“When did you plan your trip to Sydney?” Jian asked in seeming innocence.
Deng glared at him.
“Hmm,” the Chairman said. “You told me of your plan five weeks ago, Deng. Instead of secretive plotting by your comrades, I think that fate has given us a golden opportunity. Strategic surprise is a rare and valued thing. If we move quickly now, we shall catch the Americans and the world with their pants around their ankles.” The Chairman turned to Admiral Qiang. “The oil-bearing regions around ANWR and Prudhoe Bay—could the Navy secure those, too?”
“Possibly, sir,” Admiral Qiang said. “When I spoke earlier I meant securing the major Alaskan cities and ports, particularly Anchorage. Fully half the Alaskan population lives in and around metropolitan Anchorage. Capture it, and the State will naturally fall to us.”
“You wouldn’t need Navy guarantees for open sea-lanes if you only made the polar attack,” Jian told the marshal. “You could use the ice-mobile units now in Siberia, possibly with an addition of a few specialist formations.”
“I demand to know how you’ve learned about the polar assault war-game plans,” the marshal repeated. “They are top secret and of recent design. Few in the Army even know about them.”
It was through the Police Minister, but Jian wasn’t going to tell anyone that. There were highly patriotic generals on the marshal’s planning staff. Some of them were spies for the Security Bureau—the Police. Jian simply stared at the old marshal and shrugged.
The marshal sputtered.
“I do not believe what I’m hearing,” Deng said. “Jian Hong has jeopardized our nation by his interference in military matters. His urging of the destruction of the American oil well sabotaged us at the most critical moment in Sydney. The Americans will never give us preferred status now for wheat and corn purchases.”
“Then we must show them the Chinese fist,” Jian said. “The Americans are like an aging woman who still possesses charms. A few sharp slaps across the face will teach this woman her place.”
“Spoken, no doubt, as a practiced rapist,” Deng said.
“Your mockery of Chinese military power has not gone unnoticed, Deng Fong,” Jian said, ignoring the insult.
“I only mock your plans,” Deng said. “It is either the ravings of a lunatic or the desperation of a guilty man.”
“So a few frightened men dared to say about our honored Chairman before he sent troops into Siberia,” Jian said. “The Chairman’s courage has richly rewarded China. What will our courage here now give us?”
“Siberia was weak and Russia was an ailing power then,” Deng said.
“You have a vicious soul to denigrate our Chairman’s foresight and courage,” Jian said. “Only our glorious Chairman had the manliness to deal with the problem directly by unleashing our military might. The Northeastern Area was finally returned to China after too many years in Russia’s dirty grip. The nation wept with joy, and we gained the vast Siberian oilfields.”
“You carried China on your shoulders, sir,” Deng told the Chairman. “No one here denigrates your noble deeds. But suppose we capture Alaska and still the Americans refuse to sell us grain? Then what have we gained?”
“Your rhetorical tricks won’t blind us today,” Jian said. “We would turn the wheel, cutting off their oil. Many of their industries would grind to a stop. Their cars would lie idle and there would be a revolution in America, as everyone understands their love affair with motor vehicles.”
“I am not convinced you’re right,” Deng said. “The Americans have learned how to clean coal, and they have massive reserves of it. Lack of oil would also spur them quicker into space and construction of the Solar Powered Satellites.”
“That all lies well in the future,” Jian said. “We may not have that future if our people riot from lack of rice.”
“All brought about because of your amateur meddling in foreign affairs,” Deng said with heat.
“No!” Jian said, “For I’ve learned the lesson of Cheng Ho. Chinese greatness depends on our acting forcefully now that the scepter of world power has once again been laid in our hand. It is time to usher in an era of worldwide Chinese civilization. All we must do is act quickly—act with strategic surprise as the Chairman has shown us twice before.”
“No,” Deng said. “War with America would be a grave error.”
“Comrade Deng,” the Chairman whispered, “tell us where we shall gain the extra foodstuffs now that America has closed its doors to us? Without massive imports, the people will riot. Such rioting could topple us from power. Jian Hong is correct in pointing that out.”
Deng blinked several times. “Perhaps secret protocols with Australia—”
“Don’t you understand that the Anglo-run powers plan to use grain to regain their preeminence?” asked Jian. “In their days of glory, they stole the best farmlands from indigenous peoples. Now they use those farmlands against the rest of the world. Must we go begging to them for food? Must we attempt to gain their goodwill when we possess the greatest army and navy in history?”
“War is a gamble,” Deng said, “as Admiral Qiang just reminded us several minutes ago. There are no guarantees.”
“Leaving a seething volcano of hungry people under us is a greater gamble,” Jian said. He believed it was wiser for him to point this out than to let anyone else do it. In this way, he seemed like a strong man, unafraid of the consequences of his failed farm policies. “China is rich,” he said, “but we are hungry. Now the Anglo-heathens refuse to sell us grain. Very well, we shall force them to sell it by taking American oil. I see no other way, other than to crawl on our knees to them and kiss their feet. Do you wish to kiss their feet, Deng Fong?”
“I wish for peace,” Deng said.
“And a rice revolt?” asked Jian.
“This revolt would not have occurred if you could have grown enough rice,” Deng said.
“No one could have grown enough rice during an ice age,” Jian said. “A bold military thrust into Alaska shall change everything. It will save our Party and save China.”
“Sir,” Deng said, turning to the Chairman. “Let me examine the situation in detail. I will report back to you.”
“As the people seethe and their bellies rumble?” Jian asked.
“We have the police and army,” Deng said. “There will be no revolt.”
“Ah,” Jian said. “I see. You would rather shed Chinese blood than hurt an American. How noble of you to care more for a barbarian than one of your own. I am proud to say that I do not share such a sentiment.”
“Sir,” said Police Minister Xiao. “My profilers believe we shall have increasingly bloody riots as the year progresses. If something isn’t done to alleviate the hunger, we shall have to institute massive suppression. The police battalions may need Army support.”
“What do you say, Deng?” the Chairman asked. “Shall we shed Chinese or American blood?”
Deng’s bad eye twitched, almost closing it. “I am against war, sir.”
“So we bleed our people?” the Chairman whispered.
“…no, sir,” Deng said.
“What then?” the Chairman whispered.
Jian leaned forward as he wet his lips. His armpits were soaked with sweat. He felt a trickle slide down his side.
“Perhaps a detailed war-study,” Deng said.
“I do not believe we have the time,” whispered the Chairman, “not if we hope to keep this preciously-given strategic surprise. This is a gift Fate has given us so China may forever secure her greatness.”
Every member present watched Deng Fong. He seemed to wilt under their combined stares. “Perhaps, sir, the polar raid to snatch the oil fields would prove enough of a lever.”
For a response, the Chairman’s chin sank onto his chest.
Jian was afraid the Chairman had fallen asleep. He had done so before, just as abruptly. Then Jian saw that the man’s eyes were open. For some reason, that frightened Jian. The old man was clearly thinking deeply.
Finally, the Chairman straightened his pain-racked body. “We will finalize the preparations for an Alaskan assault,” he said in a dry voice. “Admiral, you will continue preparations for a naval exercise, adding naval infantry
