basements.”
The people in the rich cities on the coast had already become accustomed to bread and other foodstuffs made by grain. Those in the interior still primarily ate rice. It would take time to accustom them to bread. But it was inevitable that they learn because the rice harvests were smaller each year.
“I’ve heard enough,” Deng said. “You spout madness. Invade Alaska? The Americans aren’t Siberians. They own a continent, not a tiny island like Taiwan. You cannot simply rip Alaska out of their grasp and hope the conflict ends there. World Wars have started on lesser pretexts.”
“No one thinks Americans are Siberians or Taiwanese,” Jian said. “But I don’t think you’ve studied their present force levels with a critical eye.”
“And you, as Agricultural Minister, have?” Deng sneered.
“The Debt Depression badly weakened their navy,” Jian said. “They’ve decommissioned countless vessels and hardly purchased any new hardware. Added to that, they are experiencing continuing secessionist trouble, and along with the Mexico Situation, it means they dare not commit their army units elsewhere in any force.” Jian nodded in the admiral’s direction. “I have spoken with Admiral Qiang and we’ve talked about his strategists’ plan to cripple the American Fleet before the start of hostilities.”
“What plan?” the Chairman asked, swiveling his gaze onto the admiral.
Reluctantly, it seemed, Admiral Qiang explained the plan.
“An interesting concept,” the Chairman whispered after Admiral Qiang had fallen silent.
“Sir,” Deng said. “This all sounds like unadvised adventurism. The admiral’s so-called bold plan is nothing more than a terrorist assault on a large scale. If it fails—”
“Why should it fail?” asked Jian. “The White Tigers are the foremost Special Forces in the world. Their record of success is spotless.”
“Sir?” Deng said.
Everyone in the room turned to the Chairman. He had a far-off look as he stared at some distant point. He blinked slowly as he regarded the others. “On the cusp of the Siberian Invasion years ago, there were those who told me I was too adventuresome,” he told Deng.
Jian closed his eyes as his stomach continued to seethe. His profilers had told him the Chairman still dreamt of military glory. It was something that always seemed to pull on conquerors: one more roll of fate’s dice. The Chairman’s name was intimately linked with the victories in Siberia and Taiwan. Surely, the idea of matching strength and wits against the formerly mighty Americans appealed to the Chairman’s vanity. Jian’s plan counted on it.
“Come gentlemen,” Deng implored. “Am I wrong in suggesting that war with America is against our national interests?”
The marshal stirred. He was the Army Chief of Staff and the Army Minister. He had strangely sculptured features and smooth skin. He was eighty, used botox injections, and had artistic leanings. He was known to be cautious, one who loved building an army but feared to use it.
He bowed his head in the Chairman’s direction before saying, “We would need time to prepare, sir. Some of our most capable units are stationed in Siberia and Taiwan. An Alaskan invasion would demand complete control of the sea. If the Navy can guarantee passage and keep the supply lanes open, it would be possible. I would think eight months preparation—”
“What about a cross-polar attack against Prudhoe Bay?” Jian asked. “Most of the needed units are already in position, or nearly so. We have the trains to bring them to the forward areas. Some of these formations are already in Siberia. It would take two weeks at most to bring them into readiness for a swift polar assault. Even before that, you could begin pre-positioning the needed supplies onto the ice.”
Sputtering, the marshal asked, “Where did you learn this? These are highly confidential matters.”
“I am a member of the Ruling Committee,” Jian said. “Tell me. Do you deny these things?”
“I deny nothing,” the marshal said. “I want to know how you learned of them.”
“Are the ice-mobile formations ready?” asked Jian.
“No, not as you suggest,” the marshal said.
“How long until they are?” asked Jian.
“I will not sit here and be quizzed by a failed Agricultural Minister,” the marshal told the others.
“Answer his question,” the Chairman said.
The elderly marshal of China sat back in surprise. “Sir?” he asked.
“Answer the question,” the Chairman repeated. “How long until the ice-mobile formations are ready?”
“Sir,” said the marshal, blinking rapidly, “…two months, maybe more.”
Jian pushed a button and on his screen appeared a force readiness chart. “If you gentlemen will bring my information onto your screens, you’ll see that the marshal has exaggerated. We have the needed ice-mobile units in position now, or nearly so. They could begin crossing the Arctic Ocean in six days at the soonest or two weeks at the most.”
The marshal touched his screen and he glared at what he saw.
“No, no,” he said. “The charts show the needed force for a probing raid. What Minister Hong is suggesting would take an invasion force.”
“The formations in position would be more than enough to occupy the oilfields,” Jian said.
“Preposterous!” said the marshal. “Firstly, army units are not like combine drivers during a harvest. Intense training is needed. Secondly—”
“While I respect your military acumen,” Jian said, “I must point out that our Chairman practiced a different style of warfare against Siberia and Taiwan. Each time, he launched an assault before our enemies suspected anything. He gained the greatest of all assets in war: strategic surprise. If we launch in two weeks, we will easily catch America and the world by surprise, and therefore we shall succeed. To do as you’re suggesting—to train, mass and wait for the perfect moment—is to wish for failure by alerting our enemies. We would certainly be stronger by gathering our strength, but our foe would also be that much stronger and waiting for our attack.”
“You are drunk,” the marshal said. “This is madness.”
“I speak about facts and you hurl insults,” Jian said. “Tell me. Was the Chairman drunk when we invaded Siberia?”
“Sir,” the marshal said quickly. “I meant no insult concerning your amazing exploits.”
The Chairman had been following the exchange. He now asked Admiral Qiang, “Earlier, the marshal spoke about supplies for his troops. Could you guarantee open sea-lanes to Alaska?”
“There are no guarantees in war,” the admiral said carefully.
The words were like a stab in Jian’s chest. What was this, betrayal? Thirty-eight days ago, the admiral had agreed to his plan. Was he backing out now?
“Without such guarantees, I am against such adventurism,” the marshal said.
The Chairman scowled.
“We wouldn’t necessarily need Army help,” the admiral said in the ensuing silence. “My naval infantry brigades could capture Alaska.”
Jian felt hope again, and he wondered what game the admiral played.
“This is yet more folly,” Deng said.
“Not necessarily,” said Admiral Qiang. “The Agricultural Minister makes an interesting point.”
“Which is what?” Deng asked.
“A swift assault, strategic surprise,” Admiral Qiang said. “As the Chairman surely knows, we are three days from a large-scale naval exercise.”
Deng slapped the table. “Sir, here is evidence that both the Agricultural Minister and the admiral have conspired against you.”
“Explain,” whispered the Chairman.
“Are we to believe that this
“I am well aware of what it entails to launch a large-scale naval exercise,” the Chairman said. “What is your point?”
“Sir, I believe they timed their commando mission to thwart my trip to Sydney so they could begin this war with America, using the naval exercise as a blind.”
