Point of Contact

The sonar operator on duty this morning had ears like a vampire bat, but Commander Symonds had another tactical advantage today. The Los Angeles—class fast-attack submarine, USS Asheville, had successfully deployed an autonomous, torpedo-shaped underwater surveillance drone fitted with an array of sensors, including video cameras. The stealth drone had successfully tracked the Gorae from its dock at Sinpo to its current location. The Gorae was believed to be the first and only ballistic missile — capable submarine in the DPRK fleet. Incredibly, the Asheville’s drone was providing a live video feed of the diesel-powered sub and the images were piped directly into the Benfold’s CIC. This was a first for the Navy — eyes-on surveillance of a North Korean SLBM launch in action. Naval intelligence would feed on this data for years.

Little was known about the indigenously built Gorae

, but it bore a striking resemblance to Soviet-era boats of a similar type and size. It was believed to have the capacity to launch only one SLBM at a time — the KN-11, aka Pukkuksong-1. It had successfully done so just a few months earlier after a number of failed attempts on sea-based barges. Today it was stationed only a mile offshore from the naval base at Sinpo, submerged in just fifty feet of water — an easy target for the drone’s cameras.

The Pukkuksong-1 had an estimated range of just over 333 miles, posing no threat to the United States. In comparison, America’s Trident II SLBM had a range of more than 4,000 miles. The DPRK land-based systems were more potent. The Taepodong-3 had an estimated range of 8,000 miles.

Today’s launch, no doubt, was to confirm the Gorae’s capability, but equally important, it was meant to send a signal to the United States and its regional allies that the DPRK was now in the submarine-launched ballistic missile club. It would take several more years for the North Koreans to build enough SLBMs to alter the regional balance of power. But when the North Koreans mounted a nuclear warhead on the Pukkuksong-1, the strategic situation in Asia would shift forever. According to the most recent DIA and ONI estimates, that was still several years away.

“She’s launched!” the executive shouted in Symonds’s headset.

The commander knew the first stage of the missile’s flight out of the launch tube and into the water was a cold launch. Instead of firing the missile’s engine — and risking a catastrophic explosion that could destroy the submarine — the missile was expelled from its tube by a separate noncombustible gas generator, like a spitball through a straw. A few seconds after the missile safely cleared the surface, its first-stage engine would ignite.

“I’ve got it.” Symonds watched the missile’s growing smoke trail climb into the dull gray sky. Several seconds passed. She handed her binoculars to a nearby sailor. The missile was moving too fast to track through the glasses. It was easier to trace the smoke trail with her naked eye.

“Mach One achieved,” her executive said. “Vehicle attitude and flight path are as expected.”

Symonds’s head bent upward as the missile climbed higher.

“Captain, something’s wrong,” the executive said.

“What is it?”

“The flight path — it’s not right.”

“I’m on my way.”

Symonds bolted for the CIC.

What the hell was going on?

XICHANG SATELLITE LAUNCH CENTER

MISSILE EARLY WARNING FACILITY

PEOPLE’S LIBERATION ARMY ROCKET FORCE (PLARF)

XICHANG, SICHUAN, PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA

The steely-eyed People’s Liberation Army Rocket Force (PLARF) major stared at the satellite-tracking display, his face illuminated by the monitor’s amber glow. “First-stage separation completed. Two hundred and sixty-four kilometers and climbing.”

A PLARF captain seated at the adjoining console confirmed, adding, “Terminal velocity achieved, four thousand four hundred meters per second, and holding.”

A PLARF colonel stood above them, beaming. “Excellent!”

“Second-stage burn time, sixty seconds and counting,” the major said.

The small contingent of PLARF officers were clustered in a secured section of the civilian facility. They tried to contain their excitement. In less than a minute, the Americans were going to be very surprised.

The North Korean missile, misnamed by the Americans as the Pukkuksong-1, was performing exactly as designed. They should know.

They designed it.

In an adjacent room, a civilian engineer was also tracking the missile, avoiding the watchful gaze of the senior supervisor, a hard-line party official. The engineer lifted the receiver of his secured landline. He dialed a number, trying to hide his fear. The call he was making could land him in a secret PLA slave labor camp for the next twenty years — or worse. He let the phone ring exactly three times, then hung up.

He hoped the message got through. That call might have just cost him his life.

BUCKLEY AIR FORCE BASE, COLORADO

460TH SPACE WING

2ND SPACE WARNING SQUADRON (SWS)