“General?” His chief of staff was softly calling his name, pulling him from his thoughts.
He glowered at the colonel. “What is it?”
“Did you want to include this slide? We redid it from this morning.”
General Chen had lit into his staffers for not having updated positions on the carrier group outside Japan. Now it showed the two newest Chinese aircraft carriers, a few hundred kilometers to the east of Tokyo.
“What are they still doing there?”
“Sir?”
“The Northern Fleet. What are their orders right now? What are they doing?”
“Sir, they are headed toward Hawaii.”
“Well, why aren’t they farther along?”
The colonel turned to the slide, and then to the other staff officers sitting behind him. One of them shook his head. “I believe that their orders are to arrive at the same time as the Southern Fleet, sir. Because the distance is much shorter for the Northern Fleet, they are traveling at a slower speed.”
The colonel looked back at his superior, bracing for another storm of spittle and screams.
“How far is Hawaii? How many days’ travel?”
“About two weeks, sir. Ten days if they exceed their fuel consumption limitations,” said one of the staff members.
“You said that the USS Ford was spotted near Midway Atoll?”
“Yes sir. Our reconnaissance satellite sent imagery this morning, before it was destroyed by American antisatellite weapons.”
The satellites were being shot down as quickly as they went up. It was a wonder that it had sent anything at all.
“And what of Midway? Do they have reinforcements there yet?” The Americans were reportedly sending reinforcements to several of the small Pacific islands. Some type of special defensive perimeter was being set up.
The colonel again looked back at his staffers. The TV screen changed to an image of Midway Atoll. The tiny island barely surrounded the perpendicular runways. Construction vehicles sat on one of the runways. A scattering of vegetation and buildings covered the rest of the island, red circles with simplified Chinese inscriptions next to them, reading “Surface-to-Air Missiles” and “Air Defense Radar.” One large construction site said, “Unknown Tower Antennae.”
“It appears that the defenses have been set up, sir. But we still expect many more reinforcements to be brought in, as only a few aircraft are currently stationed there.”
“How far is Midway from the carrier positions?”
“Perhaps seven days, sir.”
General Chen grunted. He took another sip of tea and let his eyes stare off into the distance. His staff officers looked at each other, wondering if he was still with them.
“Continue…”
His men went on, but the general wasn’t really listening. His mind was turning over an idea.
That evening, Chairman Cheng Jinshan and the other leaders gathered for their nightly roundtable. Military intelligence experts updated them on the progress of the war. Then came the conversations between the leadership team and Jinshan. These were the moments where strategy was decided. Where decisions were made on which targets to attack, and how.
As chairman of the Central Military Commission, Cheng Jinshan was the de facto leader of the military. But each of the members at this table jockeyed for position and influence. Several were politicians, members of the Standing Committee — the most powerful members of the National People’s Congress. These men were infatuated with the idea that the war would be won at sea, with a brand-new technology. They didn’t see that it was actually General Chen’s job to make many of these military decisions. He saw the way they looked at him. As if he was their intellectual inferior.
One of the military intelligence briefers said, “The Jiaolong Battle Group has been resupplied and is now headed north. In two weeks’ time, she will reach Hawaii.”
Jinshan said, “What is the level of military readiness at Hawaii and the lesser island installations?”
The minister of state security said, “We have conflicting reports, sir. It is possible that some of our sources inside America have been compromised. We are looking into this. But our best estimate is that the American military is strengthening there. Many of their aircraft were evacuated from Guam and now reside at those airfields.”
“That concerns me.”
The head of the MSS replied, “I assure you, sir, we are doing everything that we can do to verify the accuracy of our human intelligence.”
Jinshan frowned. “We attempt to deceive them, and they attempt to deceive us. But seeing for oneself is better than hearing from many others.” Jinshan turned to the military intelligence officer who had been conducting the presentation. “Thank you for your report. Please allow us time to converse.”
The briefers left the room and shut the door. Now it was time for General Chen to make his move. He leaned forward over the table, holding his head high. “Chairman Jinshan. I have evaluated the latest intelligence and find the current plans to be insufficient. Waiting for the Southern Fleet to arrive will take too long. During that time, Americans will continue to strengthen their military forces there. It also gives them time to find potential weaknesses in our Jiaolong-class ships…”
Admiral Zhang, head of the PLA Navy, frowned. “Weaknesses?”
General Chen ignored him. “I propose a preliminary strike on the American fleet before the Southern Fleet arrives.”
Jinshan seemed unusually tired today, General Chen thought. Jinshan’s eyes went to the side of the room. General Chen followed his gaze and saw her sitting there in the corner. What was she doing here?
Chen continued. “I recommend that we use our Northern Fleet and strike the Americans near Midway. We have two carriers to their one. We shall hit them with speed, surprise, and overwhelming force. It will be a decisive victory. Then our path to Hawaii will be clear.”
Admiral Zhang said, “With respect, General, the Jiaolong-class ship is unrivaled, and its new technology gives us a clear advantage.”
General Chen’s face darkened. “And like any military hardware, its novelty decays by the day.”
A lively argument commenced, with several passive-aggressive jabs thrown at General Chen. He would remember each offense, and strike back when the time was right.
Jinshan stood, holding himself up with the table. The arguments ceased. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” Jinshan’s eyes were closed, a grimace of discomfort on his face. One of his bodyguards was at his side, holding his arm.
Li rose from her chair. Lena, he corrected himself. She went to Jinshan’s other side and took that arm, escorting him to the door.
A slow, silent march. Each of Jinshan’s footfalls was inspected carefully by the leaders at the table, their eyes filled with worry and thought. Had Jinshan’s health deteriorated this quickly? General Chen knew Jinshan was ill. Had Chen been so preoccupied with war planning and palace intrigue that he had overlooked just how bad Jinshan had gotten?
If there was a change at the top, it would be swift. Chen looked at the other faces around the table. Each of these men was a political predator. General Chen didn’t see this as an undesirable trait. Men like him lived in the jungle. It was a way of life. Here they were, hungry cannibals on a desert island, studying each other for the first sign of weakness.
The door shut as Jinshan left the room. The members of the leadership team looked shocked.
His personal aide, looking nervous, said, “The chairman has retired for the evening. He requests that you continue without him.”