The timing of this momentous discovery is a matter of contention, with some historians fixing the date as early as the 1st century, and others arguing that it may have occurred as recently as the 9th century. Regardless of the precise date, there is no doubt that the invention of gunpowder transformed the nature of warfare, and ultimately altered the path of human history.
The first people to utilize the mysterious new compound may have been religious Mandarins, who filled bamboo tubes with the volatile mixture, and threw them into fires to frighten away demons during religious festivals. The results were predictably loud and impressive, and it was probably only a matter of time until one of the bamboo tubes failed to explode, and shot out of the fire on a trail of burning gas.
These crude bamboo rockets were almost certainly the product of accident rather than design, but it was an accident that many Chinese experimenters were eager to repeat. Some resourceful soldier, whose name has been lost to history, began attaching bamboo rockets to arrows. When lit and fired from a bow, these fire arrows streaked through the air, to drop like flaming meteors on the armies of China’s enemies.
Eventually, as Chinese rockets became more powerful and more reliable, the arrows became an unnecessary component. The rockets became viable weapons without arrows attached. By the mid 11th century, gunpowder rockets were one of the deadliest weapons in China’s military arsenal.
In 1232 A.D., the armies of the Sung Dynasty used rockets to repel Mongol invaders at the battle of Kai-Keng. The Mongol hoards, which were legendary for their ferocity in battle, broke and ran before this devilish device that rained fire and death from the sky.
Historical accounts of the period indicate that the Chinese rockets were large in scale, and there is evidence that the military engineers of the Sung Dynasty developed new ways to magnify the lethality of their weapons. Where previous generations of rockets had relied on unaugmented gunpowder explosives, these new rockets were armed with iron shrapnel and incendiary materials, in what may have been the first application of advanced warhead technology.
During the same period, the Chinese military made similar advancements in rocket propulsion techniques. Simple cylindrical exhaust tubes gave way to ‘iron pot’ combustion chambers, that shaped and directed the thrust of the rocket exhaust.
The cumulative effect of these advances was dramatic. Thirteenth century documents reported a Chinese rocket so massive that the sound of its launch was heard fifteen miles away. Everything within a half-mile of the weapon’s point of impact was flattened or destroyed.
The destructive potential of the Chinese rockets was not lost on the Mongols. Following the battle of Kai-Keng, the Mongols began producing their own rocket weapons. It’s not clear if the early Mongol rockets were the product of independent development, reverse engineering, or espionage.
Regardless of the source of their knowledge, the Mongols introduced rocket warfare to the battlefields of Europe and the Middle East, where they blasted the unsuspecting armies of their enemies without warning, and without mercy. The famously ruthless Mongol leader Genghis Khan, and his third son, Ögedei Khan, used rockets with devastating effect when they conquered parts of Russia, Eastern Europe, and Central Europe. Descriptions of rocket attacks also appear in literature detailing the Mongol siege of Baghdad in 1258.
The enemies of the Mongol hordes were at first stunned by the unexpected appearance of this frightening weapon. But like the Mongols themselves, the armies of these other nations were quick to copy this new form of warfare. The proliferation of rocket technology began to accelerate rapidly.
There is evidence that Arabian warriors used rockets in 1268, to attack the French armies of Louis IX during the 7th Crusade. The writings of Syrian military historian Al-Hasan al-Rammah suggest that the Arabs were routinely using combat rockets to attack their enemies by the year 1285.
It didn’t stop there. At the close of the 13th century, Japan, Korea, India, and Java had all begun to integrate rockets into their military strategies. Rocket warfare was quickly spreading through Asia and Eastern Europe.
This strange and lethal weapon was no longer confined to the borders of China. It had been unleashed upon the nations of the earth.
The ancient Chinese alchemists had begun with the search for eternal life. Instead, they had given birth to a massively-lethal engine of war, and perhaps even planted the seeds of the destruction of mankind. But the rocket’s legacy of devastation was just beginning. The true and terrible power of China’s creation had yet to be felt. The world had seen barely a hint of the carnage that was yet to come.
The edges of the windows were frosted with ice crystals, but the center of each pane was clear enough to see through. Sergiei Mikhailovich Zhukov, Governor of the Kamchatka kray, stared through one of these ovals of transparency at the park across the street. It was snowing again, but Zhukov’s eyes looked past the falling flakes to the statue of Lenin.
Nearly ten meters tall, the enormous bronze statue stood atop a red marble obelisk of nearly equal height. It was a majestic thing, the father of the modern communist ideal towering like a god above the heads of ordinary men.
But the statue was an anachronism. Lenin’s magnificent dream of a world ruled and managed by common workers had crumbled along with the Warsaw Pact. His teachings had been abandoned and then reviled by his own people. The workers complained that their god had failed them, or worse yet, that Vladimir Ilyich Lenin had been a false god all along.
Zhukov’s jaw muscles tightened. The god had not failed his people. Instead, the people had failed their god.
A door opened behind him, but his eyes never left the statue.
“Governor Zhukov?” It was the voice of his chief assistant, Maxim Ivanovitch Ustanov. “The latest satellite imagery is in, and we have updated position reports on the Chinese ships. Both ships are moving exactly according to the schedule. In a little less than an hour, they will turn north out of the shipping lanes and divert toward Petropavlovsk.”
Zhukov nodded. “Thank you, Maxim Ivanovitch.”
Ustanov paused for a few seconds before speaking again. “We’re approaching the point of no return, sir. When those Chinese ships tie up at our piers, there will be no turning back.”
Zhukov smiled slightly without looking up. “Are you getting cold feet, my old friend?”
Ustanov coughed. “Not at all, sir. I … ah … I just wanted to keep you advised of the status of the plan.”
Zhukov nodded again. “We were masters of the world,” he said softly. “We were the great Soviet Empire: the Russian bear who crushed everything in its path. When we roared, the earth trembled.”
He sighed. “Now look at us. Look at what we have become, what we have been reduced to. We are a toothless old dog. We cower in the corner and hope that no one throws a boot at us.”
Zhukov looked up for the first time, making eye contact with his assistant. “No, my old friend, we cannot stop. We must do this thing. We owe it to Mother Russia. We owe it to the future.”
Ustanov made an uncertain face. “But the risk …”
“It is worth the risk,” Zhukov said. “It is better to seek greatness and fail, than to strive for mediocrity and succeed.”
He checked his watch. “Wait another hour, then have the militia begin rounding up the tourists and the foreign business executives. All personal electronics must be confiscated, including wristwatches, calculators, cameras, and music players. This new technology is too difficult to keep track of. Nearly anything might be used to send an email message or make a phone call.”
He shifted his eyes back to the park. The snow was falling faster now, nearly obscuring his vision of Lenin’s statue. In another day, maybe less, the secret would be out. All eyes would turn to this obscure little smudge on the face of the globe, and the world would rediscover the true power of Russia. But the secret must keep for a few more hours.
The world had taught itself to fear little men, with little bombs, and the insignificant dreams of insects. This they had labeled terror. The very word brought a mirthless smile to Sergiei Zhukov’s lips. The world had forgotten what terror really was. But it was about to remember.
In technical terms, Mouse was experiencing a third-order heuristic non-parity as a function of suboptimal iterative taxonomic indexing. In plain English, the robot was confused. It had reached the designated navigational coordinates, performed a detailed sensor survey of the area as specified by its current mission program, and located an object that closely matched the identification criteria for its target.
The object under examination was approximately the correct shape (nominally ellipsoid with dorsal and ventral protrusions), approximately the correct size (7.924 meters in the major axis, and 2.438 meters in the minor axis), and closely located to the center of the designated search grid (31.626 meters from grid reference zero). Based upon these factors, and the lack of any other remotely qualifying objects within the perimeter of the search grid, Mouse’s onboard computer had labeled the object as “Presumptive Target #1,” and assigned a confidence factor of 98.2 %. Mouse was 98.2 % certain that Presumptive Target #1 was the object that it had been sent to locate.