He was well aware that, just a hundred nautical miles off the coast, the Confederate carrier group was sitting by. The Clinton Task Group carried as much firepower as an entire division of the PLAAF, and he had the codes and the authority now to call on them.

It is truly amazing how the world can change in just a single rotation.

Whether he would call on them was another matter, and it would depend heavily on just how bad things became. Clearing a Confederate strike group into Block airspace would be akin to political suicide, which was something he had no interest in unless not doing so was actual suicide.

He looked up, noting that the Chairman was still raving but was now beginning to wind down.

He stood, silencing the people’s Chairman, and saluted.

“I will immediately enact your orders, Chairman.”

The man across the desk nodded slowly. “See that you do, General.”

Kong picked up his computer and saluted again before he left the office, nodding to the two men he’d handpicked to guard their leader.

NACS WILLIAM J. CLINTON

THE CLINTON WAS a Ford Class aircraft carrier, one of the last of her kind to ever be built, in all probability. She and her sisters ruled the oceans, as had their predecessors for over a hundred years before. Their mastery of the sea and air had only been challenged once in all that time, just under two decades ago.

In that time, seven of the Clinton’s sister ships had gone down in under six months with every one of their escorts. It had been a dark time for the Navy, then the United States Navy, a time when the newly formed Block military ruled the skies.

That made their current assignment all the more ironic.

“Latest intel from Beijing, sir.”

Admiral Corner nodded, accepting the delivery and sending it directly to his tactical board. The plate lit up, showing icons across the map of the city. “CRO get their birds online?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well that’s a bright spot in a dark fucking day,” Corner said, lips curling up as he looked over the intel. “Jesus, they landed a lot of those bastards in Beijing.”

“Almost a thousand count, as of last numbers, Admiral.”

Corner shook his head slowly as he looked over the angry red icons listed all across the city view. The Block was in deep shit—he could see that without half trying—but they were being about as prideful about it as could be expected. He wasn’t surprised. Hell, he almost didn’t blame them. Honestly, he doubted that anyone in the Confederation would be any more eager to call in an air strike from a Block task force.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t a stupid ass thing to do, ignoring all your available assets, especially when the brief on the aliens was as bad as it was.