Wang nodded as if in empathy with Wu’s lament but then switched from watching the presentation to catching up on his real job: running a war. A short viz report his aide had sent him showed the christening of a new Luyang IV — type guided-missile destroyer but also noted a decrease in crew preparedness.

Next up was the information minister, a young technocrat who had made his fortune in the software industry. He kept his blue-tinted viz glasses on the entire time and looked timidly at the floor while he spoke.

“Our Weibo micro-blog analysis reveals positive feedback from the public is seven percent greater than the most optimistic models predicted,” he said. “We have the kind of support that will allow us to continue without worrying about any unexpected expressions of disharmony.”

Admiral Wang’s face showed intent interest, but his focus remained on his work as he scanned on the viz through the latest intelligence reports on American ship movements.

“Optimism about the economic future is high, again reinforcing the stability and harmony necessary for enduring growth,” the information minister concluded. Still staring at the floor, he mumbled his verdict: “The people are with us because we are winning.”

“No, they are with us because they feel that the war is over,” General Wei, commander of China’s land forces, interjected. “And it is. The Americans are…”

He paused, looked over at Wang, and said, “Defeated.”

It was a veiled attack on Wang, all the more notable for taking place in front of the Presidium’s civilian members. The prior meeting of its military members at Hainan Island has been contentious as the officers argued over whether to consolidate their gains or follow Wang’s proposal and press their advantage against the Americans in order to provoke one last action before they were truly ready. The question was whether the general’s retort in front of the civilians was personal, due to jealousy over the plaudits that Admiral Wang had received, or institutional, part of the army’s ongoing play for power. Wang quickly made eye contact with his aide to alert him that what he was about to say might cause trouble for them both.

“Of course, I agree with General Wei that we are all swimming in success.” A gentle reminder that the victory had been determined at sea, not by Wei’s land forces. “But I must disagree with his word choice. Defeated implies that this war is over. One cannot make a foe accept defeat even when they have lost everything all at once. Remember that,” said Admiral Wang. “Our ultimate victory is built upon their acceptance of defeat. They are not there yet and that understanding is not likely to be reached through a peaceful process.”

“What can they do to fight us?” asked Wu, the economics minister. “Their economy, and its military complex, is so dependent on manufacturers elsewhere for spare parts that it cannot help but grind to a halt.”

“Projections show the next three to six months should see its complete collapse. That is defeat in my eyes,” added General Wei.

“We can hope so,” Wang countered. “But history shows that great powers have trouble accepting their own decline. They tend to go down in a very messy manner.”

“They wouldn’t dare to mount an offensive at this point,” said General Wei. “Will they christen ships just to see them sink? Fly aircraft only to see them shot down? They now know that we control the heavens and can track their every move.”

“Let them try,” said the information minister, still addressing his shoes. “New battle footage would be most helpful for our approval ratings as well as the combined harmony index. Quite a bump.”

“Do you not see they are now in a situation we were once in, facing a foe who operates with unfettered access to the air, space, and sea, who could watch and deny their every move?” said Admiral Wang. “But that does not mean they are a defeated nation. Our next steps will require guiding them to this realization.”

He explained his proposed strategy to block the United States’ maritime trade. This included targeting the Atlantic routes of supply, where the Directorate had not yet deployed its Stonefish missiles for fear of triggering a conflict with Europe.

“Our goal should not be more fighting for fighting’s sake, but fighting to provoke the right response, a final sortie by the remnants of the American fleet that will allow the war to be ended on our terms. And yet, then, we must give the Americans a means to save face when defeat is to be accepted. As Master Sun advised, ‘We must build our foes a golden bridge to escape across.’ ”

The economics minister responded. “Admiral, the question of what to do with the Hawaii zone is as simple as it would be on any card table. You do not just return to your foes what they have lost. They must give you a proper exchange for it. Both our energy security needs and the honor of the nation deserve that. And, indeed, even if you are right, and the Americans do make another attempt before they accept they have lost, this is for the best. You do not want someone to flee the table; you want him to remain and play the game, hand after hand, until his wallet is empty and his will is gone.”

The meeting continued in circles like this. At eighty minutes in, Wang’s aide came over to him as planned. The admiral rose without a word, feigning disappointment that duty was now taking him away from the others’ company. His aide remained in his place, recording with his viz glasses and ready to reach Admiral Wang if needed.

In the bright, sunlit hallway packed with assistants and aides, Admiral Wang heard someone call him.

It was the Russian liaison officer to the Directorate’s military planning group. Admiral Wang struggled to remember his name, wishing he were still wearing his glasses.

“Admiral, my congratulations,” said the officer in fluent Mandarin. His dress uniform was well worn, but immaculate. “I know you are a busy man. I only wanted to say, as one warrior to another, that how you conducted yourself in there was impressive. I’m not sure I could have been as restrained.”

Wang weighed the remark. He judged the faded blue eyes, set wide apart beneath a forehead bisected by a faint scar. The tone of his voice was conspiratorial, in the manner of one professional addressing another.

“I don’t envy you, having to engage with civilians like that while you also have a war to win,” the officer continued, clearly enjoying his own voice. “It is, though, of course, the price of the compromise your Directorate has made, to be led by both those in uniforms and those in business suits. In Russia, it is much simpler: Whatever our dear leader says goes.”

“Indeed. Your leader still has the killer instinct,” said Admiral Wang.

“So do you, Admiral, so do you.” Wang nodded his thanks, but the officer continued on. “More important, you told them an essential truth I must agree with you on. The Americans cannot be counted out. Ever.” Major General Sergei Sechin smiled.

Lieutenant Feng “Frank” Wu stopped in the warm, waist-deep water and froze.

He’d lost her.

Then she reappeared. Ten meters ahead.

A minute ago, she was wearing a black bikini top. Now she was topless, beckoning him farther out.

It was all the motivation he needed, despite this being only his second time on a surfboard. He had enjoyed many privileges as a son of a member of the Directorate’s Presidium, but surfing was not one of them. Though he had gotten his degree at UCLA before the war, he had not wanted to have reports reach his father that instead of studying mechanical engineering, he was spending his time as a beach bum. No, he had always done his duty, even now in this show of shared patriotism, where all the Presidium’s second sons had joined the military. Not the heirs, of course; his older brother stayed safely back in Macau.