Dahl studied the geometry of the intercept. The Lulea-class’s powerful MTU diesels could close the distance in under an hour — but doing so would light them up on every sensor in the Baltic. Stealth took priority. That meant the Chinese freighter would have time to finish whatever it was doing and cover its tracks.
“Helm, come to course two-seven-zero. Increase to fifteen knots on electric drive only. Let’s position ourselves for a closer look without lighting up our heat signature.”
“Two-seven-zero, fifteen knots electric, aye, sir.”
The corvette’s advanced electric motors increased power smoothly, her hull cutting through the calm seas with minimal noise. Through the bridge’s panoramic windows, Dahl could see the first hints of dawn painting the eastern horizon deep purple. The morning twilight would help — that gray zone between night and day when visual identification became difficult.
“Sir,” the electronic warfare officer called out from her station. “I’m picking up intermittent signals from the Hai Qing’s bearing. Same characteristics as the MARCOM report. Seven-second bursts at irregular intervals.”
“Can you classify them?”
“Running them through our database now, sir. Preliminary analysis suggests fire control radar. Specifically matching Chinese Type 366-2 characteristics — that’s their latest maritime targeting system.”
Fire control radar on a cargo vessel returning from a routine grain pickup. Dahl felt the pieces falling into place. This wasn’t just intelligence gathering — someone was testing targeting solutions on every naval vessel, platform, and critical infrastructure node they passed.
“XO, what’s our rules of engagement regarding suspected threats to critical infrastructure?”
Algotsson had already pulled up the relevant orders on his tablet. “Under NATO Baltic protocols and Swedish maritime law, we’re authorized to investigate any vessel demonstrating hostile intent toward undersea cables. Visual inspection, query, and if necessary, boarding for inspection.”
“But only if we can establish probable cause,” Dahl added. He knew the game — international waters meant international law. One wrong move and Sweden would face a diplomatic nightmare with China.
“Captain,” Lindström interrupted. “Recommend we maneuver to position ourselves along her port side as she approaches the cable. Best angle for visual inspection of her hull and any deployed equipment.”
Dahl nodded. “Make it so. But maintain EMCON — no active sensors until I give the word. I want to see what she’s doing before she knows we’re watching.”
“Understood, sir. Computing intercept course for visual range at first light.”
The bridge settled into focused efficiency, each officer bent to their task. The Lulea-class’s advanced automation meant a smaller crew could fight the ship, but it also meant each person carried greater responsibility. Outside, the Baltic began to lighten, revealing scattered fog banks that would provide perfect cover for their approach.
“One more thing,” Dahl said quietly to Algotsson. “Have the boarding team prep their gear. Full tactical loadout. If this goes sideways, I want options.”
The XO nodded and reached for the intercom. Below decks, six of Sweden’s best maritime interdiction specialists would soon be checking weapons and rehearsing procedures they’d practiced a thousand times.
Dahl returned to the tactical display, watching the gap between hunter and prey slowly shrink. The Chinese freighter continued her steady advance toward home, her crew likely thinking of families waiting in Shanghai, unaware that Swedish eyes now tracked their every move.
In ninety minutes, they’d have visual confirmation of whatever the Hai Qing was really doing out here.
He just hoped they’d be in time to stop it.
Seventy minutes later, after a slow and stealthy intercept, the corvette finally closed in on her target.
“Visual range in thirty seconds,” Lieutenant Lindström announced.
Captain Dahl raised his binoculars as the first rays of sunlight painted the Chinese freighter’s hull rust-orange against the pewter sea. The MV Hai Qing 678 moved steadily through the calm waters at a sluggish five knots, her deck stacked with containers bearing the logos of various shipping companies. Black smoke drifted from her single funnel. She was an older vessel, and probably burning cheap bunker fuel.
“Anything unusual?” Algotsson asked, scanning with his own optics.
Dahl systematically examined the freighter from bow to stern. Nothing seemed out of place. Standard navigation lights, proper flag display, crew moving about their morning duties…
“Wait.” He fine-tuned the focus. “Port side, amidships. What’s that?”
A thin line ran down the ship’s hull, barely visible against the rust-streaked metal. As the Hai Qing rolled gently in the slight swell, the line alternately tightened and slackened, creating a subtle disturbance in the water.
“I see it,” Algotsson confirmed. “Looks like… cable?”
Lindström enhanced the corvette’s optical sensors, throwing the magnified image onto the bridge display. The line appeared to originate somewhere near the anchor housing, running down the hull at an angle before disappearing into the water. The wake it created was barely noticeable — unless you were looking for it.
“Sir,” Petty Officer Erik Nilsson spoke up from the sensor station. “I read an article a few weeks back about a similar incident. A Chinese vessel cut a fiber-optic cable between the Philippines and Taiwan. Filipino Coast Guard spotted a cable hanging from the anchor housing, creating a wake just like that. Only noticed it because they were running fast enough to make it visible.”
Dahl felt his blood run cold. “Distance to GosNet-1?”
“Eighteen kilometers on her current course. At present speed, she’ll cross it in… fifty-three minutes.”
“Not on my watch.” Dahl turned to his communications officer. “Get me a channel to that ship. International bridge-to-bridge.”
“Channel sixteen open, sir.”
Dahl grabbed the handset. “MV Hai Qing, MV Hai Qing, this is Swedish warship Lulea. You are ordered to stop immediately and prepare for inspection. Acknowledge.”
Silence.
“MV Hai Qing, this is Swedish warship Lulea. Stop your vessel immediately. This is not a request. Acknowledge.”
The radio crackled. A heavily accented voice responded in English. “Swedish warship, this is Hai Qing. We are in international waters conducting lawful passage. We have done nothing wrong. We will continue our voyage.”
Dahl’s jaw tightened. “Hai Qing, you are suspected of preparing to damage critical underwater infrastructure. You will stop immediately, or we will take necessary action to stop you.”
“Negative, Swedish warship. We are peaceful merchant vessel. Any interference is act of piracy. We continue to China.”
The transmission ended with a decisive click.
“They’re calling our bluff,” Algotsson said quietly.
“Then let’s show them we’re not bluffing.” Dahl turned to his weapons officer. “Light them up. Full targeting radar. Let them know we mean business.”
“Fire control radar active, sir. Locked on target.”
On the bridge speaker, they could hear renewed chatter from the Chinese vessel — urgent voices in Mandarin. But the freighter maintained course and speed.
“Sir,” Lindström called out. “At current rate, we have forty-eight minutes before they reach the cable.”