“Which is what?” asked Yen.
“There are several factors at work, you understand.”
“…I’m not sure I do, sir, at least not how you see it.”
Ling gave the Commodore a crooked grin, the only kind he could give since half his face was paralyzed. “Because of the thin arteries—the Number One and Nine Highways—massive traffic jams often bottleneck our supplies. That also makes it difficult to bring up fresh brigades or battalions to the point of battle. At the point of battle, we hack the Americans in attritional fights. Unfortunately, that costs us in Chinese blood and munitions. Yes, we have superior soldiers. But the Americans fight for their homes and are on defense, which is the stronger form of warfare as they can fire from behind boulders and trees, and pop up from foxholes.”
“I still don’t understand your reason for pessimism, sir. We keep pushing them back.”
“Yes! As they trade space for time. Given enough time, they can reinforce their lost soldiers—as long as they maintain the open air corridor.”
“By the look on your face, sir, I believe you have the answer to our dilemma.”
“I have several answers,” said Ling. “They are each risky.”
“How can they entail risk as long as we have better soldiers and hardware?”
Admiral Ling reached up and pointed at a red symbol on the OBS. It was much deeper inland than any of their penetrations. It was, in fact, hundreds of kilometers inland.
“You’re pointing to their nearest ABM laser station?” asked Yen.
“
Yen studied him. “Are you suggesting sending our bombers into the protected airspace? It would cost us heavily, I’m afraid. If we lost too many planes, it might jeopardize the safety of our carriers. Can you really risk that, sir?”
“We must risk it if we hope to cordon off Anchorage from air-supply. Once that is accomplished, we can smash anything crawling along the ground trying to reach the city. That will dry up their ability to strengthen their defensive positions along Highway One and Nine. As I said before, it is a mathematical formula. If they can trade these controlled increments of space for time long enough, then their main reinforcements from British Columbia will reach Anchorage before we do. If they can, they will seal us off in the peninsula. My accelerated
“We will, sir, especially once we reach Anchorage and then break out.”
“This ABM laser station,” said Ling, pointing at it on the OBS. “We must first destroy it.”
“With long-range missiles?” asked Yen.
“No, that’s out of the question. Even cruise missiles would fail as the site burns them out of the air with their pulse-lasers. For this attack, we must use our Ghost-bombers, our newest stealth craft.”
“Ah, yes, I see why you said risky earlier. Forgive me for my presumption, but I’m guessing you mean to use all of them.”
“Yes, of course all. It is a deep raid. If the Americans are awake and have been holding fighter reserves for just this eventuality….”
Commodore Yen nodded sagely.
“I know the political risks,” Ling said. “The rewards beckon me, however. If we destroy the strategic ABM station, it will open up all South Central Alaska’s hinterlands to our fighters.”
“I don’t disagree, sir.”
“But?” asked Ling.
“It still leaves the Americans an air strongpoint
“Absolutely true. That is why I will use a second surprise.”
“What is that, sir?”
Admiral Ling told the Commodore his plan.
As he heard the words, the Commodore’s monocle fell from his eye. The Commodore caught the expensive VR monocle before it could break on the floor, and he nodded. “You are bold, sir. Your plan truly is risky, but it is also brilliant.”
Because of badly iced wings, Lieutenant-General Bai’s transport plane went down. He had traveled a long ways from Ambarchik Base in East Siberia. Now his transport hit the pack ice. He snapped forward, hitting his forehead against the padded seat in front of him. He heard the explosive sound of crackling ice and the tortured sound of twisted metal.
Men shouted all around him. Bai was dazed and kept trying to remove his restraints. Then soldiers cut his restraints and hauled him upright. The men were cruelly strong, hurting him.
“Hurry, sir!” a man shouted in his face.
Bai stumbled down the crazily tilted aisle. Ice groaned outside and the entire plane shifted.
Men shouted, and a dazed and head-bleeding Bai found himself shoved through a door. He crashed onto ice. His legs crumpled under him. One of his ankles flared with red-hot pain. Someone hauled him upright. He had to hop on one foot.
“Move!” roared a sergeant.
Bai looked up as hail beat at his face. They’d tried to fly through this blizzard. Yes, yes, he was on his way to speak with General Nung. The deadly Ruling Committee Minister—Jian Hong—had taken over Ambarchik Base. Bai tried to clear his foggy thoughts. Men pitched supplies out of the plane.
“This way, sir!” a man shouted in his ear, making Bai yelp. He dragged Bai. As the soldier did, the world began to tremble and thunder roared.
Two men grabbed Bai and ran. Each step on his bad ankle caused shooting pain.
They barely beat the cracking ice. The plane groaned and shrieked metallically as it slid underwater and out of sight with a tremendous splash. A spray of freezing droplets of seawater wet the back of his head. He hadn’t donned a hood or hat yet, having spent hours inside the plane.
Bai lay gasping, tasting his own blood as it trickled down his forehead.
“Wrap this around him and set up the distress signal,” a man said.
“What?” Bai muttered. Then a scarf was wound around his throbbing head. Who would come to get them? They were lost in the middle of the Arctic Ocean and were supposed to keep radio silence. He had a message to bring General Nung, a message to attack the Americans. Bai cursed this wretched blizzard, this logistics nightmare that was the cross-polar attack.
One hundred and twelve miles north of Anchorage was the small town of Talkeetna. It was at the end of the spur road near Mile 99 of the Parks Highway. Talkeetna was small and unpaved, with a Wild West flavor. Denali National Park loomed over the town. In 1917, it had opened as Mount McKinley National Park. In 1980, it had been renamed according to Native traditions. In any case, Denali was more than six million acres of wilderness and was the heart of Alaska with the biggest mountain and the wildest rivers.
There was a U.S. Air Force dirt road in Denali National Park connected to the small town. At the end of the road was a massive complex of building. In them were several nuclear plants to power one of the nation’s strategic Anti-Ballistic Missile pulse-lasers. Nearby was another base with old Patriot missiles and F-35 fighters.
The Talkeetna ABM laser, as it was known, helped protect Anchorage from direct Chinese air assaults. There were two mobile laser batteries protecting Anchorage airport, but they were small, tactical weapons as compared to the giant pulse-laser near Talkeetna.
Two nights had passed since Admiral Ling’s discussion with Commodore Yen. A special attack group had assembled on the Chinese carriers. The carriers had steamed over four hundred kilometers nearer before the catapults began lofting the bombers, EW craft and fighters.
