“Japan will abide by the terms of the treaty, Yoshidasan,” Kurita said. “You write the treaty and make sure it is one we can live with. Len may sign the nonaggression pact, and this crisis is over. If he does not, we end the crisis by destroying the missiles. We then help Len by making sure his neighbors still think he has the missiles, and meanwhile we help him arm his military. And we help our own economy as well. In the end we may generate a large market in Greater Manchuria and receive their raw materials. I think we have taken a bad situation and turned it to our advantage.”
Kurita went around the room soliciting opinions. Approval was unanimous. Yoshida merely nodded.
“There is more to discuss, gentlemen,” Kurita said.
“General, how will this weapon be delivered? And how will we control its launch?”
“We must ensure that the strike is effective. We plan on using two missiles. For absolute secrecy, these two units will be launched from a submarine already patrolling off the Greater Manchurian coast. Admiral?”
Admiral Tanaka stood. The screen came down and a map of the Sea of Japan materialized.
“We have placed a Destiny-class nuclear-powered submarine here off the Greater Manchurian shore. As you know, the Destiny-class submarines are quiet. They are nuclear propelled, so they will never need to surface after they leave port. The submarine patrols here off the coast waiting for the order from us to shoot the Hiroshima cruise missiles with the Scorpion dispersion-gluebomb warheads. On receipt of orders to fire, the submarine fires the two cruise missiles and departs the area to return home. The cruise missiles come from the sea and fly close to the ground until they reach the target— Tamga. Estimated elapsed time from receipt of orders to launch and missile detonation is less than an hour.”
“Have we tested this method of cruise-missile launch?” Kurita asked. “Extensively, sir.”
“Very well. Has anyone any questions of the admiral or general? No? I recommend the council stand by to be reconvened later. I move we adjourn.” CDAPTEII changashan, greater manchuria President Len Pei Poom, if seen in civilian clothes, would not earn a second glance, being of medium height and weight, with thinning hair and a nondescript mustache.
Which perhaps could explain why he was never seen out of a military uniform, his tunic resplendent with medals and a gold sash. Unlike most military dictators who wore the uniform of the fighting forces, Len’s medals were genuine. He had been a career army officer his entire adult life, ever since a battlefield promotion in Afghanistan when he was eighteen and fighting a pointless war for what then was the behemoth of the Soviet Union. Later, in his twenties, he was detached from the Red Army to the United Nations forces in Ethiopia, Somalia and Bosnia, then repatriated to the Russian Republic Army for the Allied ground offensive against the Muslim United Islamic Front of God, which was an alliance of over two dozen Islamic nations led by a fanatical if charismatic dictator. Len was a mere major when Russian forces invaded northern Iran. He had been in command of an infantry company during the initial assault.
By the time the decapitated UIF had surrendered, Len had been named a general, commanding the Second Combined Infantry Force that overran Tehran. In the interval he had lost every friend, every acquaintance, to enemy fire. The ground war had been a slaughterhouse.
No man could live through that war and not be changed, but circumstances were favorable to Len. In the years after his return from the Iranian front, the Russian Republic had continued to fall on hard times.
