“I agree. They do.” Mack nodded. “Which is why we train. Which is why you’re here. Because when Skinny Poo sends his fleet, you’ll need to stop them without becoming the monsters they paint you as.”
She pulled up footage from the Russia-Ukraine conflict — autonomous sea drones striking bridges, ports, naval vessels. “This is your future. Precise, lethal, but bounded by law and conscience. The Hammer Shark gives you reach. Lattice gives you coordination. But judgment? That stays human.”
Mick entered the command center, shaking water from his cover. “Hate to interrupt the philosophy seminar, but weather’s building. We’ve got maybe two more runs before we need to secure.”
“Copy that.” Mack turned back to her students. “Final exercise of the day. Commander Tang, I want you to program a Hammer Shark for the ultimate test — discrimination drill. Mixed military-civilian harbor, degraded visibility, jamming environment. Show me you can still put warheads on foreheads without killing innocents.”
Tang moved to the programming station, his team forming around him. As they worked, Mack pulled Mick aside.
“They’re getting it,” she said quietly. “The technical stuff, the tactics. But I wonder if we’re preparing them for the real cost.”
Mick gazed through the porthole at the target ship, still burning from the morning’s exercise. “Nobody’s ever ready for that. But when the alternative is watching your country disappear?” He shrugged. “You do what you gotta do.”
“Yeah.” Mack watched Tang’s team work, young faces intent on their screens. “Let’s just hope we’re teaching them to win, not just die more efficiently.”
“Amen to that.” Mick checked his watch. “Speaking of which, you heard the latest? PLA’s moving another carrier group toward the exercise area.”
“The
“And escorts. Big metal middle finger to anyone watching.”
Mack felt the weight of the timeline pressing down. Less than three weeks until April fifteenth — three weeks to turn these sailors into robot wranglers capable of stopping an armada.
“Then we better make every minute count,” she said.
On the display, Tang’s Hammer Shark entered the water, beginning its discrimination run. Time to see if human judgment could be encoded into silicon and steel. Time to see if David’s sling was smart enough to find Goliath’s eye.
It was 0945 hours as the black Mercedes electric-powered vans hummed quietly up the gravel road, their low whine almost drowned out by the constant wind gusts rolling off the Baltic. Klara Hedevig stood at the edge of the Näsudden wind array, jacket pulled tight, smile pulled tighter.
The turbine blades above them spun in lazy circles, casting slow-moving shadows over the tour group. Two investors in green energy from Singapore were bright and smiling; Klara was happy that they wouldn’t need an interpreter as they also spoke English. An NGO from Japan had sent three of its representatives to investigate Sweden’s advancements in sustainable energy. A Spanish investment firm had also sent three of its people with an interpreter. Rounding out the delegation were eight Chinese “energy executives,” all dressed in tailored overcoats.
“I hope you’ll find this a compelling example of Sweden’s offshore wind capabilities,” Klara said. “These were retrofitted in 2030 to accommodate a new Siemens blade stabilization system. They’re still running at ninety-eight percent efficiency.”
The Chinese interpreter relayed her words in Mandarin, and the Spanish interpreter did her magic. The rest of the group understood her tour in English. One of the Chinese officials nodded. Another pointed southwest — toward the coast road. A small convoy of JLTVs rumbled in the distance, just visible through the mist.
Cao Ju, the interpreter for the Chinese group, didn’t wait for Klara to comment. He spoke quietly to the group in Mandarin, then turned to Klara. “They ask if this is part of the recent deployment.”
Klara hesitated, then gave a calculated nod. “Yes. US Army vehicles. Likely from the 173rd Airborne. They’ve increased their footprint here following recent developments in Kaliningrad and along the Suwałki Gap.”
One of the officials — the shortest of the group, with sharp eyes and an arctic-blue scarf — asked a clipped question in Mandarin, which Cao translated without embellishment. “How many soldiers have arrived? And where are they being housed?”
Klara turned her body slightly to shield the conversation from the wind, or from prying lenses, should any be watching. “I’m not totally sure. I’ve been told a regiment of paratroopers is likely around six hundred. As to where they are staying, I’ve heard some are staying in Roma, near the Grönt Centrum. I believe some are staying near the airport, while the rest are staying with the Gotland Regiment at Tofta.”
Cao’s left eyebrow rose, but he said nothing to her as he relayed the information.
