This war had been decades in the making. The conflicts that had erupted across Europe and the Middle East were never isolated events—they were stepping stones, testing grounds for what was to come. Every skirmish, every proxy battle, every moment of chaos served a purpose. Weapons had to be refined, tactics had to be perfected, and battlefields—bloody and unforgiving—offered the perfect kind of fertile testing grounds for war.

  The Dragon understood this well, always plotting and scheming in the background. Manipulating events for it’s own purpose.

  When Russia crossed into Ukraine in the early 2020s, China’s military planners watched with cold precision. Every engagement, every failed advance, every battlefield adaptation was analysed and deconstructed. It wasn’t just about politics or global influence—it was about learning. Observing what worked, what didn’t. Understanding the weak points of Western technology and doctrine. When Moscow, desperate and floundering, turned to Beijing for aid, the Chinese didn’t hesitate to provide it. The opportunity was just too valuable to pass up.

  At home, they had honed their forces in the controlled environments of riot suppression and border clashes with India. But real war—war against modern Western weapons, war against NATO tactics—was priceless. And so, Russian soldiers bled while Chinese engineers took notes. Tanks, artillery, drones, missiles—all tested, refined, and reworked based on hard-won Russian failures and fleeting successes.

  Then lightning struck twice.

  Iran, arrogant or desperate—perhaps both—threw itself into war against the United States in the Red Sea, openly supporting its proxy militias. American warships, stretched thin across multiple global commitments, suddenly found themselves engaged in a full-scale conflict again in the Middle East. For China’s war planners, it was another gift, another chance to sharpen the blade.

  The world had yet to fully grasp just how much Chinese military technology had been evolving. Once again China jumped at the chance to funnel money and supplies of equipment to their beleaguered allies, all under the guise of cooperation. But the communist party had darker intentions. This testing ground offered up an opportunity to go against their strongest rival and they very keen to analyse the results. Their missile technology had come along in leaps and bounds, and the YJ-12, a Chinese-built supersonic anti-ship cruise missile, was about to make that brutally clear. Launched from an Iranian battery—one that had hidden in plain sight—it streaked across the sea at blistering speeds, slicing through American defences before they even knew it was there. The USS Dwight D. Eisenhower, a symbol of U.S. naval dominance, would never make it home again.

  It was a moment that sent shockwaves through military and civilian circles alike. The Iranians proclaiming it as a holy victory. The Chinese looking at a successful test case.

  China had never fired a shot, but their fingerprints were all over the battlefield. Their second-generation drone swarms, their precision-guided anti-ship missiles—every system that Iran deployed had been built, tested, and fine-tuned under Beijing’s watchful eye. Just as they had done with Russia, they let others do the bleeding while they did the learning.

  And through it all, they just kept getting better.

  Now, the final act had begun. The first strike was over. The Pacific was burning. And the Dragon was no longer watching from the shadows. It was stepping into the light.

  They needed partners, of course. Yes, China had the sheer numbers to go it alone, but with the ever-growing nuisance that was the CANZUK Alliance over the past recent years, the Dragon had to ensure the odds were tipped in its favour. War, after all, was a game of attrition, and allies—whether willing or coerced—were force multipliers.

  North Korea was the perfect choice. The West had long dismissed it as a madman’s kingdom, a dangerous joke, but a joke nonetheless. That suited Beijing just fine. While the world mocked Pyongyang’s crude propaganda and sabre-rattling, China had quietly reinforced the Hermit Kingdom’s military-industrial complex, feeding it just enough resources to be a useful, expendable pawn. Russia, battered and bleeding from its misadventures, was hesitant—too busy licking its wounds to commit fully. They would come around in time, once necessity outweighed reluctance. Iran, however, had no such reservations. They played their part masterfully, striking at America’s flanks, keeping the U.S. preoccupied in a thousand small fires while the real inferno was being prepared in the Pacific.

  Taiwan was the Dragon’s first and primary goal. Its fall would be more than symbolic—it would complete the long sought after reunification and finally break the first island chain, shifting the balance of power in the Pacific irrevocably. From there, China could spread outward, uncontested, toward the vast blue beyond. But the Americans stood in the way. Their bases—scattered like watchtowers across the Pacific—were immovable obstacles, bristling with sensors, aircraft, and missile defences. To move carrier groups against them was to invite battle on America’s terms. This was a losers game and that simply would not do.

  No, the best option was missiles, a massive and overwhelming first strike. Carrier groups could maneuver, evade, and strike back. Bases could not. Fixed in place, built for endurance, they were plump, static targets, ripe for obliteration. And so, China had spent decades perfecting its arsenal. What the world saw in Tiananmen Square, paraded before the cameras with carefully orchestrated bravado, was only the tip of the iceberg. For every missile displayed under the watchful gaze of the Communist Party, hundreds more lay hidden, dispersed across the countryside in hardened silos, camouflaged launch sites, and mobile platforms—waiting.

  Beijing knew well the advancements in Western missile defences. The U.S., the UK, Australia and New Zealand, and their allies had grown adept at intercepting incoming fire, layering their bases and fleets with radars, interceptors, and cutting-edge countermeasures. But it didn’t matter. Numbers beat everything and the Chinese had the numbers.

  Missile defence wasn’t invincible. It was a matter of simple mathematics, one interceptor for every hundred incoming warheads was a net loss on anyone’s ledger. Saturation was the key. Overwhelm the defences, exhaust the magazines, with the older less volatile missiles, and once those defences were depleted, launch some more to ensure the killing blow lands.

  That was the plan. Strike first. Strike hard. Strike relentlessly.

  If China was to succeed in crushing the defiant province and securing its dominance over the Pacific, it needed a grand distraction—something so overwhelming that it would keep what remained of the American war machine and its scattered allies from interfering.

  That was where North Korea came in.

  For years, Beijing had fed Pyongyang’s ambitions, whispering promises of reunification, revenge, and destiny into the ears of its leadership. The North Korean elite, long eager for their moment in history, swallowed the bait hook, line and fishing boat. All the while, China silently reconstructed their crumbling war machine, supplying modern tanks, aircraft, and missile systems, training their best pilots and officers, and ensuring that when war came, the Korean People’s Army would strike with terrifying force.

  Now, that moment had arrived.

  On the morning of January 1st, 2040, the thunder of war echoed across the Korean Peninsula as North Korea’s full might surged southward. The ground shook beneath the advance of thousands of tanks, armored personnel carriers, and self-propelled artillery, their treads grinding into the earth like a tidal wave of steel. Dust clouds billowed high into the sky, darkening the horizon as the largest offensive in modern history roared into motion.

  Above them, the sun vanished beneath the wings of bombers. China had armed Pyongyang not just with weapons, but with an air force worthy of war. Xi'an H-6 bombers, laden with precision-guided munitions and cruise missiles, roared southward, escorted by flocks of J-10s and J-16s, their sleek fuselages gleaming under the dim sunlight. The sky, once open and blue, had become a swirling mass of death and destruction.

  Then, the earth itself seemed to split apart. From concealed launch sites deep within North Korea, wave upon wave of long-range rocket artillery—Chinese-built PCL-191 multiple launch rocket systems and North Korean KN-25 super-heavy rockets—shrieked through the air, leaving behind trails of smoke and fire. They descended upon South Korean border fortifications like a storm of wrath, reducing once-formidable defensive lines into craters of flame and twisted wreckage. The initial counterbattery fire was drowned in the sheer weight of ordnance, overwhelmed before it could even find its mark.

  Infantry soon followed. Thousands upon thousands of North Korean troops, a seemingly endless swarm of dark-green uniforms, armed with Chinese-supplied assault rifles, anti-tank missiles, and portable drones, surged forward through the gaps in the smouldering wreckage of the DMZ. Like a flood bursting through a crumbling dam, they poured into the breaches, overwhelming whatever survivors remained in their path.

  For decades, they had prepared for this moment—for the glorious march south, for the great unification under Pyongyang’s banner. And now, with Chinese steel, Chinese firepower, and Chinese guidance, they believed nothing could stop them.

  They were wrong.

  But that part of the story had yet to unfold.

  ***

  The invasion of Taiwan had taken years of careful planning. The slow buildup of military and naval forces, so as not too attract too much attention. Beijing had watched, studied, and waited—biding its time until their perfectly orchestrated moment arrived. When the North Korean boots marched south, and the world was already ablaze with war, that moment had finally arrived. The United States already stretched thin, its forces now locked in brutal conflicts on the Korean Peninsula and in the Middle East, it’s navy in the pacific battered and broken, was unable to stop them. Relentless cyberattacks followed temporarily crippling Western infrastructure, if only briefly, but long enough to create the opening China needed.

  The opening salvo wasn’t the roar of engines or the flash of missiles—it was silence.

  At precisely 02:30 hours, Taiwan’s early warning radar installations along the western coast went dark. Years of cyber warfare preparation and covert fifth column infiltrations culminated in a devastating blow: a combined cyber and boat-launched special forces assault that shut down power and communications infrastructure, paralyzed command networks, blinded defensive systems, and plunged Taiwan into darkness and confusion.

  As Taiwanese commanders scrambled to restore communications, their ISR and AWACS aircraft took to the skies—too late. Thousands of DF-17 hypersonic missiles, DF-21D and DF-26 "carrier-killer" ballistic missiles streaked across the strait. Airbase installations and infrastructure was shattered, runways cratered and made inoperable, aircraft caught on the ground burned like funeral pyres. Naval installations were obliterated outright.

  Taiwanese anti-air defences now forced to rely on local and short range radar units or AWACs guidance, fired blindly into the night, desperate to intercept the onslaught. But it was like trying to hold back a typhoon with a fishing net.

  From the east, lurking PLA Navy submarines and warships unleashed a spread of YJ-18 cruise missiles, targeting any surviving airfields and radar stations. Meanwhile, the Type 003 aircraft carriers held back from the blue water attacks on the allies, for this specific purpose—launched relentless waves of J-15s on wild-weasel missions, to take care of what was left of the Taiwanese air and ground defence radars, supported by J-35 fighters for air cover.

  J-20 stealth aircraft led the charge from the mainland, behind them, J-16s, J-10Cs, and H-20 stealth bombers. Taiwan’s air force of F-16Vs, Mirage 2000s, and newly acquired F-15EXs rose to meet them. The Taiwanese pilots fought with, incredible bravery, skill and desperation, but they were outnumbered ten to one. Electronic warfare systems jammed their comms. The J-20s unleashed a relentless wave of PL-15 long range active radar homing air to air missiles slipping through the chaos, overwhelming the beleaguered defenders and seizing air superiority in short order. Within the hour, Taiwanese resistance was crumbling, and the strike aircraft were free to rain precision-guided destruction on defensive positions.

  At sea, the carrier battle groups Fujian and Shandong, now relieved of their primary mission, took position east of Taiwan to provide air cover for the landings. Type 075 and Type 076 amphibious assault ships surged forward and disgorged wave after wave of air-cushioned landing craft and Z-20 helicopters, packed with elite special operations forces.

  The invasion was staggering—from purpose built barges came, 500,000 troops, thousands of armored vehicles, hundreds of amphibious landing craft. ZBD-05 amphibious assault vehicles stormed the beaches, flanked by Type 99A tanks modified for shore landings. Artillery and rocket barrages tore into Taiwan’s western coastline.

  Taiwanese defenders, though battered, fought like demons. Hsiung Feng anti-ship missiles crippled several landing craft. Coastal defences turned sections of the beach into charnel houses and killing fields, by morning the beaches and the strait was awash with burning wreckage and the blood of the dead and dying.

  But China had prepared for this.

  DF-16 ballistic missiles and PHL-16 rocket launchers rained devastation on resistance points. Swarms of kamikaze drones crashed into Taiwanese positions, while others fed real-time targeting data to PLA commanders.

  During the death and destruction, while the physical battle raged, China was waging another war—a quiet, subtle and insidious war, one of information and deception.

  Deepfake videos flooded Taiwan’s networks, showing fabricated footage of government officials surrendering, of entire cities already fallen. Fake emergency broadcasts announced that the president had fled. Social media was awash with chaos. Across the globe, CCP-controlled disinformation campaigns sowed confusion—some claiming Taiwan had already lost, others warning that U.S. intervention would trigger nuclear war.

  Still, Taiwan fought.

  In the mountains, defenders harassed Chinese supply lines with ambushes and drone swarms of their own. Civilians took up arms, transforming alleyways into chokepoints and kill zones. Taiwanese commandos launched daring counterstrike’s, carving through PLA positions with ruthless efficiency.

  But the outcome was never in doubt. For the first time in decades, the United States Navy was not in any position to intervene. Carrier groups in the Pacific had suffered losses in earlier conflicts. North Korea’s assault on the South had drained what remained of American resources in the region, but Washington could not sit idly by.

  Ballistic missile submarines in the Philippine Sea altered course or changed their strike package priority entirely and launched retaliatory strikes against Chinese naval formations around the island. B-21 Raiders and long-range B-52 bombers from Diego Garcia and Northern Australia prepared for counter strikes. The CANZUK alliance raced to rearm and prepared to mobilise. But it was too little, too late.

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  The attack had been too fast, too precise, too overwhelming.

  Within days before any adequate force could be mustered, Taipei fell. Chinese forces occupied the capital. Taiwanese soldiers who refused to surrender were slaughtered; those who did were rounded up and sent to re-education camps deep within the mainland. Among them were captured American and allied personnel—paraded through Tiananmen Square as proof of Beijing’s victory.

  Taiwan was lost.

  For now.

  ***

  United Nations General Assembly – January 2nd, 2040

  The chamber was in chaos. The sudden Chinese attack and the likely outbreak of war dominated every screen, every whispered conversation. Reports were flooding in—Taipei was under siege and likely to fall within days, some saying they already had. But whether they had or not, the facts were clear, Chinese forces were sweeping through Taiwan with merciless precision. The world had watched in horror as hypersonic missiles shattered Taiwan’s defences, and PLA forces stormed the beaches, while the capital’s skyline burned in the night.

  But the declaration of war had yet to come.

  James Fletcher, the New Zealand delegate, was livid. He shot to his feet, his voice a thunderclap that cut through the murmuring assembly.

  “This is an outrage! The People’s Republic of China has gone too far this time, they have launched an unprovoked war of conquest! They have slaughtered countless civilians, annexed a free and democratic nation, murdered the servicemen and women of many of the assembled nations here and trampled on the very principles of this organization!”

  The Chinese delegate, Zhao Cheng, sat back in his chair, an infuriating smirk curling his lips. Beside him, the Russian delegate, Igor Petrov, chuckled, shaking his head as though Fletcher were some hysterical fool.

  “Mr. Fletcher,” Zhao said smoothly, his tone patronizing, “I remind you that Taiwan has always been a part of China. This was not an invasion, but an internal security operation to reclaim what is rightfully ours. You speak of slaughter? We speak of reunification.”

  A wave of jeers and outraged exclamations rippled through the assembly. David Armitage, the UK’s delegate, scoffed audibly.

  “Unification, you say?” Armitage said, his voice sharp as a blade. “Then tell me, Mr. Zhao, why does unification require ballistic missiles and mass graves?”

  Charlotte Tremblay of Canada leaned forward. “And why are Taiwanese officials being rounded up and very likely sent to your ‘re-education centres’?” she demanded. “This is not reunification. This is conquest pure and simple, not matter which you try to sell it.”

  At the podium, Secretary-General António Guterres banged his gavel, his face etched with deep frustration. “Order! Order!”

  But there was no order to be had.

  Greg Symonds, the Australian delegate, leaned forward, staring Zhao down. “Your ships have blockaded the Taiwan Strait. Your forces have already sunk vessels attempting to flee. This is piracy and war, not ‘reunification’.”

  Zhao merely shrugged, his smirk unwavering. “Taiwan belongs to China. That is a historical fact. You cannot change history, no matter how much you whine about it.”

  “Does the Pacific? Does the Arafura Sea, or the Philippine Sea for that matter, how about Japan, or South Korea, because your missiles attacked them too, you targeted every allied carrier group in the region, not to mention your attempts to cripple us in the south pacific. You sent missiles to try and destroy us as well, but you miscalculated there, didn’t you Zhao?” Fletcher paused to let that one sink in. “In your arrogance you assumed we would roll over, that we could not hold you back, but we did hold back, didn’t we?”

  “Irrelevant! As are you pathetic remarks!” Zhao spat back.

  “Mr General Secretary, this has gone on long enough. We demand that you do something about this member, they have deliberately attacked several other member nations gathered here and offer nothing in conciliation. Either expel them or accept that this institution has outlived it’s usefulness!” The assembled delegates roared, some in support, some against, most in shock. Fletcher had made his point though and sat down.

  The general secretary repeatedly smashed his gavel again in the vain hope of regaining order, but it was no use and he collapsed back in his chair defeated.

  When it became clear that nothing was to be resolved here, James Fletcher stood once again and took a deep breath. He looked around the room one last time and delivered his final words. “If this institution is powerless to stop these heinous crimes, then we will have to do it for you. In light of recent events and the blatant attack on our citizens and sovereignty, New Zealand has no choice but to invoke Article 51 of the United Nations Charter, against Peoples Republic of China. We are now in a state of war.”

  The room suddenly went silent, and then Greg Symonds stood. “Australia stands with it allies and it’s brothers, we too invoke Article 51. We are at war with China.”

  David Armitage of the United Kingdom followed. “The United Kingdom stands with her allies. We too invoke Article 51. Britain is now at war with China.”

  Charlotte Tremblay stood next. “Canada invokes Article 51. We are at war with China.”

  Zhao didn’t seem fazed by these statements, as though he had expected them. Confident that he could either talk them down, or his people would crush them outright, but then Catherine Paterson, the U.S. delegate, stood and the chamber fell silent again.

  She took her time, adjusting her glasses, her expression grave. “Mr. Zhao, you have violated the sovereignty of Taiwan, you have attacked allied ships, you have coerced other governments into committing heinous acts, and your forces have fired on American personnel and sovereign territory. This is not just an act of war against Taiwan or the nations of the Pacific. This is an act of war against the United States.”

  Zhao’s smirk faltered for the first time.

  Paterson turned to the Secretary-General. “The United States of America formally declares that, as of this moment, we invoke Article 51 of the United Nations Charter. We are in a state of war with the People’s Republic of China.”

  The chamber erupted into chaos.

  Finally, Gasps. Shouts. Delegates whispering frantically into phones.

  Across the room, the Solomon Islands delegate, Malakai Tuva, sat pale and motionless. Akira Nakamura of Japan and Yoo Mi-yeon of South Korea exchanged grim looks. They had known this moment would come. They too would soon have to stand.

  Zhao Cheng slowly stood, his smirk gone, replaced by something darker. “Then so be it,” he said coldly. “China will not be intimidated.”

  Beside him, Igor Petrov of Russia chuckled once more, but this time it was not amused—it was expectant.

  The world had just crossed the point of no return. The five nations of New Zealand, Australia the United Kingdom and the United States of America, stood together as one and walked from the room.

  ***

  On January the 3rd 2040, just before the 12 o’clock news aired, the broadcast was interrupted on all channels. The Prime Minister of New Zealand, flanked by the Defence Minister, her chief of staff and the head of the New Zealand Defence Forces, walked across the stage and took their places at the press podiums in the Beehive press room. The live feed was being shared across all major New Zealand networks and simulcast across the world.

  “Kia ora koutou,

  This is not a speech I ever wanted to make. But today, I speak to you as your Prime Minister in the gravest of circumstances.

  I can now confirm that on the morning of the 2nd of January, the combined military forces of the Peoples Republic of China did attack CANZUK and US forced in the Pacific, our losses were minor, however the American losses were many. At the same time, forces allied to the Peoples Republic did launch an unprovoked attack on the sovereign nation of South Korea.

  Just minutes ago, New Zealand, alongside our allies in the CANZUK alliance and the United States, formally invoked Article 51 of the United Nations Charter within the General Assemnly. We are now in a state of war with the People's Republic of China and the Democratic People's Republic of Korea.”

  A collective gasp swept through the press room. Even though this announcement was expected, to hear it put so plainly was still a shock.

  “This decision was not made lightly. It was not made in haste. It was made because we can no longer stand by while our friends and partners are overrun, while sovereign nations are crushed under the boots of an aggressor. Taiwan has fallen. Its people now suffer under an occupying force that showed no hesitation in slaughtering those who resisted. It is too soon to tell if South Korea will suffer the same fate. Our allies in the Pacific stand in the shadow of a growing storm. And make no mistake—this war is not just a war for justice, for what is right, this is a war that will shape the future of our region, our economy, our security, and our very way of life.

  New Zealand is not a nation that seeks war. We never have been. But we are a nation that stands up and defends what is right. When tyranny rises, when those who try to rule by force attempt to rewrite the world in their image, we do not look away. We do not back down. We fight back.

  As I speak to you now, our armed forces are mobilizing. The Royal New Zealand Navy has already engaged alongside our allies in securing the Pacific. The Royal New Zealand Air Force is preparing for operations to protect our skies and those of our partners. And the New Zealand Army is deploying to reinforce our commitments under the CANZUK and ANZUS alliance. This will be a long fight, and there will be sacrifices. But make no mistake, we are ready.

  Let me be clear—this is not just about distant battlefields. China’s cyber forces have already attempted attacks on our infrastructure, our communications, and our financial systems and we have beaten them. Disinformation is flooding social media, seeking to divide us, to sow fear and doubt. We will not allow it. We will remain united, and we will stand firm.

  To all New Zealanders, I say this: remain vigilant. Support one another. In the coming days, there will be calls for resilience, for service, for sacrifice. But know this—New Zealand does not stand alone. Our allies stand with us, and together, we will meet this challenge.

  We did not choose this war. But we will finish it.

  May God defend New Zealand. Kia kaha!”

  With that, the assembled dignitaries walked back out of the room, The assembled reporters screamed question after question, but the statement was made, that was all they needed to know for now.

  ***

  As Taiwan smouldered under the iron grip of its new regime and the United Nations fractured under the weight of its own diplomatic failure, the Tangaroa and her battle group guided the wounded USS Carl Vinson into the deepwater port of Whangārei. The decision to use Whangārei over Auckland or Devonport was a calculated one—its deep seaport and state-of-the-art marine engineering facilities, part of the newer Oceania Naval Works, were specifically designed to accommodate carriers for repairs and maintenance. Unlike its older counterpart, the Oceania Naval Works facility at Nelson, Whangārei had been built with future strategic needs in mind, a necessity now proving its worth.

  Despite the nuclear controversy that immediately flared among environmental groups, their concerns were drowned out as war declarations echoed across global news networks. The protests were brief and ineffective—the world was now on a war footing, and national survival took precedence over ideological grievances.

  On the docks, technicians and engineers swarmed over the Carl Vinson like ants on a felled giant, moving with a discipline and efficiency that belied the enormity of the task. The damage, while appearing extensive, turned out to be largely cosmetic—deck plates required refabrication, arrester wire buffer housings needed repairs or rebuilding, and the arresting wires themselves had to be replaced. The Americans had initially feared months in dry dock, but with the Tangaroa sharing much of the same flight deck systems, spare parts were readily available. The local shipyard teams, world-class and accustomed to high-pressure repairs, assured the visiting admirals that they would have the Vinson operational within weeks.

  With the harbour secured by picket ships and aerial overwatch, the Tangaroa nestled alongside the Carl Vinson, undergoing her own rapid maintenance cycle. Her Integrated Full Electric Propulsion system allowed her to forgo many of the complex mechanical overhauls of conventionally powered ships, significantly cutting down repair times. The smaller ships of the battle group took the opportunity to rotate through the docks as well—some would remain for extensive repairs, others would be patched up just enough to make the long voyage home. But most of them would be back in the fight before the month was out.

  Further out at sea, the USS Enterprise remained on station, patrolling the waters north of New Zealand, a steel sentinel against any incursion. She had only come into port long enough to replenish supplies before returning to her watch, waiting for Tangaroa to rejoin her in the vast Pacific battleground.

  In the Admiral’s Mess aboard the Tangaroa, three of the most senior naval officers in the region gathered to discuss the escalating situation. Rear Admiral Samantha Garrett of the Enterprise, Rear Admiral William Raines of the Carl Vinson, and Vice Admiral Malachi Mason of the Tangaroa sat around a polished oak table, the glow of status displays illuminating their grim expressions. This was the first time they had had, to really sit down and talk things through since it all started.

  “Tea anyone, coffee?” Malachi asked and remembered the last time they were together like this, and stories shared with a new friend he would never have the chance to talk to again. His face darkened, slightly, but he pushed the thoughts away and focused on the moment at hand, while his steward passed around cups and placed a jug of steaming coffee and some chocolate biscuits on the table.

  “My god Mal, Achilles, where the fuck did that come from, I mean we’ve got lasers in the fleet too, but nothing like that!” Garrett Stated, pouring herself a cup and reaching for a biscuit, the awe clearly evident in her statement. “How many of those do you have?”

  “Ah, once the last two clear trials, we’ll have four.” Mason Replied. “We wanted another carrier, but with our possible staffing levels the way they are, we opted for those instead. Smaller and more crew efficient.”

  “Shit, can we have one?” Garrett chuckled and Mason smiled appreciatively in return.

  “Clearly I’ve missed something…” Raines interjected.

  “The Achilles,” Garrett replied. When Raines shook his head in a lack of understanding, she continued, “the Kiwi cruiser, when the missiles came, she was like a demon from hell, honestly it was biblical, my crew is still talking about it.”

  “You can thank the South Koreans, they built them, we just added the finishing touches.” Mason stated, his voice steady, though the weight of the moment was not lost on him. “Bill, what’s the status on your repairs?”

  “Faster than expected,” Raines replied, rubbing his chin, he’d needed a shave for days, but had yet to find the time. “Your shipyard guys know their trade well. If all goes well, we’ll be fully mission-capable in a little over three weeks.”

  Mason leaned forward, fingers steepled. “That’s good, let’s hope their estimates are accurate, we’re going to need you back in the fight soon as. Intel suggests now that Taiwan has fallen, China will spread rapidly into the South Pacific. If they remain unchecked and get as far as Indonesia and dig in there, we’ll have a hell of a time pushing them back out.”

  “Honestly, even if it takes a month, it’s a damn sight better than what we first estimated, we’ll be there, don’t you worry, when are you two headed back out again?” Raines queried.

  Mason exhaled through his nose. “As soon as we’re ready to go, as a conventional we don’t have the luxury of sailing like you do, but we get the job done. Besides, we put the poor girl through a mighty whack to come and get you.”

  “We appreciate it, trust me, I just wish…” Raines started but drifted off.

  “Don’t,” Mason said, “we’ll have time to grieve when this is over, for now we have a job to do.”

  “We’re still combat-ready,” Garrett assured him. “We took some major losses but with what’s still floating we can still put two groups together, and the air groups are mostly intact.”

  Raines crossed his arms. “And what about the Australians, the British, and the Canadians for that matter?”

  “The Aussies are gearing up for full-scale deployments,” Mason confirmed. “Like us Melbourne has been hitting it hard for almost a year, she needs to put in for maintenance as well, but their new carrier Australia will take her place, Queen Elizebeth will also need to put in for repairs, that makes a group of Ark Royal and Australia for now, once the other two are finished with maintenance they can also group up.”

  Mason refilled his coffee and reached for a third biscuit. A sense of guilt flooded through him, and he looked at his steward, a fatherly look of disapproval staring back at him. He ate the biscuit anyway.

  “For now, I have suggested to the powers that be, that the Canadians keep their carrier at home.” He raised his hand to pause Raines, who looked as though he was about to protest, “as much as we could use another one, if the Chinese or the Russians try to weaken us via the arctic, Warrior will be the only thing to stop them, and she is better suited for operations there than here. As for ground forces, last I heard they were fortifying the Solomons and digging in for now.”

  A tense silence settled over the room. Both the American admirals absorbing that sound strategic thinking, even if they didn’t like it, the Americans were used to the blunt force approach, Kiwis often had no choice but to play the long game, in this case, it was to their favour, but they all knew what was coming. Now that Taiwan had fallen, the Pacific balance of power was shifting in real-time. The luxury of if’s were long gone, now they had to focus on the whens.

  Garrett broke the silence. “I hate to admit it, but that is sound thinking, We still need to move fast though. We can’t let China tighten its grip. If they establish forward operating bases in the Philippines, they’ll control the trade routes. That puts New Zealand, Australia, and everything south of it at risk.”

  Mason nodded, making his decision. “Don’t worry, we’ll go on the offensive soon enough. Bill, as soon as repairs are complete, I want you to move Carl Vinson over to the west and join with the Aussies and Brits, that’s at least one nuclear carrier over there and I’ll bring Melbourne or Queen Elizebeth over here when they’re ready to move again to even things up. Meanwhile, Tangaroa and Enterprise will head north again as soon as our maintenance cycle is complete. We’ll bring the fight to them before they can dig in. I have no doubt amphibious operations will being shortly and we will be needed to provide air cover for them.”

  Raines gave a grim smile. “You realize this means escalation. We’re not just talking containment anymore. This is a war footing.”

  Mason met his gaze. “We’re already at war, Bill. It’s time we started acting like it.”

  No one disagreed.

  The meeting adjourned, and within hours, the first waves of strike fighters were being prepped for operations. The Battle for the Pacific was just beginning.