Red Tide

could fight while almost entirely submerged, thereby reducing her radar cross section. What the enemy couldn’t see, it couldn’t hit.
Of even greater importance however was the semi submersible’s total throw weight. Thanks to the Sea Dragon’s automated systems, and relatively small crew, most of her length was devoted to offensive and defensive weaponry. That included the popup railgun located forward of Conning Tower One, as well as rows of internal launchers that could fire two hundred missiles, at a rate of one every eight seconds.
None of which impressed Vice Admiral Jinhai Wen who, along with key members of his staff, were present on the Henan’s bridge. Wen had been in the navy for thirty-two years: first as a pilot, then as a surface warfare officer, and later as a senior staff officer.
Now Wen had what he’d always wanted, and that was command of a carrier battle group. And the situation would have been perfect if it weren’t for what Wen often referred to as “the barge.” Wen pretended to scan a nav screen. “Where’s the Sea Snake?” he sneered. “Did it sink? Get Ko on the horn. Tell him to fire a flare.”
The officers laughed but the enlisted men didn’t. They weren’t allowed to. Jokes were reserved for officers.
***
Aboard the Sea Dragon
The Sea Dragon was divided into six compartments from bow to stern: The Gunnery compartment, Operations Department One, the Missile Compartment, the Reactor Compartment, the Engine Room, and Operations Department Two.
And that was where Lieutenant Junior Grade Jev Jing’s duty station was located. He was the ship’s third ranking Communications Officer, and responsible for all incoming and outgoing radio traffic during his watch.
The com center was located adjacent to the larger and more complex Combat Information Center, or CIC, which processed all information related to command and control. But because Senior Captain Ko was forward in Ops One, the second CIC was on standby.
Jing liked the arrangement because it meant that the heat, if any, was on Com officers One and Two, who were forward. That left him free to listen in on the radio traffic between ships, and if he was lucky, eavesdrop on one of Admiral Wen’s famous rants. The latest of which was directed at the Macau’s captain: “What’s wrong, Pang? Is your helmsman drunk? Order the bastard to steer a straight course.”
Jing’s radio operator could hear such exchanges too, but was careful to keep a mostly straight face, as the officer chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” a third person demanded. “Stand to attention.”
Jing knew the voice belonged to the ship’s political officer, Lieutenant Commander Bohai Ang. A man who knew very little about the navy, but had connections, and delighted in exercising his power over those of lesser rank.
Jing stood, did a neat about face, and was careful to focus his eyes on a point six inches above Ang’s head. “Now,” Ang growled. “You were laughing. Please share the joke with me. I would like to laugh too.”
“Sir, yes sir. I was thinking about a joke I heard earlier today. A married couple went out to dinner. Suddenly, the wife exclaimed, ‘I forgot to turn the gas off! There could be a fire.’
“Then, in an attempt to comfort her, the husband said, ‘Don’t worry. I forgot to turn the water off.’”
Ang frowned. “And you think that’s funny?”
“Sir, yes sir. Because if a fire starts the water will …”
“I know what the water will do,” Ang replied. “What is the third principle?”
“That is the principle of upholding the communist party’s leadership, sir.”
Ang nodded. “Correct. Now sit down and focus on your duties.”
Jing performed another about face and sat. And, thanks to Jing’s excellent peripheral vision, he saw Ang leave the compartment. Cao ni. (Fuck you.)
***
The South China Sea welcomed the carrier strike group with negligible two-foot waves and a southerly breeze. Orders called for the vessels to sail east, around the north end of Luzon, and into the Philippine Sea.
That would have been dangerous had the Philippines been part of the Alliance that included the United States, Great Britain, France, Germany, Israel, Australia, Saudi Arabia, India, Japan, Australia and New Zealand, among others.
But President Antonio Costas and his government had chosen to declare the Philippines as a neutral country. That made practical sense, given the country’s proximity to China. As did the rest of the president’s pro-Chinese policies.
There was a price to pay however. Many Filipinos were sympathetic to the Alliance, hated Costas, and wanted to overthrow their government. Something they weren’t likely to accomplish so long as China continued to provide Costas with the money and weapons his secret police used to keep the populace under his thumb.
It had been a long day for Captain Ko. And once the Sea Dragon was well clear of land, he felt comfortable turning the ship over to his executive officer (XO) Commander Shi. The relationship between the men was good. That meant Ko felt free to speak more openly than he usually did. “Let me know if the Admiral gets his shorts in a knot. But I suspect he’s well into his third glass of Huangjiu (yellow wine) by now.”
Shi smiled. “Don’t worry, sir … I’ll let you know if a storm starts to blow.”
After departing Operations One, Ko made his way into officer country. His cabin was 12 feet long and 6 feet wide. Not a large compartment by civilian standards, but huge aboard the Sea Dragon, and nearly the size of the officer’s mess.
Most of the space was occupied by his desk, standing locker, and a metal framed bed. The adjoining head (bathroom) consisted of a sink, marine toilet, and a shower. That’s where Ko went first. To cleanse his body, and to some extent, his spirit.
The shower lasted exactly two minutes and not a second more. That was the length of time allotted to sailors, so that was the amount of time that Ko allowed himself—for to consume more than his share would be dishonorable.
Ko toweled off, entered the cabin naked,