Blue Dragon: Blue Dragon, #1

By Michael S. Dean

Exploding sea battles and thrills as a beautiful Chinese agent on her first crucial mission and a rugged American sailor in her charge race to expose a deadly plot against America. Danger escalates as they are forced to flee from one doomed ship to another in the fight of their lives as the mighty Chinese and American navies battle to capture the two.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael S. Dean
• Release date: Mar 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985638400

Michael S. Dean

Mike was raised in the charming town of Marcus, Washington, swimming in the majestic Columbia River. Being a kid of the 70s, many of his summer days were spent in remote logging camps deep in the mountainous backwoods, working alongside relatives. He served 23 years in the military, retiring as a Navy Chief Petty Officer. He and his wife currently live in the Eastern Tennessee mountains where he is a long-haul truck driver, enjoying the beautiful scenery through his broad windshield while listening to audio books and plotting his next story.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Li

The Chinese intelligence -gathering ship, Kaiyangxing slammed into the base of a Herculean wave, causing Li’s right foot to slip. The impact sent her corresponding knee crashing against the edge of an aluminum, first-aid locker. The unforgiving metal box was mounted on the starboard bulkhead, behind the captain’s chair.

Pain shot up Li’s leg, but she wouldn’t cry out. Not in front of this all-male crew. Especially not with Captain Wang sitting right in front of her and her father, Colonel Kueng Chan, standing at her side. They were two of the most no-nonsense, resolute men she knew. Her father was temporarily serving as the political officer, a position that carried immense authority. He was there to ensure her first operational mission, Blue Dragon, started off without a hitch.

The unrelenting winter storm had turned the night into a long, violent ride. Li checked her surroundings, hoping the blackness of the night had concealed her clumsiness. She wedged her throbbing knee between the offending locker and a vertical rack of battle helmets. She tightened the grip of her left hand on the overhead safety bar that ran along the ceiling of the bridge. In her right hand, she held a set of binoculars, fastened to a lanyard looped around her neck, preventing her from accidentally dropping the delicate instrument. 

Unlike her father, Li wasn’t part of the Kai’s crew. The Chinese Intelligence Gathering ships, AGIs, didn’t permit female sailors. In that way, the spy fleet differed from their military counterparts where women served admirably. Here, she was only a visitor.

An interloper.

She didn’t blame the sailors for cautiously avoiding her. Five weeks at sea was not enough time to get used to the anomaly of having a woman onboard their esteemed ship. It didn’t help that she was only twenty-one and already an intel agent with the much-feared Third Department, a covert branch within China’s powerful Ministry of State Security.

A spy.

She had soon discovered that being an agent drew a great deal of mistrust and apprehension from those outside the Third Department. 

Li braced as the Kai charged on, battling the raging seas. The ship rolled and pitched under her feet as it crested another monstrous wave, its bow shooting into the air. The ship teetered at the precipice for a moment before rocking forward and plunging down the steep back side.

Murky, black saltwater slammed into the bridge’s windows, less than five feet from Li’s face as the Kai buried its bow up to the superstructure. Li’s bruised knee slipped, and her right shoulder rammed against the top of the first-aid locker as the massive, six-thousand-ton ship rolled forty degrees to starboard.

Baochi wending de luxian! Commander Zui’s voice boomed, commanding the sailor manning the helm to keep a steady course. 

Commander Zui stood in the center of the bridge, only a few feet to Li’s left. She recalled from one of her training manuals, U.S. Naval Customs, Honors and Ceremonies, on an American ship the officer would be called the Officer of the Deck, or OOD. The sailor on the helm would be called a helmsman.

How is he supposed to do that in this weather? She wanted to rise to the helmsman’s defense. Instead, she reminded herself, You’re not part of the crew.

Li glanced in the direction of the helmsman and let out a disappointed sigh. The sailor sat on a swivel stool bolted to the deck, steering the huge 457-foot Kai with a tiny brass helm that could fit in the palm of his hand. He was a scrawny man with a beak-like nose. He and the ship’s tiny wheel were nothing like the fantasy she had envisioned when she was informed her mission would begin with a sea voyage.

She pictured a ruggedly handsome sailor with broad shoulders standing before a massive wooden helm. His feet spread wide in a powerful stance, the muscles of his shirtless back rippling, as he manhandled the ship’s monstrous wheel like a dashing sailor in a pirate’s tale. 

Oh, well, she sighed.

The helmsman leaned forward, hunching in his seat, no doubt resenting his skills being called into question. The tip of his cigarette flared as he inhaled. He held the drag so long, it seemed to Li as if he might pass out. He finally exhaled, his smoke rising through the bluish glow of console lights like an undulating demonic apparition.

The Kai’s bow rose as the ship clambered up the next steep wave. A faint light bobbed drunkenly in the distance, growing slightly brighter by the hour. It told Li they were closing the gap on their prey, the U.S.S. Mitscher, an American destroyer loaded for war. 

And... the destroyer wasn’t alone. The combatant was part of Carrier Strike Group 5. The Strike Group was commanded by the mighty nuclear aircraft carrier, U.S.S. Harry S. Truman, a ship with more firepower than most countries.

Breaching the American’s formation was a bold move. With the Kai glowing like a torch, the enemy would be well-aware of the ship’s presence. It had its exterior lights pointing out over the seas. It was an old, deceptive lighting trick aimed at disguising an intel ship as a commercial fishing trawler.

They had been trailing the Americans for two days, giving Li no confidence that the enemy would be fooled by the charade. That was okay. The real reason for the brilliant lights was to blind the watch standers on the destroyer, who would be studying the Kai’s movements through handheld, night optics. The glare would make it impossible for them to know the Kai was staging rescue gear on its bow.

Li respected the captain for his daring, but she couldn’t help the sinking feeling inside that told her the Kai was merely a deer harassing a pack of hungry wolves, all the while trying not to become their next meal.

Steaming into the formation was risky enough by itself, but if the enemy discovered that the Kai planned to pluck one of their sailors, Quartermaster Second Class Rodham Dalton, from the sea, things would turn deadly. Yet, it had to be done. In the reports she had read about the man, he preferred to be called Rod. She liked the name. Short and tough.

Once they retrieved the American, the ship would take a circuitous route and deliver Li and her prize to a chartered fishing boat, the Deep Reel, operating out of the Florida Keys. The charter would return to port, where the pair would make their way to the northern part of the state by car, eventually arriving in Jacksonville.

Li would purchase a prearranged charter fishing boat, and with the American acting as captain, her clandestine operation would begin in earnest.

The mission was a great honor for anyone, especially a young woman. Li would be making history, the first of her gender to become an agent assigned as the handler of a foreign human asset.

In Jacksonville, running the charter service, Li would be tasked with a multitude of objectives, but her primary role would be reporting on U.S. ships entering and exiting Mayport Naval Station. And who would be better to aid her than an American sailor with visual signaling skills? One who was also expert at identifying combatant ships and who came from a commercial fishing background prior to his enlistment.

For the past two days, Li had been hearing more and more snippets of disgruntled conversation between crew members. They resented having their prestigious intel ship being used in such a dangerous way, just to support her mission. She wasn’t surprised when some of the murmurings revealed an old naval superstition. A woman on board a ship is bad luck. Tonight, it felt as if the men’s eyes were raking the back of her neck like daggers. 

It’s just your foolish imagination.

She was sure the crew, with their ship being whipped around by a late winter storm and finding themselves in the unfamiliar Northern Atlantic, instead of their usual stomping grounds in the Pacific, did little to dissuade that deeply set provincialism.

Li lifted her chin, refusing to let the weather or sailors’ foolish superstition dampen her spirit. The night marked the beginning of her first assignment, and nothing would get her down.

Li’s operation was the culmination of years of hard work. Throughout her rigorous spy training, she had endured slander, lies, and sexual harassment, but here she was—the first female graduate of China’s new, modernized Covert Agent Indoctrination Regimen. 

She owed her opportunity to her father, a high-ranking intelligence agent. He had used his powerful connections to enroll her in the prestigious training when she had turned six, making her the youngest apprentice to undergo the program; another first, padding her fast-growing resume.

Her training kept her immersed in Western culture, speaking nothing but English, focusing on America’s vast geographical and racial nuances. She had spent the last four years at the famed Luoyang University in Henan Province, not far from where she grew up.

Her training also involved hand-to-hand combat, both with and without weapons. She reasoned that in her profession, she’d never know when she’d have to defend herself or be called upon to assassinate a target, such as her American asset.

Onboard the Kai, she found things to be a stark contrast to her Americanized training at the university. No English was permitted.

They’re going to have to make an exception for my American, she thought.

Before reporting aboard the Kai, she hadn’t realized just how much the cultural education had impacted her speech and mannerisms. Right off, the sailors exposed that ignorant perception, giving her sideways glances. At first, they tried to hide their disdain, but after a time they became bolder.

I need to shut that down, Li thought.

She wished she had her father’s dark mystique. She envied the commanding presence he carried with him. His eminence just seemed to fill the air naturally. When he passed sailors in the passageway, they stepped aside and bowed their heads. Complete strangers could feel his importance. It was a persona she aspired to achieve, but so far it was eluding her.

Tonight, she felt even more like an outsider intruding upon the crew’s nautical world. She wore an expensive, dark pantsuit issued by the Third Department. It made a mockery of the military blue and white cammies. It felt as if she was trying to parade an upper-class status in their faces.

She wished they knew how much she despised the outfit. It was too fancy. Too pretentious. It was not the image she wished to convey: that of a stealthy agent who was one with the shadows. Not some pampered wannabe.

Despite her resentment of the professional business attire, she had to admit she liked the way the sleek lines of the dark outfit accentuated her figure, not too form fitting but just enough to draw the eye.

The bridge officer stepped up beside her and held out his foul-weather coat. 

She realized he must have seen her shivering. Her gut wrenched at the thought of showing weakness. How could he tell in this darkness? Another thought struck her. Did he see me slip? She wished she hadn’t left her heavy coat hanging in her stateroom. At the time she left her berthing, she was more concerned with it concealing or wrinkling the outfit. It’s so dark, what would it have mattered?

She silently cursed the poor insulating qualities of the suit and accompanying slippery-soled shoes. Back in Henan Province, she had requested the matching overcoat to go with it.

The disbursement clerk’s reply was a chafed dismissal, as if she were a spoiled child, You won’t need one in Florida.

She wanted to rip off his smug head, but of course she didn’t. Not her. That would have made her appear undisciplined. Volatile. So here she was, freezing to death like a good little agent, while that pompous minion was back in China, nice and warm, sipping tea.

Commander Zui pushed his coat to her, expectantly. She feared if she refused his kind offer, it would deepen the rift between her and the crew. She swallowed her pride and graciously accepted the coat.

Donning the coat without falling would be a challenge, given the pitching and rolling of the ship. You’re just gonna have to go for it.

She let the binoculars dangle from their lanyard around her neck and released her grip on the safety bar. Timing the ship’s rise and fall in-between waves, she hurriedly slipped on the coat before grabbing the overhead safety bar again.

You did it! She congratulated herself.

A dank muskiness of sea brine, salt, and unwashed body odor whiffed up from the coat. At least it’s warm, she conceded.

The darkness looming on the bridge prevented her from seeing the color of the coat, but she knew it would be a faded, dull green, like the one hanging on a hook in her stateroom. She wondered why the foul-weather jackets weren’t made with the same digital print the vibrant blue-and-white camouflage uniforms came in. 

The officer handed her a dark, knit stocking cap. It smelled as rank as the coat. With a sigh, she gently pulled it on, trying not to tangle her long hair. She wasn’t usually vain about her appearance, but it wasn’t every night you rescued an American sailor you’d be in charge of. 

First impressions are important! Or so she had been taught in her training. 

She took a subtle glance around the bridge. Over the last few weeks, she’d been up there on many occasions. But now, with the overhead red lights turned off, it was far darker than she was accustomed to. Adding to the strangeness, there were an unusually large number of people crowding the bridge. Judging distances was all but impossible. Everything seemed out of place. 

What traces of light there were came from the pale blue backlighting of gauges and instruments sprinkled throughout the bridge, along with a scattering of red cigarette tips blossoming intermittently.

Still, she could make out who most of the shadowy forms belonged to, or at least the station they were filling. Standing next to the captain was his second-in-command, Zhong Xiao Hu Wei. In English he’d be Commander Hu and he’d be the executive officer, or XO. Li didn’t care for the man, seeing him as timid and weak. She guessed he received his prestigious posting due to family connections, and not for his abilities or achievements.

Just behind Commander Hu and her father was a low-ranking enlisted sailor, Won. He was there to run errands for the officers. On an American ship, he’d be called the Messenger of the Watch.

He’d make the perfect shirtless helmsman, she thought, a subtle smiling gracing her face.

In the middle of the bridge, standing at Commander Zui’s side, was a junior officer in training. Li couldn’t recall his name.

It only took her a second to recall the titles of the other two stations, both manned by enlisted sailors. One was the navigator, a plump man, hunched over the chart table. The other was a log-keeper. A solidly built man who maintained a digital record of the verbal commands given by the OOD to the helmsman.

There were a handful of others clumped off to the port side of the bridge she had never seen there before. As far as she could tell, they were just in the pilothouse to observe the night’s perilous event. They had arrived with the ship’s doctor, an insolent little man who, in her opinion, should be down on the bow with the rescue crew.

It’s too cold for his pampered old bones, she mumbled to herself.

If her father hadn’t directed her to observe from up here, waiting until they pulled the American from the sea, she’d be down there with the men, braving the weather. She turned away from the arrogant doctor, and his group of cronies. She focused her attention on the small stern light of the American destroyer. Even though it was growing brighter, it was still tough to see it through the blinding rain pounding against the ship’s windows.

Adding to her distraction, her stomach was roiling, threatening to turn her dinner into an erupting volcano. She wondered how much of it was from being anxious and how much was from the churning seas. She was proud of herself. Five weeks at sea, and this was her first bout of being queasy.

I’m doing better than many of the seasoned sailors, she told herself as a way of bolstering her self-esteem. Not ten feet from her was one of the seasick sailors. He was part of the doctor’s coterie. The sound of him retching in a corner almost did her in.

None of them should be up here.

She wasn’t about to look over at the sailor and take a chance the sight might cause her to lose her supper as well.

It’s not like I’d be able to see him in this darkness. Still, she avoided the risk.

She just hoped he was hurling into a trash can and not onto the deck. But in her mind’s eye, there was vomit, lots of it, slopping back and forth, underfoot.

Be strong, she willed herself with a shudder.

It didn’t help that her nose picked this night to be particularly sensitive to the putrid odors filling the bridge: burned coffee, stale tea, cigarette smoke, rancid bodies, and now...puke.

CHAPTER 2

Li’s father’s hand settled gently but firmly on her shoulder. He whispered into her ear with a soft but commanding voice,

Li.

Even if she hadn’t already known it was her father, she would’ve recognized that authoritative summons and the stench of foul breath tainted by years of heavy tobacco use. The same stern voice that chided her often in her youth.

America is a long way from China, her father continued, without pause.

She was dismayed at the doubt in his voice. He didn’t sound like the confident colonel she had grown up with. 

Luoyang has taught me well, she tried to reassure him.

Do not be swayed by all that America has to offer, he continued, unabated.

His assertion that she would forget her loyalties to China tore a chasm through her that only his words could, piercing her heart.

He’s not worried about the risks for tonight’s evolution. He fears I will be swayed by a man. And that man was Rod Dalton.

She guessed his fear stemmed from her late mother giving up her Russian homeland. She had been a spy when she had gotten pregnant by him. Neither of them wanted raise her under Soviet dictatorship. Her mother, Oksana, attempted to flee Russia by boat, but during her daring escape she was mortally wounded.

She did it as much for me as she did for him.

Li suddenly worried her father had a deep prejudice against women. He believes we’re all weak.

I will show you great honor, she promised, her voice taking on a more defensive tone than intended at his perceived chauvinism. She looked down into the darkness, where she knew his black obsidian eyes would be raised, searching for hers.

Judging her.

In China, pure-blooded sons were of great worth. To most of her countrymen, being a mixed raced daughter meant she was of little value. Her father had never spoken such harsh words, but she believed he wished she had been a son. He was a traditionalist after all. A man full of honor and pride. 

That’s what made his risking his reputation to secure her a position in the traditionally all-male, covert training ops program all the more incredible. She’d be eternally grateful for that. Getting accepted was only the first step; succeeding or failing was up to her and her alone. Most of her classmates washed out. Not her. She made it. She defied the odds. But that didn’t make things perfect between her and her father.

Not even close.

She didn’t know where the conflicting resentment came from. Maybe it was because her father was two inches shorter than her. Tonight, that difference was further exacerbated by her three-inch pumps. The shoes, like her outfit, were not well-suited for ships, or the cold weather.

At least they’re not open-toed.

She believed their height difference was only a minor contributing factor to the list of things that bothered him. After all, she was the same height as her mother. At five-seven, she towered over most women by a half a foot. With the exception of her caramel-toned complexion, she looked Chinese. 

Li’s height was only part of what made her a social outcast amongst her peers. The biggest obstacle was that her father worked for the Third Department, and now she did, too. Her father and instructors had warned that her peers would fear her. They would believe that a day would come when she would have to interrogate them, or someone they loved. The examinations were always harsh. Often fatal. She could understand why they spurned her.

But her father? Maybe it’s because I survived, and my mother didn’t.

Captain Wang intruded apologetically. The seas do not bode well, Colonel.

Aboard ship, the captain was god, but even he showed a humble deference to Li’s father. When her father reported aboard, the political officer who was already assigned to the posting was given a forced leave of absence for the duration of the Kai’s current deployment. 

Li’s father had been the one to give the operation the name Blue Dragon. It was his