Launching the bombers, either to dispersal airfields, airborne alert orbits or to their fail-safe positive control orbits, probably wasn’t warranted yet. What was warranted, however, was stepping up everyone’s overall readiness a couple of notches until the White House and the Pentagon figured out what was going on. That should have been automatic as soon as they discovered that it was in fact a nuclear explosion, but at least now it was getting done.
In the Essential Elements section of the Command Center, two positive-control technicians quickly prepared the radio message for the SAC alert force crews. Using a computer, they devised a forty-character message, triple-checked it manually for accuracy, using the same code books that the crews in the field would use, then broadcast the message via telephone, radio, and satellite communications channels to all SAC units in the United States, England, Germany, and Japan. The message directed all SAC units to stand by for further emergency action messages; it placed SAC’s two hundred B-52 and ninety B-1 bombers, and thirty Minuteman ICBM launch-control centers, into higher readiness states, which would make their reaction times much shorter should they be directed to execute their SIOP war plans.
It would also direct twenty-two rail-garrisoned Peacekeeper missile convoys out from their shelters onto the nation’s rail system and put twenty MGM-134A Mustang missile crews on full-deployment alert.
After receipt of the message, each SAC unit would verify and authenticate the coded message, rebroadcast the message to their forces, then compose and send a coded acknowledgment message back to SAC Headquarters. The entire process took approximately two minutes. Tyler watched one of the big digital screens before him as a list of all the SAC units was displayed, with red dots indicating connectivity with each unit; as the acknowledgment messages came in, the red dots disappeared.
“All units acknowledge, sir,” Colonel Dunigan reported. “Expect status report from the field in about five minutes.”
“What’s the latest status on the units?” Tyler asked.
In reply, Dunigan put up a computerized fisting of the latest status reports of all the SAC bases in the world, beginning with the SAC bomber units, and read off how quickly — or not so quickly — the units could move.
“What’s the status of the Air Battle Force?”
“The current session reports ninety percent manned, due to some elements being recalled by their parent units before the session completed,” Dunigan answered. “The new session that began training last month has the first B-2 bomber elements” — she paused as she referred to her notes, then said — “plus some GENESIS elements.”
“GENESIS?” Tyler exclaimed. He had forgotten all about that — but it was easy to forget about Lieutenant General Brad Elliott’s research group, lost from view in the middle of Nevada. Tyler had remembered granting approval for Elliott’s weird hybrid planes to participate, but had not bothered to check up on their status during their course. “Jesus, I completely forgot about that. Refresh my memory, Colonel — what’s he got at Ellsworth now?”
“He’s got four modified B-52 bombers, six stretched F-111G bombers, and a B-2 bomber involved in the Air Battle Force session,” Dunigan reported. “The -111’s and the B-2 are garrisoned at Ellsworth; the B-52s — I should say, the EB-52Cs — are stationed at HAWC but still participate in Air Battle Force activities.” She paused, then said, “I can get General Elliott and General Jarrel on the line and—”
“We don’t have time,” Tyler said. What a time to have Elliott’s mutant planes out flying around in the Air Force Battle, Tyler thought. Christ, it was like Elliott knew there was going to be trouble. “It’ll have to wait for the Air Battle Force status report. Move along.”
Up in the Support Staff area, General Stone could not hear most of the interphone exchange between Tyler and his staff — but he was familiar enough with the items up on the big board to know that something serious was going on.
He saw lists of all the SAC bases in the world on the big board, saw the status indicators change as he received the message sent by Tyler, and saw weather maps, charts, and checklist pages being put up on the board so everyone knew where the staff was in the Zero-Tango response procedures. But the left-center screen had something more interesting — satellite photographs.
Stone turned to the technician seated beside him. “Is that real-time imagery?”
“Not real-time, but very recent, sir,” the tech replied. He checked a computer screen and replied, “It’s about ten to thirty minutes old. DSP Control Center will automatically upload the latest satellite imagery of a subject area. I don’t exactly know what the source of this imagery is, though — it’s not from Colorado Springs…”
“Any ideas when we can get the real-time pictures of the area?”
“I’m sure the request is being made right now, sir,” the tech replied. “The request will probably come through whatever command is placed in charge of the current emergency, or direct from JCS or the National Security Council.”
Stone’s ears buzzed when he heard the words “current emergency,” but he didn’t bother to ask what was going on — he was busy scrutinizing the satellite photos being flashed on the board.
“Ulugan Bay,” Stone observed. He turned to a technician seated a few chairs beside him. “I recognize that harbor. Ulugan Bay, Palawan. The Philippines. But that big ship… I don’t recognize it. What’s going on?” The technician seemed to ignore him, but he had depressed his mike switch and had sent a message down to the Battle Staff area.
Then, as the satellite imagery of the warship zoomed in closer, maintaining remarkably high resolution even in ultra-closeups, Stone realized that what he was watching was not a Filipino ship. "Hong Lung,” Stone declared. “It’s the Chinese destroyer Hong Lung. What’s it doing so close to Ulugan Bay?”
Just then Stone’s headset clicked to life. “Rat — Tyler here,” the Commander in Chief of SAC said. “Sergeant Rowe says you seemed to recognize that harbor and that ship. What is it?”
The technician pointed to a button near the base of the microphone on the desk in front of him, and Stone depressed the button and replied, “Yes, sir, Ulugan Bay on Palawan in the Philippines. Palawan is a large island about two hundred miles southwest of Manila. That ship looks like the Chinese destroyer Hong Lung. It’s one of the two EF5-class destroyers in China’s fleet. It’s the flagship of the Spratly Island flotilla.”
There was a long pause; then: “Well, you’re right about the Philippines,” Tyler said. “But what’s the Spratly Islands? I never heard of them.”
“It’s a small island chain between Vietnam and Palawan in the South China Sea,” Stone replied. “China claims them but legally occupies the lower one-third; the Philippines, Vietnam, Indonesia, and Malaysia occupy the northern third, with the middle third a neutral zone. Those five countries have been fighting over the islands for decades.”
“Well, the fighting has just reached a new level, Rat,” Tyler said dryly, “because someone set off a nuke right near the Philippines just a few minutes ago.”
Richard Stone was so surprised that he forgot to press the mike button. “A nuke?” He paused, then managed to find the button. “Someone set off a nuke…? General Tyler, that destroyer, the Hong Lung — it carries nuclear-tipped missiles.”
Tyler and half-a-dozen other staff members in the Battle Staff area looked up in the Support Staff area. The nearreal-time satellite photo of the Chinese ship had changed several times by the time a shocked Tyler asked, “That Chinese warship carries nuclear missiles? I never heard that before, Rat.” He shook his head, stared hard at the charts of the South China Sea region, then rubbed dried sweat from his eyes in exasperation. “Jesus Christ, what’s a Chinese ship doing cruising around the Philippines with nukes aboard?” He turned to Stone again and asked, “Can you verify that, Rat? What kind of nuclear missiles? How many…?”