Larry Bond - Shattered Trident

“It’s happened, Mr. President. Multiple Chinese ballistic missile launches.”

“Do we know where they’re going?” Myles asked, sounding resigned.

“Not yet, sir. It’s too early.”

Myles appeared in the situation room five minutes later, dressed in maroon sweats that had UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO printed on the shirt. The call had caught him just as he was getting ready to go to the gym.

Kirkpatrick greeted him with, “None of them are headed for U.S. territory. Targets are in Japan, Taiwan, South Korea, and the Philippines. NORAD says they’re DF-21s.”

The president nodded an acknowledgement as he studied the display. “That’s one nightmare avoided, then. Where will they hit first?”

Kirkpatrick pointed to a window on a side display. “Taiwan. Time of flight is six minutes. They’ll be hitting about now.”

“Taiwan’s got Patriot,” Myles observed.

“Yes, Mr. President. I was reviewing their order of battle. Eight batteries on line, with PAC-2 and PAC-3 missiles. And three Sky Bow batteries.”

As they spoke, the display operator zoomed the view in so that the island of Taiwan filled the screen. Nine hostile missile symbols crawled in from the west. Their apparent slow speed was deceptive. Much of their movement was in the vertical plane.

Projected targets appeared, and Kirkpatrick called them out. “Two at Tsoying Naval Base where their submarines are berthed. Three at the BMD radar on Leshan Mountain, and… the Mailiao oil refinery. Four missiles headed there.” Surprise filled his report.

“Payback. Makes sense.” Myles’s tone changed to puzzlement. “What’s happening? Shouldn’t the defenses be engaging them?”

“Yes, sir, they’re just in range.” One hostile missile headed for the sub base disappeared, then another, but that was it. As the two watched, the remaining seven symbols merged with their projected targets, then disappeared.

“I don’t get it.” Kirkpatrick’s tone mixed worry and confusion. “The display showed at least three batteries in range. Only one engaged. The sub base is untouched, but the other two targets…”

“Find out what happened,” barked Myles. “If the Chinese have put a hex on our interceptors, we need to find out.”

Kirkpatrick turned and started walking quickly toward the watch floor, when Myles’s voice called him to a stop. “And Ray, get our submarines clear of the area. This war is now beyond our abilities to stop.”

9 September 2016

0211 Local Time

JDS Atago (DDG-177)

Off the Noto Peninsula, in the Sea of Japan

Captain Okubo Atsushi checked his watch and smiled. Four and a quarter minutes to battle stations manned and ready. Of course, they had good reason for being so quick.

Okubo picked up the shipwide PA microphone. “This is the captain. Our national air defense network has detected ballistic missiles fired by China, headed for targets across Japan. They will enter our engagement range in a little over a minute. We are the first line of defense. Center your thoughts, do your jobs. Today you will all be heroes!”

“Sir, Seasnake Two is airborne.” The helicopter controller’s voice came over his headset.

“Tell him to watch for suspicious surface craft, as well as submarines.” Okubo had been flying the rotors off his two helicopters since they’d assumed this station. He was uncomfortable with the “bathtub” he’d been assigned, a box on the map just ten miles square. Warships were designed to move. Staying in the same area while radiating his radar nonstop was an open invitation to the Chinese.

But it was necessary. The central display was zoomed well out, showing the entire Sea of Japan. Okubo could see not only his ship, but also Myoko to the north and Ashigara to the south, their missile coverage overlapping to protect all of Honshu and Shikoku, and part of Kyushu. He’d asked for, and been honored with, the center station: the hot spot, guarding Tokyo. Unfortunately, to prevent gaps in the coverage the defending ships were glued to their stations.

Lieutenant Takagi, the missile officer, reported, “Our radar has detected the missiles. We have a good track.” The hostile symbols on the display shifted slightly as the secondhand data from the air defense network was replaced by information directly from the destroyer’s own SPY-1D radar. Atago could have fired using the other sensor data, but this was better.

“Radar detects five targets. Engaging closest three.” Takagi’s voice was even. He had said those words hundreds of times in synthetic exercises. Okubo depended on that familiarity now.

“Use standard firing doctrine.” Takagi acknowledged the order with a nod. The system would assign two missiles to each target. In full autonomous mode, the Aegis fire control system would fire automatically when the hostiles were in range.

The only limitation was that they only had three illuminators, so their first salvo would only engage three of the five possible targets. A second salvo would go after the other two, plus any stragglers from first engagement, but it would follow ten seconds later, and the hostiles would be farther downrange.

“Captain! Seasnake’s radar has multiple high-speed contacts, inbound! Range forty-seven nautical miles, bearing two nine two.”

Okubo looked at the display. Datalinked from the helicopter’s radar, four “unknown” contacts had appeared on the screen, but he could see the symbols move across the display, much too fast for a surface vessel. The helicopter’s surface-search radar beam was pointed down. Normally it wouldn’t even see aircraft. These were clearly air contacts, but they must be skimming the surface.

How fast? It took the computer two beats to get enough information to calculate the speed, and numbers appeared next to the unknown contacts. Almost six hundred knots. Large, subsonic, but no radar emissions? Were they cruise missiles? But fired from what? Then they disappeared from the display. Okubo’s insides turned to ice.

Normally, Atago could deal easily with aerial contacts like these, whatever they were, but the Aegis fire control system was in ballistic missile defense mode. It couldn’t engage aerodynamic contacts at the same time as ballistic missiles, and the Chinese were taking advantage of that. And he couldn’t shift from aerial targets to ballistic missiles and back quickly enough to deal with both threats. He was committed.

“Launching in thirty seconds.” The missile officer’s voice was steady, focused.

“Tell Falcon flight to radiate and engage,” Okubo ordered quickly. The unknown contacts were very low, and still over Atago ’s radar horizon. Falcon flight, four F-2 fighters silently loitering at high altitude, was only ten miles to the east. They were high enough to see the intruders as soon as they lit off their radars.

A siren on the weather decks sounded, loud enough to be heard even in CIC. The controller announced, “Ten seconds,” and Okubo reflexively braced himself, although there was no need.

The first missile’s roar was background for the air controller’s report. “Falcon flight’s radars are on.” After a moment’s pause, “They have our unknowns—classified as Flankers. Falcons are firing.” All through the narrative, Okubo could hear Atago launching SM3 missiles, each roar following another at one-second intervals.

The four air contacts reappeared on the screen, now labeled as “hostile aircraft.” They were accelerating, and climbing. “Still no radar emissions from the aircraft,” the air controller reported.

The last of six SM3 missiles left Atago, roaring toward the incoming hostile missiles.