Admiral Sun switched to his interphone and keyed the mike: “Continue on course,” he ordered. “Notify me when your attack checklists are complete.” He received an acknowledgment from his crew. The H-7 bomber started northward toward Fuzhou, staying close to the mainland coast in case any surviving rebel fighters tried to take a pass at them. It was accompanied by a single HT-6 Xian tanker aircraft. After passing near Fuzhou, Sun’s H-7 and the HT-6 took up a northbound course, out over the East China Sea.
The attack on Taiwan’s major military bases was a great success, but Sun knew that the real threat to China didn’t come from Taiwan, but from the United States of America. Sun had managed to keep the area around Taiwan clear of American aircraft carriers by planting a “backpack” nuclear device on the USS Independence and detonating it just after it had left its Japanese port of Yokosuka — and to his immense surprise, the United States had not retaliated against anyone, not China, not Japan, not Iran. The nearest American carrier was nearly a thousand miles away, and intelligence reported that it might take up stations in the Sea of Japan to defend Japan and South Korea, instead of moving toward the Formosa Strait to assist the rebel Nationalists.
America had to be stopped, Sun knew. The United States had to learn to respect the waters and airspace around China, as the United States expected other nations to do around its waters.
But the political leaders around the world, even in China, did not have the stomach to do what was necessary to ensure their sovereignty in their own territory when faced with the threat of domination by the United States. Sun Ji Guoming knew what must be done, and he knew that he must force his own political leadership to accept what was right and what was necessary. There was no choice, no other way.
Admiral Sun switched his radio panel to the Great Wall satellite communications system again, linking directly into the Beijing emergency military command center, and asked to speak with the Paramount Leader again.
“The wrath of the entire planet will be upon the people of China for what has been done today,” President Jiang Zemin intoned, when he came on the line a few moments later. He had obviously been informed of the extensive and deadly nuclear attack on Taiwan, and the doubt and worry crushing his every thought was evident in his tired, wavering voice. “Our lives, our future will never again be the same.”
“The future is now, Comrade President,” Admiral Sun said. “You have seen to that. You have opened the way for us to reunite our shattered country from the destruction of foreign imperialism. But there is one more step to be done. Give the order, and it will be done.”
“I cannot do it. It is insanity.”
“Comrade, you may rely on me to be the instrument of your vision,” Sun said in a firm, confident voice. Jiang did not order him to abort the mission or return to base, so he was positive that Jiang was going to give the order. He was a little hesitant — but who wouldn’t be? “I will be the sword of your promise to the Chinese people. Give me the order, and I shall accomplish the deed. Afterwards, you may tell the world that I was an insane man who stole a jet and nuclear weapon at gunpoint — if you must betray me, so be it. I will always be loyal to you, to the motherland, and to the Chinese Communist Party. But this must be done. You know it to be true. We cannot succeed if the final step is not taken.”
“You have done enough, Admiral,” Jiang said.
Again, the Paramount Leader was expressing doubts, but he still did not give the order to abort. “You must tell me to abort the mission and return to base, Comrade President,” Sun said. “If you do, I will obey. But you will also lose the opportunity to all but eliminate the Western imperialist-dominated threat to China’s existence. I urge you, sir — no, I demand it. Save Zhongguo. Save China. Give the command.”
There was no response — not even a “wait.” A few moments later, a command post operator relayed an order from the president to stand by.
Sun continued northward over the East China Sea and, almost an hour later, they were just a hundred miles east of Shanghai. Sun ordered the final refueling to commence, and thirty minutes later the HT-6 Xian tanker was left with just enough fuel to return to base at Wuhan. Sun’s H-7 Gangfang bomber turned slightly west and continued into the Yellow Sea, beginning a descent from 30,000 feet to 5,000 feet, sneaking in under the long-range radar coverage from Kunsan and Mokpo in South Korea, now less than three hundred miles to the east. After the attack on the rebel Nationalists, the Americans and South Koreans would surely be on their highest states of alert, and any unidentified aircraft flying anywhere near their shoreline or bases on the Korean Peninsula would quickly be intercepted.
Although a fully fueled H-7 had an endurance of about seven hours, Sun could not wait that long to get a response from Beijing. He would simply fly to his next checkpoint — if he did not receive approval for the final phase of his plan, he would head westbound and land at Wuhan People’s Liberation Army Air Force Base, then begin planning another night of attacks on the Nationalists. It was important that—
“Attack One, this is Dark Night, respond, please.”
“Dark Night, I am listening. Go ahead, please.”
“Attack One, you are ordered to proceed. Repeat, you are ordered to proceed. Do you understand?”
Admiral Sun Ji Guoming wore a smile like a young child’s at his first circus. “Attack One understands,” he responded. “Attack One out.” Sun then switched to the interphone and instructed the stunned bomber crew to carry out the attack orders.
The attack was simple and completely without threat from anywhere. From an altitude of 5,000 feet and an airspeed of 240 knots, the H-7 Gangfang bomber flew toward a preprogrammed point in the north- central part of the Yellow Sea, about one hundred miles east of the North Sea Fleet headquarters base at Qingdao, and then two long, slender shapes dropped from their semirecessed spaces in the H-7 bomber’s belly. Three large parachutes deployed immediately from each object, and by the time the objects were 1,000 feet above the water, they were both hanging almost exactly vertical in their chutes, almost all rocking motions stopped. The H-7 bomber turned westward and accelerated to its maximum speed of nearly the speed of sound…
… so it was well clear of the area when the rocket motors of the two M-9 ballistic missiles ignited. The stabilizer parachutes released seconds after the flight computer detected full power chamber pressure in the rocket motors, and the M-9 missiles climbed rapidly in the night sky. One missile headed eastward, while the other headed northeast — both over the Korean Peninsula.
The Republic of Korea AN/EPS-117 air defense radar station at Seoul was the first to detect the missile launches, just seconds after the M-9s crossed the radar horizon, and the U.S.-made Patriot and I-Hawk surface-to-air-missile sites at Inchon and Seoul were instantly alerted. By the time missile-launch detection was confirmed, the second missile was out of range as it headed farther north over the demilitarized zone. The first missile was tracked and engaged by eight Patriot batteries — one by one they opened fire with double Patriot anti-missile missile launches.
The first two Patriot missiles hit their target, breaking the M-9 missile into several pieces. The other Patriot batteries continued to fire at the larger pieces of the Chinese missile — in all, eight Patriot missiles were launched, effectively chopping the thirty-foot-long, eighteen-inch- diameter M-9 missile into pieces no larger than a suitcase. The M-9’s nuclear warhead was hit directly by one Patriot, detonating the high- explosive fusion initiator portion of the warhead and scattering radioactive debris over Inchon and the west-central coastline, but there was no nuclear yield.