“General Freeman, I wish you’d stop being a mamas boy to Brad Elliott,” Admiral Balboa exploded. “Technical glitches, wolf in sheep’s clothing, saving the day, spooks and goblins — forget the damned excuses, because he’s got a million of them. The bottom line is that Elliott attacked again without permission. He didn’t do a complete target assessment and fired two heavy missiles at a noncombatant.”
“But the Megafortresses redeemed themselves,” Freeman went on. “They stayed with the frigates and helped to fight off a Chinese air attack on the frigates. According to reports from the James Daniel and the Megafortress’s crew, China launched several formations of fighters and attack planes, including four heavy bombers with large anti-ship cruise missiles. Elliott and his wingman in the Megafortresses used their antiaircraft weapons to shoot down a number of the attackers; Taiwan Air Force fighters helped to fight off several formations of Chinese fighters.” “None of this would have happened,” Balboa argued, “if Elliott hadn’t put those two missiles into that ferry.”
“I disagree, Admiral,” Freeman said. “Those fighters and attack planes were on the scene within minutes of the attack on the ferry. This was a planned attack, made to look like retaliation for our attack.”
“That’s bullshit, Freeman.”
“All right, all right,” the President said. He turned to Freeman and said, “Looks like Brad Elliott screwed up big-time, Philip. Is he on his way back to Guam?”
“No, sir,” Freeman replied. “Both Megafortresses are on station with the James Daniel and Duncan, in case any Chinese naval vessels try to approach. The Taiwanese air force is also overhead, in case there are any more air attacks.”
“Sir, we’ve got to stop fucking around with these damned B-52 monstrosities and take command of the region,” Admiral Balboa said, completely abandoning all courtesy toward his commander in chief. “We need the Independence to move into the Strait to assist the frigates in recovery and withdrawal, right now. And we’ve got to initiate an investigation of that missile attack — Elliott and whoever else screwed up has to be held liable. Congress, our allies, and the American people are going to scream bloody murder over this. Elliott needs to have his nuts chopped off!”
“Admiral, I warned you, watch your damned mouth when you’re speaking to the President,” Jerrod Hale snapped.
“Jerrod, easy — I’m upset, too,” the President said. “All right. Terminate all the EB-52 patrols, recall those bombers back to wherever the hell they came from — hide them away someplace where the press can’t find them, until we have the spin under control. When they get back to Guam, I want a full investigation of the incident…” he paused, then added, “… with the intention of filing criminal charges against Elliott, McLanahan, whoever was in command of the aircraft that fired the missiles against the ferry. This is going to be serious.” He paused again, then added, “And get the Independence group under way to take up patrol positions in the Strait. We can use commercial or allied salvage services to assist the frigates, but the reason we’re moving the Independence into the Strait is to help the frigates.”
“Yes, sir." Balboa nodded and was on the phone immediately, issuing the orders. “In the meantime, sir, what do you suggest we tell the press about the attack on the ferry?” Balboa asked. There was a definite edge in his voice this time, as if he was rubbing the President’s nose in the filth caused by his decision to send in the EB-52 Megafortresses. “We will not blame this attack on my frigates—they obeyed orders and did not open fire, unlike your damned thingamajigs.”
“Admiral…” Jerrod Hale warned him, picking up on his disrespectful tone of voice. Balboa glared at Hale, but kept silent by taking an unrepentant sip of coffee.
The President did not show any anger at the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “We tell them… that we had armed military patrol aircraft in the area that mistakenly fired on the ferry,” he said. “No elaboration beyond that. We can report the rest in closed-door briefings if necessary, but no details about the Megafortresses to the press.” Freeman and Hale nodded; Balboa showed little reaction. “All right. What else happened out there?”
“At almost the exact same time, sir, the Chinese carrier Mao Zedong was hit by three torpedoes as it lay at anchor near Hong Kong,” Freeman replied. The President’s jaw sagged, and he muttered a barely audible “Ah, shit.” “It was part of Reunification Day celebrations; it carried a skeleton crew of about a thousand, and approximately a thousand civilians, most of whom had slept aboard the ship. The carrier reportedly sustained major damage. Casualties are reported to be heavy.
“The carrier responded with an attack by several helicopters, at which time they attacked and damaged a Taiwanese Sea Dragon-class submarine, forcing it to the surface. The crew was taken off the sub, and then it was blown to bits and sunk by gunfire from the carrier Mao."
“Jesus,” the President muttered. “What does the ROC say about it?”
“Taiwan hasn’t issued any statements so far,” DCI Robert Plank responded woodenly. The President looked surprised, then frustrated, then angry at the news. “We know that a couple Taiwanese subs have been shadowing the Mao since it returned to Hong Kong after the attack on Quemoy — we’ve got two subs in the vicinity as well, although we were careful to stay out of Hong Kong waters. Apparently the Taiwanese navy decided the Mao was too inviting a target and decided to be heroes and sink the son of a bitch. Their plan backfired.”
“Simultaneously, it appears that a Taiwanese C-130 transport plane was detected near Lang-Ch’i Army Base, twenty miles west of Matsu Island — over the Chinese coast,” Freeman went on, shaking his head in disbelief. “China claims that Taiwan was attempting either to drop a bomb on the base or insert spies or commandos into the area. The transport plane was shot down. Mainland China retaliated by launching rocket attacks on the Matsu Islands, the Taiwanese island chain located just off the Chinese mainland northwest of Taipei.”
“What in hell is Taiwan up to?” the President asked. “Have they gone crazy? This is a damned nightmare! I want… Holy shit, look at that!” They looked — and they were stunned beyond belief. There on CNN was a fuzzy, grainy black-and-white photograph — of the EB-52 Megafortress! The announcer said that the photograph had just been received by the Chinese News Agency, who had gotten it from the People’s Liberation Army Air Force. It was a head-on shot, so it was difficult to make out details or get any solid identification — but for the men in the room, the identification was painfully easy. The B-52 fuselage, the unusual tail surfaces, the pointed nose, the weapons pod — it was the EB-52 Megafortress, all right.
“Very nice gun camera picture — of a top-secret stealth attack plane! ” Balboa said sarcastically. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it?” “Save it, Admiral,” the President said irritably. He noticed Jerrod Hale answering the phone on his desk — shit, he thought, it’s starting already! Thirty seconds after the pictures were shown on CNN, the phone calls were coming in hot and heavy. “The official response about those photos is going to be ‘no comment.’ Is that clear?” Hale caught the President’s attention. “What?”
“State Department is getting flooded with calls from the foreign ministries of Japan, Russia, North Korea, Iran, about a dozen others— they all want to know if we’re at war with China and if we have a fleet of those Megafortresses deployed around the world‘ready to strike,” Hale said. “They all want an explanation.”