South China Sea
August 24
The Royal Seeker was nearly motionless on calm seas. A light breeze washed across the bridge. Captain Rei checked the radar scope again—no blips. It was approaching time.
The sun had risen but was still low on the eastern horizon. He would have preferred low clouds, but the weather conditions were acceptable nevertheless.
First Officer Chang approached from behind the captain. “Everything is ready, sir.”
Rei nodded almost imperceptibly, prompting his First Officer to continue.
“The target coordinates have been entered and confirmed. What are your orders?”
Rei clasped his hands behind his back and gazed through the forward bridge windows at the placid ocean. Just off the starboard beam a rocky outcropping, barely a square mile in area, rose a dozen or so feet above the sea. He had positioned his ship close to this barren patch of ground—one of many dozen small islands, cays, reefs, and shoals in the vast archipelago known as the Spratly Islands. It was all part of the illusion.
“Why do you suppose these islands are coveted by so many nations?” he asked.
Chang was still behind Captain Rei, and he frowned, annoyed with this trivial conversation when far more important tasks required action. “Fishing, I suppose. Perhaps mineral rights.”
Hmmpf, Rei scoffed.
“Sir, I request permission—” but Chang was cut off before he could complete his request.
“Fish… oil and gas that have yet to be discovered,” Rei sounded philosophical, his voice soft. “Countries don’t threaten war over such mundane needs. No. This is about dominance. China must show the United States that it can take these islands and the surrounding waters—for no other reason than because the Central Party says so.”
“Captain?”
Rei turned and faced Chang. “China must expand. The west is arid and unsuitable for supporting a large population. The east is overcrowded. Pollution is poisoning our water and our air.” His dark eyes squinted as he scrutinized his First Officer. Chang only nodded, unwilling to engage in a pointless discussion.
“The opportunity is east, of course. Southeast Asia, Taiwan, Australia… Japan. It will be an empire the likes of which mankind has never witnessed. Once the western Pacific is dominated by China, our security will be assured.”
Chang’s countenance was rigid, showing no emotion. He cared little for politics. He was a soldier, trained to follow orders.
“Captain, it is daylight. Once again, we are vulnerable to observation by passing aircraft and satellites. We should not tempt fate and press our luck any further.”
“You would have preferred we fire the missile under the cover of darkness?”
Chang did not answer.
“Your youth is both an asset and a weakness, my friend. Over the years, I have learned the value of patience—a lesson you still have to master. The darkness is not our ally; it is an illusion. Once the rocket motor ignites, the brilliant plume is a million times brighter than a signal flare. It would attract attention for a hundred miles in all directions as the missile climbs higher and higher.”
Captain Rei placed a hand on his First Officer’s shoulder, addressing him like a student rather than a subordinate. “Now, with the sun just above the eastern horizon, infrared imagers onboard the American satellites will be challenged to detect the superheated exhaust against the rising sun. And if the missile plume is detected by their satellites, technicians monitoring the signals will lose precious minutes trying to determine if the detection is really a missile launch or merely a false alarm due to the sun.”
Rei paused, a rare smile creeping across his face. “You are smart and ambitious, and you will do fine. Now, it is time.”
Deep inside the bowls of the rusted hull, four decks below the bridge, the electronic launch and control center was bustling with activity. The overhead lights were extinguished, replaced with red lamps and diffuse illumination from a vast assortment of electronic equipment—most of it with multicolor flat screens to display graphic data and images with remarkable clarity.
Thick, shielded cables connected the control center to the outside world via radar, several cameras, and antenna for both sending encrypted messages as well as conducting electronic surveillance. Most of the cameras were pointed at the deck area where the missile was erected amidst the three steel drill towers, the images displayed on a dual row of screens.
At another console, a technician was monitoring for radio and radar signals. Even though there were no ships within a radius of sixteen nautical miles, electromagnetic emissions from ships could bounce off the upper atmosphere and travel much farther than line-of-sight. “Normal background emissions,” the technician reported.
“Very well,” Chang replied. He preferred the control center over the bridge. “Is the deck clear?”
“Clear!”
Chang raised his eyes to a color video feed showing the Hwasong-12 missile cradled among the steel girders and cross bracing of the towers. From a distance, the casual observer could easily miss the green rocket body encircled by the clutter of the green drill towers.
“Time to launch?” he said.
“Sixty seconds and counting,” came the reply.
The tension was palpable as all waited, watching the analog clock, the red sweep-second hand looking black under the red lighting.
“Radar?” Chang said.
“Still clear. No surface vessels, and no aircraft on the screen.”
“Emissions?”
“Only background. No change.”
Five, four, three, two, one…
Suddenly the deck shuddered under their feet, and despite their location deep within the ship, the control room reverberated with a deep roar. Chang imagined that it would be deafening if anyone had been foolish enough to be topside as the missile was launched. Propelled by a first-stage rocket motor fueled with a hypergolic mixture of unsymmetrical dimethylhydrazine and nitrogen tetroxide, the missile cleared the drill towers in seconds and rapidly accelerated in a near vertical arc.
The red-brown smoke trail behind the first-stage motor was dispersed within minutes by the light wind. A video feed from one of the cameras followed the missile until it faded from sight.
“Tracking true,” reported the radar technician.
“Very well,” replied Rei. “Mr. Chang. Have the wash-down crew hose off the deck and towers. I want all residual propellant cleaned from the towers and deck within fifteen minutes in case we are visited. I’ll be on the bridge.”
Captain Rei left the control center and hastily climbed the stairs, emerging onto the bridge. Wasting no time, he addressed the Officer of the Watch. “Is our course laid in as ordered?”
“Yes, sir. Bearing one-seven-three. Radar is clear.”
Rei placed a pair of high-powered binoculars to his eyes and scanned the horizon. Nothing but blue water and clear sky. “Very well. All ahead full.”
The ship’s position was held stationary for the launch using sophisticated bow and stern thrusters, linked to the electronic navigation system. It was designed to hold a stationary position—essential for drilling into the sea floor—using GPS coordinates. With no anchors to raise, the two main engines, which had been idling, quickly came up to full power. Each massive power plant—a significant upgrade from the previous engines—turned huge bronze screws, specifically designed for maximum efficiency and speed. Soon the Royal Seeker accelerated forward, pushing an ever-larger bow wave as her speed increased.
Cruising at her maximum speed, the Royal Seeker would be 100 nautical miles away from the missile launch location in just under five hours. Rei had been assured by the mission planners that it would be that many hours before a Keyhole satellite would pass overhead and capture multispectral images of the area. The search area would be defined generally by radar tracking data from U.S. warships in the South China Sea and the Philippine Sea.
Captain Rei was accustomed to the routine of his seafaring life. Whether for military purposes or private industry, orders were given and followed. It was predictable, and provided for accountability—except that he had never met the mission planners. He did not know who they were, or if their motives were other than they had represented.
At first, he was enticed by the money. The mission would have him at sea for a month, and during that time he would earn more than he could make over two years as captain of a cargo ship working for Hua Ho Holdings. But soon he found motivation in the purpose of the mission—to strike a blow against America and her allies, drive them from the coastal waters off China, and vanquish their military from Southeast Asia.
A loyal member of the Communist Party, Rei believed China had been pushed around for too long. The abuse of Chinese at the hands of the invading Japanese Army in the middle of the twentieth century was bad enough—horrendous crimes against humanity had been committed by the occupying army. Yet, in 1945 and 1946, the Allies, under American leadership, refused to vigorously pursue criminal charges against the Japanese officers and politicians who were responsible for the inhumane treatment of so many Chinese and Korean civilians. Certainly, there were no trials like those faced by German officers in Nuremburg.
In his late fifties, Rei Jianming had been born after the end of World War II. But his immediate family would never forget, and he grew up with first-hand accounts of rapes, beatings, executions, starvation—all at the hands of the Imperial Japanese Army.
President Chen Jinghua had continued a policy of occupying disputed islands in the East China Sea and the South China Sea, including building artificial landmasses on some of the many shoals and reefs. All of the constructed islands were now occupied by Chinese military—Navy, Marines, Air Force. In response, the U.S. supported many legal challenges from Japan, Vietnam, Malaysia, Taiwan, Brunei, and the Philippines. But other than pointless UN resolutions lacking any teeth, and unenforceable legal rulings from the International Court, nothing had come of this posturing.
That is, except for the insistence of the U.S. to sail its military ships through the disputed waters on a regular basis and occasionally fly Air Force spy planes over the occupied islands. Many Chinese citizens believed they were being bullied by America. And with the Japanese government moving away from a purely defensive military doctrine, and Japanese leadership still refusing to apologize for past wartime atrocities, Chinese fear was giving way to a surge of nationalism.
Captain Rei was no fool, and he knew that the missile launched from his ship a few days earlier had sunk a Japanese warship. But he allowed his mind to think of the dead and wounded as abstract statistics—nothing more than a number on a sheet of paper. It was, he reasoned, perfectly within his rights—the rights of his homeland—to correct past wrongs and to regain dignity and self-determination.
But if this was the case, why did the mission planners remain so secretive? The question nagged at him.