The Genie and the Engineer 3: Ravages of War (12 page)

“As I was saying, Europe and most of the rest of the world
is perfectly willing for us to carry the ball on this one. And, in the
meantime, I’m hearing protests and threats of diplomatic sanctions from a few
counties in the region, most notably from the Philippines. They’re screaming at
the top of their lungs.”

“Thad?” the president asked tiredly, turning to him. “What’s
your take on this?”

The beefy bald-headed man shrugged but avoided eye contact
with her. “Simple enough. The Chinese have been pushing this hoax about owning
all of the South China Sea for decades. They have enough naval assets now that
no one wants to monkey with them about it. And all of their neighbors are Third
World at best, so it’s no contest. We’re the only ones that might object and
have the means to do something about it.” He paused, looking up and frowned.
“The question is whether or not we will.”

President McCluskie managed not to wince. One of the
campaign promises she had made, over and over again, was to get the USA out of
the business of war and other international conflicts. Yet here, less than a
few months into her administration, she was squarely faced with another hotspot
on the world stage and it was threatening to drag the United States into the conflict.

Madison tapped the eraser end of her pencil on the table.
“We can’t just give China a free pass, Madam President. Right now, that corner
of the world is pretty much independent. But if China controls access to the
South China Sea, the whole of Southeast Asia will have to kowtow to Beijing. In
a few years, every country in the area will be satellite states, under China’s
thumb, both economically and politically. Definitely a bad thing.”

McCluskie nodded grimly and glanced over at Admiral
Hardison.

“Derrick, what assets do we have in the area?”

The admiral did not much care for the current political
occupant of the White House nor did he care to be addressed on a first name
basis. Yet he was the consummate professional, prepared to answer this and any
other military question that might be asked and without a hint of annoyance.

“The USS
Ronald Reagan
and Carrier Strike Group 5 is
off the coast of Yokosuka, Japan, currently undergoing FRS Carrier Qualifications.
They could be underway in twelve hours. The USS
Carl Vinson
and Carrier
Strike Group 1 departed Pearl three days ago, and are near Wake Island right
now. They can be in the South China Sea in five days. If necessary, the USS
John
C. Stennis
and Carrier Strike Group 3, which is just to the west of San
Diego, can be there in nine days. And there is the USS
Port Royal
, an
Aegis cruiser in Fremantle, Australia and the destroyer USS
Halsey
in
the Malacca Straight west of Malaysia that are also available.”

McCluskie took another look at the map and frowned. “Send
the
Vinson
and the
Halsey
. But let me be clear on this. I want
the strictest Rules of Engagement possible. I don’t want some lowly sailor
starting World War III by accident. Understood?”

Hardison managed not to flinch. “Quite clear, Madam
President.”

In the corner, Clarke chuckled quietly. There would be Oni
present, both on the Chinese vessels and onboard the
Vinson
. The
president’s wishes were superfluous in this situation. Ah, the thrill of a good
impending battle! The destruction, the mayhem, the death! He rubbed his hands
together gleefully.

This would be good. And he personally would be there too,
together with his substantial force of Oni, lying in wait for that rogue wizard
to show up, the pesky nuisance. And maybe, just maybe, Clarke could put that
Chinese wizard, Wu, in his place as well. Two birds with one stone!

South China Sea

100 miles southwest of Balabac Island, Palawan, Philippines

Wednesday, 12:02 p.m. PHT

April

Day 131

C
aptain Bryon
Labarre, USS
Halsey
(DDG-97), wandered the dark narrow spaces of the
ship’s CIC, occasionally looking over the shoulders of the console operators,
visually checking the ship’s status and readouts for himself. The ship was at
Condition 2, just one step below General Quarters. As such, it was as fully
prepared for action as he could make it.

Another check on their position. Now 8.3N, 116.4E, roughly
thirty miles west of the southern tip of Palawan, solidly in the Palawan
Passage and heading nearly due north.

They were making turns for twenty-six knots—not the fastest
that the ship could go by any means, but fast enough that she was burning fuel
at a high rate. The good captain intended to plough through the South China Sea
just as quickly as reasonably possible, to join up with the USS
Carl Vinson
and Carrier Strike Group 1 as fast as they could manage it. Alone, his ship and
crew were very much exposed to whatever the Chinese might care to throw at
them. Safety lay in numbers, which in this part of the world, was with the
Vinson
Carrier Group, and he intended to keep his ship safe.

For the hundredth time in as many minutes, Labarre wondered
what Washington was thinking, ordering his ship to run the gauntlet through the
South China Sea all by itself. Yes, he had faith in both his ship and his crew,
but the captain had kept up with the news and he knew about the sinking of the
Al
Dafna
and the downing of Flight 910.

Both of the ship’s Seahawk helicopters were airborne, one
fifty miles to the north, the other thirty miles to the west, to provide
maximum radar coverage through their datalinks. So far, there had been no
sightings, no indications on radar that the Chinese were anywhere in the area.

However, Labarre had a burning sensation in the pit of his
stomach, a sort of sixth sense which he possessed when things were not as they
seemed. The radars were all strangely quiet, void of any of the normal civilian
air traffic. He would feel a lot better when his ship reached Philippine
waters.

Such was his state of awareness that he felt rather than saw
an Operations Specialist, Petty Officer 2nd Class Zandra Knouse, straighten at
her station and then lean forward over her screen. He found himself standing
behind her almost instantly.

“What is it?” he asked.

Knouse held up a hand, to buy a moment longer to look at the
screen before reaching a conclusion.

“Air contact, sir,” she dictated tensely. “Bearing Too-Seven-Fife
degrees! Range Wun-Two-Zero miles! Flying fast and low and on a general
intercept. Can’t tell what it is yet.”

But Labarre didn’t need to guess. He knew what it was.
“Sound General Quarters!” he snapped at the deck officer.

The shrill sound of a whistle could be heard through the 1MC,
followed by the voice of the Executive Officer from the Bridge.

“Condition One! General Quarters! General Quarters! All
hands man your Battle Stations! All hands man your Battle Stations!”

Captain Labarre made a mad dash up the ladders to the
bridge, arriving just in time to hear a rating as he reported missiles in the
air.

The XO, Commander Alvaro Hosea, snapped an instant response.
“Launch counter-missiles!”

Out the front bridge windows, two of the hatches in the
forward deck for the Mark 41 Vertical Launch system slid open. From the first
open hole, a column of smoke and fire suddenly erupted as a Standard Missile, a
SM-2, lifted into the air arching over to the southwest. A moment later, a
second missile fired, following along in the wake of the first.

“Captain on the bridge!” another rating, Petty Officer 3rd
class Mason Gunning reported.

“Prepare a second launch!” Labarre ordered, as he assumed
operational control from Hosea.

“Four tangos now in the air, sir!” reported a voice from CIC
over the overhead speaker. “ETA now three minutes!”

“Launch three counter missiles!”

“Launching!”

One by one, three more SM- 2 missiles soared into the air
from the ship.

“Tango one, destroyed,” announced another rating from CIC
less than a minute later.

“Stand-by the Cheese-Wiz and Chaff!” ordered Labarre,
referring to the Phalanx CIWS (Close In Weapons System) and the SRBOC (Super Rapid
Bloom Onboard Countermeasures Chaff and Decoy Launching System).

“Tangos two and three destroyed! New Tango, same bearing and
range, designated Tango Five!”

“Launch two more birds!”

“Missed on Tango four! Intercept failed!”

“R2-D2, engaging!” snapped another voice, also referring to
the CIWS.

The rapid b-r-r-r-p roar of the CIWS was unmistakable, even
from the confines of the bridge.

“Chaff, firing!”

Without warning, the ship lurched heavily, knocking every
standing person to the deck. The roar of an explosion tore through the
compartment, momentarily deafening everyone. Dimly, the clamor of alarm bells
and sirens could be heard.

Climbing to his feet, Labarre lurched forward, taking
control of the now unmanned helm, the sailor lying on the deck. With a rapid
turn of the wheel, he swung the ship to an easterly direction. They needed to
get as close to land as they could. On the lee helm console in front of him, he
yanked back the speed control, dropping the ship down to ten knots. The
Halsey
was damaged now, but how badly, he did not know. And until he did, the ship
needed a slower speed, lest they flood below deck compartments with the ship’s
bow wave.

“Damage control parties, report!” he shouted, barely hearing
his own voice over the din.

Ω

Day 122

“Mom? Dad?” Daneel 1 called, his cube floating into the
room, the holographic image of his head projecting out the top.

Paul and Capie were working in the kitchen, starting on both
breakfast and the day. Since Daneel 1 never interrupted that routine in the
morning, both Armsteads instantly knew that there was a problem.

“What’s wrong, Daneel?” Capie asked, looking apprehensive as
she set the carton of eggs down on the kitchen countertop.

“
Errabêlu
is up to something,” the Scottie declared.
“We have Daneel 2 monitoring news reports from Earth via a microportal through
Ascraeus Mons. It looks like a war is brewing between the United States and
China in the South China Sea.”

Paul lowered himself into a chair. “What makes you think so?”
he asked, steeling himself for the answer.

Daneel proceeded to relate a synopsis of events of the
previous three weeks, including the sinkings of fishing vessels, the
Al
Dafna
, the shooting down of Flight 910 and the attack on a US Navy ship,
the
Halsey
.

“Those poor people,” Capie moaned. “More death and
destruction to lay at the feet of some wizard or other.”

Paul nodded in complete agreement. “Daneel, the navy ship.
How bad was it?”

“At least forty dead when a missile struck amidships, Dad.
The ship managed to make it to Palawan’s territorial waters.” Daneel 1 paused,
the image on top of the cube sighing. “There’s more. A US aircraft carrier group
is heading for the South China Sea. They’ll be there in a couple of more days.”

“There’ll be a war, won’t there?” Capie asked, briefly
closing her eyes in pain.

“It seems that way,” Paul admitted, slamming his hand down
on the kitchen table. “And we are so close! Another few months and we’ll be
ready to take on
Errabêlu
by storm! All we needed was a little more
time!”

“This could be the start of the nuclear war that Uncle Sam
told you about,” Capie attested with a frown. “Both China and the United States
are nuclear powers. This thing in the South China Sea could be the trigger.”

Paul was scratching his head, deep in thought. “Yeah, maybe.
However, the war is not supposed to happen for several years yet. But then maybe
Errabêlu
is pushing up their timetable, because of us.” He looked up
sharply at Daneel 1. “How many Scotties are online with talismans?”

“Two hundred seventy eight, including the ones working on
Mom’s MBE project but not the 49 in the nursery,” answered Daneel 1.

Paul pursed his lips. “Two hundred is a nice round number. I
think I’ll take two hundred.”

“I can be ready to go in an hour,” Capie declared as she
took the carton of eggs and shoved it back into the cooler.

Grimacing, Paul shook his head at her. “Really not a good
idea, CB.”

She screwed a scowl on her face. “Paul Armstead, don’t you
give me that flack about being a woman and it’s too dangerous!”

“Who? Moi? Wouldn’t think of it. But what were you saying
last night about all the experiments you’ve got running and how critical they
are?”

“No fair using my own words against me!” she scowled at him.
“Okay, you have a point. Now is not a good time for me to go running off to
Earth.” She sighed. “You have to promise me to be careful. I’ve grown attached
to you.” She leaned up against him, laying her head on his chest and hugging
him. “You’re not easy to replace, you know.”

He returned the hug, tightly. “I’ll have two hundred magical
Scotties with me,” Paul pointed out. “As well as a chutzpah. I’ll be fine. What
can possibly go wrong?!”

Ω

One star Rear Admiral Oren Cipriano leaned back in his
command chair on the Flag Bridge of the USS
Carl Vinson
and read the Priority
message in his right hand for the second time. The USS
Halsey
was now,
thank God, safely in Malanut Bay on the west coast of the Philippines’ island
of Palawan. From the description of the damages, the ship had barely made it,
with a hole in her hull large enough for a Greyhound bus to drive through.
Cipriano’s hat was off to its commander for pulling the fat out of the fire and
saving his ship and most of his command.

Cipriano shook his head in anger and disbelief. The
Halsey
should not have been ordered through the South China Sea, not without support.
Just what was Washington smoking these days?

On the other hand, Beijing must be stoned out-of-their-mind
on the same stuff, to attack a United States warship on the high seas.

He glanced again at the other message he held, this one in
his left hand. Carrier Strike Group One’s first set of orders from the Pentagon
three days ago had included highly restrictive Rules of Engagement, the most
restrictive he had ever seen in his twenty-eight years of service in the Navy.

But this new message changed all of that. Apparently the
attack on the
Halsey
had quite the impact on Washington’s thinking. Just
an hour ago, right after the
Halsey
attack, he had received a highly
modified set of Rules of Engagement for his carrier group to operate under, and
now, they had the right to properly defend themselves.

He grinned. The
Halsey
had paid a high price, in
blood and lives. But his command would reap the benefit.

The Chinese were going to regret tangling with the United
States Navy. Regret it deeply.

He climbed out of his chair and went over to check the
navigation chart. The lead ship in the group, DDG 101, the USS
Gridley
,
was less than an hour from entering the Luzon Straight, north of Babuyan
Island. And there was an E-2D Hawkeye AWACS airborne, acting as a radar sentry,
probing the air space through the Straight. What’s more, there were two SH-60
Seahawk helicopters working the waters with dipping sonars, checking for
submarines.

The
Vinson
would be through and into the South China
Sea by mid-afternoon, at the latest. He grinned again. If the Chinese wanted a
fight, they’d get one.

Cipriano failed to notice the matching grin on the PAO
(Public Affairs Officer), a lieutenant, standing on the far side of the bridge.
 Who, in reality, was the
Errabêlu
wizard Clarke, in disguise.