The Gotland Deception

Chapter Thirty-Five: The Fog of War

“Contact bearing two-four-five, twenty-three kilometers. MV Kalayaan Spirit, Philippine registry.” Lieutenant Commander Zhu Mingzhe’s voice carried crisp professionalism, despite the obvious tension of the moment. They were finally doing it — bringing the renegade province of Taiwan home to its native people.

“Captain, escorts have been spotted. Radar signatures confirm one ROC Kang Ding-class frigate and two Tuo Chiang corvettes,” reported Lieutenant Commander Zhu.

Captain Shen Tao acknowledged with practiced calm, his fingers tracing the outline of the sealed envelope beneath his uniform. Inside were Admiral Deng’s orders and the personal guarantees his crew and officers wouldn’t be hung out to dry should things not work out the way the politicians intended. In a calm yet firm voice, he asked, “Distance to inspection zone boundary?”

“Eight kilometers, Captain. They’ll cross it in approximately twelve minutes at current speed,” confirmed Lieutenant Commander Zhu.

The South China Sea stretched impossibly blue through Zunyi’s bridge windows, the morning sun painting the water in shades of deceptive tranquility. It was perfect visibility — ideal for engagements, terrible for hiding. Every action would be witnessed, recorded, and judged.

Shen turned to Lieutenant Commander Zhu. “I’m headed to CIC. You have the bridge.”

Zhu acknowledged as Shen made his way to the combat information center. As he passed through the hallways into the guts of the ship, he saw his sailors moving about, attending to their duties like nothing was happening. They were calm, prepared and ready for whatever was about to happen.

“Captain entering CIC,” announced one of the enlisted sailors as Shen entered the darkened room. He saw a large digital map of the area displayed on one giant monitor. Another showed the air space around them, while a third tracked potential undersea threats.

Seeing his XO, Commander Gong Jun, Shen ordered, “Give me a status report on the squadron disposition.”

Commander Gong acknowledged, directing his attention to the monitor that showed the tactical display of their current disposition. His ship, the Zunyi, a Type 055 destroyer, was leading a formation of two Type 052D guided missile destroyers and four Type 054A guided missile frigates with enhanced ASW capabilities. To further enhance his squadron’s interdiction capability were four Type 056A corvettes: fast, nimble ships with the ability to transition to subhunters, should his squadron encounter any undersea threats.

As impressive a display of Chinese naval power as this was, the presence of the twelve converted fishing trawlers with the People’s Maritime Militia spread across kilometers of ocean gave his squadron the ability to spread a vast net across the shipping lanes approaching the Taiwan Strait. No ship would escape inspection unless authorized by his superiors.

“As you can see, we have the shipping lanes approaching the Penghu archipelago covered with Maritime Militia trawlers labeled Lotus One through Twelve,” Commander Gong explained. “About an hour ago, the trawler labeled Lotus Seven spotted a Filipino freighter on a course that would take it to Magong Harbor, Penghu. They have been moving to interdict the vessel since they spotted it.”

“Interesting,” Shen commented. “Barely eight hours into the new rules, and we already have our first ship attempting to disregard them.” He looked at the names of the ships in his squadron, then asked, “The Tongling appears to be closest to that Filipino ship, along with Lotus Seven. Direct the Tongling to move closer to get in position to board it if they refuse to comply once we contact the ship’s captain.”

Gong reached for the radio receiver and began issuing orders. They had barely made it past breakfast before they had their first cargo vessel looking to violate the inspection order.

Barely ten minutes had gone by when the closest of the militia trawlers contacted them. “Dragon Lead, this is Lotus Seven,” the voice of the militia commander crackled with excitement.

“Lotus Seven, this is Dragon Actual. Go ahead,” Shen responded directly. He recognized the need and value of having the maritime militia involved in this operation, but that didn’t mean he liked using them. His experiences with them thus far had done little to ameliorate the lack of professionalism in how they conducted themselves in their interactions with the Navy. They were subordinate to him, not the other way around.

The radio crackled. The trawler’s captain was noticeably excited as he realized he was talking directly to the squadron commander. “Ah, Dragon Actual, sir. The Filipino vessel has continued to ignore our hails. As we grew closer, the vessel picked up speed. I am requesting permission to initiate close approach and attempt to slow it down.”

Shen hesitated. He motioned for Commander Gong to activate the ship’s Type 347G EO tracker and get them a visual of the freighter in question. Seconds later, the optical tracker had locked onto the MV Kalayaan Spirit, nine nautical miles off the starboard bow. The image sharpened — despite the haze. The trawler Lotus Seven was a kilometer off the port side of the vessel.

Shen held the radio receiver against his chest as his mind reviewed the rules of engagement for the tenth time that day. The ROE were clear. He was to use the militia vessels to create confusion, force noncompliance, and then use that noncompliance to board the vessel and seize control of it.

“Captain, we have a problem,” Gong interjected before Shen could give the order for Lotus Seven to proceed. “Sir, those Tuo Chiang corvettes we spotted an hour ago are accelerating toward the Kalayaan Spirit. They may try to place themselves between Lotus Seven and the cargo vessel. This is going to place them dangerously close to the Tongling.”

Lifting the radio receiver to his lips, Shen said, “Lotus Seven, we have two Tuo Chiang corvettes moving to intercept you. I want you to maintain current position. Observe and report only.”

“Affirmative, Dragon Actual. Observe and report, out.”

This was exactly what concerned Shen about the operation. If the ROC Navy decided to intervene… things could escalate quickly. The Tuo Chiang corvettes were fast and stealthy multimission corvettes. They could reach speeds of up to forty-five knots, and bristled with eight Hsiung Feng III medium-range supersonic anti-ship missiles with five-hundred-pound warheads and a range of four hundred kilometers if they were the extended-range variant. Further complicating things, the Tuo Chiangs also carried twelve of the ROC’s vaunted Sky Sword II surface-to-air missiles. Shen had been told these were very close to the US Navy’s SM-2 missile. Altogether, these stealthy corvettes were a threat to his squadron he couldn’t ignore.

“Commander Gong, sound battle stations and pass the word to the rest of the squadron to be prepared to engage the Tuo Chiang corvettes,” Shen ordered. “I’m going to try and to speak with the captain of this vessel to see if we can defuse the situation before it turns kinetic on us.”

Shen then directed his comms officer to get him a channel on the international frequency he knew the civilian freight would be monitoring. Keying the radio, Shen announced, “MV Kalayaan Spirit, this is Chinese Navy warship Zunyi. You are entering the sovereign waters of the People’s Republic of China and have been selected for customs inspection under the Drug Enforcement Act of China 2033. You are hereby ordered to reduce speed and prepare to be boarded.”

His call was met with static for several long minutes. Then a voice in accented English responded: “Chinese warship Zunyi, this is Kalayaan Spirit. We are in international waters on lawful transit to Magong Harbor, Penghu. Your inspection authority is not recognized by international law. We are continuing on to our destination.”

Shen was disappointed in the response, but he had expected nothing less. The only countries acknowledging this new law were the countries already aligned with China and EDEP. The Western-aligned countries friendly with the US and NATO decried the law as a thinly veiled attempt at embargoing Taiwan. Shen noted his communications officer was already recording the interaction and documenting it for the inevitable inquiry and after-action report.

He was about to respond when Zhu, his operations officer, interjected. “Sir, you might want to see this. We are detecting new aerial contacts entering our battlespace. It looks like our air picture is about to get crowded.” Zhu brought up a digital overlay of the tactical airspace around them. He was right — the sky was filling fast.

As if the stealth corvettes shadowing their formation weren’t enough to deal with, a mix of friendly and potentially hostile aircraft were now converging toward weapons range.

Vectoring in from the mainland were six J-10 fighters, their IFF beacons transmitting clearly. But what drew Shen’s attention were the ghostly placeholders trailing behind them — it appeared they had the company of some stealth fighters flying dark, their radar cross-sections nearly invisible to the Zunyi’s AESA arrays.

Anticipating Shen’s question, Zhu explained, “Sir, those placeholders are for the four J-20s. The only reason we even know they are there is because they are transmitting short-burst encrypted telemetry on the SkyLink combat channel. Before you ask, it’s passive pickup only — no emissions. They’re flying in coordinated formation behind the J-10s as cover.”

Shen studied the flight path and spacing. Those J-20 pilots were smart — maintaining offset altitude and trailing distance, masked by the J-10s’ radar signature. But their digital handshakes confirmed their identity: friendlies, so his air-defense systems didn’t mistakenly label them hostile.

“Thank you, Zhu, for that explanation. Go ahead and assign them a discreet tracking label so we don’t have a blue-on-blue incident,” Shen ordered, then added, “And, Zhu — keep their identifiers suppressed on our shared displays. No need to advertise to anyone else that we’ve got stealth on station right now.”

“Yes, Captain,” Zhu confirmed as he relayed the orders to the sailors manning the AESA systems.

He leaned forward slightly, eyes fixed on the expanding battlespace. It was getting crowded — fast.

Sir, we’re detecting multiple tracks inbound from Magong and Chiayi Air Base,” Zhu said, a sharper edge in his voice now.

Shen stepped beside him, eyes narrowing at the tactical overlay. From the east, an ROC P-3C Orion maritime patrol aircraft was approaching low and slow, along the edge of their engagement window. Shen wasn’t overly concerned with the Orion itself. What did concern him were its escorts. The P-3 was being escorted by four of the ROC’s newer F-16 Vipers, flying in a loose formation to either side of the Orion with their AESA radar actively scanning for targets.

“Whoa, those aren’t reconnaissance drones,” Gong muttered beside him. “Those Vipers could be carrying a pair of Harpoons or, if we’re really unlucky, a pair of HF-2s.”

Shen didn’t respond immediately; his mind was racing with calculations. For the moment, the Vipers were staying just outside his engagement envelope, a hundred kilometers from his ship. It was a thin line, and those Vipers could rapidly close that distance. But the Harpoon-ER and the Taiwanese Hsiung Feng III both possessed a range greater than a hundred and fifty kilometers. They didn’t need to close in on his squadron to pose a threat to his ships.

Suddenly, appearing behind them, new radar tracks from the direction of Chiayi airbase blinked into view. It was another group of four more Vipers joining the party, spreading out in a wide arc.

“Captain! We’re showing new contacts from Magong airbase. They just launched more aircraft,” Zhu announced loudly, his voice sounding somewhere between excited and scared. “It looks like their indigenous fighters, those Ching-Kuo IDFs. They’re probably air defense interceptors.”

Shen clenched his jaw. The ROC’s air presence was solidifying into a multi-axis threat. This posturing was turning into something, an escalation that was rapidly moving beyond his ability to control.

“This isn’t good, sir,” Gong said quietly. “This is quickly turning into a powder keg waiting to blow.”

Before Shen could respond, a shrill alarm blared throughout the CIC. One by one, GPS signals marking their position and the ships around them began to flicker. The positional data they regularly received from the BeiDou-3 satellites overhead began to waver, then spiked. One second, it was showing them miles practically inside the Penghu Islands, then it was placing them adrift in the South Pacific.

“Captain, we’re being jammed!” the electronic warfare officer shouted in a panic. “I’m showing GPS degradation across all bands. Sat comms with headquarters just dropped — I can’t get a signal lock.”

“Calm down, Lieutenant!” Shen barked angrily. “We’ve trained for this. Revert to backup systems and get me a status report on what’s happening around us and with the rest of the squadron.”

The lieutenant seemed to regain himself when the screens inside the CIC flickered several times before shutting down. Commander Gong typed feverishly at his terminal when the monitors returned. “Captain, I think our systems are in the process of being hacked. I’m initiating a hard reboot of our systems now,” Gong relayed to him as the monitors turned off again.

The CIC erupted in a flurry of reports and cross voices as static flooded the comm channels that were still working. Seconds later, the monitors returned, and icons on the digital display appeared. Then they began disappearing or freezing once again.

Zhu looked up from his station. “Sir, we’ve lost contact with the squadron,” he exclaimed. “We’ve lost the aircraft feed. We’re being jammed across multiple broadband emitters. It’s saturating every channel. I can’t localize the source!”

“Sir, underwater contacts!” The sonar operator’s voice cracked. “Multiple… dozens… behavior pattern unknown!”

Shen rushed to the sonar station. The display showed contacts moving in perfect synchronization — too fast for conventional submarines, too organized to be torpedoes. Then it came to him… they could be unmanned underwater drones racing toward the ships of his squadron. The track closest to one of his ships was the frigate Qinzhou.

“That track right there” — Shen pointed to it — “what’s the range to the Qinzhou?”

“It’s, um, it looks like it’s passing directly beneath—”

The sound of the blast reverberated through the CIC. The shockwave of the blast buffeted the Zunyi, despite the two-kilometer distance between them and the Qinzhou. In that moment, Shen knew that no matter what happened next, he’d just lost whatever control of the situation he’d thought he had. His squadron was under attack, and he had no idea how it had happened or who had fired the first shots.