“And the Iranians, Johnny?” Adams asked.
“Them too,” the captain answered. “Their plane followed us out past Hormuz into the northern Arabian sea, but then it went back. I don’t think anybody knows we’ve been circling since we went EMCON and then electronically lit up the freighters from Diego Garcia to look like warships. I think the trick is working, just like it used to do with the Soviets.”
The Reagan’s commander, Captain Andrew Rucker, had been listening, and he walked over. “I gotta hand it to you, Admiral. I didn’t think you could hide a U.S. carrier battle group, let alone from the Pentagon.”
“Well, it’s a Cold War trick. You put out radar corner reflectors and radio and radar transmitters and suddenly a destroyer looks like a carrier, a freighter looks like a cruiser to the satellites and the radio intercept towers. It worked on the Chinese. The only reason that the Pentagon thinks we’re down there is because that’s what we are reporting to them. And because Bobby Doyle and a few other friends are playing along…” Adams replied in a low voice.
“But at some point, sir, we’re going to have to hightail it down there if we’re going to block the Chinese fleet,” Rucker said, looking at the location of the ships on a wall projection.
“If we have to, we will. We’ll crank the reactors and scoot, but we’ll do it under emissions control, quiet, so they don’t see us coming.” The Admiral continued: “If we get caught out by the Pentagon, I’ll take the fall. You’re just following my orders.” At the door, he turned back to the two captains. “I’m going topside to get some air. Let me know if anything changes. Rucker, you want to join me?”
On the flight deck, Brad Adams and Captain Andrew Rucker walked among the aircraft in the predawn dark, hands thrust in their pockets. They had seldom seen an aircraft carrier so still. No flight activity under way. The normally spinning radars turned off. Most of the lights out. Adams stared out at the water, wondering if he was doing the right thing. He wanted to be in two places at once, in the Gulf to stop the Iranians from invading Bahrain and Islamyah, and in the Indian Ocean to intercept the Chinese troop ships and maybe shoot it out with the Chinese fleet. Right now, he was in neither place, but bobbing up and down in the Arabian Sea.
“Andy, what we’re doing here is on the razor’s edge of insubordination. Look, I believe in civilian control of the military. It’s what has kept us from having coups and the kind of chaos other nations have had. But when the civilians’ decisions aren’t subject to checks and balances, when they distort information, when they cow the media into going along with their shit, I dunno,” Brad mused.
“Sir, they taught us at Newport how when Colin Powell’s generation of young officers came back from Vietnam, they all swore that they would never let the civilians take the Army to war again if there was no good need, no endgame, no informed popular support. Maybe we gotta get back to that attitude in the military,” Rucker suggested.
“Admiral,” John Hardy called out across the flight deck. The captain ran across the steel plate. “The Iranians have set to sea. Everything they’ve got. Amphibious assault ships, car ferries, freighters. Moving toward Islamyah and Bahrain. NSA reports that they’ve launched almost one hundred sorties from their air bases.”
“How long do you think that they can fend them off?” Adams asked, taking the reports.
Hardy shook his head. “Not long. Islamyah is holding forces in the West, in case we invade them, too.”
“Well, it’s decision time, Johnny.” Adams looked back out to sea. “I cannot go back into the Gulf. Not while we still have the Chinese coming our way.”
A sailor approached them, carrying a large manila envelope. Hardy opened it. “Shit. It’s a CRITIC from ASU Bahrain: ‘Iranian aircraft dropped bombs on Fifth Fleet headquarters at 0530 local.’ ”
“Good thing we emptied it out, Johnny.” Adams looked at the CRITIC message. “But we still have a lot of Americans nearby. Let’s go back inside.”
As they reentered CIC, the battle group commander, Rear Admiral Frank Haggerty, was directing a flurry of activity. He was speaking into the secure telephone. “Commander, this is very important. Can you confirm that the Zhou Man has done a one-hundred-eightydegree turn?”
A voice responded over the speaker box on the wall. “Yes, sir, Admiral. I’m looking at her stern through the periscope. She did a big wide turn.”
Adams went over to Haggerty. “Who is that?”
“It’s the CO on the Tucson. She’s been submerged, following the Zhou Man. But I also have the P-3 that’s been tracking the Chinese Ro-Ros. It’s reporting that they are sailing in toward Karachi. Ticonderoga says the destroyer that was out front turned around, too. I think they’re bugging out, Brad.” Haggerty was clearly excited. “What the hell happened?”
“Admirals, if I may, a couple of things happened,” Captain Hardy said, poring over his papers. “Almost all of the Indian Navy has put to sea in battle formation and they were sailing up behind the Chinese.” Hardy almost chuckled. “And the Zhou Man and Zheng He both got a high-precedence, special encryption message from Beijing. But we don’t know what it said.”
“I do,” Adams asserted. His colleagues looked surprised. “It was sent over five hundred years ago from the Chinese Emperor to Admiral Zheng He in the Indian Ocean. It said, ‘Return at once.’ When he got back, the Emperor burned the fleet and almost every record of its great expeditions. Later, the Emperor relented and let him go to Mecca on the hajj…but without the fleet.”
Adams walked to the small podium sometimes used by briefers in the CIC. “Gentlemen, and ladies, here is the situation as I see it. We are unable to complete our mission to intercept the Chinese ships because they are either headed into port in Pakistan or have turned tail and are heading back to China.
“On the other hand, we have a CRITIC saying our headquarters in Bahrain has just been bombed, and we have intelligence that Iran has begun an amphibious assault on both Bahrain and Islamyah. I don’t need orders when I am told Americans are under attack.
“Captain Rucker, bring the Reagan about into the wind. Launch both Enforcer squadrons with full weapons loads across Oman toward Bahrain and Islamyah. Execute Plan Ten Zero Nine, as modified. Forty-third Squadron is to take out the Iranian Navy. Fortyfourth is to take out the Iranian coastal air and Navy bases. The U.S. Air Force Raptors in Oman will escort.
“Admiral Haggerty, get in touch with the Gulf allies. Tell them what we’re doing and ask them to execute, as planned in last week’s modification to Plan Ten Zero Nine. We will recover the Enforcers in Qatar, refuel, and rearm. That wing of new Super F-16s the Emirates have, they will be flying over Hormuz as we go through. If anything moves on the Iranian islands, they’ll pickle it.
“Captain Hardy, terminate the deception operations. Let’s light up the battle group’s electronics and let the Iranians know we’re coming.
“All right, everybody. Any questions?” Adams almost yelled. A loud “No, sir” rang in CIC. “Then let’s go to war. Captain Rucker, strike the battle ensign.”
The lights on the tower of the Reagan lit up, its radars began to spin, a horn rang out, and a small blue flag covered in five-pointed white stars was run up the flag mast. The huge ship lurched forward, accelerated, and began to execute a U-turn, spreading a giant curving wake behind it. Giant elevators rose from below, carrying aircraft to the flight deck. Men and women in brightly colored jumpsuits ran to the planes, in red, in green, yellow, purple…