Invasion: Alaska ia-1, page 40
part #1 of Invasion America Series
“Sir,” said the Defense Secretary, “I’m against making this move now.”
“I have to agree with him, Mr. President,” the Secretary of State said.
President Clark nodded solemnly, with his hands folded on the table. “Ms. Chen, what do you think?”
“What do your admirals say, Mr. President?” Anna asked.
Clark glanced at General Alan.
“Half agree that the Chinese Carrier Fleet has taken heavy air losses during the campaign,” General Alan said. “The Canadians have aided us at a most critical moment. The two American carrier-wings could possibly slip in and catch the invasion fleet by surprise, doing severe damage. The other admirals point out that the two Atlantic carriers are almost to the Pacific. Together, our four carriers could well force the seven Chinese carriers away from Alaska. They suggest that would win us the war.”
“You know what the admirals think, sir,” Anna told the President. “What do your generals say about Anchorage?”
“They’ve never changed their tune,” the Defense Secretary said, interrupting. “The generals want the Navy to bail them out of a bad situation. The generals keep screaming they need more air cover to do anything. Thanks to the Canadians, Anchorage is still in American hands. Mr. President,” the Defense Secretary said with urgency. “We must hold in Anchorage with what we have before we throw away the carriers that could win us everything.”
“The Chinese naval infantry keep advancing, breaking through our defenses,” said Clark. “Soon, the Chinese will be in Anchorage’s suburbs. We have to stop them.”
“Soldiers always cry for more aid,” Colin Green said. “I suggest you wait out events until they turn in our favor, just as happened with the Canadian Prime Minister.”
“I don’t agree,” Anna said. Colin Green shot her a venomous glance. She ignored it.
“Do you see something the rest of us are missing?” Clark asked her.
“Sir,” the Defense Secretary said. “Ms. Chen knows her Chinese and possibly the Chairman’s mind, but I do not think she is an expert on military matters.”
“She’s brought us luck,” said Clark. “The Chinese ice-mobile formations haven’t attacked our North Slope. I think we’re winning there. We’ve frightened them by our resolve. Are you saying,” the President asked Anna, “that we can frighten the Chinese now by attacking their fleet?”
“The air war seems like the critical factor, Mr. President,” Anna said. She’d heard one of the air chiefs tell the President that over the speakerphone. “We need more fighters now so the Chinese can’t dominate the skies over the battlefield. Well, the Navy has more fighters. Send them into battle at this decisive moment, before the Chinese break into Anchorage or take the airport a second time. I’ve heard everyone say that once Anchorage falls, South Central Alaska falls. If South Central Alaska falls, the state falls. This could be the defining moment of the battle.”
“You don’t know that,” the Defense Secretary said.
“That the Chinese are closing in on Anchorage tells me that I do,” Anna said, surprised at her boldness.
“Yes!” Clark said, standing. He struck the table with his knuckles. “Anna Chen is our Chinese expert. She gave me excellent advice concerning the nuclear weapon under the polar ice.”
“If you’ll recall, Mr. President,” the Defense Secretary said, “I’ve always suggested we go nuclear.”
“Yes, you did say that,” Clark admitted, frowning now.
“If you’ve made your decision, sir,” General Alan said, “I’d like to call the Navy and tell them to proceed.”
Clark blinked at Anna Chen. Then the President told General Alan, “Give them the go-head.”
MUKDEN, P.R.C.
Captain Han was a wreck. The prolonged exposure to frontal assaults with remote-controlled Marauders—and the accompanying death-shocks—had caused a decline in the captain’s performance and mental health. His superiors had taken notice and sent him to a nexus psychiatrist.
“You must harden your resolve,” the psychiatrist now told him. The stern major wore a compelling black uniform, which tightly conformed to her figure. She had particularly large breasts, which strained at the buttons of her uniform.
“The shocks—” Han said.
“No!” the psychiatrist said, sitting up, frowning and tapping the computer-slate which she held in her lap. “You are not here to complain against stated procedures. You are here for me to cure you of your maladjustments.”
“…the shocks cause me to fear,” said Han. As much as he preferred Japanese schoolgirls, the major intrigued him.
“What did I just say, Captain?” the major asked.
Han wasn’t sure what she’d said, but he wanted her to frown again.
“Captain Han, do I have your attention?”
He stood at parade rest as she sat in a chair beside him. Her office contained many diplomas hanging from the walls, as well as pictures of her with highly-ranked Party officials and officers. There were also many brightly-colored geometric shapes in the room on tables and stands.
Han began to unbutton his jacket as he imagined her—
“Captain Han,” she said, snapping her fingers.
Han blinked in surprise at his open jacket. What had he been doing?
With a computer-stylus, she jotted on her slate, writing quickly.
“What are you writing about me?” he asked, wanting to look. She held her slate so he couldn’t see.
“That is no concern of yours,” she said. She clicked the stylus onto the slate, setting it on her nylon-covered knees. “You are a clever man, a noted computer specialist. Surely, you must understand the necessity of the simulated shocks as you remote-control military vehicles from your pit.”
“Yes. It’s been explained to me many times.”
“Then I fail to understand—”
“What if you were shocked every time you failed your appointed task?” Han asked.
Her back stiffened, and she spoke with a nasal quality. “I’m not the one under interrogation.”
“Interrogation?” asked Han, alarmed for the first time. He’d thought this was a mental-health reevaluation. An interrogation could bring serious demerits to his military profile.
She gave him a shark-like smile and nodded primly. “Finally, I have your attention. That is an improvement. Now listen closely, Captain. The authorities have created a new penal remote-control center where they will double the intensity of the death-shocks.”
“But that’s hideous!” cried Han.
“Ah,” she said, picking up the stylus. “Was that a subversive comment against the State?”
“What?” asked Han. “No, no.”
“What did you mean then with your objection?” she asked, the stylus poised.
Han thought furiously. “I-I thought you were here to help me.”
“I am,” she said. “I am here to help you regain your martial fervor for the honor of Chinese conquest. Your superiors feel you have become self-absorbed and spend far too much time worrying about your physical and mental well-being. What you need to remember, Captain, is that China not only possesses the oldest culture on the planet, but the most superior culture as well. You are part of that culture, not an individualized person as the enemy suggests. You are united into a powerful whole and must always think of China’s good before you agonize over your own petty problems.”
“I totally agree with you,” Han said.
She shook her head. “You do not say that with true zeal. In fact, your words just now sounded forced, as if you spoke to guard yourself from further punishment.”
Han forced urgency into his words even as he remained at parade rest with his hands behind his back. “I love China.”
“Do you really, Captain Han, or do you just say that to avoid transfer to the new penal remote-controlling unit?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I love my country more than anything else in the world.”
“Do you love China more than your own miserable creature comforts?”
“I do, I do,” Han said.
“I see,” she said, studying him. “Would you give up your rank for China’s greater glory?”
“Yes,” said Han, wondering if they were going to kick him out of the Space Service. At this point, that might be a good thing.
Her eyes narrowed. “Your profile states quite clearly,” she said, glancing at her slate, “that you are very proud of your status in the Chinese Space Service.”
“It is the greatest achievement of my life,” said Han.
“Yet for the love of China, you would willingly give it up?”
“Utterly,” said Han.
The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of her lipstick-painted lips. “Then I must tell you this, Captain Han. And I want you to listen most closely. Are you listening?”
He nodded fervently, beginning to hate her. He should strip off her nylons and flip up her skirt, put her over his knees and spank her until she begged him to stop.
She snapped her fingers. “What is that look in your eyes?” she asked. “They glaze over as I speak to you. Are you drugged, Captain Han?”
“I’ve worked hard for China’s glory,” he said quietly, trying to pump patriotism into his words. What was wrong with him? Why did he keep sinking into his sexual fantasies? Was it a side-effect of the many dosages of S-15 they kept injecting into him? “It has been my privilege to strive for China’s honor, yet I’ve begun to wonder lately if I’ve overworked myself. I might no longer be able to function with full efficiency. Perhaps I must decline returning to the remote—”
The major laughed. “That is a good try, Captain. But you have apparently forgotten that I am a psychiatrist. I can see through your pathetic attempt to dodge the death-shocks. You may love China, but you love your own well-being far too much. That is clear. Now you may avoid further death-shocks by admitting to me that you’re a coward. Then I will request the enforcing arm of the remote-controllers to make an example of you. We psychiatrists designed the shocks to stimulate a soldier’s battlefield efforts. We wanted you remote-controllers to perform your tasks with zeal. We wanted you to act with a soldier’s kill-or-die fervor.”
“But I’ve been part of the suicide assaults!” cried Han. “Your reasoning and the shocks are unjust.”
“Stop right there or face the enforcement arm,” the major said coldly. “Your kind disgusts me.” She shook her head. “I can hardly force myself to give you another chance. Still, I follow my orders instead of indulging in my desire, which is to see a worm like you punished to the full extent of the military penal code. However, because I am here to give you a choice, I will still allow you to make one. Tell me which you prefer: enforcement or the chance to win even more glory by returning to your remote-controlling station?”
“Are there others like me?” asked Han. “Men who are tiring of the shocks?”
Her features tightened. “That is privileged information, Captain. Now you must give me your choice.”
Han almost turned and slapped her face, and there was no telling what he would have done next. Maybe he would have raped her here in the office. He’d never forget the experience. His shoulders slumped. The problem was that East Lightning would torture him a long time if he did that. Han hung his head. He nodded submissively.
“I would like to return to service,” he said in a quiet voice.
“Very well,” she said. “Then I am required to inform you of a surprising development. My superiors believe this information will heighten your enthusiasm for combat, although after speaking to you I have my doubts. Know, Captain Han, that you have achieved one of the highest kill-rates. If by the end of the conflict, you have achieved the highest kill ratio, you will be promoted to major.”
“Oh,” he said. Then he realized she might mark him down for lack of enthusiasm. He forced a smile. “I am delighted to hear this. I will perform to the satisfaction of the Space Service.”
“Hmm,” she said, as she tapped her computer-stylus against her slate. “This is against my better judgment, but my superiors are interested in knowing if you would rather return to controlling Marauders or go back to controlling recon drones. We have found that it is wiser for the remote-controllers to gain proficiency in one area rather than spreading his talents. Because you are rated an expert at each, you now have this choice. The greater need, however, is for good Marauder controllers.”
“I love China with all my heart,” said Han, “but I would prefer the recon drones. They are more like the space vehicles I was trained to fly.”
The major frowned, making notes on the slate. “Very well, Captain Han, you have made your choice. I’m not surprised you ran back to controlling recon drones. Because of that, I am recommending that you be watched even more strictly than before.”
That sounded ominous, and Han feared for his future, but he wasn’t going to change his decision. He dreaded another death-shock and he would do just about anything to avoid receiving it.
* * *
Nine hours later, he was back in the Nexus Center. They had honored his request, and he now controlled a fleet drone from a pit. The two techs from before continued to work with him.
Han wore a VR helmet and twitch gloves. His long-endurance drone was high in the air, taking the place of a regular recon satellite. This close to America, such recon satellites were easy targets for the North American ABM Lasers. Because of that, the invasion fleet had come to rely on the high-flying drones for advanced reconnaissance in the outer zones.
The techs had explained it to Han so he understood the importance of his mission. There was growing evidence the Americans would stab at the fleet. Therefore, Admiral Ling had moved his ships and spread out his recon net. The techs had explained to Han the various dangers. The Americans had several weapon’s platforms to use against the fleet, particularly against the seven supercarriers. First were aircraft, whether carrier-launched or land-based. Next were cruise missiles, which were a form of aircraft electronically controlled by a battle-computer. The same defensive basics would protect the fleet from both aircraft and cruise missiles. There were also ASBM-attacks and submarine assaults via cruise missiles or torpedoes.
Han’s role as a remote-controller of a recon drone was as an early-warning tripwire against aircraft and cruise missiles. The Navy had another means for spotting torpedo-launching subs.
The Chinese carriers had moved well away from the Kenai Peninsula. The admiral had taken his ships farther south and westward, giving the fleet a greater cushion. Many of the naval strike-craft battling for Alaskan air superiority used airbases behind the present Chinese line-of-advance.
The seven carriers had three protective zones. The first was the primary zone. It extended forty to fifty kilometers from the carriers and their escorts. Ship-borne sensors monitored this zone. Electronic weapons defended the carriers. There were jetfighters, surface-to-air missiles, guns and jammers to blind cruise-missile homing systems. Helicopters and ships also gave off carrier-like signals to try to fool the enemy weapons into firing at them instead of the more critical aircraft carriers.
Carrier-launched patrol-craft monitored the middle zone. The carriers’ fighters were the chief defenders here. However, if given enough warning time, ships would attempt to maneuver into position, interposing themselves between the enemy and the carriers. Those defensive ships would then use primary zone weapons and tactics to defeat the enemy.
The last and largest zone was the outer one. It extended seven hundred kilometers and beyond. Satellites, land-based patrol-craft and stationary sensor-systems gave advanced warning. In lieu of satellites, long-endurance, high-flying drones had taken their place. The techs had informed Han that the outer zone was probably the most important. It gave the fleet needed warning time in order to launch attack-craft against cruise-missile launchers (ships or submarines) and against enemy carriers before the enemy got into an attack position. It also gave warning time to send defensive ships into position between the enemy and the precious carriers.
Han had listened to their explanations, given the correct responses and entered the pit. The moment he donned the VR helmet, however, he silently vowed to himself that he would avoid all death-shocks.
They care nothing about me. I must save myself or lose my sanity as they shock me into imbecility.
What did he owe China anyway, if China did nothing to look after him? Was he supposed to give up everything he valued for a concept?
No!
It was ludicrous for anyone to think he would. So what if he was Chinese? Did that mean he should let other Chinese shock him? He wasn’t crazy, but they were making him so. Yes, he could understand the reasoning behind the shocks. Maybe mild ones would help. But they had gone too far. The simulation of death….
They’re killing me.
Well, he would no longer have any part of it. If they were going to threaten him… he’d have to watch out for himself, that’s all.
Han sat in the Mukden pit, in the padded chair, twitching his gloves. He saw things from the drone’s perspective—far below was the Pacific Ocean. There were wispy clouds and way down he spied the choppy water. Even though he was in the pit, he seemed to soar in the heavens and let himself relax.
From time to time, he shifted and rerouted certain key monitoring systems aboard the drone. Nothing must alert the watching techs, certainly not active radar readings. If he used the drone’s radar to spot something deadly, the Americans would know. If the Americans knew, they would launch missiles at him. If the missiles destroyed the drone, he would receive the death-shock. Therefore, the reasoning was obvious: he must remain quietly unaware of anything. That meant shutting off passive systems as well. For if the techs saw anything strange on their boards, they would force him to turn on the active radar.
