The Gotland Deception

Chapter Eighteen: Setting the Trap

It was 0900 hours, and already the Fleet Auditorium’s air conditioning had lost its battle against Hainan’s relentless humidity and the body heat of the nine hundred officers packed within.

Captain Shen Tao had arrived early, securing a seat among familiar comrades halfway up the tiered rows. He noted how those in the auditorium subtly divided themselves — veteran commanders clustered together, exchanging knowing glances heavy with unspoken implications, while younger officers and fresh-faced academy graduates sat toward the front, animated and oblivious to the weight of history poised to fall upon them.

“Attention on deck!” a voice boomed from the auditorium’s rear. Instantly, nine hundred naval officers snapped upright, rigid and respectful, as Admiral Chen Weiming, Commander of the Southern Fleet, entered with his entourage.

From his vantage point, Shen glimpsed his mentor, Vice Admiral Deng Litian, face grim and resolute. Alongside him walked Vice Admiral Wu Guangxi, the fleet’s political commissar, whose usually composed expression was now tense with unusual seriousness.

“Take seats!” echoed from the stage as Admiral Chen reached the podium.

Chen’s gaze swept over the gathered officers, the intensity of his stare reinforcing the gravity of the moment. “Gentlemen, ladies, today marks a significant turning point in the naval history of our great nation. Each of you and your ships will be central to the future of the People’s Republic of China. The responsibility on your shoulders cannot be overstated. What we discuss today remains strictly within these walls. Security teams have verified our privacy, and your phones are secured. Any unauthorized discussion will be considered treason, punishable by the full force of the state.”

The auditorium’s atmosphere shifted palpably, excitement tempered by the solemnity of Chen’s words.

“Yesterday, the National People’s Congress voted unanimously to enact the Drug Enforcement Act of China 2033 — DEAC-33 — a law designed explicitly to safeguard our youth from the lethal narcotic known as ‘Vortex.’ As you know, this deadly drug has already taken over three hundred thousand young Chinese lives, threatening the health and productivity of our nation’s workforce.”

He paused, allowing the weight of the statistic to settle over the assembly.

“The People’s Congress has authorized, under national and international law, the establishment of the Maritime Sovereignty Protection Zone. This measure will ensure rigorous customs inspections of all vessels entering Chinese ports, explicitly including those bound for the Taiwan province, whose authorities have failed to control the flow of illicit substances endangering Chinese citizens.”

The main screen illuminated with a detailed map of the Taiwan Strait, the new inspection zones marked clearly in red. Shen’s pulse quickened. The choke points were unmistakably deliberate — Penghu approaches, the Pratas corridor, and the northern strait narrows.

“The maritime authorities have formally requested naval support to enforce this new legislation,” Chen continued, his voice firm and authoritative. “The Central Military Commission has fully endorsed our participation.”

Captain Wang Jian leaned in close, whispering, “Maritime authorities. He means the militia fleet.”

Shen nodded grimly. Everyone knew these fishing vessels carried more electronics than fish, and crews more proficient with weapons than nets.

“Rules of engagement.” The screen transitioned, outlining explicit operational guidelines. “Vessels failing to comply with inspection demands or exhibiting resistance will be boarded. Resistance is defined broadly — failure to stop, encrypted communications, crew resistance, or deviation from established routes.” Chen’s voice hardened. “Your discretion is paramount.”

Shen understood immediately. The rules weren’t designed to avoid confrontation — they practically guaranteed it.

“Force composition per enforcement zone includes one destroyer squadron, two frigate flotillas, militia support, aerial coverage, and standby submarine assets.” Younger officers straightened with pride; veterans recognized an ominous escalation.

Assignments appeared on-screen. “Northern Zone — Destroyer Squadron 9. Central Zone — Squadron 12. Penghu Approach Zone — Squadron 15, Captain Shen Tao commanding.”

Shen’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. Penghu was a critical flashpoint, its waters crowded and its defenses formidable. His squadron would be at the heart of the operation, visible to global scrutiny within minutes of any incident.

“Packets before you contain detailed operational boundaries, protocols, and militia coordination guidelines,” Chen announced as sealed folders circulated.

Shen opened his folder, his heart sinking at the text: “Militia vessels will initiate close-approach maneuvers to facilitate inspection opportunities. Naval units maintain overwatch and escalate upon noncompliance or hostile intent.”

Translation: the militia will provoke, and naval forces will respond decisively, thought Shen.

A younger officer raised his hand. “What about Coast Guard coordination, Admiral?”

“There will be no Coast Guard involvement,” Chen responded sharply. “This is exclusively a naval operation supporting civilian customs authority. Our actions have clear and firm legislative backing.”

“Intelligence indicates significant Taiwanese military concentrations, including autonomous defense systems advised by American personnel,” Chen continued, his tone unyielding. “Your primary mission is the enforcement of national sovereignty. Noncompliant vessels attempting to evade inspection or displaying hostile actions will be decisively stopped.”

Captain Nie Yuhang stood, cautious. “Sir, what if American vessels intervene?”

“Any interference will constitute a direct threat to Chinese sovereignty,” Chen stated coldly. “Intelligence assessments indicate the Americans are unlikely to risk direct confrontation. Autonomous systems may probe our operations. Observe, record, but engage only if hostile intent is clear.”

He concluded gravely, “You have thirty days. Prioritize boarding drills, small-boat maneuvers, and strict fire discipline. Remember, we enforce the law, but stand prepared to defend our national integrity. Unless provoked, we do not initiate conflict — but we will not tolerate challenges to our sovereignty.”

As officers filed out, murmurs reflected mixed apprehension and determination. Shen’s mentor, Vice Admiral Deng, subtly approached him. “Penghu will define this entire campaign. Trust your instincts, follow your orders. The nation’s future depends on this.”

Shen nodded solemnly. He understood clearly now — the Navy’s role was provocatively structured under the undeniable legitimacy provided by DEAC-33, a legal framework masking an inevitable escalation.

As Shen stepped outside, heat washed over him, matching his inner turmoil. His phone buzzed. Messages from home were innocently unaware of the storm approaching. He responded briefly, unable to promise safety, only duty.

Thirty days.

He glanced toward Yulin Base, steel hulls gleaming ominously under the tropical sun.

The countdown to confrontation had begun, cloaked in legality but poised for history-altering consequences.

Rain hammered Admiral Deng Litian’s residence with tropical fury, each drop exploding against terra cotta tiles like liquid shrapnel. Captain Shen Tao paused in the covered entrance, watching water cascade off traditional eaves onto manicured gardens now churning with mud.

“Tao!” Deng Litian appeared in the doorway, trading his uniform for a simple cotton shirt that made him appear more grandfather than fleet admiral. “Come in, before you drown.”

Inside, the house radiated quiet wealth and historic discretion — Ming dynasty vases shared space with silk scrolls of a bygone era. Deng led Shen to an antique cabinet, where he withdrew an expensive bottle of fine alcohol and a pair of ornately decorated glasses.

“Maotai,” Deng said reverently as he showed him the bottle. “Fifty-year reserve. From simpler times.”

“When were times ever simple?” Shen replied.

Deng chuckled softly. “Truth.” He poured two glasses for them in his study. “But at least our enemies used to be human.”

They drank, the fiery baijiu burning away pretense. The study in his base housing home resembled a command center, masquerading as a scholarly retreat. He had maps layered upon maps, a secure terminal glowing softly on his desk, and a wall-mounted display showing real-time naval positions across the Pacific and into the Arctic.

“Hungry?” Deng gestured to a simple meal — rice, steamed fish, vegetables. “My wife insists admirals eat like peasants. Keeps us humble.”

They ate quietly, thunder punctuating the clink of chopsticks. Shen noticed Deng’s eyes repeatedly drifting to the map display, especially focused on deployments in Russia and Iran.

Finally, Deng set down his bowl. “Tao, what do you know about this spring’s exercise taking place in Western Russia, the Great Plains of Iran, and the Bering Sea?” he asked.

“Just that this exercise is supposed to test the logistical capabilities of the Eurasian Defense and Economic Pact’s ability to transport large numbers of men and materials across great distances, assemble them into formations, and then conduct joint military exercises between our alliance partners. It’s fairly similar to the annual NATO exercises held in Europe each summer and fall.”

“That’s what you are supposed to know.” Deng moved to the wall display, enlarging deployment patterns. “What would you say if I told you this giant exercise was cover for something bigger? Something no one will see coming?”

Shen’s chopsticks froze midair. “Are you serious? This exercise has been in the planning for more than a year. Heck, the Army has deployed two entire Group Armies to participate in it. What could it possibly be cover for, if not this exercise?”

“Tao, look more closely at the map,” Deng encouraged, highlighting positions for him. “The Russians are massing a VDV division near the Finnish and Norwegian borders. They have deployed the 1st Tank Army opposite the Baltic States of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania. We have deployed the 82nd Group Army to Belarus, opposite Suwalki, Poland. The 1st PLA Naval Infantry Brigade is training with the Russian Marines in Kaliningrad, opposite the Swedish island of Gotland. In the Middle East, the 79th Group Army is deploying with the Iranian Republican Guard Corps and the Pakistani 9th Mechanized Brigade along the Khuzestan province of southwestern Iran, opposite the city of Basrah along the Shatt al Arab river, adjacent to a series of strategic rail and highway routes connecting the energy fields of southern Iraq and northwest Kuwait. Do you see it now, Tao?”

Suddenly, it crystallized in Shen’s mind. He hadn’t noticed it earlier, but now it was glaringly obvious. He looked to Deng with newfound awe at his strategic brilliance. “Whoa, I think I see it. This entire time — this whole exercise, the hype, all of it — it’s been nothing but a giant ruse. It’s a pre-positioned threat to Europe and America, designed to keep them paralyzed. If they interfere with our actions against Taiwan, this so-called ‘exercise’ could pivot into a full-scale invasion — one they’re not ready to repel. The whole thing is a feint. Brilliant.”

“And the Padawan becomes the Master. While the world watches the EDEP exercise continue to unfold, we will be making our move to rein in the renegade province of Taiwan, using the passage of DEAC-33 as the legal pretext for our actions. The inspections at sea, justified by protecting our people from the deadly narcotic Vortex, are the tip of the spear,” Deng explained. “When your squadron initiates inspections near Penghu, the world’s media and Western navies will be completely absorbed by the ongoing exercises taking place along the Baltic Sea and the shores of Kaliningrad — not Taiwan. Not until it’s too late.”

Deng touched the display again, shifting to the Arctic and Northern Pacific. “When the world’s attention suddenly shifts to Taiwan, that is when the EDEP exercise transforms into a full invasion of critical islands, harbors, and airstrips here — the Bering Strait. Meanwhile, Russia and our North Sea Fleet will rapidly secure the Arctic passages and gateways into the Bering Sea: Attu Station, Dutch Harbor, and St. Lawrence Island. With control of these areas, Tao, China and Russia will not merely dominate the global trade routes stretching from the South China Sea to the Bering Sea — we will control the future of Arctic commerce as it continues to be unlocked by the melting of polar ice.

“This means China and Russia will be positioned to dominate European and American trade corridors for the remainder of the twenty-first century. The brilliance of our plan, Tao, is that by paralyzing the West with the threat of simultaneous invasion across Eastern Europe and the Baltics, we force them into inaction just long enough for us and our EDEP allies to seize control of our objectives and entrench ourselves beyond their capacity to dislodge us.”

The sound of thunder crashed outside as Deng finished speaking. The lights of the room flickered ever so briefly before returning like nothing happened.

Shen sat there for a moment, thinking over what Deng had just shared. It was incredible, but also scary. “This explains so much — why you have been pushing us so hard these past few months, the rigid timelines, the invasion barges… all of it,” Shen realized. “It all has to integrate with the announcement of the DEAC-33 legislation and customs inspections just as it has to integrate with the EDEP exercise. It’s brilliant, Admiral.”

“Yes, it is. And it took years to plan and make ready. Two empires reclaiming their spheres of influence, while America spreads itself impossibly thin and tears itself apart from within. We leverage the West’s own fear of escalation. The same fear that made them hesitate in Ukraine will render them powerless now,” Deng explained confidently.

Shen considered the implications before responding. “Sir, about the intelligence reports you shared with me about those autonomous naval vessels Taiwan’s been receiving — supposedly from some American private military contractor. What happens if Taiwan fights harder than originally anticipated? What if those autonomous weapons inflict serious losses on my squadron in the Penghu area? If I understand the reports correctly, they’re trying to turn the waters around Penghu into an autonomous killing field.”

Deng’s voice was grim but resolute as he responded. “If that happens, Tao, then it escalates. Obviously, it would mean your squadron would take losses. That may unfortunately be one of the prices we’ll have to pay to achieve victory. If that is the case, we suffer whatever losses are necessary to achieve our strategic objective — the Penghu archipelago. You and I both know the capture of Penghu means Taiwan will be on borrowed time. If we have to, we simply embargo the island and starve them into submission.”

Deng paused what he was about to say, staring at the digital map before speaking. “In the end, Tao, it’s not like America is going to willingly trade the city of Los Angeles for Taipei. And it’s not like Europe would dare risk nuclear war over territories thousands of kilometers away. Just look at how paralyzed they were during the Russo-Ukraine War. The mere mention of nuclear weapons caused them to falter, exactly when they had Russia on the ropes. Instead, they allowed Putin to save face and turn certain defeat into strategic survival. Trust me, Tao — Europe and America will do the same in Asia. They’ll blink.”

Shen felt a shiver run down his spine at how casually his mentor spoke of nuclear war, of loss beyond anything he imagined. As he thought of his family in Beijing, he asked, “Admiral, you may be right about Europe, maybe even America. But are we prepared to risk losing Shanghai for Penghu if that’s what it comes to?”

“That is a question for the CMC and the Politburo. Your mission, Tao, is to make sure it never comes to that. Give Taiwan a bloody nose, not a mortal wound. If things go according to the plan, then America will be too busy to respond with enough force to stop us.”

Shen felt the urge to laugh, catching himself just in time.

“What’s so funny, Tao?” asked Deng, his perceptive eye missing nothing.

“I was remembering a phrase an American boxer named Mike Tyson used to say,” Shen began. “He said everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face.”

Deng laughed, a deep, loud belly laugh. “Oh, Tao, I needed that. He is right, of course. No plan survives first contact. That is why I push you commanders so hard: to make you resilient, to force you to adapt and bounce back from each setback. I only hope I have prepared you commanders for the battles we are about to face,” confided Deng.

Outside, the rain intensified. The wind howled through the palm trees as the eye of the storm approached.

Deng’s tone softened as the rain grew louder. “There’s something else I want to tell you; it’s personal.”

Shen waited quietly, letting him speak when he was ready.

“You know my son, Minghao, he recently took command of the Long March 21, one of our Type 094 nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarines. He’s currently on deployment in the Arctic… our insurance policy if things spiral out of control…” Deng murmured softly, his mask slipping to reveal the same paternal anxiety a parent feels when their child is serving in the Armed Forces.

“I remember. Minghao was beyond excited when he learned he was selected for command of a Jin-class. But, sir, we do have some control in the escalation,” replied Shen, reminding him they weren’t completely powerless in what happened next.

“Do we?” Deng answered as he moved to the window, staring into the storm. “Or are we simply pretending to control the forces beyond human grasp?”

A flash of lightning illuminated the garden outside the window as Deng’s voice grew softer. “Once first blood spills, Tao, control becomes an illusion. Follow your orders. Ensure your squadron does its job and brings us a swift victory before this plan has a chance to spiral out of control into something we’ll regret.”

Shen nodded soberly. “The rules of engagement practically guarantee—”

“Do not open this unless the situation demands it,” Deng interrupted, handing Shen a sealed envelope from his desk safe. “It carries my personal authority. I trust you, Tao. Use your judgment over Beijing’s. If you receive orders that endanger your survival, your crew’s, perhaps the world’s — don’t hesitate to use this letter. I’m giving you the freedom to act wisely in a time of chaos.”

Shen accepted the envelope; the weight of it felt beyond its paper and wax. “Of course. If I may, what does this letter say?”

“It says whatever you need it to say to cover and authorize whatever action you deemed necessary to take to ensure the survival of yourself, your crew, and our world, if necessary.” Deng’s eyes met Shen’s with profound trust.

The sound of thunder crashed once more, close and violent as the windows shook.

“We’re manipulating forces we barely understand,” Deng continued softly. “Beijing sees opportunity. Moscow sees necessity. Washington sees threat. But no one sees the full picture.”

He displayed a final map — global trade routes, populations, and critical infrastructure. “A conflict over Taiwan doesn’t remain local. NATO responds, India and Pakistan destabilize, Korea moves opportunistically. The system unravels.”

“Huh. Yeah, no pressure or anything,” Shen remarked quietly.

Deng smiled faintly. “Command is always pressure. Either we direct it, or it directs us.”

As Shen prepared to leave. Deng escorted him to the door, handing him an umbrella — an empty gesture amid the storm’s fury.

“Tao, in the coming days, expect the unpredictable,” Deng warned.

Shen nodded, then stepped into the chaos of the storm, rain pelting sideways, nature asserting its dominance. He hesitated at the threshold. “Admiral, if escalation spirals—”

“Then we’ll answer the defining question of our time,” Deng responded solemnly. “Does humanity control its tools, or do they control us?”

Lightning split the heavens, illuminating a landscape of fury. Shen saw with stark clarity the perilous brink they stood upon.

He hurried to his car, rain drenching him instantly. Inside, he clutched Deng’s envelope tightly, a lifeline against potential catastrophe. The sound of thunder rolled ominously across Yulin Naval Base. In thirty days, their meticulously planned trap would be sprung. God help them all when it was.