But unlike an asteroid, the NIRTSat was still under control from a console on Guam. Once the satellite had safely decelerated, Masters ordered the on-board sensors activated. The satellite was right on course, right on the same track it had been following since its launch — right over the Celebes Sea near Davao Gulf. Masters had simply locked the synthetic aperture radar and infrared scanner on the fleet of five ships; then, as it got closer and closer, he positively identified the large destroyer and steered it directly onto the aft deck of the
The satellite was of course not carrying a warhead, but falling at over five times the speed of sound, the destructive power of the titanium-armored four-hundred-pound satellite was akin to a large torpedo. The force of the impact drove the
… and, most importantly, the impact and the momentary power interruption had automatically canceled the Fei Lung-9 launch.
Yin’s last attempt at revenge and victory had been stopped.
Captain Sun stepped over to Admiral Yin, bowed, and said, “Comrade Admiral, the flooding is nearly out of control. The frigate
There was no reply.
Admiral Yin was staring blankly ahead, his thoughts a confused jumble of his past, the present — and the dismal future. Returning to China and facing the general staff would be devastating, utterly devastating. His honor would be ripped apart in full view of the entire world. His court- martial and execution would be public and brutal. He would be totally, utterly humiliated.
Yin turned to Captain Sun, and he saw that the man’s demeanor, far from being the attentive chief of staff, now appeared to be more like a second at a duel, making sure that Yin realized and fulfilled his obligation.
His obligation… to lead his forces into victory, or die.
Sun understood the humiliation that awaited the Admiral upon his return, and he silently reminded him that he need not subject himself to it.
Captain Sun and the Admiral’s flag staff watched with awe and, yes, a bit of admiration and respect, as Admiral Yin Po L’un stepped toward the small personal shrine installed in one comer of the Admiral’s flag bridge, knelt before it, withdrew his Type 54 7.62-millimeter sidearm from his holster, placed the muzzle to his right temple, and calmly blew his brains out across his flag bridge.
Escorted by two aides and two soldiers, High General Chin Po Zihong marched through the halls to the offices of the Premier of the People’s Republic of China. He was quickly escorted by the Premier’s protocol staff to the main conference room and asked to enter immediately.
At least two hundred heads swung toward him as he entered: it was as if the entire Communist Party of China were assembled in that room. Cheung was alone at the head of the conference table; the seat normally reserved for him at Cheung’s left was taken by Cheung’s Home Minister. There was no way Chin could reach his usual seat — and, after decades of studying and developing military tactics, it was obvious that it was precisely what Cheung had in mind. He stepped quickly over to the end of the long conference table directly opposite Cheung, and the bureaucrats and politicians of the Party closed in around the table.
General Chin bowed deeply from the waist. “Comrade Premier, I am reporting as ordered.”
“Do you have a status report for me, General?” Cheung asked in a surprisingly strong, loud voice.
“Yes, Comrade Premier…” He stopped, realizing Cheung couldn’t hear him, and raised his voice: “Yes, Comrade Premier. But I would prefer the briefing to be given… privately.”
“Please give your report now, Comrade General,” Cheung said.
“But sir, some of these men are not cleared for—”
“They are authorized, General. Please give your report.”
This was not a military briefing, Chin realized coldly — this was an inquisition. Obviously word of the battle of Davao had already reached the Premier — there was no use in trying to withhold any information now.
