World War: Battleship Arms Dealers

Chen Qiming raised his hand: "General, what if... I mean, what if a British or Japanese fleet suddenly appears?"

This question silenced the meeting room.

Everyone knows that Dutch rule in the East Indies was backed by Britain. The situation would become complicated if the British Far East Fleet were to intervene from Singapore.

Li Te paused for a few seconds, then said, "The submarine force is already deployed in the Strait of Malacca and the Sunda Strait. If a third-party fleet appears, we will know immediately. The President has given clear orders: anyone who obstructs our mission to protect our citizens is an enemy. There is no need for warnings to the enemy."

That's very clear.

"Understood." Chen Qiming sat down.

"Alright." Li Te took one last look at the nautical chart. "Gentlemen, we've prepared for three years for this day. Not for invasion, but for returning home. Not for revenge, but for justice. Remember that, but also remember—on the battlefield, soft-heartedness will kill your men. When it's time to fire, fire. Don't hesitate."

He straightened his back:

"Now, return to your respective ships. At nine o'clock, I want to hear the Dutch reply. At ten o'clock, I want to see our flag raised on Borneo soil. Dismissed!"

The officers filed out, their footsteps echoing on the steel deck.

Li Te was the last to leave the conference room. He walked to the bridge and leaned on the railing. It was fully light; the rising sun painted the sky orange-red. The fleet was cutting through the deep blue sea, leaving long white contrails behind them.

Salah walked over and handed him a cup of coffee: "General, you haven't slept all night."

"I can't sleep." Li Te took the coffee and took a sip; it was scalding hot and bitter. "Salah, you're Arab. What do you think... what your people will think of us coming here so openly to help the Chinese reclaim their homeland?"

The young man thought for a moment and said, "General, my father was a shepherd who had never seen the sea in his life. That year, Lanfang's immigrant ship arrived at the coast near our tribe. The people on board said that they had built a new country where everyone could go to school, see a doctor, and earn a living through their own abilities."

He looked out at the distant sea:

"My father didn't believe it, but I did. I secretly ran away and walked for three days to Dubai. At first, I worked as a porter at the docks, and later I was accepted into the Naval Academy. Now, I am the navigator of the Yangtze. My sister is studying medicine at the University of Dubai, and my brother is a technician in a steel factory."

"So?" Lee asked.

"So this isn't just a matter for the Chinese, it's a matter for all of us," Salah said earnestly. "If the Dutch can shoot Chinese people at will today, they can shoot Arab people at will tomorrow. Lanfang protects the rights of 'human beings,' not the rights of 'a particular ethnic group.' I am proud to have participated in this action."

Li Te looked at the young Arab officer and suddenly smiled.

What does your father think now?

"He came to visit me last year, and I showed him around the Yangtze," Salah said with a smile. "His hands were shaking as he touched the 380mm gun barrel. Later he said, 'Son, you've chosen the right path. This is more promising than herding sheep.'"

They both laughed. Their laughter drifted away on the morning breeze.

At 7:50, the lookout tower reported: "Land sighted ahead! Bearing 150, distance approximately 25 nautical miles!"

Li Te raised his binoculars. At the edge of his vision, a deep green coastline emerged. That was Borneo, Lan Fang's homeland, the hometown lost forty-four years ago.

He put down his binoculars and took a deep breath.

"Full fleet, level one combat readiness!"

At 9:00 AM sharp, Pontianak Port.

The atmosphere in the telegraph room of the Dutch East India Company was so heavy it seemed like it could drip water.

Governor Van der Velde was a stout sixty-year-old man with an unhealthy flush on his face—the result of years of alcoholism and the tropical climate. He held a newly translated telegram in his hand, his fingers trembling.

The telegram came from a Dutch patrol boat outside the harbor, and consisted of only one line: "Unidentified fleet spotted, large in size, including at least four large warships. Approaching from about fifteen nautical miles from the harbor."

"An unidentified fleet?" Van der Veld slammed the telegram on the table. "What makes it unidentified? What's its flag? What country is it from?"

"Reporting to the Governor, the patrol boats say... they can't see clearly," the communications officer whispered. "The other side isn't flying any flags, and all the ships are painted dark gray, making them difficult to spot in the morning mist. But judging from their outlines, the capital ships are... very large, even larger than our Seven Provinces."

HMS Seventh Provinces was the newest battleship of the Dutch Far East Fleet, launched in 1909, displacing 15,000 tons and armed with two 280mm main guns. If there were anything larger than that…

"An Englishman?" Van der Velde frowned. "Or a Japanese?"

"None of them seem likely." Rear Admiral Van der Kapellen, commander of the Far East Fleet, shook his head. "The main force of the British Far East Fleet is in Singapore; we should know if there were any movements. The Japanese Combined Fleet is even less likely; their exercise area is in the East China Sea."

"Who could it be? It couldn't possibly be..."

Before he could finish speaking, another communications soldier rushed in, his face deathly pale.

"Governor! General! The fleet outside the harbor... they've sent a telegram in plaintext!"

"read!"

The communications soldier swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he read: "To the Dutch East Indies authorities: This morning at 3:00 AM, your military and police in Pontianak fired on peacefully gathered citizens without provocation, resulting in seven deaths and over twenty injuries. This act is a serious violation of international law and humanitarian principles. The Lanfang Republic's special task force has been ordered to protect our citizens and demands that you immediately: 1. Release all arrested Chinese; 2. Hand over the military and police who fired the shots for trial; 3. Guarantee that similar incidents will not occur again. A response is due within one hour, or necessary measures will be taken. Signed: Commander of the Lanfang Republic Naval Special Task Force, Li Te."

The telegram has been read.

The room was deathly silent.

Van der Velde stared, mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Van der Kapellen's face turned from red to white, then from white to blue.

"Lanfang..." the governor finally managed to utter, "that...that Chinese country in the Persian Gulf? How...how could they..."

"They had a fleet..." Cappellen said bitterly, "Back then they... but I never expected... I never expected they... to actually come."

"What do we do now?" Van der Velde slumped into his chair. "One hour... they only gave us one hour..."

"Governor, we cannot agree to this!" shouted the Secretary General of the Colonial Government. "This is blatant aggression! If we agree to their demands, our prestige in the East Indies will be completely ruined! What will the other colonies think?"