Chief Chang laughed. “Breakfast delivery. Mrs. Chen’s famous rice porridge. She comes every morning.”
Elena exhaled slowly. “Christ. This place has my nerves wound tight.”
“Good,” Captain Koh said. “Nervous keeps you alive. Complacent gets you killed.”
Mrs. Chen’s crew distributed steaming containers. Elena accepted a bowl gratefully, the hot porridge warming her core. Around her, sailors and marines ate quickly, fueling for the work ahead.
“Five minutes,” Elena announced. “First wave launches.”
The warehouse doors opened. Rain slashed horizontally, driven by the monsoon winds. Six trucks emerged, each pulling covered trailers. To any observer, they looked like standard aquaculture transport.
Elena climbed into the lead truck with Ensign Lin and two ROC sailors. Captain Koh’s nephew, a compact man named Zhao, took the wheel.
“The oyster platforms are two kilometers out,” Zhao explained as they drove. “We’ll use the service channels. Local boats only — mainlanders wouldn’t know the routes.”
They descended toward the harbor, windshield wipers fighting the downpour. Budai’s fishing fleet bobbed at moorings, crews preparing despite the weather. Elena counted over forty vessels — perfect concealment for their operation.
The truck stopped at pier seventeen. Elena jumped out, rain immediately soaking through her jacket. The deployment team worked fast, transferring USVs to a waiting oyster boat. Each unit splashed into the vessel’s holding tank, hidden beneath legitimate aquaculture equipment.
“Go,” Elena commanded.
The boat departed, diesel engine churning gray water. Through the rain, she could barely track its progress. Five more boats followed, each carrying their deadly cargo toward predetermined platforms.
“Shark Two, this is Overwatch,” came Sun’s voice in her earpiece. “Drone contact. Small quadcopter, approaching from the east.”
Elena’s pulse quickened. “Commercial or military?”
“Unknown. But it’s heading directly for the harbor.”
She made a quick decision. “Continue deployment. Act natural. Lin, can you jam it?”
“Not without revealing our capabilities,” the ensign replied.
“Then we ignore it. Everyone maintains cover.”
The drone buzzed overhead, cameras swiveling. Elena forced herself to appear calm, just another worker loading boats in the rain. The quadcopter circled twice, then headed north.
“It’s gone,” Sun reported. “But expect company. That was reconnaissance.”
“All the more reason to hurry,” Elena replied.
The first wave reached the oyster platforms. Through binoculars, she watched crews deploying USVs into concealed cages beneath the farming structures. From the surface, nothing appeared unusual — just aquaculture workers maintaining their equipment.
“First wave complete,” Captain Koh reported. “Twelve units in position.”
“Second wave launches in twenty minutes,” Elena commanded. “Different routes, different platforms.”
She used the interval to check systems. Each deployed USV showed green on Lin’s network display. The mesh was forming, creating an invisible web of sensors and weapons along Budai’s coast.
“Ma’am?” Chief Chang appeared at her elbow. “That Y-9 changed course. Now heading southeast. Toward us.”
Elena calculated distances and times. The surveillance aircraft would be overhead in forty minutes. They needed to finish before then.
“Accelerate timeline,” she ordered. “Waves two and three launch together.”
“That’s a lot of boats moving at once,” Chang warned.
“Better than getting caught mid-deployment.”
The remaining trucks rolled out. Elena watched twenty boats depart in seemingly random directions, their courses actually precisely calculated to reach different platform clusters. Rain provided cover, but also made the work dangerous. Two-meter swells tossed the small vessels.
“Unit Twenty-Three deployed,” a voice reported. “Platform Fourteen secure.”
“Unit Twenty-Four in position. Mesh network confirmed.”
The reports continued. Elena tracked progress on her tablet, watching the defensive line take shape. Each USV pair created a node in the network, linked to coastal radar stations and missile batteries. When activated, they would transform from hiding to hunting in seconds.
“Contact!” Sun’s voice was sharp with urgency. “Fast boat approaching from the north. Not local configuration.”
Elena grabbed binoculars. Through the rain, she spotted a sleek patrol craft moving at high speed. Military lines, no visible weapons, but clearly not civilian.
“Coast Guard?” she asked Chang.
The chief shook his head. “Wrong hull design. That’s mainland Maritime Militia. Unofficial navy.”
“How long until our boats return?”
“Fifteen minutes minimum.”
That’s too long, Elena thought. The militia boat would reach the platforms before then. Elena weighed the options, and none were good.
“Ensign Lin, activate Units Nineteen and Twenty. Minimal signature, surveillance mode only.”
“Ma’am, if they detect active sensors…”
“Better than them finding boats full of military hardware. Do it.”
Lin’s fingers danced over the controls. Two kilometers offshore, a pair of USVs awakened, sensors probing the approaching vessel.
“Target identified,” Lin reported. “Type 022 hull, modified for intelligence gathering. Electronic warfare suite active.”
“They’re hunting for signals,” Elena realized. “Looking for our network.”
The militia boat slowed near platform seven. Through binoculars, Elena watched crew members photographing the oyster farming structures. They were methodical, professional.
“They know,” Sun stated flatly. “Someone told them where to look.”
Elena’s mind raced. If the mainland knew about Budai, the entire coastal defense network was compromised. Unless…
“Lin, can you make our USVs mimic commercial navigation radar?”
The ensign’s eyes widened with understanding. “Make them look like fishing boats? Yes! Give me thirty seconds.”
His fingers flew over the keyboard. On the display, USV signatures shifted, now appearing as standard fishing vessel returns.
“Brilliant,” Chang murmured. “They’ll see what they expect to see.”
The militia boat continued its patrol, scanning each platform. They found nothing unusual — oyster cages, maintenance equipment, and what appeared to be small fishing boats sheltering from the storm.
“Y-9 now twenty kilometers out,” a lookout reported.
“Come on,” Elena whispered, watching their boats race back toward the harbor.
One by one, the deployment vessels returned. Crews quickly unloaded equipment, maintaining the pretense of normal operations. The militia boat completed its sweep and turned north, apparently satisfied.
“Last boat docking,” Captain Koh announced.
Elena checked her watch. The Y-9 would be overhead in minutes. “Everyone inside. Normal harbor operations only.”
They retreated to the warehouse as the surveillance aircraft’s drone filled the air. Elena watched through windows as the Y-9 circled Budai, sensors probing. Rain and electronic countermeasures would limit their effectiveness, but not eliminate it.
“All units showing operational,” Lin reported quietly. “Thirty-nine Zealot USVs successfully deployed. Mesh network stable.”
Elena allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. Despite the complications — suspected compromise, surveillance pressure, weather challenges — they’d succeeded. Budai’s coast now bristled with hidden teeth.
“Shark One, this is Shark Two,” she reported to Mick. “Coastal wolves are in position. The pack is ready to hunt.”