The Gotland Deception

Chapter Thirty: Coastal Wolves

Elena Bell checked her dive watch — 0500 hours. High tide was in ninety minutes. Through the warehouse’s salt-crusted windows, she counted seventeen fishing boats preparing for the morning catch, their diesel engines warming in the predawn drizzle.

Perfect cover, she thought.

The old salt processing warehouse smelled of rust and brine. Once, Budai had supplied salt to half of Taiwan. Now the abandoned buildings served a different purpose. Elena ran her hand along a Zealot USV’s sleek hull, marveling at the engineering. Eight months ago, she’d been piloting these USVs for the Navy. Now, she was hiding robotic boats in Taiwanese fishing villages and getting paid handsomely by TSG for her efforts.

“Coffee?” Ensign Lin appeared at her elbow, offering a thermos. The kid couldn’t be older than twenty-two, but his eyes held the intensity of someone who understood the stakes.

“Thanks.” Elena accepted the cup, noting the Tsoying Naval Base insignia on his jacket. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Too excited.” Lin’s English was flawless, probably perfected at one of Taiwan’s military academies. “First real deployment of autonomous systems. We’re making history.”

“History’s overrated,” Elena muttered, sipping the bitter brew. “I prefer boring deployments where everyone goes home.”

A door banged open. Master Sergeant Sun materialized from the rain, his marine recon team ghosting behind him. The sergeant’s expression suggested he’d rather be anywhere else than babysitting American contractors.

“Perimeter’s secure,” Sun reported in accented English. “But we have a problem.”

Elena’s hand instinctively moved toward her concealed sidearm. “Define problem, Sergeant.”

“Old Tau from the morning market says strangers were asking about ‘new equipment’ at the harbor. There were two men, mid-twenties with mainland accents. They left before dawn.”

“Hmm, could be nothing,” Ensign Lin offered hopefully.

“Yeah, or it could be a ChiCom SOF unit conducting surveillance of the area,” Elena countered. She activated her encrypted comm. “Morning, Mick. You got a minute?”

Mick’s voice crackled through her earpiece from Penghu. “It’s early, and I haven’t had my coffee yet, but go ahead, Shark Two.”

She smiled, stifling a laugh before turning serious. “Our Marine overwatch may have detected a possible compromise. He received a local report of a pair of military-aged males with mainland accents showing interest in our activities.”

A pause followed. “Your call, Elena. You’re on scene,” Mick advised.

She weighed the options. Abort, and they’d lose weeks of preparation. Continue, and they might walk into a trap. Through the window, oyster farmers were already heading out, their flat-bottomed boats loaded with cultivation gear.

“Mission’s too important and we’re short on time. We’ll proceed,” she decided. “But we adapt. I’ll update you if anything changes. Shark Two out.” Elena disconnected the call, then turned to Ensign Lin. “Can your mesh network handle distributed activation?”

The ensign’s fingers flew over his tablet. “Yes, ma’am. Each USV can activate independently based on proximity triggers. No central command signal needed.”

“Good. We scatter the units more than planned. Make them find all of them.”

Master Sergeant Sun grunted approvingly. “Finally. Someone who thinks like a marine.”

The warehouse doors rolled open. Chief Petty Officer Chang of the Coast Guard entered, water streaming from his rain gear. Twenty years of service showed in his hardened face and careful movements.

“Weather’s getting worse,” Chang announced. “Northeast monsoon’s picking up. Seas building to two meters.”

“Perfect,” Elena said. “Rough seas mean fewer observers.”

Chang’s expression soured. “Also means more danger for my fishermen. These aren’t Navy crews, Ms. Bell. They’re civilians with families.”

“Who volunteered to help defend their homes,” Captain Koh interjected, entering behind Chang. The fishing cooperative leader moved with a destroyer captain’s bearing despite his seventy years. “My boats, my choice, Chief Chang.”

Elena watched the tension between the two men. Chang was sworn to protect civilian maritime traffic. Koh, on the other hand, had an understanding that sometimes civilians had to become warriors.

“Gentlemen,” she interrupted. “We have six hours to position forty USVs along twenty kilometers of coastline. Let’s focus.”

She pulled up the deployment map on a waterproof display. Budai’s coastline appeared in detail — oyster platforms extending two kilometers offshore, abandoned salt pans creating a maze of channels, and fishing ports dotting the shore.

“Original plan was four units per platform, ten platforms total.” She adjusted the display. “New plan: two units per platform, twenty platforms. Harder to find, harder to destroy all at once.”

“More trips,” Captain Koh observed. “More exposure.”

“But better survivability,” Sun added. “I like it. Defense in depth.”

Ensign Lin studied his tablet. “I can modify the mesh network protocols. Each pair of USVs will create a local node. Destroy one, the other adapts.”

“Do it.” Elena turned to the deployment teams. “Check your equipment. We launch in thirty minutes.”

The warehouse erupted in controlled chaos. ROC sailors wheeled USVs toward concealed trailers. Each unit was wrapped in fishing nets and tarps, disguised as aquaculture equipment. The Zealot’s angular hull disappeared beneath convincing camouflage.

Elena inspected each unit personally. The USVs were engineering marvels — four meters long, semisubmersible, carrying four naval Hellfire missiles and a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound warhead for terminal attack. But it was their AI that made them truly lethal. Each could identify, track, and engage targets autonomously or in coordinated swarms.

“Ma’am?” A young sailor approached nervously. “Unit Seventeen shows a fault in its IFF transponder.”

Elena checked the diagnostic display. The Identification Friend or Foe system showed intermittent failures. “Pull it. We don’t deploy anything that might target friendlies.”

“But that leaves us with thirty-nine units…”

“Better thirty-nine reliable wolves than forty with one rabid.” She marked the unit for repair. “War’s about trust, sailor. We trust these machines to kill the right targets.”

Chief Chang reappeared, smartphone in hand. “Coast Guard radar reports Y-9 surveillance aircraft, fifty nautical miles west. Routine patrol pattern so far.”

“So far,” Sun echoed darkly.

Elena considered their options. The Y-9’s sensors could detect unusual activity, but the rain and sea state would degrade their effectiveness. Still…

“We adjust timing,” she decided. “Launch in three waves, mixed with regular fishing traffic. Ensign Lin, can you slave some USVs to fishing boat navigation?”

“Already done.” The ensign showed her his screen. “They’ll mirror fishing vessel movements until activated. Anyone watching will see normal traffic patterns.”

“Outstanding.” Elena felt a flutter of pride. These kids were good. “Captain Koh, which boats are ready?”

The old captain consulted a handwritten list. “Six boats first wave. All with veteran crews. My nephew commands the lead vessel — five years in the Navy, knows these waters like his own palm.”

“Perfect. Master Sergeant, I need your marines dispersed among the boats. If we have mainland assets watching…”

“Already planned,” Sun interrupted. “Two-man teams per vessel. Civilian clothes, concealed weapons. Anyone tries to board, they’ll meet resistance.”

Elena nodded. The plan was coming together despite the complications. Outside, rain intensified, drumming against the warehouse roof. Through the murk, she could see oyster platforms stretching into the gray dawn — perfect hiding spots for mechanical predators.

“Movement,” one of Sun’s marines reported. “Vehicle approaching from the north. Not local plates.”

Everyone tensed. Elena moved to a window, peering through the rain. A white van approached slowly, headlights probing the darkness.

“Weapons ready,” Sun ordered quietly. His marines faded into shadows.

The van stopped fifty meters away. A door opened. An elderly woman emerged, followed by two younger men carrying boxes.

Chief Chang laughed. “Breakfast delivery. Mrs. Chen’s famous rice porridge. She comes every morning.”

Elena exhaled slowly. “Christ. This place has my nerves wound tight.”

“Good,” Captain Koh said. “Nervous keeps you alive. Complacent gets you killed.”

Mrs. Chen’s crew distributed steaming containers. Elena accepted a bowl gratefully, the hot porridge warming her core. Around her, sailors and marines ate quickly, fueling for the work ahead.

“Five minutes,” Elena announced. “First wave launches.”

The warehouse doors opened. Rain slashed horizontally, driven by the monsoon winds. Six trucks emerged, each pulling covered trailers. To any observer, they looked like standard aquaculture transport.

Elena climbed into the lead truck with Ensign Lin and two ROC sailors. Captain Koh’s nephew, a compact man named Zhao, took the wheel.

“The oyster platforms are two kilometers out,” Zhao explained as they drove. “We’ll use the service channels. Local boats only — mainlanders wouldn’t know the routes.”

They descended toward the harbor, windshield wipers fighting the downpour. Budai’s fishing fleet bobbed at moorings, crews preparing despite the weather. Elena counted over forty vessels — perfect concealment for their operation.

The truck stopped at pier seventeen. Elena jumped out, rain immediately soaking through her jacket. The deployment team worked fast, transferring USVs to a waiting oyster boat. Each unit splashed into the vessel’s holding tank, hidden beneath legitimate aquaculture equipment.

“Go,” Elena commanded.

The boat departed, diesel engine churning gray water. Through the rain, she could barely track its progress. Five more boats followed, each carrying their deadly cargo toward predetermined platforms.

“Shark Two, this is Overwatch,” came Sun’s voice in her earpiece. “Drone contact. Small quadcopter, approaching from the east.”

Elena’s pulse quickened. “Commercial or military?”

“Unknown. But it’s heading directly for the harbor.”

She made a quick decision. “Continue deployment. Act natural. Lin, can you jam it?”

“Not without revealing our capabilities,” the ensign replied.

“Then we ignore it. Everyone maintains cover.”

The drone buzzed overhead, cameras swiveling. Elena forced herself to appear calm, just another worker loading boats in the rain. The quadcopter circled twice, then headed north.

“It’s gone,” Sun reported. “But expect company. That was reconnaissance.”

“All the more reason to hurry,” Elena replied.

The first wave reached the oyster platforms. Through binoculars, she watched crews deploying USVs into concealed cages beneath the farming structures. From the surface, nothing appeared unusual — just aquaculture workers maintaining their equipment.

“First wave complete,” Captain Koh reported. “Twelve units in position.”

“Second wave launches in twenty minutes,” Elena commanded. “Different routes, different platforms.”

She used the interval to check systems. Each deployed USV showed green on Lin’s network display. The mesh was forming, creating an invisible web of sensors and weapons along Budai’s coast.

“Ma’am?” Chief Chang appeared at her elbow. “That Y-9 changed course. Now heading southeast. Toward us.”

Elena calculated distances and times. The surveillance aircraft would be overhead in forty minutes. They needed to finish before then.

“Accelerate timeline,” she ordered. “Waves two and three launch together.”

“That’s a lot of boats moving at once,” Chang warned.

“Better than getting caught mid-deployment.”

The remaining trucks rolled out. Elena watched twenty boats depart in seemingly random directions, their courses actually precisely calculated to reach different platform clusters. Rain provided cover, but also made the work dangerous. Two-meter swells tossed the small vessels.

“Unit Twenty-Three deployed,” a voice reported. “Platform Fourteen secure.”

“Unit Twenty-Four in position. Mesh network confirmed.”

The reports continued. Elena tracked progress on her tablet, watching the defensive line take shape. Each USV pair created a node in the network, linked to coastal radar stations and missile batteries. When activated, they would transform from hiding to hunting in seconds.

“Contact!” Sun’s voice was sharp with urgency. “Fast boat approaching from the north. Not local configuration.”

Elena grabbed binoculars. Through the rain, she spotted a sleek patrol craft moving at high speed. Military lines, no visible weapons, but clearly not civilian.

“Coast Guard?” she asked Chang.

The chief shook his head. “Wrong hull design. That’s mainland Maritime Militia. Unofficial navy.”

“How long until our boats return?”

“Fifteen minutes minimum.”

That’s too long, Elena thought. The militia boat would reach the platforms before then. Elena weighed the options, and none were good.

“Ensign Lin, activate Units Nineteen and Twenty. Minimal signature, surveillance mode only.”

“Ma’am, if they detect active sensors…”

“Better than them finding boats full of military hardware. Do it.”

Lin’s fingers danced over the controls. Two kilometers offshore, a pair of USVs awakened, sensors probing the approaching vessel.

“Target identified,” Lin reported. “Type 022 hull, modified for intelligence gathering. Electronic warfare suite active.”

“They’re hunting for signals,” Elena realized. “Looking for our network.”

The militia boat slowed near platform seven. Through binoculars, Elena watched crew members photographing the oyster farming structures. They were methodical, professional.

“They know,” Sun stated flatly. “Someone told them where to look.”

Elena’s mind raced. If the mainland knew about Budai, the entire coastal defense network was compromised. Unless…

“Lin, can you make our USVs mimic commercial navigation radar?”

The ensign’s eyes widened with understanding. “Make them look like fishing boats? Yes! Give me thirty seconds.”

His fingers flew over the keyboard. On the display, USV signatures shifted, now appearing as standard fishing vessel returns.

“Brilliant,” Chang murmured. “They’ll see what they expect to see.”

The militia boat continued its patrol, scanning each platform. They found nothing unusual — oyster cages, maintenance equipment, and what appeared to be small fishing boats sheltering from the storm.

“Y-9 now twenty kilometers out,” a lookout reported.

“Come on,” Elena whispered, watching their boats race back toward the harbor.

One by one, the deployment vessels returned. Crews quickly unloaded equipment, maintaining the pretense of normal operations. The militia boat completed its sweep and turned north, apparently satisfied.

“Last boat docking,” Captain Koh announced.

Elena checked her watch. The Y-9 would be overhead in minutes. “Everyone inside. Normal harbor operations only.”

They retreated to the warehouse as the surveillance aircraft’s drone filled the air. Elena watched through windows as the Y-9 circled Budai, sensors probing. Rain and electronic countermeasures would limit their effectiveness, but not eliminate it.

“All units showing operational,” Lin reported quietly. “Thirty-nine Zealot USVs successfully deployed. Mesh network stable.”

Elena allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. Despite the complications — suspected compromise, surveillance pressure, weather challenges — they’d succeeded. Budai’s coast now bristled with hidden teeth.

“Shark One, this is Shark Two,” she reported to Mick. “Coastal wolves are in position. The pack is ready to hunt.”

“Outstanding work,” Mick replied. “Any complications?”

“Mainland knows something’s up. Militia boat sniffed around, but found nothing actionable. Recommend advancing activation timeline.”

“Agreed. Jodi’s working on that issue. Get your team back to base.”

Elena gathered her people. Master Sergeant Sun approached, his earlier suspicion replaced by grudging respect.

“Not bad for a contractor,” he admitted. “You think like an insurgent. I approve.”

“High praise from a marine,” Elena replied.

Chief Chang shook her hand. “You kept my fishermen safe while accomplishing the mission. That’s all I asked.”

Captain Koh smiled through his exhaustion. “My grandfather smuggled weapons against the Japanese. My father ran supplies during the White Terror. Now I hide robot boats. Each generation finds its way to resist.”

Ensign Lin finished backing up his data. “Ma’am? The mesh network is learning. Every boat that passes, every radar return — it’s building a baseline of normal activity. In a week, it’ll be able to identify anomalies instantly.”

“That’s the idea,” Elena said. “Smart weapons for smart warfare.”

They loaded into vehicles for the return journey. As they left Budai, Elena took one last look at the coast. Peaceful fishing village, oyster platforms bobbing in the waves, morning catch being sorted at the docks.

But beneath the surface, thirty-nine mechanical wolves now prowled. When the time came, they would rise from hiding, missiles ready, AI minds calculating attack vectors. The Taiwan Strait had grown silicon fangs.

“You did good today,” Mick’s voice came through her earpiece. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we integrate with the main network.”

“Copy that.” Elena closed her eyes, exhaustion hitting hard. “The coastal wolves are ready. God help anyone who tries to land on these beaches.”

As their convoy headed inland, the Y-9 completed its surveillance run and turned west. Its cameras and sensors had captured thousands of images — fishing boats, aquaculture platforms, normal coastal activity.

They’d seen everything. They’d seen nothing.

In the digital age, the best camouflage was normalcy. And death now swam hidden among the oyster cages of Budai, patient as the tide itself.