turn of phrase. We’re talking about a government that killed off twenty million-plus of its own people along the way, just in a few months, in pursuit of political perfection. “Dr. Weaver, best guess: What’s their Politburo going to say?”
“They will continue on the path they’re on,” Weaver answered quickly. He was surprised at the reaction.
“God damn it, doesn’t anybody think common sense is going to break out?” Ryan snarled. He looked around the room, to see people suddenly looking down at the royal-blue rug.
“Mr. President, they fear war less than they fear the alternatives to war,” Weaver answered, rather courageously, Arnie van Damm thought. “To repeat, if they don’t enrich their country in oil and gold, they fear an economic collapse that will destroy their entire political order, and that, to them, is more frightening than the prospect of losing a hundred thousand soldiers in a war of conquest.”
“And I can stop it only by dropping a nuclear bomb on their capital—which will, by the way, kill a couple of million ordinary people. God damn it!” Ryan swore again.
“More like five million, maybe as many as ten,” General Moore pointed out, earning him a withering look from his Commander in Chief. “Yes, sir, that would work, but I agree the price of doing it’s a little high.”
“Robby?” Jack turned to his Vice President in hope of hearing something encouraging.
“What do you want me to say, Jack? We can hope they realize that this is going to cost them more than they expect, but it would appear the odds are against it.”
“One other thing we need to do is prepare the people for this,” Arnie said. “Tomorrow we should alert the press, and then you’ll have to go on TV and tell everybody what’s happening and why.”
“You know, I really don’t like this job very much—excuse me. That’s rather a puerile thing to say, isn’t it?” SWORDSMAN apologized.
“Ain’t supposed to be fun, Jack,” van Damm observed. “You’ve played the game okay to this point, but you can’t always control the other people at the card table.”
The President’s phone rang. Jack answered it. “Yes? Okay.” He looked up. “Ed, it’s for you.”
Foley stood and walked to take the phone. “Foley ... Okay, good, thanks.” He replaced the phone. “Weather’s clearing over Northeast China. We’ll have some visual imagery in half an hour.”
“Mickey, how fast can we get aerial recon assets in place?” Jackson asked.
“We have to fly them in. We have things we can stage out of California, but it’s a lot more efficient to fly them over in a C-17 and lift them off from a Siberian airfield. We can do that in, oh ... thirty-six hours from your order.”
“The order is given,” Ryan said. “What sort of aircraft are they?”
“They’re UAVs, sir. Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, used to call them drones. They’re stealthy and they stay up a long time. We can download real-time video from them. They’re fabulous for battlefield reconnaissance, the best new toys the Air Force has fielded, so far as the Army is concerned. I can get them going right now.”
“Do it,” Ryan told him.
“Assuming we have a place to land them. But we could stage them out of Elmendorf in Alaska if we have to.” Moore lifted the phone and made his call to the National Military Command Center, the NMCC, in the Pentagon.
For General Peng, things were getting busy. The operation order was topped with the ideographs Long Chun, SPRING DRAGON. The “dragon” part sounded auspicious, since for thousands of years the dragon had been the symbol of imperial rule and also good fortune. There was still plenty of daylight. That suited Peng, and he hoped it would suit his soldiers. Daylight made for good hunting, and made it harder for large bodies of men to hide or move unseen, and that suited his mission.
He was not without misgivings. He was a general officer with orders to fight a war, and nothing makes such a man reflective like instructions to perform the things he’d claimed the ability to do. He would have preferred more artillery and air support, but he had a good deal of the former, and probably enough of the latter. At the moment, he was going over intelligence estimates and maps. He’d studied the Russian defenses on the far side of the border for years, to the point of occasionally putting reconnaissance specialists across the river to scout out the bunkers that had faced south for fifty years. The Russians were