message. You are in my territory, get out.”

“I wish to communicate with Moscow. We need to surface.” The Political Officer countered hoping to assert some authority.

“No. That will not happen. That would be tactically foolish. I know you are here for one reason and one reason only. You know nothing of submarine tactics. You will hear from Moscow as soon as I do, when I determine that it is safe. That will be only after we create sufficient distance to be out of all the eyes that will now be clamoring to get the real time battle damage reports. You would not want to be standing on Normandy Beach on D-Day.”

The Political Officer displayed his displeasure in his face. He knew the crew respected Captain Romanov. They would certainly side with him. He had no play but to accept the Captain’s decision for now.

For now. He pondered.

The Panama Canal

Day One

2300 Zulu

6:00 p.m. Local Time

Under the Carter Administration the United States had concluded that the Panama Canal was too great a cost to maintain just to retain control. To that end the Canal was returned to the Panamanians who then were approached by the Chinese.

The Chinese, unlike the Americans, were not burdened with the reckless and petty division the two-party system afforded.

The Chinese were quick to set up shop on both ends of the Panama Canal and then proceed to let their reach continue deeper into the interior of the country. They had done more than set up shop. They had embedded thousands of Chinese into the work force. Some of that was to get more of their population offshore and the other subtle plan was to assimilate the Canal slowly by assimilating the jobs that were in critical canal functions.

Businesses were established to service port activity but also to allow the Chinese to bring in their own workers some of whom were there for other purposes yet unknown. The military and intelligence agencies had made sure they were represented across the Canal Zone.

What the world had not realized was that the Chinese were quick to quietly move tactical nuclear weapons into their interests on both ends of the Canal. In that way, if ever the need should arise, the Chinese could simply close the Canal on one or both ends.

The Panama Canal is a vital asset for world commerce. Of all the nations that stood to lose the most from such a move it was clear that the United States was at the top of that list.

Now every available intelligence asset was being scrambled to see if there was any indication the canal was going to be a target in this first wave.

It was logical. That would make trips by sea to California harder to accomplish. If that happened relief by sea would have to arrive from around the tip of South America. The other choice was to arrive from across the Pacific. Given the apparent war footing of the Chinese that looked to be from the Middle East.

The Port of Cristóbal sits on the west entry point of the Panama Canal. For most, it is thought to be on the east in as much as it empties into the Caribbean. The truth is that it is further west than the outlet on the Pacific side. As one of the stations of entry it is a critical location and one the Americans kept a weather eye on even after ceding control.

For Guillermo Diaz it was a dream assignment. His State Department job was one of being an economic liaison. His real duties were to keep records of ships coming and going and report any concerns. His actual purpose was to be a set of eyes for the CIA should a day like the one that was beginning were ever to happen.

He knew very well that any threat to the canal would be hidden in plain sight. To report any ships that did not seem to belong was a joke as far as he was concerned. For him he was able to live in Central America on the dime of the American taxpayer.

Life was good. Food was cheap and he had several women he considered his girlfriends. He did not take his responsibilities as seriously as he might and there had been no reason. Now his work cell phone was ringing.

He was debating whether to pick up.

He was lying in bed under the cool air of the ceiling fan with one of his favorite girls next to him. They both had satisfied their carnal urges, but he knew her appetite for more. If he picked up now, he might miss out on more of that.

He wrestled with the idea of not answering.

Don’t bite the hand that feeds you!

The words of his mentor were echoing in his mind.

He rolled over and reached for his phone.

“No Amor. Do not answer. Stay with me.” Maria urged.

“This is what pays for this nice life we enjoy.” He noted.

“But you can call them later. Stay…please.”

“You know I want to. If the phone is ringing, there must be something of importance.”

Reluctantly he now answered the phone.

“Diaz.”

“Where are you?” The voice calmly asked.

He did not recognize the voice, but he knew not to question any who might have access to this number.

“I am at home.”

“Not for long. We need you to go to a location where you can observe activity coming into the canal. We have been attacked.”

“Attacked? What do you mean?”

“Go to your station. You will be briefed later. The Port of Los Angeles and San Francisco have been rendered useless. We also have our carriers in the South China Sea attacked. There is a suspicious container ship at the entry to the Port of Cristóbal that we need real time, eyes on, intelligence.”

Suddenly Guillermo realized his reason for being in Panama was not a fool’s errand. Now he would need to actually do some work.

It would take him fifteen minutes to get from his villa to the office overseeing the port. He rushed to get dressed and get out the door. Normally he would send Maria on her way. He did not like leaving his girlfriends unattended lest they discover evidence that they were not his only love interest.

By the time he got to his office he had already been checking the major news feeds. It did not look good. The information about the attacks was still fresh and with each minute more information was coming in. Now he understood why his role was so critical.

His phone now was ringing nonstop.

The first call was from was from Fort Davis.

“Go.” Guillermo responded as he picked up.

“We may have a situation that needs to be run up the chain of command ASAP.”

“What might that be?”

“We have a Panamax class carrier that might be up to something hinkey. She had been slowing and has come full stop. She is not of Chinese registry but given what has occurred in the last few hours anything near strategic concerns is going to be reported yesterday.”

“Do you think the ship has been compromised?” He asked.

“We have to assume that, at least until we know otherwise. If she is scuttled in place the Canal will be unusable until we can clear the ship. That will take time. Time that we do not have if war is breaking out.”

“Understood.”

Guillermo knew there were many scenarios that had been Red Teamed by the gatekeepers around the world and this was one of them. A ship flying the flag of a friendly nation is overtaken and used as a weapon.

While his career had been in the Western Hemisphere, he had spent many hours in bars talking to men who had been around the world in every conflict imaginable.

He recalled one sailor telling him how they had needed to board oil tankers that Saddam Hussein had used to run the embargo while he was in power. The ship’s crew would weld the hatches shut and run her full power at a particular target. Live electrical lines had been strung over the decks to slow the boarding parties. It was a race against time and half of the time the effort ended in a ship running aground under power.

That was one threat. The other was that they would simply position the nearly one thousand feet of ship strategically at the entry point to the canal and flood her or scuttle her