Prologue
The end of the Second World War saw the final setting of the sun over an empire, its grandeur and reach fading like the dying embers of a once-roaring fire. The slow, inexorable withering of the world’s first modern superpower became a funeral dirge echoed in the quiet dismantling of her colonies and the expanding erosion of her global influence, a shadow falling over the maps which had once defined its dominance. In its wake came the birth of two new titans, polar opposites in ideology but united in their hunger to reshape the world in their own very different images. For decades, the planet teetered on the knife’s edge of annihilation, as these adversaries wove a tapestry of suspicion and ambition.
Their war was unlike any seen before—fought not on battlefields but in the shadows, with whispered betrayals and hidden hands pulling the strings of proxy states. The race for supremacy became a fever dream of invention and escalation, pushing humanity into a new and perilous era of technological achievement and armament. The arms of this silent war stretched far, seeding paranoia and mistrust across generations and continents alike.
And yet, amidst this brittle balance of power, an ancient and angry dragon slept. Coiled in its lair, it waited with patient malice, scarred by centuries of humiliation but unbroken. Its slumber was restless, its dreams filled with the memory of its former might and the promise of vengeance. The dragon’s breath, though unseen, stirred the winds of the world, carrying whispers of the upheaval to come. While the two superpowers faced off against each other across ideological divides, they remained blind to the slow, deliberate stirring of this third player in the great game—a player far older than the combined years of their brief dominions, its gaze fixed not on fleeting rivalries but on the reclamation of its destined place in the world.
As the Cold War dragged on, the dragon began to rise, its scales glistening in the dim light of its awakening. Its movements were subtle at first, like ripples in a still pond, but they carried with them a weight that could not be ignored. Those who dared to look saw the faintest outline of the beast on the horizon, its shadow stretching long and ominous weaving through the clouds of history. It was not a matter of if the dragon would rise, but when—and when it did, it would not be with diplomacy or compromise, but with the fury of a righteous power denied for far too long.
Then the Cold War ended, and America celebrated itself as the triumphant victor, draped in the mantle of global supremacy. But was it truly a victory? Or had the Soviet Union simply stumbled and collapsed under the weight of its own ambition, its rusting machinery grinding to a halt out of exhaustion, more than defeat? Who can really say? Did it even matter? The facts were plain, the Berlin Wall had fallen, the Cold War was declared over, and the world rejoiced in a fleeting illusion of peace. All the while, the dragon in the East watched and schemed, biding its time.
Without the unifying threat of a shared enemy, the great alliances and coalitions began to fray, their members turning inward to their own borders, their own agendas and petty squabbles. The spoils of a dismantled Soviet empire flooded the global market—an unprecedented fire sale of arms, technology, and expertise. The vacuum left by the two superpowers, one dying, one seemingly oblivious, was soon filled by chaos and strife.
Conflict erupted in regions long held in uneasy stasis, as old rivalries reignited, and new ones were born. Africa, South America, and the Middle East became proving grounds for a new era of warfare, where former proxy states and impoverished nations transformed into powder kegs. Petty warlords armed with Soviet leftovers vied for dominance, spilling rivers of blood over barren landscapes and shattered cities.
This chaos birthed a new kind of war—one that did not rely on nations clashing in grand theatres, but instead on shadowy, asymmetric globe spanning conflicts. Warlords and insurgents waged campaigns funded by the burgeoning drug trade, giving rise to America’s self-proclaimed "war on drugs." This was swiftly followed by the "war on terror," a nebulous, endless struggle against an enemy that wore no uniform and knew no borders. America, once the self-assured guardian of the free world, found itself mired in an endless cycle of conflicts—each one sapping its strength, its wealth, and its will.
Years turned into decades, and the strain began to show. The endless wars left scars on America’s psyche, eroding its appetite for intervention, its willingness to shoulder the burdens of global leadership. When war broke out again in Europe, America stayed out of it, too wary of reigniting the conflict with their old adversary. But that too sapped their strength. They had no desire to fight, but they didn’t want the old foe to win either, so America funnelled money and equipment to Ukraine in ever increasing amounts. The flow on affects of these decisions was a slow unravelling, the fading of a once-mighty resolve.
Then tensions between the United States and Iran which had simmered for years, boiled over, as strife in the Red Sea soon became the spark that set the region ablaze. What began as sporadic attacks on shipping lanes, allegedly orchestrated by Houthi rebels armed with increasingly sophisticated Iranian weaponry, soon escalated into a full-blown regional crisis. American and coalition naval vessels escorting oil tankers through the critical waterway found themselves under relentless drone assaults and missile strikes, while proxy forces targeted U.S. allies across the Middle East.
The United Nations, ever the beacon of diplomacy, issued urgent calls for de-escalation. Meetings convened, resolutions drafted, and stern warnings issued—all to no avail. Iran, emboldened by years of sanction-hardened defiance, refused to back down.
"We will not bow to imperialist threats," Iranian leaders declared in fiery speeches broadcast across state media, rallying their citizens and proxies alike.
The first shots of full-scale war came on a scorching August afternoon. A U.S. destroyer, the USS Arlington, patrolling near the Bab el-Mandeb Strait, was struck by a barrage of missiles launched from Yemeni shores. Though its advanced defence systems intercepted most of them, at least one missile found its mark, tearing through the ship’s aft section. Images of the burning vessel as it sunk below the waves, dominated global headlines, a grim reminder that the balance of power in the region was more precarious than ever.
Within hours, the United States retaliated. Launching precision strikes on Houthi positions in Yemen, targeting missile batteries, command centres, and supply depots. But these strikes only emboldened Iran’s regional allies. In Lebanon, Hezbollah escalated rocket attacks on northern Israel. In Iraq, Iranian-backed militias launched coordinated assaults on U.S. bases. Across the Gulf, sabotage operations against Saudi and Emirati oil infrastructure plunged the energy markets into chaos.
The conflict’s gravitational pull was irresistible. U.S. allies, including Saudi Arabia, the UAE, and Israel already embroiled with the conflict in Gaza, lent their military power to the American cause. Joint operations targeted Iranian installations and proxy forces, aiming to break their stranglehold on the region.
Iran, meanwhile, rallied its allies. From the mountains of Lebanon to the deserts of Yemen, a patchwork of Shia militias, rebel groups, and covert operatives unleashed a wave of violence against U.S. forces and their partners. Iraq became a flashpoint, with Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps units covertly coordinating attacks under the guise of local militias.
Despite the vast technological superiority of the United States—stealth bombers, hypersonic missiles, and cutting-edge surveillance systems—Iran’s forces exploited the terrain, their familiarity with the region giving them a distinct advantage in ground engagements. Urban warfare in Baghdad, Mosul, and Sana’a turned into a bloody stalemate. Entire districts became battlegrounds, the cries of civilians caught in the crossfire echoing alongside the roar of artillery.
Another protracted land war, the likes of which had not been seen since Afghanistan, was looking more and more likely. Some hard decisions needed to be made, and the world wondered if America’s new president was up to the task.
***
The late afternoon sun streamed in through the spotlessly clean windows, casting long shadows across the polished wood and carpet floors. This had the effect of backlighting and surrounding the tall man’s chair in a natural sun kissed and god like halo. The precise positioning of the furniture had been designed with this exact purpose in mind a very long time ago. President Jonathan Reynolds sitting behind the Resolute Desk, was well aware of this fact and made great use of it, often having his aides schedule important meetings for around this time. It was all part of the pomp and ceremony of his office, and he’d learned to play the part very well in the past few months.
Reynolds was a man who had inherited many burdens and few answers. Leaning back in his ornate leather chair, his fingers steepling, the very tips of which ever so lightly caressing his slightly crooked nose, his brow furrowed in deep thought. The world was changing, and the United States was once again at war, and struggling to keep up with it.
Jonathan had had several meetings with multiple members of his cabinet already about that very topic, five of them just today in fact. State, treasury, labour, commerce, the interior and they had all amounted to the same thing. America was tired, she had only seen 20 odd years of peace in her three hundred or so years, and with this latest crisis in the middle east, she was falling rapidly behind across the board, America was losing its grip on its once mighty dominance.
Across from him, in one of the armchairs placed in front of the desk, sat National Security Advisor Ellen Carter. Next to her sat Frank Wallister the secretary of defence and neither of them looked happy. Ellen placed a thick dossier on the ancient, polished surface of the desk, its contents marked with red “TOP SECRET” stamps.
“We’ve got another serious problem, Mr. President,” Carter began, her tone grave.
Reynolds tilted his head forward, now firmly resting his nose on those steepled fingers. His eyes narrowed, bringing into stark contrast the deep crease on his forehead just above the right eye, a gift from his service, many years ago. He addressed his national security advisor directly.
“Define ‘problem,’ Ellen. I’ve had five of those just today already, and it’s only Wednesday.”
“This one’s existential,” she replied, flipping open the dossier. Inside were satellite images, production graphs, and intelligence reports. “When we came into office, we knew this particular situation was bad, but we had no idea how bad until now.”
Reynolds leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the edge of the desk and started to gently massage his temples. He could feel another headache coming on, was it the second that day, the third? He desperately wanted to pop some of those pain killers, the ones that were just tantalisingly out of reach in the top right draw, but wasn’t sure if he should show that level of weakness after so little time in that particular chair.
“Let’s get this over with, lay it on me Ellen.”
“Simply put Mr President, China is outpacing us in in almost every appreciable way. Their shipbuilding alone is at a rate we’ve never seen before, not to mention what their air force and army are doing. Military, commercial, you name it. They’re launching destroyers, frigates, and carriers faster than we can commission one and right now, especially with our forces committed in the middle east, we cannot hope to compete.”
The President reached forward to take some of the grainy photographs and scanned the images of massive Chinese shipyards, which she had laid out in front of him. He counted row upon row of gray warships sitting there like dominoes, ready to be deployed.
“How is this possible?” He asked no one in particular. “We’re the largest economy in the world. We spend more on defence than anyone else. How are they beating us?”
Wallister cleared his throat preparing to speak for the first time. He pulled one of several charts from a dossier of his own.
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“They’ve been consolidating their shipbuilding industry under state control for decades. Streamlining production and investing heavily in automation and modular construction techniques. Meanwhile, due to budget cuts, we’ve been closing shipyards left and right, and those we do still have are so tied up with red tape, budget overruns, and aging infrastructure, they’re barely functioning. This was made painfully obvious when the Iranians managed to sink our carrier last month and the only one we have to replace it is still in the yard years away from completion. China’s entire industrial strategy over the last three decades has been geared towards maritime dominance and I’m sorry to say it Mr President, but they are winning.”
Reynolds let the slick glossy paper of the images slip from his fingers and leaned back into his chair once more, his fingers returning to his temples. The headache was starting to pound in his head, it was like he was back in command of his artillery battery, and they were on a continuous fire mission. The constant pounding was almost as deafening now as the thudding shells had been back then.
“All right, give me specifics. How bad is it?”
Wallister hesitated for the briefest of moments, looking to Ellen, as if to gain some kind of insight before ploughing ahead.
“Right now sir, they’ve got more than 400 warships in service compared to our 300 and well over half of those are brand new and state of the art combatants. By 2035, they’ll hit 460 plus, if their trajectory holds. It’s not just quantity, either. Their Type 055 and 056 destroyers are easily as good as our latest Burkes, their conventional carriers are just as good as our older ones and their new nuclear carrier program is set to outpace our own in less than a decade. They have just launched their first type 004 and by accounts it will be ready within the year. They’re also putting AI and hypersonic tech into their next-gen vessels faster than we can adapt our own aging fleet. On the commercial side, their shipping fleet is now the largest in the world, giving them leverage in global trade and logistics. Meanwhile, our shipyards are struggling to build basic replenishment ships.”
When Wallister took a breath, Carter weighed in, before he could continue.
“The key issue here sir is that successive administrations from both sides of the aisle have allowed the industrial might of this country to wain and atrophy for decades all for the sake of saving a dollar and now we’re about to pay the price!” She took a quick breath before ploughing on. “When we entered the second world war we had multiple companies building ships planes, guns, bullets and whatever else we needed, now that’s all been consolidated basically into one company for each of those things, if that and they just can’t keep up with the demand!”
“It can’t be that bad Ellen, surely you’re exaggerating!” Reynolds snapped, his eyes zeroing in on those of his national security advisor.
“Hell Jonathan, even our biggest engine producers don’t make their blocks in this country anymore! We were a power house because we had all that competition, all that industry right here at our finger tips, we simply can’t claim that anymore. Sure, we still make great products but it’s one to ten and rising, and not in our favour!” She had made a slip when she used the President’s first name, but she figured with their over twenty year friendship, he would overlook it. “The last administration wasted our stockpiles of weapons and equipment on false hopes overseas and didn’t do anything to replace them and now we’re at war again, using up what we have left!”
Reynolds let out a slow breath, mulling over the data. “What does this mean for us, Ellen? Don’t mince words, spit it out already!”
“It means,” Carter said bluntly, “that if conflict does break out in the Pacific in the near future, and it’s looking more and more likely with every passing year, we won’t have the ships to sustain a fight for very long. The last major building program we had was during the Reagan years and look how long ago that was! Since then, the navy has been so preoccupied with pipe dreams they’ve wasted time, money, and a great deal of opportunity for very little return.”
Ellen took a breath, she knew she was hitting a few nerves, but she was on a roll now and didn’t feel like stopping. Besides Reynolds had been elected on promises of turning this mess around, As a veteran himself, he was very aware of the stakes! Consequently, she felt obligated to give him everything she had. She decided that she would seek forgiveness later if it was needed.
“That’s also, Mr President, if we can somehow manage to rearm and supply them once they’re there. Our bases in the pacific are quite frankly a joke, and what’s worse is we’ve barely given lip service to our allies in the region for decades. And to top it off, we still haven’t adequately solved the problem of reloading VLS tubes at sea. Right now, we have three useable locations to resupply and rearm in the pacific, Japan, Guam and Hawaii…”
As she spoke, Reynold’s mind raced. Every word she had said already, felt like the forceful twist of a knife in his guts. For the umpteenth time that day, he questioned his desire to enter politics.
“… Japan is too close to China,” she continued. “So that’s a whole other mess of problems, and there’s no telling if the Japanese would even let us use those facilities in a war footing to begin with. Hawaii we have complete control over, but it could take several days to sail back and forth from there, weakening even further our very perilous position in the region. And to be honest, I wouldn’t wish Guam on our worst enemy right now! And with the way the last administration bleed money and our surplus overseas, we simply do not have enough ships, tanks, planes, missiles, bombs, bullets…!”
The colour was rising in the President’s face, to all the world it looked as though Carter had finally gone too far and Wallister cleared his throat, trying to take some of that heat off her.
“What we’re trying to say here Mr President, is that likely within days they’ll have partial if not full control of the seas and the supply chains that we also rely on right now. Even if conflict doesn’t break out, economically, their dominance in commercial shipping lets them dictate terms on global trade routes, squeezing out our influence. Within the next decade, we’re looking at the full erosion of our maritime superiority in the Pacific—both militarily and economically.”
The President’s face hardened, this was the sixth time today he had learned how lacking his country was and he was becoming very tired of it. This was most certainly not, the country he had fought and lost an eye for! “What are our options?”
Feeling a little gun shy all of a sudden Carter hesitated. Looking directly at her oldest friend, the look on his face, was it desperation, exasperation, anger? She wasn’t sure, but she felt certain that enough ground work had been laid, that he was ready to listen, she knew him well enough to know that! Coming into this meeting she had questioned herself, what she was about to propose was incredibly radical, but it would work if given enough time and the appropriate level of application. They could no longer afford half measures, and a newfound sense of resolve welled up within her.
“There is no real quick fix Mr President. We need an ‘across the board’ kind of comprehensive approach to this problem. For a start we need to invest heavily in modernizing and expanding our foreign bases, particularly those in the Pacific. For our shipyards, we need to cut bureaucratic inefficiencies in the Navy’s procurement process and ramp up alliances to counterbalance China’s fleet. But even then, it’ll take years to catch up.”
“And what about right now?” Reynolds pressed.
“Short-term? Leverage our strengths—we still outpace them in airpower and subsurface capabilities. But most importantly, we need to rebuild our alliances. We need to be doing what they’ve been doing for decades while our back was turned, helping to build infrastructure that also benefits us, spending large to develop businesses in the region, we’ve got the Sam Nunn Amendment, let’s use it!. Australia is a prime candidate, they have one of the biggest ship building facilities in the southern hemisphere, let’s make it bigger! New Zealand is another example, they make some of the best two way radios in the world, but they can’t compete on the world market because they can’t afford too, and that’s just one example of their ingenuity, let’s offer to build them bigger factories. Funnily enough, ship building is another area they excel at, but once again their operation is so small! Right now, they’re only making fishing boats and building super yachts for the rich and famous, lets invest heavily to make those companies bigger too. All manner of tech and equipment is already made in both countries, but it’s small potatoes, let’s change that!”
Reynolds was looking interested, like a man standing on the gallows, who had just been offered a last minute reprieve. This was a bold strategy, and if done the right way, it just might work, but he needed a little more carrot.
“Okay, you’ve got my attention. But… how does that help us specifically, how can I sell this to the American people?”
“Simple,” Ellen replied. “The better their ship building and tech infrastructure is, the easier it will be for us to repair, refuel, and resupply our own ships, planes, tanks, whatever if we need to, and a hell of a lot closer to the combat zone, which saves us money. Some loans to help them build more ships of their own would go a long way as well. All this does is increase the numbers on our side and it’s a faster way to get them there!”
Her eyes narrowed, as she leaned forward to really press the point home.
“Right now, we can’t hope to match Chinese numbers, but we can maintain a technological edge if we move quickly. Diplomatically, we need to lock down our partners in the Pacific. If we lose their support, we’re all alone out there.”
That was it, that was the carrot he needed. Ellen was right, they couldn’t realistically build their own ships in foreign ports, but by splitting the cost of building new ships and expanding the fleets of their allies? With this rising threat, that was something tangible that he could take to the American people. The fact that it would mean more jobs, more opportunity for his own people, even it was in another country, well that was just gravy! As his momma used to say.
Reynolds swung his chair around. He sat silently, staring out the window at the Washington Monument. He needed a moment to piece this all out in his head, he could feel a plan coming together, but would it be too late? Finally, he turned back to Carter, his expression resolute.
Reynolds stood, his tone now sharp and full of purpose. The headache almost entirely forgotten.
“How the hell was this possible? How could we go from the greatest country on earth to this? That’s how we sell it!” The man intoned, pointing menacingly at the images still spread across the desk. “China…. Really? We’ve been beaten by China? We didn’t win the Cold War by playing second fiddle. If they think they can beat us, they’ve got another thing coming!”
“Ellen, I want a task force on this immediately! Bring me a plan—full spectrum. Military, economic, diplomatic and I want it within the fortnight. I want to know what it’s going to take to not just catch up but dominate in this race! We’re Americans, for god’s sake, let’s start acting like it!”
Carter nodded. “Yes Mr President, I’ll get to work on it immediately!”
***
Over the next several years, the war in the Middle East continued to send shockwaves across the globe. Oil prices skyrocketed, with shipping routes through the Persian Gulf and the Red Sea becoming perilous. Energy-dependent economies in Europe and Asia scrambled for alternatives, while the global stock market teetered on the edge of collapse, new players entered the game. One in particular, a group of islands in the south pacific, a recently constructed oil industry brought in immediate and considerable revenue. Meanwhile, refugees flooded into Turkey, Jordan, and the Mediterranean, overwhelming humanitarian efforts and plunging their economies into chaos.
China and Russia, seizing the opportunity to further undermine Western influence, ramped up their support for Iran. Russia provided advanced air defence systems, while Chinese drones and financial aid kept the Iranian war machine running. Both nations used their veto power in the UN Security Council to block resolutions aimed at halting the conflict, further polarizing the global order.
Even as the continued and deadly U.S. airstrikes decimated Iranian infrastructure and disrupted supply lines, Iran’s proxies grew more adept at asymmetric warfare. In Yemen, Houthi rebels, still defiant and proving impossible to eradicate, used drones to strike deep into Saudi territory, targeting airfields and oil refineries with unnerving precision, then slipping away like dust on the wind, back into the surrounding terrain before return strikes could locate them. In Iraq, the “green zone” in Baghdad became a fortress under siege, with U.S. personnel enduring constant mortar fire and ambushes.
Iran’s cities bore scars from relentless bombing campaigns. Tehran, though defiant, was a shadow of its former self, its streets littered with rubble and its people enduring crippling shortages. Yet, the Iranian government refused to capitulate, its propaganda machine portraying the conflict as a holy war against Western oppression.
In Washington, public opinion began to sour. The cost of war—both in dollars and lives—became a contentious issue. Civilians bore the brunt of the proxy war. In Yemen, starvation became a weapon, with blockades and scorched-earth tactics leading to mass famine. In Iraq, sectarian violence erupted anew, undoing years of fragile stability. Lebanon teetered on the edge of collapse, as Hezbollah’s actions drew devastating Israeli retaliation. An entire generation grew up in the shadow of war, their futures marred by trauma and displacement.
As the years dragged on, both sides recognized the impossibility of a decisive victory. The United States could not fully dismantle Iran’s network of proxies without committing to an even larger ground war—a prospect politically and militarily untenable. Iran, for all its resilience, could not overcome the overwhelming technological and economic might of the U.S. and its allies.
Stalemate was the name of the game, and it had made the Middle East unrecognizable—a region reshaped by blood and fire, its wounds too deep to heal quickly. With the U.S. Still heavily committed in the area, the Red Sea remained a volatile flashpoint. In Washington and Tehran, leaders faced hard questions about the human and economic toll of their decisions. For the people of the Middle East, the war was not just a geopolitical event—it was a catastrophe that would shape their lives for generations to come.
***
Meanwhile, the dragon had not slept idly; it had grown stronger, its ambitions sharper. It watched America’s weariness with calculating eyes, its plans honed in the silence of its ascent. While the world was distracted by the spectacle of America’s faltering grip, the dragon struck. Not with the clumsy roar of brute force, but with the precision of a predator that had waited centuries for its prey to weaken. It struck in trade wars, in technological dominance, in territories long disputed and seas long contested. And as it rose, the world began to realize—too late—that the end of the Cold War had not been a victory at all, but merely the beginning of a new and far more dangerous game.
And as the cracks deepened, the dragon saw its moment.