By Tyler Totten
880 km south of Midway Atoll, 11:15 (GMT-11)
“… tensions continue to escalate, some say war is inevitable. White House Press Secretary Jones insisted talks between US and PRC officials still show signs of progress. Despite the official sentiment, the stock market has less confidence, dropping another 5% in the third straight week of losses. The weight of reciprocal sanctions from both sides had already pushed the IMF to revise GDP predictions globally into negative territory. Further escalation…”
“Sir.” Captain Bryan Herera’s video feed paused automatically as the priority communication filled his headset. “Incoming message traffic.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. On the way.” He closed the comm with a frown. Any priority traffic could mean war. He was across the small cabin and down the short passageway to the CIC in ninety seconds. His stealthy command frigate was small and used space very efficiently. While SAG-58 was a powerful squadron collectively, each ship was relatively small and specialized.
“Decryption status, Lieutenant?”
“Finishing now, Captain.” Herera scanned it quickly and visibly relaxed, feeling each of his CIC crew glancing his direction in what they thought were discrete glances. Seeing his relaxation, they relaxed in turn.
“New orders, interdiction.” Herera pushed the relevant section to the squadron for their situational awareness. Simultaneously he pinged each ship’s captain for their availability. Seeing each respond green, he launched the squadron-wide conference.
“Morning. I’ve pushed our latest orders, nominally a simple interdiction mission. With the likely initiation of hostilities, commercial traffic has been fleeing WESTPAC. Most have headed towards the Indian Ocean but a few have also headed towards the US West Coast. ONI has flagged ships of interest for inspection and potential boarding. We’ve been assigned two containerships.
“First, the Liberian-flagged Great Wind owned by a Singapore-based company, out of Hong Kong, and reports she is headed to Hawaii and then Long Beach. Second is Pacora, Panamanian-flagged and owned. We don’t have details on why but ONI saw something of note.”
“Our orders are to interdict and inspect these vessels before they reach Hawaii. We will execute a sprint south, with surveillance support provided out of Hickam if available. They’re a little tight on available assets right now so I’ll rate that as doubtful.” Herera looked to where Casablanca’s captain was on his screen.
“Gil, I’ll want your birds over the top of both. How’re we looking to provide continuous coverage?”
“They’re about 300 kilometers away now, so we can start now and still have a few birds for armed overwatch of the boarding actions. I can have a bird for each off the deck in 30, sir.” Commander Gilbert Grahm’s gravely voice portrayed the smallest degree of tension.
“Very well, do it.” Herera nodded. “Sherry, I’ll want to push the boarding teams and armed escort out before we get within visual range. I assume that’s no challenge?”
“No sir, no challenge at all.” Commander Sheryl Gibbons tapped at her controls a moment. “We’ve still got about 5 hours to reach launch point. My people will be ready.”
“As for the rest of you.” Herera looked across the captains of his gun and missile-armed ships, the ones that provided his group with their air defense, strike, and anti-surface capacity. “We don’t know what to expect beyond what’s in our orders so I want us watching all domains. The PLAN could be trying to sneak a sub under these commercial ships or the ships themselves could be the threat. We don’t know what to expect so we’ll be ready for anything. General quarters and ready for action in four hours. Understood?”
“Yessir.” His lieutenants commanding the gun-armed Hedgehogs and VLS-armed Arsenal vessels responded crisply.
400 km west of Hawaii, 16:43 (GMT-11)
“Pacora, Pacora. In accordance with international treaties and your approach to the United States of America’s economic exclusion zone, you are ordered to stand by for boarding and inspection. Please respond.” Lieutenant Thorne turned, clearly concerned. “Fourth time now sir, no response.”
Herera’s frown deepened and he nodded in acknowledgement. Pacora was still steaming directly towards Hawaii. The ISR drone showed nothing unusual and they could make out crew on the bridge.
“Time until overwatch is in place?”
“Three minutes.” Thorne tiled the CIC main screen to show the plot, ISR feed, and the armed overwatch drone feeds. “Boarding teams will be on approach six minutes after that.”
Herera felt like he was missing something but didn’t know what. All he knew for sure was that there was a pit forming in his stomach.
“Activity on Pacora Captain.” Thorne maximized the feed showing Pacora.
For a moment, it looked as if the container stacks were shifting before Herera realized dozens of container tops were lifting on hidden hinges. Plumes of fire and smoke engulfed the ship as dozens of fires ignited at once and in an instant he knew.
“Defensive weapons free, squadron control to Roark. Continue closing on target vessel.” Herera freed his forces defensively and centralized control of the squadron to Roark’s automated combat system. “Roark, send flash warning, all stations.”
Roark’s computer sent the automated message push before its acknowledgement tone even sounded in Herera’s ear, far faster than any human could have done the same. Seconds would count here.
A flurry of acknowledgements flew in as the status board showed each ship report transfer of control. Roark’s combat system immediately began shifting stances, shifting Casablanca and Oyster Bay to the rear and moving the Hedgehogs forward.
“Fifty launches so far.” Thorne reported as the angry red symbols were plotted. “Heading zero-nine-zero and going supersonic. Target appears to be Hawaii and surrounds.”
“Ensure our feed is continuously transmitted to the net,” Herera ordered. He checked the intercept geometries and noted sourly that none of his ships could hope to down the missiles racing away from them towards Hawaii. He’d just have to make sure the total number launched were kept to a minimum. “Roark, strike mission anti-ship.”
“Target?” Roark’s computerized voice had an electronic growl but was clear in his ear.
“M/V Pacora. All weapons available, assume moderate defensive fire, ensure destruction in one salvo. Prioritize time to impact over munition conservation.” Roark would plot the strike faster and more reliably than his people could do on their own.
“Mission prepared. Twelve NSM in flights of four, one axis most direct route. Ready for authorization. Approval for strike on civilian vessel required.” Herera reviewed it, not expecting much complexity given SAG-58 and the containership were the only contacts for forty kilometers.
“Fire mission approved, civilian target authorized.” Herera also thumbed in his fingerprint authorization for the official log in addition to the audio recording he knew was being captured.
“Firing. Palisade, Bulwark, and Redoubt engaging.” Herera saw the three Arsenal-class ships obscured in smoke as they fired the naval strike missiles authorized by his command. The missile salvos flight would be short, launched from just under twenty kilometers.
“Sir, they’re dumping containers!” Thorne pointed at the screen incredulously. Herera looked up from his command display to see empty containerized missile launchers being hauled over the side linked by heavy wire rope. He wasn’t sure why until he saw the next layer of containers opening in turn and starting their launch sequence. Herera realized with horror that the ship could still contain dozens of additional missiles.
Sixty seconds after launch they went terminal. Pacora launched chaff and flares from hidden dispensers but the networked missiles ignored them and continued their dive. Distributed along its length, arriving nearly simultaneously, fourteen-hundred kilograms of explosive detonated as one. The entire ship shuddered and her propulsion power died as engineering was shredded and fuel set afire. Further forward, the explosions found more energetic cargo. The second row nearly expended, Pacora’s third missile layer was still ensconced in their containers. Three NSMs struck among them and added the mass of unexpended ordnance to the conflagration.
Aboard Roark, they watched in morbid fascination as the massive blast tore out the massive ship’s midsection. Hull steel rippled like water on a pond before the explosive energy finally tore the ship in half. Riddled with holes, the ship settled quickly as seawater rushed into the savaged hull. A minute later, both halves disappeared beneath the waves. Only debris and burning oil remained.
“How many launches?” Herera asked, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.
“Eighty-five, sir.” Thorne refocused on his screens. “Air defenses engaging and Hickam’s CAP is moving to intercept.”
“Some are still going to get through.” Herera said darkly. He brought his attention back to the plot quickly. “Are we seeing anything suspicious from Great Wind?”
“No sir, but there wasn’t much warning here either.”
“Hail them. They are to come about to heading two-seven-zero immediately and reduce to steerage or we’ll consider them an enemy combatant.” Herera said stonily.
Thorne stared for a second, shocked before hailing Great Wind.
“Captain Grahm, time for armed overwatch to Great Wind?” Herera brought all his captains onto the conference without waiting for their confirmations. They needed to move quickly and as one here.
“Started moving them when we saw Pacora’s launches. They are approaching station now.”
“Boarding team and escort drones also enroute Captain.” Captain Gibbons added. “Thirty minutes to be ready to execute.”
“Very well. If Great Wind does not comply with our instructions, I want her disabled. We’ll try not to sink her but we must prevent any additional losses. Objections, concerns, questions?” Herera swept the faces of his officers. None spoke but he saw the range of emotions; shock, frustration, anger. All appeared in agreement.
315 km west of Hawaii, 17:28 (GMT-11)
“Boarding team approaching. Great Wind is still at heading two-seven-zero and five knots.” Thorne reported, his voice shaky but clear. The nervousness was wearing on them all.
“Took them long enough,” Herera grumbled, still glaring at the big ship. Her captain had tried to argue around it, offer all sorts of excuses to delay compliance. Herera had been sure he would have to disable her but the captain had finally complied after one of the escort drones detonated a rocket a hundred meters off her bow. Now the squadron, within ten kilometers of Great Wind, had interposed itself between the ship and Hawaii. The island had already taken a number of hits and at least one of the radar stations was no longer operating. He didn’t know if they were completely offline or just down temporarily. He’d endeavor to find out the damage after the task at hand was complete.
The net of armed drones flew and floated around her, every camera and sensor staring. They could see shadowy faces of the crew looking out but little else. Herera continued to watch the multiple feeds and threat indicators as the boarding team closed on the ship.
When a targeting radar lashed out from a series of hidden conformal arrays buried in the container stack the watching humans were momentarily taken by surprise. The further addition of electronic jammers reduced the quality of the feeds but were still below the level required to truly jam the massively redundant net of the SAG. The squadron’s automated system, however, reacted instantly. Already set weapons free on any hostile emissions or launches, the circling overwatch drones pivoted as they came to a hover. Two drones on opposite sides of the ship loosed anti-radiation missiles at the offending emitters. The network did not feel satisfaction but it sounded no additional warning. Everything was prepared and it was ready to engage the expected weapon launches heralded by the targeting radars. It could not have anticipated what happened next.
Small charges blew the lids off a hundred containers as one. Having barely flown free, a veritable cloud of objects emerged from the now open lids. They spread on every axis away from the ship even as additional hatches opened on additional containers atop Great Wind’s tall stacks.
“Drone launches, reports are merging. Roark can’t distinguish them individually.” Thorne paused momentarily to squint and interpret the data he was seeing. “At least eight-hundred drones.”
“Recall the boarding teams.” Herera relied on Roark to handle the defensive systems, any orders he gave would be late at this point. Even as he thought it, Roark’s own VLS rumbled as missiles thundered away and the 57mm deck gun rotated from its housing and roared into action at maximum fire rate. All across the horizon, every ship in his squadron was doing the same with every weapon. He saw the detonations in the dark clouds of drones all around the Great Wind both with his own eyes and on the drone feeds.
“Boarding teams withdrawing but heavily pursued.” Thorne’s report brought his attention to their feed. He noted that one of his overwatch drones was already offline and another was maneuvering hard to evade the pursuing drones. They were a mix of small missiles, pusher propellers, and even basic quadcopters. While they had been building speed, SAG-58’s drones had been hovering and had to transition to forward flight to escape. For some, it cost too much time.
315 km west of Hawaii, 17:36 (GMT-11)
“They’re still closing!” Corporal Ogdon snarled into the comm as she continued to play her minigun across the swarm. She was downing dozens of the little quadcopters but dozens more still pursued the four RIBs of the boarding team. Each boat poured fire into the swarm but all were losing ground.
“Unbox the Buster!” Lieutenant Cooper ordered. Private Collins scrambled from his seat, hauling a long case from under his seat. Quickly flipping the latches and opening the case revealed the long cylindrical weapon inside. Vaguely rifle shaped, it looked vaguely like a blunderbuss.
“Pulse out!” He called, bracing himself on the gunwale and rapidly stroking the trigger. The effects were immediate and drones dropped in clusters as their delicate unshielded electronics failed.
“Reloading. Fuck” Ogdon cursed, continuing under her breath as she and another private scrambled to reload the minigun. But they didn’t have the time.
Finally catching closing, quadcopters spiraled onto their fleeing prey. Despite their losses, the dozens remaining were still overkill. Multiple struck each boat, small warheads tearing through the thin craft and their occupants. Engine power died while secondaries finished the destruction.
None escaped.
In the air, their overwatch faired little better. The speed and maneuverability advantage provided some protection but half of the squadron’s airborne assets were overwhelmed. The rest, forced to flee at speed, had little left to contribute. Their human operators could only look on impotently as Great Wind’s containers began to launch missiles at the squadron’s ships.
315 km west of Hawaii, 17:38 (GMT-11)
“Vampire, vampire.” Thorne’s unsurprising report was still unwelcome. “Roark still directing defensive fire.”
Roark’s crew were little more than passengers now. Herera had been forced to helplessly watch his boarding team die. Now, he had to watch as his own fate was decided. The initial defensive fire had wiped out the remaining drones, those that hadn’t succeeded in striking their own targets, but Great Wind was launching heavier missiles now.
Short-ranged interceptors sprinted from launchers in a constant ripple while deck guns sent hundreds of rounds roaring downrange. The detonations, smoke trails, and flashes were impossible for the human mind to follow in real-time but he knew all were tracked and the intercepts choreographed by Roark’s computer. Every minor turret adjustment, every midcourse update, all happening in milliseconds to best defend the squadron.
“Fire mission request. Target Great Wind.” Roark’s generated voice filled his ear as the plan appeared on screen. The computer couldn’t fire offensively without permission but knew sinking Great Wind was a logical step and acted accordingly. Herera saw the plan was similar to the strike on Pacora, effective but not creative. Just as he’d expect.
“Approved.” Herera wasted no time. There was no telling how many munitions or other launchable effects Great Wind held.
Moments after approving, Roark’s answer to the enemy attack roared downrange. Seemingly undetected this time, the NSMs faced no defensive fire or decoys. Herera thought perhaps the outdated EW that Great Wind had employed in the opening act had been this ship’s only systems. Or at least the missile detection gear had been among what was destroyed when the anti-radiation missiles did their work before the drone swarm. Tearing into the massive ship, Great Wind died much the same as her apparent sister an hour earlier, leaving little more than a burning oil slick on the surface to mark her passing.
But she didn’t die alone. Two ships of the squadron burned along with her, Redoubt and Saber had both taken hits. Saber seemed only lightly damaged but Redoubt was a total loss. The small anti-ship missile had struck her amidships and the resulting secondary detonation of her VLS magazine had broken the ship’s back. She hadn’t quite split in half but her bow sat at an ugly angle relative to the stern and she had only a meter of freeboard remaining. Stiletto had maneuvered astern and launched her single RIB to search for sailors in the water but none were showing on the man overboard systems. The stern section was ablaze with an intensity that didn’t look survivable. As bad as he felt, he knew his people were feeling the pain as well. He’d led them into this little trap but he also knew it wasn’t intended for them. He thumbed on the command line to the surviving ships of the squadron, knowing his CIC crew would hear his words as well.
“As soon as we complete SAR, we’ll head for Pearl. Vessel statuses ASAP, priority superseded only by SAR and crew injuries. I know we’re all still processing what just happened but keep in mind, those drones were meant to follow-up Pacora’s strikes on Hawaii. We stopped them.” He said simply, taking the logical leap. He kept his darker thoughts to himself.
Not a great start. And the war is just getting started.
Tyler Totten is a naval engineer who has supported several Navy and Coast Guard programs, including LCS, DDG(X), and PEO Ships Futures Directorate with a deep interest in international and specifically maritime security. He is also an amateur science fiction writer published on Kindle. He holds a B.S from Webb Institute in Naval Architecture and Marine Engineering. He can be found on Bluesky at @azuresentry.bsky.social and X/Twitter at @AzureSentry.
Featured Image: Art created with Midjourney AI.
