“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?”
“Sure, so the Hammer Shark mines are what we like to call next-generation smart mines,” Jodi explained. “In the past, mines were laid in the likely path a warship would travel. These are different. Instead of hoping for an enemy ship to cross its path, it’ll seek it out if it enters its detection field. When they’re deployed, they’re essentially in a dormant status until activated by acoustic or magnetic signatures matching the threat library of the onboard brain. Once a match is made, the mine will wake up, verify the target, and attack it from below.”
Master Chief Liang whistled softly. “Incredible. The waters themselves become our ally.”
“Exactly.” Mick pulled up deployment maps. “Tonight, we position twelve Seekers in the deep channels. The Hammer Shark fields go here” — he marked approaches to major harbors — “integrated with your existing coastal defenses.”
“And how do they coordinate?” Commander Tang asked.
“Through the Lattice AI system,” Jodi answered. “Think of it as a conductor orchestrating your defensive symphony. Your Hsiung Feng batteries, our autonomous systems, your preregistered artillery, it’s all linked together to work in support of each other.”
Admiral Han stood, hands clasped behind his back. “Mr. Matsin, I’ve defended these islands since I was Ensign Huang’s age. I’ve seen the mainland’s forces grow from coastal patrol boats to carrier battle groups. Tell me honestly, will these machines make a difference?”
Mick met his gaze. “Admiral, in the Russo-Ukraine War, ten men with drones stopped entire armored columns. Tonight, we’re giving you three hundred underwater drones that never sleep, never miss, and never retreat. Yes, sir. They’ll make a difference.”
Silence settled over the room. On the main display, commercial traffic continued its eternal dance, unaware that beneath those waves, the nature of warfare was about to change.
“Master Chief,” Han commanded. “Alert the fishing cooperative. We’ll need six boats ready by 0400.”
“Already done, sir. Captain Koh selected crews with naval reserve experience.”
“Good.” Han turned to his officers. “Gentlemen, for seventy years we’ve promised to hold these islands. Tonight, we begin keeping that promise. Commander Tang, your team deploys first. Questions?”
Ensign Huang raised his hand again. “Sir, what if the mainland detects our deployment?”
Master Chief Liang answered before Han could speak. “Ensign, they’ve been watching us for decades. They see what we want them to see.” He gestured at the commercial traffic. “You think we chose tonight randomly? That container ship will block their satellite pass at 0420. The fishing fleet creates perfect sonar clutter. We’ve done this dance before.”
“Just never with robotic dancers,” Commander Tang added.
Han checked his watch. “Two hours until deployment. Mr. Matsin, anything else?”
“One thing, Admiral.” Mick set down his coffee. “My team’s been training your sailors for six weeks. They’re ready, Sir. Trust them.”
“Trust.” Han savored the word. “Easier to trust men than machines.”
“Fair enough. Then trust the men who control the machines.”
The civilian section of Magong Harbor reeked of diesel and fish. Mick stood on the
“Nervous?” Jodi’s voice crackled through his earpiece.
“Always am before an op.”
“This isn’t combat, Mick. Just very expensive fishing.”
He smiled. “Tell that to my gut.”
Captain Koh emerged from the wheelhouse. The seventy-year-old skipper with skin like weathered teak was former ROC Navy, having commanded a destroyer before retiring to take over his family’s fishing business.
“We’re ready, Mr. Matsin.” Koh’s English was accented but precise. “My grandson’s boat will follow as backup. Boy did five years in the submarine service.”
“That’s great. I appreciate the help, Captain.”
Koh spat over the rail. “Mainland bastards have been stealing our fishing grounds for years. About time we put some teeth in these waters.”
