The admiral had said, “You will arrive at the abandoned submarine before the Americans. You will offer the survivors medicines and food, both of which will be airdropped to you before you enter the storm area. You will, while assisting the crew, do all you can to learn about the Montana’s systems. You will say you are on a humanitarian mission. You will take control of the vessel. You will wait for the arrival of the Snow Dragon, so the American submarine can be towed, if possible. You will acquire a prototype Mark 80 torpedo, along with any blueprints, plans, and technology available. I want samples. I want hard drives. I want blood taken from their ill, if possible. I want them to know that tender toes will be stepped upon.
“Also, regrettably, any one of your crew who enters that sub is to wear protective clothing, and undergo full decontamination when rejoining you. Chemical shower. Quarantine. They will transfer to the Snow Dragon later. You, and they, will be doing a great service for China.”
The admiral had no patience with excuses, and Zhou had seen the man destroy the careers of officers who did not live up to his expectations. A certain captain — a rising star — might be marked for better things. Then, failing the admiral, he would be transferred, demoted, or would languish in the bureaucracy for years.
Just a vision of the admiral’s bald head, thin eyebrows, set mouth, and stern face — from China’s Naval News — made the captain’s mouth dry. He imagined a tiny room with no windows, a pile of paperwork on a desk, a one-room apartment for his family, a dusty wind blowing and the smell of pigs… a lone man and hung head — the fate of a failure.
Moments ago, through the periscope, he’d treasured the view of the crippled $2.4 billion bonanza that, the admiral had said, “will help us thwart U.S. adventurism!”
“The bioweapon, sir. Do we know anything more about it?” The notion of toxic gasses and human-made germs made the captain’s skin crawl.
“It is unclear whether the illness is that at this point. There may be a natural explanation.”
“Sir, what if the U.S. rescue team arrives first?”
The question, of course, was logical, but in the silence that followed, Captain Zhou broke out in a sweat. The admiral’s voice seemed cooler when he responded.
“All cats love fish, but fear to wet their paws.”
Meaning, fearful people are of no use to me.
The admiral added, “I am certain, with your speed, this could not happen. In addition, we have an asset aboard their icebreaker slowing them down.”
Captain Zhou knew that under international law, any ship in danger of sinking, or of damaging the environment, was permitted to be boarded, rescued. But military ships were tricky; the law said they belonged to their host nation. He had asked the admiral, the issue of a fight on the table, “For clarification, sir. If any of their crew is on the sub, you still want me to board her?”
The admiral provided the excuse. “Should ice crush the submarine, the environmental disaster would be profound, especially if their reactor is damaged. You must prevent this catastrophe.”
“The Americans may, sir, have other ideas.”
“Undoubtedly. But their satellites are blind. And thanks to our asset, the American rescuers cannot communicate with Washington. He’s jamming them. They think the storm is blocking communication.”
What the admiral meant, the captain thought, is that no one else will know what happens on the ice. Just as in the collision in the South China Sea, there will be two versions.
The admiral added delicately, “If they start a fight, no one can blame you for defending yourself. Remember, defeat cannot be bitter if one chooses not to swallow it.”
There it was. Give them medicines, look helpful, but get the American sub, no matter what you have to do.
Captain Zhou Dongfeng had no illusions about the other part of the admiral’s message. If you fail, if anything goes wrong, you will take responsibility, not me.
The admiral went on, “The Americans are tricky and lie constantly; they are dangerous and dying as an empire. Even their great diplomat Henry Kissinger recently predicted that war may erupt in the future. Our own great naval thinker, Li Zhenfu of Dalian Maritime University, has said that whoever controls the new Arctic routes will control the new passage of world economics and international strategies. Captain, you may save millions of lives through thoughtful action. I have no doubt that you will bring honor to China, and to yourself.”
The captain recalled a lesson he had learned in officer training school, about Russian submarine captains who refused to fire nuclear missiles at America during the 1960s, when the Americans blockaded Cuba. Those captains prevented nuclear war, and were broken for it back home, and became scapegoats and pariahs.
The admiral broke into his thoughts, providing the identity of the spy with the Americans, the code word used for identification, and an encrypted photo of the asset.
“You will bring home this person if assistance is required.”
Captain Zhou Dongfeng had been filled with admiration for Chinese ingenuity when he learned the identity of the spy.
But now he needed to move fast. He looked around the control room, at the tense faces of his crew. He called up on the monitor photos taken from the submarine and beckoned forward the major who led forty shipboard commandos, troops whose training mirrored that of the U.S. Delta Force. They were tough men who’d received cold weather training in the subzero temperatures of Manchuria. They’d been sent north to practice landings and maneuvers on the polar ice pack in international waters.
It was pure luck that they’d been within range when Beijing discovered the location of the crippled U.S. sub.
The major was a wide-shouldered, trim, and dark-haired perfectionist named Li Youyoung, who quickly took in the photos as Captain Zhou issued orders.
“We are backing out of view of the Americans. You will land and circle around them on skis, using the ice ridge as cover. Once you set up your field of fire, we will surface. Do not shoot unless ordered to, or fired upon.”
“Yes, sir.”
“They have a State Department person with them, urging cooperation.”
The major snorted.
Captain Zhou Dongfeng added, “I will begin a dialogue with them, keeping the channel open to you. If at any point you hear me say, ‘I am trying to be reasonable,’ show yourselves so that they understand they are surrounded. I want them to see that their position is untenable; you behind, us in front.”
The major told Captain Zhou Dongfeng, “I had a cousin aboard the Victory,” giving the nickname of the Chinese submarine sunk by the Americans in the alleged accident last week.
“My condolences, Major.”
The major’s men, Zhou Dongfeng knew, carried bullpup assault rifles equipped with under-barrel grenade launchers, and two QJY88 tripod-mounted machine guns.
The captain said sternly, “We prefer to avoid a fight. You are not to start one. But if you hear me say, ‘I’m sorry. I have done everything possible,’ you will preemptively, immediately fire.”