Europa Strike(57)

Zhao’s mouth set in a hard, bitter line, and he looked away.

“Doctor?”

“I…remember. I still do not agree.”

Xiang laughed. “Your agreement is scarcely necessary, Doctor. We will do what must be done.”

“‘Mission Directive One,’” Xiang said, quoting. “‘Friendly and cooperative contact with the Singer Intelligence is to be established if at all possible. Mission Directive Two: Friendly contact between the Singer Intelligence and member states of the CWS are to be disrupted at all costs.’ My detailed orders on this point are quite explicit, Doctor. If we cannot make friendly contact with these aliens, we are to make sure they do not establish friendly relations with the Americans and their CWS puppets. Since it is unlikely that the Singer Intelligence has a clear understanding of human political differences, an attack on the Singer Complex should convince them that the Americans are treacherous, not to be trusted.”

“It should convince them that humans are not to be trusted. These orders are incredibly reckless, General. I fear for our world. For the human species.”

Xiang waved the protest aside. “If these aliens had that kind of power, why have they spent millennia sunken within the Europan ocean? Either they are native to Europa, and have no spaceflight capabilities at all, or the complex is some sort of base or outpost, again with no capabilities that would endanger our planet.

“But Greater Zhongguo is threatened by the West. As always, the Middle Kingdom is surrounded by barbarians, and they will bring us down if they receive from the aliens technology immeasurably superior to our own. We must prevent that, even at the cost of our own lives. Do you understand me, Doctor?”

“I…understand. I love my country. I love my people. You know that. But if we begin a war with the Europan Intelligence, it would be Feizhengyi Zhanzheng.” The term, translated as “Unjust War,” had been basic to Chinese military doctrine for 150 years. It assumed that there were wars that were righteous, and wars that were not—a moral distinction that put those who waged them on the side of right or wrong.

“Perhaps. But we will arrange things so that the Intelligence assumes it is the Americans who wage unjust war. And you are here to aid us in our understanding of that Intelligence—to establish meaningful communications.” He sighed. “If you carry out your assignment well, there will be no need of unjust wars, or of any war at all, for that matter. I sincerely doubt that this alien intelligence will even know the difference when we sweep the Americans aside and take their place at Cadmus Station.”

“I hope you are right, General.”

The minutes trickled away, and then Xiang felt a hard shove against his seatback as the Jiang Lei lander’s plasma thrusters fired…a gentle half G to bring it down out of orbit, but a jolt nonetheless. Jiang Lei meant, roughly, “Descending Thunder.” There could be no noise in hard vacuum, of course, but inside the sphere’s steel and ceramic hull, the steady, rumbling vibration as the engines briefly fired sounded like a roll of summer’s thunder.

Eight landers, crammed with fifty men apiece plus a small mountain of supplies, descended toward the equatorial landing site close by the dark streak across the Europan surface called Asterius Linea.

The LZ had been carefully chosen by Chinese astronomers and military planners. The CWS station was located at approximately twenty degrees north, roughly 800 kilometers northeast of the location of the Singer Complex—close enough for study and easy access, far enough to avoid alarming the aliens if, indeed, the aliens were paying attention to the goings-on atop their icy ceiling. The Chinese had wanted a landing site well removed from the enemy base, and similarly safely convenient to the Singer. They’d chosen a site almost on the Europan equator, two hundred and some kilometers southwest of the alien site, and over a thousand kilometers from Cadmus Station.

Xiang would have liked to have landed closer to the CWS base—right on top of them, if possible, but Beijing, as usual, was being cautious. If any of the shuttles carried by the Franklin Delano Roosevelt had reached the surface before the Heavenly Lightning’s bolts had struck her down, there might be enemy troops on the surface already. A single man with a shoulder-launched SAM could easily take out a thin-skinned Jiang Lei; they needed to get all of the troops and equipment down and assembled first, before risking contact with the enemy.

Besides, a thousand kilometers of separation offered maneuvering room and a chance to determine the best approach to the enemy base. Europa’s surface was sufficiently chaotic that Xiang was planning on using the Asterius Linea itself as a kind of high-speed highway northeast to its near-intersection with Cadmus Linea, but there were other routes, and the best one would need to be determined by reconnaissance parties and flying drones. He was supremely confident of the outcome of this struggle, but he would not yield to the temptations of overconfidence.