Shattered Trident - Страница 80

“First of all, their constitution does not forbid Japan from possessing nuclear weapons. Yes, it has been their national policy since the mid-1950s to forbid their development, but that is only a piece of paper. Yes, their national psyche is still scarred and that has had a significant influence on their past decision to not pursue them, or even allow them to be transported through Japanese territory. But that memory has dimmed. It’s been over seventy years since the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombings. Most important, however, is that these two factors are predicated on the belief that Japan does not need to produce nuclear weapons because they are under the American nuclear shield. Geng argues that may no longer be the case.

“The Japanese, indeed the entire Littoral Alliance, has snubbed the American president’s attempts to broker a cease-fire. They have boldly told the Americans they are no longer needed to ensure Japan’s security, and yet they made the hypocritical assumption that they would still be covered by America’s nuclear deterrent. Our recent ballistic missile attacks have shaken this belief badly. The fact that we have not launched any ballistic missiles at India, a nuclear power, reinforces their perception of vulnerability.

“Furthermore, Japan possesses the technological base and knowledge to develop a nuclear weapon. A number of their civilian reactors use mixed oxide, or MOX fuels, which use a mixture of plutonium and uranium. What most people do not realize is that while the plutonium only makes up about five to seven percent of the reactor fuel by weight, it is of weapons-grade quality—at least ninety percent pure plutonium-239.

“As of last year, Japan has increased its production capacity of MOX fuels to one hundred and forty metric tons a year. Simple math suggests that Japan has access to tons of weapons-grade material. Depending on the sophistication of the bomb design, only a few tens of kilograms are needed to produce a fission weapon. Japanese engineers also have access to weapon design expertise through India, should they run into problems.

“Comrades, Major Geng has argued that there is now a strong political motivation to develop nuclear weapons in Japan. When coupled with their technological capabilities, and the close alliance with India, this becomes a substantial new strategic threat to the People’s Republic of China.”

An awestruck silence greeted Xi’s finale. The senior members of the Communist Party looked back and forth at each other. Some had the look of disbelief, others shock, a few, outright fear. It was General Su who finally broke the silence. “Is there any evidence the Japanese are pursuing this path?”

Xi took a deep breath and answered, “No, General. But I must caveat that by saying we really haven’t looked all that hard. Our collection assets have been heavily tasked to support the war effort.”

“Then, General Xi, this becomes your number-one priority,” announced Chen sternly. “We must know if Japan has an active nuclear weapons program, and we need to know soon.”

12 September 2016

2045 Local Time

USS North Dakota

Apra Harbor, Guam

“My God, Bernie! What the hell are you doing! We have to be there in fifteen minutes!” shouted Jerry; there was a distinct note of panic in his voice.

“I had to shower, Skipper! I was filthy!” cried Thigpen from his stateroom. A towel came flying out and landed on the floor of the head the two men shared. Sounds of drawers being opened and slammed shut echoed from the XO’s quarters. “Now where did I put my cover?”

Jerry collapsed into his desk chair and cradled his head in his hands. “Simonis will just shoot me!” he moaned. Looking up at the clock on the bulkhead, he saw the seconds relentlessly ticking by. The thought of being late sent a chill down Jerry’s spine.

“You know, XO, it is not considered career-enhancing to show up fashionably late for a video teleconference WITH THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!” he bellowed.

“Keep your shirt on, Skipper. I’m almost ready,” Thigpen squealed as he walked into his captain’s stateroom.

Jerry took one look at Thigpen and emitted a guttural cry of frustration. “Gak! XO!!”

“What!?” yelled Thigpen, completely confused.

“Your shirt!”

“Huh?” Thigpen looked down and saw that he had buttoned his shirt incorrectly. “Oh shit!”

While Thigpen wrestled with his buttons, Jerry shoveled him out into the passageway, and drove him toward the control room. The two made a comical entry with Thigpen still trying to button his shirt and Jerry mimicking a tug pushing him toward the ladder well. As they passed through control, the occupants watched with amusement as the two senior officers acted more like a comedy team than the boat’s command element. As Jerry propelled Thigpen through the door, he called to the ship’s engineer. “Mr. Sobecki, the ship is yours until we get back. I’ll expect it to be here.”

“Aye, aye, Skipper. Have a good time,” shouted Sobecki as he desperately tried to keep a straight face. The control room watchstanders all attempted to stifle their laughter; Lymburn failed and uttered a loud snort. From the behind the door, the XO’s faint voice wafted through. “I heard that, Q!”

Everyone in control lost it.

* * *

They barely made it in time. With only a minute to spare, Jerry and his XO hustled into the Squadron Fifteen conference room. Simonis’s stern glare sent a clear message: I am not amused! Jerry shrugged an apology as he shuffled by the commodore.

The two quickly took their seats and looked up at the large display screen. Jerry noted that the connection with the White House Situation Room had been established, and the display showed a number of people milling about and talking. In the background, Jerry saw Joanna Patterson and her boss, Dr. Kirkpatrick. Jerry remembered fondly his meeting with the national security advisor soon after the Iranian incident.

Suddenly, a harried-looking man appeared in the camera’s field of view. He strode quickly up to the mike and announced, “Squadron Fifteen, this is the White House, stand by for the President of the United States.”

“Attention on deck!” commanded Simonis. Everyone in the conference room jumped to their feet and stood rigidly at attention.

Within seconds, President Myles appeared on the screen, followed by Vice President Randall, and the secretaries of state and defense. Myles took his seat with Randall to his right and Kirkpatrick to his left. Pulling the microphone closer, the president addressed the Guam-based squadron. “Good evening, Commodore. Thank you for getting everyone together on such short notice. As you can imagine, we’re in full-fledged crisis mode here. Meetings like this tend to occur at the last minute. Please, be seated.”

“It was no inconvenience at all, Mr. President,” Simonis replied as he sat down. “We are honored to have you with us tonight.”

Myles slowly shook his head. Jerry thought the man looked exhausted. “No, Commodore. It is I who am honored. Your squadron has shouldered the load of this crisis, and I am very grateful for your exquisite service. You took on a very difficult and unusual assignment to buy me time; time to learn why the war started, who the belligerents were, and to attempt a diplomatic resolution of the conflict. My orders tied your hands behind your back, and yet your squadron executed their mission brilliantly and gave me the time I asked for. It is unfortunate that I wasn’t as successful in negotiating a cease-fire.”

Jerry saw the bitter disappointment on the president’s face. He’s holding himself solely responsible, thought Jerry to himself. The president’s admission was a harsh judgment on himself, perhaps too harsh. In diplomacy, it takes two to tango, and it’s really tough if one of the partners doesn’t even want to dance.

“That is why I wanted to have this VTC, Commodore,” continued Myles. “To personally thank you and your crews for all your hard work and sacrifice, and to express my sincerest regrets and condolences on the loss of USS Santa Fe and her crew. I know your command is grieving. I only wish there was something I could do to ease the pain.”

The president paused for a moment, totally silent. Jerry couldn’t tell if he was trying to compose himself or praying. Either would be acceptable given the circumstances.

“Commander Mitchell,” called Myles.

“Yes, Mr. President.” Jerry stood as he replied.

For the first time that evening, Myles had a smile on his face. “You continue to amaze me with your resourcefulness and dedication, Captain. I’ve been briefed on your engagement with the Chinese destroyer, and both Captain Simonis and the CNO strongly endorse your actions. You followed, to the letter, the restrictive rules of engagement I placed upon you, and I commend you on your sound decision-making skills. I only regret having placed you in a position where you had to make such a decision. Taking lives is never easy to do.”

“Thank you for your kind sentiments, sir,” responded Jerry. In the background he could see Joanna wiping her eyes.

President Myles then acknowledged Dobson, Pascovich, and Simonis for their diligence and skills in successfully executing the spoiler campaign. Once again the president noted that the combined efforts of the squadron exceeded all expectations. Finally, he concluded his remarks with a short awards presentation. “Captain Simonis, moments ago I authorized the awarding of the presidential unit citation to Squadron Fifteen and the four participating submarine crews. Individual personal awards will be forthcoming. It is the least I can do to acknowledge your efforts on behalf of the United States of America.”