Riding the Red Horse Read Free

drawl from Hatton’s left and behind him. “We had another fleet—good part of one, anyway—and were building more, fast, already. This was it for them. The only surface fleet of account that Taiwan has left is us. If they have us, I mean.”
    Hatton didn’t have to turn around. He recognized the voice of Fletcher Hanson, the captain of the
Ford
. Indeed, the admiral really didn’t want to turn around. With just the voice, it was easier to see in his mind’s eye the younger Hanson, a brand new plebe in a Dixie cup who, despite Hatton’s best Second Class efforts, had never lost his nerve or his smile.
    Fletch wasn’t smiling when Hatton did turn to face him. But at least he didn’t look worried.
    “I don't like it, Fletch,” Hatton said to his flag captain. “They've let us get too close without responding. If we launch now, we'll catch their transports in blue water.”
    “Sure enough. There some reason you didn't give the go order about five minutes ago?” asked the captain.
    The admiral and his flag captain had been friends since before plebe summer ended. They’d been friends, really, even before they knew they were. Later on, when open friendship was possible, they’d become Academy legends for their role in a number of notorious pranks. Army never did figure out how they got the mule.
    Hatton motioned his friend to an alcove where they could speak in semi-privacy. “I'm worried about what I'm not seeing,” he said in a low voice. “No attack subs trying to punch us out. No missile tracks coming at us. Their two at-sea carriers are out of theater, way the hell up near Elmendorf. Do you really suppose they're going to let us sail right into the straits of Taiwan and cap their transports without saying boo?”
    Hanson leaned against a bulkhead and crossed his arms, looking thoughtful. “Not after what they did to Kadena,” the captain said.
    Hatton winced. The F-22 base on Okinawa, tasked with first response to a cross-straits invasion, had been taken out by a combined cyberattack and cruise-missile-delivered runway cutters in the first hours of the war. These specialized weapons blew their way under concrete and then displaced huge slabs of it with subsurface explosions. Afterward, the airfield had been dusted with the same sorts of minelets they'd used so liberally on Taiwan. Kadena would be out of action for days.
    “Not that I'm ungrateful,” Fletcher continued, “but what I can't figure is why the body count was so low.”
    Hatton snorted. “The Chinese have always had a tendency to treat war with other nations as a crude sort of diplomacy by rougher means. What they like to do is spend the minimum force required to spank the opponent and get him to the negotiating table on their terms. They could have tac-nuked Kadena to take it out permanently; this way, they're signalling the President that they don't want a general war.”
    Captain Hanson nodded slowly, “That makes sense. Not like they can't pound Kadena again if they need to. And it would explain why they haven't sicced ASATs on our surveillance birds, too.”
    “Right,” Hatton said. “They
want
us to see what's going on. Intimidate us. Still…something's not right, Fletch.”
    “There's something we're missing here." He frowned. “I'll be in Combat Air Control. I want to take another look at the sat imagery.”
    Hatton entered the CAC with his hand raised to forestall salutes and acknowledgments. He wasn't entirely sure the intel officer on duty would have noticed if he'd been announced by trumpets; she was peering that intently at the master plot screen. From behind, he watched her reach out and tap one ship icon, then another. A distance line and a number appeared between them.
    Good for you, girl
, he thought, hiding a smile.
I think you may have spotted part of what's bothering me.
He cleared his throat. She spun around, half-startled.
    “Sir…” she began hesitantly, and stopped.
    “Out with it, Commander Weller,” he