“Sir!” An intelligence officer pointed at his screen. “Massive launch detection from the PLA destroyer group!”
Mick’s blood chilled. He knew what was coming. “Cruise missiles. They’re going for the base.”
The display lit up with new tracks — twenty-four CJ-10 land-attack cruise missiles in the first wave, their turbofan engines pushing them at six hundred miles per hour toward Magong.
“All defensive systems online,” Admiral Lo commanded. “Weapons free on all incoming vampires.”
Patriots roared off their rails. The new Roadrunner-M interceptors — Anduril’s latest counter-cruise missile system — streaked skyward at Mach 5. The sky above Penghu became a killing field of intersecting vapor trails.
“Fifteen vampires destroyed,” the air defense coordinator reported. “Nine leakers inbound!”
“Second wave launching,” someone else shouted. “Another twenty-four cruise missiles!”
The command center shook as the first CJ-10s found their targets. Lights flickered. Dust cascaded from the ceiling. The deep boom of explosions penetrated even their hardened bunker.
“Roadrunner magazine is empty,” Tang reported. “Patriots engaging second wave.”
More intercepts. More leakers. The bunker shook harder this time; a monitor crashed from its mount. The lights died for three seconds before emergency power kicked in.
“Surface radar is gone,” an operator called through the smoke. “We’ve lost Pier Seven and the fuel depot!”
Another explosion came, this time closer. The floor bucked beneath their feet. Admiral Lo steadied himself against a console, blood trickling from a gash on his forehead where debris had struck.
“Enough,” he growled. “Commander Tang, Warrant Matsin — unleash the sharks.”
Mick had been waiting for those words. His fingers flew across the interface, transmitting new targeting priorities to his three assigned Seekers. “Shark One prosecuting surface targets. Seekers-1 through 3 going active.”
On his screen, the XLUUVs abandoned their silent stalking. Pump jets engaged, pushing them to forty knots as they closed on their targets. The AI-assisted fire control systems had already computed optimal attack angles.
“Seeker-1 has firing solution on Type 052D, hull number one-seven-three,” Mick announced. “Launching Copperheads.”
Three torpedoes separated from the XLUUV, their own AI brains taking over as they sprinted toward the destroyer. The PLA ship detected them immediately, launching decoys and maneuvering hard. But the Copperheads had trained for this, their neural networks processing acoustic returns faster than any human operator.
“Impact in thirty seconds,” Mick reported, already shifting Seeker-2 toward a pair of Type 056 corvettes. “Seeker-3, target that damaged 054A.”
Beside him, Commander Tang worked his own trio of Seekers with equal precision. “Submerged contacts identified. Two Type 039B diesel-electrics and—” He paused, double-checking the acoustic signature. “One Type 093A nuclear boat. Bold of them.”
“Not for long,” Admiral Lo said through gritted teeth.
The first explosions erupted beneath the PLA formation. The Type 052D
“Scratch one destroyer,” Mick announced. “Seeker-2 engaging corvettes.”
But the PLA had awakened to the threat. ASW helicopters dropped sonobuoys in frantic patterns. The Type 056A corvettes, designed for antisubmarine warfare, began active pinging with their hull-mounted sonars.
“They’ve got Seeker-2,” Mick reported as his display showed the XLUUV caught in overlapping sonar beams. “She’s running, but—”
A Yu-8 rocket-assisted torpedo found its mark. Seeker-2 died in a flash of pressure and flame.
“Seeker-2, snapshot on that corvette, bearing two-seven-zero,” Mick commanded. The last of his XLUUVs fired desperately before diving deep. One Copperhead found its target — the
Tang’s submarines were having better luck with the submerged targets. The Type 039Bs, optimized for coastal ambush rather than open water maneuvering, couldn’t match the Seekers’ speed or AI-driven tactics.
“First Type 039 is breaking up,” Tang reported clinically. “Seeker-5 has the nuclear boat. Launching all torpedoes.”
The Type 093A fought hard, launching countermeasures and diving for the thermocline. But three Copperheads with networked targeting were too much. The nuclear submarine imploded at four hundred meters, taking ninety-six souls with her.
“Zealots engaging surface targets,” another operator announced.
Mick switched his display to track the twelve USVs racing at sixty knots toward the PLA maritime militia. The unmanned boats split into wolf packs, their Hellfire missiles reaching out toward the converted trawlers. But the PLA had learned from Ukraine’s maritime drone attacks. Type 056 corvettes moved to screen the militia vessels, their 30mm cannons and HQ-10 missiles creating walls of steel.
