Mike Maden - Drone Command

A junior female PLAN officer at the chart table shouted an order. Another officer answered back, followed by a dozen more.

A missile launch roared in the loudspeakers overhead, drowning out the chattering voices.

On the chart table, a missile rose from a mobile launcher on the coast of China. The missile track arced high above the table. It disappeared into the unlit ceiling. The Americans were mesmerized.

Admiral Ji pointed at the HD digital screen. The George Washington image was still live. “Watch the screen, please.”

Suddenly, an explosion ripped into the George Washington . The carrier erupted in flames.

“Oh, my god!” Myers shouted.

The holographic George Washington on the chart table burned furiously, listing to one side.

The room erupted in cheers and applause. Ji and Feng clapped their hands approvingly at the officers below them as the lights popped on. The chart table went blank and all the holographic images disappeared. But Ji let the burning hulk of the George Washington continue to blaze on the HD screen.

“We find that realistic war-gaming exercises between deployments keeps our fighting officers razor sharp,” Admiral Ji said.

“Was that your idea of a joke?” Myers seethed.

“Merely a demonstration of the kinds of exercises we run in this room twenty-four hours a day,” Feng said. “I apologize if it upset you. It was only intended to inform you.”

“Very realistic,” Myers said, calming down.

“We have these kinds of training facilities at every headquarters base now and in every regional military district. Of course, we have even more advanced training facilities in Beijing,” Ji said.

“And that’s your proof the Wu-14 actually works?” Pearce said. “A video game?”

“A fourteen-year-old kid with Final Cut Pro and his daddy’s laptop could replicate that video,” Myers added.

“But that ‘kid’ wouldn’t have access to a live satellite image of the George Washington , which you saw with your own eyes,” Feng said.

“Our CGI team superimposed the graphical images of fire and explosions. We find these effects help to add to the realism of the exercise. It gives great satisfaction to our men and women when they make a kill,” Ji said.

“But to answer your question, Mr. Pearce, no, this is not our proof. It is only meant to show you that we have already incorporated the Wu-14 into our battle plans. And now you see the likely outcome of any confrontation with a U.S. carrier group.”

“Then show us the real proof,” Myers said. “Or quit wasting our time.”

She hoped with all of her heart the Chinese were bluffing, but a sick feeling deep in her gut told her to expect the worst.

Unfortunately, her gut was never wrong.

They all stood inside the massive hangar. Myers and Pearce were kept at a distance from the flat, cone-shaped Wu-14 suspended on a sling hanging from a crane. Its dull black hull made the arrow-headed shape all the more menacing. Several white-coated technicians and blue-uniformed personnel hovered over the Wu-14’s open service doors, tablets and notebooks in hand. Ji had explained that as soon as the checklists were completed the Wu-14 would be lifted onto the body of the nearby DF-21D mobile missile and fitted into place where its warhead normally resided.

“That’s it?” Myers asked. “Looks like a prop from a Star Trek episode.”

“That is the Wu-14.” Feng beamed with pride. “It is a true revolution in military affairs. The end of the era of aircraft carriers. The end of American naval power projection capabilities as we have known it.”

“Don’t count your chickens just yet,” Myers said. “It still hasn’t been tested in battle.”

“We have concluded seven tests with earlier prototypes, all successful,” Feng said.

“And all of our computer simulations agree. The Wu-14 is completely operational,” Ji said.

“Seeing is believing,” Myers said. She began stepping past one of the scowling navy guards, who gently shoved her back with the stock of his rifle.

Pearce leaped over and slammed two hands into the surprised guard’s chest. The guard started to raise his rifle but Pearce was too fast, knocking the barrel aside with his right hand and smashing the man’s face with the heel of his left hand. Blood exploded out of the guard’s nose like a crimson party favor. The violent confrontation took all of two seconds. Before the guard’s knees hit the pavement, five other guards rushed at Pearce, pointing their assault rifles at his chest.

Admiral Ji shouted in Mandarin. The seething guards stepped back, lowered their weapons.

Pearce raced over to Myers. “You all right?”

“Been kicked by horses a lot tougher than he is.” Myers glared at Feng. “Still trying to get me killed, I take it?”

Feng was horrified. “You are an impetuous woman!”

“Better get used to it,” Myers said. “There’s a lot more like me where I come from.”

“The Wu-14 is top secret. You’re not allowed to approach it,” Admiral Ji said.

Myers grinned. “Try and stop me.”

She stepped past the kneeling guard, blood seeping out of his cupped hands. She patted the top of his head as she walked by. “Get some ice for that, son.”

Admiral Ji whispered violently to Feng. Feng shook his head, whispered back, “Leave her alone.”

Feng, Ji, and Pearce hurried after Myers. Thirty long strides and she was near the Wu-14, but another guard came swiftly forward, accompanied by an officer with a security wand in his hand. Myers saw the dead stare of a killer in the guard’s eyes. Halted in front of him.

Myers turned to Feng. “Do I get to take a look or are we going to start World War Three right here in this hangar?”

“I forbid it!” Ji said. Feng shook his head at the admiral. What can it hurt?

The admiral cursed in Mandarin and looked away, humiliated by the rebuke and the poor manners of the former American president.

“By all means,” Feng said, palm extended toward the Wu-14. “Get as close as you like.”

Admiral Ji nodded at the officer with the wand in his hand, the same kind used for airport security screenings. The wand beeped violently as it waved over Myers’s torso. The officer shouted angrily.

“You are carrying spy equipment!” Ji blurted.

“Don’t you watch the news?” Feng asked, exasperated. “She has a bionic pancreas system implanted in her body. She’s no spy.” Feng stepped closer to Myers. “May I see your phone?”

Myers reluctantly handed him her phone.

“I don’t trust phones. Too many interesting things can be done with them,” Feng said. He glanced at the key pad. “Your security code, please?”

“F-R-E-E.”

Feng typed it in using only his thumb. He flipped through the various app icons. Found the bionic pancreas app. Opened it.

“I see it dosed you just three minutes ago.”

“I wouldn’t know. But I sure feel terrific.”

“May I keep this until you leave?” Feng asked.

“Of course. Just don’t turn it off — unless you’re trying to kill me.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” Feng nodded to the guard to let her pass. Myers shouldered past the intimidating hulk and marched over to the Wu-14.

“Wait up,” Pearce said.

The guard blocked his path.

“Not you, Mr. Pearce,” Feng said. “You own a drone company, yes?”

“I’m just a simple businessman.”

“I’m afraid I don’t trust you. I must ask that you remain here.”