“I’ll be careful,” he said. “I promise.”
“Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced, but she let it go. Twenty-six years of marriage meant knowing which battles to fight. “Call me tomorrow?”
“Of course. Same time,” he responded automatically.
“Good. I’ll be here.”
The connection ended, leaving him alone with the night sounds of distant waves against the harbor walls. Mick looked at his watch. Time’s up. Fifteen minutes of normal life of being a husband instead of an advisor, of pretending the world wasn’t balanced on a knife’s edge.
He straightened his 511 shirt — old habits died hard — and headed back to the blast door. His key card chirped, the heavy mechanisms disengaging. The door swung inward, revealing the stark fluorescent world below.
He walked down the reinforced concrete stairs, past the emergency equipment lockers and radiation detection systems until he approached another checkpoint, presenting his credentials to an ROC Marine, who scanned them with the thousand-yard stare of someone who’d been awake too long. He waved him in, and Mick entered the sprawling ops center.
Two dozen workstations monitoring everything from underwater sensors to satellite feeds. The main display showed the Taiwan Strait in real time, every contact tagged and tracked. Merchant traffic flowed in predictable lanes, but everyone watched for anomalies. For the patterns that would signal Beijing’s patience had finally run out.
“Coffee, sir?” Master Chief Petty Officer Liang appeared at Mick’s elbow, offering a steaming mug. The stocky Taiwanese sailor had the weathered look of someone who’d spent decades on these islands, watching the mainland’s growing shadow.
“Thanks, Master Chief.” Mick accepted the ceramic cup, noting the faded 146th Fleet insignia. “Local blend?”
“Penghu specialty. We grow it near the old Dutch fortifications.” Liang’s English carried only a trace accent. “Fifteen years I’ve been drinking this mud. Helps with the night shifts.”
Mick sipped the coffee, admiring the kick of caffeine he felt almost immediately. The stuff was strong enough to wake the dead, with an undertone of something floral. He moved toward the autonomous systems console where Jodi Mack hunched over the displays, tracking their underwater sentries.
“Welcome back to the Bat Cave,” she said without looking up. “Your Seekers are being good little robot sharks tonight. One of our Hammer Shark one-way UUVs is maintaining a perfect acoustic shadow on that Song-class sub we’ve been trailing.”
“That’s good. It means everything is working the way it’s supposed to,” Mick replied.
He turned to look at the rest of the operations center stretched before them. Three tiers of workstations descending toward a massive digital display. The main screen showed real-time shipping traffic, each vessel tagged with registration data. Two dozen contacts moved through the strait’s shipping lanes, their paths traced in phosphorescent lines.
“Busy night tonight,” Mick observed.
“Always is.” Master Chief Liang Zihao gestured at the display. “That container ship, the Ever Progress? Makes this run twice weekly. The fishing fleet from Xiamen? They push our territorial waters every dawn. We know them all by name.”
A side door opened. Admiral Han Junjie entered, followed by his staff. The operations center snapped to attention.
“As you were,” Han commanded in Mandarin, then switched to English. “Mr. Matsin. Ready to turn our archipelago into a fortress?”
“That’s the plan, Admiral.”
Han approached the tactical display. Despite his sixty years, the admiral moved with a swimmer’s grace. “Master Chief, bring up the defensive overlay.”
The screen transformed. Penghu’s ninety islands appeared in topographic detail, military installations glowing amber. Missile batteries dotted the landscape — Hsiung Feng III sites marked in blue triangles, Sky Bow III positions in blue squares.
“Gentlemen, be seated.” Han waited as officers filled the briefing area. Mick recognized some faces from previous training sessions. Commander Tang Muyang from mine warfare. Lieutenant Colonel Wu from the 503rd Armored Brigade. Fresh-faced Ensign Huang clutching a tablet like a life preserver.
“For those of you joining us today, sorry about the early hour. Some things are best done under the cover of darkness, when the fewest people are able to see what we are doing,” Han began. “I would like to introduce you to Mr. Matsin — he is from the company TSG and responsible for training our people on how to properly use and employ the equipment they have brought. His team is also helping us establish a training and maintenance program that will ensure this becomes an enduring program,” explained Admiral Han, a smile spreading as he continued. “This equipment his company is providing is going to change how we look at naval warfare. In fact, these expensive gifts can swim and think for themselves.”
A few nervous chuckles rippled through the room. They were David, standing before the proverbial Goliath.
Han’s expression hardened. “Make no mistake, people. Penghu stands between the mainland and Taiwan. We are the cork in the bottle. For seventy years, we’ve prepared for the day they might come. Now, with our American friends’ help, we add new teeth to our defenses should they try.”
He nodded to Commander Tang. “Commander, brief them on our underwater situation.”
Tang stood, laser pointer in hand. “Yes, sir. What you are looking at is the Penghu Channel. It runs seventy meters deep at its center. The Penghu Waterway” — his laser traced the southern passage — “reaches a depth of one hundred twenty meters. Deep enough for submarines running silent to pass through.”
The display zoomed, showing underwater topography. “These trenches between our islands are like highways for enemy subs. Our diesel boats patrol when they can, but…” He shrugged. “Two submarines cannot be everywhere.”
“Exactly. That’s where we come in,” Mick said, joining the conversation as he stood. “Jodi, why don’t you talk about the Seeker?”
Jodi Mack nodded from her workstation, a new image appearing on the monitor. “Good morning, gentlemen. Let me introduce to you Seeker — your new underwater sentry.”
The display shifted, revealing a sleek, torpedo-shaped vehicle rotating in 3D. “This is the US Navy Seeker-class XLUUV. It’s thirty-nine feet or twelve meters in length and three meters in diameter. Basically, it’s a robotic mini submarine designed to hunt other submarines with either a trio of Copperhead-500s or six Copperhead-100 AI-torpedoes.”
Ensign Huang raised a tentative hand. “You said it’s robotic. Does that mean it’s autonomous, and if so, how autonomous is it, ma’am?”
“Good question, Ensign.” Jodi highlighted the vehicle’s sensor dome. “Each Seeker carries an AI brain trained on thousands of submarine acoustic signatures. It can differentiate between whale song and a Type 093’s reactor cooling pumps at fifty kilometers, sometimes further.”
“Wow, that’s incredible. And what kinds of rules of engagement are we able to set on this thing?” Lieutenant Colonel Wu interjected.
Mick fielded this one for Jodi. “Whatever you like. We recommend using layered authorities. In patrol mode, they observe and report. In threat mode, it requires human authorization to engage. In terminal defense mode, if hostile forces are actively attacking inside the geofence you’ve created, they’ll hunt independently based on the rules and parameters you set.”
Admiral Han leaned forward. “And these Hammer Shark mines — why don’t you explain that a bit more?”