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The USS Wayne made a steady twenty knots through the gray-green waters of the South China Sea, the sharp edge of her bow cutting like a samurai sword through the water. The Wayne was an Arleigh Burke class missile destroyer, an elegant, deadly, war machine of the sea. She was showing the flag, sailing in international waters claimed by Beijing.
Two miles to starboard, a Chinese Navy corvette had been shadowing them since first light. So far there'd been no incidents, although the Wayne had received numerous radio transmissions protesting her presence in "Chinese territorial waters."
This part of the world's sea lanes was a busy place. Freighters, fishing boats, and container ships dotted the wide horizon. The Wayne featured the most sophisticated navigational electronics and displays taxpayer money could buy. It made no difference if she sailed in a complete white out or the black of night, whoever was on the bridge knew exactly what was out there. On a day like today, with unlimited visibility, it didn't take instruments to see the freighter making erratic movements ahead of them. Streams of rust ran down her sides. The vessel flew a Chinese flag.
Captain Randolph "Randy" Carpenter lowered his binoculars. He turned to his XO, Commander Zachary Armstrong, standing next to him on the bridge.
"What does that idiot think he's doing, Zack?"
"You got me, skipper. He keeps that up, he's going to cross right in front of us."
"Helm, ten degrees to port."
"Ten degrees to port, aye."
The ship heeled slightly as she changed course.
Armstrong studied the freighter through his binoculars.
"Sir, he's altered course. He's headed right for us."
"Helm, twenty degrees to port, all ahead full."
"Twenty degrees to port, aye. All ahead full, aye."
The seaman standing at the bridge helm station turned the wheel in front of him.
The destroyer began turning to starboard.
"Damn it, helm, I said port."
"Sir, the helm is not responding." There was a touch of panic in the seaman's voice. He spun the wheel. "Sir, there is no response. I'm locked out."
The floor under Captain Carpenter's feet vibrated as the four powerful gas turbines that drove the destroyer spun up to full speed. The Wayne was engineered to make a fast thirty knots and could make a turn impossible twenty years before. That didn't help if she wasn't turning in the right direction. The freighter altered course again, presenting her starboard side to the onrushing destroyer. The Wayne was a deadly arrow, aimed at the heart of the ship ahead.
"Sound collision alarm," Carpenter said. "All stop."
"All stop, aye," the helmsman said. "Sir, no response."
The deck thrummed as the engines went to flank speed. A harsh klaxon began blaring throughout the ship. Carpenter watched helplessly as the Wayne bore down on the luckless freighter. Now he could make out the name painted on her side.
Happy Nation.
The destroyer struck the Happy Nation at maximum speed, slicing into her like a knife cutting through cheese. The agonized sound of tortured metal ripping apart was the last thing Carpenter heard before he was thrown down and knocked unconscious.
Twelve minutes later, the freighter slipped stern first beneath the surface of the sea. The USS Wayne was down by the bow and listing to starboard.
It had begun.