Invasion: Alaska

“Is that a problem?” asked Jian.

“The bitter cold wears on our Arctic caterpillar-haulers four to five times as much it would on normal trucks. Perhaps as importantly, the caterpillar-haulers travel slowly over the ice, seldom more than twenty kilometers per hour.”

“Is that because of the wave effect?”

“Exactly, sir. Because of a number of factors, particularly our efforts to leapfrog the supplies, we are moving the majority of our goods by air. Once again, the extreme environment affects our efforts adversely. For instance, Arctic airfreight consumes five percent of the supplies per one hundred kilometers moved. The forward bases are over two thousand kilometers away.”

“It sounds to me like a mathematical problem,” Jian said.

“The extreme weather has caused more breakdowns than we anticipated. We have begged for a rush of winterized parts, but they have been slow in coming.”

“I will make some calls,” Jian said.

“We would be most grateful, sir. Could I explain another facet?”

“Of course,” Jian said. “It is one of the reasons why I’m here.”

“It’s called wastage.”

Jian scowled at the lieutenant-general.

“I know you understand all this, sir,” Bai hastened to say. “The wastage I’m talking about today is the daily losses of troops and vehicles.”

“Have you secretly begun fighting the enemy?”

“No, sir, the cold fights us, the bitter weather. We’ve been losing approximately forty men a day to the weather, mostly because of hypothermia. Unfortunately, there are a higher percentage of mechanical failures with the snowtanks and hovers. Once we enter battle, the attrition to both men and vehicles will surely rise.”

Jian appeared thoughtful. He wasn’t here to figure out problems like this. He was here to light a fire under General Nung. Yet maybe here was the answer to his dilemma. Under no circumstances did he desire to travel over the Arctic ice as the military fought the Americans.

“Yes, I see the problem,” Jian said. “We must increase the supplies, rush more winterized parts to Ambarchik and attack the North Slope at once.”

“Sir?” asked Bai.

“If we are losing men and vehicles just getting into position, how many will we lose while waiting to attack?”

“Probably just as much, sir.”

“Then we must attack now!” Jian said, smacking a fist into a palm. He would put a fire under them. He’d have his bodyguards shoot anyone who disagreed with him to show them he was serious. “We will lose our fighting men in the cauldron of combat instead of to the weather.”

“Well…” said Bai, who glanced at an officer standing nearby.

“I’m not interested in excuses, General. You must radio Nung—”

“We’ve been practicing long-distance radio silence, sir. This is a delicate operation. We cannot let the Americans know our exact whereabouts, not until we reach solid ground.”

As Jian gripped Bai’s left shoulder, he smiled as a father would to his son. Oh, this was perfect. “I am naming you as my special envoy to General Nung.”

“Sir?” asked a bewildered Bai.

“This hour you will board a plane and fly out to General Nung.”

“The general is in one of the forward positions, sir. That could be close to eighteen hundred kilometers away. The trip will take time.”

“The great distance is the reason why I’m sending you, a man of authority. You will tell General Nung to rouse himself and attack at once. I will tolerate no more delays from him. He must use whatever tanks and planes are ready and rush into battle. Chinese soldiers are dying fighting the Americans near Anchorage. Nung is no longer allowed to sit on the sidelines as he gathers supplies and shifts his tanks here and there. He is like a man diddling himself, and I will simply not have it. Do I make myself clear?”

“You do, sir,” said Bai, who stared at Jian in wonder. Finally, Bai seemed to remember whom he spoke to. “Umm, Minister Hong, could I point out one troubling problem to your order?”

“If you must,” Jian said, scowling. He attempted to radiate his determination, hoping to affect the others in the room.

“I am in charge of supplies, sir, as it is my area of expertise. Ambarchik Base is the critical supply depot. The strength of General Nung’s soldiers is directly related to how well we keep the blood of clothes, fuel, spare parts, ammo and food pumping to them.”

“Do you feel yourself to be indispensable?” Jian asked coldly.

“Sir, General Nung and I have worked together for many years. He is the fighting soldier and I keep him supplied. He gave me explicit orders to—”

“One of the reasons I’m here is that General Nung is not fighting. His reputation lacks any virtue this time around. Men call him a fighter and yet he waits like a woman for a man to call. You will tell him I said that.”

“But Minister—”

“I have given my order,” Jian said in a silky voice. “Must I enforce it as well?” he asked, glancing at his bodyguards.

Bai caught the direction of his gaze. Bai bowed his head, but seemed unable to find words.

Once again, Jian gripped the man’s shoulder. “You have told me you two are close friends. Good. He will believe you then when I tell him that the Chairman is very unhappy with his progress. Tell Nung he is to attack. If he fails to attack—then on his return, he will be shot.”

The room fell silent, and Bai grew pale.

“I will do as you order, sir,” said Bai.

“I knew you would.” Jian smiled and studied the personnel around him. None dared to meet his gaze. The feeling of being watched had stopped. It felt good to wield power so decisively. Crack the whip and watch the ants scurry to their tasks. Perhaps he would become the new Chairman. First, he would show the world his command style by giving the order that ended with the capture of the Alaskan oilfields. He would put a fire under this General Nung. He’d make everyone obey his will as he began to implement the Chairman’s treasured command trick of setting his underlings against each other’s throats.

ARCTIC OCEAN

The pack ice crackled and splintered, the sound like a thousand snowballs hitting a wall.

Paul scrambled to his feet as he glanced over his shoulder. Red Cloud jumped up, too. The continued cracking made the pack ice under Paul’s feet tremble. It reminded him the ice was no more than three and-a-half feet thick here. He had the sick feeling the ice would continue splintering and plunge him into the freezing Arctic Ocean.

They had survived their mad gamble and managed to get out of the Chinese supply dump. They had also connected a power-source with the stolen radio and tried many different bands. Finally, Paul had spoken with the Marine battalion headquarters stationed in Dead Horse. They discovered the U.S. was at war with China.

“I can’t talk long,” Paul had said. “So listen close and start taking this down.”

He’d explained about Platform P-53, the White Tiger Commandos and the Chinese supply dump near his position. Then he’d told the operator that he would call back in an hour. Paul and Red Cloud both feared having the Chinese find their frequency and sending someone out to kill or capture them. They had both agreed never to surrender.

“Check the parts of my story that you can. Then when I radio back in an hour you can tell me if you’re going to believe me or not.”

An hour later, he and Red Cloud had found themselves talking to a Marine captain. The Marine believed them all right. The captain had also told them that a submarine was coming to meet them. They were supposed to remain where they were and wait for the submarine’s appearance.

As the ice cracked and splintered nearby, they still waited.

“It takes longer to surface than one realizes,” Red Cloud said.

Paul nodded. They’d dragged the toboggan away from the splintering sounds. From a safe distance, they now