Chapter 37 – May 2nd 2020
"We are not ready."
The Politburo of the Chinese Communist party was one of the most powerful bodies in the world, and also one of the most opaque to outsiders. Unlike the cabinets of most governments, its members only met approximately monthly. An even more exclusive grouping, the seven members of the standing committee, met at least weekly.
Today however, all twenty-five members sat around the circular table. In theory, that made them all equals, but the arrangement of flags left no doubt who sat at the head. At sixty-six, Xi Jinping was not quite the oldest of the group. General Xu Qiliang, one of the two Vice Chairmen of the Central Military Commission, held that distinction. He and four others would be turning seventy this year. Hu Chunhua, a former Governor of Hebei province and now Vice Premier of the People's Republic, was the baby of the group at fifty-seven.
It was the other General on the bureau (though only four months the junior) Zhang Youxia, who had spoken.
"My friends, it is true we have come far these past twenty years" he went on. "Our economic development has proceeded even more swiftly than many anticipated. In terms of GDP, we are close to surpassing the Americans. Indeed, we have already done so in regards to our overall industrial capacity. We have modernised every aspect of our military. On land, no other army in Asia is our equal."
He paused a moment to let his words sink in.
"But our ability to project power beyond our borders is still severely limited. The Americans outnumber us in military aircraft by three to one, including ten to one in the most advanced stealth fighters. We have built entire new classes of destroyers, frigates and submarines, it is true, but most are much smaller than their western counterparts, and are lacking in range and firepower. In terms of naval tonnage, the Americans still outnumber us three to one, and that is not accounting for their allies. In another ten years perhaps, but now? We are not ready for such a confrontation" he concluded grimly.
A moment's silence, as the members looked for who would speak next. Even politburo meetings were an act of theatre half the time. Xi was patient not to look at the next speaker before he had made his cue.
"With great respect General, I feel your assessment is pessimistic" spoke up Wang Huning, head of the CCP Central Secretariat, and one of Xi's closest allies on the politburo these past eight years. "The Americans are not as strong as they appear. Their naval power is formidable yes, but their public morale is failing, and their political will divided. Their foolish wars in the Middle East have made them wary of foreign interventions and their so-called allies drift further away every year. The Europeans have no stomach for fighting any more. The Japanese are disarmed. The Koreans are still divided. Australia is their stalwart junior sheriff, and we know the agitators in Taipei cannot be reasoned with, but who else will help them?"
"Even alone, I am curious what you would hope to achieve by military action?" General Zhang replied sharply. "We could send another squadron to the Tasman Sea certainly. Perhaps we could even succeed in landing troops, but no more than a few brigades, before our enemy's intervention, and they would not be able to seize the Mófamén, even briefly."
"No one proposes a direct attack on the Mófamén General."
"Then what, may I ask, is being proposed?"
Heads turned to Xi, and he knew it was the appropriate time to speak.
"My friends, the appearance of the Mófamén has thrown the world into disarray. Things we considered to be certainties are no longer certainties. But perhaps we must consider President Kennedy's famous misquote – that we here in China regard crisis as a marriage of danger and opportunity."
Around the table, there was dutiful chuckling.
"Five hundred years ago, our Middle Kingdom was indeed the middle of the world. Great Ming commanded ten times the wealth and power of any other state. Things would have remained that way, except for the chance discovery of the Americas. Now, a billion people live on those continents, on what was called the 'new world'. They speak English and Spanish. Those cultures were allowed to spread and flourish, in time to dominate the world, while we stagnated.
Our ancestors were sadly close-minded. They could not dream that new lands existed beyond the seas, lands that could one day be every bit as rich as China. We were never a colonial power…" Xi looked around the table "...that was of course, our mistake."
He turned to Li Zhanshu, Chairman of the National People's Congress. "Li, you have been to this world and seen it with your own eyes. What was your assessment?"
"The world is very similar to our own. Remarkably so, yet the people there remain barbarous. Science and technology is stuck at the level of Great Ming. There are no definite conclusions on who created the Mófamén. Given the similarities in biology between our two worlds however, we can only assume that many similar gates have opened up in the past, perhaps over millions of years, though probably not in the last ten thousand or so."
Xi Jinping nodded wisely. "And what of these anomalies, we hear of in this world?"
Li nodded sagely. "They are even more peculiar. We hear of men being able to manipulate fire and water and wind without any physical touch, with Nothing more than a whispered prayer. Our scientists are stumped. Many are calling it magic. While the examples we have seen so far have been limited, there is talk of much greater examples. That in the recent past, entire wars were fought, even whole civilizations ended, through such magic. Its potential as a tool, even a weapon, once fully realized, could be…beyond all measure."
"Yes, I have come to the same conclusion" Xi replied, with a pause to indicate a moment's thought. "The report of Mr. Rudd merely confirms these rumours. This magic is real, and could prove even more disruptive than the Mófamén itself." He looked around the table. "Gentleman, the dilemma we face is even greater than we realize. The Westerners are in decline while we are rising, but fate has given them another gift.
Look at the influence they have built in little over a year. To those of us on the outside, we are being fed mere crumbs of information. Despite our repeated requests, our access remains limited. What else are they hiding? Who knows what secrets this world will hold? But we can be sure the westerners will exploit them fully."
"The Australians have already granted us a degree of access, Paramount Leader…" Li objected cautiously. "We have been permitted to set up three embassies so far…King's Landing, Braavos and Pentos. There is still the possibility we could share this world, to set up respective spheres of influence."
"When have we ever known the Westerners to share anything?" Xi replied, and Li fell silent on queue. "Yes, three cities, out of what…three hundred? Crumbs, and they will keep feeding them to us, so long as they control the entry. And it is just the beginning. Every year we delay will give the Americans more time to establish themselves. They will ring this new world with ports and military bases, co-opt the reigning elites for their own purposes, spread their language and culture, monopolizing the most valuable resources and studying these anomalies further, while we languish."
"I do not think anyone here disagrees with your assessment, Paramount Leader" Wang Huning said, right on cue. "But what actions can be taken in our present state?"
"General Zhang is correct about a great many things" Xi replied. "Unilateral military action would not prove fruitful, but another opportunity presents itself. We are not the only ones being fed these crumbs. Moscow, Tehran…even in New Delhi and Tokyo there is discontent."
"You propose an alliance?"
Xi clasped his hands together, as if giving the issue considerable thought. "General Zhang is correct that the American's power is great, but only if concentrated against a single foe. If we are able to cultivate allies to act alongside us, we can create a coalition so vast the Americans will have no choice but to accede to our demands, reasonable demands. This is our opportunity to do so."
To his surprise, there came an unscheduled note of dissent.
"Paramount Leader" General Xu began, in a tone of extreme caution. "With respect, there is still great risk in such action. What if our apparent allies fail to act? We may face the Americans alone, and would become pariahs on the international stage."
It was Wang who replied. "The Paramount Leader is not mistaken, general. The Shanghai Cooperation Organisation is behind us, and even some of the American's own allies are on the verge of abandoning them. This is clear to see."
"One hopes this is true" Xu said, persisting. "But even alone, they are not to be underestimated. Their politics may have become increasingly dysfunctional, and they may have elected a buffoon as president, but I would not underestimate America. The nation that invented the airplane and the atomic bomb…that was landing on the moon while we struggled to feed ourselves…they are not to be taken lightly."
"You talk of the America of fifty years ago, but what have they done since then to make us quake in fear?" Wang replied again, with forced politeness. "Times have changed my friend. We build towers taller than theirs; our computers are faster, our citizens unified around a single goal. Why, the Westerners have not even had the self-discipline to confront the current virus. It is running rampant in their nations, while we have successfully contained it…"
Xi was careful to keep his face neutral at this statement. In truth, it had been a little over six months since the unfortunate lab leak at the Wuhan Institute of Virology. Even before the city had entered lockdown, all evidence of its escape had been so thoroughly destroyed until the local authorities were confident no investigation would ever uncover it. Even most of those around this table were left in ignorance.
The city had endured 78 days of lockdown, but they had succeeded in containing the virus. They had reported a mere 3,000 dead to the world from some 80,000 cases. Both figures were underestimates by a factor of three or four, but they seemed to have been accepted. All transport links out of the city had been halted to prevent its spread, with the quite conscious exception of the international airport. In a matter of weeks the virus had spread around the world. Now New York City was the one in lockdown, and two thousand Americans a day were perishing. Let the world see its great superpower brought down by a miniscule bug he thought savagely. Crisis plus opportunity indeed.
Three seats down, Wang was continuing.
"…even at the height of their power, when we were weak and divided, we fought them to a stalemate in Korea. They then retreated from Vietnam, after losing a mere sixty thousand lives. How many will they sacrifice for Taiwan?"
"Nothing will unify them quicker then an outside threat" General Xu went on, and now it was starting to annoy Xi. He plays his role almost too well. "Underestimating their political will was precisely the mistake of our friends in Japan, in nineteen forty-one."
An awkward silence followed this. None dared admit it, but the images of Tokyo reduced to rubble by American bombers in 1945 would give anyone pause. Could that somehow become Shanghai or Beijing in five years' time? Were they making the same mistake? Xi knew he had to speak now.
"You fear General, we will awaken a sleeping giant? To quote Admiral Yamamoto" Xi asked. Xu merely frowned as a reply, perhaps deducing he had said too much. Xi put a warm smile on his face. "My friends, do not entertain such fears any longer." He straightened his suit and rose to his feet. In unison the other twenty-four members quickly did the same. The President looked around at them all.
"We are the giant now."
######
The 23rd day of September, 299 years after Aegon's Conquest (the morning after…)
"So, this one is Eric…and this one is Butters" the young commando said enthusiastically. "As you can see, Eric is missing both legs. Butters still has one, but he's missing half an arm instead."
General Campbell stood and stared, trying to comprehend the sight before him.
They were men…or at least they had been. Both were dressed in the skins of what the locals called 'wildlings' though they had been torn into bloody rags by the same impacts that had severed their limbs. Both were now chained to the thick stone pillars that marked the centre of the encampment.
The one on the left was trying to move constantly, but its body stopped just below the torso, and its arms were wrapped so tightly they were held rigid. Entrails were hanging out, and spilling onto the snow below, yet it didn't even seem to notice. Its face was contorting, jaw opening and closing as if it were trying to speak, yet only a truly horrible rasping sound would emerge.
The one on the left was more still. Only its head was moving. Its eyes had locked onto him when he approached. Campbell took a few steps sideways. The eyes followed. Unnaturally blue. Unblinking.
What in the most absolute fuck?
"These are all that's left?" he asked as calmly as he could, as if the prisoners were no more interesting than a few stray Taliban due to be interrogated.
"Fled, after the first bomb run" Captain Findlay replied. "We were lucky with these two sir, too mangled to flee. We still found them crawling at the bottom of the hill come daylight."
Campbell surveyed the scene. The hill they stood on showed plenty of signs of battle, but that was nothing next to the landscape around it. The snow had fallen thickly the night before, but great black patches marked where the Americans had dropped 500 pound bombs like confetti.
At the centre of the camp dead bodies lay in rows. At least these ones aren't moving. Some were covered with sheets or strips of canvas, but there were too many even for this meagre offering. Two hundred and eighty brothers of the Night's Watch had camped there the day before. Just under two hundred were left. Of the thirty commandoes that had joined them, one private had been KIA when the Ringwall was nearly overrun. They found his body halfway down the slope, great gashes torn in the man's legs where something had mauled him. The survivors were talking about undead bears. Undead bears. A dozen more of his men were being medevaced with wounds of various sorts. Despite everything however, what worried him most were the two missing men.
A small party escorted the General down the hill. The trek was slow, down a slippery, rocky slope, and across the blasted surrounds. Campbell thought they would be walking over a field of corpses, but now everywhere he looked he saw only charred bones. Every ounce of flesh seemed to have been sloughed away. Even napalm shouldn't do that. Anything 70% water should not burn easily, but whatever they had been fighting last night seemed to catch like kindling at the first touch of a flame. He filed this information away for future use.
The bird was a mangled wreck, as much as any human corpse. The rotors had split clean off when they came down in the trees. The cockpit was mostly intact. A small team of engineers had been crawling over it since midday. Their leader stood at attention as his approach.
"What happened Lieutenant?" he asked simply.
The man hesitated.
"I don't quite understand this sir."
"There is a lot here we don't understand" the General said guardedly. "Just give me your honest assessment."
"Yes sir, I mean this" the engineer led him around to the chopper's fuel tank. Campbell looked at it in curiosity.
"What am I looking for?"
"These cracks here sir" the engineer gestured. "They're not from external impact. It wasn't the trees or the ground. It burst from the inside; you can see it along the fuel lines here, too."
"From the inside? How?"
Another slight pause.
"I believe the fuel froze sir."
"It froze?"
"Yes sir, I believe so."
Campbell considered this a moment. He was dressed warm, undershirt and khakis beneath a thick coat. This far north the sun hung low in the sky even in the early afternoon,, but its weak rays were still giving off some heat. He checked his G-Shock. The watch was telling him it was 3 degrees above zero. Around them the snow already showed faint signs of melting. There was a steady drip drip drip from the surviving trees.
"At what temperature would it freeze?"
"Minus forty-seven Celsius, sir."
Campbell tried to hide his surprise. "It got to minus forty-seven here last night?"
"Actually sir, I would say significantly colder, for it to freeze that quickly. Minus fifty at least, maybe sixty."
"How cold is minus fifty?" Campbell asked the group at large.
"That's Antarctica sir" the engineer replied. "Maybe Siberia on a bad day."
He turned back to Findlay. "I'm assuming no one recorded the temperature last night?"
The commandoes all looked at each other. Sergeant Caulfield tapped his beefy wrist. "This only goes to minus ten sir. We already hit that before things got started."
"We should bring better instruments with us next time" Lieutenant Underwood suggested.
"Next time?" General Campbell asked.
"We didn't kill these things sir. They got away."
"How do you know Lieutenant?"
"The controlled the zombies sir. The zombies…they didn't all drop dead. They retreated is all. If they're still moving, their masters are still around, sir."
Campbell frowned, but he couldn't quite fault the man's logic. As much as anything around here runs on logic. He looked back at the wreck. "The two pilots?" he asked.
"No sign of them sir. No bodies, no uniforms. We hiked two K's into the woods this morning and found nothing. They might have survived the crash. The bird didn't explode or anything, but for them to walk away under their own power…"
"They were taken" Campbell concluded for him.
"Yes sir, most likely."
Campbell turned around, observing from this angle. The edge of the woods around the hill was a shattered ruin. Patches of black earth and splintered trees stretched off into the distance, maybe for miles. The yanks didn't muck around. Even he had been too young for Vietnam, but he had seen it on TV, back when it was in black and white. A wonder Charlie never surrendered.
Far above them the sky took that moment to let forth an almighty boom. Snowflakes drifted down from disturbed branches. He glanced up, as the latest pair of RAAF F-35s arrived overhead to take over the combat air patrol. They started to circle, dipping their wings to the men below.
He turned to an aide. "How long till sunset?"
"Another three hours sir."
"I want everyone back on top of the hill by an hour before sunset" Campbell ordered." There's too many to evacuate them all today. The Night's Watch will have to get out on foot. We'll escort them south, from tomorrow if possible."
"What about the wildlings sir?" Findlay asked.
"What about them?"
"There's a hundred thousand of them, not sixty K's from here. What if these things attack them as well?"
The lieutenant nodded along with his captain. "Yes sir. What if they turn them all into more zombies?"
"We'll have to discuss it with their Lord Commander. Take me to him."
They hiked back up the hill. At least the ascent kept them warm. Several more birds landed in that time, evacuating more wounded and bringing in fresh supplies. The operation was turning into quite a major airlift. They had imposed a total information blackout, but already he knew rumors were spreading. This many aircraft flying back and forth through the Ring would not go unnoticed. He had no idea what they would eventually tell the press. Yeah we lost a Black Hawk to some snow monsters, oh and they may have taken the two pilots and turned them into ice zombies. He decided he could leave that task to someone else.
At his arrival the Lord Commander had been in his tent, catching up on a few hours of much needed sleep, which the General couldn't begrudge him. They sought him out now however. At their approach his steward, a fat boy who looked no older than fifteen, squeaked a response and went to rouse him. Campwell went to wait in the tent his men had erected that morning, one far larger and more comfortable then any owned by the Night's Watch. Several Australian Army officers, a few American liaisons and their Night's Watch counterparts were sipping on hot chocolate and coffee. Few words were being exchanged. Everyone still seemed in a state of shock. No wonder. He accepted a hot chocolate offered to him by a corporal.
He remained standing by the entrance. From here he could still see the two not-quite men, the wights, chained up to their pillars. Somehow, it seemed comforting to keep an eye on them. Nearby he smelled more smoke, and an uncomfortable scent of burning. Already, the Night's Watch were starting to burn their fallen. By the Ringwall, a wolf as large as a small pony followed after a Night's Watchmen who looked young enough to be his grandson. Are half the 'men' of the Night's Watch just kids?
Campwell immediately knew the Lord Commander when he entered. A large, bearded man wearing an even larger black cloak. Heavy black shadows hung from his eyes. Campbell already felt guilty for waking him. Perfectly matching his outfit, a huge black raven sat on his shoulder. Apparently even the chaos of the battle had not scared it away. Just quietly he thought the commander looked like he had walked right off the set of Pirates of the Caribbean. "Burn" the bird said, as its master walked in. "Burn! Burn!"
"Lord Commander" Campbell offered, when Mormont arrived.
"You are the General?" Mormont asked.
"Yes, I am General Angus Campbell. Commander of the Australian Defence Force. I have been sent to assess the situation."
Mormont reached out a gnarled hand. Campbell grasped it firmly.
"And what would you assessment be, general?"
"Whatever attacked you here last night, they've taken two of my men. That means it's my concern as well. I want them back."
Mormont blinked. "You won't be getting them back, General."
Campbell blinked. "How do you know?"
"Once a man is turned, that is it" Mormont said, sounding sadly confident. "Your men will be dead by now, at best. At worst mere puppets of the Others. There will be no getting them back."
"Regardless, I need to know what happened to them. Nothing here makes any sense." Campbell pointed at the 'wights' tied up outside. "Those things should not exist. It breaks every law of physics, which means there is some magic bullshit happening here, and that does scare me. Even my people can't perform magic."
"Can't you?" the Lord Commander asked. He glanced up, where a number of incandescent lights cast a comforting glow from the ceiling. In the corner a radio crackled faintly.
"Not like this" Campbell replied. "We need to understand the nature of this threat. What are these creatures? Where do they come from? What do they want? What else might they be capable of? They took down a Black Hawk. That simply should not be possible. I will tell my government, and we will put every resource into solving this mystery."
"I would welcome your help, should you offer it" Mormont seemed to soften a little. "I have not yet properly thanked you, in truth. Without your help last night, every last one of my men would be dead."
"You are welcome" Campbell said automatically "but we must consider our next move. We don't have the capacity to transport all your men out by air, but we can escort you back south. If these things come back, we'll rain fire on them, cover your retreat to the Wall."
Mormont seemed to take a moment to think this over, and then nodded. "Then I thank you again. Aye, we must return to the Wall. I sought to know why my rangers had been disappearing; now it seems the gods have answered that question…though there is still Mance Rayder to deal with."
"Mance Rayder?" Campbell asked. "The wildling king?"
Mormont nodded. "He marches this way, not ten days away now, with a host of a hundred thousand."
"Yes I know, but unless he can perform magic as well, that doesn't particularly concern me" Campbell said, perhaps too bluntly. "I don't see how wildlings are a threat to us."
Mormont seemed to think a moment. "They are not the true enemy no. We didn't build a Wall seven hundred feet high to keep savages from stealing women. I see that now. We forgot the true enemy. The true enemy attacked us last night…but the wildlings are still a threat to the realm."
"These wildlings have invaded you before, haven't they?" Campbell asked, grasping for what information he knew. "But maybe it's different this time. Perhaps they are merely running from these creatures. Perhaps what we're seeing is an evacuation, not an invasion."
"Aye, mayhaps that is true" Mormont conceded. "But I fear the decision is beyond me as to whether to grant them passage south. We are the shield that guards the realms of men. If we are to let wildlings in, it is a matter for the king, not to mention the Starks and the other Northern lords will certainly want their say…"
"Aye, and the king will not be so foolish" said another, and Campwell turned to see a grey bearded knight hunched over in the corner, one arm in a sling. All eyes turned to him. "To do so would be a grievous mistake. The wildlings know no laws. They steal and kill and rape freely. Let them into the North and every house would turn against them in a moon's turn."
"Aye, let the Others take them" replied another, a man older than the Lord Commander and perhaps half his size. "Let us go back to the Wall. The Others cannot pass it. We will be safe there."
"Ser Locke, Ser Wythers, calm yourselves" Mormont ordered sternly, and the knights fell silent. Around them the other officers of the Watch were listening intently. No one added to the outburst, but no one contradicted it either. These men will not be easily persuaded Campbell saw.
"Pardon, my lords" said a timid voice, and Campwell turned to see it was the Lord Commander's steward. "If the Others cannot pass the wall, then why are they going south?"
"Tarly, wait outside" the Lord Commander growled, and the boy fled from the tent without another word.
Campbell looked after him. "The boy may not be wrong. What makes you think your wall will protect you? Any more than this hill did?"
"The Wall is more than just ice" Mormont replied, though he sounded less certain now. "It has stood for eight thousand years, after the Others first came. It must have been built for that purpose."
"Very well" Campbell said, seeing he was getting nowhere fast. "I will talk to your king. But this is something we must decide upon now. If the wildlings are that close, these creatures might attack them any day now. Do we help them or not? If we don't, aren't they going to turn a hundred thousand more corpses into that?" he asked, indicating the wights again. "Perhaps it would be worth meeting with this Mance Rayder."
The Lord Commander visibly stiffened.
"The man is a traitor. He turned his cloak."
"Forgive me my lord, but that doesn't much concern me either. He may have been running from these things for some time, perhaps even fighting them. He may know more. I will have to recommend we meet with him."
Mormont grunted his displeasure. He glanced around the tent. "He will never meet with any officer of the Watch, and the wildlings do not know you flying men."
Campbell considered this a moment. "We will have to find someone to introduce us, to negotiate."
A last moment of hesitation.
"Then best find him quickly" Mormont grunted, finally.
