Part Two - Vostokstation.com.au

1 | P a g eReference: 302/2/7CONFIDENTIALOFFICE OF BS PUBLICATIONSCANBERRA ACT21/11/2018COPY NUMBER 05DeclassHuman SourcesReview 4/2/18PUBLICATION COPY FOR WG CDR LANCE HAMILTONSUBJECT: Востока МолотокВостока МолотокDRAFT COPY 1.0 ADF READERS VERSION1. (U) As discussed with your office, forwarded herewith is a draftcopy of the Востока Молоток episode. This is a dramatised versionto be published in the public domain. The events cover the periodDecember 2009 through June 2019. ADF has been asked to comment andcorrect technical inconsistencies, terms and references beforepublic release.2. (S) This material refers to the key individuals involved, ADFand coalition strategy, equipment and internal affairs.Classified by: Kerry PlowrightDIU (A50)Reason: 2.0Declassify on December 25, 2024CONFIDENTIAL

2 | P a g eCopyright 2009 Kerry Plowright.All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means,electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, withoutthe prior permission of the author.31 Highland Drive, Terranora NSW 2486, AustraliaThe right of Kerry Plowright to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted inaccordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.All the characters in the book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actualpersons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

3 | P a g eFORWARDFor those interested in aviation, featured in this book is RAAFF-111 A8-272 - aka the Bone Yard Wrangler and A8-277 nick namedDouble Trouble. They both served with the 380th Bomb Wing SACPlattsburg AFB before being sent to an Arizona boneyard. In1994 they were rescued by the RAAF and soldiered on until 2010mostly out of Amberely in Queensland. Once again they wereretired and supposedly cut up for scrap (So everyone thought).What actually happened is a different story. Several airframesdid become gate post decorations and many were scrapped, butnot all of them. Wrangler, Double Trouble and a handful ofother airframes went somewhere else.(F-111G) A8-272 Avalon 2005 Darren Howie

4 | P a g eGlossaryABLACSACCADFADFHQAEWAEEAEGISAFSPCARCALPAGIAOPAPUASATASWAWACSBOPCCPCCPDSCINCPACCINCPACFLTCIWSCJCSCJOPSCMCCMTCNPCCOLTCONSTINDCOMNAPCOMSUBPACCOMSTHPACFLTCPRCUVCUWVCUAVDEWDEMPCDFATDSTODIWODZ/LZDIWECWELFEMAEMCONEMR HVAPFSDSEMREPIRBEWCAirborne LaserAirborne COMINT SystemAir Craft Control CenterAustralian Defense ForceAustralian Defense Force Head QuartersAirborne Early WarningAutomated Emergency and Escape/Evasion (Procedure)Airborne Early Warning/Ground EnvironmentIntegration SegmentAir Force Space CommandActive Radar CancellationAustralian Labour PartyAssholes gathering intelligenceArea of operationsAuxiliary Power UnitAnti-satelliteAnti-Submarine WarfareAirborne Warning and Control SystemBlow out PreventerChinese Communist PartyCommand Center Processing and Display SystemCommander In Chief PacificCommander in Chief, Pacific FleetClose-in Weapon SystemChairman Joint Chiefs of StaffCommander Joint OperationsCentral Military CommitteeCrisis Management TeamChina National Petroleum CorporationCombat Observation and Laser TeamChinese Academy of Sciences and the Commission ofScience, Technology and Industry for NationalDefenseCouncil of Managers of National Antarctic ProgramsCommander/Command Submarine Force Pacific FleetCommander, South Pacific FleetCardio-Pulmonary ResuscitationCombat Unmanned VehicleCombat Underwater Water VehicleCombat Unmanned aerial VehicleDirected Energy WeaponData Exploitation, Mission Planning, CommunicationsDeptartment for Affairs and TradeDefense Science and Technology OrganizationDuty Intelligence Watch OfficerDrop zone or landing zoneDead in the WaterExtreme Cold WeatherExtra Low FrequencyEmergency Management Authority (Australia)Emissions ControlHigh Velocity Armour-Piercing Fin-StabilizedDiscarding-Sabot propelled by an electromagneticRailgunElectro-Magnetic RadiationEmergency Position-Indicating Radio BeaconElectronic Warfare Center

5 | P a g eEWRFLASHHPMHUMINTHSVHUDHVUIAIAWSINRISRISTARLLEPMILSTARNLTNOAANSANSCNSCCOODPOAPDPPOPLAPLANPLAHQRANSRHAWRORPMSPICESCARPBSCSOARSOJTFSARSOSUSTCSTOFTOTUAVPUSAPUSSTRATCOMUSACOMUUWVVIPERSXOElectronic WarfareMessage of extreme urgency, Brevity is mandatory.High power microwavesHuman IntelligenceHigh Speed VesselHead Up DisplayHigh Value UnitsInformation AnalystImproved Analyst WorkstationBureau of Intelligence and Research (StateDepartment)Intelligence, Surveillance and ReconnaissanceIntelligence, Surveillance, Target Acquisition andReconnaissance IR Infra RedLow Level Entry PointU.S. Military Communications Satellite ProgramNo Later ThanNational Oceanic and Atmospheric AdministrationNational Security AdvisorNational Security Council (USA)National Security Committee (Australia)Officer of the DeckPlan of AttackPeriscope DepthPilot and Payload OperatorPeoples Liberation ArmyPeoples Liberation Army NavyPeoples Liberation Army Head QuartersRoyal Australian Naval ShipRadar Homing And WarningReactor OfficerReactor Plant ManualStand-Off Precision Guidance Munition (PGM) KitStanding Scientific Group in AntarcticaPolitical Bureau's Standing CommitteeSupport Office for Aero Physical ResearchSouthern Ocean Joint Task ForceSearch and RescueSound Surveillance SystemTactical Control System/ScreenTime of FlightTime Over TargetUnmanned Aerial Vehicle PilotUnited States Antarctic ProgramUnited States Strategic CommandUnited States CommandUnmanned Underwater VehicleVirtual Integrated Planning and Execution ResourceSystemExecutive Officer

6 | P a g eUS AdministrationDRAMATIS PERSONAEPrevious President: Lachlan Winston FinnPresident. Damon BlairePaul Goldschmidt: Secretary of DefenseGeorge Perelli, General, Secretary of Defense previously Chairman of the Joint Chiefsof Staff [CJCS]Hans Jacoby Defence advisorVince Kipper National Security AdvisorSecretary of State: Madeline PriceRear Admiral Ethan Fox. CNSLarry Perkins Chief of StaffEli Baylor: Senior White House AdvisorBrady Fox: White House Press SecretaryChauncey Gray: Director of Central IntelligenceGalen Miles: Deputy Director of Central IntelligenceDavid Stringer: Executive Director of the Central Intelligence AgencyJack Varndell DED, CIA....works for StringerCommander Scott Turner Cheyenne’s Captain,Aidan Nash. 2 nd in command SSN CheyenneLieutenant Michael Jeffries U.S. Marine PilotThe Chief of Staff, Army (CSA), General Angus ZakrzewskaCommander Scott Turner Cheyenne’s Captain,Captain Andrew Panoski National Guard Hercules LC130 aircraft Skier 93Australian GovernmentAustralian Prime Minister Dennis Roger GordonBrian Reid Australian Minister for DefencePaul Hughes, Deputy Prime Minister and Minister for Transport and Regional ServicesRichard Graeme The Minister for Foreign AffairsCollin Williams The Minister for Immigration and Multicultural and Indigenous Affairsand the Attorney-GeneralColonel Brian Hamilton, Australian Special Air Services RegimentSqn. Ldr. Lance ‘Buck Shot’ Hamilton Commanding No 1 Squadron (F-111C Strike and RF-111C Reconnaissance)Sqn. Ldr Jake Pursell, Lances weapons operatorGary Fulham Australian Special Air Services RegimentRear Admiral Nick Jansen Chief of Naval staff (CN) COMAUSTJTFNatasha Braithwaite‘Horde’ AlstonMajor General David Morel COMAST CDF, Chief of StaffLieutenant General Stephen Adams Chief of Army (CA)Michael Hudson: HMAS Long reach Catamaran CaptainLT Josh Mathers RAN HMAS Long reachWO Dan Sanders RAN Chief of the ship HMAS Long reachKenneth Sullivan, Rear Admiral: Task Force Commander: COMSTHPACFLTCMDR Jake Williams RAN Commander HMAS CollinsLCDR Kevin Pack RAN Commander HMAS FARNCOMB.Capt Roy Gibson RAN Commander Australian Submarine Squadron.Air Marshal John Norton Chief of Air Force (CAF), Air Marshal John Norton AO, AirComponent Commander (ACC)Laurie Wilkie : GPCAPT - Officer Commanding 82 WingIranian GovernmentSupreme Leader Sayyid Ali KhameneiPresident AhmadinejadBrigadier General Mohammad KossariHezbollah leader Sayyed Hassan NasrallahManouchehr MottakiChinese GovernmentPresident Yuen Xinghua central committee Secretary General.General Chen JianguoAdmiral Wen JinsongAdmiral Wey Guangkai. – Chief of the General Staff of the Chinese People's LiberationArmyHong Liu Chinese Ministry for State Security

7 | P a g eLi Chieh-jen Chinese agentCommander Li Zhenbang Captain PLANS FuzhouBing Qing. (Meaning Crystal ice clear.)Russian GovernmentPresident Vladimer PetrovColonel-General Mishka Kazakov, head of Russian General StaffColonel General, Sergey Nikolayevich LebedevVice Admiral Vladimir Kuroyedov Admiral Russian NavyVice Admiral Vyacheslav Popov, Commander Pacific Fleet Force PackageCol-Gen, Sergey Nikolayevich Lebedev, Director of Agentstvo Voyennykh NovosteyAleksandr Vladimirovich, the Chief of GUSP the main directorate for Special Programs,Captain Stanislav Rumyantsev, Captain of ArktikaCol. Mikolai Nabialok Russian Spetsgruppa VympelNafaniel LogvinochProfessor Nelomai Ostaf'ev syn Olfer'eva Durnovo. Head of Russian Vostok scientists.Pavel Kondrat'ev syn KhudiakovLi Chieh-jen – Chinese Tajdid agentRabets Filipovich Gnoitskii, rabbitIvan Grigor'ev Nagoi (means naked) lead Russian TU120 pilotDemetri..a TU120 pilot (Meant to be Ivan?)Vlas Naberezhnyi first SU 27 pilotDobycha Lachinov second SU27 pilotFedor Mikhailovich Rabik, Spetznaz Sargeant.Karakai Kaderov, ambassadorIndonesian GovernmentAyatollah bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqq. Chief of the radical Islamic Defenders Front,FPI and Laskar Jundullah, or Army of Allah. Codename ‘Rasputin ‘Salim Emil PresidentBambang Sugeng Prime minister, Islamic political party headSartono Kartodirdjo Kepala Staf UmumCaptain Bambang Soedibyo leading Naga flightMahmud Faksh – Lebanese Vector to AustraliaUsman El Muhammady – snatched by HammerUsman’s second in command nick named PamanOthersRosenBridge Foundation:Frank CuppitoAlexander BlakeKasiniia SakrovC130 aircraft number 30492 Loadmaster Master Chief Andrew WilkinsVincent Gray - reporterRhys Cooper. ScientistSitti HawaRussell MagsigRay Banif, AP Military WriterPatrick Boone, MacDowell Aviation

8 | P a g eTABLE OF CONTENTSFORWARD ........................................................... 3Glossary .......................................................... 4CHAPTER ONE .................................... 18Antarctica, Станция Востока .................................... 20Antarctica. 16 Miles North of Станция Востока ................... 21The Taurus-Littrow valley Mare Serenitatis ..................... 24Weapons Free ................................................... 29The Feather Men, AFGHANISTAN ................................... 44KUZA KHERMANA, PAKTIA PROVINCE. ................................ 47Sikaram Nightmare .............................................. 54BAGRAM COMMAND AND CONTROL CENTRE .............................. 80Buck Shot One - the Arabian Sea ................................ 86CHAPTER TWO ................................... 106The Shame of Sitti Hawa ....................................... 108Khamenei’s Caliphate .......................................... 111Operation Schism .............................................. 115Operation Tripod Friday, May 8. 2018 .......................... 121Walla-Warr .................................................... 128Tripod Operation - The Usman El Muhammady Snatch .............. 131Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Delivering the Nuclear Promise ........... 136The Russian Bear Trap - March 5 2018 .......................... 138The Hamilton Hit. Станция Востока, Антарктида ................. 141The Amanab Emergency .......................................... 143The Perth Hamilton Hit ........................................ 164CHAPTER THREE ................................. 167Fulcrum Flight - Russia, the Gromov Flight Research Institute . 168

9 | P a g ePerth Hit - Same day .......................................... 176The de Vivies Analysis ........................................ 178Emergency Ward, Royal Perth Hospital .......................... 180Doctoring the PDB ............................................. 182President Damon Andrew Blaire ................................. 184CHAPTER FOUR .................................. 187Greenville Ordered to Martin de Vivies ........................ 197USS Greeneville ‘Stand by the Lines’ .......................... 202Operation Bing Qing ........................................... 214Rig for Ultra Quiet ........................................... 219Martin de Vivies .............................................. 221Canberra - Reid discusses Hamilton hit and de Vivies ......... 231CHAPTER FIVE .................................. 234Vostok Station ................................................ 235CHAPTER SIX ................................... 250The Dragon Sails South ........................................ 250US Response to the Oil Discovery .............................. 259Beijing ......................................................... 268November 13. 0900hrs local time (0100 UTC). Political Bureau'sStanding Committee. Phase Three Bing Qing authorisation. ...... 268The Ross Sea .................................................... 273The Icebreaker Arktika ........................................ 273Washington ...................................................... 275Security Council Meeting, the White ............................. 276House Cabinet Room. Goldschmidt gets canned. .................. 276CHAPTER SEVEN ................................. 284Vostok Station .................................................. 284Hamilton spies on Durnovo at the drill rig. ................... 284Antarctic Crisis Deepens. ....................................... 285

10 | P a g eUSS Greeneville, Heading Due West. .............................. 287Ordered to track the Shi Lang, fights the Akula. .............. 287Canberra Australia. ............................................. 291Brian returns from Antarctica and the drill rig fight. ........ 291Sydney Australia. ............................................... 292Meeting with Frank Cuppito Rosenbridge ........................ 292Canberra ...................................................... 294Washington DC ................................................. 294CHAPTER EIGHT ................................. 296The Southern Ocean DDG 138 台 州 Taizhou ......................... 296December 2 0300 UTC / AEST Dec 2. 1351hrs. The Taizhou Below the60th Parallel. ................................................ 296Kellyville, Sydney Australia. ................................... 297December 2, 0530hrs UTC AEST 1535hrs. ......................... 297HQJOC Head Quarters Joint Operational Command. .................. 300Lance at HQ getting his new orders and being briefed. ......... 300Lance visits the new F-111S. .................................. 303Flight V-017 enroute for Vostok Station from McMurdo. ........... 310December 3. 2310hrs UTC/local time AEST Dec 3 1510hrs. Brianheaded back to Vostok again. .................................. 310CHAPTER NINE .................................. 320The Kremlin, Moscow Кремль, Москва ............................. 320December 4. 0233hrs local time. (033 UTC). Kremlin reacts to EMPevent, orders cruise missile strike. .......................... 320Beijing, CCP Offices 北 京 , CCP 办 公 室 .............................. 326December 4. 0210 UTC. ........................................ 326Vostok Station Станция Востока .................................. 326December 4. 0215 UTC. Brian looks for Sat Phone finds artefact............................................................... 326

11 | P a g eWhite House Situation Room ...................................... 333December 4 0245 UTC ........................................... 333Vostok Station - Станция Востока ................................ 335Canberra Australia .............................................. 335The Prime Minister's Office. .................................. 335December 4 0315 UTC. .......................................... 335Hasanuddin Airforce Base, ....................................... 337South Sulawesiprovince, Indonesia. ............................ 337December 4. The Blackjacks Arrive. ............................ 337White House Situation Room .................................... 340Canberra Australia .............................................. 342The Prime Minister's Office, Orders the thump on the Taizhou. . 342December 4 1100hrs UTC/Dec 4 2100 local. ...................... 342UN Condemns Antarctic EMP Attack ................................ 351Canberra, Australia. ............................................ 352December 4 2030hrs (UTC). December 5 0830 hrs local. PM finds outabout Blackjacks out of Indo. ................................. 352CHAPTER TEN ................................... 354Over the Indian Ocean. .......................................... 354No. 1 Radar Surveillance Unit (1RSU) RAAF Base Edinburgh ........ 355December 4 2000 hrs (UTC). .................................... 355Moscow/ Москва .................................................. 361December 5 0600hrs UTC. 0100 hrs theatre time. Read transcript ofBrians Sat Phone Message. ..................................... 361Vostok Station, East Enclave/Станция Востока, Восточный Анклав .. 362December 5. 0800Hrs UTC.Brian anticipates cruise missilestrike, prepares base personnel. (Rabbit etc) ................. 362Washington DC, the Oval Office .................................. 364December 5 0530hrs. Orders two satellites Russians launched to beknocked out. .................................................. 364

12 | P a g eBeijing ......................................................... 366Air Force Space Command (AFSPC), ................................ 368The Space Warfare Center at Schriever AFB, Colorado ........... 368December 5 0900hrs. UTC. Witness satellites being knocked off. 368CHAPTER ELEVEN ................................ 370Vostok Station/ Станция Востока ................................. 370Dermont d'Urville ............................................... 376The French Ice Station. December 5. 0700 UTC. Nabialok heads tothe Dry Valleys. .............................................. 376中 国 人 民 解 放 军 海 军 /PLAN South Pacific Fleet Flag Head Quarters. .... 378Jinsong takes Chinese Fleet into Southern Ocean. .............. 378CHAPTER TWELVE ................................ 381CIA Operations Room Langley, Virginia. .......................... 381December 5. 0100hrs UTC Dec 4 2200hrs local. Kasiniia SakrovRosenbridge presentation on oil well fire. .................... 381CIA Headquarters. ............................................... 388C130 Aircraft Number 30492 ...................................... 391Over the Dry Valleys. December 5 1312hrs UTC. ................. 391Williams Air Force Base, Victoria, Australia. ................... 394December 5, 1330 hrs, UTC. Pig flight leaves to harass Taizhou............................................................... 394CHAPTER THIRTEEN .............................. 397Raaf base Avalon Victoria ..................................... 397Antarctica. The Dry Lakes Region. ............................... 410December 5 1311hrs UTC. ....................................... 410McMurdo Station. ................................................ 422Brian tells Alex the well is on fire. ......................... 422Avalon Air Field. Victoria Australia. ........................... 425Lance returns from Southern Ocean. ............................ 425

13 | P a g eAustralians Sink Chinese Warship ................................ 426CHAPTER FOURTEEN .............................. 427CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia. ............................ 427December 6 0600 UTC. Stringer learns of catastrophe of Vostokblows. ........................................................ 427Scott/McMurdo Bases ............................................. 428December 7 0100 UTC. Typhoon subs and Russkis enter Scott base 428JOCHQ Bungendore Australia ...................................... 435December 6 1400 hrs UTC, midnight local.CJOPS learns fire willhit in 70hrs. ................................................. 435Australian Defense Headquarters Canberra ........................ 436Avalon Victoria ................................................. 439Preparing the Bone Yard Wrangler. ............................. 439Australian Ambassador and the entire diplomatic staff expelled atgunpoint from their embassy offices ............................. 440The 60th Parallel/ 第 60 平 行 ....................................... 441December 6 0830 UTC. 1800hrs local. Chinese cross Parallel. ... 441Chinese Southern Task Force/ 中 国 南 部 的 特 遣 部 队 ..................... 443December 6. 1830 hrs."So they backed down," General ChenJianguo ....................................................... 443Canberra, Australia. ............................................ 444Australia Demands Chinese Withdrawal ............................ 446中 国 的 大 厅 /Great Hall of China ................................... 450December 6. 1200 UTC. Yuen Xinghua laughs at Australian demand toleave. ........................................................ 450CHAPTER FIFTEEN ............................... 452Boston Massachusetts USA ........................................ 452Geophysicists work out FAB plan to snuff fire ................. 452The Great Southern Ocean/ 伟 大 的 南 部 的 海 洋 .......................... 454

14 | P a g eDecember 7. Jinsong’s fleet and Orion shoot down, HMAS Darwinsinking. ...................................................... 454Headquarters Joint Operations Command, HQJOC Bungendore ......... 460Response to the Darwin sinking. ............................... 460CIA Headquarters. ............................................... 461If the oil fire reaches the lake …well, we're ALL dead - Blake 461Situation Room, Canberra ........................................ 465NSC Crises Meeting ............................................ 465Washington, the White House ..................................... 467Situation Room. Move to DEFCON ONE, orders MOABs to Australia. 467Canberra. ....................................................... 469NSC still meeting. CJOPs briefs on disaster scenario and tacticalhurdles and presents Daisy Cutter option.. .................... 469Joint Intelligence Facility, Pine Gap ........................... 474Lance gets message from Brian, talks about the FAB’s .......... 474Vostok Station. ................................................. 478December 7 0400 UTC. Russians land at vostok. ................. 478HQJOC Bungendore Australia. ..................................... 479December 8 Sat. 1130hrs UTC. Jensen comes up with the idea ofusing HSV. Longreach ordered south. ........................... 479CHAPTER SIXTEEN ............................... 481Tasmania, Australia. ............................................ 481December 8 0630hrs UTC.Lance prepares in Tasmania for Daisycutter. ....................................................... 481Saturday December 8 0920hrs. Hercules C130 takes off for Carrier............................................................... 482The Tasman Sea, U.S. Southern Task Force, USS Clinton. .......... 483Saturday December 8 0930hrs UTC. F-111 inbound to land onClinton. ...................................................... 483HQJOC ........................................................... 495

15 | P a g eSaturday, December 8. 1130hrs UTC. Briefing. .................. 495HMAS Longreach, Southern Ocean. ................................. 497Longreach heads south. CUAV’s launched on first mission. ...... 497The Shi Lang .................................................... 510Shi Lang mistakenly identifies UAVs as F-111’s ................ 510RANS Longreach. ................................................. 511Longreach monitors flight, Chinese Sukhois attack UAV’s ....... 511Canberra. ....................................................... 521Canberra learns of three ships sunk by UAV’s. ................. 521CHAPTER SEVENTEEN ............................. 522The Ross Iceshelf. .............................................. 522Saturday, December 8. 1530hrs UTC. C130 lands. ................ 522Insertion into Vostok. .......................................... 535December 8, 2230hrs UTC. ...................................... 535McMurdo Station. ................................................ 545Under Russian Control. ........................................ 545Vostok Station. ................................................. 551December 9, 0234hrs UTC. ...................................... 551Wombat, Inbound Vostok Station. ................................. 553CHAPTER EIGHTEEN .............................. 558HQJOC BUNGENDORE. ............................................... 558CIA Headquarters, Langley. ...................................... 560Caspian Sea monster recon photos. ............................. 560The Chinese Southern Ocean Task Force. .......................... 561RAAF 82 Wing over the Southern Ocean. ........................... 572CHAPTER NINETEEN .............................. 588USS Greeneville. ................................................ 588The undersea battle against the Ting and others. .............. 588Vostok Station. ................................................. 603Vandenberg AFB. ................................................. 609

16 | P a g eThe Russian South Pacific Fleet. ................................ 611Somewhere over the Southern Tasman Sea. ......................... 615CHAPTER TWENTY ................................ 621Vostok Station .................................................. 621Washington/Canberra. ............................................ 628HQJOC Bungendore. ............................................... 631HMAS Canberra 500 Nautical Miles West of Macquarie Island. ...... 632Australian Government Press Gallery - Canberra. ................. 640Paris, France. The Salon Doré. .................................. 643CSAR enroute to Vostok. ......................................... 644Escape From Vostok. ............................................. 648The Australian Fleet Task Force ................................. 663

17 | P a g e

18 | P a g eCHAPTER ONEThe Seeds of ArmageddonConflict and subjugation are attracted by weakness, not strength.

19 | P a g eMAP: ANTARCTICAScale 1:68,000,000Territorial Claims

20 | P a g eAntarctica, Станция ВостокаAntarctica is home to more than 70lakes that exist thousands of feetunder the surface of the continentalice sheet, including one under the150 miles longSouth Pole itself. Lake Vostok,beneath Russia's Vostok Station, isone of the largest of these subglacial lakes hidden beneath 12,000feet of ice. The Lake, a body ofwater the size of Lake Ontario, isThe satellite image above shows thedepression in the ice surface above thelake.over 155 miles long, 31 miles wide, and contains around 1250 cubicmiles of water, a good match for Lake Superior.There are more than 145 other lakes trapped under the ice.Vostok's two largest neighbours are referred to as 90 0 E (named afterthe longitude) and the other Sovetskaya,named after the Russian research stationcoincidentally built above it. Like LakeVostok, their icy waters have been sealedoff from the surface for over 35 millionyears. The 90 0 E Lake has a surface area of2,000km 2 , which is about the size of RhodeIsland, and is second only to Lake Vostok's 14,000km 2surface area.Sovetskaya Lake was calculated to be about 1,600 km 2 . Both are sealedbeneath more than two miles of ice. The lake depths, estimated to beat least 900 meters, were calculated from gravity data taken duringaerial surveys in 2000 and 2001.

21 | P a g eAntarctica. 16 Miles North of Станция Востока78°16‛59”S/106°25‛13”ESunday Dec 30 2010. The gunman pressed the end of the barrel hardinto the back of the other man's neck squeezing the trigger at thesame time. The sound of the gunshot was partly muffled by the heavilypadded hood of the victim's parka, the rest of it snatched away inthe blizzard of wind and ice that swept over the two lone figures.The large calibre round entered the man's lower neck and exitedthrough the other side of his skull, taking most of his face with itand spraying sizable chunks of bone and brains over the whitesurface. Feng's dead body collapsed like a wet sack.The killerknelt next to the body quickly going through the dead mans pockets.He found what he was looking for and carefully examined it. It was acylindrical piece of ice that with the exception of the blackglobules near its centre was crystal clear. He retrieved a smallplastic container from his own jacket and dropped the sample inside,sealing the lid.The gunman stood for a moment, holstering the weapon andreplacing the outer glove back on his gun hand. He watched withsatisfaction as the drifting snow quickly covered the bloody evidencestaining the ice.The body was also collecting snow and would becovered in minutes. In 70,000 years, as the ice floe continued itssteady march north; they might find it at the other end of the lake.The man with the gun grunted and returned to the waiting snowtractor, climbing into the warmth of the cab.The driver waited until he was seated then shifted the snowmachine roughly into gear without looking up. "Wet feet?" he asked."Big fucking mouth," the gunman said, Frozen feet now."You think Feng knew you were going to kill him?"The gunman thought about the exit wound, "didn't show in hisface." He said, at least what was left of it. Hong Liu squirmed

22 | P a g ehimself comfortably into the trucks seat. He worked for the SecondBureau of the Chinese Ministry for State Security, the ForeignBureau, the one responsible for operations abroad."What about Hamilton?" The driver asked."If he sniffs around here again kill him."He looked throughthe windscreen into the blinding snow, the wipers scraped back andforth furiously in an almost futile attempt to maintain somevisibility. But he wasn’t thinking about the snow, he was thinkingabout the Australian. Hamilton was a risk, too great a risk to leavewalking and talking. He pulled his gloves off, checking his pocketfor the cylinder. "Hamilton was talking to Feng,” He continued, “whenthe time is right..." Hong left the sentence hanging because he wasreally talking to himself, he knew if anyone were to find out aboutthe ice core sample, China’s future would be gravely jeopardised.The driver nodded. "We have agents in Australia, why not havethem do it?”"No,” Hong Liu said, a little troubled by the other manscomplacence. “This I need to do myself.” What they were undertakingnow would take many years to come to fruition and could turn theworld and the balances of power upside down.The driver had no idea what was in Hong’s pocket or what theywere doing here. He didn’t want to know; in this case ignorance wasbliss. Like Shultz in Hogans Heroes, his chances of survival weremuch better if he ‘knew nothing!’ anyone in the PLA could tell youthat. He replayed the German accent in his head, he wasn’t about totry it out loud."Durnovo is preparing the drill site," Hong said shivering alittle, but not from the cold. "We don't need any more complicationslike Feng." He looked at the driver. “Or we might join him.”The driver inwardly shrank and looked away. Yes, the least saidthe better; Hong seemed to have an unusual degree of latitude with

23 | P a g eBeijing. He didn’t want to be Hongs next job. What ever they weredoing was clearly worth killing for, not that that had ever been aproblem.He looked up and for a fleeting moment and saw the squashedorange pumpkin shape of the moon between the racing clouds of blowingsnow. The squashed shape was due to atmospheric bending of light orrefraction - an effect which is more severe closer to the horizon,something poor old Feng would never see again he thought, butsomething the driver wanted to see many more times.On the way back to camp the driver tracked the moons path untilit sank below the horizon, fearful now thinking somehow his fate andthe moons presence were somehow entwined. As he watched the moondisappear, a whole world away and at the very same time someone elsewas watching it. Actually there were probably millions watching it,but most of them were mindless ponderings of something far away,something unreachable. The individual that mattered to this story wasscouring its surface looking for something left behind from decadesbefore, and he had one heck of view. The other important thing herewas that this individual along with the snow cat driver and Hong hadsomething else in common other than just the moon. A set of eventshad just been set in motion that bound them all together in astruggle that would pit them against each other, see two of them deadplus untold others and a planet on the brink of destruction.

24 | P a g eThe Taurus-Littrow valley Mare Serenitatis(The Moon) NASA Goddard Flight Control CentreGREENBELT MD USA. The man whose life was now entwined with that ofthe two Chinese operatives was sitting in the Goddard NASA ControlCentre. It was 3:09AM in the morning and as the Chinese snow catdriver watched the moon submerge beneath the ice in Antarctica, inthe control centre the moon was still in exactly the same spot it hadbeen for most of the night, close-up on the main view screens.There were no major missions underway and just a handful ofstaff inhabited the large room watching machines that watched andmonitored other machines. Just like on the movie Appollo Thirteen,several big view screens looked down on the room taking up the entirefront wall. Swimming across them were real time high resolutionimages of the lunar surface. Managing that process was NASA AerospaceTechnician David Stringer, an imaging specialist. Stringer had theplum job for the evening, something he had been anticipating for sometime. He could feel the excitement in his fingertips as he tapped hiskeyboard feeding the command sequences into the computer. For thenext ninety minutes he was in control of several billion dollars

25 | P a g eworth of cutting edge space technology orbiting the moon. He checkedthe time again, these were priceless minutes and he had planned eachone of them.What he didn’t know was that he was about make a profounddiscovery. But that was still a few minutes away. The billions ofdollars of space hardware he commanded was a brand new LunarReconnaissance Orbiter or LRO which closely orbited the moon. Thesatellite, called MoonSat1 enjoyed the best optical and digitalimaging ever sent off the planet. After Stringer completed ascheduled set of unit tests he steered the cameras on board MoonSat1to look at the lunar objective he had dreamed of visiting since achild. After that he would test the LRO’s image servos – the littlegizmos that oriented and moved the cameras and then the lunarorbiters reaction flywheels. The flywheels controlled the LRO’s pitchand attitude. Each reaction wheel had a flywheel. When the flywheelspun up in one direction, the spacecraft would start to spin veryslowly in the opposite direction. Putting a few reaction wheels onthe LRO enabled control on all three axes.While these mechanisms had already been tested many times, evenmore tests had been scheduled for that night. The LRO team were now

27 | P a g eblasted off. David knew he would only have minutes of eye ball timebefore the satellite rolled over the horizon again. He used thoseminutes to explore the site in detail. Just as he was about to rotatethe cameras away he noticed something very unusual, something out ofplace, something that shouldn’t be there.

28 | P a g eMAP: MIDDLE EASTScale 1:21,000,000

29 | P a g eWeapons FreeThe Persian Gulf and Middle EastLocation: Gonzo Station, the Gulf of Oman100km south of Chah Bahar, IranCarrier Task Force (CTF) 150. USS Ronald Reagan(CVN 76) Strike Group (JCSSG)The narrow Strait of Hormuz isconsidered one of the most, ifnot the most strategic strait ofwater on the planet. Through asmall sea space less than 40miles wide moves the better partof the worlds oil needs.This stretch of water bordered byIran, Oman's Musandam Peninsulaand the United Arab Emirates is amagnet for trouble.Call sign ‘Buckshot’ side number 402 approached the nuclear-poweredaircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan (CVN 76) from dead astern at analtitude of 1,200 feet and a distance of eight miles. The pilot,temporarily assigned to the naval attack squadron the Fists, VFA-25,eased his F/A-18C Hornet fighter to starboard, aligning it on hisfinal heading for a straight-in night landing.The USS Ronald Ragan was into the wind, the small island ofBahrain to her stern and the gulf on her bow. An approach controllerin (CATCC), the Carrier Air Traffic Control Centre, called out radarupdates during the final minutes of Hamilton's mission. Radio chatterwas held to a minimum.CATCC: "Four Zero Two, on glide path, on course."

30 | P a g eAn F/A-18C Hornet from VFA-25, the ‘Fists of the fleet’ high over the GulfBuckshot: "Four Zero Two."CATCC: "Four Zero Two, on glide path, on course, three- quartermiles. Call the ball."Buckshot: "Four Zero Two, ball. 5-3." Buckshot confirmed hisvisual sighting of the ball, his position relative to the beam ofamber light, the location of the "needles" on the cockpit display ofhis automatic carrier landing system, and his remaining fuelavailable.Paddles: "Roger, ball." The landing signal officer (LSO) or‘paddles’ as some called him, confirmed Hamilton's radiotransmission. The LSO monitored all carrier landings from a platformon the port side of the flight deck near the ship's stern, radioinginstructions as necessary.Eighteen seconds after his final radio transmission, Buckshot'sFA/-18C Hornet slammed down on the Reagan’s flight deck. As hisaircraft's tail hook reached for one of the four arresting cablesspanning the flight deck, Buckshot applied full power to the Hornet'stwo General Electric turbofan engines. In the event he missedgrabbing a wire owing to a hook skip or landed past the wires,

31 | P a g eBuckshot would "bolter" and make an immediate takeoff on thecarrier's angled flight deck.Only when a safe arrested landing was assured (on a "numberthree wire") and the flight deck officer's lighted wands signalledhim to reduce power did Buckshot pull his engine throttles back toidle and follow the directions of yellow-shirted aircraft handlers totaxi to his parking spot on the busy flight deck.After a brief post flight inspection, the temporary navalaviator that was really an RAAF Flight Lieutenant on TDY, went to themaintenance-control office to report the status of his aircraftfollowed by a debriefing of his mission and landing in the squadronready room. (The LSO grades and critiques every landing on the shipas part of a continuing process of self-improvement).As the RAAF pilot signed his aircraft's maintenance forms toclose out the mission his Squadron CO appeared, leaning through thehatch and propping himself up against the bulkhead.“You are Ready Five.” The Fists Commander Chris McKay looked athis watch. “In six hours?”“Yes sir.”The Commanding Officer of VFA-25 looked at the Australian. TheAussie was what they called a Hot Runner – someone who consistentlyperformed well, better still; he wasn’t pretentious about it or fullof the usual cock and bull. His mate Horde, the other Aussie exchangeofficer was pretty good as well. “You’re both short. Looks like wehave to give you back soon huh?”Buckshot looked up from the paperwork and smiled. “Fraid sosir, nine days and a wakeup.” He paused, “Frankly I’d like to stay alittle longer, was hoping to see some action.” The road to qualifyingfor active flying duty on board one of the world’s most powerfulships had not been easy and being able to put that training topractice would have been gratifying – so long as only the bad guys

32 | P a g egot hurt of course. Buckshot had trained at NAS Pensacola completingover 140 carrier-landing practices in all types of weather conditionsday and night, before he even saw a carrier deck. When he finallydid, it was flying a T-45 Goshawk trainer on and off an AviationLanding Training Ship (AVT) before participating in fleet replacementsquadron carrier qualifications (FRSCQ). After all that and despitehis significant hours in the air force flying Hornets and Pigs, hestill joined VFA-147 as a nugget. But this was a rare opportunity; heand Horde would be the only carrier-qualified pilots in theAustralian Defence Force. But their tenure was drawing to a close andhe didn’t want to leave without just a little bit of excitement.The CO of the Fists laughed and slapped the bulkhead as hestraightened up to leave. “Well, you never know your bad luck! Justmake sure you and Horde don’t stain your almost flawless recordsbefore you go.” He was referring to landings and other instruments ofmeasurement they used to weigh pilot skills.“What do you mean ‘almost’” Buckshot half shouted down thepassageway after the retreating figure of the CO.The Commander turned and smiled. “Just keep your god dam nosesclean, don’t screw the pooch.” He disappeared past another bulkheadhis voice trailing off with “See you after the sweat.” He meant theoften hot and boring job of sitting in the cockpit as an alertaircraft pilot, waiting for a launch order that most often didn’thappen.“Aye, aye sir.” Buckshot replied. The RAAF pilot had only justgot used to saying ‘Aye, aye’, a habit he would have to drop.

33 | P a g eUSS Ronald Reagan (CVN 76) and USS Denver (LPD 9) steam through the Gulf of Oman.At the due time and after some quick zees, Buckshot was back on theflight deck. The red shirted ordies were working to get his jetready, loading AMRAAM’s, Harpoons and 20-millimeter ammo. Afterchecking the maintenance book and signing the white acceptance sheetfor the aircraft, Buckshot dropped off the weight sheet in FlightDeck Control followed by a quick precautionary wizz in the headbefore walking back to his bird. The plastic bug as some called herwas parked in Fly One, the flight deck area in front of the Island.The plane captain, ordnance man and yellow shirt waited for him inpreparation to get the jet started.Buckshot checked the boarding ladder and climbed up to thecockpit to inspect the ejection seat, checking that the SAFE/ARMhandle was in the SAFE position before looking over the rest of theseat. He then checked all the switches were in the proper positions

34 | P a g eand dropped his kneeboard on the seat and stowed his paper charts.The paper was only for emergencies. After completing that detail heclimbed back down and beginning from the left hand side of thefuselage commenced his exterior inspection, walking around thefuselage in a clockwise direction. He checked for loose doors,fasteners, hydraulic leaks, dents or anything out of place finishingoff with an inspection of the ordnance. The two-wingtip stationscarried sidewinders. In addition to these each wing featured threestations. The very inboard stations carried Harpoons, the two outerstations and two nacelle stations loaded with AIM-120 AMRAAM.He gave ‘a thumbs up’ to the plane captain then climbed up andstrapped in.The air boss turned on the green launch lights and with thatcue the yellow shirts started the engines. Once started up Buckshotpunched in the pre-determined tactical frequency. His deck handlerthen signalled him and he eased the jet forwards following himtowards the Ready Five position. The term Ready Five or Alert Five,as in the movie Top Gun, is a condition of high alert for aircraftcrews on the flight deck in which they must be ready to launch withinfive minutes. Fighter aircraft are placed on the steam catapultcomplete with flight crew, armament, and fuel, ready to go.Buckshot dreaded being assigned Ready Five, because he could bethere for what seemed hours on end. He taxied the jet following theplane handler up to the zipper track that led him into the launchbox. When the nose wheel was just behind the shuttle, the towbar waslowered into a slot on the shuttle, the Jet Blast Deflector (JBD)just aft of the plane was raised and the Hornets permanent ‘holdback’attached to its station. With everything ready they gave Buckshot thesignal to kill both engines and waited. They waited and sweated.Calling it a ‘sweat’ was an understatement. It was stifling.The sun beat through the canopy, the sea was calm as a millpond and

35 | P a g eeverything seemed to be going in slow motion. This wasn’t flying itwas a steam bath. He waited. The minutes dragged by. He kept lookingat the island hoping for the call. The minutes kept dragging by. Withjust a few minutes to go he let himself relax a little, relief was onthe way. This of course is when it always happens.“Launch Alert Five!”The order blared out from the flightdecks loud speakers.The RAAF pilot sat bolt upright. The engines were started againand he and the deck crew quickly ran through the launch procedures.Once everything was satisfied he placed his right hand on thethrottles and ran them to the stops. With his other hand he snapped asalute and grabbed the upper left hand hold bracing for the shot. Hewouldn’t grab the stick again until after becoming airborne.Within the space of a few seconds he was fired off the bow,pulling out of afterburner, heading for the tanker and then whereever it is he was supposed to be going. Twenty minutes later he wasbeing vectored to the targets Skunk Delta and Echo, two surfacecontacts. The second alert aircraft, call sign Gunner, formed on hisright wing.Buckshots radar had picked up both the surface contacts beforerefuelling, they looked like ‘small boys’, maybe FFG’s. He talked toGunner over the tactical frequency, “Gunner, I’ll take the small boynorth, you take the one south.” Two clicks on the transmit buttonlocated on the throttles of Gunners Hornet acknowledged the request.Buckshot dropped down to one hundred feet at a speed of threehundred and fifty knots rolling the two ‘loud levers’ forward turningmore kerosene into even more noise. He was used to flying F111’s, anddown and dirty was his profession, he loved this stuff. Buckshotquickly came up on the stern of Skunk Delta and he pulled the fighterinto the vertical. It looked like a minelayer, a converted Iraniannavy LST that looked busy somewhere it shouldn’t be, just north east

36 | P a g eof the disputed Island of Abu Musa. As far as Buckshot could tellthey were at least ten miles outside of Iran’s territorial waters,which extended twelve miles into the Persian Gulf. He double-checkedhis main MFD, which displayed a detailed moving map. On the back halfof his loop he picked up a 30-degree dive and rolled back in thedirection of the target, to his surprise angry red tracers raced upto meet him. He stabbed the left pedal, gave his bird some left stickbefore pulling it back and punching in the burners. The Hornetflicked into a heavy gee turn, standing on its wing. He quicklyreversed, pushed the nose down hard and flattened the Hornet to thedeck as he escaped the fusillade. He felt several thuds run throughthe airframe from canon strikes but the bug seemed to shake them offwithout any affect. The Threat Warning System (TWS) started blaring;he jinked hard punching chaff for all it was worth. The TWS stoppedand he pulled a hard Immelman to head back in to Skunk Delta, hedidn’t like being shot at.The ROE were clear. If fired upon he could respond in kind.Staying low, just feet off the deck, he approached the target fromthe beam. From his left hand multifunctional display screen heselected the Harpoons and hit his master arm switch to ARM andstarted his attack run in. The targeting information came up on theHUD. Tracking and target lock were almost instantaneous, bothmissiles dropped from the rails knifing ahead, leaving long plumes ofrocket exhaust behind them. The normal procedure was to bug out, butwith no other threats to worry about, Buckshot followed the Harpoons.Ahead of him the minelayer suddenly exploded under the double whammymissile strike, the hull heaving from the water as she was split inhalf. Buckshot pulled up and rolled the aircraft into a turn, lookingover his shoulder at the same time. He could see the boat had almostbroken in two, fire erupting from the hull amidst numerous secondaryexplosions. Was it a boat or a ship he thought? He would have to

37 | P a g echeck later. He circled the kill noticing the Iranian flag flutteringon the stern, seemingly impervious to the carnage in front. Momentslater it slipped beneath the water. Was this a good day? He tried notto think about the crew and thought about heading back to the chickenranch when the Local Air Controller (LAC) called in, there were fivebogeys hauling ass out of Bandar Beheshti inbound to his position.“402 you have five bogeys inbound moving at 450 knots, 80 milesout.” There was a hesitation. ‘Make that five bandits, they look likeAir Guards.” The LAC added, upgrading the bogey dope.Buckshot picked them up as they got feet wet and called ‘Judy’.This signified that he had radar contact on the bandits and couldcomplete the intercept without further assistance from the Hawkeye.He was smack in the middle of the Strait of Hormuz, right at the apexjust a few miles south of the Iranian Island of Jazireh-ye Larak.Call sign Horde then checked in merging to his starboard. Gunner wasfar to the north tangling with the other mine layer, so it lookedlike it was just the two of them in the welcoming committee that day.Horde had a bloodhound’s nose for trouble and Buckshot wondered howthe hell he had got himself out there. Good thing though, two againstfive was better than one.The inbound aircraft were F-7MP Air Guards, an advanced Chinesemade version of the famous MiG-21 FISHBED. It was fast andmanoeuvrable and similar to the F16; the Iranian version packed 30mmcanon and R550 Magic Missiles. Its pulse doppler radar system couldtrack a thin beam to 15km in missile mode and 5km in guns with aminimum height of 150m. Buckshot and Horde turned into towards thebandits, Horde following Buckshot’s jet down to the deck. Gainingaltitude as they approached the coast could easily place them inrange of shore based SAM systems.

38 | P a g eChengdu Aircraft Industrial Corp.’s F-7M AirguardBuckshot figured the Iranians were obviously a little ticked offabout their boats being sunk. Or was that ships again? Any hoot,someone had seen them earlier on, maybe the search radar from the newTor M1 Air Defence Systems that they just received from the Ruskis?It was this latter thought that made him mindful of his distance tothe coast and altitude. The Tor M1 surface-to-air missile system wasa fast tracked mobile platform which could set up in three minutes,had eight missiles ready to shoot and took just 5 seconds to launchfrom target detection. It had a range of 25km, could track 48 targetsand shoot two at once with a kill probability ranging from 0.6 to0.9. He did NOT want to test that last part.He turned southwest to head further down the Strait. The tinyIsland of As Salamah slipped past his starboard wing with theMusandam Peninsula on the other. To try and manoeuvre here would belike trying to fly in a fish bowl, the Strait of Hormuz thatseparated Oman and Iran was just tens of kilometres wide at thispoint, which meant anywhere in the strait was potentially within

39 | P a g erange of Iranian missiles. The wide-open spaces of the Gulf of Omanlay in front him and within seconds he was due east of Hisn Diba.Once Buckshot felt like there was enough sea space between himselfand the possible missile batteries he set-up an intercept that wouldbring them up behind the Air Guards. For some crazy reason they hadextended out into the Gulf.There was of course the small issue of the ROE Buckshot remindedhimself. While the minelayer had fired at him, the Air Guards hadnot. At the same time the word from the top down was to vigorouslyexercise freedom of navigation and not to be intimidated by Iranianaggression. Did the hostile action with the minelayer mean that anyovert response by the other side, in or about the same place andtime, be perceived as the same action?Fortunately that question was decided quickly. Some one had fireda missile at the Hawkeye. Gunner, who was closer to the Hawkeye, hadtaken care of it, no damage done. The ATCC, more than a littlerattled and pissed off, gave them weapons free.Buckshot followedthe Remotely Fed Radar (RFR) track painted by the Hawkeye, avoidingthe use of his own radar that might alert the bandits to hisposition. A little more than a minute later he and Horde were behindthe Iranians in a tail chase.Once in position they ballooned off the deck and illuminated thebad guys, the JF-17’s were closer than Buckshot had thought. Heperformed a low yoyo to reduce closure, the two bugs almostovershooting and now too close for missiles. Ass end Charlie of theflight of five bandits spotted him quickly and broke to port; theother aircraft picked up the call and broke in all directions.Buckshot stuck with Charlie, Horde sticking close to his wing as theybegan yanking and banking. The Iranian pilot was no match forBuckshot. Within seconds Buckshot hit him with guns and the Iranianjet began to burn rolling on its back and smashing into the ocean.

40 | P a g eJust then Horde came under canon fire from behind. He warned Shotgunand executed a hard right turn plugging in the burners and keepinghis eye on the lone Air Guard, rolling his Bug high and wide tryingto separate and get him with a missile shot.At the same time Buckshot acquired two firm missile queues andwasted little time in allocating and shooting them BVR. The AMRAAMSsped off the rails towards their targets. Thirty seconds later thetargets disappeared off screen.“Grand Slam with two birds” Buckshot said over the Tac. He wasjust congratulating himself when Bitching Betty blared. He dumpedeverything to the left and pushed the noisemakers to the wall again;he saw a bandit blow past his starboard and without turning into himtargeted him with his helmet queue, firing off an AIM. After leavingthe wingtip rail the AIM did a smart 180 and chased the bad guy. TheTWS stopped, that was four bogies down. Buckshot wondered how Hordewas doing and went looking for him.Hawkeye than called informinghim another five bad guys were hot, heavy and inbound.Buckshot’s adrenalin was pumping, he snapped the Hornet on itsback, rolled 180 degrees and set-up a head-on pass. He knew the otherguys didn’t have helmet or off bore sight queue capabilities. As theycrossed he locked his remaining AIM on the lead jet. The missileraced off the rails and he turned and burned to follow the otherjets. He quickly found himself overtaking one of them and hit the guywith cannon. Smoke poured from the tail pipe and the pilot punchedout. That was five. The sixth was nailed by the AIM. Out of ammo andrunning on chicken fuel, Buckshot ran the jet out over the watertowards the carrier as fast as he could, followed by Horde. As far asa fighter pilot went Buckshot knew it didn’t get much better thanthis. He knew it wasn’t just fuel he was running out of, he was surehe had just cashed in a years worth of luck as well.

41 | P a g eThe whole encounter had taken just minutes. Buckshot had sixand Horde was down for two and Gunner had one as well. The Iranianswere running out of Airguards. After Hawkeye told them the coast wasclear (Literally), the two jets formed up and then landed on thecarrier. Air to air engagements are rare, so it was with some goodhumouredenvy that the carriers wing of pilots welcomed back theAustralians. None of the carrier’s pilots assumed for a minute thatthey would not have performed as well as Buckshot; otherwise theywouldn’t be combat pilots. It was that attitude that made them thebest. But it was time to pay homage which they did in grand style;after all, Buckshot was the first ace of the new century.While Buckshot appreciated the compliments, he knew as well aseveryone else on the ship, that if the Iranians had not been soscared to risk their new Sukhoi’s, the story might have been a lotdifferent. Luck had been on his side. The story was also not going tobe told. The Iranians embarrassed by the flogging they had taken saidit never happened. Keen to keep hostilities in the region down andbecause two Australians were involved in the flying knife fight, theUS Navy also decided discretion was called for. Buckshots fame wouldonly be known by the family.At 2300HRS local time that night, Buckshot and Horde excusedthemselves from the celebrations. They were exhausted. Buckshot alsoknew he had ops the following day and wanted to be fresh to the task.While becoming an ace was indeed prestigious, Buckshot was thankfulit had eventuated without his ass being shot off. He did not howeverwant alcohol-jaded reflexes to give some other bad guy a chance totake his scalp the next day. Little did he know how prophetic thatthought was going to be, less than a thousand miles away somethingwas already happening that before the next day was out, would see himfighting for his life in a way no one could have imagined.

42 | P a g eChengdu F-7/J-7 Airguard. Iranian version is the (J-7II)Origin: ChinaType:Max Speed:Max Range:Dimensions:Weight: emptyPowerplant:Armament:Fighter1,175 kt / 1,350 mph600 km / 373 milesspan 7.154 m / 23 ft 5.625 in length 13.945 m / 45 ft 9 in height4.103 m / 13 ft 5.5 in5275 kg / 11,629 lb normal take-off 7531 kg / 16,603 lbone Liyang (LMC) Wopen WP-7B(BM) rated at 43.15 kN (9.700 Ib st) dryand 59.82 kN (13,448 Ib st) with afterburning. This is derived from theTumanskiiR-1 IF-300Two internal 30 mm Type 30-1 cannon or One 23 mm Type 23-3 cannon AIM-9L Sidewinder; PL-2, PL-5, bombs; rocketsBoeing FA-18C Hornet – carrier based, multi-role fighterPowerplantTwo General Electric F404-GE-402 afterburning engines, producing18,000 lbs. thrust eachWingspan 37 ft., 6 in. (11.43 m)Length 56 ft. (17.07 m)Height 15 ft., 3.5 in. (4.7 m)Wing area 400 sq. ft. (37.16 m2)Weight23,050 lb. emptyMax T/O wt 56,000 lbMax speed 1,360 mph, Mach 1.8Ceiling 50,000 ftCombat radius +500 N milesRange – 2,000 milesClimb rate – 45,000 ft. per minuteArmament – One 20 mm M61A1 Vulcan six-barrel cannon with 570 rounds.Up to 13,700pounds of external ordnance, including Sidewinder, AMRAAM, Sparrowmissiles, bombs, rockets, and drop tanks on nine external points.

43 | P a g e

44 | P a g eAustralian digger in AfghanistanThe Feather Men, AFGHANISTANThe Aboriginal elders called the SAS "Feather men". In the old timesAboriginal warriors used to kill an Emu and coat their feet with thefat and feathers from the bird. This allowed them to walk across thedesert sands without leaving a footprint. The term "Feather men" wasa compliment with a dark connotation. The only prey in the outbackthat required a hunter to cover his tracks was another man.You may have the watches, but we have the time - Taliban SayingKABUL, AFGHANISTAN. Captain Nick Jansen RAN placed hismobile phone on the desk next to his laptop. He staredfor a moment at the large map on the wall beforereferring back to the screen. He was reading a DIO(Defence Intelligence Organisation) report that had just arrived inhis inbox.Jansen was the senior Defence Liaison Officer with the

45 | P a g eADF National Command Element (NCE) in Afghanistan, part of OperationSlipper. After reading and digesting the report he called SpecialOperations Task Group (SOTG) head quartered in Tarin Kowt.TheAustralian SAS Operations Commander Colonel David Morel answered thephone.“We just received some Intel on Rasputin.” Jansen said withoutany preliminary. Rasputin was the code name for a senior IndonesianMujahedeen working with the Taliban.“Here?” Morel was as equally straight to the point; neither manwas a time waster.“Here as in Afghanistan yes, but specifically Paktya. DIO thinkhe’s the Taliban’s main tier-two guy operating out of Gujarghunaright on the border there, supposed to be pretty close to bungeye.”He was referring to the ‘Emir’, the one-eyed mullah Omar. Talibanmeant ‘Gods Students’“Jaji.” Morel said.“What?”“Jaji, it’s a small town inside the Afghanistan border, not farfrom the crossing. We used to operate there in 2006; it’s where theyship all the opium through and right now its poppy season. You wantus to take a gecko?”“That’s the general idea.” Somebody was putting turns on thetwo thousand mile screw driver. “They have a guide.”“A guide?” This didn’t sound good.“DIO reckons this guy will take us...you, to Rasputin.”Morel wasn’t convinced, but the screw was in. He knew Rasputinwas believed to be working with Baluchi drug lords across the border,protecting their opium and getting it across the border in exchangefor money and arms. According to DOI’s intelligence assessmentIslamic extremists from Chechnya had joined Rasputin’s small army andwere taking part in attacks on Australian troops in the Paktya,

46 | P a g eLowgar and Knowst provinces. These attacks were motivated byRasputin’s desire to secure greater control of the local opium tradethat provided much of their funding. The Chechen fighters,radicalised and battle-hardened by years of war in their homelandwere fighters to be reckoned with.Rasputin was also getting other help, SOTG had uncoveredintelligence that proved Iran was supplying logistical support andtactical guidance to his Taliban forces in the region. This hadresulted in an increase in attacks with improvised explosive devices,heavy weapons, and indirect fire weapons. Several Australians hadbeen killed by IED’s in the last few days alone. SOTG knew Rasputin’sfocus was to keep control of the narco-trafficking trade and to stopthe Poppy Eradication Force (PEP) destroying poppy crops anddistributing wheat seed to the farmers instead. Ninety two per centof the world's opium crop was grown in Afganistan and the Baluchidrug lords wanted to keep it that way.Rasputin had a long rap sheet with DOI. He had already beenlinked to several terrorist attacks, including those in Bali, longbefore he appeared in Afghanistan. Hammer time Colonel Morel thought.

47 | P a g eAustralian BushmasterKUZA KHERMANA, PAKTIA PROVINCE. Colonel David Morel tasked 1 SquadronSASR with the job of looking for Rasputin. The Squadron’s vehicletroop was then ordered to patrol the area around Ali Kheyl beforeinserting a patrol near a key border crossing which they suspectedthe Indonesian cleric was using. After weeks of fruitlessly searchingthe valley and near the end of the patrol the Vehicle Troop wassuddenly given another tasking, a particularly unpopular one. Toaccommodate the new request the Troops vehicles were pulled up into ahalf wagon wheel a few miles out of the village of Kuza Khermana. Itwas too dangerous to stop in the village which would have exposed thecolumn to hidden fire from its numerous structures and compounds. Theever changing loyalties of the village clans meant you never knew whoto trust. The single road running through the valley system couldtake them from a staunchly pro government village to an opiumwarlord’s in the space of a kilometre – all part of the Talibanratline.The Troop had stopped to secure a location ahead of an RV witha unit from the local Reconstruction Task Force (RTF5).Withinfifteen minutes the RTF5 unit arrived. Made up of 6RAR BushmasterIMVs; the RTF5 Diggers immediately dismounted taking up positions toform a perimeter. Once this was completed the ‘package’ as theyreferred to it, was told it was okay to go over and meet her newtravelling companions.From his position in the gunner’s seat of a Nary SpecialOperations Vehicle (SOV), Sergeant Gary Fulham watched with more thana little appreciation the package move towards them. The fine form ofABC correspondent Natasha Braithewaite was the best looking thing hehad ever seen exit a Bush Master.

48 | P a g eFulham tapped the gun rail talking to the man seated in frontof the vehicle. “Was that in bed with us or imbed?”Hamilton looked up from what he was doing to see what Fulhamwas on about. Oh shit, that was unexpected. “They sent a fuckingwoman!”“I hope so.” Fulham replied.“Bloody nuts.” Hamilton closed his note book stowing it in thedoor tray as climbed out of the vehicle.“Yess...bloody nuts.” Fulham said, simply repeating the Hammerbecause the rest of his brain cells were focused else where.Hamilton looked back and up, raising his eyebrows. “You knowgod dam well what I mean, stop drooling and get your ass out ofthere.”“Yes sir, absolutely.” Fulham crawled out from beneath the gunmount.

49 | P a g eNary Special Operations Vehicle – ADF version of the Supacat (Above)“Now walk with me inconspicuously to the back of the truck.”Hamilton said.Fulham followed his boss but could barely take his eyes offthe apparition still advancing towards them. Gary was no perve, buthis infatuation was pretty understandable. For six months he had beensharing tents and holes in the ground with a troop of hairy smellyobnoxious ozzies. All the women where they operated wore Hijaab, headto toe robes and veils and the SAS men imagined many of them to bejust as hairy beneath it. This woman was a major dish...and the wayshe moved.Braithewaite could feel the eyes on her, something she wasgetting used to in this part of the world. She opened the A5 sizednotebook she carried and checked the photograph. The man staring backat her from the picture looked a little like Hugh Jackman but withsandy coloured hair and startling blue eyes. Captain B.E. (Hammer)Hamilton, DFC, Troop Commander 1 Sabre Squadron SASR. She had writtenon the corner ‘Hammer’. That was his nickname; she would have to findout why they called him that. Did it have something to do with thebig bounty the Taliban had put on his head? Out of everyone here whyhad they singled him out? Rumour had it that whoever got him, ideallyalive, would receive a huge reward for themselves and their family.They then planned to skin him alive and broadcast it on YouTube.Perhaps she thought, it wasn’t exactly a good idea to be anywherenear this guy, anywhere else was probably much safer. This guy was aTaliban celebrity, except the Taliban paparazzi had guns.Looking at the bearded faces around her, she had no doubt themen here would have preferred she was somewhere else as well, but fordifferent reasons. It was clear from the moment she had stepped outof the Bushmaster she was as welcome as a Rabbi in a Mosque. There

50 | P a g ewas no welcoming committee, no lending hand. The men crewing thespecial ops vehicles opposite seemed intent on making this difficultfor her. The vehicles looked as mean as the men.The Nary 4x4 had recently replaced the troops Land Rovers. TheNary was an "all terrain pit-bull", and offered significantlyincreased mobility, protection and agility over the Land Rover WMIKS.Powered by a Cummins 5.9 litre turbo-diesel engine it was capable ofspeeds of over 80 mph on roads and 40 mph across the desert. Thevehicles crewed three and were armed with a .50 calibre machine gun,automatic grenade launcher or 7.62 General Purpose Machine Gun (GPMG)with a second 7.62 GPMG for the Commander.Braithewaite would have been surprised to know her assessmentof the welcome committee, or lack of it, was in fact wrong. LikeFulham, all the men were a just little shell shocked with a womanbeing dropped in their midst when they least expected it – especiallyone that looked like her. They had been informed to expect acorrespondent, and naturally assumed a man. Out here in the bad assland of special operations it was men’s business. GI Jane was just inthe movies. Beret qualification in the Australian SAS requiredextreme, almost super human physical strength, something no women hadcome even close to. But they were welcome to try.Hamilton, hiding behind the truck wanted a few moments tothink. He would have felt better equipped if a bomb had been thrownat them; this was going to be awkward. He knew the correspondent wasto be embedded with his vehicle mounted patrol for a few days, timedto occur near the end of their current tasking. To someone in theRussell offices in Canberra this must have sounded like a great idea,but they had never smelt an Australian SF Patrol returning from anextended time in the field. That might have even seemed okay if itwas a bloke...but a woman, well that was different.

51 | P a g eAs Braithewaite walked towards the patrol group she took amoment to look around her. Despite the horror that was Afghanistan,it could be incredibly beautiful. A lot of it looked like Mars withsplashes of white and spectacular mountains draped in snow framedagainst clear blue skies. At night the sky was even brighter than sheremembered in the bush at home. Yes, Mars she thought...with a bitmore snow. She looked back towards her new hosts and scrutinised thefaces. The men were all filthy. They were cammed up, mostly beardedwith a mixture of head dresses that ranged from turbans to base ballcaps. Weapons, ammunition and other equipment fought for space aroundtheir bodies. With desert goggles or glasses covering what littlespare face one might have seen, they looked every bit as menacing asthe legend that surrounded them.She scanned the vehicles and men again. Hamilton could havebeen any one of them. She caught one of them looking directly at herand headed towards him.“Inbound.” Hammer said flatly moving around the truck.Fulham cursed, he couldn’t help himself. Two firm unstabilisedrounds, wobbling ever so slightly, were already on their way. Therewas no escape now; he tried to look busy but the two projectiles werelocked onto target. They stopped just short of him, their ownerlooking over the top of her dark sunglasses at him. She smiledoffering her hand.“Natasha Braithewaite, ABC News.” Fulham took her hand shakingit gently as if it would break. Or were his hands just shaking, hewondered – even the Taliban hadn’t been as nerve wracking as this. Hetried to think of something to say.“Gary, nice to meet you.” Phew, least he didn’t make an ass ofhimself.“Captain Hamilton, you know where he went?” She asked.

52 | P a g eFulham gestured towards Hammer but his hands gestured to emptyspace. Son of a bitch, he was gone. The woman was still looking athim. He tried to look everywhere else but at her tightly packedammunition locker right in front of him“He was just here.” He could feel her main armament stillpinning him to the spot just inches away. “Let me go find him foryou.”“Thank you, is there somewhere I can stow my stuff?”Fulham pointed into the back of the Nary. Normally over flowingwith supplies, most of them had been consumed during their threeweeks in the field.“Thanks”.Finally the two large calibre devices turned away releasingFulham who fled the encounter looking for his chicken shit boss whohad abandoned him in action. He found the boss in another truck onthe phone trying to find out how come a woman had landed in theirlaps. Captain Brian Hamilton looked like he wanted to kill someone.Some desk jockey jerk wanting a good news bite had obviously dreamedthis one up. He rang up Morel. The Colonel to his credit knew nothingabout it, a few minutes later Morel had spoken to Jansen and Jansenwas on the phone back to Canberra. The signal that related to thisABC correspondent, which he had only just uncovered, came from somesenior civil ‘grade one’ ass wipe in Defence Relations.“Jack?..hang on let me try.” There was a pause and a few clickson the line. The operator came back on. “sorry, looks like he’s gonefor the day.”Jansen just about lost it. “Gone for the day!” Well we haven’t,we are all still here you fucking idiot! He put a call in to theOperations Commander in Kandahar. When the General came back afterabout ten minutes chasing the problem down, he said he was

53 | P a g esympathetic but they would have to live with it. Jansen passed on themessage.Hamilton swore again. At least he had her details now. Hewasn’t at all happy about this but like the General had said, had tolive with it. He went back to meet her, hopefully she would stay outof the way and not be a nuisance.As far as Braithwaite was concerned this was an ignominiousbeginning. The Troop Commander had not bothered to meet her, leavingher to stand by his truck waiting for him. He finally turns up somefifteen minutes later with no apology.With his glasses on he wasimpossible to tell apart from the rest of the troop.Like the others he was close to the colour of the terrain thatsurrounded him. The landscape seemed almost to be absorbing them,sand and dirt covered his clothes. The talcum powder like sand of thedesert had mixed in with camo and sweat forming a greasy crust on hisface and beard.He took his glasses off to talk to her and it was this momentthat took her by surprise. The photo never gave them (The eyes)justice; they were startling, almost luminescent when framed by thedark of his face. She completely forgot what she was going to say andhad difficulty refocusing to listen to what he was saying. Before sheknew it, he had replaced the glasses and had handed her off to one ofthe troopers and was gone. That was the last she saw of him.

54 | P a g eSikaram Nightmare31 December 1325 HRS.MOUNT SIKARAM, AFGHANISTAN. The elevation was 2365 meters, thelocation; a ridge line on the northwestern slope of Mount Sikaramsoutheast of the Kabul River.It was beginning to snow again. The wind had increased and thetemperature had plummeted way below zero. Winter had been unusuallylate, but it seemed to be back with a vengeance. A Pashtun tribesmanstopped to adjust his turban. Pashtuns tended to leave one end oftheir turbans hanging which the tribesman used to cover his face fromthe bitter cold wind. His name was Abu, behind him followed CallsignNightmare, Captain Brian Hamilton and Sargeant Gary Fulham SASR.The Squadron’s Op Ord had been to insert a two man patrol toobserve a crossing point on the Pakistan border. The only way to getthere was to dismount at a place called Bar Belawut and walk to theobjective, once there to set up a hide and observe. From satelliteimagery of the border crossing, the best position they could see to

55 | P a g eobserve this from was a rock out crop on the opposite wall of thevalley. It was the end of the patrol of most of the Squadron, soafter he and Fulham had been dropped off the rest of the vehicletroop had headed back to the Gardez FOB still several days away, fora well deserved shower, cold beer and hot food – at least that’s theorder he would have done it in…maybe the beer while having a shower.They were probably enjoying that right now he thought. He watched asthe guide Abu quickly resumed his break neck pace up the mountaintrail. He didn’t trust that guy.Through the falling snow Hamilton surveyed the harsh forbiddingslopes that towered all around them. They vanished into heavy greyclouds chased along by a bone-chilling cold. Fingers of windpenetrated the GORE-TEX pants he wore and right through thecamouflage gear underneath. He checked his GPS heading; they werecoming up on waypoint five. It was 0400 Zulu time (Greenwich MeanTime), which was 8:30am locally in eastern Afghanistan, so far sogood, these were big ass mountains and they had been covertlyscouting them now for days. It was hard going; he and Fulham wereeach weighed down by over sixty kilograms of equipment. It was steepand the contour lines on the operations map looked like they had beensqueezed together and now he knew why.Like Braithewaite he marvelled at the beauty of the mountainsand landscape, but he thought, they were as beautiful as they couldbe deadly. He knew the geology here well. Millions of years ago, theslow but unstoppable movement of the alpine crust near Afghanistan’seastern border had collided with the rigid peninsular block of India,causing the earths crust to buckle, pushing up rock to create themountainous highlands he now stood on that formed Afghanistan’seastern frontier.The invisible track that Abu followed ran onto a ridgelineknown as the Safed Koh or White Mountains. The Safed Koh were the

56 | P a g emost impressive mountains in Afghanistan straddling the Pakistan-Afghanistan border near the Kabul River, culminating at its highestpoint, Mount Sikaram. Gneiss and hard granite rock shouldered thisimposing mountain peak to over 15,620ft (4,761 m). The lower slopesand ridge spurs of Sikaram which the reconnaissance team climbed werebarren and made up of bare lime stones and sandstones. Where pine anddeodar had once grown, the slopes were today desolate. In the mid-1980s this was the primary transit point for anti-Soviet mujihadeenfighters. It was now being used for launching violent attacks againstU.S. and Afghan forces, which is why Hamilton thought, he was riskinghis neck out here on such a nice day, a nice day in almost any otherplace except here. But it wasn’t the weather that was the big worry;it was Abu’s relatives. The people that lived here belonged to atleast a dozen ever-warring tribes who spoke Pushtu and whosepolitical fragmentation mimicked the extremely broken terrain. Thisplace was deep in Afghanistan’s badlands only a few miles east of theTora Bora cave complex where coalition forces had fought many bitterand bloody battles in pursuit of Osama bin laden.Here medieval madness prevailed. In these tribal areas,disloyal elders were beheaded in the public square and thieves hangedin the streets with money stuffed in their gaping mouths for all tosee.The tribal areas straddled the border. Just over the other sideof the border in Pakistan were the Federally Administered TribalAreas (FATA). Though it appeared there was little if any federaladministration of any sort going on, just a land dominated byJihadists. The bad guys would come over the border, past seeminglyoblivious Pakistani guards, ambush NATO forces and other Afghan orcoalition troops, and then run back over the border into thesanctuary of their tribal areas in Pakistan. The Taliban that NATOwas fighting was now run by international Islamic extremists led from

57 | P a g eQuetta, a hot blooded Pakistani City further south. But despite NATOknowing where the primary threat was coming from, they could dolittle about it. The Pakistan government forbade any borderincursions. “Any action without our knowledge and without ourclearance and approval and without our dictation is not acceptable toPakistan.” So a small group of just thirteen old men sent theirsenior commanders, all hardbitten ideologues over the border to dotheir worst.Just seven days previously a NATO surveillance drone hadobserved one of these men, bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqq code namedRasputin, enter a mosque in the tribal area just inside the Pakistanborder. He had delivered a sermon and had then smugly walked out withhis entourage. Permission to fire a precision missile or to pursueal-Haqq had been denied. The small drone had circled the mosque infutility. As al-Haqq had left the building he had smirked and wavedat the camera, he knew the infidel commanders would be really pissedwhen they saw that.These tribal areas were a terrorist breeding ground. ThePakistan government denied that it harboured al Qaeda or Taliban -declaring that al Qaeda's leadership was hiding in Afghanistan. Onthe ground the fact was there were lots of foreign fighters and whatSOTG called Tier One Taliban. These were the more fanatical elementof the insurgents; the movement's ideological hardcore who wereheavily influenced by al-Qaeda and were irreconcilable. PakistaniPresident Asif Ali Zardari capitulation to pro-Taliban cleric SufiMohammad in the Swat Valley a little further north, allowing him toimpose Sharia law had greatly emboldened the enemy and had providedsanctuary to the militants.The double game played by Pakistan’s military and ISI ofsupporting the Taliban forces while assuring the US they werecracking down on terrorists was becoming more transparent. Now, as

58 | P a g ethe internal divisions in the country widened and extremism spread itwas becoming increasingly harder from preventing the Talibancontagion from invading Afghanistan.NATO ISR and ISTAR patrols were launched regularly to try andcatch these Pakistan based fighters as they crossed into Afghanistanand destroy them before they were able to return. What Hamilton wasunaware of was that Rasputin was at that moment preparing a trap thatboth he and Fulham were walking into. It was near the end of the daybefore Call Sign Nightmare finally arrived at the observation pointand setup. They would wait and watch now. If anything reallyinteresting arrived they would bring in some fire and blow it up.Otherwise they would just report the movements and someone else inthe rear could decide what to do. This was a great plan and wouldhave worked out well if the other side hadn’t been aware of exactlywhat they were doing.Bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqq, the Arab trained Indonesian faithfulcalled Rasputin by his enemies, was a close study of the parangay,farangay dzhagérra (foreign fighting) tactics. While lacking hisenemies technology he still had many ears within their camp, fromthose working in military kitchens to tradesmen in governmentoffices, even some acting as faithful guides for the NATO forces. Hepaid them all handsomely, far more in a week than most Afghans earnedin many months. The poppy trade was his source of money. He protectedthat illicit trade. In return he received money and even moreknowledge of the movements of his enemy.Today, he had just received word that two more badstérgey(Shameless) unbelievers were headed towards the border crossing tomeet Allahs justice. Apparently one of them was the one they hadplaced a bounty on. This was excellent news; the enemy would try evenharder to save this one. He could use this to lure even more

59 | P a g eparangay, farangay urdu troops to their deaths. Al-Haqq watched ashis men climed into the waiting vehicles. Once the last man wasmounted he climbed into the cab of the old truck leading the smallconvoy and motioned the driver forwards. They headed towards theborder just a few miles away. Knowing Abu he thought, the two infidelsoldiers would be at the right place at the right time, the man was awalking compass and clock.The truck bounced hard along the pot holed rocky surface,grinding its gears as it navigated the tight and winding road to theborder post. The road was rough, all the roads were rough. TheIndonesian Jihadi in the front passenger’s seat adjusted hisChitrali, this distinctive headdress was very popular amongmujaheddin fighters and he wore it like a badge of honour. He wasproud of what he was doing. But his purpose in Pakistan was not justto help his Muslim brothers in Afghanistan fight off the invaders. Heknew his experience here would help build his image as a holy warriorand leader, something he could take home to lead his people to thetrue light of Islam.The warrior cleric was already legend. Among Islams holywarriors and to his men he was a man of great stature, a lion inbattle without mercy for the wicked. Like the humble and holy martyrsAmrozi, Mukhlas and Sumadra, he was a man without fear. Barely fiveand half feet tall with a slim build and deep flecked brown eyes,Rasputin sported a long thick beard that made him appear wise andimposing as against Amrozi’s poor excuse for manhood that looked morelike sparse, withered and dead grass dangling from his chin.Al Haqq cradled his weapon across his lap. He wore brownfatigues and Russian style webbing and cut an imposing figure. Therewas something important about today, he was sure God was telling himsomething, leading him to something. God willing it would be of greatimportance.

60 | P a g eA few minutes later the old Jiefeng CA30 utility truck he satin lumbered up to the thinly guarded Pakistani border. The truck wasa Chinese copy of the old Soviet ZIL-157 and towed an equally oldSoviet ZU-23-2. Despite its age the ZU-23-2 was a very capable gunmade up of two Afanasyev-Yakushev 23mm autocannons. They pulled upnext to the Pakistan guard hut at the border post crossing.A figure emerged from the guard hut as the truck stopped, itwasn’t the guard. “khéezhem pettéezzem” al-Haqq ordered, telling theman to climb in the rear and stay hidden. The Pakistani soldier onduty paid no attention. Bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqq looked throughthe small rear window into the back of the canvas-covered truck.Seated in the rear of this and the other trucks behind were hisfighters, mostly foreign jihadis: Asians, Arabs and especiallyPakistanis. These were idealists, mostly products of strict religiousmadrasas in northern and western Pakistan. It would take these menless than a minute once they arrived to set-up and start firing thegun. His sipah fighters were more than enough to deal with the twoinfidel soldiers he had been told of. More would follow to rescuethem.In the back next to the gun he could see the man who had jumpedin at the guard post. He was nervously talking to the others. The manwas Abu, he was his jāsūs or spy, and if they successfully killed thetwo feringhee NATO soldiers he might still be useful as a spy. He sawAbu suddenly stand and bang the roof. They had barely travelled onehundred meters past the border post. The truck stopped and thefighters dismounted, their Kalashnikovs, rocket-propelled grenadesand light machine-guns in hand. With practiced skill they preparedthe cannon, the toptshi or gunner quickly climbing into his seat, theother five members of the gun crew taking their places. The Pakistaniborder guard looked on without emotion.

61 | P a g eAl-Haqq climbed from the cab and walked to the rear of theJiefeng to talk to Abu. After a brief discussion he turned to the guncrew and gestured for them to proceed, “Wélem” He ordered his toptshi(gunner). The toptshi lined uphis target and squeezed thetrigger mechanism.With an effective rangeof over 2.5km and cyclic rateof 2000 rounds per minute, theZU-23 despite its age wasstill a nasty piece of works. The gunner, using an optical-mechanicalsight had carefully laid the sights on the position Abu had pointedout. As he pressed the trigger, 23mm cannon shells, each weighing 178grams left the barrels at over 970m/s. There were two immediateresults, the first being noise, the bone chilling silence of the highmountain air shattered with the violent crash of gunfire. The secondresult was the impact of the rounds with solid objects. In the lineof fire two Special Forces troopers suddenly realised with a greatdeal of discomfort they were well and truly compromised. Heavycalibre shells smashed into the rock overhanging the two men. Deadlychips of stone sprayed everywhere. Thud…thud…thud.Hamilton and Fulham quickly hunkered down behind a boulderoutcrop, their minds instantly switching from thoughts of Gardez FOBand a cold can of VB into survival mode as the canon belched fire.They had watched the old truck cross the border and stop. They hadhad then watched with incredulity the Taliban dismount and train thetowed gun in their direction. How was that possible?The ZU-23 made a fast steady beat as the rounds left thebarrels. The truck and towed gun were situated on the opposite sideof a steep gorge and slightly below them. The two SASR soldiers couldsee the Taliban spreading out, heading quickly towards them.The

62 | P a g evalley floor below was strewn with boulders. These had accumulatedthere over the last few millions of years deposited by the crawlingbellies of glaciers long since gone. The Taliban traversed the dryrocky stream in just minutes and began the climb towards them.“I guess that answers the question of whether there are AQusing this route.” Hamilton said, he wondered whether these guys wereany of Rasputin’s lot. The real question though was, had they foundhim or had he found them. Callsign Nightmare was now keenly aware thetables were definitely turned and the odds not in their favour. Atnearly seven thousand feet, with dark rapidly approaching, poor tozero visibility and hostile fire, there was little chance of animmediate exfil by helicopter. It was also cold; there was novegetation, just a hellish rocky brown landscape pock marked withsnow. Somewhere behind the depressing cloud cover the sun had alreadydisappeared behind towering peaks, the valley succumbing to darkness.“You know?”“What?”“I bet the other guys are enjoying a shower right now.”Captain Brian (Hammer) Hamilton 2 ndSabre Squadron, AustralianArmy Special Air Service Regiment (SASR) nodded. He looked at theother man, his sun burned face sported a few days of grimy growthcovered with several layers of light coloured dirt that was crackedand creased where the wearer had attempted to smile or frown.Hamilton imagined they both looked like twins. Both were the sameheight, slightly shy of six feet, broad shouldered and well muscled.They both wore the same field dress topped off by unruly hair andhalf grown beards. While Hamilton’s hair was blond and Fulham’sblack, the desert and mountain had given them both the Afghanistanmakeover. This had a knack of making everyone look the same, evensome of the women. It was Hamilton’s eyes that stood out. Especiallywhen framed in the dirt and dust. But with their goggles on you could

63 | P a g eonly tell them apart by the weapons they carried. The SASR officerwas about to say something when a heavy burst of canon fire made areally good attempt at crawling into their hidy hole. He went back tochecking his kit; he was officially getting the shits now; becomingtruly annoyed.The ancient gun below kept hammering without letup, the shotssmashing into stone and dirt all around shrouding him and Fulham indust. The gun might be old Hamilton thought, but it was stillfrigging lethal and was making him a bloody sight older with everyshot. Smaller rounds joined in the effort, ricocheting off the rocksall around. “I hate being shot at.” He yelled out over the din.Sergeant Gary Fulham smiled. Hamilton always said that whenthey were being shot at. “Me too! Can we go home now?” he replied,looking with feigned innocence at his boss but with a wicked smile.“We were set up.” Hamilton said flatly, reloading a magazineinto his weapon.“How do you know?”“Ask Abu.”Fulham looked around. There was no Abu to be seen. He hadbuggered off before the truck appeared, to recon the path ahead hehad said. “Yes, I see what you mean.” He ducked as dust and dirtexploded between them. Gary risked a peek over the top of theboulder, ducking back as the rock was peppered with a volley of smallcalibre rounds. He wiped the crud out of his eyes and mouth, whichhad unfortunately been open at the time.“How many?” Hamilton asked“Fifteen, not counting anymore in the truck.”Hamilton ventured a quick look over the boulder and was greetedthe same way as Fulham. Another truck had arrived followed by abeaten up Technical mounted with another ZU-23. Men from the firsttruck were yelling excitedly to the gunner pointing in their

64 | P a g edirection, one of them looked suspiciously like Abu. He nowbrandished an RPD 7.62millimetre machine gun and 150-round drummagazine. Seconds later the new gun joined in with the first one, thevolume of fire increasing dramatically, churning the rock and dirt tomore dust.Fulham looked at Hamilton in surprise. “What did you do toannoy them?”“Obviously didn’t like the way I looked. But make that countforty five turbans.” He added. “Another truck and SUV rolled up.”“Oh great.” Fulham sounded exactly like Marvin, the manicallydepressed robot out of Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy.The SAS Captain couldn’t help but smile; Fulham was really goodat that. “Air?” Hamilton asked, referring to air support.“On it!” Fulham replied setting up a tactical satellite(tacsat) communication to attempt to source some fire power overhead.Two explosions ripped into the ground to their immediate front.The ubiquitous RPG Hamilton thought, you wouldn’t even know you werein Afghanistan if you didn’t get a few of those fired at you. Helooked up at the darkening murky grey soup swirling above theirheads. The weather was closing in, the snowfall heavier. He made somerapid calculations. The ACM guys would be on them in less than three,there was no time to wait for air support, they had to move.“Skip the air Gaz, we have to take out those guns and slow theAQ down and then get the hell out of here.”Hammer was right. Air support would take too long; they had butminutes to act. Fulham lifted his AICW (Advanced Individual CombatWeapon) to his shoulder. He had been hoping he might get theopportunity to use the weapon. He would have preferred less pressurethough, like not being shot at. He patted the weapon; it was his ideato bring it along.“Australian ingenuity.” He said with his trademark smile.

65 | P a g eThe Advanced Individual Combat Weapon (AICW) was an evolved5.56mm Styr AUG with an over barrel tube-fed 40mm rapid-fire grenadelauncher. (This is military talk that just means the grenade barrelsits on top of the weapons barrel) The 40mm grenades had built-inmicrochips so that the AICW’s internal fire control system couldaccurately calculate their detonation time and point. Developed byMetalstorm, the 40mm barrel could fire three rounds before re-loadingis required. Firing was all electronically initiated, with nomechanical mechanism other than reloading prepacked munition tubes.Effectively, the only parts that moved were the projectiles containedwithin the barrels. The rates of fire were programmable from singleshots to ultra-rapid rates.This all sounds great, but in order to fire the weapon, Fulhamstill had to use the Mark I eyeball to physically sight the target.This required him to pop up from behind the rock like a clay pigeontarget.This is where Hamilton’s barrel mounted M203 40mm grenadelauncher came in handy. From behind their protective rock, now theirnew best friend, the SAS Captain made a rough estimation of distanceto target. He leaned back and with experienced judgement angled hisSCAR (SOF Combat Assault Rifle) and fired off a grenade; he thenquickly reloaded and fired again. As the first grenade detonated,Fulham went into action. He carried four reloads of three roundseach. The AICW sighting mechanism was a computerised targetacquisition and fire control system. It automatically displayed acorrected aiming point and elevation for accurate lobbing ofmunitions and set the individual time delay fuse for each grenade. Inthe first volley Fulham had gone for airburst. He rapidly fired theHE stack on top of the approaching troops. He then reloaded the nextcylinder stack and while the confused ACM troops were recoveringfired towards the trucks. It was 400 meters; he missed with the firstround but found his mark with the other two. The troop carrier with

66 | P a g ethe gun blew first. There was an almost instant secondary explosion,which meant it must have had munitions on board. Bodies and whatlooked like bits and pieces of the same blew out of the back onto theroad. While that was happening, Fulham’s third round hit the SUV,which heaved into the air under the impact, throwing the raggedbroken body of the gunner and his pals into the rocks of the drystream bed below. The third truck started to back up, but beforeFulham could reload and shoot atit, the trucks windscreendisintegrated under a hail of bullets. He glanced atHamilton who obviously hadn’t been sitting on his ass.While Fulham had been lobbing rounds, Hamilton had stood upstraight, hoping like hell the ACM were still keeping their headsdown. He had his target in mind, a frozen image from when he hadlooked over the rock. Now he stood there exposed, his eye to thesights, it seemed to take eternity, but between the clouds of rollingsmoke that billowed from the burning vehicles, he spotted the lasttruck reversing. Through the riflescope he could see the driveryelling excitedly. He took him in one shot and then pumped the truckcab full of lead and the canvass covered rear. The SCARS 7.62mmrounds cut through the thin metal, flesh and bone like butter. He satback down, blowing out air. He had been holding his breath the wholetime.With the driver shot to pieces and his dead foot holding downthe accelerator, the rear truck backed straight over the side of theroad plunging into the gorge and exploding in a very satisfactoryfireball.All this activity attracted the attention of the ACM boys climbingthe hill; they turned around in unison to see their rides homeburning furiously, now they would have to walk. The leader of thegroup, bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqq, looked back up the hill towardsthe enemy’s position. He was told there were only two, but it seemed

67 | P a g elike a small army. “Werdzem, khéezhem, wázhnem badstérgey” He yelledover the din, signalling his men to keep moving, loosing a volley ofshots towards the Australian’s position at the same time.Unlike their turban-powered friends who carried just their weaponsand belief, the two Australians packed enough equipment, food andmunitions to sustain them for another week in the field. They weretrained to go without food or to make do with very little for longperiods of time. After a few days a biscuit with a little imaginationand a sip of water felt like a gourmet meal with a classic HunterValley Red. Hammer and Fulham had supplemented their Ozzie rat packswith some American Meals Ready to Eat (MRE’s) or as some used to say,meals rejected in Ethiopia. That would all have to be dumped.They knew a race to escape up the mountain while carrying thatextra weight would risk them being run down by the tough but lightand nimble mountain fighters below. While that would help, it was thecommunication equipment, weapons and ammunition that really loadedthem down. None of which they could really leave either. Withouthesitation Hamilton pulled his field laptop they had used as a datalink and smashed it under the butt of his rifle. He then extractedthe ram and hard drive from the remains pouring a small vial ofmagnetic acid on them. There were other ways to communicate. In factthey were really a walking field experiment in networked warfare.Aside from the now defunct laptop they both had a computerised datalink via AICW scopes on their weapons. Brian also carried Viper, aproven small portable system with laser range finder, digital mapdisplay and GPS receiver-blue force tracker, not to mention theradios and IR zoom laser illuminator/designator.This sounds like a lot of kit, but it was the beginning of thenew age and the only way to find out if something actually worked,was to try it out. Hamilton thought it was all pretty good stuff, but

68 | P a g eat the moment the sum weight of the gear was too heavy, hence thelaptop got the chop.The SAS Captains own weapon was the MK16 Mod SCAR. It featuredthe AICW scope, but with less integration to the weapon itself. Thescope featured a neat little head up display, GPS, digital compass,laser and IR pointer and of course night vision capability. Hamiltonhad wanted the scope for forward observation and its ability tobroadcast video and data drawn from its laser and IR sensors directlyinto the Global Information Grid (GIG). Or was that the StandardizedTactical Entry Point (STEP) he wondered, or maybe the DISA-operatedDefense Information System Network (DISN) that punched into theGlobal Command and Control System (GCCS). Nope, maybe it went throughthe Joint Network Node (JNN), it all kept changing and the biggestoutput seemed to be new acronyms, but he had to admit, the endcapability was worth all that confusion and more.What seemedancient compared to all this, but becoming more important with eachminute was another important data link via his ALST-5 SATCOM radio.This patched into the Enhanced Mobile Satellite Service (EMSS) andpermitted instantaneous communications regardless of where he was orwhat the weather conditions was doing. Of course, that was beforeMurphy and Murphy ’s Law was quite clear - radios will fail as soonas you need fire support desperately. And yes, the SATCOM radio wasdamaged and they had no time to stop and try to fix it. To makematters worse Fulham said that nearly all the TAC frequencies werenow jammed. There was now no way to tell Squadron HQ what was goingon.It was getting dark. The snow was falling heavily and the windhad increased. Hamilton hated the cold as much as he hated being shotat. Why did gun fights always happen in extreme conditions? Whycouldn’t someone start a war in a nice place with pleasant ambienttemperatures and low humidity? Flat would be good too, no hills and

69 | P a g esoft ground to dig holes to hide in. The thoughts fled through hismind as he considered the next move, quickly explaining them toFulham. The SAS trooper nodded his agreement.The first part of the ‘get out and dodge’ plan required the twomen to pin the ACM fighters down to the ground with a concentratedvolley of grenades and then to move and fire. If they killed somethat was bonus. Wasting no time they got into position and startedfiring at the same time. Fulham’s airbursts had them on the deck inseconds; a few screams indicated some were at least hit. Hamilton’srounds followed and landed neatly among the ACM group throwing deadlyshrapnel in all directions. The two men then picked up and ran,moving fast, as fast as every sinew in their bodies would carry them.They continued to fire alternately on the move, heading up themountain. After a few minutes they stopped for the briefest ofmoments. Hamilton surveyed the slope through his AICW rifle site. Themen below him knew the mountains like the back of their hand. Fromthe map he knew that beyond the crest they now climbed; lay anothergorge that led onto a small plateau, an ideal LZ. They moved again,the adrenalin powering through their systems super charging what werealready peak operating systems. But they were not supermen, justflesh and blood. It was rough going and both men were alreadybreathing hard. The air was thin and their chests heaved as theirlungs burned in demand of oxygen. After another hour they stopped andlistened. It was now pitch black, the heavy clouds obscuring anymoonlight. They attached night vision goggles and waited.While the Nightmare team interrogated the night, at a coalitionforward operating base (FOB) the command and control centre wasbecoming fixated on an exfil that had rapidly transitioned into amajor fire fight, the centre point of the conflict being theNightmare team. Via the GPS tracker they were able to isolate

70 | P a g eNightmares position but because of what appeared to be equipmentdamage, bad weather and jamming they were unable to talk to them. TheGPS worked because its signal frequency of about 1575 MHz was chosenexpressly because it was a ‘window’ in the weather as far as signalpropagation went. That wasn’t the case for the TAC frequencies thatNightmare used. The frustrating part was that they knew within twofeet of where the two guys were, but were unable to do anything aboutit.The suspected jamming came from the ACM who had deployed a lowenergy radio frequency jammer (LERF). This managed to jam all theradio spectrum with the exception of a few narrow pre-determined"windows" of RF spectrum utilized by the ACM. In a bazaar twist offate this jamming also masked something else that was contributing tothe noisy electromagnetic radiation in the area that neither sidewere aware of.Near the mountains summit, unseen by those below, an intenseelectrical storm had developed. At its epicentre a blinding explosionof light lit up Sikiram’s peak. From the centre of the event a heavymetal rod fell to the hard granite surface, bouncing off theunyielding rock and plummeting thousands of feet below, buryingitself in the snow. A pulse of EMP propagated from the site blindingradio communications for miles.The effect was immediate. Hamilton stopped to try the radioagain but he got nothing but static. There was also another problem,out of the corner of his eye he saw Gary sway. He looked at hispartner through his goggles noticing a bright patch on Fulham’sshoulder. The bright patch was warm blood glowing in the IR display,which meant not only was Fulham wounded was still bleeding.Damn it. Hamilton took a glove off and felt around the entryarea. Fulham didn’t flinch. The SAS Captain was a little pissed thatFulham hadn’t said anything. At this height and temperature, any

71 | P a g ebleeding was bad. But, he thought, in their escape there was nothingthat could have been done anyway. Obviously Fulham had thought ofthat and said nothing. Now he was clearly groggy. During the extremeexertion his partner had lost a lot of blood. He was amazed the manhad made it this far; he wondered whether he would have had thatfortitude. His thoughts were suddenly broken by the sounds of voices,he listened intently.From somewhere in the dark below, the sound of excited gutturalPushtu carried up the steep valley walls. He quickly plugged andbound the other troopers wound. He pulled off Fulham’s pack and hisown, dropping both packs on the ground splitting and spreading someof the food packages, he smashed the PRC set and then took the scopeoff the MK16 and shouldered the AICW, clipping the remainingammunition packs on his combat suit. He kept the Rhino GPS trackerand radio.He then removed a single hand grenade, pulled the pin andcarefully placed one pack partly on the other with the grenade inbetween, making sure to make the two packs look haphazard and droppedin panic. There was no time for anything flash.He couldn’t drag Fulham. It was very likely despite the fallingsnow that the heavy drag marks left by the boots of the unconsciousSAS trooper would still be found, which gave him an idea. Under hisspare arm he lifted the now almost unconscious trooper and as quicklyas he could, dragged the one hundred kilo load uphill. After twohundred metres he shouldered the SAS Sergeant and doubled back. Hefigured the Taliban would assume they would go for the LZ site andtake the bait.Every muscle in his body screamed. The voices from below camecloser; he tracked sideways down the hill flanking them. Somehow heslipped past them. A few minutes later he heard the explosion. Theyhad found the packs. It would not be long before they figured out

72 | P a g ewhat he had done and would turn to pursue him. The turban heads weretough men. They wouldn’t quit. He kept going. Every fifteen minuteshe would stop. Each time he bent to pick up the trooper it wasbecoming harder to lift him. His legs trembled from the effort. Hekept going. The walking stints became ten minutes and then five. Heheaved his murderous load throughout the night. His back and thighsquivered, strained by the debilitating burden, the pain dissolvinginto sheer numbness through lack of circulation.Behind Hamilton, the explosion and blinding flash of light fromthe Australians hasty booby trap had caught the Indonesian Jihadi andhis men by surprise. “khataaist!” bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqqshouted in anger, they had been deceived. He had warned his men ofthe treachery of the infidels. Allah’s patience was thin with thosethat did not listen. The two men who had overturned the packs layinjured in the snow. He had no time for fools. He casually placed thebarrel of his weapon against each of their heads and shot them, ablessed and quick end.In the dark he then followed the tracks in the snow up themountain, following the likely path to the LZ before realising he hadonce again been tricked again. He stopped, his quarry was khatarnaakgarranday, meaning – dangerous, fast and strong. This man hegrudgingly admitted was resourceful and courageous. Never the less,it was just a matter of time. He turned his lightly equipped warriorsabout and quickly began to reel in the distance between themselvesand their target.Early next morning Hamilton was calculating his next move. Daylighthad stripped back the security blanket that the dark of night hadprovided them. The terrain was changing and the ground had a solidlayer of snow. Juniper trees flanked the hill sides and valley floor.

73 | P a g eHe knew the ACM guys had to be close behind him and would bevulnerable to air attack. But to bring in air support you needed tosee the target and either mark it, or accurately communicate thetarget position to the attacking aircraft. You also needed time tomake it all work. At that very moment Hamilton knew that if hestopped moving he was dead. Besides, he couldn’t even see the enemy,but he knew they were not far behind. The only escape option was byair and that just wasn’t going to be possible until he could gethimself in a position to pull in air support fire.Hamilton was right, the ACM were on his heels. As light hadbroken over the peaks, al-Haqq had caught up to the two SAS troopers.He could see the bent over figure of Hamilton struggling with theweight of his companion. Despite his dislike of these infidels, hewas impressed. The man had performed an almost super human effort.Indeed he had almost escaped. It would be an honour to kill this one.He had killed many before, men, women and children, mostly in Iraqbefore coming to Afghanistan to serve with his brothers. It was Godswill; otherwise he would not be here.Al-Haqq motioned for his men to stop. He estimated the range tothe NATO soldier to be a little over 1000 meters. He passed his AK-47to one of his men and was handed his favourite weapon for suchmoments. This was a Snayperskaya Vintovka Dragunova SVD, a Russiansnipers rifle, the world's first purpose-built military precisionmarksman's rifle. Manufactured in 1963 it was the snipers version ofthe ubiquitous AK-47. It took a rimmed 7.62mm round, a steel jacketedprojectile with an air pocket, steel core, and a lead knocker in thebase for maximum terminal effect with a muzzle velocity of about 830meters per second.The cleric loaded a round into the chamber and lifted the weaponto his shoulder. He looked through the scope and using the built inreticule was able to calculate the distance based on the average

74 | P a g eheight of a human (The Soviets reckoned this was 1.7m tall). As heapplied pressure to the trigger, his target stopped, gently droppinghis load and turning to face him.Hamilton could sense the danger but his body was all but finished.It took all his energy to just stand. He turned to look at his backtrail and spotted his pursuers in the distance. They had not givenup. One man was holding a rifle, a snipers rifle he thought, hewondered if the weapon or its owner was any good.Al-Haqq had the soldiers head firmly in his sights. The soldierwas looking directly at him, his face grimy and despite the cold,sweaty. It was a face without emotion. Even at this distance the eyeslooked defiant, a startling blue in colour, unafraid. He completedthe pull feeling the recoil but keeping his scope on target. Bloodspurted from the side of the targets head, but the soldier barelymoved. Instead he stared back at him before recovering his load andmoving again. Balls Haqq thought, no God, but he had big balls. Al-Haqq knew he would need to get three hundred meters closer to ensurea kill; this infidel was not going to go easily.Hamilton felt the sting of the bullet. He felt the warm bloodsplash down the side of his face and onto his chest and shoulder. Buthe was still standing, he had to keep moving, the shock of the bulletstinging him into action.For another hour the uneven contest continued, Hamilton drainingthe very last of his reserves. Behind him, rounding the top of aspur, the Jihadi leader saw at last that the infidel was withinrange, there would be no escape this time. The infidel was strugglingup the opposite ridge, 600m according to the scope, al-Haqq preparedfor his next shot. The staggering figure of the soldier and his loadswam back into his sites. He squeezed the trigger. There was thesatisfactory recoil and the target in his sights dropped as if hit by

75 | P a g ea lead weight. Actually, al-Haqq thought, that’s exactly whathappened. He smiled.Behind him his men stood up, eager to rush to the kill. But al-Haqq had other ideas. He held his hand up stopping them in theirtracks. “Pettéezzem!” Get hidden he said. They would wait he thought.They would wait for the rescue that would surely arrive. The invadingoppressors were so predictable. They would come looking for theirmen. “Raaghwáarrem radio.” He called the boy in his group that wouldbe a warrior. No more than thirteen, the young Jihadi’s job was tocarry al-Haqq’s radio set. The radio still didn’t work, but unlikethe enemy they were used to operating with little technical support.Earlier in the evening he had dispatched a runner to bring insupport, they would not be far away. The insurgent leader, a friendand devoted follower of bin-Laden and Mullah Mohammad Omar smiledagain, the enemy would still come looking. Indeed this was a good dayand it was just the beginning, it was his turn to teerbáasem, ormislead the enemy; it was time for a SAMbush.Using the boy as a runner, al-Haqq repositioned his forces. Sixtyminutes later al-Haqq could see his target was still down. Asexpected and had waited for, he could hear the faint moan of jetengines filter through the valley. “Preewézem” He ordered his men tolie down.Callsign Red Rider was what you call a slow mover FAC (Forward AirController). He had been watching the movements of Hamilton and theACM for several hours via the infra red sensors that equipped hisaircraft. But the weather, the tight valleys and continually movingcombatants on the ground had made it impossible to mount a strike onthe pursuing ACM. Everyone from himself to command was gettingfrustrated. He knew that if Nightmare had been able to, they wouldhave already called in combat air support. But they were on the run,

76 | P a g ehad been suffering from jamming, and obviously had not had theopportunity. The data link he was expecting with Nightmare was down,which meant it was probably tits up or destroyed. He guessedcorrectly that Nightmare had ditched all the heavy stuff and wasprobably just carrying the UHF radio. He brought him up again on thepreset tactical frequency for the mission but there was no response.Maybe he was dead, but the bodies on the screen were still warm,assuming that was them.He had lots of what the air force called playtime, substantialloiter. He directed in the first fast mover.An A10 Warthog firing its main gunAl-Haqq watched The ‘arif’ or enemy jet roll into the valley slashingpast at great speed, canon fire pummelled the mountain side. Hewatched as some of his jihad warriors were torn to pieces by theweight of 4200 rounds per minute of depleted uranium. But this was aprice he was prepared to pay in order to hurt his enemy even more.These dzhangyaalay, his brave fighting men, were just a small part oflarge group, these men were true martyrs and had met a gloriousmartyr’s death in the cause of Islam. He hoped that he too would join

77 | P a g eAllah or khwdaay in such a way. These men would be greeted at thegates of heaven and given virgins. Blessed be their sacrifice. Butnow this price had been paid, it was time for the infidels to die.While these thoughts raced through the mind of the Indonesian, theattacking warthog pilot was still marching the cone of his gattlinggun across the target. The bodies of the insurgents literally burst,disintegrating from hundreds of rounds, each heavy enough to punchthrough armour plating. It was a massacre, and all too easy he wasthinking as he started his pull up.He was right, from the mountainsides that surrounded him, threemissiles raced out to claim him. Two missed, the other struck thestarboard engine, flipped the jet on its back plunging it into thevalley wall. It all happened within a heartbeat.Hamilton still lay unconscious where he had fallen, Fulham slumpedover his back, the two covered by fresh snow. Hamilton was finished,he had walked until his body had totally failed, brain and muscletissue completely starved of oxygen and energy. Hypothermia and deathwas closing in.The massive concussion of the warthog and its unspent munitionsexploding hit him with a thump. He crawled unwillingly out ofunconsciousness and struggled out from under Fulham’s body, tryingdesperately to think straight. His instinct was to survive; the firstthing he saw was the burning wreckage of the Warthog, which hadcrashed just a few hundred meters away. There was obviously enemy SAMaround and probably a whole lot else he thought. This was an ambushand they had used him as bait, the guilt was another yoke on alreadyexhausted shoulders. What he didn’t know was that his escape dash haddrawn al Haqq’s men miles away from their well prepared hill sidefortifications, forcing them to fight from hastily dug in positions,but they were close and had waited for the coalition cavalry in orderto take more infidel lives. He knew with that last shot he should be

78 | P a g edead, probably the same guy shooting he thought. This guy was alsoprobably the insurgent leader of the bunch chasing him and haddeliberately left him out here as bait, the Hog pilot was the firstcatch of the day. Was it Rasputin?He checked Gary’s pulse; it was weak but still regular. Using thescope he had pulled from his own weapon, Hamilton looked across thevalley. The Viper Multi Purpose Rifle Scope could paint targets. Nowthat friendlies were near, the unit could also communicate directlyto aircraft and via them into the command and control network. Heknew as he scanned the terrain, that some one in Washington DC (Ifthey were at all interested or bothered, which he doubted), could nowsee through his scope as well. With the small digital handset hecarried in his top pocket, he dialled in the local TAC frequency andhoped like hell the jamming was gone and someone was listening. Butbefore he could check in, the growl of jet engines invaded the valleyagain, another Warthog coming in.His radio chirped into life. “Red Rider Pig Hunt, Roger, see thetarget now.”That must be the Hog pilot talking to his controller he thought,there was no time to waste so he didn’t bother with the usualintroductions; the Hog was flying into a death trap. “Pig Hunt, PigHunt, this is Hammer, abort, abort, abort!”The incoming hog was attentive, he immediately snapped into aknife-edge turn pulling hard gees and jinking. Hamilton held hisbreath as the hog pulled up into an Immelman reversing course. Amissile snaked out from the other side of the valley, chasing thejet. The aircrafts missile defence system kicked in punching chaffand flares. Fired at extreme range the missile wandered then lockedonto a flare and exploded.While all that was happening Hamilton heard an urgent, “Buster,buster” broadcasted over the tactical frequency.

79 | P a g eOther NATO fighters on the allied network had heard the same call.High above, the pilot of the specialised orbiting FAC and attackaircraft, call sign Red Rider pondered the rapidly developingsituation. Red Rider enjoyed the latest and greatest in networkedcommunications; his aircrafts electronic data link automatically fedthe battlefield communications into the GIG. That combined with otherdata links meant the growing firefight was being witnessed in realtime by Command and Control based at Bagram Air Base.Several hundred kilometres away from the action in the NATOCommand and Control Centre the duty staff had watched the shoot downof the Hog. They could see via an overhead display a live map withthe positions of friendlies and enemy and could listen to all thebattlefield chitchat that followed. Like Hamilton the duty officersin the centre were quick to recognise the SAMbush. The ‘busterbuster’ Hamilton heard was meant for two black hawks inbound to hisposition to extrat him.On receipt of the buster call the two Black Hawks just tenmiles out from Hamilton pulled up hard. Standing their birds almostvertically on their tails the pilots rotated their aircraft sharplyto the right pulling back up at the same time into a reverse heading.They knew something had gone wrong and their LZ was now too hot.The hog pilot Hamilton had just warned off looked at thefireball to his eight o’clock and smiled, the small pieces of decoyand missile falling away. “Hammer this is Pig Hunt, nice call.”Hamilton sagged, the small adrenalin shot dissipated. “AnytimePig Hunt.” He barely got the words out; he was finding it difficultto breath.The hog pilot almost winced. The voice was forced, pain andexhaustion etched in every word. Pig Hunt knew that who ever it wasdown there had clearly mustered a big effort to save his ass fromcertain extinction and he was extremely grateful.

80 | P a g eHe wasn’t the only one thinking that. Everyone from Red Riderto the senior command on the listening end of the combat network wasglued to the drama as it unfolded.Despite that the man on the ground and the centre of attentionwas oblivious to the spreading interest of his predicament. Hamiltonlooked through his scope at the enemy missile sites on the oppositespur and other side of the valley. The choppers were called off,there was no cavalry for the moment and he was all out of plans. Theturbans were moving, they were not stupid and they would shoot andmove. He watched them hustle to the next position. He looked furtherup the hill and caught his breath; there were turban headseverywhere.BAGRAM COMMAND AND CONTROL CENTRE“What have we got?” The question was asked by a fast walking USMarine Corps General who was still shaking the cobwebs of sleep fromhis head.“Hot extraction; South West flank of Sikiram, 6000 feet….Lotsof bad guys around, we have lost one Hog and have called off twobirds inbound for an exfil.” The Op Centres Duty Officer answered, hehad to walk quickly to keep up to the big two star officer as hemarched down the entrance hallway.General George Perelli, the Commander of the Combined SpecialForces Operations in Afghanistan nodded in confirmation beforepowering through big double doors straight into the Ops room. Twoguards jumped to keep out of the Generals way, he was a big boy andyou didn’t want to get knocked down by him. The General immediatelytook in the topographic and asset allocations displayed on theoverhead screens, all the while striding towards his post. “Who isit?” He asked.

81 | P a g e“Hammer Sir.”The General stopped in his tracks. “Hammer Hamilton?”“Yes Sir.”The operations centre was unusually quiet. The General lookedaround the room. Hammer was in trouble he thought. The General wouldhave moved hell and earth for any of his men in trouble. But HammerHamilton wasn’t just any ordinary bloke, not even in the world ofSpecial Forces. He knew him, and he knew why.“Keep going,” he said to the DO.“There are two to exfil, call sign Nightmare, but we haveseveral hundred bad guys on the other side of the valley and it lookslike a whole lot of Man Pads.”“Did you say several hundred?”“Yes sir.”“Excellent.” The general said.Back near the fight, Red Rider circled the combat zone just outsideof the ACM’s missile envelope. He still had loads of fuel and if needbe, stuff that went bang when it hit the ground. Red Rider wasthinking; there was no way to bring in ground forces fast enough andno way to bring in choppers safely. A simple exfil was now somethingmuch larger. The enemy were trying to sucker them to bringhelicopters and aircraft into the tight valley and their nest of gunsand rockets. The guy on the ground was clearly bait, but the baitseemed pretty damned smart and had already saved one ass today.Hammer, he was pretty sure that was Nightmares lead call sign, stillhad the ability to paint targets and from the data feed was using anetworked sighting device.Red Rider, sat back, sipped his coffee and drew deeply on hiscigarette. Red Rider was the pilot of an MQ-9 Reaper UAV, an attackcapable unmanned aircraft operated by the 17th Reconnaissance

82 | P a g eSquadron. He was seated behind the pilots console in what looked likea shipping container, a thirty foot trailer called a Ground ControlStation (GCS) temporarily located in the middle of nowhere flying anaircraft nearly 100km away. He glanced sideways at the payloadoperator. The PO as they called him, sat at a console on the oppositeside of the room that mirrored his own and looked after the UAV’snumerous electronic systems and weapons.Red Rider was a little unusual. He was also an imagingspecialist, intelligence analyst and for the moment the designatedair controller. He cued two F15’s orbiting at 40,000 feet and over50km away to stay on station and ready for release. He then tried totalk to Hammer. There was no answer. David Stringer, Red Rider One,tried again.MQ-9 ReaperBrian couldn’t feel his fingers or feet. They were numb.Extreme pain shot up his arms and legs. While all that seemed bad, heknew up until now they been lucky. But that luck ended when one ofthe bad guys looked away from the air show and saw him move. Bulletsbegan to thrash the earth around him. Gripping Fulham’s straps heslowly heaved him over the fresh snow towards the protection of some

83 | P a g etrees and large rocks. The same sort of rocks the turban forces hadused to their favour for years. More and more rounds splashed intothe snow. They were at extreme or beyond range; at least he thoughtthat until a 50-calibre gun joined in from somewhere. That did makean impression and improved his motivation skills. Once behind somerocks he dropped Gazza and fell with his back against his protector,the mountain, one minute trying to kill him, the next protecting him.He could hear the radio squawking but his fingers were having realproblems working anything. Someone was trying to reach him.Stringer tried again, he could see Hammer had just moved butcouldn’t raise him on the radio. Obviously the guy had some problems;there was only one course of action left. Stringer took the risk andsent his expensive aircraft into the hornet’s nest. Stringer hadflown her for nearly six months and had become somewhat affectionateto her. The aircraft had rarely ever complained, and had performedevery mission flawlessly. But she was not worth as much as the men onthe ground. He knew exactly where Hammer was and from the MPRS wherethe last known positions of enemy was. He flew Red Rider One down thevalley corridor, stood the aircraft on its wing and emptied the hellfire missiles into the area cued on the target designator.This provocation was all too for the turbaned warriors belowwho opened up with everything they had. Red Rider One was hitmultiple times and crashed into the valley walls.From his position on the other side of the valley, Hamiltonwith clumsy fingers quickly designated the enemies firing positionsas they revealed themselves. Orbiting F15’s picked up the link toHammer after Red Rider went off the air and fed them into the system.From over 40km out they punched off almost their entire war load.After losing his own aircraft Stringer still had the uplinkfrom the F15’s and was able to watch whatever Hamilton was looking at

84 | P a g ethrough his sights. What he saw was a horror movie. As the trappedSAS trooper moved around with his data linked sights, Stringer couldsee visuals of the other man down and blood on the snow. The mancarrying the sight frequently fell over, the sight burying itself insnow time and again before being roughly brushed off. The movementswere jerky. But every time Hammer fell over, he got up. Stringer wasquietly cheering the guy. Little did he know so were many others thatday. Finally Hammer pointed the sights back across the valley. Thiswas a guy that didn’t quit Stringer thought. Stringer had trackedHamilton’s SATCOM signal all night, watching in frustration as thebad guys pursued him. Continual satellite infrared imagery had homedon Hamilton’s SATCOM signal to paint moment by moment the picture ofa relentless chase that neither he or anyone else at that time coulddo anything about.From where he stood Hammer was dead meat. There had to besomething else he could do. He lit another cigarette, he could thinkbetter when he smoked. Of the small contingent of four manning thetrailer, they all smoked, small blessings in a place that trulysucked in every respect. Watching a mixture of satellite imagery andglobal hawk feeds, the impacts of the F15 war loads were veryimpressive. Stringer drew deeply on his Peter Stuyvesent, unlessdeath was close he would smoke nothing else.He looked into the GRID, the VIPER network. He logged out andthen logged back in using his commander’s username and password toregain access, his boss would truly be pissed about this, most likelycost him (Stringer) his job, if not a prison sentence. But he wasn’tgoing to let that one tough fighting son of bitch Hammer or his matedie on the mountain.Under the CO’s login he could interrogate and commit a greaterrange of assets. He quickly found what he was looking for, an Ospreyand Talon.He gave them the vectors and then looked for some more

85 | P a g efast movers. The F15’s were gone but he picked up some Hornets overthe Arabian Sea and made the call.

86 | P a g eBuck Shot One - the Arabian Sea60 miles south of Gwadar, Pakistan CoastlineUSS THEODORE ROOSEVELT. Buckshot was still feeling a little hung overfrom the previous days excitement, probably the most he wouldexperience for some time, if ever again. Little did he know how wronghe was. He was high over the Gulf just South of Pakistan when he gotthe call.“One Two Zero LAC”“One two zero”“One two zero confirm you have iron over?“One two zero Rog.”The LAC’s aircraft commander verified One Two Zero’s bombsheet. In real time he was able to view all the aircraft under hiscontrol including personnel, fuel and weapon states. “One two zero,LAC new vector” The LAC gave the Australian the new co-ordinates.Long flight Buckshot thought, it must be important. He tankeredagain and steered into the first waypoint of the new heading. TheGulf of Oman slipped from underneath the aircraft replaced by therapidly changing landscapes of Pakistan. Fortunately Pakistan,despite being wanting in other areas, was still providing much neededoverflight permission for U.S. and coalition forces. Within fortyminutes after skirting the Iranian border he had crossed Pakistan andwas over Afghanistan. Someone called Red Rider picked him up on thetactical.“One Two Zero this is Red Rider, copy over.”“One Two Zero copy.”“One Two Zero steer one one three angels fifteen.”“Steering one one three.” He replied, rolling the Hornet intothe new heading and pushing the nose down. The mountains were now atthe same height as he was. The target information was displayed on

87 | P a g ehis MFD. Red Rider was talking him into the target when all of asudden he got an abort.“Abort, abort”Buckshot had been listening to the radio chatter all the wayin. Call sign Nightmare, snake eaters like his brother by the soundsof it, were down on the ground and in deep shit.“Say again?”“This is Nightmare to approaching aircraft 402, I say againabort, abort, it’s a no go.” There was some static and a lot of noisein the background that sounded a lot like gunfire.All this meant to Buckshot was that the guy needed more helpthan ever. He already had all the dope he needed off Red Rider anddeliberately ignoring the call he flicked the Hornet on its back,shoved the throttles forward and pulled the stick back into hiscrutch, the heavy gees almost blacking him out. He was in. The valleyquickly surrounded him, the walls closing in. Where, where, where?Missiles raced out from the mountainsides chasing him, he punched theburners, pulled up hard over the top and rolled back out over themountains before reversing and heading back into the valley. Now heknew where some of the bad bastards were at least.Captain Brian Hamilton watched the approaching jet with analmost detached attitude. Crazy bastard he thought. The last one dieddoing that. He saw it pull up hard in its first ingress, punch chaffand go over the top, told you so.But less than a minute later the jet came back, this time muchlower and looking all business.FLT LT Lance (Buckshot) Hamilton had the throttles to the wall.The position of the two grunts on the ground, call sign Nightmarewere locked via their GPS signature into his system. Somehow,somewhere along the track the individual call sign of Hammer hadseemed to take over. It seemed like every one knew Hammer. Hammers

88 | P a g etargeting information and an infrared visual were fed to Buckshotsjet via a highflying Global Hawk.On the ground the situation was deteriorating as more and morerounds thumped into the snow around the two Special Forces troopers.The odds were growing narrower by the minute. Not that they had everbeen good.On the ridge opposite Hammer, Al Haqq and his men had beenjubilant about the Warthog kill, the trap had been successfullysprung. Amongst all this excitement he was alerted to the fact hisother quarry had come back to life, the trooper. He cursed.Helifted the sniper rifle again. Unbelievably the infidel bastard wasmoving again. He cursed again, the anger getting the better of him.He pumped off several rounds without effect. This man refused to die;Al Haqq felt he knew this man well now. He would die before giving upon his friend and that was his weakness. He would kill this invadinginfidel, but he admired that loyalty. Truly, the infidel if convertedwould make a great Muslim. Such a waste, he would have liked to havemet this man in other times, such a powerful spirit only ever seenand tested under such extreme conditions as now.Al Haqq pondered for a moment. While his men were prepared todie for Allah, this man on the other ridge was different. He defieddeath, did not want to die, but was not afraid to stand in its path.Surely that was braver than one who gave up life so easily? Al Haqqwould remember this death more than any other.Rolling in from the west, Buckshots Bug was unloading kerosene asfast as he could burn it. FLT LT Lance Hamilton ground his teeth ashe centred his bird along the attack heading. Geez Louise here we goagain he thought as he thundered back into the lower pass of thevalley. He had the two friendlies showing up on the main MultiFunctional Display (MFD), as well as the attacking forces. He watched

89 | P a g eas they quickly closed together. Here we go, tracer fire erupted fromboth sides of the valley, the missile threat warning system wasbitching like hell telling him there were several ‘lock ons’. He keptgoing. Using the helmet missile cue, he designated his targets andmunitions, and pulled back up into a climb. He felt the jolt as theweapons released, the onboard computer calculating release point andtrajectories. As the bombs punched off the pylons, a release lanyardpulled open a canister in the tail assembly of the bombs, releasing aballute (combination balloon and parachute); this quickly slowed thebombs allowing Buckshots aircraft to escape the blast pattern as theyheaded towards their target.As the bombs headed earthwards, Buckshots missile threatwarning system was still bitching like hell, the sudden explosion inthe rear and the failure of the port engine suggested to Hamiltonthat something was seriously wrong. The left engine warning lightflashed followed by the voice alert. Buckshot immediately pressed thewarning light, which closed the engine. He then pressed the readydischarge light activating the one shot fire extinguishing system inthe left engine bay.The right engine looked okay, he was stillflying and the jet was still responsive.As Buckshot struggled with the crippled jet, his load of MK83500 pound bombs weapons smashed into their target. The unguided bombswere designed for maximum blast and explosive effect. They flewfaithfully; landing in a wide spread that completely enveloped theAfghan fighters that had almost reached Hammer.Al Haqq had seen the Hornet fly low up the valley and overtheir heads. Then with great satisfaction he saw the aircraft hitwith a missile, his trap was working again. He turned around just intime to see the drag chutes deploy behind the inbound 500-poundbombs. Then it all went black.

90 | P a g eBuckshot set an emergency squawk of 7700 and started goingthrough his emergency procedures. The first thing to catch hisattention was the fuel state. He looked over his shoulder and couldsee a long plume of vapour streaming from the starboard wing. ‘Shit!’he was bleeding fuel. He checked the readouts; they were going downfaster than his bank account. Craparoozie, he was still over thebadlands. He didn’t trust the Pakistani military to look after him.They were all too sympathetic to the buggers he was just shooting atand considered Bin Laden a poster child.Hamilton nursed the sick bird to 25,000 feet when the remainingengine died of fuel starvation. With no fuel to power the APU forelectrics, this meant all the controls; ECS and instruments wererunning off the battery, which had twenty minutes power at tops,assuming nothing was wrong with it. He trimmed the aircraft for thebest glide he could manage. It was time to think quickly while he hadthe height. He called into ATC, the instructions were to eject overthe coast. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse the mastercautionlight illuminated once again and all of the aircraft’sdisplays, including the heads-up display (HUD), which is the primaryattitude indicator, flashed briefly. He hoped it was just a simpleone off glitch, ‘stray trons.’ This was a term for random,unexplained electrical hiccups. A few seconds later the ailing jettold him it was no hiccup, every cockpit display suddenly disappearedand Buckshot was left referencing the backup steam gauges. His birdhad suffered a complete electrical failure, both flight controlcomputers were dead and the control stick suddenly felt like it waswelded to the floor. The jet instantly began a left turning skid, thenose pitched high and the airframe buffeted on the beginning of astall. He quickly switched to the Backup Mechanical System. Thisprovided automatic connection of a direct mechanical link from thestick to the differential stabilator servo actuators giving Buckshot

91 | P a g elimited pitch and roll control. He also decided to pull theemergency-oxygen green ring, just in case. With the ECS dead, theinside of the cockpit was also getting noticeably colder. Buckshot‘punched the clock’ as they say, he didn’t want to be OBE, meaningovercome by events and eaten by snakes in the cockpit, a victim oftask saturation. Aviate, navigate, communicate he was thinking. Heslowed himself down and reset the emergency squawk, via the backupIFF control and pulled out the NATOPS pocket checklist (PCL) to tryand accurately diagnose the problem. This was made more difficultbecause he had no idea what sort of battle damage had been inflictedon his jet.Buckshots situation was being closely followed on the Reagan.“Captain, we’ve have lost comms with Buckshot, but still havehim on radar,” There was a pause, the operator was rechecking thedisplay, “He’s still on the same glide slope and direction.”The Captain of the USS Ronald Reagan grimaced, had Buckshotpunched out? Or was he flying a dead duck with no engines and noelectrics. If that were the case he had no choice. He crossed hisarms and looked over the flight deck. He had heard the whole exchangebetween the guys on the ground and the support aircraft. Someone onthe ground called Hammer had clearly called an ‘abort’ to Buckshotsaircraft in bound for the target. The whole drama was heard completewith the canon fire in the background by almost everyone on theBridge. That bloody Australian had still gone into that valley. Nowhis jet was shot up, his engines were out and to cap it all off hehad the audacity to ask for tanker support, tanker support for a deadjet. All the brownie points this Aussie had earned yesterday werequickly going into the red. He looked around the ships bridge.Everyone was busy, but he knew each and every one of them was stilllistening to the unfolding drama.

92 | P a g e“McKay?” The skipper snapped. The man he asked for appearedmiraculously on his shoulder. He had no doubt in his mind McKay wasjust waiting for this. Indeed why did he have to even explain. “Damnit McKay, go!” See if you can turn shit pie into cherry pie hethought. He already had a tanker in the air, but he knew McKay wouldwant to be there.From the high perch of the Islands Bridge, The skipper of theReagan looked back across the deck. He knew Buckshot was aggressive;he wouldn’t quit till he had to, unfortunately way beyond the normaltolerances.Moments later walking quickly across the deck below, theCommander of VFA-25 pulled his helmet on. He had watched this wholeepisode unfold ever since 402 had left the deck, He knew if Buckshotwas pushed he would shove that envelope as far as it would go, whichis why he was prepared. The Double Nuts (side number four zero zero),the CAG’s personal Super Hornet was on the deck at ready ten. He hadpromised not to even scratch her. Two large tanks were slung underthe wings. Providence he thought, for some strange reason he hadasked CAG for this bird to be tasked for refuel, she carried morethan the standard FA/18. Buddy, buddy refuelling they call it. Bloodyhurry was the reality. Somewhere out there his best pilot was glidinga dead stick, probably just seconds separating possible death anddisaster, so every one of those seconds really counted right now.Within one minute he was airborne, sucking up the undercarriage andholding the after burners in while he climbed the jet as hard as shewould go. He had gas to spare. He picked up Buckshot on radar a fewminutes out from the ship and switched to the emergency frequency,steering an intersect that brought him up behind Buckshots strickenaircraft to pass down the port side.

93 | P a g eDouble Nuts 400, the CAG’s bird“Four One Zero this is Sundog” Chris McKay said over the radio,he sounded relaxed but didn’t feel it. ‘One Two Zero I have you attwelve thousand.” He paused for a quick check outside the office. “Iam on your eleven, and climbing through nine to ten thousand feet.”He took another breath. “You there Buckshot?” Sundog had climbedthrough ten thousand and had executed a reverse turn to head downhillpast the dead jet slipping in to have a closer look. Buckshots jetlooked like a sieve. There were large holes in both the tails. Theexhaust of the port engine was completely gone. He dropped below thejet to check its belly. That was even worse.Buckshot had picked McKay’s aircraft climbing up hard to hisport before wheeling in behind, nosing around his damaged jet andpulling alongside. The bigger super hornet pulled in tight alongside.Buckshot gave a big shrug and held his hands up.No Joy obviously McKay thought, meaning no radio contact. McKaymimicked holding his nose and pulling the chain.Punch out? Buckshot considered his situation, no choice now. Henodded and gave him thumbs up. He reached for the ejection handlesmacking the dash with his fist in annoyance. That was wheninexplicably all the lights came back on. He sat up straight. PFM –Pure Fucking Magic, he didn’t care why that happened just that itdid.

94 | P a g eMcKay had pulled away and in front to give Buckshot room toPunch Elvis but nothing happened. He was just wondering if there wasanother problem when the emergency radio suddenly came to life.“Hey Sundog, is this service station self serve or do I have toget out?”McKay shook his head, the SOB’s electrics were obviously backonline. “Negative Buckshot, sit tight.” His pucker factor shot upagain.Buckshot came back, “I’m still on the Backup Mechanical System.Haven’t got much control here and I’m worried if I try something Imight kill the system again.” Buckshot wanted to save his dodgyelectric backup to start the APU and then the remaining engine. Timewas running out.Sundog streamed the drogue chute, they were now both at nine thousandand winding down. In-air refuelling is a tricky procedure at the bestof times and involved guiding the F-18's retractable refuelling probeinto the drogue chute which was streamed 100-feet behind the tankeraircraft, in this case the Super Hornet. This time however, Sundogliterally had to back the drogue shoot onto Buckshots refuellingprobe. This was incredibly precise flying.“Five feet looks good.” Buckshot calledSundog responded by pressing the mike. He was concentrating onlining up the drogue. They were already down to seven thousand feetwhen the skipper called in strongly suggesting Buckshot to punch out.Buckshot ignored the call and stayed in the cockpit; he simplywould not quit and as far as Sundog was concerned, neither would he.Sundog would hold the hose out as long as it took to get some fuelonto Buckshots aircraft.Buckshot called again. “That’s a ‘connect’ and I can confirmfuel transfer.” Buckshot immediately began running through his engine

95 | P a g estart procedures. The airframe was so noisy now it was difficult tohear if anything was even turning over.At three thousand feet Sundog was getting real worried. “Getout!” Hamilton refused. He went through the start up procedure onceagain. Lance had managed to suck some fuel from Sundog’s drogue,taking it on board slightly faster than it was going out the back,but the engine still refused to start. The two aircraft slipped totwo thousand, then one thousand. At that point Sundog had his owncrew and airplane to worry about. He gave Hamilton the warning,disengaged and pulled up. Hamilton’s jet continued towards the deck.At 750 feet Hamilton reluctantly gripped the ejection handleagain. At the same instant there was a slight vibration that ranthrough the airframe, turbines he thought? This was the point of noreturn. If he didn’t eject now, he would ride the bird into thewater, almost certain death. His hesitation decided the action, heknew he was committed. The water was awful close. The vibration hefelt turned into noise that grew louder and louder, the familiarwhining of fast moving fan blades turning jet fuel into noise invadedthe cockpit with hope. But was it too little too late? He wasdesperate; the water was coming up to meet him fast, but feedingjuice to the remaining engine too early might stall it. He held outas long as was possible. At just three hundred feet he gently fed thepower to the engine and it responded smoothly. One was better thannone. But the jet had a sink rate that was not going to vanish inmoment. He was going to hit the water. Against all his best instinctshe shoved the throttle into full after burner. He had no idea ifthere was any damage to that engine, dumping raw fuel into a frailengine and damaged tail pipe could mean an explosion.The first waves came up to meet him. He could feel the airframebuffet from the turbulent air spoiling over the big waves and ontothe wings. The cockpit was immediately smeared in salt spray. Even in

96 | P a g ehis favourite Pig with both engines he had never dared to go thislow. The single remaining engine behind him kicked. He held the stickneutral, there were loud noises and the whole aircraft shuddered andthumped, was he hitting water? As the last wave came up to meet him,to engulf him, the kick in his back turned to a thump. Not as good astwo engines coming off the deck, but good enough. The sink rateevaporated, but water was everywhere, he couldn’t see. He nursed thestick fearful of pushing the aircraft into a stall, he was flyingblind, he was sure he was going to die, death now measured in inchesand fractions of time. The airframe felt like it was beating itselfto death anyway. But there was still that steady pressure against hisback. You tough little bitch he thought. He held the throttles as heheaded to the sea, thanking his airplane for giving the best itcould. It might not be enough this time, but dammit, she was good.Suddenly the noise and vibration stopped, the aircraft wasaccelerating and he was gaining altitude. Salty tasting sweattrickled into the corner of his mouth, it could just as easily havebeen seawater he thought. He nursed the crippled aircraft back to5,000 feet before the engine stopped again.“Plug and tug.” he said. Sundog pulled up in front him andplugged back in, the two jets staying in those positions all the wayback to the carrier.On the deck of the John C. Stennis, everybody from the brakerider to the chock walkers were helping clear the flight line readyfor Buckshots approach.Sundog towed Buckshots jet almost all the way down to the boat.Half a mile from the stern he pulled away almost drained dry.Buckshot called the ball and prayed the electrics wouldn’t do a danceat the worst possible moment. He knew if he failed to catch the wirehe would probably end up nose down in the water. Not many survivedthose accidents.

97 | P a g eBuckshot brought the jet in for a perfect trap. With the sunbehind it, the holes in the badly beaten up F18/C glowed, the jetstopped and he rapidly shut down the systems in case of any fires,the fire crews surrounding the jet ready for any emergency.Therewas a loud bang on the deck and the jet shuddered. He wondered whatthat was. Everybody on the deck stood motionless, mouths open. Afterbeing hastily unstrapped and helped from the cockpit he found out.The port engine exhaust; tail and stabiliser had fallen off the assend and lay in an untidy mess on the deck. ‘Go figure that’ he wasthinking, what the hell was holding that stuff together? It was oneTFOA (Things Falling Off Aircraft) that Buckshot wouldn’t forget forsome time. He felt an awful cold shiver run through his spine. Maybenext time he might punch out.Callsign Nightmare- bringing down fireLOWER MOUNT SIKIRAM. While Buckshot had been nursing his crippled jetback to the Reagan, his older brother was having his body pulverisedfrom the inside out, a unique experience to be avoided at all costs.If you have never been near a major explosion you have no idea of theintensity of the shock to your body. They are so powerful, that whileyou are still lucid, you wonder if your body is already damagedbeyond repair. People die with little evidence of any injury, simplyshattered from within, the cellular structure that used to sustainyou turned to mush.This was a situation that ‘Hammer’ Hamilton had been close tofar too often; it made him wonder about long-term effects, if he waslucky enough to enjoy those. The tidal waves of bomb concussionsrolled over the Nightmare team as they hugged the ground, poundingtheir innards. Their eyeballs rattled inside their sockets, theirbrains threatening to turn into stew as they thrashed violently

98 | P a g einside the cranial cavity. The good part he thought as thiscontinued, was that the bad guys were closer. He also knew that ifthey survived this moment, it might be the break they had beenlooking for. This was a well-dropped package of hell from heaven. Hewas hoping the guys with the coffee cups back in the rear were readyto exploit it.The senior coffee cup guy in the rear was General GeorgePirelli. He had decided to personally take over the rescue mission.He thanked Red Rider who had done a great job so far. Stringer, hewould remember that name. But the fight had now extended beyond anexfil. It was now a battle and a chance to kill some of these assholes in greater numbers.So, while Hammer and Fulham were still shaking their heads fromthe explosive effect of multiple 500lb bomb blasts delivered byBuckshots bug, Pirelli was ordering more firepower, over whelmingfirepower. The 500-pound bombs dropped by the navy Hornet had beenincredibly effective and had brought crucial time, but the hillsideswere still crawling with Taliban and al-Qaeda.This was anopportunity to kill bad guys, which was Pirelli’s job. Pirelli wouldget the Nightmare team out and make the ACM bastards pay for a badtactical error - don’t under estimate your enemy.Pirelli noted the Talon and the Ospreys were inbound and close.From what he had seen, Hammer, despite some real problems, was stilloperational and designating targets.Like most of the SOF guys hewas JTAC qualified to perform terminal attack control and terminalguidance to weapons. Pirelli was betting that Hammer despite hisovernight ordeal would still have his UHF, IR or Laser GPSdesignator. Time to wiggle the beam Hammer he thought.Hammer realised the Hornet strike had given them a minor but muchneeded reprieve. But even as he looked from his position, ACM forces

99 | P a g ewere moving towards them like cockroaches. It was still danger closefor air combat support. The hills were still alive, not from music,but from hundreds of Taliban. The radio squawked. Someone called Hog11 came up on the Tactical Air Direction (TAD) Net, checking in asfragged. They were two Harrier GR9As operating from 1 (F) RAFSquadron sortied from Kandahar Airfield and in bound to the fight.“Hog 11, this is Nightmare, Type 2 in effect, advise when readyfor 9-line”“A3C, Hog 11 ready to copy” The Harrier pilot replied. He knewit was Hammer. They all knew that now.Hamilton read the nine-liner statement that advised attackheadings and target details.“450, NB 865427, Final attack heading 300-345” The Harrierpilot replied“Read back Correct. Report IP inbound, TOT 3 minutes”“Roger, TOT 3 minutes” The Harrier pilot said validating thetarget location.“Hog 11 IP INBOUND”“Hog 11 continue” Hammer came back.“Hog 11 one minute, SNAKE”“Sparkle” Hammer replied. At the same time he wiggled his LPL-30 over the target area.“Contact, Hog 11’s IN north”“Danger close, CLEARED HOT”Hammer was using a small ground commander’s pointer (GCP) andIR zoom laser illuminator/designator. To the pilots this looked likea big flash light beam on the ground when they used their IR imagingdevices to view it. By doing this Hamilton was able to designate tothe Harrier pilots the target and his position, which was the nonmovingend of the pointer and the place NOT to drop the bombs on.

100 | P a g eAnother call sign came up on the net. The coffee drinker in therear was really getting some big hitters in. Hammer was quick tobring the new guns to bare.“Dragonfire this is Nightmare, fire mission over,”“Nightmare, Dragonfire read you loud and clear over,”“My position GRID 234970 marked by SPARKLE over,”“Nightmare, Dragonfire Contact,”“Nightmare 278 degrees, 350 meters, troops in the open, cleareddanger close.”“Dragonfire cleared in danger close.” There was a pause and ina voice that was almost a whisper but everyone could hear. “Hold yourhead down Hammer; we are coming to get you.”Dragonfire was an AC-130U Spooky gunship fitted with allweather sensors and strike radar. Dragonfire, now orbiting at 15,000feet above the combat zone was tasked with suppressing enemy fireallowing the inbound Osprey to get in and out.Once on target Dragonfire unloaded fire from the sky. Twin 20-mm Vulcan rotary cannons spewed 7,200 rounds per minute towards theground, a 40-mm Bofors gun opened up firing 100 rounds per minute,and a big 105-mm howitzer joined in firing over ten rounds a minute.At the same time the two RAF Harriers called in by Hammer hadalready dropped and were outbound, red tracers following their exit.The combined effect of the Harrier war loads and the Spookygunship impacting almost at the same moment were mind numbing. Themountainsides exploded. On the ground the ACM had suddenly turnedfrom ambusher to cornered prey. After so many were killed in thefirst explosions from the Harrier drop, the Spooky followed throughmarching its crushing weight of firepower across the hillsides,passing the Nightmare team within just metres. Hammer truly wonderedhow even a bug would survive that onslaught.

101 | P a g eThe Taliban, what remained of them, broke and fled. They fledback to the border, crossing a man made line that gave themprotection from the death that rained from above. They loaded ontotrucks and drove a few hundred yards over the border, past theoblivious guard and into the safety and sanctuary of Pakistan.Hundreds of Taliban, and Al-Qaeda or ACM fighters, slipped away torefit, rearm, and plan for more attacks unmolested in the lawlesswestern border region of Pakistan. But they left behind an almostequal number. As far as they were concerned this was a victory. Thetwo Special Forces soldiers were dead and at least two jets were shotdown. It was indeed a great day.As the enemy slipped away and the sound of the gunfire faded,the smoke of the battlefield still lingered, drifting through thevalley carrying with it the fresh smell of death, the smell of burnedbodies, cordite and the rich after taste of high explosive you couldtaste on your lips.Hamilton propped up Fulham, they were getting out of here. Thatwas his last thought.Moments later Lizard landed. Lizard was a Marine tilt rotorOsprey with a full section of marines. After touching down, theMarines exited the rear ramp and sprinted to Nightmares position.When they found the Nightmare team they all stopped. Both of the menthey were supposed to be rescuing looked dead. There was bloodeverywhere. The Lizard team leader called it in, Pirelli would not behappy. But that wasn’t the least of their problems. Somehow, despitethe massive aerial bombardment, there was still a lot of incomingfire.Carried on litters the two SF men were quickly loaded onto theaircraft, Hamilton thinking for a moment it was all over. As theOsprey lifted off she was raked from stem to stern, smoke pouringfrom one of her engines. The marines tried to occupy the smallest

102 | P a g epiece of space they could as holes rapidly appeared along thefuselage, several were hit.Five minutes out from base the Osprey lost the port engine. Theremaining engine groaning under full power took the load. Atransmission interconnect shaft coupled the two huge propellers forjust this emergency and was able to keep both massive props spinningand the Osprey airborne. But she was crippled badly and the pilotshad a whole bunch of control problems.

103 | P a g eUS Marine Tilt Rotor OspreyFOB Tillman – Crash and BurnFORWARD OPERATING BASE TILLMAN, AFGHANISTAN. Standing on a rocky dirttrack, ringed by 6,000-foot, snow-dappled ridges, Natasha Braithwaitelooked anxiously up the valley in the direction she expected theaircraft to return from. Braithwaite was posting cameras on the smallheight to capture the dramatic return of the Combat Search and Rescueeveryone had been talking about.The rumour mill had been cranking all morning underscored by anunusual amount of air movements. Something big was going on. From herposition three miles away, she could see the LZ was already lookingvery busy. It was time to get back to the main stage. She motionedthe driver and rest of the crew to start up and get moving.Braithwaite unzipped her hood thankful to be out of the freezingweather.

104 | P a g eThe atmosphere on the LZ was different than she had expected.People were looking at each other all the time, but not much said.What the hell was this all about? Obviously everyone was waiting, butthere was a collective breath held for something clearly veryimportant. The scene was almost mesmerising.Thirty seconds out of Tillman’s landing pattern the Ospreysremaining engine spat the dummy. The pilot of the Osprey wrestledwith the controls. He called in the latest emergency. His oncebeloved bird was flying like a wingless chicken with lead weights.Worse still, there was no prescribed method to land safely. No oneever got to practice an auto-rotate or emergency landing all the wayto the ground in one of these things. The simple reason was it wastoo dangerous. So the training objective had been to ‘minimize thepossibility of such disastrous occurrences’ which was now too late.Speed is your friend the pilot thought. He needed to build thekinetic energy in the props and at the last second he would autorotatehoping to flare the aircraft into a controlled crash - thatwas the theory anyway. He pushed the nose down, kept the gear up androtated the engine nacelles down to build up the energy in the bigprops. He crossed the threshold at over 150 knots, pulling the noseup slightly and rotating the nacelles into the vertical. The Ospreyrapidly slowed before hitting the dirt at a little over 50kphskidding along the side of the main runway. It was all going realwell until they hit the mine and the aircraft exploded.Braithwaite watched the skidding fireball in horror, eyes wide,hand over her mouth.“Shit.” Someone said.She looked quickly sideways to see if the camera was recordingthe action. It was and she immediately felt guilty, they werewatching people die, two of them her own countrymen. That was when

105 | P a g eshe she heard some one say Hammer. She felt her stomach lurch, thiswas the man she had met only a few days ago, Captain Brian Hamilton.Within 24 hours of her witnessing the incident, the images werebeing played all around the world via Fox News, CNN and every othermajor news media.SIKIRAM MOUNTAIN, AFGHANISTAN. While the western media eagerlyconsumed the latest bad news from the war, from high up on the slopesof Sikiram, al-Haqq scrutinised the scene of the previous daysbattle. His head still throbbed. Far below he could see coalitiontroops still combing through the aftermath of the fighting. It hadbeen a great victory. But there were many more battles to be foughtbefore they removed these invaders. But his time here had come to anend. He was needed for the fight back home. He took one last lookover the majestic landscape, committing it to memory. As he turned toleave he noticed a metal rod protruding from the snow.

106 | P a g eCHAPTER TWOThe ConvergenceSeveral Years Later

107 | P a g e

108 | P a g eThe Shame of Sitti HawaRAYHAN ON THE ISLAND OF SUMATRA, INDONESIA. It had been several yearssince his return to the Island but still the dreams persisted. Emirbin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqq closed his eyes and the image of thecoalition trooper immediately assaulted his mind, the man’s face anddefiant expression etched in his memory. Blue eyes stared back at himfrom both distance and time with an intensity he could not escapefrom. Why did he think of this one man so often? He rested thestrange metal rod on his lap, somehow all this was entwined, such wasGod’s will. If it had not been for the pursuit of this infidel hewould not have found the rod.This was all part of Allah’s great design; otherwise he wouldnot have been chosen to receive this gift. While he didn’t know whatthe gifts purpose was, one thing was clear; it was not something madeby man. Twenty eight centimetres long it was metal like in appearanceand instantly alien to touch. At times it was almost luminescent andits weight seemed to vary as did its temperature. To the Cleric’sfollowers his discovery and possession of an object with suchmystical attributes was surely a sign from God. This and the Clericsheroic past in the defence of Islam afforded him a reverenceexceeding that of any religious leader before him with the exceptionof the prophet.To the cleric the path to the creation of the caliphate was nowno longer a dream; they had been delivered a sign. His possession ofthis gift had delivered the self proclaimed Lion of Islam a sacredposition amongst more than two hundred million Muslims populating thearchipelago of Indonesia. The time had arrived; the convergence wasupon them and the Tajdid was being readied. The road ahead was one ofjihad musallah and the resurrection of faith bringing truth andjustice to all his people. The seeds of Pondok Ngruki had spread far

109 | P a g eand wide and were taking root. Each harvest saw even more seeds beingsewn and still greater harvests and bounties to come. Very soon, allof Indonesia would abide by the one true and just law and he would betheir great leader.The excited sound of villagers’ voices broke into his thoughts.He opened his eyes and looking up the street could see that thevillagers had assembled to witness the administration of the law. Atthe centre of this gathering a young girl struggled to stay on herfeet.Sitti Hawa, barely fifteen, fell to her knees. Her legs werebruised and bleeding and her body trembled uncontrollably.Herstomach convulsed and cramped, she felt the heat of the blood streamdown from between her legs.Naked she crawled slowly back to herhome.The villagers lined the path witnessing her humiliation. Shehad been gang raped. The rape was mandated by the village council,which made the ruling to punish her brother who was accused of havingan affair with another woman in the village.Sitti’s body was wracked in pain, but no one came to help her,not even her own family. The edics of bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqqwere very clear, the teaching of the strict Muslim faithunassailable. After all, she was just a woman.Al-Haqq, seated a short distance away sipped hot coffee in theshadows of the village mosque watching the scene unfold. He foldedhis arms and grunted in satisfaction. Justice was done; hisexperience of pure Islam in Afghanistan had steeled his resolve. Thepeople needed faith in Allah and his disciples to lead them. Thewhole world did. Why did they not understand? And these women! Theymust learn their place. He turned to his companion, a unique visitorto his home.“The boy is dead?” He asked.“Yes.” The Iranian replied.

110 | P a g e“Then you have taken what you needed?”“Yes, the area has been completely sanitised.”Excellent he thought, that meant all the others were dead also,along with the secret. The fact that nearly a hundred dead includedsmall children and babies meant little to the cleric. Instead he feltblessed.“How?” The cleric asked curiously.“Gas” The Iranian said, he paused as the cleric nodded, “andthen the entire area was torched.”The cleric looked into his coffee.They were thorough. Withthe ever-persistent forest fires, one burnt out piece of forestlooked much the same as another. Imagine, all this just for achicken? He was however sure his friends in Tehran knew what theywere doing. They would deliver the Tajdid and with it the means toachieve the caliphate they all wanted.Across the other side of the road a small dog scavenged in therubbish. al-Haqq motioned to his men. Dogs are hated by Muslims, al-Haqq’s men called the dog, it was a poodle crossed with somethingelse. The dog’s hair was matted and it was clearly starving. It cameto the men who called her, its tail between her legs. The men tookturns beating the dog with sticks, god had no time for such animals,the book said they were unclean. The cries and pain of the small dogas it died meant nothing to the men. Such was the will of Allah,blessed be his name. With Allah, they were capable of anything.The Cleric turned his attention back to the young man. Theywere about to receive visitors and needed to prepare.

111 | P a g eKhamenei’s CaliphateTHE OFFICE OF AYATOLLAH SAYYID ALI KHAMENEI,TEHRAN, IRAN. The Supreme Leader Sayyid AliKhamenei looked relaxed, his hands resting onthe end of the wooden arm rests of his chair.He sat in stark contrast to the other men who faced him, all sharinga long single seat and sitting stiffly as if they all had carrotsstuck up their ass. Ayatollah Ali Khamenei was dressed in thestandard white shirt with gray vest and black robes. His appearanceseemed benign, a seemingly harmless old face with a grey beard,glasses and a black turban. He was anything but benign, the innocuousappearance disguising a ruthless and deadly man beneath.The othermen opposite were all dressed in business suits with white shirtstied at the neck and no tie. They sat side by side like small schoolboys, hands politely clasped on their laps. Khamenei had anotoriously thin skin and any perceived impropriety was taken as anextreme insult.Apart from Khamenei’s chair, the long visitor’s seat and asmall coffee table in front of him, the room was bare. The floor wascovered with a thin wool pile and there was an Iranian flag parkednext to the grand leader. The green and red of the flag was the onlycolour in sight.One by one Khamenei’s guests had filed into the room. GeneralYahya Rahim Safavi was the last to enter the room; he stood politelyin front of the Ayatollah who extended his hand. Safavi bent down,kissed it twice and put it to his forehead as a sign of respect.Once Safavi was seated the IR leader spoke. “Our nation holdsdear the memories of the Revolution. We are awaiting thedemonstrations on February 11, marking the victory of IslamicRevolution. You will see that our dear nation will in a similar

112 | P a g efashion as the previous years or even in a more enthusiastic mood -as our nation has always been more enthusiastic than before will beglobally witnessed.“Compare the anniversaries of revolutions and national days ofother countries to this great movement by the people in our dearcountry. The anniversary of our Revolution is not a dull and formaloccasion. It is a hundred percent populist celebration. Our peopletake part in such occasions in cold winter, in burning heat, andunder all conditions when they have to be on the scene. On theFebruary 11 every year, our nation appreciates the occasion andenters the scene, and demonstrates its presence in the eye of all itsenemies and opposes. This could be observed in the whole world. Thereis some time left and I will give speeches to our dear nation beforethen.“We have witnessed the American people flee Iraq as we haveprevailed and liberated the oppressed. They have acknowledged ourpower and have shrunk from our presence in this region. They failedin their quest to prevent us from mastering the nuclear process andnow we must suggest to them how powerful we really are.“General Safavi, what of the project?”The General cleared his throat; the IR leader was referring toproject 2500.“Twenty five warheads.” He stated, “Our group in Shahid Karimihave successfully mated twenty five warheads to our Shahab Six…allmultiple re-rentry types.”“This is good. What are you proposing as our nextdemonstration?”“We will launch a Shahab Six with a dummy payload into theIndian Ocean, a range of over 3000 kilometres.” The General replied.Safavi was the commander of the Revolutionary Guards which owned a

113 | P a g egood part of the defence industrial complex working on the nuclearweapons program and the missiles.Next to him Iran’s chief nuclear negotiator, the hardlinedeputy Foreign Minister Saeed Jalili nodded. “I will hint in a vaguemanner to El Barade that we have accomplished our objective.”Mohamed El Barade was the head of the IAEA and still hoping theIranians had stopped the development of a nuclear warhead. Theopposite was true, the latest Shahab intercontinental ballisticmissile now carried nuclear warheads; no small thanks to the materialprovided by Dr. Abdul Qadeer Khan, the father of Pakistan's nuclearprogram and the Russians.“In the mean time I will keep the IAEA out of the way.” SaeedJalili continued, “We have kept them talking for nearly fifteenyears, another two or three months shouldn’t be difficult.The head of Iran's Atomic Energy Organization, GholamrezaAghazadeh agreed. “The inspector’s attitudes have changed fromwanting us to cease refinement to working together and providingtransparency to our efforts.” Aghazadeh’s job was to make sure thecontinued refinement program was as transparent as a lead window.What the IAEA inspected was a fraction of the refinement capacityAghazadeh managed. What he let them see kept them busy and out of theway.“Mahmoud?” Khamenei said quickly changing track for a moment.“The chicken, you retrieved the chicken I understand. Is thisproject, what do you call it...the Tajdid?...is this as good as yousay it is?”The Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad smiled. “Yes and muchmore, we have many samples. We are confident we can produce theTajdid.”“And our brother al-Haqq?”“He is ready.”

114 | P a g eFor just a moment, the grand Ayatollah looked like a light bulbhad gone off in his head. “I guess this just leaves one questionthen.” He said.They all looked at him questioningly.“Which comes first, the chicken or the bomb?” He said,immediately laughing. The others laughed with him, even though someof them didn’t get it.The meeting went for another fifty minutes; most of it answering theAyatollah’s many questions. After they finished they each kissed theold mans hand and exited.Following the meeting with Khamenei, the men gatheredagain discarding the formalities. This time they satdown with the head of Ministry of Intelligence andSecurity [MOIS - Vezarat-e Ettela'at va Amniat-e Keshvar VEVAK. Witha large budget and extensive organization, the Ministry ofIntelligence and Security was the most powerful ministry in theIranian government operating under the guidance and blessing of theVelayat-e Faqih apparatus of Ali Khamenei.Ministry of Security and Intelligence personnel were eitherattached as diplomats in Iranian embassies and consulate offices oras Ministry of Guidance and Propaganda representatives. Non-officialcovers included Iran Air, Aid organizations or as students,merchants, mechanics, shopkeepers, bank clerks. The tentacles spreadfar and wide.They got down to the business of how they could use the WMD tobest effect. Joining them were Muqtada Al-Sadr and Nasrallah, theyhad much to prepare for; the time for the new caliphate was uponthem.

115 | P a g eOperation SchismHunting al-Haqq and the Laskar JundullahACEH PROVINCE, INDONESIA. The increased activity and chatter amongstthe jihadists was reaching a frenzied pitch. Monitored by numerousintelligence agencies they all knew something was happening but notwhat. At the same time intelligence and cooperation from Indonesianauthorities was not only becoming less reliable but exceedinglyquestionable. The only away around this veil of confusion was todevelop reliable sources and if you wanted something done well, thebest way was to do it yourself.Gary Fulham breathed in deeply through his nose, taking in therich and familiar smell of the jungle. It had been too long betweengigs and he had almost forgotten the feeling. It was better than sex,it lasted longer and your life depended on it. Warrant Officer FirstClass Malcolm Fulham knew he should not be in the woods at his age,neither should his boss. But they were there because they were bothreally good at this stuff. Just ahead of him his boss silentlysignalled a stop, he went to ground. They were both panting from heatand exhaustion, salty tasting sweat mixed with camo grease trickledinto the corner of his mouth. The boss pointed through the trees.Fulham nodded silently in acknowledgment; they were right on top ofthe bad guy’s camp.Below them a small group of men and women moved around lookingcompletely harmless. He hated that part; it was much easier to shootguys dressed up in the bad ass gear. These guys looked normal. But hehad no doubt if they had the chance they would kill his mother,without so much as blinking. Inside the camp was the man the two SASRmen had come to observe; bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqq. They couldsee him.Bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqq, served hot coffee in small cupsengraved with Arabic blessings, the drink strongly perfumed. He

116 | P a g erecounted his Afghan war experience and about how a man smells justbefore he dies. "It was the strangest thing," he said, recalling abloody fire fight at Charikar, a town north of Kabul. "If a Muslimbrother was about to be martyred he would smell wonderful, evenbefore he was killed, like dupa, then we knew death was close." Dupawas an Indonesian incense."And after he was killed?" The young man in front of him asked."The smell only grew stronger." bin Mohammed, was dressed inrobes and turban, his beard flecked with a commanding grey andlooking very much like the wise man he perceived himself to be.Jihad, he tells the young man, "Is in my veins. We have beenpatient.” He gestured around him.The training camp thrived withactivity. “We now have an opportunity to bring true Shia justice andpeace to our nation.” The older man drew strongly on his Kretek, buthe really preferred smoking Marlborough. He unconsciously ran hishand over the gift. He knew he was being watched.A thousand meters away, the Australian SASR Officer focused his fieldglasses on the two men sipping their hot drinks and talking in thekebun [garden]. So far the mission had gone without a hitch, thefield glasses and several other devices recording everything theysaw. He had already recaptured the tiny recon UAV and was watchingthe two men in front of a small pondok, or hut, the scene seemedpeaceful and casual. Rasputin he thought, he recognised himinstantly, the scar on the side of his temple seemed to tighten. Onthe table in front of Rasputin he a metal looking object, a rod. Whatbrought Hammers attention to this was the fact that Rasputin wouldrepeatedly rest his hand on it, as if to check it was still there. Hewondered what it was, and then curiously the old man looked his way,almost as if he could see him, but that wasn’t possible.This wasthe same man that had almost killed him many years before. The old

117 | P a g eman smiled and then stroked his beard. That was when everythingturned to shit.Lieutenant Colonel Brian Hamilton, Australian Special AirServices Regiment, remembered the words straight away. “Whatever youdo, do NOT get into a fire fight with the Indonesians or the LaskarJundullah.”The words were still rolling through his head when thefirst bullet smacked into the tree behind him. Shit! “So much forafternoon tea!’ He said quietly between his teeth as green foliageexploded across the small space that separated himself and WO1Fulham, high velocity rounds cutting through the jungle around them.Fulham could only look at his boss in surprise.Why was hetalking so quietly?The friggen machine guns were making enoughnoise to hide a dance party.Hamilton crouched low, his heavily camouflaged face showing noemotion. They had been betrayed; the Laskar Jundullah knew they werecoming and what to look for. Someone at home had talked out ofschool.Gary Fulham wasn’t thinking anything like that; he was morealarmed by the fact the boss didn’t look like moving, he seemed deepin thought. But like all of his team, he trusted him. He bit back thefear, this was hardly the first time and besides, he knew Hammerdidn’t like getting shot at.“What have we got?” Hamilton asked suddenly.Fulham queried the perimeter sensors they had set up earlier.“Looks like thirty plus moving up the hill line abreast.” The Coloneljust nodded calmly, bullets still sprayed through the air at random.The Laskar Jundullah fighters were getting closer. He then picked upthe Minimi and pointed to the glasses he had put on. Fulham noddedand lay flat on the ground.They both lay perfectly still.Fulham could now hear the Laskarfighters shouting at each other, firing indiscriminately.He then

118 | P a g eheard them crashing through the undergrowth towards them.Hamiltonlay on his back, the Minimi on his chest, long belts beside him. Hewas looking through ultrasonic glasses. The Laskar Jundullah werealmost on top of them. The glasses reflected the sound and movementof close by objects into a coherent image, seeing through the heavyfoliage. As the first man was about to appear, Hamilton rolled into acrouch and squeezed the trigger of the minimi. The Laskar Jundullahfighters were in a rough but convenient line up, in fusillade.Thegun was like a scythe as it chopped through the jungle and the lineof men. The tropical paradise exploding into red green and brown asbodies were torn apart mixed with pulverised plants. In fifteenseconds it was over. The gun stopped.Hamilton looked at Fulham.“Now it’s time to go!” He said loudly, he was already off andrunning.Fulham climbed quickly to his feet grabbed his gear andfollowed, he didn’t need telling twice.The two men were exceptionally fit. While the remnants and backupto the initial Laskar Jundullah assault pursued, there was no waythey came close to the physical capability of the two Australian SASsoldiers. Very quickly, the two Australians disappeared in thejungle. After evading the Laskar Jundullah they made their way to theexfil site and waited. Hurry up and wait, the first thing you learnin the military.EXTRACTION POINT DELTA. The Aceh sun dropped on the horizon. Itbecame dark.Twenty kilometres away, the pilot of an RAAF Caribouchecked that all his lights were out again and pondered the approach.Any one of these landings could be a death trap, he looked throughhis IR goggles, he had to trust the men on the ground.Through thegoggles he picked up the infrared beacons.The LZ was well marked.Whoever he was picking up had taken time out to add some outsideinfrared markers to give him better depth perception.Nice touch.

119 | P a g eHe felt a little better. He pulled back on the throttle levers,dropped the flaps and gear and pushed the yoke forwards. The entiretrailing edge of the Caribou’s wing was part of the flap system. Withthese fully extended; there was only one way to get the bird on theground, point the nose down hard. The pilot came in tight over thetrees and dove for the ground. As soon as the main gear touched thetwo mighty Pratt & Whitney R2000’s roared as the props went into fullreverse pitch, the nose of the twin-engine transport bouncing hard asthe pilot experimented with the brakes. They were down, good so far.Not quite stopped the pilot gunned the engines to spin the aircraftto face back the way it had landed. The rear ramp was already downbefore the aircraft had finished the turn, two people ran up thestern. The Caribou crew all hoped they were Australians, it was hardto tell. The aircraft came back up to full throttle and with brutehorsepower its two big bore radial-engines clawed her back into thenight sky.Hamilton fell into the canvass-webbing seat; the vibration of theaircrafts big radials rattled the aluminium deck plates beneath his

120 | P a g eboots. He patted the aluminium framework and canvass webbing; it wasa good and familiar touch.The aircraft was older than him, heremembered as an officer cadet in his first few weeks of trainingclimbing into these things. They were old then, but they always smeltgreat, the smell of excitement going into a mission and the samesmell getting out with your ass intact.Despite all the greattechnology developed over the years there was still nothing better tomeet that small niche requirement of distance and extreme STOL thanthe Caribou. There was a special place in his heart for this flyingmuseum piece. The RAAF had been trying to replace it for over twodecades, he knew this was the last one flying, kept asidespecifically for special operations.There just wasn’t anything outthere that could beat it, especially not today.Bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqq could hear the sound of theaircrafts radial engines retreat in the distance. The Australians hadescaped. Tomorrow he would move his operation back to his main campin Aceh away from any possible interference from the Australians. Hewould send the young man Usman El Muhammady in advance to make readyhis own arrival.

121 | P a g eOperation Tripod Friday, May 8. 2018CANBERRA, AUSTRALIA. The Intelligence report as a result of Hamiltonand Fulham’s efforts took less than twenty-four hours to get throughDefence and onto the Ministers desk. It was part of a growinganalysis that was ringing alarm bells through the newly formedgovernment of Dennis Gordon and would generate a new task orderdesignated TRIPOD.It was in the wee small hours of the morning and the AustralianDefence Minister, Brian Reid and the Prime Minister Dennis Gordonwere meeting to discuss the Indonesian problem. Again, Reid thought.Reid had placed his personal notebook on the desk to project onto theelectronic whiteboard in his office. Sitting on a black leather couchnext to the PM’s chair he used a small remote control to navigatethrough the briefing provided by his department as they talkedthrough the problem.“The current situation has roots that go a long way back. Whenthe Tsunami struck Aceh in 2004 there were some 35,000 orphans leftbehind.We believe at least 20,000 of those ended up in hard lineIslamic schools”“Pesantren’s.” The Prime Minister said. The video showed someof the pupils of the Islamic schools training, and it wasn’t forsports.“Yes and that all began ten years ago.” He flicked to the nextslide.“That’s him.”“Who?”“Bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqq, the chief of the radicalIslamic Defenders Front, the FPI for short. Better known for smashingup bars and nightclubs in Jakarta and elsewhere deemed to be un-Islamic. They have teamed up with Darul Islam, Jamaah Islamiyah, and

122 | P a g ehis resurrected group called Laskar Jundullah, or Army of Allah.Between them they now have well over 20,000 dedicated and welltrainedJihadi’s. Not to mention what they have and can pull out ofthe main population of nearly 200 million Muslims.” Australia’s nextdoorneighbour is the world’s largest Muslim country.“What makes it worse is where they got their finance to helptrain and arm all those people.”“Don’t tell me.”“Yes, a portion of the billions of dollars we gave them indirect aid for the tsunami wound up with these fellows.”“They took our money and trained these people to hate us?”“In a nut shell, that’s bang on. Bin Mohammed looks like thecentrepiece; he claims direct descent from the Prophet Muhammadhimself by way of a Yemeni missionary who settled in Indonesia 13generations ago. One of this guy’s 17th century ancestors raised a9,000-strong army of holy warriors to avenge Dutch colonialatrocities in the Maluku Islands. They view westernisation as anattack on their culture. They view non-Muslims as infidels who mustbe converted, conquered or killed.“Sounds like the Christian crusades.”“Yep, except that was a few centuries ago.”“So what are we doing to follow up on this?”Reid played the excerpts of Hamilton’s foray from two daysbefore. “This is less than forty eaight hours old. The guys who tookthis were lucky to get out alive. The Laskar Jundullah were tippedoff, none of our Indonesian contacts, especially government, can berelied on. We believe the Indonesian government may have beendirectly involved in the Bali bombing and at the very least complicitin the planting of the Sari Club bomb. According to our sources,there isn’t a single Islamic group either terrorist or political that

123 | P a g eis not controlled by (Indonesian) intelligence," This means if wewant to find out what’s going on we have to do it ourselves.”“And?”“And that means more men on the ground, more often andcovertly.”“Given what you have just said, where is all this going?”“Indonesia’s been in a slide towards a more radical style ofIslam for years. Shariah law now dominates most provinces and thesecular government is hanging by a thread, itself dominated byhardline Islamists.”“Regime change?”“Regime change or evolution of the regime, one of the two willhappen. If it doesn’t happen naturally the jihadists will make sureit does forcefully. But it all amounts to the same thing; a countryof two hundred and thirty million mostly Muslims who after pretendingfor many years otherwise, will finally officially not like us.“Within twenty-four months from now Indonesia will also havesix nuclear reactors online with help from both Iran and Pakistan.”“Yes, where do the Chinese fit into all this?”“Indonesia’s the world's largest exporter of liquefied naturalgas with huge reserves of that and coal and has the sixteenth largestproven oil reserves, estimates go up with the recent discoveries inthe southern Celebes Sea.“The Chinese want the gas and oil and in return are helpingthem to rapidly expand and modernise their defence force. At the sametime the Chinese are getting access to a number of plum militarybases.

124 | P a g e“They helped the Indonesians build the big naval base in RataiBay and as part of the deal they got to use that and set up their ownoperational base at Belawan,” He pointed to the north east part ofthe Archipeligo “as well Tanjungpinang, near Singapore. From bothAcehPalau AtauroMalacca StraitTandjung Arousubases they can sortie directly into the strait with both subs andsurface ships.“Forty percent of the world’s shipping passes through thatstrait and over fifty percent of Japans oil. Aceh is staunchly Muslimand terrorists can easily disrupt shipping traffic here. UsingBelawan and Tanjungpinang the Chinese will virtually control theStrait.“However, the bases that we are really worried about, that haveimmediate impact on our security, are the naval bases on the islandof Palau Atauro and here at Tandjung Arousu.” He pointed to them onthe map. “These are respectively less than fifty kilometres from EastTimor and one fifty from our own sea border north of Darwin. The

125 | P a g eChinese have sold the TNI an unknown number of Grumble SAMs whichhave been deployed near Tandjung Arousu. The Chinese might also havedeployed a Gargoyle SAM battery as protection for their facilities,but we haven’t been able to prove that yet and hope that’s not thecase. The only system capable of defeating the Gargoyle is the F/A-22Raptor. If the TKI’s Grumble is an upgrade version, that’s a realproblem for us as well.“What about our F35’s?”The Defence Minister shook his head. “For starters we only havea handful delivered; neither it nor the Super Hornet contests thissystem. We have no jamming capability nor anti radiation missiles.Outside of the Raptor the most survivable aircraft available arethose with good TFRs – the Tornado and F-15E if fitted with theLANTIRN TFR pod – and the recently retired F-111, all requiring ahigh performance EW suite. Unless you have the radar signature of agnat, the best place to be is low and fast.“The system can detect and track us even before we leave theAustralian mainland and can cover nearly all of East Timor. It cantrack over 100 targets simultaneously. Without help from theAmericans, the Indonesians have us boxed in. But there’s more…“Not only do they now have us boxed in, they also have theability to strike us with almost complete impunity. With theacquisition two years ago of the Su-34 they have the ability to flyall the way to Alice Springs and back on their internal fuel tanks.If the Chinese were to float one of their air defence destroyers inthe Arafura Sea, they could illuminate anything coming out of Tindalor Darwin.“So what do we do about it?”“In the short term……..nothing. When we purchased the Hornetthen the F35 we reduced our capability. Now we have to live with it.The only other solution is to buy F22’s and F15’s.”

126 | P a g e“Yeah, I can see the headlines already. ‘Defence bungles itagain’. The media will tear us to pieces.“Unfortunately they would be right. But that isn’t all the badnews; we have observed an unusual amount of Chinese Naval traffictransiting through Indonesian waters into the Indian Ocean. For whatpurpose we have no idea. They also appear to be beefing up theirunits in Indonesia.”As Reid continued, Gordon tried to correlate the latest Intelwith what he knew. On top of the Defence Ministers brief, thecontents of which the Prime Minister was not entirely unaware of,there were a thousand other strands of seemingly unrelatedintelligence, which at the moment looked as transparent as a jar ofYangtze River water. Too many small pieces of information suspendedin space, most of which didn’t make sense. Continually walkingthrough it helped him to organise the chaos of information. There wasa sense of something going on, the Chinese were up to something andthe Indonesians were either active or unwitting allies. It was morethan strategic chess and the securing of trade routes and suppliersagainst U.S. and western imperialism. There was something else goingon here, a hidden purpose.“Antarctica.” The Prime Minister suddenly said.The sudden change of geography caught the Defence Minister bysurprise. “de Vivies?” Reid said anticipating the chain of thought.“Yes, that’s what I was thinking, de Vivies. Why are theChinese interested in de Vivies?”“We have no idea.” Reid shook his head. “That has us baffled.Perhaps like the Russians in the Arctic this is an attempt to imposethemselfs into the region.”“Maybe, but what does the combination of the Chinese,Antarctica, de Vivies and Indonesia mean?” Gordon said more to

127 | P a g ehimself than to Reid. “The Chinese have built bases in Indonesia andnow de Vivies, the end game being in Antarctica.”“Nothing wrong with leasing some land if it’s for the rightprice, not to mention the fact the Chinese are large trading partnersyou might want to keep happy.”“True, but it’s not so much what the frogs want, it’s what theChinese and Russians want in Antarctica that’s pushing them togreater effort. That’s what we have to find out. I have a feelingit’s a lot more than just influence.” He turned from hiscontemplation to look at Reid directly. “Why don’t you get some ofyour people to nosey around down there, maybe the Chinese andRussians know something we don’t.”“I will. While we are in the spy game we may as well get ontothem into Indonesia at the same time.”Gordon inwardly flinched. It would have been better if he knewnothing about this sort of activity, but it was too late, he hadasked too many questions and pulled himself into the loop. So be it.The Prime Minister considered the options for a moment. The politicalimplications if such an action were to become public or worse stillif the Indonesians captured or killed any of their guys would bedisastrous. The least people involved in the process the better. ThePrime Minister would take responsibility. Plausible denial wasn’t anoption as far as he was concerned.“You have read about the Sitti Hawa case?” Reid asked.The PM nodded, it had been all over the news.“As you know she recently escaped and found her way here. Shehas been very co-operative in helping us identify the LaskarJundullah leadership, confirming this cleric I showed you before, binMohammed bin wali al-Haqq, as the top knob. We have tracked him foryears, code name Rasputin. It was this sadistic son of bitch that

128 | P a g eordered her to be raped.” The Defence Minister ran through a bunch ofslides quickly before finding the one he wanted.“She also fingered the guy that planned and ran the Sydneybombing in 2010, al-Haqq’s number two. This is him, Usman ElMuhammady. We want to grab him.”“I guess its pointless asking the Indonesians to help.” Gordonasked, knowing the answer.RAAF F-111Walla-Warr220 kilometers southwest of KatherineNORTHERN TERRITORY, AUSTRALIA - 220 kilometers southwest ofKatherine. Walla-warr, that is what the local aboriginal elderscalled her; she was a particularly large Wedge-tailed Eagle. WedgetailedEagles are one of the biggest raptors in the world and thisparticular bird boasted a wing span of over nine feet. Highly aerial,

129 | P a g eshe could soar for hours on end, reaching 6000 feet or higher. Herkeen eyesight extended into the infrared and ultraviolet bandshelping her spot prey and to see rising thermals. She used the latterto gain altitude without so much as a flap of her massive wings.At exactly 1301HRS on November 11 she was killed by an F-111flying at over 600 knots just 200 feet from the ground. Flyingthrough craggy rock gorges that were part of the Delamere Air WeaponsRange in the Northern Territory, the F-111 using terrain-maskingtechniques was just switching to manual flight. On impact the frontwindshield canopy had crashed in, severing the head-up display andspraying chunks of inner laminate into the right hand seat and theman sitting in it, he was killed instantly.The F-111 airframe was A8-272 and had in fact been retiredseveral years previously. She had been kept in flying condition by aprivate organisation and had been loaned back to the air force foruse in commemorative fly bys.When the accident happened the pilot in command hadinstinctively pulled back on the stick and retarded the throttles,his gut telling him they had suffered a bird strike. The jet seemedto be flying okay but his forward visibility was zero and his headwas pinned to the backrest.As the jet slowed and the several hundred-knot windblast abatedhe was able to check his companion. His worst fear was realized; hismate was gone, replaced by a bloody pulp made up of windscreenpieces, bird and unrecognisable fleshy parts. The head was missing.He snapped his eyes back to the front and called in the emergency toATC wiping the blood from his visor.RAAF Squadron Leader Lance Hamilton couldn’t remember theflight back. He landed back at Tindal Air Base without incidencestopping centre runway surrounded by emergency vehicles. Theemergency crews leaped onto the wings to a sight most of them would

130 | P a g enever forget. Hamilton had alerted them to the situation but eventhat did not prepare them for this.The cockpit was smashed in and the interior saturated in bloodand guts. Squadron Leader Richard ‘Horde’ Alston sitting in the lefthand seat was a mess, obviously dead. Hamilton on the right wascovered in blood but alive, he flicked open his smeared helmet visorand looked at them. The rescue crew talked about that afterwards,because while the rest of him was alive, his eyes were dead. Theyhelped him from the cockpit and during the entire process he neversaid a word. Neither did anyone else, it was eerie, a deathly silencehad settled on the whole rescue procedure if you could all it that.Hamilton had sat in the back of the ambulance and let the medicscheck him over.The rescue crew watched the ambulance drive off, time seemed tostand still. All of them knew Horde and Buckshot. This was Hordeshome, most of them knew his kids, and this was a small tight knitcommunity. For a few moments they all stood still watching thevehicle disappear down the tarmac, at first no one turned around. Butthe F111 and their good friend still strapped into the right handseat wasn’t about to disappear like a bad dream. So one by one theybegan to move, the sick reality of what had happened weighing themdown and the grim task of recovering their boss and their friendchallenging their senses. The remaining ambulance waited. There wasno hurry. No one said, but the question was on all their minds;dignity, how do we do this with dignity because that is what the mandeserved.

131 | P a g eTripod Operation - The Usman El Muhammady SnatchACEH, INDONESIA. Brian had heard about the accident in transit. Therewas no way he could contact Lance to talk to him. Unfortunately itwould have to wait till he got back. He had met Horde, he was a niceguy. The accident had sounded pretty ugly and he wondered how hisbrother was taking it. He put those thoughts aside, once again he wasin deep in hostile territory where losing your focus could meanlosing your life.It had taken call sign ‘Tripod’ two days to get into position. Aftera close look at the Belawan Naval base, Tripod had travelled south tomeet up with the civilian guide for the next phase of the mission.“De ja vu?” Warrant Officer Class Two (WO2) Gary Fulham said.They were back.Lieutenant Colonel Brian Hamilton looked at Fulham, but hewasn’t smiling. Last time he was he was here he remembered being shotat. He hated being shot at.Gary echoed his thoughts. “Last time I remember being here Iwas scared shitless.” Fulham said. He paused for a while. “Hasn’tchanged, still scared.” But it didn’t show in his face.“Well it’s better than the bloody freezing cold.” After arecent trip to Antarctica, Hamilton had literally gone from oneclimatic extreme to another, from the coldest place on earth to thesteaming tropics. “If you stop being scared, you become dangerous.It’s our black dog, our companion; it’s what drives our systems toperform at peak.”“Churchill.” Fulham said.Hamilton looked at Gazza. “Yes, Churchill’s black dog. But hiswas depression.”“Knew that.”SAS training was all about understanding thephysiological process, drawing every drop of potential that lay in

132 | P a g ethe combination of mind and body. There was a lot of science in theguts of getting a tough job done.The extremist training camp they had visited weeks earlier wassituated on the outskirts of a large Desa or village. The old pondokRaputin had sat in front lay below them, occupied they hoped by UsmanEl Muhammady. The surrounding Kampung, (neighbourhood) thrived withactivity.The woman beside Hamilton looked at the scene below showing noemotion. She used to live here, a place of unspeakable evil. Herpurpose here was one of revenge, to stop the same thing happenning toothers as had happned to her. Helping the Australian’s got her closerto that objective.Hamilton understood the womans motives, she had said verylittle, but he knew of her history. Through Sitti Hawa’s contactsthey had learned Usman El Muhammady was visiting; Sitti was here tohelp guide them.“Would you remember the faces?” Hamilton asked.She looked at him in surprise. “Yes.” For the first time inyears she felt her pulse quicken to her emotions. Sitti instinctivelyknew what the Australian officer was implying.“Point them out to me.” He said to her, he then looked atFulham. “Mark them Gaz.”Fulham nodded.The SASR officer launched a miniature UAV that flew like, andwas the size of a small dragonfly. The two SAS soldiers placed theirfield goggles on to monitor the dragonfly’s cameras.Hamiltonflipped the lid of his TACTERM (Tough field laptop) so that Sitticould see the same thing. The process of scouting the village tooktwo hours.The targets were marked and Sitti was able to identifyfive of the twelve men that had gang raped her. Hamilton knew thishad nothing to do with the mission, but Sitti had been pivotal in

133 | P a g eintelligence support, if he could bring her a little peace, he would.Besides, the world would be a much better place without those crazedgang raping assholes he thought.“So how do we do this?”Hamilton sat back looking at the completed picture of all thetargets on the TACTERM. “If we hit these guys before the snatch wemight stuff it up. But if we don’t, there is a possibility some willget away.“Do it the old way?” Fulham looked at his boss.“This isn’t part of the game plan.”“I know.” Gary looked at Sitti.Hamilton nodded.It took an hour for Fulham to get in position.“This one?” Hamilton asked the girl, pointing to the screen.Sitti nodded. “Do it.” He said into his mike.Fulham acknowledged and crouched low in the undergrowth, as thetarget moved past him he stepped out quietly seizing the man’s neckin the vice of his powerful grip. The man’s legs kicked in futility.Fulham dragged him into the jungle.After a hundred meters hedropped the almost unconscious man on the ground. Gary looked at thepathetic individual who was supposedly religious but could somehowjustify rape against an innocent woman. The man’s face was crowded bya sparse and patchy beard. Clamping his hand over his mouth Fulhamwaited until the Indonesian stopped wriggling, then he knelt on hischest and placed his face close to that of his victim. The other mansbreath was fetid, Gary ignored it. “Sitti? You remember Sitti, thewoman you condemned and raped?” The Indonesian was terrified, he didremember, he could not understand the uproar over such a minorincident when news of it spread to the west. These things happenedall the time. He nodded.

134 | P a g e“Good.” Gary drew the knife from its ankle sheath and held itin front of the rapists face.He could hear and smell the man’ssphincter give way to complete fear. He placed the blade on his neckand slowly drew it across cutting deep into his throat almostsevering the head, all the while looking into his eyes.While Fulham was squaring the account, Hamilton was searchingfor Usman El Muhammady. It took the better part of thirty minutes tolocate him. He found Usman lecturing a group of Laskar fightersseated on the ground on the far side of the village.Two thingscaught his attention; the first was that all the terrorists werecarrying Type 097 assault rifles. They could only get those from theChinese. The second was Usman’s repeated reference to Tajdid, Hecouldn’t really make out the rest of what he was saying, but theTajdid thing sounded important. Scouting the perimeter it was clearthere was no way they could snatch Usman from here. They would haveto wait till dark; he would have to wait to find out what the Tajdidwas.As night fell Hamilton kept tabs on Usman. Launching anotherMAV he following him back to his quarters. There were no sentries andno guards. Obviously the Laskar Jundullah had no fear of the militaryhere. Usman didn’t reappear, the lights inside his pondok wereextinguished which meant he was probably hitting the sack. Theywaited till after midnight and then moved into the village.The Tripod team used a specialized hypodermic dart on theirtarget. Usman never even woke up. When the terrorist camp arose inthe morning they found dead bodies everywhere. The possibility ofUsman being abducted never even crossed any of their minds. Theyassumed that he too was killed, perhaps his body dragged away by wildanimals. Who did this was a mystery.

135 | P a g eOn his return from operation Tripod Brian finally caught up with hisbrother. The F111 accident had affected him more than he had thought,Lance had quit the airforce.Diagaram: Shahab 3. A later version the Shahab 6 has been developed in conjunctionwith North Korea and boasts a range of up to 6,200 kilometers with a 500-1,000kilogram warhead.Mobile missile exercise being condicted the Iranian Revolutionary Guard

136 | P a g eMahmoud Ahmadinejad, Delivering the Nuclear PromiseTHE PRESIDENCY OFFICE PASTEUR AVENUE, TEHRAN. President MahmoudAhmadinejad dropped the report on his desk. “The Venezuelen and Cubanreactors will be online within days.” He said to the other three menin the office. “Our missile tests yesterday also went well” He added.The other three men nodded. The Shahab Six missiles they tested haddropped multiple practice warheads into the Indian Ocean bang ontheir targets. Without announcing so much, the west now knew thatIran not only had nukes, but also a reliable and highly capableballistic delivery system. The nukes, as they had anticipated, hadchanged everything. Just one of these multiple re-re-entry warheadscould devastate Israel and any target within 6500 kilometres with upto a 1000 kilogram warhead. The Iranians were now able to freelysupply money and weapons to whoever they wanted, immune from attack.The Iranians could also easily prolifarate them. The west, especiallythe Americans, would now have no idea who had them; the Cubans,Venezuela? This didn’t just cripple foreign policy, it paralysedtheir security apparatus.With the help of other friendly Islamic states Ahmadinejad knewhe could now support Islamic revolutionary and martyrdom missions inthe US and other infidel states without fear. The other three men inthe office would be instrumental in helping him make that happen. Theother men were Muqtada Al-Sadr, General Yahya Rahim Safavi and HassanNasrallah. Their intent as had always been, was the destruction ofthe Zionist state, the hated Satan America and the establishment ofthe new caliphate, with Ahmadinejad as its leader. Hassan Nasrallahwould organise the revolutionary networks, Muqtada who was now in thebetter part of controlling Iraq would help him pinch off oil suppliesto the west. Safavi would supply and deliver the weapons and

137 | P a g eexpertise to their brothers on all four corners of the planet throughthe elite Revolutionary Guard.Ahmadinejad smiled again; there was a lot to smile about nowdays. Through their Muslim brothers in Indonesia and with a littlehelp from the Chinese, Iran had been able to fashion another weapon,something that would strike unseen at the very heart of theirenemies. The Chinese were desperate for oil; they had been mosthelpful. They had unwittingly provided the critical technicalexpertise that had helped Iranian scientists develop the new weapon;a weapon which if desired could kill just a few people in one shot,or thousands. There would be a lot of collateral damage in route toany intended target, but that was just an added bonus. It had been acunning plan, and better still, it was working.Mahmoud admired his own cunning. Very soon, he would be leaderof an Islamic Alliance that controlled billions of people worldwide.Countries that would have established pure Suriah law where there wasonly one belief, a global Islamic nation that controlled the world’senergy resources. His bold plan would change the face of the planet.But there was still work to be done, another year to prepare theground and the people. Shortly he would meet his Indonesian friends;Salim Emil and bin Mohammed bin wali al-Haqq.Two men that wouldhelp cement and implement the plan and bring the southern apostatenations to their knees.

138 | P a g eThe Russian Bear Trap - March 5 2018THE KREMLIN, MOSCOW – RUSSIA, Кремль, Москва – Россия. The Russianleader, President Vladimir Ivanovich Petrov, tapped the rubber end ofa yellow HB pencil on the neatly printed report that sat on his desk.Petrov was aware of the caliphate ambitions of the Iranians. Hissecurity focus however was fixated on the west, specifically theAmericans and the UK. He figured anything the Iranians did at thispoint could only be a positive in the quest to weaken them, which iswhy they had provided assistance to help the Iranians build the bombin the first place. Unlike the Americans who had become faltering,bewildered and unable to act decisively, Petrov would not hesitate tocompletely annihilate the goat herders in a first strike if theybecame annoying. While numerically similar, Russia’s nuclearcapability now exceeded that of the Americans who had failed toupgrade their systems. The Russians could destroy the Iranians beforethey could react and the Iranians knew it. Right now however therewere other larger considerations."How long have you known about this Bing Qing operation?"Petrov asked. The Chinese term 'Bing Qing' meant 'ice clear' inEnglish.Colonel General, Sergey Nikolayevich Lebedev, Director ofAgentstvo Voyennykh Novostey, Russia's Foreign Intelligence Service,looked around at the opulence of the President's office.Itcontrasted strongly to his own, which was Spartan but functional. "Iwas approached by the director of the Guoanbu personally a few monthsago." Guoanbu was the Chinese intelligence arm. "Initially we didn't

139 | P a g eknow what to think, so it wasn't so much keeping it under wraps butwaiting and watching.So we put Durnovo in charge of the project …to see what substance existed." He paused, fishing through hispockets for his cigarettes. "You mind?" he asked."No, go ahead," the President said, waiting patiently while theother man lit up. The two men went back a long way. Lebedev hadworked for Petrov when the President held the position of Director ofIntelligence under Putin. They worked well together. "And you agreewith Durnovo's findings?" The President finally asked."Absolutely, we have crosschecked the data many times. It's allvery real. This is why we committed to the first part of theoperation." He was referring to the air force base they wereconstructing on land recently leased from the Argentineans at Grandede Tierra del Fuego, paid for with Russian oil. Lebedev continued."The Chinese seem to be living up to their part of the deal. We nowhave to make sure we look after our end of the bargain." He looked atthe President.Petrov sat quietly. He had spent most of the morning readingthe report and conferring on the phone with his Chiefs of Staff. Hehad personally rung Professor Durnovo. Old habits died hard. He hadalready made a decision. He looked at his watch. "I have convenedanother meeting with the Chiefs of Staff in two hours. We havealready talked." Lebedev didn't look surprised."A preliminary operational plan based on your report hasalready been drafted," Petrov said.Lebedev smiled. "Excellent.""But it means we have to ready our Pacific Fleet, and you haveto have your forces in position as soon as possible.When will theGeorgia Aviatsion'nyi Baza be ready by?""June."

140 | P a g e"Good, and the Chinese will have the Martin De Vivies baseoperational by then as well?""Da.""Then your plan calls for us to move into phase two?" thePresident asked, tapping the report again.Lebedev nodded. "Yes, now it becomes interesting.""The Americans, do they have any idea at all?""Nyet. It appears not"Were they ever going to get a surprise Petrov thought?Finnmust have had them all sleeping at the wheel and now they had aleadership crisis to manage. Too bad for them, that lapse would costthem dearly. After this, the USA would be a spent power, third inline if lucky after China and Russia.

141 | P a g eThe Hamilton Hit. Станция Востока, АнтарктидаVOSTOK STATION, ANTARCTICA. Hong Liu, now a senior officer in thePRC’s Ministry for State Security, scraped his boots on the threshhold leading into a Russian mobile. It was the office of ProfessorNelomai Ostaf'ev syn Olfer'eva Durnovo, head of the Russian Vostokscience and drilling team.“It’s the Australian again.”Hong already knew. He had seen him. “Hamilton.”“Yes. I thought you were going to do something about him?”Durnovo, so close to the prize after so many years of painstakingeffort labouring under choking security conditions, wasunderstandably nervous. “We are that close.” He held his thumb andforefinger together to illustrate the point; it reminded Hong ofMaxwell Smart. Durnovo continued, “I think he suspects something.”“So do I, but I don’t think he has any idea what ‘IT’ is.” Hongreplied.“I don’t think we can take the risk. The question is; are yougoing to do something about it, or should I ask my people.”“I will handle it.” Hong said. If he had taken offence hedidn’t show it. “Personally.” He looked the Professor in the eyes.Durnovo looked away. Hongs dark emotionless eyes were every bitthose of a killer. He didn’t ask Hong how he would ‘handle it’.As Hong left the office he looked back at the professor behindhis desk. He even looks a little like Maxwell Smart he thought. Hewalked back to the Chinese camp. The next flight out was still a fewdays away. There were more flights than usual, ostensibly Chinese andRussian supplies to support the drilling operation. This was mostlytrue, but there was more than just food and drilling equipment on theaircraft. He would fly via Martin de Vivies to Indonesia and thenback to Perth, Australia. It was time to pay the prying Australian a

142 | P a g evisit. His solution to the problem was crude. But in the past he hadfound the method effective and permanent. The Russians had beenknocking off journalists and anyone else that asked too manyquestions for years. It seemed to work for them as well, why fixsomething that works?

143 | P a g eThe Amanab EmergencyPORT MORESBY, PAPUA NEW GUINEA. Natasha Braithwaite drew in a deepbreath and adjusted her dress. No cameras hung from her neck and theever ready note book and recorder no longer evident, her days as ajournalist were over. The experience however had served her well. Shewas now a popular figure in the Australian Human Rights Party. Thepress liked her and not just because she used to be one of them. Shewas slim and featured large well-rounded breasts that seemed to defygravity. She was natural camera fodder. But that popularity wasn’tthe reason she was selected to lead the Papua New Guinea (PNG) SenateInvestigations Committee. Senator Braithwaite was also particularlysmart, often devouring others with a sharp intellect while theybecame lost and shipwrecked in the depths of her cleavage. InBraithwaite, the marriage of beauty and brains made for a greatpolitician. It was the smarts that landed her the job of leading aSenate Enquiry team to PNG.

144 | P a g ePapua New Guinea, situated less than one hundred and twentyfive miles north of Australia, was roughly the size of California andpopulated by more than six million people. The country existed as astrange mixture of modern costal towns and remote tribal villages ledby a government that had become a hive of corruption. The result wasanarchy.Tribal fighting was common, strongly fuelled by somethingcalled 'raskolism' another term for gang-based crime and the reasonfor Colonel Brian Hamilton being in PNG. The guy he had snatched inAceh, Usman El Muhammady, had come up with some interesting names anddates, one of them being Trevor Somare. Somare was nothing less thana bandit, but what was interesting was whether the TNI were feedingweapons to him and why.While Hamilton searched in the heavy jungle of the Papua NewGuinea highlands, the subject of his and Braithwaite's attention wasmuch further west.The Raskol's self-elected leader took a long pull from the SPLager can. It was warm. But he and his men had got used to that.It was midday at the edge of Amanab, a small Wahgi village just eastof the 475 mile border between PNG and Indonesia's Irian JayaProvince.Most of his men were avoiding the heat, seeking shelter on theshady side of an old whitewashed church, but they could do little toescape the steaming humidity. His meeting with the Kopassus unit ofthe Indonesian military (Angkatan Bersenjata Republik Indonesia orABRI, reverted back from the TNI in 2010) on the border had gonewell. Now, instead of being armed with machetes and shotguns, hismen, after quick instructions from the Indonesian Special Forces,were equipped with the latest Russian assault rifles. They wereclearly itching to use their new toys.The local Wahgi villagers had been rounded up and forced intothe church. Their neat little village that was decorated with

145 | P a g eflowered paths was now a convenient garden bar for his men. TheRaskols were mostly made up of Huli Wigmen from the SouthernHighlands - tribesman with a reputation as some of the fiercestfighters in Papua New Guinea. They were now getting drunk, shoutingand sweeping the surrounding area with the barrels of their weapons.After urinating heavily, carelessly splashing his boots andtrousers, he sauntered drunkenly down towards the church, his shirtopen and belly bulging over his military styled trousers.Hedisappeared through the front door of the building bumping past thetwo guards he had posted.He emerged amid yells and screamsclutching a terrified boy, no more than 10, who struggled to get freefrom his tight grip. The Raskol's commander threw the boy into thecenter of the circle of men that had gathered."Run!" he yelled.The small child stood petrified"I said RUN!" he screamed, stumbling as he pulled a sidearmfrom his holster. He shot at the child's feet. "Run, RUN, RUN!"The boy stumbled backwards; his eyes glued to the gun, and thenstood still, his small body wracked by shakes.The Raskol'sCommander was becoming frustrated."Give me!" he yelled to one of his men, holding out an arm. TheRaskol reluctantly handed his new rifle to the Commander. It was a5.56mm AK-104, a modernized export version of the Russian AK-74. TheCommander, swaying a little, fumbled with the mechanism. Finallycocking it, he aimed it at the boy. The weapon jumped in his hands,most of the rounds missed, but one struck the boy in the thighspinning him around and another exploded into the back of his skullspraying blood and gristle over the ground. For a moment no one saidanything. Then the Raskol's leader smiled and laughed loudly. Hewhooped and held the rifle high.They all cheered. The Raskol's

146 | P a g eleader, Trevor Somare, looked back to the Church, there was more funto be had back there. They would save the women to last.Somare was little different than the men he led, just meanerand smarter. He was devoid of feeling other than the satisfaction ofhis own desires.Trying to organize the anarchy of the Raskols, asannoying as it was, got him closer to where he wanted to go - moneyand power, the same as most politicians.After he and his men had finished with the women and left thevillage, they hiked for many miles, eventually meeting with theirtransports.From there they headed back to the permanent basesituated in an abandoned mining camp. There, in a small hut, theRaskol's Commander spread his flowing overblown body across hisfavorite chair, the front bench seat from an old Plymouth."You mean they actually bought that piece of crap?" TrevorSomare said, cracking another can."Hook, line and sinker it appears," Somare's second in commandreplied."And she is actually coming up here to meet with us?" Somareexclaimed, even more incredulous."Yes, her and three others." He held up the printout of theemail.Despite the crudity of their operation they had set up asatellite-fed network system.This was quite incredible. Trevor Somare wasn't interested inpolitics; he and his men had just found an easy way to make money --looting, killing, stealing, selling drugs, in fact any illegalbusiness they could think of that made money. Which is exactly whatthe TNI wanted them to do, create chaos.Now the Indonesians AND some very dirty PNG politicians weregiving him money to keep up the good work.It truly was wonderful,he thought. He had just thrown the political stuff in for fun. Itlooked like the foolish Australians had taken him seriously.

147 | P a g e"Fuckin A!" he laughed, a plan already forming in his head. Hewould have to talk to the Russian. The Russian would know what to doand how; if it were not for him they wouldn't have the guns. What theRussians were getting out of all this he wasn’t sure, but who caredanyway?THE AUSTRALIAN EMBASSY, PORT MORESBY, PAPUA NEW GUINEA. TheAustralian Defense Attaché was caught between listening and looking.The woman in front of him was better looking in the flesh than on TV.Combined with her good looks and intelligence, she was verydisarming.If Natasha Braithwaite was aware of her looks, she did not showit. She was characteristically straight to the point. "The questionis," she said, her hazel colored eyes fixing the Attaché's attention."Have we been getting involved in local politics here? We have it ongood authority that Australian military personnel have usedunnecessary force against the political group led by Trevor Somare."The Australian Defense attaché very nearly rolled his eyes."Can I ask who the 'authority' is?""Trevor Somare," she said. "We are here to test the validity ofthe accusation."The Attaché stifled a laugh. "We don't even know who this guyreally is Senator. From what we can gather he's nothing but a commonhoodlum. Why we would even give him any credibility I don't know."Braithwaite fumed inside. "That's what I am here to find out.We will speak to the local force commander and then Somare himself.Hopefully, we can get to the bottom of this unpleasantness as quicklyas possible."The Defense Attaché was incredulous. "Speak to Somare! Are youkidding?"

148 | P a g eThe woman's eyes didn't flinch. He pressed the issue, butdespite arguing till he was blue in the face he finally gave up. Thewoman was as stubborn as a mule. "I have to insist that at the veryleast you use our driver and an armed escort from the RPNGC," theAttaché said out of despair. She agreed to that.Less than an hour later, Braithwaite stood outside the maincompound building that housed the small contingent of Australianforces. She had tracked down the most senior officer there but wasstill not learning anything new. The Australian army major was nomore helpful than the Attaché'. In fact he showed no signs of havinga clue as to what she was talking about.The Australian major wasn’t familiar with Somare, but thewoman’s increasingly agitated voice meant she thought he was beingevasive. While she talked he couldn't help notice the woman's amplecleavage and was fascinated by the small trickles of sweat that randown her skin and the sides of her breasts. With great reluctance hedragged his eyes away before crossing the bridge to lechery.Natasha checked the personnel sheet and looked around her inannoyance. Somebody must know something. "Where's Hamilton?" shesuddenly asked. "I see according to this sheet he is the most seniorofficer here.""Who?" the Major asked, this time actually playing the dumbpart as best as he could."The Colonel!" she said loudly."Oh! Hammer" The Major said the last part quietly kickinghimself. He shrugged.Where had she heard that? "Did you say Hammer?" She asked.The Major seemed to ponder that for a moment, wondering how toanswer – perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned Hammer, she seemed torecognise that."To be honest I don't know.” He said quickly “He

149 | P a g edoesn't really tell us his schedule. He comes and goes." He suddenlybrightened. "I can leave a message if you like?"Hammer she thought. Of course, Hammer Hamilton, the guy in theairplane crash in Afghanistan, why hadn’t she put those two piecestogether before? This just made her more frustrated. "Can I order youto get him for me?"The Major laughed and then stopped; who the fuck did she thinkshe was?"No disrespect Senator, but while I may have to talk toyou, and answer your questions, there is about as much chance of youordering me around as your pet cat, no disrespect," he added again,remembering to wipe the smile off his face and thanking God he didn'tsay pussy.Braithwaite's cheeks reddened. The Major went to saysomething, suddenly feeling bad. Natasha held up her hand,embarrassed. "You don't need to apologize, Major. I do. I was outof line." Her face softened.Maybe she wasn't the uptight bitch she seemed, the Majorthought."This was a surprise visit," she conceded."Can you pleaseadvise the Colonel I will be back in two days and would like to meetwith him when I return? Could you do that?""Yes ma'am."The ma'am part was beginning to annoy her. "I will be meetingSomare first."A cloud suddenly covered the Major's face. He had been warnedabout this part.Natasha continued. "Whether we talk again depends on whatSomare has to say. There are still a lot of questions."The Major's jaw clenched. "Yes, ma'am. Before the Colonel leftma'am he asked me to give you this."

150 | P a g eShe looked up in surprise. "He knew I was coming!" She wasannoyed again. How did he know that? If he knew why didn't he wait?She didn't like being played for a fool.The Major was still talking. "Before he left he was specificabout you getting this," He held up what looked like a phone. "Normalphones are pretty useless out here, if you get into trouble, you canuse this." The Major handed her the small cell phone device. "This isa SAT phone. You can call from anywhere. There's only one button andone number it calls.""Who's that?""The Colonel ma'am." He looked at her, reading her thoughts."And don't use it to just have a chat with him. He won't talk to you.Unless you are really in trouble, leave it alone, but carry it withyou always."Natasha looked back at the major. He was very serious.Herfirst thought of course had been to ring Hamilton.Now she wouldwait, at least until she returned to Port Moresby.The following day the Senate Investigation Committee flew toDaru where they met two guides kindly provided by Somare. From therethey travelled overland by 4WD towards Sibidiro. But SenatorBraithwaite and her Investigation Committee never arrived.At the same time, several hundred miles north in the jungles of theEnge province, Lieutenant Colonel Brian William Hamilton from theAustralian Special Air Services Regiment stopped and checked his GPSreadout. His team was now just 2500 yards to the east of theirdesignated target. Hamilton, like the rest of his team, was silentlythreading his way through dense undergrowth, hoping that their briefsojourn to verify a report of bloody violence would prove false.Just moments later that hope was dashed; Hamilton had stopped in midstride. They were still several hundred yards from the village when

151 | P a g ethe smell hit him. Hamilton's small team all recognized it. As theymoved forwards, the distinctive odour of burnt flesh, blood, anddecomposition became almost unbearable.Without being told, severalof them separated to secure the perimeter while Brian and SergeantGary Fulham entered the town.The small village was littered with fly blown corpses. Thebodies looking like life size raggedy dolls discarded by a spoiledgiant, many of them horribly twisted, torn and mutilated - men,women, children…even babies.From the state of the Wahgi villagewomen, it was obvious they had been brutally abused. There must havebeen over sixty dead in the immediate area.There was dried bloodeverywhere. It was unspeakable horror.Even the battle hardenedSpecial Forces troops were shocked to their core."Tribal?" Fulham asked."Nope," Hamilton replied. He looked at the beer cans and otherrubbish littered among the bodies. "Raskols," he said. There was asudden flash of gold amongst the rubbish. The Colonel squatted andpicked up some brass shell cases. "Looks like our Indonesian friendshave given them some new toys as well." He placed the two shellcasings in his upper left pocket and turned to his imagingspecialist. "Pat, get Tony to take some pictures and call it in willyou." The other soldier nodded. As Hamilton spoke those words a radiomessage crackled through his small earpiece."Sierra One, this is Sierra Bravo copy over?"Sierra One was Hamilton. "Sierra Bravo this is Sierra One, readyou loud and clear," Hamilton replied."Sierra One HOTSIT, Papa India Alpha is missing." A HOTSIT wasa hot situation message. They had given the young Green Senator thecall sign of PIA - pain in the ass.Brian swore under his breath. Damn that woman. "Sierra Bravo,roger that." He gave a hand signal to the others as he replied to

152 | P a g eSierra One, the lead chopper. "Exfil on my smoke now," he said. Theywould have to leave the clean up and investigation to someone elsefor the moment. He flipped the smoke grenade into the middle of thevillage clearing.Somehow the choppers would have to land betweenthe bodies."Roger Sierra One, exfil now on your smoke, Sierra Bravo out."The chopper pilot replied, rolling in for the pickup.Minutes later the Colonel watched the village disappear beneaththe chopper's belly followed by an endless sea of blurred greenjungle as they sped south. Somewhere along the line it had allstopped being fun. No, that was a bad word--these things were neverfunny.But there had been excitement. He couldn't quite put hisfinger on the exact moment. But somewhere, sometime, that excitementand the thrill of adventure had bled away from all the things thatused to drive him. Maybe it was just age. At 42 it was probably timeto retire and leave this stuff to younger blood.The SASR Colonelshook his head to clear it and focused on the job at hand. The twoold Hueys which should have stopped flying years ago vibratedfaithfully through the hot tropic afternoon. He should have beensitting in a C130 heading to Cairns contemplating a cold beer. Thatarrogant woman Braithwaite had now got herself kidnapped, and thevery men she seemed to loathe so much, had to risk their lives tosave her.His mind wandered for a moment. It was a long time ago, hestill remembered it like yesterday, the desert, the red sand andinescapable heat – the back of Burke. An endless flat landscapecovered by shimmering heat waves. But there was life there and forsuch a long time he had been part of it.

153 | P a g e100 Miles West of Burke, 32 Years PreviouslyBURKE, AUSTRALIA. The young boy was confused.His left arm wasbleeding badly and his right hand had been punctured through inseveral places. Afraid to death, he had stood his ground, trying tomake sense of what was happening. The dingo bitch was all teeth andsaliva, blood dripping from her mouth, his blood.The boy at just ten was no heavier than the Dingo. But thenative Australian Dingo had more teeth. Three times the bitch hadrushed him.Three times he had punched and kicked to keep her offhim, not making the mistake of falling to the ground.But the lossof blood was making him a little woozy. He knew she was a bitchbecause of her teats. That's what gave him the clue. As he thought ofthis he heard a rifle being cocked behind him."Stand back!" It was the strident and urgent voice of the boy’sfather. He had to kill the dog before it attacked his son again.Instead of backing away, the young boy had stood between the growlingdingo and his father's gun. The boy was covered in blood, his eyeswide with fear, but there something else, he was still thinking."Move back Dad…but slowly." The boy had said.The father looked at the son. There was rationale there. Hedidn't know what, but he did know his boy. Despite the desire to killthe animal that threatened his son, he lowered the rifle and steppedback. Brian did the same thing. The appearance of another largepredator had cooled the Dingos passion. But she stuck to her guns.As they both backed off quietly there was a small whimper fromsome undergrowth near Brian. They kept moving. Once they weretwenty yards away, the bitch rushed into the small brush, picking upa tiny pup, she looked once more at the two humans before trottingaway.

154 | P a g e"I knew it," the boy said, "she had a pup!" He yelled indelight, his hunch correct.George Hamilton looked at his son. It was like the boy had wona prize. Despite his wounds, some of which looked quite severe, thekid was smiling, almost laughing. George Hamilton picked the boy upin his arms. There was going to be hell to pay back at the house."She's a good mum." He said simply, watching as the Dingo bitch slidinto the swimming haze.Brian remembered his father's strong arms. He was a big strongman. He would also never forget the day his father died. He had feltthe last breath rushing from his lungs. Right then, he had never feltso hopeless. Miles from anywhere, he and his younger brother hadburied their father. Life had never seemed so unfair. Lance had beenstoic; he was a tough son of a bitch. Their father hadn't pushed himto be that way, he just was. Lance was so young; he barely had thehonour of knowing the man. The memory was never far away, neithermany others which quickly followed. Brian tried to switch them off.SAS Sergeant Gary Fulham watched his CO give the jungle the10,000-yard stare. There must be a lot of memories in that head, hethought. Some pretty bloody bad ones too. Gary's wife had describedthe boss as having rugged good looks; he was just shy of six foot,and even in his forties, was a match for any of his SF team. The mancould walk faster, further and carry more weight than any of them,and still operate and make decisions. He carried no fat; the poorbastard, Gary knew Hamilton never had a chance to accumulate any. Hewas broad shouldered, muscular with sandy coloured hair.He wasunique. As far as Fulham was concerned, if Australia wanted a secretweapon, Hamilton was it. He watched his boss snap out of his thoughtsand begin to carefully check his gear.The field kit Hamilton was checking was a combination oftraditional soldiering with the latest technology that was a seamless

155 | P a g eand integral part of their combat dress. Hamilton was using aTactical Terminal (TACTERM), a portable Battlefield IntelligenceSystem designed to help plan and execute the mission. Put simply, itwas a real tough, thin laptop specially designed for field operationsand was plugged via satellite into an international battlefieldnetwork called the GIG. The Global Information Grid was an Alliednetwork, a super turbo version of the Internet that linked almostevery allied unit in the world into one big information system.Hamilton looked up from the TACTERM. "Gary, you got the TAI?"Meaning the Target of Interest."Right here!" Fulham unfolded the map."What about the T&G on the Senator?" the Colonel asked,examining the map. He was talking about the tracking and guidancedevice they had given Braithwaite."On your screen."The Colonel referred back to his portable terminal screen. Thereadout provided GPS data on the tracker device embedded in themobile phone they had provided Braithwaite.While the screen wasgreat, the good old-fashioned paper map was bigger and easier toread.Once Hamilton had the location isolated on the monitor, hepoured over the map.Hamilton wasn't happy going into a rushedunplanned mission. That was exactly how you got killed. But afterwhat he had seen in the village, he knew time was of the essence.These Raskols were unpredictable, undisciplined and uncontrolled,which made them very dangerous. They took innocent life just for thefun of it. And although the Special Forces officer knew his team hadsuperior training, eight guns against eighty were lousy odds.As Hamilton and his team flew over the jungle towards the rebel camp,Somare was scrutinizing his new guests.They were all bound andgagged. The three men had begged and pleaded, one was crying. They

156 | P a g ehad become really annoying. He looked at the woman, her face and eyeshad been defiant to the last moment as they had tied and blindfoldedher. He had pulled her jeans off to expose beautiful white legs anddainty under pants. Her breasts were magnificent he thought. He hadfondled them, her nipples hardened by fear.They were as firm asthey looked. He felt himself stiffen as he remembered the feeling ofher ass in his hands and running his fingers down the muscledstomach, then beneath the lace panties and between her legs. That wasgood. He had to force his mind to return to the question in hand,dragging his eyes away from the top of her thighs and panties."How much?" he asked the only other white man in the room thatwasn't tied up.The Russian Spetznaz (SPETSialnoje NAZnachenie) officer MikolaiNabialok, shrugged. "Two million at least; ask too much and it getsharder for the government to hide the transaction.Remember theydon't negotiate with terrorists."Good point, Somare thought."Also," Nabialok added, "Keep them in the open." He pointedskywards. "Satellites, so they can be seen."That was good advice too. The Russian, Somare had learned, wasboth smart and ruthless.He had seen what the man was capable ofwith the small boys and girls of the village, pointless cruelty thatexceeded his own. The Russian was impressive and very dangerous.Somare ordered the Australians to be dragged out to his personalfire. The woman's breasts danced tantalizingly beneath the thin whitecotton. Despite her defiant attitude, her body shook with fear. Heliked that, quickly becoming aroused again. He desperately wanted tobe between her legs.The two choppers with the SF team had taken a wide berth of thetarget, travelling 7000 yards south before turning into the selected

157 | P a g elanding zone. The pilot of the first Huey came in low over the treespulling the collective up hard in his left hand to arrest the rapiddescent. The chopper flared to a stop, just feet from the ground.The troops were out of the Huey in seconds. The pilot then twistedthe throttle to the stops, pushed the cyclic forward pitching theHuey on its nose, after a few feet of allowing energy to build in the48-foot rotors, he pulled back on the collective again, climbing hardand expertly skimming the tree line before turning south, the oldgas-turbine spinning the big blades to produce the wop-wop-wop soundso many infantry soldiers loved and feared at the same time.It took several hours for the SF team to cover the seven milesback to the target. After closing to 1,000 yards, Hamilton stoppedand checked his TACTERM.The real-time satellite image displayed ahazy outline of the encampment. The tracking signal was coming fromone of the huts. That didn't necessarily mean Hamilton thought thatBraithwaite was there, someone else would probably have the phone,but she might be close by.Downwind of their target, they could listen, watch and wait.After nearly three hours of silent vigilance, they were rewarded.Out of the same hut from where they had located the signal,Braithwaite emerged, bound and gagged with three others. The visualsfrom the team's helmet-mounted systems were immediately relayed to anorbiting satellite and into the GIG, the allied Global InformationGrid. Back in Canberra, the Crises Action Team was watching the dramaunfold in real time.The Raskols had several bonfires burning brightly; a group ofnative women were hanging around two trucks that had arrived withwhat looked like critical supplies - more beer. Good, boozed up theywere easier to take on. But on the downside they would also be moreunpredictable and could take out the hostages at any time.After athorough reconnaissance of the perimeter security, the Colonel

158 | P a g erepositioned the team around the target and then re-examined thescene through high-powered digital glasses. The Raskol boys werereally beginning to whoop it up. The four hostages sat beside one ofthe bonfires looking scared shitless. One of the men was gropingBraithwaite's breasts. That must be Somare, Hamilton thought. Justthen another man emerged from the hut. He was white."Who the fuck is that?" Fulham whispered."Don't know." Hamilton didn't like surprises either. This guydidn't belong to the piece of the puzzle. "Setup the directionalmikes and video," he whispered.After a few minutes they had a pretty good feed from thehostage group. They listened in. Somare and the white guy weretalking."Russian," Hamilton said. "Sounds like he organized the trade."They kept listening. What they heard as the two men boasted oftheir village exploits made them sick. The Australians waitedimpatiently till it was dark."Ready?" Gary Fulham asked. Hamilton nodded the affirmative.Fulham pulled a small capsule from his breast pocket while Hamiltonplugged a control stick onto the side of his TACTERM. The capsule wasless than two inches long."Ready!" Hamilton said.Fulham opened the small canister and exactly like the insect itparodied, the Dragonfly Micro Unmanned Aerial Vehicle escaped anddarted off, the small beat of its fast moving wings inaudible. It wasan advanced version of the Dragonfly they had used in previousmissions. This version was much smaller and had no power of its own.Instead it drew its power from microwave energy. A multi-directionalantenna on Hamilton’s TACTERM tracked the vehicle and provided amicrowave beam to provide energy to the Dragonfly. The MUAV receivedit, rectified it and then used that energy to power the motor. In

159 | P a g emoments it was in position. A small, graphite canister weighing nomore than a piece of paper provided all the sensors; video camera,radiation sensors, chemical sensors, GPS and communication relay. TheDragonfly’s own body could also be used as an antenna."Beautiful," Brian said. The infrared eye of the Dragonflyhovering above the camp clearly showed the positions of each andevery Raskol in and around the camp. "Designating," He added, movingthe cross hairs over tightly knotted groups of bodies, pressing a keyto designate each target and its priority. Once he was completed helooked back to Fulham. "Get the mortar set up and as soon as the lastround leaves the tube we move in." He signalled the Kiwi, thenickname of a New Zealand trooper, by holding three fingers up,pointing and patting the top of his head. The Kiwi nodded, he carriedthe rotary minimi which was capable of firing over a thousand roundsper minute. He would lay down the covering fire from the flank.Fulham quickly assembled the mortar. The Hirtenberger 60mmcarried a rotary self-loader on top of the barrel that took sixrounds.The rounds were laser-guided and extended a broad set offins after leaving the tube. This enabled the projectile to steer andextended its range."Claymores?" Hamilton said into his mike. There was a doubleclick in reply. Hamilton then transferred the imagery and control ofthe UAV to the display module in his helmet visor.He folded thewafer thin TACTERM and slid it into a side pocket on his pack.Hegave the thumbs up to Fulham.Fulham pressed the trigger. There was the familiar, but quietplop of the first mortar as it ejected from the tube, rapidlyfollowed by five others.The Hirtenberger was folded and packedbefore the first round fell on target.The UAV monitoring the camprelayed the overhead imagery to everyone's helmet visors. They couldalternately switch it on and off using it for reference.The visor

160 | P a g edisplays erupted in bright flashes as the mortars struck, mostexploding a few meters in the air, spraying a deadly jet of dartstowards the ground below.The detonation over the top of thehostages was a stun round. It made a very distinctive thump as itexploded. This was the signal to move in.Hamilton and Fulham were up and running low, the infraredhelmet visors turning night into day. A body suddenly appeared infront of them, raising his weapon. Fulham double tapped two bulletsinto the body and one to the head. The body flew backwards. To hisleft, Hamilton could now hear the roar of the Kiwi's minimi, pumpingthousands of red tracer lines racing through the camp.This wasjoined by streaks of white and red lights as the other SF memberstook out their targets with their Heckler & Koch G3 assault rifles.Twenty five yards to go, the Head Up Display (HUD) in Hamilton'shelmet showed some of the bodies in the hostage party moving; theywere recovering from the stun round. He killed the overhead image onhis HUD and dropped to his knees.The sight on his FN SCAR Heavyassault rifle was slaved to the helmet-targeting cue displayed in hisvisor.Red colored cross hairs framed whatever the rifle waspointing at. He rapidly moved the weapon across each target. Some,recovering from the stun shot were reaching for their weapons. If nothostages, they took three rounds each, two shots to the body and oneto the head the heavy 7.62mm rounds tearing big holes and throwingthem backwards. With the images of the village slaughter still freshin his mind, he killed without remorse. There was rapid firing rightacross the mine pit. Some of the Raskols tried to escape into thebush.But each firing team, via infrared imagery from the hoveringDragonfly, was quickly able to identify, track and kill them.It took just two minutes; the entire campsite was suddenlydeathly silent.The only figures standing were friendly blue incolor. The overhead imagery showed no movement, apart from their own

161 | P a g eand the hostages. There was the odd bone jarring shot as the SFtroops applied first aid to any injured raskols. Again it was quiet.The Colonel, turning his back to the carnage, called in a report. Hedidn't see the lone surviving Raskol reach for his weapon.Neitherdid anyone else. The young man slowly pulled the weapon to his chestas he lay on the ground, quietly checking the rifle; it was cocked.The Raskol correctly identified the attacker's leader from the way hetalked and gave orders; he would kill him at least. He took severalslow breaths and then exploded from the ground bringing the weapon tobear. Hamilton was talking and didn't notice the movement till toolate.Fulham caught the motion in the corner of his eye, the Colonelwas in the way; it would be close. Fulham, without waiting, firedjust beneath Hamilton’s chin. The Colonel felt the burn of the muzzleflash on his neck and the shockwave of the bullet as it blew past himand onto its target. Fulham's round entered the Raskol's right eyeand removed the back of his head; he never got to complete thetrigger pull.That was close. The Colonel flipped the lid of his visor openand looked at Fulham with a surprised expression, his neck stillstinging, he looked at the dead Raskol and then Fulham. "Is therereally any need for that Gaz?" he said, a slight smile creasing hiscamouflaged features. "Can you keep the noise down for god’s sakes;I'm trying to get a call through here!"Fulham shook his head, all the while scanning the surroundingarea. Fulham was the Colonel's bodyguard. It was his job to keep theboss alive while he focused on command and control. It was a job heenjoyed and did well. The Colonel was already legend several timesover, time and again turning disasters into success.There was notone man among them that wouldn't have followed him to hell and back

162 | P a g eif he asked. Hamilton always brought everyone back. If anythinghappened to the boss, Fulham knew he wouldn't be going home either.The three hostages were sitting up now and some of the trooperswere trying to steady them.Hamilton was talking into hismouthpiece. "What's your current loc stat over?""Inbound Sierra One, south east two clicks.""Roger that Sierra. All hostages ready for exfil, plus threeready on my pointer.”"Sierra One, pointer located, fifty seconds.""Roger that Sierra Bravo." The Colonel, Brian Hamilton, couldsee the familiar shape of the Huey as it crested the tree lined ridgein front of him. "Sierra One now has you visual.""Rog."Brian turned to Fulham. "What about the Russian?" he asked."Hasn't been seen, looks like he bugged out early."That got Brian thinking. "Somare?"Fulham rolled one of the bodies over with his boot. "This him?"There was a neat little hole in the centre of his forehead."Yep,” Brian said, “that’s him; make sure we take pictures ofall of them." This was done pretty easily.Whatever they werelooking at was being recorded and relayed to ADFHQ in Canberra forlater analysis."Secure?" Hamilton asked over the SF network.He got rapidconfirmations. "OK, untie them," he said to one of the troopers thathad moved in, he pulled his helmet off enjoying the fresh air.Quickly the four hostages were untied and helped to their feet.Natasha Braithwaite shrugged off the help, stood by herself andlooked coolly towards the Colonel, their eyes locked.The blue eyes she remembered so well stared back at her coldand detached just like in Afghanistan. She tried to hide from themthe uncontrollable shakes that wracked her body. During those

163 | P a g efrightening last moments of the ordeal, when there were explosions,gunfire and screams, she was sure she was going to die. It was afterthat she had heard his voice. Now she looked into the eyes of the manthat she had once thought dead and who had come to save her, the eyeswere piercing and unemotional.She then looked around her; all shecould see was carnage. Had it been necessary to kill every one? Shewondered now just how many people this man had killed.The returning choppers flared in the darkness. The hostageswere rapidly loaded followed by the SF team.It was starting torain, time to go. It would take several days before anyone visitedthe mining site. No one would miss these people. Indeed, if it hadnot been for Braithwaite's complaint to the Senate, it would all havebeen forgotten.The ever faithful UH-1 Iroquois, known as the ‘Huey’. First flew in October 1956.

164 | P a g eThe Perth Hamilton HitPERTH, WESTERN AUSTRALIA. It had taken Hong the better part of fivedays to make the trip, jumping from one military flight to anotherbefore catching a commercial flight out of Jakarta. Once in Perth hegathered his team together and prepared the mission. This took almosttwo weeks and included training exercises in the desert to rehearseas best they could. When he thought they were ready he set in motionthe timetable. Finally the surveillance team told him what he wantedto hear. The target was in his apartment, there was little activityin the area and the sun would be behind them. It was time to move.Hamilton eased back into the comfort of the large sofa thatdominated the small lounge of his Perth apartment. He used the unitwhenever he was working out of the Campbell Barracks in Swanbourne.He had been ordered to take a few days off. Not enough time to gofar, but enough to put his feet up and maybe relax a little.He had not seen or heard from the Senator or her companionssince he had rescued them.But obviously they had been busy. Thedocument he was reading was an official reprimand for excessive useof force in Papua. The Senate Committee had reviewed the combatfootage from the SF helmet and UAV cameras. They probably never evenlooked at the massacre in the Whagi village and instead were scathingin their criticism of how the crisis was handled and whether therewas any justification in the killing of the Raskols. Looking from hissmall apartment over the Swan River in Perth it all seemed far awayand remote.He picked up the other letter, a crisp fresh A4 sheet that laynext to a freshly stamped envelope. This was one he had written. Itwas his resignation; it looked like both he and his brother would beout of the service. He sipped his scotch. Bitch, he thought, hewasn’t normally prone to those feelings but he felt horribly

165 | P a g ebetrayed. Time to move on, he pulled out the RosenBridge contractfrom under a pile of papers. He had been sitting on this for sometime and had already worked for them in the past. The RosenBridgeFoundation had been an ideal cover for his previous visits to VostokStation on request from DoD. The RosenBridge Foundation was made upof a group of scientists researching magnetic anomalies and the like;they contracted him routinely to investigate the Vostok anomaly, anauthorised activity that was also in the interest of the government.His gut had been telling him for some time there was something goingon between the Russki’s and Chinese at the station. It was publicknowledge that the research team with their new rig had drilled downto the lake and were meters away from melt water. For the scientist’sthat was all very exciting. But he had sensed something else, some ofthe characters he ran into didn’t give him the vibes he had expectedand he was sure they were either military or Intelligence types. Whywould they be down there? What made the drill program a securitymatter? He would have to dig a little deeper this time.It had only been a few months since his last trip, butRosenBridge wanted him back there again. Maybe another trip toAntarctica would help keep him busy and not so pissed off. At leastit wasn't dangerous.He looked at the phone. Should he call Lance? For some reasonhe felt ashamed, Lance at least had a good reason. Logically he knewhe had nothing to be ashamed of. But Lance was his younger brother.He didn't want to disappoint him. He bent to pick up the phone butwas stopped half way through the motion; there was a crash and thescotch glass on the table in front of him exploded in his face.Hamilton rolled instinctively, his eyes stinging from thescotch and his face from the pinpricks of broken glass. There weretwo more thuds as high velocity rounds punched through the ranchsliders.Brian scrambled as even more rounds came through the wall

166 | P a g eand smacked into the floor. Thermals! Someone was shooting at himwith a thermal sight; they could see and shoot him through the wall!More rounds, big calibre, ploughed through the brick facing like itwasn't even there, the mortar, brick and dust exploding through theapartment. Christ, the rounds kept coming.Whoever the attackerswere - he assumed more than one - they were not going to give up tillthey got him.From a rooftop behind Hamilton’s building, Hong Liu examinedthe apartment through highly specialised infrared gun sights. Withthe Bing Qing operation so close to completion, like Durnovo hewanted to remove any risk of exposure. The chances were Hamilton knewnothing, but it was a chance Hong wasn’t going to take, not with thestakes so high. He jerked his head with irritation motioning hissmall team to keep firing. Shouldering his own weapon, a KSVK 12.7mmanti-materiel sniper rifle, the Station Chief for the Second Bureauof the Chinese Ministry for State Security took aim again and fired.They had just minutes before they had to move, but in that time hewas willing to destroy the entire building if that’s what it took tokill Hamilton. The KSVK was a large calibre anti-materiel sniperrifle developed in Russia for the purpose of counter sniping andpenetrating thick walls, as well as lightly armoured vehicles. Therewas nothing between himself and Hamilton, bricks or otherwise, thatwould stop the sniper rifles heavy calibre rounds.

167 | P a g eCHAPTER THREEEnemies at the Gate

168 | P a g eThe Mikoyan MiG-35 (Russian: Микоян МиГ-35, NATO reporting name "Fulcrum-F")Fulcrum Flight - Russia, the Gromov Flight Research InstituteРоссия, Научно-исследовательский институт Громова ФлайтаMOSCOW October 4 2018. The cold morning air shuddered to the noise ofbig jet engines, crackling and reverberating across the flight apronand into the airfield's medical facility. Inside, no one even lookedout the window."That should do it." The Russian Flight Surgeon pulled the lastlaces tight. The man in front of her nodded self-consciously. Sheslapped his shoulder. "It suits you," something she could not sayabout most of her customers, mostly rich fat, and out of shapeAmericans or Brits.She learned a lot from that slap. The mans torso barely moved,the shoulders hard with muscle. The Australian was in excellent shapeand seemed at home in the 'G suit'. Fortunately since Russia becameoil rich these episodes were mainly about PR and not paying the billsby sucking up to wealthy western fools. The Flight Surgeon felt a lotmore pride in her job today. If she wanted to she could tell this guyto take a hike, but she knew immediately this guy was military. Shelooked at his sheet, Hamilton was his name.

169 | P a g e“Mr Hamilton!”“Lance looked up in surprise.”“Let’s cut the pretenses, you are a pilot. Not just a pilot,but a fighter pilot.” Her English was excellent. The Russian FlightSurgeon looked at him in a scolding manner. “Don’t look surprised,you are all as obvious as hell.” She thought for a moment. “Make sureyou tell Nafaniel, the Major.” She smiled, “All you guys think youare the best, Nafaniel might teach you something.” She left the roomwithout looking back.Lance felt stripped naked and totally transparent. He looked athimself in the mirror.The Gee suit did fit, but a littleuncomfortably.The suit was laced tight, pinching a little in theback, but that didn't really matter. In a few minutes he would forgetthat as the anticipation and excitement continued to build in hisgut. Like many others before him, the Australian had been thoroughlybriefed and had just completed a physical at the Gromov FlightResearch Institute prior to taking a ride in the Mig-35 (Микоян МиГ-35), or Fulcrum F. Now he would be driven out to the waitingaircraft ready for some real fun, unaware that at the very moment hisbrothers flat was being ventilated by heavy calibre rounds and Brianwas trying to be as small as possible to avoid them. This was adevelopment of the MiG-29M/M2 and MiG-29K/KUB technology, classifiedas a 4.5 generation fighter aircraft.The Russian pilot was standing patiently on the ramp by theaircraft, and introduced himself as Major Nafaniel Logvinoch.TheAustralian shook his hand enthusiastically."Lance Hamilton," the Australian said, shaking his hand. "Ihave read much about you."The Russian smiled. "You mean the promotional brochures. Theyalways make you sound better than you are. But," he added, smiling

170 | P a g eand turning to the big airplane, "I do know how to fly these….manyhours you know."Lance Hamilton didn't doubt.Nafaniel Logvinoch was therecipient of the country's highest award, 'Hero of Russia,' and wasone of their top test pilots."Call me Nathan," the Major said."Lance, please call me Lance. Calling me mister makes me feellike I've been pulled over by the cops or done something wrong."Lance smiled.The Russian chuckled. "Yes, very polite while they write you aticket." He chuckled again and briefly nodded as he began his preflight.Hamilton stood back and watched the man's intensity andattention to detail as he walked around the big airframe.This wasno bored routine of running your hand down the leading edge andkicking the tyres before lighting the fires.The Russian pilot took a lot of time looking at the hydraulics,actuators and stress marks on the metal skin, longer than normal. Theman clearly knew and understood the mechanics of what he was lookingat; Hamilton expected nothing less from the test pilot he had seen atair shows in Avalon conducting the famous cobra-and-tail slidemovements. The highly decorated Russian Air Force Major had bookednearly 4000 hours on 45 different aircraft. This was really going tobe fun.The MiG-35D was thirty percent heavier than her predecessor featuringlarge twin tails, menacing exhaust nozzles and sweeping wings andtail plane that all screamed "fly me!" This was the dual seat version- Uchebno-Boevoi - the combat trainer featuring Otklanyayemi VektorTyagi or deflected thrust vector exhaust nozzles.The Russian Major finally finished his long walk around tailnumber 304 and motioned Hamilton to the ladder, the front ladder. The

171 | P a g eAustralian was surprised. Hamilton knew it was standard procedurethat all foreign pilots or ‘joy riders’ sit in the back, in thetrainee or WSO (Weapons Systems Officer) seat. The front cockpithosted controls and instruments only operated from the front seat.It was down right dangerous if the front seater did not understandthem.He was still pondering that as Major Logvinoch helped him strapin and began to explain the controls, flight and engine instruments.They weren't a whole lot different than those in western aircraft.The altimeter was in meters instead of feet, the air speed inkilometers per hour and the main flight instruments were reversed.In the front seat, the Major explained, Hamilton had the control ofthe ejection handle."If I say EJECT, EJECT, EJECT, this is not a subject fordiscussion Lance. I'm out first, then you."Hamilton nodded hishead, a lot of responsibility to give someone you know little about,he thought. The Russian pilot stepped across to the rear ladder andclimbed into the back seat where he began to start the left and thenright engines.After conducting instrument and flight controlchecks, methodically using his kneeboard and prompter, the RussianAir Force pilot received clearance from the tower, ran some power upon the two big engines and taxied to the active runway.Stopping on the threshold, momentarily standing on the brakes,Major Logvinoch ran the throttles forward. The engines instantlyspooled up to 100 percent before he selected the after burners,simultaneously releasing the brakes as they snapped on. The twoKlimov RD-33MK ‘Morskaya Osa’ afterburning turbofans with more than20,000 pounds thrust each gunned the MiG down the tarmac. They wereairborne in less than six seconds and 1400 feet. The wheels werebarely sucked into the airframe before Logvinoch pulled a 6G loop

172 | P a g ebottoming out over the runway at 150 feet.Staying low theythundered out over the Moscow River at 500mph."You have the plane," the Major said suddenly.Hamilton instinctively grabbed the stick as the Major releasedhis own grip and sat back. Was he fucking nuts! They were tenths ofa second from being dead at this speed and height. Not only that butlarge pylons loomed ahead and higher, long cables sagging betweenthem.Hamilton moved the stick slightly to see whether the RussianMajor was still guiding it. There was no resistance; there was noguiding hand of experience from the back seat. In the reflection onthe plexiglass canopy he could just make out the Major leaning backin the ejector seat, his hands behind his head, idly looking out ofthe cockpit. And he began to whistle!Not very well either. Thelines were closing rapidly and the Russian had still not tried totake the controls back. So Hamilton pushed the stick forward. TheRussian's whistling stopped. At a little over one hundred feet, withless than thirty feet separating them from the wires above, the bigMiG thundered under the powerlines before standing on its tail andgoing vertical.Major Nafaniel Logvinoch, Hero of Russia, laughed. "Very goodLance, you almost made me crap myself, and that's hard to do." Hepaused and said, "You used to fly your F-111C the same way?"SOB, Hamilton laughed beneath his oxygen mask.The bastardswould never have let him in the front seat unless they knew who hewas.Logvinoch knew damn well Hamilton would take the bait. Rightnow though, heading straight up, Lance was just having too much funto wonder about what all that meant."She's all yours Squadron Leader.See what you can do withher."

173 | P a g eSelecting afterburners and pulling a lot of gees, Hamiltonpushed the MiG up to 51,000 feet, both men grunting to keep fromblacking out, before levelling and going supersonic."What do you think? Would the F-111 do that?""Da, pre krasna…it's beautiful and the F-111 would still be waydown below! Now how about showing me that cobra and tail slideNathan? You allowed to do that?" RAAF Squadron Leader Lance Hamiltonasked."With pleasure," the Major replied. "It is not often I fly withforeign fighter aces." The aircraft snapped over onto its back intoa split S to lower altitude then a nearly 8G roll into an Immelman,followed by the famous cobra. Normally of course, Logvinoch was justfeet from the ground.Pulling into the vertical the Major choppedthe throttles.The air speed dropped to zero and then the MiG slidback to earth tail first.Logvinoch spooled the engines backup,arrested the backwards slide and, using the thrust vectoring tomaintain attitude, pushed the airplane straight back up the vertical."Ok, your turn," Logvinoch said. "The airplane is yours."Hamilton emulated Logvinoch's split and Immelman flawlessly.The aircraft was a dream to fly, big, powerful and highlymanoeuvrable.After the tail slide, which he thought was pure joy,Hamilton picked up speed, horsed the stick back to bring the nose ofthe MiG up into the vertical with enough power and momentum to pushthe plane horizontally forwards while in a vertical attitude - thecobra maneuver.Logvinoch, sitting in the back, now knew exactly how theAustralian came to be an ace. He was a natural instinctive flyer. Hechecked their position and gave the Australian pilot the heading toZukovski air base for an ILSA instrument approach and low pass. Overthe airbase the Major once again took over the controls, punchingstraight into a hard turn back to the runway followed by some

174 | P a g eviciously fast aileron rolls, a quick reversal, snap roll to theinverted before powering down the runway at less than twenty metersupside down. To Squadron Leader Hamilton, it was all sheer bliss.The two men became fast friends. "Zdorovye zhelayu!" Lance said,remembering his little bit of Russian."Da!" The Russian grinned broadly tossing the Vodka back. TheAustralian followed suit."Damn." Hamilton winced. "This would melt the turbines off anF-111."The Russian laughed. "So you are retired?" Logvinoch asked."Don’t know yet, I’ve taken a year out to get someperspective.""Hmmm..good idea. We cannot do that. You were the one with thebird strike in the F-111?"Hamilton looked up and nodded quietly. The Russian pilot for afleet moment saw the pain that still lingered behind the other man'seyes."I'm sorry," Logvinoch said, genuinely regretting bringing thesubject up. Call sign Horde he remembered. The F18 pilot, he was theone that died."No," Hamilton said waving a hand. "Nat," he continued, havingalready truncated the Major's name from Nafaniel. "You now, it's whatwe do.Our jobs are to push against that envelope….every now andthen it pushes back, wrong place wrong time."Hamilton wasn'tsurprised the Russian Pilot was aware of the accident. Such accidentswere broadly published and examined by aviation professionals allover the world in the pursuit of making something inherentlydangerous as safe as possible. "One bird," Hamilton said after apause, holding his hands out wide. "One really big bird, twelve feetI think, wing tip to wing tip." As if it were yesterday, he could

175 | P a g estill see the mess of blood, feathers and plexiglass. Not just birds'blood. There was blood everywhere."Me too," the Russian said."Really?""Not a bird though, a piece of turbine.Killed my … what doyou call it? Wozo, my navigator. We ejected, but it was too late forhim." For a moment Lance could see the Russian reflect.The imagesstill all to clear for him as well. "You never forget these things.Neither should we. But we get past it to carry on and pay honor tothose lost."They continued to trade shots of vodka throughout the afternoonuntil Hamilton pushed away from the table, stood to leave and saidgoodbye. As he walked away, he heard the Major call out, "Lance!"Hamilton turned.The Russian touched the brim if his servicecap."Good luck Buck Shot…. Z'bogm," Logvinoch said, an old Russianfarewell, 'go with God.' Buck Shots call sign was hardly secret andsuch was the reputation it was frequently used as an adversary rolein Russian flight training."You too friend, you too." Hamilton smiled, it was kind ofcomplimentary to know you were on the adversary list of names theyused to train combat pilots.

176 | P a g ePerth Hit - Same dayPERTH, WESTERN AUSTRALIA. As Lance walked away from trading vodkashots with Logvinoch in Moscow, Brian was doing his best to avoidbeing shot. Bullets seemed to be punching into every nook and crannyin the apartment.The rooms were full of dust, plaster and brick.The walls riddled with holes. Brian leaned against the back of thefridge, they, whoever they were, were now firing blind, oblivious toaccidental casualties.They didn't care who they killed so long asthey got him.Behind the fridge he had a hunch he was invisible. He placedhis night glasses on; the apartment plunged into black and green.Shit! There were three beams searching through the rubble of hisapartment.These guys were friggen serious players he thought, youdidn't buy that technology at a department store.The shooting suddenly stopped. He waited three and then moved.They could be trying a more direct approach through the front doorwhile he sat on his ass behind the fridge. He looked around. Therewere few windows left unbroken in the apartment.He picked theunbroken one, threw the microwave through it and dived out.Obviously they were not able to target that window for some reason.Obvious now he thought, not before.He was out, but it was several floors to the pavement below. Heswung wide of the window, grabbing the piping on the side of thebuilding with both hands as he fell. The trip down was painful, hisfingers smashing against every pipe support, but it slowed the fall.He hit the pavement and rolled to his feet with his SIG P226 semiautomatic pistol clasped tightly between both hands. He swung roundin a crouched shooting position looking for a target. Nothing, justsome very startled patrons in the local coffee shop, surprised first

177 | P a g eby the microwave hitting the pavement and then a man with a gun.Microwaves must be getting expensive some of them thought.Then he saw her. She had a shocked expression on her face. Whatthe hell was she doing here? And right now! He was about to holsterhis weapon when a high velocity round hit him dead centre in hisback. As he pitched forwards he could hear her scream. His visionblurred, all he could see was pavement, concrete. He couldn't move,he thought he could hear sirens, but it all went black. Brian hadalways been sure he would die in a jungle, on the battlefield, butnot at his flat.

178 | P a g eThe de Vivies AnalysisINTELLIGENCE ANALYST CENTER (IAC), LANGLEY VIRGINIA. October 4, 2018.David Stringer, now head of the Office of Chinese Analysis,Directorate of Intelligence, CIA, read off the number he hadscribbled on his office pad."37°55'S, 37°30'E. You got it?"The Image Analyst Officer (IA) quickly typed the co-ordinatesinto his IAWS computer. He could have just as easily given it voicecommands, but a product of Gen Y his fingers moved as fast as hismouth did and were les prone to errors. The instructions wereinstantly relayed to an orbiting ISR satellite.Half the world away and 130 miles above the earth, the 'WarFighter IV' satellite rotated its ultra hi-resolution optical camerato focus on a small island located in the southern extremity of theIndian Ocean."Got it, French base called Base Martin de Vivies, IleAmsterdam, isn't it?""Right first time," Stringer said. The guy was a walking atlas."What do you see?""Okay…interesting, new earthworks."He zoomed in more on theimages that were being communicated in real time. "An airfield, whythe hell are the Frenchies building an airfield?""They aren't," Stringer replied fishing for a piece of paperburied in a thickly stuffed manila folder he was carrying. "We got

179 | P a g ethis HUMINT report from DO this morning." He handed it to the ImageryAnalyst Officer. "It looks interesting, enough for this guy tovisit."The IA, Wendell Cross, quickly scanned the short report. "Kwok-Wing Cheung. Head of the Guojia Anquan Bu isn't he?" he saidreferring to the Chinese Ministry of State Security (MSS)."Yep, and a vice chair of the PRC Central Military Commission,which begs the question, why such a big fish would travel to such asmall pond.They leased that property from the French just twomonths ago.""The airfield could just be for resupply of their Antarcticbases you know?""That would make sense except for the fact that all thosenormal activities are managed and liaised by COMNAP," referring tothe Council of Managers of National Antarctic Programs, which, amongother things, was responsible for the conduct of logisticaloperations in support of Antarctic science efforts."COMNAP hasreceived no advice from either the French or Chinese on this. And itstill doesn't explain why it's so important that Kwok-Wing needs tovisit there.""Yeah, I see what you mean. If I remember correctly he's gotquite a reputation, a protégé of General Chen Jianguo.""Yes, and I see Chen's footprints all over this," Stringerreplied. General Chen Jianguo was the executive vice chair of theCMC, the Chinese Central Military Commission. He only answered to theChinese President and Chairman of the CMC. Stringer knew him to bevery measured and an excellent strategist. He didn't get involved insomething unless it was big game. He tapped the thin display screen."Get in as close as possible and record whatever you can get," hesaid to Cross, "and then give me a time for when the bird is overUshuaia and then…."

180 | P a g e"Grande de Tierra del Fuego," the IA interrupted.Stringer looked at him, with a little awe. "Right again." It wasalmost annoying."What am I looking for?""Another airfield, give me a buzz when we have it.""Roger."Stringer walked slowly back to his office.His mind churnedover the seemingly isolated facts like a concrete mixer, waiting forthem to fall together into something solid.An hour later he read Cross's report on both the French-basedairfield and the Grande de Tierra del Fuego construction. He was inthe midst of writing an Initial Intelligence Assessment and wasalready getting the feeling this was leading to something muchbigger.Why would the Chinese and Russians be building airfieldsthat far south? What possible strategic motivation would there be forthat?He filed the report and sent it through to the office of theDeputy Director of Intelligence, hoping it would make the President'sDaily Briefing, the PDB.Emergency Ward, Royal Perth HospitalPERTH WA. As David Stringer submitted the finished report into thePresidents Daily Brief (PDB), Lieutenant Colonel Brian Hamilton hadbeen rushed to hospital emergency."How is he?" the SAS man asked. He had just arrived drivingdirectly from Swanbourne Barracks as soon as he had heard."Amazingly good, case of good luck and bad luck," The doctorsaid. "The vest saved his life, but the 7.62mm round hit him right inthe centre of the middle vertebrae.The shock from the bulletparalysed him, if it wasn't for the immediate CPR the young lady gavehim, he would be dead."

181 | P a g eThe other man looked stunned. "Paralysed?" he askedThe doctor waved his hands. "Temporarily," he said, "Heavybruising, but nothing permanent.""Thank God." Good thing it wasn’t one of the 12.7mm types theyhad found, otherwise they would have been scraping Hammer off theside walk. The SAS Sergeant shuddered at the idea, "And the woman?""She left after we advised her he would be okay.""You have a name?""Natasha Braithwaite." The doctor was normally lessforthcoming, but management had advised he answer this man's questionas best as possible without breaching too many confidentialities."Can I see the bullet?""Has to go to police forensics I'm afraid." He handed him theplastic bag. "But please, have a look." The doctor was playingprotocol, but was not slow on the uptake. His patient had beenwearing a vest that was restricted issue.Not even the police hadthose."No probs." Fulham examined the round, armour piercing longnose 7.62mm. They had pulled a shovel load of these and 12.7mm antimaterielrounds out of the floor and wall already, but wanted to makesure they were dealing with one set of shooters, not two."Thanks." He handed the bag back, they would check withforensics after. It was Russian of course, which meant nothing; couldbe anyone.Just who the hell was trying to kill his boss? He wasgoing to find out, and when he did, he would do his job. He wasacting out side of protocol, but bugger the AFP he thought, he wantedto make sure it got done right. "Can I see him now?""Of course, please follow me." The doctor led him to Brian'sroom. As he followed the doctor he wondered what on earth Braithwaitewas doing there. Perhaps he needed to pay her a visit and ask.

182 | P a g eDoctoring the PDBNational Security Advisors office.THE WHITE HOUSE. OCTOBER 5, 2018. Paul Goldschmidt, Secretary ofState, sat on the forward edge of the desk in a small office adjacentto the Situation Room in the West Wing of the White House. He flickedthe cover sheet of the PDB closed. "That's fine," he said flatly.The other man in the office, Hans Jacoby, the National SecurityAdvisor, nodded. "There was some mention of an airfield beingconstructed at a place called Martin de Vivies," he said. "Stringerseemed to think it was important."Where the hell is that?" Goldschmidt asked."Some place in the Southern Indian Ocean I think.""Do we care?" Goldschmidt said, quickly scanning the originalpages again. "In this case, I think no. It's French territory; Idon't want our replacement President sticking his nose into theirbusiness at the moment.""I deleted it anyway," Jacoby said. It was the NSA's job to actas an 'honest broker' filtering the huge volumes of intelligence fromthe Situation Room into the PDB. He had buried the Martin de Viviesstuff in his department as well as the steady trickle of data thatshowed some unusual military activity among the Chinese and Russians.It didn't seem to threaten them, so he didn't see the point inpassing it on yet.

183 | P a g e"Good," Goldschmidt replied. He had also crossed pen linesthrough other intel he didn't think the President needed to know.Jacoby would distribute the edited version to the rest of the NSC."What do you propose to do about Blaire then?" Jacoby asked."I don't know yet, try to keep him under control while wefigure something out. Hopefully Lachlan will recover soon and we canput this all behind us.The important thing is to keep Blaire frommaking any unwelcome decisions before he returns.""What are the doctors saying?""He's stable." Meaning Lachlan Finn. "A full recovery ispossible," he added optimistically."Sooner than later I hope," Jacoby added."Amen. I don't know how long I can stand working with Blaire."He paused. "Anyway, gotta go." He held up the file. "Daily chores,"he said, leaving the office.

184 | P a g eThe White House 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW Washington, DCPresident Damon Andrew BlaireTHE WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE. President Damon Andrew Blaire stood upuncomfortably from the big black Gunlocke leatherchair. It felt like it was designed for someoneelse. A little over 5'9", the U.S. Presidentappeared fit and healthy with average looks and athick mane of short-cropped hair that was almostpure white. He looked at himself in the mirror on the opposite wall.He was sure that just a few weeks ago there had been some colourthere. But that was a few weeks ago, a lot had changed since then.Blaire laid the flat of his palms on the big oak desk. The deskand the seat really belonged to Lachlan Finn, a President who was inthe beginning of his second term in office, suddenly struck down byan embolism and unconscious for the last six weeks.Congress haddeclared him incapacitated, and for the moment at least, the VicePresident was thrust into the top job.

185 | P a g eDamon Andrew Blaire was, until further notice, President of theUnited States of America. He put those thoughts on the back burner.He motioned the tall slim figure of the Secretary of State into theoffice. Paul Goldschmidt strode quickly into the room tapping a fileagainst his thigh."You have the PDB?" the President asked. He was annoyed he hadto ask, but didn't let it show in his voice.There was smoulderingresentment to his presence here. He could feel it. He had not beenFinn's choice of a Vice President.In contrast to a traditiondecades old, the party leadership had made that choice, resolvingbitter factional feuding that had threatened to derail the party.Finn had argued hard against the Blaire appointment, but in the endhad to accept that or lose the nomination. Finn had gone on to win,but kept Vice President Blaire as far away from the office of poweras he could.Now Finn lay prostrate in a hospital bed and he was the'accidental' President. This was a term that seemed to be takingtraction inside the White House and in the press. Damon Blaire waskeenly aware that Goldschmidt, like many of the others, did notbelieve he should be sitting in the Oval office. This wasn't hisPresidency and none of them were his appointments or staff. Theybelonged to President Finn. He watched as Paul Goldschmidt droppedthe Briefing Book and its contents onto the Resolute Desk, Finn'sdesk, originally presented to President Rutherford B. Hayes by QueenVictoria. Goldschmidt ignored the small courtesy of turning andopening the folder for the President to read.Blaire pretended not to notice, sliding the folder across thedesk and spinning it around before thumbing through the sheets. Hefirst looked at the PDB, then the two-page blue paper, the INR and awhole mess of newspaper clippings and reports."Not much going on it seems," Blaire commented.

186 | P a g e"All quiet on the western front, Mr. President," Goldschmidtreplied. "Do you need me for anything else Sir?"Blaire looked up from reading the last page. How about somereal help, he thought. "Have you normally delivered the PDB Paul? Ithought that Jacoby delivered the Briefing Book," the Presidentasked. He could see Goldschmidt bristle a little."He normally does Sir, but sometimes I do it, especially if thepickings are thin, like today." He lied. Goldschmidt looked about toleave but hesitated, coming to a quick decision. "Permission to speakfreely Mister President?""I hope you always do Paul. Go ahead.""President Finn's condition is still not completely known.Because of that, I think we should conduct our duties under anassumption he will be returning to office. I don't think it would berequisite that we administer policy that might contradict his, andthat we treat the current situation as a caretaker government.""In other words Paul, you want me to do as little as possible?"Blaire's voice was devoid of emotion. "Avoid making decisions?""I think avoid taking any actions that might conflict withPresident Finn or his administration's objectives, might bettercharacterise it, at least until he returns."If he returns, Blaire thought.But maybe the Secretary ofState was right. Finn was the elected President, not him. Whether heagreed with his policies didn't matter. Who was he to go against thewishes of the voters? "Perhaps you are right," Blaire said after amoment. Goldschmidt didn't look convinced.

187 | P a g eCHAPTER FOURThe Pentagon, Arlington CountyOctober 5 2018. Kipper and Stringer discuss Martin De ViviesTHE PENTAGON, WASHINGTON DC. It was already latein the afternoon and cold. The shadows of thePentagon were stretched across the inner lawn.Originally built in record time during World WarII, the Pentagon was considered to be thelargest office building in the world with three times the floor spaceof the Empire State building, housing 25,000 employees and nearlyeighteen miles of corridors. In a small office located on the fourthfloor, in a place known as the Office of Special Plans, GeneralGeorge Pirelli, the nation's highest-ranking military officer,Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, cringed as he watched thetelevision re-run of President Lachlan Finn's last speech."The question is," the reporter said, introducing the segment,"will President Damon Blaire follow the same strong policy as hisrunning mate in the last election. It is no secret the two were not

188 | P a g egreat friends." The scene switched to previous footage of PresidentLachlan Winston Finn speaking at the White House."The U.S. government has drifted down a path of paranoia basedon a threat of our own invention. Where enemies have not previouslyexisted we have created them. The distrust with which we deal withour world partners is expressed in every daily brief and report weget from our intelligence agencies and defence.This stuff," heclutched the paperwork crumpled in his fist, "is Cold War fantasy!"He threw the paperwork in the bin. He stood up from his chair andwalked around the table towards the camera, sitting on the edge ofthe table, looking relaxed and in control. "Unless we are all blind,and terrorism aside, we have never been further from a traditionalmilitary threat since our independence.Despite that, the previousAdministration lavished enormous amounts of money on our conventionalmilitary, building a defence capability to fight something that doesnot exist. That paranoia led them to believe that China, Russia andother countries, which did not immediately embrace our own ideals,were our enemies.""This is a new world.He stopped and looked hard into the cameras.This government is not about making enemies;it's about making friends.The billions currently funnelled intounnecessary defence projects will instead be redirected to health,education and critical social programs."The scene switched back to the reporter, the backdrop of theWhite House behind her. "The tragedy of course is that just hoursafter this speech, President Finn suffered a severe embolism, andtoday still lies in a coma with no one knowing whether he willrecover well enough to return to his office."Pirelli pressed the remote, switching off the sound. The smallroom plunged into silence. The man seated opposite Pirelli looked atthe General expectantly.

189 | P a g easked."Who's running the show up there Captain?" General Pirelli"Goldschmidt," Captain USN Vince Kipper replied crisply.Pirelli nodded his head.He had guessed that much. "What'sJacoby doing?"Captain Kipper, a Situation Room Watch Officer, considered thereply. "He's not Goldschmidt's patsy, but they are most definitely onthe same page." Kipper looked briefly at the TV monitor again beforecontinuing. "There is some heavy editing of the PDB and the BlueThing. I would classify it as manipulation.""So would I, I've seen them. Is that why you're here Vince?""Sir, we are receiving information that suggests unusual andextensive force movements by the Chinese and Russians, especiallynaval." He referred to some notes he was carrying. "David Stringer,probably our last senior strategic analyst in the CIA, was given atip by our Australian friends about construction sites at Il deAmsterdam and Tierra del Fuego. They appear to be large airfieldfacilities.We followed up and discovered the Chinese leased the land inquestion from the French at Martin De Vivies and the Russians did thesame in Argentina. Put these things together and it all points tosomething very unusual going on that we don't understand.Theproblem is it has been excluded from the President's Executive Briefsand those going to the NSC members." He looked around, almostnervously. "The President is being deliberately deprived ofinformation.""I know," the General said simply. "Tell me about the Martin DeVivies and Argentine bases."Kipper quickly read the unedited briefing from Stringer."That means the Director of the CIA isn't sharing.That's aworry."

190 | P a g e"I'm afraid there's more Sir; Jacoby also has his sights on youGeneral. I have overheard both Goldschmidt and the Secretary of Statediscussing the JCS positions.""I know, but thanks for the heads up." He gave a wry smile."Occupational hazard," he said. One of the pre-requisites to headingup the Joint Chiefs of Staff is that they had to have served at leastone term in the capacity of vice chairman.There was currently noother serving officer on staff with that qualification. Goldschmidt,Finn's answer to defence, had been gunning to fire him even beforethe Finn Administration was officially sworn into office."That's not all Sir; I questioned the contents of the PDB andBlue Thing.Jacoby wasn't amused, and in my opinion was definitelynot on the level; it's why I came over today.""Can you talk to Stringer without Jacoby or Miles getting inthe way?""I'll try, but Galen Miles is shepherding his flock. He'spretty cosy with the NSA and Goldschmidt as well." Galen Miles wascurrently head of CIA.Across the other side of the city, in the opposite corner of the WestWing at the White House, Secretary of State Paul Goldschmidt relaxedback into the soft leather of the visitors lounge chair, wonderingwhat Pirelli was up to. Outside the window he could see the streetlamps coming on, dull glows in the fading light of day."Kipper's with Pirelli right now," the Director of the CIA saidfrom the other matching chair, almost reading his mind."What's Kipper up to?" Goldschmidt asked."Complaining to Pirelli I would think," Jacoby interrupted fromhis perch on the desk. He slipped off the desk and paced the room."He had a problem with the total exclusion of Stringer's report fromthe PDB and blue file." He paused looking from one to the other. "My

191 | P a g eguess is he's telling Pirelli all about the Martin De Vivies thingright now.""Well, they can gas bag as much as they want. As far as we areconcerned it's a dead end," Goldschmidt replied. He turned to theDirector of the CIA. "Galen, make sure you limit that stuff before ithits the Situation Room.We don't want our Watch Officers raisingthe alarm.""What about the rest of the West Wing staff?" Galen Milesasked."Homeland Security is dependant on information from us, and therest of the crew are either hoping Finn comes back to save their jobsor are keeping their heads down. The rumour mill has it that Blairewill replace most of the staff with his own people if he stays inoffice." Goldschmidt paused, thinking.Miles had a pretty good idea where the rumour started."Listen, just had an idea." Goldschmidt cupped his handstogether. "Why don't we turn the intelligence faucet on some moreinstead, swamp them in background noise, and pack it full ofsuspected terrorist stuff. Snow them under for a while."CIA Director Miles smiled and nodded.He knew exactly whatGoldschmidt meant. Keep them away from the Chinese and Russianchatter that seemed to be building up."We have a meeting of the Security Council later this week; itwouldn't hurt if Bin Ladin's old mate was to raise his head again,"Goldschmidt said, getting a little more creative.THE PENTAGON, October 6. The following morning, Pirelli received acall from Stringer. The Situation Room Watch Officer had obviouslybeen good to his word. Like Kipper, Stringer sensed something

192 | P a g ehappening over the horizon that they really needed to know about.Pirelli asked Stringer about the President's Daily Brief."Cleansed and sanitised I'm afraid," Stringer answered. "GalenMiles is well and truly riding on Goldschmidt's band wagon.""That's what we figured. What do you think is happening downthere on that island?""Nothing we can put together yet. But there is obviously somegame in play and I'm betting it's not to our benefit.""Loud and clear," Pirelli said."What do you want me to do?" Stringer asked.Pirelli chewed that question uncomfortably. "Nothing that willput your ass on the line; you've got Miles to worry about."Stringer thought about it. "General, I can probably backchannel some stuff through to Vince Kipper.Get it stuffed intodaily chore material. I doubt Miles has the time to read it. ButKipper will."The General smiled. "Good idea. I'll let Vince know to look forit." Playing cloak-and-dagger spy stuff was not exactly Pirelli'smajor at West Point. He was skirting the edges but knew that at themoment it was the only way to move forward."I think somethingreally stinks about these new airfields. Its unfortunate Goldschmidtand his boys are ignoring it and playing cheap politics. They believethe Chinese and Russians have nothing but good warm fuzzy feelingsfor us."For a moment there was silence on the phone. The other man wasconsidering the options. "General, we will still need to increase ourintelligence effort on this.I will do what I can, but Galen Mileswill be up my ass from now on.""Understand, I'm meeting with the Chief of Defense Intelligencethis morning; whatever we find I'll make sure gets to you. By theway, if Goldschmidt and his boys push this too far, it becomes a

193 | P a g ecriminal offence, and when rats are cornered they come out fighting.Make sure you log everything."Stringer felt the cold hand of dirty politics stroke histhroat. He swallowed. He hated that stuff."I will.""Good. Speak to you soon." Pirelli closed the connection.A little while later, the CJS, General George Pirelli, walked quicklyinto the VIPERS Planning Center. To any outsider the room looked likesomething from a Star Trek set. This was part of the command battlecenter. VIPERS was a Virtual Integrated Planning and ExecutionResource System. It gave U.S. Command an unprecedented real time,three-dimensional view of virtually every corner of the earth and anybattle space hooking into such systems as the Wideband GlobalSatellite Communications (WGS) constellation. VIPERS was fedinformation from every possible sensor and intelligence-gatheringsource the U.S. and selected allies had in the field.Satellites,spy planes, submarines, combat aircraft and the men and machines onthe ground, all fed into one huge network."Can you get me Martin de Vivies now commander?" the Generalasked. He had been watching the recorded data of the airfieldconstruction. As far as he could tell it looked complete. But theneverything seemed to go quiet. Perhaps the Chinese had no intentionof making the facility active."No sir.' The Marine officer answered.That stopped the General in his tracks. "What do you mean noSir?""We have repositioned two birds over the island and each timewe experience interference.We can't pin point it and once we passover it disappears.""From the ground?"

194 | P a g e"Not that we can tell.""From space?""Its too hard to tell. Nothing big enough to cause damage justinterrupts communications and operations.""Not coincidental.""No sir, definitely outside directional interference, probablyan adaptation of their directed energy weapons." This was a laserbeam that at close range was lethal, but at long range could causemajor disruptions to systems."Interesting. Alright, put a request into VIPERS to get a U2over Martin de Vivies and make sure this and any other interferenceis logged.Keep me posted," the General said, leaving the VIPERSplanning room. It was becoming more interesting by the minute.Hemotioned the CDI to follow him into the adjacent conference room."What do you make of it?""Adds up, with the intelligence on the current ship andaircraft movements, there is no question the Chinese and Russians arewell progressed into what looks like a major operation, and somehowit involves Martin de Vivies and Tierra del Fuego. But we have noidea to what ends.""And to interfere with our satellites suggests they think itmust be important enough to compromise a strategically importantcapability like being able to suppress satellites at theirdiscretion. Finn is still comatose and so is the White House. Ouraccidental President is having a nervous break down and the Cabinetand NSC are playing the whole thing down. What a cluster fuck," heexclaimed. "It is becoming clearer by the minute that the Russiansand Chinese are running the ball down our blind side!"President Blaire would have been embarrassed, but not surprisedto hear what the General was saying.It was fair comment. At thatvery moment Blaire was looking out the window over the Rose Garden.

195 | P a g eSeveral months had passed and there was no change in President Finn'shealth. He looked at the heavy circle around the date on his deskcalendar. It was October 21, that was his drop-dead date. He pickedup the phone.The sound of the conference phone ringing almost made theGeneral jump. The caller ID flashed in red; VIPERS had directed thecall automatically.He looked up in surprise at the CDI and thenaround the room. Were they bugged? What were the chances of that?here."He snapped up the handset. "Yes Mr President, General Perelli,THE WHITE HOUSE OVAL OFFICE. Same day: 1100hrs. In the worldview ofPresident Finn, the military and intelligence community wereinventing enemies that no longer existed.The Chinese or Russianswere no longer a menace; terrorism was, but not the conventionalthreat that the military were so used to preparing against. Aircraftcarriers and massive spending on other defence platforms was nolonger warranted.Chinese totalitarianism would be defeated by itsown financial success.The logic of that view was enticing and understandable, Blairethought, but also flawed.An awful lot of people, perhaps even themajority of citizens in the US and those of many other countriesmight believe this. Despite that, he wasn't about to lead the U.S.down a path with blinkers on. While it was a lofty ideal, the realitywas the Chinese and Russians coveted resources as much as the U.S.did, and were getting ready to fight for them. Unlike the U.S. theywere not democracies, but autocratic governments that could changetune in a heartbeat and attack the U.S. its friends or any otherstate without having to ask anyone. The Russian and Chinese economiesnow challenged that of the U.S. The simple fact was America was no

196 | P a g elonger as big as it used to be and the need to be diligent strongerthan ever.Blaire looked at the heavily braided uniform of his senioractive officer."President Finn thinks the only thing the militaryhas been able to do in the last ten years is spend money and fuckthings up." He said, standing up and walking in front of thefireplace.General George Pirelli said nothing, he didn't take the bait.He would have resigned long ago but for his sense of duty. The shitwould hit the fan sometime, and this administration was going to becompletely unprepared. He kept his mouth shut. Like his predecessorhad said, someone had to stay the Watch, and it was his duty. WhatPirelli didn't know, was that the seeds for a crises of historicaland deadly proportions were already taking root."Mr President," he said eventually, his voice void of emotion,"I call a spade a spade, Sir. Whether I like working for you or notis irrelevant, I'm not a politician. I will give you my honestadvice. That's my job. What you do with it is your job. If you don'tlike what I have to say, you only have to ask for my resignation."For a long awkward moment Blaire stood in silence. Pirelliwondered what he was planning next."Martin de Vivies?" Blaire said suddenly.Pirelli almost fell off the chair."Tell me what you know about Martin de Vivies." He could tellthe General was surprised. "Goldschmidt had his chance to do theright thing. I know about Martin de Vivies, General. I might havebeen quiet in the last few months. I hadn't turned stupid."The General looked at the President gob smacked.

197 | P a g eGreenville Ordered to Martin de ViviesTHE PENTAGON, VIPERS PLANNING AND CONTROL CENTER - October 7"It's operational," Stringer said, referring to Martin deVivies."What can you see?" Pirelli asked."It's no civilian airfield. We photographed and tracked heavymilitary aircraft movements in and out of the place while the'Shotgun' satellite was overhead. It's a new satellite, so whateveris wrong with the others, hasn't affected this one yet.""Miles know about this?""No. We put it over the island while re-tasking it to anothermission; I'm emailing the pics now.""Good going. Keep your head down, Dave, but between you and me,it looks like the President is running with the ball." Pirelli hungup.The conversation was short and to the point. It seemed insanethat they were sneaking around in their own government while tryingto protect it; he now understood the dilemma of the President.Heopened his email and examined the pictures. Minutes later he snatchedthe phone off its cradle and spoke to his aide.

198 | P a g eGlobal Hawk, predecessor or early version of the RQ-4R Dragon HawkA few hours later the General returned to the VIPERS command centrein the Pentagon."Dragon Hawks in position Sir.""Thank you."A few miles away in the White House Situation Room, the WatchOfficer, Captain Vince Kipper, watched the same display on the largeoverhead screens."You getting that General?""Loud and clear," the General replied.The data, fed from a high flying RQ-4R started to flow throughto the main screens. The Dragon Hawk was at 70,000 feet, 50 nauticalmiles North West of its target, Martin de Vivies, the French base on

199 | P a g eÎle Amsterdam. This was a small 34 square mile volcanic Island risingto 2674 feet at Mont de la Dives."Good grief, look at that." The side imaging optics werelooking at an oblique angle towards the Chinese Air force Base."Christ sakes, it looks like they are getting ready for a war!""Vince?""Yes Sir.""Get the President into the situation room ASAP.Is heavailable?"There was a pause on the other end. "Done Sir, he’s on hisway."A monotone electronic buzzing noise suddenly invaded theControl Centre. Pirelli immediately recognised what it was. As Blairewalked into the Situation Room in the White House, he was confrontedby the same sound, his own nervous system automatically cycling intohigh gear. He looked at the overhead."Martin de Vivies Sir," Kipper explained to the President overthe Early Warning Radar (EWR) alarm. "These are live images from theDragon Hawk flight.""Looks like numerous missile locks," one of the operators inthe Pentagons control room announced. There was a brief pause. "Airwarfare destroyers, the designations look like they come fromcomponents of the Shi Lang Battle Group.""Turn it around. Get it out of there," Pirelli said. The veryfact they had locked on the Dragon Hawk with attack radars told himmore than the pictures did."Confirmed Dragon Hawk is turned around sir.""Thank you."They waited a few tense moments as the sophisticatedreconnaisance UAV exited the area, the bat and other symbolsdesignating antiaircraft radars disappeared from the screen.

200 | P a g e"Mister President?""I'm here George," Blaire said."You see that?""Yes I did. I also saw they have those S-400s operational aswell,"Pirelli gave his Intelligence Director a quick glance; the newPresident didn't need any prompting to understand what he was lookingat."Now we know for sure they are there in force and ready todefend that rock. The question that begs is why?" The President said."I agree," Pirelli said. "I think we need to get up close andpersonal." Pirelli explained what he wanted to do."Do it," The President said firmly.Pirelli patched in another call. "Mike, get a hold of the CNS(Chief of Naval Staff) ASAP. Tell him it's urgent."A few minutes later the phone rang. "George, Ethan, whatsup?"the CNS said."Île Amsterdam.""Oh crap, I knew that would come back," Rear Admiral Ethan Foxalmost sighed."The Secretary of Defense cut across our bows lasttime and had the Sea Wolf pulled out of the AOP (Area of Operations)before we could get anything useful.""Well that's all changed now fortunately. Ethan, sorry tohassle you on leave, but we have to keep this tight. We have to get alook at that joint.It's active and from the pictures I have infront of me, very busy.""You have pictures!""Just a few hours old; who can you put in there?"The Admiral thought a moment. "The Greeneville."Pirelli could hear the cogs still working. "LA class? I thoughtyou would send in a Virginia Class or Seawolf?"

201 | P a g e"Normally yes, but Greeneville has a damn good crew andskipper, Commander Scott Turner; young, measured, very smart andaggressive when needed. Greeneville also qualified top in the newUUAV trials. You couldn't do better, and the AOP the Greenville willoperate in is deep water.” The LA boat was not suited to littoral(shallow water) warfare like the latest boats. "You won't get abetter look unless you put men on the ground.”Well, that might be the next step Pirelli thought. "OkayAdmiral, Greeneville it is. Get her underway yesterday Ethan.Keepit quiet.No one knows where she is going except COMSUBPAC, theimmediate Squadron Commander and you and I. Crews not to know untilunderway, only Turner.""Aye," The Admiral said automatically. Pirelli could hear whathe thought were golf clubs rattling in the back of a golf cart. A fewminutes later the Admiral called back. "Done, she will be underwaytomorrow morning.""Thanks Ethan. Don't let this spoil your game."Ethan smiled. "Absolutely not George, you just made my day."Maybe, just maybe, they had some real work to do instead of budgetcutting. He placed the crisp clean white ball on the tee. He intendedto smash it hard with glee and then head straight back to work.

202 | P a g eSSN Los Angeles Class Attack Submarine, USAUSS Greeneville ‘Stand by the Lines’THE NIMITZ-MACARTHUR PACIFIC COMMAND CENTER, PEARL HARBOUR, October7, 0300hrs local time. The Captain of the Los Angeles Classsubmarine, the USS Greeneville, strode quickly away from the Nimitz-MacArthur Pacific Command Center. Actually he felt like running, butthat wouldn't look good. The center was built across the street fromthe old headquarters complex at Camp H.M. Smith and overlooked themajestic Halawa Valley in Hawaii. But the moonlit view was far fromLieutenant Commander Scott Turner's thoughts. The COMSUBPAC briefingand the orders he received, left him in no doubt that this currentassignment would be the most difficult Greeneville had experienced insome time. The face to face with COMSUBPAC was unusual and urgent."Get underway immediately."The urgency was underlined by the timeof the meeting - zero three thirty.Admirals rarely got out of bedthat time of morning unless it was important.

203 | P a g eThe meeting had included Rear Admiral Allan Cutter, CommanderSubmarine Force, U.S. Pacific Fleet (COMSUBPAC) and Turner'simmediate boss, the Commodore of Submarine Squadron Number One,Captain Bill Cottrell. Cottrell had issued a warning order earlier inthe evening to get the 'Underway' in motion. Nuke boats didn't juststart at the flick of a switch.As the Greeneville skipper walkedimpatiently to his car, he knew his XO was recalling the crew whilethe ship's Duty Officer readied the ship for sea. In fact there wasno real need to rush. But Turner felt a burning need to get back onthe boat."Balls to the wall, Scott," Cottrell had said. The SquadronCommander had then looked to the Admiral who nodded quietly. "We wantyou to flank it to just south of the French Southern and AntarcticIslands, Ile Amsterdam and Ile St Paul.""Martin de Vivies Ile Amsterdam?" Turner said.Cottrell looked quickly back to the Admiral. Turner was quickon the uptake.He had either guessed, or the scuttlebutt wastravelling faster than he thought."Yes," The COMSUBPAC answered. "Martin de Vivies. The frogshave leased a nice piece of flat land to the Chinese who now, itappears, have a long operational airstrip, conveniently close toAntarctica."Cottrell spoke quietly. "Scott, this is sensitive. Theadministration to date hasn't put much sway in military intelligence.But the question begs why the Chinese would build such a big airstripso far south. The request comes discreetly from the CJCS himself tothe Admiral. He wants us to keep a close eye on it."The COMSUBPAC spoke again."We want to know everything thatgoes on at de'Vivies, everything! Intelligence strongly suggests thatChinese and Russian subs are also operating in the area, so watchyour baffles."

204 | P a g eThe mission brief had gone on at length. But what carried moreweight in the submariners mind were those words not spoken.TheAdmiral and Commodore were clearly concerned about suggesting apotential 'invasion' of Antarctica; that seemed almost insane, therewas no logical reason, but it was obviously not far fromverbalization and a lot of evidence was pointing to a build up. TheChinese and Russians are about to make a play. Scott hurried back tohis command.When he arrived at the Pearl sub base-berthing pier,the ship was already a hive of activity, the USS Greeneville, SSN772, sat menacingly in the water, ready for work.She was not new, but to Turner she was beautiful and equal tothe task of taking on any adversary he could imagine.He wasconfident in his command - not just the ship, but also the mixture ofmen, machine and technology.Technically speaking, a ship is anything longer than 350 feetand anything shorter is a boat, however all submarines regardless oflength were called boats. According to Hollywood legend, if you madethe mistake of calling a submarine a ship, you would be laughed at.The reality was that real submariners used both termsinterchangeably. Besides, the USS Greeneville was 360 feet long, sowhen Commander Scott Turner looked at her, she was his ship, his boatand his command.He knew by now that his Duty Officer, Lieutenant Vern Driscoll,must be having a coronary.He was sure Driscoll had nevercontemplated getting the ship underway on his Watch; this would behis first time and he was new to the ship. Launching a moon missionhad a shorter count down and check list than getting a nuclearsubmarine started and underway. Turner contemplated replacing him forjust a moment and then shook his head. We all have to learn sometimehe thought. This would be Driscoll's baptism of fire.

205 | P a g eOn board the boat, Driscoll was a study of nerves and adrenalinfuelled professional diligence.It was his job to both start theboat and get it underway. At zero one hundred hours in the morning hehad relieved the engineering duty section and replaced it with theengineering watch section in preparation to starting the reactor andsteam plant. Since receiving the warning order he had been up allnight.Unlike his previous assignments, initial preparations werenot left in the hands of just a few, the 'nukes'. The 'coners' werealso required on board at the same time.Both nukes and coners hadstruggled bleary eyed to the boat together, after being dragged frombars, beds, wives and family. While the nukes were responsible forthe reactor startup, the Captain wanted the coners, those who ran theforward conical end of the boat and who normally arrived at a morepleasant time in the morning, to share the load and discomfortequally.The entire reactor and engine startup procedure was tightlyscripted.Everything that took place was by the book, the bible,specifically the Reactor Plant Manual (RPM). In paper form it took upeight shelves of space in six different locations on the boat.Thepaper was just a backup, the whole procedure now fitting neatly oneach of the watch members' digital handsets.On top of the boat, the Watch stander, Lieutenant 'Punch'Milligan, counted in the crew.He watched as the Captain walkedbrusquely onto the deck. Not waiting for ceremony, his boss yelled,"Down ladder!' and dropped easily into the dark mouth of the upperhatch.Turner's feet instinctively found the metal rungs of theladder that led into the forward escape trunk.The familiar highpitched,400-cycle whine of the electronic system and the deepergrowl of the air handlers instantly surrounded him.The Hawaiiannight disappeared above him.

206 | P a g eTurner went straight to Nukes; he wanted to see first hand theprogress of the startup. His Reactor Officer (RO) was shimming therods and watching his instruments at the same time. Turner was gladto see it was Wilkinson. He was good. He was in the process ofpulling the rods to the ECP - or Estimated Critical Position - totest whether the reactor had reached a critical state.Making noapologies from not looking up from a crucial task he was performing,the RO said, "Ten minutes," telling the Captain exactly what hewanted to know without being asked.Turner nodded and went backthrough the hatch and the shielded tunnel. The passageway led to theforward part of the boat but had to pass close to the reactor.Thepassageway was lined with lead and polyethylene to shield againstgamma radiation and neutron flux. Turner was touring his boat. Heknew the Duty Officer would have the Underway in control and used thetime to quickly survey the ship and to 'be seen', not getting in theway of those moving frantically to complete their assigned drills andprocedures. Being seen, even if not talking to crew was stillimportant Turner believed, taking his influence and character intoevery corner of the boat without getting in their face. Everyone onhis boat was important, an integral part of a team that relied oneach other for survival. He made time to see them and make them knowthat they were not lost in the chain of command, something easy to dowhen you got lazy.A few minutes later the overhead boomed into life. "The Reactoris critical!"This meant that the bomb-grade, uranium-fuelled corewas now splitting atoms fast enough to produce a steady stream ofneutrons. The reactor was putting out enough juice to start heatingthe large amounts of water that comprised the reactor plant. POAH,they called it - the point of adding heat. Now the nuclear fuel plantwas beginning to do something interesting.It could start to turnthe turbines.

207 | P a g eThe overhead PA system clicked on again. "The reactor is in thepower range.""Bypass and equalize pressure around main Steam 1 and 2." Theorders from Maneuvering filled the engineering spaces followed by thesound of steam hissing through pipes. Steam entered the engine roomfor the first time in over a month."Open Main Steam Stops 1 and 2."The throttle man flicked aswitch and hydraulics forced the valves open to release 400psi offull steam generation power.The order then came to start up portand starboard main engines and both turbine generators.turbine howled, spinning up until the sound rattled chests.The portA boomsounded through the generator as the breaker shut and the turbinepicked up the load from the shore power."The reactor is self sustaining!" the PA announced.Thestarboard turbine suddenly screamed as the watch standers kicked itinto gear as well."Port and starboard main engines ready to answer all bells andfor electric loading," Maneuvering announced over the PA."The electric plant is in normal full-power lineup!Engineering watch supervisor report to maneuvering," the PA blared.The Engineering Watch Supervisor hurried forward to supervise theremoval of the shore power cables, along with fresh water, sewerlines, and fixed broad band connections, a relic mostly replaced byentirely wireless processes.After casting those off, they wereready.Going forwards, the Duty Officer, Lieutenant Vern Driscoll, metthe Captain who was now ensconced on his chair in the Control Room.Turner looked up at him as he entered."Station the Maneuvering Watch," he ordered. The youngsubmariner felt the eyes of the world upon him. Turner thought he

208 | P a g elooked a little tired, but seemed to be handling the stress of thesituation well."Station the Manoeuvring Watch. Aye," Driscoll repeated. Hethen reached for the overhead mike and spoke into it. "Station themanoeuvring watch!" he announced over the 1MC, the ship wide PAsystem. At that point Driscoll ceased to be the Duty Officer andbecame the OOD, Officer of the Deck, which meant he was in tacticalcommand of the ship. He then quickly scaled the ladder to the top ofthe sail. "OD to the bridge" he shouted! Christ he thought. I have toconn the ship to sea! He tried to keep the nervousness from his face.It was standard procedure for the OOD to do the Captain's job.Driscoll had the deck and the conn.The Captain, looking relaxed,sat back and monitored the activity. He was however, far fromrelaxed.Turner knew that even in peacetime, leaving and enteringport were dangerous exercises, prone to collision and groundings.Especially this boat, he thought. She had already surfaced under aJapanese fishing boat, the Ehime Maru, during a practice blow from400 feet, sinking it, and killing the crew. The ignoble past wasadded to by not one, but two groundings while entering Pearl. In eachcase the skipper at the time was court-martialled, administrativelyreprimanded or relieved of command.Death knells to any careereither way. Turner was always ready to conn the ship if he thoughtshe was standing into danger. He watched the young Lieutenant climbthe sail. He hoped for Driscoll's sake he got it right.To have totake over the conn from the young man would be crushing.He stood up from his station and climbed the ladder, followingDriscoll to the sail. He passed Driscoll who was now standing in thebridge cockpit and carried on up into the flying bridge. From there,three stories up, on top of the sail, he could easily monitor theunderway process."OOD report," Turner said.

209 | P a g eDriscoll responded crisply, confirming the status of theengine, electronics, navigation and other small but crucial items.Turner nodded in response. "Thank you OOD. Take her out."The OOD picked up his megaphone. "Take in all lines!"As thelast line disconnected, a deep sounding horn blasted out from thesail.Driscoll then directed the tug to take them undertow untilthey cleared the channel. It took thirty minutes before the tug castoff."Secure the Manoeuvring Watch set the Underway Watch. On deck,rig for dive!""Bridge Navigator, recommend due west to turn point.""Navigator, Bridge aye," the OOD replied. "Helm, Bridge, allahead two thirds, steer course due west."The ship picked up speed, the small ocean swell rising over thebow and rolling down the boat's flanks, the angry white froth a deepcontrast to the vivid blue sea."Bridge, Navigator, 250 yards to turn point. New course twofour five.""Navigator, Bridge, aye,""Bridge, Navigator, mark the turn!""Helm, Bridge, left full rudder, steady course two four five."The helm answered and the ship steered into her new heading.Thetopside deckhands were now below and Driscoll was ready to give theship some throttle. He gave the orders."Control, Bridge aye.Helm, all ahead standard." They werequickly into deep water.Turner wanted the ship submerged to testdepth and flanking it as quickly as possible. He had not had time,indeed, had been prevented from briefing any of the crew before theirdeparture."OD, take her out at flank and get us deep as soon as possible.I want to avoid as many AGI's as possible."AGI meant 'assholes

210 | P a g egathering intelligence.' In a new era, Soviet spy trawlers had beenreplaced by a plethora of Chinese and Russian substitutes that couldbe passive, smaller and much harder to identify from the standardcommercial or day-tripper."Aye Sir, flank speed and dive as soon as possible." The OODpicked up the mike. "Manoeuvring, Bridge, shift reactor recirc pumpsto fast speed.""Shift main coolant pumps to fast speed, Bridge, Manoeuvringaye!" A moment later Manoeuvring confirmed the order."Helm all ahead flank," the OOD ordered.Turner watched in satisfaction as the bow wave climbed all theway back to the front of the sail, feeling the huge hull surgethrough the water, pushed along by over 45,000 shaft horse power. TheAmerican flag snapped hard behind him. A few minutes later theycleared the bridge and the OD slowed the boat and ordered them todive. The last man down informed the OD he had shifted his watch tocontrol. Numerous checklists were completed all over the boat as itrigged for its first dive. The sea was the unwilling accomplice inTurner's mission, trying at every turn to invade his boat, to takethem in a death plunge thousands of feet deep.The COW, Chief of the Watch, looked at his hatch indicators andverified all closed.He manned the Ballast Control Panel and keptthe boat level."Straight line ready to dive," he said.Driscoll informed the Captain of the ships readiness to dive."Chief of the Watch, rig control for red!""OOD report," Turner asked."Mark the sounding," the OOD called."Five, five three fathoms and shelving deeper." The OOD thengave his report stating the ship was ready to dive."Very well Off'sa'deck," Turner said. "Take us down to onethree zero feet."

211 | P a g e"Submerge the ship to one three zero feet, OOD aye sir."TheOOD then gave his orders to the COW."Diving officer submerge theship to one three zero feet."The dive officer repeated the order and then picked up hismike. "Dive, dive, dive," he said over the loud speaker and soundedthe Dive Alarm. "Helm all ahead two thirds." He waited for theresponses. "Opening forward main ballast tank valves." Outside, fourgeysers of water screamed up vertically from the bow.The diveofficer did the same with the aft tanks and then ordered the bowplanes extended."Helm, twelve degrees on the bow plane."The deck angled downwards slightly. After reaching the ordereddepth the Dive Officer and COW worked to trim the boat before turningback to the OOD.The OOD reported to Turner they were ready to godeep."Take her to test depth," he ordered. "Steep angle." It wasstandard practice to take the hull and the crew’s preparednessthrough its paces as early as possible. Better to find out somethingwrong now than in the middle of a gun fight."Helm, all ahead standard. Dive, make your depth one fourhundred feet," the OOD ordered. "Twenty five degrees down bubble andrig ship for deep submergence."Helm answered and the PA blared, "Rig ship for deepsubmergence." The planesmen pushed their control yokes forward andthe bow plunged heavily downwards.Over the next few hours, Turner ran his crew through exercise afterexercise, drill after drill until they were warmed up, weary, butpoised for more. Then he ordered a depth of 600 feet at flank speed,and turned his attention to the task at hand. They would transitthrough the Caroline Basin north of Papua New Guinea and then through

212 | P a g ethe deep canyons of the Banda Sea north of Timor before going deepinto the Indian Ocean.Turner was sitting in his wardroom when his Executive Officerburst through the door and slapped a thick paperback onto thewardroom table. "First it was the Cheyenne, then the Sea Wolf, andnow the New Mexico." The XO sighed."Man, I tell you, we areyesterday's news." He shook his head in mock disgust. "I told you,driving this boat we are never going to be destined for the silverscreen or fame. After Clancy immortalized the Cheyenne, we wereforgotten, now that the writers have the Seawolf and Virginia class,who the hell's going to write about us!"Turner laughed. "Hopefully nobody Jack, the only reason theywould write about us would mean scary shit like we were being shotat, or the post mortem of how the skipper and XO managed to run intoan iceberg or undersea mount on a perfectly nice day."The XO shook his head. The boat had its fair share of thoseaccidents. "Mmmm, good point. That means if no one writes about us,then nothing much happens. Not bad, not bad, never looked at it thatway before.""Let's just try and avoid written reprimands, court-martials oraccident reports. That writing I definitely hate. Besides, I have afeeling the very reason we were chosen was because we were NOT a SeaWolf or Virginia Class.Fewer people interested in what we aredoing."The XO looked at his skipper. Lieutenant Cmdr Jack Thompsoncracked a smile but said nothing. Turner was the best driver in thebusiness; everyone on the Greeneville knew that, obviously some brassdid as well. His ability was not just reliant on technology; he wasinstinctive beneath the water and was able to drag the very best fromhis people.The man had the innate ability to make a person feelloved while he kicked them in the ass if they stuffed up. He was

213 | P a g efiercely loyal to his crew and equally tough in expectation. He gotthe best back.Turner was very young for a command, which was why he wasdriving an LA class boat and not the latest Virginia class.But inThompson's mind, there was no doubt why the CNS or COMSUBPAC hadselected Turner for this job. He wasn't surprised Turner probablydidn't see that. Despite being so good, he was a very humble person.He never underestimated anybody. It was that duality of ability andconfidence, but deference to others that made up the leader that hewas.But that compliment by command was a double-edged sword. Tosend the best meant they were potentially expecting the worst. Therewas shit blowing in the wind the XO thought, and unfortunately theymight just be the fan.

214 | P a g eThe Peoples Republic of ChinaOperation Bing QingBEIJING, INSITUTE OF COMMAND AND TECHNOLOGY (CONSTIND). 2115hrslocal, October 13, 2018. General Chen Jianguo, the Executive ViceChairman of the Chinese Government's Central Military Committee, sankappreciatively into the heavy leather of the President's visitors'chair.President Yuen poured two stiff scotches, handed one to theGeneral and sat in the opposite chair. The two men were in a largecomplex that housed the Chinese Academy of Sciences and theCommission of Science, Technology and Industry for National Defense(CONSTIND).The President, who was a vocal sponsor of many of CONSTIND'slatest projects, had arranged a personal office to use during hisfrequent visits."Iraq delivered us an unparalleled opportunity," Yuen began."For every single dollar we spent with the insurgents, al Qaeda,Iran, or Syria, the Americans had to spend thousands. Money wassucked out of their advanced weapons programs to pay for footsoldiers, old tanks, and trucks. Iraq and Afghanistan broke the backof their technological advantage." He tasted his scotch. “When theyrefused to buy oil off despots like the Sudanese, we were able to buyit at massively discounted prices. When the credit crunch hit, it wasthey who were weakened, not us.

215 | P a g e"While they battled their deficit and reduced investment in newdefence technology, we multiplied ours. It reminds me of the end ofthe Cold War, except it's the Americans who have been run into theground this time."The look on his face was almost astonishment."Then, on top of all that, they elect this fellow Finn who, it seems,was determined to deliver the coupe de grace to their military." Hiseyebrows shot up again. "And then, the stupid bastard collapses andleaves the country leaderless!" He shrugged and shook his head backand forth - a silent tutt-tutt 'Do you believe that? And now General,you bring me this, a divine chance for us to control our energyfuture at a time when our greatest adversary has become the papertiger."But Yuen was not smiling. He, along with most of theleadership, was fearful of financial failure to the point ofparanoia. His fear took a tangible form. There was a dark enemythat challenged not only his leadership but also the country'sprosperity and subsequent security. It was energy and it was oil thatlubricated the economy. While many of the worlds developed nationstraded carbon credits and sort alternative energies, China was stillwell and truly addicted. The CCP's own success, the legacy of JiangZemin and Hú Jintao's balanced approach to leadership and growth,would be lost if Yuen could not bring the energy animal to heel."Let us be realistic, Jianguo, while the clouds of U.S. dominancescatter and we bathe in the sunlight of their failure, we couldeasily become victim to anarchy. Oil is still the key to ensuring ourcontinued growth. Which is why this is so important, the risksbearable.Where once I might have said the chances of success wereminimal, today I think otherwise. You have been confident all alongthat the Bing Qing program will realize its lofty promises?""I am," General Chen Jianguo replied."Based on what?"

216 | P a g e"As much feeling as fact Mister President."The Chinese President narrowed his eyes and looked closely athis vice chair of the CMC and his military Chief of Staff. Jianguo'sgut feelings were legend and nearly always right, and his insight andintuitiveness so sharp that those working for or beneath him feltlike their minds were nothing but open windows."How long before we know for sure, General?""Before we know?When we know so will the rest of the world,our only advantage is that we are prepared for the eventuality, lessthan a month from today, depending on weather; if the weather is goodmaybe two weeks.""And the Backfires?""As we agreed, they are being readied as we speak.""Who knows about this?" Yuen asked. "Kazakov and Petrov are inthe loop. Who else?""A handful of scientists, the Russian Professor Durnovo, ourown Dr Huang Yew and Professor Feng of course, but he went missing afew years ago.""Feng?""He was talking too much. We took appropriate measures."Yuen remembered his face from several years back. "Too bad, Iliked him.""Me too. Apparently some Australians liked him too." He flickedover some notes. "But we have dealt with that. There are also ahandful of other Russian intelligence types; I can't answer for theirsecurity, but it was a calculated risk to bring them in.""The air bases?""Ready. The French were particularly helpful.With yourpermission we have called the facility the Han Air Force Base." Thismeant 'kingdom splitter' in Chinese.

217 | P a g e"Good, good," President Yuen said, taking a healthy gulp of hisdrink. "Even if this Bing Qing is just a lot of hot air we can stilluse them.At the very least it will keep our friends at Langleybouncing off the walls.""My thinking exactly." They really would be scratching theirheads.General Chen sipped the scotch and enjoyed the warm feelingin his stomach.

218 | P a g eSouth Pacific Defense MagazineSino-Russian reconciliation includes FranceOctober 14 2018. In the wake of the recent Sino-Russian reconciliation and Sino-U.S.estrangement, the Chinese and the Russians have forged a growing Asia-Pacificstrategic partnership. This has been extended to include valuable allies likeIndonesia and France, which still govern numerous islands.The intelligence organs of the allied countries are collaborating incollecting diplomatic, political, economic, and military intelligence in the Asia-Pacific region.Officials from the Indonesian Air Force (TNI AU) said in JakartaMonday that the purchase of additional Su-34’s and Su-30MK2 from Russiawere a breakthrough to controlling the Indonesian air and sea spacecountering Australia's purchase of F35's and long-range stand-off cruisemissiles."The purchase of the latest generation Sukhoi warplanes by thegovernment is a breakthrough, as we have not spent any additional funds forthe warplanes," said Chief of Staff of TNI AU Admiral Chappy Hakim at theHalim Perdanakusumah military airport here.According to the admiral, the counter-trade with Russia to buy thejet fighters was a solution necessitated by Indonesia's lack of funding fordozens of new warplanes. "Last year, I reported that the condition of theTNI AU, which guarded the Indonesian air territory, was in the condition ofpoor alertness of operation. It was caused by the lack of funds as well asspare parts difficulties," he asserted.When Indonesian President Ahmad Bey Sofwan paid a visit to Russia inJune, Indonesia signed a counter-trade agreement with Russia worth morethan five billion U.S. dollars to obtain thirty jet fighters, helicoptersand submarines. It was similar to the deal Indonesia consummated recentlywith China to purchase the latest Chinese-built air warfare and littoralships.From Russia, in return for palm oil, rubber, and other agriculturalproducts, Indonesia will get six Su-34 Full Backs, an additional seven Su-30MMK fighter bombers and six Mi-35 helicopters. In the Chinese tradeagreement, Indonesia provides basing and port facilities to Chinese andRussian forces, and has placed an order for type 054 air destroyers andYuen Diesel Electric submarines. A standing order for improved Kilo classsubmarines is just being fulfilled.Previously, Indonesian Armed Forces Commander General EndriartonoSutarto said that the plan to purchase the Sukhoi warplanes was a solutionto overcome potential U.S. embargoes on the Indonesian military. The U.S.government has previously embargoed sales to the Indonesian military forcesfor alleged human rights violation in Aceh and other provinces, as well asits aggressive actions to assert oil rights in the Timor Sea. Further, theAustralian government has expressed deep concerns that Indonesia issupporting the Papua (Irian Jaya) rebellion through financial and militaryaid; that accusation is strongly denied by Jakarta.Jakarta’s military modernisation is also rumoured to include surface to airand surface to surface missile systems.End

219 | P a g eRig for Ultra QuietTHE USS GREENEVILLE, THE INDIAN OCEAN October 15, 0731hrs UTC.The Los Angeles class nuclear attack submarine USS Greeneville slidsilently through the depths of the southern Indian Ocean.With thehull number of SSN-772, the silent killer was the second to last ofthe Los Angeles class nuclear attack subs to be built by Newport NewsShipbuilding in Virginia. It was named Greeneville after a historictown in north-eastern Tennessee, itself named in honor ofRevolutionary War hero General Nathaniel Greene.The USS Greeneville, despite not being the youngest blood inthe fleet, still represented the epitome of technical superiorityover numerical brute strength, which was still the driving force inAmerican submarine development. Greeneville was one of the mostcapable nuclear attack submarines in the world. However, in additionto her numerous lethal virtues, she boasted retractable bow planesand a hardened sail, providing the capability to surface through ice.At a little over 360 feet long, she weighed in at 6,900 tons and hadsprinted from her North Pacific base at Pearl. Her crew consisted of13 officers and 116 men. She carried a full load out of Tomahawk andHarpoon missiles as well as Mk-48 Madcap torpedoes.She was battleready.At exactly 1300hrs the OOD had ordered the SSN to one-third.With the ship slowed, Turner was able to concentrate the ship'shighly evolved sensor and weapons systems on detecting and trackingpotential threats. There was no shooting yet, but an awful lot ofshooters were converging on one place. Greeneville was currently freeto shoot in self-defence only, according to his issued Rules ofEngagement (ROE).

220 | P a g eSitting in the tiny wardroom, Captain Turner motioned hisofficers to sit. "As you know, we are monitoring a rapid build up ofmilitary assets from numerous countries in the Southern Ocean andinfluential to Antarctica.The most concerning to us are two newairfields, one built on Île Amsterdam, next to Martin de Vivies andthe other on Tierra del Fuego. These are both long runways designedto land heavy transports. Our job is to watch Martin de Vivies. Thisis French territory, so not only will we be spying on our so-calledallies, but you can also bet your bottom dollar that there will beChinese boats in the vicinity.We should expect Kilo class, type093s and if the Russians are here maybe some improved Akula classsubs.We are going to run at flank speed with the occasional slowdown to clear our baffles from here all the way to our patrol area.Get some rest now, because we are going to be very busy. When we gethere," he pointed to the overhead, "we will rig for ultra quiet.Make sure your guys are prepared."THE SITUATION ROOM, THE WHITE HOUSE, October 15"Greeneville is moving into the AOP Sir," Kipper said quietly.The President stood with his arms folded. He nodded his head.Goldschmidt was on leave, and Jacoby was at a network securityconference in Los Angeles. The Greeneville wouldn't rank a footnotein their interests. He walked back into his office and called in hischief of staff. The chief of staff walked into the Oval Office andwas surprised to see two marines standing by the President's desk.Half an hour later he emerged white faced and visibly shaken.Kipper smiled as he watched the man walk down the hallway.Hewas getting to like this new President more and more by the minute.The President appeared a few minutes later. "So what's at thetop of your worry list Kipp?" It was an unusual question to ask aWatch Officer.

221 | P a g eMartin de ViviesSOUTHERN INDIAN OCEAN 37°50' South and 77°35' East, October 17, 2018.You could tell you were going fast because of the vibration comingthrough the boat.There was the sound of the mains and the waterrushing past the hull.In the engineering spaces all the systemswere operating at their maximum capacity. The lube oil, turbines,reactors and main engines were all working overtime.There was asense of purpose, because if something was going to go wrong it wouldhappen real fast.After days of pushing through the ocean at highspeed, hidden to the rest of the world, the Greeneville finallyreached its Area of Operations."Off'sa'deck," the CO said. "Clear the baffles and come to PD.""Aye sir, clear the baffles and come to PD.""Helm, conn, slow to one third." The helm answered and the OODthen proceeded to take the Greeneville through a series of turns toclear the baffles, the area directly behind the boat before coming toPeriscope Depth or PD."Baffles clear," Sonar announced."Conn, sonar coming shallow in preparation for periscopedepth." The OOD then advised, "Diving Officer, make your depth onefive zero feet." The diving officer acknowledged and then laterconfirmed depth one five zero feet."Sonar, Conn, report all contacts," the OOD asked. A fewminutes ticked by."Conn, Sonar no contacts."The Greeneville then began a very deliberate ascent from 150feet.The OOD manned the scope constantly moving in a circle,looking for any shapes moving through the water that might indicateanother vessel.The Dive Officer called out the depth every fewfeet, which seemed to spur the OOD to even faster circles. At 65 feet

222 | P a g ethe OOD called, "Scope clear!" A few seconds later, after anothersweep, "Initial periscope sweep complete, no close contacts."For the moment, Turner thought, they were alone. After doingsome house cleaning and picking up messages from the satellite,Turner ordered the boat back down. Closing in on their destination,Turner ordered the towed array to be streamed and the ship to berigged for Ultra Quiet.The CO of the Greeneville drew a small circle around the two Islands."If I was going to try something, or even just prepare for somethingin Antarctica, this is the place I would build an air bridge through.The fact the Chinese have chosen this place instead of doingsomething with the Australians says something doesn't it?"The two islands he circled with the digital pointer were theAmsterdam and St Paul Islands in the southernmost Indian Ocean. Theyare among the most isolated in the world, located more than 2,500miles from any continent, approximately halfway between South Africaand Australia. Both volcanic, they rose from a fault separating theIndian Ocean from the Antarctic Ocean. Amsterdam was broadly oval inshape, measuring 5 miles wide by 4.5 miles across with a maximumaltitude of 2685 feet. The two islands lay on a narrow oceanic ridge,which rapidly fell to great depths either side. Good news for theGreeneville. They could get in close and still have room to move."The French base, Martin de Viviès had until recently been theonly inhabited place on Amsterdam." The CO looked around theofficers' wardroom. "The recent inclusion of a military airbase builtby the Chinese has quickly turned the place into a secret smallcity." He brought up some images on the overhead display. "It's thecliffs that are a problem. They rise vertically fifty feet from theocean." The Islands were volcanic knobs that stuck out of the oceanwith no natural harbor. "We can monitor the traffic going in and out,

223 | P a g ebut we can't actually see the airfield, and neither can oursatellites for some reason.Which is why we are here, COMSUBPACwants us to find out what they are doing."A little later, "Torpedo room," Turner called from the conn."Remove the torpedo from tube one and reload with the ULUAV." Thiswas a small-specialized reconnaissance UAV (Unmanned Aerial Vehicle)about the size of a butternut pumpkin that could be launched fromunderwater. The acronym was a mouthful and said quickly, especiallyafter a drink, sounded like 'Orlov', which is what it became knownas. The torpedo room repeated the order."XO, open outer doors andfloat out the Orlov."The XO ran through the procedure with the torpedo room and thenturned to the CO. "Outer doors opened and Orlov released.""Thank you, XO."From the number one tube a smallcylinder floated out. On reaching thesurface the 13 by 9-inch diameter tube bobbedaround like a coke bottle. The top of thetube popped off and the Orlov, a small-ductedfan UAV, flew vertically up and away from the wild choppy surface.The Orlov was in effect a short tube encasing two fans with adiameter just shy of 9 inches, weighed less than 4.5 pound andoperated like a helicopter. The Naval version of the Orlov SLADF wasfitted with an optional wing to provide useful lift, increased loitertime, and fuel capacity. A small but powerful pre-programmed chippiloted the UAV to 100 feet, where it hovered and waited forinstructions. Once the feed was confirmed it sped off."Weps?" the Captain asked. "Bring it up on the main monitors."The main monitors in the control room fuzzed and then went darkbefore going green again as the imagery from the Orlov's camera cutin. Weps checked the First Lieutenant who was flying the bird. 'UAVP'

224 | P a g e(Unmanned Aerial Vehicle Pilot) a new rating that could be earnedonboard a nuke sub."Thanks Weps, can we cut in the telemetry and map as well?""Aye sir, we can. Watch the auxiliary screens."In addition to the infrared view the Orlov was giving them,they were also able to cross reference a map that showed the GPSlocation of the UAV as it moved."Coming up on the cliffs," the UAVP announced.The cliffs were clearly visible rising high out of the waterand the Orlov seemed to be racing straight at them. For a moment itseemed the young First Lieutenant was going to crash into them. Thescreen blurred suddenly as the small-ducted fan climbed sharply.Just feet above the cliff tops the pilot pulled the UAV to a stop."Holy shit! Will you look at that?" There was a hushed silencein the control room as everyone absorbed the images.threshold was just yards from the edge of the cliff.The runwayRight then, athunderous sound relayed from the Orlov’s highly sensitivemicrophones blared over the speakers. The UAV imagery suddenlygyrated wildly as the Orlov spun out of control.Something wasseriously wrong with the UAV, they were going to lose it.Thetelemetry looked like spaghetti; she was toast Turner thought, hopingit would crash in the ocean rather than leaving the Chinese apresent.The young Navy Lieutenant flying the UAV immediately hit thestabilize or 'panic' button, which kicked in the aircraft's ownflight control. The Microcraft spun end over end. Just short ofsmashing into the tarmac, the autopilot managed to bring it undercontrol. A second later the image settled down again. The reason forthe sudden adventure was quickly apparent to all as they watched ahuge transport fill the screen, touching down on the runway, the

225 | P a g emassive wing turbulence almost having ended their mission before itstarted.Turner was in a hurry.The Greeneville was deep and in ahover.The launch canister floated high above and acted as atransmitter, tied to the sub by a thin wire.The problem was thatthe small emission could easily be picked up by any anti electronicwarfare equipment (AEW) the Chinese might have, which would exposetheir position.It was, however, a tricky but worthwhile part ofTurner's plan, he could have used a trailing wire.But if theChinese had AEW capabilities, he wanted to know how good they were.If they were installing defensive systems operated by experiencedcrew, this in turn meant they were getting ready to defend somethingof value and were working to a plan.The CO stood up from his chair and walked over to Weps. Usingthe overhead screen, he indicated the proposed flight path. TheWeapons Control Officer nodded, looked at his pilot, who nodded inreturn. They were relatively new at this and were relying on the UAVpilot to make them all look good.The pilot pushed the small control stick. The command inputrelayed instantly to the Orlov, which tilted forwards and quietlysped down the side of the runway, the pilot steering away from thelights. While small and silent, at fifteen centimeters across, itcould be easily seen.The pilot flew in the shadows, frequentlyhovering and scanning for anybody that might possibly detect them.Near the end of the runway the pilot was preparing to fly over thefence when they saw him."Guard!" Weps said.The guard's back was to them, but he was looking around. Hethen turned. The Chinese guard was sure he had seen movement out ofthe corner of his eye. A bird? No, it was too dark for that.He

226 | P a g eshrugged the collar of his coat higher. The never-ending wind seemedto penetrate every opening. He scanned the area in front of him.Back in the Greeneville's control room everyone was holdingtheir breath."Christ, he's looking right at us," Weps said"I know," the young pilot answered, stressed to the max."Well, get us the fuck out of there!""He can't see us Sir," the Lieutenant said, sticking to hisguns, trying to keep a cool head."What do you mean? He's looking at us right now!""I know, but he thinks we are part of the lighting system." Hepaused. "I landed on one of the runway lights; it's about the samesize." He was holding his breath, his nerves screaming, but his handon the small joystick was rock solid.The Chinese perimeter guard swept the area again. Nothingmoved, it was getting close to the end of his duty shift, time to go.On board the Greeneville there was disbelief and a collectivesigh as the Guard turned his back and walked off."Son of a bitch," Weps exclaimed. The XO wiped his hand acrosshis face. "That kid has got some balls," he said quietly."Amen to that," the Captain replied just as quietly."Let'slet him do his job in peace.""Aye"The overhead showed the view from the UAV as it climbed overthe fence and skimmed around the perimeter to come up behind somelarge hangers. It then climbed, hugging the edge of the hanger beforeflying down the large guttering and coming to hover on the forwardedge.The runway was long.They knew that because they had justmeasured it. Long enough to land the An-124 Condor, one of which wassitting right there on the apron. The Condor, next to the An-225

227 | P a g eMriya, designed to carry the Russian shuttle, was the world's largesttransport aircraft. The wings were high-mounted, swept-back, andtapered with curved tips.Four enormous turbofans were mounted onpylons under the wings, the massive aircraft shared the tarmac withtwo large Tu-95's, TU-22 Backfires, Midas air refuelling tankers,Hinds and Havocs.Two SU-34 aircraft were being towed into thehangars where the tails of numerous other aircraft that included theJ-7 and J-10's could be seen."Crap, I've never seen so many different aircraft outside of anair show," someone said, most of the crew in the control room juststared at the screen.The Captain had seen enough. "Weps get the Orlov out of thereor sink it somewhere no one will find it.""Aye, Sir'"XO, get us a course out of here to somewhere we can talk toCOMSUBPAC, and fast.""Weps, splash the bird," the XO said making a decision. Tryingto get the UAV back on board wasn't going to work.Its loss was asmall price to pay against revealing their presence. "Cut the wire."Suddenly the UAVP interrupted. "Sir! We have some activity.""Zoom in," the Captain demanded.The screen showed a lot of men running to the Kamovs, theblades already beginning to turn. The Kamov twin rotor helicopterswere dedicated sub hunters that carried torpedoes and sophisticatedASW equipment. "They're on to us," Turner said. "XO, clear thedatum!""Permission to activate AEE procedure, Sir?" Weps asked. Thismeant terminating the communication link with the UAV. In this eventthe Orlov was pre-programmed to escape and splash itself in water sodeep no one would find it."Aye! Cut the Wires!" the CO replied

228 | P a g eWeps moved quickly. "Aye, wires cut." He confirmed back. "Helm,conn, full ahead, steer course three five zero. Make your depth onetwo hundred." The XO, Lieutenant Commander Jack Thompson, thought ofthe towed array hanging off the stern and quickly rechecked thedepth. He didn't want to lose it by getting it caught on the bottomas they accelerated away. He could feel the boat begin to move andquickly pick up speed as the big prop bit into the water.Minuteslater, the CO's written report and the video were transmitted throughthe Recoverable Tethered Optical Fibre streamed behind them.NIMITZ-MACARTHUR PACIFIC COMMAND CENTER, PEARL HARBOUR. October 18"Holy Mother of God," the Admiral said. "Get this directly tothe CNS. Direct, do you understand? I want immediate confirmation ofreceipt.""Aye, Sir."It was not usual to bypass the command chain, but what theAdmiral had just seen scared the hell out of him.Seven minuteslater, the Chief of Navy staff, Rear Admiral Ethan Fox, looked at thesame report with almost exactly the same reaction."Holy shit!"Thirty minutes later the entire chiefs of staff were gathered.It was zero one thirty hours local time."It's what we suspected, but bigger," Fox said. "This is afull-scale military build up, but for what?They have some seriousshit there. Notice the tankers, also the navalized SU-34s and ASWKamovs. They've even deployed some of their J10s and 11s. Theseguys are prepared for extensive air operations, capable of deployinglong-range strike fighters and bombers complemented by naval strikeaircraft able to land and operate off carriers.With the Backfiresthey can range over the entire Australian continent and Antarctica.

229 | P a g e"They have substantial AWAC's and air refuelling capability.There is a significant air lift capacity and," he said pointing outthe warehouse facilities and ground handling equipment, "they havethe hard facilities to deal with large logistical requirements. Fromhere they are capable of land strike, ASW and anti-ship warfare overa protracted period of time, and with their navy, they can extendthat offensive capability over the entire Southern Ocean."We estimate that they are several days from being operational.As you can see from this imagery, the Antonov is only just nowunloading additional S400 anti-aircraft batteries. Our earlier U2mission was spiked by one. They won't do anything serious until theyhave these other long-range bad boys in place. Then we will find outwhat they are really up to.From my humble position I would saythese people are getting ready to rumble. What do you reckon?"The Joint Chiefs of Staff, who a few moments ago had beenshaking the cobwebs of sleep from their minds, were now suddenly verywide eyed and very much awake."If you ask me?" one of the generals said with a hint of Texanaccent. "It looks like they are ready for a gun fight and we don'teven have our goddamn pants on!"

230 | P a g eLebedev/Popov discuss next days Fleet deployment Oct 21.RUSSIAN NAVAL BASE, VLADIVOSTOK October 21. Colonel General, SergeyNikolayevich Lebedev held the mobile close to his mouth.It wasblowing hard and he knew the wind would muffle the sound. "Alexei,"he said, shouting over the wind. "I think it is time. The Chinese arealready moving forces south.""We know its close. The clever bastards are trying to get asmall jump on us.""Perhaps just a few days we think." Lebedev turned his back tothe wind and cupped the phone in his hands. "Brief Mishka, give him achance to prepare whatever forces we will need." In addition to thelarge number of Special Forces we already have there, he thought."By the way, our Chinese friends think they picked up a subcontact off Martin de Vivies.""I thought Finn was keeping them all at base?""Well it's Blaire now, besides it might not be American.Butwe need to be careful all the same. Very soon everyone will know."Lebedev closed the phone lid and turned back to Vice AdmiralVyacheslav Popov. "Are you ready?""As we ever will be Sergey. We will be at sea tomorrow, thefleet's largest exercise in living memory."Lebedev looked across Vladivostok, to the Sea of Japan, home tothe Pacific Fleet. Perhaps they could bring some honour back to theonce proud city, he thought. Next to the Chinese, the Russian Navalarmada was now the biggest Pacific fleet in history.Amongst this,perhaps Russia might find her dignity.

231 | P a g eCanberra - Reid discusses Hamilton hit and de ViviesCANBERRA, AUSTRALIA, GOVERNMENT HOUSE"There's no question about it.Some one tried to take himout.""What the hell does that mean," the Australian PrimeMinister, Dennis Gordon asked in agitation. “Take him out?""A professional hit team attempted to kill Colonel BrianHamilton. Something is going down and we don't know what it is," TheAustralian Minister of Defense, Brian Reid answered, "this is theMartin de Vivies issue, apparently President Finn didn't care, butBlaire does. Since he took over, we have been getting betterintelligence from the Americans.There seems to be a circle ofintrigue surrounding Martin de Vivies and Antarctica. The last timeHamilton returned from Antarctica he had some pretty interestinginformation.Nothing solid, but snippets he had overheard from thedrill crews at Vostok and from the Chinese scientist called Feng.Seemingly Innocent events but put together, suggest something moreimportant.""So we had Hamilton making enquiries, the same one I’m thinkingof?""Yep," he said, waiting for the response."Christ this is a small country sometimes; he was shafted overthat Braithwaite affair wasn't he? It wasn't that long ago.""One and the same, the Senate Committee did a real number onhim."Political expediency, the PM thought. "Poor bugger gets shovedto the side, his career stuffed I imagine, and somehow he comes upcentre stage.""Basically, yes, and now someone tries to rub him out, almostsucceeded."

232 | P a g e"How is he?""Brian? He'll be okay, just heavily bruised.""Good, because it looks like he might have to go back... toVostok that is. Where's Howe?" the Prime Minister asked, referring tothe Australian Minister for Foreign Affairs."On his way back from Jakarta as we speak.""Suggestions," Gordon asked."Like get tough with our biggest trading partner when we havenothing more than a hunch?""Yes, I was hoping if someone else said it would sounddifferent. Chinese trade is worth twice what the Americans give us.""Rock and a hard place," he muttered."What do you think they are doing?" the PM asked."Something to do with Vostok Station; it all ties togethersomehow."But dealing with death squads wasn't how Australia liked to benegotiated with. "Who, Chinese or Russian?" The PM asked."Chinese we think.""The Chinese want to get rid of him for hearing rumours?""They seem to think he either knows something or has somethingthey want. To go this far, it's got to be a BIG ticket item."The city of Canberra, situated hundreds of miles inland Australiasweltered in the midday summer heat. Not far from the office of thePrime Minister, Natasha Braithwaite cupped her chin on her hand andpondered the rolling heat waves. Such a contrast to winter shethought, Natasha hated Canberra in winter.She was torn between conflicting emotions and loyalty.Hamilton was everything she had grown to hate. He was a killer; shehad seen what he was capable of. It was one of the reasons she hadbecome part of politics, to stop exactly that sort of mentality. But

233 | P a g eat the same time he had saved her life, and her companions. She wasthen party to the official complaint and the resulting individualreprimand; there was never an excuse for such brutal violence. Shehad not fully understood the result would kill his career until shehad enquired about his resignation."What did you think was going to happen Natasha?" the leader ofthe Australian Human Rights Party had said, smiling. He was happy; hehad walked away with a scalp. Natasha felt guilty; Hamilton had savedher life. She had attempted to meet him to explain her actions; shethought he at least deserved that. But while sitting there he hadliterally fallen at her feet, in his typical style.At least thistime she had saved him.Pushing the thoughts aside she once again looked back to theopposite wall and the big map of Antarctica. This would be exciting,another Senate Investigation Committee, this time on thecollaboration of scientists at Vostok Station. She felt secure in thefact there were no terrorists or criminals overrunning the icecontinent, compared to the last adventure it was positively safe.Katabatic wnds moving down to the Antarctic coast

234 | P a g eCHAPTER FIVE

235 | P a g eVostok StationBrian witnesses the drilling operation and oil strike.VOSTOK STATION, NOVEMBER 12 0830HRS LOCAL. Antarctica is home to morethan 70 lakes that lie thousands of feet under the surface of thecontinental ice sheet, including one under the South Pole itself.Russian and British scientists had confirmed the lake's existence byintegrating a variety of data, including airborne ice-penetratingradar observations and space borne radar altimetry.Lake Vostok, beneath Russia's Vostok Station, is one of thelargest of these sub glacial lakes. Hidden beneath nearly three milesof ice, Lake Vostok, a body of water the size of Lake Ontario, isover 155 miles long and 32 miles wide, and contains around 1250 cubicmiles of water, a good match for Lake Superior. Its maximum depth(1800 feet) similar to Lake Tahoe. The Lake is a wedge-shaped body ofwater that deepens southwards from 60 feet at its northern end to1800 feet at the south. It is roofed by ice that began life as snowfalling on the surface of the frozen continent; snow that records thelast 20 million years of Antarctic history. If the lake beneath everhad a direct link with the air above it, that connection had endedsome 30 million years ago.Vostok Station is located in oneof the world's mostinaccessible places, near the South Geomagnetic Pole, at the centerof the East Antarctic Ice Sheet. Ironically, its very hostility was abeacon to scientific adventurers prepared to combat these elements inthe quest for knowledge. The coldest place on earth was now home to amultinational team of scientists.Brian Hamilton stepped out of his trailer. There was still some painin his back, but it was getting better. He was surprised for thethousandth time how cold it was. The sky was clear and a cold sun

236 | P a g eglowed low on the horizon. There was no wind, but it was cold -really, really cold. The ice crunched noisily beneath his feet as heglanced back at what he called home. The small collection of brightred huts stood out untidily against the backdrop of the endless bumpywhite plain. They always looked so messy, he thought.Hamilton's temporary home was the 'East Camp'.The U.S.enclave was situated next to the Russian permanent Antarctic ResearchStation called Vostok. Located in the centre of East Antarctica onthe Polar Plateau, the tiny station floated on an ice dome almost12,000 feet high. It was also the most remote and, of course, cold.On July 21, 1983, the station recorded a numbing -128.6 degreesFahrenheit (-89.2 degrees Celsius), the coldest temperature recordedon Earth, nearly cold enough to freeze carbon dioxide out of thinair.With him were Dr Rhys Cooper and a freelance journalist calledVincent Gray.Dr Rhys Cooper, 'Coop' as they called him, and Brianwere old friends. Gray was bunking out in the same trailer. The guywas a real Jeckyl and Hyde character.Under normal conditions themost likable bloke on the planet. Put a pen in his hand and let himask questions and he became the fanatical journo that wouldn't giveup until he had screwed the last morsel of information out of you."So Doctor Cooper," Gray said, running awkwardly in his EWC(Extreme Weather Clothing) boots to keep up with Cooper. "What is itexactly that SCAR and COMNAP have against this drilling program?Should the Scientific community not be excited about exploring theunknown?"Coop knew Vinny had his recorder on; otherwise he wouldn't havebeen so official. Cooper stopped. "Exploring yes, not destroying,"the Doctor answered."Entering the lake in this manner, anenvironment sealed for millions of years, could easily contaminatethe whole investigation process which we have worked on for years."

237 | P a g e"The Russian team argues that the US investigation has had tenyears to achieve something and that it was now time to act.""It's the Russian team?" Cooper almost spat. "It's anunsanctioned Russian team, and its not just science here that weshould worry about. There is a safety issue. We are dealing with anenvironment under huge pressure, several hundred atmospheres. Ourresearch suggests that the portion of the lake they have drilledcontains high gas concentrations that could make the water criticallyunstable and potentially dangerous," Cooper said. "If you exposed aglass of lake water to normal atmospheres, the gases would instantlyboil off and vaporize." He wanted to add that the renegade researchteam looked like it was funded by Russian Oil oligarchs but kept hismouth shut. "Their aim is to drill the lake floor. There is someevidence to suggest that the lake is split by an ice ridge.Wherethe Sino-Russian team have drilled, is an area directly exposed tooil and gas deposits, cracked open by all this weight." He jumped upand down on the ice to make the point. "Several miles of it and hasbeen for millions of years probably. What they propose has hugerisks"The journalist suddenly changed tack. "Do you have anyadditional comment on the unusual magnetic anomalies, Doctor Cooper."Cooper wanted to roll his eyes. "You are referring to the SOARflight I take it?" The lake itself was not the only interest to RhysCooper.An SOAR flight had detected a huge magnetic anomaly on theeast coast of the lake's shoreline, with readings that swung dialswildly to almost 100,000 nanotesla, way up from the normal 60,000nanoteslas around the surrounding area. A tesla is the standardmeasure of magnetism. These variations were massive and had Rhys andhis team consumed by their meaning. Usually magnetic anomalies aremuch smaller and it takes some effort to distinguish the anomaly fromnormal daily changes in the magnetic field. In this case there was no

238 | P a g econfusion, the observation encompassed the entire southeast corner ofthe lake, about 65 by 46 miles."The hypothesis is that the combination of massive weight ofseveral miles of ice, and the lake itself, has caused the earth'scrust to stretch," He used his hands to make the point, "thinning toless than two percent as it has been pulled taut, exposing theunderlying metal creating the magnetic anomaly.""That's it?" Gray sounded disappointed. No green men?"The point is, Vinny, these features are just the head of whatI think is a much larger infection in the earth's crust.To start,there is probably enough trapped methane gas down there to cause afatal 'Green House' effect and massive amounts of oil and gas underhuge pressure. All that plugged for millions of years by the weightof the ice cap above it and the extreme pressure of the sub glaciallakes. All combined to make the largest volatile explosive cocktailon the planet.""Isn't that perhaps painting a rather dramatic picture toresist competitive research programs?" Gray loved a bit of mudslinging between scientists."I guess we are about to find out," Cooper said, but he knew ina way that Gray was right. He was envious of those involved in thatmoment, the moment they would first enter the lake and the momentthat would immortalize those names involved. But not, he thought, atthe price of compromising the entire project and decades of research.Hamilton listened in amusement to the theatrics as they walked.The three arrived at the drill site. Hamilton looked up at thetowering platform before him; it was a serious piece of work.Jutting out of the sparkling snowfield, the exploratory drilling rigwas crammed with pipes, platforms and state-of-the-art computer gear.A crew with specialized cold weather hard hats, wrestled with a huge

239 | P a g evertical pipe moving in and out of the ice, shouting to be heardabove the constant clang of metal against metail.Brian noticed that the official congregation was arriving. Asmall crowd had assembled around the drill platform. The head of theRussian science team could be seen talking excitedly to the arrivingaudience, his thickly padded arms waving up down and around.Professor Nelomai Ostaf'ev syn Olfer'eva Durnovo, Brian recognizedhis voice.His clipped Russian accent carried across the ice mixedwith the clanging of pipes. He wondered what had happened to Feng.He had enjoyed his company, he was under the impression he had beenleading the Chinese contingent of the drill team."This subterranean lake is the size of Lake Ontario," theProfessor shouted to be heard over the din, "and has been trapped formillions of years. Last time we stop 200 meters short. We haltroughly above where we suspect boundary between ice and water meet,to prevent contamination of the lake of course."He paused foreffect. "Today….today we go into the lake and then the lake floor."He held up a thickly gloved hand and waggled his finger. "Andwhat will we find?" he asked his small audience. His eyes squintedplayfully, about the only thing you could see behind a profusion ofbeard, heavy hood and super cold weather clothing. "Hah! That is whyit is so exciting. We do not know!"Still more folk drifted in, fortunately no traffic problemsplagued this outpost…at least not yet. Brian looked down at thefrozen surface. Beneath his feet the ice was 12,000 feet thick,nearly four miles of ice sitting on top of a lake millions of yearsold. It made you think; he could almost feel the pressure, trillionsof tons of ice pressing down on a lake which was nearly 2000 feetdeep in places. He still couldn't help thinking in the oldmeasurement. The Russian contingent argued that any fluid movementwould freeze in minutes. Which is why, he thought, it was strange

240 | P a g ethat a large BOP (Blow Out Preventor) was tethered to the bottom ofthe drill casing. He looked back up at the drill platform.Gray's voice interrupted his thoughts. "..you here for thesemagnetic swings as well?" He laughed."Every year for the last three Vinny,""And at almost the same time each year," Gray added.Brian looked at Gray slightly surprised he knew. "That'sright.""I know. The Rosenbridge deal, right.""Right." Gray was full of surprises today he thought."You're out of the service though eh?"Brian nodded the affirmative. After the Braithwaite fiasco they‘the service’ had agreed to an immediate release if he had agreed tocome back to Vostok one last time, to see what the Chinese andRussians were doing. This was under the same cover as the last fewtimes, working for the Rosenbridge Foundation. His cover job on thisgig was to monitor mild and spasmodic EMP events that occurredregularly over the other end of the lake.His real job was to getclose to the drilling operation. Little did he know how the twoseemingly unrelated tasks would collide so spectacularly."Must be riveting watching that bloody needle quiver eh!" Graysaid joking.Hamilton laughed. "Gives me goose bumps every time." He lookedquizzically at the BOP, a large and very heavy looking contraptionwith numerous valves and metal jackets. "That's big!" he said half tohimself and half out loud."What is it?" Gray asked."A BOP, a Blow Out Preventer, caps oil wells. It arrived hereyesterday," Coop explained. "But the question is what is it doinghere?" It was an annular BOP which could be used to seal off the holewhen no pipe was in it.

241 | P a g eGood question too, Hamilton thought. The BOP was far too heavyto send to Vostok as an afterthought, its use was clearly plannedfor. Hamilton gestured at the Russian and Chinese drilling complex."They seem pretty prepared. I'd estimate that's what," He looked itup and down some more. "a 50,000psi ram BOP. The drill case will gobefore that will."A Blow Out Preventer is a big valve that sits on top of thewell bore and seals off the well whenever there is an unexpectedpressure surge. Ram blow-out preventers have a hydraulic ram thatautomatically seals the well when a "kick," or pressure surge, isdetected."I don't think it's here by mistake." Coop said. "Me thinksthey have not been telling us everything they know.'Gray's ears were burning. He knew little about BOPs. But if ithad something to do with oil it was interesting."Surprise, surprise," Hamilton said.Gray smelt a good story coming on.He knew both Hamilton andCooper were pretty straight arrows and both very bloody smart. Ifthey were intrigued, so was he."I have a feeling this is going to be interesting," Hamiltonsaid. The men looked at each other and then back to the rig.Gray was itching to find out more. "You guys coming?" he said,heading off towards the platform, doubly interested now in the wholeprocess."Not invited. We will watch from out here," Brian said.Thescent of deception was growing stronger and he was now moreinterested in the missing Dr Feng, the pain in his back smarting alittle. Cooper and Hamilton waited patiently while the rig crewprepared for the last few feet. That was when he saw her.

242 | P a g eShe stopped for a moment at the top of the steps and pulled herhood back, Natasha Braithwaite. Damn! Every time he saw that bird,shit happened. He didn't believe in fate, luck or any of that stuff.But there was a sudden feeling of desperation. She looked directly athim.There was no way she could recognize him, not with a fullbeard, hood and sunglasses...just like Afganistan but with less dirt.She walked inside. Here was a woman whose life he had saved,apparently had saved his own but ruined it, and they had barely everspoken. Now here she was. Why didn't he ever get those odds at thecasino? She disappeared inside; Brian made a note to avoid her. Stillreeling from the moment he turned to his companion who was admiringthe drilling operation.At the top of the stairs Braithwaite had stopped, something hadmade her look down. She noticed the man looking at her, beard anddark sunglasses. Everyone seemed to give up shaving down here, so helooked pretty much like everyone else. But despite that, she couldfeel his eyes; her instincts were trying to tell her something.The drill rig was state of the art and Cooper envied the financialsupport the Russian and Chinese scientists were enjoying. Instead ofa thread of pipes, the rig used continuous lengths of pipe wound on aspool. The pipe was straightened prior to pushing into the well bore.The computerized GPS steering of the drilling operationguaranteed delivery of a data logger and drill bit to within feet ofthe intended target. The data logger would confirm whether they wereat the lake.Once firmly in the lake they would collect a fluidsample and bring it back, something to satisfy the other scientiststhat would undoubtedly be observing.The borehole was nine inches in diameter. The tapering drillingmast above the hole stood nearly one hundred feet high. The heavygirders of the platform sat on top of a control building big enough

243 | P a g eto house the crew. They literally lived on the job. This complex inturn, rode 20 feet in the air on heavy steel legs with the drillprocess at the centre.From the control room the team's scientists and chosen visitorscould see the mechanizations of the drill equipment driving the pipesthe last few feet.Braithwaite could feel the pent up excitement.The scientists clustered around the instruments as the drill crewsteered the last few inches. There was hesitant excitement. Finallythe ultra slow spin of the drill pipe came to a stop.The sound ofthe diesel faded as the revs spun down to an idle.For a moment the room was completely silent except for thegentle thrum of the rig's diesel generators. For the team'sgeologists, this was as close to sex as you could get without takingyour pants down. In fact, a lot of them would have said this momentwas better.thought.Now was the moment of truth the team leader DurnovoThis had been one of the most challenging drillingoperations on the planet and had taken two years, every foot,painstakingly slow.Despite the technology, the slowly moving deepice fought them every step, yard by yard. But they had won. The newmethodology had allowed them to remove core samples on the run, allthe while drilling to their target.The retrieved cores were shared with the other scientists onthe base. This had been Durnovo's idea.The Russian Scientist hadeasily hidden the project's real objective, distracting others withthe highly valued core samples, the apparent generosity keepinganyone from asking too many questions or trying to get involved inthe drill process.Apart from the last core sample, the drill shaft was nowhollow.A 12,000-foot, nine inch diameter hole ran through thedrilling jacket all the way to the lake. Everything now stood still.The drill crew were preparing for the wire line recovery of the last

244 | P a g ecore sample, the most important yet.A sudden hiss of air stoppedthem in their tracks.Several red lights lit up on the controlpanels and an alarm started to wail. Braithwaite felt the familiarshot of adrenalin when shit happened, she knew it was happening. Shecould see the drill crew were running, that meant something was goingdown.The assembled scientists and visiting dignitaries gave eachother a quizzical look.Hamilton and Cooper heard the heavy hiss of air above theblaring of the rig's alarms and saw the sudden and urgent activity ofthe drill crew. Like them, they knew what was coming. Braithwaiteagain! Brian thought, it was happening again, it was like mattermeeting anti-matter.The sound of escaping air increased until it became violent.The whole platform shook and shuddered as the drill head fought tocontain the maelstrom. It was a losing battle. The mounts weresimply not designed to contain that sort of shock. In what seemedlike slow motion the drill housing fractured, split and then seemedto disappear.The whole drill mount parted, disappearing in anincredible explosion of ice and air venting under massive pressurefrom thousands of feet below.Brian guessed correctly that they were about to receive thelast core sample very quickly.several thousand square yards.Which they did, sprayed out overWhat came next they had onlysuspected. But it would change the world.While the scientists stood riveted to the spot, the drill crewwere already on the run. They knew what was happening; they justfound it difficult to believe. But they were moving.Now we all know why you wanted a big BOP Hamilton thought, hismind almost a mirror to Cooper's. The BOP with its special gates andrams could be closed around the drill pipe completely closing the top

245 | P a g eof the casing.Without the sheer weight of the BOP it would havebeen impossible to close over the opening."Fifty thousand pounds to cap a small hole," Cooper exclaimed."They'll need it," Brian said, looking at the high-pressuregeyser of gas, water and black sludge."Almost enough to make your eyes water eh?""If it weren't for the rigidity of the ice the bloody casingwouldn't last a second either."It took hours to reconnect, as they tried to lower the BOP overthe shaft the massive blow out pressure would spin and kick the heavydevice as if it were confetti.By the time they had locked andtightened the last clamps it was getting hard to breathe."What have you got Coop?" Brian asked, even though he couldalready smell the gas.Cooper was doing a quick air analysis near the platform. "Highsaturation of methane, lot of oxygen and natural gas, if it hadn'tbeen for this katabatic wind, we would all be dead. In fact, let'smove further upwind; it's bad enough here."Later on, back in the transportable shack they called a bar,they all skulled some rather nasty Russian brew that tasted more likedog poo than vodka, but was quick to warm the insides.Putting hisglass down Gray looked up."What exactly happened there Doc?""As you could see it was huge pressure.I’m betting it’s acombination of two factors. First of all we know the ice sheet here,”He pointed down. “the part directly above Vostok Lake… can move upand down depending on the volume of water in the lake - which canvary.” He used his hands to describe the motions. “The blow outprobably means that this sheet we are standing on is restingunsupported on top of the lake and is massivley pressurising thewater. It’s like the worlds biggest plunger. This pressure with

246 | P a g eexplosive force blasts the water up the drill core and to thesurface. Already exciting enough it gets more interesting. As it hitsthe surface and depressurises, the gas load which has been suspendedin it escapes all at once, explosively, straight from liquid to gas.That gas load includes methane, oxygen and a whole bunch of otherstuff. The fact we didn't have an explosion was a miracle."Gray took a second look at the cigarette in his hand. Hestubbed it out."What are we dealing with here then?""We weren't sure before, but we are now.Our Russian andChinese friends weren’t interested in just the lake, but what wasbeneath it. They have just tapped the world's largest and uniquelydeadly, reserve of gas and oil. What we stand on, separated by a fewmiles of ice, will make the Middle East reserves look like a sandpitnext to the beach.""They knew." Hamilton said more to himself than anyone else.Remembering Gray was there, he didn't say anymore. The Chinese andRussians knew. How long had they known for, and why keep it secret?You only kept a secret if you had something to hide, and now he waswilling to bet, that secret was the reason for Feng's disappearanceyears before.They didn't like Feng talking. He couldn't help butfeel bad about that. It was probably himself talking to Feng that wasthe problem. But the scientist had said nothing, he was no traitor tohis own country, but now Brian was sure he knew who had tried to killhim.MOSCOW, November 12, 2018. Colonel General, Sergey NikolayevichLebedev punched the connect button on the ringing phone."Da."After a few moments of intense concentration to theother speaker, the usually stern face of the Intelligence chief brokeinto a broad smile. "Really," he added. "Get me a full report."

247 | P a g eLebedev terminated the connection and then called the President."Bing Qing.""Da, I know." On the other end of the phone Petrov nodded.The next phase of the plan could begin. His old friend MishkaKazakov, General of the Army was going to be busy. "Who have youselected as a lead on the ground?"Mikolai Nabialok."Nabialok, Petrov thought, surely someone would have killed himby now, a nasty man. "Interesting choice," he said."You approve sir?""Da." Mikolai was just this side of being a homicidal maniac,he thought.Maybe the cold will kill the bloodthirsty bastard, buthe doubted it, the devil seemed to look after his own.Lebedev nodded to himself and cradled the phone. He needed tobe sure he had somebody at point that wouldn't quit or get gun shy.Nabialok, as distasteful as he was, fitted the bill. They were in thenext phase now. They were committed.VOSTOK STATION. The problem, Brian thought, is that it never gotdark, not during the middle of summer anyway.There were no treesand no hills, just those little sastrugi and naduvy, ice blown moundsof snow. But tonight, even though it was still daylight, the weatherhad become nasty, almost a white out.Very fine ice particles blewthrough the air. The wind wasn't that strong, but the result of theairborne ice particles and the sun resulted in an incredible glare.He didn't waste time making the most of it.He knew exactly where Durnovo would be, sitting up in thecontrol room of the drill rig, admiring his handiwork. It took fiveminutes to reach the rig and another few to scale the eastern side.He settled into the joins between some big steel girders andcarefully attached the sensors to the outside of the wall and some

248 | P a g epiping. He then attached the earpiece; it was just like being in theroom. From what he could tell there were three men.They weresharing vodka, laughing and talking about their women and families.Then they talked about geology and then women and sex. He was gettingcold. If he stayed too much longer he would freeze."Bing Qing," he suddenly heard someone say. That was Chinese;'crystal clear' was what he thought it meant.Another man said something in bad Chinese with a Russianaccent. Durnovo, he thought. Brian listened intently; it was gettinginteresting, he didn't see the other man stealthily approach him frombehind. Hong Liu, the same man that had killed Feng, positionedhimself above the crouched Australian and swung the pickaxe violentlydown towards Hamilton's skull.Type 054A on excercise with the French Navy. (NATO reporting name: Jiangkai-II class)missile frigate - hull number 568 named Chaohu, after the city in the eastern AnhuiProvince.

249 | P a g eMedia. Int.For Immediate ReleaseSino and French Forces Conduct Southern Indian Ocean ExercisesBy Vincent Gray, Media Int. Press Writer.Thursday. Nov 21, 2018. Navy and air units from China and France are involved in an extended air andnaval exercise in the Indian Ocean. The long duration of the exercises are designed to test the extendeddeployment of both French and Chinese blue water assets as far as the Southern Ocean and involveunprecedented numbers of ships and aircraft. This is a clear message that the two nations take seriouslytheir desire to protect their critical supply lines, wherever on the planet they may be. The French havepermitted their new partners to operate air support out of Martin de'Vivies from the newly built Han AirForce Base. The Chinese have deployed several new warships, submarines and aircraft which involveRussian defense personnel in the training role prior to a complete hand over of the new equipment. Theseexercises confirm the growing friendship between Beijing and Paris, contrasting heavily to France'srenewed frosty attitude to the U.S. – EndAmong the western equipment on the Luhu and Luhai class destroyers is the FrenchThomson-CSF TSR 3004 Sea Tiger Air/Surface search radars, and French-made guns. TheThomson-CSF TAVITAC 2000 combat data system compiles a picture of the tacticalsituation using inputs from radars and other sensors both on the ship and from remotesources. The Luhu-class missile destroyers are one of the most sophisticated Chinesebuiltsurface combatants in the PLA Navy, but are still obsolete by Western standards.The were also the first truly multi-role Chinese warships. Its primary surface-tosurfaceweapons are 8 YJ-81/YJ-82 sea-skimming SSM. Its air-defence systems include 32Thomson-CSF Sea Crotale/HHQ-7 SAMs and 4 twin 37mm Type 76A/715 automatic AA guns(760rd/min), The Luhu-class air-defence systems lack a fleet defence capability beyondvisual range.

250 | P a g eCHAPTER SIXA Sovremenny class destroyer launching a Moskit (Sunburn) antiship missileThe Dragon Sails SouthBEIJING, CHINA November 12 0930hrs (0230 UTC). President YuenXinghua, the General Secretary of the Chinese Communist Party andpowerful CMC, looked out of the window and across the large square.The morning was surprisingly warm, but the fall of golden leaves fromthe trees surrounding the park warned of colder weather to come.Chen, as usual, had been right, the Chinese President thought.The oil and gas strike would be public within hours; there was littlehe could do to prevent that. The international media agencies wouldbe all over it. Gone were the days when they could dictate what theChinese population was told. The sea walls and borders that had keptthe rest of the world out had well and truly been broken. He wouldhave to tread carefully. The members of the Hanyu Pinyin, the ChineseCommunist Party (CCP), knew the critical and strategic importance of

251 | P a g eoil to China's growth and economy, but in his mind they were toocautious.Unlike the previous President Hú Jintao, Yuen Xinghua was aproduct of what many referred to as the Shanghai clique, an informalname for officials in the central government of the People's Republicof China who rose to prominence in the Shanghai city administration.Six of the nine members of the all-powerful Politburo StandingCommittee of the Communist Party of China were part of that clique.Grudgingly, even President Yuen recognized the brilliance of HúJintao. A hydraulics engineer by trade, Hu had spent most of his timein the hinterland but rapidly rose to power. Hu's photographic memorywas party legend and the death trap of those who were not up to thetask.In the new order Hu, like Jiang Zemin, had stepped asidewillingly to allow the next generation of leadership to take theparty forward. But not after completely dominating the Chinesepolitical system by holding all three senior posts, effectivelyruling the country as a dictator.Where Hu was brilliant, Yuen was ruthless. Yuen Xinghua whilenot possessing the same memory as his predecessor was nonetheless avery smart man; equal or better to the task than many of his westerncounter parts. He had done well, a Jiang Zemin protégé, with theadded support of the Shanghai clique; he had managed not only thePresidency, but also chairmanship of the General Secretary of the CPCand Central Military Commission (CMC).The leader of the world'smost populous nation, the Chinese President was aware that next tothe President of the United States, Damon Blaire, he was the mostpowerful person on earth.Xinghua ran his hand through the sparse remains of his hair."Is this accurate?" he said simply.General Chen Jianguo, Vice Chairman of the state CMC and Chiefof Staff nodded. "Yes, what you are reading is our own HUMINT less

252 | P a g ethan two hours old. From what I can gather, half the world'sgovernments will be reading a similar communiqué from their ownpeople."Your plan, Bing Qing, has paid off, it seems. When did youfind out?""Thirty minutes ago." Chen had watched the event in real timeover a secure Vidcon.Yuen Xinghua felt mildly irritated he wasn't aware earlier.But such good news should not be spoiled. "The clock is now ticking.What are your thoughts?""Secretary General, we still have to wait and see how the restof the world responds, especially the U.S.""Yes, it will be interesting to see what Blaire does with Finnstill refusing to die.""Mr. President," Chen said formally. "We are prepared to moveinto the third phase of the plan."The question hung in the air. The third phase he thought."Strictly speaking," the General added, "Our recent activitieshave simply been the realization of our Active Defense Policy,especially given the situation. It is time we let our presence befelt with something a little more substantial than a few diplomatswith nothing sharper than words. We should extend our Active DefencePolicy to not only cover such issues as Taiwan, but also our energysupplies and challenge the U.S. domination of trade routes in thesouthern oceans.""And in Antarctica as well?""Yes, in the Southern Ocean first, this will catch theAmericans off guard, especially with their new President stillfumbling with the control levers. From Martin de Vivies we can easilybolster our Antarctic bases and in the Indian and Southern Ocean wecan now show our flag and push back the hegemonism of the U.S." Chen,

253 | P a g elike most of the leadership in the PLA saw the United States as asuperpower well into its decline, losing economic, political, andmilitary influence around the world. It still, however, controlledthe critical flow of energy resources. Now was the time to act.The term "hegemony," to Chinese thinking, had a negativeconnotation, and depicted a power that desired imperialistic controlover other powers, and is overbearing and controlling. The recentChinese defense white paper Chen had signed off on was more to thepoint, accusing the U.S. of 'threatening world peace, by pursuingneo-interventionism, new gunboat policy, and neo-economiccolonialism.'To Yuen, Chen and the Chinese leadership, the U.S. Governmentpracticed deception and repeatedly lied about its intentions tomaintain hegemony. U.S. actions, including those taken in the name of'global public good' were seen as part of a conspiracy to impose theU.S. vision of the world on others."Yes," the President and Secretary General said at last. "Ithink you are right.It is time." China had dedicated considerableresources toward preparing for potential conflict with the UnitedStates, initially over the Taiwan issue, but now for other reasons."I'm still worried about Blaire?" he said again. "He is an unknownquantity."Chen smiled broadly. "A new President, presiding over a hostileadministration and a government still in confusion afraid of its ownmilitary, just as you described. Finn's Presidency decimated his owndefense forces, destroyed his strategic advantage and has virtuallygiven us a free reign." He laughed. "We have a lot to thank Finnfor."The Chinese President steeped his hands together. "Yes," hesaid again. It was almost too good to be true. This was an historicand perhaps once in a lifetime opportunity, first Finn and now the

254 | P a g eoil. A frown moved over his face. "I get worried when things come tooeasily. Are we prepared for this or just sliding into it?""I look at it as a pleasant convergence of fate. But we aresteering this and so far it has gone exactly to plan."Yuen stood up and strode to an intricate globe that sat on thecorner table. He tapped the bottom part of the ball. "To achieve yourphase three objectives, we have some diplomatic hurdles. Theterritory is in dispute. There is no clear ownership or process."Chen nodded. "The Australians claim it as theirs," he said."But it has never been recognized by us, the U.S. or many othercountries. But we are still signatories to a treaty prohibitingexploitation of the Antarctic Continent. Phase two, drilling into thelake, and secretly building up our military forces there has breachedthat agreement."But now that doesn’t matter, the question is who will stop us?We will have the UN onside, Blaire's no threat, the Australians haveno power projection, and the British and Europeans are too busyselling us technology and luxury motor cars. Sure, they will jump upand down. With France, Germany and Russia in our camp, there will belittle argument."The Australians are not going to like this," Yuen stated."Yes. This will kill our free trade agreement with them, butwho cares; we own half their resource industry, our economy dwarfsthem and if need be we can buy all the resources we need in Africa."Yuen spun the globe, the countries blurred in motion. Chen sawhis opening; he did not want the president to hesitate when they werepoised to succeed."Oil is still world currency, the world's central oil bank,Antarctica, has just been opened. This will change everything. Itcan easily shift the balance of power. It could if managed properly

255 | P a g epropel our economy to overtake the Americans." Green house gases bedamned he thought.The President looked up sharply; the general really knew how topress his hot button. The end might well justify the discomfort andshort-term risk. Yuen Xinghua was a political survivor; it wasmilitary, not diplomatic pressure that got results in the end. Thisis why there were so many elected PLA officers in the CentralCommittee. Diplomacy was the sheath that covered the sword. Withoutthe sword, diplomacy was just empty rhetoric.President Yuen looked up from the spinning globe. "I agree. Butthe Central Committee will still need convincing.I assume we mustact quickly?"Chen nodded."I will convene the PSC in the morning then. But before then,after you have met with your general staff, we need to talk again.""The Russians?" Chen asked."Yes." Chen's intuitiveness was at times alarming. "You haveobviously thought the same thing. We are up to our armpits with themon this. I will need to speak to Petrov. We will then have to do aring around. Your PLA faction support and my party currency, for whatever we decide, will be critical."General Chen nodded again. He knew Xinghua needed toconsolidate his position in the party. The looming National PartyCongress might well try to take away the President's dual occupanciesof the countries two top posts as well as being Chair of the PartyCMC. His own prosperity was also tied to Xinghua's continuing controlof the party apparatus. There was also the question of ownership ofshares through foreign corporations. Both men owned considerableshares in the China National Petroleum Corporation (CNPC), thecountry's largest and mostly state-owned oil consortium.

256 | P a g eThere was the potential for a lot of money to be made here.Despite that, Chen knew Yuen's primary driving force was not money.Yuen Xinghua was driven by his desire to lead. He was a man withoutthe usual emotion or guilt that plagued most ordinary men. He caredabout being admired, respected and powerful. He liked competition andhe liked to win. While many looked up to him, others saw him as anegomaniac. The realization of surpassing the U.S. as the world'sdominant super power in his own Presidency would be a legacy thatwould mark Yuen's name in history. Something he had previously noteven dared dream about.After the meeting with the President was concluded, Chen drovedirectly to the PLAHQ, the heart of China's Rénmín Jiefàng Jun, theRed Army. He would remember this day for as long as he lived. GeneralChen Jianguo was 65 years old, he was on the short side and thin, butvery energetic. A native of Shaanxi, he had joined the PLA in 1966and did a two-year course at the Military Academy in Nanjing (theforerunner to the National Defense University) during 1987-1989. Herose through the ranks of the Lanzhou MR, serving successively as asquad leader, platoon leader, regimental propaganda cadre,headquarters staff officer, and eventually MR Deputy Chief of Staff.He spent a total of 24 years in these positions with one single unit:the 55th Division of the 19th Army Corps.Chen was a specialist in ground force operations and trainingand was one of the first to experiment with large-scale force-onforcemechanized infantry exercises and the use of xin gainian wuqior new concept weapons. Through his position he personally over sawthe development of all types of new technologies including DEW(Directed Energy Weapons) high power lasers, high power microwaves,railguns, coil guns, and particle beam weapons at the China Academyof Sciences and the Commission of Science, Technology and Industryfor National Defense (COSTIND).

257 | P a g eChen Jianguo walked sprightly through the corridors of his landcommand, the Chief of Staff of the world's largest military,commanding a military force of 2.5 million people under arms.Thesmall general strode directly into the PLAN operations room."Report!" He said, looking up at the huge digital situationaldisplay.The Chinese Operations Duty Officer was quick to respond. "YesSir. The South Pacific Fleet and her escorts are now driving southinto the lower Indian Ocean. The Taizhou has been ordered to advanceinto the Southern Ocean below the sixtieth parallel and is moving duesouth at flank speed.""Excellent." the General said, his words clipped. There werestill vast distances to cover.He wanted all the pieces in placeready to move once the Central Committee had met and approved theoperation.The Australians had nothing in their inventory that couldthreaten a Sovremenny guided missile ship. This action, like theTaiwan crises, was an exercise in intimidation, a demonstration ofChina's ability to project force anywhere it wanted to. A deliberatethreat to the sea-lanes that would in future, transport the oilreserves from Antarctica to the rest of the world. To get the CNPC alion's share in the world's largest oil reserve would make bothhimself and Xinghua, incredibly rich. While Yuen clung tenaciously topower, Chen knew it was just a matter of time before he himself,would be removed to make way for new, younger officers.While there was no time limit or statute on his position, itwas generally accepted by the party that five years was about enough,while not compromising his political position, to reap a financialwindfall in oil profits would make those twilight years afterretirement that much more bearable. The oil wealth would keep his

258 | P a g efamily comfortable for generations. As the Americans would say, makehay while the sun shines.Only moments after the oil discovery and before Chen had metwith the Secretary General, the General had directed his orders beissued to the Fleet. The Captain of the Taizhou, PLAN Commander LiZhenbang, standing in the ship's control center, had read the FLASHorders just moments later. They were short and simple. Head duesouth, flank speed, more to follow.The Commander knew better thanto argue. He turned to the officer of the watch."Set course due south, flank speed," he ordered."Due south at flank speed it is." The officer of the watchresponded.As the Watch Officer gave the orders, the Taizhou'sCaptain could feel the ship heel to port as it turned almost onehundred eighty degrees to head south. How far south, he wondered?DDG 138 台 州 Taizhou -- the third of four Sovremenny class destroyers sold to China

259 | P a g eUS Response to the Oil DiscoveryWASHINGTON DC. November 11, 2345hrs local (0445 UTC). It had almostbeen midnight on the U.S east coast when the Chinese and Russians hitpay dirt. The news hit the White House late in the evening.Peoplewere dragged out of their beds all over Washington. Politicians anddefense personnel scrambled to understand what was going on and whatit all meant.The President was sitting at his desk in the Oval Office; hehadn't been to bed yet. Until a short while ago, the Gunlocke chairhe sat on had actually started to feel comfortable. But now it feltmore like a hot seat. He looked at his watch, closed the cover of thefolder he had been working on and walked across the building to theSituation Room.In the control center the main screen showed areporter standing outside the UN buildings."The discovery by Russian and Chinese scientists at VostokStation in Antarctica, confirms the existence of the world's largestknown oil and gas deposit. The discovery at a Russian station onterritory claimed by Australia is sure to generate controversy."A joint Russian and Chinese statement said they did notacknowledge the claim but would work with the UN to ensure stabilityand continued international co-operation and good will on thecontinent. There has, as yet, been no comment from Australia or theWhite House. We will bring you more on this incredible breaking storyas news comes to hand." The woman signed off and CNN went to a break."Sir!"Blaire turned to the Watch Officer, Captain Vince Kipper."I'm glad you are here.We have picked up a lot of activityfrom Chinese and Russian Naval units."wall.Blaire followed him to the main monitors dominating the south

260 | P a g e"We have just received confirmation that the Taizhou issteaming at flank speed out of the Indian Ocean towards the southernAntarctic Ocean. Their South Pacific carrier task force has alsoreversed course and is not far behind her. It also appears they aregenerating other assets which will probably follow. In addition,Russian communication traffic in its Northern Fleet has increaseddramatically and we have unusual aircraft movements and troopdeployments. SOSUS has also picked up multiple underwater contactsheading south.We can safely assume that we are witnessingdeployment of capital defense assets into the Southern Ocean andperhaps onto Antarctica itself."The normally noisy Situation Room was very quiet.Kippershuffled his notes. "In the last twelve hours we have also detectedsignificant ship movements in and around the Russian Pacific Fleetbases, this has been confirmed by a communiqué from Vice AdmiralVyacheslav Popov.He has officially advised that a large combinedforce package from the Russian Pacific Fleet has left Vladivostok on'maneuvers'. The package includes the Marshal Ustinov, a Slava classcruiser; the aircraft carrier Ul'yanovsk, two Udaloy-class destroyersthe Vinogradov and Tributs, the Admiral Vinogradov, Panteleyev andthe Sovremenny class Besstrashnyy(Бесстрашный-Fearless).“The Russian Pacific Fleet also operates around 20 nuclearpowered submarines based in Vladivostok area, several to thenortheast of Vladivostok, and on the Kamchatka Peninsula. SeveralKilo's and Akula's have put to sea in the last 12 hours also.Whether they are part of this package we don't know. At the same timethe large anti-submarine ship Marshal Shaposhnikov, and the largesea-going tanker Pechenga, also put to sea.""Maneuvers my ass. That old goat Popov knows, we know, that's aload of bullshit. He's headed south, as far as he can go," the

261 | P a g ePresident said. For the first time Kipper saw the eyes of hisCommander in Chief flash with anger."Coincidentally Sir, the Russian ice breaker Arktika is alsoclose to docking at the French base d'Urville.""No coincidence Captain.""No Sir, I don't believe in those when it goes down like thiseither.""Okay, let's take this into the conference room. Get me the CJCand that fellow Stringer."In the conference room Damon Blaire sat to one side of thetable. "Vince you stay as well, but keep an ear out for what'shappening out there.""Aye sir.""General Perelli you there? David."Video of both the men appeared on the overhead."I take it General you have been watching this?""Yes Sir."Blaire noticed a nervous chief of staff pacing in the roomoutside.Blaire motioned him in. "Arrange meetings with both theRussian and Chinese Ambassadors tomorrow morning.""Yes Sir.""And where are Goldschmidt and Jacoby?""The NSA is on a flight from Boston and the Secretary of Stateis on his way in now Sir."This was bad timing Blaire thought, but crisis never did happenat a good time. "Okay, send them in as soon as they get here.Captain Kipper will brief them." He watched the still nervous chiefof staff flee the room."Let's get some background on this. George, let's start withyou. What do you make of this?"

262 | P a g e"I think this answers our questions on Martin de Vivies. Ithink its unfortunate there wasn't more information on the drillingoperation earlier on."The President made a mental note to check on that."I think we are looking at a small piece of a larger processthat has been going on for some time. There is a whole other part ofthat plan underway as we speak which includes these naval movements.This is all orchestrated, has been for months, if not years.""Which means we are way behind and they have already thoughtout all the moves and all the contingencies, they are just waiting tosee what we do next.""That's the way I see it, Sir. We have to assume with theamount of planning and preparation time, that their combatpreparedness will be at unprecedented levels.""Great. David?""Same as the General, Sir.” Stringer replied. “Our problemswith the satellites, the airfields and forward deployment of combatunits, demonstrate a well thought out plan being acted out jointlybetween the Chinese and Russians. From a CIA perspective, we have hadtoo few assets of measurable quality looking hard at Chinese andRussian military operations or their capabilities for some time.""Not a hell of a lot different for us either," Perelliconceded. "President Finn through the office of Homeland Security hadmost of the Defense Intelligence Agencies resources reduced and itsefforts focused on the terror war.""Mister President," Stringer said. "It's the Chinese thatreally worry me at the moment. Xinghua and General Chen Jianguo seemto have a virtual strangle hold on the Central Committee's decisionmaking." Stringer paused for a moment as he structured the thousandsof strands of intelligence he consumed over the last few days intosomething he could verbalize.

263 | P a g e"For China the gap between its internal ability to produce oiland how much it imports has grown massively. It needs to import oversixty percent of its oil, mostly from the Middle East. Inability tomeet its growing energy appetite will strangle growth. Each year itsoil consumption grows by nearly ten percent. I’m sure the recentfinancial crisis only re-inforced their problem with dependency.While their friends for the moment, Russia, have lots of oil, theyhardly want to depend on them either."China's three main oil producing zones-Daqing, Shengli andLiaohe, which are situated in the northern and north eastern parts ofthe country, are mostly depleted. The development of oilfields in theXinjiang province in western China, and the offshore oil ranges inthe East China Sea have also failed to meet expectations let alonethe growing demand. Even the large-scale oilfield development dealswith Kazakhstan and Venezuela have not made a dent in the oildeficit.With our strategic domination over the region, we areclearly perceived as the primary threat to China's energy supply." Hepaused again. "There is some compelling logic to their argument."Kipper had a hand to one ear.His head snapped up. "Sir,Indonesia has just closed its territorial waters to U.S. andAustralian warships on the basis it does not want to further inflamethe situation.""But Russian and Chinese vessels are plying through there rightnow!" the President said, the irritation clear in his voice. "ThanksVince. Okay Dave, keep it coming."Stringer picked up the overhead controller and split the screenso the images of each other were reduced to the bottom of the screen.A satellite photo of Vostok filled the rest over laid by images ofthe oil operation."The drilling operation was a Chinese, Russianventure. This entire operation was a little renegade, headed by aProfessor Nelomai Durnovo." A photo of the Professor came up on the

264 | P a g edisplay."This guy we know is connected with Russia's ForeignIntelligence Service.If that is the case we can assume Guoanbu isinvolved as well. SCAR, which is the Standing Scientific Group inAntarctica, had been complaining for three years that these guys werenot taking enough care to avoid introducing contaminants into thelake. COMNAP requested some papers outlining their plans but didn'treceive anything. We are also pretty sure, but can't prove it, thata lot of the money is coming from Russian and Chinese oil companies,routed through government channels."This is an abbreviated guide to the treaty; I will copyeveryone the exact text. We, along with some 45 other countries, aresignatories to the Antarctic Treaty, which has been in force since1961. Seven countries claim portions of Antarctica as nationalterritory. Some of these claims overlap. Ourselve’s and Russia havereserved the right to make claims. We do not at this moment recognizethe claims of others."However, the Australians are claimants, and to a very largepiece of this pie, the piece of the pie we are all about to argueover." He worked the remote again. "These are the Antarctic Treatyobligations." He stopped for a moment to allow everyone to scan thedocument.Article 1 - area to be used for peaceful purposes only.Article 2 - freedom of scientific investigation and cooperation shallcontinueArticle 3 - free exchange of information and personnel, cooperationwith the UN and other international agenciesArticle 4 - does not recognize, dispute, or establish territorialclaims and no new claims shall be asserted while the treaty is inforce

265 | P a g eArticle 5 - prohibits nuclear explosions or disposal of radioactivewastesArticle 6 - includes under the treaty all land and ice shelves southof 60 degrees 00 minutes south and reserves high seas rightsArticle 7 - treaty-state observers have free access, including aerialobservation, to any area and may inspect all stations, installations,and equipment; advance notice of all expeditions and of theintroduction of military personnel must be given"The issue here," Kipper continued, "is how we respond to abreach in this treaty. Everyone now knows there is more oil and gasdown there than anywhere else on the planet. But exercising thatbreach in the UN will be difficult when the Security Council isfilled with the perpetrators and their friends. But without thetreaty, we have nothing at all to threaten the Chinese and Russianswith. If we stick with our current position, that there are norecognized claims, this opens the gate for a new claim process.Historically, we left the right to claim a piece of the pie between90 and approximately 150 degrees west, the area encompassing theAmundsen Sea and Marie Byrd Land.But if we try that, it will justgreen light the Russians and Chinese to make claims as well.""So no matter what we do, we pave the way for a claim processand from what I can see, the UN is going to work against us," thePresident said."If we make a claim, then everyone else will,voiding any authority in the treaty, which is what they want...options?""An option," Perelli ventured, "may be: don't press our claimand instead, support the Australian and New Zealand rights based ongeography and history. China and Russia couldn't be further away andAustralia lays claim to the entire plateau that Vostok station sitson."

266 | P a g e"Yes, and Russia's arguments with Japan over Kurile Island andChina's over oil in the East China Sea, the Diaoyu and Senkaku, aswell as the Spratly and Paracel Islands, are all based on history andgeography.""That's worth considering; it might be one of the few optionsopen to us."Stringer spoke up. "Russia and China are going to demand thatthe UN get involved, even with this argument; it keeps us on thedefensive, while at the same time they send all their gunboats south.With these countries stacking the Security Council, the UN is goingto procrastinate and drag us out as long as possible.""While they finish whatever it is they have started.""Yes."Perelli leaned forwards. "You know, I suspect the Russians andChinese, and perhaps ourselves, may be somewhat underestimating theAustralians. I don't think for a minute they will shrink fromdefending their claim if it's challenged, even if it is China orRussia.""Perhaps it doesn't matter; they are pretty much out gunned,"Stringer said."Let's look at that," Perelli interjected. "They have one ofthe best-trained and disciplined regular forces in the world. Theirspecial forces are second to none. Their air force is also top grade.RAAF C130's out performed every other transport in the Iraq theatreby a margin of at least three. These guys are dedicated and veryprofessional and advantageously we have excellent interoperabilitywith them."They fly F/A-18E/F in the air defense role and have exceededthe boundaries of the F-111 but decommissioned them some years backto pave the way for the F35.Without their F-111s they now have nocapability to project air power to somewhere like Antarctica, other

267 | P a g ethan Special Forces. At the moment operating military aircraft fromAntarctic bases would breach treaty provisions."Their Navy has several units currently operating in thePersian Gulf and six operational Collins class submarines.Theirdiesel boats are excellent. In war games we couldn't find them, butthey found us and included carrier kills and SSN's to their catch ofthe day.These are very capable attack boats that both Los Angelesand Sea Wolf boats find a challenge with. In addition their ANZAC andHobart class destroyers are also quite capable and able to projectsea power into their Antarctic claims along with their recentlycommissioned LHD’s the HMAS Canberra and Adelaide.They carry thebest anti-air and missile defense available, having equipped with thelatest sea sparrow series, HPM and cavitation guns networked byimproved AEGIS fire and control systems." The vice CJS continued,rapping off and itemizing various components of the AustralianDefense Forces that could be used in a fistfight."You talking to them General?""Yes Sir.""Good. Let me know what their military is thinking. I will betalking to their Prime Minister before the end of the day. All right,keep me posted. I want each of you to draft your own recommendationsthe way you see it and send them through to me. I will be calling ameeting of the NSC later today. If any of you need me I will be hereor in the Oval Office."While none of them knew, the first seeds of the humankind'sgreatest threat to survival were being sown.

268 | P a g eBeijingNovember 13. 0900hrs local time (0100 UTC). Political Bureau'sStanding Committee. Phase Three Bing Qing authorisation.BEIJING NOVEMBER 13, 0900HRS LOCAL (0100 UTS). If the old axiom thatshit truly did rise to the top, many considered the current CentralCommittee Secretary General of the Chinese communist Party lent a lotof credence to the legend.But to others he was a strong man whocould inspire, motivate and lead people. He rewarded loyalty well butreacted harshly to those who were not.Like so many strongpersonalities, people either loved or loathed him.Yuen Xinghua, The Party President and Central CommitteeSecretary General had ordered an emergency meeting of the PoliticalBureau's Standing Committee, the PBSC, the innermost circle of powerfor the world's largest nation. The PBSC was made up of just six men,ruling over nearly one and a half billion people and a standing armyof two and half million. The six took their positions at the table.The Central Committee Secretary General seated himself at the head ofthe table, nodding firstly towards General Chen Jianguo, and then theother four.While on most occasions the Secretary General indulged in theannoying pleasantries and protocols that came with these meetings,today he was not in the mood for it. As soon as everyone was seatedhe plunged straight into the problem at hand."You have all been informed of the Vostok situation. This oilfind is a completely unexpected development," he lied, "one withserious implications. I have called this meeting to discuss how werespond." Xinghua looked to the men seated around the table. He knewthat General Chen Jianguo had already initiated phase threeactivities. Their alliance ensured they dominated the CentralCommittee as well as the CCP's Central Military Commission. Chen hadhelped Yuen win the support of the PLAN party members in Congress.

269 | P a g eBetween them, they had their hands firmly in control of the politicaland military machinery that ruled China. They were partners in mutualpolitical success and survival. Despite that, they still needed therest of the Committee to unanimously support the planned action."General please." He motioned to General Chen Jianguo. The Generalstood; a small stack of heavily stamped papers spread in front him."Oil, as you all well know, is no longer just a commodity.China needs it like our bodies need water or air.You might allremember the oil blockade during the U.S. military involvement inKosovo." The Chinese had long memories. "We witnessed the U.S.imperialistic influence on oil supplies.We have seen it again asone of our greatest potential suppliers Iraq, was dominated by theU.S. war machine. Oil is now our most serious securityconsideration. Oil controls our future, but now … perhaps fate hasfinally smiled on us and we can control it." Jianguo paused. The mennodded in affirmation. "This is a situation that we must not allowthe Americans to dictate. Like us, they do not recognize any claimson the continent.This means the oil there could belong to anyone.The genie is out of the bottle and it's not going back."One of the other four men interrupted. "I understand thatVostok is on an Australian claim.Does this not mean they controlit?"The General grunted. "That's all it is - a claim.A claim wedo not recognize.The Australians are nothing less than puppets ofthe Americans. We have as much right to that oil as any othercountry. Indeed, because we represent the world's biggest populationwe are entitled to our representative share.Better still if wecontrolled it.""Are you suggesting we take it by force?""No, General Chen is not suggesting that," the SecretaryGeneral said, interrupting."But we cannot, and should not, allow

270 | P a g eour security to once again be compromised by permitting the U.S. andits allies to threaten and control the access to this oil supply. TheGeneral is simply reiterating what has been an intolerable situationfor too long, one that is getting worse by the day. General ChenJianguo is quite correct in pointing out that unlike the past, thistime we should be at the table when the roast is carved. Preferablyfor once, we should be the ones carving and sharing the slices in away that is fair to us."The implication was clear to the committee members. This was anunusual situation. There was consternation amongst the members andfor a while they chatted loudly between themselves. Yuen knew thiswould happen and let them rush the inevitable issues out onto thetable where they were thrashed about. Despite becoming increasinglyobsessive in his desire to rule, he was a master politician withgreat patience that would wait for the right time before he struck.He let the men squabble and argue between themselves, all of it goingnowhere. Eventually they turned back towards him."So what do you propose?" he was asked. Xinghua smiled tohimself.According to National Defense Laws, only the President ofthe PRC along with the Standing Committee of the National People'sCongress could mobilize the nation for war or order the militaryforces into combat. The next few days and weeks would be testing,clearing the way to make decisions without necessarily referring tothe Standing Committee. The outcome would make his leadershipunassailable."We need to guarantee a strategic position on the negotiationtable. At the moment we have none. We are thousands of miles awaywith zero influence. We do however have our own Antarctic base, ZhongShan.We also now possess a blue water navy. It is time we stoppedhiding in the brown mouth of the South China Sea and guided ourdestiny instead of being dictated to."

271 | P a g eWhen Xinghua paused, General Chen easily slipped into thedialogue. The two men's arguments were well rehearsed. "Not sincethe establishment of the Chinese Communist Party have we had theopportunity to become truly independent and not threatened byimperialistic powers. This oil offers that opportunity."The other four men pondered. There was compelling logic to theargument. Like Chen and Yuen, most of them owned many shares in theoil companies, but did not admit this."And what will the Russians say while we rattle our sabres?Vostok is a Russian research station," one of them asked.The President looked almost conspiratorially at Chen; here itwas. "The drilling project was sixty percent funded by ourselves."There was stunned silence. Jiang Zemin leaped to protest. "Whydid we not know this? This could have been a diplomatic disaster.""You are right," Yuen admitted. "And I would have accepted theblame.As it stands however, this has placed us as a player at thetable instead of being a bystander."Jiang Zemin thought about that. The President was right. Atleast they had a position to play. But it had been a dangerousgambit. "What about the Russians. Can we trust them on this?""Jiang." The Chairman Secretary's voice was conciliatory."This is a good question. Russia's future economy is dependant on themassive growth of the Chinese domestic market, which is right nextdoor.We are already their biggest export customer of militaryhardware and technology.We have major oil and gas projects. Theirfuture, especially one that is not controlled by the U.S., isdetermined by their relationship with us. I have already spoken toPresident Petrov this morning. We have agreed to pursue our owninterests independently. However, we also agreed it was in both ofour interests to deny control of the oil to the U.S. and its allies.To this end the Russians have acquiesced to our request to speed up

272 | P a g ethe supply of the latest generations of military hardware.This ofcourse will aid in our continued implementation of our Active DefensePolicy."The other four Politburo men were Jiang Zemin, Yuen Chiang,Ming Ley Pei and Cheung Kwook-Wing. They understood the ActiveDefense Policy.It was not new and had worked well in the past.China's military strategy was not one of being purely defensive, butinstead attacking and taking offensive action in supporting foreignpolicy aims.China's military strategy, "Active Defense," reflected the ambiguitywith which Yuen Xinghua and his committee used to cloak military andsecurity affairs. It declared a defensive military strategy andasserted that China did not initiate wars or fight wars ofaggression, but engaged in war only to defend national sovereigntyand territorial integrity and "attacked only after being attacked."However, Beijing's definition of an "attack" on nationalterritory or sovereignty, or what constituted an initial attack, wasdeliberately vague. The term Active Defense then indicated little towestern allies about when or how China would choose to initiatehostilities. Moreover, once Beijing determined that hostilities hadbegun, history suggested the characteristics of Active Defense weredistinctly offensive. In fact public PLA writings on the campaignlevel of war implied this offensive nature of Active Defense.The PLA text The Study of Campaigns by Zhanyi Xue explained:'While strategically the guideline is active defense, in militarycampaigns, the emphasis is placed on taking the initiative in "activeoffence." Only in this way, the strategic objective of "activedefense" can be realized.'

273 | P a g eIt was this Active Defense doctrine that Yuen Xinghua held upto his colleagues to convince them of the wisdom of the plan. Thereality of course was that the General had already pre-positionedassets and prepared the path that included forward bases to make thisall possible. After some considerable deliberation Yuen and theGeneral finally had the other four men in agreement. Phase three ofthe Bing Qing operational plan would continue.Russian nuclear powered icebreaker Arktika call sign UKTYThe Ross SeaThe Icebreaker ArktikaNovember 22, 2100hrs.The sounds were explosive - some like cannon shots and others a bonecrunching, cracking sound, which if you weren't used to it reallymade you wince.The bow of the nuclear icebreaker heaved into the air beforecrashing back down, 24,000 tons of ship with steel two feet thickmindlessly crushing the pack ice that covered the Ross Sea. 75,000

274 | P a g ehorsepower delivered by two nuclear reactors drove her forward. TheRussian icebreaker was the largest of its kind in the world and shelooked every part of it. She was huge, over 150 feet high with twelvedecks, four of them below water.Running at four knots, she waspushing through ice twelve feet thick, a relentless brute forceaction that left a broad channel twice her beam behind her.At four knots in such conditions the ship was in a hurry.Driving directly south down a thin wedge of the map that made up theFrench claim, she had avoided the scrutiny of the prowling GlobalHawks and long-range reconnaissance aircraft from the Australianmainland. Icebreakers were not unusual in Antarctica. In fact theU.S. Coast Guard ship Global Star was at that very moment running achannel into Scott base.What was unusual was that Arktika had runat maximum speed from her base in Murmansk down the Atlantic to theSouthern Ocean, the other end of the Earth. She was a long way fromher normal area of operations in the Arctic.At Arktika's heart - a spotless room lined with humming banksof computers covered in flashing lights and fast-changing displays -a small army of civilian technicians and regular Russian navalpersonnel checked the controls of its two nuclear reactors and steamturbines. Captain Stanislav Rumyantsev sat easily in the commandchair.After the dash down the Atlantic with the engines strainingat more than 100 percent, he felt easier now that he was back in thefamiliar territory of ice.The French had been most co-operative.Why shouldn't they,Rumyantsev thought?free, and supplies.They get a channel punched through the ice forAll we want is to drop off some equipment andpersonnel.Several decks below the Captain, the 'personnel' were gettingready for the next part of the mission. The men, unshaven and wearingan assortment of cold weather clothing, looked like any other group

275 | P a g eof scientists embarking on researching the last and most pristineoutpost on Earth. The men, however, kept to themselves, not talkingto the crew or any of the other scientists on board.One of these men, Mikolai Nabialok, looked at the motley groupand smiled. Indeed, buried beneath so much padding they could havebeen anyone.Nabialok's men were the third team.One was already in Mirnywhile his now joined another operating out of a base just south ofDermont d'Urville - a base carved into the ice and impossible to seefrom the air; a base in French-claimed territory immune to inspectionor detection from coalition forces. From here the first team hadcontinually been monitoring the coalition's activities, the termloosely applied to the Australian and U.S. forces. It was this teamthat had alerted them of the late-model C130 that had departed andheaded south to Vostok. This was also augmented by information fromRussian scientists still based at the camp. Still 50 miles from thecamp, the ship's two KA-32 helicopters cranked their twin counterrotating blades and with Mikolai Nabialok and his team on boardheaded directly to the Russian ice camp.Within hours of arriving,Nabialok received his first orders.WashingtonNovember 12, 1145hrs (1645 UTC)When Goldschmidt and Jacoby had finally reached the White House theywere met by Galen Miles and hustled into the NSA's office."Blaire's been in the Situation Room the whole time. He's allover this thing," Miles said, clearly bothered."We know, we just got the brief from Kipper."Who's feeding the intel on this?""Not me, that's for sure, probably Department of Defense,Perelli's lot."

276 | P a g e"Well he's going to have to call the NSC together on this. Wehave to slow this thing down before he gets us into a shooting war.He's getting out of control.""He's even dragged the Chinese and Russian ambassadors over thecoals.""Christ, this is a disaster. I'm going to talk to the ChineseAmbassador myself, see if we can calm this down some. Galen, makesure you close off all of those intelligence pipes, we need to stopBlaire getting excited. Hans, sit on top of the Situation Room. Veteverything that comes in before it gets to the President."Almost twelve hours had passed since they had learned of thediscovery, sixteen hours since the actual event.After just a few hours of sleep, Kipper was back in the WhiteHouse Situation Room, having relieved the standing Watch Officer.Jacoby was walking around like a caged lion watching everything thatwas going on. There was a lot of traffic from the CIA, but it wasconfused and looked to Kipper, deliberately disorganized.It tooktime to look through it all. At the end, none of it was relevant orimportant.The phone rang. It was Stringer; Kipper listened but saidnothing, hanging up quickly. Jacoby was looking at him curiously.Minutes later he picked up the direct line to the President's office.The phone only rang twice. "Yes?""We have a problem Mr. President," Kipper stated. Five minuteslater he was in the Oval Office. Jacoby watched him leave,suspicious.Security Council Meeting, the WhiteHouse Cabinet Room. Goldschmidt gets canned.Members of the Security Council were arriving including GeneralGeorge Perelli who had been recalled urgently from the Pentagon. As

277 | P a g esoon as the last was seated President Blaire nodded for Kipper tobegin the briefing. It took several minutes and covered the sameinformation as previously but in greater detail."Take a seat Captain," the President said, "in case we havesome questions.""Aye Sir.""With two large Chinese and Russian fleets sailing south, therest of the world is looking at us to see what we do next.Alloptions are on the table.” the President stated."I don't think we should do anything," Goldschmidt started in."It was an election promise that we would not be aggressive and wouldnot resolve issues with force but diplomacy."That was true, Blaire thought."I think we should order every combatant back into port, on theground, however it might be phrased, because every time we act, theyreact. Anything we do that can be construed as aggressive will justconfirm in their minds we are back to our old tricks," Goldschmidtwent on, his voice raised. "Can you blame them for what they aredoing, they need oil as much as we do, perhaps more? ThisAdministration's goal was a strong China. And this current crisis isan opportunity to demonstrate we are not a threat."The President crossed his arms. Despite what he thought ofGoldschmidt, there was a lot in what he said. Looking around thetable, he could see many agreed. There was the problem he thought. Hewould have to face it head on; he could not run the Administrationwith enemies inside the gates. "This situation is stilldeteriorating; the Chinese and Russians have momentum and almost ayear of planning and preparation on their side. They have a plan. Ithink we should be concerned what that plan might be; it is backed upby military forces that are either landed, in the Southern Ocean orclose by in places like Martin de Vivies." He paced, arms folded,

278 | P a g etalking at the same time. "As you know, the atomic ice breakerArktika has cut a 100 mile channel through the pack ice into theFrench base at Dermont d'Urville. She is currently moored alongsidetheir jetty. The French and Russians claim this is scientific cooperation.We think otherwise. In addition to the two southernairbases, we believe with absolute certainty they are covertlyinserting military teams and equipment onto the continent." Hestopped walking for a moment."Mr. President, I assume by 'we' you mean yourself and theJoint Chiefs of Staff? I haven't seen any intelligence that mightsuggest this. Hans?" Jacoby shook his head."Nothing that we have seen either," Galen Miles added.The President stopped walking and turned slowly. He looked ateach of them. "Let me ask the question again, and I want you toconsider your answers carefully." The sudden change in attitude tookthe three men by surprise. They looked nervously at each other."Mr President!" Goldschmidt went on the attack. "We are not inthe business of inventing intelligence to satisfy policy goals.""And I'm not suggesting you are."He nodded to the navalofficer who handed him a thick folder. "But you have certainly beenin the business of sweeping it under the rug," The three lookednervously at each other again, wondering where this was going. Blaireremoved a CD from the inside cover. "And of conspiring to mislead thePresident of the United States." His face was suddenly full of rage."You all had a chance right now to come good. Instead, youdemonstrated a keen desire to persist this illegal manipulation ofthe Presidency. I hereby advise that the Secretary of State, NationalSecurity Advisor and Director of the CIA are removed from theirposts."

279 | P a g e"What do you mean?" Goldschmidt said incredulously. "You can'tdo that!" The other two men's mouths were moving, but no sound cameout."I also advise that you three are now under arrest and willface charges of conspiring against the government and the people ofthe United States. These are serious charges!" He motioned to thedoor. "Gunny!"Goldschmidt's face went from red to white. The Gunnery Sergeantwho had been standing outside, stepped into the room, saluted andmarched purposely behind Goldschmidt's chair. President Blaire waswell liked by the working White House staff and security personnel.He knew most of them by name and took the time out to talk to them.Somehow, the man even knew the Gunnery Sergeants kids' names! Whilehe didn't show it, the Gunny was enjoying watching President DamonBlaire kick some butt that needed it. Goldschmidt was an ass wipefrom hell. The gunny was followed by a small security detail that inturn, stood behind the NSA and Director of CIA. The men were stoodup, and looking visibly shaken, removed from the room.Blaire sat back down at the head of the table. He looked hardat the rest of the faces around the table. During all of this theSecretary of Defense had almost been invisible. Blaire looked at himnow. "I expect your resignation. While not guilty of activedeception, you were complicit in your knowledge and not reporting it.The Secretary of Defense knew when it was a good time to leave. Hedidn't want to be in the same room as the other three.Without aword he stood up and left the room. That left just Blaire, Perelli,Kipper and the still nervous Chief of Staff, Larry Perkins."Larry, you can relax," Blaire said."It's over and you didthe right thing." Even if I did have to scare the shit out of you, hethought. It was Perkins who provided the dirt.

280 | P a g e"Vince, can you please get Stringer and Chauncey Gray inhere?"'"Aye Sir."He waited until they were all in the room. "As you can see, weare running short on Secretaries here. Given the magnitude of whathas transpired, I can make no promises on how long thisAdministration will survive, so will understand if any of you declinewhat I am about to propose. We are in a crisis situation thatdictates we have an Administration that can work together and makedecisions. Vince, I would like you to fill in the NSA's position, cando?""Aye sir," Kipper said, completely taken by surprise."Thank you. George?" turning next to the General."Yes sir.""I want you to take the position of the Secretary of Defense.It means you will have to resign."There was no hesitation. "Yes Sir, the Deputy Chief of Staff iseasily up to managing the role of CJC.""Good. Chauncey, I want you to take the reins over from GalenMiles and I want David Stringer as your deputy. In all futuremeetings involving this crisis, I want David here as well. All thesepositions are effective immediately. You all have twenty minutes tomake any adjustments back at your offices or home, and then I wantyou back here acting under your new posts."Once they had left the room, Larry Perkins the Chief of Staffspoke up. "Mr. President, the Press is going to be all over you.""I know.""With your approval, I am working with Brady Fox to manage theprocess, as well as how we manage the Party." Brady was the WhiteHouse Press Secretary. "He can be trusted," Perkins added, knowingwhat the President must be thinking. Blaire nodded.

281 | P a g eTwenty minutes later the meeting resumed."From what I can gather, this is the first time in 77 yearsthat we cannot guarantee the outcome of a conventional armed conflictif we were resolved to press the issue. The Chinese and Russians havenot out spent us militarily.But while our money was going tosupport ground troops in Iraq and Afghanistan, every dollar theyspent went to developing and deploying new defense systems.Ships,aircraft, missiles, laser weapons, you name it; which means we havebecome more and more dependent on our nuclear deterrent.They knowthis as well. During his time in office, Finn and Goldschmidt gaveChinese and Russian defense officials highly sensitive documents thatcompletely exposed the backbone and deployment of our entire nationaland international defense apparatus. He showed them exactly where tohit us and make it hurt. They are right now exploiting thisweakness.""What does that mean?" Perkins asked, probably the only personin the room not aware of the damage done to the U.S. defense force."Larry, it means for the moment they can continue to build uptheir defenses while we scramble to pick up the pieces," Blaireanswered.Perelli picked up the thread. "Our active units were soseverely run down that it is not possible to generate combat readyforces on a scale that could threaten the current Sino-Russiandeployment," the General said."At the moment they have run of theroost, but we are working on it."Blaire continued. "The French and Germans are deeply complicitin this scheme and have been deliberately blind-siding us.Theproblem here is," the President added, "if they believe we havedecreased conventional capability, this will translate to uspotentially resorting to nukes, which in turn will make them more

282 | P a g epredisposed to using them.They will most certainly have deployedthem. So not only could we get our ass kicked but we could also startworld war three.""What the President says is correct. We can't afford to exposeour forces to a fight they cannot win. We could end up resorting tobattlefield nukes in self-defense if it meant saving thousands of ourservice people."Blaire nodded in agreement. "If we ignore the treaty or anycurrent claim, and go in there with a carrier task force, we wouldsimply legitimize the Chinese and Russian attempt to invade the icecontinent." It was, he thought, an invasion, even if by stealth atthis point. "We will look like the bad guys and probably start awar."The Chief of Staff looked frustrated. "Neither can we sit stillwhile they seize the high ground and take the continent, and theoil," he added, "without some resistance." finally getting his headaround the magnitude of the problem. Finn, he realized, had not justcrippled the military, he had removed the country's ability tonegotiate, defend or influence its global interests."You are right," the President replied. "The balance of poweris at the moment in their hands. The potential intent and the threattheir southern forces present, in my view, constitutes clear andpresent danger to U.S. and allied interests. But we do have somethingof a game plan. Overnight we worked on a progressive strategy tohopefully neutralize at best, or slow any potential aggression whilelegitimizing our potential ability to project defensive assets intothe region, when we are ready. We will invoke the ANZUS alliance at1800hrs today, requiring us to help protect the territorial integrityof Kiwi and Australian claims on the ice.Article IV of theAustralia-New Zealand-United States (ANZUS) Treaty, commits Australiaand the United States to act to meet common threats. In the next few

283 | P a g ehours we will release a public statement supporting current claimseven if we have none ourselves. If we do not publicly get behind andrecognize these, it will be a green light to the Chinese, Germans andRussians and every other man and his dog, that they can go and dowhatever they want in Antarctica, and opens up the possibility oftaking unclaimed territory by defacto presence or force." ThePresident looked to the CJCS. "The Secretary of Defense will announceemergency funding to the military to cover any operational shortfalls.Vince," The President looked over to the NSA. "Give Georgewhatever help you can. We are way behind the eight ball on this."

284 | P a g eCHAPTER SEVENA ski equipped C-130 refuels on the iceVostok StationHamilton spies on Durnovo at the drill rig.VOSTOK STATION, ANTARCTICA. As Hamilton listened intently, an almostimperceptible shadow crossed in front of him. It was cast by sunlightthat had filtered weakly through the swirling ice particles. He movedinstinctively, the swinging pick handle slashed his ear and burieditself loudly in the side of the cabin.Inside the drill cabin, Durnovo jumped and yelled in surprise,looking at the tip of the pick that had penetrated the wall.Outside, Hamilton's attacker pulled the pick free, ready tostrike again. Falling backwards, Brian clutched the steel girder withone hand and swung both his legs, sweeping the other man's out frombeneath him. They both fell over 45 feet to the piled snow beneath.Struggling to free themselves, the two men faced off. The man withthe pick lunged forward. In one clean movement, Brian ducked, removed

285 | P a g ea glove and slammed his palm into the attacker's jaw. As theattacker's head snapped backwards, Brian allowed the body to fallback across his knee, using the momentum and bringing both his armsdown hard at the same time. There was a sharp crack. "That's for Fengyou bastard!"Inside the rig, Durnovo ordered the other two men outside toinvestigate.They both carried handguns. Fifty yards away, Briandropped the limp body and pulled out a small pair of infraredbinoculars.Through the white out, he could see two armed menrapidly descend the stairs, searching beneath the platform.Therewas no way they could see him yet. Using the Spetznaz pick, hequickly dug a shallow hole in the ice, pushing the body into it andcovering it up.He then moved rapidly in a wide path around thedrill platform, navigating with his small GPS. He stopped and lookedahead. The two men were working their way through the camp.Onestopped and walked back towards him. The white out was starting tofade.He could see the shadows of buildings begin to appear. Theywould see him any moment.Media. Int.For Immediate ReleaseAntarctic Crisis Deepens.By Vincent Gray, Media Int. Press Writer.November 27 1310 EST. The crisis over the oil discovery in the Antarctic has escalated dramatically withPresident Blaire seeking to censure the Chinese and Russian governments in the UN Security Council.In sharp contrast to President Finn's foreign policy, the Blaire Administration has accused both Chinaand Russia of recklessly increasing their military posture. President Damon Blaire has asked both Russian andChinese Presidents to recall naval assets that the U.S. assert are preparing to enter, or are already operating in, theSouthern Ocean.

286 | P a g ePresident Vladimir Petrov stated that it was not the business of the U.S. to dictate where Russian forcestrained and that Russia was entitled to use international waters just as the U.S. does. The Chinese SecretaryGeneral, Yuen Xinghua, was even less diplomatic, accusing Washington of attempting to hijack the oil discovery.Adding to the pressure, the Australian Government has also advised the U.N. that it stood by itsAntarctic claim, but would still work with other countries to find a solution that represented the interests of allparties that had a recognized and legitimate claim in the Antarctic continent. It was clear in the preamble that theAustralian Government did not believe that either Russia or China had any legitimate claim or interest to thepotential oil resources or territory.EndMOSCOW, THE KREMLIN."What do you know of this Blaire fellow?" Petrov asked,"A lot, unfortunately," Sergey Nikolayevich Lebedev answered."What do you mean unfortunately?""Ex-military. Perhaps even special ops.""Shit. He will be on to us faster than a dog to a bitch onheat.""Yes, my thoughts exactly.""So, what exactly happened to Finn?""Don't know, still comatose.""We were far better off with that fool Finn. What do you makeof this ANZUS alliance?"Lebedev shrugged. "It's a political ploy. They are running outof options. With the UN working on our side they are stuck. Theirmilitary, after Finn decimated it, is not what it used to be.Wehave several years of preparation, the Americans just a few days."Petrov still looked worried. "We just had the U.S. bailed intoa corner, now I fear they will come out fighting.""This time we are ready Mr. President.As we speak, Popov isleading our nation's largest battle fleet south."

287 | P a g eUSS Greeneville, Heading Due West.Ordered to track the Shi Lang, fights the Akula.Once again the USS Greeneville was at flank speed, headed west andinto the thick of a naval build up the size of which had not beenseen in two centuries. In the officers' wardroom, the Greeneville'sCaptain was going through another set of SUBCOMPAC's orders."Our job now is to track the Shi Lang into the Southern Ocean.Seawolf has been recalled to the AOP and tasked to shadow twoSovremenny Class missile destroyers, the Hangzhou and Fuzhou." Therewas instant reaction in the faces of his officers. "Yep, Sunburnmissiles, sizzlers..and the rest.The aircraft carrier, the ShiLang, is the task force's centerpiece.Some forward assets arealready here, some of them we can assume to be submarines - nowlooking for us. We expect the two groups will RV down heresomewhere." He pointed to the overhead map."Other usual suspectssupporting the carrier are the latest PLAN destroyers to roll out ofthe Jiangnan shipyards.They are dedicated air defense and AEWguided missile destroyers fitted with the phased-array radar systemsimilar to the U.S. Aegis, and possibly the vertical launch system(VLS) for air defense missiles. Unconfirmed reports suggest it couldalso be equipped with the HQ-9 long-range SAM, which they have beendeveloping for years.“You can assume they all have close-in weapon systems forshort-range air defense. A 100mm single-barrel main gun fitted on thefront deck at least. A VLS is possibly located between the mainsuperstructure and the main gun, and a second VLS is located behindthe funnel."Propulsion systems consist normally of two gas turbines andtwo indigenous diesels, I think we have most of the tonals onrecord?" He looked at the XO who nodded. "The helicopter hanger at

288 | P a g ethe rear is big enough to accommodate two helicopters." He looked upfrom his notes. "In this case two Ka-28 Helix helicopters." Hepaused. "And we have it on good authority their torpedoes are keptwarm."He was referring to the Helix's heated torpedo bay, whichensured the reliability of weapons in low-temperature weatherconditions."It wasn't previously known whether the export versionof the Russian helicopter had them. We can expect the Shi Lang tohave substantial protection from Kilos, Akulas, Type 093 Shangs andthe older Han class.Topside, in addition to the ASW helo supportfrom the destroyer screen, the carrier has over 18 of its own helos,as well as strike fighters capable of delivering torpedoes. There isalso the possibility of Tu-92 ASW support from the French Islands."At the same time we are to listen for other threats,especially other SSNs. China, Russia, India and France all have thecapability of putting boats in the water here. Let's look sharp."The mention of the surface threats had piqued everyone'sattention levels.The awesome threat that the two Sovremenny Classmissile destroyers presented to the U.S. surface force was notunderestimated.The air defense cruisers were obviously there todefend the Chinese carrier. Most likely the Hangzhou and Fuzhou,whose primary job was surface-to-surface, were there to take outcarrier threats.Scott headed back to the control room. He was acutely aware ofthe threat ahead of them and other attack submarines. Greeneville wasnow at an ordered depth of 450 feet and could still be reached by ELF- a slow, low frequency band of communications - in the event of direemergencies or changes of orders. He waited, watched and hoped.He didn't have to wait long.The next message would geteveryone's attention. A Chinese Akula class submarine was suspectedin the area of operations. The Russian word for shark is akula. Akulawas the designation given to the newest and most technologically

289 | P a g eadvanced attack submarine of the Russian Navy. The Akula classsubmarine was Russia's answer to the American Los Angeles class fastattacksubs. Common opinion held that Russian submarines are noisyand technologically inferior to their American and Britishcounterparts. Scott Turner however, knew what lay behind thetraditional Russian veil of secrecy.With the Akula, the former Soviet Union had caught the U.S. inthe undersea arms race.That technology was now being steered byChinese drivers. Soviet naval engineers designed Akula as the followupto the Victor and Sierra classes to set a new standard in stealthand serve as the vanguard of the modern Russian Navy.The Chinese Akula displaced 7500 tons surfaced and 9100 tonssubmerged, with a length of 340 feet and a beam of 42 feet.Propulsion was derived from a pressurized water reactor generating43,000-shaft horsepower.The Akula used a double hull construction. The living spaces,torpedo tubes, and most of the machinery existed within the strongerinner hull. The ballast tanks and specially adapted gear are locatedbetween the inner and outer hulls. Double hull constructiondramatically increased the reserve buoyancy of the submarine by asmuch as three times over that of a single hull craft. The greatercapacity for absorbing enemy fire and still being capable of reachingthe surface must have had a very good effect on the morale of the 80crewmen.An Akula has a very distinctive profile: a broad beam, sleeklines, and the conspicuous stern pod, which housed a hydrophonictowed array. Hull material is high-strength steel. Diving depthapproached 1550 feet, possibly 10 percent more, placing the Akulaahead of the American Los Angeles class. The engineers had takengreat care to blend the sail into the hull producing superiorhydrodynamic qualities.

290 | P a g eIntelligence film revealed another powerful capability.Parallel sections of small-diameter tubing running down the hull werethought to be a system that emitted a polymer substance, greatlyenhancing underwater speeds under combat conditions. Capable ofgunning as well as running, armed with four 533mm and four 650mmtorpedo tubes, Akulas deployed twice as much ordnance as theGreeneville. Load out consisted of twenty SET 53 torpedoes, four SS-N-21 nuclear cruise missiles, four SS-N-15 nuclear torpedoes, and tenultra-heavyweight SET 65 ASUW torpedoes. Both the SET 53 and SET 65torpedoes were wire guided and possessed active, passive, and wakehomingcapabilities. The SET 65 packed an 1800Lb punch, enough totake out a carrier with one unit.Akulas were one of the most silent killers in the ocean.Turner couldn't allow any of these loose in the Southern Ocean. Therewas little chance of stumbling over this other boat in the shortterm. He wanted to find her quickly."Time to go fishing XO," Turner said. "Specifically trawling,if you know what I mean."Lieutenant Commander Jack Thompson smiled. He knew exactly whathe meant. "Aye sir."An hour later, the Greeneville was almost drifting through thewater, the submarine and crew deadly silent."Conn sonar, weak contact!" The sonar supervisor classifiedthem as coming from an Akula further to their west. It had made themistake of speeding up to pursue one of the Greeneville's decoys.The OOD reported the Akula to be coming into the outer range ofboth the boat's weapons when Turner got a nasty surprise."Conn sonar, Master Two is opening outer doors!"Smart bastard, Turner thought. The Akula Captain knew it was adecoy.He was following it back to shoot its parent, but theGreeneville's Captain wasn't about to let that happen. Turner had

291 | P a g emanned battle stations torpedo. He didn't know whether the Akula hadseen him, but that didn't matter.The small sonar on the decoy hadhelped the Greeneville develop a TMA (target motion analysis) onMaster Two."He's accelerating," sonar reported. "Fifty knots!"Shit that was fast. Fast enough to outrun one of his torpedoesScott thought, but it was also stupid, the Akula for the moment wouldbe deaf. "Make tubes one and two ready in all respects." Let him keepcoming.The Combat Systems Officer reported the course speed and range."Match sonar bearings and shoot, tubes one and two."The Combat Systems Officer reported "Tubes one and two firedelectrically.""Conn, sonar, units from tubes one and two running hot,straight and normal. Master Two has slowed, taking evasive action,noisemakers in the water. Torpedo in the water!"The Akula driver had taken a snapshot. "Steer the weapons," theCaptain ordered."Both units have acquired!""Cut the wires, shut the outer doors," Turner said quickly."Helm, Conn, all ahead flank steer 090 make your depth 1300."Helm confirmed and the Greeneville accelerated quickly awayfrom the torpedo thrown at them in desperation.Canberra Australia.Brian returns from Antarctica and the drill rig fight."He arrived back yesterday," The Australian Minister of Defense BrianReed said"What do we know?" the PM asked."That we were right. The drilling operation was part of alarger operation, one important enough to kill people over." He

292 | P a g ewondered whether he should tell him. "Hamilton had some problems withsecurity." He explained what happened."Have the Chinese said anything?""Nope, that's the interesting part. Brian was pretty sure theywould be three short on the morning roll call.""Christ, were they suspicious?"Reed shrugged. "Don’t know. I don’t think they recognized whothey were dealing with when they tried to take Brian out. They willnow though.""Then he should go back."The MoD looked surprised. "But they will suspect him.""Just the point, nothing like stirring the pot to find outwhat's on the bottom.""I see your point," he said. But maybe Hamilton won't go backhe thought. Multilingual operatives with good field capability werehard to find. There was no one as good as Hamilton. When the Senatehad shafted Hamilton they had done the country and the man a hugedisservice.Sydney Australia.Meeting with Frank Cuppito RosenbridgeAs soon as Hamilton had arrived back in Sydney from his time on theice, Rosenbridge had arranged a meeting.It sounded urgent, FrankCuppito picked the restaurant, a habit of Frank's he liked becausethe man had fine taste in cuisine and always knew the best spots."Oh yeah, that's fantastic." Brian devoured another Sydney rockoyster and topped it off with a sip of aged Jacobs Creek red wine."So what's this all about, Frank?" He had to speak up because thenext table was getting noisy.

293 | P a g e"Alex wants you to go back to check what these SOAR guys aretelling us. They have told us there's a significant increase in thelevels of the magnetic anomaly you were checking out a few weeksago.""Why me? I just got back; I was bloody lucky to do that.""No one else wants to go down there at the moment. There are alot of rumours floating around about the Chinese and Russians.""You mean like what happened to Dr. Feng.""Yes. That, the oil strike and the military build up. It'sall getting pretty scary for most folk. They haven't said itofficially, but they want everybody out of there that isn't Russian,Chinese or on their side."Hamilton admired the view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. It wasmidday with bright clear blue skies. The sparkling blue water wasalmost intoxicating, such a contrast to Vostok Station.They were seated in the Summit Restaurant, which revolvedslowly on top of the Sydney Central Tower. Frank Cuppito worked forthe Rosenbridge Foundation, which had hired Brian to investigatemagnetic anomalies in the Antarctic. Hamilton thought they had somepretty hair-brained ideas, but it had been good money without beingshot at and it was what the Government wanted him to do as well.Everybody had been happy. But now he had been kicked in the teeth andshot at."It is getting scary Frank. For anyone." He finished off thelast of the oysters."The fact is we think this will probably be our last trip downthere. I can't bullshit you Brian; you know more about what's goingon down there than I do." He paused fidgeting a little with hisnapkin, looking out the huge windows. "Alex said he would triple thecontract fee for this trip. He knows it's riskier."

294 | P a g eBrian had been pouring another glass of red wine.He put thebottle down slowly. "That's pretty serious money to take a fewreadings.""It is, but it's a pretty serious place."That sort of money could be pretty useful right now, Brianthought. "Alex is still chasing this elusive magnetic gate then?""No," Frank said, his face straight. "Alex thinks he's foundit."Canberra"This is as close as it gets to being scary, right?" the AustralianPrime Minister asked. "You've spoken to Morel?" Referring to GeneralMorel Chief of Defence Forces."Yes. He agrees. It isn't the answer any of us wants though.""Alright, give them whatever they need. This is no time to goweak at the knees; the Chinese will sense that in an instance.""We are doing that Sir; I kind of figured you would say that."The Prime Minister smiled.The Australian General had hisnumber, he didn't mind.Washington DC"It's shaping up like this Sir," the new Secretary of Defense wassaying."The Australians will face off the Chinese in the SouthernOcean. We provide what we can without looking directly involved, atthe same time we square off with the Russians somewhere south of NewZealand. We hope that somewhere amongst this we can pull off adiplomatic solution.""Me too," the President said.

295 | P a g eAn SS-N-22 Sunburn P270 Moskit being loaded onto Sovremenny class destroyer. TheMoskit (3M80) is a ramjet-powered Mach 3 plus missile designed specifically to strikeships with the Aegis command and weapon control system and the SM-2 surface-to-airmissile.The 3M82 "Mosquito" missiles have the fastest flying speed among all antiship missilesin today's world. It reaches Mach 3 at a high altitude and its maximum low-altitudespeed is M2.2, triple the speed of the American Harpoon. The missile takes only 2minutes to cover its full range with 1-2 missiles required to incapacitate adestroyer. An extended range missile, 9M80E is now available300 kg semi-armor-piercingwarhead

296 | P a g eCHAPTER EIGHTThe Taizhou (138)The Southern Ocean DDG 138 台 州 TaizhouDecember 2 0300 UTC / AEST Dec 2. 1351hrs. The Taizhou Below the60th Parallel.Deep in the Southern Ocean, the captain of the Chinese destroyer, theTaizhou (138), looked with distaste at the heavy sea. The main taskforce body was still a long way behind."Make your course nine zero west.""Course nine zero west."The ship heeled a little as she settled into her new heading.Its motion became more pronounced as she took the larger swells toher port beam, the green water plunging over the forward decks."Course zero nine zero, 115 east by 60 south, twenty knots."The captain thanked the officer of the watch and retired to hiswardroom. He was uncomfortable. His ship was plunging throughanother nation's territory without permission.It might only benotional territory, but he was sure the Australians didn't see itthat way.

297 | P a g eKellyville, Sydney Australia.December 2, 0530hrs UTC AEST 1535hrs.It was Wednesday afternoon, the middle of another hot summer day in atypical West Sydney suburb. Someone was banging at the front door.Not knocking, banging. At first he tried to ignore it, but whoever itwas, was persistent. Lance Hamilton struggled out of what had been anexcellent siesta that should have lasted just that little bit longer.But the banging wouldn't stop.In flip-flops, boxer shorts and singlet, he scuffed his way tothe front door. The guy was still banging. He pulled the door open.It was really bright and there was an RAAF MP standing on his frontstep. Lance could already see his next-door neighbours, both sides,coming out to see what the commotion was."What the fuck is this flap about? I have messages on my homephone, mobile and email account. Why can't you call someone else?Don't tell me I didn't pay my mess bill or something?" He didn'tthink they arrested people now for not paying mess bills."No sir, nothing like that. The CAF wants to talk to youurgently sir. Those were his orders.""I'm very flattered, but doesn't he know I'm retired?"The flight Sergeant was hesitant, looking for something to say."What if I don't want to go," Lance added. "I'm a civilian youknow. That means I don't take orders from the RAAF anymore, and youdon't have to call me Sir.""He said you might say that Sir.""Who said I would say that?""Air Marshall Norton Sir. He said you wouldn't come easily.""No, I don't come easily, and stop calling me Sir." He thoughtperhaps he could have worded the first part a little better.

298 | P a g e"I'm afraid I have to Sir.I have with me your activationpapers." He held the papers forward.Lance Hamilton snatched themfrom his hand. This was bullshit.He quickly thumbed through them.The Commander Australian Forces, Major General David Morel, hadsigned the cover letter. The Flight Sergeant was right. The bastardshad pulled him from the Active Reserve list. Squadron Leader LanceHamilton knew the rules.It seemed he was back on the payrollwhether he liked it or not."I have orders to take you to him now.""Now! Right now?""Yes Sir," he said speaking louder, the growing thump of bigrotor blades drowning him out. A shadow passed over the housefollowed by the shape of a big MRH-90 helicopter.Standing there in his knickers, clutching his papers, Lancefound himself being sand blasted by the rotor wash from the big twinenginechopper as it touched down on his front lawn.Good thing mylawn was big enough he thought, wonder what they would have doneotherwise? Did they know he had a front lawn big enough to land thedamn thing?The MP reached down to a duffle bag at his feet and pulled outa flight suit and helmet. "These are for you Sir." Lance noticedthat somewhere along the line, someone had found time to attach aVelcro wing and name patch. Nice touch. He climbed into them.Nopoint arguing. Less than two minutes later he was standing at thecockpit door of the NH90."Wrong side Sir!" the pilot yelled. "You need to go round theother side."Hamilton slowly shook his head.The pilot finally caught on.He looked into the back seat for help. The man in the back jerked hishead. The pilot, a little disgusted, unbuckled and walked around theother side to the co-pilot's seat.

299 | P a g eHamilton climbed in, buckled up and plugged his mike in,flicking the internal comms switch to ON. He looked at the dejectedpilot strapping back in on the right hand seat."I like to drive," he said simply. If they were going to draghis butt back into service like this, he would damn well drive."Don't we all know that already," a voice said from thebackseat.Hamilton knew the owner of that voice; Group Captain LaurieWilkie, Officer Commanding 82 Wing, his old boss. He twisted thethrottle of the big twin turbines and pulled the collective, kickedsome rudder (tail rotor) in and pitched the nose over hard as shecame off the ground, the blades almost trimming his front lawn."You could have just sent a car Sir!" he said into the mike."Hell, I would have driven in myself eventually."For a moment Wilkie said nothing. Lance could see him lookingout the open doors from the rear seats. "Wish we had time for thatLance." The banter in the voice was gone. "I'm afraid it's time weall earned our combat pay.""Where are we going?""HQJOC." The Pilot had suddenly figured out who the man wasthat had taken his seat, his initial irritation evaporated.Hesmiled. "No need to call Sydney Traffic Control either.We arecleared all the way through! We can go wherever we like. Air TrafficControl has been ordered to keep everyone else out of our way." Thismust be really important.HQJOC was the Joint Operational Command Head Quarters locatedin Bungendore New South Wales. Hamilton banked the chopper hard intoa new heading that would cut through air space normally heavilycongested with civilian traffic. Something really must be up. Hepointed the nose in a straight line that would take them to the JOC,

300 | P a g ehis curiosity gauge deep in the red zone as he wondered what the hellwas going on.HQJOC Head Quarters Joint Operational Command.Lance at HQ getting his new orders and being briefed."Sir, with all due respect, I don't know what it is you want but Iwas actually enjoying retirement.""The accident still bugging you?" Air Marshall John Nortonasked as if he hadn’t heard what Lance had just said..Hamilton said nothing."We have a job for the F-111," Norton continued.That took Hamilton by surprise. "I thought they were all struckoff the register.""Up until a few minutes ago, yes." He threw a thick file on thetable."The Chinese destroyer Taizhou is currently steaming in ourSouthern Ocean territory. The government is trying diplomaticchannels to convince the Chinese to move the vessel out of ourwaters.Not far behind is the main fleet, heading straight for the60th parallel as well. At the same time they are muscling their wayaround Vostok Station and beefing up their other stations. Our ownintelligence estimate suggests they will ignore diplomatic effortsand that we will need better persuasion methods. We want to surprisethem, send them a message." He tapped the folder. "We want you toprepare a mission, put your bonedome back on and lead it. Wilkie willfill you in on the rest.” Lance Hamilton sat there, his wide mouthopen, completely lost for words.Outside the room, the Chief of Air Force quickly consulted the82nd Wing Commander. "What do you think Laurie?Can we get thosebirds operational?"

301 | P a g e"With Buck Shot leading the crews we have a better than evenchance and if this goes pear shaped, of which there is a goodpossibility, we will need him to straighten it out.""All right, I buy it, give Lance whatever he needs, but keep mein the loop. Call me if you need me; I'll be with the CJOPS. This isthe main game at the moment."Back inside the conference room, Group Captain Laurie Wilkiefound Lance pouring through the Defense Intelligence file coveringthe deployment of the Chinese fleet and the most recent activities."The Chinese posture was clearly to intimidate," he said."Theydon't think we have the legs to project any air power, especiallywith the U.S. holding back. It was public record when the F-111'swere rolled off the flight line.The Chinese obviously think theyaren't airworthy and we don’t have the distnce with the F-35 orRhino."This was a massive undertaking that Lance barely knew where tobegin. "Who have I got to help me pull this shit fight togetherthen?"Wilkie pondered the answer for a second. “On the systems side,your airframes, electronics and ordnance, we are lucky enough to havescored some help from a guy by the name of Patrick Boone. He’s anengineer, real brainy bugger with a specialty in F-111’s. No doubt heprobably has his head under the dash right now. I would like you tomeet him. Hope you don’t mind but you will need to take another smalltrip, Patrick will fill you in the Pig progress when you get there.He has a few surprises for you.“You can’t tell me now?”“Obviously it’s secret, but that’s not the reason.Boone’spretty passionate about his birds and wanted to show them to youhimself. It’s his show and we don’t want to disappoint.”

302 | P a g eHis birds? Lance was thinking. His show? What did all thatmean?The Wing Commander saw the puzzled expression on Hamilton’sface. “It will be revealed pretty shortly, I’ll let him do thetalking. In the meantime let’s do some walking; you have a ride tocatch.” He opened the door. “Don’t just sit there, grab your stufflets go!”RAAF F-111 strike aircraftF-111 strike aircraft The RAAF operated three versions until their retirement in 2010:• the F-111C strike fighter• the RF-111C, modified for photo-reconnaissance work• ex-US Air Force F-111G's, which help ensure Australia maintains its strikecapabilityGeneral Dynamics F-111 technical specificationsManufacturerGeneral DynamicsRoleLong-range strike fighterCrewPilot and navigator, who also operates the weapons systemsEngineTwo Pratt and Whitney TF-30 turbofans (9,500 kg thrust each)Airframe Length: 23m, height: 5.3mWingspan21.3m extended, 10.3m sweptWeight24,000kg basic, 51,846kg fully loadedSpeedSupersonic at sea level, Mach 2.5 at altitudeRangeFerry range in excess of 5,500kmCeilingAbove 50,000 feetWeaponsHarpoon anti-ship missilesSidewinder air-to-air missilesConventional bombs

303 | P a g eMulka Bore, South AustraliaLance visits the new F-111S.Australia is the driest continent on our planet. Deep in theinterior, a remote and extremely parched piece of dirt called MulkaBore has earned the title of being the driest place in Australia.Mulka Bore is situated just a few miles west of Lake Eyre in SouthAustralia and is home to a defense research facility run by a privateU.S. firm called MacDowell Aviation. This fact wasn’t top secret; thefirm was very active in the development of UAV’s and worked closelywith the CSIRO, Defence and other partners. But they also did someother stuff. That particular stuff no one knew about.The Challenger 604 VIP transport jet landed on what looked likea broad flat salt pan, a smooth dust bowl located in desolateenvironment that looked the same as far as the horizon. Less thanfive minutes ago Lance Hamilton had not even heard of this place. Nowit was a name on a map but still a place with no roads, no people,just dust That’s what the map showed and that is what it looked like.Mulka Bore he thought, what the hell am I doing here?Where the flies came from god only knew, but as soon as hestepped off the plane they were hell bent on checking out everycrevice on his face, just like home. Hamilton waved them off,especially the little bastards that went straight for the corners ofhis mouth. He had enough time in the bush to know to leave them aloneif they were sitting on his back or arms, anywhere in fact but hisface. It reminded him strongly of his childhood. A loud voiceinterrupted the sudden flashback.“Welcome to Mulka Bore, hot one day, bloody sight hotter thenext.” The voice came from one of a small group of men who had beenstanding beside their vehicles in the middle of no-where waiting thearrival of the RAAF biz jet.Lance looked up from the fly swattingexercise, this must be Boone he thought recognizing the face from the

304 | P a g ephoto. The man, medium height and build with a shock of unruly grayhair and glasses walked towards him, offering his hand.“Patrick Boone.” He said shaking Lance’s hand. “He motioned tothe open door of a white Land Cruiser, one of three in the smallconvoy. Boone climbed in the front and they were moving before Lancehad finished shutting the door. The drive was a lot shorter than hehad expected.The four-wheel drive rolled to a stop in front of what lookedlike large Nissan huts recessed into the ground that he been unableto see from the air. These were short one-story structures used inthe last big war to barrack troops. Interesting he thought, maybesome old research station.Up until now the whole trip had almost been theatrical, thechopper ride, the fancy biz jet and the mystery that landed him inthe middle of nothing. But all this drama was very expensive so therehad to something really interesting happening here. While he wasthinking that, and before he had a chance to ask any questions, Booneexited the front passenger door. Lance Hamilton guessed this is wherehe was supposed to exit and climbed out as well. It was blisteringhot.Once on the ground he looked around, but Boone was alreadywalking fast, motioning him forward, he hurried to catch up. Theywere walking directly to the Nissan huts. They looked too low to beanything of significance, but as he got closer he realized they wererecessed into the ground further than he had realised disguising muchlarger structures. A few more steps and he saw they were really hugebig bugger hangers, he almost stopped in his tracks but Boone wasstill going full bore talking at the same time. He wondered how comehe didn’t know about these before. You didn’t build multi milliondollar hangers in the middle of nowhere without good reason. He thentook another look at the ground. It wasn’t dirt but cement; this wasno dust outback strip as he had thought. The surface was stencilled,

305 | P a g ecolored and blended seamlessly with the endless flat desertsurrounding it. This was very ‘Area 51’ like, with the exception thatfewer people seemed interested in this one. Boone walked up besidehim.Hamilton looked at him. “You win, I’m truly intrigued.”Boone laughed. “Yes, sorry for the secrecy,” Actually hewasn’t, he was enjoying it immensely. He spread his arms out, “butits par of the course. Follow me.” He started walking again.Lance bit his lip. What had been intriguing now had him almostgagging in anticipation, of what he couldn’t even begin to guess.Boone led him down a long graduated ramp towards the hanger doors.The buildings were dug at least 20 meters into the desert floor.“Okay, bear with me a few more minutes and all your questionswill be answered.” Boone keyed a small mobile remote. The big doorsmoved, it seemed to take ages. Compared to the glare outside it washard to see the interior. Hamilton followed Boone towards theentrance. Gradually the interior came into focus; he stopped in histracks, the sound of Boones foot steps echoing through the hangar.Hamilton was struck dumb. Never in his wildest ideas had he everbelieved to see such a thing.

306 | P a g eLance Hamilton stood stock still, jaw dropped and in complete awe atwhat he was looking at. The massive entrance he stood in were thefirst of several huge hangars. The hangar he stood in was spotlessaside from a few coffee table sized mobile toolkits. Dominating thecavernous space in front of him were five large airframes, big jets.They were Pigs.Boone was loving every moment of this, the expression onHamilton’s face worth gold. “Careful not to catch flies SquadronLeader.” He walked past the nose of the first big jet and kicked thenose wheel, running his hand down the side of the aircraft lookingback at the Squadron Leader. Patrick Boone was a flight engineer,what you might call a boffin, a particularly good one. He was also apilot, but while he loved flying, the engineering of flight he lovedeven more. He turned and picked up a clipboard that was sitting onone of the trolleys; he still preferred paper at times. He adjustedhis glasses, flicked the cover over and started reading from the topof the page.“Let me see, A8-272,” He looked up, “I think you know her, theBone Yard Wrangler,”Hamilton was stunned, riveted to the spot. Wasn’t that airframesitting out is days at Point Cook?“Yeah, I know, different airframe at Point Cook.” Boone saidreading his thoughts. “We painted some airframes we got from theStates and swapped them for these RAAF airframes. The paint job onour originals here isn’t that great at the moment, but we can fixthat.”Lance could only grunt. He could see the familiar Bone YardWrangler motif very clear on the tail, something that had been partof his life for so long.“So tell me, why’s your call sign Buckshot?”“Shotgun, flight of two Pigs is often called shotgun…”

307 | P a g e“Got it...shotguns fire buckshot?”“Yep.” There was more to the story but that would suffice.Boone had wondered about that, but he also figured there wasmore to it, he was very familiar with Hamilton’s career and usually astory went with every nick name.“Okay, moving on, we are pleased to present the first of ourbeauty contestants today.” He paused dramatically. He was clearlyenjoying this. “Delivered to RAAF 10/05/94. Former USAF FB-111A andF-111G AF68-272. Served with the USAF's 428thFS/27thFW.” He flickedthe sheet on his note pad over. “Retired at Cannon AFB, NM on23/09/82, allocated to AMARC as FV0130. Later removed from storageand transported to the Sacramento ALC, McClellan AFB, CA forrefurbishment and sale to Australia. Named 'Boneyard Wrangler', shewas the first F-111 to be recovered from the Boneyard in Arizona. Onarrival here had a total of just over 5766 flight hours. I think youflew her in the flyby during the Olympics Closing Ceremony and thenat the Avalon Air Show several times with number 6 Squadron right?Lance just nodded as Boone continued. It was like finding outthat some one close to you thought dead, had come to life. Lancecould see that his name was still stencilled on the side. But she wasnot the same airplane he had left in the hanger just a few yearsbefore.“You have made some changes.” He said.Patrick Boone grinned. ‘Just the odd one or two.” He saidcasually, but the grin was super glued across to his face as hewatched Hamilton walk around the aircraft. He could see Lanceinstinctively run his hand over the engine inlets. They were modifiedto allow the new engines to develop full thrust.“MMmmmmm….I’m guessing new engines for a start.” Hamilton said.“Correct, lighter and more powerful F119’s,” The Pratt & WhitneyF119-PW-100 also powered the F22 Raptor. “They were relatively easy

308 | P a g eto fit. The TF30 bay hardly needed any structural modification andthe new engines are half the weight of the old TF30. We added aninlet plug with a radar blocker same as on the F/A-18E and a tailpipeextension plug with another radar blocker like the F-22.“Supercruise?” Hamilton asked.“Absolutely, and then some, this plane will cruise faster thanany other on the planet.” Boone didn’t bother expanding. Hamiltonknew it all already. The basic aerodynamics of the F-111 areparticularly well suited to supersonic cruise, especially with thevariable wing and inlet geometries which are not a feature of the F-22 design, and the internal bomb bay which is a feature common to theF-22 and JSF designs. The option of sweeping the wings fully aft to72.5 degrees results is a significant reduction in supersonic drag,compared to a conventional fighter with a fixed sweep angle. This iswhy underpowered swingwing F-14A Tomcat could match the supersonicspeed of the F-15A.The two men spent the rest of the afternoon going over eachairframe and every modification. By the end of the day a goodfriendship had developed and by the time Hamilton left a sense ofexcitement had replaced the dull aches in his mind that belonged tothe past. Boone’s risky venture to upgrade, rebuild and maintainretired F-111C airframes had paid off in ways that no one would haveimagined. In the current crises the Australian government was happyto pay top dollar to acquire the immediate capabilities of the F-111Cand F-111S, MacDowell Aviation recouping its significant investment.The Super Hornet, the remaining F/A-18’s and the first batch of threeJSF’s were just not up to the job, not even close. There was no otheroption, no other aircraft capable of the distance, load and speedrequired to get the job done. As far as Canberra was concerned, ifMacDowell Aviation made a good profit, good on them, Lance agreed.

309 | P a g eOn the flight back to Canberra Lance began pulling all the piecestogether and working it up on his notebook. It was like a bigneglected jigsaw set with pieces scattered everywhere, some of themno doubt lost. They would have to make new ones to replace them. Assoon as he landed he was driven back to Defence Headquarters. It wasmidnight and time was waiting on no one."The government has set a deadline for its diplomatic effortswith the Chinese. Discussions will cease zero seven hundred hoursSaturday. That's your T/O time," the 82 ndWing Commander said. "Thatgives you a little less than three days to get the aircraft and crewready. Given the current state of affairs we have been authorized toregenerate as many F-111 airframes as we can and to recall as manycertified crew as possible. We have a possible 35 operationalaircraft plus others for parts. For the moment they fall under thecommand of the 82nd Wing, but once operational will form a new wing -for as long as the current crisis persists.""Yes Sir."“What are your thoughts on specific airframes for this job.”“No chance of using the Super Pig. I have a list of preferredtail numbers here of F-111C.”The Wing Commander agreed, he picked up his notes. “As youknow, Headquarters Air Command resides here, which is your startpoint. As soon as you are done here you will move everyone involvedto Avalon in Victoria. They're getting ready for you."While the two men talked through the processes, far to thenorth, over the Java Sea and in the Antarctic, other events werespiralling the crisis inexorably out of control.

310 | P a g eFlight V-017 enroute for Vostok Station from McMurdo.December 3. 2310hrs UTC/local time AEST Dec 3 1510hrs. Brian headedback to Vostok again.Brian had to admit to himself it wasn't just the money. Alex actuallybelieved they were onto something. He hoped he wasn't getting suckedinto the old man's science fiction reality. So here he was, headedback to Vostok, images of endless days of blue skies, hot days, andthe beach fading with every mile the aircraft flew south.The massive and unexplained magnetic anomaly, which had beendiscovered at the northern end of the sub glacial lake, was now aphenomenon of extreme interest. Researchers from the Support Officefor Aero physical Research, (SOAR), had found the anomaly.Rosenbridge wanted to know more. Brian's friend Rhys Cooper had beenmonitoring the site ever since the oil discovery. It looked like theywere going to meet up again sooner than they thought.Around him the airframe vibrated and thumped.This was theMcMurdo-Vostok leg of the journey. It used be full of scientists and

311 | P a g esupport crew. Today it was virtually empty. It would be full goingback. It seemed that Australians and Americans were very unwelcome inVostok, to the point where even seasoned residents were packing theirbags and getting out. The aircraft flew with just a handful ofjournalists and reporters.He chatted amiably to the others aboutnothing important.But something was nagging and teasing at his brain, a sixthsense that had saved him so many times in the past. He just couldn'tfigure out what it was, but it made him nervous.Fat Albert, as the C130 was affectionately known, bored asteady hole through the Antarctic sky.The 'Herc Bird' was used tooperating in extreme conditions from the Sahara to the Antarctic.Hamilton felt the aircraft bank after many mind-numbing hours offlying straight, in what was obviously an approach pattern. On theflight deck the crew was beginning to run through the checklists forlanding."V-017 this is Vostok.We have you on radar but we areexperiencing white-out conditions." The Vostok flight controller saidclearly over the radio."Vostok V-017 roger that, will call on final." The C130 pilotlooked at the co-pilot and shrugged. The normal procedure was to tryan approach to the field, and if it looked bad, abort and then flyaround in circles hoping to get a window to land.If that didn'twork it was back to McMurdo."That would be the second time this month, damn it," the copilotsaid.About one mile away from touch down, it was obvious to the C130crew that the weather was deteriorating. The wind speed hadincreased, buffeting the airframe. But the C130 dropped her flaps andlanding gear.

312 | P a g eVostok Station was situated on top of the southern flank of thesub-glacial lake. At the same time as the C130 approached thestation, the northern part of the lake shuddered a little; thedrifting snow ice blowing across its surface was suddenly whippedinto an unusual frenzy. The air above the ice became static and hugearcs of electricity weaved through the blizzard's flying ice anddanced across the surface.The arcing became more and more intensebuilding into an explosion of blinding light. Suddenly it stopped.From the epicenter of this light fell a metal rod, impactinghard into the ice surface. Simultaneously an electromagnetic pulserippled out from the focal point with the same power as thatgenerated from hundreds of nuclear blasts. It fried every electricalcircuit for one hundred miles. Aircraft included.Computer and communications equipment were particularlyvulnerable to electromagnetic pulse, or EMP, effects. Only a smallamount of energy is required to permanently wound or destroy them. Infact, any voltage in excess of tens of volts could produce an effecttermed 'gate breakdown' which effectively destroys the device.Flight V-017's signal processors, electronic flight controlsand digital engine control systems were vulnerable to 'gatebreakdown'. The result on board the landing aircraft was like someonetripping a big "off" switch.Flight V-017 was dead in the air. For no apparent reason to thecrew, all the instrumentation on the aircraft went dead. NationalGuard Hercules LC130 aircraft Skier 93 under the command of CaptainAndrew Panoski was flying completely blind.The immediate effect of the magnetic pulse was the virtualdestruction of all communications and electronic infrastructure.Vostok and its surrounding camps were deaf to the world. The secondaffect was global.All over the world, operators and monitoringstations, civil and military, witnessed in real time the massive

313 | P a g eburst of electromagnetic energy centered on the northern end of thelake. The immediate and only conclusions were a nuclear event or ane-bomb, the latter more unlikely because no one had ever admitted tohaving one, certainly none that big and neither had any ever beenpublicly tested.While some scratched beards in contemplation, sitting in seatscomfortably thousands of miles from the event, back onboard flight V-017, there was no time to scratch or do anything other than to make aseries of life-and-death decisions. With a dead flight deck a goaroundin whiteout conditions would be fatal. Panoski had to assumethe instruments and all the aircraft's communications were gone andwould not be recovered.Unable to effectively navigate, communicateand certainly not fly in the white out, they were better off on theground.A black marker passed directly beneath the aircraft and Panoskiinstinctively reached for the throttles. "I have the runway, I havethe airplane," he said to the co-pilot, his eyes glued to the whiteout as if he could see the runway. Panoski closed all four throttlesand started an immediate transition into the landing attitude. Hepulled the emergency gear lever, a mechanical hydraulic pump system,but had no luck with the flaps, which were electronically operated.The rate of descent was excessive, over 1000 feet per minute. Notsurprisingly the landing was hard, but not too hard, the Captainhoped.The aircraft skidded smoothly but completely out of controltoward the left side of the skiway developing a tilt to the right.Again instinctively, Panoski attempted to correct the left drift byusing all the right rudder he could, pressing so hard with his leftfoot on top of his right that he winced in pain. He had no idea thetail had just separated from the aircraft and his effort wasaccomplishing nothing.

314 | P a g eThe C130 crunched into the ice at the 850-foot mark from theend of the skiway. The force of the landing caused the wings to flexall the way to the skiway surface, digging into the ice and breakingaway from the main wing just outside of the inboard engines.Throwing a quick look back along the fuselage, Panoski couldsee the wing tanks, outer wing surfaces and the outboard engines hadalready ripped off the airframe, as had all the props, which hadseparated from the outboard engines and spun violently into the snow.The force of the landing crushed the main landing gear and skis,which tore free, digging long trenches.Hamilton, sitting in the very rear was unaware of any emergencyuntil the fuselage in front of him parted like a zipper taking hisbackpack and bag with it. Suddenly there was just open space and thecrazy sight of the front part of the fuselage, as his section skiddedalong with it. Frozen air blasted his face and body. The tail sectionin which Hamilton was seated had torn free of the main body of theaircraft at the head of the loading ramp and was sledding along rightbehind the main fuselage. Above the horrendous sounds of ripping andscraping he could hear the screaming of the passengers marooned inhis part of the fuselage.The main section of the aircraft continued at a slight leftdrift from the skiway center line and continued down the skiwaycoming to rest, almost level, just past a large plywood "8" marker,signifying there was 8000 feet of runway left. The aircraft hadskidded in its icy ballet for more than 1450 feet.Hamilton knew this bizarre incident was not life threatening;it felt almost orchestrated but pretty amazing, like an amusementride. The rear section, its passengers and Hamilton finally came toa stop about 8 to 10 feet aft of the main fuselage. Hamilton casuallyunbuckled and stepped down from the wrecked fuselage.Compared tohis last experience in a crash landing, this was positively fun. The

315 | P a g ebulk of passengers in both halves of the airplane looked shocked,still clinging white knuckled to their seats. The loadmaster howeverwas a professional. Across the small space separating them, he fixedHamilton with a quizzical gaze.To the loadmaster, Hamilton looked more like some guy steppingfrom a theme park ride than a major plane crash. It almost lookedlike he had enjoyed it. He wondered who he was; he was one very coolcustomer.At the pointy end of the aircraft, it was deathly quiet on theflight deck. From the cockpit, everything had looked and felt normal.As long as you could ignore the missing wings, engines and ass end,Panoski thought. Aside from the aircraft's very slight starboardroll, it had all felt very smooth.The flight engineer instinctively went down the steps to openthe flight deck door.It was jammed. The loadmaster in the rear ofthe front section behind the flight deck door undid his harness andwalked briskly to the bottom of the flight deck steps and yelled"FIRE." The smoke drifting from the cargo area up into the cockpitemphasized his point. The loadmaster quickly, but efficiently, beganmoving the passengers off the aircraft and onto the skiway.The crew was calm … but very aware of the fire and pretty keento leave the aircraft. With the flight deck door jammed shut, Panoskireached up and opened the overhead hatch above the upper flight deckbunk. He ordered the crew out and followed the last man through thehatch to slide down the front of the fuselage. This was the firsttime he had an opportunity to look at his command.The wings were just "stubs" and the ends of the stubs weredumping all of the remaining fuel from the ruptured fuel tanks. Thehot engines had ignited the fuel, which was consumed by flames as itfell to the surface.A tall column of smoke rose from both wingstubs into an even bigger column of smoke that was left from the

316 | P a g e"burning fire ball" of the aerated fuel that had been sprayed fromthe separating wings. The pilot immediately thought of the two fuelbladders they had carried and the possibility of explosion. Nowseemed like a good time to "leave the area."Everyone else waspretty eager to get as far from the aircraft as possible. The outsidetemperature was -32 Fahrenheit (-57C).Their adrenaline rushing, no one noticed the cold as they beganas a group to trudge towards the station.The two large fuelbladders Panoski had worried about contained diesel. The rearmostbladder, which had been secured to the ramp, had torn free when theaircraft broke in half. The bladder had caught fire and was burningfuriously, quickly creating a big hole, already fifty feet deep, inthe ice.Hamilton felt a shiver run through his body that had nothing todo with the cold as he watched the flames and billowing smoke fromthe burning fuel.11,000 feet beneath him lay a pool of fuel farbigger than any bladder.Panoski was gratified to learn that of all the souls on boardhis plane, no one had been hurt and that they were all able to walkon their own to shelter. The pilot and crew were huddled together asthey walked, their voices a little shrill with the after shock andexcitement."It just went dead.Completely dead," Brian could hear thepilot saying."The whole goddamn system shut down," the co-pilot added."Thank fuck we were in the landing phase. Otherwise we wouldn'tbe talking.""I have never seen anything like it. Like someone pulled theplug."

317 | P a g eThey stopped talking as Hamilton approached. "Damn it," Briansaid to the group, looking at his watch seriously.They all lookedat him. "I’m going to be late."It wasn't that funny, but thankful to be alive, their nervesstill jingling, the smiling faces exchanged glances, infectioussnickers broke out amongst the group that then turned into laughter,unstoppable laughter.over with the effort.Despite the cold, the men howled and doubledWhen they stopped, they felt a whole lotbetter. The reporters looking on could only guess at what sort ofjoke they were laughing at. It didn’t seem at all funny to them"Panoski," the pilot said extending his hand to Brian. "AndrewPanoski." The two men shook hands, Panoski introducing Brian to therest of the crew.The skiway was adjacent to the U.S. 'enclave' just a fewhundred yards from Vostok Station itself, the Russian encampment andthe drilling rig. It just might be Brian thought, going through thecrash in his mind as they stamped through the snow, that maybeRosenbridge had indeed stumbled over something. It took ten minutesto walk to the skiway's control hut, which was also an entrance to awhole group of huts slaved together.Panoski started into theresident controller immediately."What do you mean you have no communications?""Nothing.Like your airplane, just about everything wentdead."The Russian, Rabets Filipovich Gnoitskii, better known by hisnickname Rabbit, shrugged his shoulders. The men were all clusteredaround the entryway to the small station. They all looked at eachother, somehow expecting an answer.It was Brian who eventually spoke.When he did, he held asmall device in his hands.The expression on his face was one ofsurprise. He was looking intently at a read out on the small

318 | P a g einstrument. The numbers were huge. He folded the instrument andreturned it to his pocket. "Electromagnetic pulse… We were hit by avery big electromagnetic pulse.""How do you know that?" Panoski asked.Brian retrieved the instrument, flipped it open and turned itaround so the men could see. There was a complex list of numbers onits digital readout."Essentially this device absorbs and measures electrical andmagnetic energy, volts, amps, watts, magnetic fluctuation and thattype of thing. It received a shot of energy that was in the region ofthirty volts.Anything sensitive to exposure to high voltagetransients suffers what you call 'gate breakdown' which effectivelydestroys the device, which is why we crashed and why we cannot talkto the outside world and they can't talk to us."Brian turned toRabbit, who he knew from his previous visits. "All your radios andcommunicators are dead, right?""Yes, but why are the lights still on - the heating?" Gnoitskiiasked."Good old fashioned hard wiring and diesel generators,"Hamilton said."The stuff that's sensitive is anything built withhigh density Metal Oxide Semiconductors - radios, TV's, computers."Shit. What would have caused that?""A nuke," the loadmaster said. "But since we are all standingit can't be that," Stating what he thought was the obvious."It could also have been a high air burst bomb," Panoski said,"But we would have had other effects like shockwaves apart from thevery obvious blinding light,""Or it could be pre-emptive," the Russian said."Maybe theAmericans closing down communications in advance of an occupationalforce." This had actually been one of Brian's first thoughts.

319 | P a g e"Doesn't make sense for either Russia or the U.S. It's aRussian-administered base, part of Vostok Station and we were on ascheduled U.S. Air Force flight." Even if it was the last one. "Iwould have noticed something back at McMurdo.There was nothingcooking there apart from sausages."There was silence for a moment. The talk of food was too muchfor the copilot. He hadn't eaten for hours. "Speaking of which, doesthe cooker still work?" he asked."It's gas!" The Russian smiled, food his favourite subject. Hewaved a lighter in his other hand. "And we have a light.""Well then," the copilot said with some finalization in hisvoice. "If it's all the same to you guys, I'm hungry and lookingforward to hot coffee while we wait for rescue.What do you sayRabbit?""Good idea."Hamilton followed behind thinking through the problem. Gas isright. Gas and oil, that's what this is all about. He had anothersudden thought - was Braithwaite still here?

320 | P a g eCHAPTER NINEUnder Putin and his ‘stand in’ Medvedev, Russia had embarked on a massiveremodernisation of its defence forces which by 2018 had closed the technology gap withthe U.S. and in many areas surpassed it.The Kremlin, Moscow Кремль, МоскваDecember 4. 0233hrs local time. (033 UTC). Kremlin reacts to EMPevent, orders cruise missile strike.The Kremlin, Moscow Кремль, Москва December 4. It was still dark inWashington, while in Moscow, eight hours ahead; the government andits military machine were in full motion. The northern hemisphere waswrapped in its winter with Moscow weighed under by feet of snow.Just outside the Kremlin, a large black Mercedes rolled throughthe high brick structure called the Spasskiy Gates and past numeroussaluting soldiers and checkpoints. In the rear seat of the Mercedessat Colonel-General Mishka Kazakov, head of Russian General Staff andtwice decorated Hero of Russia. The General's dress uniform was

321 | P a g etypically adorned with a multitude of medals, each telling a story ofbravery.To the General, that was his past. He was indeed adecorated soldier with substantial combat experience and a lifetimeof training to defeat the western allies and specifically the UnitedStates. Unlike many of his friends who embraced the new way ofthings, his memories lived on.The car stopped and a ceremonially dressed Tamanskiy Guardsmanopened the door. He saluted smartly. Kazakov returned the salute withequal respect. The General, instead of taking the large set of stonestairs in front of the Kremlin, took a side elevator to the upperfloors and the President's office.When President Vladimir Petrov waived in his Joint Chief ofStaff, General Mishka Kazakov was red faced and clearly irritated.Without saluting or waiting for pleasantries, the General continuedfrom where he had finished on the phone."Mister President. I can confirm the report of a massive EMPblast near Vostok Station." The detection of such a large burst ofelectromagnetic energy normally only meant one thing, but he killedthat line of thinking. "Like I said, it's not a bomb. Our satelliteand seismological sensors didn't move, just the EM monitors.Theonly explanation is an e-bomb. We have lost all contact with VostokStation. I have placed our defense forces on full alert."Both the U.S. and Russia retained large nuclear forces thatremained on a ‘hair-trigger’ - they could both launch against theirtargets within minutes. Increasing the Russian anxiety was thevulnerability of Russian forces to the increased U.S. capability todeliver accurate and devastating strikes and the installation of ABMsystems among its neighbours."Can we reposition a satellite to have a look?""We have already done that.Unfortunately it's one of ourreally old models and uses film canisters.We will have to wait to

322 | P a g eretrieve the film. We are repositioning one of our Arkon-typespacecraft, which delivers real-time digital imagery. But that willtake many hours.anything anyway.In all likelihood we wouldn't be able to seeThe weather was deteriorating rapidly before welost contact.""Who would detonate an e-bomb over Vostok?""The question I think, Mister President, is not who would, butwho can? Only the Americans, Chinese and ourselves are close toperfecting, or have that type of device. It has to be the Americans.Yuen and Chen are in too deep with us in Vostok, so it won't be them.The Americans are already in the deployment stage of FCG's and highenergy microwave systems."The President gave him a quizzical look."FCGs. Explosively pumped Flux Compression Generators." TheGeneral almost felt silly saying it. The FCG sounded like somethingout of the American TV show Star Trek.The President nodded, not really understanding, but not lookingfor a physics lecture either. "Go on," he said."The FCG is a device capable of producing electrical energiesof tens of mega joules in tens to hundreds of microseconds of time,in a relatively compact package. To place this in perspective, thecurrent produced by a large FCG is ten to a thousand times greaterthan that produced by a typical lightning strike.""And," the President prompted."And the only other country capable of doing that is theAmericans. The inescapable logic is that the U.S. must have been theones to deploy that weapon.""Mishka, we cannot just assume it was them.What if we arewrong? And sit down will you.You are making me nervous with yourpacing."

323 | P a g eThe General pulled up an elegant period chair and leanedforward across the desk. The General and the President had known eachother for a long time. "Okay, given. Look at it this way. We havetwo scenarios. The first being that it was the Americans; the secondit was someone else. Either way, whoever detonated the device isprobably already swarming all over the base and trying to secure theoil head. Taking out our communications is a prelude to action. Theenemy does not want us seeing what they are doing.My bet is, it'sthe Americans." General Mishka Kazakov paused.President Vladimir Petrov had already reached the sameconclusions. It sounded logical. Destroying an enemy'scommunications was frequently a precursor to an attack. Even if itwasn't the Americans, someone was escalating the crisis. First of allhe would blame the Americans. The logic was inescapable andunderstandable, even if he was wrong. If he was wrong and it was notthe Americans, there was a strong possibility that the Americanswould think it was the Russians and act to take over and controlVostok anyway."Neither the USSR or Russia has ever recognized any claims inthe Antarctic, but we have reserved the right to make a claim," thePresident said quietly. "Vostok Station itself is a Russian outpost.We are well within our rights to defend ourselves.What's ourstandard response?""In the possible event of such an incident, nuclear or similar,we launch a ready reaction strike force from Engels, part of the100th Bomber Regiment." The General looked at his watch."They arein the air now.""Can they reach the Antarctic?" the President asked."Yes they can. In less than eight hours."Oil, Petrov thought, it was all about oil.The Russian Dumahad argued for days over the issue.The plunge in oil prices and

324 | P a g epossibility of an almost inexhaustible glut of fresh crude on themarket was like arsenic to the Russian economy. So long as Americawas reliant on others for oil, countries like Russia were able toforce the U.S. to spend money to get it and hold her in check withthe threat of withholding it. It was a balancing act for sure. But itworked. If the U.S. or some other country were to gain control of theoil the result would be unthinkable.Someone had increased the stakes though and played a majorcard. If that someone were to occupy the station now and secure thelakes, it would be hard to move them. Possession was nine-tenths ofthe law. He had to admire the balls of whoever was playing hardball.Well, Russians could play hardball as well. The President lookedkeenly at his Chief of Defense."Okay Mishka, what is it?""We have to move up the planning time table.I will talk toChen. Lebedev and Vladimirovich will co-ordinate the Special Forces.The first two parts are successfully completed.The recent eventmeans we need to act quickly. Beacause of weather conditions we arecurrently blind to whatever threat the enemy may hold in surprise.With each hour it will become harder to remove whoever is diggingthem selves in there.""You want to retake the station?""No … not yet anyway. We will simply deny the station and thelakes to anyone.No one will have it for the moment." Kazakovexplained the third and final phase of the plan. "Lebedev suggestedwe get the Chinese to use their ASATs.""Good thinking.""In the meantime we need to stall the Americans."President Vladimir Petrov pressed the intercom buzzer on hisdesk."Yes Sir." A clipped female voice answered over the speaker.

325 | P a g e"Summon the U.S. Ambassador here immediately." Turning to theJCS he said, "Do it, get it done. I will stall the Americans.Whatdo you propose next?""We already have Spetznaz forces in Mirny and Dermontd'Urville. I have ordered the aircraft carrier Admiral Gorshkov anda Pacific Fleet Force element under the command of Vice AdmiralVyacheslav Popov into the theater of operations immediately. A NorthAtlantic Fleet task force has also been given orders to make bestspeed to the Southern Ocean."The President could not but help admire Kazakov's decisivedecision processes. "You don't fuck around, do you Mishka? Good jobfor us. For my part I will immediately lodge a complaint with the UN.I will advise the Americans within the hour that we view the use ofEMP devices the same way we would a nuclear device and will act inkind.Any further use of EMP devices will result in an immediateretaliation with nuclear weapons," the President said.The General nodded his head in agreement.The President waswell informed and understood the ramifications. To permit the use ofsuch a weapon without the threat of massive retaliation simplyinvited capitulation. The President, he knew, understood detente.Despite the advantage the Americans had militarily, they knew theycould not neutralize ALL the Russian offensive forces, especially ifthey were dispersed."There is one other thing," the General said before leaving."We have been monitoring some type of transmission from Vostok - aSat Phone, obviously hardened against EMP. It looks like someone wasprepared for this.""Secure?""No, this is the strange thing. We just got the signal, no onetalking on it.""Well it won't be there long, will it Mishka?"

326 | P a g e"No" the General said. "No." But it still bugged him.Beijing, CCP Offices 北 京 , CCP 办 公 室December 4. 0210 UTC."You agreed to the Blackjack strike?" Yuen Xinghua asked."Yes," General Chen Jianguo said."What does this do to our program?""We have to move up our schedule. If the Americans orAustralians are deploying e-bombs it means they are on the move. Wehave to beat them to the punch.""Okay, move it up.Given the e-bomb, I will use my emergencypowers to authorize use of military force if necessary. We can alsoslow them down diplomatically.Try and prevent any re-enforcement.The Blackjack strike will sanitize the place. Make sure the Russiansare not the only ones to get back to Vostok." The President found itagitating that the Russians might get there before them.He didn'ttrust them one bit.Vostok Station Станция ВостокаDecember 4. 0215 UTC. Brian looks for Sat Phone finds artefact.Vostok Station Станция Востока December 4, 0215 UTC. Almost on theopposite side of the earth, Brian Hamilton was also wrestling with anagitation; he knew the goddamn thing was out there somewhere.HisSatellite Phone, the only access to the outside world. It had beenattached to the side of his pack.It was sitting out there on theskiway buried beneath snow. He needed to go and get it. But, firstthings first, something was responsible for the electromagneticpulse. He needed to find out what it was.Fishing the little EM sensor out of his pocket he flicked thelid open. It was still registering the afterglow of the pulse.

327 | P a g eWhatever it was, Hamilton thought, it had been big.He was wellaware of the area's anomalies. But there had been nothing like this.The best bet was to zero in on the center of the SOAR anomaly alongwith the directions indicated from his little magnometer.At thesame time he could drive down the runway and look for the phone.He needed wheels. Better still tracks.There had to be somesomewhere. You didn't maintain a skiway with brooms. Hamiltoncrunched his way around the station's center.Behind the mainstructure, in the shelter of the wind was what he wanted. Bigbulldozers, some old friends he recognized. And they were old, whichis why they would still work. Unlike their modern counterparts, theold family of dozers did not sport any metal oxide semiconductordevices.They were diesel, hydraulic and purely mechanical. They couldwithstand almost any EMP attack. The oldest of the group he knew wascalled Maryanne. Brian looked her up and down. The other oldworkhorses named Pam, Colleen and Big John sat quietly next to her.Magnificent, he thought. What tin ass luck. These steel beasts thatlived on the ice had been abandoned in remote camps for the winterand seen in and out newcomers a fraction of their age. Even today,these old codgers were still the toughest hombres on the block. Theyshould have retired years ago. But here they were, celebrating 50years on the ice.More importantly they were where Brian was indesperate need of them, or one of them anyway.These bone-jarring, clanking and smoking pieces of machineryhad all been produced back in 1963, they were known as theCaterpillar SD-8 LGP - Stretch D-8 Low Ground Pressure - builtspecifically for polar programs by Caterpillar. "They will pull aheavier, bigger load than anything else that we've got, across moredifficult conditions without sinking in and without slipping,"

328 | P a g eRussell Magsig would say.He should know. He had looked after thestation's heavy machinery for nearly 15 years.Brian was still mentally re-acquainting himself when a bigglovedhand slapped him on the shoulder.He didn't flinch."Russell," he said, without even looking around. "You move like apregnant polar bear." Hamilton knew that wherever these irontreasures still worked, Russell would be there.Russell was not surprised either. They all knew Hamilton hadeyes in the back of his head, an acute sensitivity derived from apast and present no one dared ask about. But they all liked him."Good to see you, man," Russell said, a big genuine grin on hisface as they gave each other a big bear hug."Russ," Brian said, getting serious. "I need your help." Hequickly explained the predicament, not knowing for a second he wasweaving himself into a global crisis.Russell nodded.worshipped Hamilton.While he was not big with people, heIn fact, if it weren't for him, he would havebeen dead years ago, lost in a freak blizzard from hell. Russell tookHamilton straight to his most treasured possession, Maryanne. Henever let anyone else drive her. "She's all yours mate." He bowedmajestically, jumped up on the tracks and opened the cab door. "Wethank you for staying with us and look forward to your next visit."He smiled. Brian jumped up after him and stepped into the cab.He settled himself into the old leather seat that beforeRussell had seen more bums than a male prostitute.Not that therewas anything wrong with that. The aged control levers fitted neatlyinto his hands.It felt good. He shut the door and looked outsidethe cab. Russell gave him a mock salute, jumped off the tracks andpulled the diesel refueling hose from the tank. Brian couldn't hearhim but he was pretty sure he said good luck. He tipped his hand tohis head in a return gesture and engaged the gears.The dozer

329 | P a g elurched forward. It only took the D8 a few minutes to reach the crashsite. It took another ten to locate his backpack, which was furtherdown the skiway. There was no sign of the Sat Phone. He swore tohimself.No one in the outside world knew what was happening here.It would be hours, if not more than a day before any help arrived.He guessed the rest of Vostok was blacked out communicationwise, just like they were. How would that look? All he needed washis Sat Phone, specifically designed to handle high electromagneticpulses. Given that he was there initially to observe mild EMP eventsit had seemed a good idea. The mild had become the monstrous. It waslike going on a mission to measure plankton and being given a whale.Time was a wasting.He would come back and look again on the wayback. Right now he needed to find out what was behind the EM pulse.The little gadget was good.Not only did it measure EMradiation, it even gave a directional reading.It was pointing tothe source of the blast. Coupled with the GPS read outs, a two yearold could have followed the trail. It took the best part of two hoursto reach the location towards the northern end of Vostok Lake. Wasthat a coincidence? Brian had monitored the GPS read outs down to thedime and didn't believe much in coincidences. It was pretty much inthe epicenter of the SOAR flight readings, exactly where Blake hadwanted him to observe readings.December 4. 0239hrs local/UTC.The northern end of Vostok Lake looked just like every other placefor hundreds of square miles.Brian walked the last few yardsleaving the D8 with its engine running.And there it was, plain asday, a two-foot long, one-inch diameter, metallic-looking rodsticking out of the ice.What it was, Brian had no idea. It did strangely remind Brianof the rod that Al Haqq always seemed to keep with him.The fact

330 | P a g ethat it lay in the center of the EMP blast suggested it might beevidential to how or who initiated the event.The way it stood outof the ice was like something from Excalibur. The modern version,like ‘Please grab me and I will blow up.’ He looked at his radiationmeter; it was dead as a doornail.He flicked it with his fingersjust in case -- nothing. He kept a ready eye on the readout displayas he approached the metal rod -- nothing.He stopped short of itand looked carefully around. There was no evidence of anyone beingthere, no tracks, no footprints, nothing, weirder by the minute, hethought.He carefully brushed the loose ice and snow away from thebase of the object.The metal rod, or whatever it was, appeared to have beendropped heavily into the ice, perhaps from a plane, or maybe ejectedfrom the source of the EMP device, from some height any rate. Closerup, it looked less like it was planted, which is what he was moreconcerned about. That might have meant anti-tampering devices. Aftersome minutes of searching and of detailed inspection around the rod,he was concluding very quickly that perhaps it was just what itseemed, a metal rod sticking out of the ice. It had been dropped fromsome height to impact as heavily as it had. It was also extremelylikely that it had something to do with the e-bomb, which was why hewas nervous about radiation.It wasn't, at least as far as hisradiation meter could tell, emitting anything harmful. He steppedgingerly towards the object, waited for a moment - he didn't knowwhat for - before wrestling the rod from its hole in the ice andcarrying it back to the dozer.Back in the cabin of the D8 it was warm, a heated oasissheltered from the hellish cold. Hamilton sat the heavy rod on thefloor of the cab. Removing his bulky gloves, he tentatively touchedthe metal shaft.In freezing temperatures your skin can stick tometal objects so it paid to be careful.Surprisingly, it felt

331 | P a g evaguely warm. He picked the rod up so that whatever light there wascould help him examine his find.The rod was heavy. Why was it warm? He couldn't help thinkingof uranium or some other radioactive material, but his RAD meter wasquiet as a mouse. If it were one of those materials, he would havealready had enough exposure to kill him. He was past the point of noreturn.At least it could keep him warm. He headed back to thestation, taking a route that would pass the crash site.He stillwanted his phone.It was the third time he had been back to the crash site. Thephone had to be there somewhere.On the second occasion he hadenlisted some help and had a group of guys conduct an emu-bob, stillto no avail. Third time lucky, Brian thought; he stopped the dozerand walked the crash site and the skiway. Then he heard it. It wasringing, coming from the wreckage of the rear end where he had beensitting. Wouldn't that piss you off, he thought; he couldn't believehe had missed it. It was jammed beneath the forward part of the rearfuselage and the ice. He had assumed it had been thrown across theice runway. The device was only a little larger than a standardmobile. Hamilton wrenched it free and hit the call button."Hamilton," he said."Jesus Christ Hamilton.Where are you?" The voice was crispand clear."Vostok Station," he said flatly. "More importantly does anyoneknow what's going on down here?""No, we were hoping you could shed some light on this. Defensewon't talk to us. You know, us being crazy scientists and all.""Surprise, surprise." Hamilton raised his eyebrows, even thoughno one could see him. "No doubt you know it's not a nuke, right?""Yes, we all figured that out rather quickly thank you.Butit's almost as bad anyway. Everyone thinks it's an e-bomb. By the

332 | P a g eway, there is a C130 and C17 Globemaster on their way to yourlocation now.""Thanks Frank." He then told him about the crash and the EMPspike."Did you find anything, any evidence of the device?""Yes I did, I think." Brian was explaining his strangediscovery when he suddenly stopped in mid sentence. "Frank, is thissecured?" He should have asked that before. There was a pause on theother end.Brian thought he heard Frank Cuppito say "shit" beforethe other end terminated.While Rosenbridge was not a secret organization, there weretimes that called for discretion, like now. Frank had obviously beenanxious. Brian wondered whether his hypersensitivity to securitymattered. Too late to worry about that, he made his next call. It wasafter that the phone went dead. It might have been hardened for EMP,but not from getting crushed beneath a C130 fuselage. The split caseand dark chemical stains around the battery cartridge were all tooobvious. Still, it had done the job.At the same time in Moscow, the satellite communications officercharged with analysing the Vostok event picked up the print out andread the transcript. Some one down there was talking on a hard phoneand some one knew what was going on.He immediately faxed thetranscript and details over a secure line to the Kremlin dutyofficer.

333 | P a g eWhite House Situation RoomDecember 4 0245 UTC"Complete communications blackout over the entire centralAntarctic Plateau," Chauncey Gray, the Director of the CIA, stated."Well we know it's not nuclear, Chauncey; what was it?"President Blaire asked. He wanted to make sure they did not missanything by assuming something, regardless of how obvious it seemed."Massive electromagnetic pulse. Only thing that could do thatis an e-bomb. But even we don't have one with that radius.""You sure? I mean, that it's a magnetic pulse.""Absolutely, it's been confirmed from someone in Vostok who hada hardened phone and recorded a massive electromagnetic spike." Helooked at the visitor.The NSA glanced quickly to the new Secretary of Defense, somecircuits were coming together. They were all seated in the WhiteHouse Situation Room. The Secretary of Defense looked at KasiniiaSakrov, the chairman of the Rosenbridge Foundation. Sakrov had beencalled to the White House to sit in on the meeting."So you should know about the Herc then," Sakrov said."Crashed on the runway at Vostok, unbelievable, no injuries. Theaircraft lost its wings, snapped in half and is burning right now,but everyone got out."“Yes, thankyou Kasiniia, Alex relayed the information straightaway.” The President said. Without that information they would trulyhave been blind to what was going on.Sakrov was still thinking of the crashed aircraft. It had beenlate leaving McMurdo.It had been in the air during the time theirnormal observations had expected a magnetic fluctuation. The magneticanomolies they normally observed were a mllion times smaller than theelectromagnetic pulse that had brought down the Herc. Strange...

334 | P a g ePerelli took it all in and looked back to the President. "Sir,as you know we are currently being blamed by almost every country onthe planet for e-bombing Vostok.This in turn has provided theRussians, Chinese and anyone else with aspirations to Antarctic realestate, a prime time excuse to push in military forces. I haveinvited Kasiniia Sakrov to the meeting because it's his man on theground.It appears this guy may well have the evidence we need todiffuse the mess and prevent a major conflict.If China or Russiapushes in, we will have to follow suit.There is absolutely no waythat we can allow them, or anyone else to control that oil.""We do not want to be the reason for starting a war either,"Blaire said. "But I agree." He turned to Sakrov. "I understand yourpeople have a great deal of interest in electromagnetic anomalies."Kasiniia Sakrov nodded."Well, in this case," the President said, "it seems you havetripped over a big one. Do you think it's an e-bomb?"Sakrov looked uncomfortable."Perhaps, Mister President,perhaps not.""All the others here do," President Blaire said. "At the momentI am inclined to agree with them.But I always keep an open mind.This evidence your man has could be crucial to us, proving we didn'tcause the event. Will your man be happy to hand it over?""Of course Mister President.""Good. We need to get that evidence secured and back hereASAP."“By the way, what exactly does this thing look like, obviouslysmall enough for a man to carry?” Chauncey Gray asked, closing hispersonal note book at the same time.Sakrov repeated the description Frank had provided him. TheDeputy Director of the CIA stopped what he was doing and lookeddirectly at Sakrov. “Say that again…”

335 | P a g eVostok Station - Станция ВостокаBack at Vostok Station's East enclave, Brian waved his hands in theair.Everyone was asking questions at once. "Okay. Relax. We havetwo birds in the air as we speak, coming to pick us up. A C17 and aC130." There was a chorus of whistles and yahoos. "I suggest we getsome sleep and relax." This was met with a lot of 'boos', 'sod off'and other derogatory comments. Someone had obviously found the vodka.He looked at Rabbit, who gave him an innocent shrug.Canberra AustraliaThe Prime Minister's Office.December 4 0315 UTC.The Australian Prime Minister, Dennis Gordon, sat uneasily in hischair. "So it's Hamilton again.""Yes Sir, Colonel, still on the reserve list.He called ashort time ago, apparently the only one with a Sat Phone that worksdown there. Or did work anyway," he added."What about the Russians and the Chinese?""Playing bloody Mary. Think we or the Americans dropped an e-bomb.""They don't believe we did, do they?""Emphatically.""Can't we get through to them to talk to their people downthere?""Hamilton's phone appears to be off the air. The conditions onthe surface mean satellite imaging is showing us nothing, nor them. Amassive low-pressure system has prevented any flights into Vostok.We are waiting for a break in the weather to get them in.""So until then we have no idea what's going on down there.""Nup..nada..nothing."

336 | P a g e"And neither do the Chinese or Russians.In fact, it has tolook a lot worse to them," the Prime Minister said."What would you think?""Pre-emptive strike.""Me too and I'm not even military. You've had the benefit of along career there.""If you were them what would you do?""I wouldn't wait. Wait and it's too late.""What can we do?""Nothing really.Any change in our defense posture wouldsimply reinforce their current belief.We just have to hope theydon't do anything. If they do, we react""Comforting, Brian, comforting. What about the Taizhou?""With the EMP event, this episode has ratcheted up a fewnotches on the crisis meter. The Chinese have driven her below the60th parallel and into our exclusion zone - presently a few hundredkilometers north of the Shackleton Ice Shelf.""This is an absolute nightmare," the Prime Minister said. "Oursecond biggest trading partner is deliberately challenging oursovereignty over that territory. I have a hunch now they will go forthe oil too.This EMP thing is really going to crowd us."Geographically China could hardly be further away, he thought. ShouldAustralia, in the interest of trade, lie down and let its Antarcticterritory go?didn't own it.The fact was if you didn't defend your property, youAnd now this bloody e-bomb or what ever it was hadmassively escalated the whole thing to a boiling point. He could inways understand the Chinese rationale. It was clear that after yearsof being penned in regionally, China was determined to flex its newmilitary muscle.The choices were thin. Nations like China haddeveloped blue water navies. The Chinese, North Koreans and Iranians

337 | P a g epossessed long-range missiles that now threatened the Australianmainland.The Prime Minister's last two years in office had beendedicated to repairing the damage inflicted on the country's defenseand security forces by the previous political tenant. That aside, anunerring dedication by Australian defense to working with the U.S.military over more than two decades had resulted in a small, highlysophisticated defense force that was entirely interoperable with U.S.and allied forces.In other words, they used the same parts,munitions, communications systems and logistic methods. Not as flushwith defense dollars as the U.S., the Australian ingenuity had notonly stretched the budget further, but also produced new systems,methodologies and technologies that were world class.Australiandefense had turned other nations' abandoned and delinquent systemsinto unrivalled lethal weapons.Gordon had already made up his mind. It was time to put thesegood men and women to work once again. Each time was harder than thelast, each time you knew you were sending people back that hadalready given more than you could expect, and each time you weresending unblooded newbies into harm's way as well. That dwelled onhis mind. Would he have the courage these folk did, that much trust?In his heart he believed these Australians to be better than he was.He hoped the rest of the country felt the same respectHasanuddin Airforce Base,South Sulawesiprovince, Indonesia.December 4. The Blackjacks Arrive.The Hasanuddin Air Force base of the Republic of Indonesia (formerlyAURI, currently TNI Angkatan Udara), was littered with tired and tornmilitary aircraft and old commercial freight carriers, a scene veryreminiscent of the aviation bone yards in the Mojave Desert. It was

338 | P a g edifficult to tell which ones were flying and which ones were trulyderelict.The flight line of F16's and modern Sukhoi fighter jetsstood out like dogs balls against the tragedy of aviation surroundingthem.As did the two big Russian tankers that were preparing fortake off and an assortment of recently purchased Backfire bombers.The long sealed runway shimmered in the tropical heat clear ofany traffic.Unusually, fire trucks and numerous fuel tankers wereneatly lined up near the main aircraft apron clearly in anticipation.They were waiting for something.Two large Il-78 Midas air tankerstaxied to the active runway and ran up their engines, one after theother they took off, streaming thin exhaust trails as theydisappeared into the haze. As the men stood beside their trucks theywould from time to time gaze to the south.Clearly this event wasunusual to attract such interest. At last their patience was rewardedwith the sound of the heavy jets they had been expecting. All headsturned to the southern approach.There was a speck on the horizonthat rapidly grew in shape.Its wings were spread wide and it wasbig, very big.The aircraft flared and then landed with the usualscreech of tires at the far end. It wasn't until it drew nearer thatthe assembled mass of Indonesian military personnel reallyappreciated the size and lethal menace of the airplane they werehosting that day. The wings had been extended for the landing phaseand as it taxied past the audience, they were swept back, revealingthe massive airframe's streamlined obsession with speed.This wasthe Blackjack, the Tupolev Tu160; the heaviest and largest combataircraft ever built. With a maximum top speed of over Mach two, a12,000km combat radius, low radar cross section and a 130,000kgweapons load, the Blackjack was a formidable long-range weaponsplatform that was twenty percent larger than the American B1 withsimilar low-mounted variable geometry wings, large dorsal fin andpositioning of its two powerful engines.

339 | P a g eThe Blackjack that taxied along the off ramp was one of fivethat were refueling on the base, each aircraft a few minutes apart.Anticipating the occupation of NATO fields in the Cold War, theBlackjacks accepted standard NATO refueling nozzles. After refuelingand a thorough systems check, the aircraft taxied back to the runwayand took off for the next long leg of their journey over the IndianOcean and then down into the Southern Sea and Antarctica.The Blackjacks were part of the 200th Heavy Guard BomberRegiment from Engels Air Force Base, in Russia.The lead Russianpilot, Ivan Grigor'ev Nagoi, looked into the darkening sky. Fadingbehind were the lights of the Javanese AFB Atang Senjaya - the lastland they would see for some time as they headed deep into the IndianOcean and south to their intended target. His aircraft was numbered07 and named after Aleksandr Molodchii, a famous Soviet wartimepilot. She was one of the latest in the Russian fleet of Tu160s whichwith recent new additions brought the total operational numbers to21. The companion aircraft were number 01 - Mikhail Gromov (thelegendary Soviet test pilot after whom the Gromov Flight Test Centerat Zhukovsky was named.); aircraft number 04, the Ivan Yarigin; andaircraft number 02, the Vasiliy Reshetnikov.Later, after a quiet and uneventful flight and just at theright moment, Nagoi slowed the aircraft and swept the wings forward.The familiar and always welcome Il-78 Midas aerial refueling tankerwas just visible against the backdrop of stars. Unlike a lot of bigaircraft, the Tu-160 had a fighter-like control stick for flightcontrol rather than control wheels or yokes. Ivan gently eased thestick over to slide behind the tanker, carefully pulling back on thethrottles as they drew closer. He then extended the retractable IFRprobe located in the nose of a fuselage directly in front of thepilot. The small light on the end of the drogue chute guided him in.Expertly he nudged the basket with the fuel boom almost feeling the

340 | P a g esatisfactory click as it connected. The fuel indicator lights turnedgreen and 2200 litres per minute of fuel flowed into the bomber'stanks. After topping off, Nagoi gently pulled back from the basketand slipped the aircraft sideways to allow the next thirsty Blackjackin for a drink.Normally the Midas could refuel three aircraft at a time withits three-point tanker probe and drogue, but because the SU160 was sobig, only one aircraft could plug in at a time with any margin ofsafety. It also took two of the Il-78s to satisfy the full flight ofbombers. One by one in the darkness they plugged in and topped offtheir tanks. Fuelling completed, they bade farewell to the tankers,which turned north, the flight of bombers headed deeper south.White House Situation RoomChauncey Gray, the Deputy Director of the CIA held two fingers up.“Two, maybe we have two already.” Sakrov’s description of themetal rod carried by Hamilton had immediately reminded him of theQuinn River finding. It was the sort of thing without answers thatyou didn’t forget. Maybe they were a step closer.“Let me get some imagery so you can see what we are talkingabout.” He called Stringer from his mobile and a minute later had theQuinn River images transferred to his phone. He handed it to thePresident.Blaire examined the pictures and passed it to Perelli who thenpassed it on to Sakrov. “Where did you say you found these?” Blaireasked.“Northwestern Nevada, in a quarry.”“That means they could come from any where…dumped there,disposed of, those places are full of junk. Metal rods like thesecould come from anything.”

341 | P a g e“Normally that might be the case, but like the one in Vostokits not just what it is, but where. The particular quarry we foundour pair in intersects what is called the Lower Triassic Quinn RiverFormation. And it’s not just this quarry that’s interesting its howwe found these rods there.” He retrieved the phone and scrolledthrough to another set of images handing it back to the President.“That’s how we found them.”The Presidents closely examined the pictures and thedescriptions. “I see what you mean. Amazing, so we know what they arethen.”“We wish. Fact is even after ten years we don’t have a clue.”“So you didn’t cut one up...see what made it interesting?”“Unfortunately yes.” He explained what had happened.“Crap.” The President held the phone looking at the imagesthoughtfully. “So IF…the Australian has one of these, not only mightthat explain the EM event, it might explain what the hell thesethings are as well. Might be the proof we need to unravel this mess.”“Yes…” Grey replied, hesitating, “also means it might not be inour best interest to tell anyone what we have until we know what itactually is...that we have.” He looked around. “This guy Hamilton…”He thought for a moment, “his artefact is a lot moreinteresting…doing more stuff than the ones we have.”“The one you have left you mean.” The President corrected.“Yes.”“More reason then to get it back before anyone finds out aboutit.”

342 | P a g eCanberra AustraliaThe Prime Minister's Office, Orders the thump on the Taizhou.December 4 1100hrs UTC/Dec 4 2100 local.The Prime Minister's office was jam-packed.It was not the normalplace to hold such a meeting, but had to do. It was host to the PrimeMinister's hand-selected crisis committee.The new Situation Room,similar to the Americans setup wasn’t quite ready.The extra heads in the room were key stake holders, Gordondidn't like advice sifted through the echelons of political andadministrative machinery, even if all intentions were good.In acrisis situation he liked to hear everything from the lion's mouth,which meant each meeting would welcome the key players from thecoalface.Which was why Squadron Leader Lance Hamilton, Commander No. 13Squadron (F-111 Strike and RF-111 Reconnaissance) was present. Thiswas not usual, neither was the situation.The Prime Minister skipped the introductions; everyone kneweach other already. Gordon looked serious, but pretty pissed off. Hehad been chewing over the problem all night and he moved straightinto it. "The situation has deteriorated rapidly. Just three hoursago I asked the Chinese Ambassador to urgent consultations.I wasinformed he was unable to attend and now understand he has beenrecalled to Beijing. As you all know the warship Taizhou has passedinto our eastern non-exclusion zone and is below the 60th parallel.As a consequence we have sent an official notification to the Chinesedemanding the Taizhou to leave the area immediately.Over night wehave sent two notifications and both have been ignored."Gordon paused to let the information digest. "It's clear theydo not recognize our claim and unless we do something about it, anythread of its legitimacy will disappear with our failure to protectour sovereign territory.To acquiesce and do nothing will be

343 | P a g erecognized internationally as a failure to enforce our ownership. Wehave issued a statement to the UN but now need to send a clearer andimplacable message that this territory belongs to Australia and weare prepared to defend it."The Minister of Defense followed on. "The fact is that whilethe Chinese are massively superior militarily, there is a limit tothe quality of force projection they can mount in this area. You willhave to excuse me here, because I am using information provided byDFAT overnight, so feel free to correct me. The closest land base isMartin de Vivies from which long-range aircraft can sortie. Thecarrier task force enroute is substantial with a large number ofsurface ships either with the carrier Shi Lang, or following on.U.S. intellgence also includes a substantial number of submarines. Iwill leave the specifics of the military threat to our experts here.However, it is my job to inform you that the Prime Minister, myself,and all our cabinet colleagues, have met in emergency consultationand every man and woman among us is steadfastly committed toprotecting the sovereignty of our territories. Until the UN fronts upand decides the fate of the Antarctic claims, we will not beintimidated or bullied. If the UN fails in delivering a balanceddecision it can back, we will protect that which we deem is ours. Weare open to negotiated settlement, but will not be forced - even ifit is the Chinese!"The Prime Minister spoke. "And let me add, these are easy wordsto say but not so easily realized. They sure as hell are not withoutrisk. We all understand that. It grieves me that this governmentmust face this, and that it is the men and woman of our services thatbear the risk and the sacrifice.Your job is to forcefully, butpolitely, dissuade the Chinese from encroaching on our territory. Butbe prepared to back it up." The Prime Minster motioned to the mostsenior defense officer. "General Morel, please continue."

344 | P a g eThe Chief of Defence Force, CDF, Major General David Morelstood up and walked to the center of the room. A little over fifty,medium height with thick greying hair and built like a footballplayer, he spoke in a voice that was not just commanding, butcompelling.Morel's eyes measured his audience. "The Russians,Chinese and French are accusing the U.S. of the EMP blast and acovert military operation. The official U.S. response is that they donot want to move into the area for fear of further provoking thesituation, a response we don't like but agree with. They want tohelp, but we both realise U.S. intervention will immediately escalatetensions, possibly to a nuclear threshold.This means we have tohandle this situation without immediate support from our primaryally." He paused to let this sink in. "What this means in real termsis: if we start something, we have to be prepared to finish it on ourown. The Chinese won't threaten us directly, that would provideimmediate authority to the U.S. to counter with whatever militaryforce they deemed necessary, including nuclear.“Understanding the Chinese political thinking, their objectivesand desires, is essential to us providing the appropriate response.Are they deliberately intimidating us or just getting their footthrough the door? Under our noses they sail a capital warship intoour territory, despite our published protestations at the highestlevels. They then stonewall us, virtually closing their embassy, andthen patrol up and down the strip like they own it. They believe wecannot or will not challenge them.And Prime Minister, with yourpermission, they hold no value in our continued relationship when itclearly gets in the way of their aspirations in the Antarctic oilfields."Their aircraft carrier, its task force and a substantial fleetof escorts are now less than a day's sailing away. They figure theyhave separated us from our U.S. protector and we will not confront

345 | P a g ethem. With the UN Security Council dominated by the Chinese, Russiansand the French, there is no expectation we will be listened to.After all, each of these nations is an accomplice to an act that isdesigned to usurp the world's greatest energy resource."Our distance and our isolation have long been our protection.The enemy, as we now must view them, think that is our weakness. Thecurrent strategy is a well thought out plan by the Chinese. With theRhino’s now operational and our recent acquisition of the JSF, we arein the middle of training aircrew on a new aircraft.As far as theChinese and Russians are aware, we mothballed our F-111s nearly fiveyears ago. The Taizhou is well out of practical range for either theFA-18 or Super, even with tanker support."The Taizhou is several thousand kilometers from any airbase.These guys feel pretty secure in the fact we cannot challenge themfrom the air.Since they carry SS-N-22 Sunburn anti-ship cruisemissiles, Sizzlers and other highly capable offensive systems, theyfeel pretty safe from any surface threat as well. And they are right.Beneath her are probably layers of Kilo and Akula II Russian-builtsubs."So what do we do? We could use our Collins Class subs tothreaten her. But since we aren't actually shooting at anything yet,I can't see the point in exposing their operations and theirpotential use later. Better the Chinese use up their assets lookingout for them than playing that card too early." The General pausedagain, getting closer to the point."I agree with the Prime Minister: we have to be decisive andable to demonstrate our ability to strike. Even given that mandate,what I propose is somewhat audacious.” The General paused, “When thisthreat first arrived on our radar screens we immediately went throughour options. Needless to say at that stage it was way too early to

346 | P a g eknow what might be required.However, our job was to ensure we hadthose options on the table and to be prepared."The option we are about to propose is an idea we had a fewdays ago that we believed might work, but hoped we would not have touse.Due to the lack of alternatives and the effort of someexceptional staff, it's turned into an operational plan. Given thecollapse of the diplomatic effort, it now seems the Pig might be ourbest response."There were a lot of surprised looks in the room."There is only one aircraft that has the capacity to take on athreat like the Taizhou over such long distances.That aircraft isthe F-111. We ceased operation of those several years ago. However,most of the fleet was retired operational and the airframes you seein museums and hanging around as ornaments, almost all of them comefrom Nevada. The good airframes were signed off to a special projectlocated in central Australia managed by Patrick Boone and his companyMacDowell Aviation.Right at this minute we have on the ramp over six Pigs missioncapable.Within the next few days we will have 35. We propose usingthe F-111 to pay a visit to the Taizhou.This will let the ChineseNavy know, and anyone else, that we have the legs to protect ourterritory.""What about ground and aircrew?" one of the crisis team asked."That was the hard part.Boone and his crew have been a godsend and we tracked down anyone we could find with F-111 experience.A lot were still serving, which made it easier.Others we had tofind and drag in the hard way." He glanced at Hamilton. The faces inthe room looked worried."There's going to be significant opposition to this after thefact. Using a 50-year-old fighter to tackle a 21st century opponent,it doesn't sound smart, does it?" the Deputy Prime minister asked.

347 | P a g e"That's a good question.A good number of you know this. ThePigs, as we often refer to them, are still the fastest, mostsophisticated long-range strike fighter in the world today. It mightbe over 50 years old, but over the years we developed that machineand the men that fly it to be the best. Let me introduce you toSquadron Leader Lance Hamilton. He is the most experienced F-111driver we have and has substantial combat experience in this aircraftand others.The Squadron Leader is also a proven and exceptionalmission planner and is the author of our current ops plan in additionto leading it."Hamilton stood up and eyeballed the room. "In keeping withtrying to keep this response low key, but passing a strong message,we are proposing a Mach two, low-level pass over the Taizhou.Theshockwave will shake her from stem to stern.It will also let themknow we can reach them anywhere in our territories."There was a heavy silence. "We can do that?" someone said fromthe back."We can Sir, and with permission will. The Pigs will be loadedwith live Harpoon and AMRAAM missiles.The Chinese surveillancephotographs will make no mistake in recognizing the live ordinance.""This sounds like really risky stuff. How do you know theywon't shoot?" a worried Defense Secretary said, apparently voicingeveryone's thoughts judging by the nodding heads around the room."Good point. Basically we don't."There was silence again as everyone absorbed the information."In fact," General Morel said, "we rate a 50-percent chancethey will." His face hardened. "These guys are playing hardball.They really don't believe we have the nerve to take it to the nextlevel.If we let them stare us down on this issue, we haveabsolutely no way of stopping them move whatever they want onto the

348 | P a g eice.To fail here is an admission to the world community we do notbelieve in our own territorial claim.""Let's take this in steps," the Prime Minister said. "On firstglance this appears a tough balanced response. The last thing we wanton our hands is the unnecessary blood of Australians or anyone elsefor that matter. But let's be clear. We are not accepting 'No' fromthe Chinese. This is not Tibet.will receive this final warning.This is not their territory. TheyIf the Taizhou fails to leave thearea, the instruction is to either disable or sink her. If she takesany hostile action before hand, the same applies.“The Chinese government will be advised of this, thisafternoon. If after this incident any uninvited foreign vessel entersour territory the same will apply. One warning through diplomaticmeans with a three-hour response time." The Prime Minister looked toLance. "Since it's your ass you are putting on the line, Lance, whydon't you give us a quick synopsis?"Hamilton stood up; the RAAF dress uniform fitted him well, hisface looking calm and confident. "Thank you sir." He walked over tothe white board on the sidewall that also had a large map ofAustralia stuck to one end. "First of all, to follow on your commentabout the task force - the Shi Lang, formerly the Varyag, is not anew addition to their fleet but its operational status is anunwelcome surprise. The Chinese purchased this from the Ukraine,supposedly to join the Kiev and the Melbourne as amusementfacilities. But in secret, they paid for the completion of thecarrier, finalizing the fit out in its Zhonghua shipyards in Shanghaiostensibly as a training vessel. AS you know they have two other60,000 ton carriers, both only recently commissioned.“The Shi Lang (Named after the Chinese general who tookpossession of Taiwan in 1681) pennant number 83 is a variation on theKuznetsov Class conventionally powered carrier, displacing roughly

349 | P a g e65,000 ton and carrying naval versions of the Su-33, the MiG-29K, Su-25 and several more. If she gets within range, our capacity toproject any offensive capability on the Taizhou, Hangzhou, Haibing orthe ice breaker Hongze diminishes, if not evaporates. The plannedT/O, sorry, take off time, is now 1200 tomorrow. If we can do that,we can make some waves for our Chinese friends."We can deliver six operational F-111s with both AMRAAM 120D,AIM9s and block-II Harpoon missiles to sortie within 24 hours."The CDF and Chief of Joint Operations (CJOPs) both looked upafter conferring with each other.There was a quiet nod from thePrime Minister followed by similar gestures throughout the room.The CDF spoke. "Okay Hamilton, you have a GO. T/O 1200 hourstomorrow. Also make sure you have as many of those birds available tofly as soon as possible; this may not be the end of it. We will want75 Squadron to provide top cover on the return augmented by Rhinos.With the Prime Minister's permission, I would also like to call onour Active Reserve pilots.With three generations of jets on theramp at the time we will need as many helmets as we can get."Hamilton nodded and began heading to the door. The General held uphis hand."No, wait here. This is going to be a combined force exercise.I want you and your team fully briefed on this and want your input.You are going to be facing the guns, not us." He then turned hisattention to the senior Naval Officer, Vice Admiral Nick Jansen."Nick, fill us in on your side of the fence.I know you have beenbusy ever since we learned of this."The Chief of Joint Operations (CJOPs) stayed seated.He was a bigman with an equally big voice. "HMAS Waller, Collins, Farncomb, andRankin are already en-route to designated patrol routes in theSouthern Ocean. HMAS Sheean will follow in seven days." The Admiral

350 | P a g elooked around him. Despite the sombre mood, there were genuine looksof 'well done' amongst those there, even some smiles. The Admiral waswell liked and trusted. The Collins Class submarine had received areally bad and undeserved beating in the press, especially on missionreadiness. This turnout was exceptional."That's a pretty bloody impressive turnout for a dud sub,"General Morel said sarcastically. "Due to the fine efforts of theAdmiral and many others, our boats are now the best diesel boats inthe world. These hunter-killers are among the best in the business,right there with Sea Wolf and Virginia class boats when it comes totaking names."The Admiral allowed himself a tight-lipped smile. "The FrigatesArunta, Parramatta, ANZAC and Warramunga are en-route but will not,as directed, challenge the Taizhou. These will be led by the latestAegis equipped Air Warships. Senator Shehan," the Admiral saidnodding to the legislator seated at the table, "has spoken with ourNew Zealand colleagues and they have promised the Te Kaha and TeMana, as well as Hercules transports and SAS support. This will giveus a total of 10 missile frigates, three destroyers and, within days,five Collins Class subs in the area of operations. The two carriersare being rushed into operations as we speak. We will also berecalling the fast movers Longreach and Alice Springs."Not bad for a couple of rat bag little countries hiding in theSouth Pacific, the Prime Minister thought. It was moments like thesethat made you understand what Australians were all about.

351 | P a g eMedia. Int.For Immediate Release.UN Condemns Antarctic EMP AttackBy Vincent Gray, Media Int. Press Writer.Dec 4, 1234hrs Geneva. The United Nations was in immediate and broadcondemnation of the use of an EMP device in Antarctica. The UN RussianAmbassador charged the Americans with escalating an already explosivesituation. The Americans for their part emphatically denied any responsibilityfor the EMP blast and pointed out that one of their own aircraft was a casualtyof the event. Following the EMP debate, the Australian Ambassador to the UNinformed the assembly that Australia was asserting its territorial claim andwould actively defend it. It advised all countries, until the current crisis wasresolved, to remove all their personnel from its territories. In addition, the Australians stated they would exercise a200-mile coastal exclusion zone around all Australian territories and that the presence of the Chinese warship, theTaizhou, in Australian waters was deemed a hostile provocation The Chinese and Russians delegations reactedimmediately, stating they did not recognise any claims to the Antarctic and would view any move to prevent theirfree passage through the region as illegal and an act of hostility. They further moved for an immediate sitting ofthe Security Council to resolve the matter. The Russians, in response to the escalating crisis in the Southern Oceanhave ordered a powerful division of the Northern Fleet to put to sea, including the heavy missile cruiser PetrVeliky, the Kirov Class, Peter the Great and the heavy aircraft carrying cruiser Admiral Kuznetsov. These are tojoin the Pacific Fleet forces already operating in the southern Indian Ocean and Tasman Sea. End

352 | P a g eCanberra, Australia.December 4 2030hrs (UTC). December 5 0830 hrs local. PM finds outabout Blackjacks out of Indo."So that was a big zip, huh. Nothing. They really want tostick it to us, don't they?" The Minister of Defense was prowlingbackwards and forwards across the PM's office."No, it's not a matter of that. You know that too. You're justpissed off they are ignoring us.So am I, but this is all aboutenergy, oil.This is really crucial to them; I can even understandtheir thinking. We just happen to be in the way. But it doesn'tchange the fact we are not going to give away our rights inAntarctica, our claims, any less than they did in Hong Kong andTaiwan."There was a soft knock at the door. An Army officer - anArtillery Captain, the Prime Minister noticed - stepped into theroom. "The briefing is ready Sir.""Thanks Jack." Gordon made a point of knowing names. The youngCaptain was a little surprised by the fact the Prime Minister knewhis name. It was a small thing, but he left the room feeling an inchtaller."This the Blackjack stuff, right?" the PM said. His mindwondered a little bit because of the Captain's name. Funny how thosethings converged sometimes, it made him suddenly think he might havemuddled the names. What were the chances?The Prime Minister and Minister for Defense joined the defensebriefing, walking directly from the PM's office to the Ministers'conference room.As they entered the room, a large map of thenorthern Australian coastline and the Indonesian territoriesdominated the overhead display.The two men barely had theirbacksides in their seats when the Army Captain launched into the

353 | P a g ebriefing. There was a real air of urgency. The Defense Intelligencebriefer, Captain Jack Cornell RAAC, ran the infrared pointer downfrom just above Jakarta to just above Christmas Island."U.S. intelligence has kept us informed ever since the flightleft Engels. We picked them up climbing out of Indonesian airspace.We intercepted the flight 10 minutes ago. They had a low radarsignature, so at first we thought they might have been IndonesianF16s or Sukhois.However, they kept heading south. We subsequentlyscrambled two F-18E’s out of Darwin to investigate.""That was the first time you realized they were the Blackjacksthe U.S. had warned about?" the PM asked."Yes Sir, we intercepted them using JORN and passive EM thenwent for a visual confirmation and show of force.""So where are they now?" The PM kicked himself; he was gettingin the intelligence officers face, not giving him a chance."500 miles southwest of Perth at 38,000 feet cruising at 650knots. We have no reason to believe that these five aircraft are upto any good.They are, however, over international airspace anduntil they do something wrong there is not much we can do."Specifications Tupolev Tu-160 BlackjackEntered service 1987Crew4 menDimensions and weightLength54.1 mWing span35.6 m swept, 55.7 m spreadHeight13.1 mWeight (empty)118 tWeight (maximum take off) 275 tEngines and performanceEngines4 x SSPE Trud NK-321 turbofansTraction (dry / with afterburning) 4 x 137.20 / 245.16 kNMaximum speed2,220 km/hService ceiling15.5 kmRange12,300 kmArmamentMissiles12 x Kh-55 (AS-15 "Kent-A") or Kh-55SM (AS-15 "Kent-B"cruise missiles.12 x Kh-15P (AS-16 "Kickback")Bombsfree-fall bombs in place of the missiles

354 | P a g eCHAPTER TENThe Tupolev Tu-160 Blackjack is the world's largest operational bomber.Over the Indian Ocean.December 4 2000 hrs (UTC). Blackjacks intercepted by F35/F18.INDIAN OCEAN DECEMBER 4 2000HRS (UTC) It was enough to send a chillthrough any combat pilot, like being caught with your pants down inthe schoolyard. The young Russian pilot Demetri shuddered. One minutethey were alone in an empty night sky, the next minute two FA-18Eswere sitting on his port wing. Because the aircraft had been quietlyvectored by the Australian Jindalee over-the-horizon radar network,they had not detected them until the last minute. If this was ashooting war he and his crew would be dead. The intercept was,however, expected, but certainly not desirable.While his aircraftwere not emmitting he had still expected to see them coming, to pickup their search radar.But the two Rhinos painted with Australianroundels with the kangaroo at their center, were patent evidence thatthe Australians were operational with their latest fighter and using

355 | P a g ethem well. He would have liked to talk to Ivan. That would have towait till later.For four hours a rotation of Rhinos and Hornets had shadowedthem. The group's lead pilot Ivan ignored them. A fanatical planner,he had anticipated and prepared for just this event. The reason forthe tanker top off was not because the bomber did not have range forits mission. It did. The extra fuel was taken on to provide ampleindulgence in speed.Ivan's escorts were neither as fast, nor fullof fuel as the Blackjacks. The extra effort was about to pay off.It was time to say goodbye to the Australian flyers.In aflickering of lights, the afterburners of the Blackjacks lit up thenight sky. Four big NK-321 Kuzenestov afterburning turbofans poweredeach aircraft.In just seconds they were each delivering nearly50,000 kilograms of thrust each. The two F/A-18 Hornets followingthe bombers followed suit. While a fast jet, the Hornet, even in fullafterburner, was not fast enough to stay with the Blackjacks. Withinmoments the big bombers out climbed and out hauled the strugglingfighters, disappearing into the skies of the southern oceans.Thefighters, close to bingo on fuel, had to turn and head for home.No. 1 Radar Surveillance Unit (1RSU) RAAF Base EdinburghDecember 4 2000 hrs (UTC).NO. 1 RADAR SURVEILLANCE UNIT (1RSU) RAAF BASE EDINBURGH. The radarcontroller sat back in his seat. "Shit, we lost them. They virtuallyleft us standing on the pavement.""What do you mean?""I mean," the young woman said, slightly annoyed, "they put thehammer down and all we could do was watch them disappear. But," sheadded, holding her finger up, "we do have a Global Hawk." She turnedback to the console and switched the monitoring screens on her

356 | P a g eimaging system to bring up Global Hawk's telemetry."Very faint.It's only just painting them.""So all we can do now is watch.""Basically … Yes. Watch and see.""Bugger!"After leaving their unwanted escorts behind, the bombers beganpreparation for the most crucial part of the mission. The Blackjackwas the only aircraft in the Russian armed forces capable of carryingthe new Kh-101 strategic cruise missile.Three of the aircraftcarried 14 missiles each. Far more than was required. Superstealthy, with a range of over 2500 miles, the new missile allowedthe bombers to drop their weapons and be long gone before anyonerealized what they were up to.The crew of a Tu-160 was made up of a pilot, copilot,navigator, and operator. Compared to many other ex-Soviet-eraaircraft, the Tu-160 crew flew in positive luxury, boasting asleeping place, toilet and electronic cabinet for warming up food.These were far from the crews' minds as the bombers approached theirrelease point - the 45th parallel. In unison three of the aircraftreleased their entire weapons load and turned back towards the north.A tactical cruise missile, the KH101 was a fire-and-forget munition.Once released the 42 missiles had immediately continued their trek tothe south, now on their own. Their electronic brains already preprogrammedwith the mission profile and target, they sped unseentowards the south to an entirely unsuspecting target.Aircraft numbers 02 and 04 lingered on course a moment longer.They had a different mission. Climbing close to their maximumaltitude of 54,000 feet, they hit the release buttons unleashing twoDiana-Burlak missiles. Both 02 and 04 were equipped with the latestaerokosmos Burlak air-launched space transportation systems. The twoBurlaks free fell from the bombers. A retarding parachute popped

357 | P a g ebehind each missile and then snapped free before the missiles enginesignited and drove it into polar orbit. The bombers Ivan Yarigin andVasiliy Reshetnikov, satisfied with a successful launch, turnedaround, pushing their noses downhill to chase their friends backhome.The launch of the Burlaks were neon signs in the heavens andwere picked up in moments by the AFSPC and the ballistic missilewarning system in NORAD. The AFSPC operates and supports the GlobalPositioning System, Defense Satellite Communications Systems Phase IIand III, Defense Support Program, NATO III and IV communications andFleet Satellite Communications System UHF follow-on and MILSTARsatellites. So they knew some missiles were launched.The data was fed directly to the Pine Gap facility near AliceSprings. Originally code-named MERINO, the ground station interceptedsatellite, telephone, radio, data links, and other communicationsfrom around the globe. The facility included a dozen radomes, a17,000 square foot computer room, and 20-odd service and supportbuildings. In addition to its Australian personnel, the facility alsohosted more than 1000 personnel from U.S. intelligence agencies. Twoof its ground antenna were part of the U.S. Defense SatelliteCommunications System and were at that point of time supplying a livefeed to a joint services defense team gathered to monitor and, ifnecessary, react to the highly unusual visit of the Russian bombersinto southern airspace.Near Canberra, Lance was in the middle of getting his bigfighter-bombers ready for an intensive operational sortie. The F-111airframes maintained by MacDowell Aviation over the last few yearshad been flown in from Mulka Bore. A whole team of RAAF, Boeing andother contractors were crawling over the airframes like frenzied antsas they prepared the aircraft. In the middle of this a call came infrom Air Headquarters at HQJOC in Bungendore.

358 | P a g e"You're going to need to see this," Wilkie said."Let Jakemanage the evolution while you come in here."Jake was Lance'sweapons operator, a Squadron Leader and effectively the unit's 2IC."You know he can handle it. There's something big going down but noneof us can figure what it is."It was a quick drive to Bungendore.Once he got there theywere patched into the GIG and received a live feed from Pine Gap.Hamilton along with the rest of the defense staff then reviewed thebig bombers progress right up to the release point."No, it looks like they have released what appears to berockets. Probably satellite boosters," Hamilton said. Lance was notan analyst. But he did know his trade."Could it be nuclear?" one of the staffers asked."No, wrong flight profile.It's definitely a satellitelaunch." Something tugged in the back of his mind.There wassomething they were missing. Five aircraft, two launches. Surelythey wouldn't have three backups?"Are you sure you have nothingelse?" Lance asked, looking to the satellite technicians monitoringthe feed."Not that we can see. They are thousands of miles fromanywhere, too far for its KH55 missiles to go anywhere."This was the sting in the tail.The orbital boosters werenoisy and easily seen by surveillance satellites and other trackingtechnologies.There was nothing immediately threatening about themas they sped into low orbit over the Pole.At the same time, whilethe orbital vehicles fixated Allied surveillance, the cruise missiles- the unseen KH101s - cruised at high altitude towards their targets,almost invisible to radar. Within minutes they were receivingadditional data from the two satellites deposited in orbit by theBurlak missiles and updated their flight logs.Looking ahead, the

359 | P a g esatellites steered the KH101 missiles around radar pickets and otherthreats to avoid detection.A few hundred miles from the edge of the ice pack, the cruisemissiles dropped from altitude to skim just feet from the oceansurface. Very quickly they passed the ice shelf, hugging the contoursof the ice surface as they penetrated into the continent's interior.The missiles electro-optic flight path correction system used aterrain map stored in its onboard computer to navigate in conjunctionwith GPS to its target.After Lance returned to the flight line at Canberra, theBlackjack problem was still nagging him.He stared intently at thepackets of Harpoon missiles sitting on the ramp, improved weaponswith longer range. Several fitted to each aircraft. You don't flyexpensive airframes that far unless they are delivering something.Blackjacks only have one job, delivering heavy payloads, fast overlong distance. He climbed into his car and drove to back HQJOC.Once inside he went straight to the Control Center. "What about101s? You guys must have seen them by now," he asked.The IA looked at Hamilton. "As far as we know it's notoperational.""Crap, I heard about them years ago. The bastards just keep usbelieving they aren't ready, for just a moment like this."Clearly the analyst had been thinking the same thing. "Whichwould mean?""Which would mean we have……" Hamilton looked at the map. "We'retoo late if it's a coastal target and maybe we have fifteen to fortyfive minutes to figure out…" He stopped in mid sentence. "Shit!" Itdawned on him. "They are going after Vostok! They wouldn't dare riskan all-out conflict yet, but are obviously pissed off about thesupposed e-bomb and believe we are running all over the base.Theyare going to play dog in the manger. This is a denial strike!"

360 | P a g eFaster than a game show contestant who didn't need any moreguesses, the IA hit the buzzer.The alarms started to ring aroundthe compound and all the way to Langley and the Pentagon.Lance Hamilton was really impressed. They might have all been HQstaff pukes, but they didn't muck around.A room previously withmany empty seats was suddenly full. They must have all dressed on therun. Apart from the odd rumpled shirt here and there, these peoplewere ready to go."Well, if I'm not wrong we have thirty plus cruise missiles ontheir way to Vostok," Hamilton announced in the control room tostunned silence."While we were watching the satellite launch, the cruisemissiles were already in the air.Look at this," the CIA analystsaid, throwing the replay from Global Hawk on the screen. "Why didthese three birds turn away before the launch of the satellites,especially if they were supposed to be backups?" He let that sink in."The KH 101 is operational. We have already seen it's stealthy; nowwe are about to witness what it can do on target.""Do we still have a comms blackout?""Yes.The only communications we have with Vostok was withthat Rosenbridge guy.""Sorry? Who did you say?" Squadron Leader Lance Hamilton asked."Rosenbridge you mean?""Yes, the Rosenbridge thing. What guy?" Hamilton asked again."This is the bloke with the only communication that survivedthe EMP event, seems he had a hardened Sat Phone.""The Rosenbridge guy, I am also willing to guess, is BrianHamilton?" Lance asked.There must have been a lot of Hamilton's in the world, what wasthe probability of that? "Don't tell me you are related?"

361 | P a g eLance paused, thinking hard. "Yes, he's my brother." Hecouldn’t help the stupid thought ‘and he ain't heavy’ floatingthrough his mind, he pushed it aside. "And there is a reason he hasthe hardened communications, to protect against EMP affects."Theyall looked at him."No time to explain; get him on the phone NOW.Tell them toevacuate immediately. And somehow let's get a message to Vostok.""Not possible.""What do you mean?""The phone appears dead.""Shit. Shit! Shit! Shit!" he said to himself."We have a Starlifter and C130 in the air out of McMurdo now.""Too late," Lance said. In his mind he could see his brother inthe snow, unaware that death was approaching. He ground his teeth.Brian would tell him off for that.Moscow/ МоскваDecember 5 0600hrs UTC. 0100 hrs theatre time. Read transcript ofBrians Sat Phone Message.Colonel-General Mishka Kazakov read the transcript again. The mousewas back. The part that did not fit the puzzle, a hardened commercialsatellite phone. The first call was clear.The second encrypted.Hamilton he had said. He picked up the phone."Get me Admiral Vladimir Kuroyedov. Quickly," he snapped. A fewminutes later he heard the click of the ancient phones as theyconnected. "Admiral, I have another rather urgent job."

362 | P a g eVostok Station, East Enclave/Станция Востока, ВосточныйАнклавDecember 5. 0800Hrs UTC. Brian anticipates cruise missile strike,prepares base personnel. (Rabbit etc)While the others had a few drinks, Brian fretted, something crawledin the back of his brain. Communications were down. Many hours hadpassed. He had been wondering what the Russians might do. EvenRabbit had said he thought it was a U.S. e-bomb.Maybe it was.Brian had no idea. But all of a sudden he felt like a target."Rabbit! Rabbit!" Brian was running through the complex.Rabbit, surprised, came bolting out of the kitchen, spatula in hand.Brian grabbed the man by his shoulders and looked him hard in theface. "Swear to me Rabbit. Have you talked to anybody outside of thiscamp?"Rabbit, while being patriotically Russian, trusted Hamilton.There was urgency in his eyes. "Nothing, Brian, nothing!"Brian let him go."What do you think your superiors wouldthink if Vostok went off the map and the only communication theypicked up was a U.S. Sat Phone?"The little Russian's eyes lit up like Christmas trees. He wasnot stupid. He understood Soviet and Russian tactics."They will assume an e-bomb and a subsequent occupation force."He paused. "Ooooh crap. They will then try to deny the place.""Level it," Brian said."Yes level it, wipe it out," Rabbit offered in a very depressedtone.That was depressing. Hamilton quickly wound the hours back inhis head from the beginning of the emergency. "I have an idea. Thecruise missiles are pretty accurate. Your cruise missiles, Rabbit,are very accurate." Rabbit nodded not very sure."Well, they are, unfortunately, terribly fucking accurate."Rabbit looked more depressed.

363 | P a g e"No, this is good," Hamilton, said. "They may well be on theway, but they have to fly thousands of miles. Let's not waste aminute.All we have to do is get the people to move out of the killzone, right?"Rabbit looked up. The Australian was a natural leader; Rabbitwas terribly smart as well, which is why he chose to follow theaussie."All right, mate," Brian, said. "Get everyone - I meaneveryone! - Onto the skiway now!" The expression on Hamilton's facetold Rabbit all he needed to know. The two men bolted in oppositedirections, waking folk who were asleep and almost dragging othersout by their hair. The urgency was palpable."We have multiple cruise missiles on their way here right now!"All of a sudden everyone was awake and listening very hard."Panoski, I want you to work with Russell and Rabbit to get all thedozers fired up.In the next 45 minutes we are going to dragwhatever we need from this base one mile away. Rabbit, you point toall the essentials we need. Make sure you take some blades. We aregoing to need to cut a new skiway."Panoski wasn't arguing. "Which direction?""Any. Almost any direction from here is north. Let's just do itquickly."Out on the skiway Brian looked at the dozers pulling thetrailers. In a few hours he could be looking really stupid if he waswrong.The cruise missiles performed flawlessly. As they neared theAntarctic coast, they dropped to 50 feet, skimming over theShackelton Ice Shelf and then the Queen Mary Coast as they begantheir 1000-mile low-level penetration of their target.Hugging the

364 | P a g ejagged white contours, the missile exhausts would occasionally kickup small wisps of ice.Following the frozen terrain up from sea level, they climbed6000 feet, yet remained only 50 feet from the ice surface. Eachmissile package was being steered to within 12 feet of its intendedtarget.Washington DC, the Oval OfficeDecember 5 0530hrs. Orders two satellites Russians launched to beknocked out.Almost on the other side of the planet, the Secretary of Defensepicked up the phone on the President's desk."It's Knopf," Pirelli said looking at the President. "He wantsto take out the two birds the Russians just launched. He says themissiles inbound to Vostok are using them for guidance. Wait a sec."He punched the mute button.President Blaire was hesitant, ever since Pine Gap hadestablished the probable mission of the Blackjacks. He looked aroundhim. Vince Kipper nodded his head as did Gray and Stringer. "Iconcur. Tell him it's a GO, George.""Yes Sir." The SECDEF hit the button again. "Sorry for thewait. That's an affirmative, take them out."Kipper hung up the phone. "You know what this means, ofcourse?""The nano sats.""Are we ready for them?""Good a time as any. But we will be blind below the 60th for awhole bunch of hours.""So will they.""Not only that but if we don't face this now, they will hit usat a time far more beneficial to them. This whole thing just forced

365 | P a g eour hand a bit earlier than we wanted, but we just have to live withit."At nearly 60,000 feet, a specialized B52L ABL system rotated its noseturret to look into space.In a few minutes they would use thecommon ingredients for making shampoo to shoot down a satellitenearly four hundred miles away.Located where the bomber's cavernous bomb bay used to be was aChemical Oxygen Iodine Laser, a COIL gun. Normally used for shootingdown ballistic missiles, it was also pretty useful at shootinganything in clear air, or space.The ACTS was a 200 kW-classsupersonic COIL that utilized a rotating disk oxygen generatorcoupled to a Mach 3 supersonic nozzle.Basically the COIL was a chemical laser that converted energyfrom a chemical reaction into laser photons.These laser photonswere directed by an incredibly complex mirror system to shoot a beamhundreds of miles without divergence. Unfortunately, all the thingswe experience with a common flashlight also affect lasers.Atmospheric turbulence, which weakens and scatters the laser's beam,is produced by fluctuations in air temperature [the same phenomenonthat causes stars to twinkle]. Adaptive optics relies on a deformablemirror, sometimes called a rubber mirror, to compensate for tilt andphase distortions in the atmosphere. The mirror has 341 actuatorsthat move at a rate of about a 1000 times per second.The ABL had something like twenty shots in the system. Lockingonto the satellites in low orbit over the Pole was easy.With nodistortion in the atmosphere at that height, the shots were clean.Two shots, two kills.After spending 90 minutes over the ice, the Russian cruisemissiles reached their terminal phase. Thousands of miles to thenorth, the Tu-160 crews visually guided the ordinance to their final

366 | P a g edestination.The TV-seekers housed in the missile's nose gave theT160 technicians last-second corrections as they viewed the targetand guided each missile to its closure. Suddenly the TV screensfizzed and they lost all telemetry on the missiles."What the hell!" The weapons officer yelled."The satellites are down," the navigator replied.The pilot turned around as far as his straps would allow tolook at the rest of the crew. "The missiles, they will find their waynow. Time for us to go home," he said shrugging his shouldersThe loss of the overhead satellites had little effect on themissiles as they closed on their Vostok target. The cruise missilesalready had inertial guidance and positional sensitivity fromgeographic data stored on board, they were also capable of using theEuropean Union's Galileo Positioning System or the Chinese BeidouNavigation System, which they switched to as soon as the two guidancesatellites disappeared. They also optically compared the terrain withwhat they held in memory.The result of all of this was that theywere still accurate and on target.BeijingDecember 8 0800hrs UTC. Jianguo orders US satellites knocked out.In Beijing the Vice Chair to the Party's CMC stalked the room andsaid, "The Russian President has just informed me that the two polarsatellites they launched have been destroyed.""Did the Americans admit this?""Of course not.""What about the cruise missiles?""They think unaffected." The small man stopped pacing. "We needto proceed to the next phase. This might in fact help us.""How?" the Chinese Party President said.

367 | P a g e"This is an escalation. It gives us the opportunity toretaliate in kind.""Now?""They will find out eventually.It's better that we use thisasset while it is worth something," General Chen Jianguo said. "Soon,it may be useless to us." The nano-satellites had in fact beensitting there for years.Great achievements in their time, theseminiature satellites were no more than a centimetre across butincluded their own solar energy devices, operating systems,propulsion and most importantly a miniature but deadly payload.Yuen thought about that. He was right. These little advantagescome and go. Better to make the most of it. "Let's keep it to thesouth polar orbiting satellites, nothing outside of that.Anythingmore and we might possibly lose all of our satellites as well." Toknock down all of the U.S. satellites would invite disaster,resulting in a knee-jerk reaction from the U.S. he thought. Thisaction was just right. He smiled to himself. In a few minutes theAmericans would be wondering what the fuck had happened."Please General." The President gestured to his phone. "Makethe call from here."General Chen placed the call to COSTIND; the 'xin gainian wuqi'were going to get their first real work out. The orders went throughto the Chinese Academy of Space Technology (CAST), a militaryestablishment with a gossamer thin veil purporting to be civilian.Over 45 percent of China's R&D effort was in the military field.China was a country hell bent on military supremacy. "Be careful onlyto disable those on the polar orbit including the GPS trackingsatellites." He added. This at least, the General thought, creates alevel playing field, time for everyone to pull out their compassesand sextants. Subsequent to the order every satellite below the 60thparallel was rendered useless. GPS navigation ceased to exist, NOAA

368 | P a g epolar orbiting weather satellites, NASA birds and RADARSATS went offline.Below the 60th existed an area that was blind to satellites,technologically thrown into the dark ages.Originally sanctioned by Chairman Mao Tse-tung, the nano-satinitiative was part of the '863 Program'. Beijing's effort to developlaser technology alone, employed over 10,000 personnel -- including3000 engineers in 300 scientific research organizations. Nano-satswere one endeavour amongst many that were part of China's new classof concept weapons called xin gainian wuqi.They included DirectEnergy Weapons, coil and railguns, high power microwaves and particlebeam weapons.Air Force Space Command (AFSPC),The Space Warfare Center at Schriever AFB, ColoradoDecember 5 0900hrs. UTC. Witness satellites being knocked off."Holy shit!""Holy shit what?""Wait!" The ready officer was punching keys so fast the COdidn't have a clue what he was doing. The man then made a call from alist of numbers on the computer screen. He spoke into the mike thatwas part of his head kit. "Same with you … yep … yep, me too, exactlythe same. You check with anyone else? Okay, go through theprocedure; let me know if you find something you think I shouldknow." He coded the connection on the screen and turned around to theAir Force Space Command's commanding officer standing behind him."We are down!" he stated. "Big time!Somebody just took offthe air every satellite asset that passes through the 60th parallelsouth."The general didn't look surprised; he had been in the center towatch the laser shots. "Why do you assume someone took them off theair?"

369 | P a g e"Because you don't lose sixty-plus communication, navigation,met and military satellites in one hit. Somebody knew exactly whatbirds to hit and all at once."The General just wanted to be sure.It was true then, hethought. They had constellations of allied satellites infested withthose miniscule Chinese space ants. Every space asset in the air wascompromised.They would have to replace every damn one of them. Heturned back to the Ready Officer. "All right, get that B52 ABL backon the line Captain, we have some more work for him and his friends.If we are going to be blind, I will god damn make sure not oneRussian or Chinese satellite gets a sniff of that place and they areas blind as we are!" He wasn't going to give them the opportunity ofplaying the game both ways."Beckham!" the General yelled. An Air Force Major appeared outof nowhere. "Get me a direct line to the President." He would needauthorization for this.

370 | P a g eCHAPTER ELEVENA Blackjack bomber releases a cruise missile. The Kh-101’s used on Vostok were apropfan version with 5000 km range, originally cancelled in 2000 but reinstated in2012. Their accuracy is reportedly 6-9 m.Vostok Station/ Станция ВостокаDecember 5 1100 hrs UTC. Cruise missiles arrive, ignites well head.The space drama that unfolded over the southern continent was unseenby the men and women hundreds of miles below. They congregated aroundthe handful of huts they had dragged clear of the presumed kill zone.Not everyone was happy with this idea and more than a few thoughtHamilton's logic was paranoiac. Many looked at him as if he wereinsane."You think you have this right?" Rhys Copper said, slappingHamilton's shoulder."I don't know Coop." Hamilton's reply was flat. "I could veryshortly look like a complete twot, especially since I had to forcesome of these guys to move almost at gun point - including theRussian and Chinese team."

371 | P a g e"Well, if it means anything, I'm for erring on the side ofcaution.But if nothing happens…I never said that." He smiledwickedly.Hamilton raised his eyebrows. "Thanks mate…NOT!"Rhys looked at his watch, no longer smiling. "So when do youthink they will arrive?"Hamilton looked at his own watch. "Anytime from now."They waited.Sitting in small groups, the scientists andreporters often looked over at Hamilton, thinking if it weren't forhim they could be doing something useful or at least be comfortable.The time dragged. Hamilton could tell a lot of them were bitching.Rhys noticed it as well."I hear jets!" someone yelled. "At last!" They all began totalk excitedly. Rhys and Hamilton just looked at each other. Thefirst missile flew almost directly overhead. There was utter dismayand confusion on the faces of most of the evacuees. The moment ofdismay was short lived as the first missile crashed into the surfacejust five hundred yards away, detonating in an enormous explosion ofice and flame. Chunks of ice bigger than baseballs pulverized thesurface. This was quickly followed by more missiles from alldirections, most of them arriving with no sound heralding theirapproach.Each missile plunged deep into the frozen surface beforedetonating in a massive explosion; an eruption of white snow and icethat was hurled hundreds of feet into the air. This was followed bymultiple hits too many to count, the ice beneath their feetconvulsing as the shock waves rippled through the frozen mantle.Every now and then the explosion would be dark in colour as theordinance hit one of the buildings. The missiles were so thick theylanded like carpet bombs. The explosions rippled and piled upon eachother. But nobody died.Not so much as a scratch. Eventually theexplosions stopped.

372 | P a g eThe ice around the base was cratered, blackened and scarred.Debris was scattered in all directions. A light wind hissed over thescene of the carnage. Small clouds of ice seemingly tried to coverthe wounds, gently dusting the debris.From their relocatedposition, the complete destruction of the Vostok base was evident.But it wasn't the destruction of the base which left Brian with thechill of death.There was something much worse left in the wake ofthe strike.It must have been 200 or 300 feet high, he thought. A jet of flamethat was so many times larger and more intense than those he had seenin the Kuwait oil fires. It roared like a bunch of big jetafterburners, pounding the air drums.A cruise missile had made anear direct hit on the wellhead, blowing it apart and igniting thegases.Under huge pressure, millions of cubic feet of methane,oxygen and exotic gases spewed into the air, igniting instantly andcreating temperatures of thousands of degrees at the wellhead.Hamilton could see it had already melted one hundred feet deep.Every now and then there were small eruptions as ice falling off thecrater's walls fell into the intense heat and exploded. Like the fuelbladder on the runway, Brian was surprised at the ferocity with whichthe fire burnt into the ice, over four thousand feet below his feetwas that big lake and he wondered what would happen if this blowtorch reached it. The clock was now ticking.Rabbit and Panoski looked at Hamilton, who was lookingintensely at the fire in the destroyed base. They felt tinges ofguilt for unspoken doubts. Panoski spoke up first. "Good call, mate.What made you think of it?"Hamilton turned away from the fire to look at the pilot."Rabbit did," he said looking at his Russian friend. "Rabbit made me

373 | P a g ethink of it. The very first thing he thought of was that the U.S. hadlaunched an e-bomb, pretty simple from there.""Who said they didn't?" Rabbit jumped in, still a good friend,but still a patriotic Russian."Quite right mate, quite right." Colonel Brian Hamilton feltthe steel rod against his side and a greater urgency. Brian and hisgroup turned as they heard a commotion from the contingent involvedin the drilling project. It was coming from the Russian and Chineseteams."These were American cruise missiles!" the Russian ProfessorNelomai Ostaf'ev syn Olfer'eva Durnovo yelled. His other Russian andChinese colleagues joined in.They started to head towards theAmerican contingent of scientists and aircrew, clearly laying theblame on them. It was inconceivable their own countrymen wouldsacrifice them in the name of oil. The U.S. contingent bracedthemselves. It was just about to get really nasty. From nowhere, thethunderous sound of a heavy automatic punched through the air.Everyone stopped. The loud and strong Russian voice of Rabbit rolledover the lot of them."Back off!" he yelled in both Russian and English. "Idiots!All of you. Do you think you would be alive now if this Australian,"he gestured to Hamilton, "had not stepped in! Fools!" He spat on theground. "Christ, and you call yourselves smart?" The Russian held thebarrel level. Hamilton was impressed. He had never seen this side ofRabbit before.The barrel didn't waiver and Hamilton instinctivelyknew that Rabbit could, and would use it if necessary."We don't know who it was," the Russian continued, his voicefirm, commanding. "It doesn't matter. But we are not going to startWorld War Three here. If you want to die I will help you." There wasno argument. "Now sit down and shut up before I shoot someone." Theyall believed him, all of them sitting down, barely a word between

374 | P a g ethem. The tough little Russian had really torn their sails andbesides, he had the biggest gun.Hamilton didn't know where Rabbit had pulled that automaticfrom, but he was really pleased he had. When the Russian turned, hisface was set with anger and determination. But Brian, despitehimself, couldn't help but smile at him. He put his hands up in mocksubmission. "You keep it mate, you scared the crap out of me!" TheRussian grunted in annoyance and stalked off. But he was smiling ashe walked away. That bloody Australian always made him smile, but hedidn't want him to see; he needed to look and feel grumpy, maybe oversome vodka later.It was a nervous wait.With a complete black out oncommunications it was all guess work. When at last the sound of thejet engines rolled over the enclave, Rabbit clapped his hands. TheAustralian, he thought, did have the inner eye.He had heard ofthis, a cunning but life saving intuitiveness. This man was special.He wondered whether Hamilton's brother was the same. He knew a lotabout both of them.Moments later both the C17 and the C130 arrived.Fifteenminutes after that, a far less vocal and solemn line of men boardedthe big planes to head towards Scott Base and then hopefully home.There wasn't much left for them at Vostok. Brian made sure he waslast on the plane. Once they were on board, he did a thorough checkto make sure everyone was accounted for. As he took a last lookaround he felt himself being tapped on the shoulder.He turned tosee a U.S. Marine Sergeant and three troopers."Sir, are you Brian Hamilton?" the Sergeant said, trying tolook casual. Brian looked at him."You need to come with us Sir,"the Marine said, shouting over the sound of the jet engines andwellhead fire."And if I don't want to?" Brian said.

375 | P a g e"We have orders to use force Sir," the man replied with a quicklook that begged him not to argue."Really," Brian laughed.The Marine had not expected this. The man in front of him wasnot intimidated at all. In fact he seemed perfectly relaxed, smilingeven."Sir, let's not make this difficult.I understand you carrysome important evidence." The Sergeant didn't know what the evidencewas. He was just repeating what he had been told."Maybe I do, but it's not your property.At least I goddamnhope it's not. So the answer I guess, is no."The Sergeant sighed. He stood back for a moment and was aboutto use his Sat Phone when he suddenly remembered it didn't work. TheMarine became nervous, undecided what to do next.The slightmovement of the Marine Sergeant's weapon was enough.The SMG barrel had barely moved two inches in its arc to coverHamilton before it was torn from the Marine's fingers and theSergeant suddenly found himself looking down the bad end ofHamilton's handgun. Hamilton stood firm, now holding the Sergeant'sSMG, safety off, which covered the other three Marines as he pointedhis own handgun at the Sergeant's head. No one needed to say'freeze'.Hamilton was surprised to see just how fast the Sergeantcould sweat even in the cold weather. Then as quickly as disarmingand containing them all, Hamilton reversed the SMG, handing it backto the Sergeant, the handgun disappearing back inside his jacket.The Marines, still stunned, slack jawed, watched as he turnedon his heel and casually walked without a word up the ramp and intothe waiting C130. They had never seen anyone move so fast.They obviously thought the evidence was pretty important,Hamilton thought.

376 | P a g eAll the others had easily fitted on the C17. It appeared he hadhis own little welcome team and the C130 all to himself. Heconsidered telling them about the danger the wellhead fire presented.But there wasn't much point.They couldn't communicate outside oftheir immediate range either. The fire was obvious, but not thedanger it represented to everyone if it were to get to the lakebelow. He would have to figure something out back at Scott Base,maybe a radio relay. He badly needed to get the information out; avery bad feeling was developing in the pit of his stomach.Dermont d'UrvilleThe French Ice Station. December 5. 0700 UTC. Nabialok heads to theDry Valleys.Almost 1500 miles to the north, in the French base Dermont d'Urville,the Spetznaz Colonel, Mikolai Nabialok, stepped out the dividers onthe map. The technique was old but he found the visualization helpedhim form the plan and all its components. It was definitely the C130they were after, the same one they had observed leaving McMurdo muchearlier with the Marines on board.Let the C17 fly through first.They had gleaned enoughinformation to know this before all the satellites died in the assand from observation teams on the ground near Williams Field. Thetraditional approach route was to fly down the dry valleys and turnover the Ross Ice Shelf and back into Williams Field. The wind nearlyalways blew north, katabatic, cold air flowing down hill from thesouthern interior. Nabialok tapped the map."Here, here is where we will meet them. We will set up a quickambush, multiple launch sites situated on both sides of the valley.We will each parachute as closely to our positions as possible. Thisis going to be a low-level jump. More than likely the Americans willbe able to track the transport on radar. But that's all they will

377 | P a g esee." He looked up at the men around him. They looked very differentthan they did a few hours ago. After receiving a warning order 20minutes previously, they were already prepared. He continuedexplaining his plan.Twenty minutes later they were in the air ontheir way to the ambush site.Dermont d'Urville was nearly 1000 miles from their target area.So it was no short flight, but well within the Antonov transport'srange. Colonel Nabialok again looked at the men around him, aspecialist Naval Spetznaz unit from the Russian Spetsgruppa Vympel.He had 12 men in his detachment, a small group to be under thecommand of such a senior officer.This was not always that unusualin Spetznaz missions. They were all hand picked for each job. All ofthem were dressed in winter combat gear.They had trained in thefreezing north of Russia's Siberia and were used to fighting in theworst of environments. It was almost like home.Nabialok's task was simple. Shoot down the C130 leaving Vostok.Either capture or deny the enemy the evidence found at the EMP site.There were no fighter aircraft within thousands of miles.If theylet the C130 get to the ice runway near McMurdo, they would losetheir chance to recover the evidence.Why the hell they were notgoing to Vostok to retake the station baffled Nabialok. The massiveEMP blast and the loss of all communications with Vostok pointeddirectly to a well-managed plan to take control of the station.His second in command of the mission sat next to him. WarrantOfficer Fedor Mikhailovich. No love lost there. In fact he suspectedthe man hated him.Nabialok was not the most liked of men and hedidn't care. He liked his job. The sudden and heavy buffeting ofthe airframe took his mind back to the task, the elements outside.The Antonov 74 groaned, cracked and squeaked as it fought itsway through the strong northerly winds. The plane was specificallydesigned to be used in Arctic operations.The high-mounted engines

378 | P a g eallowed operation on ice and snow strips without ingesting the iceand snow from the runways.Powered by two Lotarev D-36 engines,developing 16,535 pounds of thrust, it could carry a payload of overseven-and-a-half ton. Two of them were enough to carry Nabialok, hismen, snow mobiles, weapons and equipment.As the two transports closed the distance to their ambush site,the Russian Colonel rolled the name over in his head for thehundredth time. Hamilton. Where had he heard that name before? Acommon English name.He was the target. The communication Russianintelligence had intercepted earlier had told them this man wascarrying evidence from the site of the EMP event. Get him and theevidence he carries at all costs. Use whatever means necessary, thecommunication had said.It was the sort of language that gaveNabialok a hard on.中 国 人 民 解 放 军 海 军 /PLAN South Pacific Fleet Flag HeadQuarters.Jinsong takes Chinese Fleet into Southern Ocean.Admiral Wen Jinsong sat uncomfortably in front of the largeteleconferencing screen in his flag quarters. He was a very tiny fishin a pond of great hunters.On the other end of the call, the Central Committee SecretaryGeneral, Yuen Xinghua, initiated the communication. "Shaozu," hesaid.An unusual honor, Jinsong thought.This was the name hismother had given him. Bring honor to our ancestors it meant. He hadchanged this later to Jinsong; less to live up to, he thought.Although he did not know how Yuen Xinghua would know this, he wasnonetheless greatly honored to have this consideration bestowed uponhim.Xinghua for his part was sensitive to the meaning of the

379 | P a g eAdmiral's name and knew the affect his using the other man's birthname would have."Shaozu, your brother..." Xinghua paused. "Your brother wasaboard the Kursk, was he not?""Yes Sir," Jinsong said."He died to help bring us Ta Po." He was referring to theChinese version of the Russian Shkvall or Squall rocket torpedo. The6000-pound Shkval rocket torpedo had a range of about 7500 yards andcould fly through the water at more than 230 miles an hour.Alongwith the acquisition of the Sunburn missiles, it was intended to killaircraft carriers, cancelling out the threat these sea-going giantshad over China for last few decades."But now we have the Yuan, Shang, Shi Lang and other vesselsthat truly project our power across the globe. U.S. militarysuperiority has chained us for years, they penned us in like pettycriminals, barely able to wander from our own home shores withoutbeing shadowed and bullied by U.S. naval forces.As you will beaware, after the outrageous deployment of the U.S. EMP weapon, ourallies the Russians have launched a long-range cruise missile attackon their own base at Vostok Station, presumably to wipe out theinvading forces of the U.S. and her allies attempting to gain controlover the oil. We support that action. On the other hand, we do notwant the Russians to become masters of the world's greatest oilresource either.It is right now we can become masters of ourdestiny. This is a historic step for our nation and I wanted myselfand the members of the CMC and Central Committee to personally wishyou and the fleet luck in your new endeavour, and for you to passthat on to your men."Jinsong felt a chill run down his spine. It was true then; hewas going to take the largest Chinese task force ever gathered, deepinto the Southern Ocean and below the 60th.The Australians would

380 | P a g enot let that happen without a fight.He had studied them fromGallipoli to Iraq. His own force was superior, but the Australians heknew would not crawl in a hole and go away. Neither would the bondbetween their American ally. This was dangerous policy.

381 | P a g eCHAPTER TWELVEAn Antanov 74, the type used to transport Nibialok and his team in to the dry valleys.CIA Operations Room Langley, Virginia.December 5. 0100hrs UTC Dec 4 2200hrs local. Kasiniia SakrovRosenbridge presentation on oil well fire.CIA OPERATIONS ROOM LANGLEY, VIRGINIA. December 5. 0100hrs UTC Dec 42200hrs local. The Director of CIA Operations, David Stringer, leanedconfidentially towards his senior field manager Jack Granger. "Jack,these Rosenbridge guys may seem a little kooky, but they were in theright place at the wrong time. It looks like they may have picked upsomething that might shine some light on what happened," he said.He along with several others were seated in the CIA operationsroom in Langley Virginia, receiving a briefing from the head of theRosenbridge Foundation, which was somehow intimately entwined in theunfolding Antarctic conflict. "These guys may be on a fruitcakemission. But they seem to know the science well. And we desperately

382 | P a g eneed the evidence their bloke picked up to prove it wasn't us thatpulsed the Pole."Granger looked at him questioningly.Stringer shook his head. "Jack, it wasn't us. Take that asgospel. The rest of the world, though, is convinced we detonated ane-bomb over Vostok. We have to prove otherwise." He gestured to theman at front. "It's their guy - Hamilton's his name - that has theevidence and was, until all the satellites disappeared, our onlycommunication. Do me a favour. Despite how kooky you think he is,humor him. Whether we like it or not, the ball is in his court.""This is the thing that looks like the other thing we found atQuinn River right?” Granger didn’t wait for the answer. “We couldjust take it. National security and all that," He said quietly."Yes we could, and we might yet do exactly that. Find out moreabout this guy Hamilton, will you. No one seems to be particularlyforthcoming. Sakrov is here on the President's request," he added.Both the men turned their attention to the front as the oldergentleman from the Rosenbridge foundation fiddled with his paperworkon the podium."The guy standing next to Sakrov is Frank Cuppito. He's the 'gofor' or get it done guy," Stringer whispered.The sound of the paper over the speakers was loud. After a bitmore fumbling, hands perceptibly shaking, he looked up to hisaudience."We call it the Santa Claus effect," Kasiniia Sakrov said."Almost every year at the same time we monitor this EMP event overthe Pole. Of course we've never had anything like this, small, verysmall, minuscule in fact.Never made sense, never did understandwhy.Even during the cold war, we and the Russkis had anunderstanding about this. Well, it appears these events have got muchbigger -- an e-bomb, everyone thinks.Now we have experienced a

383 | P a g emassive EMP event over the northern end of Vostok Lake, the same areawe were interested in.However you want to view the 'event'," he said, wagging hisfingers in parenthesis, "I believe we have at least gathered someevidence that will prove this was not the result of an e-bomb."Several of the audience looked surprised. "At this time we have a manat Vostok Station, situated here," he pointed on the map, "in thecenter of East Antarctica on the Polar Plateau at an altitude of3,488 meters." He looked at his audience. "It is the most isolated ofany Antarctic bases and is also known as the coldest place on earth.It is also completely isolated electronically. Everything except ourhardened Sat phone was disabled. Unfortunately that failed a shortwhile a go as well. The man we have there is Brian Hamilton, anAustralian, very nice fellow."Cuppito flipped the overhead screen to a satellite image of thesame area.Sakrov awkwardly turned to the screen. He was in intense pain.He had at best a few weeks, maybe two months to live. No one knewthis yet. But the old Rosenbridge scientist did not want to go outbelieving the world was doomed on the eve of his own amazingdiscovery. He pointed with his cane to the screen."In 1977 a team of international scientists discovered a vastlake - Lake Vostok - beneath the ice sheet attracting considerableattention because of its unusual size and why it was not frozen. Afrozen ridge separated the lake we found out later, the Russians andChinese had obviously figured this out.While we drilled in thenorth, they knew exactly where and what they were after. Of course wenow know it was gas and oil.Otherwise, no one would really beinterested in any of this."We all know the story thus far. But what makes all thisinteresting now, is the bizarre EMP event. Our contractor, Brian

384 | P a g eHamilton, was specially equipped to monitor EMP events.Very smallones mind you, nothing like this.Nonetheless, he was able tomeasure it and identify it for what it was. He was also able to visitthe epicenter of the event and was able to retrieve an object thatmay be related to the blast. We have asked Hamilton to bring thisevidence back to us so we can assess what it is and perhaps the causeof the pulse. With the current loss of communications with Antarcticawe are only aware that the C130 and C17 left Williams Field to pickup any survivors at Vostok, that's all any of us believe. Correct?"The Professor looked at Stringer who nodded affirmatively."Prior to this blackout we had a conversation with Hamilton.""Secured?"Sakrov looked at Stringer a little embarrassed.He hadforgotten that part. "It was insecure." The Professor looked at therest of the audience then back to Stringer, but he and his companionwere leaving in a hurry.Crap, Stringer thought. He knew that bit of information wasimportant, but in the rush of events had forgotten. He turned toGranger. “Get the mission team together now. Update themimmediately; I will be there in a few minutes.”It was the small strand that wove the fabric of logic together.There were more alarm bells going off in Stringer's head than in afire station, the phone call, why hadn’t they figured that before. Hehit the speed dial on his cell phone. "Get me the Commander, 57 Wing,Nellis AFB Nevada. Now!"There was a pause as his call wastransferred. "Pat, it's David Stringer. Yes. Yes, thanks. I have anurgent mission requirement.As you know, we have a completesatellite black out below the 60th parallel. I need desperately, andI mean desperately, to get a look at the area between McMurdo toDavis and as far inland as we can."

385 | P a g eAs the CO listened to Stringer he was already pulling up the11RS status and deployment. They already had assets in the air, butnot their usual fare of Globalhawks. For this job they had somethingcompletely different, a standard Tandem Class blimp. Ever since theemergency began they had been stealthily moving it south towards thearea of interest. The blimp, a twin balloon, high altitude, low costutility airship was floating at over 140,000 feet above the earth’ssurface. It carried a sophisticated suite of EO, IR and SAR sensorsand was able to see and hear almost all the way to Vostok Station,but not quite. It looked anything but sophisticated, two medium sizedwhite balloons, one tied at each end of a 30 foot keel or pole.Normally its relatively short duration, low speed and cost meant itwasn’t much use in any conflict situation. Right now it was perfectand could do everything a satellite could plus more."Wait...okay, we have three Tandems deployed to try to coverour satellite blackout." Launched just after the satellite blackout,the Tandems were still crawling south."Can we patch through communications?""We can try. Let me see what I can do.""Thanks!" Stringer said, hanging up and slightly puffed.Hewas running, a task he had thought was just useful for field ops. Hethen went straight to the mission room; it was packed, Granger musthave put the fear of god in them to get them all there that fast.Stringer collapsed into his seat, still getting over the small runfrom the previous meeting to this hastily drafted get-together ofwhat he hoped could be forged into a crisis team.As requested, the center's senior Air Force intelligenceofficer was starting into his briefing. "Latest information is theRussian Aircraft Carrier Admiral Kuznetsov is at flank speed from theTasman Sea with several escorts.She is currently 48 hours frombeing able to project airpower into the area.The area of ops has

386 | P a g ebeen an established Russian base for a long time. The Russians couldpotentially use this to legitimize any hostile acts as defensive innature.Prior to the comms blackout, Hamilton, with the artifact,was still on the ground and making his way back to the airfield. Thebase is populated by scientists at this point, which do not representa threat. A late-model C130 and C17 were enroute, 60 minutes fromVostok, diverted from McMurdo. We also know that the Russians knowthat.""Right, a call was placed by a SAT phone and the discussioninvolved the evidence Hamilton found. Almost every electronic sensorin the world is trying to find out what is going on down there, so wehave to assume the call was intercepted." David said quickly betweenbreaths, "They know that, and we have to assume, we know-they know,that we have retrieved evidence and are bringing it back home.""So who is this Hamilton character who has the evidence?"Chauncey Gray, the Deputy Director of the CIA, asked."We don't know.An Australian hired by a group called theRosenbridge Foundation to study electronic fluctuations at the Pole.The individual was drafted randomly from a civilian contractordatabase by Rosenbridge and matched a requirement for arcticexperience, and basic scientific observation.""So, at the moment, we have an unknown person, holding evidencethat could easily influence the entire outcome of this crisis.Correct?" Gray asked."Yes Sir." Stringer was stone faced."We have nothing on this guy?" Gray persisted."No Sir. But we are working on it.""Okay, let me know as soon as possible." He nodded at thepresenter to continue. David sat to catch a few breaths."The Chinese also have two Sovremenny Class, Type 956destroyer’s enroute. As you can appreciate this is a very measurable

387 | P a g ethreat," the presenter said. "The Clinton battle group is 23 hoursfrom station and will be directly exposed to the Chinese missilethreat."That sent a chill down everyone's back.Purchased from theRussians, they carried supersonic SS-N-22 Sunburn anti-ship, seaskimmingmissiles that packed either a conventional or 200-kilotonnuclear warhead designed specifically to take out U.S. aircraftcarriers."They are the Hanzhou and the Fuzhou. Both of which also boasta significant anti-air capability with SA-N-17 "Grizzly" semi-activeradar-guidance intermediate-range air defense missiles. The SA-N-7Gadfly is similar to the U.S. standard ship-to-air missiles and isconsidered one of the world's most effective intermediate-range shipto-airmissiles today. If they get supported by their 052C Class orbetter warships with HHQ-9, a design based on the S-300, this willgive them an umbrella of approximately 100 kilometers each with theability to track 100 targets and guide six missiles to six targets.""Anything else?" Stringer asked."What about their newsubmarines?""The Yaun or 093’s?""Yeah. Aren't they a problem?""Yes, but their ballistic boats at least for the moment arenot. They have experienced severe radiation leakage problems and arecurrently all in dry dock, a classic deployment of Kilo, Shang andHan class subs is also underway.""Okay, what's the OP-PLAN for Hamilton?""Relieve him of the evidence immediately and fly it out to theCruiser USS Port Royal, already within Helo range of McMurdo,"Chauncey said.Right, Stringer thought. Assuming Hamilton goes along with thatlittle plan and you don't piss him off too much.The more

388 | P a g einformation he was finding out about Hamilton, the more he believedthe safest place for the artifact might be with him. But he wasn'tprepared to share that yet. He knew Rosenbridge were calling it anartifact, and since nothing was proven yet, it seemed a good name fora metal rod found in the middle of nowhere that looked strikinglylike another one they found in weird place.CIA Headquarters.Meeting, CIA and Rosenbridge one hour later.Cuppito had suspectedthe U.S. military might try to take the artifact forcefully, which iswhy he was there. Alexander Blake, the other Rosenbridge man at themeeting, sat looking stone faced."So what are you saying?" Chauncey Gray asked."I'm simply stating the facts," Blake replied. "At the centerof the massive EMP event, we discovered the evidence that mightsuggest what caused the blast and maybe who.It’s probably betteroff with us at the moment, at least till its back here.""Stringer thinks your call was intercepted, which means someonemay try to either capture or destroy the evidence. I fail to see howit can be considered secure in the hands of your people when our guysare trained for this stuff.""I understand that. I also bet you intended to TAKE theartifact from Hamilton if you needed to, right?""Damn right," Gray almost yelled. "This is way beyond anindividual's ego!""And you are right on that score as well Chauncey. First I'masking myself whether you guys really have something to hide?"TheRosenbridge man looked questioningly."What do you mean?" Gray asked.

389 | P a g e"I don't know; you guys are the spooks, not us. Anyway, if youguys gave instructions to take that stick by force, then I will layodds on, it's still with Hamilton.""How do you know that?" an increasingly perturbed Gray asked."Because I don't think you have anyone available down therecapable of taking it off him."Gray made a mental note to chase up the information onHamilton. "Why do I get the feeling there is something you are bothnot telling me about this?"Cuppito ignored the question; Blake just looked away. Theywouldn't believe their version of the EMP event anyway; even the CIAwere not ready for that information."Some Australian is waltzing around the ice with the key to allthis and we have absolutely no idea of what's going on down there,"Gray said.It was a fair question. Yes, Cuppito thought, waltzing was alsoa good term. "Couldn't be in safer hands Chauncey, but I think we mayhave some bigger problems, which is the other reason for thismeeting."December 5 1301 UTC, 0801 local. CIA Global Hawks spot NibialoksAntinovs and ambush.The three Global Hawks floated on thin air at 50,000 feet, orbitingwell beneath the 60th parallel, communicating between the Tandems tothe south and satellites to the north.David Stringer, director of CIA Operations, leaned over theshoulder of the Duty Watch Officer. "Where's the Russian aircraftnow?" he said. Looking at the myriad of screens in front of him, theduty officer touched one of the larger ones and changed themagnification.A vivid 3D map of the Antarctic Peninsula near

390 | P a g eMcMurdo materialized.This was overlaid with real-time informationfrom the Tandems, ground and air assets.The officer tapped a redmarker."This is the Antonov 74, an improved version of the CURL, atwin-engine transport, definitely Russian."He pulled up anotherwindow inside the screen.It showed the aircraft and its Russianmarkings. "This photo we took this morning from one of the Tandems'soblique cameras." He closed the screen. "It left the French base atabout the same time as the C130 left from the Pole." He pointed toanother green dot further up the screen. "This is our bird. If theyall keep the same speed and heading, they will meet somewhere southof here. A place called the Dry Valleys.""The Antonov is not headed towards Vostok?""No, it's tracking too far east.""We talking to any aircraft now?""No.The Russians and Chinese would be onto us in a minute.At the moment, they don't know about the Tandems or Global Hawkswhich have realyed COMMS via laser to satellites or an AustralianWedgetail.""So what is the CURL doing? Can it shoot the transports down?""No, it's purely a transport, no air to air capability."Stringer wondered what the hell the Russians were pulling. Backin his office the director dragged deeply on a cigarette;strictlyforbidden in government offices.He figured if he and his staffcouldn't keep that secret they should be in another line of work. Itwas easier to think when he smoked, even though he knew it would killhim sooner than his appointed time. The C130, if low on fuel,normally took this route; the Russians would know this.Half waythrough drawing back another lungful of smoke, he stopped and almostchoked.The Antonov wasn't there to intercept the C130. No, it was

391 | P a g esetting up an ambush!The cigarette disappeared into the bin as heran through the door and back to the Duty Officer's console."What's the Antonov doing now?" he asked urgently."I don't know. It got as far as the Dry Valleys and thenturned west to Mirny Station. I can't…""How long before the C130 gets to the Valleys?" Stringerinterrupted.The duty officer touched the screen with a small pointer."She's just entering the southern end now.""Shit - get her out of there fast.It's an ambush, a fuckingambush!""If I radiate, that Tandem's useless to us.""If we don't, we could be killing everyone on board thoseairplanes."The Duty Officer brought up the communications channels andaircraft identifiers. He kept one eye on a clock, the passing secondsnow draining away like molten gold, he tapped the touch screen iconthat designated the Tandem and made an immediate patch to it fromLangley. There was no time to go through official channels.C130 Aircraft Number 30492Over the Dry Valleys. December 5 1312hrs UTC.They were over the Dry Valleys beginning the let down into WilliamsField.Suddenly the aircraft stood on its wing, almost reversingcourse, the engines at full power. Moment's later two Strellamissiles snaked out from the valley beneath making a beeline for thehot engine signatures of the ski-equipped C130 aircraft number 30492.The pilots were not slow and Hamilton could feel and hear the pump ofthe chaff ejectors spewing hot decoys into the freezing air.Whilehe could not see the missiles he knew you didn't pump chaff as ajoke.They were under attack and a C130 was not exactly the mostnimble of birds in the air, even a late model one.

392 | P a g eThe loadmaster hung precariously from the canvas webbing. Heknew what was happening, but hadn't expected to be at shot bymissiles at the ass end of the earth.Like the loadmaster,Hamilton's mind was working through the problem.The four Marinesescorting him looked surprised and scared. They had not reckoned onthis set of events.The sudden jolt of the first missile impacting on the portengine threw them on the deck. The blinding flash of the explosion,holes in the fuselage and the burning engine hanging off a wing fullof fuel was all too evident. The second missile had been distracted.But there would be more.The Master Chief was more together than Hamilton would haveguessed. Despite the chaos, he was as cool as custard."You done this before Chief?"The Chief loadmaster looked at him evenly. "Yes Sir.Lookslike you have too. This isn't anymore fun, I might add, than lasttime."Hamilton couldn't help but crack a smile. The Chief cracked asmile as well; he knew an experienced warrior when he saw one, evenif he wasn’t in uniform. "I forgot to welcome you on board, Sir.Master Chief Andrew Wilkins.""Thank you, Master Chief. Brian Hamilton"The Master Chief's smile suddenly evaporated. Brian could seehim concentrate for a moment, obviously listening to the pilot on hisintercom. He nodded, turned to an overhead compartment, dropping thedoor and pulling a bunch of parachutes out. He threw them around thecabin, yelling, "Put them on!"The Marines now looked truly terrified.Brian screamed over the sound of the roaring engines and theslipstream. "Watch me." He quickly demonstrated how to strap on theparachutes.The back ramp was already dropped and freezing air

393 | P a g ewhipped through the fuselage interior.He watched as the menstruggled to buckle their chutes.That was when the second missilehit, opening a huge hole in the fuselage just rear of the wing.Before Hamilton could even think, he was spinning through emptyspace.

394 | P a g eWilliams Air Force Base, Victoria, Australia.December 5, 1330 hrs, UTC. Pig flight leaves to harass Taizhou.Lance Hamilton ran a gloved hand down the leading edge slat of the F-111. The 'Pig' as many referred to it, squatted on its rugged trucklike undercarriage looking powerful and lethal.Lance was one ofjust a handful of pilots on the planet that had in recent historyflown the F-111C and this particular airplane was older than he was.When the Menzies Government of Australia ordered 24 GeneralDynamic F-111Cs in October 1963, no one could have imagined theversatility or longevity of this exceptional aircraft. Nearly 60years had passed since ordering the aircraft and its plannedreplacement. Despite nearly half a century that had witnessed some ofthe most amazing technology advancements in human history, the F-111still remained, arguably the most powerful strike aircraft in itsclass. Supported by Jindalee OTHB/P-3C targeting, the F-111/Harpoonwas also the most potent anti-shipping weapon system in the WesternWorld.The F-111 had proven to be an expensive exercise in technologytoo early for its time.Within a short span of years the U.S. hadmothballed their fleet to make money available to the B1 project.Since then Australia had remained the world's sole operator of the F-111. With perseverance and a typical 'make do' spirit, theAustralians had turned the Pig into a long-range strike weaponwithout comparison.Despite its age, the aircraft was a showcase of the latesttechnology, incorporating variable geometry wing design, leading andtrailing edge high-lift devices, afterburning turbofans, a crewejection module, a highly automated inertial bomb/nav package,automatic terrain-following radar, long-range pulse doppler airintercept radar in the F- 111B, and internal electronic warfareequipment that was world class.

395 | P a g eLance Hamilton sighed. The F-111 had been taken out by theinterim strike platform the Super Hornet, which in turn was beingaugmented by the joint strike fighter, the F35, of which they so farhad received just a handful. Saying goodbye to the F-111 was likewitnessing the passing of a good and faithful friend.There were awhole lot of reasons for phasing the old girls out - many financial,others based on anticipated operating environments and foreseeablethreat. Fate, however, was asking the venerable but still ableairframe to soldier on.There was still no other airplane in theworld capable of delivering the same weapon load at such high speeddown in the dirt, over such a distance. Only the Pig, and Lance knewthat he and it were about to be tested to their limits.The massive F-111C, built to kill long-range bombers and theirsupersonic cruise missiles was not designed for knife fights withlightweight MiGs and Sukhois. But Lance knew that with his precisionbird he was able to deliver ordnance with stunning accuracy. Get himtalking about his beloved Pig and it was hard to stop him. "Youselect which window of a building you want the bomb to go through,and the Pig and I will do it to the nearest second anywhere in theworld," he'd say. "I can drop 500 pounds of high explosive, 2,000pounds or even 10,000 pounds of high-explosive ordnance into thatbuilding. I can do it at low level - less than 50 feet over water orland. I can do it supersonic - not only at the speed of sound, attwice the speed of sound and I can do it day or night, and I can usemy terrain-following radar to keep me close to the ground to do it,to avoid enemy detection. I can pull four gee to seven-plus gee andbe back for breakfast before the dust settles."Statistically the F-111 was the most successful strike aircraftused in the Desert Storm campaign, and no F-111E or F-111F aircraftwere lost to enemy fire in the highest density air defense

396 | P a g eenvironment seen outside of central Europe. The combination of range,payload, high speed and precision gave the F-111 more punch than theUK's Tornado or the stealthy F-117A, and its speed at low level madeit extremely difficult to engage by SAMs.There is no 'tactical' aircraft that can match the F-111 in itskey aerodynamic performance specifications.The F-111C was acquiredas a 'strategic strike,' a sledgehammer force. A battlefield airinterdiction and close-air support aircraft, the F-111 remainedchallenged only by the B-52. With 24 500lb Mk.82 bombs, a single F-111 carries roughly half the bomb load of all B-52 variants otherthan the Vietnam era 'big belly' B-52D.While modern striketechnique is focused on killing high-value targets with guidedweapons, battlefield bombardment is a niche where sheer tonnage stillremains decisive. Doubters might consider the demise of the Talibanin 2001, or the collapse of Serbian fortifications in Kosovo in 1999.With two-and-half times, or better, the payload radius oftypical multi-role tactical fighters, the F-111 remains in a class ofits own. When finally retired in 2010, with Mach 2.6 class highaltitudesupersonic dash performance, and Mach 1.2 dash capability atlow level, the F-111 was arguably the fastest combat aircraft inoperation in any Western air force. As the previous backbone of theAustralian defense force structure, it allowed the RAAF to 'punchabove its weight' in the broader region - providing a significantdeterrent effect. Something the Chinese had obviously misjudged.

397 | P a g eCHAPTER THIRTEENAn Su-33 leaving the deck of the Russian aircraft carrier KuznetsovRaaf base Avalon VictoriaThe lead pilot, Squadron Leader Lance Hamilton, called a 60-second"hack" to start the countdown to brake release. The three aircraftsquatted at the end of the runway, their jet exhausts shimmeringbehind them. The pilots sat, hands on throttles, senses taut,anticipation crowding their thoughts. Hamilton rolled the throttlesforward, the two big turbofans roaring at 80 percent rpm.Hamilton spoke into his mask."Lead, five, four, three, two,one." Simultaneously all three pilots released brakes and lit theirafterburners. The "burners" instantly increased thrust from 24,000 to40,000 pounds and gave the aircrews a "kick" that jammed them back intheir seats. Acceleration was quick.The scenery became a blur.Hamilton and his navigator checked instruments for engine power andperformance. Rotation speed came fast. He then eased the stick back,

398 | P a g elifting the nose smoothly off the runway. With the aircraft free ofthe ground he used his left hand to raise the gear, keeping his righthand on the control stick to correct pitch angles and keep wingslevel. It was all automatic, as natural as scratching his nose.Moving his left hand from the gear handle to flap handles, he suckedin the flaps and slats as they accelerated through 290 mph,repositioning the wings from 16 degrees to 26 degrees of sweep. Asthey approached 400 knots, Hamilton retarded the throttles, cut offthe burner and reduced the power setting to continue the climb out.With the Pig climbing steeply, Lance made radio contact withtheir departure control, scanning his radar to locate any possibleaircraft in front of him. It had been 90 seconds since he had leftthe runway. In less than 10 minutes he leveled off at 27,000 feet,with his fellow aircraft stacked in neat trail formation, headingsouth.Conversation with the traffic controllers on the ground wasclipped as they steered the flight quietly through the myriad flightpaths of commercial and private planes. The Pig's inertial system'sgyros and digital computers hummed in unison, accepting thedirections of the computer program. While Lance busied himself withcourse changes, speed, and other mission variables, the electronicsensors in the avionics systems measured every tiny movement of theaircraft, compensating for each deviation by issuing direct commandsto the flight-control surfaces.In fact, the navigation system wasso sensitive and accurate that the Pig's parking spot on the ramp hadto be surveyed to give the system the exact coordinates of themission starting point.Right on schedule, the RAAF KC-30B MRTT of 33 Squadron maderadio contact, navigating their intercept at over 480 knots. Hamiltonand his escorts adjusted their heading to close at a rate of almost1500 feet per second. Following the image of the KC-30B on his

399 | P a g eradarscope, the lead navigator relayed course corrections to thesmall formation, adjusting the flight path toward, but slightlyoffset, from the tankers. At a 1000 knots closure rate, the distancebetween them diminished rapidly.When the tanker was exactly 21 miles downrange, Lance, flyinglead, directed the KC-30B to turn onto his heading. He spotted theKC-30B halfway through its turn 10 miles out. When he rolled out, thebombers were five miles astern, now three abreast in loose visualformation. In minutes, the lead Pig was in position, immediatelybehind and below the refueling boom, ready for hook-up. The KC-30Bbegan to offload its JP8 jet fuel. One by one the tanker's boomoperator inserted the refueling boom into the small receptacle justbehind each F-111's cockpit while it flew in very close trailposition behind the tanker.The Pig was very heavy and slippery in flight. Despite controlsspecially designed to adapt automatically to almost any altitude andairspeed condition, when you pulled the power off the F-111, it justkept going. This meant for newbies, continual corrections withthrottles and airbrakes or boards and burners as they would say.After so many hook-ups and hours of refueling practice, Hamilton haddeveloped a feel for the correct position behind the boom, the hookup and transfer seeming casual and easy. He was thinking about Brianwhen the boomer suddenly broke into his thoughts calling a"Disconnect". Hamilton slipped below and away from the tanker.Hamilton's Pig was loaded to the gills, packing some major surprisesfor anyone getting in her way.Meanwhile, far south, the target of interest steamed westunaware of the approaching danger. The Taizhou displaced most of theother ships in the Chinese fleet by over 50 percent.She was builtfor long endurance and could run fast.Even in the heavy followingsea, the Sovremenny class destroyer made a comfortable 25 knots. Her

400 | P a g ecaptain and crew were confident in their systems. She was, after all,the 'Carrier Killer'. The Taizhou was a lethal package of air, ASWand surface-to-surface weaponry, the ship's captain, PLAN CommanderLi Zhenbang, easily moved with the steady roll of the ship.Therewas, he believed, no one close enough or daring enough to offer athreat to them.They strolled with complete impunity through theAustralian waters.Two hours after refueling, the flight of Pigs descended to sealevel well outside the range of the Taizhou's radar capabilities.Flying fast and on the deck, the big jets ploughed the ocean withtheir exhausts. It was a rough ride, especially with a full rack ofmunitions. Hamilton's lead jet buffeted heavily.They were closingwith the target quickly and if they had actually been conducting anattack they would have already released weapons performing a pop upwhich potentially exposed them to radar.Today, they stayed on thedeck.Just three miles out, the Taizhou’s ops room acquired theflight. By then the F-111s had split, converging on the target fromdifferent directions.A collision was a real possibility, but thegain of splitting the ship's defenses in all directions was worth it.On board the Taizhou, the missile director frantically punched hiskeyboard, loading SA-N-7 Gadfly missiles into their launchers callingmultiple incoming at plus mach one. Hamilton and the rest of theflight saw and heard the Sovremenny radar lock onto them.The anti-air missiles were not the only threat; the Taizhou'sfour six-barrel 30 mm AK-630 air defense guns could spit out acurtain of lead at a rate of three thousand rounds per minute to arange of two miles. A shower of cold lead you only took once.Captain Li Zhenbang had no previous combat experience. Neitherwas he stupid. But for the first time in his life he froze. What

401 | P a g ewere the contacts, missiles? The time was the hard part. At the pointof detection, the incoming flight was moving at more than 1000 feetper second.In the time it took the missile director to utter thewarning and the ship's Captain to comprehend it, the air exploded,the deck of the destroyer shook violently, everything reverberatedfrom the thunder and shockwaves of the jets as they skimmed the shipclose enough to leave exhaust stains on the paint work. The missileofficer panicked, pushing the launch button, sending four Gadfliesinto the sky in pursuit of the aircraft.On the bridge and around the rest of the ship they realizedquickly that they had suffered no damage and this was no missileattack.If there had been one, they would have been dead by now.Several of the crew had seen the sinister black shapes seemingly leapfrom the ocean without any sound, leaving an explosion of noise andshock waves in their wake.The flight profile was the problem the ship's Captain thought.If they were firing missiles the attacking jets would never havepassed over the ship. Indeed, they would have never come that close.Captain Li Zhenbang realized what was happening and swore loudly."Shut the system down," he screamed into the ship's communicationsystem. It was already too late.Hamilton now had a real problem.He had the Gadfly locked onto him and coming in fast.The warbling of the threat receiver wasannoying the shit out of him. The Gadfly missile profile would havebeen to climb, look down and then plunge towards the target - him.How low can you go, he thought? Running parallel to the big rollingswell of the Antarctic Ocean, Hamilton dialled 20 feet into thesystem.The aircraft sank so low it flew between the swells; hecould look up at them on either side, the canopy heavily smeared insalty spray. The F-111s Electronic Warfare (EW) system was in hyperdrive. The EL/L-822 system had autonomously detected and classified

402 | P a g ethe enemy radar and missiles emitting electronic signal to jam anddeceive the threat. The missile hesitated and lost the F-111 as thefleeing jet plunged into the heavy swells, unable to see through thewaves it lost lock. Within seconds the missile warning stopped andLance's heart started again, but only for a few moments of respite."We're being painted by radar." Lance's navigator Jake, workedhis box of tricks.There was no sign of his wingman. "Looks like aZhuk.""Let him keep looking. We are turning around. The rules ofengagement were quite clear, only fire if fired upon.We have beenfired upon and by the looks of it Stuart and Hat Trick are gone."The Taizhou was following the heavy Southern Ocean swell. At 60miles out Hamilton approached from an angle to the stern, settlingthe big jet in between the moving mountains of water to keep herbelow the Taizhou's radar. He closed the gap to 50 miles and poppedthe aircraft up.The threat receiver blared immediately as theTaizhou's radar picked them up. He waited until the F-111's own radarregistered the target and fed the information to the Harpoons.The AGM-84D Harpoon Block II was an all weather, over-thehorizon,anti-ship missile system. The Harpoon's active radarguidance, integrated Global Positioning System/inertial navigationsystem, warhead design, and low-level, sea-skimming cruise trajectoryand re-attack capability, made it an extremely unpleasant visitor,even on the best of days.With the target information fed through to the missiles, twowere released. The inner pylons (3, 4, 5 and 6) all carried Harpoonsand once satisfied the first two were tracking, the next pair with adifferent attack profile were let go. Lance then stood the aircrafton its wing and dropped back into hiding among the heavy swells. Withthe missiles gone Lance jettisoned the empty pylons and swept thewings back picking up speed.

403 | P a g eFor the second time that day the Taizhou's on board threatsystems came alive as they briefly picked up the F-111 during its popup. While the men and systems on the ship reacted, the active radaron the four inbound Harpoons clearly painted the ship as they closedin their terminal flight phase. The missile's onboard computer systemcompared the target ship with the profile in its memory.Theymatched. Programmed to fly like the Pigs, they dropped back to justabove the water's surface, skimming in low and fast between therolling walls of water, concealing themselves from the Taizhou'shighly developed detection system. They needed no input from Lance'saircraft, which was now busy escaping. Lance had deliberatelylaunched the missiles to run parallel to the big rollers so theycould hide. Any other direction would have forced the missileshigher.The Taizhou’s Captain heard the expected warning, "Incomingmissiles," from the radar operator, the voice tight with fear. Butthis time the ship's Captain knew it was no aircraft.They weregoing to pay for the missile director's trigger-happy fingers. Theships incredibly sophisticated CIWS systems, which included COILlasers and microwave anti-missile capabilities accounted for two ofthe missiles hitting the incoming Harpoons at the last nanosecond.But hiding in the waves the missiles were near impossible to track.The surviving Harpoons struck hard near the center of the shipclose to the water line.The two 500 pound warheads delivered alethal blast that almost broke the ship's back. The frozen waters ofthe southern seas eagerly raced into the gaping hole in the side ofthe Taizhou's hull. With a quarter of her compliment killed instantlyby the joint explosions, the injured and surviving crewmembers racedfor escape hatches and to the lifeboats. None of them made it. In aslow and sickening movement, the ship, still making headway, herengines faithfully making revolutions, rolled onto her back.For a

404 | P a g efew moments the two large propellers rotated in the air, thrashingthe water as the doomed ship slipped quickly beneath the sea.To the north the surviving F-111 was making a hasty exit."We are being painted""Same bogey?""Yes, it's miles out. 100 kilometers I would say.""You think they've seen us?""Not yet. Not at this level with all the clutter. But theywill. We have to go past them to get home. The bogey is between usand home.""Is he single?""We are only looking passively. So I'm only picking up theactive signals. He could have a hundred buddies for all we know.""Oh good," Lance said, the tension setting back in again.Almost 100 miles away Captain Vlas Naberezhnyi looked hard atthe primary display. His Su-27SK, temporarily based out of Martin deVivies, was equipped with a Phazotron N001 Zhuk coherent pulseDoppler radar with track-while-scan and look-down/shoot-downcapability. The range of the radar was over 80 miles in the forwardhemisphere and 28 miles in the rear hemisphere. It had the capacityto search, detect and track up to 10 targets.At extreme ranges healmost had to have the nose of the big fighter pointed directly atthe target to see it.But there was something out there. It wouldcome and go.One of the F-111's enduring qualities was its ability to carrya big payload. That day it carried the Harpoons as well as AAIMs andanother surprise. The surviving member of the flight of three, namedWombat carried an internal weapons palette similar to the F-22,capable of carrying two AMRAAM and two AIM-9X.MacDowell Aviation engineers had replaced Wombats old radarsystem with the APG-79 AESA, the same as that used in the Super

405 | P a g eHornet. There was no reason for either the Russians or the Chinese tobelieve there was any aircraft operational in the area that posed anythreat outside of 30 miles.Which is why Captain Vlas Naberezhnyiwas shocked to hear the threat receiver shrill in his ear with analmost instant radar lock. What the hell was that? The active radarprovided him an instant lock by his own system, giving him littlecomfort. He was still out of range to use his own missiles.Almost 80 miles away, Lance dropped both AMRAAMs. They spearedoff ahead of the aircraft, arching up high into the sky. Naberezhnyicranked his aircraft defensively as Hamilton tracked his missiles. Assoon as they acquired, like the Harpoon he could forget them.Onceagain he dropped the Pig back into the tide, trying as best as hecould to hide the Wombat among the waves.It was a painful wait for the Russian pilot. There was littlehe could do.His own radar was excellent. But it could not shootdown missiles at that range; not yet. He sweated as he watched theirapproach.When they were near, Naberezhnyi viscously weaved andhauled his aircraft around the sky, punching chaff and using everyavoidance technique he knew, every minute closing ground on hisunknown attacker. The target was hard to acquire, flitting in and outof the background noise of the radar. F-18s didn't normally fly thatlow, nor as fast he thought. It was so low it was being lost in theocean swell.As he closed to 45 miles he dropped two Alamo-Bmissiles with combined semi-active radar guidance and infraredhoming. Less than 10 seconds later both Hamiltons missiles arrived,Naberezhnyi evaded one but not the other. His missiles had howeverlocked up their target before he died.The two Alamo missiles chased the elusive Wombat as it woundits way though the ocean swells at over the speed of sound."Shit, we have two missiles chasing us.""Counter measures!"

406 | P a g eBoth chaff and flares spewed from the Wombat's ejectors. Butthe two Alamos kept coming on. The Wombat hugged the water, her lifedepending on it, weaving down the big watery canyons between thewaves.The supersonic shock wave threw a curtain of thick spraybehind her. The first Alamo to fall on the Wombat lost her behind awave and then struck the heavy curtain of spray in the big jet'swake, tumbling out of control.The second missile was more lucky,the approach higher.It closed to within yards of the Wombat'sairframe before hitting the curtain of water, but close enough forthe fuse proximity sensor to detonate the weapon.The aircraft kicked hard, the blast tipping her forwards. Anyother airplane would have smashed into the waves, but not the Wombat.The close terrain-following system was acutely aware of theaircraft's position and made immediate adjustments."Lost number two!" Jake cried."Shit. Number one?" Lance's eyes were riveted on the toweringwaves either side of them, too busy to look at the instruments."Looks good. We are back to three fifty knots."Lance could see that on his HUD but he liked confirmation whensystems were starting to fail. "Warning lights?""Compressor stall.The missile must have blown back up thepipe," Jake said, trying to get the other engine started unaware ofanother lethal threat closing on them.Lieutenant Colonel Lachinov took his time. Three hundred knots,he thought. Flies between the waves and shoots long range missiles,or something similar anyway. It was like a game show quiz; he likedthose. Now it was injured; it had slowed substantially, making it aneasier kill. Dobycha Lachinov had closed the distance to use hisArcher missiles, an all-aspect, close-combat air-to-air missile thatat close range had a better chance of taking out the opponent.The

407 | P a g etarget was almost invisible.But every now and then he would get aglimpse. He switched the active radar on.The Wombat sensed its pursuer. Once again the threat warningwailed; it wasn't loud but took all your attention. Lance dialled thebomber down another two more feet.Lachinov swore.He couldn't get an accurate lock; there wastoo much interference from the water.Switching to guns he ran thethrottles forward plugging in the afterburners. It would have to beguns. Whatever it was, at 300 knots it was dead.There was nothingout here on this day as far as Lachinov knew that could take him on.The seconds dragged … and then he saw it. Lieutenant ColonelLachinov was no slouch.It was an F-111. One engine glowed, theother obviously dead and all her weapon pylons were empty. She mighthave guns but there was no way they would ever get a chance to get ashot at the Sukhoi.Even though the other aircraft was slower,wounded on one engine, it was incredibly hard to follow between thewaves, even as he flew above them.The F-111 seemed to flatten outand was hard to see.Not hard enough, he thought, for a gunshot.Everyone knew there was no competition between an F-111 and the bigSu-27.Lance knew the Sukhoi was on his ass and if he could havechatted with Lachinov over a glass of beer he would have agreed withhim. There was no doubting that the Pig was no fighter. Against theSu-27 Flanker she was a lamb to the slaughter in a turn-and-burnfight. The Flanker was a truly best of breed fighter. But the Pigstill had a few tricks. Hamilton was not about to get caught in anenergy-bleeding exercise that would end in his demise.After theAMRAAM surprise, the guy on his rear was probably champing at the bitto take a piece of F-111 ass when it was most vulnerable."Engine?""On it."

408 | P a g eThe sea in front of the Wombat exploded as canon shells rippedthe surface."Christ Jake, give me my engine." It was not an order but acomment. He really didn't need to tell Jake how urgent it was.Lachinov missed on the first shot.He told himself to calmdown and settled the Sukhoi high and behind the fleeing bomber,lining the HUD indicators up for the next burst."Got it…spooling up……wait," Jake said."Can't wait!" Lance hit the burners on the first engineprematurely, pulling hard and left, risking a flame out.Lachinov saw the engine light as the big F-111 hauled itselfout of the trench and throw itself into a left turn.He followedeasily. Pigs might fly he thought, but not very well. He chuckled,once again setting up another shot.Squadron Leader Lance Hamilton ground his teeth. Something hedid when he was really annoyed. Right now having a Flanker trying toshoot his ass off ranked as most annoying…and perhaps a little nervewracking, but enough of this shit.He needed one good turn withoutexposing himself. The Flanker was on him like a fly stuck to butter.He couldn't see him. The Flanker was directly behind."Both engines now at 100 percent," Jake reported. It was timeto leave and open some space. As old as the Wombat might have been,even the Sukhoi had no chance of pacing the big jet down in theweeds. The Pig leaped ahead but then turned presenting Lachinov withan excellent cannon shot. Bad mistake Lachinov thought. He turnedinside the other jet, closing the distance, too short for missilesbut good for guns. As he pressured the trigger he saw the plumes oftwo missiles as they sped from beneath the F-111. He was sure theracks had been empty; still, the other aircraft was facing theopposite direction, another stupid mistake he thought, and your last.

409 | P a g eBut before he could fire, his threat-warning receiver went active andin that instance Lachinov went from offensive to defensive.Lance Hamilton was sweating heavily. It was all about timing.He needed the turn. But too long and he was dead. He knew theSukhoi either had to get distance to take a missile shot or getcloser. Either way he had to take the initiative away from thesuperior Russian dogfighter. This was another first: the real-timeapplication of the F-111's new helmet-mounted cueing system. As theF-111 turned, wings extended, he was able to see his enemy. If hecould see him he could kill him. It was fast. Thank god. As helooked at his pursuer, his Helmet Mounted Cueing System began talkingto the AIM-9X high off-boresight air-to-air tucked in the weaponsbay. Basically it meant he could fire the missiles while still facingthe F-111 in the opposite direction. The magnetic head trackercombined with a display projected onto Lance's visor allowed him toaim sensors and weapons wherever he was looking. Hamilton knewexactly how to use it. The weapon bay doors had opened and the twomissiles ejected clear of the aircraft before firing.The AIM-9X was the latest member of the AIM-9 Sidewinder shortrangemissile family. With the F-111's extreme speed capability atlow level, he could engage and blow past his opponent, taking onaircraft that would have given his predecessors a heart seizure.To Lachinov's alarm he could see the two missiles turn towardshim, even as they left the F-111. He tried to live.He tried toavoid the missiles.But in his mind he knew he was dead. LikeNaberezhnyi, he did not feel the end, both missiles arriving almostsimultaneously.

410 | P a g eAntarctica. The Dry Lakes Region.December 5 1311hrs UTC.As the Wombat fled north over the Southern Ocean, Colonel BrianHamilton was tumbling through space reaching for his ripcord.Thecanopy of the MC-5 ram air parachute snapped open, yanking hard onthe body straps and swinging him wildly in the frigid air.Just asquickly and a whole lot more disconcerting was the unexpected andsudden release of that pressure on the straps. A quick look upexplained the renewed feeling of rushing to the ground.had collapsed and the lines looked hopelessly tangled.The canopyMaybe somerogue piece of shrapnel from the missile hit had pierced theparachute pack.The ice rushed to meet his feet at over 100 miles per hour.Brian could imagine a red smear across the crisp white glacier thatwould mark his last jump. Part of the chute still dragged behind himspinning him viciously as the white expanse began to engulf him.Using all his strength he rolled on his back pulling his combat knifefrom its ankle sheath and slashed at the shrouds.With his otherhand he released the reserve chute.The reserve chute streamed outas the failed canopy fluttered and quickly disappeared behind him.Watching him, Warrant Officer Fedor Mikhailovich Rabik felt thesmooth recoil of the rifle flow into his shoulder.A practicedveteran, he kept his eye to the telescopic sight and watched as theman's parachute began to candle.That was unexpected but welcome.He was enormously impressed by the man's efforts to jettison thetangled chute and deploy his reserve. He doubted whether he couldhave done the same.Still, it was a shame in many ways that histarget was not rewarded by such an impressive effort.The man andthe un-deployed reserve hurtled out of sight into the glacier. Rabiklowered the weapon.Aptly named "Thread Cutter", the 7.62mm VSK-94Vintorez was living up to its name, even if it was a coincidence.

411 | P a g eIdeally suited to cold conditions, the VSK-94 was made completely ofcomposite construction with an alloy barrel and integral suppressorwhile still retaining full-automatic capability. The whole setup wasincredibly light and weighed less than three kilos.After a few moments of scanning the impact area, Rabik stoodup, shouldered his weapon, and began to walk the 500 yards to wherehe saw the body fall.The glacier was rough going. Like a page ofwrinkled paper that someone had tried to straighten out, it wascriss-crossed with compression ridges, berms and deep fissures. Twowater channels had also dug into the ice surface, fed by the summermelt water. This was the only place on the continent you could hearthe sound of running water.Despite his supreme fitness, it stilltook Rabik twenty minutes to cover the distance.Standing near the edge of the glacier, Rabik scanned the ice.There was nothing.No chute, no body. He hadn't slammed into theglacier after all, but had obviously fallen somewhere near the baseof the towering ice cliff that ended the glacier's march to thevalley below. Not good. He wanted to see the body. A veteran ofChechnya and numerous other hotspots in which the Russians foundthemselves, Rabik was still alive because of his instinct andunerring dedication to do each and every job properly.No shortcuts. It was then he heard the sound of rocks. Rocks and pebblessliding down a slope.Hamilton had missed the glacier edge by just a few feet.Thecanopy had just started to bite into the air as his body smashed intothe top of the scree slide, plunging him headlong down the slope.The force of the impact knocked him unconscious. When he came to hewas on his back facing downhill. His senses were immediately alert.He lay perfectly still, slowly allowing his eyes to focus as helooked back up the scree slope and to the towering cliffs of theglacier. The sun glinted off the ice. Not ice! A voice in his brain

412 | P a g escreamed.Hamilton rolled rapidly to one side as a heavy calibreslug buried itself into the rocks and stones where he had just beenlaying.Rabik swore to himself.He had had him dead to rights.Rabik's quarry was now moving surprisingly fast, zigzaggingerratically as he raced down the remaining slope, trying to put thescree slide between him and eternity.The Spetznaz Warrant Officersqueezed off two more shots and then went to full automatic.Puffsof dust and stone exploded all around the running figure. This guywas good. Really good, he thought. His movements wereunpredictable, making it hard to keep a bead on him.And he wasstrong. Rabik bit his heavy mittens; they were making shooting moredifficult. He quickly shook them off and hoisted the weapon back tohis shoulder.Brian's lungs burned and his muscles screamed in protest.Itwas still 100 yards before the curve of the scree slope hid him fromhis hunter.He weaved furiously, running across the slope, everymuscle in his back twitching as he waited for the impact of the big7.62mm slug.Stones and dirt sprayed up around him, blinding him.It was a VSK-94, he thought … Spetznaz, big soft bullets with thestopping power of an elephant gun. They made nasty holes on the wayin and took most of your insides with them on the way out.One hitwas all it took.He shook his head as a round buzzed past his ear.Too close, still fifty yards to go, too far. The guy was going topick him off. He should be dead already. The scree was a mix ofrocks, light shingle and powdery dust, hard to run on.More bullets exploded into the ground around him.Hamiltonremoved his own mittens, which hung on straps, and then threw himselfinto the air, spinning and rolling in space while removing theBrowning from his jacket.He landed hard on his back, head facingdown hill, skidding down the slope.Through his legs he could see

413 | P a g ehis attacker and the barrel of the VSK pointed directly at him.Itwas too far for a handgun but it was all he had. He emptied the clip,13 rounds in rapid succession as he continued to skid down the scree.Rabik jumped as the 9mm slugs ploughed into the glacier beneathand around his feet. Ice splinters sprayed through the air and intohis eyes, blinding him. By the time he cleared them the man was gone.Shit.Once behind the protection of the scree slope, Hamilton keptgoing.Removing himself as far as possible from the last positionthe Spetznaz trooper saw him.He reached into his jacket for the new Sat phone he hadpocketed on the C130. Wrong! It was obviously not designed to crashinto mountainsides. He quickly buried it. He then stopped and took inthe landscape around him. He was no stranger to the Dry Valleys.On a continent completely covered with ice, the valleys weresmall oases of exposed dirt and running water. Only two percent ofAntarctica was ice-free, most of it right here. It had been that wayfor over eight million years. At times they were filled with giantlakes and at other times almost empty. The glaciers that oozedbetween the mountains had retracted and advanced, but never far. Thereason the valleys were ice-free was that the distant Trans AntarcticMountains formed a dam there, holding back the East Antarctic IceSheet.There were no fish in the lakes, no birds in the sky and noanimals. Glaciers retreating through here four million years ago hadwiped out everything except microscopic organisms.From his position looking down the valley, Hamilton could seeLake Vanda.There would be a summer research team there, exploringthe strange and bizarre environment of the dry lakes.A stream wound its way between tall berms of material depositedby the retreating glaciers providing possible cover.It also

414 | P a g eprovided cover for his enemy. Somewhere out there was a team ofSpetznaz, intent on killing him and taking the evidence.He had toassume they wanted the stick.Hamilton knew Lake Vanda was just a 10-minute helicopter ridein from the Ross Sea coast, so close, yet so far.First of all hehad to get rid of the guy following him and then try to avoid therest and figure a way of getting back to McMurdo. The sound of waterwas the inspiration.Getting wet was not a good idea. Despite that, Hamilton slidinto the freezing glacial stream at a point where it wound its wayunder the glaciers edge. It was numbing and he knew within minutes hewould be unable to function or defend himself.The seconds seemedlike minutes and the minutes hours.His shivering was becomingconvulsive.From under the ice ledge that he hid beneath, all hecould see were the boots. Russian boots. Because of the cold,Hamilton knew he would be weaker and the Russian stronger andprepared. The fight would have to be decisive. He struck hard withhis K knife, grabbing one of the man's legs, cutting and sawing hardthrough the boot, severing his ligaments at the ankle.Rabik was taken by surprise. He had not thought to look in thewater, a bad mistake. The knife strike caused his left foot to fail.Powerful hands grabbed his legs and he felt himself being draggedunder the ice shelf.In the last moment he cursed his decision toput the big black mittens back on as his flailing hands reached forhis own knife. His head struck the ice as he was dragged under, thefreezing water engulfed him. He knew only too well the feeling of theknife as it severed his throat and what it meant. Warrant OfficerFedor Mikhailovich Rabik thought for the briefest moment of his wifebefore it went black.Hamilton released the body and sheathed his knife. Without somuch as looking at the Russian's body as it floated away face down in

415 | P a g ethe stream. He scrambled out of the water and lay panting on thesand. The sand was warm. Just inches higher the temperature wasvery much colder, just seven degrees Fahrenheit.Because of its unique nature, the Dry Valleys were a favorite sitefor research teams during the summer months.A Kiwi meteorologistand Australian biologist idly watched the group of men approach themfrom the lower part of the valley, chatting and wondering whatresearch party they belonged to, because they had not heard of anyoneelse coming out here for the next few days.It was not until theygot closer that they saw the guns. Then it was too late.Of course the Russian Officer did not kill them immediately.The Colonel wondered whether the two, now enemy scientists, mightknow something.Maybe they had seen or even helped this manHamilton. He would make them talk first. Then kill them. Spetznaz hada special passion for the sexual organs. A very old and simple methodwas used to demonstrate the power of Spetznaz. The captors drive abig wedge into the trunk of a tree, then forcing the victim's sexualorgans into the opening and knock out the wedge. They then proceed toquestion the other prisoners.That was one of his favorites.Obviously, Mikolai Nabialok thought, there were no trees here. So ithad to be the old 'swallow' method. Well known in Sovietconcentration camps, it did not require any weapons or otherinstruments, and if used with discretion, didn't leave any traces onthe victim's body. Mikolai ordered his men to lay the scientists facedown on the ground.The Spetznaz troopers grabbed the scientists'legs, bending them back until their heels touched the back of theirnecks.The men screamed and moaned in agony.Despite their ordeal,the two scientists were still not able to help much. One more try,the Colonel thought. He removed the principal Spetsnaz weapon - the

416 | P a g elittle infantryman's spade. He ordered the men untied. They keptsaying they knew nothing. It was becoming annoying but exciting. Hewas wary to keep the pleasure of the interrogation from his face.Spetznaz did not torture anybody for the sake of torture. Therewere practically no sadists in Spetznaz. If one was found they werequickly disposed of. Both the easier and the tougher forms ofquestioning in Spetznaz were an unavoidable evil that the fightingmen had to accept. They used these methods, not out of a love oftorturing people, but as the simplest and most reliable way ofobtaining information essential to their purpose.Mikolai Nabialok knew this and went to great pains to erase thefacial evidence of the huge pleasure he derived from the inflictionof pain on another. He first used the blade of the shovel to cut offeach of their ears and then fingers, while also smashing the victimsin the liver.They screamed, wept, begged and protested ignoranceand innocence until the end.Still keeping a mask on his face,Nabialok stood up from his severing operation of the man's genitals,the thick red blood pumping onto the sandy soil, the only place onthe ice continent that it would not freeze on.The man was dead,like his academic friend.Now they could really join the valleyculture, he thought, almost laughing at his little joke."Let's go", he said, once again impatient. They were not therefor razvedka, intelligence gathering.They were there to kill andtake the evidence. Rabik had told them over the radio he had seen theparachute further up the valley. He said he had seen the man plummetto his death.That was the last he had heard from Rabik. Had hefallen? Had an accident? Was the man on the parachute dead and was itHamilton? Clearly the scientists knew nothing.It was obvious theAmericans would want to keep the evidence secret. Only one parachutewas seen to leave the aircraft before it crashed.Four of his men

417 | P a g ewere already on the way to search the wreckage. He now had to findHamilton and Rabik.If Rabik were injured he would give him the blessed death. Healmost hoped. It would provide a good demonstration that he was notsadistic. Spetznaz had a very humane means of killing its woundedsoldiers - a powerful drug known as 'Blessed Death'. An injectionwith the drug stopped pain and quickly produced a state of blissfuldrowsiness.In the event that a commander decided, out of misguidedhumanity, to take the wounded man with him, and it looked as if thismight jeopardize the mission, the deputy commander was under ordersto dispatch both the wounded man and the commander, the commander tobe removed without recourse to drugs. It was recommended that he beseized from behind with a hand over his mouth and a knife blow to histhroat. If the deputy failed to deal with his commander in thismanner, then not just the commander and his deputy, but the entiretroop would be regarded as traitors, with all the inevitableconsequences. Colonel Mikolai Nabialok smiled to himself again.Hereally did love his job.Hamilton made his way to the floor of the dry valley. His newSat phone was smashed, not that it would have worked withoutsatellites, but at least he had the VSK-94. He was in a boulderfield. Ventifacts -- rocks polished and smoothed by the wind --littered the surface. The ground in between was soft and brown,powdery, filled with pebbles. As he dived for cover behind someboulders the fine powdery sediment kicked up into his face.Hecouldn't help but notice it tasted like flour with some gunpowdermixed in.There seemed no sense to the rocks scattered around him. As hestopped and listened for his pursuers, all he could hear was the windshooting down from the glaciers.

418 | P a g eJust ahead of him lay the mummified seal.He had heard aboutit but never seen it. It gazed with perfectly preserved black eyes inhis direction. It was the ideal guardian for this land of the barelyliving and the long dead.It was blond and lay on its left side. Part of the skin aroundits eye socket was gone, but his eyes were still black and a littleshiny. The skeletal structure of his left flipper and his tail wereclearly evident: long, thin grey-white bones that looked like humanfingers. He could have died last week. He could have died last year.One look around the valley and you were staggered to understand howhe got there. For over 10,000 years the little seal had watched withdead black eyes.They did not have to go far to find the Russian SpetznazWarrant Officer.Face down his body floated and bumped down thestream towards them.His throat had been cut, by an expert too.Whoever was out there, the Spetznaz officer realized was aprofessional. Rabik had been a legend in the force. Not a man to betaken easily. This was going to make for an excellent hunt.Further up the valley the four-man team Nabialok had dispatchedto the C130 crash had discovered two survivors, the rest of the crewand passengeres burned. Both survivors were injured and the spetznazhad to drag them down the slope from the crash site. It was a toughjob.They had packed stretchers for such an event, but this was norescue mission.The stretchers were to get them to a place tostabalise them, get them to talk and then kill them. The team leaderspoke briefly on his radio. Far below Nabialok smiled. He tuckedthe radio back into its carrier.Hamilton waited. For an hour he combed the surrounding slopeswith the rifle's scope. Nothing moved. He waited longer. Finallyhe was rewarded for his patience; higher up on the northeastern slopehe could see dust.It must have been two thousand yards away. He

419 | P a g ehunkered down and waited.He could see they were dragging twostretchers. That could only mean there were two survivors. But notfor very long if the Spetznaz had a chance.The VSK-94 Vintorez, Brian thought, was a very nice weapon,really light, well balanced. The scope was brilliant. The shot was1,000 yards, extreme range for the weapon. The first round found itstarget, slamming into the back of the neck of the lead trooper.Hefell flat on his face. The other men reacted fast. The second roundtook out another as he dropped the end of a stretcher.Return firecame quickly. It now came down to a matter of time.Other Spetznazwould arrive. Brian knew that. The two wounded were in the open.Brian was no longer on the defensive. He knew who his enemy was andthey would use the wounded Americans as bait. As soon as he had firedthe second shot, he rolled back into the creek and was quicklycarried along the thin channel of water, dug in and concealed fromthe view of the two surviving Spetznaz who were still figuring outwhat was going on. Minutes later he was below them. Already thecold was biting back into muscles, slowing them down.He crawledback on to the dry dusty valley surface, the VSK-94 poised in frontof him. The two surviving Spetznaz were well trained. They realizedthey were blind to the flank and exposed to the rear. Hamilton hadhoped to chance upon an undefended flank. Instead, they wereprepared, with one facing in his direction as soon as he becameexposed. 7.62mm rounds impacted the sand so close to his head hecould feel the breeze from the bullets.He fell back into the water, drifted for twenty feet andmustering all the strength in his cramped muscles pushed hard andfast from the creek bed, the VSK-94 already up to his eye as hecrested the bank.The Spetznaz was quick, his weapon swingingquickly to him, the flash of the muzzle suppressor telling Brian hemight be too late. There was a heavy punch to Brian's shoulder as he

420 | P a g elunged forward, his own weapon barking in response. The Spetznazjerked violently from the headshot. Brian kept his momentum, jumpingover the still-twitching body, looking for the surviving trooper. Hewas committed; he kept moving. The surviving trooper reacted to thefire fight, spinning quickly to face the threat. He only saw a bluras a dark figure rushed over him. That was the last thought he had.Hamilton released the Spetznaz trooper's head, letting the bodyfall to the ground.Without pausing he put the riflescope back tohis eye, looking back down the valley.Far below he looked intoanother set of VSK-94 scopes pointing back at him. For a moment bothmen looked at each other, Nabialok and Hamilton, both of themmentally squaring off against each other; neither bothering a shot atthe extreme range. Hamilton was sure the man was smiling.The problem was the injured men. There was no way he could move them.Looking back at the Spetznaz team on their way up the valley hefigured he had at best 15 minutes.They were running and he knewthey would not stop until they started shooting.It was a trap.There was nothing he could do with the two wounded men except savethem a protracted death.He slid his knife from his sheath wishinghe were anywhere else but here.Even for the fittest of the fit, it was a hard run in sand, alluphill.The sight of their comrade's bodies floating face down inthe stream only pushed the Spetznaz troopers harder. They wantedvengeance.The two bloodied Americans lay on their stretchers shot in theface. The Russian Colonel wondered: the act of a coward or a ruthlessprofessional.If it were the latter he would make an excellentSpetznaz.He paused for breath as his men quickly worked to securethe area. There was nothing. The unseen foe had run, leaving nothingbut the dead. This man had already killed half his force.

421 | P a g eIt was the white T-Shirt that bothered him.It clung to thecreek's edge. Bloodied and torn. It was out of place. Nabialokstood there, something snapping and biting on the edges of his brain.Then it came in a rush.The cigarette dropped from his fingers asthe cold realization fell upon him. He opened his mouth to scream awarning.But even as the sound came out there was an enormousexplosion that lifted him off the ground and threw him thrashing andstruggling into the bitter cold of the creek.With the last of his strength Brian pulled the injured men ashore.These men were not trained like himself.Yet they had floated downthe river without a breath for nearly two minutes, severely injuredand freezing. They were all hypothermic. Brian's gunshot wound tothe shoulder was numb, but at least the cold had slowed the bleeding.The enormous effort of pulling the two wounded men's bodies thoughhad finished him. He lay spread eagled on the sandbank, the twoAmericans now dressed in Spetznaz cold weather clothing next to him.Master Chief Andrew Wilkins was in a bad way, broken ribs,punctured lung and severe concussion. Despite that, he looked acrossat Hamilton, a frigid white face attempting to crack a smile. "Youthink we are screwed?" he said weakly.Hamilton could only nod.His speech was slurred by cold,barely comprehensible."Maybe not" the Chief managed to say.His hand partiallyopened, the red light of an emergency radio locator beacon flashingbetween his fingers. It featured two-way speech facility and providedhoming signals to assist search and rescue operations. The beacon waspicked up by a U.S Naval helicopter which was already responding tothe crash locator beacon from the C-130.The rescue helicopter was fighting its way into the crash siteagainst some extreme weather. Despite the still tempestuous winds

422 | P a g ethat would normally ground most aircraft, U.S. Marine PilotLieutenant Michael Jeffries found himself blown all over a sky hewould much rather have viewed from the sidelines.The twin jetengine, 22,000lb UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter bounced violently at themercy of the Antarctic's powerful winds.The Black Hawk, nose downand with the pilot pulling a lot of collective, had to fight for itsfragile purchase in the air. Jeffries looked at the cold green waterof McMurdo Sound 200 feet beneath him. Strewn with broken ice, heavyswells smashed themselves against the towering white cliffs of theRoss Ice Shelf. It wasn't at all conducive to swimming. It made himwonder what could be so important that the U.S. Government felt itwarranted risking a highly skilled pilot, crew and multi-milliondollar chopper.There was a transition zone maybe a mile long, where the icemet the hard-pack and then Piedmont Glacier at the foot of theValleys. Jeffries entered the valleys just east of Marble Pointthrough a saddle and into a course local pilots call "The Labyrinth."The dark brown walls of Wright Valley towered above him 5000 feethigh, streaked with pressure marks from a past no one was around toremember. The Black Hawk raced up the valley tracking the distressbeacon, hoping it wasn't another trap. Within minutes they werepulling on board what looked like two nearly dead Spetznaz soldiersand a civilian.McMurdo Station.Brian tells Alex the well is on fire.Brian came to with a start, smashing the hand away from his body androlling off the table and into a crouch.It was purely defensive.Unfortunately for the nurse, it broke her hand. The doctors andMarine security detail all took an immediate step backwards. Thenurse was screaming, adding to the confusion. A frightened Marine

423 | P a g epointed the barrel of his weapon in panic at Hamilton.This wasgetting boring, Hamilton thought.Before the startled Marines couldeven think, they found themselves facing one of their own weapons.After releasing the clip, Hamilton handed it back, tapping the insideof his jacket at the same time.The stick was still there. Thenurses, doctors and security detail were all still looking at him."Get me a phone," he said loudly. "NOW!""The phones don't work," one of the Marines said.He pointedup. "Satellites are down or off line," He shrugged. “and the weatherof course.”Hamilton grunted a response, still feeling pretty sore. Therewere a lot of satellites that serviced Antarctica. GOES-4, INMARSAT,LES and MARISAT to think of just a few. There were four INMARSATs ina geosynchronous (GEO) orbit over the equator at an altitude of36,000 km. This meant that any key survellience and communicationsatellite linked to Antarctica had been targeted or disabled somehow."What about radio?" He asked."Jammed," the Marine said. “We seem to be suffering severejamming.”Some one was obviously very well prepared. The hardware andsystems to achieve such a black out weren’t readily available unlessdeliberately positioned with an intent to use them. They, theRussians or Chinese, were preparing an attack, Brian thought. But ifnormal communications were down it was likely that some airbornerelays would be positioned to intercept and pass on communications."Weather balloons?" he said. "There must be weather balloons here.Can you find one?"The Marine had decided Brian was one of the good guys. "YesSir!" He moved under Hamilton's arm and helped him up.The patch took a while to setup. Hamilton was right, beyond orabove the weather homeplate had setup some relays. He also knew there

424 | P a g ewould be only so much time to communicate. The balloon was movingaway fast meaning weather and jamming would soon overwhelm the link."Alex, it's Brian.No doubt you know what's happened downhere." He could visualize the man nodding on the other end. There wasa garbled response; he guessed it said yes. "Okay, can you get someimagery on Vostok?" he responded."Are you kidding me?" Alex said."Even the President isgetting in the queue for that one.""Alex, it's important. I want you to compare two shots severalhours apart of the Vostok wellhead. It's melting down. Down to thegoddamn oil lake beneath."The image of the fuel bladder burning ahole in the skiway played in his mind, overlaid by the thought of themuch fiercer fire of the Vostok wellhead.Brian had been in Kuwaitduring the first Gulf War and had seen first hand how they burned.Oil under huge pressure rocketing from the ground in a massive towerof flame so hot you could not stand within 150 yards of it, theconstant roar of the fire like the sound of big jet engines.Ofcourse the Vostok flame was many times larger than any of those inKuwait.There was a pause on the other end. "You there....?"The other man stuttered. "Its burning...oh shit""Big time now, massive blaze hundreds of feet into the air.Well at least it was.I guess it's sunk beneath the ice and iscloser to the lake now."The sudden realization and enormity of the situation hitAlexander Blake like a hammer; he was running on the spot. "Damn … ofcourse. How do I reach you?""Not so easy to get Sat Phones or mobiles down here.one broke. I'll have to……." The communication dropped out.My lastActivejamming, Hamilton thought.Brian quickly scribbled a note and gaveit to the Marine."However you have to do it, Morse code, pigeon,

425 | P a g ewhatever, get this through to ADF. They will know what to do." TheMarine nodded. Brian didn't notice, he had passed out again.Avalon Air Field. Victoria Australia.Lance returns from Southern Ocean.Three F-111 crews were dead and a Chinese capital warship had beensunk. Under normal circumstances that would have been diplomaticallydisastrous. But the cruise missile strike and the ignition of theVostok wellhead had cast the episode in a completely different light.On top of that, Hamilton’s explanation of the shoot down of the otherthree aircraft in his flight illustrated the aggressive nature of theChinese incursion into Australian territory and the assistance ofRussian fighters.With the situation deteriorating rapidly there was little timeto waste thinking over such matters. The politicians would have todeal with that. Right now Hamilton was fixated on working up the restof the aircraft and aircrew as well as getting as much time aspossible on the F-111S simulator.The strike groups aircrew had a little over one week’s work upand training under their belts. It was hardly enough, but it wouldhave to do. The crews were all experienced, most with thousands ofhours under their belts. It all came back very quickly. They spentendless hours in the F-111 simulator as well as in the air. The skiesover Avalon rattled 24 hours a day to the sound of Pigs thundering inand out of the airfield in a seemingly endless procession of sorties.They were the only assets that could provide any air support that faroff shore. Ready or not, if the call came, they would have to go.

426 | P a g eMedia. Int.For Immediate ReleaseAustralians Sink Chinese WarshipBy Vincent Gray, Media Int. Press Writer.The Chinese warship Taizhou has been sunk by Australian fighter jets in the Southern Ocean. This adds to analready explosive situation in which the Russians and Chinese have accused the U.S. of trying to take Antarctica'sVostok Station by force.Australian Defense Force Headquarters issued a brief statement midday claiming the aircraft were actingin self-defense. There was no confirmation that three F-111s were lost in the same engagement. The Chinese havebeen quick to lay the blame for the current crisis at the feet of the U.S. and Australia.The Chinese Ambassador to the UN was uncharacteristically emotional when responding to the news,saying, “This was a cowardly and unprovoked attack on one of our vessels in international waters. A surpriseattack by aircraft, that the Taizhou was led to believe were friendly, giving them no chance to defend themselves.This action reinforces our belief that the U.S. and Australia are working together to gain control of Antarctica's oilwealth through the use of military force.“China asserts its right to free passage and movement over international land, sea or airspace; it willvigorously defend itself against the recently aggressive U.S. forces."A Chinese defense analyst speaking off the record warned that Australia, with a significantly smallermilitary, was bent on "self-destruction by twisting the tiger's tail." Australia should not play "gunboat imperialismwhen they had little better than popguns," the analyst said.The message from the UN has also done little to relieve the international pressure on the Australian andU.S. governments. The UN Security Council was quick to condemn the action and asked both Australia and NewZealand to respect the neutrality of Antarctica and remove their forces immediately; the UN also demandedunreserved apologies from the U.S. and Australia.There was no mention of the cruise missile strike on Vostokstation. The Secretary General added weight to the world body's message by re-stating the UN position thatAustralia, New Zealand and other claims to Antarctic territory were not recognized. China, Russia and Germany,indeed "all friendly nations" were fully entitled to protect and defend their personnel operating in Antarctica, hestated. – End

427 | P a g eCHAPTER FOURTEENBoth the Chinese and Russians were operating several aircraft carriers by 2018,including the Kuznetsov class.CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia.December 6 0600 UTC. Stringer learns of catastrophe of Vostok blows.Stringer pressed the phone hard against his ear, unconsciouslyspeaking out loud because he found it difficult hearing the otherend. "The Tandems sensor suite can't see that far yet, not as far asVostok anyway."He said into the phone. "What are you saying aboutthe well head?" he shouted. He could barely hear Blake; his cellphone would drop in and out."I said we think that in seventy-two hours the burning wellhead will reach the lake below.The result could be catastrophic,"Blake shouted back."What do you mean `catastrophic?""A blanket of choking smoke over the southern hemisphere fordecades, maybe even the entire planet. That and melting ice caps

428 | P a g erising in ocean levels, you get the picture. All the available datawe have on the lake paints an ugly picture," He paused. "You don'thave to be a mental giant to figure out the basics. Heat melts ice.At thousands of degrees it turns into vapor almost instantly.Forthe record Dave, I'm saying the best-case scenario is seventy-twohours."There was no answer from the other end. "You there David?"Blake asked.David Stringer stared at the phone in his hand. That did rankas catastrophic. His mind was racing. The logic was plausible. "Youhappy to share your work on this? Other people are going to want tolook at how you came to this conclusion." Blake agreed. Stringerwould have to get his own analysts to validate the hypothesis, buthis gut told him Blake had a case. "Blake, don't go away, I'm goingto need to speak to you.""Okay, but David?""Yes?""Don't take too long, it's now three days to zero." He hung up.Stringer cradled the phone. Blake's finality was unnerving.David's next call was directly to the Director, Chauncey Gray. Hequickly relayed the information.Gray sat back in his chair listening. What a fucking mess Finnand Miles have left. "So what's the deal? What do we need to do?"He asked.Scott/McMurdo BasesDecember 7 0100 UTC. Typhoon subs and Russkis enter Scott baseThe sea ice had closed over. A flat white landscape as far as the eyecould see.Beneath that, the black hull of TK-20 pushed quietlythrough a veiled ocean, hidden from the rest of the world. Themassive and sinister shape of stealth had driven submerged through

429 | P a g ethe Ross Sea, McMurdo Sound and finally to Erebus Bay. It was a featin navigation made possible by years of experience in hiding from thewest's hunter-killer subs.Silently she had drifted closer to the coast.As thebottom gradually shelved up closer to the sparkling roof of iceabove, the big submarine had coasted to a stop. There was no cover ofdarkness, just the shroud of silence that had kept her hidden throughthousands of miles of ocean.She rose up gently, the large sailpunching easily through twelve feet of ice, shrugging off chunks bigenough to crush an elephant.Even before the last piece of ice had slid down the side of thehull to fall on the surrounding sheet of white, the Typhoon's largeforward hatches flew open. The wet steel deck became a hive ofactivity as men and equipment swarmed over it and onto thesurrounding floe. Within 30 minutes the hatches were closed again andthe mass of titanium and steel slid back beneath the ice sheet.TK-20 was the largest submarine in the world and one of themost feared weapons of the Cold War. The Russian Type 941 Typhoon, amassive ballistic missile boatwhich had for decades patrolled thedeep ready to lay down a nuclear holocaust on her enemies. Thesubmarine could carry over twenty long-range ballistic missilesdelivering more than 200 nuclear warheads. She boasted two separatepressure hulls, the inner one made of titanium.The submarine'srobust design allowed it to travel under ice and through it, the sailhardened for ice breaking, with bow planes, periscope and other mastsretracting into protective housings in the hull.Despite her size, TK-20 had driven at more than 25 knots halfway round the world pushed by two large seven-bladed props fixed totwo pressurized water reactors generating over 50,000-horse powereach.

430 | P a g eForward of the huge sail, the missiles were gone along withtheir silos and launch tubes.The cavernous space that once housednuclear destruction was now the temporary home to a full company ofelite Russian Marines moving into the operational phase of theirmission.The Marines, black dots against the vast backdrop of white,were already on the move as the sub slipped away. Hand picked fromthe Northern Russian Naval Command, they were used to operating in aworld of ice, having spent most of their lives in the frozenwastelands of Siberia and the Northern Arctic.Dressed in whitecamouflage 'freezers', their small fleet of specialized fast-trackarmored snow vehicles accelerated easily over the smooth flat sheet.To their left the imposing white mass of Mount Erebus towered abovethem; in front of them, thirty miles of nothing and then Ross Island,their objective.It took nearly an hour for the Russian Marines to cover thedistance. When Hut Point came into view, they split in two groups,some turning into Blackwater Bay and the pier, while the otherscontinued past Observation Point and onto Scott Base and WilliamsAirfield.McMurdo was by far the largest station on the southerncontinent. Built on bare volcanic rock, which was exposed in summer,the station was not a pretty picture: a scattering of bland buildingsagainst a backdrop of dirt and snow. It was the primary logisticsbase for U.S. Antarctic operations. The station was essentially asmall city at the end of the earth with over 85 buildings, 3000resident scientists and support staff, and all the luxuries,including stores, clubs and fancy stuff like sewers and power lines.The arrival of the Russian Marines was barely noticed. The dockmaintenance crew heard them first. The sound of the revving engines

431 | P a g epowering the specialized armored snow tracks stopped them for amoment as they watched in curiosity. They shrugged and kept working.The Russian assault team leader gave the signal for the first squadto detach and secure the ship and pier.He took the rest of theassault team and headed directly towards the Field OperationsCommunication Center, which operated satellite, radio and datacommunications.The Ham radio shack was not forgotten either. Theinstructions for that were simple. Level the building.The armored snow tracks drove with a purpose.The Russiansknew exactly where they were going. They had planned and practicedthe mission for more than three weeks.The officer commanding thefirst assault team tasked with securing McMurdo drove directly tobuilding 167, the USAP operation and administration center.TheRussian Major stepped purposefully from his tracked mount and strodeinto the chalet, passing without a glance the stunned administrationpersonnel staffing the front desks and walking directly into theoffice of the Senior U.S. Representative in Antarctica - a NationalScience Foundation official. It was over quickly.Fifteen miles away the second team had a potentially tougherjob - securing Williams Field. On their way, they dropped troops offto prevent any communications or trouble coming from Scott Base andpushed onto the permanent airfield.There was not a single shotfired. On the ground were a C130 and C17 transport. The Marinesrounded up the stunned crew quickly, preventing them from utilizingthe aircrafts' communications equipment to alert anyone else.It took less than 15 minutes to secure the two stations, shipand airfield. The Russians knew there would be others still outsidetheir net, but that was not a problem; they would have to come infrom the cold sometime. The primary mission objective was to securethe airfield since there were Russian support aircraft due in less

432 | P a g ethan 30 minutes, waiting for clearance to land. The Russian commandertransmitted an all clear.On schedule, the deep thunder of heavy jets could be heard asRussian Ilyushins code named 'Candid' by NATO, approached WilliamsField.The Russian Marine Major looked at his watch, right on timehe thought with satisfaction. The Il-76MF(TF) was a high winged,four-engine transport ideally suited to cold and rough fieldoperations. The Candid could carry 50 ton of cargo, including armoredvehicles, artillery and other hardware, over thousands of miles. Thefirst aircraft to touch down had barely stopped before the rear rampsdropped to the ground to disgorge more men and equipment that quicklyfanned out over the airstrip to prepare for the aircraft behind them.One after the other they landed on the airstrip and were directed bythe ground force.Back at McMurdo the typhoon had made her way to the pier. Thedocked U.S. icebreaker had been hurriedly backed out under emergencydiesel power to make way for the typhoon and her sister ship as theybroke through the pack ice to the wharf.The huge submarines, having discharged their firstresponsibility were now ready for the second part of their mission.They still carried a lethal load of torpedoes and cruise missiles andwere now free to go on the offensive.At the same time at Scott Base, Brian was recovering consciousness.When he finally opened his eyes the doctor and the nurse he had seenpreviously were gone, replaced now by a Russian Marine who guardedthe door. His initial hunch had been right; the Russians had takenthe base. He wondered whether his message had got through to theright people. The Russians wouldn't know about the Dry Valleyincident yet he reasoned.No doubt they were having troubles withcommunication as well, so even if something did surface, it would be

433 | P a g ea while to put two and two together.He noticed his arm was in asling. The Russian guard looked at him."You are awake." The guard said in Russian.Brian didn’t appear to understand, he made a snapping gesturewith his hands and pointed to the arm, he moaned somethingunintelligible. The guard came closer, and bent over to try and hearwhat he was saying.With his good arm Brian smashed his palm intothe guard's solar plexus, the man collapsed to the floor. Brianexamined the body, he was still breathing. There was no point inkilling if you didn't need to. However, the guy could wake up atanytime.Brian looked quickly around the room and found the answer tothat problem as he rifled through the drugs cabinet; Benzodiazepines,an anaesthetic with a useful property of inducing sleep and amnesia.The Russian Marine would wake up with a sore head and not a clueabout what happened. After injecting the unconscious soldier, Briancarefully shaved and then quickly swapped clothes. He poked his headout of the door. There was another guard at the end of the hall. Hehoped like hell these guys were not well acquainted.He stepped into the hallway. "Эй, я нуждаюсь в моче." Briansaid in Russian saying he needed a piss." теперь! Что относительно заключенного?" The Russian askedabout the prisoner."Da, заключенный является не сознающим.” Hamilton repliedtelling him the prisoner was unconscious."Okay be quick the other guard said.Brian walked straight out of the clinic and onto the main roadof the station. That was when he saw her again. Holy shit! She lookedat him in surprise; the three marines escorting her looked at him aswell.

434 | P a g e"I know you northern marines are desperate, but three guys topick up one woman?" He said loudly in fluent Russian, a well placedregional accent in his practiced rendition. “It’s been that long?”The men escorting her all laughed."I just use Vodka" He said laughing with a skulling motion, theother hand in the sling suggesting something else he did. Theylaughed louder. He dared not look at her. The recognition in his eyeswould be too obvious and he couldn't trust her reactions; not onlythat, every time he saw this woman the world went to hell. He keptwalking.Natasha Braithwaite was nothing less than pole axed.The Russiansoldier walking across the road looked exactly like Hamilton.Hespoke heavily in Russian and all of the men laughed. She had no ideawhat was going on. Hamilton, she was sure it was him, turned as helaughed with the rest, and walked away with a casual wave. He neverlooked at her once.

435 | P a g eJOCHQ Bungendore AustraliaDecember 6 1400 hrs UTC, midnight local. CJOPS learns fire will hitin 70hrs.The Chief of Joint Operations (CJOPS) closed the connection of therecently installed NSTS Secure Telephone System. From the pan intothe fire, he thought. This was a term that would come back to him ina way that could not be imagined.The CJOPS looked across his deskto his senior staff officer. "The shit is truly going to hit the fan.One of our guys has just spoken to Stringer. He - Stringer, that is -you remember the guy, big fellow."The staff officer nodded his head. He vaguely remembered somelarge fellow that was part of the U.S. intelligence network."He thinks the burning oil head at Vostok will reach the oillake in less than 70 hours from now. Unfortunately it matches our ownearly estimates. Worst-case scenario, we understand, is a possibleglobal catastrophe; at the very best, Australia, New Zealand and ourother southern partners will be in a cloud of choking smoke for thenext hundred years. A cloud so thick it will kill every sun-reliantorganism that exists.""Bugger." It made a nuclear winter or Krakatoa event sound likepartially cloudy days."Precisely … bugger." He paused. "Set up an urgent meeting withthe Crisis Management Team and EMA within 60 minutes." He thought fora moment before coming to a decision. "Declare a Civil Emergency andput our entire defense force on alert.Issue a full call-up ofReserves and get every civil rescue, fire fighter, doctor, dentistand person able to help (Protected occupations managed at statelevel), on standby and ready to go." The CJOPS looked out the window.He wasn't giving the Prime Minister much choice here.But time wasdefinitely not on their side.He would rather be fired for gettingit wrong than damning the nation to oblivion. "The Prime Minister,"

436 | P a g ehe continued, "will be declaring a national emergency.Everytelevision station, radio station, newspaper and every media outletwill be directed to broadcast any communication we deem necessary.If anyone stuffs around, the AFP are ordered to arrest thoseresponsible on the spot."Last, but most important, get COG, the Combined OperationsGroup, to begin a plan to visit Vostok with FABs, courtesy of MisterStringer, within 48 hours."Australian Defense Headquarters CanberraDecember 6. 0630 hours UTC. CJOPS launches Daisy Cutter missionThe senior intelligence-briefing officer didn't waste time. "As aresult of the recent intelligence estimates, we have a New ThreatUpgrade. We are cross-referencing the numbers now but have issuedREDCOMS to all defense units.We think Colonel Hamilton is right.His guys have given us some pretty interesting calculations.According to them we have less than seventy-two hours before thewellhead fire reaches the oil lake and ignites it.“So we are designating that event three N-Days from now (N-daysare days before D-Day). We have in motion a plan that can potentiallyextinguish the flame; I will get to that in a moment. Before we cando anything about the wellhead, we have to deal with the entry of theRussian and Chinese fleets into the theater of operations. We have toget past them. They are now close enough with the Han AFB and tankersupport to project air power over almost the entire region.“The Chinese fleet is considerable, including its aircraftcarrier and more than 40 plus modern and highly capable surfacecombatants, not counting submarine and air assets.If you look atyour little electronic notepads, you can see the list of hardware weare facing." The staffer waited a moment while the audience scannedtheir notepads.

437 | P a g e"Our AOPs are between 60° and 130° east, which is on the borderof the French claim.We understand the Chinese AOPs are about thesame. With the fleet, TU95s, H-6Ms and Backfires on round the clockoperations, they have effectively drawn a metal fence betweenAustralia and Antarctica.“Within the last few hours we have also lost all contact withDavis, Scott and numerous other stations." Most of the assembledalready knew this, but that didn't stop them from muttering beneaththeir breaths. "The Chinese and Russians claim they know nothingabout it…naturally. But they have issued a communiqué that says anyaircraft attempting to fly to the magnetic South Pole or VostokStation will be shot down and that any vessel attempting to land nearZhong Shan or any of the two country's respective stations will,given recent events, be assumed hostile and a threat to theirlegitimate presence in Antarctica.“Global Hawk via our surviving Tandem flights have identifiednumerous air defense missile batteries in and around these stations."He pointed to the large multi-functional command and control screen,which showed a map of the entire theater of operations overlaid withfriendly and enemy assets."How the hell did they get that equipment in?" someone asked."It looks like the French let the Russians unload the equipmentoff the ice breaker Arktika at Dermont D'Urville and forward positionit.The Chinese used the resupply ship Xue Long to load into ZhongShan. Both these vessels are large. Big enough to land a brigade'sworth of heavy equipment each onto hard ice. While we can't see muchbelow the sixtieth with satellites, we have seen a lot of transportsflying into the area; obviously fortifying their positions. Thesehave been flown from Martin de'Vivies and Argentina."U.S. Defense Intelligence believes the Chinese and Russianswill attempt to land more ground forces near Vostok; probably on the

438 | P a g estrip that Colonel Hamilton built with the polar base crew to get theextraction aircraft in. Both the Vostok and original magnetic polarbase skiway were wrecked by the Russian cruise missiles."The Russians are playing it safe and avoiding any conflictgoing in. Their Pacific fleet is headed through the Tasman Ocean tothe edge of the Amundsen ice pack and the Russian research station atRusskaya, outside of Marie Byrd Land.All of this is unclaimedterritory.They still have that huge icebreaker down there so theycould potentially use that to carve a channel closer to the coast.The Russian Atlantic assets are probably headed for Novolazarevskaya,a base they have in the Norwegian claim."The Chinese, on the other hand, are pretty pissed off aboutlosing the Taizhou and look like they might push their main fleetpast the sixtieth parallel into Australian Territory to make fortheir base at Zhong Shan.From there, with air support from ZhongShan and heavy equipment off the ships, including lots of defensivefire power, they will then go for the skiway at the Magnetic Pole andto Vostok from there.""What are the options?" one of the officers asked."In less than two hours we will face off the main Chinese fleetat the sixtieth parallel. We can make an argument of it or let themgo through. You can see on the display the position of all ourcurrent assets here.""What about waiting till they get to Zhong Shan?All bottledup there it will be like shooting fish in a barrel.""We thought about that. They will set up a defensive perimeterof mines, subs and airpower that has the advantage of concentratingfirepower. They will have little to no threat from the interior andtherefore only have to look north.It would be like walking into abear cave in the dark. The Chinese Naval force is currently due eastof the Heard and McDonald Islands, approximately 150 kilometers from

439 | P a g ethe sixtieth parallel and Australian Territory.We expect them totry and cross the 60th.""What about the Americans?"The Commander of Joint Logisticsasked.They were already working over time on the anticipatedlogistic requirements."Everybody is still blaming them for starting this whole thing,which is why we are trying to get Colonel Hamilton back here ASAP.Apparently he is carrying evidence that proves it wasn't the yanksthat threw the e-bomb.""Does he say who did?""No. No, he didn't say that."The CJOPS stood up and took the podium. "It will take us 24hours to recon Vostok Station and launch the Daisy Cutter mission.It's all of our jobs to make sure we are ready to go. Time spent inplanning means less time wasted later when lives are on the line."Avalon VictoriaPreparing the Bone Yard Wrangler.The ‘call’ came before anyone expected it. Such was the urgency thatnot just normal precautions, but any precaution that got in the wayof the slated mission was ignored. It was to be a maximum effort, themagnitude of the threat so grave that virtually any risk that hadeven had a smidgen of a chance was worth taking. Buck Shot’s plan hadhim using just one Pig to go to Vostok. Buck Shot decided it would bean F-111S, A8-272 aka the Bone Yard Wrangler. The least reason ofwhich, she boasted a forward landing gear assembly that would be anecessity for what he had planned. The others would sortie with theF-111C’s. No one else had enough time, any time in fact, on the F-111S to effectively use them.From that moment forwards A8-272 was his personal ride. Alongwith Jake his systems operator, they would task and continually test

440 | P a g ethemselves and the aircraft. Every moment he was not needed on theground, he was in the air. The rest of his training would have to beconducted on the way to the target.Media. Int.For Immediate Release.Australian Ambassador and the entire diplomatic staffexpelled at gunpoint from their embassy officesBy Vincent Gray, Media Int. Press Writer.Dec 6 0500 Hours UTC. Adding to the deepening rift between Australia and China, early this morning theAustralian Ambassador and the entire diplomatic staff were expelled at gunpoint from their embassy offices andtaken to Beijing's international airport with nothing other than the clothes they were wearing. In a statement issuedby the Australian Prime Minister Dennis Gordon today, he stated his government has and is making repeatedrequests to Beijing to resolve the current crisis through dialogue and to avoid conflict at all costs. Australia reissuedits regret for the loss of the Taizhou and its own F-111 crew but did not apologize for the incident as the UNhas requested, pointing out that the aircraft were protecting the integrity of Australian territory and had acted inself defense after being fired upon.There has been no response from the Chinese government.Gordon also notified the UN, Russia andChina, of Australia's recent declaration of a state of emergency in relation to the threat of the burning oil head atVostok Station. Environmental analysts have strongly suggested that if the fire melts down to the massive lake, theresult will be catastrophic. 'This situation is alarming; and apocalyptic would better characterize the event,'Gordon said. 'I believe we should all be far more worried about the wellhead fire than making grabs for land oroil."The Russian President has dismissed the Australian claims. 'This is a futile attempt to regain control ofthe Vostok oil field, even after using electromagnetic pulse weapons to try to achieve the same result through forcewith their allies the U.S. This typifies the shotgun approach to international diplomacy these coalition countriesuse when they are unable to get their own way though dialogue or negotiation. They refuse to play by the umpire'srule when it doesn't suit them."=Within the last hour, Prime Minister Gordon had made a personal plea to China's Secretary General tohold back its South Pacific fleet and allow Australian emergency teams to put out the fire, inviting the Chinese tojoin the effort. China dismissed this recent overture, issuing a statement to China's leading daily newspaper inwhich it accused Australia of an "unprovoked attack" on the Taizhou while repeating the Chinese government'sintention to protect Chinese nationals "wherever they may be." End.

441 | P a g eThe 60th Parallel/ 第 60 平 行December 6 0830 UTC. 1800hrs local. Chinese cross Parallel.It was still daylight at the 60th parallel, an invisible line in thesea, oblivious to the naked eye. But to the electronic brains on theChinese and Australian warships, it was measured to the foot.The tension in the command center of each warship was palpable.Running at an even speed, the countdown to crossing was precise; onehundred and fifty eight seconds."Battle stations, battle stations," rang out on every ship.The ANZAC, Adelaide Class Frigates and Hobart Class Destroyersstood back from the line by 20,000 yards, giving themselves room tofire and maneuver.It also meant that as the Chinese crossed theline, nearly all the surface combatants were within each other'srange.Admiral Wen Jinsong stood on the bridge of the Chinese aircraftcarrier Shi Lang, watching the Captain direct last minutepreparations for combat. While the carrier was much smaller than itsAmerican counterparts, it carried the powerful Granit (Shipwreck)anti-ship missile system that had a range of over 350 miles, not tomention some other surprises that the Admiral wondered if he wouldhave a chance to use, hopefully not. Glancing to the port side hecould see the PLAN ship Haikou plough through the southern swells thewater raking past her bow and over the huge 171 number on the side ofher hull. She was a Luyang-II class Missile Destroyer which featuredan indigenously developed four-array multifunction phased array radar(PAR) similar to the Aegis AN/SPY-1 equipped by the U.S. ArleighBurke class and Japanese Kongo class DDG. The ship was also armedwith the indigenous HQ-9 air defence missile system comparable to theRussian S-300F/Rif in performance, and the newly developed YingJi-62(C-602) anti-ship cruise missile (ASCM). Also out there, he knew,

442 | P a g ewere the Lanzhou, Harbin, Hangzhou and others, the latest in ChineseNaval development. Behind these were many older but reliable missilefrigates and below, the Han, Kilo, Yuan and Shang class submarines.All of them ready for a fight. Would the Australians have the balls,he wondered? The digital counter showed 60 seconds.Already launched were the carrier's air wing of SU-27 and SU-33Flankers, the Yak-41Ms and seven Kamov Ka-27 anti-submarinehelicopters, not counting those helicopters launched by the missilefrigates.On the other side of the 60th parallel, Wen's counterpart, RearAdmiral Kenneth Sullivan, watched the large combat screen in fronthim. The screen projected every visible surface and subsurface assetoverlaid with the ship ID, direction, and speed. Also programmed inand visible was the 60th parallel with an estimated time of arrival.Less than 45 seconds.The Admiral listened intently to overheadcommunication, waiting for a cue from HQJOC.While he could defendthe fleet, he was not yet given permission to start a war.Theseconds wound down.Every missile operator on every ship, both Chinese andAustralian, was intensely alert.Opposing ships were already lockedinto the firing and targeting systems.It would be a battle of whocould shoot first, fastest and most accurately. Five seconds to go.Rear Admiral Kenneth Sullivan looked around the bridge of theguided missile frigate HMAS ANZAC. The ship's Captain looked calm.There was nothing else to say now, this is what his men had trainedfor; they knew what to do and would do it well.The first Chinese ship reached the line. Sullivan knew hissuperiors at Joint Forces Command were watching the same screen ashimself. The expectation was intense. The Luhu Class destroyercrossed over the line. On every ship the combat operation officersheld their breath, mikes in hand ready to give the orders; the combat

443 | P a g esystem operators tracking the targets waited for the order, theirhands poised to initiate and launch their missiles.On the bridge of the HMAS ANZAC, every nerve sang in theanticipation of the phone ringing.The seconds ticked by. The nextChinese warship moved up and crossed over the line. In each combatoperations center, on every bridge and on every weapons and trackingsystem, the crew, so mentally geared up for action, began to giveeach other nervous glances.Gradually the entire Chinese taskforcecrossed the line. The phone remained silent. Finally the order came."Stand down, stand down all systems." And to steering: "Steercourse 180 south"The orders were given and the ships of the Joint Australian andNew Zealand Task Force heeled to starboard as they moved to increasetheir distance between themselves and the Chinese fleet.Chinese Southern Task Force/ 中 国 南 部 的 特 遣 部 队December 6. 1830 hrs. "So they backed down," General Chen Jianguo"So they backed down," General Chen Jianguo responded acidly to thenews."As I said they would. Honor, and the Chinese people willdemand heavy payment for the Taizhou. But for now, the fact they havefaltered allows us to get on with business.""It appears that way Sir.But these are not people to backdown. I think there is more to it." Wen said speaking to the Generalover the PLAN Video Communication Network."You are a pessimist Wen. They know they are outgunned. Withoutthe U.S., they blinked when they knew we meant business.They knowwe are angry about the Taizhou and that any provocation would invokean immediate response. Indeed, they probably knew we were hoping tohave the excuse to fire on them. They are not stupid."

444 | P a g e"Yes, I agree with that General.But I still feel we aremissing something."The General bristled slightly. The Admiral was becomingannoying. It was obvious. The Australians had buckled whenconfronted with a superior force. Why wouldn't they? Most smartmilitary commanders would back off and fight another day. Why did Wenfind this so hard to understand? "All the more reason to bevigilant." He dismissed the concern and went to the reason for hiscall. "We have declared a 200-kilometer protective security zonearound the fleet. The UN is conveying that message to the Australiansas we speak. If any foreign ship infringes that, sink it. Theseorders are being sent to you in writing now."The implication to Wen was immediate. "This means the securityzone will be an ever moving line.""Yes, and you must vigorously enforce it," he said forcefully.Admiral Wen Jinsong realized that the CMC had decided onengagement as part of its strategy.Now with every turn of the bigship's screws, the closer his task force would come to that moment.The new security zone if enforced was the key to bringing the opposedforces to blows; it would inevitably envelope other naval forces atsome point, providing a trigger to Chinese forces to take defensiveaction.Accepting that, his decision to move his flagstaff to theaircraft carrier Shi Lang was a good one; he would order his presentflag ship, the supply vessel Nancang into Zhong Shan.If he wasgoing to get into a fight, the Nancang, while very comfortable, wasnot the ship to do it from.Canberra, Australia.0900 UTC, 1830 local time. Chinese announce protective security zone.

445 | P a g eIt took less than 30 minutes for the Chinese message to be relayedthrough the UN to the Australian diplomatic mission and then the PM.Prime Minister Gordon was fuming. "A protective security zone!Not only that but it's a fucking moving security zone!" he yelled,adding,"Filthy bastards." The PM never swore. He was eitherlosing control or very pissed off."They relayed the message to us through the UN," the AustralianSECDEF said."So the UN has become a delivery boy for the Chinese now! Thisis a rather transparent ploy to initiate a contact, so they then canblame us for the hostility through violation of their self-proclaimedspace. And the UN sanctions it. If we were off their coast andtried the same thing the UN would laugh at us.""Point is, they are saying it's not our coast," the SECDEFsaid, not wanting to disagree."We have a damn sight better claim than they do. It's akin tous going up there and claiming Taiwan or the Spratley Islands. TheChinese didn't have any conscience taking those territories, as wellas Tibet and others, did they? Given the history of the Antarcticclaim, the fact we are the closest and only sovereign state, theownership is hardly contestable. Indeed it is enshrined in the veryprinciples that the likes of Russia used to retain Chechnya, andChina on Tibet, Taiwan and numerous other territorial acquisitions.The most important distinction is that the Antarctic territory wasvacant when we claimed it, and in the case of Russian and Chineseclaims in their own regions, we did not try to occupy or send troopsor support those territories in dispute.Yet here they are on ourdoorstep, all the way from the opposite side of the planet. We damnwell are in our rights!""But in the international press they can give their northernhemisphere argument a good run, especially in Europe."

446 | P a g e"I think it deserves one more shot diplomatically, but wearen't going to back down.""You don't sound confident."Gordon sighed. "I'm not. The Chinese aren't going to back downeither. This security zone thing was setup to deliberately draw usinto a fight. We don't have any choice though, it's Vostok or bust."Media. Int.For Immediate ReleaseAustralia Demands Chinese WithdrawalBy Vincent Gray, Media Int. Press Writer.Dec 6 09450 EST. The Australian Government has used harsh diplomatic language in its demand for the Chineseto withdraw its forces from its claimed territory and Self Exclusion Zone in Antarctica. The Australian claim is onethat most countries increasingly believe to be invalid and that Chinese forces are operating legitimately ininternational waters. The UN Security Council has met in urgent session passing a resolution put forward byRussia, France, China and Germany to help resolve the conflict. Australia risks the possibility of censure,economic sanctions and potential UN enforcement if it fails to abide by its rulings. End.1100 Hrs UTC. UN enforcement, Indo and the Global Hawk shoot down.The Prime Minister looked at the press release in dismay, snorting."UN enforcement, the Undecided Nations? Where was that during everygenocide they managed to ignore in the last half-century?Now theyget the balls.Now the permanent Security Council is the cartel ofthree. I guess the greed factor is really kicking in, overcomingtheir normal complacency and gutless inaction."It looks like half the UN has been bought off with the promiseof cheap oil.They also obviously think the Chinese will win thisstandoff while the U.S. is hunkered down in the Pacific.""The Indonesians think so too," the SECDEF, said. "They werescared shitless the Chinese territorial claims in the South China Seacould reach as far as the Natuna Islands." The islands guarded the

447 | P a g efunnel to Java, and were the site of extensive gas fields. He waved apiece of paper."They have just withdrawn all military co-operationin favor of Russian and Chinese relationships. The Chinese in returnhave promised not to attempt to resume ownership of the NatunaIslands and to provide military aid."You can bet your left nut when they receive the rest of theirKilos, Luda class destroyers, Sukhois and the rest of it, they willbe breathing down our neck in the Timor Sea and all the way to theBarrier Reef.” A prediction that would come back to haunt him.“What's the situation with the Chinese fleet now?" Gordon asked."The bulk of the force is unloading on the coast. They haveestablished several guided missile destroyers as pickets with thebulk of the force standing just off the Amery Ice Shelf and headingeast.With the 200-kilometre exclusion zone around their ships wecan't even get close. Trouble is those bloody Shipwreck, Sizzler andSunburn missiles. Well outside our envelope. Even our latest Block IIHarpoons on the ANZAC's don't have those sort of legs. Both theHarbin and Qingdao can also lob at us from over 120 kilometers away,not to mention the capability of their other combatants. Point is weare out ranged. There is no way we can attempt a surface engagement.We are against a superior force that outnumber and outgun us.Theyalso WANT a fight. They would love to bust our nuts over this. Atthe moment, the Chinese, Russians and their Euro mates think theyhave this almost in the bag.""Maybe they do?" the Prime Minister said."It sure as hell does look like it, doesn't it?" But hisexpression looked determined.The Prime Minister thought of the men and women that made upthe crews of the submarines, frigates and aircraft that might have togo into harms way. He saw the Hamilton brothers, like the rest,

448 | P a g ecommitted against all odds. "We are not quite out of the game yet,"he said.Thousands of miles south the Australian Task Froce steamed at asafe distance from their adversary, shadowing their every move.InAvalon, ground and aircrews worked tirelessly, checking andrechecking aircraft, preparing for a shooting war.In the mind of the Rosenbridge Foundation's Alexander Blake, therewas only one important question: What was going on in Vostok Station?Stringer's request to include a close look at the wellhead during anSRO flight over Vostok had been approved.The data was critical toconfirm or debunk Blake's worry about the wellhead. He now waitedpatiently to hear the outcome.While he waited, on almost the other end of the globe, a highflying Global Hawk surveillance aircraft had been orbiting thedestroyed station for several minutes before turning north andheading home.It would be a few more minutes before it couldcommunicate with its mission control and send its data payload frombeneath the satellite blackout.To the northeast of the Hawk's flight path, Russian SAM sitessniffed the air. Situated on a small rocky outcrop, a BIG BIRD longrangesurveillance and tracking radar had detected the SRO flight at50,000 feet over 320 miles away. After several minutes the target wasseen by the doppler target acquisition radar and then the phasedarrayengagement radar. The Russian Major looked up from the trackingscreen.Global Hawk, he thought, obviously trying to communicatewith any surviving forces they might have had left in Vostok. He wasseated in the battery command post and engagement control center, oneof the many tracked vehicles that made up the heavy S400 long-rangeSAM battery.

449 | P a g e"Kill it," he ordered the missile operators. The command given,he looked out the vehicle's windscreen at the cold forbidden groundof the Scott Peninsula. It looked very much like home. His was thefirst unit to deploy here and the first he hoped to be credited witha kill.From the vastness of the white landscape he looked back to thetowering columns that were the missile containers, elevated to thelaunch position. They were big: eight meters long and weighing 1800kilograms. The Grumble missiles were mostly a one-shot, one-killscenario weapon system, with a 95-percent kill ratio against aircraftand almost 100 percent against cruise missiles. The left-mostcanister's lid flipped open and the big missile catapulted from itscontainer. The vertically launched missile used a single-stage solidpropellant rocket motor, which ignited in a massive plume of smokeand fire that rapidly accelerated the missile to more than 5600 feetper second.The Australian Global Hawk targeted by the Russian Grumblesystem was trying to communicate with an RAAF Wedgetail, which wasacting as an Airborne Communications Terminal much further north,which in turn was able to feed through to satellite coverage abovethe 60th parallel.The Launch Recovery Element and Mission ControlElement for the Global Hawk's deployment were based in Launceston,Tasmania.Hunched over his controls, the pilot of the Global Hawk lookedwith concern at the incoming track of the Russian missile. They wereonly just now beginning to get communications from the Hawk via theWedgetail, but it was still rough. They needed the payload ofprecious information before it got killed."Locked?" the pilot asked the Payload Operator (PO)."Locked. Nothing much we can do there," the PO said trackingthe event on his workstation.

450 | P a g e"Have you got the payload?""Not as yet. Give me some time?""Roger that," the pilot replied, wondering how he was going todo that, considering that the incoming missile was closing at alittle less than two miles every second. "Sixty seconds," he said,the impending death of his satellite aircraft already depressing him.The Global Hawk was a Low Observability, High Altitude andEndurance UAV, or LO-HAE. Its greatest defense was height againstmostly smaller mobile systems."Forty seconds."The Hawks other defense was its standoff distance from thethreat, a defense traded for valuable information. He hoped the datawas good. It was from the start a risky mission. He had never losta bird before, but when the S400's target acquisition radar acquiredthem he knew she was history. "Ten seconds.""Almost done."The almost two-ton missile dived into the car-sized Global Hawkat over 2000m/s, its proximity fuse detonating the 230-pound HEwarhead. The pilot didn't have to say zero. The screens fizzed."Shit!"中 国 的 大 厅 /Great Hall of ChinaDecember 6. 1200 UTC. Yuen Xinghua laughs at Australian demand toleave.The Central Committee Secretary General, Yuen Xinghua, laughed at theAustralian communiqué and demand.After their humiliating back downon the 60th parallel their words were hollow and meaningless. But thesting of the sinking of the Taizhou still irritated him. Handing thenote to General Chen Jianguo, he said, "Read this!I thought theymight have learned a lesson."

451 | P a g e"It appears not," the old General said, pondering the note."Naturally we will not consider their demands to withdraw.""Of course not. In fact I believe they still need to learn alesson.You understand what I mean, General, don't you?"Yes he did.The operational plan was already well in motion.With his latest orders given, it would just be a matter of timebefore they engaged the Australians.On board the Chinese flagship, Admiral Wen Jinsong read hisorders from the CMC a second time before handing them to the Captainof the Shi Lang. The print out was the confirmation of orders fromWen's earlier discussion and both the men knew what this meant;neither of them liked it.

452 | P a g eCHAPTER FIFTEENHMAS Melbourne (FFG 05) an Adelaide class guided missile frigate.Boston Massachusetts USAGeophysicists work out FAB plan to snuff fireIn Boston, Massachusetts, a small team of geophysicists and chemistshad been working on the wellhead problem. The last burst of data fromthe doomed Global Hawk had reached an orbiting Wedgetail AWACS. Thedata analysis was not just confirming the earlier suspicions, butrevealing something even far more frightening.It looked to be true then, he thought. The Vostok fire reallywas burning to hell on earth. Alexander Blake ran his fingers throughhis thinning hair. They could be wrong.But three men, renownedexperts in thermal energies and fluid hydraulics, all workingindependently, had come back with virtually the same numbers.Andthey all nearly mirrored his own calculations. Working from satellite

453 | P a g eimagery and Global Hawk data, his small team had been able to measurethe amount of energy being released by the wellhead fire and itsgaseous make up.From this they had constructed tables to helpexplain the melt rate and subsequently the sink rate of the holeitself.Comparing data twelve hours apart and using laser from theGlobal Hawk, they were able to accurately measure the depth of theholes, and then cross-reference that with their other observations.Obviously, direct access to the site would have been much better. Butthis was as good as they were going to get."A little less than four days then," he said holding thereport. The men nodded in confirmation. It was just a thin piece ofwhite reflex A4 paper but it felt like it weighed a ton. "Margin oferror, plus or minus three to four hours." Blake's hand shook alittle bit, but he took a deep breath and said, "All right, now weknow the nature of the beast, maybe we can figure out how to kill it.How long will it take to get some ideas on controlling this thing?"An hour later the small team had developed a short list ofpossible methods to put out the burn. After removing those solutionsthat required men and equipment on the ground, they were left withjust one."Fuel air bomb," NASA's atmospherics and combustion expertsaid. "But it would have to be in the range of 55,000 pounds to putthis bastard out and would have to detonate inside the hole, butbefore striking either the sides or the bottom. The hole will begreater than 300 feet wide at its base and up to half a mile widenear the surface.It will be anywhere between 4500 to 9000 feetdeep.""Why not a heavy conventional round, like a cruise missile?"Blake asked, looking for something simple."Nope," he said shaking his head. "We also need massive overpressure. The fuel it is burning uses a lot of stored oxygen. At

454 | P a g ethe same time we extinguish the flame by suffocation we have to stopthe continual inflow of the lake water.""Nuke? An air or ground burst?" That got some eyes rollingfollowed by more shaking heads."Nope. We ran simulations on every piece of ordnance we had andthen turned to some more fanciful ideas like large lasers, floodingit, capping the hole - you name it and then some.Always came backto one simple answer, a fuel air bomb. Only that has the capacity tosuck air out, provide over-pressure while not generating shock wavesthat might cause even greater problems.Daisy Cutters, I think iswhat they were nicknamed - FAB's.""Yes, I know what you mean, MOAB's; mothers of all air bombs.""Good. So we can arrange this and put it out, right? We havebases down there?"Blake shuffled the papers in his hand absent-mindedly. "Ibetter make some calls.""Will anybody listen with all that's going on?" one of the menasked."I don't know; we have to make them listen," Blake replied. Afew minutes later he dialed the CIA's David Stringer and said flatly,"I'm afraid our original assessment was a little off target."The Great Southern Ocean/ 伟 大 的 南 部 的 海 洋December 7. Jinsong’s fleet and Orion shoot down, HMAS Darwinsinking.The Commander of the South Pacific Fleet, Admiral Wen Jinsong,separated his force into three packages. He ordered the older dieselsubs to operate on the surface in order to increase the fleet'sspread and its subsequent 200-kilometer security zone. It was not aplan to his liking, forced upon him by the CMC.The spread of the

455 | P a g efleet compromised the ability for each warship to protect the others,leaving gaping holes in the defenses.General Chen had laughed at Wen's concerns. The U.S. fleet wasstill in the northern Tasman Sea and the Australians had no way ofthreatening China's vastly superior naval force. Wen was not nearlyas confident but said nothing.The Chinese task force, after escorting the transport vesselsto the edge of the ice pack near Zhong Shan, had turned around andwere steaming east beneath the 60th parallel.Ahead of the fleet, the Captain of the Lin San Liu, an improvedKilo-class submarine, looked closely at the sonar display panel. Hecould sense the operator beginning to work a contact. Making way justa few feet beneath the surface, the diesel electric submarine withthe hull number 366 idled through the water at just three knots. Shewas deadly quiet, just her optics, communication and ESM mastprotruding to the surface."Captain, ESM room, new priority contact on bearing 117.Identifying new contact as airborne radar, strength increasing.""ESM, do they have a return on us?""Negative. Range is still too great. At current closing ratenew contact will have a return on us in five minutes.""Secure antenna, drop all masts," the Captain ordered."Weapons, Control, prioritize target as 02." The Kilo-class sub didnot carry any anti-air capability. So there was nothing the Kilocould do about the aircraft other than report it."Target prioritized as 02," Weapons responded. The WatchOfficer also replied, confirming that all antennas and masts had beenretracted.The sonar operator suddenly bolted upright in his seat, thepallor on his face unnoticeable in the reddish light of the sonarroom. Despite the reliance on visual scanning, he had still slowly

456 | P a g escanned back and forth, listening for unusual sounds. The faint"splash, splash, splash, splash" he had heard to their port side wasall too familiar."CAPTAIN, SONAR. SPLASHES IN THE WATER TO OUR PORT SIDE," hebellowed into his headset's mike.Sonar buoys? The Captain thought, probably directionalfrequency and ranging types commonly used by the RAAF PC3 Orions."Tell me more sonar," the Captain said, a little annoyed."Four splashes, Captain, from the same direction as theaircraft.""Get ready to raise the ESM and communications masts." It wasunlikely the aircraft had detected them, the Kilo Captain reasoned.It was worth the risk to get the information of the aircraft'slocation and activity back to the task force."Communications, prepare to send a report to fleet. State:type, range, position and heading of target 02. Report whencommunication confirmed. Raise the ESM and communications masts."Once again the communication mast was raised, but for less thanfive seconds. The ESM room quickly took down the aircraft's trackinformation and handed it to communications, which then fired theinformation off to the Chinese flagship."Receipt confirmed," the radio room reported."Drop all masts. Ship control, change depth to 400 meters, deepangle, speed three knots, rig for silent running. Steer course ninezero east," the Captain said, running a course adjacent to the PC3Orion's last known heading.Back on the fleet's flagship, Admiral Wen Jinsong read thereport from the Lin San Liu. The Admiral ordered the Luhu-classdestroyer ranging to the front of his task force to head directlytowards the aircraft contact. At the same time Wen ordered hisnorthernmost destroyers to steer due north at flank speed.He then

457 | P a g einvited the Captain of the Shi Lang to the big digital plot boardthat dominated the center of control room, saying, "This is thelocation of the P3 Orion reported to us by the Lin San Liu. I wantyou to position some Flankers north of that position. They carrymedium range missiles, Captain?""Yes they do.""Excellent." The Admiral turned to his executive staff officer."Order one of the Mings to the surface." He pointed to the positionson the display. "That immediately places both this ANZAC frigate andthe surveillance aircraft within our security zone." He turned backto the captain of the Shi Lang. "Once that is confirmed Captain,shoot down the Australian aircraft." If the General wantedretribution for the sinking of the Taizhou, then he will have it theAdmiral thought cynically. "Then send a ULF message to the Lin SanLiu to sink the Australian destroyer to its east.The crew of the Australian AP-3C Orion believed they were welloutside of the Chinese self-declared security zone when they pickedup the Luhu class destroyer turning towards them. While the Orion wastraditionally a dedicated sub hunter, its new AN/APS-137B(V)5 radaralso gave it excellent anti-surface warfare (ASuW) capabilities. Itslong-range radar had already provided the eleven-man crew a detailedpicture of the area of operations, a picture that was fed in realtime via satellite to the HQJOC and any active RAN warships andaircraft. It had also momentarily detected a periscope, the sameinformation immediately available to the Australian warships deployedto cover the Chinese fleet.When the pilot of the long range Orion aircraft came up to the200-kilometer mark he turned due east. It was then that Wen Jinsongsprung the trap. The old Chinese Ming Class submarine surfaced 50miles in front of the Orion. The sub hunter immediately detected thesurfacing Ming, turning north to avoid any conflict.

458 | P a g eThe first indication something was wrong was when the the ALR-2001 ESM picked up a search radar behind them, they were beinghunted. The Su-33 Flanker pilot launched from the Shi Lang had beencued by the fleets dispersed sensor systems onto the target and hadfired up its radar. The pilot went to burners quickly closing withthe AP-3C Orion.Two AA-12 Adder missiles dropped from the Flankers rails. TheAP-3C's counter-measure systems automatically fired off flares andchaff along with powerful jamming signals as the pilot desperatelythrew the big airplane into a series of hard turns. But the actionswere futile.The Adders were well within range and highlymaneuverable with active radar guidedance. The Amraamski, as somecalled it, was capable of taking out cruise missiles and precisionguidedmunitions. The big slow moving AP-3C was history before theengagement had even begun. Both missiles struck one after the other,shearing one wing off and then the whole rear section of theaircraft. Most of the mission crew were killed instantly, theremaining survivors pinned in their seats as the now flaming fuselageplunged towards the sea.The Orion however was not the main catch of the day. Back onthe Chinese submarine they were preparing a bigger dish, "Captain,new contact, prioritized as target 03. Single screw making turns for30 knots. Adelaide Class; matches the Newcastle, bearing 274 west.""Range?""Sixty Kilometers."The 3000 tonner crept forwards at three knots; to its east, theAustralian Adelaide Class frigate, investigating the disappearance ofthe Orion, barreled in at over 30 knots. She knew that a Kilo was inthe area, but not exactly where. The captain of the Kilo had guessedthat the new splashes they had heard were debris from the Orioncrashing into the ocean. The ultra low frequency message received a

459 | P a g efew minutes previously informed the Captain that the frigate was nowtechnically in their security zone.Whether it was the frigate'sfault or not, his orders were clear."Battle stations, battle stations."The red warning lightflashed persistently with the command."Helm, Captain, all stop. Weapons, load tubes one and two withTa Po and open outer doors." He waited for the confirmation. "Come toperiscope depth." Running at high speed, he knew the Adelaide Classfrigate would be nearly deaf.He also guessed they would slow downand go active once in the area of the crash. He had to be ready toreact. The minutes ticked by. They were coming straight down thethroat, a more difficult shot.The periscope broke surface, water blurring the lens. The KiloCaptain trained the scope to the east. He increased the optic powerto maximum. The Adelaide Class destroyer filled the magnified lens.He matched range, bearing and speed with sonar and then gave theorder."Fire tubes one and two. Close the outer doors." There was thefamiliar hiss of the torpedoes leaving the tubes. "Helm, 300 meters,deep angle, flank speed, steer 180 degrees."The deck of the Kilotilted forwards as it plunged into the deep. After being ejected withcompressed air from the forward tubes, the Ta Po's eight small rocketmotors ignited rapidly, accelerating the 6000-pound torpedo. At over60 knots the large central rocket motor started pushing the rockettorpedo to over 200 knots. The Ta Po's were copies of the RussianShkval, a solid-rocket-propelled 'torpedo' that achieved incrediblyhigh speeds through water by producing a high-pressure stream ofbubbles from its nose and skin, which coated the weapon in a thinlayer of gas. The Ta Po flew underwater inside a giant envelope ofgas bubbles in a process called "super cavitation."

460 | P a g eThe sound of these underwater rockets could of course be heardall the way back to China.The targeted vessel having just sloweddown heard them immediately."Torpedoes in the water, bearing 260.They look likeShkval's." The warning from the sonar operator hit the ship's Captainlike a hammer."Make maximum revolutions, steer eight zero degrees," theCaptain snapped. He looked briefly at his XO. He could tell he wasthinking the same thing.It was too late; you could not outrun a200-knot torpedo.Unlike many other torpedoes, the Ta Po was guided by anautopilot.The early version was too fast to accommodate the usualguidance and homing systems.The autopilots were pre-programmed forboth the Adelaide and ANZAC Class frigates. Nearing the estimatedlocation of the target, the torpedoes slowed, re-acquired the targetand entered their terminal homing stage. Designed to attack the largeU.S. aircraft carriers, the much smaller frigate FFG 06 HMASNewcastle was literally torn apart as both torpedoes struck. The 27-foot, 6000-pound weapons, traveling at nearly 200 knots smashedthrough the frigates hull together. The forward torpedo knifed inbelow the Darwins's water line near the bow and was exiting the otherside of the hull before it detonated.The other Ta Po penetratedinto the engine room, exploding deep in the ship's bowels, ripping itapart. No one survived.The Kilo Captain through his attack periscope watched theentire event, awe struck at the power of the Ta Po. Surely there wasnothing that could defeat them now.Headquarters Joint Operations Command, HQJOC BungendoreResponse to the Darwin sinking.

461 | P a g eIn the ops center in Bungendore Australia, the CJOPS was pacing thefloor. "Any word from the Newcastle?" he asked."Sorry Admiral. Nothing. The last message was the notificationthey were being attacked by torpedoes.""What about the P3?""Nothing there either sir."Admiral Nick Jansen studied his watch.He didn't really needto; he knew what the time was the reality was just difficult toaccept.The other men in the room also looked grim faced. Rear AdmiralNick Jansen personally knew many of the women and men that had crewedthe Newcastle.He had met their families, gone to barbeques withthem and had shared their lives. Jansen pushed those thoughts to theback of his mind and focused on the moment.The assembled seniorcommand watched as he quickly scribbled a note and gave it to hisaide. "Send this. FLASH message." The aide quickly left. "If there isno disagreement, I have recalled the Darwin and Melbourne withimmediate effect” he looked to the CDF who happened to be in theCommand Centre when everything went off the rails.General Morel nodded. "Agreed, get them both out of thereNick," Morel said. "Shkval's?""Yes that's what I think. Darwin and Melbourne hadn't receivedthe UWW (Underwater warfare) upgrade either.Against that level ofthreat they are vulnerable.""That's three ships out of the picture." Not the best way tostart the day or a war.CIA Headquarters.If the oil fire reaches the lake …well, we're ALL dead - BlakeDavid Stringer listened to Blake's strained voice over the phonebefore speaking.

462 | P a g e"Is this like an 'oops, sorry' for causing an internationalcrisis over a threat that doesn't really exist?" Stringer asked,wondering, for a moment, whether to be wrong and create a diplomaticholocaust was worse than Vostok actually going up in a big bang."I wish that were the case. If the oil fire reaches the lake…well, we're ALL dead, not just a lot of Australians. This is theArmageddon.It’s so close to the biblical description of theapocalypse as to be scary. We have to stop it at any cost." He waitedfor David to say something."Go on." David's voice was flat and neutral, but Blake had hisattention."We requested the latest analysis on the water that had beenextracted from one end of Vostok Lake.This is the part we missedthe first time, thinking it was similar to the other end of the lake.Because of the massive pressure, the water has been unable to freeze.The weight of the ice on this particular piece of the earth's crusthas caused it to stretch to a point where the underlying strata havebeen exposed. The water sits on top of this and has been in directcontact with oil and gas deposits for the last few million years. Itis saturated in gases, carbon dioxides, methane and large quantitiesof oxygen. Under pressure these gases stay trapped in the water. Thewater in its current state, if exposed to lower pressure and a flame,will explode. The other complication is that any pressure releasewill allow the oil and gas bubble trapped beneath the lake to escapeand add to the mix. David, the lake is like one massive fuel airbomb!""Go on," Stringer said impassively."In a nut shell, the scenario is this: once the melt-hole getsclose enough to the lake for the remaining ice to blow out, the holewill of course become larger. Within seconds, it'll be severalhundred feet wide with temperatures hotter than the sun and will keep

463 | P a g eexpanding exponentially.This in turn creates a huge cavern underthe ice, within minutes the ice dome collapses on top of the lakethrowing its contents miles into the atmosphere and the bottom halfof the world explodes. We will all either; burn, suffocate or bekilled by the resulting shockwave or earthquake. Or we'll drown by asudden massive increase in the sea level heralded by a tsunamiseveral miles high. However you look at it, we are all very dead.""Bloody hell." Stringer sounded exasperated. "I feel like I’min some really bad B-Grade movie.""I wish it was," Blake said. "We could rewrite the ending. Whatabout the Russians and Chinese?" he asked. "Why haven't they figuredthis out?" It only seemed logical they would be looking at the samething."This whole issue, their agenda, is being driven from the topdown," David said. "Very little is being fed back up the command andcontrol channel, only those things they want to hear.Theirinformation channels pretty much work one way; I strongly doubt thatanyone voicing such concerns would receive an audience, aside frombeing too scared to say something in the first place. The top brassdon't believe a word we say. They now claim the artifact we recoveredfrom the site is contaminated and can't be trusted, even after tryingto kill your guy to get their hands on it. I think they really dobelieve we dropped a pulse weapon." Stringer paused, then asked,"What are the options, Alex? Can we drop a battlefield nuke on it?""No, we looked at that closely, too much danger of fracturingthe ice. Even an airburst nuke will create too much of a shockwave.Ironically, dropping a fuel air bomb is about the only answer toprevent the world's greatest fuel air bomb from killing us all. Weneed to know from you, how long will it take to get this organized?"Stringer worked the problem through in his head.It didn'tlook good. "We have been working on this scenario; it meant sourcing

464 | P a g ethe bombs and then an airframe to deliver it. Each scenario wecreated ran out of time. In order to get to the wellhead, we have tofly through hostile airspace, over exceptionally long distances andrequire a delivery platform that can carry something that heavy overthousands of miles at high speed."The words were clipped andanxious. "You can't just strap any old bomb to an aircraft and hopeto deliver it accurately. FAB's were never designed as a weapon ofgreat accuracy. The precision bombing in this case requires laserdesignation or something equally as accurate.An aerial designatorwouldn't last two minutes, F22s, heavy bombers and stealth's are outof the equation, which leaves us with a ground team designating thetarget. This has the added problem of the flare from the burning wellhead obscuring the laser," He thought about that for a moment. “butif the burner is deep enough, which it will be, that won’t matter.”At least that was one problem was solved, a show stopper consideringGPS probably didn’t work down there or at least was not reliable withso many satellites out of action."So is anything being done?" Blake asked. "Surely we have someplan, even a long shot one?"The Director of Central Intelligence Agency Operationsconsulted his electronic scheduler, visualizing the countdown. Blakedeserved to know? "Alright." It was Blake after all that was on theball while everybody else was asleep at the wheel. "As you know, whenyou first suggested this possibility, I took it straight up theladder. We then spoke to the Australians. They were coming prettyclose to the same conclusion. They came back and asked if I couldarrange some FAB's - your Fuel Air Bombs, Alex. I did. They are nowon the Clinton in the Tasman Sea, two 15,000-pound dumb bombs. TheAustralians have an aircraft that can deliver on target. They alsohave the ability to adapt the bombs with precision guidancemechanisms. To back that up we are still putting our own effort

465 | P a g etogether, but it will arrive many hours later. As you said, this is along shot, but the best one we have."For a moment the connection was quiet. "The President is goingto convene another NSC meeting in a few hours. I will keep youposted," Stringer added.Situation Room, CanberraNSC Crises MeetingAustralia's National Security Committee of Cabinet (NSC) was meetingin urgent session in the new Situation Room located in ParliamentHouse. Senior defense staff had joined the ranks of the NSCC to forma Crisis Management Team (CMT) - a group willing and able to make andact on decisions quickly.The large CCPDS overhead panel that dominated the SituationRoom displayed a detailed map of the Davis Station area. An RAAF AirIntelligence Officer stood in front of the digital projection with avery long old-fashioned pointer in his hand. He had never feltcomfortable sitting in the back pointing with a red laser light."The current situation is that the Chinese task forces haveentered Prydz Bay and have landed troops and heavy equipment intoZhong Shan. At the same time we have lost contact with Casey, Davis,McMurdo and Scott base, to name a few, and presume them to be overrunby Chinese or Russian forces. This has only happened in the last 20hours and isn't public yet. But it won't take long, most of the dailycommunications from our bases are civilian, including a lot of mediareleases, the satellite blackout had them running around like fireants. The seizure of our Antarctic bases is part of a plan to takeVostok and other potential oil fields."The Chinese task force, whose flag is now the Kuznetsov classcarrier the Shi Lang, is setting up an extensive patrolling patterndesigned to deny U.S. and allied forces the ability to establish a

466 | P a g eforward element or beachhead before they are able to consolidatetheir positions. They are working closely with Russian and now othercountries to keep us out."We face two well-armed carrier groups both complemented byground forces and airfields. Argentina has allowed the use of itsairfields in Tierra del Fuego, enabling the Russians to forwardposition troops into Druzhnaya and Amundsen Scott base, now undertheir control. The French are allowing Russian and Chinese transportscomplete access to their field at Dumont d'Urville." He checked theclock. "As of 20 minutes ago, we lost communication with ALL ourassets in the Antarctic."PM Gordon interrupted, sweeping his eyes over the Committee."We have lost a frigate and an Orion, along with their crews. TheChinese objective either being pay back or to draw us into a fight.The U.S. are hesitant to commit forces any further than the fortyfifthwithout due cause. The choice we have is simple. We can eitherfigure out how to run their Chinese asses out of there, or donothing. If we do the latter we will lose our claim."Can we do anything about it?" the Deputy Prime Minister asked."I mean, are we able to?""Whatever we do will be risky and will result in losses, mostlikely heavy losses. We would have to rely on the Americans coming insooner than later and also risk triggering a nuclear exchange. Theoptions available are all bad and getting worse the longer we delay.However, it looks increasingly likely that we have no choice.Wemight have to fight our way to the wellhead, regardless of the price.General Morel can elaborate."The Commander of the Australian Forces stood up and walked tostand in front of the main screen and large topographical map ofAntarctica. "The immediate challenge is that with Chinese and Russianforces on the ground, we have to fight our way past them to the

467 | P a g eburning wellhead to extinguish it. The fire is expected to reach thelake in less than two days and the Russians and Chinese are ignoringit, Nick," The CDF said, referring to the CJOPS, "has developed somestrategies to help dislodge the Chinese. I don't believe the U.S.will tolerate their bases being overrun and will deal with theRussians as well.This recent action may provide them theprovocation and argument to act."But even as the General spoke, and unknown to the crisis group,the Vostok prognosis was spiralling rapidly into something far worsethan any of them had possibly imagined.Washington, the White HouseSituation Room. Move to DEFCON ONE, orders MOABs to Australia."George, we should now be at DEFCON ONE, correct?" ThePresident asked.George Perelli, the new Secretary of Defense, nodded his headin the affirmative."Good. George, you said that David Stringer was responsible forthis, correct?"He nodded. "Okay, why don't you get him in here assoon as possible and also get that guy he's been working with, what'shis name?""Blake, Alexander Blake.""That's right. And Sakrov. Get 'em all down here. We aregoing to need them. And," the President added, "put both Blake andSakrov on my Scientific Advisory Committee - the PSAC."George began putting the calls through while President Blaireturned to his new Secretary of State, Madeline Price, briefing her onwhat was going on. This was the Security Council's second meeting ofthe day. After the urgent call from the Director of the CIA at 1:30

468 | P a g ea.m., the President had convened the crisis meeting to decide theircourse of action."George, I want you to give those Australians everything theyneed to get this mission done. It appears our Plan B is pretty thinat this stage.We have everybody, and I mean everybody, working onthis problem. In the meantime the Australians are the only ones witha workable plan and doing something about it." The President glancedacross the room at the Marine holding the nuclear football."Whatabout that?""We have targeted Vostok with several battlefield ICBM's, lowair burst; they just need your authorization code," Perelli said."Good, let's hope like fuck we don't have to use them. The lastthing we want to do is initiate a trade of nukes.Any success wehave with Vostok might be undone in five minutes if we escalate tothat level.Even if the Australians manage to put it out, it willonly take a firecracker to get it started again. Any luck on the fuelair bombs?""We are currently scouring our entire inventory and deliveringevery FAB or MOAB we can lay our hands on by fastest possible means,"George Perelli said. "At the same time we have the best brainsavailable trying to mate these devices to any system capable ofdelivering them accurately to the target in a high threatenvironment. But even at best estimates we are still outside Blake'stime table.""You never know, he could be wrong.Let's keep at it anyway;we could get a lucky break!" President Blaire said.

469 | P a g eCanberra.NSC still meeting. CJOPs briefs on disaster scenario and tacticalhurdles and presents Daisy Cutter option..In Australia, the NSC was still meeting. General David Morel lookedup from reading a Critical Intelligence Message sent FLASH via DISA-PAC. "Good and bad news," he said. "The Americans have gone to DEFCONONE. Thank god for that.""About fucking time," Air Marshal John Norton said. "Just hopeit's not too late.""Assuming that's the good news, what's the bad?" Gordon asked.The Australian defense chief got up from his seat and walked tothe overhead display. "Can I borrow your stick Squadron Leader?" hesaid to the Intel briefing officer, who stepped back to allow hisboss room.“Get me a geographic map of the entire continent, will you?" hesaid to no one in particular. The map behind him quickly changed andhe placed the stick on East Antarctica near Vostok Station. "The icehere above the oil lake that was discovered is several miles thick.The entire weight of that ice bears down on the water, gas and theoil beneath.The pressure in the water/gas mix and oil isunbelievably enormous.“The borehole the fluid now blows through is just a few incheswide. The hole the burn is creating is over one hundred meters wide.At some point, as the hole nears the lake, the ice will blow outbetween the lake and the enlarged hole. The trapped water/gas mix,under massive pressure, will explode out of a 100-plus meter hole atover 100,000psi, several trillion gallons per second. The suddendecrease in pressure will cause a gas separation, instantly ignitinginto a massive fuel-air-and-water mix, increasing the immediatetemperature to something comparable to the sun's surface. This inturn rapidly increases the size of the exit point, collapsing

470 | P a g etrillions of tons of ice into the hole, which simply explodes in theheat.“The process rapidly increases and within minutes, the entireice dome, over a thousand square kilometers of ice, 4000 metersthick, will collapse, throwing the contents of the lake tens ofthousands of meters in the air and releasing the oil bubble beneathit.The resulting explosion could be a planet killer." He didn'tneed to pause for effect. Everyone already thought the situation wasbad enough."We have really never had a choice about going to Vostok, andnow neither do the Yanks, which is why they are at DEFCON ONE.Fortunately our people have not been sitting on their asses waitingto see where the chips fall and have been working on severalalternative plans. Given what has transpired, we have one plan thathas been in motion for over 24 hours. It looks like the most likelycandidate to progress, unless someone can come up with somethingbetter."He waited.There were no takers. "It is made up of severalparts.The first being to neutralize and keep busy our Chinesefriends in their quest to invade the south.The second part isactually extinguishing the wellhead fire itself. First of all I wantour Chief Intelligence Officer to describe what it is that our forcesare facing down there. Then I will explain the rest. Go ahead Mack."The Air Force Intelligence Officer took his turn behind theglass lectern. "Thank you Sir." He worked the overhead remotes at thesame time, bringing up an image of large missile canisters on the bigscreen. "Before we can do anything in or around the Chinese taskforce, we have to neutralize the SS-N-19 Granit threat. Until we dothat, we are forced to stand off with our surface combatants to atleast 600 kilometers." Mack Thompson pointed to the standoff distanceon the map. "Our CIWS and guns are still not proven against real

471 | P a g emissile threats. The Granit, or Shipwreck missile, is a mature andproven weapon we don't know enough about. They have also upgraded itscapabilities; what with we don’t quite know.“We do know it's a supersonic, long-range winged missileagainst which most surface combatants have few means of protection.The missile can be fired from surface vessels and submarines. It hasa range in excess of 540 kilometers. It is over 10-meters in lengthand weighs in at seven tons. It cruises at 2800 km/hr and is capableof carrying numerous warheads including nuclear. The missiles arecapable of classifying and distributing targets according toimportance and then they select the best tactics and plans for theattack."The onboard computer holds information to help it outsmartradar systems, as well as the tactical methods for outwitting airdefense capabilities. They are equipped with the means to outmaneuver attacking anti-missiles. After knocking out the main targetin a group of ships, the remaining missiles attack other ships inorder, excluding the possibility of two missiles hitting the sametarget. Even if the Granit is hit by our anti-missiles, it's so heavyand fast, it will be able to preserve its initial velocity and reachits target. The kinetic energy, even without the warhead, will splitANZAC or Adelaide Class ships in two." There was silence in the room."Until that puppy is put to bed, we don't have much of a plan.TheShi Lang has sixteen of these plus reloads, the cruisers and theother support carrier, mount these batteries as well.The nextbiggest threat to our ships comes from the Sizzlers, the Brahmos,Sunburn missiles with a range of 160 klicks and the Luzhou class TypeC-602s with a range of 300 klicks.""What about an air attack to take them out?""Their air and missile defense is excellent.They havenumerous improved HongQi 9 (HQ-9)and Yezh SA-21 Grizzly with ranges

472 | P a g eup to 200 kilometers. The Grizzly is able to guarantee hits againstsix targets flying simultaneously from different directions and atdifferent altitudes. The HQ-9 surface-to-air missiles provide themmulti-target handling and engagement characteristics; a capabilityagainst low altitude targets with small radar cross-sections such ascruise missiles; as well as a capability against tactical ballisticmissiles, and possibly a potential to intercept some types ofstrategic ballistic missiles." The briefer paused, catching hisbreath for a moment. "The Air threat is also formidable," hecontinued. "The Shi Lang is unusual in that it boasts an air wing aswell as an offensive anti-ship missile capability. The air wing, asfar as we can tell, is made up of 12 navalised CV Flanker variants,16 Su-34 Fullbacks, four Ka-29 Helix anti- submarine choppers, 18Kamov PLOs and two Ka27-S rescue choppers. Many of the task force'sdestroyers and frigates also carry helicopters."The Sukhois, two of which we have already splashed, care ofSquadron Leader Hamilton, are capable of carrying both air-to-air andair-to-surface missiles, specifically Moskits, presenting a longrangeanti ship capability."Almost the entire fleet enjoys the benefits of French Aegislikecommand and control systems ripped off by the French from theAmericans and passed on to the Chinese.This means that betweentheir primary assets, the system can autonomously manage fleetdefense to defeat incoming threats."The politicians in the room were by this time looking deeplydepressed.The shadow Minister for defense looked stricken. "Howcould we let this happen?" he lamented.The current Minister for Defence snapped back angrily. "We letthis happen when you opted not to invest in cruise missile defencedespite ongoing public criticism by experts."

473 | P a g eThe Labor Senator went from stricken to mortified, the PrimeMinister held up his hand to stop the squabbling."Mack, please carry on.""The main portion of the fleet is in the Davis Sea supportingthe landing mission into Zhong Shan. The supply and logistics shipsare anchored in Prydz Bay. The Shi Lang and her escorts are runninga tight patrol to keep air cover and submarine defense readilyavailable to the landing forces. It is a 2631 nautical mile flightfrom Hobart, 2469 from Albany, and 1454 from Scott. We haven't heardfrom Scott or McMurdo bases and assume they have been overrun byeither Russian or Chinese forces, likewise, as you know with bothDavis and Casey Stations.So we have no known airfields to deployfrom other than our home bases.Our destroyers, ANZAC and AdelaideClass Frigates are currently a few hundred kilometers east of HeardIsland, keeping out of reach of both Granit and airborne threats."Our Frigates and destroyers, with the exception of the two wehave recalled, have an offensive antiship range of 240 kilometerswith the Harpoon, and defensive capability against any furtherattacks from Shkval torpedoes from Chinese Subs, as well as the EMRHVAPFSDS.""What the hell is that?" the Labor Senator asked."It's a High Velocity Armor-Piercing Fin-Stabilized Discarding-Sabot propelled by an electromagnetic railgun," the AIO said."Should have guessed," the Labor Senator said, any other timeit would have been funny.The CJOPS took over. "I think we would all agree that we needto focus all our resources and attention on a singular mission." Helooked around the room, heads nodded in agreement. "Until thatwellhead fire is out, it's the only mission. Prime Minister?" Morelsaid deferring the final solution to the PM."Agreed," Gordon said.

474 | P a g e"That and we have to keep it out," Morel added. "There is nocontingency plan that exists to cover this scenario. We have to getpast a superior force for a primary mission of putting the flame out.We have to develop a Plan of Attack (POA), and very quickly. That POAto extinguish the flame requires the delivery of specializedexplosives that will momentarily rob it of oxygen.They need toprovide over-pressure for a brief moment of time to stop theexplosive gas mix from pumping into the well shaft, Nick?" theGeneral said to the Naval Commander. "You guys have worked up aplan?"The CJOPS Admiral Jansen leaned forwards. "We have worked up anoperations plan based on something like this happenning," he said."As soon as we were notified of the possibilities.""Let's see it Nick." The General sat down. It was usualprocedure to produce alternative courses of action."We based this on the same DSTO advice and it works with thecurrent plan that is underway headed by Squadron Leader Hamilton."Joint Intelligence Facility, Pine GapLance gets message from Brian, talks about the FAB’sAs the CJOPS outlined the proposed plan of operations to the SecurityCommittee and CMT, Squadron Leader Lance Hamilton was walking brisklyinto the Joint Intelligence Facility in Pine Gap Australia. FromAvalon, Hamilton had made the 1900km trip in just over an hour,supercruising the Wrangler at just under Mach 2.The DIWO (Watch Officer) was bent over a Joint IntelligenceFacility Workstation, hitting the print button. A small printer nextto the workstation rapidly spat out an A4 sheet of paper. He snappedthe paper from the tray, swung in his seat and handed it to Hamilton.It contained just one line of text: LHcompHBBrbeer.

475 | P a g e"It's from your brother, which is why we called you in. It wassent in the clear by HAM Radio, we don't know what it means."The Squadron Leader read the message. His brother was alive andkicking by the looks of it. "Yes, it's for me." He looked around thelarge room filled with electronic and display screens. "We need a mapof the Ross Ice shelf, near McMurdo."The General who had entered the room simply nodded to the DutyOfficer who quickly brought up the area of operations on the mainmonitor that dominated the command and control center. The SquadronLeader walked up to the screen and pointed to an area just northwestof McMurdo. "Zoom in here and overlay the names."The picture quickly zoomed in and feature names paintedthemselves over the map. "Dell Bridge." He pointed to a spot on theRoss Ice Shelf over 50 kilometers from McMurdo. "Brian's saying he'sgoing to try for Dell Bridge; that will be the DZ/LZ.The computerhe has is a Dell. We have argued Mac versus PC for years. He hasalways bought Dells. The 'Br' is just an abbreviation for Bridge, nottoo hard. Beer means beeroclock, 5pm local time, so that will be ourNLT (No later than). The HB is the scary part. He's suggesting thehuman bomb.""What's all this getting to Squadron Leader? The human bomb?""Dell Bridge is in the shadow of Erebus relative to McMurdo.It's also the Point of Closest Approach to Vostok. Somehow Brian hascottoned onto the fact that the best way to snuff this flame is withan FAE (Fuel Air Explosive or FAB) device. He's figured out someonehas to designate because none of our satellites can provide guidanceor telemetry, and it looks like he's volunteered for the job. He'sprovided us a relatively secure LZ, pickup time and an insertiontechnique into Vostok.It just so happens, my brother is the onlyone qualified to use the Special Forces, Experimental StealthyDelivery package. The SFESDP."

476 | P a g e"I thought we had run out of acronyms; how the hell could youremember that?""Most of the time I don't. Which is why we call it the HumanBomb or the HB pencil, and not meaning to be smart, it's theAustralian outback version of the British EXINT(Extraction/Insertion) System.""Got you. So go on. How can this help?""The HB has a range of 300 kilometers and is essentially astealthy cruise missile gutted to fit a man inside with basicsteerage controls and equipment. Dropped from an F-111, it can get aman on the ground undetected.""I don't need to ask about your brother's capabilities, do IHamilton?""No Sir you don't.""He is becoming somewhat of a legend.I hope between the twoof you that you add to that.Make it happen Hamilton, and do itfast, we are flat out of alternatives."A little over an hour later, Lance Hamilton, 10 Squadron, 82 WG, readthe brief they had just received from David Stringer before tuckingit back into the Combat Mission Folder. He was still unzipping thefront of his flight suit to let some blessed cool air in after thereturn flight from the Australian interior. The MOAB information hadbeen secreted into the rest of the blurb that made up the DailyIntelligence Summary Cable. He had instructed the duty intelligenceofficer to watch out for it. The MOABs or FABs would be aboard theUSS Clinton. David said Brian would know the skipper. Hamilton lookedat the name; Captain Chris McKay. Sundog you old dog he thought, itwas nice having familiar names around.

477 | P a g e"What about the Daisy Cutters?" Jake asked.Like Lance, RAAFSquadron Leader Jake Purcell, Hamilton's Weapons Officer, was alsoshedding some of his flight gear and stowing it in his locker."Ready to go it appears, but I don’t know about us," he said."I don't get you; why not?" Purcell asked."Our two 15,000 pound FABs are being modified with an upgradefrom the Israelis." This turned FAB’s standard iron bomb casings intoa stand-off delivery munition, enabling the attacker to keep at leastsome distance from air defense systems, the Point of Impact, and thenget out before the weapon detonated. "But without any GPS or SATNAVassistance, we need laser guidance. The whole area will be crawlingwith Russian ground forces and you can bet there will be more SAMsystems around than bristles on a brush.""Okay, I'm still listening," Jake said."Target designation.With the loss of all of our bases andairstrips, we are running thin on ways of getting in there to laserthe wellhead. We need someone on the ground. Designation from the airwon't work either," Lance said."Why not use a cruise missile, or even a nuke?" Jake asked."That won't guarantee snuffing out that flame and could justcomplicate it. We only have one shot at this," Lance said,"The Russians are going to view this as a major escalation."Jake replied."I know. But I would far prefer to duke it out with theRussians or Chinese later than argue the point as we get drowned by atsunami, suffocated by a global cloud of smoke so thick you couldwalk on it or simply blown to kingdom come.""I see your point.""It's a risk we have to take."So who's going to be the COLT on this mission?" Jake saidreferring to the Combat Observation and Laser Team.

478 | P a g eLance was in the process of hanging up his helmet when hestopped in mid track. "Brian." He said simply.Jake thought about that a moment before speaking. "Well, whileI wish it weren't your brother mate, knowing how important this is, Iwouldn't want anyone else on point." He smiled. "I know from having afew beers with some of his SAS mates, that if you have to take a tripto hell and get back, Brian is the one to get you back."As the two men spoke, far to the south, Russian and Chineseforces were making their way to Vostok with heavy air transports. Inthe Tasman Sea and southern oceans U.S. and Russian naval forces werebeginning to converge, preparing for battle.Time was running out.Lance's brother looked at his watch, this was no time to waste time,he had to move.Vostok Station.December 7 0400 UTC. Russians land at vostok."Prepare to jump.""Jump!' On command, men and equipment streamed from the rear ofthe massive Condor aircraft. In its second pass with its giant rampdropped, the aircraft flew low and slow over the white vastness,tracking between the ground flares set up by the path-finding team.With parachutes streaming from the rear, the Russian version of thewestern 'hot extraction' pulled tons of heavy equipment from the rearof the aircraft on specialized pallets that fell to the hard icesurface absorbing the shock of impact."Get those bulldozers going, quickly.The main force is just40 minutes out!" the Russian Colonel screamed into the wind. Mikolai

479 | P a g eNabialok looked at the scene of devastation around him.The cruisemissiles had done a great job. But it wasn't just the wind that madehim shout to be heard.It was the infernal roar of the burningwellhead.You could still see the flames through the massive heatwave of steam and smoke, making it impossible to get within 300 yardsof the hole that it spewed from.That was not his problem however.Building an airstrip in 30 minutes was.Once again the Russian Candid proved it's worth, dozens landinginto a hastily built and very rough ice field carved out by just ahandful of dozers in less than 40 minutes. Minutes later, in a finelytuned dance of combat forces and logistics, supplies from the PacificFleet via McMurdo and Russkaya flowed into Vostok station.HQJOC Bungendore Australia.December 8 Sat. 1130hrs UTC. Jensen comes up with the idea of usingHSV. Longreach ordered south.Admiral Nick Jansen, the Chief of Joint Operations was leaning on hiselbows rubbing the back of his neck when the idea came to him.Hesnatched the phone up and punched in the direct line to the CDF. Hequickly outlined the idea."I think it's worth a shot. Buys us some time withoutcommitting our main force," the CDF agreed. "Do it. But we are goingto have to get permission from USACOM.""I think they will agree. Since Blaire has taken over, we aregetting co-operation plus, but we need a decision fast. Longreach isnear Darwin but heading south at flank.""You're right, we don't have time. No time for the chain ofcommand to process the request. Let me call Perelli direct.I willcall you back in a few minutes." The CDF hung up the call and fromhis comms terminal dialed a direct line to Perelli.A few minuteslater he called back the Australian JTF commander.

480 | P a g e"Yes Sir.""Perelli is sending a direction to USSTRATCOM; the air wingwill be temporarily transferred to the theatre CINCPAC. Theoperational control to yourself," the CDF said. "They are all yours.Are we going to be able to do this in time?""Yes Sir, even if I have to paddle myself."

481 | P a g eCHAPTER SIXTEENHigh speed catamarans are now pivotal in both rapid transit anjd combat roles.Tasmania, Australia.December 8 0630hrs UTC. Lance prepares in Tasmania for Daisy cutter.It was surprisingly cold. A large high had settled over the SouthernOcean extending all the way to the southern states of Australia.While the sky was cloudless, the big anticyclone had rotated thebitterly cold air from the Antarctic Ocean into the waters southeastof Tasmania, Australia's smallest state, an island located beneaththe southeast edge of a continent that masqueraded as an island.It was here that RAAF Squadron Leader Lance Hamilton haddecided to launch the last minute dash to snuff a flame thatthreatened human extinction. It was also the closest step off pointto the Clinton and the munitions they needed to finish the job.

482 | P a g eIt was without doubt a long shot.But he and the Australiancommand knew they were fresh out of options.There were a wholebunch of things that could go wrong.Brian might not show up; thecarrier part of the mission was almost crazy; and whether they couldeven mate the damn munitions to the F-111 on a bare piece of ice inthe middle of the frozen wilderness with half the Russian Navybreathing down their neck was insane.Was the ice field smoothenough? Would the HB work?Like his brother, Lance hated complicated plans. They spelleddisaster. This plan was not only complicated, it was unrehearsed andunfortunately the only one they had. Most of the world was obliviousto what was potentially the most catastrophic and destructive eventin human history. Lance looked into the night sky, they were lucky,the thought of what lay before him and the consequence of failuremade him sick to the stomach.Back on the ramp a lone C130 and F-111S sat side-by-side, airforce and MacDowell Aviation technicians and maintenance crewsclimbing all over the airframes.Saturday December 8 0920hrs. Hercules C130 takes off for Carrier.Several hours later the Hercules C130 started engines and taxied tothe end of the strip. In the dark it took off. An hour later the F-111S also taxied to the end of the runway. In moments it was in theair chasing the big bird before her.A few minutes later the F-111S passed the Herc deep in thesouthern extremity of the Tasman Sea."Do we have something to land on yet?" Jake asked."You mean apart from water?"

483 | P a g e"Well I hate to get fussy, but I was hoping for somethingsolid. If I remember correctly, there is nothing else out here butsalty H2O.""Theoretically there should be something out here somewhere -solid, smooth and long enough for us to stop on without getting hurt.But that's just the theory.""We really are landing this thing on the Clinton, aren't we?Of course you have all the qualifications so I don't have to be ababy and cry uncontrollably right?"The Tasman Sea, U.S. Southern Task Force, USS Clinton.Saturday December 8 0930hrs UTC. F-111 inbound to land on Clinton."Yes Sir." Captain Chris McKay of the USS Clinton hung up the bridgephone. "This should be interesting." He said."The F-111?""Yes, it's definitely a go.""Means we really are out of ideas then.""Yep"The Bridge phone rang again, the Captain snapped it off itshook."Chris," the voice on the other end said. "Forgot to mention,the mission leader on this is Squadron Leader Lance Hamilton."That stopped Captain ‘Sundog’ Chris McKay in his tracks. Thelast time he had seen Buckshot was on the Reagans flight deck,standing beside a very broken Hornet."Hamilton's flying the F-111 himself," the voice continued."His Navigator is Squadron Leader Jake Purcell. I think you know himas well."He certainly did.If anyone was to fly this crazy mission hecouldn’t think of anyone better. The day got more interesting everyminute. The Captain of the Clinton put down the handset.

484 | P a g e"Captain!""Yes?""FLASH message." The Comms officer handed him the transcript,which he read and smiled. "All right then," he said, a gleam in hiseyes. "Bring her about boys and give these Australians anything theywant. I mean anything!"The carrier and her escorts turned into the wind. Across thedeck, the urgent voices of the Air Boss and his assistant boomed overthe public address system amidst the chaos of sound and action. Fromseven stories above the flight deck, the Air Boss looked out from histower. Everyone was now aware something special was happening.Thedramatic re-spotting of aircraft on the carrier decks, the specialinstructions to the arrestor crew and the clearing of all nonessentialpersonnel from the flight deck meant something was goingdown.After making sure the Landing Signal Officers were on theirplatforms, the deck/safety crew ready and plane guard helicopteroverhead, The Air Boss and Mini Boss turned on the lights of thelanding system.On the tower side of the deck the Air Boss was making nomistakes. A huge black man from Alabama, Commander Peter Adams, wastalking on his radio phone to the hydraulics operators on the deckbelow who controlled the arresting wires, one of which would grab thebig bomber, slowing it down to zero speed in less than two secondsflat.Ensign Junior David Beaumont, the duty Arresting Gear Officer,had already ordered the controls set to withstand the Aardvark's70,000 pounds slamming into the deck at over 160 knots.The four arresting wires, each consisting of two-inch thickwire cables connected to hydraulic rams below decks, drag landingaircraft going as fast as 150 miles per hour to a stop in less than

485 | P a g e400 feet. High in the island, the Air Boss and his staff coordinatedthe entire operation, which was also carefully monitored from theflight deck level by the Captain on the ship's bridge. The deck wasbusy with rush hour traffic as numerous crew in different colouredshirts went about their jobs. The various functions of the flightdeck crew are identified by the colors they wear: yellow for officersand aircraft directors; purple for fuel handlers; green for catapultand arresting gear crews; blue for tractor drivers; brown for chockand chain runners; and red for crash and salvage teams and theordnance handlers.Beneath the landing deck and inside a busy office of valvespumps and hydraulics, Aviation Boatswain's Mate Kenneth Martin of theUSS Clinton, looked at the division's leading Petty Officer. "Seventyfive-thousand pounds! Damn, what are we landing?" The V-2 arrestinggear division was charged with the responsibility of pulling the bigmetal birds to a stop in a real hurry. Martin had already trapped2500 birds on this tour alone. The cables he was responsible for wereset to stop each individual aircraft at the same place on the deck,regardless of the size or weight of the plane. Four 1.375-inch-thicksteel cables ran two to five inches above the deck at 35 to 40 footintervals and connected with a hydraulic cylinder below the deck,which served as a giant shock absorber.As an aircraft approached, all four wires were set toaccommodate that aircraft's weight. When the aircraft's arrestinghook snagged a wire, the wire pulled a piston within a fluid-filledchamber. As the piston was drawn down the cylinder, hydraulic fluidwas forced through the small holes in the cylinder end, absorbing theenergy of the aircraft and breaking it to a stop. An arresting wirecan stop a 54,000-pound aircraft travelling at a speed of 130-150miles per hour in a distance less than 350 feet. When the aircraftdrops the wire, the piston is retracted and made ready to recover

486 | P a g eanother aircraft in 45 seconds. Today it was a 75,000 pound airplanethey were about to trap.Ten miles southwest of the carrier the F-111's weapons officersquinted into the distance. This was going to be nerve wracking tosay the least, Purcell thought. It was hard to tell whether Hamiltonwas even worried, the pilot's hands on the stick and the throttleswere steady as ice.His voice had been calm, going about thebusiness of landing on a carrier deck like they did it every day.The only problem was, Jake knew an F-111 had not landed on a carrierdeck for over 40 years.For good reason; it was too damn heavy, hethought.Landing any aircraft at sea, on a narrow, angled 750-foot-longpitching deck in the near dark remained a critical test of skill andnerves for any pilot.That was assuming you were trained andexperienced to land a particular aircraft in the first place.Jakefelt the Wrangler throttle down as Hamilton banked to the left,feeling the familiar pull of the slowing jet working his shouldersagainst the straps and the yaw of the aircraft.Hamilton held the speed down to 280 knots indicated, and begana long turn with the airbrakes extended and throttle up to give himextra power if he needed to dump them.The Wrangler heeled over atan angle of almost 90 degrees, the engines growled behind them likebeasts ready to tear themselves through the fire wall.Lance couldno longer see the carrier up ahead, the low wisps of cloud obscuringhis vision.The big U.S. carrier and escorts were steaming into the wind.Squadron Leader Lance Hamilton spoke again to the carrier's flightcontrollers."Tower this is Buckshot two three zero at eight miles." AgainHamilton eased back on the throttles shedding more height as he began

487 | P a g ereaching for the deck ahead. At 1200 feet he 'dirtied up,' sweepingthe wings forward and lowering the landing gear, flaps and tail hook."Roger, Buckshot two three zero. Coming up on glide path. Thedeck is clear…we have you visual, watch your altitude and line-up.Winds gusting to 30 knots, 38 plus across the deck and occasionallycross winds over the deck from the southeast.”"Roger tower…six miles."On the carrier they were ready. "Standby for F-111, twominutes," the Air Boss said, earphones on and yellow jacket standingout brightly against the dark background.He was yelling down thephone to the hydraulics team below, his eyes sweeping the deck foreven the smallest speck of litter that could be sucked into a jetengine and spell disaster.Below the giant hydraulic piston wasready in position to stop the 75,000 pound aircraft in what was notmuch more than a controlled crash onto the stern of the carrier.At the controller's "three quarters of a mile, call the ball"transmission, Hamilton looked up from the AOA (Angle of approach)indicator and saw the yellow visual landing aid called the 'ball' onthe port side of the landing area. He took a quick peek back insidethe office to make sure his rate of descent was pegged and called "Igot it" to the controller, who keyed his mike in response.The LSOacknowledged the ball call."Roger ball call, decks steady 38 knots."Back out on the exposed and windswept deck, the Landing SignalOfficer radioed instructions to the pilot and could see that F-111301, call sign Buckshot, was about 45 seconds out. In all his yearsas an LSO, he had never seen an F-111 touch the deck of an aircraftcarrier. But there it was.Its wings swept forward, the uglyundercarriage slung below and the triangular shape of its tail hookhanging out from beneath the tail. As it got closer, the size of theaircraft made him shudder slightly.

488 | P a g eThe LSO, a lanky F18E fighter jock out of Oshkosh, Wisconsin,was now standing on the exposed port quarter of the carrier, hisbinoculars trained on the Bone Yard Wrangler A8-272.The wind plusthe forward speed of the carrier created a constant 50-mile-per-hourblast of air across the flight deck, snapping his green jacket hardin the wind. The F-111 pilot was good. He flew straight down theball.Hamilton held the big aircraft on the glide slope like it waswelded to a rail. But inside, every instinct was telling him to getready to flare the airplane out. He guided the big airplane throughthe turbulence behind the aircraft carrier and crossed the fantailheaded for the deck."Groove!" bellowed the Air Boss to the hydraulic crew, a codeword meaning, "She's close, stand by.""Short!" Another key command, meaning "everyone away from themachinery." And now, as the Pig thundered in towards the stern, theBoss yelled, "Ramp!"Every eye, from the deck to the top of the 10-story island, waslooking at the hook stretched out behind the aircraft.It wasimpossible to talk above the howl of the engines.At 160 knotsindicated airspeed the Wrangler's heavy undercarriage slammed ontothe deck and right behind them the hook grabbed the third cable, thecable rising from the deck as it took the weight of the big airplanestopping it in its tracks.The F-111 barely flinched as it was driven to the deck, catchingnumber three wire in a perfect ballet with the engines roaring underfull power, spooling immediately to full thrust before beingthrottled back once the trap was complete. It was standard procedurefor pilots to throw their aircraft's engines into full power so thatif they don't trap a wire, they can fly around and try again. It was

489 | P a g ea thing of beauty. Hamilton and his navigator were abruptly thrownforward into their straps as the hook caught the arresting wire.Hamilton quickly pulled the throttles back to idle and killed theexternal lights. On a signal from the taxi director to his right heraised the hook and swept the wings fully aft as he rolled to hisdesignated parking spot.He than yanked the engines to cut-off andwatched the instrument read outs wind down.He and the Navigatorreleased their straps and climbed stiffly to the deck. He looked aftover the fantail; it was time for the second act.The general feeling among the flight deck handlers and officerswas amazement. The last time an F-111 had landed aboard an aircraftcarrier was 42 years ago on the USS Coral Sea - most of the ship'scomplement of some 6000 crew had not been born. The Landing SignalOfficer (LSO) picked up the hand set, clearly very impressed. "That'san OK3, 272. Pretty damn good!"OK3 is a grade received by a navy aircraft carrier pilot forhis or her landing."OK" is an excellent landing; the "3" referredto the arresting wire. Usually the pilot shoots for the three wire,the third of the four arresting wires on the aircraft carrier deck.Catching the three wire means the aircraft's tail hook landed rightin the middle of the four wires, a very precise accomplishment. OK3represented utmost skill and precision in one of the most demandingenvironments that man places himself.The LSO of course, assumedhe was guiding a ‘current’ carrier pilot in, even if it was in astrange aircraft.Even as the sound of the F-111's engines died away, the flightdeck broke into apparent pandemonium as the deck crew raced to haulthe big jet into its parking space.The Air Boss shouted into thephone to haul in the cables and clear the decks. Everyone except theLSO, selected yellow shirts and rescue crew stayed topside. The LSOcould feel the deck beneath his feet begin to tremble as the aircraft

490 | P a g ecarrier increased to flank speed. He looked up to the ship's centerisland. Ten stories up, hidden behind the reflection of glass, hecould imagine Sundog, watching with intense interest.Like the F-111, the next aircraft was even less familiar withthe deck of an aircraft carrier. Far out over the wake of the bigship, the telltale wisps of kerosene smoke trailed behind the bigairplane - too big to land on an aircraft carrier. The four wisps ofsmoke were trailing behind four large Allison turbo props.FatAlbert was designed to land on airfields not carriers. Images of theaircraft's wing slicing into the ship's island, the fuselage on fireand sliding across the deck invaded the LSO's thoughts.Yet, likethe previous aircraft, this had been done once before, but not asheavy as today. Christ, he hoped this guy was at least as good as thelast, because he really needed him to be.Still, it bore down on the carrier.The LSO faintly hoped tohear some one call it off.But the big bird looked good. Could shestop in time?Instead of running straight down the approach deck,they had cleared the forward deck to allow the big aircraft to landacross the two and make the use of the full length of the flightdeck. If it went bad, it was really going to be ugly.The LSO, the Captain and every man and woman watching theevent, collectively held their breaths as the huge airframe thunderedover the rear of the deck.Australian C130 pilots had trained hardover the years to master STOL operations in the worst of conditions;they were really good at it.The C130, all 130,000 pounds of herthat day, touched down hard and firm, just 70 feet inside the rear ofthe aircraft carrier. Full reverse thrust and the antiskid brakesengaged as the first bit of rubber kissed the carrier's deck, thefour Hamilton Standard electro-hydromatic, constant-speed, fullfeathering propellers, going to full power, bringing the tremblingairframe to a stop in less than 280 feet. Like their counterpart on

491 | P a g ethe Marine Corps KC-130F landing aboard the USS Forrestal in October1963, the jubilant pilot and crew held up a small card against thecockpit window saying 'Look mum, no tail hook!' a full 45 yearslater.There were huge cheers from the crew that had assembledto watch this amazing spectacle.Those who could not get into aposition to watch on deck, cheered below as they viewed the deckcameras that were tracking the day's most exciting event, ensuringthat wherever a sailor was on the ship - the galley, engineering orlogistics - they were all part of the team that made the floatingcity that was a war machine, work.Back on the bridge the Captain fidgeted.As quickly as theycould, he needed that big Mother Fucker of an airplane off his flightdeck.It sat there, blocking the ramp and two catapults, a hugeimpediment to deck movement.Carrier Captains coveted their deckspace. If the shit hit the fan now he would have to push it over theside. But Stringer and Shotgun deserved their chance. They were notmen given to lie or exaggerate. If they were worried, there wassomething to be worried about. Besides, the Australians were alreadyin the fight and the Captain of the Clinton knew they would be toobefore the day's end. Not a matter of 'if' just 'when.'Both the Herc and the Aardvark were refuelled as quickly aspossible. While below decks, Commander Mike Duffy, the chiefordinance officer, checked the biggest conventional bombs in theship's arsenal that had arrived on board after many years of storage.This was a bomb he really never thought would go anywhere, exceptperhaps a museum one day.He wondered who was going to be on thereceiving end.This was not the bomb so eagerly reported about inthe earlier part of the first decade.This was the streamlinedversion of the big MOAB, now called the BLU - bomb live unit. Notanywhere near as catchy as the phrase 'mother of all bombs' but it

492 | P a g ewas at least 5000 pounds heavier, was laser guided, and the two ofthem weighed in at a humungous 30,000 pounds of war load.All they had to do was load them on the C130 that was receivinga hot refueling on the deck above. He and his team of red shirtsquickly winched the monsters onto a weapons trolley, which was thenpulled by a small tractor unit to the forward elevator. A few minuteslater and it was driving up the rear of the C130. It looked to Duffylike he was about to lose a tractor unit in addition to the bombs.After climbing down from the Wrangler and having a quick chinwag with some of the deck crew, Hamilton was invited to the bridge."That was some fancy flying Squadron Leader," the Captain ofthe Clinton said evenly, eyeballing the F-111 pilot."And you havenever landed one of these on a carrier deck?"The Bridge went deadly silent. Did they hear that correctly?"No sir," Hamilton said.They had heard that correctly. Apart from the noise of the airconditioning, the bridge was absolutely quiet.Captain Chris McKay’s face broke into a broad grin. "Last timeI saw you land on a deck it was not a pretty picture!"For thebenefit of those listening he pointed at Hamilton, "if it hasn’tclicked yet, this is the buckshot from the Reagan!" For quite a fewthe penny did drop, they had heard of that incident and looked at theAustralian with even greater respectSundog smiled broadly. That was some damn good flying he hadjust witnessed. Hamilton made it look like it was easy. He knew damnwell it wasn't, especially with a 75,000-pound airplane landing on arolling deck a few hundred feet long in diminishing light.AndChrist! What about that Herc driver; that was one ballsy son of abitch. If he had stuffed that up there would have been no go aroundfor him.No wires to catch and no safety net that would hold him.That was guts and nuts and some of the best flying he had ever seen

493 | P a g ein his life. He walked up to Lance and spoke quietly. "You do thatjust to make us look bad don't you?"Lance Hamilton smiled. "No sir, just wanted to prove Pigs canfloat and fly!"Leaning to look out of the angled windows, the Captain lookedat the lethal outline of the F-111 on the deck below. "Well I'll bedamned if it doesn't."Suddenly the Captain was all business."Sorry to see you under these circumstances, Lance. Give my regardsto your brother.While I would like to crack a tinny with you,unfortunately I need your aircraft off my deck ASAP. But if you needsome gas…give me a call, I will deliver it personally." He extendedhis hand.As Lance left the bridge the Captain called after him."Buckshot! I'll expect that beer when you get back." He tipped hishand in a salute.Unlike the new DDG destroyers, the Clinton did not boast an allelectric system, but she was not far from it.The technologiesdriven out from the new generation of U.S. warships were frequentlysmall and easier to retrofit into older hull designs.Such was thecase with the Electro Magnetic Rail Catapult Launch System.The old system relied on steam compression to power thecatapult down the rail with an aircraft attached.It had itslimitations and was a complicated system to operate. Catapults werehigh-maintenance, complex, high-risk pieces of equipment. Though thetechnology behind them was simple enough, the size of the tubes andthe magnitude of the forces involved made designing and building themhugely difficult.This was why only the British and Australiansopted to use the technology. Even the arrogant French admitted theyneeded to buy them from the Americans to install in their new supercarrier Charles de Gaulle.Outwardly, the new system looked exactly the same. The launchprocedure had not changed nor the experience. Where the steam rail

494 | P a g eused to be, there was now an "EMR," or electro magnetic rail, whichdrew its electrical power directly from inertial generators driven bythe ship's nuclear reactors. Gone was the myriad of pipes and heavysteam pistons.The EMR was simpler, more powerful and far morereliable, with virtually no moving parts other than the catapultshuttle itself locked to the nose gear of the launch aircraft. Gonewas the familiar scene of steam whipping across the desk with eachlaunch. Hollywood directors would really miss that.Two sailors ran under Hamilton's jet and pulled the landinggear safety pins, rolling them and stowing them in a smallcompartment under the belly of the F-111.Hamilton brought up somepower and taxied the big jet forwards.The entire flight deck andtower were lined with crew, keen to witness something that they wouldprobably never see again. Hamilton was motioned towards Cat 2. Thered light on the island signalled four minutes. Following thedirector's signals he eased onto the tracks and stopped just over thehumps of the turtle back shuttles.Behind him a green-shirtedcrewman ducked under the airframe and attached the steel cable, or'bridle,' from the shuttle to two huge hooks on the fuselage near thewing root, while another attached the hold back to the rear of theplane. The light turned to amber.A crewman crouching next to thefighter's nose wheel signalled the aircraft forward and locked on thecatapult wire. The shooter, his eyes fixed to the pilot, saluted,bending to his knees and touching two fingers of his left hand on thedeck.The light turned green. The 'shooter', a Navy Lieutenant,kneeled against the wind across the deck, pointed his right hand tothe pilot, raised his left hand and extended two fingers: 'Go to fullpower.' Then palm out 'Hit the after burners…' Hamilton rolled thethrottles all the way forward to the indents, released the brakes,checked his engine readouts carefully and formally saluted the Cat

495 | P a g eOfficer, leaning forward at the same time, tensing for the impact ofthe catapult shot.The shooter gestured 'Forward' and a crewmankneeling on the catwalk just to the left of the bomber, hit thebutton on Catapult 2, ducking as the EM rail hurled the F-111 on itsway, screaming down the deck, engines roaring on full afterburner,leaving a massive pulse of hot air in its wake.Hamilton had seen the Cat officer's arm come down and theneverything blurred with speed.When the acceleration of the strokeended, Hamilton reeled in the wheels and sucked in the flaps andslats at the same time, commencing a right hand turn to clear theaircraft carrier. In the event of an engine failure it was a bummerto survive a splash and then get run down by over 100,000 tons ofsteel moving at over 30 knots.Ahead of them was their preciouscargo, bombs and fuel, secure in the belly of the C130, ahead of thata rather dodgy landing on the ice.HQJOCSaturday, December 8. 1130hrs UTC. Briefing.The senior duty office a J3 Navy Captain, wanted a measure of themood. The audience included key political decision makers and seniordefense personnel.Behind the Captain on the main screen, theAustralian flag snapped against its lanyard.It was real-timeimagery of the flag flying above Australia's Parliament house."The Chinese Task Force is substantially superior numericallyand is at least on par technologically. However, because we are theattacker in this scenario, we have the initiative of tacticaldiscretion, while they are forced to defend a very large front. Thisallows us to concentrate our forces and to feint." Behind the Captainthe screen changed to show a large map of Australia and theAntarctic.

496 | P a g e"Unfortunately, neither the Russians nor the Chinese have takenseriously the Vostok oil fire threat. They think we are lying. On theother hand this translates to a strategic advantage. We know theywill believe our force package will have the primary objective ofgetting men onto the ground or, at the very least, to establish abeachhead or to retake our stations. … We will do neither. The clockis ticking."To take them head on, to be able to concentrate a forcepackage to take and hold ground, will allow them the opportunity offocusing their fire power. Doing this, we rapidly get ourselves intoa battle of attrition, which they will win.They are hoping we willdo this.Because once we have thrown ourselves on their swords, weare a depleted force.They will have achieved their objective andtheir ambitions would barely go contested. What we propose is notwithout risk. There is full expectation of heavy casualties. SquadronLeader Hamilton is now in the first phase of our operation.TheAmericans have some backup plans that are rolling as well, but timeisn't on the side of these efforts.In the meantime the U.S. isgoing to give us all the support they can."The Joint Task Force's primary mission is to extinguish theVostok wellhead fire. The second part of that mission is to preventit from restarting. This is made harder by the fact we are operatingwell below the ISTAR threshold, but so are the enemy." ISTAR meantIntelligence, Surveillance, Target Acquisition and Reconnaissance. Aforce's ISTAR threshold is the level of enemy activity it can detectin a given environment. "We now find ourselves in a dis-aggregated,ambiguous, lethal and highly complex battlespace. The operationalplan underway includes substantial deception and transition actions.At this point of time we have only two Fuel Air Bombs in theateravailable for deployment. These are to be strapped onto the SquadronLeaders bird on the Ross Ice Shelf."

497 | P a g eThis last comment was met by surprised looks and murmurs aroundthe table."Yes, it sounds and is pretty hairy any which way you look atit. The first part of the mission required one of our C130s and thePig to land on the deck of USS Clinton."The room exploded with 'holy shits' and several "fuckingunbelievable!" type comments. There were obviously some pilots in theroom."Both the landings went flawlessly.They will soon be in theair for the final part of the mission. This is where we come in.Hamilton will be the main shooter.Our whole concentration will beto give him the greatest chance of success. We have to keep the badguys away from his ground support, knock out any anti air and groundthreat in front of him and, with the Americans, keep the fighters offhis back. This precludes an immediate direct attack, which will justadvertise our intentions.The deception plan involves drawing theChinese fleet's attention elsewhere, where they expect it."Checking the time again he referred back to the map. "This partof the operation kicks off with HMAS Longreach." He pointed to thenorth of the Chinese fleet."She is now moving into a position tolaunch a UAV strike package on the easternmost Chinese task force ledby the Shi Lang."HMAS Longreach, Southern Ocean.Longreach heads south. CUAV’s launched on first mission.The HMAS Longreach was virtually invisible to the thousands ofelectronic eyes that continually scanned the southern ocean. Capableof over 50 knots fully loaded, the wave-piercing HSV catamaran wasalready 1200 nautical miles south of Western Australia, a little over800 nautical miles from the Chinese fleet. RAN Lieutenant CommanderMichael Hudson didn't need to walk outside to know it was cold.He

498 | P a g ewas still wearing his tropical uniform, as was half the crew.Thefast cat, after receiving her operational orders, had raced fromDarwin to Perth.There she had quickly on loaded the missionequipment and supplies and got underway again.The huge vessel had looked out of place among the small yachtsand sailboats in the shallow water of the Swan River. Neighborhoodfolk on their morning jogs and dog walks looked amazed at thetowering 130-meter HMAS Longreach.Most wondered how the 20,000-tonbehemoth could be moored so close to the riverbank. A look down atthe depth mark on one of the vessel's unique-style catamarans showedit was floating in less than nine feet of water.The inside of the Longreach was cavernous, designed to carry afully armored brigade, she was the epitome of ready reactioncapabilities. It was just this characteristic, the big flat heavyroof and her speed, which made her ideal for the mission.Unlike most of the navy's latest combatants, whose command andcontrol centers were buried protectively in the bowels of the ship,all the work on the Longreach was still done pretty much from thebridge. The HSV was a fast transport; the space aged bridge sittingon top of the upper deck stood 20 meters above the water. From thereCommander Hudson had supervised the loading of what he hoped wasgoing to be a bad surprise for the Chinese.Packed into the lower deck was the 11th ReconnaissanceSquadron, 57 Wing, from the U.S. Air Warfare Center - a U.S. AirForce Unmanned Aerial Vehicle (UAV) team, expert in their deploymentand operation.Now, after a full and very quick resupply, they were rushing towardsthe southern extremity. Weight wise the big cat was virtually empty,her cargo barely noticeable. With a belly full of fuel, she easilypaced along at nearly 50 knots, the two Allison gas turbinesproducing over 65,000hp, driving four massive water jet-propulsion

499 | P a g eunits. Hudson once again thought what a lucky son of a bitch he wasto get such a command. He stood near the rear of the expansive flatroof of the Longreach, with Colonel Paul Cyrus, U.S. Army. The sternwas just a few meters behind them. The wind tore at their clothing.The Southern Ocean rapidly sped past them either side, a long boilingwhite wake left behind."It's huge!" Cyrus shouted. "Perfect in fact.""Reinforced heavy gauge aluminium." Hudson thumped the roofwith his foot. He was standing on it.The area was large enough for a Sea Predator to launch from.This was made possible by angling the launch track and extending itlike a carrier to one side of the ship.Below deck the group's maintenance wings were rapidlyassembling the UAVs.The group was split into three operationalunits, each operating different aircraft.The Air Operations Center (AOC) for the UAV tasking was basedon the middle upper deck of the Cat. It looked like chaos, organizedchaos. From the AOC, Cyrus also controlled his Global Hawk and DarkStars, seconded as part of his command to the Southern Ocean JointTask Force, the SOJTF.Both Global Hawks and Dark Stars needed tooperate from land bases with long concrete runways, the systems andairframes not suited for EM catapult launches. Because of the JointDefense Information System called JDISS, really the same and part ofthe GIG (Global Information Grid) Cyrus was able to manage the GlobalHawk and Dark Star assets in real time from his location on theLongreach.This would also extend Global Hawk coverage below the60th parallel.While the officers on the HMAS Longreach went about their jobs, inthe combined forces headquarters in Australia, their respectivecommanders were discussing both Cyrus and Hudson.

500 | P a g e"They tell me Cyrus is pretty good, true?" Admiral Jansen said."And them some; what he doesn't know isn't worth pissing on. Hehas a lot of operational experience to fall back on as well." TheU.S. Pacific Commander replied. "If you don't mind me asking, what'syour operations procedure going to be on the deployment of the UAVs?"Jensen knew what the General meant. "Both the Longreachcommander and the Colonel have their mission briefs.Unless thatchanges I'm leaving it up to them to decide how best to achieve theirmission objective.""Good call, Admiral," the big American two-star generalreplied. "A lot of command folk become very possessive about thisstuff. I can see I am going to like working with you.""Cyrus always ride shotgun on missions like this?""Not always. This one really counts though. It's what I wouldbe doing."The Australian Commander believed he would too. The two-starhad a hell of a reputation.He wasn't wrong, the American Generalhad to constantly fight down the urge to run out of the commandcenter and jump the first transport to take him into the middle ofwhere all the 'real' stuff was happening.Back on the Cat, USAF Colonel Paul Cyrus was busy pulling hiscommand together, getting it ready to fly. The space on this thingwas enormous, he thought; the Air Observation Posts looking like abunch of forgotten boxes and supplies left in the middle of anaircraft hangar. But as they progressed in setting up the equipmentthey were able to soak up the room and make sense of it. Still, whenfinished, they occupied less than a quarter of the deck, and in thebig steel shell their voices would resonate in the empty hollowspace. He almost felt guilty not using it somehow.On top, the 51st Air Wing's maintenance specialists had teamedwith the Australian engineers to install phased array radar and

501 | P a g emultiple satellite communications to plug them securely into a JointDefense Information System. No one waited for orders. Everyone knewwhat he or she was doing. Both the Australian and American teamsworked together seamlessly.So well in fact that Cyrus and theship's Captain had to be careful not to get in the way. But still, itfelt good to make a few suggestions here and there.After barking out some orders the two COs retired to work overthe operational plan once again, knowing the preparation was in goodhands. Cyrus looked across the chart table to Lieutenant CommanderHudson."The Tactical Air Control (TAC) is based here out of Pine Gapfacility. We run our own AOPs and the upper deck facility acts as theFlight Control Center. The Pine Gap TACS will coordinate the F-111Group, RAAF Orion assets and ourselves. This is going to bring theLongreach within the range of either or both the Chinese fleetsShipwreck missile system's as well as aircraft-delivered threats.That could be either a Sukhoi or one of the many choppers that carryantiship missiles, not to mention T-95s and 142 maritime strikeaircraft out of Martin de'Vivies.""Understood. We anticipated that," Hudson said."From our own recent Intel we believe they have a measure ofelectronic protection, but nothing to the level we currently possess.But we don't expect to blind all their systems. To achieve that, wehave to get close. This time we just want to keep them looking ourway." He checked his watch. It was close to briefing time. He couldswear the Australian was almost smiling."You point, we'll drive, Sir," Hudson said. "Just let me knowwhere you want us to be and at what time." Cyrus nodded. He wouldenjoy working with these Australians. They had balls.The Longreach was a Fast Combat Support Ship. For that reasonshe lacked many of the sensor suites and radar capabilities one would

502 | P a g enormally find on a combatant. Temporarily she was transformed into aFast Fighting Catamaran. The top deck was now a flight deck. NumerousGCSs, mobile container-like contraptions with command and controlsystems, were distributed throughout the ship. One had been welded tothe top of the bridge.It didn't look pretty, but it was a greatposition for the ship's Flight Control Center.There hadn't been time for a full briefing before the Longreachlifted its ramps and wound the huge turbines up.That was left foronce they were underway. The ship's senior NCOs and officers nowgathered to get a better understanding of what their mission wasabout.USAF Colonel Paul Cyrus, the Wing's AOC, introduced himselfbriefly but quickly handed over the briefing. "This is Major MikeMitchell, Commanding Officer of No 11 Squadron, 57 Air Wing U.S. AirForce," he said. He motioned the Major forward. This was going to betheir fight and he wanted to give them the maximum opportunity in thesmall amount of time available to blend themselves as some sort ofteam."This has been a rapid deployment, so we are making up a lot ofthe mission planning as we go," Mitchell said without hesitation."Before I go into the operational stuff, I first of all want to briefyou all on what we have brought along for the trip; the hardware."Essentially, we operate three systems, which includes GlobalHawk.These are being operated out of the mainland but controlledfrom the operations center here.The two systems we are operatingfrom the Long Reach are what we call Tier II and Tier III systems;Tier II being the MQ-9 Mariner and Tier III the MQ-15 Shadows.” TheMariner project had recently been re-instated as a maritime armedreconnasiance UAV."This," the Major said, pointing at a serious looking consolewith lots of lights, switches, controls and screens, "is the Reaper

503 | P a g eand Shadow Ground Control System, GCS for short. It provides commandand control of the vehicles and their payloads. It can alsodisseminate intelligence directly to the ground system or battlefieldNet."The MQ-15 Shadows can take off from here, but we can't landthem. We can tanker them to get them back to the main land. The samegoes for the Boeing QF45s. Both the Shadows and QF45 will be launchedusing the electromagnetic launch system being installed on the topdeck."We communicate with the birds once they have flown the coup,through airborne sensor suites. The ground segment componentsinteract through satellite and line-of-sight links to maintaincommand and control and sensor data communication paths. If any ofthese are broken the aircraft resorts to a pre-programmed missionprofile. This may occur in our mission due to the satellite blackoutbelow the 60th. We have Global Hawks on station to act ascommunication relays."Now, I could rabbit on for some time about their vastcapabilities in gathering intelligence and how they link into our,and your, command and control networks. But what you really want toknow is; can they blow shit up?" He paused. "The answer to that is abig yes.They are capable of carrying a wide range of munitions,including the Harpoon."We have four mission commanders, who are either pilots,navigators or similar, but all are experienced in electronic warfare,intelligence or weapons. The mission commanders are responsible forreceiving the mission tasking and executing the mission objectives.The MCs job is to maintain situational awareness, evaluatesurvivability, mission plan feasibility, and coordinate the airvehicle operations. Individual aircraft are flown by the Air VehicleOperators.

504 | P a g e"As you know, these toys come packed with a serious bunch ofintelligence gathering electronics.Supporting the AVO we havespecific sensor specialists, imagery analysts and communicationsoperators and technicians."While the briefing continued and despite the horribleconditions outside, a small army of welders and fitters were crawlingacross the Longreach's roof, turning it into a flight deck. Even asthe last spot welds were burned into place, the first CUAV was rolledinto the elevator.The Mariner fitted with folding wings for carrier deploymentwas the size of a small Cessna airplane. It had evolved a lot sinceits original introduction to service in the 1990s. Now nearly thirtyfeet in length, it had a long thin wingspan of a little over 50 feet,a V-tail with vertical fin underneath driven by a powerful rearmounted turbofan jet engine. The Mariner could stay airborne for over36 hours and cruise between 100 and 230 knots. It was stealthy,smart and most importantly, could take off from the top deck of theLongreach.One after the other, the MQ-9 Mariners were elevated tothe top deck, wings unfolded and then rolled into position. It wastime to rock and roll.Normally requiring over 1800 feet to take off, the measly 250feet of flight deck in front of the first unit to launch lookedimpossible. Under normal conditions it would have been. However, the50-knot speed of the big cat, combined with a 35-knot head wind,meant the Sea Predator was able to take off with a full loadunassisted.Improvisation by the naval engineering team had workedwonders in building the tie downs and installing the electromagneticrail that would be used for the faster CUAVs that would be launchedlater.The big Cat slowed while the aircraft were positioned onebehind the other for launch.Once the aircraft were tied down and

505 | P a g esecure, Lieutenant Commander Michael Hudson ordered the Longreach totwo thirds.The aircraft's ground crew, working with their remotecontrol equipment, started the CUAV’s engines. Just like on the deckof an aircraft carrier, the launch sequence became a small ballet.The upper deck was completely covered with small airplanes, twoacross in neat rows, wings over lapped between. Deck handlers movedamongst them in preparation for launch."Initiate launch sequence.""Start em up!" The vague whine of jet engines confirmed thestart-ups. The panel showed green from one zero to ten."Engine starts confirmed, engines to idle. Please follow thedirections from the deck manager. Only listen to him and follow hisinstructions to the letter.""This is the deck manager.We will launch one at a time fromzero one through to zero one zero.Then we will prep zero one-onethrough to zero two zero. Do not reply at this time." The wind wasscreaming across the open top of the catamaran's upper deck.Thedeck officer and his crew, all new positions invented in the last 48hours, braced themselves against the bitter 70-knot gale. The deckofficer spoke loudly into his mouthpiece."Okay zero one, ready, comply.""Zero one ready," The deck officer stood over the hold downstrap."Zero one, power up!""Roger, deck zero one power up," the AVO said, the enginehowling at almost full power as the AVO ran the throttle forward,straining against the hold-down strap. The holding restraint was along and strong piece of carbon fiber strap that reached behind theairframe.Being a pusher prop it meant that the handler, onreleasing the restraint, was only just behind the propeller. Notideal but far better than being run over by it.

506 | P a g e"Zero one release!" With that, the deck handler punched andreleased the hold-down shackle separating the strap.The Marinersurged forward and with the wind speed across the deck exceeding theaircraft's stall speed, the Mariner climbed almost vertically fromits position, the AVO powering the engine to prevent it frombacksliding into the other UAVs behind it. It was dangerous."Deck, zero one roger, released.""Roger zero one, zero two, deck ready," the deck officer saidmoving to the next aircraft.Across the opposite side of the deckhis partner had joined in the launch sequence, sandwiching his ownlaunches in between.Below deck, housed in numerous container-like constructions, 30young men and women sat intently in front of rows of monitors, theirhands working quickly between keyboards and small sophisticatedcontrol sticks festooned with a multitude of buttons and switches.It looked like they were playing some pretty serious video game,which wasn't far from the truth. The real difference was that peoplecould, and probably would, die as a result of how well they played.Each of these remote pilots or AVOs controlled a Mariner.With the launch completed, they could for a moment relax, astheir charges headed further south.The UAV pilots operated from CARS - 30 feet long, streamlined,self-sufficient containers with environmental systems, pilot andpayload operator workstations, and more. These were similar to thesystem used by David Stringer nearly ten years previously inAfghanistan. Most of the Air Vehicle Operators were ex fighter/bombercockpit crew. In the past the AVO would have used a line of sightmethod for take off but were now completely enclosed in a helmetsystem that provided an enveloped virtual reality system, feddirectly from the aircraft's sensor suite. He or she still used thetraditional stick and rudder when they decided to override the

507 | P a g esystem, but most of the time they and the sensor operator were verybusy analyzing the data that was being projected into the pilot'shelmet display and the sensor operator's terminals. Anothersignificant difference was that all the aircraft could if requiredcarry out the entire mission autonomously, without any input from theAVO’s.The Mariners had longer endurance than the QF-45s but wereslower. So they took off first, several hours in advance and climbedto over 40,000 feet.Some carried carried as many as fourteen AGM-114 Hellfire missiles or two Harpoons. They Hellfires were not shipkillers, but were armor piercing and could create some real problemswhen they hit. The Mariners joined up and flew towards theirobjective over 620 miles ahead.The Lieutenant Commander looked around. It was a pretty idealship for what they were doing - fast, big payload, could carry a lotof fuel.They could carry the equivalent of a whole air wing ofUAVs.A few hours later the electro magnetic launch rail was chargedup and ready to go again. The deck crew and pilots began the launchpreparation for the faster UAVs. Once again the Longreach turned intothe wind, cutting through the heavy swells, her decks barely moving.The QF-45s were the latest highly stealthy Aggressor CUAVsdeveloped by Boeing. They had come aboard in containers and were allhooked up to a central computer system to 'prep' and pre-flight thembefore they were even out of their boxes. They were the same size asthe original scaled down X-45 but still big, along with the others,the central deck elevator was required to bring them up from thelower storage areas.Then the temporary 'Cat Officer' who seemed like he was havingfar more fun than he should have, fired the birds off towards thesouthern horizon.

508 | P a g eAbove the water, the Longreach was a mere shadow, almostinvisible to anything outside of 40 miles.Below the waves wasanother story.With twin turbines driving over 60,000 horses,pushing a cavitation enhanced hull though the water in excess of 50knots, it was noisy. At high speed, she was acoustically a brightbeacon in a pitch-black night.The Chief of the ship Warrant Officer (WO) Dan Sanders,Lieutenant Commander Hudson and Lieutenant Mathers were seated in theskipper's cabin after all the birds were launched. The cabin was notbig by destroyer class standards, but tidy and comfortable.ForHudson it was a Command; not many Lieutenant Commanders got aCommand. Mathers had done well with the launch, acting as deckofficer with one of the ship's two Midshipmen helping him. They weretrying to work the best defensive strategy that might keep them alivein an ocean full of enemies."So we have launched 20 of our total of 40 CUAVs. The plan isto close the gap to less than 250 miles," which to a sailor wasalways nautical miles, “and then launch the rest. The first flightsare programmed to spread out and approach from different directions.The second flight will circle and come back from the south of thefleet. By this time we will be well into the missile envelope of theChinese; which means if they see us we are dead. But unless a subspots us, it's highly unlikely they will have a clue we are here. Wewill slow to 25 knots at a range of 500 miles." Hudson looked aroundthe cabin. It wasn't that part that worried him. The Longreachwould be hard to see, let alone catch. "What concerns me is thatrunning at this speed we are noisy as hell.We are also blind asbats. We have no passive sonar; we could have a Shkval torpedo headedat us right now and the only indication we would have is when ourlights go out."

509 | P a g eThe Chief of the ship, a veteran of over twenty years, noddedhis head in agreement. "That's the part that's been worrying me aswell. Do we get any support along the way? You know, some of oursubs, Orion's or something?"Hudson frowned. "Nope, nada; they are all tasked. As for oursubs or anything else, we are simply too fast, which puts us out onour own.""So we just hope like hell no one hears us then.""That's what it's looking like."Josh Mathers had been working on the same problem. "Maybe not,"he said quietly, still looking off at an invisible point in space. Hepulled a thick sheet of papers from the folder he was carrying. "Thisdeployment all happened so fast we had little time to inventoryeverything. We didn't check all of it; just loaded it onboard…quickly.""Go on," Hudson said."Well it seems logistics was out thinking us." He was scanningthe documents. "They were thinking of all contingencies." He stoppedhalf way down one of the sheets and underlined some items, handingthe sheet to Hudson.The ship's Captain looked at the sheet intently. "You think wecan work that?" Hudson said handing the sheet onto the chief. "Whatdo you reckon Chief? Possible?"The Chief paused, his eyes a little wide in surprise. "Why not?We've gone this far. Sounds like sci-fi crap, but I can't see why itwouldn't work, as long as those kids downstairs can manage it."The Captain looked back to the young Lieutenant. "So accordingto this Josh, we have four of these plus a whole bunch of sonar buoysand Mark 50s?"

510 | P a g e"Yep, ADAR's AN/SSQ-101 Air Deployable Active Receivers plussome monitoring units.It can also be fed back through theoperational command network and to the air control center.""The kids downstairs," the chief said again."Yes.The buoys weigh 39 pounds and according to the specsheet the Sea Predator can carry 30 of them.""Fan-fucking-tabulous," the Captain said, a broad grinstretching across his face."We at least won't be sub bait for thewhole trip." He was sure Mitchell would go for it. "Okay Josh, goodwork. Why don't you work out a plan with the Air Wing Ops officer tosee if you can fly one of these out in front of us to make sure wedon't get shot in the face by Kilo or Akula.If we know where theyare we can avoid them. Those boats are fast, but not as fast as us!""Chief, can you get your guys together, get all this gear outof the glad bags and ready to work? It also looks like we will needto look at the retrieval system we talked about.We are going towant these ones back."The Shi LangShi Lang mistakenly identifies UAVs as F-111’s"Sir, the AWACS report possible tracks of aircraft, bearing 035,looks like F-111 aircraft at very low altitude."The Chinese Fleet Commander mused for a moment. Not strongenough yet for the system to classify, but the AWACS crew had done agood job in getting him information on time. The AWACS was a KJ-2100Beriev-A 50 Mainstay. It was among China's latest AEW upgradeprograms.Capable of guiding 30 aircraft and tracking 300 hostilesat distances of over 231 miles, it was providing the Chinese TaskForce Commander situational awareness in advance - something they hadlacked for many years. He had positioned two of these aircraft 120miles north, covered by Sukhoi and MiG fighters. This meant the

511 | P a g eapproaching force was still well over 340 miles northwest from themain fleet. But that didn't mean he wanted to lose any of hisnorthern pickets either, several of which would soon come under theincoming enemy's missile envelope."RC, say thank you and let me know when you can confirm.""Jinuan," he said to his 2IC, "begin a steer of three of theCAPS to cover these potentials.Keep the others orbiting furthersouth, I have a feeling the Australians will try something veryshortly." They would not, he thought, wait too long to act, allowinghis forces the luxury of digging in deep. No, they would have to trysoon if they really wanted to regain the ground.IF they wanted toregain the ground, he thought. Never take anything for granted.The digital plot system identified and allocated targetingprocedures on the incoming flight of F-111s as soon as the system'swide aperture arrays picked them up."Incoming flight of four. Plotting from the Noshi, inbound 240kilometers."That still meant they were 186 miles from the main force. Thatwould put them in range to drop their Harpoons at any moment.RANS Longreach.Longreach monitors flight, Chinese Sukhois attack UAV’sOn board the Longreach, Cyrus was watching the progress of hisdeployed UAVs. The six Scarab 324 UAVs were low and fast.Despitebeing just 18 feet in length with raked wings 18 feet wide, on radarthey looked very similar to the signature of the F-111 and matchedtheir speed and mission profile. The six Scarabs now heading towardsthe Chinese task force were unarmed surplus production models builtfor the Egyptian Armed forces.They were travelling at over 558 miles an hour, capturingincoming radar signals and returning something that looked a little

512 | P a g ebigger and nastier.Painted all black with low mid-body mountedwings, twin fin tail, single air intake on the spine and a TeledyneCAE 373-8C turbojet pushing it along, the Scarab looked menacing. Itwas however a wolf with just a whisper instead of teeth. And to thewatching radars of the Chinese AWAC's and destroyer pickets, theylooked just like the wolves they had been expecting - F-111s on thehunt. This time the AWAC's operator thought, we are ready. We shallsend our own wolves out to stop you.The sensor operator on the lead Scarab looked up from hisconsole.The AVO could see the same thing. "Sir, we have a radarlock from a pulse doppler source. Looks like the type an Su-33 uses.We are also getting emissions from something I am not too familiarwith, nothing I can ID. Maybe Irbus E."That was unusual, Colonel Cyrus thought. They had pretty mucheverything catalogued on the system.The passive sensor system wasnow smart enough to combine the radar emission characteristics,source profile and other factors to make an accurate assessment ofthe platform. They were obviously missing one.He wondered whetherit made a difference."Systems automatically logged the contact Colonel.""Thank you." He turned to the Mission Commander. "Major Kelly!""Yes Sir.""What do you think?'"Snow Leopard, from either Su-35, 34 or MiG-35, this is smartradar with really long range and deception capabilities.Theaircraft have reduced radar cross section which combined with theirradar range is why we have nothing on any of our sensors yet, withlong range missiles they have great stand off distance to attackfrom.Even our stealth Global Hawks can't see them yet. Perhaps ifthe Hawks were closer we could pick em up; we certainly see them whenthey go active with the Doppler."

513 | P a g eThe 51st Air Wing boss pondered that for a moment. "No, let'skeep them out of the picture for the moment. If the Chinese see theHawks or get too annoyed with them, they might try to take them out.If they’re using the 34 or 35’s that could be a real problem."No shit, Kelly thought. But he wasn't about to say so. Hisboss knew what he was doing.At 45,000 feet, the lead Chinese pilot of the flight of three Sukhoifighters called the pop up. "Looks like they are preparing tolaunch!" Thinking he was looking at F-111s.The pop up maneuver performed by the CUAV’s had surprised thelead who immediately rolled in. "Lead will take the first two, Huright, Pei left." There were two squawks in response.Fifty fivemiles out the lead got a good lock on both targets. He squeezed offtwo Alamo active radar-homing AAMs that immediately split, separatingto attack from slightly different angles amd making it far moredifficult for the targets to evade.His wingmen followed suit with the other targets. After thelaunch the three Sukhois kept their noses onto the target to watchthe countdown and to make sure the missiles retained a goodacquisition. The time of flight took less than 60 seconds, and with aclosing speed of over 2500 miles per hour the missiles obliteratedthe prey, leaving just small smudges of smoke to mark where they hadbeen.Back on the Longreach the lead Scarab's AVO suddenly sat back."Damn, didn't even see that coming."The other Scarab AVO'squickly followed suit, pulling off their helmets."Do you think they had visual?""No, the radar was way beyond visual range. The attackers werestill 60 kilometers away after closing subsequent to the launch.They might have seen the bright flashes of the hits."

514 | P a g e"Good."The flight lead of the Chinese Flankers grunted in response.This was his first real kill. He was elated, two kills and one eachfor his wingmen. Like the F-22, the Su-35 Flankers enjoyed a supercruise capability and could cover great distances with good fueleconomy.The flight controller congratulated him and confirmed hisrequest; keep hunting. They still had plenty of fuel, could re-tank,and there was nothing out here today he thought, that could touchthem.Back on the Chinese flagship, the Admiral had taken over the C2Command and Control System, a replicate of the Shi Lang's maincontrol room, which allowed the carrier Captain to do his job whileWen was able to direct the displays in the C2 Center to provide himfleet-wide situational awareness to manage the unfolding battle.Much like the American allied network, the real-time information thathe enjoyed as a combat commander on the spot, was also being observedand analyzed by his superiors in China. That was the downside; theywere nightmare backseat drivers."Admiral Wen." The teleconferencing command console came alive.The Admiral felt like pulling the plug on it. It was the Chief ofStaff. "As we expected the Australians are making a last minuteattempt to dislodge us," the General said, the picture a littlegrainy."After making a crude attempt to take the oil fields byforce, the United States is finally realizing that trying to do so byproxy was stupid."Wen Jinsong nodded. "Perhaps you would like me to take this inmy wardroom?""No need Admiral," the General said sharply.The Admiral looked around the control room. His flag staff andthe operators were smart enough to pretend they were not listening.But he was betting their ears were burning.

515 | P a g e"I commend the efforts of the pilots in shooting down the F-111s," the General said. What makes you think they were F-111s, theAdmiral thought? "Which means having lost five, they barely haveanother six F-111s to mount any sort of attack.”And where did you get these numbers?“The Americans are still in the Tasman Sea about to tangle withthe Russians.So Admiral, all you have to do is worry aboutsquashing a small force of Australian natives with some antiquatedaircraft. We have positioned a sideways looking satellite to keep intouch.We are interested in your progress and wish you the best ofluck.""Yes Sir." If only it were as simple as that, Wen thought. Butit never was. The Australians had never struck him as being stupid.They enjoyed a beer, but when you looked in their eyes they weresharp as tacks. He turned to his XO"Did we get a visual on those F-111s?" the Admiral asked."No Sir." The XO answered."So we don't really know whether they were F-111s.""The pilots and AWACS were fairly confident that the signatureswere that of F-111s on a low level ingress.""But they did not see. They assumed. Walks like a duck, quackslike a duck and even flies like a duck.Doesn't mean it's a Pigthough, does it?"The XO looked perplexed. The English term of pig escaped him.Pigs and ducks, what did they have to do with F-111s?330 miles to the east and further behind the first flight of UAVsthat had been destroyed, three other Ryan-built craft, BQM145As, allplastic composite construction, flew unnoticed and unchallenged. Theylooked very similar to their Scarab cousins except they were a little

516 | P a g estealthier, had two air intakes and larger engines.The otherdifference was the HPM payload they carried.From the opposite direction, three Boeing QF-45s approached thetask force.A stealthy tail-less aircraft, it also had a mid-bodymounted wing. These were swept back with a straight leading edge anda saw tooth trailing edge, all with 45-degree sweep angles. It was asbig a Ford pickup, featured an F124 turbofan and thrust vectoringexhaust to help compensate for the aircraft's lack of a tailassembly.Unlike the Ryan designs, the QF-45 could also carrymunitions inside its fuselage, over 2240 pounds worth, as well as anadvanced HPM actuator in the nose.There was also anotherdifference.The QF-45 was super stealth and virtually invisible toall normal radar.Orbiting west of the Chinese fleet was a KJ-2100 MainstayAWACS, operating out of the newly acquired Davis Station airfield.The AWAC sported a version of the Phalcon AEW phased-array radar,reverse engineered from the Israelis and the AWACS was able to scanan area 600 miles in diameter."Incoming UAVs, bearing one seven zero," an operator said. TheMainstays AESA radar had picked up the small signals the Ryan's usedto fly with, looked at the emission profile and identified them asUAVs."Multiple incoming targets, multiple tracks, each track locked,designated as MQ-9 Reaper air craft."Admiral Wen Jinsong watched patiently. Behind him, an operatorblurted, "Possible contact. Bearing two seven zero.Very stealthy,picked up on the Bing Qing J-321," This meant 'Ice (crystal) clear',also the code name of the operation plan. This was a Metric Waveradar, which, combined with the ship's high powered computers, wasable to discern disruption in television or cell phone signals tolocate moving bodies. The QF-45s were no longer invisible.

517 | P a g eThe J-321 data was fed directly to the AWACS, which, able totrack over 100 targets at a time and guide over a dozen fighters inall weather day and night, quickly vectored available aircraft tointercept the incoming threat to the fleet. The task force commanderwatched the intercept as the data was fed real time into his commandand control center.At a range exceeding 120 miles, the Mariner CUAVs dropped theirmissiles and turned tail.The AWACS picked up the launch, feedingthe data directly into the fleet's TAVITAC system."Missiles! Inbound!"Three SU-34s fitted with the Feng (Pheonix), Ranets-E radiofrequency cannons and high powered AESA, closed on each of theirdesignated groups of incoming harpoon targets. The radio frequencycannons and radar fired high-powered microwave emissions, which friedthe brains of the missiles. Within seconds, the missiles terminalhoming disrupted, radar incapacitated and shocked by the focused HPMbursts, the would-be Harpoon killers spiraled out of control.Escaping to the northwest, the Mariners were targeted by fourChinese EMG missiles.These were licensed Chinese versions ofRussian Explosive Magnetocumulative Generator or coil weapons,another way of producing powerful electro magnetic pulses with a widearea of influence.None of the Predators escaped. The Ryan'soperating systems hardened to withstand EMP were not affected andkept flying.Still inbound the Boeing QF-45’s were highly evasive and makingit hard for the Chinese sensor systems to keep track, but it was theolder Ryan's that struck first. Target selection was no accident. Interminal phase the Ryan's confirmed targets by their own radaremissions, the Ryans closed, popped up and fired directed, highpoweredmicrowave bursts. The electronic sensors on the missile shipsthe Putian, Guilin and Nanchang were momentarily blinded.Behind,

518 | P a g ethe Boeing QF-45s closed to six miles before dropping two Harpoons oneach target. The three ships were defenseless.The Luda Class shipthe Guilin, hull number 164, took two hits and sank immediately. Hersister ship the Nanchang took a hit in the stern and the Jiangwei-IIClass FFG Putian took a heavy hit in the super structure, killingeveryone on the bridge.This isn't what he had expected, Wen thought. They hadn't eventried for the carrier. There was something very deceptive about whatwas going on.He had expected an all-out fight. No, they were doingsomething else, but what? The logic was that they would try to createa beachhead.Everything else they had done so far supported that.This flowed from the coalition's initial attempt to take over Vostok.It was the logic that dominated his understanding of the enemy'stactics.The control room was very calm. Wen ordered an immediate searchand rescue operation, but kept the fleet at speed covering thewounded ships by air. He then ordered an all out effort on antisubmarine operations, plus a full effort on air defense detection.He wanted his commanders in the best-protected part of their ships -the command and control centers. Unlike years previous, the warshipswere not managed from the bridge, but from the CCS. Well protected,the French-built CCS Thompson system, using technologies given ingood faith to the French by their U.S. allies at the time, was nowbeing put to good use to fight the U.S. and her current friends.The French were clearly no longer allies but adversaries to theAmericans.They had, in fact, sided with those that had wished toconquer the French in the past - the Russians and the Germans. Theefforts by the U.S., who had saved her twice from occupation, wereforgotten. But clearly that was the way of the French. They mightlove romance, but loyalty was not one of their great assets; theywere fickle, were not good in a drawn-out fight and essentially could

519 | P a g enot be trusted. They were Wen Jinsong thought, a legend in their ownlunchtime; he really didn't like them. Anyone that could mistreat aproven friend like they did the Americans, were dishonorable anddistasteful.But at the end of the day, the technology was badlyneeded by China in its attempt to gain ground on America's seeminglyendless capability to invent.The French were simply handing themAmerican technology.For the life of him, Wen could not understandwhy the Americans hadn't pole axed the dim witted French assholes.The Admiral at least respected his adversaries, the Australians andthe Americans. These were distasteful times, but there was always, hebelieved, a place for honor and integrity.One of the advantages Wen had in his defensive planning was to knowthere was very little threat from the south. He was right. They hadto get past him to get there. He was therefore able to focus hisresources on the northern approaches.The AWACS, CAPs, destroyersand frigates formed an in-depth defense against anyone trying topenetrate the main force. He was now getting close to the westernextremity of his AOPs, the two other Chinese naval task force unitsbehind him. The attack had been launched from the northwest, as mighta follow on attack attempting to penetrate past weakened defencesresulting from the first attack. He wouldn't feel safe until he knewwhere these attacking forces were coming from.Wen Jinsong sent new orders to his western most task force, ledby the Mistral Class LHD, the Chee, a ship almost as powerful as theShi Lang. This force supported by the cruiser Qing Yuan commanded aunique and deadly weapon within its ranks, the progeny of what manycalled the Caspian Sea Monster. Called the Hong, this was a seaskimming flying monstrosity and was just what Jinsong needed.After receiving the Admirals orders, the Russian pilot of theHong had run the throttle levers all the way forward, his Chinese

520 | P a g ecopilot holding his left hand on top of his, the same way as theirwestern counterparts did in the take off procedure. This practiceensured that there was no accidental retarding of the throttles atthe crucial moment of taking to the air. Loss of any power meantplunging into the waves and certain death.Six jet engines in the nose and fuselage directed airflow overand below the wings of the monster craft, providing immediate lift.Two big tail engines then surged the beast forwards, the heavy craftrising on the air compressed beneath its body and short wings. Onceup to speed the pilot shut down the six starter engines, the forwardspeed providing enough air compressed between it and ice to hold itlevel.The ice then disappeared beneath, replaced by the longerrollers of the ocean. At over 450 knots, the WIG (Wing in GroundEffect) 600 ton ship killer traversed Prydz Bay from its land base atZhong Shan to join the third task force and its first combat mission.The pilot looked out of the cockpit at the sea just a few feetbelow. It was a long way from flying the single seat, 160 horse powerpiston ekranoplan on the shores of the Caspian he thought. He hadnever imagined for a second it would lead to piloting this leviathaninto battle in the Antarctic oceans.He listened to the radio as more instructions were issued fromthe Chinese task force commander. They were to search and destroy anyenemy ships close enough to fire on the Chinese fleet. His crewplotted an intercept with the approaching allied ships and searchpattern for the hidden vessel that launched the UAV strike.Satisfied the Hong was on its way Admiral Wen Jinsong thenordered the fleet to turn around unaware this is exactly what hisenemy wanted him to do.

521 | P a g eCanberra.Canberra learns of three ships sunk by UAV’s."Three ships?" the Prime Minister exclaimed."Yes, their HPM capabilities were a whole lot better than wethought. We don't know the damage assessment yet, but in thisinstance it doesn't matter; the fleet turned west which is what wewanted.""Now we just have to worry about the rest of the plan," the PMsaid; there was a long road ahead yet.

522 | P a g eCHAPTER SEVENTEENThe F-102 Almirante Juan de_Borbon CSSQT, the same design that Australia’s HobartClass destroyers were derived from.The Ross Iceshelf.Saturday, December 8. 1530hrs UTC. C130 lands.The Australian SAS Colonel, sitting on his 'borrowed' snow ski, hadspent several hours scouting the best spot that would require theleast work to prep for the F-111.It was with relief that he finally sighted the C130 as it camein low, having flown the last 100 miles at less than 50 feet over theice shelf.Hamilton had marked the landing zone with red and greendye markers, vivid splashes of colour that were hard to miss on thewhite background. Homing in using good old fashioned navigation, theC130 crew were ready; they saw both Hamilton's initial marker and therest of the line, chopping the throttles and flaring the aircraft totouch down within 10 feet of the first marker.

523 | P a g eThis was where trust came in.The Aircraft Commander did notcircuit the LZ; he flew straight in blind, too low to see thecondition of the ice ahead of him. If Hamilton did not know what hewas doing, had incorrectly marked or just simply picked a bad placefor an aircraft the size of a C130 to land, it would all be over in amatter of seconds.Designed for rough field landings, the C130 hit the reversepitch as soon as the wheels touched, the aircraft disappearing behindclouds of ice thrown high into the air. Once slowed it was able touse the engines to steer across the slippery surface to the marker onthe ice. The back ramp dropped and a large metal matt slid from therear of the airplane to drag across the ice. The matt was in fact arake. The hundreds of small metal blades attached to the rakechopping off the numerous icy outcrops and smoothing the surface.The pilot had the engines back up to power to overcome the heavydrag. It wasn't perfect, but it was all they had.Hamilton watched in fascination as the Hercules dragged thesteel mesh rake backwards and forwards over the piece of hard icethat was the runway for the inbound F-111.After preparing the ice for the F-111, the C130 pilot retardedthe throttles back to the rear indents and cut the switches. He thenpulled his Nomex flight gloves off and wiped the perspiration off hisface. It might have been cold outside, but he had definitely beenworking up a sweat that day.Now it was the turn of the bomber. Like the Herc, it drove inlow and fast but using its AESA radar homed on a narrowly focusedbeam which could see the Herc from miles away, too easily. Visuallyconfirming the sight of the C130 parked at the threshold of thetemporary ice field, the big jet's wings swept forward, flaps andgear dropping and the nose lifting as the aircraft flared. There wasa collective sigh of relief as the airplane touched and the gear took

524 | P a g ethe weight. They were down and safe. So they thought. Then, in slowmotion, things went bad. The aircraft began to go sideways, a slowspinning pirouette that sprayed clouds of ice into the air as theairframe ploughed through small powdered rough spots on the ice."Hang on! This looks like we are going for a ride!"The bomber was simply too heavy to be pulled straight by therudder, and the front wheel was just skidding uselessly withabsolutely no steerage.Without the power of the engines she wasjust 75,000 pounds of unguided metal on ice. Rough ice too. The pilotand weapons operator were bounced and thrown around violently as theaircraft skidded helplessly, skating sideways, backwards and everyother direction but forwards."Shit," was all Hamilton could manage. He had his hands closedhard over both throttle levers, every instinct telling him to pushthem forward and get back in control. He gritted his teeth and hopedthe Wrangler would survive the punishment.The design of naval aircraft, of which the F-111 was initiallysupposed to be, started with the airframe and landing gear becausethey had to withstand the tremendous shock each time the aircraftlaunched or landed on an aircraft carrier.So, despite theundulations and rough spots that would have ripped the legs out fromunder most other airplanes, the Pig's heavy undercarriage stayedtogether. And after what seemed an eternity, the bouncing, spinning,skidding and out-of-control airplane finally came to a stop.Theengines were set to idle as the canopy came open and the pilot andnavigator sucked in the super cool air.The Hercules had brought with it a full complement of groundcrew.Within minutes the crew chief and his team were all over theairframe, snapping in safety locks and securing the ejection seats.Once this was done, the pilot and weapons office lifted their sorrybutts from the aircraft and climbed down the stairs, a strange luxury

525 | P a g ein the middle of nowhere. In the distance they could see the whitepillar of Mount Erebus, standing high against a foreground of endlessflat ice.Lance and Jake tested their legs, the dusted ice crushingloudly beneath their flight boots. They felt the cold immediately;the flight suits held some back but not all. One of the C130 crewrushed towards them with heavy jackets and gloves.It was all wellthought out, including the cold weather mittens for the crew whilethey waited.But despite that, the Squadron Leader knew hisoperational plan, delivered on such short notice, had more holes init than a colander. Success or failure depended on mission plannersat home anticipating every need, logistical, and operational. Theyweren't letting him down. They did their jobs very bloody well.The little tractor borrowed from the USS Clinton came in handy.Once the ramp was lowered, it pulled out the ordnance trolley withthe first of two weapons that the F-111 would carry to the target.While the first weapon was being fitted, the little tractor pulledthe rest of the supplies off, including a large bladder of fuel.Stepping from the bottom of the ladder, Lance was immediatelylooking for his brother. Brian had waited until both Lance and Jakehad put on their jackets and gloves. Lance couldn't see him. But hedid hear him."Damn it! I call for the cavalry and get my little brother!" Hefeigned a look of dismay. "Aren't you supposed to be retired orsomething?""Aren't you?""Touché," Brian said, turning to the navigator. "How are youJake, long time no see." He shook his hand. "Here to look after mylittle bro?"

526 | P a g e"Keep him pointed in the right direction anyway, make sure hedoesn't lose the keys," he said. "That sort of stuff." He noticedBrian flinch. "You alright?""Banged my shoulder in the Dry Valley, just bruised." He lied.Lance looked at him questioningly. He knew when Brian waslying. Brian quickly changed the subject. "Obviously you got mymessage, I had a feeling you might turn up.""So what happened?" Lance asked.Brian gave him the unedited version of what had transpired,leaving out the getting shot part. They quickly updated each other onthe last few days' events. It was the first time, Lance suddenlyrealized, that his older brother had ever talked about his fieldactivities, always cloaked in secrecy. Lance and Jake were awestruck.When it came to their turn to talk, Brian's blood chilled as helistened to Lance's experiences over the last few days.Still, hecould not help smiling.His brother was still alive, and a goddamnhero again to boot. Ironically, heroism or bravery was never athought he translated to himself.It always just seemed like abattle to survive, what choice did you have? Fight or die. He wasscared shitless most of the time anyway. It never seemed brave."I thought you might need this." Lance threw the heavy kitbagat Brian. It was his personal kit. Brian caught it with his good arm."You didn't have to come all this way just to give me this,"Brian said mockingly, but smiling at the same time."Yeah, well," Lance said. "I was worried whether you hadchanged your undies. You know how mum was about those things. Ifyou have an accident and they see those stained and stinky onesyou're wearing, we'd all have to disown you."Jake rolled his eyes listening to the two."Almost show time," Brian said finally.

527 | P a g e"Yeah," Lance said, scanning the massive expanse of ice. "It'sthe waiting that gets me. Hurry up and wait, ever since I joined theservice.""Amen to that," Colonel Hamilton said, unzipping the bag,quickly rifling through the contents in a rapid stock take."The guys have also brought you some other nice surprises,"Jake said."When they heard you were down here, they ransacked thejoint to get your favorite toys, plus some extras by the looks ofit."They had too. Brian was starting to become very focused.Helooked up at Lance and then at the procession of equipment rollingout of the back of the C130. He then leaned forwards to his brotherwhile Jake turned to inspect the progress. "I just hope like fuck wedon't disappoint all these guys," he said quietly into his ear.Lance looked at his older brother in surprise.It was thefirst time in his life he had ever heard him sound less thanabsolute. It made him more human. "Me too bro….me too." He said.Brian turned back to examine his equipment. He pulled theground sheet out first and laid it on the ice.He then pulled outitems one at a time and placed them carefully on the sheet, after afew moments the sheet was covered with a whole assortment of weapons,clothing and sophisticated electronic devices. The Colonel lifted adull black helmet, examining it for cracks. He could remember thecumbersome night-vision, infrared goggles they used to have to wearon their helmets.Within his short two decades of service, he had witnessed someamazing developments. He spun the light Special Forces Combat Helmetbetween his fingers.The night vision, thermal sensors, day-nightvideo cameras, and chemical and biological sensors were all fullyintegrated within the helmet. The visor also acted as a 'heads-updisplay' equivalent to two 17-inch computer monitors in front of his

528 | P a g eeyes. He placed that to one side and picked up the clothing andimmediately started to change, turning away from Lance and Jake toconceal a spreading bloodstain. The uniform system he now struggledinto was an ECW or Extreme Cold Weather multi-function combat suitthat worked from the inside out. It incorporated physiologicalsensors that allowed him and his field controllers, who were sittingcomfortably in an air-conditioned room near Alice Springs, to monitorhis blood pressure, heart rate, internal and external bodytemperature, and caloric consumption rate. Field controllers couldaccess the information through the tactical operations network. Alluseless of course until the satellite communications came backonline.It was called the Objective Force Warrior system and alsoboasted a built-in microclimate conditioning system. The privateclimate-control system used "spacer fabric" that was a little bitthicker than a regular cotton T-shirt. The garment had "capillaries"that blew hot or cold air through the system. The system's functionswere powered by small ultra light high tech fuel cells, cell phonebatteries on serious steroids.The climate-control feature eliminated the need to carry extraclothing. The outer garment had some biological and chemicalprotection capabilities also reducing the need to carry extraprotective gear. A driving force of the new technologies was to tryand reduce the total weight load a soldier carried into combat.Despite that, the warrior in the field was like a woman's handbag.As soon as you did away with one thing, there was always some newweapon or device to keep the space filled up, more ammunition,communications or multi mission capability.In addition to the kit Brian was quickly assembling, he alsonoticed they had brought his 'ass kicker', a robotic Mule, fullyloaded with goodies.Anything that was mission-essential, but not

529 | P a g ebuilt in to the individual soldier system was carried on the Mule.Better still, the Mule (Not to be confused with the car sized US UMV)could be deployed as a remote controlled recon unit and even hadoffensive and laser designation capabilities. It was three feet highand six long, but instead of wheels used fast tracks.It also acted as a recharging battery station and a weaponsplatform. It had day and night thermal, infrared and forward-lookingimaging systems inside the nose of the Mule, as well as chemicalbiologicalsensors. The Mule could communicate with unmanned aerialvehicles to give him a true 360-degree image of the battlefield. Justlike the animal kind, the Mule was a follower, and unless instructedotherwise would always be within hand reach of where the Colonel was.In another case that had been dropped next to him was thecenterpiece of Brian's mini arsenal, his TCS3 Tactical Combat System,essentially, a really tough looking laptop, an upgraded version ofhis TACTERM that he used in Papua New Guinea. The TCS providedsupport for mission planning, navigation, situational awareness,target acquisition and engagement. The system interfaced with theWideband Global Satellite (WGS) communications system as well as anyother friendly network node in range to establish large-scalenetworking. The RTC linked to standard combat net radios to accessthe network and transfer data between the network's units. The TCS,like a lot of the kit fitted neatly onto the Mule.On this trip the Colonel also got one other useful asset: thePossum Autonomous Observation and Target Intercept System, developedby the Australian Defense Industry. The Possum was another type ofunmanned security vehicle (USV), which could be operated from arather nifty remote control that interfaced with his helmet's head-updisplay. Like controls used by the the CUAV pilots it was very muchlike playing a sophisticated computer simulation game. It could carryout routine patrols and fire suppression missions, holding attacking

530 | P a g eforces back in the event of detection to allow time to escape. It wasalmost the same size as the Mule, three feet high, three wide and sixfoot in length but operated on six lightweight all rubber tyres.Like the Mule, the suspension on the Possum collapsed fortransport, which meant they could travel in specially adaptedunderwing pods fitted to the F-111.The Possum was equipped with an automated tactical positioningsystem and could operate autonomously on and off road, at speeds over50 milers per hour and could carry payloads of up to 700 pounds,including a light armour shield to protect vital systems. The PossumUSV could carry a wide variety of sensors, including video andthermal cameras, with auto-target acquisition and capture, sensitivemicrophone, powerful loudspeakers and two way radio. The vehicle wasequipped with a lethal rapid-fire cannon and Maverick III missiles.Given the amazing level of preparation, Brian had no doubt the Possumwas also programmed with the Vostok tactical area definition, namely,flat and white with black spots and holes where the cruise missileshit."So how are you going to designate?" Lance said, breaking intoBrian's concentration for a moment."This," he said holding up something small in his hand, "Orthis," gesturing to the Possum. "I'll have to figure that out when Iget there, if it all arrives in one piece.""In addition to you, we have two other full pods that willfollow your insertion and land within 100 meters of you, just to makesure you don't have a train smash before even starting the mission."The two men sat beneath the white camouflage netting reviewingthe data on the Tactical Combat System."There was no other way we could do this," Lance was explainingafter a few minutes. "Out of time, we had to do a lot of the work onthe way down here, in the Herc, to make these big bastard fuel air

531 | P a g ebombs fit the F-111. Firstly, they weren't ready and secondly it wastoo far to fly with them hooked up. With those on board I would nothave considered for one second landing on the ice. It was bad enoughdry weight. Besides, I would have had to unhook them again to loadyou.""Sold me on that one," Brian said. He had seen the landing andcould easily have imagined what the skidding F-111 would have beenlike with another 30,000lbs of FABs, probably a big hole in the iceby now. "I'm going to need time to get in position," Brian continued,looking at the map display."Their troop positions and anti airassets are all over the place.""That's what we figured.It's why we are doing this in twoparts.It's also why we set it up this way," Lance said, gesturingto supplies around them.Brian looked at his little brother.This was a long way fromplaying football barefoot in the red dust in the back of Burke. Itappeared Lance had become a master planner.From a small textmessage he had quickly put a difficult plan together, anticipatingmost contingencies, and so far had made it all work. Brian would nothave been at all surprised if no one had turned up at the RV point.Lance was still talking."There is no way, once in the air, that I can land the Pig withthose huge bombs stuck to it.If I drop these anywhere on anythinghard," He threw his arms open, “Kaboom.”Brian was listening intensely. He normally had something tosay. This was new. "Once I take off with them. I either drop themor lose them and that will be our last and only chance at puttingthat flame out. It's risky, but I believe it gives us an overallbetter chance if we do this in two parts. If I tried to do both atthe same time there are too many things that could go wrong, besidesthe weight configuration would be all wrong."

532 | P a g eBrian thought about that. He was right. Dropping him with thepressure of having the weapons on board, unable to land, having toloiter with an ever-diminishing fuel supply was a bad scenario.Better he had the time to get in position and Lance arrive with ahealthier fuel load. "I'm with you, sounds good."Brian suddenly sniffed the air. "What's that smell?Smellslike sausages," Brian said, somewhat mystified. They all stopped fora moment sniffing the air. “It is sausages!" he said standing up, itfelt like a long time since he had a cooked breakfast, even though ithad been just a few days."It was the Crew Chief's idea.” Lance said. "Hey, we can't gooff saving the world without a snag!" If they were all going to die,let’s do it on a full stomach he thought.The Breakfast while nice was eaten on the run, the Herc crewwere in a hurry to leave. The C130 stood out on the ice like a hugeneon sign. With Russian air assets on the rapid increase not far tothe west it would inevitably be seen, it was quickly back in the airflying low to remain undetected. Brian had no doubt fighter aircraftwere also on the way to help secure Russian held McMurdo. Theunloaded stores were covered with plastic igloos and ice to concealthem from the air.The ground crew left behind by the C-130 would have to fend forthemselves for the next day. But they were essential to the successof the mission ahead. The small knot of men in their issue EWCshuddled out of the wind behind the only shelter for miles. For Brianand Lance, the next few hours would prove pivotal to the verysurvival of their country and possibly the world. Like the stores,the Wrangler was also covered under a white shroud that made itdifficult to see unless you were almost on top of it.They were all intently aware that they were at the mercy of theweather. The igloos and shrouds were not protection against weather,

533 | P a g ejust camouflage. 'Can't see me, but sure can wet me.' It was an oldterm that Brian remembered from his days at officer training inPortsea, training for jungle warfare in the middle of winter inSouthern Victoria in sleet and snow. They were forced as cadets towear camouflaged tropical coats that became completely soaked andstuck to the skin in minutes, freezing your ass off.He stillwondered who the fuck knuckle was who made them do that and whopurchased the stupid fucking things.They were now on the final and most dangerous part of the plan,for all of them.First of all the F-111 crew would be required todrop Brian into position near Vostok station. It would then returnback to the ice runway to be refueled and loaded with the two hugebombs that now hid beneath the camouflage.The crew chief checked his watch and smacked his handstogether, replacing his gloves. "Time to move!"It was amazing how many things could and might go wrong toscuttle what was an already complicated plan.Would the GPU start,Lance wondered? If it didn't, they were all stuffed. There wassimply no other way of getting the Pig going.Not wanting to lookworried as he carried out his own housework in preparing for themission; his ears though, intensely tuned to the sound of the machinestarting up. It coughed once and fired. He looked up to see hisbrother staring at him, smiling. He could swear the man could readhis mind at times. Brian gave him a little thumbs-up, speaking loudlyover the now noisy GPU."See, nothing to worry about. A little Aussie beauty that.Scared you might have to push start the Pig?"Lance smiled back, if they could get it up to well over a100kph to turn the turbines...maybe? It was a little later as finalpreparations for the insertion took place that Lance voiced hisdoubts about some of Brians planned activities in the operation.

534 | P a g e"Are you sure about this? This isn't exactly proven technology." Hewas referring to the SF insertion unit they called the HB."Got another plan?" Brian said.No he didn't. He just needed to say it. He noticed Brian checkhis watch. He frowned, clearly worried about the little time left toget this right. If one thing went wrong, they would be too late. Hewondered what it looked like when several gazillion gallons of fuelignited. Brian's voice broke into his thoughts."It's the only way.Now that they have ground assets there,and air cover, there is no way you are going to be able to designatethe target from the air," Brian said. “And from that angle thethermal flare will obscure the pointer.Lance nodded, he was right. They walked over to the unit inquestion. "So this is it, the poor mans version of the BritishSpecial Forces insertion unit." Lance patted the casing. "The greatAustralian HB (Human bomb)"Brian grunted, he hated that name, didn't like the idea ofbeing part of a bomb. The big unit still looked menacing, except allthings going well he hoped it didn't blow up. It was a big cruisemissile that had pretty much been gutted with the exception of itsnavigation equipment. It was easily large enough for a man to fitinto, was pressurized and fitted neatly under the wing of an F-111.Most importantly it could be launched several hundred miles from theLZ, meaning the delivery platform could get out of Dodge beforeeveryone started shooting.After launch, two small wings unfolded from the somewhat flat,coffin like fuselage. Powered by a small jet, the HB would cruise atover 500 miles per hour, just feet above the ground, navigating usinga pre loaded course verified against terrain and its own internalmapping system that continually referenced its position to the foot.Like its delivery platform, the SFIU was terrain following coupled

535 | P a g ewith exceptionally stealthy design characteristics. Compared to ironbombs and missiles that the Wrangler normally carried, the HB waspositively light.Considering that the F-111 could carry tens ofthousands of pounds of ordinance, stacking six H-bombs under itswings was a walk in the park, at least for the driver and weaponsofficer.The Australian HB was experimental and had pretty much beenshelved, leaving the research to the British.But desperate timesneeded equally desperate solutions. This was the only way. There wasno more time to try to conjure up another solution. They werecommitted. With his team of one, himself, he would drop far enoughfrom the target to not be detected and make the rest of the way byfoot. It was his job to designate the target for Lance, when hereturned with the Fuel Air Bombs (FAB's).There was only one shot,so they had to get it right the first time around."You ready?""I'm ready."The nose of the HB lifted up to allow Brian togrip the rack that held it and swing himself into the unit.It waslike climbing into a coffin. The front of the cruise missile casingwas made up of the same stuff used for F-22 canopies, allowing theoccupant a view to the front and below. As the nose was closed over,there was an almost immediate feeling of claustrophobia.There wasvery little room to move.Insertion into Vostok.December 8, 2230hrs UTC.While the Australian designed SF insertion unit was nothing like thesuper tech toys deployed in Dale Brown's novels, it was functional,worked and, most importantly, was available now. However, smalldetails like how to stop had not been refined.

536 | P a g eThe landing was Brian's favorite part, because this thingdidn't land. It crashed. In the last few moments Brian wouldactually take over the controls and belly the small cruise missileonto the ice.At the moment of touching down a large drag chutedeployed from the rear which would stop the small missile with a manon board from going end on end, bringing it quickly to a stop.Butit would be rough, really rough. Unlike other models that haddeployed chutes to land, this model just had the drag chute. Not bigenough to land the whole thing safely. But it would have to do, likeso many other things on this mission."You hear me brother?" Lance said from the Wranglers cockpitafter strapping in. He looked down from the cockpit to the nose ofthe human missile slung beneath his port wing."Yes brother hears you loud and clear." Brian replied, not alot of cheer in his voice.He wasn't too sure he wanted to see outthe front of the damn thing."Sweet. Shall we rock and roll?""Sooner the better, this thing is already cramping my style."Surprisingly, if he craned his neck, he could actually see thehelmeted head of his brother in the cockpit.The dark visored helmet turned towards him and gave him thumbsup.He could then feel the rumble of the engines through theairframe as the APU fed air into the Pig's turbines and the ignitersdid their job of starting the fires that would turn kerosene intonoise and speed. And noise it was.Brian squeezed the little yellow earplugs and pushed them intohis ears.Even that didn't stop it, the rolling thunder of theafterburners drove through his entire body making his teeth chatterand every bone in his body vibrate. He was sure everything was goingto come apart. Beneath him, the ice had turned into a trembling bluras the aircraft rapidly accelerated; the hard surface seemingly

537 | P a g einches from his face. He made a mental note to request business classnext time, this really sucked.The vibration increased as the bigjet ploughed at high speed through the ice bumps. Just as quickly asit started, it stopped. The wheels left the surface sucking up intothe airframe, Lance cutting the burners. As the aircraft's speedincreased, the sound was left further and further behind.Heunplugged and put his headset back on."You know when you said come fly with me; this is not what Ihad in mind." Brian said over the internal intercom.The head in the cockpit turned around and pushed up the visor.The eyes were smiling. Lance was still amazed there was a personsitting in the bomb hanging off one of his wing pylons. "You didn'tactually think I was going to let you anywhere near the controls didyou? Remember how many times you made me sit in the back of MossiesCommodore while you were busy up front!"Brian smiled at that. He was right. He would tell Uncle Mossiethat he was taking Lance for a drive, and did. But he would pick uphis girlfriend Jacky on the way. He would make his younger and veryannoyed brother sit in the back. They would then park, and while heand Jacky went for a walk and had some fun, Lance would sit boredshitless in the car, trying in vain for a radio station and music, aluxury in those days that did not exist, not at the way back of Burkein nowhereville Australia anyway."Yeah, but I never made you ride on the roof or outside." Lancecould hear Brian chuckling. While talking to Brian, Lance never fora moment stopped his eyes from looking at both the large MFD and theground in front.The bomber was flying low and hard. The view fromBrian's little office must have been something else he thought.Hewould have to try it one day; it looked exciting.With the weaponspanel armed, he let the aircraft's system update the telemetry of thecruise missiles before release.

538 | P a g e"Well, consider this payback for all those lonely nights," hesaid after a pause. His voice became more serious. "Okay, we arecoming up on drop point. Get ready….good luck, I will see you in fourhours.""Thanks bud. Luck to you too. Shoot when you are ready.""Coming up on my mark.""Mark."Brian's stomach had lurched as the explosive bolts had firedand the HB dropped from the rack. There was the sickening feeling offree fall as the HB dropped off the wing pylon and he wondered for amoment if the damn thing was going to fly or just keep falling."Missile away and running fine," the Pursell confirmed."Let's go." Lance Hamilton initiated a low and hard turn,reversing direction, leaving the small cruise missile with hisbrother on board, speeding towards a lot of uncertainty.The HB began to vibrate and wobble. For a terrible moment therewas no noise and nothing happened.He couldn't see, but could hearthe wings unfold.At least he assumed that's what the noise was.Immediately the wobbling smoothed out and the little ship began tosteer.He felt before he heard the cruise missiles engine rpm windup and start delivering thrust. It felt good.But if he thought the F-111 flew low, the cruise missile wassomething else. For 20 minutes it sped at a mind-numbing speed ascant few feet above the surface.The ice came and disappearedbeneath the cruise missile so fast it was just a blur.trying to focus because it was making his head spin.He gave upThe smalldigital monitor in front of him showed his proximity to the DZ. Toconfirm what he was already thinking, he felt the power come off theengine as the missile slowed as part of its pre-programmed ingress tothe target. Vostok he knew was now 10 miles off to his starboardside.

539 | P a g eIt could hardly be called flying, but after over riding thesystem's autopilot, Brian grabbed the poor excuse of a control stick,slowing the missile down by punching a button on the console much theway you did with a computer game, when all you had was the keyboardto fly your simulator. The missile hit the ice at over 100 miles perhour.The chute immediately deployed, preventing the impact fromturning into a messy metal-crunching crash. But it was still violentand completely knocked the air out of Hamilton, banging his head hardagainst the top of a heavily padded cabin.Even after the missilehad skidded to a halt, he was still reeling, small pinpoints of lightswimming across his vision.The urgent desperation of the job at hand helped brush asidethe haze. Triggering the front latch, he pushed the nose cone openand pulled himself out. Standing up he was surprised to see that thecruise missile showed virtually nothing of its rough landing.Considering how it had felt he was almost disappointed, like having asmall cut hurt like one that should have been 10 times larger. Maybehe was just getting too old for this shit.His small bag of tricks had been packed behind him.Heretrieved them and a custom-made white camouflage net with which hecovered the missile. He did the same with the other two missilecontainers once he had relieved them of their loads, most importantlythe Mule and the Possum. He was impressed that in the shortnotification and breakneck speed in which the plan had been slappedtogether, they were able to get them ready to ship like this. Aftermoving 50 feet away he realized that it would be almost impossible tosee the containers unless you tripped over them.He looked to hiseast. Ten miles away there was Vostok.He sat down and conducted a quick equipment check, looking forany damage that might have occurred during the landing or crash. Byfar the most prized possessions in the storage packs were the small-

540 | P a g eunmanned aerial vehicles (SUAV).They looked like incredibly flashmodel airplanes, which in some ways they were.But unlike theircivilian counterparts, they were quiet, stealthy and very smart.Potentially they could be controlled from anywhere in the world;however, experience showed that the split seconds in lag time couldbe fatal in controlling them effectively.In addition to thereconnaissance Microstars, Brian also packed a few dragonflies,capable of hovering and sitting, the same as he had used in Papua NewGuinea. They could be useful. These were later models incorporating asynthetic muscle tissue that flexed with electric impulses anddeveloped a more natural and efficient wing beat.His first objective was to get a good look at what was going onin and around Vostok. Brian powered up his laptop. The militarycalled it a TCS, or Tactical Control Station.Brian called it onetough son of bitch of a laptop; because they looked the same size andhad a keyboard and screen.In reality it was a lot more. Brian'sTCS incorporated the control hardware and software for the UAVs. Heplugged in a small joystick into the hardened side of the unitscasing especially designed for such devices.He then selected one of the small Microstar reconnaissanceUAVs. It was light as a feather. Made up of carbon fiber and solidcircuits, the only real weight was in the battery. The Microstar hadan amazing two-hour endurance and was whisper quiet.Hamilton fedthe co-ordinates into the control console and after checking the IDnumber, selected the aircraft from a pull down list and started itspower unit. The suitcase control module was based around an ultrahigh-resolution monitor.The data from the unit was fed backdirectly to the console as well as the satellite feed to Pine Gap, ifit got back online.He did this while holding the small craft in his left hand.The small control stick included a throttle lever, he ran the power

541 | P a g eup on the small engine and with a small throw the tiny airplane wasairborne and on its way. He turned back to the control console andselected the nose camera. The visuals were amazing in their clarity.He flew the Microstar low and slow.The first indications that hewas coming up on target were the craters. These were dug out by thenumerous cruise missiles fired from the Blackjack bombers. They werean excellent marker of the outer boundary. Not far away he could alsosee the pillar of smoke that marked the oil fire, the target.The biggest challenge from his current position was the lack ofhigh ground. There was none. The whole area, apart from that tornup by the missile attack, was one big white flat pancake. Within 60minutes he needed to have that oil fire designated.It was easy tohide here, but not if you wanted to get close and personal. In thisenvironment the only thing that hid you was the earth's curvature. Itwas light 24 hours a day and you could easily be seen for miles,standing, walking or crawling. How the hell to get closer, hethought. It was then the Microstar UAV flew over a field of sastrugi,anthill like mounds of blown ice and snow. He would go for them.But before he had even moved, he could hear the faint sound ofan engine, probably a patrol he thought, he. He waited, training hisfield glasses into the distance.As the Russian patrol came intoview he knew straight away they were Spetznaz. A shiver ran down hisspine. That made his job harder but was expected. He was just hopingfor a break. They were still a long way off. After they had left hemoved out towards the sastrugi field, like obedient huskies, the Muleand Possum followed him.An hour later he was in a better position; both the Mule andPossum were dug in, hard work done courtesy of the Mule, which wasfitted with a small blade. He and his electronic team were buried inthe whiteness that surrounded them.He had spent another full hoursmashing the ice they had dug up and spreading it around into

542 | P a g esomething that looked like snow berms adding to those that alreadyexisted.Another two-man patrol appeared on snow skis. Unless they droveright over the top of him, the bad guys couldn't see him; unless, hesuddenly thought, they were using thermals. That was a worry, lookingthrough his IR field glasses that didn't seem the case. He hunkereddown until he heard the engines of the two snow skis rev as theymoved on. Thank Christ. Now for the next stage: the advancedMicrostar Dragonfly.Everything was called advanced nowadays, Hamilton thought. Heused the tough little laptop (TCS) to bring up the operating systemon two of his Dragonflies. They made no sound other than the beatingof tiny wings. From the palm of his hand they took off towards thelarge crater, flying low and erratically. The cruise missile attackby the Russians had one positive affect, it had created lots of smallcraters and mounds, things that something as small as a hoveringDragonfly could hide behind or sit on.While Brian went about the process of setting up targetdesignation, Lance Hamilton's F-111, call sign Buckshot, was onceagain stretching out its heavy undercarriage as it returned to theice shelf and waiting air crew, ready to load the FABs. The roundtrip was over two thousand miles. They had avoided using the dragchute on the first landing, which was a mistake.Not this timethough, the landing was still scary but mostly pointed in the samedirection. The first priority was to tank the bird in the event theyhad to move quickly.Lance kept the turbines idling, parking close enough to thefuel bladder for the hoses to reach. Once again the little tractorfrom the Clinton proved its worth.The PTO on its rear end fittedneatly into the fuel pump attached to the bladder and after just a

543 | P a g efew turns of a wrench, they had fuel pumping into the Wranglerstanks.While the refueling occurred, the two bombs, with the help of asmall team of technicians that had traveled on the Hercules, weregradually winched up onto the inboard pylons and locked into place.The bombs had been flown to the USS Clinton just in time with thehelp and quick thinking of David Stringer. In flight the two weaponsreceived a hot fix to be able to attach them to the RAAF's F-111S.BLU-85A’s were advanced versions of the BLU-82 Daisy Cutters -15,000 pound fuel-Air Bombs (FAB), which exploded just prior tohitting the ground at a height of one to six feet, killing everythingwithin a square-mile radius of the impact point. They are the largestconventional bomb the United States military has in its arsenal. TheConventional F111 was not supposed to carry them and even the F111Swas marginal, threatened by the development of an uncontrollablerolling moment. But there was no other choice.This type of weapon was introduced in 1970 during the VietnamWar as a method for instantly clearing sections of jungle to createhelicopter-landing zones. The weapon worked by squirting out ethyleneoxide and then ignited the fuel vapour creating a massive pressurewave, which sucked oxygen out from the surrounding area. This createda powerful vacuum effect. And it was this effect the Pig crew washoping would snuff the fire out.The bombs in their basic casing, even if fitted to the F-111,were useless to the task, lacking the guidance and accuracy requiredfor such a delicate 'one shot' mission.discussion had decided on two things.The interim and heatedInstead of one 35,000lbmonster they would go for two 15,000lb bombs, this made it easier tofit on the F-111 and to get to the Clinton.The second part was areal fast play in getting a hold of a pair of smart kits. These weredeveloped by the Israelis and strapped onto the bomb cases after

544 | P a g eripping off the fins and other exteriors of the BLU or FAB casings,depending on what you referred to them as. The smart kits gave thebombs autonomous Electro-Optical and inirtial guidance with satellitefeed (If available) and laser guidance. You could preload it withseveral target images, and it would then compare the targets to areal-time Electro-Optical image, which is acquired by the bomb'sElectro-Optical seeker. The bomb could locate the targetautonomously, prepare its flight course and hit it with absoluteprecision. Which was great when the entire landscape wasn't white andfeatureless and you knew what the target was going to look like. Inthis case the target shape was changing, albeit still a big hole inthe middle of white nothing. The system also employed GPS guidance,in case the Electro-Optical sensor could not acquire the target forsome reason. That also assumed satellites, which were no guarantee.Laser designation was the best solution but might not work since the1.066 micron band infrared brighness of the blowhole flare wouldblind any laser seeker from miles away. Inertial was the next bestoption but much less accurate."The bombs have to fly down the throat of the hole and bothdetonate half way down at the same time," the guys at Rosenbridge hadtheorized. "Not on the side, not near it, but inside. That's why weneed to be sure with the laser designation."The Israelis were brilliant engineers; after making thenecessary changes to the casings on the trip in, the bombs fittedlike gloves to the standard pylon fittings on the F-111.Betterstill the software was developed with a generic communicationinterface that came online within moments of powering up.Things were going so well, Lance was starting to get worried.There was a real nasty bastard surprise around the corner. There wasno such thing as a dream run; he preferred the bad news elementsspread out in smaller doses. It was the big dose he felt coming that

545 | P a g enow worried him. He wouldn’t know until he got there whether thefires were burning deep enough in the hole to use the laserdesignation.As he ran the throttles forward, the world behind him turnedwhite with the jet wash over the ice. "Shit I hate that," Hisnavigator said."Me too, you gotta be able to see that for miles."The Navigator looked back over his shoulder at the rapidlyshrinking knot of men and equipment alone on the ice shelf. "When'sthe Herc due back?"Lance looked at the cockpit's readout. "Fifteen minutes.""I have to say, man, I don't know whether it's scarier goingwhere we are, or waiting helplessly on the ice."Lance Hamilton knew the F-111S would handle like a loaded Macktruck without power steering or hydraulics. But it was a whole lotworse than he had imagined. His hands holding the throttles rattledand shook. With full afterburner and the extra weight, the incessantshaking and hammering from the rough ice running through the airframemade him wonder just how much punishment the bird would take beforelosing some feathers. He sighed inwardly as the vibration suddenlyceased, the heavy bomber clawing her way into the air.McMurdo Station.Under Russian Control.McMurdo's new station Commander, Pavel Kondrat'ev syn Khudiakov, aRussian Colonel from the Northern Fleet looked up from his new desk."Are you sure?""Yes sir. They said a jet took off from the ice. They were toofar away to identify what it was. But it headed inland.""Tell them to investigate immediately.Have a team ready toback them up. I want to know what's going on. We have no aircraft

546 | P a g eoperating over there, nor do the Chinese." Not enough information tojump to conclusions, but enough to tell him to investigate. Throwingon his jacket, he walked quickly out of his new office. "Get me mychopper now."Back on the Ross Ice Shelf the Russian patrol that had made thereport, made up of a group of four snow skis and a tracked carrier,closed on the point where they had heard the thunder of the jet andthe rooster tail of ice particles in its wake.A katabatic windstirred across the white surface. The first wind there for two days.The Russian officer in command of the small patrol squinted andlooked inland. The wind would freshen quickly. Looking back acrossthe ice, over a mile away, he could make out a small contingent ofmen huddled beside boxes and other equipment.Through his fieldglasses, he couldn't see anything particularly threatening.Thescattering puffs of ice particles were starting to haze theconditions."What do you think?" the unit's commander said to his seniorNCO."I think to be safe; we blow them up. We should get closeenough to use the anti-tank gun and mortars. Hit them now.""Tempting, but I'm thinking we should wait.They are waitingfor something, possibly another aircraft.If we take them out, weare not going to find out what it is. If nothing turns up in fifteenminutes we will hit them with the mortars, unless, of course, theystart shooting first."The Russian Sergeant grunted. "As usual Petroski, your superiorlogic and wisdom is a shining light in an army of ignorance."Petroski shook his head; the Sergeant was a real wit. The edgeof sarcasm and flattery heavily blurred.It was his way of addingsome humor into otherwise long and tedious days. "Well Sergeant,

547 | P a g elet's have the mortars ready then, eh?" Did they want to takeprisoners or play safe?The Australians had picked up the Russian patrol with a smallportable ground radar. "You think they have seen us?" the Loadmasterasked, operating the unit."Without a doubt, you would have to assume that. But they havenot fired at us, which is curious.""Bugger." The C130 Loadmaster swore. He would have to call anabort. He picked up the radio. No need for radio silence now, hewould warn off the inbound herc bird."Lumberjack this is ground, you copy?""Ground we copy, loud and clear." The copilot gave the aircraftcommander a quizzical look, calling in the clear meant trouble."Lumberjack, ground, we have an abort, copy. Say again it's anabort.""Ground, copy; we are still inbound five clicks.""Lumberjack, we have a Russian patrol one klick southwest ofour position, small arms, probable anti-air, currently static perhapswaiting for backup.""Copy that ground. Hang in there; just tell the guys to keeptheir heads down. We will be there in a minute."The Loadmaster didn't like the odds.The F-111 was stillengressing the target; it wouldn't help to let the bad guys know inadvance by getting themselves and C130 captured. They would quicklyfigure it all out. He looked at the small deep hole in the ice. Mostof the equipment that might have revealed the nature of their missionwas now in safe keeping, sitting on the bottom of the Ross Sea. Hespoke softly to one of the men. "Wally, pack the hole with ice…quick, but don't be obvious." If they were captured he could say theywere part of a rescue team, the last ones out.That's if theRussians were of a mind to take prisoners.

548 | P a g eFour miles out and still inbound, the skipper of the inboundC130 stretched and flexed tired muscles.It had been a real longday.This would in fact have been one of the longest missions inWing Commander Graham's entire life. From the landing on the carrierto the RV on the ice shelf, and now this final extraction missionbefore going home.Graham looked at his copilot. "You want to turnround?" The copilot shook his head. "You guys?" he said to the restof the crew that had crowded the flight deck's door. They all shooktheir heads. "Good, get strapped in.This is going to be theroughest ride of the day. I'll be buggered if we leave anyone here."He looked over the copilot's console. "Phil, when I call for that,"he pointed to the newly installed console, "keep it going until I saystop.""I can tell you, my hand will be stuck on it until we gethome!""Ground, this is Lumberjack.""Ground.""You better have saved some of those prawns, you bastards, andthey better be warm otherwise there will be shit to pay when we getback home.""Roger that Lumberjack. There's enough heat here at the momentto fry anything!"With the Hercules about to show, the Russian patrol commanderjust two miles south was looking intently through his field glasses,noticing an increased pace of activity.He dropped the glasses ashis Sergeant was yelling something."The Colonel is on his way now. He told us to hold!""Great," was all Petroski said.The sound of a helicoptercould be heard in the distance. He looked through the glasses again.The chopper he realized wasn't the only inbound aircraft. Scanningthe horizon he spotted the transport. "Look!" He pointed towards it

549 | P a g eand handed the Sergeant his field glasses. Low on the horizon theRussian NCO could make out the shape of C130. "I guess that'sanswered your waiting question."The sound of the helicopter coming from their southwest grewlouder."Get the mortar teams firing!" Petroski ordered.The Sergeant spoke over the unit's internal communications.Seconds later there was the sound of mortar rounds leaving theirtubes, the first ones landing well short of the men and equipmentwaiting on the ice. A quick correction brought them a lot closer.The Loadmaster could see the Hercules coming in low. They hadignored the abort. He had mixed feelings; he wanted to be saved butthis was stupid. Mortar rounds began to impact around them. Iceshowered down on top of them as they dived behind whatever cover theycould find. He looked back at the C130, instead of flaring to land itkept coming; maybe after they saw the impact of the rounds they haddecided to abort after all. Its shape got bigger and bigger until itflashed overhead, climbing and banking heavily. Another volley ofrounds landed close.The ice shook and much heavier pieces of ice crashed into theice surface around them. The next lot would land on top of them.Through the flying white snow and ice, the Loadmaster they called MrBean saw the three Grail shoulder launched missiles snake out fromthe Russian troop's position.He also saw Russian backup justarriving in one of those double rotor jobs, flaring to touch down.The C130 was dead he thought, the missiles moving too fast, andturning into the big airplane's circle.It looked like they wouldall hit.The C130 copilot called the launches, punching chaff and notingthe position of the Russian troops as well as the helicopter landing.

550 | P a g eOn the ground the three soldiers who had fired the SA-7ds,shoulder-mounted man-portable air defense systems, watched with agreat deal of satisfaction as the missiles homed in on the target,ignoring the chaff and decoys the aircraft was furiously ejecting.The C130's missile-warning sensor was warbling incessantly.Watching the approaching missiles bright exhaust's colors against thewhite, the copilot's finger was poised firmly on the button.The pilot picked just the right moment. "NOW!"The aircraft's missile-warning sensor knew the location of themissiles and trajectories. The anti missile microwave system fired,flooding the region of the sky where the missiles came from withmicrowave energy. The concentrated microwaves, the same technology weall use to heat food, penetrated the missiles metal skins. Themissiles electronic brains were swamped with the energy burst andmomentarily disabled, losing control resulting in drastic changes totheir flight trajectories. This rapid change of attitude immediatelyproduced multiple mechanical failures in all the missiles, quicklybecoming catastrophic because of the high "g-force" turn they wereall in.The sudden change in direction and obvious loss of control ofthe missiles was the first indication to Petroski of something goingwrong. The loud explosion of the Kamov 27 helicopter behind himquickly followed as it crashed into the half-track transport.Noneof it was making sense.He picked up the radio to speak to his Sergeant who had runforwards to find out what had gone wrong with the SA-7 missiles. TheSA-7 team looked like they were trying to set up another shot.Theradio was dead. He next tried the ignition of the nearest snow ski,which just a few moments ago had been running.It was dead as adoornail."Shit," he said to himself. The mortars had stoppedfiring. He then looked at his digital watch. There was no readout.

551 | P a g eHe finally understood. Nothing was going to work. Welcome to 21stcentury warfare. If they had been a common infantry unit, some oftheir equipment would still have been working.This was the beststuff though.All modern and all fucking computerized, using sometiny microprocessor even if it was just to count the range or time,now all as useless as his watch. He took it off in disgust and threwit on the ground.Broken ice now separated them from the Australians. The Russianpatrol, unable to communicate with anyone, watched helplessly as theC130 landed, boarded the ground team and disappeared to the north.Vostok Station.December 9, 0234hrs UTC.Normally the wind would blow constant at five mile per hour from thesouthwest, cold air sliding down the contours of the interior towardsthe coast. For the moment it was calm. It was always daylight at thattime of the year; there were no trees, no vegetation and in theinterior no living organisms. Usually the constantly blowing snowmeant that anything left in the open was quickly buried.This atleast would be helpful in concealing his equipment and hide Hamiltonthought.The wind would return, which is why he planted a markerpost next to his hide, to stop him losing the exact location.To the southeast of the Vostok Station where he was currentlylying, there were long shallow snow dunes that at least afforded himsome protection from ground observation. These were punctuated withberms and sastrugi, snow formations created by the wind, a littleover a foot high.The Russian forces would be monitoring the area for any sort ofelectronic emission, which meant it would be impossible to use anyemission signal to talk to, or watch what the miniature UAV was

552 | P a g edoing, which is why he now opted for another Microcraft product onlysix centimeters long and powered by a silicon micro turbine fan. Atthe micro scale level, silicon made an excellent structural material,superior to super alloys or titanium. It had low density and thermalexpansion, and was very stiff. The tiny jet engine weighed less than80 grams. Installed into the vertical take off Microcraft airframe,it had 100 times more thrust-to-weight ratio than its larger cousins,and spun the tiny turbines at an incredible 1.2 million times persecond.With a range of 90 miles and a forward speed of 100mph, itused propane gas, consuming just 25 grams per hour.Back in his hide, Hamilton removed the heavy outer gloves so hecould manage the keyboard mouse and control stick. Specialized undergloves,heated by his suit's power pack, kept his hands from freezingin the insanely cold temperature. Unlike normal radio controlledmodel aircraft, the MUAV Microcraft flew itself unless you overrodethe system.Normally you pointed to places on a map, set altitudesor even just used the touch screen to select points in space. Theseinstructions were transferred either by microwave emissions or cable.The Dragonfly, as good as it was, wasn't powerful enough todrag a cable and fly at the same time. For this part of the mission,not being detected was paramount. The micro-fiber control cable wasgossamer thin and virtually invisible to the eye close up. Hamiltonsent the small MUAV vertically to 2000 feet and rotated the smallairframe to point the camera at the target. The imagery came throughon the HUD within his helmet. Over three miles away he could see thehole, nearly 500 yards wide at a guess.It was black for miles around. Because of the tremendous noise,flames and smoke, he guessed the Russians had based themselves atleast a mile away. A quick scan revealed anti aircraft batteries ofnumerous types spread out in a wide perimeter and in depth.Therewere moving from the central location of the skiway as he watched. He

553 | P a g eflew the little MUAV fanjet carefully so as not to tangle the cable.If the cable were cut unexpectedly, the little jet would make its wayback home or continue on an alternative pre-programmed mission.He steered the MUAV west of the outermost air defense units.They were mostly tracked and included both medium and long-rangemissiles.That was really bad news. There was, from what he couldtell, a single Grumble unit that had over 16 missiles with a range of200 miles, plus numerous Gadfly, Gremlin and Gopher carriers thatreached anywhere between 10 and 60 miles.Lance and his F-111,already on their way in, had to penetrate to within 25 miles of thetarget itself. Some of these anti aircraft units were stationed atleast eight miles west and south of the target. He could also seeseveral mobile gun systems, two Tungustas at least.Brian knew Lance was a sitting duck to a concentrated barrageof anti air missiles like this. There was no way with his smallelectronic warrior force he could take all these units out.But hehad to make sure at the very least he created a corridor for thebombs, otherwise it was all over.Wombat, Inbound Vostok Station.The Pig, with Squadron Leader Lance Hamilton urging her on, sluggedlow and fast over the Antarctic interior. Like a fine needle, the F-111 threaded its way between the valleys and peaks of the TransAntarctic Mountains, then over Victoria Land and the super snow dunesthat dominated that area. They were coming up on target."Okay, Jake, let's look at our LLEP so we make sure we gethome.""Right," He replied. Jake computed the bombs-away time fortheir target and then backed up on the numbers to arrive at their Low

554 | P a g eLevel Entry Point and, hopefully, an air-refueling control point manymiles north.Lance took a quick look at the TIME TO DEST readout on theprimary display window he had setup and shoved the throttles forwardto almost full military power.He then hit the HEADING NAV on hisautopilot, which put the Pig into a steep turn before rolling out onits approach heading. The time over target was almost nonexistent.Following inirtial guidance back by optical target recognition,the system knew the exact location of the target, but not thepotential missile threats until they were lit up or picked activelyby their own radar."Whoa," Jake said suddenly. "We have S-Band search radar, F-band director for some Gadfly missiles and some X-Band from cannon.Nothing locked on but we are starting to get in the Grumbles missilerange." They were still 100 miles out but on the deck.The approach called for a final pop up, to let the missiles'see' and lock the target in.This maneuver would also make themvisible to any long-range missile defense assets the Russians mighthave placed.On the emergency frequency they picked up a challenge from theRussian ACS. "Неопознанный самолет 130 км к югу от Востока,прекратите ваш подход пока не разрешено."Hamilton ignored the challenge. "Arm them up Jake," he said.Jake had already picked up the weapons status on the master functiondisplay Window, selecting the control to ALL receiving good lightsfrom both weapons. "All weapons check, both selected.""Неопознанные самолеты оборачиваются немедленно!" The heavilyaccented voice was becoming more strident telling them to turn aroundimmediately."80 to go," Jake said.

555 | P a g e"Time to play," the pilot said, pulling back on the power andtransitioning into a steep descent.Jake cried out, "SA-10 one o'clock!"The rapid descent tookthem off the radarscope."Lost lock." The immediate threat passed."Fifty," He said"Popping up." Hamilton responded."We are being swept by multiple bands of radar. Both missileshave telemetry.""Launch when ready," Lance said.Jake reached touched the weapons array changing the launchswitch from OFF to MANUAL and pressed the pickle button.Thecomputer took over. It took a few moments for the smart bomb kits tocommunicate and validate their systems and positioning while the F-111 hung in space with what seemed like every missile in the southernhemisphere looking at them. Both bombs punched off the pylons at thesame time.The sudden loss of 30,000 pounds of dead weight causedthe F-111S to surge forwards. Once sure he was clear of the droppingcargo, Hamilton rolled the bomber on its back and headed back torouting through terra firma.Jake depressed the jammer switch lights on the display paneland the forward XMIT light came on immediately.The SA-12 andseveral others were locked on to them solidly."We have multiple missiles launches, multiple tracks.""Gimme chaff." Hamilton rolled the plane again taking her outat the best escape angle to the missiles before turning back intothem and presenting the thinnest profile possible. Skimming low overthe ice he moved the stick up and down to create a 100-footoscillation and sideways rolling motion. There wasn't much else hecould do.The missile plumes were visible ahead. The airplane would diein seconds.

556 | P a g e"Any good?" He asked Jake."No good, to many solid missile locks. We won't make it.""Bombs?""Look good""Excellent. Let's go then. Eject, eject," he said, and pulledthe ejection handle. The rocket motors in the escape capsule ignitedand propelled it upwards, the heavy gee forces pressing both Hamiltonand Jake hard into their seats.They were less than 700 feet awaywhen the first big missile ploughed head on into the Wrangler,obliterating it amongst a volley of other missiles that homed intothe same space.Brian was making decisions quickly.There was no time toponder, the outer northwestern unit would be first, its Grumbles andother missiles the primary threat. He could see massive tongues offlame and smoke appear as missiles left their launchers; they wereonto the Wrangler. He hoped the F-111 was close enough to drop thebombs. But the problem was, it was not just the aircraft, but alsothe Fuel Air Bombs that could be taken out by the deadly accurateRussian missiles. He had to do something about that quickly and thendesignate the target.Up until now, the little fanjet Microcraft had done a greatjob. But what was required next was something a little bigger. Theswitchblade was aptly named.Imprisoned in a small tube, it wasfired in the same way as a shoulder-launched missile. He had two ofthese.They must have had a fire sale at the UAV factories, hethought. But he wasn't complaining.Like the other units he powered the capsules up and selectedthe individual units on his laptop control and programmed theirflight co-ordinates. He then picked up both, walked out of the hideand fired each into the air.A small charge ejected them from thecapsule. Once ejected the wings, like switch blades, flicked out and

557 | P a g ethe unit's small pulsejet took over.While batteries could havesustained these units in flight, the pulsejets provided extra powerto the units small but highly focused microwave emitters.

558 | P a g eCHAPTER EIGHTEENCombat UAV’s featured significantly in strike packages against well defended targets.HQJOC BUNGENDORE.December 8 11:30hrs. CJOPS briefing 2 ndstrike package on its way.The Commander of the Australian Forces took a deep breath beforeturning to his audience, there had been little opportunity to sleepin the last few days, and now each minute seemed more urgent than theprevious. He unconsciously played with the folded edges of theprintout, flattening the pages out before speaking."In just the last few hours, the Longreach has succeeded indrawing Admiral Wen Jinsong's Carrier strike taskforce away from theeastern flank, also sucking away the Chinese AWACS and surveillance.This created a breach in their defense which allowed Squadron Leader

559 | P a g eHamilton's F-111S and companion C130 to break through to the iceshelf." He paused, picking up the last sheet of his notes and lookingat the time. "Right now, the F-111 should be refueled and preparedfor the next two stages of the operation."Communications were not possible with Hamilton's Vostok striketeam that far south, so the JOC was aware they were hoping for thebest.He looked at his audience. There was no clapping, but hehadn't expected that, there was however comfort in some of the facesknowing at least they might still be in the game. He continued fromhis notes."The Longreach and UAV engagement demonstrated greater Chinesecapability than previously realized. This includes HPM weapons, laserand other technologies operationally deployed on many of their shipsand being effectively used to defeat our Harpoons and UAVs. Earlywarning via AWACS and over the horizon radar are also a real problem."What does that mean in English?" someone asked."It means with the satellite blackout that affects both of us,the Chinese can still see us coming, night or day." The Generalfolded his briefing notes."That sounds like we are screwed?" the same voice asked.Morel stood back from the lectern. "If at this stage we weretrying to defeat them, yes. But that isn't the mission; inflictingdamage was not the objective. We targeted the lead task force becauseof its proximity to our penetration route to kill that damn wellfire.We not only succeeded in keeping them busy, we also got themto turn around. Now we actually have a shot at doing what we set outto.""What does this mean for the second strike package?" This timeit was the deputy Prime Minister.The JOC looked at his watch. "The second strike is on its way."He looked at the Chief of Air Force who nodded in confirmation. "And

560 | P a g esomehow we have to try and fool them again." It would be a lot harderthis time. None of it would matter a damn of course, if Hamilton'steam failed in delivering the FAB's on time and on target.CIA Headquarters, Langley.Caspian Sea monster recon photos.David Stringer looked closely at the recon image. "How did we getthis?""Mariner from the RANS Longreach. But it's several hours old.We had them launch a couple with a full sensor load.They wereunable to transmit any data until they came back from below thesatellite blackout. You know what it is?" The Intelligence Officersaid looking at the satellite image."You heard of the Caspian Sea monster?" Stringer asked inreply."Vaguely.""Well this is her big brother.""Bigger?" That was kind of difficult to believe."Unfortunately yes. Much larger than the Airbus A380; we aretalking 550 plus tonnes flying in Wing In Ground effect (WIG), thesame as the Manta landing craft. They both exploit the effect of aircompressing beneath a wings surface close to the ground, the sameaffect that causes many aircraft to 'float' above the runway whiletrying to land. The only difference here is size. This thing is bigenough not to worry about the southern rollers. She flies 50 feetabove the waves at over 400 knots. The Chinese version is stealthy indesign and includes active radar cancellation, making her pretty muchinvisible unless you are standing next to her.""Where do you think she's headed?""Towards the Australian fleet -- let them know. I will talk toVince." He walked out of the control center in the Situation

561 | P a g eRoom to Vince Kippers office. "We have to find her before she killsany of our ships."The Chinese Southern Ocean Task Force.Meeting of the Chinese and Australian Fleets. Shipwrecks fired.The penetration of Vostok Station by Brian and Lance was at best afleeting moment. It was of little consequence to the Chinese Armada;two brothers were not going to change the course of a war alreadystarted. Made up of three separate task forces supported by ZhongShan and the HAN AFB, the Chinese task force was formidable.Notjust in size but in capabilities.The Russian and Chinese efforts to develop weapons tospecifically combat US Carrier task forces, had delivered systemsthat were more powerful, with longer range and smarts than mostwestern equivalents. The purchase of technologies by the Chinese fromthe west, mainly France and Germany, had saved them years indevelopment. The French systems, many derived from US technology wereespecially useful. Of course the French didn't mention the fact theywere on-selling the technology to the Chinese.At the same time as Chinese defense research and developmentmultiplied its efforts, the U.S. effort faltered. The fiscal drag ofthe great recession and supporting so many traditional ground troopsin foreign operational deployments had redirected defense funds fromresearch, development and new weapons. As a result, U.S. investmentin new technologies slowed. This provided the Chinese and Russians anunparalleled opportunity to catch up to the U.S. in the acquisitionof new weapons technologies. Neither wasted time in exploiting theU.S. weakness.None of this was on the Chinese Fleet Commanders mind, with hispowerful fleet punching through huge foaming southern rollers, he wasinstead feeling frustrated.Sitting in the ships bridge, he looked

562 | P a g eover the bow, waves hurled by gale force conditions smashedthemselves against the steel to be whipped and stolen by the wind infrenzied streams of spray. The ferocity of the weather seemed tomirror the Admirals frustration that the Australians would notengage. The moment was he realized historic. Beneath and around himwas an armada of naval force rarely ever seen.No one had evergenerated this much naval firepower in a singular fleet deployment.It was of the same significance as Midway. Compared to Second WorldWar naval forces, the Chinese Task Force carried multiple times thefirepower of the entire U.S. Navy in those days.Nearly all the Bing Qing operational objectives had been met,but the Australian's still bothered him. They had backed down at the60th after making a big noise about stopping him there. He had thenordered the sinking of one of their destroyers and the shoot down ofan Orion. The Australians in turn had attacked with UAVs sinkingthree of his ships. In the scale of events this was a small effort.He had hoped for a decisive engagement. Instead, the Australiansrefused a decisive meeting of forces but still nipped and tugged athis ankles before running away again. The occasional bite hurt, butnot much, what did hurt was not being able to bite back hard.Themainland territories were strictly off bounds, which meant he had toplay this cat and mouse game, but soon they would make a mistake.As the hours dragged, so did Wen Jinsong's patience. With nosatellite coverage available in the Southern Ocean, his fleet fumbledthrough the dark following waving compass headings. He knew theAustralians and Americans were able to track him. He was after allsailing in waters they believed to be their own.He had rightlyassumed they would possess some SOSUS equivalent and would bemonitoring his movements. This didn't bother him greatly because ofthe huge numerical advantage he possessed. It also took the guessing

563 | P a g eout of what EMCON (emissions control) state he should apply to thefleet.There were three EMCON states, A, B and C. A meant noemissions, B were limited (no unique emissions), and C unrestricted.The Chinese fleet with the exception of the sub force was active andunrestricted.In each task force Wen had established layers of defensedesigned to give maximum protection to the fleet's high value units(HVUs), the carriers and cruisers. Furthest out in each fleet werethe picket ships, Combat Air Patrol (CAP) craft and Early WarningAircraft (AEW). These units operated 200 nautical miles from the mainbody, extending early warning out another two hundred from there. Theunits of Wens outer screen operated between 12 and 25 nautical milesfrom the carrier or cruisers and the inner screen within 10 miles ofthe HVUs.Wen knew a deadly strike could be launched at his task forcefrom more than 600 nautical miles away. This was a huge area toscout. A missile launched on a passive fix from over-the-horizon wasdeadly.With the fleet active on all fronts, it provided his forceearly detection of threats, considerably reducing the enemy'sadvantage of surprise.The Admiral had ordered the three task forces to travel inechelon, an effective anti-submarine formation. The ships headed inthe same direction were staggered. In each task force, the carrierand cruisers were in the middle of the pack with the destroyers andfrigates at the ends. Parameter escorts ringed the groups. When theformation zigged, all the ships made a simultaneous turn, changingthe dynamics of the echelon (an echelon right will become an echelonleft, etc.). This made solutions very hard to obtain for enemysubmarines.

564 | P a g eThe Admiral also allowed his pickets and escorts to turn attheir own pace and counter rotate.This threw a real unpredictablecurve ball at any attacking submarine.On the decks of the fleet carrier the Shi Lang, a Chinese J-11N, aChinese redesigned version of the Sukhoi Su-27SK was in full afterburner, the big twin Saturn-Lyulka AL-31F turbofans delivering over55,000lbs of thrust between them. The pilot had released the brakesgiving the big Sukhoi its head. Like the French and Russians, thecapability to manufacture reliable steam catapult systems had eludedthem. Instead, they used raw horsepower and a ski ramp at the end ofthe carrier's deck to overcome the inertia and gravity that wanted sobadly to force heavy metal objects into the sea.The Chinese Admiral watched the bright glow of the big fightersafter burners light up the sky as it leaped from the deck, climbingrapidly to join the continual rotation of aircraft that extended thefleet's protective zone to hundreds of miles. Early detection andtracking of anything approaching his fleet relied almost entirely onthe fleet's own sensors and their AEW aircraft. TU95s were oncontinual rotation out of Han AFB scouring the vast ocean for anysign of the enemy. Early detection was not just defensive; it alsomeant he could exploit his superior range in firepower, whilemaintaining a safe distance from the enemy.He pondered the UAV attack.A reaction from the Australian'swas to be expected. The question that bugged him was where the UAVscame from? The three Chinese ships lost were not critical, whichbegged another question, why they were targeted and not the carrier?Surely the carrier was the biggest threat and therefore the mostfruitful target. He knew instinctively there was something out therehe could not see.Submarines could not deliver the large and fastUAVs that had attacked him, destroyers did, and aircraft carriers

565 | P a g edid. But he would have seen any destroyers or aircraft carriers outto at least 750 miles. Something had launched these inside the 400mile envelope he thought. It was still out there. What else did theyhave that he could not see? That problem aside, there was also thequestion of them knowing his fleet's location.Just then he heard the buzz of the CMD Video phone, it wasGeneral Chen Jianguo. He put him on screen."You wanted to speak to me Admiral." Chen Jianguo asked."Yes Sir. Vostok. We have information from Zhong Shan.""Yes." Chen interrupted. "President Petrov has just informed usthat Australians forces are attacking Vostok."With what, Wen thought?Didn't the General say earlier theAustralians had few F-111's left and their offensive capabilitydepleted?"Are the Russians going to be able to hold on to it?" Wenasked."Kazakov assured me himself. But he also blamed us for lettingthe attacking force get through."The Chinese Admiral let that remark pass. Unfortunately Wenthought, that part could be true. The UAVs were a deception that drewhim away from the ingress route. But that still didn't explain whatthey were doing?"I don't understand General what it is the Australians aretrying to achieve with this token gesture.""Neither do I," General Chen conceded. "None of this makessense. If they were trying to take back Vostok surely they would haveto get a larger force past you, not just two or three aircraft.""Yes, my thinking exactly." At least they agreed on something."Did they land any ground forces, try to retake the station?""We still don't know yet. Kazakov informed us immediately thestation came under attack. They are aware of only one jet, which has

566 | P a g ebeen shot down. The bombs fell short exploding harmlessly in the wellshaft.Fell short? The Admiral asked himself. "What if they are aimingfor the shaft?"The Chinese general couldn't bring himself to believe in theU.S. and Australian propaganda, deception was an art in warfare, anart the Chinese were good at. "Why?Surely you don't believe intheir blatant propaganda. No, it looks like a Special Forcesoperation gone wrong. The Russians are chasing them down as we speak.In the mean time they have asked us to redouble efforts to preventany more forces penetrating past our defenses and into Antarctica.Keep me posted Wen.""Yes Sir."The Admiral closed the connection and sat back inthe Flag Chair, pondering the great map of Antarctica displayed onthe main screen.Maybe they were telling the truth about the fire?He was far from sure though. Whether Chen was wrong or right, it wasstill logical to assume that there would be a follow on force. Giventhe huge distances, the shortest route to Vostok was through hisfleet's line of defense.He decided he would pull in the westernmost task force and close the iron curtain.There would be no gapsthis time.After hanging up with the Chief of Staff he patched in his nextcall. "Get me the Operations Commander at Han Air force Base," heordered his communications officer. "And schedule a Vidcon with thetask force commanders in ten minutes." He planned to focus the forcesmaximum firepower on the anticipated corridor the Australians wouldattempt to penetrate through, if and when they and the Americansdecided to try and retake the ice continent.At the same time healso needed to figure out what to do with the small bevy ofAustralian Frigates and Destroyers that were still yapping at hisheels.

567 | P a g eTwenty minutes later he was summarizing his strategy with histask force commanders. "We need to pull in the outer escorts andensure that our COIL and HPM weapons overlap.It also appears theAustralians are deploying a high velocity gun with a range of atleast 200km. Clearly not all of their ships possess that. That's anassumption not fact," he added."Sir!"Wen swung towards the excited voice."We have an updated fix on the Australian fleet.Bearing duenorth, range 800 kilometers, closing at approximately 30 knots."Wen looked up at the situational screen, which now showed theposition of the Australian Warships.They were closing at flankspeed. The Chinese Admiral did not intend to let the Australians getclose enough to present a threat. He quickly completed the deliveryof his orders and dismissed the meeting.He then looked forward ofthe Island's bridge, six stories below at the rows of large hatchesthat housed the aircraft carriers deadly shipwreck missiles. Even atflank speed, the Australians were still some time from being able tobring their weapons into range. That limitation didn't apply to him;he was now in range.Racing south, the small Australian fleet were led by three RANdestroyers Hobart, Brisbane and Sydney and the USS Zumwalt. The threeHobart Class Navantia F100 air warfare destroyers were built by Tenixsystems in Adelaide Australia, they were fitted with upgraded weaponsand pushed out as almost all electric warships. Under the orders ofthe JTF Commander, Admiral Nick Jansen, the Australian fleet wasclosing with the Chinese Task Force in a deliberate attempt to drawtheir fire.The Australian Captain of the HMAS Brisbane was only too awarehis ship was lit up like the proverbial firecracker next to the

568 | P a g estealthy DDG-1000 USS Zumwalt. He paced the control room. It wouldstart soon; the Chinese would know they were coming.Hundreds of miles south the Chinese Task Force Commander gavethe order. The lids of the twelve Granit anti ship missile launchersflipped open.Smoke and flame began to belch from the containersalmost blanketing the deck despite the wind.The bright exhaustflames made the smoke glow a bright orange as the SS-N-19 Shipwreckmissiles rose on long tongues of fire, accelerating quickly,disappearing into the low overcast cloud.Speeding at over two andhalf times the speed of sound, the Shipwreck missiles took justminutes to close the gap to their targets.As they penetrated toless than one hundred miles the missiles went active, looked at themultiple targets, prioritized them, apportioned one to each missileand computed attack strategies for each individual missile. Weighingover one and a half ton each, with almost a half ton of warheadweight, each missile was capable of delivering a death stroke to itstarget.The rush of missiles to the Australian and U.S warships werenot the only threat. Directly below the flight of missiles,positioned in front of the rushing fleet of Australian warships wasthe Qinzhou, a Ming class type 035G diesel electric submarine whichwas barely making headway as it waited for the enemy warships to comewithin firing range.The outer doors of the boats six forward andtwo rear 533mm torpedo tubes were already open. The Captain stood atthe plot watching as the intercept progressed.'Control, sonar, 10,000 meters making 30 plus knots.'Weapons reported back to the Qinzhou's Captain. "Six minutes."Far behind the control room, the boats two Xiangtan alternatorsgently rotated the single shaft that ran through the hull to itspropeller, turning very slowly to push the hull through the water atjust over two knots.

569 | P a g eTwenty-five nautical miles to the east of the Qinzhou, the USSGreeneville hovered below the thermal incline. She had bolted fromher patrol area around Île Amsterdam to try and provide additionalcoverage to the Australian warships. Her replacement was the latestVirginia class submarine with a full compliment of Special Forces.Clearly, Turner thought, there were some plans afoot to disrupt HanAFB. Good stuff.The sonar operator held his hands to his earphones, listeninghard and looking intently at the acoustic read out. Conn, Sonar, newsonar contact, designate sierra zero three one, contact is puttingout a weak signal to noise ratio." There was a very faint rubbingsound, barely audible."Single screw, classify as Ming Class,contact now designated Master-3 can classify as the Qinzhou."In the control room USN Commander Scott Turner looked intentlyat the BSY-2 fire control console. He was still out of range. "Makeour speed ten knots, depth 500, steer 095 west," Turner ordered. Atten knots the Greeneville was quiet. Turner knew with the Australianships making a flank run towards his position from the North, theMing was in a good place to shoot.He also had no doubt that outthere were also several other hostile submarines that would attack ifthey heard him. To his south he could hear the active pulses of thedipping sonar from an Australian Seahawk anti submarine helicopter.Too weak to pick up the Ming or illuminate the Greeneville. Within afew minutes he would be in range of the Ming.To Turner's southeast the Captain of the Chinese Kilosubmarine, the Ting, also heard the dipping sonar. It was close. Heimmediately ordered his boat dive deep beneath the layers to remainhidden and position it to watch and wait, ready to attack.The Greeneville heard the sudden move.

570 | P a g e"Captain!" the sonar operator reported, "we have a new contacton the spherical array, intermittent, moving between the convergencezone. Seven bladed screw making turns for thirteen knots, designatecontact as Master-4 classified as the Ting."Turner knew this was one of their latest improved Kilo classsubs.She had obviously dived fast to remain hidden from the helo.But his joy in detecting the deadly Kilo was short lived."Conn, sonar, we have lost contact with Master-4," the sonarsupervisor said.Turner ordered the boat slowed to five knots and steereddirectly towards the Tings last known position. He knew good dieselboats had an advantage over SSN's in stealth. Slowed or completelystopped, they could run on their batteries alone, no moving parts orworking machinery to give them away, virtually impossible to detect.Whereas, a nuke boat was required to constantly pump coolant into thenuclear reactor, to keep it critical and avoid overheating. If theCaptain of the Ting decided to stay still and silent, he would beextremely difficult to re-acquire.Turner guessed the Tings Captainhad brought his boat to a full stop. The Chinese Captain could listenintently to detect any approaching submarines, free of the normalinterference from the boats machinery and the hulls passage throughthe water. This made the Ting a smart and dangerous adversary.How many others like him remained out there ready to pounce?Intel briefings had informed him the Chinese had sent a considerablenumber of their submarines south.able to tell him where they were.But naval intelligence were notIn the last two days those thathad been detected on the surface had dived.Unwittingly Greeneville's slight change in course took the LAClass SSN right across the bows of another improved Chinese Kiloclass boat, the Lin San Liu.Barely 2500 yards separated the twoships.

571 | P a g eThe Lin San Liu was quick to react. "Captain, sonar. We have asingle screw LA class boat crossing our bow north to south!Identified as the USS Greeneville.""Have they seen us?" he asked. The young Chinese commander wasinexperienced but made up for that in ability."No Sir, I doubt it. I think they are following the noises weheard from the Ting.""Excellent. Open all outer doors!" the Kilo Captain ordered.With its tubes already flooded, the Lin San Liu with her sisterships, now eagerly awaiting the arrival of the Australian fleet. Thesudden appearance of the LA class boat was another bonus. To sink anew Hobart class destroyer and in the same stroke, one of the longfeared Los Angeles class hunter killers, would bring him great honorand do wonders for his promotional opportunities and his family.The Kilo's multi-purpose MVU-120EM computer allowed the boatsfire control system to simultaneously track both his target ships andthe Greeneville at the same time.The targets course, position andspeed data from the Andoga navigation system fed straight to thecombat data system."Target tubes one and two on the Greeneville, three and four onthe Brisbane and five and six on the lead ANZAC frigate," the Captainordered. He watched the evolving firing solution. He wanted theAustralian surface ships a little closer on his nose but was mindfulof the Greeneville's increasing separation. All the forward tubes ofhull number 366 were loaded with Ta Po.From the Shi Lang's control center, PLAN Admiral Wen Jinsongconsidered the large situational display feed from the ships Tavitakcommand and control system, which was in turn fed and updated fromthe entire fleets command and sensory systems. Unlike the restrainedlittorals and shallow water environments of the South China Sea, they

572 | P a g ewere operating in a world it seemed of a limitless and hostile ocean.As a result, the plot showed the position of his submarine assets tobe spread over a wide area. The Admiral decided to maintain thefleets westerly heading to draw the Australian ships out, giving timefor some of them to converge on the Australians course. The Captainof the Shi Lang interrupted his thoughts."Sir, we are ready to launch our air strike.""Very well." Wen said looking down at the now congested flightdeck, his mind wondering. I know where my submarines are. But whereare theirs?The gale force winds had for the moment reduced to abarely acceptable level for flight operations. The deck still heavedbeneath his feet and he did not envy the pilots trying to come backto land.He had ordered all the fleets anti submarine helicoptersinto the air spreading them in front, to the side, and to the rear ofthe fleet. He was taking no chances."Missiles on terminal guidance," one of the operatorsannounced. The shipwrecks were about to strike the small Australianfleet.RAAF 82 Wing over the Southern Ocean.F-111’s strike Chinese Fleet, subs strike Aust fleet.Group Captain Laurie Wilkie, Officer Commanding 82 Wing, pushed thenose of his big jet towards the water. This would rank as one of thetoughest flights in his life. The TFR (Terrain Following Radar) wasswitched off and every other emitting electronic device. It was darkand the only visual was the ghostly infrared vision projected intohis helmet display. Thank god for that. He couldn't have handled theold goggles for long.The UAVs from the Longreach had given them a chance. Forewarned, fore armed. In addition to the Bing Qing, AESA phased array

573 | P a g eradar and doppler systems, the Australians and Americans now alsosuspected the Chinese had deployed a laser countermeasure device,capable of picking up almost any laser emission.Even simplealtitude measurements, which they had been using to replace theradio-based devices, could be detected.At this point of time,Wilkie knew his biggest assets were sitting behind and beneath him,bloody big engines and a super fast and tough airframe.Utilizing the same tactics as Hamilton, the flight of F-111'swas hard on the deck, flying between the big southern swells, pigs onthe hunt, their pilots flying virtually blind, navigating by paperand compass. "TOT five minutes!""Rog. Lets go ARC," Wilkie said, turning on the Active RadarCancellation.A few hundred miles south, one of the KJ-2100 Mainstay AWACSoperators noticed occasional blips to the north."Here!…what isthis?" he exclaimed.His fellow operator dialed the focus on theradar to the 'detect', but nothing happened."Birds," he said "It happens all the time. The systems are sodamn sensitive they can pick up seagulls having lunch!"Back in the F-111, the airframe literally thumped as it punchedthrough the turbulent sea air at over 500 knots, just feet from thewater. The ride was that hard the 82nd Groups Wing Commander hadgreat trouble switching between modes on the main screen. His wepsofficer was working furiously. There were none of the normal inputs.With satellites down below the 60th, including NAVSATS, and unable toradiate a transmission of any sort, they weren't just blind, but deafas well."ARC charged," the weps replied.The adapted Grumman ZSR-63defensive aid came online. The attacking F-111's sported smallantennas separated by the length of the aircraft. The antennasemitted electromagnetic waves half wavelengths out of phase with any

574 | P a g ereflected radar signal, effectively reducing its intensity, makingthe aircraft virtually disappear from any radar screen.However,they were a long way from being fully effective.But at the heightand speed the Pigs were flying, they were lost amongst the clutter.The Bing Qing, as good as it was, could also not make sense of suchlow fast objects.Like the British in the Falklands, the Chinese systems wereadvanced and looking for sophisticated adversaries. They had foryears developed their systems to take on and defeat U.S. carriers andair threats. They were not expecting this; low, mach plus, zeroemission aggressors, with human hands on the wheel hiding amongst thewaves.On board the lead F-111, Wilkie armed the system; at least hethought he was still the lead. "We are hot," he said to thenavigator. He had no idea how the others were doing.It was darkernow; there were no visuals and no communication, no radar, nolocation devices. They were all on their own."Ready for pitch up!" he said looking to the TOT and estimatedrelease point."Now!""Punch, punch now!" The airplane jumped."weapons gone," the weapons officer announced.Wilkie pushed the plane back to the deck. With the F-111'swings almost skimming the waves, he stood the bomber on its wingtips, eight gees of force pressing the two men hard into their seats,reversing course. They both grunted to keep themselves from blackingout. The RAAF Wing Commander dropped the F-111 so low the bigturbines ploughed water while he fire walled the throttles into theindents gritting his teeth."Let's get the fuck out of here!"Flying at mach one plus, the F-111 rapidly exited the area, theshockwave throwing a thrashed wall of water 100 feet high behind

575 | P a g ethem. The minutes ticked by, both of them watching the RHAW, fullyexpecting it to start screaming.Nothing happened. "Fuck me," theNav eventually announced. "I bet we only ever get to do that once!""Damn right," the Wing Commander said, not believing theirluck.The radar operator on the northern most picket of the Chinesetask force tapped the screen. There was something out there. But itwas very weak and kept disappearing."New Contact, very weak, is bearing 010."The second packet of F-111's popped up and released theirmissiles."MISSILES inbound, we have missiles inbound," the radaroperator yelled.Almost immediately the close in defense systemstarted to automatically engage what were two harpoons, attempting tothrow up a wall of lead that the incoming missiles would have to flythrough. Unlike its sister ships, the Jinan had not received the HPMupgrade. Only a handful had the close in laser defense system.Theolder CIWS, normal cannon, had little chance in stopping the two seaskimming, fast weaving AGM-158D JASSMs.Both missiles struck hard on the water line. The shipimmediately settled in the water. As the cold seawater began to flowover the forward deck, the F-111's thundered over the stricken vesselfanning out as they prepared to attack the other radar pickets. Thelead nudged his stick to avoid hitting the sinking destroyer'scommunication masts that still protruded from the water, pigs on thehunt, the smell of blood in the air.The Chinese fleet, like the U.S. and Australia, was linkedtogether by a large wide area networked combat and control system.The system was well aware of the Jinan's defense status and itssudden disappearance from the network.

576 | P a g e"Sir! The Zhou Task Force appears to be under attack. We have adropped link to the Jinan," the communications operator announced."What?What did you say?" Admiral Wen Jinsong asked insurprise."We just lost contact with the Jinan!"Wen Jinsong knew the Jinan was assigned to the task forceimmediately to his west. So much for the reduction of the AustralianF-111 strike capability he thought angrily. "Captain, where the hellis that fighter CAP?" Admiral Wen growled, and why he thought, couldneither the AWAC's or other sensors have seen them coming? Radarcancellation he told himself, combined with their ferocious low andfast attacks, obviously now without their TFR, otherwise they wouldhave seen it. They must be peeling seaweed off these things they wereso damn low."If I am not mistaken we have some F-111's almost ontop of us," Wen said.The Captain visibly paled.After a problem with the forwardelevator he had momentarily stopped flight operations until it hadbeen fixed. And with the destruction of the F-111's earlier on he hadassumed there was little threat, General Chen had said so himself."Get whatever you have into the air immediately!" he said tothe Captain, turning back to look at the missile plot. "What's thestatus on our missiles?""Fifteen seconds," the missile director said.The Chinese Fleet commander leaned over the central digitalplotting table located in the center of the control room. His middletask force was under attack by an F-111 strike group. It looked likethe prelude to a 'best push' by the Australians.carrier forces were still too far away to help.The AmericanHe knew theAustralian destroyers and frigates charging towards him were using upmost of their surface combat capability, as did the attacking groupof F-111's, which were their only potent long range anti shipping

577 | P a g estrike capability. There were a few items from their register stillnot accounted for. But he was sure they would show up. What wasannoying him however was that despite his forces superior firepower,the Australians were taking the initiative. But that would change.As the Chinese Admiral had begun to grapple with the F-111strike, the inbound sea skimming SS-N-19 Shipwreck missiles fired byWen's task force were picked up by the Australian fleet less than 60miles out."Incoming!" the Brisbane's radar officer announced from withinthe ships control room.The Captain of the Brisbane sat up abruptly in his chair almostthrowing his coffee across the room. "What do we have?""Low, fast supersonic by the looks of it, twelve, from numerousdirections.The system is fully locked and automatic," the airwarfare officer said."Thank you," the Captain said, his face expressionless.Several miles in front and to the beam of the advancing AustralianWarships, the commander of the kilo Class submarine hull number 366,the Lin San Liu, was poised and ready to strike. He had theGreeneville and two Australian ships dead in his sights.He gaugedthe moment. He opened his mouth to issue the order but was suddenlycut off by a loud directional ping that reverberated through the hullof Kilo number 633. The blood chilled in his veins. In a fraction oftime, a thousand thoughts raced through his mind. He knew he had madea fatal mistake."Torpedo in the water!" the Chinese sonar operator cried.There was only one course of action. "Fire tubes one throughsix and reload!"Turners mouth was dry. After passing and almost missing theunknown Kilo, the keen ears of his sonar operators had detected thesound of outer doors opening. The Kilo had him dead to rights, any

578 | P a g esecond he expected a shot he could not escape from. The seconds hadticked by in agony. Turner had concluded quickly the Chinesecommander wanted both the Greeneville and the surface ships andbelieved the Greeneville had not detected the Kilo.He also knewwith his boat sitting in the target frame, it was far better off notto provoke an immediate response, every yard gained was closer toliving.Just three minutes later and a few hundred yards and thetactical situation had changed."Cut the wire, shut the door and reload," Turner ordered justbefore the ADCAP Mod 7 had gone active. "All ahead flank steadycourse 185, cavitate, make your depth 600. The Greenevilleaccelerated; her towed array already reeled back in before thetorpedo went active."Torpedoes in the water," Sonar announced. "Two bearing 190,active and homing!"That was expected. The Greeneville's top speed exceeded fortyknots. The two torpedoes chasing her were doing in excess of 200knots.It was how much in excess of that number that had Turnerwondering. They were fast, but short ranged."Conn, sonar, the Kilo has just picked up speed, turningdirectly towards us, making twenty knots."The skipper of the Greeneville admired the guts of the Chinesecommander. He was going to go down fighting. But could he getanother shot off? As Greeneville sped up, her listening skillsdiminished. He wouldn't know until he slowed down again. The Kilowould take five minutes to fire another salvo.It was all a matterof maths.At flank speed the Greeneville was making a lot of noise. Shewas letting anyone know in a very loud way, exactly where she was.Worse, she was almost completely blind herself.Greeneville

579 | P a g ethundered through the water at nearly fifty knots. Turner made somerapid calculations in his head, there had been no time to pump theminto the computers, and by the time they had typed them in it wouldhave been too late. This is what he was paid for, to make decisions.But by running from the Shkval, he was headed straight for Master-3and Master-4 with a bull's eye on his head. They were in front ofhim, could hear him, and he was racing blindly in their direction.Every second taking him closer to a point they could shoot at him andhe wouldn't know."Helm, ten knots," he ordered suddenly. "Maintain heading,stream the long array."The boat slowed quickly. "Captain, we still have two torpedoesclosing rapidly, 1500 yards." The sonar operator said trying to keepthe edge from his voice.Turner was sure he had the math right. He was going to tellsonar to look for the other contacts but stopped himself. He walkedto the sonar stations.They were of course on the ball and doingexactly that, trying to re-acquire and establish firing solutions onthe other contacts."Captain, we have loud breaking up noises to our aft," theoperator announced. "We have lost contact on both Chinese torpedoes;looks like they went dead in the water!"Turner could see the relief on the operator's face despite himtrying to hide the fact. He respected the professionalism to containit, because he felt exactly the same way. He slapped his hand on theyoung sonar man's shoulder and smiled, heading back to his seat inthe control room."Conn, sonar, we have Master-3, making cavitation noises andspeeding up.There are also sounds of surface explosions and breakup noises near the fleet."

580 | P a g eDamn it, Turner thought. Was it one of those torpedoes he didnot stop in time? He didn't know. He wouldn't have time to pondereither."Conn, sonar! Two torpedoes bearing 010. Chinese Mk46 copy-Mod4, range 23,000 yards."Turner looked at the plot and decided to ignore the torpedoes,both fired in an attempt to distract him."Give me the ranges to Master-3," he asked, already knowing theanswer but keeping to the process."23,000 yards for the Ming." They were within range of theMADCAPS."Keep looking for Master-4, she is still out there and knowswhere we are." He immediately initiated firing point procedures onthe Ming. "Torpedo room, fire control, make tubes two and three readyin all respects and open outer doors."The order was acknowledged and then confirmed."Sonar, conn, stand by.""Conn, sonar standing by.""Match sonar bearings and shoot tube two."Seconds after confirmation of the order "Tube two firedelectronically." The boats combat system operator reported.Turner turned to his XO. "Reload number two and swim thetorpedo in tube three out quietly towards the last position we sawMaster-4, the Ting." Turner wanted a few moments to re-evaluate whilethe XO took care of the last orders.The Ming and the Ting.They rhymed. Stupid thing to thinkabout now! The MK 46s were fired out of range. His calculateddecision to run from the shkvals, had still kept him short of thefiring range of the other Kilo and Ming, that and all the noise fromthe shkvals had helped.Assuming of course they had not moved far

581 | P a g eand hoping like hell there were no other immediate surprises. He hadto be ready for those other surprises; they were surely out there."Conn, sonar, number two has acquired Master-3," the combatsystem operator reported. The MADCAP had found the Ming with its ownsonar and didn't need any more guidance from the Greeneville's firecontrol system."Cut the wires and shut the outer door, reload tube two,"Turner ordered."Conn, sonar we have one explosion bearing 192." There wasn'ttime to get excited. They were still knee deep in alligators."Helm, conn, steer 270." Turner ordered a 90 degree right-handturn to allow the sensitive towed array to get a good look to therear without executing a full 180 which might fowl the wires on theADCAP, still looking for the missing Kilo the Ting.It picked up another chaser immediately. The sonar chief calledfrom his forward station. “Conn, Sonar, new sonar contact designatesierra one bearing one six zero.Contact is putting out a mediumsignal to noise ratio on a single pump jet propulser.Contactclassified as submerged warship, classification Russian Akula II fastattack submarine.”"Conn, sonar, contact designated Master-6 the Shaminski, makingturns for 48 knots directly in our baffles.""Snap shot, match sonar bearings, shoot tubes one and four andreload."The two torpedoes left the tubes, their Otto fuel enginescoming to life and powering their powerful pump engines. The Alpha,an incredibly powerful and fast attack boat in the hands of an expertwas lethal. Unfortunately its skipper did not know a good time to layback and wait, and when to use its speed, because it was noisy ashell. He had hoped to race up behind the LA boat while it wassprinting and shoot it in the back, hiding in its baffles. The Alpha

582 | P a g ewas blind while it raced to catch the Greeneville.The two MADCAPSacquired it immediately."Cut the wires and close the outer doors. Helm steer 190, speedfour knots.""Conn, sonar, we have two explosions in our baffles andbreaking up noises," the sonar operator reported quickly. There wasno glee in the voice. The thought of the frigid ocean plunging intothe hull, and the death dive to the ocean floor 12,000 feet beneaththeir keel was a fate that could visit all of them.While all of this was going on, ahead of the Greeneville theMADCAP was executing a very stealthy and precise search procedure.The new MADCAP was instructed to use passive sonar to sniff her prey,silently closing on the last known location of Master-4, the Ting.At the same time as the Greeneville and Lin San Liu had exchangedshots, from the other side of the fleet another Chinese submarinethat had waited in ambush fired its own torpedoes, adding to thefreight train of rocket torpedoes headed towards the Australianwarships.The Australian warships immediately heard the explosive soundsof numerous shkval rocket engines rushing towards them."Control, sonar, torpedoes in the water, high speed highcavitations, probably Shkval!"The Commander of the HMAS Brisbane quickly looked back at thewarfare officer."CGs (Cavitation guns) have acquired with strong FC (FireControl) telemetry," the warfare officer said, referring to that partof the AEGIS Fire Control system that was responsible for trackingand destroying the inbound sub surface threat. Fight fire with firehe was thinking.

583 | P a g eThe commander unconsciously held his breath and watched theprogress of both missiles and torpedoes targeting his ship."Sonar, high speed torpedoes inbound 1000 meters, runningshallow." His voice was excited."Control, missiles 7000 meters."The Commander said nothing, calmly watching the screens.Thetorpedoes at over 200 knots arrived a few seconds before themissiles. The small cannons mounted in hull turrets beneath the shipstarted hammering. Even inside the control room it was hard to missthe reverberation. The RAMICS CIWS (Close In Weapons System) cannonswere no ordinary CIWS.Mounted on Hobart, Canberra and some ANZACClass ships, they were capable of firing super-cavitating 'Kinetickill' bullets. This was the first time they had ever been usedoperationally."1000 meters.""500 meters."The Captain felt the RAMICS modified rapid gun firing below.The incoming torpedoes were making more noise in the water than afour-trailer road train towing metal pipes, the ship's sonar havingno problem in acquisition and targeting. The rounds from the RAMICSCIWS were spread out in the water five hundred yards from the shipdirectly in the path of the incoming torpedoes. The guns specialized30mm flat nosed projectiles barely slowing before slamming into thetorpedoes 60 feet beneath the surface. None of the Chinese modifiedShkval got past the 450-yard mark.The muffled explosions of someof the torpedoes ran through the deck, sonar confirming the kills.But there was no time to celebrate."Radar!""Still incoming.""Thank you," he said. Actually he felt like saying a lot more.Like, was the system working, you sure? That type of thing.But if

584 | P a g ehe had to ask that, they were all fucked anyway. So he kept his mouthshut.A familiar vague shudder in the hull and slowing of the shipalerted him first. Massive feeds of power from the ships almost allelectricsystem were delivered to three heavy and rapidly spinningkinetic compulsators that sat beneath the ships two gun turrets. Thecompulsators were basically large alternators designed to producefast massive electrical pulses, converting stored rotational energyinto electrical energy. Once up to speed a switch within the systemsensed the desired polarity and amplitude and closed the circuit.Twin barrelled railguns pivoted in their gimballed turrets onthe aft and forward decks, their square barrels sniffing the airguided by the ships targeting radars. The guns were linearelectromagnetic accelerators utilizing Lorenz Forces from a highmagnitude electrical impulse to propel an armature down two parallelconducting rails.An automated rapid-fire breach loading mechanism inserted thearmature and a specially designed five-pound tungsten fin-stabilizedround seated inside an aluminium sabot cradle that contacted the twoparallel rails. Forced in by hyper velocity gases an optical sensortriggered the switch in the compulsators for just 10micro secondsreleasing 20 million amps.The current flowed up one rail, through the armature and downthe other rail resulting in a magnetic field between the two railsand an intercepting field by the armature. The rails repelled eachother and both repelled the armature to produce an evolving magneticfield that expanded in approximately 200 nanoseconds to reach severalmillion atmospheres pressure. The aluminium sabot cradle that carriedthe tungsten projectile accelerated up the rails leaving the barrelat over 14 miles per second, twenty times faster than a bullet.

585 | P a g eOn leaving the barrel the sabot exterior parted leaving theaerodynamically stable tungsten projectile to steer towards itstarget. Within five seconds another had been fired, the gun hammeringout twelve super high velocity rounds a minute, the kinetic energy ofeach round many more times powerful than the HE effect of a tomahawkwarhead.With a range of 250 miles, the projectiles easily reachedthe incoming shipwreck missiles in less than a heart beat of leavingthe barrel."Forward gun engaged." He could almost feel the ship slow alittle."Rear gun engaged. Telemetry is good."The ships Aegis combat system had to make but a smallcalculation in targeting of just seconds to steer the super highvelocity five-pound tungsten darts on target. With a combined impactspeed of nearly ten times the speed of sound the incoming missileswere stopped in their tracks, almost completely vaporized by thekinetic hit.Back on the ship several very loud explosions could be heard,but nothing that shook the hull. The overhead tracking display showedan almost 100 percent kill rate, almost. Without those railguns theshipwrecks would have made mince meat of most of the Australianships.The three Hobart Class ships were the only ones to possessthem."All ahead flank!" he ordered. ""One nine zero." Without theseships in front, the Australian Destroyer Commander realized the restof the fleet was extremely vulnerable. "Get Hobart and Sydney to formon us ASAP XO!"This wasn't his job but they were in the heat ofbattle. He was at the front and could see what was happening best."Confirm?""Confirm!" the task force commander said.

586 | P a g e"Still one missile inbound!Can't target it," the weaponsofficer said, stress creeping into his voice. "The Tennant is in theway!"Shipwreck missiles were called that for a reason.They were reallybig, incredibly fast and virtually nothing could stop them. TheHobarts railguns were hammering smart iron into the air when suddenlythe forward gun failed. The other close in support weapons kicked inhard throwing up a wall of lead, but it wasn't stopping the incomingmissile. The Aegis system compensated by re-allocating the targets toother weapons in the fleet.In the control center of the Hobart the Captain looked at thered warning light of the gun that failed and realized he was in deepshit. He knew the sea skimming ship killer was approaching from theforward port side, shielded from Hobart's other gun and the rest ofthe fleet by the ships hull. The Shipwreck missile ploughed into theforward section of the ship at over Mack two, completely blowing thebow off the destroyer. She sank in minutes. No one survived, not inthat cold water.The Captain of the HMAS Sydney felt the hull tremble from theshockwave of the blast."Get our Sea Hawk on that immediately XO,make sure the others cover us to the front," the Isa's skipperordered.The two remaining Hobart Class destroyers and the USS Zumwaltsurged ahead, their wakes frothing as they rushed towards theChinese. Three small destroyers followed by Adelaide and ANZAC classfrigates in the face of an overwhelmingly more powerful navy.The Hobart’s systems that failed were made up of two parts.First, active rounds, and secondly hull mounted emission systems.They failed because the software froze when configuring the radarsystem with the railguns, a unique set of numbers it wasn't

587 | P a g eexpecting. Not a big deal, two lines of code. But there was no timeto fix the code and no one knew how big the problem was.Just thefact it didn't work and several hundred Australians had paid theprice.With the two Hobart Class destroyers and the USS Zumwaltbarricading the front gates from the big missiles, the fleetcontinued to close on the Chinese Armada. Beneath the surface acompletely new game was being played out, a mix of new and old rules.

588 | P a g eCHAPTER NINETEENAn Australian 737 Wedgetail AWAC.USS Greeneville.The undersea battle against the Ting and others.Greeneville had started the battle with a full load out of weapons;twenty-six weapons including four in the torpedo tubes. That load outwas becoming depleted very rapidly. Turner knew that the Shkval atclose range was a killer. He had been lucky. If the Lin San Liu hadfired earlier, the Greeneville would be headed to the deep with theAlpha and the Ming.His adversaries were very capable. Many of them enjoyedentirely digital and superior non-hull penetrating systems, much likethe Virginia class. The quiet diesel boats could also now staysubmerged for days at time, powered by Air Independent Propulsion

589 | P a g esystems. There was little chance of an easy kill in this knife fight.The fact he could not find Master-4 was proof of that. But he knewthe Chinese boat was either aware of him, or worse, hunting him.Master-4 was a lot closer than Turner would have liked. TheCaptain of the Ting crept forward very quietly, closing the distanceto the Greeneville. He would not make the mistake of using a rockettorpedo on the Greeneville. The Mk 46, which the Chinese had copiedand modified, was slower than the Shkval, but had a much greaterrange. The tubes were flooded and the outer doors opened. The firingsolution would be any moment.Was it instinct? Turner didn't know. But the hairs on theback of his neck stood up and he felt a cold shiver run down hisspine. What he did next would have, under any normal circumstance,been construed as a bad decision. "Sonar, conn. Give me one activeping in the direction of the Ting." The loud pulse propagatingthrough the water, the response from sonar was quick."Captain, the Ting is on our bow making turns for seven knots,14,000 yards!"This was quickly followed by something even more distressing."Torpedo in the water 10,000 yards to our heading, looks like anotherMK46!""Snap shot, match bearings and shoot tubes one." Turner waitedfor the confirmation of the shoot, before the next order."Helm, right full rudder, all ahead flank. Cavitate, make yourdepth 500." The Greeneville heeled into the heavy turn. "Cut thewires," he ordered, knowing the chance of the MADCAP acquiring theTing was greatly reduced. "Release a noise maker." It was time toclear the datum and get some space to come back and re-acquire.There was no way the Kilo could keep up with the Greeneville, nor hercopycat torpedoes.

590 | P a g eA few minutes later sonar reported more torpedoes in the water.But they were over 60,000 yards away. "ADCAPs and RTP's," he said.Probably the Jimmy Carter Turner thought. He was right, theJimmy Carter had fired the U.S. version of the rocket torpedo sinkingthe Changzheng, a nuclear powered Han Class Attack boat.The othersounds were Australian launched ADCAPs from the HMAS Waller andFarncomb, each claiming another Chinese Hull number.This wasquickly confirmed when he looked at the updated combat controlsystems situational display.Between the four U.S. and Australianboats combing the area, combined with the active searches by helo'sand ship sonar, they had sunk six enemy subs with no losses. Theimmediate underwater realm in front of the Australian and U.S. shipslooked clear. The HMAS Hobart was shown as destroyed by missiles. Heknew the familiar sick feeling in the gut would come later, when hewas not responsible for so many other lives and had time to think."Make your depth 200, one nine five zero and turns for fiveknots." He waited for the response then turned to the Watch Officer."You have the conn." A little while later he returned to the controlroom.The XO was there even though it was not his watch. Thecommunications officer appeared at the same time."Captain, we have an URGENT message over the LC." Thecommunications officer was referring to the recently deployed LaserBased Underwater Communicator. This exploited an optical window inthe blue-green part of the laser spectrum, which enabled transmissionto penetrate the ocean at substantial distance. The tacticalimprovisation of the laser meant, airborne, satellite or ground basedemissions in conjunction with a space-based mirror delivered datatransfer rates well over 300 times greater than the ELF (ExtremelyLow Frequency) system. The device also continually updatedGreeneville's situational plot.

591 | P a g e"Send it through," Turner said. It was quickly directed to hispersonal display situated on the Captain's chair.It was lengthy.After reading it he decided not just the officers, but the entirecrew needed to know the contents. It was his choice.A few minutes later the officers were once again crammed intothe small wardroom of the USS Greeneville. Commander Scott Turner haddecided to address the full crew over the internal Vidcon. It wasimportant to him that they understood what was transpiring in andoutside of the boat. If they were prepared to put their lives on theline they damn well deserved to know what for."The Russians, Chinese and French governments have submitted aUN resolution requesting a security zone around Antarctica led byChina and Russia. This was vetoed by the UK because as you know theU.S. is no longer a member of the permanent Security Council. Let meread this part to you.'Russia, China, North Korea, Germany, France and several othercountries within the UN security council, have sponsored a proposalto establish an iron fence around Antarctica in order to prevent anyfurther territorial aggression by the US and Australia over acontinent whose ownership is still in doubt.'"That's the transcript. Other nations assisting this newcoalition also include defense elements from Spain, Iran, Pakistan,Malyasia, Indonesia, Argentina and Italy." Turner switched the mainoverhead display to the situational map."Argentina, controls a huge area of the Antarctic Peninsula.We can presume they have negotiated with the Chinese and Russians topreserve their claim and get some of the spoils.The joint forcescall themselves the 'Wei' coalition." Turner spelled it out. "Itmeans rose or valuable in Chinese.

592 | P a g e"The enemy blockade is spread across a huge area and is onlyachieved through the support of several countries. Jinsong's task hasbeen to prevent any Australian or U.S. vessel or aircraft breachingthe containment line."The Chinese and Russians have recruited the North Koreans,Germans, Italians and even some Iranian forces to both make theirstand look internationally legitimate and, more importantly, to plugthe holes in the iron curtain they have been trying to draw down overAntarctica."The AOP for the Chinese appears to cover Cape Adare to CaseyStation.The force Commander we believe to be Admiral Wen Jinsong,an experienced and capable naval officer."Admiral Wen has split the combined force package into threeparts. The first led by the Shi Lang, which we think is the Flagship,the second is led by the French designed, Foudre class landingplatform. The third groups center piece is the Mistral class LHDCommand and Control ship, the Chee (Qi) and a Russian Slava ClassCruiser refurbished and renamed the Ching yoo-awn. (Qing yuan)."Each of these Task forces has to patrol over 1000 kilometersof the iron line they have established. They have the added resourceof air assets from Prydz Bay and Han AFB to cover up to Davis Stationand overlap near Casey. These include H-6AII, TU95's (Range 12,500km)and Backfires. The Chinese and Russians think this is a battle of oiland land and have completely ignored our warnings. We now know thisis a battle for our existence that we cannot afford to lose. To losemeans we are all dead. This is gloves off time. The only carriernear our AOP is the Clinton.As you know she is neither fullycommissioned nor up to strength. She is waiting support from theStennis and H.W.Bush carrier groups who are at flank speed to gethere.

593 | P a g e"The Clinton has been keeping the Russki's busy and their headsdown, but with the other group's offensive capabilities coming intorange, will have to go on the defensive. The Centurion, Connecticutand Jimmy Carter have been working with the Clinton battle group andwe have been informed, making good measure against Russian Akula,Shang and advanced Kilo class submarines."Our job as part of the overall effort has been to clear theapproaches for the Australian ships and the USS Zumwalt." He paused,letting the information sink in. "Now we have new orders. Now we aregoing after the big money." The officers looked at each other. It wasmore fun to hunt than play screen."I'm also told the Australian task force supply ship has afresh load out for us as well." That was welcome news. No one likedgoing on the hunt with the possibility of running out of shot in themiddle of a firefight, or food for that matter."So," The XO said, having waited ages to crack his joke. "It'sall the Wei or bust?" He laughed at his own joke; the others groaned.Admiral Wen Jinsong believed correctly that the U.S. and Australiansubmarines were among his most dangerous and immediate threats; theyhad already proven that.But Jinsong had the advantage of numbers,despite the losses.And now the small flotilla of Australian shipswas about to breach his submarine screen."Where's the boundary layer?" he asked."Thermocline is 112 meters sir. We have VDS (active variabledepth sonar) arrays above and below the layer," the ship's sonaroperator reported. "There are no contacts at present.""Thank you," he said. He studied the overhead plot, lookingcarefully at his own submarine deployments. He knew some were alreadymissing. The Australian fleet had already passed the first submarinepicket.Unfortunately, the subs that had survived could at best do

594 | P a g etwenty knots submerged.They would have to catch up as the battleprogressed.He turned to his communication officer. "Send a message to theSub Fleet Commander. I want to concentrate our attack subs here." Heindicated on the display with a small laser pointer. "This is wherethe Australians must go through to get to us." He looked hard at thedisplay again. They were playing a game. He knew it. The Sub FleetCommander was a smart man. "Tell him to advise me what units he willallocate and those he wants to leave in protection of the fleet.""Order the entire fleet to turn about!" he said. TheAustralians were trying to sucker him again. "Get me the Russianfleet commander online ASAP.""Yes Sir""What else can we get in front of the fleet to flush out enemysubs?" he asked.His operations commander looked up from his console. "We haveseveral long range ASW Bears on the AOP right now."Unlike the Australian Diesel submarines, the Yuan and Song class subswere equipped with AIP systems, Air Independent Propulsion.Thismeant they could remain dived for up to twenty days. The Shang Type093's were nuclear, meaning the entire Chinese sub force could remainstealthy.Wen had wisely allowed his hunter killer subs to actindependently, the down side to this was a lack of co-ordination.Communication was critical. North east of the fleet Wen had situateda long-range ELINT/EW aircraft, a Shannxi Yun-8 (Y-8) turboprop,copied from the Soviet Antonov An-12, NATO codename Cub. Theaircraft's mission was to enable submerged communications. VLF wavespropagate almost a quarter of the globe, which meant the entire

595 | P a g eChinese sub force in the Southern Ocean would receive the messagingeven when submerged.The Cub's powerful 210KW transmitter provided VLF transmissionssimilar to the way the US TACAMO (Take Charge And Move Out) did. TheCub flew with a trailing wire antennae nearly 10km long with a drogueparachute at the end. During transmission the aircraft flew in acontinuous tight circle, which resulted in over 70 percent of thewire hanging straight down and acting as a relatively efficientvertical antenna. This was supported by an Ilyushin IL-76MD (Candid)B-4037, 34th Air Division from Nanyuan AFB, Beijing an air refuelingsquadron now operating out of Han AFB at Martin de'Vivies.CHARC Attack! Somewhere in the Southern Ocean.While the main force was rushing into the jaws of the massive Chinesefleet, two large LHDs (Landing Helicopter Dock) closed from the NorthWest. The lead ship was the 231-meter HMAS Adelaide followed by hersister ship HMAS Canberra.At a range of 400 miles to the Chinese fleet, they slowed anddropped their stern ramps. Between them, seven Lockheed Martin, 60-foot CHARC attack boats were launched. These were Covert High-SpeedAttack and Reconnaissance Craft, ideal for operating in the SouthernOceans large sea states.Looking more like something out of Star Wars, these were aninnovative cross between an attack helicopter and a stealth boat. Atspeed, the CHARC would rise high out of the water, standing on twosubmerged torpedo like hulls that performed faster beneath thesurface than above. This gave the CHARC the ability to run down justabout anything else in or on the water, in any weather. The two-mancockpit stood high on top of the two legs that unfolded beneath them.At the bottom of the legs were 60 foot long round hulls, eachcontaining a powerful gas turbine that propelled the killer boat

596 | P a g ethrough the water. The design combined the lethality of an attackhelicopter with endurance and stealth. With a crew of two, the CHARCwas capable of patrolling or loitering for days at a time. In a chinturret beneath the cockpit was housed the main weapon, a railgun,powered by the CHARC's all electric system.The small 60 foot longCHARC carried more firepower than most traditional destroyers.Once in the water the CHARC's extended their hulls and poweredup the engines. They swiftly rose out of the water and at over sixtyknots, they sped south cutting easily through the big seas. As theCHARC's sped south, the first Chinese air strike package was drawingclose to the Australian fleet.The Shi Lang's J-11 and Su-33UB Flankers were still 200 milesout but quickly approaching the release point for their 3M-80EAmissiles, air launched versions of the SS-N-22 "Sunburn" slung to thebellies of the big jets. The jets, both long range strike bomberversions of the SU-27 had a range of over 1500 nautical miles. Thefact none were on the way to visit the two Australian LHDs was justplain luck.The strike package of four jets was spread out in a loose fourfinger formation looking to deliver a comfortable but precise standoff attack. The lead jets RWR - Radar Warning System, flashedbrightly on the pilots HUD. An Australian Wedgetail had picked themup, he thought.Too bad; I will deal with him when I am finishedwith this. There was nothing the Wedgetail could do anyway. The airwas clear of aircraft and missiles, just the annoying Wedgetailradar. There was nothing out here the Chinese pilot thought whichcould reach them.Not at this range, which is why the trailingSukhoi was so surprised when the first three jets, including the idlythinking lead, suddenly exploded.The tail end Charlie's quickreactions saved his life.Jamming the stick into one corner hekicked the rudder hard left and threw the fighter into some hard

597 | P a g ejinking turns, punching off the big antiship missile, which wasmaking the aircraft hard to handle.The tungsten rounds fired from nearly two hundred miles awayhad taken less than 12 seconds to arrive on target. At such speed itwas impossible for them to compensate their trajectories to catch theevading Flanker. The first three jets that were flying in a straightline were easy targets. The surviving Chinese Pilot had no idea whathad hit them, but all the way back to the carrier he never steered astraight line.The Chinese submarine commander of the Jianguo had listenedintently to the sounds of the attack.He had heard the run out ofthe powerful Ta Po's from his sister ships and had waited expectantlyfor the crashing explosion of the underwater missiles as theyimpacted the enemy ships and detonated."What is that?" the sonar chief exclaimed.It sounded like a hiss over the speakers, it was followed bymute explosions and crumpling sounds.These were not the sounds ofTa Po's pulverising their targets the Kilo Captain thought. None ofthe torpedoes had reached their targets. This meant just one thing."The Ta Po's have somehow been destroyed on the run in to thetarget," he stated simply, looking across from his position in sonarto his XO. The other man nodded. His thoughts reflected.Between them, listening intently to their sonar, they witnessed thecrushing defeat of their fellow submariners.He motioned his 2IC to the plot table in the middle of thecontrol room. Leaning over he spoke quietly."It appears that they have some sort of CIWS that is destroyingthe torpedoes.""Hull mounted cavitation guns," the XO said. Chineseintelligence had suggested such but they did not know they wereoperational.

598 | P a g eThe Captain looked up. "Yes, I think you are right, the tonalssounded to be just that. Recommendations?""Program the torpedoes to approach deep and in the terminalphase go shallow and attack from the stern." He reasoned that theAustralians would avoid shooting off their own propellers andrudders.The Captain of the Jianguo nodded. He had already come to thesame conclusion. The other torpedoes had used shallow terminal homingto the target mostly attacking from the beam. "Swim out a CUUV withan ELF warning the other boats.""Aye," the XO of the Jianguo said, passing on the orders.While the Jianguo considered its next move, the Australianfleet commander was revisiting his own. Missiles were not going to bethe deciding factor, he thought. Their own UAV strike on the Chinesefleet and the subsequent missile and air attack proved that bothsides possessed ships that were capable of defeating most missilethreats. This changed strategy dramatically.To his south, Chinese Task Force One, with the fleet flagship,was steaming west deliberately keeping distance from the Australiansto figure out what to do next.The Australian fleet was bow on tothe chase, with the rail and cavitation equipped ships to the front.Despite the lessons in usage of missiles, the Admiral was willing tobet that like themselves, only a few Chinese ships were equipped withall the latest technologies. The tactic of swamping the target withso many missiles that some had to get through wasn’t as simple as itlooked any more. The Chinese had tried that from the air combinedwith surface to surface missiles and torpedoes, but the rail andcavitation guns had decided the outcome."Sonar.""Aye""Do we have a complete disposition yet?"

599 | P a g e"Coming in now."The underwater surveillance system, similarto SOSUS, was passive and stealthy.Communications were relayed byunderwater cable to Naval operations and back to fleet. The Chinesefleets tonal signatures were fed into a database and each shipidentified."Show us on the main screen."The overhead map display came up with real time ship positionsof the Chinese fleet by name and type. "Yowzer," someone in thecontrol room said. "That's a lot of ships.""That's TF1. Target the following," the Admiral said,indicating each ship, ignoring the carrier and a handful of others."Relay that immediately to the strike package." The Chinese Commanderwas smart, the Admiral thought; he was deliberately biding his timeto understand what was going on; he suspected something.And so heshould, He was willing to bet the Chinese Admiral would havesurrounded his high value assets with his best defense. The targetshe selected were just outside of that and vulnerable to missileattack.After its first engagement, the HMAS Longreach was racingnorthwest to keep out of trouble.As the Longreach cut through thesouthern swells, the knife edged bows seemed to effortlessly part thewaters. She sped unaware, directly into a trap.Hudson happened to be in the ACC when the call came in. One ofthe PLO's looked up from his DEMPC terminal. "We have picked up afast submerged contact, bearing 290." Looking at the screen andholding his earpiece he suddenly looked surprised. "Torpedo! We havea torpedo in the water!"Even as the PPO was talking, Hudson was already speaking intohis communicator. "Flank speed NOW! Steer 290°."

600 | P a g e"Flank speed it is, steering 290°," the Helm replied. Hudsoncould feel the big Cat accelerate and begin a hard turn. Like theCaptain of the Greeneville, Hudson knew when to run."Range?" he asked"Range 15000 meters, speed 200 knots."Hudson thought about it.It had to be the Chinese Ta Po orSkvall; he had three minutes. "Mathers you there?" Seconds passed,another few hundred meters closer.5000 meters per minute, almost100 meters closer every second."Aye!""Mathers, open those bloody cavitation exhaust manifolds.""Aye sir. Emergency power and cavitation manifolds opened."Hudson almost expected some sort of resistance about the manifoldsnot being ready. But there was none. The engines surged and thedeck began to tremble heavily."12,000 meters!"Unlike the destroyers and frigates the Longreach had no defenseagainst torpedoes other than her speed. Below the water line, largediverters near the end of the turbine exhausts redirected gases underpressure into chambers in the large bulbous bows. Once there theywere further pressurised and injected through the flat nose. Theresult was instantaneous. The ship became almost slippery, the speedincreased to over ninety knots. The vibration and trembling of thehull as it cut through the swells was violent.Propelled by jets of water the sudden cavitation from the frontof the bows and down the side of the hull in the heavy the seaconditions, combined with the speed were over stressing the hull."Captain?""Yes?" Everyone he noticed was hanging on to something bolteddown, including himself.

601 | P a g e"We are getting stress sensors going off all over the hull."Mathers, who was in engineering, had never been so scared in hislife.They were flying through the water at a speed that left himdizzy, racing so fast into the swells; he barely had time to registertheir size before the ship went through them.But behind them,trying to crawl up their ass was a bloody big fast torpedo. He didn'tknow which was worse.Hudson looked across the deck of the bridge. There were a lotof frightened faces. Most of them were looking at him. He smiled andlooked at his watch, he made a show of counting numbers with hisfingers. "It will be DIW in less than sixty seconds," he said loudly,before sitting casually at a spare PPO station next to him, capturinghis coffee from the non-spill container before it flew across thedeck, taking a careful sip. The Control Room staff visibly relaxed alittle, but not a lot. While slower than the torpedo, the Longreachhad forced the weapon into a tail chase. The weapons closure was nowonly one hundred knots. It had limited range. The seconds ticked by."DIW!" the PPO yelled who had been monitoring the buoys. "Sheis dead in the water!" A cheer went up in the control room."Stop cavitators!" Hudson snapped, ignoring the cheers. Thehull instantly slowed. "Engines two thirds!"The heavy vibrationceased, replaced by the usual whine of engine turbines and hullnoise."Steer zero one zero." Hudson hadn't looked at a map but kept a3D situational picture in his head. The threat was still out there.They had to act fast. USAF Colonel Paul Cyrus was already moving,yelling orders and getting his men moving.Within minutes twoMariners left the deck."Fly them straight down the throat of that launch and then dropan active pattern in a two kilometer spread!"He turned to Hudson."I'm betting that mongrel is going deep and slow." He was right.

602 | P a g eThe Mariner buoys hit the water and immediately sank, streaminga small wire pinging all the way as they penetrated through thelayers the sub might be hiding in.The wire, attached to a smallerbuoy, relayed communications on the surface. "We have him," the PPOannounced excitedly."I'm in!" The AVO of the second Mariner armed with two Mk50torpedoes steered towards a release point that his own PPO wasquickly calibrating. The release signal flashed in his headset and onthe screen. "Weapon released," he said.The PPO turned on the external Mike. They could hear the sonaron the torpedo and the buoy pinging into the deep. "Torpedo has goneactive" The pinging suddenly increased in tempo and then stopped."That's a hit," the PPO said, pulling his head phones off. This wasfollowed by a vague thud against the hull confirming the kill as theexplosive shock wave propagated through the water.Cyrus waited until the excitement had died down.He thenwalked over to the Longreach Captain and tapped him causally on theshoulder. "That was pretty darn impressive Commander. You haveanymore surprises like that?"Hudson looked at Cyrus chuckling a little. "No, just the fact Ididn't shit myself." He had pretty much worked out the scenario inhis head to the last foot and second.The part that Hudson did notknow, Like Scott Turner, was exactly how long the torpedo had beenactive when they picked it up, and was their intelligence correct onits capabilities?That part could have killed them. "You know," hesaid "Without those sonar buoys, we would have had no idea it wascoming."Cyrus smiled. Well those two birds can stay up there almostanother day and they both have munitions left. "I reckon we keepthose in the air for a while, what you think?""Absolutely, Colonel," Hudson replied. "Abso-bloody-lutely."

603 | P a g eVostok Station.There was sudden activity in the Russians' positions.This was theend game, Brian thought.He had the two switchblades flying a wideorbit around the Russian base. Far enough away so they would not seethem. At least that's what he thought until one of the returnsblanked out.A few miles away a Russian NCO snorted in satisfaction as thesmoke curled away from the barrel of his favourite shotgun. That ishow you deal with sneaky little UAVs he thought. It was the shadowthat had given it away; there were few moving shadows at that end ofthe world. The small Russian patrol he led had been positioned wellout in front of the main body. It was only chance that it wassituated under the UAV's flight path.As good as the UAVs were; ifyou could see them, you could shoot them."A drone?" the Spetznaz officer asked."Something like that Sir -- small, very fast.Colonel Nibialok didn't have to figure too hard to know what itwas.But was there a whole regiment behind it, a Company, perhapsjust a few specialists? Or maybe just one man. It was that bastardHamilton, he knew it. "Its just one man!" he said finally."How can you be so sure Sir?""I know. I also know who it is. Stand by, I will have furtherinstructions." Immediately after terminating that connection hecalled in his new 2IC. "Somewhere out there," he said, gesturing tothe white wide expanse, "is probably just one, but maybe several U.S.and Australian Special Forces spotting our positions." He looked hardat his junior officer. "I want him or them dead. And I want theirbodies here at my feet in thirty minutes. Understood?"

604 | P a g eThe young North fleet marine officer shuddered.They had allin a very short time learned how to fear the Spetznaz Colonel. Sincethey were not part of the elite force he treated them with somethingakin to poison.From his hide Brian was watching the readouts on the survivingSwitchblade. They had spotted one of the UAVs, Brian realized. Thatwas a problem. They now knew he was there. Right then the two inboundFAB's showed up, forty klicks out.There was no sign of the F-111.It was then he also picked up the distress beacon.They were down.But with the two massive Fuel Air Bombs inbound, Brian had to leavethat problem to later.With the Switchblade, he designated thesouthernmost missile batteries where the two bombs' flighttrajectories would take them.As he did this he felt a heavy vibration; he looked down. Theice quivered a little beneath his feet. Christ, they were over time.Armageddon could happen any second. This wasn't good; the Russianshad destroyed the F-111 delivery platform and would now have theinbound FABs on radar ready to destroy them before they reached thewellhead. While he worried about this he could hear the sound of theRussian mechanized transports. They were getting closer. He watchedhis FCC screen to make sure the Microstar Switchblade was still doingits job and keeping the anti-air missile batteries shut down and thatsome other deadeye shot gun enthusiast hadn't wiped it out. The ideanow was to get the tiny Dragonfly situated near the wellhead andlasered to the target while he escaped and evaded. If the flare wastoo great the missiles would use inertial guidance and home in on theDragonflies. With the Microstar and Dragonfly on flying theirprograms he started to move.Then shit happened. The incoming guided bombs pinpointtelemetry was completely reliant on the Dragonfly UAV and its smalllaser that designated the target. The centimetre-sized piece of

605 | P a g eelectronics was hovering within the jaws of hell and having majorproblems staying on station. Hundreds of feet below a massive chunkof ice cleaved off the side of the shaft, falling into the intenseheat and exploding. The shock wave rose up through the ice crater'sflume causing the Dragonfly to suddenly spin wildly out of control,smashing it into the wall.The result was immediate: five miles from target the incomingFABs guiding to the Dragonfly started to become erratic, wanderingoff course. The SAS Colonel stepping from his hide turned just intime to catch the bombs lose track on the laptop screen and the lossof the Dragonfly. He dived back into the pit, the sound of choppersalmost on top of him. It was too late to run now. There was cannonfire to the front; it was the Possum and MULE. He had programmed themboth to attack the main position and distract the Russians' attentionwhile he crept away; he wondered now how long they could hold out. Hethrew the last Dragonfly out the front of the hide and sent itstraight up and then down into the ice crater. He would have tomonitor it until the bomb's point of impact. He settled back down towatch the FCC and prepare for the inevitable fight that was to come.It wasn't a fight for his life, because he couldn't win it.Butfight he would.It was that Russian Spetznaz officer, the one he saw in the DryValleys. He felt that in his bones, this feeling he didn'tunderstand, but it was always right. He had seen a glimpse of hisface; he had seen that face before somewhere. The Australian SASColonel was now certain he would die that day.But he would takethat bastard Russian down as well.The surviving CUAV Microstar Switchblade was flying on thenortheastern flank of the station.As far as Hamilton could tellnow, the Wrangler's bombs had no target designation and the southern

606 | P a g eanti air batteries were getting ready to shoot the bombs in flight.The bombs would either miss the wellhead or get destroyed.At the same time, many miles south, the Microstar hunted theemissions of the Russian Radar and launch systems. It was now readyto perform a neat trick that made up for its small size; it calledfor help from its big brothers. Three QF-45C’s, bigger versions ofthe stealthy QF-45A combat UAV, had just arrived on station honing inon their little mates signal. Needing no rest they were ready to dobusiness as soon as they arrived. The small Switchblade lasedmultiple targets, a signal was sent to the bigger UAV’s who droppedtheir warloads. The UAV’s distributed the bombs between the targetsand the Switchblade’s lasers guided them in. The bombs didn’t hit thetargets but detonated above them. The explosions and noise were notspectacular but the resulting EM pulse was enough to destroy hardcircuits with a medium sized voltage spike, blinding the big S300anti air units, disabling their tracking and targeting systems at acritical moment. The little Microstar quickly worked through its listof SAMs and Anti-Aircraft gun units.As the Russian radar units dropped off the air, Brian's tinyDragonfly MUAV had dived into the center of the burning well head andbegan radiating. The smart bomb kits attached to the in bound FAB’spicked up the beacon and steered back towards the bomb point.Unable to determine the exact nature of the strike, Nibialokwas on the move; there were bombs in the air, he knew that, hisinstinct correct.Not content with the preparations of his givenstaff, he was intent in removing the threat to his responsibilitythat he knew lay out there somewhere.It was only this that savedhis life. The two FABs after being thrown from the doomed Wrangler,flew in perfect synchronization, pitching high and then verticallyinto the craters mouth, following the laser beam and signal from theDragonfly. They plunged headlong into the hole, falling over 3000

607 | P a g efeet inside before the smart bomb kit's electronic brains matched thelocation and altitude parameters and detonated the warheads.The two weapons dispersed their cargo simultaneously, the fuelair mix immediately combining with the rising hot air within theflume. A fraction of a second later the mix detonated. The resultingexplosion and over pressure from the blast killed everyone within1500 feet of the oil shaft, either from the blast effect orasphyxiation. For a fraction of a second the explosion robbed theimmediate environment of its oxygen and extinguished the burning oilflame.The shock wave knocked Nibialok to the ground and for preciousmoments left him gasping for air. The concussion caused his ears toring and it was a while before he realized the constant roar of theinferno had ceased.He had expected an attack but was momentarilyconfused when the target appeared to be the well shaft itself. Thatdidn't make sense.But obviously his enemy was still out there andhe was determined to find him.For Brian, the real problems immediately materialized.TheRussian forces, after recovering from the shock of the explosion,were all still in one piece and like a nest of disturbed ants wererunning everywhere.It would only be moments before they camelooking for him. Up until that point the plan despite astronomicalodds, had worked.Nobody really thought it would get this far, sothe extraction program was a bit thin. At the moment it consisted of'don't move and wait for the cavalry' or run like hell.If he rannow, he would be seen for miles and hunted down by Russian gun ships.Nibialok didn't waste time.He made his way to the airfieldlooking for something to begin the hunt with.This was personal;fortunately a gun ship was already turning its rotors, the hotexhausts shimmering against the background. Nibialok took the gunnersposition in the back seat. The Russian Mil attack helicopter was

608 | P a g efitted with the latest optical and helmet sensory devices.Anythermal signature on a background of such cold stood out like dogsballs. The big gattling gun under the cockpit was slaved toNibialok's helmet sighting system because he had taken the place ofthe weapons officer.He directed two other gun ships and began amethodical search of the entire area out to 20,000 yards.Brian saw the gun ships, like sporting dogs begin theirpursuit. They were coming for him.It was times like this hethought, that he should have watched more of McGyver.His two packanimals as he thought of them were gone, the Possum to lay down somefire and the little Mule on a rescue mission. Far from being just apackhorse, the Mule was fast.Within moments of sending it on itsmission, Brian, through his helmet projection was steering the MUVthrough the numerous ice blown stragis at over 50 miles per hour.Like the small UAV he had deployed previously, Brian hadelected the cable control for the first part of the MUV runout.Hewanted to try and communicate with Lance because he could see the F-111s locator bleeping regularly on his field unit control screen.He looked again at the distance to the emergency radio locatorbeacon.Encrypted or not, someone would pick it up fast. Hamiltonhad stripped the MULE of the stuff he needed before sending it offbefore punching in the co-ordinates to the F-111 beacon. No one elsein the world knew what was going on down here, nor could they help.The whole effort would all be pointless if he started a big firefightthat might re-ignite the wellhead.There was the sound of heavy cannon fire in the distance. Whilethe MULE ran, his Combat Unmanned Vehicle the Possum was operatingautonomously and was keeping everybody's heads down. It was obviouslydoing a good job because it kept firing for ages.There was a dullexplosion followed by silence. Damn, that was the end of the Possum,but it had done its job; the MULE was well on its way.

609 | P a g eVandenberg AFB.Almost at the other end of the world, the 30th Space Wing atVandenberg AFB, part of the US 14th Air force, had ever since theconfirmation of the Chinese parasite satellites, been preparing theUnited States' greatest space lift effort in history. Located onCalifornia's Central Coast the 30th Space Wing was responsible forall the launches to polar orbits.They had the priority that dayover the 45th Space Wing at Patrick AFB and Cape Canaveral AirStation, on Florida's Central Coast, responsible for launching toequatorial orbits.NASA, the USAF and U.S. defense forces had known for 36 monthsthey had to replace satellites they suspected were infected byparasitic nano-sized satellites.With virtually the same logic asthe Chinese, they had waited before revealing this fact, looking fora place and time of their choosing, secrecy being the backbone ofsecurity. Now was the time.Down under in Pine Gap Australia, the control room was crowdedafter receiving a warning order from the Space Wing. It deliberatelyneglected to warn them of what they were there for. That part wouldbecome obvious."What's going on," someone said. "Why are we all here?""Wait," one of the senior technicians answered holding up hishand. Something was happening."Christ, will you look at that!" The Duty Officer turned tolook at the CO who had just arrived. The monitor covering the westand east coast seaboards of the USA was lit up like a Christmas tree."That must be, what, twenty…no thirty, forty launches." He lookedconfused. "What's going on?"

610 | P a g eThe CO looked at the screen. He felt like a huge weight hadbeen lifted from his shoulders. "I bet we never see something likethis again in our lifetimes," he said. He then quickly explained whatwas occurring followed by what they needed to do. "Of all the birdsgetting into orbit, the most important are the south polarreconnaissance satellites." He read out the priority list."Theclock is ticking and so is that ice bomb, we need those polar birdsbadly."A few minutes later the center's Duty Supervisor quicklyconducted a communication and systems check with a new low orbitpolar Imagesat, cutting through many normal procedures to command thecameras to look at the Antarctic interior, zooming in on VostokStation.forces.They could easily see the Russian transports and groundMore importantly they could still see the smoke and flamedeep inside the crater. The satellite control center was deathlysilent. They were acutely aware of the time schedule."It’s not out," someone said.The time was overlaid on the screen in the bottom left handcorner. Next to this, a flashing number counted the minutes andseconds that had expired since the predicted time of the event. Itwas well overtime. Still, the center's CO reasoned, it was after allan estimate. The screen was showing a lot of movement on the ground."Something is going on.We are tracking missiles in the airand have gunfire and explosions on the ground," the sensor technicianreported. The screen suddenly flashed white. The infrared monitorshowed a massive thermal flare. This quickly died away."Jeez, that place is cold as hell isn’t," the IR sensoroperator said.Residual thermal effects of blasts were normallyvisible for sometime.The extreme environment of the Antarcticinterior stole that thermal energy in seconds. "It's out!"The IR

611 | P a g esensor operator suddenly announced. There was a cheer in the controlroom.The CIC (Station Commander) let them have their moment. Afterthe cheer died down his deep voice resonated through the room. "It'sout for the moment," he reminded them. His mind was still with thesecond part of the mission and the men and women that made itpossible."We still have people down there; those bombs didn't getthere by themselves. Find them!""Sir! We have an EPIRB; it's the F-111.""That means they are down and need any help we can give them,"he said. Down, but obviously not before delivering their bombs, hethought. "Okay listen up, we have a crew down, and our designatorColonel Hamilton is stuck between hell and a hard place. We willassume he is alive." Instead of jubilation, the General's eyes wereas hard as flint. "What you are all going to do now is move heavenand earth to get our people back and keep that flame out.Understood?" Once again his granite look swept across the room."Get to it people. I don't care who we piss off; I don't carewhether we all get fired tomorrow. But I do care that we bring ourpeople back!" Under his breath he said, "If anyone gets in our way, Iwill kill the fucker myself." Having served half his life in SpecialForces, the General's words were not empty. As he walked away hedidn't realize the last remark had been picked up, everyone believedhim. But to the last person, after watching the unfolding conflictthrough their digital sensors, they were all committed to gettingtheir guys out of hell.The Russian South Pacific Fleet.Vice Admiral Vyacheslav Popov knew the moment had arrived. He haddriven his fleet down the Pacific through the Tasman into the

612 | P a g eSouthern Ocean and to the very edge of the Amundsen Sea pack ice.From there he had flown missions around the clock to establish a basejust north of the South Pole on the Vinson Massif in centralAntarctica.To his west flank were the Australians and the Kiwis, nowengaging with Chinese and Russian forces, and to his east the nowallied and friendly Chileans and Argentines.Apart from thedisorganized Americans to the north, there were no other threats. Hemused, The Kiev class carrier Novorossiysk which supported hisFlagship the Krechyet, would be a surprise to the coalition whothought the Krechyet had been turned into scrap.Surrounding the two large carriers were a thick screen ofcruisers, destroyers and submarines. He knew the Chinese Admiral, WenJinsong, was attempting to comprehensively engage both Australian andU.S. forces. Russian intelligence suggested the coalition wasincreasing their operational intensity to retake Antarctica.President Vladimir Petrov had been very succinct in his instructions.Stop them. Popov intended to do exactly that. Short of using nuclearweapons, he was not going to hold back.As Popov considered his next moves, the Captain of the USSClinton looked at the recent satellite photos of the RussianAdmiral's fleet. Captain McKay was not happy; they were now involvedin the beginnings of a heavy gunfight with a very capable force.This would be the first time since Korea that the U.S. had to meet anequal in terms of combat technology and systems.The Australians and some U.S. naval units were already in thethick of it, the fight like a wild fire spreading rapidly across theocean. It had turned into a shooting war with no resolution in sight.McKay picked up the deck phone and patched a call directly through tothe USS Blue Ridge.

613 | P a g eThe conversation was short. On the other end of the phone theU.S. Commander of the Pacific Fleet (USACOMPACFLT) hung up aftertalking to McKay and paced up and down the space that accommodatedthe Tactical Flag Command Center located on the USS Blue Ridge, adedicated Command Ship. His task force was at flank speed to providesupport to the USS Clinton. He didn't question McKay's capabilities.But the ship had not even been signed off from trials yet; Sundog haddiplomatically pointed that out. No one liked to admit they were notup to the job, but only a fool would rush into battle unprepared.There were still civilians on board and a whole lot of greenrecruits. His thoughts were interrupted."We have a message over the six," the comms officer reported.He meant the SSIXS, which was the Submarine Information ExchangeSystem.The Admiral nodded."Texas Sir. POSSUB contact, bearing 083 120nm."Damn he thought; the Russians and Chinese were being veryaggressive. "Prosecute the contact," he ordered. "They have a weaponsfree.""Aye Sir," the man said, rushing off to pass the orders.The Admiral looked at the feed from the RORSAT, Radar OceanReconnaissance Satellite. "The Stennis?" he asked."Air operations commencing as we speak sir."Good he thought. They could at least project some defensiveairpower to help her. Every minute brought them that little closer.At an ordered depth of 1000 feet the Captain of the USS Texasread the reply direct from USACOMPACFLT. He didn't smile, but therewas a sense of satisfaction in doing the job he had been trained for.He looked around the control room. Unlike LA class and others beforethem, the Virginia Class had eliminated the traditional helmsman,planesmen, chief of the watch and diving officer, combining all of

614 | P a g ethem into a small two person watch station. The Chief ElectronicsTechnician and Senior Chief Machinist's Mate, the pilot, operated theship's control panel. The pilot flew the Texas underwater using acontrol stick. The commander issued his orders; they were about toshow the Russian boat drivers what a Virginia Class submarine coulddo. There was about to be one less Russian attack boat.On the roof of the Pacific, the helmsman of the USS John C.Stennis (CVN 74) steered the 97,000-ton carrier into the wind. On thedeck far below the bridge where he stood, flight operations were infull swing.At the same time in the bowels of the ship, operationsspecialists monitored the radar screens on the Strike Control Systemin the Combat Direction Center (CDC), ready to support the strikepackage on the deck above. On the flight deck itself, the center-deckhatch operator signaled to the "Shooter" that the catapult steampressure was at the proper levels for launching a Super Hornetassigned to the "Blue Diamonds" of Strike Fighter Squadron One FortySix (VFA-146). The hand dropped and the catapult officer fired theattack jet off to join its brethren.With the Stennis and soon the USS George Bush entering the AOP,Captain McKay steered the massive bulk of the USS Clinton in a tightturn at flank speed, the hull heeling hard to port as she pointed herbow south, closing the distance with the Russian Fleet.Captain Chris McKay's job was to prevent the Russians joiningup with the Chinese. The opposing forces he knew were lost in thesubtle difference in what the Americans and Australians were actuallydoing. The Chinese and Russians believed they were trying to invadethe continent. This was an advantage. They would be expecting largeforces, concentrated with substantial support to force a wedgethrough their defense and regain a foothold on the ice.

615 | P a g eThe Captain of the Clinton would help keep that mistaken beliefalive. Even a thousand miles apart, the two forces began moving theirchest pieces across the board in an effort to take the initiative.Somewhere over the Southern Tasman Sea.The sun streamed through the perspex of the sleek fighter. Out therethe pilot thought, it's was minus fifty-three degrees. He would hateto punch out at this height. The pilot and his companion aircraftmade up a loose finger-four formation as they cruised north.The aircraft were Su-51's. To the west it used to be known asthe T-50, deliberately led by Russian intelligence to believe theproject stalled, an operation headed by Colonel General, SergeyNikolayevich Lebedev. After the merging of the Russian Mikoyan (MiGMAPO) factory and the Sukhoi stable, the shelved technology from theMFI multi function fighter, known as Mikoyan article 1.42, had beendusted off applied to the T-50 PAK FA and eventually rolled out inproduction as the Su-51.Like its Chinese counterpart that had been developed from thesame Russian technology, the Su-51 was a bad hair day for any piloton the other end. Like the F22, it boasted super cruise, superstealth and an extended range.With refueling, it could go anywhere. In the flight's leadaircraft, Colonel Nafaniel Logvinoch steered the small yoke with hisfingers.He enjoyed the luxury of setting the control sticksensitivity to suit the user. At 45,000 feet he sailed under a deepblue sky, confident that aside from visual detection, he wasinvisible to electronic ears. He wondered amongst all the madnessthat was happening, where his friend Lance Hamilton was.his Australian friend Hamilton was not flying an F-111.He hopedAgainstthis, his Su-51, Lance would stand little chance. The fifth-

616 | P a g egeneration fighter boasted powerful AESA that exceeded the SnowLeopards capabilities. It was a marriage of the best technologiesfrom the two famous Russian fighter stables, Sukhoi and MiG.Logvinoch tapped the stick and pulled back from the refuelingprobe. The socket unplugged and he could see the parachute basketswing to his left.He was the last to refuel, they were flying CAPfor the Russian task group, and he already knew the Clinton was bothheading south and into the wind launching aircraft.In the Russian fleet below, Rear Admiral Popov was consideringhis strategy. He didn't believe in going into a fight half cocked.He liked to take the initiative.So once again the big Blackjackbombers from Engels Air force Base were in the air. The Americanattention was focused to the south, so the Blackjacks would give thema bad surprise.On board the lead Blackjack, Ivan Grigor'ev Nagoi lookedoutside of the cockpit; he flew the same aircraft as in his previousmission to the south, numbered 07 named after Aleksandr Molodchii.These were long missions, but the Blackjack was at least big andcomfortable."Ready?" he asked."Ready, we have eight in the green," his copilot said."Targeting?""Set."Nagoi looked at the weapons panel. Sitting in the rotarylaunchers were eight Moskit/SS-N-37 Sun Blinder missiles. These werethe sons of Sunburn missiles, badder, bigger and with a greater rangeand a lot smarter."Do we have target telemetry?""Da.""Missiles hot?"

617 | P a g e"Da." This meant the missiles were receiving and responding todata being fed from the aircrafts computers, satellites and any otherinputs."It's the Clinton?" This time the copilot looked at him andnodded.Nagoi armed the weapons panel, selected the missiles and withhis copilot went through the pre-launch procedures.Then, in analmost anti climax, he hit the attack button. The system took over,controlling not just his, but also the other six aircraft in theflight.The pilots monitored the automated weapons launch, waitingfor their rotary launcher to eject the missiles before very happilyturning and burning to follow their lead back home.Logvinoch in his Su-51 switched his large central controlscreen to the situational mode.He could see that heavy stealthmissiles were now in the air heading towards the Clinton, the U.S.carrier unaware of the approaching threat. The missile attack by theBlackjacks was in play. He knew that there would also be TU-22s outof Tierra del Fuego about to do the same thing. Unlike the failedChinese missiles, he knew these were a different kettle of fish; hefelt sorry for their prey.The Sun Blinder missiles took just minutes from launch to targetacquisition, their on board radars activated in the terminal phaseand were immediately detected by the Clinton and their escorts. TheU.S. fleet's highly evolved anti-air systems began to counter attack.But the Sun Blinder's were stealthy, fast, accurate and especiallygood in evasive maneuvers. The missiles were like pissed off snakeson cocaine. The CIWS rail guns on board the Clinton and her escortswere having trouble targeting.The missiles never flew a straightcourse, their entire flight telemetry an unending change ofdirections. Coupled with active radar cancellation they confused the

618 | P a g ecarrier groups targeting radars.Despite that, the sheer volume ofdefensive measures delivered from the carrier group wore down theattackers. Most of the attacking missiles were destroyed. All themissiles that dived in their final approach were destroyed, but threeweaving sea-skimming missiles struck the USS Clinton one after theother, massive explosions blowing out from the side of the carrier.The forward elevator took a direct hit, the blast blowing throughinto the hangar deck incinerating 76 men and women instantly. Theship shuddered from stem to stern but kept going. Smoke billowed outfrom the bowels of the ship spilling into its wake. The Clinton washurt badly. Any other ship would have been dead.The Clinton was still afloat for a good reason. While theRussians had been making better missiles, the Clinton had also beenmade tougher than her predecessors.She was designed for just thistype of attack, to absorb and spread the shockwave of a blast whileat the same time containing its thermal effect. Only 300-crew werekilled in all, instead of several thousand. More important the shipcould still fight.Standing in the CDC, Captain McKay took in the chillingcasualty and damage reports. He picked up the overhead mike."What shape are you in?" USACOMPACFLT on the flag Ship USS BlueRidge asked."Not great," McKay said "We still have some fires going, theforward elevators out, the hangar wiped out and we have some prettybig holes in the side. You know where that strike came from?""Blackjacks out of Engel's AFB."From the north, damn it. McKay was furious, but bit his lip.They should have been warned of them beforehand.Obviously thesatellite replacements still had some bugs in their coverage. "Well,I don't think we could stand another set of hits like that."

619 | P a g e"Hang in there Mack.You should have confirmation any minutethat the Australians have snuffed that flame out.We just have tokeep these bastards busy so it doesn't get fired up again and we getthem talking."Great, McKay thought. Keep shooting until someone talks. Hewondered who thought of that strategy.Colonel Nafaniel Logvinoch monitored the next strike. This time itwas comprised of Backfire bombers which carried the same Sun Blindermissile system.The Clinton must have been hurt from the lastattack. This one should finish it off. The loss of their mostprized carrier would shock the Americans, perhaps make them hold backand reconsider. He could understand Popov's logic. The situationaldisplay showed them minutes away from their release points. On ordersfrom the fleet flight controller, Logvinoch steered the Russianfighters to an intercept to cover the bombers.That was when theshit hit the Russian fan.The clean lines of the HMS Queen Elizabeth, a British 65,000ton aircraft carrier, steamed past the Chatham Islands at high speedinto the Southern Ocean.Nearly 1000 feet long she was one of akind, stealthy and very fast.She boasted the same onboard allelectric technology as the Clinton. As soon as she was withinoperational range she launched every asset that could make thedistance.The result was a sound the Russian pilot thought he wouldn'thear on this sortie. The Sukhois threat receiver blared and the redflashing light made it all too real. From nowhere his flight was notonly under attack, but locked onto by enemy missile systems!"Archangel has acquired and initiated attack," the British F-35VSTOL pilot said calmly, he could have been serving tea. He was 150miles west of Logvinoch and from his F-35 helped steer a flight of

620 | P a g eeight UCAV AVPRO Archangels, a nearly all wing, tailless, canardconfiguredairplane. It was stealthier, smaller and more nimble thanits piloted counter part, which is why they operated far forward.Logvinoch and his entire flight went evasive, waiting for theinevitable missile launches. There were none. The BritishArchangels, barely visible, blew past and launched on the attackingBackfire bombers. Logvinoch rolled out at 20,000 feet andinstinctively went for the controlling F35's. It saved his life. Hepulled up, the F35's were squawking to control the Archangels; heacquired and sent four missiles their way, before breaking off andgoing for the deck.

621 | P a g eCHAPTER TWENTYUS Marines Pavelow HelicopterVostok StationStill in his hide, Brian could see the attack helicopters gettingcloser.Like a beagle's nose, he could see the barrel of thegattling guns slung underneath the Hind's, swivel and turn, almostsniffing the wind as they followed the eyes of the shooter in thecockpit. In ten minutes they would be on him.Hundreds of miles away, Global Hawks and more CUAVs that hadflown from the Clinton joined the Combat Rescue Mission, peeling offfrom their assigned orbits and heading towards Vostok Station.Thelaunch bay doors on the bigger Global Hawks opened, the launchersrotating and ejecting high yield ebombs. QF-45C’s identified their

622 | P a g eown targets, dispersed from the main group, and between themselvesrationed the Russian targets and began their approach.Hamiltons mind was elsewhere, trying to get the rest of hisbody to the same place as quickly as possible. The Hind MI48 gunshiplooked as menacing as the first day it preyed upon the deserts ofAfghanistan.Equally at home in the cold, the lethally upgradedpredator was on the hunt. This is what it had been made for. Itsimpressive digital sensory array meant that nothing was invisible onthe ground. Nothing could hide from this bird of prey. The pilotswung the heavily armoured gun ship over the ice.The gunner, inthis case Nibialok, had slaved the weapons to his helmet sights.Where he looked, the sensors and guns looked.It was always just amatter of IF not WHEN."There!" the pilot said; the Hind's infrared and EMR sensor hadcombined to locate Hamilton's position."I see it, keep going, keep going, and don't let it look likewe have seen," Nibialok said, almost finding it hard to breath. Thiswas Hamilton, he felt sure of it.On the ground Brian felt the heavy wash of the Hind's blades asit passed almost overhead. They were on to him he was sure. Hetensed and prepared himself."You have it locked in?" Nibialok said."Da.""When we turn I want both the cannon and the missiles placed onthe target." In response, the pilot grunted. Nibialok armed themissiles, registered the heat source and allocated the target to boththe guns and the missiles. The helicopter pitched hard to the rightin a 180º degree turn, on levelling out the missiles locked andlaunched, followed by a steady drum of cannon fire.The last thing Hamilton saw as he ducked for cover was theplume of the missile exhausts and the flash of the gun as it kicked

623 | P a g ein over 4000 rounds per minute of depleted uranium.Both themissiles and the rounds smashed into his hide destroying everything.Nibialok smiled in satisfaction.The well-camouflaged bivouacwas torn apart, small secondary explosions and pieces of metal flyingoff in all directions. The Hind swept over its prey, small wisps ofsmoke struggling out of the hole that was once the sanctuary forsomeone to hide."Take it down," Nibialok ordered.The pilot pulled the Hind into a hard turn, flared the machineand settled it next to the mess they just made. Nibialok was almostjoyful as he leapt from the cabin. He wanted to see the corpse.In Pine Gap, the operators were incredibly impressed with thesharper and more precise images from the new satellites.But whatthey now showed wasn’t what they wanted to see.They could see somuch but do so little.They witnessed the cannon and missile firefrom Nibialok, which must have been devastating.The fire was out,but they had lost their man.It was close.The smash of gunfire and rockets made his earsbuzz and vision swim. But it quickly passed. He looked up again intime to see Nibialok jump from the chopper.Half buried in asastrugi, Hamilton had lowered the temperature of his outer garmentto avoid thermal detection. From his position he calculated thedistance to the Hind.Nibialok was standing near the mouth of what used to beHamilton’s hideout, gloved hands on hips. Behind him the chopper'sblades were still rotating, the collective in neutral, the pilotwatching the Russian Colonel. Hamilton began his move. He was upand running hard, shrugging off the piles of snow that had coveredhim. He was almost to the chopper when the pilot turned and saw him.No point shooting yet. Armour glass and metal plate would stop therounds. The big gattling gun started to rotate towards him. He dived

624 | P a g etowards the open door and fired. The single shot missed the armouredbackrest by millimetres driving hard into the pilot's helmet; acascade of blood flowed from the helmet and the pilot fell forwardsagainst his straps.Nibialok was still looking at the hole, evenfiddling around with some of the debris, the sound of the gunshotlost behind the heavy whine of jet turbines and spinning blades. Bythe time he looked back, the pilot was on the ground, Brian had firewalled the throttle levers and was pulling the collective for all itwas worth. He knew Nibialok would have a weapon.Nibialok did, and pulled the AK47, his favourite for suchevents. It was old but it pushed a 7.62mm round that could stopthings. He fired repeatedly at the chopper.Brian Hamilton pulled the Hind back hard, offering the belly toNibialok's shots. For good reason - the belly was heavily armoured.Nibialok emptied his clip. While Hamilton didn't count the shots, heknew Nibialok had emptied the magazine and was searching for another.He quickly dropped the nose of the chopper, pulled his head gear offand smiled at him. He hoped the man would rot in hell. He thoughtfor a moment about giving him a squirt with the gun as the man stoodin front of the hovering machine. But he hadn't figured out how touse that yet. Instead, he lowered the nose and once again pulled thecollective as the machine hauled itself forwards, the big bladesalmost cutting the Spetznaz officer in half, leaving him flailing inthe snow in anger.Thirty miles further south Lance and his navigator wereextricating themselves from the F-111's capsule, just in time to seethe plume of some huge explosions many miles away. They both hoped itwas the fuel air bombs on target, but at this distant it was too hardto tell.They only wandered around for some thirty seconds beforediving back into the capsule and pulling the canopy shut. The capsule

625 | P a g ewas their lifeline.In the severe temperatures of the easternplateau, they would die within minutes without its protection.Despite the protection of the escape capsule, the bitterfreezing temperature quickly robbed them of any warmth. The SquadronLeader and his Navigator were fast succumbing to the cold; Lance knewit would not be long.He wondered whether the bombs had done thejob. That was the bad part. He would never know. The minutesdragged by. The cold sapped their life away.As he began to fall into cold induced sleep, the RAAF pilot wasvaguely aware of heavy wind buffeting the small capsule, his tomb.It seemed to pick up in ferocity. With some difficulty he looked athis Navigator and wondered whether he was breathing.His Navigatorwas expressionless and white.Ice particles covered his mouth andnose. The buffeting outside got worse, rocking the capsule; a smallpart of his mind that still wasn't totally consumed with the coldnoticed that the wind had stopped. Was that knocking he heard?Minutes later, the Squadron Leader gradually opened his eyesagain. There were the familiar sounds of chopper blades and the whineof jet engines; at least it was familiar to him. Lance could hearsomeone talking, it sounded like his brother but his head felt likeit was in a vice and getting his mind working like trying to swim inquicksand? He must be getting delusional, he thought. The voicesounded so much like Brian. He felt someone was moving behind him.It took a moment to move his head, but he could feel the bloodreturning to his extremities within the heated cabin. He managed tolook behind him. The cabin of the chopper was unfamiliar, he couldsee Brian hefting his still unconscious Weapons Officer into the reartroop cabin. Brian closed the rear door and climbed into the seatbehind him.""About time,” He jerked his thumb pointing to the back, “he'sin a bad way, but he should be okay." Brian looked at his brother and

626 | P a g esmiled. He had the temperature control running at max and he wassweating, Lance was pumping his hands and arms to loosen them up.It would have been nice to have chat and congratulatethemselves on still being alive. But if they wanted to stay that wayit was time to exit stage left and talk later. Brian was thinking ashe settled into weapons system. Was there a plan to retake Vostok? Hehad no idea. He waited ten minutes for Lance's circulation to returnto normal, or at least to a point he could hold the stick andcollective and move the pedals."Let's go," he announced."Who's driving?" Lance asked."You toot I'll shoot bro.We aren't out of this by a longshot; you good to fly?""Yep," Lance said, feeling the energy coming back. "Fact is,never felt better,” That was somewhat of a lie but not being deaddefinitely felt great. “thought I was all over red rover!""Me too!" Brian replied. "I had to follow the MULE to find you;if it wasn't for that little gadget we would all be stuffed.""The bombs worked?" Lance asked."Yep." He leaned forward and smacked his brother over the headlightly."Damn good shooting little brother. The flame is out…fornow anyway."Lance shook his head. "Damn, if people knew how desperate thatplan was, they wouldn't need a catastrophe to kill them, the heartattack would."Brian smiled."But the bad news is we have to keep it out.That huge crater is now soaked with an oil and gas mix." He paused ashe finished strapping in. "We went past the calculated time for thecrater to collapse and blow the lake," he continued. "The way Ifigure it, a sneeze would set that off and rupture the ice casing,triggering the event."

627 | P a g eLance looked at the aircraft instruments. "You know what any ofthis writing means?" Lance gestured to the panel and displays infront of him. "All the electronics are in Russian.""Yes…I do, firstly, see the big red Russian writing near yourright hand?"He spoke the name in Russian, which meant nothing toLance."It means DON'T PULL THIS KNOB.""Really?" Lance asked a little surprised."Really," Brian replied. "It shuts down the engines in case offire." Dumb place to put it, he thought; they must have had realengine problems in the past. “Lets switch.”They swapped seats.The gunship, a Mi-24M (Upgraded Hind Mi-24) was a two-place helicopter with a glass cockpit, helmet-mountedsights and "hands on collective and stick (HOCAS)" controls.Brianwas now sitting in the forward weapons system, Lance taking thepilot's seat higher and behind.Looking forward as the MiL's engines spooled up, Lance couldsee his brother pressing numerous buttons with the strange Russianwriting on them. What they did he had no idea, but he conceded,everything seemed to sound fine, generally speaking from his aviationexperience, that was a good thing. Bad things were normally precededby loud noises, big bangs, scraping, rasping, screeching; the type ofsounds generated by tortured metal or out of control explosiveforces.So things must be okay, the cockpit wasn't in flame, therotors above seemed to work and the jet turbines while noisy wererespectable, for a helicopter anyway, all positive signs.Theprimary flight gauges were familiar, more so because of his MiG-29experience."Let's get out of here bro," he said.

628 | P a g e"Roger that!" The controls, while still feeling a littleunusual, quickly slipped into the Squadron Leader's hands and hehauled the Russian iron bird off the snow.Down below, the faithful little Mule turned around and followedthe gun ship back to Vostok.Nibialok was running hard. The twin rotors of the Ka-50 Black Sharkhelicopter were already spinning. Code-named Hokum by NATO, but knownby others as Werewolf, the high-performance combat machine wasprobably the most lethal helicopter in the world. Nibialok leapedinto the side seat yelling at the pilot to get moving.They wereafter the hijacked Mi-24M Hind.The Hind was an older design, butstill very fast and powerful.The Werewolf pulled up hard and pitched forwards, rapidlypicking up speed."I've got him," Nibialok announced, referring to the incomingHind. He ordered the pilot to intercept.Washington/Canberra.As the two choppers sped towards each other the Australian PrimeMinister was in discussion with the U.S. President by videophone."As you know the wellhead fire has been extinguished, justminutes ago," the Australian PM said."Yes, I was in the Situation Room; we managed to get thesatellite imagery just in time," said Blaire, still a littleastonished at what he had seen. "I can't believe it." He shook hishead, "that your guys actually pulled that plan off. It actuallyworked! I think those boys of yours on the ice need the biggest patson the back your country can give them, because for damn sure, withyour permission, we will."

629 | P a g e"We will. It was a complicated plan from hell, but what made itwork was a team effort, everyone from David Stringer, the Clinton, toyour staff and yourself.Not forgetting those Rosenbridge guys. Wewouldn't have been able to even get there without that help."The President nodded. "Thanks Dennis, I appreciate that, aswill the rest of the team." But it was still without doubt thescariest plan to save the world he had ever seen. Actually he hadnever seen a plan to save the world, but when it was required, thishair-brained inspiration was the only one available, he thought.The Australian PM, his mind moving past the friendly backpatting, looked serious again. The smile disappeared and behind theglasses the cool blue eyes squinted in concentration as he verbalizedhis thoughts."What has happened is fantastic, but it's only partof the job. What we need to do now is get Hamilton back." Hecorrected himself. "Both of them.""I don't understand?""Brian Hamilton is one of our retired SAS commanders, he firstraised the alarm and subsequently triggered the operational plan andtarget designation.His brother, an F-111 Squadron Commander,delivered the warload.""Brian is the one with the artifact?""Correct, if he is still alive. We need to get that back, itmight explain whats going on down there."Yes, the President thought, that's right. The artifact, withall that was going on, he had almost forgotten about that. A bizarretwist in a deadly tale.The PM continued. "We are going to be placing a lot of trust inColonel Hamilton, believing that what he is telling us about thisartifact or evidence is correct.We have a choice of an all outconfrontation because they believe we tried to attack, or we can

630 | P a g eprove the whole episode was driven from an understandable confusionover who did what."The President of the United States looked over to his defenseand national security team.The large digital screen over thefireplace was filled with the image of a relaxed but very resolutelooking Australian Prime Minister, the knees and shoulders of hisstaff just in shot. Likewise the Australians saw a similar image ofthe U.S. Security Council."Vince?" The President asked turning to his NSA. "What do youthink?""I agree with the Prime Minister. But now that we aregenerating some real combat power we are no longer playing from thebottom of the deck. We are in a better position by the minute todecide the issue by force. I believe much of the Chinese and Russianpolitical strategy was based upon a U.S. mindset established by Finn,a belief we would capitulate afraid of casualties.""George?" Blaire asked"Same. We have the WGS back with the satellites, which arecrucial to complex combat operations and we have mobilized majorresources to apply to the battlefield that will put us back on thefront foot. But," Pirelli qualified, "its not overwhelmingsuperiority.""Yes," Kipper conceded. "There would be a high price to pay.But either way, I don't believe this country can afford to allow theChinese and Russians to usurp Antarctica by force.""No we can't, regardless of what other countries may think.That isn't going to happen." He thought for a moment. "We have toshow we are prepared to meet them head on. I'm sure they have nodesire to get into a major scrap either if they could find a way outof it."

631 | P a g e"Hobson's choice again, Mr President," the PM said. ThePresident looked confused. "It means no choice basically," the PMexplained, "we try for a negotiated settlement based on the evidencewe have, but continue our generation and deployment of forces."The President agreed. "We stay at DEFCON ONE. But yes I agree,I think we owe it to the guys to give them a shot at bringing theevidence back. They will have a hard job convincing them; the recentaction will have only firmed Chinese and Russian resolve that we aretrying to take over the oil resource for ourselves.""Yes, nothing much we can do about that. Getting him out isn'tgoing to be easy." If he is still alive, he thought. "We will have tobreak through the Chinese naval force again; I believe our JOC isworking on that right now." Morel nodded the affirmative, as didPerelli on the other end."We have an agreed course of action then. Get Hamilton and theevidence out of Vostok, Keep the flame out and maintain the militarypressure on the Russians and Chinese until we see the result ofColonel Hamilton's efforts." He wondered what the hell it was thatthis SAS Colonel was carrying.flipped his lid under the stress.He hoped the poor bastard hadn'tMany men would have with what hehad been through in the last 72 hours. But since he had probablyhelped saved the world he was willing to give him the benefit of thedoubt. "If that fails we both need to be prepared to go the nextstep."HQJOC Bungendore."Our fleet is situated south east of Campbell Island over 3000kilometers from Vostok." The CJOPS marked the locations on theoverhead display with a pointer. "A direct flight from Australia'smost southern extremity is over 5000 kilometers.To give the CSAR

632 | P a g eteam some real firepower, we have to get our own units close enoughto utilize the railguns."The Clinton TF will engage the Russians North of Scott Islandto keep them busy. The CASR objective is to drive between the firstand second task force.In our way will be some Air WarfareDestroyers, Chinese fighters and a Russian Mainstay. We will continueto try and draw or hold the Chinese battle group further to the west.From Tasmania, our F-111's are going to fly to here, 70S by 150East,and then direct to Vostok.""That takes you straight over French claimed territory,"someone said."Can't be helped."He looked at the map. To fly a westerly route to Vostok wouldput them in reach the Chinese Carriers J10's and Sukhois. "We crossfar enough inland to exceed most of the air defense assets in Dumontd'Urville."HMAS Canberra 500 Nautical Miles West of MacquarieIsland.500 nautical miles west of Macquarie Island and 900 directly south ofTasmania, the 28,000-ton LHP HMAS Canberra was into the wind. 14,000tons heavier than the Aircraft Carrier HMAS Melbourne she was thebiggest ship of her type in the South Pacific and second only in sizeto the Wasp and Tarawa-class amphibious assault ships of the U.S.Navy. She was brand new.station a mile behind.Her sister ship HMAS Adelaide followed inBetween them they could land an armouredforce of 1800 troops, equivalent to a full Marine expeditionaryforce.On the deck of the HMAS Canberra, three V22 Osprey's ran theirengines up to full power, the big tilt rotors pitching slightlyforward, giving the aircraft a small run before leaping into the air.

633 | P a g eClimbing to 25,000 feet the V22's formed up with two C130 gun ships.Called the 'Sons of Spectre' the two C130's carried enough firepowerto destroy an aircraft carrier.Back on the ship's deck, heavily loaded STOL F-35 jetsthundered down the Canberra's deck, launching from the forward skijump on the bow followed by long-range strike UAVs provided by theU.S. Navy. Together, the aircraft flew south towards Victoria Land.500nm north of the Antarctic coast they joined with an RAAF KC-767air refueling aircraft.Watching over all of them was an RAAFWedgetail AWAC's flying large orbits of the area with two USAF 747-400 ABL systems.From the north a package of F-111's joined to complete theformation of the combat search and rescue package, making it one ofthe heaviest and most powerful CSAR missions ever flown. But theyfirst had to get past the Chinese naval perimeter. There the F-35’shad to turn back lacking the range to target.Commander Turner lay back on his bunk replaying the last fewhours in his head. What would he do if he were the enemy? By nowthe enemy would be aware of the rail and cavitation guns.Whatstrategy would they employ to defeat those defenses?What would hedo in their position? He thought about that for a moment. Go deep,program the torpedoes to dive deep and come up vertically beneath.Pretty simple really, he had to stop them.The Greeneville was crossing the South East Indian ridge andinto the South Indian Basin. It was deep, nearly four miles deep andcovered thousands of miles. The Australian and U.S. warships had awhile to go before their guns came into range. How could he be in twoplaces at once? Once again he gathered his officers together in thewardroom. He switched on the fleet wide area situational map andrelayed the latest news and intelligence and then the boats neworders.

634 | P a g eWhile Turner spoke to his crew, the CSAR flight headed directly tothe middle space between the two forward Chinese task forces.Thefleet had turned about and was heading east. Within minutes CSARflight started to pick up active search radars from the fleetsnorthern most pickets.Somewhere out there were enemy fighters,stealthy and deadly. Raptors joining the mission went high and widelooking for the enemy.The Luyang II Missile destroyer pickets, equipped with Dragonseye phased array radar capable of tracking 300 aerial targets andengaging ten simultaneously were quick to pick up the inbound bogies.The information was fed directly into the Chinese Fleet Air AreaDefense (FAAD) system."Enemy aircraft."The Chinese Admiral looked at the plot. "Get some fighters onthem.""Aye."The Admiral watched the plot and the symbols representing thesmall Australian fleet still pushing down towards him.He was notgoing to wait all day to deal with them. The tactics still did notmake sense, their objective unclear.If he knew what their missionwas he could anticipate their next moves. The logic was that inconcert with the Americans, they would try to regain ground or justpunch it out with them. But what was happening now was neither.Not far north of the Chinese fleet, a Shang Class submarineCaptain looked at the readout from his UUWV or Unmanned UnderwaterVehicle that was cruising many miles in front of his boat, connectedby a thin communication wire."Collins Class," his sonar director confirmed.The UUWV hadbeen silently searching while its mother ship remained absolutelysilent.

635 | P a g e"Swim out tubes five and six." Two Yu-7 torpedos, copies of the324 mm Mk-46 Mod-1, swam silently out from the attack boat directedby the information supplied by the UUWV that still trailed thehapless Collins Class submarine. Minutes later the torpedoes wentactive. The Australian submarine accelerated but it was too late.The sound of the HMAS Rankin breaking up as it plunged 15,000feet to the ocean floor below was heard by attack boats and ships onboth sides. The joy of the Chinese crew was short lived.One of those who heard the contact was the U.S. Virginia Classsubmarine Jimmy Carter, the most sophisticated hunter killer ever toroam the seas. The noise of torpedoes leaving the tube and the soundof the Captain issuing the orders were immediately isolated. Too lateto save the Rankin, the Jimmy Carter closed the range quickly, theonboard attack system able to resolve a firing solution from a singleheading. Moments later a MK48 ADCAP detonated just below the Shang'ssail. The break-up of the Shang Class boat joined that of its victimplunging into the deeps below her. But just like the Shang, anotherChinese sub detected the Jimmy Carters attack."Captain, we have some one in our baffles!" the sensor operatoron the Virginia announced. "Type 093!" he added moments later, givingit the designation of Master 12."Report!" the Captain ordered."20,000 yards, five knots." The Captain played the strategythrough his mind.Behind, close to launching a torpedo up his asswas a Chinese Nuclear Attack submarine. It looked like it was wallto-wallsubmarines down here. This was not a time to panic. He didn'twant to make any noise launching his own torpedoes and announce hisposition. He decided. "RVC Conn""Aye.""Attack procedures, Remote One, Master 12."

636 | P a g e"Conn RVC, aye, attack procedure with Remote One, MK-50 Master12."Thousands of yards behind the Jimmy Carter and on each flanktravelled two specialized Unmanned Underwater Vehicles (UUV's). Theywere twenty-five feet in length, incredibly quiet and communicatedwith the mother ship by a streamed cable; each UUV could travel underits own power, but while connected to its parent vessel, drew somepower through the cable. Both were equipped with a MK-50 torpedo andsensor suite that worked in unison with the parent, they were simplynamed remote one (Port side) and remote two on the starboard.The UUV's replaced the equipment in the SEAL bay normally usedfor littoral or shallow water operations and Special Forcesdeployment. The housing was a small hump behind the boats sail. Thejob of the UUV's in deep-water operations was to monitor the flanksand protect the baffles of the Virginia Class submarine. A strategythey now knew worked."MK-50 launched.""It’s gone active! The Type 093 is making turns, cavitating!"The Chinese submarine Commander was dumbfounded at theproximity of the sudden torpedo attack.He ordered flank, releasednoisemakers and tried to create a knuckle in the water to hide himfrom the attacking submarine. He might yet escape it."Attack procedures, number one, MK-50," The Jimmy Carter'sskipper ordered. The same procedure was repeated.The Chinese submarine detected the torpedo as soon as itpowered up. "Sir, another torpedo, directly on our bow, one thousandmeters!" The distress was clear in his voice.Back on the Jimmy Carter, they continued to monitor theinformation being fed from the two UUV's.

637 | P a g e"Conn, RVC, number two has acquired," the RVC, or RemoteVehicle Controller reported.Seconds later there was the now uglybut familiar crump of an underwater explosion."Conn, sonar, explosion and breaking up noises on Master 12."The Captain acknowledged and ordered his boat to quietly clearthe datum. The Jimmy Carter reeled in its two guards to give them thesingle reload they carried in the SEAL housing, preparing for thenext confrontation, which was surely not far away.Above the water, one thousand miles south of the Great AustralianBight, A single TU-95MS Bear H from the 31st PLAN Heavy BomberRegiment was flying along the border of the Australian Maritime Zone.The Bear-H was a long range reconnaissance and strike aircraftspecifically designed to attack shipping. With a range of 12,500km,six Kent missiles in its rotary launcher bay and several moreantiship missiles on wing pylons, she was very dangerous, able tolaunch missiles long before she could be retaliated against, enablingher to escape to safety."Surface contact, we have two Adelaide Class destroyers northeast, bearing 324 500km's," the radar operator said, directing theBear's long-range attack radar to look at the targets.The weapons operator acknowledged, slaving the big missilesthat hung under the bombers wings to look at the targets as well.Why these Australian ships were so far north the Chinese Bearcrew had no idea. Why the vessels were headed away from the fight wasalso puzzling. But they were coalition ships and that made them atarget. Moments later the TU95M's volley of eight anti-ship missilesdropped from their racks and began heading for their target.Thefour-engine bomber then banked hard, heading back to Île Amsterdamand the safety of Han AFB.

638 | P a g eThe targets were the HMAS Darwin and the Melbourne, travellingin convoy, heading across the Great Australian bite towards TenixMarine Systems in Melbourne for urgent upgrades.They thought theywere out of the fight. But they were wrong.The Kh-55 Granat (ранат) missiles were faultless inperformance.Hugging the waves at super sonic speeds, like wolvesthey were on to the two lone vessels before the ships had a chance.The Adelaide Class Sea Sparrow Missile Defense and CIWS systemsaccounted for three of the incoming missiles.But the survivingShipwreck missiles shared the targets between them; three hit theHMAS Darwin and two the HMAS Melbourne. Without the combined AirWarfare Defense provided by the later built or upgraded ships, theyhad no chance. The sea boiled on the where spot they bothdisappeared, the airwaves still filled with frantic calls from HQJOC,no one was going to respond, nobody survived.If it was any consolation to the lost crew, the Australianswere not the only ones on the bad end of a shooting match."Pigs!" The Chinese radar crews were becoming rapidly familiarwith the F-111.Wing Commander Wilkie spoke loudly into his mask. "Go, go go!"The strike package of Pigs split and turned in opposite directions.Travelling at over 500 miles per hour they rapidly closed the gapwith their respective target task force."Ready." There were several responses as the other pilotsacknowledged with presses of the comms button."Drop!" In unison the jets dropped part of their war load, butthis time they were not Harpoons."Split!" The F-111's in both groups stood on a knife-edge andplugged their burners for all they were worth, heading north.The missiles flew low, none of them following quite the sameroute. Each missile had its own mission and knew what it was doing,

639 | P a g elooking forwards, evaluating threats and adjusting flight profiles toavoid them. None of the missiles struck a single ship. But oneafter the other they exploded amongst them.In the flag room on the Shi Lang, Wen Jinsong was examining the fightclosely. "What are these aircraft doing?" He was looking at the smallgroup still heading south between the task forces. He could see aportion of the force that had not turned into the attack as he hadexpected.The numbers of aircraft were not large enough to possiblyretake any of the main stations or runways. As he pondered this, thecommunications suddenly cut off and hissed loudly, the numerousmonitors and screens turned to snow. He sat back abruptly, hisnostrils flared as he waited.Were they under nuclear attack? If they were, the crushingpressure wave he expected would be any second. The entire controlroom froze in time. Moments passed. Nothing happened, but still thescreens fuzzed. His close-in weapon systems and sensors appearedfully operational, which meant they could defend against incomingmissiles, but he now realized he was blind to what was happening inthe vast ocean between his task forces.The situation was exactly what the coalition forces had hopedto achieve. Behind the F-111's, in the screen of the jamming, aflight of B1's rose up from the deck and emulated the F-111's.Several more flights followed.As soon as the first EMP weapon detonated, the pilot of thelead C130 in the combat rescue group pushed the nose of his aircraftto the deck, gouging the oceans surface with the wash from four bigcurved props. The F-111's then reversed course, heading back southagain racing to catch up with the strike package as it moved towardsthe Antarctic coast.

640 | P a g eOn the Shi Lang the screens eventually cleared. Wen looked atthe monitors, the aircraft that had been there before were now allgone, he was furious, he knew what had happened.In the electronicdarkness of the continual EMP explosions, coalition forces had fledthrough his ranks. Even his fighters had lost all contact in themaelstrom of electromagnetic interference. What their mission wasstill eluded him. Were they going to attack the bases? The forcestill seemed woefully small to attempt such an undertaking.Australian Government Press Gallery - Canberra.The briefing officer looked around the room now filled with mediathat were almost rabid in their attempts to get a better sound bitethan everyone else. The media could be both helpful and dangerous andhe wondered which one of these they would be today. He remembered afew years previously when he was in Afghanistan, a Newsweek reporterhad reported on the rumour of a Koran being desecrated by Americansoldiers. This was only an assertion, not proven. But the resultwas chaos and nearly a hundred killed in subsequent riots and hatedemonstrations against the U.S. All over something that may neverhave happened. But the journalist got his headline. The briefer hadlearned that the excuse of journalistic integrity might be justanother term for greed and recognition in the world of writers. Hehoped those gathered before him had greater integrity and understoodcompassion. The news he was about to deliver was a shock, but couldnot be delayed. He started reading from his notes."We have just received news that we have lost two ships, theHMAS Darwin and Melbourne. Both sunk, we think, by Chinese missiles.We also believe the ships went down with all hands." That was bitter

641 | P a g enews; search and rescue had found nothing bigger than a plastic cokebottle. Quite surprisingly the pressroom was quiet. The briefingofficer took a deep breath. His brother had been on one of thoseships."The Prime Minister will address you later, please keep yourquestions till then.My job this morning is to brief you on theeffort to put out the oil fire at Vostok, what we are doing right atthis moment." He went on at some length and then got down to basics;the government wanted ordinary Australians to understand what theywere facing. "It’s called Fleet Air Area Defense. FAAD, We aretalking Luyang II Missile destroyers with Dragons eye phased arrayradar capable of tracking 300 aerial targets and engaging tensimultaneously, ship mounted MINERAL-ME over-the-horizon targeting(OTHT) with a range of about 240nm, complimented with SS-N-22 and SS-N-27B and modern C3 systems."The reporter from the Australian News looked a little confused."With this type of threat, why didn't the Americans use one of theiraircraft to drop the fuel air bombs?""Because the closest U.S. Carrier Task Force (CTF) led by theClinton was on a shake down cruise," the briefer explained. "None ofthe aircraft available could carry the bombs or were equipped tohandle the targeting kits we used. The Americans have despatched theStennis Carrier Task Force and are now flying in more operationalunits to the Clinton.""What about stealth aircraft?""There are no stealthy aircraft that can carry the massiveFAB's internally. The only platforms in the U.S. inventory able todeliver the FAB’s we used are B52's and B1's. B1's were out, wouldn'tbe mission ready in time. (Due to cuts, but he didn't say that.)B52's were sitting ducks in that threat environment, which prettymuch left us zip. The F32's couldn't carry the weight, neither could

642 | P a g ethe Super Hornet; we had nothing in the Naval inventory that could.It was the Pig or nothing.Both the F15E and the F117 would needmore tanker support than we can muster or safely deliver."He waspissed off he had to explain that. "I think you should be thankingthe men and women who just saved your lives, not acting like this.""Okay. But how can we believe that this threat really existed?"one of the journalists asked critically.He looked the reporter dead in the eye."My brother diedtoday, he was on the Darwin. Do you think I would be standing hereright now if I thought this was bullshit?" The reporter went beetrootred, and the rest of the room immediately went quiet."We have one strategy, to blow a hole through the iron fence toallow our rescue and strike package to reach Vostok. More Australiansand Americans will put their lives on the line to achieve that.""When do you propose to do this?" someone else asked.The briefing officer checked the time; he wouldn't be briefingthe press before the fact. "It's already happening. I don't think Ineed to tell you we are not in a position to take these guys on headto head. Not yet. Our objective is to kill the wellhead fire.Earlier today (Dec 8), at 11:30 hours, we began operation MassDistraction, the mission objective being to draw the Eastern ChineseNaval Task Force and air defense assets away from the F-111 strikeroute.We needed to create a temporary window to get them through.This has been successful. At the same time we began a programdesigned to confuse and distract the enemy forces."Phase three is the exfil of the strike team on the ground atVostok.To achieve that we needed a powerful combat search andrescue mission to once again break through Chinese and Russiandefenses and get our guys out of there."As he spoke the combat search and rescue mission was nearingthe next phase of it mission. Once clear of the Chinese task force,

643 | P a g eseveral medium sized unmanned refueling UAVs from the Clinton arrivedto top up thirsty fuel tanks. Hours later, as the package penetrateddeep into Antarctica, just a few hundred miles north east of Vostok,the Spectre gun ships and fighters moved their throttles forward. Itwas show time.Paris, France. The Salon Doré.The Salon Doré (gilded salon), the office of the President of theFrench Republic, situated on the first floor of the Faubourg Saint-Honoré oozed in its European arrogance. The U.S. Ambassador had beenbrusque. "Mr President, it is my duty to deliver this message to youin person." His voice, normally diplomatic, was edged with anger. Hedid not disguise it.This was incredibly unusual. "President Blaire has asked me toconvey verbally that the U.S. Administration is coming to the pointof view that France is acting as an enemy of the United States.Subsequently," the Ambassador handed the French President a letter,"we view the current activities of France in Antarctica as hostile.Good day Sir!"he said, turning on his heel and leaving the FrenchPresident's office, no pretence to politeness. He had wanted to dothat for years. It felt good.He would tell his grandchildren ofthis moment.The French President was too surprised to answer.TheAmbassador's exit had left him with his mouth hanging. He read thetightly worded cable and blanched.'Any hostile act committed or supported from French territory willbe viewed by the United States as an act of war. Any such act willresult in an immediate reprisal using any such weapon the US forcessee fit against any and all French assets below the 60th Parallel.'

644 | P a g eThey had pushed the Americans too far. With America at DEFCONone, the U.S. Defense Forces were sitting on a hair trigger.Thistime they were clearly not playing diplomacy. They meant it.Still, he was not about to lie down that easily. He consideredthe request by the Chinese for access to the French polarsurveillance satellite. French industry benefited heavily from theChinese purchasing defense technologies. Granting the request wouldhelp the Chinese locate and track U.S. and Australian targets. Hepicked up the phone."Les dire nous donnerons leur accède à au satellite. Nousenverrons les codes d'accès tout de suite," the President said,authorizing the access and the delivery of the codes."Oui, ils ont attendu d'urgence," the French Ambassador to theChinese replied.The President hung up the phone. baiser les Américains, hethought. Get fucked.CSAR enroute to Vostok.In Antarctica the combat rescue team was closing to its target.Ranging in front of the package were Boeing QF-45C and NorthropGrumman QF-47 Pegasus UCAV's.These were split into two missions:the first to attack SAM positions and the second any enemy aircrafton the ground or in the air. The UCAV's were super stealthy, both indesign, material and precision active antiradar technologies.Theywere completely autonomous, using flight telemetry and commands fedto them from an ultra high altitude flying ELINT UAV guarded bydedicated Airborne Borne Laser aircraft.The wind in the last few hours had completely died away. Theday was crystal clear. The coalition had a lucky break.

645 | P a g e"Let's move up the schedule on the Spectres," the missioncommander said. "Priorities are the long range SAM systems first; wewill work back from there."The pilot of the lead Spectre gunship moved his throttles up tofull military power. While his and other aircraft were all flying inpassive mode, they were constantly fed situational battlefield dataand instructions from the ELINT UAV and satellites."We need some bait," the mission commander said after a fewmore moments. "We need to flush those long range systems out.Moveup the F-111's, get them squawking."Flying at over 600 miles per hour, feet above the deck usingtheir terrain following radar (TFR) systems, the RAAF Pigs plugged inthe burners and gained some altitude to deliberately increasevisibility. Russian balloon based radar picked up the F-111 flightand took the bait.The data was fed to S400 SAM Batteries, whichunlike the S300 could launch their missiles without activating attackradars.Thanks to the French, they were also getting some targettelemetry from satellites.This was a dangerous game. The threat panels on the F-111'sremained silent, but the Russian missiles were tracking them. Unseenby the F-111's, the S400 missiles were launched and were steeringtowards them.Behind the F-111's and higher, the two spectre gun ships hadbanked west to allow their MTHEL systems or Mobile Tactical High-Energy Lasers, a chemical deuterium-fluoride laser, to target themissile threat. They had waited for just this moment. While thelasers were still too far out to target the Russian missile launcherplatforms, the infrared search and track sensor system, a developmentfrom the F-14 Tomcat fighter, quickly locked onto the hot exhausts ofthe big long range anti aircraft missiles. Once the missileswere acquired, precise targeting was performed by a small 10-kilowatt

646 | P a g elaser mounted in the chin of the spectre gunship. The targeting lasercalculated the range and its reflected beam to analyze the airturbulence between the aircraft and the target. This data was used tocontrol the systems "adaptive optics" that adjusted a matrix ofprecision pistons attached to the back of the lasers focus mirror,modifying the shape of the mirror slightly to keep the beam intensityon the target constant even in the presence of atmosphericturbulence.Once charged, they fired. The combined shots from the two lasercannons were dead on target and fried the electronics on the incomingmissiles.The missiles were destroyed without the F-111 crewsknowing anything had happened.Pulling up the rear of the CSAR mission was a Wedgetail Eagleunder heavy Escort by F35's. In between were the ELINT UAVs,coordinating the strike and rescue package.Aware of the total number of shots available and the balance ofthe mission requirement, the mission commander shared the missileshots carefully between the gun ships and orbiting 747-400 and B52ABLsystems.The F-111's were now less than 300 miles to target and closing.Not far behind them V22, gun ships and above F-22's.The attackingforce had established positional data on the S400's launch units andmissiles in flight.It was time to force the Russians to deploy their own highenergyweapons to defend themselves.As soon as the missileslaunched from the F-111's closed on their targets, the Russiansactivated their own COIL based anti missile defense. As soon as theydid, an orbiting B52ABL hundreds of miles away responded with itsanti-laser system.The entire package was closing on the Russians.Wearing downthe long range SAM batteries, the Spectre gun ships were ready to

647 | P a g edeliver their most powerful punch.In place of the 120mm howitzerswere airborne railguns.Firing a smaller projectile than the navalversions, the one-pound round was still an awesome kinetic killer, asingle round, capable of destroying an aircraft, missile or tank.With precise targeting data, the guns went into action.The Russians didn't know what hit them. There was no warning.The sudden massive explosions caught them by surprise, the entirelaunch platform of one of the S400 units disintegrated. With a timeof flight of less than 10 seconds and travelling at 14 miles persecond, the kinetic energy of the railgun round, fired from one ofthe Spectre gun ships and headed downhill was transferred to itstarget. A few seconds later another launcher exploded. There waspanic.No one knew what was hitting them, but the precision andlethality made anything like a truck, launcher or trailer a coffin.Men spilled from their vehicles running in all directions.Anydirection as long as it was away from the hardware and weaponsystems.The Spectre gun ships methodically moved through the targetlist.Anything, including missiles that revealed themselves weredispatched.The railgun, within range, had become the decisivebattlefield weapon.With the protection of the orbiting B52ABL tohandle the enemies laser weapons, there was nothing the Russianscould shoot, launch or fire that wasn't immediately destroyed by therailguns.In front, the F-111's released a cluster of HPM missiles,which, unchallenged, flew deep into the Russian defensive systemdetonating and completely destroying the enemy's communication andremaining weapon systems with several enormous electromagneticpulses.

648 | P a g eEscape From Vostok.As the CSAR package approached Vostok, Brian and Lance were duckinglead. There were several heavy thuds in the airframe and the Mi-35MHind kicked sideways as the snow and ice in front of them explodedfrom canon shells fired from the Russian helicopter gun ship behind."Shit, we have some friends.""No kidding!"More cannon shells sprayed the snow in front."Why didn't he just fire a missile?"The SAS Colonel thought about that."It must be Nibialok the insane bastard. It's personal."Lance was throwing the big gun ship around making it as hard aspossible for the pursuing attacker to get rounds on the target."He's backing off!""He's giving up on guns and going for a missile shot."Nibialok, frustrated, had finally decided to play it safe; heselected missiles while his pilot opened enough range for the missileto arm and acquire.Lance wheeled the chopper into a steep turn and put his noseonto the attacker. The chin mounted gattling gun followed the helmetmountedsite."Brian, give me guns and then a missile."Lance thumbed the firing button on the switch releasing astream of canon shells. He punched off a missile. It was way toclose for the missile, but the other gun ship had to immediately godefensive. Lance could hear Brian on the radio, transmitting in clearon the guard channel."Cease fire, cease fire!"the CSAR mission Commander saidurgently over the command channel. The weapons operators on board theSpectre gun ships closed the 'ARM' switches on the guns, bringing the

649 | P a g efiring sequence to a halt and allowing the two Russian helicopter gunships they were just targeting to escape to the west. They wonderedwhy.Nibialok's pilot recovered quickly from the attack.They were nowfighting amongst the snow dunes, long undulating waves of snow sixtyto three hundred feet high.Anticipating the next move, Lance estimated the spot where theRussian would be and charged his gun ship over the brow of the duneto get behind Nibialok. He thumbed the cannon. There was thesatisfying recoil of the guns followed by a disturbing quiet whirringsound as the barrels of the gattling gun spun, out of ammunition."Oops.""Ooops all right, we have no missiles left either," Brian said,reading the Russian warning lights.Just as quickly as dropping in behind the other gun ship, LanceHamilton hauled his own airrcraft high before skidding low and to theleft.Nibialok smiled. For a moment he had braced for the impact ofcannon fire.But then it had stopped and the attacker had peeledaway. "He is out of ammo. Let's take our time here Yuri," he said tothe pilot. "Let us make every round count."Gaining height, Nibialok's aircraft looked down at thehelicopter carrying the Australian called Hamilton, desperatelytrying to evade him in the maze of hills and gullies that had beencreated by the drifting snow. From his vantage point he thumbed thebutton releasing another missile. The missile tracked quickly,detonating and severing the tail assembly.Lance felt the heavy impact of the explosion and sudden loss ofthe tail rotor.Without lateral control he instinctively rode the

650 | P a g espinning machine into the snow dunes before he lost it completely.The Mil crashed heavily, falling on its side.Both Brian and Lance were stunned by the crash but theaccumulated snow near the bottom of the dune had absorbed a lot ofthe Mi24's impact energy. His head still groggy, Brian wasn't aboutto give up. There was something in the back cabin he wanted. Hefell out of the cockpit and into the snow. It was hard to think, tofocus, but he could hear the approaching killer, sniffing the air andtasting the kill.Nibialok was ecstatic, now he wanted to see the man who hadchallenged him die. He directed his pilot to hover near the crashedmachine. The prey was down and at his mercy. Someone fell out of thecabin and onto the snow. It was just this moment that he loved. Hebegan to squeeze the trigger when there was a sudden flash.Brian had scrambled half blind to the rear door of the chopper;he had seen it earlier, but almost forgot it. It was the RPO-A Shmel("bumblebee"), a single shot, disposable, lightweight, shoulderfired,recoilless "rocket" launcher. The Shmel was a prepackaged,ready-to-fire system. Brain snatched the cotter pins that separatedthe individual launchers and cocked them. He fired, but not at theattacking chopper, just below it.The 93-mm caliber RPO-A projectile was a thin-walled, burnishedaluminum, aerodynamically shaped cylinder, fin-stabilized for longrangeaccuracy. The projectile hit the snow dune, the two-kilogramthermobaric ignited, resulting in a massive thermal effect. The Shmelwas essentially a portable Fuel Air Explosive; they seemed to begaining in popularity. The massive over pressure from the blastfollowed by a momentary vacuum of air caused the attacking chopperthrough it to drop, plunging it into the dune.The Werewolf was a tough chopper hitting hard but notexploding; the rotors flailed wildly, shattered and then came to a

651 | P a g estop as the chopper rolled on to its side. The seats in the gun shipwere especially designed to protect the pilot and gunner from a fallin excess of 60 feet per second, the very same seats that had savedLance and Brian. Nibialok looked to his pilot who was unconscious. Nohelp there. Like Brian, he kicked the door open and fell into thesnow.After the violent chase it was suddenly quiet. There was justthe sound of the wind and the hiss of billions of minute slivers ofice sliding over each other. No sign of Hamilton. He was sure he hadseen him fall out of the cockpit. It was just one hundred meters. Heslugged through the heavy snow.Brian was gasping for breath. His wound had opened again and hehad clearly smashed some ribs in the crash. After the bumblebee shothe had fallen back down the dune. It was cold, really cold, he waslying on his back snow almost covering him.He struggled to hisfeet, which in hindsight was bloody stupid. But then he wasn't reallyfeeling or thinking that well.It was the red that caught his attention. Nibialok was welltrained; but the blood trail would have been easy for a five yearold. Then Hamilton suddenly stood up in front of him, clearly dazedand the Russian was ready.Hamilton knew he was in trouble as soon as he saw the barrel ofNibialok's gun, already pointing at him. The gun barrel erupted inflame and he felt two massive punches to his chest.Nibialok had dropped to one knee and fired. Hamilton flewbackwards. Got the bastard, he thought, but not the headshot.Hamilton wouldn't be dead until he put a bullet in his brain. Hefollowed through, stumbling until he was on top of the man.On his back, trying hard to drag air into his shocked lungs,Brian struggled to move. The jacket had stopped the bullets, but theimpacts had taken his breath away. He could see the Russian Spetznaz

652 | P a g eofficer closing on him, coming to finish him off; he was paralyzed,unable to answer his attacker.At last, Nabialok thought as he stood over Hamilton. He put thebarrel against Brian's head and squeezed the trigger; there was atremendous crash.He knew, that finite moment before death. He couldn't reallytell where he was hit, but he knew he was dead. As he rolled over, nolonger in control of his body, he saw images of snow.Lance staggered backwards. He had never killed anybody up closebefore. The explosion of red on white reeled his senses. He looked athis brother floundering in the snow. The bastard was actuallysmiling. He dropped the gun, it was becoming cold, and he knew if heheld it any longer his skin would stick to it. "Jesus H Christ!"Lance said. "I tell you, you have just got to make better fuckingfriends next time. This guy really sucked!" The Spetznaz officer laysprawled at his feet.A few minutes later a V22 skimmed over the top of the dunes topick them up. Once again they were thanking their stars to still bealive. But they knew both knew until they were standing on aussieterra firma, they were not yet safe.Thw V22 along with the rest of the CSAR team headed back toVostok to RV with the ground attack forces.From the north theAlaskan based Snow Hawks had parachuted into the station along withten Ospreys carrying a detachment from the Australian SAS regiment.They had no sooner arrived at the station when they had toleave, not even disembarking but taking on fuel. They could hear theOsprey pilot yelling over the noise of the engines as he transitionedthe aircraft from the vertical to horizontal flight leaving VostokStation behind them. "The Chinese are launching a major strike totake the base back. We still have no control over any of the coastalbases and to get out of this joint we still have to fight through

653 | P a g ethem and then the fleet defenses. The Chinese and Russians think weare trying to retake and hold the base. Except we aren't interestedin a pissing contest, we just wanted to put the flame out and keep itout, thanks to you two guys," he said,"they also still hold a lotof our people on the other bases, which prohibits a direct attack.So, the bottom line is, we were only ever able to hold Vostoktemporarily. Overhead we have two-geo synchronous killer satellitesequipped with both COIL and kinetic weapons.Their job is to killanything that even thinks it will get close to the wellhead. That’swhy we have to leave." He paused for breath. "We also have fourCHARC's under our control, just in case we have to leave any of theseaircraft near the coast.""CHARC's?" Brian asked."Yes Sir.""Son of a bitch." He looked at the tilt rotor pilot. "Couldyou land me on one?""Piece of cake," the pilot said."Sweet." Brain looked at the map display. "Can we reach thecoast?"The pilot did some quick calculations. "Yes, but if you don'tmind me asking sir, wouldn't it be easier to ride home with us?""I'm not going home yet. I have to pay someone a visit."The conversation was fast, but Antarctica was big. It tookseveral hours to reach the coast. A broken white line of iceseparated the ocean from the interior. As they crossed over the lastsheet, the sea became a confusion of large waves and frothing whitecaps driven by bitter southerly winds."There they are!""I see it," the pilot said.The CHARCs rode easily through the southern swell, making justenough way to keep steerage. The tilt rotor transitioned from flight

654 | P a g eto hover.Twenty feet above the lead CHARC, the cargo door of theV22 swung open."You ever done this before?" Brian asked his brother over thenoise of the engines and wind."No.""Its fun," Brian said, launching himself away from theairframe, the rope running through his hands while he dropped at analarming rate to the pitching roof of the CHARC below.Lancefollowed suit but not quite as quickly. Once on the vessels roof theyun-dogged the top hatch and dropped into the CHARC's cockpit, givingthe V22 crew a thumbs up. The Osprey pitched forwards, the enginesrotating to the horizontal as it picked up speed and headed north."Holy shit!" Lance exclaimed. "What's with all the gadgets, itdoesn't even fly." It was a complete glass cockpit."Want a bet!" Brian said smiling. He firewalled the twothrottles, the CHARC surged forwards, and Lance fell backwards. Brianlaughed as his brother picked himself up from the floor. "Look toport and starboard," Brian said, concentrating on the controls.Lance looked out the cockpit windows.There were three otherCHARC's following them. "They are unmanned, like this was before weclimbed on board. This is the lead boat. They go where we go andfrom the weapons console we direct the firepower for the full group.""Awesome.""Swap seats," Brian said. The two men switched. "You are nowdriving, I'm working the guns, get used to it because we are going tohave to fight this thing. It's a jet, two engines, one in each hull,all-electric, so don't panic when I press the guns and the boat slowsdown.Just means the power is going to the shot." Brian pulled upthe situational display, he pointed to it. "It looks like we have afull on engagement between Chinese and Australian forces and now the

655 | P a g eU.S. and Russians as well. This is getting uglier by the minute andwe have to stop it."Lance was still enthralled by the CHARCs cockpit. "This is onesweet piece of gear, but I can't see how we can possibly stop a scrapthat big?" Time seemed to slow a little as Brian thought about thequestion. He handed his brother the artifact.Lance examined it. "That's the evidence you picked up from thecenter of the burst?""Yes."He was staggered. "You're right, this is certainly intriguing,but will they buy your story?""I don’t know, I’m hoping so and it still might be the key tounravelling this mess. If we don’t try this we will have a realbloody tragedy on our hands. The Vostok crater is still an accidentwaiting to happen.It will take very little to re-ignite thewellhead.As we talk now, both the Russians and Chinese are layingin strikes to overcome what they see as an attempt by us to retakethe station.""Cruise missiles?""Yes, and probably Backfires, Bears and whatever other assetsthey have.We have to use everything we have here." He pointed atthe weapons console. "To delay that until we can get close enough toforce a meeting with Admiral Wen Jinsong.""Oh shit, I was afraid that's what you were going to say. He'sthe force commander right. You know him?""Know of him yes. I hear he's a pretty decent bloke. I’m sureif we can get to him so we can explain the risk of the well headburning again and let him see the artifact he might reason we are notinvading Antarctica, have left Vostok and stand the next strikedown."

656 | P a g eLance looked at his brother.There were a lot of ‘Ifs’ inthere. If he were wrong about his assessment of Jinsong...well itwould be bad to say the least. "This plan's scarier than our firstone.""Got another?""No." He wondered what the odds were about succeeding in twobad complicated plans."Let's do it then." Brian pulled up a direct link to tHQJOC inBungendore Australia. Once the visual link came up and he hadstressed the urgency of the situation, he pulled out the artefact. Itwas like dropping your pants at Sunday school and taking a pee on thepiano, there was just no doubt about it, that little rod was a realshow stopper. With the exception of jaws dropping, the other end ofthe communication was for a moment silent."The Chinese and Russians are currently laying in heavy strikeson Australian and U.S naval forces, as well as Vostok. Naturally theyare convinced we have been retaliating to repossess the station.""What about our killer satellites?" Lance asked."They have limited shots. To use them on the coast wouldcompromise Vostok. We are saving shots to prevent anything gettingclose to the wellhead. We can't afford to go offensive with them. Ifthe fire starts again, we are all stuffed." In between talking toLance he was also talking to HQJOC via the boats videophone. "Whichis why we have to visit the Shi Lang," he was saying. "You know WenJinsong Sir.What do you think his reaction will be to theartifact?"The CJOPS simply nodded. "Do it. We will provide whatevercoverage we can.At the same time I will instruct a communicationthrough diplomatic channels. But they will probably just see that assome sort of shifty coalition plot. Your best chance is direct."

657 | P a g e"That's what I thought Sir." He went to work on the command andcontrol station. The CHARC, hooked into the Global Information Grid(GIG) provided Brian an immediate view of the Chinese task force. Hefocused on the flagship.The Chinese Flag Ship the Shi Lang."New Contacts Sir. Moving fast. 60 plus knots."The Shi Lang's Captain directed aircraft to intercept. Wenlooked at the unusual engagement. This was indeed strange."Sir, we have a communication from the incoming vessels.""Put it through."Brian spoke quickly in Chinese.You learned something everyday, Lance thought.His brotherspoke fluent Chinese."Admiral Wen.""This is Admiral Wen.'"Thank you for speaking to me Sir.""Who are you?""Sir, my name's Brian Hamilton, Colonel, Australian RAR. Icarry with me something I think is important for you to see,something that shows what we have been saying about Vostok Station isfact."The Admiral was listening, but it sounded like nonsense. "Yourpeople have sunk several of my ships and submarines today, shot downaircraft and have killed many of my men. Why should I believe you,even listen to you?""Our only objective was to extinguish the flame at Vostok. Nowwe just want to keep it out. You can see we are leaving there. If youlay in a strike and restart the fire the result will be catastrophicfor all of us. Ask yourself why I would take this chance wanting toface to face with you, what do I would have to gain. I could be home

658 | P a g enow having bacon and eggs; instead I’m risking my ass wanting to havea cup of tea with you. The decision is yours but take a moment t6oexamine whats happening, does it really look like we have projectedenough force to over run the place?"The Admiral considered. What was this game? He brought up theFrench satellite again and looked at Vostok station.Indeed theflame was out.Hamilton could tell by the tone in the Admirals voice he wasn’tyet convinced. He looked at the large situational screen and then theimagery from somewhere on the GIG which looked at the Chinese fleet."Admiral!""Yes.""See the Sukhoi on the stern ramp."The hairs on the back of the Admirals neck stood on end. TheAdmiral looked at the sleek jet parked on the rear of the carrier.Satellites, he thought, or maybe a UAV or perhaps this man was justguessing, there were nearly always Sukhois on the deck. But he wouldplay the game. "Yes.""Is it empty?""Yes, it is empty.""Excellent." A heart beat after the Australian had said thosewords the big jet fighter disappeared, obliterated in flames andsliding off the side of the deck into wake of the big ship leavingnothing more than a scorch mark on the deck."The next shot could be right where you are standing Admiral.No disrespect Sir, but I'm not going to fuck around here.I don'twant anyone to die.But if that has to be the case, it is yourpeople that are going to die in big numbers as well, all because youwon’t talk to me."The Admiral looked at the scorch mark.

659 | P a g eAnother Sukhoi launched from the bow ramp. Barely twenty feetfrom the end of the ramp it exploded. The Australian wasn’t bluffing.Hamilton held his breath, he was bluffing, the small pack of CHARC'she commanded had limited munitions, and using precious shots to killthe Admiral would leave them little to be able to defend themselvesagainst a whole fleet. Killing the Admiral would destroy any chanceof negotiating with the Chinese force. It was a Catch 22; Brian knewhe was giving up the opportunity to put a hole in the Chinese commandstructure.On board the Chinese flag ship the Admiral watched the Tavitakdisplay; he knew missiles were in the air targeting the smallAustralian vessel and its companions.Surely nothing that smallcould threaten a whole fleet.The system also picked up the heavysound of rocket torpedoes speeding through the water toward them. Hewasn't about to throw up his hands because of a little magic show.The Australians would be dead in minutes, but he had to admit, theyhad given him a bad fright.On board the CHARC, things became complicated. "We have torpedoes inthe water…..and," Lance paused. "We have missiles in the air." Helooked at his brother."I'm hoping you know how to use this thingright?""Damn right I do," he said"Thank god for that.""Push that lever all the way forward." Lance did as he wasasked."What does it do?""Charges the cavitation guns." Brian then hit a switch, whichstarted an active ping from the boat's forward sonar.Brian leaned across and hit the 'Automatic' button on theweapons console. "Get ready for some shockwaves. The cavitation gun

660 | P a g eis great, but it's short range." Brian then picked up a helmet fromunder the control panel. "Put this on."Lance slid the helmet over his head. "Holy shit!" he exclaimed."This is better than what we have on the F35." The helmet's internalHUD provided real time 3D situational awareness.After the CHARC'sactive pulse, the head up display in the helmet visor showed threedimensionalviews above and below the water.He could see thesubmarine, the torpedo and the incoming missiles.The scene was surrounded by clumps of numbers, which he quicklydeciphered as target telemetry.These were joined by small crosshairs that attached themselves to the target joined by analphanumeric designation, which he guessed was the weapon assigned toshoot it.It was all happening very quickly, the scene changingrapidly as the CHARC sped along at over sixty knots.He found that he could switch modes and view points. Themissiles were supersonic and closing rapidly. He could see the chinturret swivel its railgun and begin firing in unison with the otherCHARCs. The units combined combat system sharing the targets betweenthem.The CHARC slowed as the railguns dragged the power, firing onepoundprojectiles at over 22,000 meters per second towards themissiles. They were the same size as those fired from the spectre gunships. They impacted each missile with the force of a Mack truck. Themissiles disappeared.Torpedoes were next.The outer ring of the Chinese defensebarrier consisted of layers of Kilo, Ming and Song submarines; theywere passing through that now. Even as the attacking missiles werekilled, the second barrel on the chin turret began firing, joined byanother mounted on the rear of the cockpit.These were supercavitation guns.Unlike the distant demise of the missiles, theexperience of this close in defense weapon was a lot more interesting

661 | P a g eand far more personal. The cavitation guns needed to wait until therocket-propelled torpedoes were within 750 yards before opening fire.This meant that when the torpedoes died and detonated just 350 yardsaway, the shock wave would resonate loudly and painfully through thehull and anyone seated inside.Suddenly the CHARC to the left heaved in the water, lifted by ahuge convulsive bubble that speared the boat on its nose, breakingthe legs off and smashing the cockpit into the sea.Magnetic mines Brian thought with alarm. "Magnetic mines!" heyelled. He slammed the throttles back to the stops. "Range?""160," Lance replied. He meant nautical miles. "And we havesatellite and GPS feeds.""Almost out of shots!" Lance announced. "No more cavitationrounds left. Next torpedo sinks us."Suddenly, flying low and fast, three Su-34 Fullbacks fell ontothe small formation of CHARCs.They were jinking hard to avoidrailgun shot; with each alternate jink they would spray the attackboats with heavy cannon fire. One of the jets exploded, tumblingdirectly into one of the CHARC's, both disappearing in a ball offlame. The cockpit of the Hamilton's own CHARC exploded with multiplehits from cannon shells, the two brothers thrown to the floor as theheavy rounds smashed through the side windows and walls.The two injured CHARCs retaliated and both remaining jets werehit as they tried to escape, both slammed into the sea. But thedamage was done.Almost out of ideas, Brian thought. Almost out of any luck thatmight have existed. We have to get to the Shi Lang! Somehow?Lance had advanced the throttles again, but there wereobviously some real problems with the engines, the control panellooked like a set of Christmas tree lights, but there were more redthan green.

662 | P a g eBrian looked at the battle grid.It was full of symbols andnumbers, all moving and changing.He looked at one in particular."We need help...""No kidding!""Lance!" he yelled over the commotion of firing guns andexplosions too close for comfort."What?"Brian indicated to the grid panel.For a split second Lancelooked down; he nodded. Brian got on the horn and started speakingquickly.Scott Turner ran down the corridor to the control room. "Flank speed!Steer one nine zero five." The order was answered. The Greeneville'sCO took the conn and steered the ship at best speed towards theengagement zone.Fifteen minutes later. "Slow to 15 knots, clear the baffles."The Greeneville did a complete figure eight."Load tube one with Mk32." This was a decoy torpedo. Turnerpulled his XO aside and explained his plan. The XO liked it."Open outer door on tube one." He waited till it was confirmed."Swim the fish out XO," Scott said, wanting to avoid the extranoise of compressed air exploding into the ocean.The MK32 swam out from the tube, and like other torpedoes, itscontrol wire unreeled behind it.MK32 Decoy carried no explosives.About the size of an ADCAP, TheIt had one job, to act and soundlike a Los Angeles class submarine.While the MK32 was steered to its area of operation, Scottreloaded tubes one and two with the remaining Orlovs and three andfour with two of the new endurance torpedoes, designed to hunt andkill on their own. The UAVs were launched followed by the twotorpedoes that slowly followed the same path as the decoy. Turner was

663 | P a g eresponding to a desperate request from the CHARC's to clear the frontgate of any enemy submarines.The Greeneville was in position and running silent.Up ahead, the Captain of the Chinese type 093 Nuclear AttackSubmarine the Majong, was closing to intercept and attack thecharging pack of CHARC's above him. The torpedoes would attack fromdeep beneath the small craft, giving the cavitation defense weaponslittle chance of targeting them. He didn't know they were no longeroperational. But that made little difference."Contact! Nuclear attack submarine, Los Angeles class,classified as the Greeneville," The Majong's sonar operatorannounced.The Majong's Captain who was finalizing firing point procedureson the CHARC's stopped what he was doing.The Australian Fleet Task ForceIt was obvious to the Australian Joint Fleet Commander that theCHARCs were in trouble.One by one they were disappearing from theGRID. He didn't know what their plan was, but unless they drew somefire away, the plan would cease to exist.The stealthy USS Zumwalt was almost fifty miles in advance ofthe main body. So it was with complete surprise to the Chinese whenshe opened fire.The frigates and destroyers to the rear of theChinese fleet started to take hits immediately. Unlike the missiles,there was little they could do to stop the railgun shots travellingat over 14 miles per second from hitting them."Order the fleet to flank!" Wen Jinsong commanded. He looked atthe plot.He would put the attackers on his stern; make it harderfor them to target the carrier while he worked a plan to deal withthem.

664 | P a g eThe Chinese destroyer Shenzen, hull number 167, was takingevasive action. She was receiving multiple hits, some going straightthrough the super structure and out the other side. Holes would justappear as if by magic. The ship's Captain compressed his lips, he wasslowly losing his command to an enemy he could not see and could notdefend against.Using the position of the rear pickets, the Chinese Admiraldrew a 200-mile circle, somewhere on the edge of that was theculprit.The railguns he now knew were as good in air defense asthey were on ship or shore.He ordered any aircraft to keep aminimum distance of 200 miles from the attacker when they found her.Damage reports kept flooding in from his fleet as piece-by-piece theattacker chipped away at him.The kinetic energy weapon was a real problem. He couldn't stopthe rounds but he could do something about the platform. The first ofclass USS Zumwalt surged forward and supported by the Hobart Classair warfare destroyers Sydney and Brisbane began to lay down morelethal fire. The Chinese ships were taking a hammering. But just whenthe U.S. and Australian ships thought they had taken the advantage,the Chinese Admiral was ready to deliver another curve ball. Heenquired on the position of the Hong, while the Australians wereattacking the two eastern Chinese task forces, Wen Jinsong had sentnew orders to his western most task force, still out of the fight.Led by the Mistral class LHD, the Chee, it was as powerful as the ShiLang task force. Supported by the Slava Class Cruiser the Qing Yuan,the third force steered the Hong towards its targets.Out of range of the coalition railguns, the sea monster wasabout to begin delivering its own medicine, a mixture of air launchedshkval torpedoes and a new antiship missile, highly evasive andintelligent.

665 | P a g e"Shit what is that?" the Intelligence Officer said looking atthe satellite image. It was several hours old."You heard of the Caspian Sea Monster?" Stringer asked inreply."Vaguely.""Well this is her big brother.""Bigger?" That was hard to believe."Unfortunately yes. We are talking 550 plus tons flying in wingin ground effect (WIG), the same as the Manta landing craft. Theyboth exploit the effect of air compressing beneath a wings surfaceclose to the ground.The same affect that causes many aircraft to'float' above the runway while trying to land.The only differencehere is size.This thing is big enough not to worry about thesouthern rollers. She flies 50 feet above the waves at over 400knots. The aircraft was developedout of the Russians KM-8ekranoplan."Much larger than the A380, this was truly the fast monster ofthe seas."The Chinese version is stealthy in design and includesactive radar cancellation, making her pretty much invisible unlessyou are standing next to her.""Where do you think she's headed?""Towards our fleet, let them know.I will talk to Vince." Hewalked out of the control center in the Situation Room to VinceKipper's office. "We have to find her before she kills any of ourships."Colonel Brian Hamilton looked out the port window and down atthe two hulls below.They were full of holes. One engine was shutdown. In seconds they would be dead.The instrument panel for thesecond engine was all in the red. He pulled the artifact from hisjacket and secured it inside the long zipper pocket on his lower

666 | P a g etrouser leg. He then pulled the throttle back on the remaining engineand the CHARC slowed, rapidly developing a list to port, the hullalready submerged. She would capsize any second.There was nopossibility of jumping for their lives; the freezing water would killthem in minutes."The legs! Retract the legs!" Brian slapped the lever thatcontrolled the cockpit elevation as far as it would go. The cockpitimmediately telescoped on its legs to sit on the two hulls. It didn'tstop the CHARC from sinking but reduced its top-heavy attitude, whichwas about to flip it over. With the port hull submerged, the cockpitquickly followed, rapidly filling with ice-cold seawater thatpenetrated the cabin."Now what!" Lance yelled. He had already unstrapped, the frigidwater almost to his waist. The small vessel was dead and from whatLance could see, so were they.Brian went to unlatch the hatch in the roof above them but itwas stuck. They were stuck.The CHARC was settling in the waterquickly, the cockpit windows already beneath the water, and the darkof the endless deep looking way to close.Brian ran at one of the cabins roof struts, grabbing it andswinging his legs up, smashing the heels of his boots hard into thehatch. It popped and flipped open. The CHARC was slipping deeperinto the water. The two men scrambled through the hatch to stand onthe roof, surrounded by an angry sea."Jump!" Brian yelled, the roof of the CHARC sinking into thewater beneath their feet. Both the men jumped for their lives.

667 | P a g eWith seconds to spare and no time for procedure the two brothers madea leap of faith across the cold water towards a wildly swingingrescue cable lowered from the open doors of a helicopter. With bothof them already suffering from the onset of hypothermia if theymissed they wouldn’t last more than a few minutes in the water. TheCASR crew had identified the predicament as they flew in and hadalready dropped the cable before reaching the sinking Charc. Theycould see the two men standing on its roof sinking into the water.The chopper hadn’t even come to a full hover as the two men belowleaped towards the cable.The two Hamiltons prayed they had timed their jump correctly tocatch the rescue cable as it swung past them. With numb hands theymanaged to grab the cable which for a moment dragged them boththrough the water before the winch crew quickly started reeling themin. The problem was could they hang on that long. Lance, stillrecovering from his earlier ordeal and Brian with his own injury bothlocked hands and feet around their lifeline and hung on for grimdeath.Immediately above them hovered a massive 50,000 lb MH-53M PaveLow IV, the largest, most powerful and technologically advancedtransport helicopter in the US inventory. The Kadena based MH-53M wasa long way from home but was doing what it did best, combat searchand rescue. Supposedly retired it had been urgently enlisted into thefight bolstering badly stretched resources. The Pave Lows state-ofthe-artterrain following radar, infrared sensors and the ability tooperate in bad weather had allowed the helicopter to penetrateChinese defences at ultra low level in a marathon 1100 mile rescuebid without support.The choppers electronics suite provided instant access to thetotal battlefield situation, through near real-time Electronic Orderof Battle updates and detection avoidance with real-time threat

668 | P a g ebroadcasts over-the-horizon, so the crew were able to avoid defeatthreats. Australia’s new southern facing Jindalee over the horizonradar, with a range exceeding three thousand kilomtres had been ableto provide the crew real time data on anything still or moving biggerthan an albatross.The winch process seemed to take forever and as the twoAustralian officers were almost level with the door, they both failedat the same time falling back into the ocean 60 feet beneath them.Brian and Lance hit the water going deep, struggling to swim back tothe surface as their already battered bodies succumbed to the cold.Neither of them made it, consciousness slipping away as theirstruggle to survive slowed and stopped, their brains starved ofoxygen, their muscles cramped. The last thought Brian had was theabout the rod.

669 | P a g eAs the bodies of the two Australians disappeared into the water, twomore figures leaped from the chopper following them down, the rescuedivers not hesitating for a second in their single minded objectiveof saving the two men.In just moments they had grabbed the drowning men and securedboth bodies in rescue harnesses and had them winched back up again.During this process the two divers had to wait for the return of therescue cables; chilled to the bone in rough seas. It was dangerouswork, but for these men, the rewards out weighed the risk.After some immediate medical attention both Australians weredressed in dry clothes and wrapped in specially designed warmingblankets. It took some time for them to regain consciousness. Lanceeventually stuttered between chattering teeth, "Are we there yet?"For a brief second, a smile flickered across Brian's face,before being immediately extinguished. He spotted his wet clothingand asked the crew chief to pass him his wet trousers.The Pave Low, nose down was skimming the waves making 160 knotsas she raced back to friendly forces. The pilot had already sent amessage through confirming a successful extraction via itsInteractive Defensive Avionics System/Multi-Mission Advanced TacticalTerminal or IDAS/MATT. On receipt of the message the coalition forcesdisengaged from the action, their immediate objectives achieved. Allthey needed to do now was figure out how to get the Chinese andRussians out of Antarctica without another full on war that couldrisk a nuke exchange.A little over three hours after extraction the MH-53M Pave LowIV touched down on the deck of the HMAS Canberra, a 27,000 ton largeamphibious assault ship. The Canberra’s Captain had been instructedto get the two rescued ADF officers back to the mainland as quicklyas possible.

670 | P a g eThe Chinese task force commander reviewed the video sent at the lastminute by the Australia before his vessel sank. He saw something hehad never expected to see anywhere else in the world, especially nothere, not now. He could also see that the coalition forces had turnedabout and had apparently ceased hostile action, exiting the area ofconflict at high speed. This was confirmed by his unit commanders whoadvised they were no longer taking fire. Wen considered the options;he could pursue and force them to re-engage, which would draw some ofhis forces closer to Australian waters, or he could dis-engage, ceasefire and maintain his blockade. He decided on the latter. He calledof the Vostok strike, he now believed thay had indeed left andpursuit would achieve no strategic objective, just more bloodletting. He gave the order, making sure the Hong immediatelyconfirmed before it fired on the coalition fleet and re-ignited thebattle. The guns fell silent but unknown to Wen or anyone else, a newthreat was emerging that would make the damage they could inflict oneach other look like child play. The fire was out but deep beneathVostok Station something was moving and the doomsday clock was onceagain ticking.