“Huh… and the timeline to make this all happen?” Kao asked.
“Most of this equipment is already loaded on ships and on the way. The first deliveries hit Kaohsiung in two weeks,” Mitchell said. “We expect full deployment by May first. We’ll run your crews through certification of the systems as they arrive.”
President Ma returned to the table. “This is a big delivery. The mainland is bound to see these preparations. They’ll know what’s happening.”
“Good. Let them,” Mitchell replied. “That’s the whole point. Deterrence through demonstrated capability. They need to see what they are facing and decide it’s not worth it. We nut this place up, turn it into a porcupine they won’t want to bite, and if they do, we sting ’em hard.”
President Ma nodded. “And if deterrence fails?”
Mitchell leaned back. “Then we give them what Colonel Kurtz promised in
This time, no one smiled at the movie quote.
Ma looked at his defenders. “Admiral Han — naval integration?” he asked.
“The autonomous submarines change everything,” Han said slowly. “Forty-eight platforms with nearly six hundred torpedoes… good night. All of that combined with smart mines…” He shook his head. “We’re going to turn the straits into a killing field.”
“General Wu, thoughts?” President Ma Ching-te asked.
“Oh, my Marines can work with this.” Wu’s eyes gleamed. “Feiying scouts feeding targeting to shore-based Barracudas, Zealot boats screening our flanks — we could hold Penghu indefinitely, and keep them from establishing a beachhead with those bridging barges they’ve been training on.”
“And how about you, Director Chao? What say you?” Ma stared at his chief spy.
The intelligence chief removed his glasses, cleaning them thoughtfully. “The electronic warfare suites interest me. Twenty Pulsars could create dead zones where their command networks fail.”
“I agree, Director,” Ma replied, then turned to his defense minister. “Thoughts, Minister Kao?”
She closed the funding document, then looked him in the eyes. “With ten Patriot batteries plus three thousand interceptors, we could maintain air defense even under saturation attacks.”
Ma absorbed their assessments. Each saw possibilities through their professional lens. But he saw the larger picture — a small island becoming a fortress, protected by silicon and steel rather than flesh alone.
“One concern,” Ma said finally. “These systems — they’re American. If Washington’s political winds shift…”
“Ah, well, that’s why we’re training your people,” Harrington said firmly. “It’ll be a full technology transfer. Your engineers will learn maintenance, and your operators will learn tactics. In twelve months, you’ll be self-sufficient.”
“Twelve months,” Ma repeated. “Beijing may not give us that long.”
“True,” Mitchell replied. “Then we accelerate. Train the trainer, give crash courses. Your people are smart and motivated. We can cut training time if needed and focus more on training trainers who can carry on without us, if it comes to that.”
The room fell silent. Through the window, the afternoon sun broke through clouds, casting golden light across the valley below. Taiwan’s beauty had always been its blessing and curse — too precious to abandon, too small to defend conventionally.
“OK. I’d like your professional assessment,” Ma said to Mitchell. “If the PLA comes next month — before full deployment — what happens?”
Mitchell met his gaze directly. “We make it cost them. Every ship that enters the strait faces smart mines. Every landing craft meets a Hellfire. Every transport aircraft flies through Roadrunner swarms.”
“Casualties?” asked Ma.
“Theirs? Catastrophic. Ours?” Mitchell paused. “We’ll bleed. But we’ll make them bleed more.”
“And your six hundred men?”
“We hold the line where it matters most: command nodes, radar sites, and ammunition dumps.” Mitchell’s voice hardened. “We’ve all written letters home already. We know the deal.”
President Ma Ching-te studied the American’s face — it was weathered, scarred, but steady. These weren’t corporate mercenaries. They were true believers, buying time with their lives.
“Show me,” Ma said finally. “If Beijing comes tomorrow — not May, not next year, tomorrow — how do your six hundred men help us survive?”
Marcus Harrington watched Mitchell’s fingers dance across the tactical display, pulling up deployment scenarios with practiced efficiency. The younger man had the technical details down cold, which was a good sign. But selling hope to a president facing annihilation required more than spreadsheets.
“Sir,” Harrington interjected smoothly, “before Commander Mitchell walks through the tactical response, let me address the strategic picture.”
President Ma turned from the display, eyebrow raised. Behind him, Taiwan’s military leadership shifted their attention like wolves catching the scent of new prey.
