The Anduril rep, Aiden, smiled and nodded. “It was. I suppose it could be changed if that’s really necessary. These platforms are basically software built to kill. He wanted to let the dev guys name the ACVs.”
Batista grunted but didn’t press the issue. He didn’t care about the names. What he cared about was that they performed as intended and that the shipbuilders could deliver in the time and numbers requested.
Fixing Aiden with a hard stare, Batista pressed on. “You and the Navy can call these things whatever you want, so long as you deliver. Now, speaking of production and specifically your company, is Arsenal-1 going to be able to keep up? You’re not just feeding the Navy. The Army wants more Roadrunners, and the Air Force is screaming for more Barracuda-500s.”
Aiden smiled confidently. “Sir, that won’t be an issue. Arsenal-2 in Texas went fully operational last month. Arsenal-3 in Kansas comes online next week and Arsenal-4 in Stuttgart is already producing.”
“Stuttgart?” Batista’s eyebrow rose in surprise.
“Yes, sir. We’re filling pre-position stocks as we speak. Dutch Harbor, Pearl, Guam, Sasebo, Robertson Barracks.” The rep pulled up production figures. “Even forward positions in Poland, Germany, and the UK. It’s actually one of the bright spots in the Replicator program,” Aiden replied.
Batista studied the numbers, his expression softening marginally. “Finally, some good news.” He turned back to Hammond and Vos. “So missiles we can build. Ships, still a struggle apparently. When will these task groups reach full strength?”
Vos nodded for Hammond to take the question.
“By end of summer, sir. We’ve been addressing the bottlenecks for more than a year. They’re clearing. Boeing’s Long Beach facility just doubled their Seeker-class production line. Shield AI opened two new autonomous underwater vehicle plants—”
“Whoa, hold up there,” Batista interrupted again. “You said end of summer?”
“That’s correct,” Hammond confirmed.
Batista looked around the room, then pulled up a production comparison he’d been briefed on by the DIA a few days earlier. “A couple of days ago the Defense Intelligence Agency was able to verify what I’m about to tell you. The Jiangnan Shipyard in Shanghai launched eight Type 058 autonomous corvettes in December. Eight of them in one month. That’s on top of their already insane building of conventional warships.”
The Saronic rep countered, “Mr. Batista, those are incredible numbers. I would like to point out our Defiant-class arsenal stealth ship uses our modular construction technique. This means once the new facilities in Toledo and northern Wisconsin are operational—”
“There’s that word again — operational. OK, when is it scheduled to be operational?”
“Six weeks for Toledo. Eight for northern Wisconsin. We should be cranking out ACVs a rate of four per month. That’s a fully autonomous stealth ship the size of a corvette with forty-eight VLS extended-range naval strike missiles.”
“We’re stuck with summer, aren’t we?” Batista sighed, frustrated by the delays and little he could do about it. “Listen, the Eurasian Defense and Economic Pact is going to be running the largest military drills since the height of the Cold War in the 1980s starting in early May. I’m a big believer in deterrence. So is the President. And in order for deterrence to work, you have to have a military force capable of deterring aggression. I’m not confident we’re there, and I don’t think the people in this room are either.”
Batista stood, gathering his materials. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Admiral Vos, the SecDef and I have to provide a weekly update to the President on this issue. That means I need a weekly update on the ACV Task Group’s readiness. Not a monthly progress report — a weekly report that’s being given to the President. Every vessel that comes off the line, I need to know about it. We are on the clock, Admiral; we need them fielded and ready immediately.”
“Understood, sir. We’ll make it happen,” the admiral confirmed, nodding to Hammond to make sure it did.
Batista turned to the industry reps. “For years, we’ve talked about reindustrializing the defense sector to build the weapons of war necessary to win the wars of the future. You’ve got distributed production beginning to come online, and that’s good. I want you to start drafting up contingency plans for those facilities. Ask yourself what happens if we lose those facilities on the coasts? Can the West Coast and the Great Lakes facilities pick up the slack? What about expanding production along the Mississippi? These are contingencies we should be thinking about and developing plans for just in case. It’s always better to have a plan and not need it than to need a plan and not have one.”
The reps nodded grimly, taking notes.
“Arsenal production of missiles and autonomous combat aircraft stays the priority next to shipbuilding,” Batista continued, looking at Aiden, the Anduril rep. “I don’t care if you have to run your factories on twenty-four-hour shifts. The one thing we’ve done right thus far is missiles. Keep it that way.”
“Understood, sir,” Aiden confirmed.
Batista turned to leave, then paused at the door. “One more thing. These live-fire exercises Intrepid’s running — I want real-world testing data. Figure out how well these systems will perform when Chinese EW tries to jam them. Do what you can to simulate what happens when a Seeker autonomous submarine goes up against Chinese Navy Type 039C AIP subs.”
Captain Hammond nodded. “I’ll coordinate with Captain Trammell personally.”
“Good, do that.” Batista’s expression softened slightly. “Look, I know I’m pushing hard. But if this exercise turns into something more… we could be in serious trouble.”
The room remained silent, the weight of his words settling over them.
“If this goes hot,” Batista continued, “these ACVs become our force multipliers. One destroyer captain controlling a distributed fleet of unmanned systems — that’s the kind of edge we need. But only if we have them built, deployed, and the bugs worked out.” Batista fixed each person with a final stare. “No more delays, people. We’re running out of time.”
Outside, Batista strode down the corridor, his footsteps echoing off polished floors as he headed toward the exit and the waiting vehicle. As he climbed into the SUV, his phone buzzed — a message from the President. How did the briefing go?
He paused, looking back at the building as his driver headed toward the flight line. He typed: Better than expected. But we’re cutting it close. That situation in the Baltic, that’s our immediate concern.
The President’s response came quickly: How concerned should I be?
Batista thought about what had happened, the discovery of the PLA Navy secretly obtaining targeting data of NATO member ports ahead of EDEP’s May exercise. He typed: Very. We need to meet soon, before I fly to NATO.
The President replied: OK, tomorrow. 10 a.m. See you then.
Batista breathed a sigh of relief. He sent a text to the others he’d wanted for the briefing as the driver pulled up to the aircraft. Tomorrow — we’ll figure things out tomorrow, he thought as he climbed the stairs to the government plane and returned to Washington.
Chapter Eight:
Stormy Waters