By Ben Plotkin
Dusk.
The fish were finally biting. Not little fish—the big ones.
Luca looked over the side of the boat at the fishing line jerking vigorously as he began to reel it in.
There was the deafening roar of a jet. Luca turned to see the quick-moving dark fuselage of a low flying USMC F-35. It was so low, and now so close that Luca had to reach up to cover his ears.
The jet banked towards the fishing boat, and Luca could see its afterburners were fully lit. Another high-g maneuver as the F-35 performed a sharp break turn. The jet was flying no more than a few hundred feet above the surface of the Taiwan Strait. Luca was no pilot, but to him the maneuver seemed extraordinarily risky.
Two missiles were fast approaching, tailing and matching the violent turning and maneuvering of the F-35. The jet released a series of flares and cloud-like chaff as its afterburners blasted again and it accelerated towards the horizon. One of the tailing missiles exploded in the cloud of chaff close enough that Luca could feel the heat of the explosion and reflexively ducked to avoid any fragments.
The second missile exploded just behind the single rear engine. The effect on the jet was instantaneous. It performed a violent barrel roll and began spinning uncontrollably towards the water. The pilot ejected.
Too low, thought Luca. Too low, he’ll never make it. The ejection seat shot upwards, and immediately the chute deployed. Luca was close enough to see the limp figure of the pilot as he descended. He looked dazed or unconscious. A moment later the pilot and chute splashed into the water.
Before they hit Luca had already ditched the fishing line.
Hauling the limp wet body of the pilot onto the fishing boat proved to be difficult. This was complicated by the fact that he was still attached to the chute, which created a tangled web that took time to cut through. Fortunately, the flotation device wrapped around the pilot had kept his head above water.
Luca collapsed wet and exhausted on the deck next to the limp body. He stared up at the sky. It was a dark moonless night. He knew that once the sun set he had only a limited time to prepare for what was coming. His improvised search and rescue mission might have seriously compromised his timeline.
Luca worked quickly to remove the pilot’s helmet. His paramedic training kicked in and he ran through the drill. Check the airway, check for breathing, check the carotid for a pulse. He ran through these three motions mindlessly, quickly registering that the pilot was indeed breathing and that there was a pulse. It was only after he allowed himself a moment to relax, that he noticed the pilot was a woman. Her blonde hair which had been tightly pulled back was now disheveled. A large bruise discolored the left side of her face. Her left eye was swollen and her lip cut and oozing.
Luca performed a quick trauma assessment. He looked for signs of major injury or bleeding. He could see none. If there was any internal organ injury this was beyond his ability to detect. He ran his arms along her extremities feeling for any fractures, but found none. She was breathing, her chest rising symmetrically, she had a good pulse, and other than the facial injuries he couldn’t detect any other signs of injury. He raised her eyelids and shone a light at them. The pupils quickly restricted to pinpoints, a good sign. She should be okay.
Behind him he could see the faint glow of a few lights still left burning in Taichung. Luca thought the perhaps the Taiwanese could do a better job with their blackout discipline, but then he reminded himself that it likely didn’t matter, and it especially wouldn’t matter if his mission was a failure.
He looked at his watch again and stared towards the China side of the strait for what he knew would be soon coming.
_________________________________________
The warm tropical breeze and the gentle undulations of the waves were calming. The pilot flickered her eyes slowly and groggily opened them. The swelling about her left eye had increased and it looked as if she could barely see out of it.
Luca was quickly by her side and offered her a bottle of water. The pilot looked at him, obviously slightly confused, but she grabbed the bottle, took a long swig and then looked around, surveying her surroundings.
“Thanks,” she finally said. Her voice had the unmistakable drawl of a Texan. A drawl that was instantly recognizable and familiar to Luca.
“Anytime,” said Luca. He could see she was having hard time stringing a thought together.
“You’re American,” she finally said.
“Yes ma’am,” said Luca.
She took another slow sip of water, looking up at the sky she had fallen from then back at Luca.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Good night for some fishin’,” Luca said after a pause. “Good night for some fishin’.”
A rattling above signaled a barrage of incoming rockets from the mainland. Both Luca and the pilot reflexively looked skywards.
“You picked an interesting time to go fishing,” said the pilot.
“Never a bad time for some fishin’. They’re really bitin’ tonight.”
A series of violent rumbling explosions rocked the Taichung coastal plain. The red glare of the explosions briefly backlit the large wind turbines at Gaomei.
“What’s your name Marine?” Luca asked.
The pilot took a moment before answering, trying to shake of the brain fog.
“Miller. Jaime Miller. Captain.”
“Nice to meet you Captain Miller. I’m Luca. Luca. No rank, just call me Luca.”
Another flight of rockets flew overhead streaking toward the coast.
A larger explosion flashed further up the coast.
“Narrow escape you had there,” said Luca. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
A pained expression crossed the captain’s face as she seemed to relive the moment her plane was hit.
“Bastards,” she muttered to herself. “I splashed five of them before they got me though.”
“I guess that makes you an ace,” said Luca.
“My wingman didn’t make it.” Her voice cracked slightly as she finished the sentence. “Bastards.” Another long pause. “Two of us for five of them. Don’t think that’s a good ratio seeing what we’re up against.”
“Where you flying off of? There’s no Marine aviation on the island.”
She gave Luca an odd look, and he could tell she was deciding whether she should answer the question or not, or at least answer it honestly.
“I flew off the Wasp. Was our second sortie of the day, and I guess my last. Look Luca, this doesn’t add up. Just what are you doing out here?”
“I told you. Just a little fishin’. Stick around captain, you’ll see.”
_________________________________________
Luca looked carefully at his watch and for the hundredth time that night scanned the waters in the direction of the mainland.
Miller was now standing up and resting against the railing as the boat gently bobbed in the waves. Each time Luca checked his watch, and then the horizon she noticed. She looked at her own watch. 0300. What was he waiting for? What was he looking for?
They both heard the noise. At first distant, but quickly growing louder, the unmistakable thumping of approaching helicopters. Luca didn’t waste a moment, he grabbed Miller by the elbow and helped her under the canopy covering the cockpit.
“Down,” he said. They both lay on the cockpit floor. Luca produced a compact pair of night vision binoculars and scanned the sky as the sounds grew closer and louder.
“I see them,” he said. Luca had scooted to the edge and was peering intently through the binoculars. “A flight of two, Z-19’s I think. Looks like they have a whole flock of drones keepin’ ‘em company.”
Luca passed her the binoculars.
The helicopters were getting very close, and even their small dark fishing boat would be visible to them. Luca had cut the engine and was letting the boat drift.
“Agree,” she said. “Armed with rockets and anti-ship kit. Wonder if they would waste them on a civilian target? They’ll see the heat signature of the engine.”
“Well,” said Luca slowly. “Maybe, but I’ve made a few modifications. We might be a bit lower profile than normal.”
Miller gave him a curious look, but said nothing.
The womp of the rotors was louder and they no longer needed binoculars to see the two dark helicopters with their accompanying drone swarm. They clearly had stopped at standoff distance and were assessing the new contact.
“I don’t know if you’re religious Captain, but now might be time for a good prayer if you’ve got one.”
Miller didn’t say anything.
The helicopters fired their rockets.
_________________________________________
Luca and Miller bobbed up and down in tandem, clinging to a large chunk of fiberglass wreckage from the fishing boat.
The helicopters had left, speeding towards the coast line. Luca could only hope the air defenses picked them off.
“You know Luca, this is not the day I expected to be having when I woke up this morning. I’ve now been shot out of both my plane and your boat. What’s next?”
Luca grinned at her. “Sharks,” he said in a deadpan tone.
“Are there really sharks?” she said.
“Of course there are sharks, but I doubt they’ll bother us tonight. We are goin’ to have a nice long swim back to the shore though.”
“I guess we should get going then,” Miller said.
“Sorry captain, not quite ready to leave. Have to take care of a little business first.”
“I don’t know how to break it to you, but I think your fishing trip has come to an abrupt end,” said Miller.
“I’m not sure they’re done biting just yet. Got a few more I want to bag before we head back. Plus we should rest for a bit, when the time comes, we’re going to need to do some fast swimming out of here. You a good swimmer captain?”
“State champion 200 fly,” she said.
“Good. We’re gonna butterfly all the way back to the beach then. But not just yet.”
“Whatever you say. Looks like I’m just along for the ride at this point.”
“And captain, if I may, you’re gonna appreciate this ride.”
_________________________________________
Luca checked his watch. 0400. At least the water wasn’t too cold he thought. It shouldn’t be much longer.
They bobbed in silence for long periods of time. Luca had retrieved a large waterproof duffel from the sinking boat. Over the last hour he had been retrieving and tinkering with various pieces of equipment, which he placed on the flat surface of the floating debris. Miller watched intently. One of the items he had retrieved for them was a candy bar.
“Eat it,” he said. “Extra caffeine, and maybe a few other things. Will keep us going for a bit longer. We’re going to need all the energy we got.”
She did as she was told and soon noticed she was indeed feeling much better. Her head still hurt and throbbed. Only now she didn’t seem to mind as much.
“What part of Texas you from?” Luca asked.
“Little bit outside of Austin, place called Fredericksburg. You?”
“Well, we’re practically neighbors. I’m from Round Rock.”
They shared a smile. Luca finished eating his chocolate bar and was setting up a laptop, which he was trying to precariously balance on a flatter piece of the fiberglass wreckage. The laptop looked like a hardened military version, was rubberized, and could clearly handle a little water without too much problem.
“Changing your profile to lost at sea” Miller smiled.
“Wouldn’t want my friends to worry,” said Luca.
Miller looked at the screen. It displayed a detailed oceanographic map of the Strait. There were multiple objects all with iconography she didn’t fully understand. She did, however, understand some of the overlays, which appeared to show real time positioning of aerial and marine contacts—both blue and red.
“Look Luca, you got to level with me. You’re no fisherman.”
“Yes ma’am I am. High school champion. Caught the prettiest bass you’ll ever see. 16 pounds. Tasty too.”
“Well that might be true, but you’re not out here fishing tonight.”
“Different type of fish tonight. Almost time. Look.” He pointed to the screen at a series of red dots that were almost right on top of them judging by their location on the map.”
“Those look big, bad, and like they belong to the wrong team, Luca. What are we expecting?”
“What we are expecting is the early morning ferry service.”
“Ferries?”
“See these four big red dots?” Luca zoomed in on a cluster. “Each one of those dots is ferry service from the mainland. They are fancy roll on, roll off ferries. Mega civilian ferries, but in this case packed with the majority of the men and material of their 3rd Marine brigade. Now heading this way. Right on time too. Tip of the spear if you will. Shore landing, seize port, you know the drill.
“Now, If we had some fancy goggles we could see them just out there,” he said pointing towards the waters in front of them. “Fortunately, we happen to have a pair of fancy goggles.” He pulled out a pair of night vision goggles and handed them to Miller.
Miller strapped on the weatherized goggles and looked towards the horizon.
“Magnification dial is on the side,” Luca said.
Miller dialed in the magnification, and sure enough coming towards them were four massive ferries surrounded by an escort of smaller ships. She flipped off the goggles.
“They’re coming,” she said. “Right where you said they would be.”
“You see these?” he pointed to a series of green dots just below the red dots of the ferry flotilla. Miller nodded.
“What we got there are what they used to call sea mines. And they still are, in a way. Although, these aren’t your grandpa’s mines. What you’re looking at is a dispersed network of semi-autonomous smart mines. Each individual one is not enough to sink a ship, but taken in aggregate, we will see what they can do. The beauty of these things is that they weren’t there yesterday when the minesweepers went over this route. A SEAL team placed them right after the minesweepers passed. They’re designed to sit on the sea bed until show time, which is right about now.”
“If these mines are so smart, what are you here for?” said Miller.
“Well, I’m what back at the farm they call redundancy. They can operate without any oversight, I’m just here to make sure the job gets done. We didn’t want them triggering on the wrong target. They’ve been earmarked for the ferries. As soon as they approach, I give them their final orders.”
Luca tapped hurriedly on the keyboard. “Like to do the honors captain?”
“What do I do?”
“Just hit enter. Easy peasy.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Luca said with a big smile.
Miller didn’t hesitate. She hit the ‘enter’ key with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. The laptop bobbed down and up again on its fiberglass flotation and seawater pooled around its base.
“What’s going to happen now is that our friendly little mines are going to start rising to the surface. They’re programmed to aggregate and attach themselves to the largest magnetic targets in the vicinity, which in this case are our ferry friends. They’re networked so they can see which target each mine has selected, a design specification to ensure that each ship gets an appropriate number snuggled up nice and friendly like.”
“That’s it?” said Miller.
“Told you, easy peasy.”
They watched as the ferry flotilla moved closer. It was heading on a course which left them just slightly to their port side. As they watched the small dots representing the mines, they began moving on the laptop screen, swarming towards the large targets. The ferries were generating undulating bioluminescent wakes which gave the panorama before them a ghostly vibe.
Luca looked at his watch. 0500. It was almost time.
“It looks like there are hundreds of those dots. How many mines are there?” Miller asked.
“888. They say that’s a lucky number.”
“That’s a lot of mines.”
“A wise admiral once told me, ‘When in doubt, overload.’”
They didn’t have long to wait.
A series of massive explosions rippled across the waters. The force of the explosions was so violent, the sea state changed and the rough chop almost knocked the duo from their fiberglass float.
The sky was beginning to lighten. They could clearly see the wreckage and devastation the mines had wrought. The four ferries were still afloat, at least for now, but they had unhealthy lists and were enveloped in thick black smoke, and flame.
“Not bad,” said Miller.
“Not bad at all,” Luca responded.
Sunrise was coming, and with the dawn’s early light, a four flight of low flying naval attack A-10s roared overhead, their pylons bristling with anti-ship armament, their fuselages a mottled grey-blue camouflage pattern. The lead jet waggled its wings as it passed. Luca responded with an informal salute.
“Clean-up crew,” said Luca pointing upward. “Think it’s time for that swim now.”
Miller smiled at him, and they began their long swim back to shore.
Ben Plotkin is a physician in southern California. He can be reached at phaenon@gmail.com.
Featured Image: Art created with Midjourney AI.
