Above them, a circular command halo suspended from the overhead projected the active warfighting data. It was here that GIDEON’s intentions — often unfathomable in raw code — were translated into human-readable battle logic. Not just what the machines were doing, but why.
What he liked most about the design of the new modular console stations was how each workstation was configurable to the operator. Each crew member could arrange the station to best fit the way their mind worked, determining what went where and whether the monitor was vertical or horizontal. No one was buried in paperwork or shouting over radios like in the past. AI agents handled coordinating messages and radio traffic, allowing humans to manage the exceptions or items the AI flagged for review.
Captain Trammell descended into the CIC’s command station, joining Lieutenant Commander Alice Meilof, who was seated at the central console, hands dancing through holographic interfaces like a conductor channeling Beethoven. Her short-cropped hair was still damp from her trip topside to clear the water droplets left by a wave that shouldn’t have fouled the camera. He liked that about Alice, never afraid to get her hands dirty when needed. Right now, he thought, she wore the focused expression of someone juggling chainsaws, aware of the risks but determined to put on a show.
“Captain in CIC,” Senior Chief Jake Thompson announced, his eyes never leaving his station.
Trammell slid into his command seat. “Status, TAO. How’s our robotic ghost fleet holding up?”
Meilof smiled at the reference to their unmanned ships, her fingers continuously typing as she replied. “Nominal across the board, sir. Though Stormwatcher Three’s optical sensors are degraded by thirty percent from salt accumulation. It’s still within operational parameters, but we should have Anduril find a way to better protect it from being splashed during storms. It’s not like we can pull over and clean the camera lens.”
“The Seekers?”
“Having the time of their lives. They’re learning to filter out natural noise faster than projected.”
Trammell studied the displays. Icons representing the opposing forces (OPFOR) units were already positioned around the exercise area — Dutch Harbor’s contribution to their final evaluation. Each icon bore Chinese or Russian naval designations, their movement patterns programmed to mimic known PLA Navy and Pacific Fleet doctrine.
“Sir?” A stocky man in khakis with the Anduril logo on his polo approached. “We met briefly the other day — I’m Eric Schreck, Anduril systems integration. I wanted to let you know we’ve completed final diagnostics on GIDEON’s engagement protocols. All safeguards are verified active.”
Seated behind Schreck were two more contractors hunched over portable workstations. Trammell had met them and Schreck a couple of days ago when they’d come aboard during their pit stop at Kodiak Coast Guard Station. One of them was from Saronic Technologies, the other from Shield AI. Both were programmers for the Seeker-class AUVs and the Judicator-class stealth arsenal ACVs, the drone vessels carrying forty-eight land-attack cruise missiles or extended-range naval strike missiles.
“Yes, I remember. Are there any concerns I need to be made aware of, Mr. Schreck?” Trammell kept his voice neutral, his eyes locked on the man standing before him.
“No, sir. Just the usual first-run jitters, Captain. This exercise is the first time GIDEON’s coordinated a force-on-force engagement of such complexity. We’ve got manual override protocols ready if anything looks like it’s deviating from the standard operating procedures or established rules of engagement.”
“Excellent, Mr. Schreck. It’s important we have the ability to take manual control back of any of our surface or subsurface platforms, should the need arise. You mentioned we could initiate this if we spotted one of the units deviating from the SOP or ROEs, but how are you defining a deviation?”
Schreck shifted uncomfortably, weighing his response carefully. “Hmm, I guess a deviation would be targeting friendly units or ignoring weapons-tight commands. Basically, anything that would make tomorrow’s headlines read ‘Navy AI Goes Rogue,’ or something along the lines of ‘Robotic Warships — Terror of the Seas.’”
Trammell laughed at the fictional headlines but appreciated the point he was making. “Very well, Mr. Schreck. If you see anything unusual or get a sense the AI is taking actions beyond its programming, you take immediate action and find me, understood?”
“Understood, sir,” Schreck assured him and returned to his station.
“CIC, Bridge.” Walsh’s voice crackled overhead. “Crossing into exercise area. T-minus ten minutes to commencement.”
