“Good, I’m glad we’ve got that covered. Let’s talk about training — it’s going to be an issue. For the past year we’ve been working to build an organic train-the-trainer program within the services. This will eventually allow them to become self-sufficient rather than dependent on us. If our timeline is to have everything in place and ready to go by April — and even that date is pushing it — not only do we need to increase our trainers by a factor of four, but we also need ten times the current number of operators capable of using these various AI and drone platforms. We’re talking about hundreds of autonomous platforms that require specialized operator knowledge, which we have to impart in a very short period of time.”
Batista grimaced, acknowledging the problem. “And this is why you get paid the big bucks, Marcus. To figure things out and solve the problems others can’t. That said, I’m not going to leave you high and dry with no outside help either. For the next ninety days, your training guru, Elena Bell, and her staff will have priority access to the Naval Special Warfare facilities on Guam. This should give you additional help but, more importantly, a secluded place to train specific tactics without the prying eyes of CCP collaborators. I won’t tell you how to run your training, but I’d focus on counterdrone and coastal defense capabilities first. That’s where we’ll get the maximum deterrent effect the fastest and get the best bang for our buck. If the PLA gets a foothold on Taiwan… well, just try and make sure that doesn’t happen.”
For a couple of minutes no one spoke as Harrington finished the documents. It was a lot to take in. The whole purpose of the Taiwan Study Group was to aid the ROC government in utilizing advancements in AI and autonomous weapon platforms to offset the PLA’s obvious across-the-board numerical advantage. This change to their mission was a lot to take in. He effectively had four and a half months to have all the gear, equipment, and personnel ready inside Taiwan to turn TSG into a private military force that could directly fight against the People’s Liberation Army alongside the soldiers and sailors they’d been training.
“This is a big ask, Jim. Do we really have to be operationally ready by April fifteenth or is there a little room on the timeline?” Marcus asked, rising from his chair.
Batista collected the folders, placing them in the classified bag he’d brought before answering. “I’d like to say you have more time, and maybe you will. But in terms of supplies arriving via boat, I think you have to plan on having everything you need in place before April fifteenth. You also need to keep in mind, the last time Russia announced a training exercise of this scale was nearly eleven years ago, when it invaded Ukraine. We fundamentally failed to deter Putin from crossing that Rubicon and unleashing years of devastation. We cannot make that same mistake and fail to disabuse the PLA generals and President Ouyang of this belief that they can militarily seize Taiwan.”
As they exited the conference room, Batista lowered his voice. “Marcus, the President wanted me to tell you something. He wants you to know this isn’t just about Taiwan. This is about replacing the democracies of the West with the digital autocracies of the East. It’s about replacing the old unipolar world order with a multipolar one divided into spheres of influence across Asia, the Middle East, and Europe. This is about who will control the resources to build the technologies of the future. It’s why we see moves being made across Africa. It’s why EDEP includes the Stans, Mongolia, Iran and Afghanistan. If they succeed in subduing Europe and defeating America, there’s nothing left to stop them from securing complete domination over everything. We have to stop them.”
Marcus nodded once. He knew the stakes.
“I’ll contact you through the established channel when the first shipments are underway and send updates as things progress,” he said.
“I know you will, and the President knows it too. Good luck, Marcus, and Godspeed.”
Chapter Four:
Task Force Nightfury
The C4ISR suite hummed with electronic life. Wall-mounted displays cycled through threat matrices, satellite feeds, and network traffic patterns. Coffee steam rose from a dozen cups scattered across the mahogany conference table. Outside, big fluffy cotton balls of January love continued to fall around the Arlington glass towers of Rosslyn City, but down here in the digital cocoon, the weather might as well not exist.
Jim Batista stood at the head of the table, studying faces. His team looked rested, a minor miracle after the holidays given how crazy the lead-up to them had been. It had been a rough year, and he knew this year wasn’t going to be any better. He needed them rested — he needed them focused. He just hoped the ten days of rest he’d given them hadn’t dulled them.
“Morning, people. And happy New Year!” Batista’s Utah drawl cut through the ambient hum. “I hope everyone enjoyed their break, ’cause the enemy didn’t take one and it’s time we get back to earning our keep.” He turned to his FBI liaison seated to his right. “Darnell, you’re up. What’s our domestic picture looking like?”
Special Agent Darnell Cross straightened in his chair. The former Philly beat cop turned cyber specialist was a technical wizard when it came to hunting digital adversaries. He tapped his tablet, sending his screen to the main display.
“Happy New Year to you too, boss. I wish I had better news to start the year, sir.” Cross’s Philadelphia accent thickened under stress. “We’ve been tracking increased PLA cyber activity against critical infrastructure since Boxing Day, December twenty-sixth.”
The screen filled with network diagrams. Red intrusion attempts spider-webbed across port facility schematics.
“Primary targets are industrial control systems at our major automated ports.” Cross highlighted nodes. “LA, Newark, Miami, Houston. They’re probing the AI management systems that run container operations.”
Batista leaned forward. “Probing or penetrating?”
“So far… just probing. But it’s sophisticated stuff.” Cross pulled up attack vectors. “They’re targeting the junction points where human operators interface with autonomous systems. The handoff protocols.”
“Smart,” muttered Colonel Rooke from across the table. The CYBERCOM liaison studied the patterns with professional interest. “Hit the seams, not the armor.”
Cross nodded. “Exactly. They know our port automation runs on predictive algorithms. Crane movements, truck routing, container stacking, it’s all AI-optimized. Corrupt those decision trees…”
“And you turn efficiency into chaos,” Batista finished. “Got it. Casualties? Any companies fall victim?”
“None yet. Our defensive measures held.” Cross’s jaw tightened. “But here’s what keeps me up at night.”
New graphics cascaded across the displays. Port throughput statistics. Dependency charts. Supply chain vulnerabilities mapped in painful detail.
“Houston handles forty percent of our military petroleum imports. LA processes sixty percent of transpacific container traffic. Miami’s our primary pharmaceutical gateway.” Cross let the numbers sink in. “We’re talking strategic choke points. And the PLA knows it. That’s why these ports were targeted and not others.”
“Huh, that’s interesting. How close did they get?” This from Alicia Morane, the CIA’s Deputy Director for Foreign Operations. Her voice carried the weight of someone who’d seen networks burned, and burned a few herself.
“Too close, if you ask me.” Cross pulled up forensic data. “They penetrated the demilitarized zones at three facilities. Got within two network hops of the operational technology layer before our AI-enabled intrusion detection caught them.”