Carrier_ A Guided Tour Of An Aircraft Carrier Part 14

About 1150 hours, Commander Kindred picked up his headset and announced to the flight deck that it was time to start engines for the Event-3 launch cycle. Carefully, the aircraft handlers directed the air crews to taxi their aircraft aft for their launch from Catapults 3 and 4. Moments later, after everyone was in the proper place and Captain Rutheford had given his approval, Kindred gave the catapult officer permission to conduct the launch. Already overhead was the plane guard HH-60G from HS-11, as well as a USAF KC-135 airborne tanker flying from Langley AFB (in the simulated country of Telari).

First off the GW GW's deck were a pair of VS-32 S-3B Vikings configured as tankers, followed by a replacement VAW-123 E-2C Hawkeye AEW aircraft. These were followed by a quartet of VF-102 F-14's, two configured with D/TARPS pods for the noon reconnaissance run, while the others had LANTIRN pods for laser bombing. Following the Tomcats was a VAQ-137 EA-6B Prowler loaded for Suppression of Enemy Air Defense (SEAD) operations. Last off were a dozen F/A-18 Hornets, with a variety of loads-from HARM missile and LGB simulators, to live iron bombs for training runs on a local range. This was a large launch, with almost two dozen aircraft involved. More than that would make the ninety-minute Air Event cycle impossible to sustain, and would actually reduce the total number of sorties that CVW-1 could generate per day. It also made optimum use of the flight deck s.p.a.ce, which even on a ship the size of the GW is limited.

Once the Event-3 aircraft had launched (it only took about fifteen minutes), the angle was reset for recovery of the HS-11 HH-60G on plane guard duty and the launch of its replacement. After this, activities on the flight deck slowed down, and there was time for a few bites of sandwiches brought up from below by one of the chiefs. By 1300 hours (1 P.M.), the F/A-18's were back in the landing pattern, preparing to come aboard. The relatively short range of the Hornets means that they normally operate within a single air event, while the Tomcats and other aircraft would come back at the completion of Event 4. For now, the deck aft was cleared, the arresting wires checked, and the landing light system turned on. The landing cycle took about fifteen minutes, after which the Hornets were rapidly taxied forward to the bow, where they could be refueled and rearmed to take part in other strikes later in the day. Also coming aboard was one of the three VRC-40 C-2 COD aircraft, bringing its load of mail, personnel, and spare parts from NAS Norfolk. It would return to Norfolk with a load of nonessential folks. The ship had been packed since sailing, but now as Labor Day weekend approached, the many VIPs, news media types, and technicians were finding reasons to head back to the beach.

As for me, it was time to leave the two Air Bosses to their grueling task. They had six more launch/recovery cycles ahead before they could grab some sleep and get ready for the first launch the following morning.

Sat.u.r.day, August 30th, 1997JTFEX 97-3-Day 13: There are reports that Allied forces are preparing to invade the occupied country of Kartuna to evict the Koronan military forces. At this time, Allied public affairs officers will only report that operations against the Koronan forces continue, with no new information on results.

While most of America was getting started on their Labor Day holiday weekend, the partic.i.p.ants of JTFEX 97-3 were just beginning to hit high gear. Captain Bruce Van Velle's mine-countermeasures force moved insh.o.r.e to clear lanes for the amphibious units through Koronan minefields. This required that CVW-1 finish clearing out the last of the Koronan's coastal antiship and SCUD missile sites before the vulnerable amphibious ships of the Guam ARG began to operate close to the Kartunan coastline (actually near Camp Lejeune, North Carolina). Meanwhile, a continuous, twenty-four-hour-a-day CAP had to be flown over the amphibious ships, to protect them and the Marines of the 24th MEU (SOC). In fact, the transition to the amphibious phase of operations meant that there was even more for everyone to do, and even less time to do it in.

Now, because I wanted to find out how the air campaign was actually going "over the beach," I went to the one place where I knew I would hear the truth about such things-the pilot's "Dirty Shirt" mess. Located up forward on the O-2 level, it is a less formal place than Wardroom 3. Also, because of its informality and its more "meat and potatoes" diet, most officers in fact prefer the "Dirty Shirt." Here pilots can wear their flight suits to relax and catch a meal (hence the name). All the meals are served cafeteria-style, and are eaten on tables reserved for each squadron in the air wing. If you're an outsider, you have to ask to join them. They rarely refuse. This day I had an old Navy favorite, "Sliders and Fries" ("Navy" for cheese-burgers and French fries), and a gla.s.s of cold milk with some VF-102 "Diamondbacks," flying F-14B Upgrades.

This was an exciting time for the Diamondbacks, who had seen their community rise Phoenix-like from the ashes of their Cold-War interceptor mission to become one of the Navy's preeminent strike and reconnaissance platforms. The addition of the AAQ-14 LANTIRN targeting pod and the new D/TARPS reconnaissance pod has changed the face of the Tomcat community, making them once again the kings of the air wings. You could see the pride in the faces of the young pilots, who are now certain of a mission in the CVWs of the 21st century. They will eventually be the first community to receive the new F/A-18E/F Super Hornet when it arrives in a few years, and the new pods will make the time waiting all the more pleasant. During JTFEX 97-3, they had been heavily tasked, flying some fifteen to twenty missions a day (they had fourteen F-14 airframes aboard)-heavy usage for Tomcats. And since their missions tended to last two to four times longer than those of the Hornets, due to their greater internal fuel load and range, the Tomcat crews were getting more flight hours than the Hornet drivers.

When I asked how things were going, the variety of answers reflected the great range of their activities during the previous two weeks. While they all agreed that the new sensor and targeting capabilities of the LANTIRN pod were terrific, they had to admit that they were still learning how to get everything out of it. In particular, the Navy version of the AAQ-14, which has a GPS/INS unit built in, has opened new targeting possibilities. On the down side, the new pod is currently unable to send images from the LANTIRN back to the carrier in the same near real-time manner as the D/TARPS pod. But this problem is being worked on, and will probably be solved by late 1998. As for the new D/TARPS pod, they had absolutely no reservations (except for their small numbers). The addition of the digital line scanner and near-real-time transmission capability for imagery has given theater commanders their first real ability to find and target mobile high-value targets like SCUD launchers. With only four D/TARPS-capable F-14's per CVW, these are arguably the most valuable aircraft in the air wing.

When I asked about the current exercise, they all agreed that the Diamondbacks and their CVW-1 partners had done very well during JTFEX 97-3. The few air-to-air engagements during the exercise had been decidedly one-sided, with most ending in a hail of AIM-54 Phoenix and AIM-120 AMRAAM shots and the Koronan aircraft going down in flames. The reconnaissance missions had gone equally well, though the cla.s.sified aspects of their tactics and equipment kept the air crews from discussing the results. The real smiles came when they talked about the bombing results with their LANTIRN pods and Paveway II and III LGBs. Thanks to their superior FLIRs, dedicated RIOs as operators, and excellent weapons, the Tomcats had become the scourge of the mobile targets ash.o.r.e. Though there was a general feeling that Koronan SCUD and antiship missile launchers were probably dead by now, a few older Tomcat crew members who had flown in Desert Storm doubted this. They would go "SCUD hunting" one more time later that night, while others would hunt down Koronan artillery pieces, so they would be out of action before the Marine landing rumored for the following night.

At that point, it was time for me to move on. Deep fatigue was visible in the eyes of these men, and I wanted to intrude no more on their crew rest. All too soon, they would be climbing into their c.o.c.kpits and heading into the night skies to once again hunt their "enemies." Meanwhile, the USACOM staff had a few more tricks up their sleeves to keep things interesting. And as I stopped by the public affairs office, I learned from Joe Navritril that a contracted civilian Learjet, pretending to be a CNN camera aircraft, had simulated a kamikaze dive into one of the escort ships. The Kamikaze Kamikaze attack had been defeated by a short-range SAM shot, though only just barely. attack had been defeated by a short-range SAM shot, though only just barely.

Sunday, August 31st, 1997JTFEX 97-3-Day 14: The rumors of an Allied invasion near the Kartunan capital city of Temal continue, with reports of Allied Naval vessels beginning to conduct sh.o.r.e bombardments with gunfire. There is a feeling that the expected Allied invasion by coalition forces may be only a matter of days away.

This morning found everyone on GW GW busy getting things ready for the planned invasion. The actual time of the invasion was a secret to most people on the GW, including me. I a.s.sumed, like just about everyone else, that the Marines of the 24th MEU (SOC) would hit the Camp Lejeune beaches sometime around midnight of the following evening-a tactical time that had become more or less standard in the last few JTFEXs. Meanwhile, I wanted to head up to Flight Deck Control for a small ceremony that has been a tradition going back centuries. Today, Captain Groothousen, the busy getting things ready for the planned invasion. The actual time of the invasion was a secret to most people on the GW, including me. I a.s.sumed, like just about everyone else, that the Marines of the 24th MEU (SOC) would hit the Camp Lejeune beaches sometime around midnight of the following evening-a tactical time that had become more or less standard in the last few JTFEXs. Meanwhile, I wanted to head up to Flight Deck Control for a small ceremony that has been a tradition going back centuries. Today, Captain Groothousen, the GW GW's XO, would leave the ship and officially hand over the job to Commander Chuck Smith, a fast-tracked flier from the S-3 Viking community. In a few months, Groothousen ("Groot" to his friends) would take over command of the Shreveport Shreveport (LPD-12), over in the (LPD-12), over in the Guam Guam ARG, which was the next step on the way to command of his own flattop. Around noon, the ship's department heads met in the Flight Deck Control Room, where they said their final good-byes to "Groot." After he headed across the flight deck to the waiting COD aircraft, the various department heads left the room and went back to their tasks; but I lagged behind to watch the activities. ARG, which was the next step on the way to command of his own flattop. Around noon, the ship's department heads met in the Flight Deck Control Room, where they said their final good-byes to "Groot." After he headed across the flight deck to the waiting COD aircraft, the various department heads left the room and went back to their tasks; but I lagged behind to watch the activities.

Flight Deck Control, at the base of the island, monitors and controls the movement of aircraft, personnel, and equipment on the flight and hangar decks. On a pair of scale models of the flight and hangar decks, movable templates show the location of aircraft (with their wings folded) and equipment (such as tractors, firefighting trucks, etc.). Meanwhile, on the walls there are a series of transparent status boards, upon which are noted (in grease pencil) the side numbers of every aircraft aboard the flattop. You can see at a glance on these boards what every aircraft based aboard the ship is doing, how it is loaded, and who is flying it. The models and templates are moved by skilled aircraft handlers, who know just how much room you need to park a line of aircraft in the smallest possible s.p.a.ce. Decades of experience have gone into the procedures that run the flight and hangar decks, and it is likely that they will continue for as long as Americans take aircraft to sea.

That night, as the aircraft continued their round-the-clock shuttle over the beach, John, Lieutenant Navritril, and I joined Commander Smith for a short visit in his new quarters. The XO's quarters aboard a Nimitz- Nimitz-cla.s.s carrier are quite pleasant, though the lack of time that he gets to spend there more than makes up for the few pleasures. With Commander Smith sitting at his desk, the rest of us found comfortable spots on the couches, and we talked of how he had come to be here tonight. He talked of the path to command of a carrier, and why he supports nuclear propulsion for future U.S. flattops. He also spent a few minutes talking about the fine people and procedures that Captain Groothousen had left him. As the minutes became an hour, he talked of his experiences on the way to this job, and how many good jobs the folks coming out of the S-3 Viking community were getting. About the only thing missing was a good cigar and a snifter of brandy to go with it. But the U.S. Navy is "dry" and smoking is rapidly leaving our ships as an allowable vice. What stimulation Chuck Smith would find aboard the GW, he would have to find on his own. As the new mayor of almost six thousand people, he undoubtedly would over the next two years. As we rose, the chaplain came over the 1MC to announce the command to darken ship for the night and say a prayer. Heading up the ladders to my stateroom, I again was reminded why I love the Navy so much. Here were thousands of young men and women, going to sea to preserve the kinds of things I love America for. As I went to sleep, I felt the safety of knowing that good people were around me.

Monday, September 1st, 1997JTFEX 97-3-Day 15: There has been a news blackout by the Allied coalition forces, which would seem to indicate that the planned invasion of occupied Kartuna is imminent. Meanwhile, the Koronan government is calling for their forces to prevail in the coming "Maximum Battle," which will determine the fate of this region.

Almost two weeks earlier, Admiral Mullen had mentioned that Colonel Richard Natonski, the CO of the 24th MEU (SOC), was a "sneaky" kind of Marine. He proved it when he decided to invade Camp Lejeune before the sun went down. At 1600 (4 P.M.), the first elements of Battalion Landing Team (BLT) 3-6 began to hit the beaches and landing zones around the town of Temal (actually the communities around the New River inlet), and a battalion of the 82nd Airborne Division began to drop from the skies. I heard later that the Koronan troops (being played by several battalions of the 2nd Marine Division) had been caught getting ready to watch the opening game of Monday Night Football. The truth was that the colonel's bold move had stolen a march on them; and with the Koronan force already heavily depleted by air and missile strikes from the GW GW group, the 24th MEU (SOC) made rapid progress. group, the 24th MEU (SOC) made rapid progress.

Through it all, the round-the-clock flight schedule continued, although you could see the fatigue in the movements of the air crews and flight deck personnel. They had done their jobs well.

Tuesday, September 2nd, 1997JTFEX 97-3-Day 16: The Allied coalition forces landed yesterday near Temal, the capital of occupied Kartuna. Elements of the 24th MEU (SOC) and 82nd Airborne Division have seized a bridgehead, and are awaiting the arrival of follow-on forces. The Koronan forces are reportedly in retreat, headed back to their original borders. Other reports indicate that the exiled government of Kartuna will return to Temal sometime late today....

I awoke this last morning of the exercise to the sound of Joe Navritril knocking on my stateroom door. As I opened up, he informed me with a smile that the exercise would be terminated in a few hours. Since the reoc- cupation of Kartuna was essentially complete, he had already arranged seats for John and me on the midday COD flight back to NAS Norfolk. After packing, I headed to the wardroom for a quick breakfast. Around 1000 hours (10:00 A.M.), Captain Rutheford came up on the 1MC and addressed the ship. "The ENDEX [End of Exercise] time has been declared," he announced, "and we'll be home tomorrow. I am therefore ordering an immediate suspension of flight operations. I hope everyone can take a breather before we take the GW GW back to the carrier dock at Norfolk." back to the carrier dock at Norfolk."

All over the ship, you could feel a collective sigh as the tension of the exercise pa.s.sed.

During the next hour John and I paid our mess bills (yes, the Navy makes me pay to eat on their ships), bought a few patches and "zap" stickers from the squadron stores, and made our farewells. As noon approached, we headed up to the ATO, grabbed our float coats and cranial helmets, and waited for the word to move out to the flight deck. Soon after the command came, we marched up the stairs to the flight deck, where we had the opportunity to see one more impressive sight before the C-2A Greyhound taxied to the catapult. Now that the ENDEX time was now a matter of record, the ships of STANAFORLANT had requested to make a parade past the GW before they headed home to Europe.

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The USS South Carolina South Carolina (CGN-37) deploys on October 3rd, 1997. Part of the escort force a.s.signed to the (CGN-37) deploys on October 3rd, 1997. Part of the escort force a.s.signed to the George Washington George Washington battle group, the nuclear cruiser was on her final deployment. She was decommissioned when she returned. battle group, the nuclear cruiser was on her final deployment. She was decommissioned when she returned.

JOHN D. GRESHAM.

Soon Witte De With, Witte De With, Admiral Peter van der Graaf's flag flying on her halyard, came alongside. As the rest of the multinational force pa.s.sed in review, the crew chiefs buckled us into our seats and raised the cargo ramp. Once again, the familiar sounds of the COD aircraft filled our ears, and we prepared for the thrill of a catapult shot. Two seconds and more than a few heartbeats later, we were airborne, flying northwest toward NAS Norfolk. Our trip aboard the Admiral Peter van der Graaf's flag flying on her halyard, came alongside. As the rest of the multinational force pa.s.sed in review, the crew chiefs buckled us into our seats and raised the cargo ramp. Once again, the familiar sounds of the COD aircraft filled our ears, and we prepared for the thrill of a catapult shot. Two seconds and more than a few heartbeats later, we were airborne, flying northwest toward NAS Norfolk. Our trip aboard the GW GW was over. But for the personnel of the battle group, it was a new beginning. School was out and they were about to graduate to the job they had all sought. A trip to the other side of the world to support American interests overseas. was over. But for the personnel of the battle group, it was a new beginning. School was out and they were about to graduate to the job they had all sought. A trip to the other side of the world to support American interests overseas.

Deployment: The Acid Test In October 1997, John and I drove south one more time to say good-bye to the men and women who had been our shipmates the previous month, to walk the flight deck one more time, and see how ready the GW was for her six-month cruise. The first thing we noticed when we stepped aboard was the non-skid coating up on the "roof." During JTFEX 97-3, it had been worn to bare metal. Now it was factory fresh and ready to receive Captain Stufflebeem's airplanes. Down below, supplies were being loaded and personnel were bringing aboard the last of their personal items. Most of the crew would stay aboard that night. As the sun set over the James River, we returned to our hotel and asked for an early early wake-up call, so we could take part in a very moving ritual: the sailing of the GW battle group. wake-up call, so we could take part in a very moving ritual: the sailing of the GW battle group.

Friday, October 3rd, 1997 The gathering began before dawn, as the families and friends came down to the carrier dock at Naval Station Norfolk to see the GW GW off. For most, there was a quick trip to the McDonald's across the street for an Egg Mcm.u.f.fin and some coffee. Most of the crew had stayed aboard the night before, including Lieutenant Joe Navritril, who had said good-bye to his family in Maryland several days earlier. All the officers and men were in their white uniforms, looking distinctly cooler than they had four weeks earlier. The tropical heat of summer had given way to a pleasant fall in the Mid-Atlantic region, and this morning was cool and sweet. off. For most, there was a quick trip to the McDonald's across the street for an Egg Mcm.u.f.fin and some coffee. Most of the crew had stayed aboard the night before, including Lieutenant Joe Navritril, who had said good-bye to his family in Maryland several days earlier. All the officers and men were in their white uniforms, looking distinctly cooler than they had four weeks earlier. The tropical heat of summer had given way to a pleasant fall in the Mid-Atlantic region, and this morning was cool and sweet.

As a rose-colored sunrise began to appear over the eastern sky, the last of the preparations for sailing came to an end. Now it was time for a little public-relations work. Joe Navritril and several of his staff were herding television camera crews and newspaper reporters around the dock, shooting pictures of Captain Rutheford taking a ceremonial sword from a George Washington lookalike. Command Master Chief Kevin Lavin prowled the dock with Commander Smith, herding the last of the late arrivals aboard the ship. Both shook our hands good-bye, and headed aboard to get to their sailing stations. At the same time, the crowd of several hundred families and well-wishers began to hold up their signs of encouragement for their sailors on board the GW. GW.

What followed was a duplicate of the sailing a month earlier, with Captain Rutheford again at the helm. With an HH-60G helicopter overhead for security and guidance, Chuck Smith ordered the last lines brought over and the brows raised. At precisely 0800 hours (8 A.M.), a signal was given, the American flag was raised, and over a thousand sailors in their best whites manned the sides. This impressive sight was made even more so by the emotions of the people left behind on the dock-some sobbing, some stoically silent, some talking nervously.

As the tugs pushed the GW GW into the channel, the crowd began to move to various points around the bay to watch the carrier head out. As John and I walked up the dock to our cars, we stopped and chatted with a young woman wearing a cruise jacket that must have belonged to one of the sailors on board. She just sat there watching the ship and her man move into the channel, then walked with us back to the cars. Her Sailor was a member of the CVW-1 staff, and they were planning to meet in Europe for the holidays. As we parted, though, John and I had the terrible feeling that she might not get the chance. The affairs of the world were going their usual chaotic way. Already that morning, the into the channel, the crowd began to move to various points around the bay to watch the carrier head out. As John and I walked up the dock to our cars, we stopped and chatted with a young woman wearing a cruise jacket that must have belonged to one of the sailors on board. She just sat there watching the ship and her man move into the channel, then walked with us back to the cars. Her Sailor was a member of the CVW-1 staff, and they were planning to meet in Europe for the holidays. As we parted, though, John and I had the terrible feeling that she might not get the chance. The affairs of the world were going their usual chaotic way. Already that morning, the Nimitz Nimitz battle group had been ordered to the Persian Gulf, to show the flag in the face of renewed tension between Iraq and Iran. And the crisis that would bring the battle group had been ordered to the Persian Gulf, to show the flag in the face of renewed tension between Iraq and Iran. And the crisis that would bring the GW GW to the Gulf was only a month away. to the Gulf was only a month away.

Now, though, the GW began to move down the channel, followed at ten-minute intervals by the Normandy, Guam, South Carolina, Normandy, Guam, South Carolina, and and Seattle. Seattle. Again, at bases up and down the Atlantic coast, other ships of the battle group and ARG were sailing, planning to rendezvous off the Virginia capes the following day. CVW-1 flew aboard that afternoon, and the 24th MEU (SOC) was already loading down at Moorehead City, North Carolina. As I drove out of the Naval station several hours later, I pa.s.sed by the British aircraft carrier HMS Again, at bases up and down the Atlantic coast, other ships of the battle group and ARG were sailing, planning to rendezvous off the Virginia capes the following day. CVW-1 flew aboard that afternoon, and the 24th MEU (SOC) was already loading down at Moorehead City, North Carolina. As I drove out of the Naval station several hours later, I pa.s.sed by the British aircraft carrier HMS Invincible Invincible (R 05) and her battle group, which were making a port visit of their own. Ironically, these same ships would also wind up in the Persian Gulf several months later, along with the (R 05) and her battle group, which were making a port visit of their own. Ironically, these same ships would also wind up in the Persian Gulf several months later, along with the Nimitz Nimitz and and GW. GW. Before that, though, there would be some of the planned exercises and port visits that had been scheduled before Saddam's newest troublemaking. Before that, though, there would be some of the planned exercises and port visits that had been scheduled before Saddam's newest troublemaking.

The GW battle group and Guam Guam ARG took part in Operation Bright Star 97, the annual joint U.S./Egyptian maneuvers in the desert west of Cairo. However, by mid-November, the crisis over the UN weapons inspectors had broken, and the plans to split the battle group were already in the works. The ARG took part in Operation Bright Star 97, the annual joint U.S./Egyptian maneuvers in the desert west of Cairo. However, by mid-November, the crisis over the UN weapons inspectors had broken, and the plans to split the battle group were already in the works. The GW, Normandy, Carney, Annapolis, GW, Normandy, Carney, Annapolis, and and Seattle Seattle would make a run through the Suez Ca.n.a.l and Red Sea, following a short port visit to Haifa, Israel. The rest of the group would stay in the Mediterranean with the would make a run through the Suez Ca.n.a.l and Red Sea, following a short port visit to Haifa, Israel. The rest of the group would stay in the Mediterranean with the Guam Guam ARG to support operations in Bosnia, and generally "show the flag." ARG to support operations in Bosnia, and generally "show the flag."79 On the night of November 20th/21st, the GW and her escorts went to GQ, ran through the Straits of Hormuz, and joined the On the night of November 20th/21st, the GW and her escorts went to GQ, ran through the Straits of Hormuz, and joined the Nimitz Nimitz group in flying patrols over Southern Iraq. The men and women of the battle group never did get their Christmas in Europe. group in flying patrols over Southern Iraq. The men and women of the battle group never did get their Christmas in Europe.

There was a personal cost to the GW GW and CVW-1 during these operations. On February 6th, two VMFA-251 F/A-18's collided while on patrol. While both pilots ejected (albeit with injuries), Lieutenant Colonel Henry Van Winkle, the XO of VMFA-251, was killed. His would be the only life lost in the crisis with Iraq. The and CVW-1 during these operations. On February 6th, two VMFA-251 F/A-18's collided while on patrol. While both pilots ejected (albeit with injuries), Lieutenant Colonel Henry Van Winkle, the XO of VMFA-251, was killed. His would be the only life lost in the crisis with Iraq. The GW GW and and Nimitz Nimitz continued their vigil, until relieved by the continued their vigil, until relieved by the Stennis Stennis and and Independence Independence groups. The groups. The Seattle Seattle was left behind for a time because of the need for extra logistics ships in the Persian Gulf. Moving back through the Suez Ca.n.a.l, the was left behind for a time because of the need for extra logistics ships in the Persian Gulf. Moving back through the Suez Ca.n.a.l, the GW GW rendezvoused with the rendezvoused with the Guam Guam ARG and her escorts, and headed home. ARG and her escorts, and headed home.

They arrived home several weeks later, and the eighteen-month cycle began anew. Along the way, more changes took place to the people that we had met. Captain Stufflebeem was relieved in late 1997, and became an aide to Admiral Jay Johnson in the CNO's office. Captain Groothousen took over command of the Shreveport Shreveport about the same time, and continues on the path to command his own carrier someday. Though the various crises continue, the cycle never stops. The battle groups work up, go out, and come back. Let us hope that they continue that way. about the same time, and continues on the path to command his own carrier someday. Though the various crises continue, the cycle never stops. The battle groups work up, go out, and come back. Let us hope that they continue that way.

Aircraft Carriers in the Real World As throughout this series, I've reserved a bit of s.p.a.ce at the end of this volume to spin a yarn, to try to tell the story of what I think future carrier operations might be like. Though the following story is set some two decades in the future, it is based upon what 1 believe to be solid plans and ideas. I hope that it also says something about the evolution of our world, and how democratic nations will function in the 21st century.

Birth of a Nation: Sri Lanka, 2016 In the terrible summer of 2015, the great powers of the world-the United States, Russia, and China-all knew that the Indo-Pakistani War was likely to go nuclear at some point. They also knew that there was absolutely nothing that anyone could do to prevent it. Yet when India and Pakistan went to war over a series of escalating border clashes in Kashmir, the suddenness and magnitude of the catastrophe took everyone by surprise.

The roots of the conflict lay in over sixty years of deepening hatred. Border raids and warfare, terrorist actions, fighting on every level had been a part of the landscape since Pakistan's separation from India after the end of British colonial rule. By the time fighting escalated in Kashmir in 2015, the more fanatical elements of the Indian military and political leadership saw no way to resolve the conflict using conventional means. Instead, they chose a do-or-die course. India fired eight nuclear-tipped ballistic missiles at Karachi and Islamabad, the two most important cities in Pakistan. The results were terrible, horrifying beyond the most exaggerated expectations of the almost forgotten Cold War back in the 20th century.

Both Karachi and Islamabad were bracketed by a quartet of five-hundred-kiloton warheads, set to airburst over the cities for maximum damage to buildings and people. In a matter of minutes, both cities were destroyed, with firestorms roaring outward from the explosion epicenters at over sixty miles an hour. Over twenty-two million Pakistanis were killed instantly. Retaliation was automatic and immediate. Though somewhat more limited in their a.r.s.enal than the Indians, the Pakistani armed forces also had missiles with nuclear warheads, and they used them. They fired a dozen missiles at India, each with its own four-hundred-kiloton warhead. The targets they selected were Bombay, New Delhi, and Bangalore-the high-technology center of India's booming military-industrial complex. Over fifty-two million Indians died in the initial explosions. As prevailing winds carried lethal clouds of fallout over Southeast Asia, an outraged world demanded an immediate cease-fire. The demand was enforced by a unanimous United Nations Security Council resolution. Within days, that demand was backed up by the rapidly growing military presence of its members in the Indian Ocean.

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A map of the activities in the Indian theater of operations in 2015 and 2016.

JACK RYAN ENTERPRISES, LTD., BY LAURA DENINNO.

Pakistan's provisional military regime immediately agreed to the cease-fire. They had seen that country's government and fully ten percent of its population snuffed out, and had their hands full dealing with the aftermath of the Indian attack. India's government, evacuated to a command center tunneled deep beneath a Himalayan mountain hours before its capital was vaporized, grudgingly complied. Nevertheless, they continued to denounce "external interference in our natural and inevitable leadership of South Asia." It was clear to everyone in the world that the situation was unstable, likely to explode again at any time. By the time diplomats had ironed out the new cease-fire line in late 2015, the other nations in the region were beginning to consider their options.

Ever since the enforced part.i.tion of England's imperial "Jewel of the Crown" led to the creation of India and Pakistan in 1947, conflict between the two newly independent nations had never died down. Other nations bordering the Indian Ocean took natural sides, with Muslim states supporting Pakistan, and non-Muslim ones supporting India. Yet after the nuclear holocaust that threatened not only India and Pakistan, but also the entire region, and possibly the world, the states in the region began to distance themselves politically from the two nuclear rogue nations.

Thus the small island nation of Sri Lanka, which had been under virtual Indian control since the part.i.tion, took initial steps to remove itself from India's sphere of influence. The reaction of India to Sri Lanka's attempt to declare independence was quick and fierce. India was determined to retain control of the island nation; and might even have managed to do so if the rivalry of the island's Sinhalese and Tamil populations had followed its traditional course. The Indian government had learned the art of "divide and rule" all too well during two centuries of English domination. After independence was declared in India, the ruling cla.s.s put those lessons to good use, playing the divergent interests and goals of many minority groups off against each other in order to keep a firm grip on national affairs. But the current disaster had changed the Indian subcontinent forever. And in the days that followed, India would discover that the old rules had changed.

Aboard the Command Ship USS Mount McKinley Mount McKinley (LCC-22), Two Hundred Fifty Nautical Miles (NM) Northeast of Diego Garcia, February 4th, 2016 (LCC-22), Two Hundred Fifty Nautical Miles (NM) Northeast of Diego Garcia, February 4th, 2016 Vice Admiral Matt Connelly was always happiest when he was at sea. His current post as commander of the U.S. Fifth Fleet, and the naval component commander (NAVCENT) for the U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM), had kept him out at sea for months now, overseeing a mission vital to his county and the world. He was in charge of the Navy's ships and aircraft in a place that was as geographically far as you could go from the miserable climate and politics of Washington, D.C. Even better, he was a real real fleet commander, in charge of fleet commander, in charge of real real personnel, ships, and aircraft doing a critical mission in an area of great tension. Best of all, his ships and aircraft were the newest and best in the fleet. Given where he was and what he was doing, nothing less was acceptable. India was poised on the brink of another war, possibly even another nuclear war. His success or failure in achieving his mission might determine the fate of this part of the world. personnel, ships, and aircraft doing a critical mission in an area of great tension. Best of all, his ships and aircraft were the newest and best in the fleet. Given where he was and what he was doing, nothing less was acceptable. India was poised on the brink of another war, possibly even another nuclear war. His success or failure in achieving his mission might determine the fate of this part of the world.

The ship he was aboard, the Mount McKinley Mount McKinley (LCC-22), was a purpose-built command ship, based upon the design of the (LCC-22), was a purpose-built command ship, based upon the design of the San Antonio San Antonio (LPD-17) amphibious landing dockship. Even though it was built as a political concession to keep several shipyards busy following the completion of twelve (LPD-17) amphibious landing dockship. Even though it was built as a political concession to keep several shipyards busy following the completion of twelve San Antonio- San Antonio-cla.s.s ships, the Mount McKinley Mount McKinley was one of the finest fleet flagships ever built. Comfortable and fast, it was a marvelous balance of the complex technologies that make up specialized warships. Other wonderful ships were part of the Fifth Fleet, which Connelly was using to quarantine the Indian subcontinent while the United Nations decided what to do with the Indians and Pakistanis. was one of the finest fleet flagships ever built. Comfortable and fast, it was a marvelous balance of the complex technologies that make up specialized warships. Other wonderful ships were part of the Fifth Fleet, which Connelly was using to quarantine the Indian subcontinent while the United Nations decided what to do with the Indians and Pakistanis.

Several hundred miles to the east was the new carrier USS Colin Colin Powell (CVN-79), another proud ship with a notable namesake. The second of the new cla.s.s of carriers that was then being constructed, she carried an air wing with ten of the new F-25B joint strike fighters backed up by thirty F-18E and F-18F Super Hornet strike aircraft. These jets were armed with a new family of precision standoff weapons-weapons with amazing new warhead effects. Powell (CVN-79), another proud ship with a notable namesake. The second of the new cla.s.s of carriers that was then being constructed, she carried an air wing with ten of the new F-25B joint strike fighters backed up by thirty F-18E and F-18F Super Hornet strike aircraft. These jets were armed with a new family of precision standoff weapons-weapons with amazing new warhead effects.

Also aboard the Colin Powell Colin Powell were several new variants of the V-22 Osprey, including the SV-22 ASW/sea-control version, the EV-22 airborne-early-warning /surface-surveillance variant, and the KUV-22 tanker/utility model. Though the were several new variants of the V-22 Osprey, including the SV-22 ASW/sea-control version, the EV-22 airborne-early-warning /surface-surveillance variant, and the KUV-22 tanker/utility model. Though the Colin Powell Colin Powell was only one ship carrying a few dozen aircraft, it was a formidable weapon in the current crisis. The aircraft launched from its deck could maneuver anywhere in the region and hit anything that the National Command Authorities cared to target. was only one ship carrying a few dozen aircraft, it was a formidable weapon in the current crisis. The aircraft launched from its deck could maneuver anywhere in the region and hit anything that the National Command Authorities cared to target.

Connelly also had an MEU (SOC) aboard the three ships of his amphibious ready group (ARG), as well as a dozen highly capable escort vessels. Eight of these were Aegis-capable cruisers and destroyers, while the rest were new SC-21-cla.s.s land-attack and ASW destroyers to protect the underway replenishment train ships. Finally, he had four nuclear submarines prowling about, just in case the Indians decided to get aggressive with their fleet of diesel boats.

A few Allied ships would rotate in and out of what he was calling Task Force 58 (named in honor of Admiral Raymond Spruance's famous World War II force), but by and large this was an American force, protecting American interests and values. Not that Connelly didn't enjoy working with coalition allies. Over the years he had become known as a master of naval diplomacy. But like any commander, he felt more comfortable with a force whose personnel and capabilities he knew intimately, whose commanders spoke his language without the need to resort to translators, and whose ships and men did what he told them to do without him needing to say "please" first.

His mission was essential, even if it could sometimes grow rather monotonous. He had learned the quarantine game back in 1990 during Desert Shield, and knew how to make it work. Backed up by patrol aircraft out of Diego Garcia and satellite surveillance from the U.S. s.p.a.ce Command (USs.p.a.cECOM) warfighting center at Colorado Springs, Colorado, Task Force 58 had the whole region under tight control. His force would keep it that way as long as the equipment, crews, and food held out. He was an American naval officer doing what he had spent a life training to do. Here in the Mount McKinley' Mount McKinley's Tactical Flag Command Center (TFCC), with the computerized equipment around him constantly monitoring every creature and machine larger than a gnat within the theater of operations, Connelly was exactly where he wanted to be. As he cleared his head for the morning video tele-conference with his ship and air unit commanders, he took a deep breath, drank some coffee, and reviewed the computer screen in front of him. So far, it had been a quiet morning. It was his job to be sure that it stayed that way.

University of New Mexico High Energy Physics Laboratory, February 5th, 2016 Jill Jacobs was a lovely blonde. She could have been a college cheer-leader in Texas, or possibly a starlet in Beverly Hills. She turned heads wherever she went; she had the kind of looks that made most people a.s.sume she got by on body, not brains. Most people would be wrong. She was a well-regarded doctoral candidate in high-energy physical chemistry, exploring rare earth properties for her thesis. It was slow, painstaking work, typically done at night when the lab s.p.a.ces were open and she could mix and test the bizarre concoctions that were the basis of her ideas about superconductivity. Tonight's work was typical of what she had been doing for almost six months-another apparent failure. It had not generated any of the improvements that her computer models had projected two years earlier. Oh well, Oh well, she thought, she thought, at least this batch didn't explode. at least this batch didn't explode.

She stared then at the next batch on her list-samples of a hybrid copper-platinum-scandium mix that represented a sort of cul-de-sac in her projected family of superconducting materials. Always a low-probability set within her computer-modeled group, she had mixed it only because she had the time and materials at hand, and needed to try this particular formula out sometime. sometime. She took the samples, formed into lengths of wire, to her test bench to measure their resistance and conductivity properties. As she stepped up to the bench, she was tired to her bones. It was discouraging to work so hard without noticeable progress. She took the samples, formed into lengths of wire, to her test bench to measure their resistance and conductivity properties. As she stepped up to the bench, she was tired to her bones. It was discouraging to work so hard without noticeable progress.

She knew the world needed metals that were superconductive at average atmospheric temperatures, but wondered if she would ever find them. If she didn't find them soon, would she ever make a difference with this work? Most likely, she would wind up in a corporate lab somewhere working on improved alloys for jet engines or household appliances. It was the first time she'd even allowed herself to visualize failure, and it surprised her. Maybe the sleep she was losing every night to acquire the lab time for her tests was taking its toll. Or maybe it was the news in the paper every morning. That was enough to depress anyone. But something wasn't right, she decided. She was normally an optimist with a rose-tinted world-view. She needed a break. Perhaps after she finished this test, she would take off for the weekend, and drive to Taos for an overnight visit to a spa, or up into the mountains for a camping trip. If she could get away for a little, maybe she'd feel human again. Maybe.

Turning her attention back to the sample in the test stand, she began to run current through it at a variety of temperatures. At first the readings did not seem out of the ordinary. At -200 Centigrade, the sample had exactly the superconducting properties that one would expect it to have. But as the sample came up past 0 C, it finally hit her what was wrong, or more properly, what was right. right. The sample had stabilized its conductive properties at 98% of their optimum, and held them. She continued to ramp the temperatures up, and the material held up until it finally melted at about 300 C. The sample had stabilized its conductive properties at 98% of their optimum, and held them. She continued to ramp the temperatures up, and the material held up until it finally melted at about 300 C.

She'd done it.

If her eyes and her machinery weren't lying to her, she'd found her material. Stunned, she cleaned up the chamber, recalibrated her equipment, loaded an identical sample into the test rig, and tried it again. Identical result.

"I've really done it," she whispered to herself.

As she fumbled in her purse for her mobile phone to call her faculty adviser, her brain was spinning like a pair of dice in Vegas. Her doctoral thesis was a done deal now. She could finally finish her degree and get on with her life in the real real world. She'd realized her goals in her current research and could move on to new frontiers. But even as she called her adviser to share the news, she had no idea how crucial her new discovery would be to the rest of the world. She'd just created a practical high-temperature superconductor, and in so doing was about to change the face of civilization. "Power" and "wealth" would never be the same again. world. She'd realized her goals in her current research and could move on to new frontiers. But even as she called her adviser to share the news, she had no idea how crucial her new discovery would be to the rest of the world. She'd just created a practical high-temperature superconductor, and in so doing was about to change the face of civilization. "Power" and "wealth" would never be the same again.

Headquarters of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, Near Mankulam, Sri Lanka, February 7th, 2016 Arjuan Ranatunga sat in the place he called his office and contemplated how to change the course of his nation's history. Grand thoughts for a man whose major pa.s.sion had only recently been playing cricket. But the continued suppression of the Tamil sect by the Indians on the mainland and the Sinhalese on the southern half of Sri Lanka had no end in sight. This repression had drawn him to the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE), more commonly referred to as the "Tamil Tigers." The Tigers had always been a part of his country's political landscape-for as long as he could remember, anyway. He was a revolutionary soldier in a battle that had been going on for longer than he had been alive. Now, at age thirty-seven-an age when he should have been coaching a regional cricket team-he had become the leader of the LTTE. When events in his country had spun out of control, he had been unable to turn his back on the needs of the people. The final straw that had made his current occupation inevitable was the death of the previous Tiger leader, his brother Sanath. Sanath had been killed by an Indian helicopter gunship a few weeks earlier.

He was sitting in a tent surrounded by jungle near Route A9. His "desk" was a folding table and his office chair a ration crate. In front of him were a laptop data slate and his encrypted satellite cellular phone. Despite the spartan surroundings, he had the power to control considerable military clout from the humble resources at his fingertips. He could dispatch forces ranging from patrol boats to special a.s.sa.s.sination teams with just a few taps on his keyboard, or a simple phone call.

And yet, force wasn't doing the job. Decades of active resistance against the Indians and Sinhalese had utterly failed to give the Tamil Tigers the homeland they dreamed of. Already today, he had been advised by his regional commanders to begin a terror campaign in the south to avenge his brother's death. Yet revenge was not his objective today. He knew better than anyone did how futile it was. Nothing would bring back his brother. Instead of planning and setting into motion a campaign of terror, he'd chosen to spend the morning considering his options, and the options of the organization and his people. Though well financed by the Tamil supporters on the mainland, he could see no combination of military action that would ever result in Tamil domination of Sri Lanka. Even if they won the b.l.o.o.d.y civil war that would be necessary, they would inevitably lose the peace that would follow. The Sinhalese would start their own liberation movement, and the cycle would start again.

What he needed was something different. A new kind of weapon-some new power that would break the rules, that would give his cause an edge that would count for something in a world where large-scale violence was relatively rare, but where the warfare of commerce, corporations, and economics was everywhere. A few days earlier, it came to him that an answer might lie in the rich earth at his feet. Sri Lanka was his home, the mother of his people. Perhaps that mother might provide the milk that would make them powerful enough to win, powerful enough to keep the Indians from crushing them, powerful enough to encourage a superpower like America to support them, as they had Kuwait back in 1990.

Not an easy task.

To catch the attention of the United States and focus it on the sufferings of a handful of people on the far side of the globe would take no less than magic. Luckily, he had recently hired a wizard.

West of the Kokkita Bird Sanctuary, Sri Lanka, March 9th, 2016 The foothills of north Sri Lanka are unique in the South Asian region. While most of the Indian subcontinent is among the newest terrain on the globe, these foothills are some of the oldest. Old things are likely to be valuable, and that was why the geologist was here. The contract to survey this area had been both lucrative and timely. Short of money for his children's school tuition, he had jumped at the chance when the Internet inquiries about his availability had reached his home in Perth, Australia. He had immediately said yes.

Before he'd even started packing, he had commissioned a series of one-meter-resolution multi-spectral satellite photographs from the French SPOT Corporation. Running the images through his desktop workstation in Perth, he had found several promising areas to explore. The commission had been explicit. Find rare and valuable mineral deposits, report them to the commissioning agent, accept the fee, and then deny that he had ever visited Sri Lanka. As an enticement to silence, the agent had promised him a tenth-of-a-percent royalty on anything that he found that was developed during his lifetime. With an offer like that, he had gone to extraordinary efforts for his employers. For almost a month, he had run the tires off of his hired Land Rover, looking for some exceptional mineral deposit to report back to them.

Now he was working the last area on his list of possibilities. So far he had found some promising discoveries, but nothing spectacular. A few days earlier, he spotted what might be a major vein of platinum in the side of a mountain, and he had taken several core samples around it to a.s.say when he got home. Today, his chemical "sniffer" was finding samples of rare earth metals; and there seemed to be particularly large concentrations of scandium. What struck him was the purity of the sample he'd collected here-it exceeded anything he had ever heard reported.

In three days, he would return to Perth and start on his a.n.a.lysis and report. He hoped, for the sake of his future royalties, that the platinum find would pan out. n.o.body had ever found a significant use for scandium.

National Press Club, Washington, D.C., April 1st, 2016 April Fool's Day is normally a day for pranks and lies, but this day would go down in the history books as a day when new truths were told. Jill Jacobs and the head of the Sandia Labs stood before a packed house of disbelieving science reporters to announce a breakthrough in superconductor technology, which would allow for the development of electric motors thousands of times more compact, powerful, and efficient than any made previously. A patent for the metal formulation had been applied for, and it would be available for commercial license immediately.

Chuckles broke out among the reporters, and there were cracks about cold fusion-until Jill came to the podium and asked everyone to go down to the street below, where she promised to demonstrate the material. Moments later, the a.s.sembled press personnel found what appeared to be a completely normal pair of buses painted with the logos of the University of New Mexico and Sandia Labs. After the reporters were all aboard and seated, Jill stepped onto the first bus, the Sandia chief onto the one behind it. A moment later, the buses accelerated smartly away from the curb, silent as ghosts, the typical diesel roar completely absent. In fact, the street noise outside was deafening by comparison. The stunned reporters sat in silence as they rode to the base of the Washington Monument several miles away.

After everyone got out of the buses and filed onto the sidewalk, Jill and the Sandia Labs chief opened the engine compartments to show the press corps a single car battery running an electric motor the size of a beer keg. All told, they informed the reporters, the two buses had consumed less than an amp-hour of power, less than one percent of what was stored in each battery. Even better, the motors, which had been designed from existing models, had cost less than a thousand dollars to build. Most of the reporters dragged out their cell phones then and there to report in, rather than waiting for the buses to return them to the Press Club building.

Headquarters of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam, Near Anuradhapura, Sri Lanka, April 3rd, 2016 Today Arjuan Ranatunga's headquarters were located in a gamekeeper's hut, and his table and chair were actually comfortable. Moreover, the news on the data slate before him was like a gift from G.o.d himself. For the better part of a week, he'd had the mineral report he'd commissioned, but until now, it had seemed disappointing. It had promised nothing like the riches he had hoped for. But overnight, the news from America had turned the economy of the world upside down. Everyone had gone superconductor-crazy. Oil prices had taken a precipitous drop, and the prices for platinum and scandium had jumped off of the charts. This was hardly surprising. The world's known reserves of scandium could be measured in just a few tons. These would supply a bare handful of the proposed applications for the new superconducting metal formula.

He did not need to be a financial genius to figure out that what had been found in the foothills to the east could make Sri Lanka the superconductor capital of the world. The problem was what India would do when they found out what was sitting in the foothills of Sri Lanka. Once they knew what was there, they would crush both the Tamils and Sinhalese faster than they had nuked the Pakistanis. Even worse, the rest of the world would probably not care, if what he had seen over the Internet on the various news service web pages could be believed. As long as the resource was developed, it didn't matter who was offering it. He had to act quickly if he were to save his people and-ironically-their enemies, the Sinhalese. Taking a deep breath, he tapped out an E-mail message to his Sinhalese counterpart in Colombo.

Indian National Command Bunker, Near the Himalayan Town of Puranpur, April 4th, 2016 Roshan Gandhi was having another in a long string of bad days here in his bunker. The Indian Prime Minister had not seen a ray of sunshine for weeks, and was beginning to wonder if he would ever see sun again. Since the day four months ago when he had authorized the firing of the nuclear-tipped missiles into Pakistan, his fortunes and those of his country had been spiraling out of his control.

Like so many other Indian politicians who shared his name, Gandhi was in no way related to the great man who had led India to independence six decades earlier. It had never seemed to worry the Indian people that the name Gandhi had helped a string of politicians gain power in India over the years. Still, his family did share a political connection with him. Roshan's grand-father had been a follower of the great Gandhi's, and had adopted the name after the a.s.sa.s.sination in the late 1940s.

The current Gandhi had been a popular provincial governor before he ran for and won his present office. Hed become the political leader of his party, and was then elected to national office because he was an honest man. He'd offered a pleasant contrast to the scandal and graft of the previous administration. Unfortunately (tragically, as it transpired), during all the discussions and a.n.a.lyses of what he was not, n.o.body had ever thought to ask what kind of leader Roshan would be. It would have been an illuminating question. As Roshan himself was the first to admit, he was a better follower than leader. And, honest man that he was, he'd have admitted that to the press. But no one thought to ask the question. From his first day as Prime Minister of India, with a vast majority in Parliament, Roshan Gandhi had been in over his head.

In the early days of his administration, his Defense Minister had badgered him into ordering a nuclear war with Pakistan. Even after the war was unleashed so catastrophically, the man was still badgering him for more. Roshan wasn't happy about the way matters stood, either for him or for his country. Gandhi was aware of the problems his government's actions had caused. How could he not be, even insulated here in the mountain fortress? There were tens of millions of Indians dead. Even four months after it was over, more were dying every day from the lasting effects of the nuclear exchange with Pakistan. Prevailing winds had swept the fallout to the east, making whole swathes of the land uninhabitable. Uncontaminated water was in critically short supply throughout the country. Plague and famine were rampant. Existing food stores, the crops in the fields, dairy products-all were contaminated by radioactive waste.

Unrest was everywhere in India, in a thousand villages and towns. Over the war, over the lack of food and water, over the destruction of the infrastructure, even over the UN quarantine. Mobs were forming, demanding action. Military units were suppressing the demonstrators and rioters, using deadly force if necessary. Roshan had agreed to that. It was a bad choice, but the only one that might allow India to survive as a nation.

But Roshan's current problem was not centered on India's ma.s.sive domestic difficulties. Just at the moment, he was worrying about what would happen if any of India's neighbors became too independent. Both Bangladesh and Sri Lanka had been showing signs of slipping away from India's influence. India was not really a "melting pot" like the United States, but a huge patchwork quilt composed of many thousands of distinct language and ethnic groups. Held together now only by the iron force of the Indian military, India might fragment into a hundred little kingdoms and regions-unless Roshan could make the center hold. In Roshan's opinion, a crucial stage in this process would be getting the trade and imports embargo imposed by the UN dropped. Roshan's people were starving, dying of thirst, rotting away from radiation sickness, and succ.u.mbing to a long list of ordinary diseases that could be controlled with proper medications.

Roshan wanted the means to repair the damage he'd done. He needed the basics of life-food, water, medical supplies. What the Defense Minister needed-ammunition-he unfortunately had in abundance. Maybe they could use it to buy more time. Right now, India had none. What Roshan really really needed was a solution to the problems he himself had created by authorizing the launch of nuclear missiles against Pakistan. Such a solution was even less likely to materialize. needed was a solution to the problems he himself had created by authorizing the launch of nuclear missiles against Pakistan. Such a solution was even less likely to materialize.

A Private Plantation near Colombo, Sri Lanka, April 5th, 2016 The plantation was a hallowed place in Sri Lankan history. It was the former home of a celebrated scientist and science-fiction author who had spent his later years tapping out novels on a computer in the study, and then uploading them to his New York publisher via a personal satellite uplink in the courtyard. A literary shrine for tourists, it was closed today, ostensibly for cleaning and maintenance. Venkatesh Prasad, the Sinhalese Prime Minister, had come here in response to an E-mail he'd received the day before from his counterpart in the LTTE. The unofficial cease-fire between the government and the Tamil Tigers notwithstanding, Prasad was extremely suspicious of this meeting.

But Prasad's suspicion rapidly gave way to astonishment when, a few minutes later, Arjuan Ranatunga arrived, accompanied only by a driver for his Land Rover. Prasad had spent a lifetime fighting the LTTE to preserve Sinhalese control of Sri Lanka. Now he was about to sit down for a private talk with his sworn enemy. About what? He had no idea. Maybe Arjuan would suggest that they settle everything in a nice, civilized way, perhaps with a cricket match. That thought made him smile thinly.

As the two men sat together in the former author's study, the LTTE leader laid out an astonishing offer before Prasad. Arjuan proposed that they just stop fighting. Stop fighting, put down their weapons, and share the most valuable mineral strike in the history of mankind. It was a peace proposal so remarkably simple it was impossible to refuse. Both men could see clearly what would happen if they could just cooperate. Their little island would become the 21st century equivalent of OPEC, with all the wealth, power, advantages, and liabilities that would naturally ensue. They agreed on the need for support from outside, particularly from the Americans. Most of all, they decided that the existence and location of the platinum and scandium would remain secret, until the security of their new nation was a.s.sured. Otherwise, that knowledge would bring genocide on both their peoples.

United Nations Security Council Chamber, New York, New York, May 2nd, 2016 The two Sri Lankan leaders had decided to let the British amba.s.sador, rather than the Americans, convey their proposal to the Security Council. The old colonial ties with the British Empire would lend credibility to the proposal, and the American second would almost certainly a.s.sure its pa.s.sage. By nightfall, the following resolution had been pa.s.sed, with only two abstentions: RESOLUTION 2209The Security Council, Recognizing the desire of the combined peoples of the Island Nation of Sri Lanka for self-determination, Alarmed by the recent actions by India in the suppression of their own ethnic minorities, as well as the illegal use of weapons of ma.s.s destruction against all known international laws and treaties, Determining Determining that there exists a breach of international peace as a result by the Government of India, that there exists a breach of internationa