“We’ve stripped the North Front, sir,” General Alan said. “We hardly have anything left near the Prudhoe Bay oilfields or ANWR.”

  The President looked stricken.

  Maybe it compelled General Alan to add, “Because of that, sir, we haven’t completely lost the air war on the Southern Front.”

  The President bent at the waist as he put his hands on the table and rested his forehead on his hands. The moment lasted several seconds. Abruptly, he sat up and glanced at Anna.

  “You know the Chairman better than anyone else,” Clark said. “What do you think his response will be?”

  Anna blinked in amazement as she realized what he asked her. The President of the United States was passing the decision to her. If she told Clark the Chairman would go nuclear, the President would decide against the Navy plan. In that moment, Anna felt a tremendous weight settle onto her heart. It was galling. She found it difficult to breathe. She had an inkling then what it meant being the President at a time like this.

  Anna felt the eyes on her. Everyone waited on her words. In a strange way, it reminded her of long ago in the teenage beauty pageant. Then everyone had watched and weighed her. Anna Chen frowned, concentrating. She wanted a sip of water, but she was afraid to reach for it. She didn’t want to see her hand tremble. She didn’t want anyone else to see that.

  Anna looked at President Clark. “Sir,” she said, “this situation seems different from the previous discussion to use nuclear weapons. This time our military would do it away from prying eyes and in a hidden manner. And you’re leaving the Chairman his primary military forces. For him, that might make all the difference.”

  Clark’s mouth moved, but no words came.

  “Do you understand what you’re saying?” asked the Secretary of State.

  Anna nodded. She knew. They were talking about using one nuclear weapon to hit the Chinese now on the pack ice and scare them. Afterward, the Joint Chiefs would use a different plan to hinder the Arctic Chinese.

  The President licked his lips. “This strike won’t unleash a nuclear holocaust?”

  “I’m not a military expert,” Anna said. “I’m only considering the Chairman’s psychology. The critical factor as far I can see is that the attack is hidden from the world’s eyes. More than anything else, the Chairman abhors public humiliation. As I said before, this leaves the Chairman’s military units intact. He has an inordinate attachment to the military and hates high Chinese losses. He believes such losses confirm old stereotypes concerning China. What you’re planning in the Arctic, it seems to me it prevents the Chairman from achieving his goal. But without doing it in a single devastating attack that obliterates all Chinese polar forces. It allows the Chairman to retreat and therefore he is not pushed into a corner where he feels he must hit back tit-for-tat.”

  The President stared at her. He nodded then, and he turned to General Alan. “Tell them yes, I approve of the plan.”

  ARCTIC OCEAN

  Paul turned and lightly punched Red Cloud on the shoulder. “Can you believe it?”

  Red Cloud shook his head.

  A plane taxied down the ice toward them. Its propeller twirled and the engine idled. Finally, the small bush plane came to a stop on the ice, its lights bright in the polar darkness.

  Red Cloud unhooked the harness from his shoulders, leaving the toboggan where it lay. Paul shook off his backpack, listening to it thump on the ice. Then he kicked off his skis and ran toward the plane. Both men kept their assault rifles.

  Paul beat Red Cloud to the bush plane. He ducked under the wing, yanked open the door and shouted, “You Pilot Pete?”

  “That’s me, mate,” a small bearded man said. He wore heavy clothing as heat billowed out of the cramped interior.

  Paul slid off his assault rifle and stowed it within. Next, he shoved in the Chinese radio. Then he hoisted himself up and slid toward the back. Red Cloud followed his example and soon slammed the door shut. The Algonquin sat up front with the pilot.

  “I know you,” Pete told Red Cloud.

  The Algonquin nodded.

  “So it’s really true?” asked Pete. “The Chinese murdered everyone at Platform P-53?”

  “It is true,” Red Cloud said in a grave voice.

  “Let’s get out of here!” Paul shouted from the back. “I think the Navy is about to trigger a nuke against the Chinese.”

  “What the heck are you talking about?” shouted Pete.

  “Go, go,” Paul said, “and don’t look back. In fact, if it looks like the sun is coming up or starting to shine, it means the Navy ignited a nuke.”

  “He is right,” Red Cloud said. “We must hurry.”

  Pete turned to his joystick. “Hang on.” He pushed the stick forward as the engine began to roar.

  Paul sat back in his seat. This felt glorious. He had a heavy growth of beard and mustache, and it had been a long time since he’d felt anything but the warmth of his own breath held under a sleeping bag. Now warmth flooded the cramped cabin. He settled back and enjoyed the thrill of the bush plane bumping over the ice. He looked outside, amazed at how fast they were going.

  There was an extra roar of noise, and the bush plane lifted. Paul let out a war whoop. It caused Pete to jerk around.

  “Don’t do that,” Pete said. “It freaks me out.”

  “Sorry,” Paul said. “You just have no idea how I feel.”

  “I sure do. I’ve been lost before in the wilds. Yep, it’s good to get back to civilization. Right now, this plane is civilization to you.”

  Paul nodded, and his eyelids grew heavy. It felt so good just to relax. He was going home. He’d see Cheri and Mikey again. He could hardly believe it. As he thought these beautiful things, the bush plane continued to climb into the night sky.

  USS MISSISSIPPI

  The USS Mississippi was a Virginia-class nuclear attack submarine. It had waited in the ice as the two Blacksand mercenaries skied away. The submarine waited as the Special Forces team had roared away on the snowmobiles.

  That had been many hours ago. Now finally, a signal arrived from Dead Horse. It had traveled all the way from the White House. The captain was asleep in his bunk when the chief knocked on wood paneling.

  “I’m up, Chief,” the captain said from his bunk.

  Without disturbing the curtain guarding the captain’s privacy, the chief relayed the radio message.

  Soon, the captain swept the curtain aside. He wore his officer’s hat and he had buttoned on his uniform. Solemnly, he strode to his place near the periscope. Per his orders, the USS Mississippi eased out of the pack ice and sank into the frigid waters. The submarine headed onto a new bearing.

  “Prepare the torpedo,” the captain said.

  The members of the bridge crew stared at him.

  “This is not a drill,” the captain said quietly.

  That began a flurry of motion aboard the USS Mississippi. Sixteen minutes and thirty-two seconds later, a blast of air expelled the nuclear-tipped torpedo from its tube. Then the electric motor engaged. The big torpedo headed toward a precise heading under the ice.

  “Turn her around, Chief,” the captain said, “and take us down. We don’t want to be anywhere near here once it goes off.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” the chief said, an old man and gray-haired. In a hollow voice, he gave the needed orders.

  All the while, the nuclear-tipped torpedo headed toward its preset coordinates. Those were the same coordinates as the forward Chinese supply dump. Destiny awaited their meeting.

  ARCTIC OCEAN

  Paul was almost asleep when an immensely bright light illuminated the darkness. The bush plane’s engine roared, the only sound any of them had heard for some time.

  “What is that?” shouted Pete. The small pilot began to turn around.

  Paul bolted upright and shouted in the pilot’s ear. “That’s a nuke, friend.”

  The intensity of the light grew, and it hurt their eyes.

  Red Cloud groaned in his seat.

  “I didn’t sign up for this,” said Pete.

  “Ditto,” Paul said, as he gripped his seat belt.

  Pete bobbed his head. “It’s bad. I wouldn’t want to be closer than we are now. But I think it’s too far to hurt my plane.”

  Paul glanced back. We’re using nuclear weapons. He shook his head. Nuclear weapons in the Arctic—war couldn’t get any dirtier than this.

  “Hang on!” shouted Pete. “Just in case, I want put more distance between us.” The small bush plane roared through the Arctic night, racing the bright light shining in the pack ice.

  AMBARCHIK BASE, SIBERIA

  As he rubbed his aching eyes, Jian Hong settled himself before a screen. One of his bodyguards had shaken him awake and told him grim news. The Chairman was calling an emergency meeting of the Ruling Committee. The Americans had used a nuclear weapon on the pack ice. Hearing that, Jian had bolted out of bed.

  Now he sipped hot tea, trying to focus his thoughts. Bai had already left for the Arctic Front to find General Nung. What if I had boarded that plane? Now I would be traveling onto a nuclear battlefield.

  Jian shook his head. He would never willingly tour a battle-zone. One trained soldiers for such a task, hotheaded fools eager to become heroes.

  Jian read the report for the fifth time. The Americans had launched a nuclear-tipped torpedo! They’d destroyed a forward supply depot, one meant to replenish stocks of advancing hovers and snowtanks.

  His screen changed from its holding pattern. Instinctively, Jian sat up, sliding his tea out of view. He saw the members of the Ruling Committee: the Chairman was at the head of the table. On one side of him were the admiral and the Police Minister. On the other side sat Deng Fong and the Army Marshal.

  I should be there. I am at a disadvantage speaking through a screen. I am like a ghost, haunting the meeting.

  Jian knew that his features would be on the large computer-scroll at the other end of the table as the Chairman. Each of his gestures and features were being recorded. He’d have to remember that.

  “The Americans have broken an unspoken accord between us,” the Chairman was saying.

  “They have an affinity for using nuclear weapons on peoples of Asian descent,” the Police Minister said.

  “Is that really true?” Deng asked.

  “They once dropped two nuclear bombs on Japan,” the Police Minister said. “Now they are attacking us. Yes, it is true.”

  “I don’t think you’re aware of all the facts,” Deng said. “You must understand that Japan was a uniquely dangerous opponent for the Americans. Militarily, no one has ever been able to strike such devastating blows against modern America as the Japanese. They attacked Pearl Harbor and drove the Americans out of the Philippines.”

  “What is your point?” the Chairman asked.

  “Sir,” Deng said, “I do not believe the nuclear attack was racially motivated as our illustrious Police Minister has implied. I think our invasion has frightened the Americans into using nuclear weapons.”

  “The point is they’ve used them on Chinese soldiers,” Jian said.

  No one in Beijing appeared to hear his words.

  “I will not tolerate this use of nuclear weapons against us,” the Chairman said. He sat rigidly in his wheelchair, with pain creased across his features. “Do the Americans think Greater China is a secondary power? A power they can indiscriminately attack with nuclear weapons?”

  “I have studied the attack,” Deng said. “I do not believe it was indiscriminate.”

  “Explain that,” the Chairman said.

  “They used a torpedo to explode pack-ice,” Deng said.

  “That is completely immaterial,” the Chairman said.

  “Respectfully, sir, why didn’t they attack our forces in the Kenai Peninsula with nuclear weapons? It would have proven much more effective there toward the defense of Alaska.”

  “Your question reveals a lack of knowledge concerning the present battlefield,” Admiral Qiang said. “We have laser batteries and anti-missile rockets whose primary purpose is shooting down tactical and theater-level nuclear weapons. That is why the Americans haven’t attacked there. They cannot.”

  “Have the Americans used nuclear-tipped torpedoes against our fleet?” Deng asked.

  “It’s only a matter of time now before they will,” the Chairman said.

  “But they haven’t,” Deng said.

  “Make your point.”

  Deng moved his water glass before answering. “Sir, I suggest we hesitate before retaliating with nuclear weapons.”

  “I will not tolerate the use of such weapons against Chinese forces,” the Chairman said.

  “It is unspeakable,” Jian said.

  “Why use torpedoes?” Deng asked. “There must be a reason for that. Why haven’t they fired missiles at the cross-polar assault?”

  “Excuse me, sir,” the Army Minister said. “But it would prove difficult for the Americans to hit our forces on the ice with long-range missiles. Our strategic pulse-lasers protect the higher altitudes over the pack ice. With space-mirrors, we could knock down such missiles before they reached our assembly areas.”

  “I see,” Deng said. “Interesting.”

  “The torpedo attack shows the Americans’ desperation,” Admiral Qiang said. “I suggest it means they have little in way of defense on the North Slope. Mr. Chairman, I suggest an immediate assault on the military bases there.”

  “I appreciate your concern,” the octogenarian Army Minister said. “Yet I wonder if you desire the immediate assault in order to draw attention away from your naval brigades.”

  “The ice itself is an enemy,” Qiang said. “This torpedo attack proves that. I cannot understand why you would want your polar formations on it any longer than necessary.”

  “Do not worry about them,” the Chairman said, as he glanced at Jian. “The Chinese Army will soon launch its attack on the North Slope.”

  “We will light a fire under General Nung,” Jian said.

  “The Americans have already lit that fire under him,” Qiang said dryly.

  “You seem to feel the Army is tardy in its assault,” the marshal told Qiang. “First, you must understand that crossing the pack-ice has proven harder than my planners had anticipated. It was and is a nightmare journey, with many unforeseen incidents and accidents. A few formations are almost ready for the final lunge as they gather the needed supplies. But there is a problem.”

  “Yes?” Qiang asked.

  “The most dangerous zone is the last four hundred kilometers,” the marshal said. “If ground units become stalled in that area, they become easy targets for the Americans. Therefore, operational theory calls for a swift and continuous advance across the last zone. In order to achieve that, forward supply depots are needed.”

  “I find it interesting that the Americans chose to destroy a depot with their nuclear torpedo instead of directly destroying a military assembly area,” Qiang said.

  “They likely don’t know the whereabouts of such an assembly area,” the marshal said.

  “These military details are secondary,” the Chairman said, interrupting. “The point is: the Americans have used nuclear weapons against us. I refuse to let that go unpunished.”

  “Are you suggesting we use nuclear weapons?” Deng asked.

  “Yes,” the Chairman said.

  Deng appeared uneasy. “May I ask where, sir?”

  “Perhaps Fairbanks would do,” the Chairman said.

  “They have strategic lasers protecting Fairbanks,” Qiang said.

  “We must find a place to retaliate,” the Chairman said. “I demand it.”

  “Maybe we already have such a place:” Deng said, “a non-place.”

  “I do not care to hear any more of your clever suggestions tonight, Deng,” the Chairman said. “I want revenge. I want the Americans to feel my anger. It is intolerable that they think China will lie supine while they launch nuclear weapons upon us.”

  Deng nodded. “You carry the soul of China in your heart, sir. You are outraged, and you feel this assault upon our honor because of your special connection with the people.”

  “You guide us, sir,” Jian said, trying to keep his hand in the conversation.

  “Yes,” Deng said. “You guide us. Yet I wonder if in this instance the Americans haven’t handed you a gift.”

  “A gift by incinerating Chinese soldiers?” the Chairman asked dangerously.

  “Never that,” Deng said.

  Jian yearned to attack Deng verbally, but he feared the man’s cunning. He also feared Deng’s ideas.

  “Very well,” the Chairman said. “Speak your mind. Let us hear what your cleverness can concoct from American savagery.”

  “That’s my point, sir,” Deng said. “Much of the world views us as aggressors.”

  “We are the aggressors,” the Chairman said. “Despite our propaganda campaign, it is never wise to lie to oneself.”

  “I agree,” Deng said. “Many view us as aggressors. Now the Americans have used nuclear weapons. That will lose them support. Every torpedo they fire will create a worldwide groundswell against them. It will create an outcry against nuclear weapons. We will be able to use that later.”

  “People respect strength,” the Chairman said. “If the Americans destroy the polar forces, others will fear them more. How could that possibly help us?”

  “From what I’ve heard here,” Deng said, “the Americans might destroy a few more supply depots, but they will be unable to reach our military forces. We wait outside the four-hundred kilometer danger-zone. Once we’re ready, we will invade and capture the North Slope.”

  “What if these attacks embolden the Americans to use nuclear weapons against our fleet in the Gulf of Alaska?” the Chairman asked.

  “I think there is a message in their use of a torpedo under the ice,” Deng said.

  “If they use such weapons against our fleet,” Jian said, “we should use nuclear weapons in the Kenai Peninsula.”

  Every member of the Ruling Committee finally glanced at him.

  “I don’t agree,” Admiral Qiang said. “We need the Kenai Peninsula intact. We would have to use nuclear weapons elsewhere.”

 

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