Air defense radar picked them up as they flew over Zhejiang, prodded them for their mission and authorization.

They pushed even harder over Fujian, in the paranoid Air Defense space across the strait from Taiwan, where everyone drilled, and drilled again incessantly.

“Classified Mission, authorized by General Zhangshun Wang, 16th Regiment PLAAF, Dachang,” their pilot insisted again and again.

“We have no contact with Dachang!” the air defense controller replied.

The humans were isolated, confused. They were frightened.

Tao coached the pilot.

“Everyone is cut off. Now stop wasting my time so we can fix that.”

And then he refused to say any more.

Fujian let them through.

Their two strike planes refueled in mid-air just short of Guangzhou, sucking off the fueling hoses the longer range tanker dangled behind it, while Air Defense controllers grilled them again and again.

“You can see our flight numbers,” the pilot replied. “You can see we’re with 16th Regiment out of Dachang. Everything else is classified. Take it up with your commander.”

Thirty minutes later, they were coming in hot – vectoring thrust downward as they hovered over the lawn of a beach-side mansion on Hainan Island, the side of the plane opening, brothers jumping out on fast ropes – as civilian air traffic control screamed at them.

Wu Jiabao paced nervously.

Around him, half a dozen of his men had weapons out and loaded. More were upstairs, in the outer parts of the house, in sniping positions.

Not enough. They needed reinforcements. Needed them badly.

He’d woken to the video. Woken to find out that his charge, his prisoner, was suddenly famous again, was suddenly being put forward as some sort of heroic challenger to the Prime Minister.

He looked over at the couch. The former Minister of Science and Technology, Sun Liu, sat there, a prisoner in his own home, his wife and three children next to him. He’d barely said a word. None of them had. They just sat there, fully dressed, staring at the paintings on the walls.

Wu Jiabao had taken away all of their devices as soon as he’d seen the video, as soon as he’d understood the scope of what was happening. Everyone? Everywhere?

Best that Sun Liu not know what was going on.

Best that he not get any heroic ideas.

Get the family. Drag them all down here into the most secure room in the house. As decadent a security room as he’d ever seen, furnished with a bar and a giant entertainment set and a suite of bedrooms.

Fucking asshole politicians.

Goddammit. What was going on in the world? Why were his communications down?

He’d done the best he could with civilian comms, sent messages and calls to people he knew the personal addresses of, demanding backup.

His radio crackled. That still worked, at least.

“VTOL troop carriers, Lieutenant. Two of them. Coming in fast.”

Wu Jiabao tensed. Friend or foe? Reinforcements or assailants?