“Got something,” Mongo said. “A Greek ship – the Karaboudjan – may well be their getaway vessel.”
“Show me,” Steve ordered.
He looked at the image from the drone, then scowled. The Karaboudjan was a medium-sized freighter, large enough to carry hundreds of shipping containers. He remembered some of the rumours about the Al Qaeda Navy and shuddered, inwardly. Had New York been clutching one of those vipers to its bosom? Or had the Karaboudjan been serving as a perfectly innocent freighter up until now?
“The Coast Guard is calling for military assistance,” Mongo said. “I believe they’re putting together a team of SEALs now.”
Steve shook his head. “Tell them we want to scan the vessel first,” he said. “And if she’s on it, we can get her back quicker than them.”
He had no illusions about what orders the terrorists would have in the event of capture. If there was a strong risk of falling into enemy hands, they would first kill their captive and then kill themselves. Ideally, he knew, they would have to stun the terrorists, then sort out the mess afterwards. But if Mariko wasn't onboard the ship, he didn't want to attack it and cause another major incident. There would be enough repercussions from destroying the terrorist network and the country backing them.
Slowly, the nanotech drones started to search the vessel, their reports building up a holographic diagram in front of Steve. As far as he could tell, most of the crew seemed European and there were even a handful of women, something very unusual for a terrorist ship. But then, it could just be cover. If the vast majority of the crew were unaware of their ship’s true purpose, it would be harder to find someone willing and able to betray the rest of their comrades.
“Here,” Mongo said. “Those guys don’t look like shippers.”
Steve couldn't disagree. The six men in a lower room looked more like soldiers than sailors, although they were wearing civilian clothes. A quick check revealed that they had a small arsenal with them, enough weapons to stand off pirates or a commando offensive. Mongo checked the records and noted that the Karaboudjan often went near the east coast of Africa, where the pirates occasionally came out to prey on Western shipping. Armed guards and a willingness to shoot one’s way out of trouble were often the only true barrier to pirate attack.
“Soldiers or terrorists,” he mused. “Probably trained soldiers. Do we have any records of them?”
“They’re listed as armed guards from a Greek company, but nothing past that,” Mongo said. “Kevin would probably be able to dig up more information.”
“Probably,” Steve agreed. He watched as the drones started to enter the containers, rapidly scanning the contents. Most of them held pieces of technology or clothing that couldn't be found in Greece these days, from what he’d read online. Others were completely empty, something that puzzled him. Surely empty crates were inefficient? Or was more coming out of Greece than going into the country? “I ...”
He swore as one of the drones reported back, after entering yet another container. “Got her,” he said. “She’s there!”
Mongo peered over his shoulder as other drones converged on the container. Inside, Mariko was lying against one wall, her hand cuffed to the metal. Three men, two of them sleeping, were sharing the container; Steve felt his teeth clench in rage as he realised just how helpless his partner was, if one of her captors decided to have some fun. She wasn't a soldier, not even a combat medic. And she had never learnt to fight with her bare hands.
“Teleport her out,” Mongo urged. “Then the SEALs can take the vessel in peace.”
Steve checked the interface, then shook his head. There was just too much metal and electronic interference to allow a successful teleport. Mariko wouldn't thank him if she rematerialised with her head sticking out of her ass ... and that was only if she was lucky, he knew. Most teleport accidents, according to the files, were instantly lethal and there was rarely a body to bury. The quantum uncertainty principle would see to it.
“We need to stun them all, then board the ship,” he said. “The SEALs can have her afterwards.”
He stood up. “And I’ll be leading the mission in person,” he said. At least they had a strike team on alert, composed of a handful of augmented soldiers. “I will not ...”
“Steve,” Mongo said, sharply, “you shouldn't be leading the mission. You shouldn't even be there. You’re far too personally involved.”
Steve glowered at him. “And would you be happy if Jayne was on that ship and you had to remain behind?”
“No,” Mongo said. “But I’d accept it.”
He pushed Steve back into his chair, then headed towards the hatch. “I won’t let her get hurt,” he said. “And we will get her back to you. Just get ready to stun her captors upon command.”
Steve nodded, reluctantly.
***
Alannah Theodori stood on the deck and watched America fading into the distance. She hadn't been sure what to expect of her first voyage across the ocean, but she had to admit she enjoyed it despite the cramped working conditions and the sometimes crude language of the older sailors. But then, she knew there were only handful of jobs in the shipping industry and she was incredibly lucky to get this job. Besides, it was a stepping stone to greater things.
She took a breath, tasting the sea air, then turned to head down to the hatch. As always, there was no shortage of work for the crew, even when they were miles away from land. Her duties weren't difficult, but they were tedious and her supervisor got very snippy whenever she and her fellow crewmates got bored and started to play with their smartphones instead of working. But she couldn't blame him for that, not really. They had to keep everything shipshape onboard ship – he made the pathetic joke at least once a day – and slackness would be a grave mistake.
A funny feeling flickered through the air, as if they were about to be struck by lightning. She looked up and saw a strange silver light appear along the deck, rapidly growing into the shape of a man. No, several men. She stared, unable to quite believe what she was seeing, as the man came into view, all wearing black uniforms and carrying strange-looking weapons. And then one of them pointed a weapon at her ...
There was a flash of blue-white light and everything went black.
***
Mongo watched the girl fall, then keyed his communicator. “Have you got them?”
“Stunned them all,” Steve said. The tiny drones could stun as well as kill, thankfully, even though it had never been tested in combat. “Hurry up.”
Mongo nodded, then rapidly issued orders to his men. One group would secure the bridge, the other would go after the armed guards, then the hold. Anyone they encountered would be stunned without warning. Stunners had one definite advantage over automatic weapons; they could be used without fear of accidentally killing an innocent person. The safest course of action was to stun everyone on the ship, then transport them all back to shore and sort them out with the help of lie detectors and truth drugs. Afterwards, the innocent would be released and paid compensation, while the guilty went to the moon.
The six guards – or terrorists – didn't have the faintest idea the assault team was there until it was far too late. Mongo wasn't particularly surprised; if they’d hoped to hide their true nature from the crew, they wouldn't have been patrolling the decks in full armour this close to the United States. They threw a stun grenade into the room, then followed up as the terrorists dropped to the deck. Mongo checked them rapidly, then marked them down for later attention and moved down towards the hold. Unsurprisingly, the hatch was locked. A quick burst from his alien-designed weapon burned right through it.
It wasn't the first container ship he’d searched, but it was the first he’d actually known where to look for something. Deliberately or otherwise, the terrorists had placed their container on the second level, making it very hard to search. Mongo, undeterred, organised a set of ladders, then burned his way into the container. Inside, the air already smelt rank. He couldn't help wond
ering just how the terrorists had intended to endure at least two weeks of an increasingly foul stench.
They’ve probably been in worse, he thought. Back in Basic Training, he’d been pretty rank too. And he'd crawled through sewage in Iraq. It was astonishing, he knew, just what one could get used to if there was no choice. And Mariko wouldn't have been offered one.
He released the girl and carefully lowered her out of the container, back to the deck. Behind him, his team grabbed the three terrorists and moved them out too, using rather less care with their bodies. Mongo snapped at one of them who deliberately banged a terrorist head against the deck. He understood the impulse to just hurt the dishonourable bastards, but they needed evidence. Besides, it was unlikely that lunar courts would show any mercy to the fuckers.
“Steve, we got her,” he said, as he carried the girl back up to the deck. “Can you get a lock on her now?”
“Yes,” Steve said. “Are you coming up too?”
“Not yet,” Mongo said. In the distance, he could see a pair of Stealth Hawks flying towards the ship. Seal Team Six would no doubt be outraged that the crew had already been stunned, leaving them with nothing more than clear-up duties, but it hardly mattered. Once the ship was taken into a naval port, the SEALs would have plenty to do. “Let me hand the ship over to the newcomers first.”
He would never admit it, certainly not to the SEALs themselves, but they had always impressed him. Perhaps he would have considered trying to transfer if it had been possible, yet there were no guarantees. Outside cross-training, he would have had to enlist in the Navy and work his way through training a second time. And he’d been reluctant to do anything of the sort after Steve had left the military.
The SEALs dropped down from the helicopter and looked around, weapons at the ready. It was hard to tell – their faces were hidden behind masks – but they seemed to be rather surprised at the sight before them. Mongo grinned, then saluted the team leader. After a moment, the SEAL returned the salute.
“Everyone on the vessel is stunned,” he said. “We’ll be taking the terrorists with us, but everyone else should be treated gently. Most of them were not aware of any wrongdoing on this vessel.”
“Understood,” the SEAL said, gruffly.
Mongo nodded, picked up Mariko and triggered the teleporter. The world vanished in a shimmer of silver-white light.
***
“Is she going to be all right?”
“Physically, I believe so,” the medic said. He’d been in the French Foreign Legion before retiring and then applying to join the lunar settlement and he still had a faint French accent. “Mentally ... it is always questionable after such a shock.”
“I know,” Steve muttered. Mariko had been scanned, intensely, using alien technology. She had suffered no physical damage, apart from a handful of bumps and bruises. Mercifully, she hadn't been molested or raped. “Can you wake her up?”
“I’d prefer to let her wake up naturally,” the medic said, firmly. “These sort of injuries need to be watched, carefully. I understand how you feel, sir, but her safety should come first.”
“Understood,” Steve said, irked.
It was nearly forty minutes before Mariko opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Steve was at her side instantly, unsure of how best to proceed. Should he take her in his arms or would that produce a panic attack? Or ... what should he do?
“Steve,” she said. “What happened?”
Steve hesitated, reminded himself that she was a grown woman and briefly outlined everything that had happened. “We tracked you down and recovered you,” he concluded, after detailing the desperate search. “And here you are, safe and sound.”
“Thank you,” Mariko whispered. She gave him a long look. “Is it always going to be like this now?”
“I plan to make sure it never happens again,” Steve said, firmly. “If you go back to the clinic, you’ll have a small army protecting you.”
Mariko nodded. Steve eyed her, worriedly. He’d never liked the idea of submissive girls, no matter how attractive it seemed. Mariko was certainly not submissive ... or, rather, she hadn't been submissive. But now, she was accepting his suggestions without argument, even though she’d refused them earlier. It didn't strike him as a very encouraging sign. What would she do, he wondered, if he ordered her to stay on the ship? Or the moon?
“You should take a few days to rest,” he said, instead. “That should give us plenty of time to rebuild the clinic.”
She nodded, again. Steve felt suddenly helpless. She hadn't demanded that she go right back to New York to help deal with the bombing aftermath or even that he stop treating her as an invalid. Had her spirit been broken by the kidnappers?
He ground his teeth together in silent fury. Whatever else happened, he was damned if he was letting the bastards get away with it. And heaven help anyone who tried to stand in his way.
Chapter Thirty-One
Shadow Warrior, Earth Orbit
“Going by the latest reports, Steve, New York suffered fifty-seven dead, ninety-five wounded, some critically,” Mongo said. “All that for a fucking diversion.”
Steve nodded, unsurprised, as he stared at the terrorists through the one-way force field. “I think we can arrange for the wounded to be treated in one of our clinics,” he said. “They were injured in an attack on us, after all.”
Mongo nodded back. “We scanned them all pretty thoroughly,” he continued. “They all had suicide capsules in their teeth, ready for immediate use. We removed them before we woke the bastards up, Steve, and they all tried to go for the capsules. These guys are pretty damn hardcore.”
“I know,” Steve said. “And the ship’s crew?”
“All innocent, according to DHS,” Mongo said. “They used the lie detectors we provided – as far as everyone knew, apart from the Captain, the terrorists were just a hired security team. The Captain was the only one who knew the truth ...”
Steve looked over at him for a long moment. “And the truth is?”
“They’re Revolutionary Guards, Steve,” Mongo said. “The attack came from Iran.”
Steve gritted his teeth, remembering briefings on the Revolutionary Guard during his military service. They were partly a Praetorian Guard, charged with keeping the Mullahs in power, partly a terrorist group and partly a business in their own right. Like the KGB and other security organisations with a complete absence of public accountability, they had acquired land, businesses and countless other interests in their name. By now, they were probably – directly or indirectly – one of Iran’s major employers.
They’d done worse than just hold ‘death to America’ marches too, he knew. Iran’s fingerprints had been found on weapons and explosives in both Iraq and Afghanistan, with the country trying to ensure their chosen tools gained control in both regions. And, for that matter, to bleed the Americans white. Steve recalled one Marine wondering out loud if the Mullahs hoped their more fanatical followers would go to Iraq and get killed by the Americans. It was so hard to balance a theocratic regime with the compromises that had to be made, just to keep the country on an even kneel.
But there was something about the whole affair that puzzled him. The Mullahs were careful poker players, never overplaying their hands. So why had they risked losing everything in this manner? Iran would suffer, badly, as fusion tech became more widespread, but they were in a far better position than Saudi Arabia or the tiny oil kingdoms dotted around the Middle East. Or were they convinced that Steve would one day turn his attention to them?
Or maybe they were afraid of losing power, he thought. They wouldn't want their own people to start questioning their values.
“Start the interrogation,” he ordered, wishing – again – that Kevin was with them. He could have handled the whole affair without fuss. “I want to know everything they know.”
It was nearly an hour before they had some clear answers. The guards on the ship were there to serve as a security team, but they w
ere also there to provide support to terrorist groups and sleeper agents at the ship’s ports of call. Steve made careful notes of the details they provided, intending to pass them on to the various security forces. If nothing else, the whole affair would lead to the uncovering of a number of sleeper cells.
The kidnappers themselves were long-term sleeper agents, intended to remain in reserve until the United States finally attacked Iran. Steve listened to their conversation carefully; one of them seemed genuinely repentant, the others seemed more sorry they’d been caught than anything else. But the repentant one had had the wife and children in the United States.
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