But tonight had been good. Tonight had been necessary. Because Kowalski was right. When the storm came, they’d need to be more than allies. They’d need to be brothers.
Chapter Twenty-Six:
Azure Surge
Mick settled into the observation chair as six large displays flickered to life. Each screen showed a different angle of the Zealot USV — a sleek unmanned predator bristling with weapons. The name Zealot suited it perfectly: It was relentless and uncompromising. It was the same USV the US Navy was integrating into their autonomous surface fleet, a crossbreed between a cigarette boat and a porcupine.
“Zealot-1 through 6 are on station,” the range safety officer announced. “Weather is clear, Sea State Two, winds from the northeast at eight knots.”
“Perfect conditions,” Mick muttered to Commander Tang. “Which means nothing like what you’ll face in the Strait.”
“Have you heard how the deliveries of the Seekers have been going?” Tang asked in a hushed tone as the trainees continued to filter into the room.
Mick subtly turned his back to the trainees, speaking at an equally discrete volume. “I have. I was told as of last night, the final delivery of the forty-eighth Seeker was offloaded and moved into the Zuoying Naval Tunnel Complex. I was given a tour of the facility a few weeks ago. I have to admit, Commander — that place is impressive. Something about secret underground submarine bases is just cool.”
Tang grinned at him. “They are great. Did they show you how it connects to the Gaoping River Military Storage Tunnels? If they didn’t, remind me to give you a tour when we return to Zuoying. Should the mainlanders attack, this is where we plan to ride out the missile barrages until it’s safe to leave.”
“Neat. Well, looks like it’s time to get this show on the road,” Mick replied, gesturing for the commander to take a seat with the others as he prepared to start.
Staring at the men and women who’d decide the fate of the battle that might determine the outcome of the war, he began. “Good morning! I hope you got a good night of sleep because today is going to be a busy day,” Mick said to his trainees. “For the past couple of days, we have taught you the ins and outs of how to use and fight the Seeker XLUUVs. Now it’s time to shift gears and introduce you to the USV displayed on the monitors behind me. We call this beauty the Zealot. It’s the US Navy’s version of the Zealot fast-attack unmanned surface vessel. Now before we begin, let’s review the weapons loadout for this bad boy.”
Having had two cups of coffee and a Zyn pouch, Mick was feeling good as the caffeine and nicotine surged through his veins. He pulled up the specifications. “As you can see from the display, the Zealots pack a hell of a punch. Each of them carries four AGM-114L Longbow Hellfire missiles, two FIM-92M Stingers for air defense, and a M134 minigun in a CROWS turret with five thousand rounds of 7.62mm full metal jacket therapy for those pesky patrol boats. Last but not least is a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound explosive charge in the bow, should your Zealot run out of ammo or find an appropriate target to ram. With a maximum speed of up to forty-five knots and a combat range of six hundred nautical miles, this thing is a beast. It’s going to be a nightmare for the ChiComs to try and defend against. But you want to know what makes it a real terror?”
Mick tapped the screen, showing the USV’s sensor dome.
“This. Radar, infrared, acoustic, and electromagnetic — all feeding an AI that thinks faster than any human crew or operator.” He let that sink in. “This isn’t just a boat — it’s a constantly learning predator, prowling the waves and defending the shores of Taiwan. This is going to be the thing of nightmares for your enemies,” explained Mick with a sadistic smile.
Petty Officer First Class Tsai raised her hand. “The acoustic sensors. Can they coordinate with our Seekers?”
“Outstanding question.” Mick pulled up the network architecture. “Through the use of the Lattice AI system, it creates a mesh network between all of our platforms. If your Zealot spots a submarine periscope, that data instantly updates every Seeker in range. This also works in reverse, meaning this tool allows for all of your networked unmanned autonomous vehicles to share sensor data and targets between each other.”
He switched to tactical view. Taiwan’s western coast materialized in bathymetric detail.
“Scenario time. PLA amphibious group approaching Penghu. Twenty ships including three Type 071 amphibs.” The room’s energy shifted. This wasn’t theoretical. “You’ve got six Zealot units. David versus Goliath, Pacific edition.”
Red icons populated the display. “Primary threats — Type 022 Houbeis. Fast-attack boats doing fifty knots on wave-piercing hulls. Eight YJ-83 missiles each.” He zoomed on the missile specs. “NATO calls them CSS-N-8 Saccades. With a three-hundred-sixty-four-pound warhead, one hit ruins your whole day.”
“What’s the range of the Longbows, and how does the targeting system work?” asked Petty Officer Tsai.
“Eight klicks.” Mick highlighted engagement zones. “Fire-and-forget targeting. Lock, launch, move. Sea-skimming profile makes them hard to counter. HEAT warhead punches through anything in the PLA inventory.”
He spent the morning showing combat footage. They watched Ukrainian sea drones harassing Russian warships and Houthi swarms in the Red Sea. They saw success and failure, frame by frame.
“Yesterday’s lessons become tomorrow’s tactics.” He paused the final video — a Russian corvette listing after a drone strike. “This is real, people. You adapt or you die. Simple as that.”
The day blurred into tactical discussions, targeting priorities, swarm coordination. Mick pushed them hard, watching exhaustion battle determination on young faces. By 1800, they moved with more confidence — smooth, efficient, lethal.
“OK, let’s call it. Outstanding work today.” He killed the displays. “Tomorrow, we run through our final live fire and test some of the lessons we’ve taught you. We’ll be firing Hellfires and Stingers, blowing stuff up. For now, I want you to get some chow, then grab some rack time. I’ll see you tomorrow. Dismissed.”
As they filtered out, chattering in Mandarin mixed with military English, Commander Tang lingered behind.
“I think they’re ready,” he said quietly.
Mick popped a fresh Zyn, contemplating Taiwan’s odds. “They’d better be.”
As they stepped outside, Guam’s tropical evening painted the sky orange. Mick had seven weeks until his contract ended. Only seven weeks to transform these kids into warriors who could hold the line when — not if — Beijing made its move.
His phone buzzed; his wife, Sarah, was checking in from California. He’d call her later, spin stories about routine training while preparing for anything but. His mind was racing too much to talk to her right now. “Slow is smooth.” He muttered his old submariner’s mantra. “Smooth is lethal.”
Tomorrow they’d arm the boats. Tonight, he’d pray his students never needed to unleash them.
Chapter Twenty-Seven:
Burgers & Battle Plans
The evening air hung warm and still, more like mid-May than early April — one of those rare Baltic gifts when winter releases its grip early. Lieutenant Colonel Patrick Brenner stood before the massive grill, turning elk steaks and wild boar sausages with practiced precision, the aromatic smoke of juniper wood chips rising into the cloudless twilight sky.