The Gotland Deception

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Silent Guardians

The early-morning air hung thick with salt and humidity as Michael “Mick” Matsin exited the building housing the underground bunker, stepping into the night air. It felt good to escape the ops center buried beneath twenty feet of concrete and rebar that separated the world above from the nerve center below. As the fortified command post for the ROC Navy, it had been built to survive whatever Beijing might throw at it. It was a constant reminder of the threat under which the people of Taiwan continued to live.

As Mick pulled his Unplugged encrypted phone from the pocket of his cargo pants, he checked the time difference, noting that if it was 0230 here, that meant it was 1130 the morning before back home in Ventura County. His wife, Sarah, would be finishing her morning run along the beach, probably stopping at that coffee shop along Main Street she loved. The same place where they’d had their first date twenty-eight years ago, when he was a freshly minted fire control tech and she was finishing her nursing degree.

He pressed Call, and the phone rang twice before her voice filled his ear. “Hey, sailor.”

“Hey yourself.” Mick leaned against the building’s concrete wall, still warm from yesterday’s sun. In the sky above, the stars wheeled through gaps in the scattered clouds, the same stars she’d see in twelve hours. “How’s the weather back home, Sarah?”

“Seventy-two and perfect. The beach was gorgeous this morning.” She paused. “And you?”

“Hmmm, well, it’s humid and tropical, kind of what you would expect of an island,” he responded, omitting, of course, the air raid sirens they’d tested earlier, or how often and brazenly the PLA Air Force had been violating the Taiwanese ADIZ, or Air Defense Identification Zones, the closer they got to April 15. “It kind of reminds me of that time when we were stationed on Guam or Hawaii.”

“Yeah, those were happy times… Mick…” Her voice carried that tone, the one that cut through twenty-six years of marriage and five kids’ worth of deflection to get at the truth. “I’m not sure if you see any news over there, but the rhetoric from Beijing is getting worse. They’re calling Taiwan a ‘festering wound that must be cauterized.’”

He winced as he listened, then tried to say something. “I’ve heard some of it, Sarah—”

“Hey, don’t ‘Sarah’ me. I’ve spent twenty-plus years as a Navy wife. I know when you’re downplaying things.” He could hear her setting her coffee mug down, that distinctive sharp clinking sound it made, ceramic against the quartz countertop of their kitchen. “I know the money is good, and we could use it. But twelve hundred and fifty a day doesn’t do us any good if—”

“I know, you’re right.” He cut her off, the words coming out rougher than intended. She was concerned, that was all.

Below his feet, through twenty feet of rock, rebar, and concrete, forty-eight ROC naval personnel tracked every surface contact within two hundred miles. Kids, really. Same age as their oldest, the one serving on USS Intrepid. “The training’s going well. They’re quick learners. If anything happens, they’ll be ready.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about.”

A maintenance crew drove past in an electric cart, tools rattling. Mick waited until they passed. “Seven more weeks. Contract ends May thirty-first. Jodi’s already got us booked on the first flight to Guam, then home.”

“You promise?”

“Would I lie to my favorite nurse?” He teased.

“You’d try to protect her from worrying.” But he heard the smile creep into her voice. “How’s Jodi? Still making those terrible movie references?”

“Yup, yesterday she told the ROC Marines that operating the Zealot USVs was like ‘giving Maverick a boat instead of an F-14.’ They just stared at her.”

Sarah’s laugh filled the distance between them. “Tell her she needs newer material.”

“I’ll add it to the list, right after ‘stop calling President Ouyang Skinny Poo in front of the Taiwanese admirals.’” He laughed.

“She doesn’t!”

“She does. They love it.” Mick checked his watch. Fourteen minutes into his fifteen-minute break. “Listen, I need to—”

“I know. Back to the cave.” She sighed. “Mason called yesterday. The Intrepid’s in Yokosuka for resupply. He sounds good. Tired, but good.”

Their oldest, following his father’s path but in a Navy transformed by silicon and autonomy. “Tell him I’m proud of him next time he calls.”

“Tell him yourself when you get home.” A pause. “I love you, Michael Matsin. Come back to me.”

“I always do, Sarah.” The words were ritual, promise, prayer. “Love you too.”

“Mick?” she asked, not wanting the call to end.

“Yeah, I’m still here?”

“Whatever’s coming, whatever you’re really preparing them for, just… be careful. The kids need their father. I need my husband,” she said, her voice wavering.

He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of everything unsaid. The PLA naval buildup they’d tracked all week. The way the Taiwanese operators had stopped joking during drills. The grim efficiency that had replaced nervous energy.

“I’ll be careful,” he said. “I promise.”

“Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced, but she let it go. Twenty-six years of marriage meant knowing which battles to fight. “Call me tomorrow?”

“Of course. Same time,” he responded automatically.

“Good. I’ll be here.”

The connection ended, leaving him alone with the night sounds of distant waves against the harbor walls. Mick looked at his watch. Time’s up. Fifteen minutes of normal life of being a husband instead of an advisor, of pretending the world wasn’t balanced on a knife’s edge.

He straightened his 511 shirt — old habits died hard — and headed back to the blast door. His key card chirped, the heavy mechanisms disengaging. The door swung inward, revealing the stark fluorescent world below.

He walked down the reinforced concrete stairs, past the emergency equipment lockers and radiation detection systems until he approached another checkpoint, presenting his credentials to an ROC Marine, who scanned them with the thousand-yard stare of someone who’d been awake too long. He waved him in, and Mick entered the sprawling ops center.

Two dozen workstations monitoring everything from underwater sensors to satellite feeds. The main display showed the Taiwan Strait in real time, every contact tagged and tracked. Merchant traffic flowed in predictable lanes, but everyone watched for anomalies. For the patterns that would signal Beijing’s patience had finally run out.

“Coffee, sir?” Master Chief Petty Officer Liang appeared at Mick’s elbow, offering a steaming mug. The stocky Taiwanese sailor had the weathered look of someone who’d spent decades on these islands, watching the mainland’s growing shadow.

“Thanks, Master Chief.” Mick accepted the ceramic cup, noting the faded 146th Fleet insignia. “Local blend?”

“Penghu specialty. We grow it near the old Dutch fortifications.” Liang’s English carried only a trace accent. “Fifteen years I’ve been drinking this mud. Helps with the night shifts.”

Mick sipped the coffee, admiring the kick of caffeine he felt almost immediately. The stuff was strong enough to wake the dead, with an undertone of something floral. He moved toward the autonomous systems console where Jodi Mack hunched over the displays, tracking their underwater sentries.

“Welcome back to the Bat Cave,” she said without looking up. “Your Seekers are being good little robot sharks tonight. One of our Hammer Shark one-way UUVs is maintaining a perfect acoustic shadow on that Song-class sub we’ve been trailing.”

“That’s good. It means everything is working the way it’s supposed to,” Mick replied.

He turned to look at the rest of the operations center stretched before them. Three tiers of workstations descending toward a massive digital display. The main screen showed real-time shipping traffic, each vessel tagged with registration data. Two dozen contacts moved through the strait’s shipping lanes, their paths traced in phosphorescent lines.

“Busy night tonight,” Mick observed.

“Always is.” Master Chief Liang Zihao gestured at the display. “That container ship, the Ever Progress? Makes this run twice weekly. The fishing fleet from Xiamen? They push our territorial waters every dawn. We know them all by name.”

A side door opened. Admiral Han Junjie entered, followed by his staff. The operations center snapped to attention.

“As you were,” Han commanded in Mandarin, then switched to English. “Mr. Matsin. Ready to turn our archipelago into a fortress?”

“That’s the plan, Admiral.”

Han approached the tactical display. Despite his sixty years, the admiral moved with a swimmer’s grace. “Master Chief, bring up the defensive overlay.”

The screen transformed. Penghu’s ninety islands appeared in topographic detail, military installations glowing amber. Missile batteries dotted the landscape — Hsiung Feng III sites marked in blue triangles, Sky Bow III positions in blue squares.

“Gentlemen, be seated.” Han waited as officers filled the briefing area. Mick recognized some faces from previous training sessions. Commander Tang Muyang from mine warfare. Lieutenant Colonel Wu from the 503rd Armored Brigade. Fresh-faced Ensign Huang clutching a tablet like a life preserver.

“For those of you joining us today, sorry about the early hour. Some things are best done under the cover of darkness, when the fewest people are able to see what we are doing,” Han began. “I would like to introduce you to Mr. Matsin — he is from the company TSG and responsible for training our people on how to properly use and employ the equipment they have brought. His team is also helping us establish a training and maintenance program that will ensure this becomes an enduring program,” explained Admiral Han, a smile spreading as he continued. “This equipment his company is providing is going to change how we look at naval warfare. In fact, these expensive gifts can swim and think for themselves.”

A few nervous chuckles rippled through the room. They were David, standing before the proverbial Goliath.

Han’s expression hardened. “Make no mistake, people. Penghu stands between the mainland and Taiwan. We are the cork in the bottle. For seventy years, we’ve prepared for the day they might come. Now, with our American friends’ help, we add new teeth to our defenses should they try.”

He nodded to Commander Tang. “Commander, brief them on our underwater situation.”

Tang stood, laser pointer in hand. “Yes, sir. What you are looking at is the Penghu Channel. It runs seventy meters deep at its center. The Penghu Waterway” — his laser traced the southern passage — “reaches a depth of one hundred twenty meters. Deep enough for submarines running silent to pass through.”

The display zoomed, showing underwater topography. “These trenches between our islands are like highways for enemy subs. Our diesel boats patrol when they can, but…” He shrugged. “Two submarines cannot be everywhere.”

“Exactly. That’s where we come in,” Mick said, joining the conversation as he stood. “Jodi, why don’t you talk about the Seeker?”

Jodi Mack nodded from her workstation, a new image appearing on the monitor. “Good morning, gentlemen. Let me introduce to you Seeker — your new underwater sentry.”

The display shifted, revealing a sleek, torpedo-shaped vehicle rotating in 3D. “This is the US Navy Seeker-class XLUUV. It’s thirty-nine feet or twelve meters in length and three meters in diameter. Basically, it’s a robotic mini submarine designed to hunt other submarines with either a trio of Copperhead-500s or six Copperhead-100 AI-torpedoes.”

Ensign Huang raised a tentative hand. “You said it’s robotic. Does that mean it’s autonomous, and if so, how autonomous is it, ma’am?”

“Good question, Ensign.” Jodi highlighted the vehicle’s sensor dome. “Each Seeker carries an AI brain trained on thousands of submarine acoustic signatures. It can differentiate between whale song and a Type 093’s reactor cooling pumps at fifty kilometers, sometimes further.”

“Wow, that’s incredible. And what kinds of rules of engagement are we able to set on this thing?” Lieutenant Colonel Wu interjected.

Mick fielded this one for Jodi. “Whatever you like. We recommend using layered authorities. In patrol mode, they observe and report. In threat mode, it requires human authorization to engage. In terminal defense mode, if hostile forces are actively attacking inside the geofence you’ve created, they’ll hunt independently based on the rules and parameters you set.”

Admiral Han leaned forward. “And these Hammer Shark mines — why don’t you explain that a bit more?”

“Sure, so the Hammer Shark mines are what we like to call next-generation smart mines,” Jodi explained. “In the past, mines were laid in the likely path a warship would travel. These are different. Instead of hoping for an enemy ship to cross its path, it’ll seek it out if it enters its detection field. When they’re deployed, they’re essentially in a dormant status until activated by acoustic or magnetic signatures matching the threat library of the onboard brain. Once a match is made, the mine will wake up, verify the target, and attack it from below.”

Master Chief Liang whistled softly. “Incredible. The waters themselves become our ally.”

“Exactly.” Mick pulled up deployment maps. “Tonight, we position twelve Seekers in the deep channels. The Hammer Shark fields go here” — he marked approaches to major harbors — “integrated with your existing coastal defenses.”

“And how do they coordinate?” Commander Tang asked.

“Through the Lattice AI system,” Jodi answered. “Think of it as a conductor orchestrating your defensive symphony. Your Hsiung Feng batteries, our autonomous systems, your preregistered artillery, it’s all linked together to work in support of each other.”

Admiral Han stood, hands clasped behind his back. “Mr. Matsin, I’ve defended these islands since I was Ensign Huang’s age. I’ve seen the mainland’s forces grow from coastal patrol boats to carrier battle groups. Tell me honestly, will these machines make a difference?”

Mick met his gaze. “Admiral, in the Russo-Ukraine War, ten men with drones stopped entire armored columns. Tonight, we’re giving you three hundred underwater drones that never sleep, never miss, and never retreat. Yes, sir. They’ll make a difference.”

Silence settled over the room. On the main display, commercial traffic continued its eternal dance, unaware that beneath those waves, the nature of warfare was about to change.

“Master Chief,” Han commanded. “Alert the fishing cooperative. We’ll need six boats ready by 0400.”

“Already done, sir. Captain Koh selected crews with naval reserve experience.”

“Good.” Han turned to his officers. “Gentlemen, for seventy years we’ve promised to hold these islands. Tonight, we begin keeping that promise. Commander Tang, your team deploys first. Questions?”

Ensign Huang raised his hand again. “Sir, what if the mainland detects our deployment?”

Master Chief Liang answered before Han could speak. “Ensign, they’ve been watching us for decades. They see what we want them to see.” He gestured at the commercial traffic. “You think we chose tonight randomly? That container ship will block their satellite pass at 0420. The fishing fleet creates perfect sonar clutter. We’ve done this dance before.”

“Just never with robotic dancers,” Commander Tang added.

Han checked his watch. “Two hours until deployment. Mr. Matsin, anything else?”

“One thing, Admiral.” Mick set down his coffee. “My team’s been training your sailors for six weeks. They’re ready, Sir. Trust them.”

“Trust.” Han savored the word. “Easier to trust men than machines.”

“Fair enough. Then trust the men who control the machines.”

The civilian section of Magong Harbor reeked of diesel and fish. Mick stood on the Lucky Dragon’s deck, watching ROC sailors load equipment under cover of routine maintenance. The modified trawler’s hold concealed racks designed for XLUUV deployment.

“Nervous?” Jodi’s voice crackled through his earpiece.

“Always am before an op.”

“This isn’t combat, Mick. Just very expensive fishing.”

He smiled. “Tell that to my gut.”

Captain Koh emerged from the wheelhouse. The seventy-year-old skipper with skin like weathered teak was former ROC Navy, having commanded a destroyer before retiring to take over his family’s fishing business.

“We’re ready, Mr. Matsin.” Koh’s English was accented but precise. “My grandson’s boat will follow as backup. Boy did five years in the submarine service.”

“That’s great. I appreciate the help, Captain.”

Koh spat over the rail. “Mainland bastards have been stealing our fishing grounds for years. About time we put some teeth in these waters.”

Commander Tang approached, his team wheeling the first XLUUV on a concealed trailer. The autonomous submarine was wrapped in tarps, looking like any other piece of maritime equipment.

“First package ready,” Tang reported. “Ensign Huang will monitor from here. Chief Liang’s team has the deployment cradle prepared.”

Mick checked his tablet, confirming Lattice connectivity. Each XLUUV showed green on the network, their AI cores initialized but dormant.

“Remember,” he told Tang, “these aren’t torpedoes. They’re hunters. Once we activate them, they’ll patrol for thirty days before needing recovery. They’ll learn every sound in these waters.”

“Including our own submarines?” he asked.

“Yes. Already programmed with your acoustic signatures. They’ll ignore friendlies unless fired upon,” Mick explained.

Tang nodded slowly. “During the Third Taiwan Strait Crisis, I was a junior lieutenant. We listened to their submarines circle our islands, helpless to stop them. Now…”

“Now you hunt back,” Mick replied.

The deployment team worked with practiced efficiency. Within minutes, the first XLUUV was secured in the trawler’s modified hold. Eleven more would follow on five other boats.

Master Chief Liang appeared, smartphone in hand. “Satellite pass in forty minutes. Weather’s holding, light fog rolling in from the southwest. Perfect conditions.”

“I’d call that divine providence,” Captain Koh muttered. “My grandfather said the sea goddess Mazu protects these islands. Maybe she sends fog when we need it.”

“I’ll take help from any source,” Mick replied.

Ensign Huang approached hesitantly. “Mr. Matsin? I’ve been studying the AI protocols. What happens if communications are jammed?”

“Good question, Huang.” Mick pulled up a schematic on his tablet. “Like Jodi and I showed you guys during the training, each unit has three layers of decision-making. Primary is networked through Lattice. Secondary uses the local mesh networking between the units. And tertiary, should the other two systems become jammed or unavailable, is fully autonomous based on the preprogrammed parameters you provide it.”

“So even if we’re cut off…”

“They keep hunting. That’s both the beauty and terror of autonomous systems, Ensign,” Mick answered. “Once awakened, they don’t need us anymore.”

The young officer paled slightly. Commander Tang clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s why we maintain strict deployment protocols, Ensign. These are tools, not masters. We’re still the ones who give the orders.”

“It’s still incredible. Tools that think,” Huang murmured.

“Hey, focus on the mission,” Tang ordered. “We can philosophy later.”

By 0400, the small fleet was ready. Six fishing boats, crews of mixed civilians and naval personnel, each carrying death in their holds. Mick stood beside Captain Koh as the Lucky Dragon’s engine rumbled to life.

“Heading?” Koh asked.

“North first. Deploy along the Penghu Channel’s eastern edge.” Mick showed him the route on a waterproof chart. “Twelve positions, spaced for overlapping coverage.”

“I know these waters. Fished them forty years before you were born.” Koh’s hands were steady on the wheel. “That deep trench near Xiyu? Perfect ambush point. Current pushes south. Anything transiting there has to fight it or go around.”

“Exactly. That’s why we’re putting two units there.”

The flotilla departed separately, maintaining normal fishing patterns. The Lucky Dragon led, her navigation lights reflecting off black water. Behind them, Magong’s lights faded into predawn darkness.

“Contact,” Chief Liang reported from the radar station below. “Mainland surveillance vessel, thirty kilometers northwest. Maintaining standard patrol pattern.”

“Let them watch,” Koh said. “We’re just fishermen heading for the morning catch.”

Mick activated his tactical display. The six boats appeared as blue dots, their paths converging on predetermined coordinates. Each deployment point had been selected for maximum coverage of submarine transit routes.

At 0420, they reached the first position. The container ship Ever Progress passed two kilometers north, its bulk blocking the latest Chinese surveillance satellite.

“Now,” Mick commanded.

The deployment team worked in darkness, guided by red-lens flashlights. The XLUUV slid down specialized rails, entering the water with barely a splash. On Mick’s display, its icon shifted from white to blue as systems activated.

“Unit One deployed,” Ensign Huang reported from his monitoring station. “All systems nominal. AI initializing.”

“Set patrol parameters,” Mick instructed. “Patrol depth forty meters, pattern Alpha-Three. Threat library loaded?”

“Confirmed. Seven hundred twelve acoustic signatures in memory,” Ensign Huang confirmed.

With the first unit deployed, they moved methodically and with purpose to the next position. By 0500, six units were in the water, their icons forming a defensive line across the channel. The Lucky Dragon rendezvoused with the other boats in a fishing ground twelve kilometers northeast of Magong.

“Perfect,” Captain Koh announced, cutting the engines. “Now we fish.”

The crews deployed nets and lines, maintaining their cover. Below, the XLUUVs began their patrol, artificial minds learning the rhythm of these waters.

“Lattice shows all units operational,” Jodi reported via secure comm. “Acoustic returns normal. They’re hunting.”

Commander Tang joined Mick at the rail, watching the dawn brighten the eastern sky. “My grandfather fought the Japanese here in 1895. My father faced the Communists in 1958. Each generation, same islands, different weapons.”

“Different kind of war now,” Mick said.

“Is it?” Tang pulled out a cigarette, hands cupping the lighter flame. “The year has changed, but the stakes remain the same. They want these islands. We want to keep them, and these machines will help us do that.”

Mick thought about that. “Agreed, but I wouldn’t oversimplify the complex nature of autonomous warfare.”

“Of course not. But the purpose remains human.” Tang exhaled smoke into the salt breeze. “We defend our home. Your machines just help us do it better.”

Just then a pod of dolphins broke the surface nearby, their sleek forms arcing through the waves. Below them, twelve artificial predators began learning their hunting grounds, patient as death itself.

“Contact update,” Chief Liang called. “Mainland vessel changing course. Coming to investigate.”

“Let them come,” Captain Koh said. “We’re legal. Fishing permits all in order. They want to count our catch? Fine. They won’t find what swims beneath.”

Mick watched the surveillance vessel’s approach on radar. The game of cat and mouse that had played out in these waters for decades continued. Only now, the mice had grown metal teeth.

“All units deployed,” he reported to Jodi. “The guardians are in place.”

“Roger that. Admiral Han sends his compliments. Phase one complete.”

Mick allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. In six hours, they’d transformed Penghu’s underwater approaches into a lethal maze. Any submarine attempting to transit would face a gauntlet of tireless hunters.

Ensign Huang appeared from below, tablet glowing. “Sir? Unit Seven just reported acoustic contact. Biological — it’s a whale pod transiting south. It’s incredible. The AI correctly identified and ignored them.”

“That’s good. See, this is why we spent weeks training the recognition software.” Mick studied the data briefly. “I like it. This is exactly what we want. The system’s learning. Every contact is making it smarter, more effective. That means it’s becoming more lethal.”

“I agree with the general premise and idea. But this is also what worries me,” the ensign carefully admitted.

“I am glad this worries you, ensign,” Commander Tang interjected. “It means you’re thinking independently, beyond what you have been taught. That’s a good thing but remember — no matter how smart the AI becomes, we’re still the ones holding the leash. Never forget that.”

The mainland surveillance vessel from earlier had closed to five hundred meters. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it abruptly turned away, apparently satisfied with the fishing fleet’s legitimacy. As the sun rose over the Taiwan Strait, painting the water gold and crimson, the fishing boats hauled their nets in, filled with the morning catch.

Lurking below the waves, the real catch had already been made. They’d successfully deployed the twelve Seeker XLUUVs to begin their silent prowl of the depths surrounding the Penghu archipelago. Within a few more days, they’d have successfully transformed the islands into a trap. The next time the PLA Navy wanted to test the waters, they would find them filled with mechanical sharks, hungry and patient.

“I think we’re done for now, Captain. Take us home,” Mick ordered.

“Aye.” Koh revved up the engines. “We did a good morning’s work. I feel my grandfather would be proud. He fought a different war, but it’s the same spirit.”

As the Lucky Dragon turned toward Magong, Mick sent a final message to Jodi: “It’s done. Silent guardians deployed. The sea wall is complete.”

Her response came immediately: “Good copy. Phase two begins tonight. The coastal wolves are ready to prowl.”

Mick smiled as he read her message. He secured his equipment and went below. In twelve hours, Elena Bell, the new TSG contractor, would take the next watch, hiding their Zealot-class surface drones along Taiwan’s western shores. Layer by layer, they were building an autonomous defense that would turn the Taiwan Strait into an unmanned hellscape — a phrase the former IndoPACOM Commander Admiral Sam Paparo had predicted nine years earlier.

But first, breakfast. Even waging digital warfare required human fuel.

The Lucky Dragon chugged toward home, her crew whistling traditional fishing songs, nets heavy with tuna and mackerel. Just another morning in the Penghu Islands, where fishermen had become warriors and the sea itself had grown silicon teeth.