Immediately after the main search radar went offline, another team brought the backup radar to life. The situation was bad, but not awful. All four B-2s were in the air, three B-52s were taxiing to the runway accompanied by ten F-15s, and seven KC-135s were minutes away from takeoff. Additionally, the air defenses had worked relatively well given the direction of the attack – most were oriented to the west toward China.

The next wave came from an unexpected source. 100 miles north-west of Guam, a Chinese-flagged container ship revealed itself to be carrying a deadly cargo. Instead of electronics, its containers carried cruise missiles. The 800-foot long vessel launched 200 missiles in the span of four minutes, a mix of cluster, high-explosive, and anti-radiation weapons targeted at the airfield and its defenses. Its mission complete, the container ship turned west for the long, slow, and dangerous journey home.

The Chinese expected that at least 100 of the missiles would get through given the volume in such a short time period. They had not counted on the USS Lyndon B. Johnson to be offshore. In what was a remarkable intelligence failure for the Chinese, the naval intelligence unit that tracked America’s warships had failed to relay the importance of the Zumwalt-class destroyer’s rotating patrols off Guam. It was something that everyone apparently knew, but in reality nobody put the pieces together. The U.S. Navy had found a mission for the three Zumwalt class ships:  island defense. The vessels were capable of carrying three-hundred and twenty Evolved Sea Sparrow Missiles (ESSM) for missile defense. And, because they were stealthy, China had difficulty tracking the Zumwalts. It was likely for this reason that the intelligence was not relayed – China had not identified just how omnipresent at least one vessel of the class was off Guam.

The Johnson, twenty miles offshore, was trailing an aerostat two-hundred feet in the air. The aerostat was equipped with the latest electro-optical and infrared cameras to provide a passive early warning capability to the ship. A sensor operator on the ship was first alerted to a possible threat by a sharp ping in his ears. He looked toward the screen where the camera had auto-tracked one of the missiles and immediately shouted at the air warfare coordinator to go active.

Johnson’s air defenses sprang to life, powered by its SPY radar. The radar immediately picked up the missiles and automatically prioritized their engagement. The Johnson was still on a, “shoot twice, look once,” doctrine, so 200 ESSMs targeted 100 of the inbound Chinese cruise missiles. They downed 80. After Johnson went active, 15 of the Chinese missiles, coded for anti-radiation engagements, turned towards the Johnson. Johnson fired 30 missiles at these before engaging with its onboard laser and close-in point defense guns. Johnson killed the final missile just fifty yards away – debris still splattered against the ship, causing minor casualties, and one lucky piece of shrapnel cut the aerostat wire, sending it off into the sky.

Guam’s air defenses dealt handily with the remaining 70 cruise missiles – just three got through only to detonate above empty aircraft revetments. By the time the cruise missiles were detonating over empty concrete, the last of the F-15s were getting airborne. Then, the hypersonic glide vehicles (HGVs) arrived. Skipping along the upper edge of the atmosphere at 4,500 miles per hour, the HGVs began their terminal dive towards Andersen Air Base. Here, the hypervelocity gun weapon systems on the island went into action. There were 20 inbound targets and five guns on the island. Each gun began to pump out rounds, auto-calculating the point to aim based on the missile trajectory. The laser also joined in, immediately downing one inbound. Unfortunately for the air defenses, the glide vehicles began to deploy their penetration aids, greatly complicating the air defense picture. The air defenses were only able to down four HGVs in total, leaving 16 to strike the base.

Seven of the remainder obliterated the fuel farms on the south-west and north-west sides of the base, sending large mushroom clouds into the sky as the fuel detonated. The other nine weapons delivered the coup-de-grace. Chevron Five, the first KC-135 to roll down the runway, was just passing abort speed when the runway fifty yards in front of them disintegrated as the hypersonic vehicle slammed into the concrete and exploded its payload. With no time and no options, the KC-135s front gear collapsed as the plane passed over the hole. The plane’s nose slammed into the ground and skidded – generating a shower of sparks and causing massive structural damage to the aircraft. The crew frantically climbed out through the cockpit windows and dropped down to the ground via ropes before sprinting away. Thirty seconds later, the tanker exploded and engulfed the runway in flames. The other eight weapons hit the two runways, putting an additional five holes into the already-maimed runway and three into the previously undamaged one. Andersen was shut down, trapping the six remaining KC-135s and eliminating – for the time being – America’s primary Pacific airstrip.

Fifty miles East of Guam

Fifteen minutes and 45,000 pounds of fuel into the transfer process, Morello received an emergency disconnect warning from the Georgia. Her sonar team had picked up a submerged contact closing on them, likely one of the Song class submarines leaving its launch area. It was a fortuitous contact. By the time the five HGVs arrived at the Georgia’s position and dispensed their cluster munitions over five football fields of ocean, the Georgia was a quarter mile away and two-hundred feet underwater.

With 85,000 pounds of fuel onboard, the seaplane accelerated slowly. Once it reached an appropriate speed the seaplane rose up onto the step, the notched section of the fuselage that helped the aircraft break free from the ocean. At 150 knots, the seaplane lifted off the ocean into ground effect. Morello pushed the nose down to keep it there – the interaction of the wings with the ocean gave the vehicle more lift – and let the plane accelerate to 170 knots before pulling back on the yoke and accelerating into a climb.

“Penguin 2 is airborne,” Morello radioed into the mic. She was overjoyed at the response, “Howdy skipper, seven of nine are up over here. Heading north to the rendezvous point.” The seaplanes at Apra Harbor had emerged unscathed and were beginning to take to the air. With ten seaplanes airborne, they had nearly a million pounds of gasoline to offload to other aircraft.

Qinche, Beijing

Wang Peng’s staff was pleased, but he was not. Crippling Guam was an accomplishment – something that they had trained for and executed flawlessly. The Zumwalt class’s presence had been an unwelcome surprise, but the runways and fuel farms were both out of action. Wang Peng was angry about the Georgia. Post-strike reconnaissance did not show a huge oil slick, evidence of a successful hit. Instead, the sea was calm and undisturbed, meaning that their weapons had hit empty ocean.

Not killing the Georgia meant that there was a sizeable amount of fuel still roaming the ocean ready to fill up bombers on their way to target Chinese forces. The invasion fleet was putting to sea under cover of darkness and it was likely that they would be met by a barrage of missiles from Air Force bombers, not to mention the American Navy and its submarines. Each missile that made it through could kill hundreds of Chinese soldiers before they ever got ashore on Taiwan.

Wang Peng’s team was now playing a waiting game. Every satellite pass they would check the status of the Andersen’s runways along with alternate runways on Saipan, Tinian, and throughout the Pacific. Once the Americans were close to repairing them or had diverted to a different field, Wang Peng would order another strike to keep the bases suppressed. He couldn’t help but feel bad that the American engineer teams were working so hard only to eventually have their handiwork destroyed just as they approached completion. In the meantime, he would keep an eye out for the Georgia or any of the surface tenders, the converted littoral combat ships.

It was interesting, he thought, that they were ordered specifically to avoid targeting any of America’s powerful surface combatants or aircraft carriers. Leadership had explained that any graphic loss of life or destruction of American assets could bolster public resolve and result in a larger American response. Of course, there were exceptions – for example, Wang Peng’s team was ordered to bracket any American carrier group that approached strike range to signal Chinese capabilities. But, by limiting their strikes to air bases and minimizing casualties, they hoped that the American public would not accept a drawn-out conflict. After all, did the average American even know where Taiwan was?

200 miles east of Taiwan

Spirit Flight, the four refugee stealth bombers from Guam, headed east toward Guam. They were low on fuel. After orbiting in their holding pattern, the Air Operations Center (AOC) had ordered them to unleash their long-range anti-ship missiles (LRASMs) on a group of Chinese minesweepers and destroyers in the Strait. A continuous barrage of Chinese missiles was clobbering the Taiwanese. The Taiwanese wanted to keep their limited set of anti-ship cruise missiles hidden for now, so the Air Force would need to help blunt the initial wave of ships.