Batista turned to the industry reps. “For years, we’ve talked about reindustrializing the defense sector to build the weapons of war necessary to win the wars of the future. You’ve got distributed production beginning to come online, and that’s good. I want you to start drafting up contingency plans for those facilities. Ask yourself what happens if we lose those facilities on the coasts? Can the West Coast and the Great Lakes facilities pick up the slack? What about expanding production along the Mississippi? These are contingencies we should be thinking about and developing plans for just in case. It’s always better to have a plan and not need it than to need a plan and not have one.”
The reps nodded grimly, taking notes.
“Arsenal production of missiles and autonomous combat aircraft stays the priority next to shipbuilding,” Batista continued, looking at Aiden, the Anduril rep. “I don’t care if you have to run your factories on twenty-four-hour shifts. The one thing we’ve done right thus far is missiles. Keep it that way.”
“Understood, sir,” Aiden confirmed.
Batista turned to leave, then paused at the door. “One more thing. These live-fire exercises
Captain Hammond nodded. “I’ll coordinate with Captain Trammell personally.”
“Good, do that.” Batista’s expression softened slightly. “Look, I know I’m pushing hard. But if this exercise turns into something more… we could be in serious trouble.”
The room remained silent, the weight of his words settling over them.
“If this goes hot,” Batista continued, “these ACVs become our force multipliers. One destroyer captain controlling a distributed fleet of unmanned systems — that’s the kind of edge we need. But only if we have them built, deployed, and the bugs worked out.” Batista fixed each person with a final stare. “No more delays, people. We’re running out of time.”
Outside, Batista strode down the corridor, his footsteps echoing off polished floors as he headed toward the exit and the waiting vehicle. As he climbed into the SUV, his phone buzzed — a message from the President.
He paused, looking back at the building as his driver headed toward the flight line. He typed:
The President’s response came quickly:
Batista thought about what had happened, the discovery of the PLA Navy secretly obtaining targeting data of NATO member ports ahead of EDEP’s May exercise. He typed:
The President replied:
Batista breathed a sigh of relief. He sent a text to the others he’d wanted for the briefing as the driver pulled up to the aircraft.
Captain Asa Trammell gripped the armrests of his command chair as the bow of
“Steady as she goes, helm,” came the voice of Lieutenant Commander Robert Walsh, calm and steady even as he grabbed a stanchion to keep his feet. “Maintain three-two-zero.”
“Aye, sir. Course three-two-zero,” the helmsman responded, his knuckles white on the controls but his voice steady.
Trammell watched like a beaming father as his bridge crew danced with the storm. Chief Kowalski moved between stations like a boxer in the ring, never losing his footing despite the ship’s wild gyrations and the punch of the waves. Petty Officer Martinez called out radar contacts even as his scope flickered with sea return. The newest ensign, Baker, fresh from Annapolis, managed the AEGIS updates with hands that trembled only slightly.
Through the bridge speakers came the metallic soundtrack of modern warfare — the click of keyboards, the hum of cooling fans, the measured cadence of sailors doing their jobs while nature tried to kill them.
