2034: A Novel of the Next World War(45)
The lieutenant colonel rubbed his chin, as though the question hadn’t occurred to him. “Beats the shit out of me. No one, I guess. When I left, the Enterprise was cutting squares and the ground crews were ripping out the insides of our cockpits. No one was doing any flying.”
“They don’t have a CO?”
The colonel shook his head.
Wedge’s eyes opened very wide. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a crumple of bills and a fistful of the quarters he’d been pumping into the Galaga machine. He picked through it to settle his tab.
“Where you headed?” asked the colonel.
“I got to make a phone call.”
The colonel seemed disappointed.
“You want these quarters?” asked Wedge.
“What the fuck for?”
Wedge glanced over at the Galaga machine. “If you’re killing time here, I thought you might like to try for the high score.”
The colonel took a long pull on his second beer. He planted his near-empty glass on the bar. “Gimme that.” He snatched up the quarters and stormed over to the Galaga console. As Wedge left the officers’ club, he could hear the colonel cursing. The game seemed to be getting the better of him.
* * *
10:27 June 18, 2034 (GMT+8)
20 nautical miles off the coast of Taipei
Water sluiced through the creases of Lin Bao’s raincoat as he stood on the flight deck. On a clear day he would’ve been able to see the gleaming skyline in the distance. Now all he could see were the storm clouds that shrouded the city. Minister Chiang was scheduled to land any minute. The purpose of his visit wasn’t entirely clear; however, Lin Bao felt certain that the time had come to resolve their current stalemate with the Americans and the Taiwanese. The resolution to that stalemate was the news Lin Bao believed the minister would bring.
Flickering in the distance, Lin Bao made out a dim oscillating light.
Minister Chiang’s plane.
Pitching and yawing, it catapulted out of a rent in the clouds. Seconds later it was reeling on the deck, the pilots having perfectly caught the three-wire, much to Lin Bao’s satisfaction. The engines whined in reverse, decelerating. After a few moments, the back ramp dropped and Minister Chiang emerged, his round face laughing and smiling at the exhilaration of a carrier landing. One of the pilots helped the minister remove his cranial helmet, which caught on his large ears. The minister’s visit hadn’t been announced, but like a politician he began distributing handshakes to the ground crew, who eventually surmised who he was. Before any fuss could be made on account of his arrival Lin Bao escorted him off the flight deck.
Inside Lin Bao’s stateroom, the two sat at a small banquette scattered with nautical charts. A holographic map of Taiwan was projected over the table, rotating on its axis. An orderly poured them cups of tea and then stood at attention with his back to the bulkhead, his chest arching upward. Minister Chiang gave the orderly a long, interrogatory look. Lin Bao dismissed him with a slight backhanded wave.
Now it was only the two of them.
Minister Chiang slouched a bit deeper into his seat. “We find ourselves at an impasse with our adversaries . . .” he began.
Lin Bao nodded.
“I had hoped the Legislative Yuan would vote to dissolve, so we might avoid an opposed invasion. That seems increasingly unlikely.” Minister Chiang took a sip from his tea, and then asked, “Why do you think the Americans threatened us with a nuclear strike?”
Lin Bao didn’t quite understand the question; its answer seemed too obvious. “To intimidate us, Comrade Minister.”
“Hmm,” said Minister Chiang. “Tell me, does it intimidate you?”
Lin Bao didn’t answer, which seemed to disappoint Minister Chiang.
“Well, it shouldn’t,” he told his subordinate. According to the minister, the American threat of a nuclear strike didn’t show their strength. Quite the opposite. It revealed how vulnerable they were. If the Americans had really wanted to threaten the Chinese, they would’ve launched a massive cyberattack. The only problem was they couldn’t—they lacked the capability to hack into China’s online infrastructure. The deregulation that had resulted in so much American innovation and economic strength was now an American weakness. Its disaggregated online infrastructure was vulnerable in a way that the Chinese infrastructure was not. “The Americans have proven incapable of organizing a centralized cyber defense,” said Minister Chiang. “Whereas we can shut down much of their country’s electric grid with a single keystroke. Their threat of nuclear retaliation is outdated and absurd, like slapping someone across the face with your glove before challenging them to a duel. It’s time we show them what we think of their threat.”
“How do we do that?” asked Lin Bao, as he clicked a remote that turned off the rotating hologram. He cleared away their cups of tea so as to reveal the nautical charts that covered the banquette table, as if the two might discuss a naval maneuver.
“It’s nothing we do here,” answered Minister Chiang, disregarding the charts. “We’ll handle it up north, in the Barents Sea. The American Third and Sixth Fleets have left those waters to transit south. With the American fleets gone, our Russian allies have unfettered access to the subsurface 10G internet cables that service the United States. Our allies will help us to, gently, remind the Americans that their power is outdated, that bombs aren’t the only way to cripple a nation—not even the best way. What I need you to do is simple: be ready. This will be a cyber show of force. It will be limited; we’ll only cut a cable or two. We’ll dip the Americans into darkness, allow them to stare into that void. Afterward, either the Legislative Yuan will invite us into Taipei, or we will go of our own accord. Either way, your command must be ready.”