Invasion: California

by defensive chaff and decoys and through plain speed when it could.

In a few places, the air battle still raged hot above the destruction, although the Americans had seriously dwindled in number. In its flight, the Blue Swan missile passed burning anti-air installations and a damaged radar site.

Then one of the American AWACS two hundred miles away bounced a radar beam off it. The missile was of especially stealthy construction, however, and the faint return signal wasn’t enough for the AWACS’ computers. Six and a half miles later, a powerful ground-based American radar station in Escondido located the advancing missile.

Two SAMs left their launchers, accelerating to Mach 7. If they had launched sooner, they might have reached the Blue Swan missile. Maybe. The fact was they failed to reach it in time. Three miles into the border, over Fourth Corps of the American Sixth Army, the Blue Swan warhead exploded.

Everything worked perfectly inside the warhead core—the missile had been manufactured and tested in Tokyo, Japan. A massive electromagnetic pulse blew outward from it, radiating like an exploding sun. The pulse washed over American minefields, over artillery, mortar tubes, troops, thousands of computers, hundreds of tanks, Strykers, IFVs, a veritable host of electronic equipment. The EMP also struck nearby drones, fighters and bombers. It even reached a following Blue Swan, incapacitating the missile so it plunged into a hill and disintegrated. The latest technological marvel wrecked masses of American equipment and weapons systems, and it took a bite out of Chinese air assets.

The single Blue Swan missile created confusion everywhere, on both sides, on and behind the battlefield. But it wasn’t over. There were more Blue Swan missiles on the way.

The Americans couldn’t know it yet—they might never learn, in fact—but five commando teams had succeeded in destroying their targeted missiles. The rest of the teams died, some attacking the wrong site, usually dying in the process, or they never made it through the Chinese air defenses. Their helos became junk, the commandos gory chunks of meat. It was a bloodbath of lost commando teams and lost equipment.

But the five destroyed Blue Swan missiles were only part of the damage. The fact of the attack did more than the five teams achieved individually. In the haste and confusion of the night launch, three Chinese technician teams blew up their own missiles. Improper launch timing meant that Chinese EMP rendered two other missiles incapable, while American ground-to-air defenses shot down four more. That was not counting the five missiles that simply failed to work as advertised. For one reason or another—a faulty component, incorrect computations or a malfunctioning AI—five missiles never detonated or never even made it near their targets.

That left a paltry six Blue Swans. Those six created unprecedented damage, chaos and confusion. In the radius of the EMP, air and a great deal of ground equipment and mines simply ceased functioning, with their electronics fused or burned out.

Both Chinese and American air took appalling losses as drones, fighters and bombers plummeted, crashing, crumbling and igniting as they struck ground. Several explosions started forest fires.

Amid the burning radar stations and the dying tac-laser casements and SAM locations, the SoCal border defenses had electronic gaps. They were black holes where nothing electrical worked: cell phones, dead; radar, dead; vehicle starters, dead; tank systems, dead; artillery sighting equipment, dead, all dead and useless junk now.

These “black-hole” gaps were uneven in nature. Two Blue Swan missiles had exploded near each other, making it the largest dead zone. One other missile EMP yield was low, while another had caused three times as much radiation as expected.

In the majority of the SoCal Fortifications, the electronics were shielded well enough to work normally. In others, panic and confusion had already begun. Soldiers there wondered if the end had come. What was going on? Why couldn’t they talk to anyone and why had their equipment simply died?

Those six Blue Swan missiles initiated the first phase of the great Chinese assault into California. It was less than Marshal Nung would have wanted but much more than President Sims could accept. Whether it was a success or a failure was still to be determined by the second phase about to begin in several hours.

-6- The SoCal Fortifications

FIRST FRONT HEADQUARTERS, MEXICO

Despite his infirmities and weakness, Marshal Nung struggled to awareness. He found himself lying in bed, with medical equipment surrounding him and with tubes attached to his arms.

He lay still for several seconds, attempting to collect his thoughts. The attack began tonight. He must return to his post and oversee the greatest assault in history. He couldn’t let General Pi make the key operational decisions. He couldn’t let Marshal Gang report this and take over command.

This is my hour in the sun. You must be at your post.

Nung opened his eyes to signal the nurse fiddling with one of the machines. This was odd. He couldn’t lift his arm. Nor did she seem to be aware of his efforts.

Concentrate, Nung. Will your body into obedience.

He cleared his throat and he concentrated, but it brought zero results. This is ridiculous. In desperation, he thought back to his younger years. The others in school had always looked upon him as the country oaf. They had mocked him. But he had shown all of them by studiously applying himself and excelling at everything he did. It had only made things worse, as he had been too outspoken about his successes. Upon entering the military, his troubles in that regard had worsened. The petty intriguers, the legion of yes-men, he had found himself hating all of them and striving night and day. They had sent him to Moscow, and oh, how he had applied himself. The others of his military class had hated him the more for it. Only the Chairman of yesteryear had really appreciated him.

The old man had loved a winner is why. But you aren’t winning in the sick bed, Nung. If you fail now…Gang and his kind will use that against you. The mockers will have beaten you.

Anger surged through Marshal Nung, the old anger that had helped him overcome a thousand obstacles. He squeezed his fingers together so the nails bit into his palm. Although his arm shook, he raised it and wriggled his fingers.

The nurse noticed, and she came to him, her eyes filled with concern.

“Help me into a wheelchair,” Nung said in a soft whisper.

“But, sir, you’re unwell. You must rest and regain your strength.”

“No,” he whispered. “I have been resting. Now I want you to help me into a wheelchair.”

“I must summon the doctor, sir. He might not agree to this.”

“Go then. Hurry. But if he fails to show up soon, I will remember that you disobeyed me. And you must know what that means.”

Her eyes widened in fear. She bowed hastily, turned and ran out of the room.

Letting his head fall back against the pillow, Nung stared up at the ceiling. This was simply another battle he had to win. His body wanted to betray him. It was old, and a combination of drugs had weakened him, maybe damaged some of the organs within. So be it. He didn’t want longevity. He wanted to win this war. He yearned to capture California and open the way for Chinese glory. This was his hour and he would savor it and achieve even in his final moments of life. He would not wither away in a bed while his soldiers showed the world how you won a continent.

The door opened and the doctor walked in, a short man in a white uniform, with a stethoscope in lieu of a tie.

“Marshal Nung—” the doctor said in an authoritative tone.

Nung held up a hand. He did it easier this time. “You will listen to me, doctor,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You will remove this ridiculous gown and clothe me in my uniform. Then summon orderlies and they will lift me into a wheelchair.”

The doctor blinked in confusion and hesitation. Slowly, he said, “I must object, sir.”