Free Invasion: Alaska by Vaughn Heppner Page B

plan?” the Chairman asked, swiveling his gaze onto the admiral.
    Reluctantly, it seemed, Admiral Qingshan explained the plan.
    “An interesting concept,” the Chairman whispered, after Admiral Qingshan had fallen silent.
    “Sir,” Deng said. “This all sounds like unadvised adventurism. The admiral’s so-called bold plan is nothing more than a terrorist assault on a large scale. If it fails—”
    “Why should it fail?” asked Jian. “The White Tigers are the foremost Special Forces in the world. Their record of success is spotless.”
    “Sir,” Deng said.
    Everyone in the room turned to the Chairman. He had a far-off look as he stared at some distant point. He blinked slowly as he regarded the others. “On the cusp of the Siberian Invasion years ago, there were those who told me I was too adventuresome,” he told Deng.
    Jian closed his eyes as his stomach continued to seethe. His profilers had told him the Chairman still dreamt of military glory. It was something that always seemed to draw on conquerors for one more roll of fate’s dice. The Chairman’s name was intimately linked with the victories in Siberia and Taiwan. Surely, the idea of matching strength and wits against the formerly mighty Americans appealed to the Chairman’s vanity. Jian’s plan had counted on it.
    “Come gentlemen,” Deng implored. “Am I wrong in suggesting that war with America is against our national interests?”
    The marshal stirred. He was the Army Chief of Staff and the Army Minister. He had strangely sculptured features and smooth skin. He was eighty, used botox injections and had artistic leanings. He was known as cautious, one who loved building an army but fearing to use it.
    He bowed his head in the Chairman’s direction before saying, “We would need time to prepare, sir. Some of our most capable units are stationed in Siberia and Taiwan. An Alaskan invasion would demand complete control of the sea. If the Navy can guarantee passage and keep the supply lanes open, it would be possible. I would think eight months preparation—”
    “What about a cross-polar attack against Prudhoe Bay?” Jian asked. “Most of the needed units are already in position or nearly so. We have the trains to bring them to the forward areas. Some of these formations are already in Siberia. It would take two weeks at most to bring them into readiness for a swift polar assault. Even before that, you could begin pre-positioning the needed supplies onto the ice.”
    Sputtering, the marshal asked, “Where did you learn this? These are highly confidential matters.”
    “I am a member of the Ruling Committee,” Jian said. “Tell me. Do you deny these things?”
    “I deny nothing,” the marshal said. “I want to know how you learned of them.”
    “Are the ice-mobile formations ready?” asked Jian.
    “No, not as you suggest,” the marshal said.
    “How long until they are?” asked Jian.
    “I will not sit here and be quizzed by a failed Agricultural Minister,” the marshal told the others.
    “Answer his question,” the Chairman said.
    The old marshal of China sat back in surprise. “Sir?” he asked.
    “Answer the question,” the Chairman repeated. “How long until the ice-mobile formations are ready?”
    “Sir,” said the marshal, blinking rapidly, “…two months, maybe more.”
    Jian pushed a button and on his screen appeared a force readiness chart. “If you gentlemen will bring my information onto your screens, you’ll see that the marshal has exaggerated. We have the needed ice-mobile units in position now, or nearly so. They could begin crossing the Arctic Ocean in six days at the soonest or two weeks at the most.”
    The marshal touched his screen and he glared at what he saw.
    “No, no,” he said. “The charts show the needed force for a probing raid. What Minister Shihong is suggesting would take an invasion force.”
    “The formations in position would be more than enough to occupy the oilfields,” Jian