A young petty officer, barely twenty-one by the look of him, raised his hand tentatively. “The vote last week… they really mean it this time?”
The hangar fell silent except for rain and distant thunder.
“They’ve meant it every time,” Mack said quietly. “Difference is, this time they think they can win. Our job — your job — is to make that calculation so costly they’ll choke on it.”
She gestured to the equipment containers being offloaded from the C-17, each one stenciled with cryptic designations: XLUUV-SEEK-7, CAN-USV-12, MINE-CAP-3.
“Ten days,” she announced. “That’s what you get to master systems that take our operators months to learn. We’ll run you eighteen hours a day. Sleep will be a luxury. Mistakes will be painful. But when you leave here, you’ll be able to turn the waters around Taiwan into a graveyard for anyone stupid enough to test you.”
“Including West Taiwan’s finest rust buckets,” Mick added with a wolfish grin.
This time the laughter was genuine. Even Tang cracked a smile at the joking reference to mainland China as “West Taiwan” instead of the People’s Republic of China.
“Ground rules,” Mack continued. “Everything you see here is classified beyond classified. The Chinese have assets throughout the Pacific trying to steal what you’re about to learn. Trust no one outside this group. Use only secured comms. And if someone approaches you offering money for information…”
“Report it immediately,” Tang finished. “We’ve had the briefings.”
“Good.” Mack stepped aside as ground crews began moving the first container into the hangar. “Grab your gear and follow Chief Reyes to billeting. PT formation at 1400. First classroom session at 1500. Tonight, you learn to think like the machines you’ll command.”
The formation broke, operators collecting seabags and equipment cases. Mack noticed how they moved — alert, professional, but with an undercurrent of urgency. They understood the stakes.
“Think they’re ready for this?” Mick asked quietly.
Mack watched Tang directing his people, organizing them into work details without being asked. “They better be. Clock’s ticking, and Skinny Poo’s not known for patience.”
“Speaking of which…” Mick pulled out his phone, showing her a news alert. “PLA Navy announced another ‘training evolution’ near Matsu. Three destroyers, carrier group standing by in reserve.”
“Pressure tactics.” Mack shrugged, but her jaw tightened. “Let them posture. In ten days, these kids will have the tools to make that carrier group think twice about entering the strait.”
The squall began to ease, sunlight breaking through in patches. Steam rose from the tarmac as tropical heat reasserted itself. Mack looked at her tablet one more time, reviewing the compressed training schedule. Ten days to teach submarine hunters how to command robot wolves. Ten days to help David sharpen his rock-slinging skills.
Confused nods and raised hands.
“Good. Because, as Yoda said, ‘Do or do not, there is no try.’ Except here, ‘do not’ means your country drowns in landing craft. So let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.”
She turned to Mick. “Think I should ease up on the movie quotes?”
“Nah.” He scratched his beard. “If you can’t find wisdom in eighties action flicks, what’s the point of defending democracy?”
Tang appeared at her elbow, having settled his people. “Excuse me, Mack, one question. These XLUUVs — they’re truly autonomous? No tether to a base?”
“Yes. Thirty days of underwater hunting, all on their own. Here, let me show you something.” She pulled up a schematic on her tablet. “These bad boys have onboard AIs that can process and identify acoustic signatures, classify threats, and even predict submarine behavior patterns over time. You designate the zones they operate in, and you control and program the rules of engagement they use. After that, they’re killer whales with torpedoes for teeth.”
“Amazing. And what if the PLA tries to jam our communications?”
“Ah, well, that’s the beauty of autonomy.” Mick leaned in. “Can’t jam what doesn’t need to phone home. These things will keep hunting even if every satellite burns and every radio tower falls.”
Tang studied the schematic, fingers tracing torpedo loadouts and sensor arrays. “We’ve theorized such systems. To see them real…”
“Yes, it’s impressive. We’ve moved well past theory, Commander,” interrupted Mack as she closed the tablet. “It’s time we welcome you to the future of naval warfare. Population: you.”
Tang smiled at her brashness.
“Come on,” Mack said, leading them deeper into the complex. “Time to turn you into ghost whisperers. Except your ghosts will be carrying Mark 48 torpedoes.”
