Elliot Ackerman - 2034

The unanticipated event was a phone call to Lin Bao that came in from the South Sea Fleet Headquarters in Zhanjiang. That morning, a reconnaissance drone had spotted “a significant American naval force” sailing southward at approximately twelve knots toward the Spratly Islands, along a route that was often used for their so-called “freedom of navigation patrols.” Immediately after the drone observed the American ships, communications between it and the South Sea Fleet Headquarters cut off. It was the commander of the South Sea Fleet himself who had contacted the Central Military Commission. His question was simple: should he risk sending out another drone?

Before Lin Bao could offer a thought on the matter, there was a slight commotion in his workspace as Minister Chiang entered. The mid-level officers and junior sailors who served as clerks sprung to attention as the minister breezed past them, while Lin Bao himself stood, clutching his telephone’s receiver. He began to explain the situation, but Minister Chiang raised his outstretched palm, as if to save him the trouble. He already knew about the drone and what it’d seen. And he already knew his response, snatching the telephone’s receiver so that now Lin Bao was only privy to one side of the conversation.

“Yes… yes…” muttered Minister Chiang impatiently into the line. “I’ve already received those reports.”

Then the inaudible response.

“No,” answered Minister Chiang, “another flight is out of the question.”

Again, the inaudible response.

“Because you’ll lose that flight as well,” Minister Chiang replied tersely. “We’re preparing your orders now and will have them out within the hour. I’d recommend you recall all personnel on shore leave or otherwise. Plan to be busy.” Minister Chiang hung up. He took a single, exasperated breath. His shoulders slumped forward as if he were profoundly tired. He was like a father whose child has, once again, bitterly disappointed him. Then he looked up and with a transformed expression, as if energized for whatever task lay ahead, ordered Lin Bao to follow him.

They walked briskly through the vast corridors of the Defense Ministry, a small retinue of Minister Chiang’s staff trailing behind. Lin Bao wasn’t certain what Minister Chiang’s countermove would be if it wasn’t the deployment of another reconnaissance drone. They reached the same windowless conference room where they’d first met.

Minister Chiang assumed his position at the head of the table, leaning backward in his cushioned swivel chair, his palms resting on his chest, his fingers laced together. “I suspected this was what the Americans would do,” he began. “It is disappointingly predictable….” One of the underlings on Minister Chiang’s staff was setting up the secure video teleconference, and Lin Bao felt certain he knew with whom they’d soon be speaking. “By my estimation, the Americans have sent two carrier battle groups—the Ford and the Miller would be my guess—to sail right through our South China Sea. They are doing this for one reason and one reason alone: to prove that they still can. Yes, this provocation is certainly predictable. For decades, they have sent their ‘freedom of navigation patrols’ through our waters despite our protests. For just as long they have refused to recognize our claim over Chinese Taipei and insulted us in the UN with their insistence on calling it Taiwan. All the while we’ve endured these provocations. The country of Clint Eastwood, of Dwayne Johnson, of LeBron James, it can’t imagine a nation like ours would submit to such humiliations for any other reason but weakness….

“But our strength is what it has always been—our judicious patience. The Americans are incapable of behaving patiently. They change their government and their policies as often as the seasons. Their dysfunctional civil discourse is unable to deliver an international strategy that endures for more than a handful of years. They’re governed by their emotions, by their blithe morality and belief in their precious indispensability. This is a fine disposition for a nation known for making movies, but not for a nation to survive as we have through the millennia…. And where will America be after today? I believe in a thousand years it won’t even be remembered as a country. It will simply be remembered as a moment. A fleeting moment.”

Minister Chiang sat with his palms on the table, waiting. Across from him was the video teleconference, which hadn’t yet established its secure connection. He stared at the blank screen. His concentration was intense, as if willing an image of his own future to appear. And then the screen turned on. Ma Qiang stood on the bridge of the Zheng He , exactly as he’d done six weeks before. The only difference was the yellow, gold, and red ribbon with a star in its center fastened above the pocket of his fire-resistant coveralls: the Order of August First.

“Admiral Ma Qiang,” the minister began formally, “a reconnaissance flight from our South Sea Fleet has gone missing approximately three hundred nautical miles east of your current position.” Ma Qiang straightened up in the frame, his jaw set. It was obvious he understood the implications of such a disappearance. The minister continued, “Our entire constellation of satellites are now under your command. The Central Military Commission grants you all contingent authorizations.”

Ma Qiang nodded his head slowly, as if in deference to the great scope of the mission he was now set upon, which Lin Bao implicitly understood was no less than the destruction of two US carrier battle groups.

“Good luck.”

Ma Qiang nodded once again.

The connection switched off and the screen went blank. Although the conference room was far from empty, with various staff members entering and exiting, it was only Lin Bao and Minister Chiang sitting at the table. The minister stroked his smooth round chin, and for the first time that morning Lin Bao detected a hint of uncertainty in his expression.

“Don’t look at me like that,” said Minister Chiang.

Lin Bao averted his eyes. Perhaps his expression had betrayed his thoughts, which were that he was observing a man who had condemned thousands of other men to their deaths. Did any of them really think that their navy, despite its advanced cyber capability, was up to the task of destroying two US carrier battle groups? The Gerald R. Ford and Doris Miller sailed with a combined force of forty vessels. Destroyers armed with hypersonic missiles. Utterly silent attack submarines. Semisubmersible frigates. Guided missile cruisers with small, unmanned targeting drones and long-range land-attack hypersonic missiles. Each possessed the latest technology manned by the world’s most highly trained crews, all of it watched over by a vast constellation of satellites with deep offensive and defensive cyber capabilities. Nobody knew this better than Lin Bao, whose entire career had centered on his understanding of the United States Navy. He also understood the United States itself, the nation’s character. It was woefully misguided for the leaders of his country to believe diplomatic niceties could de-escalate a crisis in which one of their allies had taken an American pilot prisoner and in which their own navy had destroyed three American ships. Did leaders like Minister Chiang really believe that the Americans would simply cede freedom of navigation in the South China Sea? American morality, that slippery sensibility, which had so often led that country astray, would demand a response. Their reaction of returning with two carrier battle groups was completely predictable.

Minister Chiang insisted that Lin Bao sit beside him while all through that day a procession of subordinates entered and exited the conference room, receiving orders, issuing updates. The morning extended into the afternoon. The plan took shape. The Zheng He maneuvered into a blocking position south of the Spratly Island Chain, deploying in attack formation toward the last recorded position of the Ford and Miller. The American carrier battle groups would in all likelihood be able to get off a single salvo of weaponry before the Zheng He could disable their guidance systems. After that, the proverbial elephant would be blind. The American smart weapons would no longer be smart, not even dumb; they’d be brain-dead. Then the Zheng He , along with three surface action groups, would strike the Ford and Miller .