“Coffee?” Ensign Lin appeared at her elbow, offering a thermos. The kid couldn’t be older than twenty-two, but his eyes held the intensity of someone who understood the stakes.
“Thanks.” Elena accepted the cup, noting the Tsoying Naval Base insignia on his jacket. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep. Too excited.” Lin’s English was flawless, probably perfected at one of Taiwan’s military academies. “First real deployment of autonomous systems. We’re making history.”
“History’s overrated,” Elena muttered, sipping the bitter brew. “I prefer boring deployments where everyone goes home.”
A door banged open. Master Sergeant Sun materialized from the rain, his marine recon team ghosting behind him. The sergeant’s expression suggested he’d rather be anywhere else than babysitting American contractors.
“Perimeter’s secure,” Sun reported in accented English. “But we have a problem.”
Elena’s hand instinctively moved toward her concealed sidearm. “Define problem, Sergeant.”
“Old Tau from the morning market says strangers were asking about ‘new equipment’ at the harbor. There were two men, mid-twenties with mainland accents. They left before dawn.”
“Hmm, could be nothing,” Ensign Lin offered hopefully.
“Yeah, or it could be a ChiCom SOF unit conducting surveillance of the area,” Elena countered. She activated her encrypted comm. “Morning, Mick. You got a minute?”
Mick’s voice crackled through her earpiece from Penghu. “It’s early, and I haven’t had my coffee yet, but go ahead, Shark Two.”
She smiled, stifling a laugh before turning serious. “Our Marine overwatch may have detected a possible compromise. He received a local report of a pair of military-aged males with mainland accents showing interest in our activities.”
A pause followed. “Your call, Elena. You’re on scene,” Mick advised.
She weighed the options. Abort, and they’d lose weeks of preparation. Continue, and they might walk into a trap. Through the window, oyster farmers were already heading out, their flat-bottomed boats loaded with cultivation gear.
“Mission’s too important and we’re short on time. We’ll proceed,” she decided. “But we adapt. I’ll update you if anything changes. Shark Two out.” Elena disconnected the call, then turned to Ensign Lin. “Can your mesh network handle distributed activation?”
The ensign’s fingers flew over his tablet. “Yes, ma’am. Each USV can activate independently based on proximity triggers. No central command signal needed.”
“Good. We scatter the units more than planned. Make them find all of them.”
Master Sergeant Sun grunted approvingly. “Finally. Someone who thinks like a marine.”
The warehouse doors rolled open. Chief Petty Officer Chang of the Coast Guard entered, water streaming from his rain gear. Twenty years of service showed in his hardened face and careful movements.
“Weather’s getting worse,” Chang announced. “Northeast monsoon’s picking up. Seas building to two meters.”
“Perfect,” Elena said. “Rough seas mean fewer observers.”
Chang’s expression soured. “Also means more danger for my fishermen. These aren’t Navy crews, Ms. Bell. They’re civilians with families.”
“Who volunteered to help defend their homes,” Captain Koh interjected, entering behind Chang. The fishing cooperative leader moved with a destroyer captain’s bearing despite his seventy years. “My boats, my choice, Chief Chang.”
Elena watched the tension between the two men. Chang was sworn to protect civilian maritime traffic. Koh, on the other hand, had an understanding that sometimes civilians had to become warriors.
“Gentlemen,” she interrupted. “We have six hours to position forty USVs along twenty kilometers of coastline. Let’s focus.”
She pulled up the deployment map on a waterproof display. Budai’s coastline appeared in detail — oyster platforms extending two kilometers offshore, abandoned salt pans creating a maze of channels, and fishing ports dotting the shore.
“Original plan was four units per platform, ten platforms total.” She adjusted the display. “New plan: two units per platform, twenty platforms. Harder to find, harder to destroy all at once.”
“More trips,” Captain Koh observed. “More exposure.”
“But better survivability,” Sun added. “I like it. Defense in depth.”
Ensign Lin studied his tablet. “I can modify the mesh network protocols. Each pair of USVs will create a local node. Destroy one, the other adapts.”
“Do it.” Elena turned to the deployment teams. “Check your equipment. We launch in thirty minutes.”
The warehouse erupted in controlled chaos. ROC sailors wheeled USVs toward concealed trailers. Each unit was wrapped in fishing nets and tarps, disguised as aquaculture equipment. The Zealot’s angular hull disappeared beneath convincing camouflage.
Elena inspected each unit personally. The USVs were engineering marvels — four meters long, semisubmersible, carrying four naval Hellfire missiles and a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound warhead for terminal attack. But it was their AI that made them truly lethal. Each could identify, track, and engage targets autonomously or in coordinated swarms.
“Ma’am?” A young sailor approached nervously. “Unit Seventeen shows a fault in its IFF transponder.”
Elena checked the diagnostic display. The Identification Friend or Foe system showed intermittent failures. “Pull it. We don’t deploy anything that might target friendlies.”
“But that leaves us with thirty-nine units…”
“Better thirty-nine reliable wolves than forty with one rabid.” She marked the unit for repair. “War’s about trust, sailor. We trust these machines to kill the right targets.”
Chief Chang reappeared, smartphone in hand. “Coast Guard radar reports Y-9 surveillance aircraft, fifty nautical miles west. Routine patrol pattern so far.”
“So far,” Sun echoed darkly.
Elena considered their options. The Y-9’s sensors could detect unusual activity, but the rain and sea state would degrade their effectiveness. Still…
“We adjust timing,” she decided. “Launch in three waves, mixed with regular fishing traffic. Ensign Lin, can you slave some USVs to fishing boat navigation?”
“Already done.” The ensign showed her his screen. “They’ll mirror fishing vessel movements until activated. Anyone watching will see normal traffic patterns.”
“Outstanding.” Elena felt a flutter of pride. These kids were good. “Captain Koh, which boats are ready?”
The old captain consulted a handwritten list. “Six boats first wave. All with veteran crews. My nephew commands the lead vessel — five years in the Navy, knows these waters like his own palm.”
“Perfect. Master Sergeant, I need your marines dispersed among the boats. If we have mainland assets watching…”
“Already planned,” Sun interrupted. “Two-man teams per vessel. Civilian clothes, concealed weapons. Anyone tries to board, they’ll meet resistance.”
Elena nodded. The plan was coming together despite the complications. Outside, rain intensified, drumming against the warehouse roof. Through the murk, she could see oyster platforms stretching into the gray dawn — perfect hiding spots for mechanical predators.
“Movement,” one of Sun’s marines reported. “Vehicle approaching from the north. Not local plates.”
Everyone tensed. Elena moved to a window, peering through the rain. A white van approached slowly, headlights probing the darkness.
“Weapons ready,” Sun ordered quietly. His marines faded into shadows.
The van stopped fifty meters away. A door opened. An elderly woman emerged, followed by two younger men carrying boxes.