Shattered Trident - Страница 93

Myles began his speech by glancing at his watch.

“Exactly six minutes ago, on my orders, eight ten-kiloton nuclear devices were detonated in the depths of the South and East China Seas.”

The gasps and uproar in the press corps went on for almost ten minutes. Myles made no attempt to stop it. He simply waited silently for the commotion to die down, and when they were quiet again, he continued.

“These devices were placed by four U.S. Navy submarines, deployed to carefully plotted positions in the South China Sea and East China Sea, where they each fired two specially modified torpedoes, each fitted with a nuclear warhead.

“The torpedoes were not aimed at anything or anybody, and were detonated at a depth that minimized the blast and radioactive contamination from reaching the surface. They presented no danger to nearby ships, and based on reports from U.S. aircraft monitoring the operation, did not cause any injuries or damage.”

Myles was watching the audience as he read from the teleprompter. They were completely silent, almost transfixed. They were full of questions, he knew, but also curious as hell. Why, then?

“One effect of these weapons, which we did our best to maximize, was something called ‘blue-out.’ The shock waves from these eight blasts will reverberate through the entire South and East China Sea basins for days, completely blinding all sonars. Submarines cannot find their prey or detect another ship, save by short-ranged periscope or radar. Surface ships cannot hunt for submarines, and cannot know if they are about to be attacked, unless they spot said periscope. Aircraft cannot hunt for subs except by radar, visual search, or magnetic anomaly detectors, which are very short-ranged and unreliable.

“Since this war began, the United States has done its utmost to convince the warring parties to quickly end the conflict, before the violence escalates to a level no rational human wishes to see.

“In spite of our best efforts, both sides have repeatedly refused to consider any negotiations to end their dispute, or even declare what their definition of victory was. Today, the United States has imposed at least a partial cease-fire at sea. The Littoral Alliance’s most powerful weapons, its submarines, are virtually impotent. But as impotent as they are, the Chinese Navy cannot ignore, or even detect, a submarine, if it happens to be nearby.”

Myles paused for a moment, and looked at the line of television cameras at the back of the room. His image was being seen around the world.

“To the leaders of the Pacific nations engaged in this war, if our use of nuclear weapons, even in this nonlethal way, has shocked you, then pause in your struggle and consider the horror that lies inevitably in front of us. The death tolls in Seoul, Tokyo, and other cities thus far will be trivial compared to the holocaust after a nuclear weapon strikes them.

“The environmental damage caused by our eight detonations is not as great as the harm already caused by one wrecked supertanker. The South China Sea, the major prize in this struggle, is losing its luster daily as war’s ruin fills it with poison.

“We have not done this from some altruistic desire for peace. This is naked, if enlightened, self-interest. A Chinese economy in ruins is a global catastrophe that could drag the rest of the world down with it. A nuclear exchange would be far worse. The world is too small now for wars such as this, and only a fool would think that the belligerents would be the only ones to suffer.”

18 September 2016

1330 Local Time

Littoral Alliance Headquarters

Okutama, Nishitama District

Tokyo, Japan

The delegates had all gathered to hear the American president’s speech. As soon as he mentioned “nuclear devices,” the room had erupted in chaos, with shouts and exclamations in half a dozen languages. Aides ran out to confirm Myles’s announcement with their respective governments. Some delegates without translators asked others to confirm what seemed unbelievable. Surely their English skills weren’t that bad.

By the time the aides had begun to straggle back in, Myles had finished his speech and the delegates were listening to a replay, some making notes, others just holding their heads in their hands. Not a word was spoken until Myles’s speech ended again.

Lieutenant Commander Xang was the aide to Admiral Han, the Taiwanese military representative, and the most senior aide. He stood in front of the admiral, quickly bowed, and reported, “Both of our submarines currently on patrol report their sonars are completely blind. The time coincides with the Americans’ announcement. On his authority, Commander Submarines has ordered both subs back to port, and forbidden any other sailings until better sonar conditions develop.”

The other aides all followed in order, and their messages were similar. Ships and subs at sea were all heading for the nearest friendly port at their best speed. Some had asked the working group for their concurrence. Numbly, and by a simple show of hands, the offensive campaign at sea was unanimously “suspended, until acoustic conditions improve.” Myles was right. In one stroke, they had been hobbled.

The military confirmations were hardly needed. Within minutes of Myles’s broadcast, scientific stations, civilian observers, even weather satellites had posted information about the detonations on the Internet. Wild speculation about the physical effects would reverberate long after the acoustic pulse had faded.

Minister Jan Ignacio, the Filipino civilian representative, chaired the working group this week, and called them to order.

“Mister Chairman, I have a motion,” cried a Taiwanese representative.

“Mister Chairman, I demand an immediate release condemning the American action,” urged the representative from Singapore.

“Mister Chairman…”

By the time Ignacio sorted out the immediate and most emotional demands from the delegates, the anti-American release was tabled, as was a motion for an immediate cease-fire. Trying to buy time, Ignacio asked Lieutenant Commander Xang to brief them on the blue-out phenomenon. Was Myles correct? Would this last for days?

Xang deferred to a different officer, with a degree in acoustics. He expanded on the president’s description. High-frequency sonars, used by torpedoes and mine-hunters, would return first, maybe in twelve hours or so, but the low-frequency bands, used for long-range search by subs and surface ships alike, were blocked for at least two days. The only thing to do was head for port and hope for the best.

The Korean minister was incensed. “The Americans have taken away our best weapon. Our aircraft can’t match the Chinese Air Force’s numbers, and we can only hope for a handful of ballistic missiles.”

“That’s why we should offer terms for a cease-fire,” the Taiwanese delegate insisted. “If we continue to use cruise missiles…” He didn’t complete his sentence, but saw several heads nodding agreement.

“We must continue,” the Indian delegate argued. “We’ve already inflicted terrible damage on the Chinese economy. They are already deep into their strategic reserves. If we keep them on a war footing, and at the same time continue choking off their imports, they’ll be faced with complete collapse soon. Then we won’t have to offer terms. We can dictate them.”

Minister Hisagi disagreed. “We should think carefully before we back the Chinese leadership into a corner. Desperate men use different rules. Also, Dr. Komamura has always insisted that the Chinese themselves may not know where the edge is. By then, it might be too late.”

“Then perhaps the professor can give us an update. We’d all welcome his counsel.”

But Komamura’s chair was empty. Hisagi sent his aide to find the doctor and ask him to rejoin the meeting. But in the end, Hisagi and Orihara were the ones who went to the doctor.

* * *

They’d found him on the floor of his small quarters, Miyazaki collapsed on top of him, sobbing. They tried to help her up, but she clung to Komamura, crying, “It’s too late. It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. He’s gone.”

Dr. Ono had arrived by this point, and his simple check and solemn nod confirmed their worst fears. As Ono stepped back from the body, the news passed from person to person, and a silence spread out from his room and through the halls.

Captain Madarame, in charge of security, hustled the onlookers away. Even Hisagi and Orihara had to stand outside. After asking Miyazaki a few questions, he stepped out into the hall and spoke to the two representatives.

He showed them a vial of prescription medicine. DO NOT TAKE WITH ALCOHOL was printed in red along the top of the label. The vial was empty. “There was an empty flask of sake next to him as well. Dr. Ono says that even a third of the vial would have been fatal, and there must have been at least that much in there.” Madarame sighed. “It was quick. He didn’t even have time to lie down on the bed.”

Attendants appeared with a litter, and another confrontation with Miyazaki began. Her coworkers on Komamura’s staff, fellow graduate students, interceded and gently separated her from the professor, promising that she could see him to the ambulance. They escorted her out, promising she would not be left alone.

“You should see this,” Madarame said, ushering the two representatives into his room and pointing to the screen of his personal laptop computer. “He left a message. Don’t touch anything. This is a crime scene until the examiner declares it a suicide.”