Drone Command

Pearce had signed on with President Lane before he was even elected on the strength of Margaret Myers’s personal recommendation, and Pearce was eager to serve again. It was easy enough to agree to a private consultation with the Japanese navy. His company was the best in the world at drone research and operations, both civilian and military. It was a smart play by Lane to send him. This way, the American government didn’t appear to be publicly bolstering Japan, but Lane could send a strong personal message through Pearce. He didn’t mind being an envoy. The idea of not being shot at for once was fine by him, even if he felt like the submarine hull was closing in on him.

“So what good does it do for the Chinese to invent an underwater island? What can they do with it?”

“In their minds, they can now make new territorial claims — up to twelve miles, according to international law, besides the two-hundred-mile exclusive economic zone. But it means much more than that.”

“Like what?”

“Your Global War on Terrorism didn’t begin on 9/11.”

“No, it didn’t. It really began the day Osama bin Laden declared war on us in his 1996 fatwa. He claimed we invaded the Muslim holy land and that we needed to be pushed back out. We just weren’t paying attention to him at the time.”

Onizuka pointed at the display monitor. “With that stele, it’s exactly the same thing. The Chinese are making their own declaration about their sacred territory.”

Pearce noticed that the control room had become eerily silent. The young crew was hanging on Onizuka’s every word.

“So you believe it’s a declaration of war?”

“It means, at the very least, that China is prepared to fight a war.” Onizuka’s eyes narrowed. The Japanese captain was six feet tall and broad shouldered, just a few inches shorter than the former CIA special ops warrior. “The question is, are you?”

Pearce felt the heat rise up in his face. It was an accusation, not a question. Anywhere else, he’d be tempted to punch the guy’s lights out. He stuffed the anger back down into its hole. His mission was to smooth things over, not mix it up with the locals, insults or not. Besides, if he were Japanese, he’d have the same worry about America’s commitment to its allies.

“I’m just a private citizen, Captain, not a government official. But I know President Lane well and, unofficially, I can assure you that my country will not abandon the Japanese people in a time of crisis.”

Onizuka’s eyes searched Pearce’s. He nodded. “I want to believe you but this provocation tells me that China thinks otherwise.”

A sonar ping smashed into the sub’s hull like a sledgehammer. Pearce flinched.

“Splashes, Captain.” The bespectacled sonar operator couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. The crew scrambled back to stations.

Onizuka was unfazed. He smiled at his American guest, enjoying his obvious discomfort. “Waiting for the depth charges to blow?”

“Something like that.”

Onizuka laughed. “You’ve watched too many submarine movies. That sonar ping was just the Chinese letting us know that they know we’re here. The splashes my sonar operator just heard are only more sonar buoys breaking the surface of the water.”

The radar operator called out, cool and professional. It seemed to Pearce that all the faces of the fighting men he met lately were getting younger.

“Aircraft. Speed, six-five-two kph. Distance, twenty kilometers. Heading, two-seven-zero.”

“Chinese antisubmarine patrol. Nothing to worry about.” Onizuka flashed a mischievous grin. “Unless, of course, they decide to fire their weapons.” He gave his XO the order to dive a hundred meters down and deploy electronic countermeasures.

“I thought the Chinese weren’t very good at ASW,” Pearce said.

“They’re not, but they’re getting better, thanks to French sonar technology and the German diesel engines powering that guided-missile destroyer we just saw.”

A light flashed on a nearby console. The captain frowned. “Excuse me, Mr. Pearce.”

Onizuka picked up the phone. The Sword Dragon was still tethered to its communication buoy on the surface. He listened. His body stiffened and he bowed slightly. Obviously someone in authority on the other end. His eyes widened. Onizuka handed the phone to Pearce. “It’s for you. The president of the United States wants to speak with you.”

Pearce took the phone, confused. A series of clicks, then a woman’s voice. “Mr. Pearce? The president is on the line. He’d like to speak with you, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course.”

“Troy, David here. How’s everything on your end?”

Troy felt the deck diving beneath his feet. “In the middle of something, sir.” Lane was technically calling him from last night. A thirteen-hour time difference. Must be urgent.

“Then I’ll cut to the chase.”

Lane filled him in. Pearce handed Onizuka the phone. “I’ve got to get back to shore. Now.”

The captain hung up the phone then squared up in Pearce’s face. “Is that an order?”

“It’s an urgent… request.”