After several months of relentless manoeuvring, the knife-edge tension gripping the Pacific seemed, at least on the surface, to ease—if only slightly. The world watched as clear lines and alliances solidified, old rivalries sharpening into something more perilous. The U.S. and Chinese fleets continued their dangerous games of brinkmanship, their warships shadowing each other through contested waters, while reconnaissance aircraft danced on the edges of airspace violations. New Zealand maintained its quiet but vigilant watch over the Coral Sea, its naval assets stretched but unwavering. The Australians held firm in the Arafura Sea, bristling with deterrence, while the British Royal Navy took station in the Timor Sea, a stark reminder that London was not yet a spent force in global affairs.
The arrival of the USS Abraham Lincoln and the Third Carrier Strike Group in the Pacific, joining the USS Carl Vinson and the USS Enterprise and their respective groups, tipped the scales—though not toward resolution. Instead, an uneasy equilibrium settled over the region, a fragile détente held together by the knowledge that a single miscalculation could ignite a conflict none were prepared to contain.
But in the halls of the United Nations, the war of words was growing more vicious. Delegates wielded speeches like blades, slicing at adversaries with diplomatic barbs and barely veiled threats. The fractures in the global order, long visible, were now deepening into dangerous fault lines. With the U.S.-Iran war grinding into its twelfth year—an endless, attritional conflict with no sign of Tehran capitulating—the UN was stretched beyond its limits. And now, with tensions in the Pacific reaching a fever pitch, the institution meant to uphold international stability found itself on the brink of irrelevance, its authority fraying with each crisis left unresolved.
Then, without warning, the flames of conflict erupted in the Solomon Islands. It’s people hungry, scared and tired of the oppressive rule of their would-be overlords started fighting back. Violent clashes broke out between pro-China militias, backed not just with rhetoric but by direct Chinese security support, and pro-Western factions determined to resist Beijing’s growing influence in the Pacific. What began as isolated skirmishes quickly escalated into open warfare, urban centres turning into battlegrounds as the island nation descended into chaos. The joint New Zealand and Australian SAS team already on the island, received orders to support the militias in any way possible, while still maintaining their cover.
The UN, desperate to prevent another failed state from emerging in the region, dispatched Canadian peacekeepers to stabilize the situation. But stability was a distant hope. The Canadians immediately found themselves ridiculously outmanned, outgunned and out of time, trapped in a brutal crossfire, their neutrality ignored by both factions. Increasingly overwhelmed, they could do little but try to protect civilians as both sides vied for control of key territories.
***
The violence in the Solomon Islands had reached a fever pitch. Pro-China militias, armed and trained by covert Chinese security forces, were no longer just suppressing dissent—they were committing outright massacres. The pro-Western factions, equally determined, responded in kind, and Honiara burned.
The Canadian peacekeepers, woefully outmatched and under-resourced, could do nothing but scramble to protect civilians. Their neutrality was ignored; their presence, dismissed. The UN had sent them as observers of a conflict that had no room for observers, and the world? The world just watched it play out on CNN. Until two brothers could watch no longer.
The moment everything changed came not with a whisper, but with a scream of injustice. Just like any other day the chamber of the United Nations General Assembly was filled with the usual murmur of diplomatic exchanges, whispered deals, and feigned indifference.
At the centre of it all stood Ambassador Malakai Tuva, the delegate for the Solomon Islands. His voice cracked with exhaustion as he addressed the chamber, his words an impassioned plea for help.
“My people are dying,” he said. “We are being slaughtered in our homes. The peacekeepers you sent—brave men and women—are powerless. The world watches from afar while my country is torn apart! Where is the United Nations? Where is the aid you promised?”
The room remained eerily silent. Ambassadors shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Some glanced at their aides, others feigned distraction. The Chinese delegate, Zhao Cheng, sat stiffly, his expression unreadable. Tuva’s voice hardened.
“If you will not help us,” he said, “then be honest about it. Do not sit there in your plush chairs and pretend to care while my people are murdered.”
Still, silence, and then, a chair scraped back and a figure stood. John Fletcher, New Zealand’s UN Ambassador. He didn’t check his notes. He didn’t hesitate. His voice cut through the chamber like a chainsaw.
“The delegate from the Solomon Islands is right. This institution was created to prevent exactly this kind of slaughter. It has the power, the means, and the authority to act. And yet, when called upon, what does it do? Nothing!”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the assembly. Fletcher continued, his voice rising.
“Well, I assure you New Zealand will not stand idle, not while the innocent are being murdered in their beds and the streets of their homes. Ambassador Tuva, we have heard your calls for help brother, and we will answer them. We will not let this injustice stand! We will send aid, medical support, and peacekeepers of our own. And if necessary—if the world refuses to stop this senseless slaughter—then we will do what must be done to protect the innocent, to protect your people!”
A pause. Then, from the other side of the chamber, another chair scraped back, and the Australian delegate stood.
“You can add Australia to that commitment mate!” His voice was steady, resolute. “We will not turn our backs on our Pacific brothers and sisters either.”
The entire chamber shifted. The balance of the conversation had changed in an instant. Zhao Cheng, the Chinese delegate, rose sharply, his voice cold and sharp.
“You cannot do this, the People’s Republic of China vetoes this action! This is a violation of international norms,” he snapped. “You will not be permitted to interfere in a sovereign nation’s internal affairs.”
Fletcher turned to him, his expression far from unreadable, his words dripping with scorn. “Spare us the lecture, Ambassador Zhao,” he said. “The entire world knows exactly what your government has been doing in the Solomons. We know who armed the militias, who trained them, who gave them the confidence to massacre civilians in the streets. And now, when confronted with the consequences, you want to hide behind rules and procedure? Spare us the dramatics mate, the world is tired of your noise! A sovereign nation has asked for help and we have agreed to give it, the matter has ended!”
Zhao’s lips pressed into a thin line. “This will have consequences.”
Fletcher’s gaze was unwavering. “Yes mate,” he agreed. “I’m sure it will.”
The moment the session adjourned, chaos erupted. The Chinese delegation stormed from the chamber, already reaching for phones, issuing urgent reports back to Beijing. The Western bloc was in motion. New Zealand and Australia was about to break the stalemate. Now, it was up to the rest of the world to decide which side they stood on, and in the streets of Honiara, where the fighting still raged, the people of the Solomon Islands finally had an answer.
Special forces on the ground were immediately ordered to engage, and in a matter of hours, the two nations mobilised troops and aircraft already prepositioned, to rapidly reinforce their Canadian counterparts in what became the first active deployment of CANZUK forces in a joint military operation. What had once been a theoretical alliance of shared values and historical ties now had boots on the ground, rifles in hand. It was a statement—not just of solidarity, but of intent.
***
In Wellington, Miriama Kahu picked up the phone and dialled a direct number. When it was answered on the other end, “are we ready for this?”
“This is what we’ve been preparing for, for a decade Miri. They need our help, we don’t have a choice, we can’t wait any longer.”
“I know John, I’m just…,” Miriama hesitated for the briefest of moments. “No, you’re right! Operation Wattle-Koru it is, I’ll get things moving on my end.”
“I’ll do the same, best of luck.”
“To us both John, to us both.” She replied as the line clicked dead.
***
Deep in the jungles of Guadalcanal, far from the halls of politics, the war raged on. Pro-West militias, armed with NATO-supplied rifles and supported by intelligence networks, fought tooth and nail against Chinese-backed insurgents who moved with equal ruthlessness, aided by Beijing’s paramilitary contractors.
Captain Aaron Matthews of the NZSAS studied the latest intelligence find through a thermal optic. Pro-Chinese forces had fortified a key junction leading into the capital, manned by militia fighters supported by an unknown number of Chinese private military contractors (PMCs). Their task was clear: destabilize the enemy, weaken their hold, and shift the battle in favour of the pro-West forces.
The team moved through the jungle, silent and methodical. Overwatch was established by Edwards, his marksman rifle aimed at the enemy encampment. “Five tangos near the checkpoint, three more in the treeline. No visual on the PMCs yet.”
Blake signalled his teams readiness to Mathews and the ‘go ahead’ was given. The assault would be swift and precise.
Edwards adjusted his sight, his voice a low whisper through the comms. “Target acquired. On your go.”
A sharp hand signal. A breath held. A squeeze of the trigger.
The first shot dropped the sentry before he could even register his own death. The suppressed crack barely audible over the jungle’s hum. The team moved in like shadows, living up to the moniker given them by a much older foe, ‘Grey Ghosts’. Clearing the outer perimeter with the silent efficiency of dull coloured but razor sharp knives, the last three guards barely had time to react before they too were lying lifeless on the ground. The area was clear.
As they swept through the encampment, Matthews found what they feared most—a hardened bunker, housing at least a dozen Chinese PMCs. Their equipment was top-tier, their discipline unmistakable. This was no ragtag militia, nor were they contractors, these were Chinese special forces.
Matthews exhaled. “Hmmm, we’re a bit outnumbered here, we need a new plan.”
Blake nodded, already adapting, pulling blocks of C4 and detonators out of his bag. Instead of a direct assault, they decided on a more impactful approach and planted the explosives at key locations around the bunker complex—ammunition caches, supply tents, and fuel dumps. The goal was not an extended fight. It was chaos. A message that nowhere was safe.
Their task complete, they disappeared back into the jungle, fading into the night as the charges detonated in a series of deafening eruptions. Flames lit up the canopy, panicked shouts filling the air as survivors scrambled for cover.
Back at their rendezvous point, the team slipped seamlessly back into character. Within minutes, they were driving like tourists in their ‘borrowed’ SUV, through the streets of Honiara on the way back to their hotel, leaving only fire and fear in their wake.
Far from the fighting up north, in a dimly lit bar along the coast, five men sat nursing beers. Their sun-kissed skin and casual attire blended seamlessly with the locals. They chatted about dive sites and surf conditions, blending into the background as intelligence streamed in from hidden listening devices planted days prior. They would have more work to do, but tonight, their mission was complete.
The next day, their mission intensified. With word of incoming reinforcements the PMC backed pro-Chinese launched a desperate all-out assault on Honiara Airport. Canadian peacekeepers stationed there were immediately pinned down, struggling to hold back waves of militia soldiers supported by their Chinese allies. Not equipped for all out combat, the Canadians found their supplies were dwindling fast, and casualties both their own and innocent civilians caught in the cross fire, were mounting rapidly. With the airfield under constant mortar attack, if reinforcements were to land, the siege had to be broken.
Blake and Matthews, alongside their fellow operators, infiltrated the outskirts of the airport under the cover of darkness. Silenced weapons and more precision knife work took out sentries along the perimeter as they moved into position. Explosives were set at key militia strongholds and supply caches. The makeshift mortar pits that had been pounding the airport’s defences all day, were marked with remote laser designators.
With a coordinated assault planned, the SAS team snuck into the airport and linked up with the beleaguered Canadian defenders. Captain Matthews relayed their attack strategy to the local commander. “We’re hitting them from the rear at dawn—for fuck’s sake keep your heads down until then, but when you see the fireworks start, push hard, we’ll be there to help you.”
As the first rays of dawn crept over the horizon, the charges detonated. Explosions ripped through the enemy’s positions, sowing confusion and disorder. The SAS team struck from the shadows, eliminating key militia leaders and disrupting command lines. Then as two kiwi F-35’s screamed overhead dropping laser guided precision bombs on the mortar crews, the Canadians seized the moment, launching a counteroffensive from within the airport. Gunfire echoed across the tarmac as the Chinese-backed forces reeled under the coordinated assault.
The battle raged for several more hours, but as the sun climbed higher, the tide slowly turned. The surviving militia forces broke, retreating into the jungle. The last Chinese contractors, realizing they were outgunned and outmanoeuvred, abandoned their positions.
With the airport secured, Matthews signalled command. Minutes later, the deep, reverberating drone of Royal New Zealand Air Force C-17 Globemasters filled the air. The first elements of the 1st Parachute Infantry Battalion of the 4th Royal New Zealand Infantry (Airborne) Regiment descended onto the tarmac, securing the area and preparing for the next phase of the operation.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
As the boots of airborne infantry hit the ground, Blake and Matthews exchanged a brief nod. The battle for Guadalcanal was far from over, but today, they had won a crucial foothold.
***
Once the airport was secured and the 4th Regiment was fully deployed, they moved to secure the port, where both New Zealand and Australian units were waiting to come ashore. Then came a discovery that escalated the crisis to another level.
Australian naval patrol vessels, conducting routine reconnaissance, intercepted a cargo vessel attempting to offload supplies in a secluded inlet. When the boarding teams breached the hull, they found the proof they needed of official Chinese involvement—Chinese-manufactured weapons, fresh off the production line, bound for the pro-China militias. Grenades, small arms, man-portable air-defence systems. Enough to tip the balance of power in the conflict.
The revelation sent shockwaves through the international community. Beijing denied involvement of course, dismissing the discovery as pure fabrication, but the evidence was irrefutable. With the weapons laid bare, Australia and New Zealand wasted no time in taking their case to the UN, calling for immediate sanctions against China for fuelling the conflict and calling for China’s permanent expulsion from the security council.
But the UN, already staggering under the weight of its existing crises, hesitated. The war in Iran had already sapped much of the world’s political capital for intervention, and many nations—particularly those with deep economic ties to Beijing—were reluctant to take decisive action. The debates in New York grew fiercer, but paralysis set in. For every call to condemn China’s interference, there was an equally loud voice warning against "provoking" a global superpower.
As the bureaucratic gridlock deepened, the reality on the ground worsened. The militias, emboldened by their foreign sponsors, escalated their attacks. The peacekeepers and CANZUK forces found themselves fighting not just for stability but for their own survival.
The world watched. The balance in the Pacific was shifting. And the question was no longer whether a new Cold War had begun—but whether it was about to turn hot.
***
In the House of the People in Beijing, the air in the grand chamber was thick with tension, the polished mahogany table reflecting the severe expressions of the men seated around it. At the head, President Xiang sat motionless, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The silence in the room was suffocating. At least when the man was angry, his ministers knew what to expect. But when he was quiet like this—composed, calculating—he was downright terrifying.
Minister of Defence Liang Qiang cleared his throat, the sound cutting through the heavy atmosphere. “Comrade President, Guadalcanal has been lost. Our forces are outmatched. The New Zealanders and Australians have taken the airport and the port, and they are advancing inland. They will reach our facility before the day is over. Worse, they are mobilizing the international community—pushing for UN sanctions and our removal from the Security Council. The Americans will back them. The British and Canadians will fall in line. If we do not control the narrative now, our position in the Pacific will be irreparably damaged.”
Across the table, Minister of Foreign Affairs Zhang Rui leaned forward, stabbing a finger into the polished surface. His voice was cold. “This situation should never have reached this point.” His gaze flicked toward the head of the Ministry of State Security. “Director Sun, you assured us that Iron Lotus had their government contained.”
Director Sun Kai did not flinch. His expression remained impassive, though a muscle twitched in his jaw. “The asset was never meant to prevent direct military engagement—only to shape policy over the long term. This… escalation was unforeseen.”
“Unforeseen?” The voice came from General Chen Jianhong, the Chief of the Defence Force. His palm slammed onto the table. “We now have foreign troops deployed in a region we spent years cultivating! They are there because of our hand, and you are telling me that this was unforeseen?”
Sun Kai’s gaze darkened, “You forget your place General!”.
President Xiang exhaled slowly. When he finally spoke, his words carried the weight of absolute authority. “Enough.”
The room fell into hushed anticipation, and all eyes shot to the head of the table.
“The Western powers have overstepped. Their actions in the Solomon Islands are a direct provocation, and they must be made to understand the consequences.” He turned to General Zhao Min, Chief of the Air Force. “What is our posture in the region?”
Zhao Min answered without hesitation. “Our bombers maintain regular patrols beyond the second island chain. Air assets in Hainan are at heightened readiness. If necessary, we can escalate pressure with targeted flights near the Coral Sea and disrupt their operations.”
Admiral Liu Zhenhai, Chief of the Navy, leaned in. “Our South Sea Fleet is already forward-positioned. The aircraft carrier Hunan is conducting freedom of movement exercises off the Philippines. If we deploy now, we can have another carrier strike group within striking distance of the Solomons in seventy-two hours.”
President Xiang turned his gaze to General Ma Jun, Chief of the Army. “And our forces in the region?”
“We have been discreetly deploying mobile anti-ship missile batteries on the islands for years, they are in place and as yet undiscovered. In addition, the Marine Corps is preparing to mobilize onboard Yulan-class amphibious assault ships.” Ma Jun’s voice was measured but firm. “If escalation is required, we can rain down missiles on their fleets, or quickly insert assets under the guise of reinforcing security agreements with our existing allies.”
Minister Zhang Rui interjected. “A direct confrontation is not advisable at this moment.” He chose his words carefully, knowing the precarious balance at play. “The Americans may hesitate, but the New Zealanders and Australians are too deeply invested now. If we commit to a visible military presence, it will push them further into Washington’s arms. This is exactly what we have sought to prevent.”
Liang scoffed. “And what do you suggest, Minister? That we simply watch as our influence erodes?”
“I suggest we remind them why they should fear us,” Zhang countered. “Economic leverage. Cyber capabilities. The right pressure in the right places.”
“We have already tried this and failed! The whole world is laughing at us!” The President turned to Director Sun Kai. “If Iron Lotus is compromised, what remaining assets do we have in play?”
Sun Kai finally spoke, his voice measured. “We have contingencies.”
President Xiang held up a hand, silencing the murmurs in the room. His expression remained unreadable. “Hmmph! We will not be drawn into an unwinnable conflict over the Solomons for such little gain. But neither will we be humiliated.” He glanced at Liang and General Chen. “Prepare a response that will remind them of their place.”
He then turned to Sun Kai. “I want Iron Lotus secured. If we can still use him, we will. If not… make sure he does not become a liability.”
Sun Kai nodded once.
A beat of silence stretched before President Xiang rose from his seat, signalling the meeting’s conclusion. He looked around the room, his gaze settling on each man in turn.
“The West believes we will back down,” he said. His voice was quiet, but it carried an edge of steel.
“They are mistaken.”
Without another word, he turned and strode from the room, leaving his ministers and generals to execute his will.
The game had entered its next phase.
And Beijing was ready to play.
***
By the following morning, this statement had been issued.
To: The Governments of New Zealand, Australia and Allies
From: The State Council of the People's Republic of China
Date: June 23rd, 2038
Subject: Unlawful Actions in the Pacific Region
The Government of the People's Republic of China has observed with growing concern the recent actions taken by New Zealand and its allied forces in the Pacific. These actions, including the seizure of a foreign-flagged vessel operating in international waters and the unauthorized escalation of military presence, constitute flagrant violations of international law, maritime sovereignty, and regional stability.
In light of these provocations, the following demands are issued:
Immediate Release of the Seized Vessel. The vessel and its crew must be returned to their home port without delay. The unlawful detention and interrogation of its crew must cease immediately, and any gathered data or equipment confiscated during this act must be returned intact.
Cessation of Hostile Operations. New Zealand and allied forces must withdraw from contested areas in the Pacific and reduce their naval presence to levels agreed upon in previous regional security accords.
Formal Apology and Reparations. A formal public apology must be issued to the People’s Republic of China for the baseless accusations of espionage. Compensation for damages caused by this reckless behaviour must also be provided.
Commitment to Non-Aggression. New Zealand and its allies must commit to refraining from further provocative actions, including the interception of Chinese-flagged vessels or the pursuit of operations intended to interfere with legitimate Chinese activities in the Pacific.
Failure to meet these demands within 72 hours will leave China with no choice but to take decisive measures to safeguard its interests, its citizens, and its rightful presence in the region. These measures may include, but are not limited to:
The deployment of additional naval forces to the South Pacific.
Economic sanctions targeting New Zealand and its key industries.
Restricting access to Chinese markets for New Zealand exports.
Utilizing all diplomatic avenues to isolate New Zealand and its allies on the global stage.
The People’s Republic of China remains committed to peace and stability in the Pacific region. However, continued provocations and hostility will not be tolerated. We urge New Zealand to act responsibly and uphold its obligations under international law.
Issued by:
Zhang Rui
Minister of Foreign Affairs
People's Republic of China
***
The early morning light streamed through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows across the polished surface of the conference table. The room smelled of stale coffee and stress, a byproduct of too many sleepless nights. Prime Minister Miriama Kahu stood near the window, the printed communiqué from Beijing trembling slightly in her grip.
Her voice was steady, but beneath it simmered a controlled fury as she read aloud:
"Failure to meet these demands within 72 hours will leave China with no choice but to take decisive measures to safeguard its interests, its citizens, and its rightful presence in the region..."
She let the paper fall onto the table with an audible slap.
“They have got to be taking the piss, surely?” Minister of Defence Kevin MacNielty scoffed, leaning back in his chair. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression a mixture of incredulity and disgust. “They must know we won’t go for this.”
Sinclair, standing near the edge of the room, rubbed at his temple. His eyes were bloodshot, his tie loosened. He hadn’t left Pipitea Street in nearly forty-eight hours. “It’s not about whether we’ll agree to it,” he said quietly. “It’s about forcing our hand.”
Miriama exhaled sharply, turning back to the room. “They’re laying the groundwork to justify escalation. If we refuse—”
“They’ll say we were the aggressors,” Sinclair finished for her.
MacNielty let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “Christ, they really think they can dictate terms to us like this?” He jabbed a finger at the communiqué. “They seize half the South China Sea, arm militias in the Solomons, infiltrate our bloody government, and now they have the gall to demand we back down?”
Derek Harper leaned forward to pick up the communique, making an effort to study it intently, before musing, “the timeline is the real threat here.” He tapped the printed statement. “Seventy-two hours. That’s not a diplomatic warning—that’s a countdown.”
Sinclair nodded. “They’ve already got the pieces in motion. Satellites have flagged more naval assets moving into position. Cyber operations ramping up—our Australian counterparts have flagged at least three major intrusion attempts in the last twelve hours alone.”
“Any direct action?” Miriama asked.
Sinclair hesitated, then nodded grimly. “There was an attempted breach at Whenuapai Air Base. It was caught before any damage was done, but it’s a warning shot.”
MacNielty swore under his breath. “And Iron Lotus?”
Sinclair hesitated for just a second too long.
Miriama caught it immediately. “What?”
“We haven’t been able to move on him yet.”
“Why the hell not?” MacNielty snapped. “You’ve had months!”
Sinclair exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Because we can’t risk tipping him off—not yet. If we take him too early, we lose our best chance to control the flow of information back to Beijing. The misinformation campaign has clearly worked, they are definitely rattled.”
“Yes, perhaps it worked a little too well,” Miriama’s fists clenched. “God damn it! We still have to let a traitor sit in our government while China threatens us with this economic blackmail and bullshit military posturing?”
Before Sinclair could answer, the intercom buzzed. “Prime Minister, your meeting is about to begin, shall I initiate the call?”
Miriama closed her eyes briefly, steadying herself. When she opened them again, there was steel in her gaze.
“Patch them through. We’re not going to let Beijing write the next chapter of this crisis.”
The room braced itself. The clock was ticking.
***
The big screen on the wall flickered to life, a mosaic of tense faces appearing in their respective locations. The encrypted network ensured their words would remain private, but no one on the call felt particularly reassured. Beijing had given them seventy-two hours. The countdown had begun.
New Zealand Prime Minister Miriama Kahu wasted no time.
“We’ve all read Beijing’s demands, I assume you have all received similar statements,” she said, her voice steady, controlled. “Seventy-two hours to fold or face retaliation. What’s our collective position?”
Australian Prime Minister John Mitchell was first to respond. His face, half-shadowed by the dim lighting in his Canberra office, was set like stone. “Absolute and unequivocable noncompliance!”
His Defence Minister, Conrad Papadopoulos, nodded curtly. “If we bend now, they’ll keep pushing. This is about more than the Solomans now—it’s about setting the tone for the entire Pacific.”
From Washington, President Ellen Carter leaned forward, her expression unreadable. “This is a total cluster fuck! Miriama, I know you’ve tried to make the right plays the whole way through this, but I have to ask, are you sure you want to take this further?”
“Somebody has to, or they’ll just keep taking!” She replied, “bullies only take notice of one thing.”
“Well, all right then, we’ll back you in whatever way we can. To start with, we have intel suggesting this is more than just diplomatic pressure. Our latest satellite imagery confirms a significant increase in Chinese naval activity in the South Pacific. More worrying— additional submarine movements near the Coral Sea, your strike group may be in additional danger.”
New Zealand’s Defence Minister Kevin MacNielty muttered a curse under his breath. “Fuck! We appreciate the heads up, we’ll deal with it Madame President.”
Across the call, CIA Director Amanda Briggs spoke, her tone cold, methodical. “And that’s just the military side. Cyber intrusions have escalated. We intercepted probes targeting Wellington’s power grid and comms infrastructure. They’re testing you. Seeing how far they can push before they trigger a response.”
NZSIS Director Charles Sinclair, exhaled sharply. “It’s not just power grids. We caught an attempted breach at Whenuapai—likely a dry run. They want to rattle us before the deadline expires.”
British Prime Minister Richard Winslow’s voice cut in, smooth yet edged with quiet steel. “And if they weren’t already watching, they certainly will be after this call. We need to decide now—how far are we willing to push back?”
His Defence Minister, Sir Edward Bramwell, steepled his fingers. “The UK stands by our allies in this. But we must be realistic—how far are we prepared to escalate?”
A moment of silence.
Then Canadian Prime Minister Thomas Bouchard exhaled through his nose. “We need options. Fast.”
His Defence Minister, Brigette Leclerc, was already reviewing notes on her tablet, her voice sharp and deliberate. “Option one: We hold firm, reject Beijing’s demands, reinforce our positions, and prepare for retaliation—economic, cyber, or military.”
Willoughby, ASIS Director, frowned slightly. “And in doing so, risk playing right into their hands.”
Leclerc’s expression didn’t change. “Option two: We stall. Drag negotiations out, use diplomatic back channels to fracture their internal consensus. If we can divide their leadership, force hesitation, we might buy time.”
Carter shook her head. “That only works if they want to de-escalate. Right now, all evidence suggests they’ve already decided on action.”
Mitchell’s jaw tightened. “Then we consider a third option: Counter-pressure.”
That got everyone’s attention.
Carter’s gaze sharpened. “Elaborate.”
Miriama didn’t hesitate. “They have vulnerabilities too. If they escalate, we hit back—economically, diplomatically, through targeted intelligence operations. We make it hurt.”
Mitchell nodded slightly, seeing where she was going. “Economic countermeasures?”
Harper’s tone was razor-thin. “More than that. We work with Taiwan. Strengthen their hand. Force Beijing to rethink its priorities.”
MacNielty smirked darkly. “You want to remind them we have levers to pull too?”
Sinclair’s voice was quiet but firm. “Iron Lotus.”
A ripple of reaction crossed the screens. No one needed further explanation.
Briggs’ eyes narrowed. “You’re suggesting we use him?”
Sinclair nodded. “Turn him. Feed Beijing more disinformation—false intelligence that makes them second-guess their timing, their methods. It’s worked for us before, if we can muddy their confidence, we force hesitation. And hesitation buys us time.”
Briggs was silent for a moment, then gave a small nod. “It’s risky, but it has merit.”
Carter’s Secretary of defence, Linda Caldwell, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. “And what about their naval movements? How far do we let them push before we respond?”
Papadopoulos didn’t hesitate. “We don’t wait. We move first.”
Tension spiked.
Miriama took a slow breath, her eyes scanning the faces before her. Then, decisively: “Here’s what we do—”
The screen glitched for a fraction of a second. A flicker. Barely noticeable. Then it stabilized. Everyone noticed and the room went silent..
Briggs, her voice ice-cold, spoke first. “…That wasn’t on our end.”
Sinclair was already moving, fingers flying over his secured keyboard, his face paling slightly. “We’re being watched.”
Another silence.
Then Miriama leaned in, staring into the camera, her expression unwavering. “Then let them watch.”
The call ended.