By David Strachan
[T]he universe is an ocean, the moon is the Diaoyu Islands, Mars is Huangyan Island. If we don’t go there now even though we’re capable of doing so, then we will be blamed by our descendants. If others go there, then they will take over, and you won’t be able to go even if you want to. This is reason enough. –Ye Peijian, the father of Chang’e lunar probes
“Sixty Seconds.”
The voice of the young ensign wavered, amplifying the tension that permeated the dimly lit control room. Dr. Shilpa Devareddy, director of NASA’s Europa Lander program, stood behind a battery of naval officers and mission specialists, her eyes fixed upon a large, holographic sphere, a three-dimensional tactical display of the Jovian moon’s ocean interior where two groups of small ellipses – four red, four blue – were converging. The unfolding events had occurred nearly an hour before, the time it took for the data-laden transmission to travel 390 million miles to Earth, but they may as well have been happening in real time.
Shilpa placed a hand absently on the ensign’s shoulder. “Magnify, please.”
The blue ellipses morphed into detailed representations of Atom-class XE microsubmarines, variants of the U.S. Navy’s most advanced autonomous underwater vehicle that had been purpose-built for this mission. Each vehicle bristled not only with highly advanced scientific instruments designed to search for any trace of extraterrestrial life, but a wide range of countermeasures and effectors, as well as an artificial intelligence (affectionately known as “Falken”) that could pivot from mild-mannered explorer to rampaging warrior in a nanosecond.
The red ellipses now depicted similarly-rigged microsubmarine variants of the People’s Liberation Army Navy’s premier AUV, the Shāyú, or “shark.” The Chinese had watched the development of the Atom closely, recognizing it not only as a technological breakthrough, but as a platform poised to redefine the very nature of undersea warfare. When the Shāyú had first appeared, it was largely a crude facsimile of the Atom, quickly cobbled together for propaganda purposes rather than to fulfill any meaningful maritime objective. But over time it had become a formidable foe, embodying Beijing’s faith in autonomous undersea conflict as a key enabler of its expanding power and influence. Four Atom-XEs had blasted into the vacuum of space atop a SpaceX Starship, their hulls encased in a cryobot designed to carve a passage through miles of ancient ice before releasing them into the dark, frigid waters of Europa. Four Shāyus had followed ten months later atop a Long March 12 in a strikingly (though unsurprisingly) similar cryobot, and the two spacecraft spent the next three years racing each other across the solar system.
“Thirty seconds.”
Shilpa shook her head. How did we get here? It was inevitable that astrobiology, much like all of science itself, would be slowly subsumed by the machinations of geostrategy and power politics, but for the scientist in her, it was as absurd as it was immoral. She bristled at the notion of exporting human conflict to another world, and in the name of scientific exploration no less. If we cannot explore in peace, should we even explore at all? But for the Navy and the powers that be, it was simply a matter of realpolitik – entirely predictable and unavoidable. Confrontations like these were now commonplace beneath the surface of the Earth’s oceans. Beginning in the late 2020s, as the subsea domain became ever more a battleground of strategic competition, the first American and Chinese pods of microsubmarines entered on duty, and the great powers began leveraging the opaque subsea domain to wage a shadowy, anonymous war of sabotage, denial, and deception. Shāyú attacks on uncrewed seabed science installations occurred with alarming regularity, and Shilpa flashed to a poorly heated SCIF aboard the R/V Atlantis where she watched in real-time as a CURV-21 remotely operated vehicle surveyed the wreckage of a NASA-Navy underwater test range off the coast of Antarctica.
“Twenty seconds.”
Some fifteen years before, in October, 2024, she’d been huddled with NASA colleagues, tears welling up in their eyes, as Europa Lander’s predecessor, Europa Clipper, left Kennedy Launch Pad 39A atop a SpaceX Falcon Heavy on a mission to capture imagery of the surface of the Galilean moon, and study its chemical composition and geology. Seven years later, when sensitive onboard instruments found traces of life in samples of atmospheric water droplets, the Chinese accelerated development of their own landing mission while simultaneously subjecting NASA, JPL, APL, university research centers, and anyone with a connection to the Europa Lander program to near-constant cyber assault. As Beijing began making concerning, if somewhat laughable, interplanetary claims, it grew increasingly likely that Atoms and Shāyús were destined to clash beneath the icy surface of the ocean moon. Shilpa, the career NASA scientist, the pacifist and peacekeeper, suddenly found herself turning to the U.S. Navy for help in developing an autonomous underwater vehicle capable of not only analyzing the complex ocean properties of an alien world, but, if necessary, defending itself against Chinese aggression.
“Fifteen seconds.”
There was a time when the tyranny of distance would have posed an insurmountable barrier to such interplanetary undersea operations, with semi-autonomous Atoms and Shāyus powered by lithium-ion batteries and hydrogen fuels cells relying on human operators using SATCOM, surface communication nodes, and low-bandwidth underwater transmissions to control their operation. But breakthroughs in energy production, acoustic communication, and artificial intelligence had changed that. The advent of LENRs (Low Energy Nuclear Reactors) meant AUVs enjoyed unlimited energy to power not only sophisticated sensor, navigation, and communication systems, but the complex algorithms and computational load required to process the terabytes of data generated on a daily basis. It also meant sustained cruising speeds of 20 to 30 knots, with the ability to move freely about Europa’s subsurface ocean – roughly 6,055 miles in circumference, smaller than the circumference of Earth’s moon – in a matter of days. They’re going to find us. Shilpa had spent many a sleepless night contemplating the moment. It’s not a matter of if, but when.
And then?
“Ten seconds.”
Now all she could do was watch and wait, and hope that the Atom’s dizzying array of cutting-edge technologies would perform as expected, that Falken was truly as cunning and capable as everyone believed, and that, if it really came down to it, the AI’s extensive training in underwater combat tactics would be enough to repel any Shāyú attacks, and enable the mission to survive for at least one more day. Shilpa recoiled at the idea of human-engineered violence breaking out on another world. But she also refused to be bullied, and she understood – all too well – that the only way to stop a bully is to stand your ground. Swim softly and carry a micro-warhead.
“Five.”
Or maybe all the posturing, the rhetoric, the weaponization – maybe they were all just byproducts of a pernicious, Cold War-esque paranoia. Maybe somewhere in a dimly lit control room on the other side of the world reason had taken hold, and a shared sense of curiosity – of humanity – would prevail. Shilpa stared at the hologram. Maybe somehow they too understand that science belongs to all of us.
“Four.”
Shilpa watched as the targets closed on each other, and she suddenly found herself picturing her young daughter, swinging in the backyard –
“Three.”
The way she’d look up toward the heavens –
“Two.”
As if wondering to herself:
“One.”
Is anyone out there?
David R. Strachan is a defense analyst and founder of Strikepod Systems, a research service focused on autonomous undersea systems.
Featured Image: Artwork made with Midjourney AI.