As the Chinese carrier tipped sideways, spilling drones and screaming sailors into the sea, the rest of the THOR missiles struck.
Many orange meteors plowed through ghosts, making them waver. The sea hissed and boiled, but no one saw that because the holoimages hid the sight. Other molten THOR bars destroyed cruisers, destroyers and a fuel transport. A gigantic fireball billowed skyward.
Ships exploded, turning into grenades, sprinkling the sea with shrapnel and other debris. Others sank, simply sliding into the deep and disappearing. One ship limped along with its aft area missing.
It happened incredibly fast and then it was over. Fifty luminous trails showed in the sky, but they began to dissipate almost right away.
Admiral Ling took stock of the situation. He’d lost a carrier, four cruisers and seven destroyers. Without the ghost imaging he would probably have lost the Sung and the battleship, too. Without enough destroyers as carrier guards…
I have plenty of drones. They can hunt for enemy submarines.
“Admiral Ling,” the deck captain said, saluting. “The carrier group awaits your orders, sir.”
Old Admiral Ling eased up out of his chair. With a trembling hand, he touched his artificial eye. It always felt strange, foreign, the way a foot did when it went to sleep and he felt it. The ship losses hurt him deeply. Those were his vessels, and the damned Americans had once again struck a telling blow through space power.
He had a glorious reputation as a ship commander. Well, he’d had one until Santa Cruz Harbor. Even that hadn’t really been his fault. He’d saved the fighting ships. Yet since then, the Americans had tarnished his reputation due to trickery.
Space power is trickery. This is a sea battle. Can I let the Americans land their amphibious forces?
He knew his history. The Pacific War during World War II had always interested him. The Japanese had often thrown away important naval victories by failing to take into account the strategic importance of an action.
Ling fingered the artificial eye. It itched. Yet he didn’t want to horrify the command center personnel by scratching it all the time. Thus, he endured. At times like this, though, the itchiness became nearly unbearable.
I must destroy the invasion fleet. I must keep Australia in the PAA. Yet if we lose too many of our oceangoing ships…
“South,” Ling said.
“Sir?” the deck captain asked.
“We are going to head south and find the American invasion fleet. We are going to destroy them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Half the air will patrol for submarines,” Ling said. “They’re our greatest danger now.”
“What kind of armaments should the drones carry, sir?”
Yes, that was the question. Protocol demanded a careful sequence for using nuclear depth charges. But they didn’t have time for such niceties now.
“They’re to go armed with nuclear depth charges,” Ling said.
“Sir?”
“Do not question me, Captain.”
The man bowed deeply, no doubt shamed by the last statement. Ling knew he’d just spoken too sternly. The space attack had strained his nerves. Well, he was too old to worry about a deck captain’s shame now. He must destroy the invasion fleet.
Through tersely given orders, Captain Darius Green maneuvered the USS Grant as he trailed the Chinese battleship. Destroying it would gravely weaken the enemy’s carrier group.
Several hours ago, they’d detected nuclear depth charges. The bombs had their own horrifying signature sounds. Likely, everyone felt as he did that it would be good to go anywhere but here, but he had a job to do. If they could take out a rare Chinese battleship… under his breath, Darius kept begging Allah for that prize.
The air had grown close in the control center. Wide-eyed and silent, the crew watched sensors and waited for his next orders. It was a cat and mouse game now, and Darius used every trick he knew. Above the surface, Chinese planes crisscrossed the sky, no doubt hunting for a sign of them. Helicopters dropped sonar buoys. They heard the distant splashes. As bad, the occasional destroyer plowed through the ocean, mostly heading elsewhere, sometimes getting too near the sub’s position.
Darius lusted to kill the giant battleship. He couldn’t risk going in any closer, though. They would have to launch now or break off.
He stood, and he spoke as calmly as possible. “Lock solution into the torpedo special and prepare to fire.”
“Solution locked, sir. Ready to fire.”
In the old days, Darius would have needed the XO to fire a nuclear-tipped torpedo. It didn’t work that way anymore.
“Select torpedo special, tube one,” Darius said.
“Torpedo special, tube one selected.”
Darius hesitated before saying, “Fire one.”
A thud and whoosh sounded as the torpedo was ejected from its tube by compressed air. It began its ten-mile run toward the Chinese battleship.
“Left full rudder, all ahead flank. Come to course zero, zero, zero.”
It was time to leave. The sensors showed a salty layer. It should shield them from enemy sonar. Should was a terrible word, though. If he guessed wrong…
Time ticked by. Soon, at a station, a young operator sat up sharply. He wore headphones.
The Chief of the Boat stood by the youngster. The bluff man from Kansas spoke a quiet word to the operator. The operator looked up, answering the Chief.
The white man grew pale, and he turned, shouting, “Weapon in the water, Captain!”
“Identify!” Darius snapped.
“We have to dive now!” The Chief was clearly panicking, almost losing it.
“Pull yourself together, man,” Darius growled. “Report!”
Instead, the Chief pressed a button on the operator’s screen. It increased the thing’s volume. Then he tapped another spot on the screen. An unmistakable splash sounded from it, and the sonar analysis screen lit up with the code for a Chinese nuke.
“Crash dive, now!” Darius shouted.
A fantastic explosion cut him off. A Yellow Swan drone had dropped it at a precise location. In this instance, a regular depth charge would likely have proven good enough.
The USS Grant had no chance. The nuclear warhead exploded, and first it crumpled and then tore the Avenger submarine in half. Like a fisherman’s lead, the wrecked vessel plunged toward the bottom of the Tasman Sea.
Captain Darius Green, Sulu Khan, the Chief and the sensor operator—the entire crew—were all dead. Their last torpedo avenged them, however, detonating and taking out two Chinese destroyers. The torpedo failed to kill the battleship, but at least Darius had taken some of the enemy to the grave with him.
From Military History: Past to Present, by Vance Holbrook:
2042, March 9-10. The Massacre of Tasman Sea. Admiral Ling’s Carrier Group consisting of the Supercarrier Sung, Battleship Canton and handful of cruisers, survived the THOR missile strike and raced toward Task Force A. Using air power Ling fixed the task force’s position and annihilated every vessel. There were few survivors.
Now the utility of separating the American invasion fleet into three separate task forces became apparent. The two commanders wanted to turn around and head home. The game was up, they claimed. Chairman Alan of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff gave his famous, “You will invade, sir,” order. Tepidly, the remaining task forces headed for Australia. Their submarines searched for Admiral Ling’s carrier group. Where had it gone?