Unfathomed (The Locus Series Book 1)

by Ralph Kern

  “What’s that?”

  “Accept that you are just as much of a man now as you were before. That someone can still want you.”

  Jack was quiet for a long moment before starting to speak slowly. “I was engaged to someone. Before I went to Syria, I mean. She came to see me while I was in the hospital. Told me she was leaving me, that she had met someone else while I was away.” Jack swallowed. The shrink had tried to tease this out of him, but he hadn’t wanted to say anything. He hadn’t told anyone, in fact. “She kept looking at the bed sheet. She could see it was flat where it shouldn’t have been. She kept saying it was nothing to do with my injury, that she would have left me anyway, but she kept looking. Then she left and I never saw her again.”

  With a grunt, he stood up. “I always wondered whether it was an excuse, or if it was real that she’d met someone. And if it was real and if I was... whole, could I have won her back?”

  “Jack, that’s awful.” The tear that rolled down her face was no longer because of her fear, it was because of her sadness for him.

  Shrugging, Jack turned to the table, pretending to busy himself there, but in reality doing nothing more than shuffling a few of the ammunition boxes around.

  “We’re not all like that,” Laurie said.

  “Maybe.” Jack piled the boxes, one on top of another, the movement serving no purpose beyond giving his hands something to do. “Maybe I just need time to realize that.”

  “Boss?” a voice called from the hatch. One of the few surviving original security officers, Josef, stood in the entry, breaking the moment. “I just came down to see if you need a hand?”

  Jack glanced at the woman before him. She gave a nod and said, “That’s fine. I just have to... I just have to go and do something.”

  She stood and kept her face angled away from the young security guard as she hustled out of the room.

  Josef watched her leave, an appreciative look on his face. When she was safely out of earshot, he broke out in a grin. “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I?”

  ***

  “You got everything? Good, then let’s get aboard the Atlantica and start cashing in on some of our hard-earned privileges.” The foreman said with a whoop.

  Grayson was a fit man, but even his back had started to constantly ache under the long days of working the fields. The good news was now there were a hell of a lot more volunteers starting to come over since the announcement by Captain Solberg, the news of which had filtered its way to the island.

  The work party was waiting at the end of the pier, watching the mega lifeboat make its way through the early morning mist. Slowly the large boat chugged its way in, finally nestling against the rickety creaking wood. The calls of the shore hands and the crew echoed back and forth as the boat was secured.

  Grayson watched, his hands pressing into the small of his back as dozens of people disembarked. The days of the mega lifeboats taking a fraction of what they could carry were well and truly over. Now they only moved when they were nearing capacity so as to be as efficient as possible.

  He saw some of the people he’d previously identified as security officers. Some of them were carrying black plastic cases, some even had mannequins from the promenade shops awkwardly lofted over their shoulders.

  Range day, huh? Well, everyone needs ensure they keep their skills and drills up to scratch. Once the crowd of people had moved down the pier, Grayson and his new friends climbed aboard the mega lifeboat.

  And if most of the security is on the island, then who’s protecting the Atlantica?

  Chapter 37 – Day 16

  “Step to the firing line!” Jack shouted. The earplugs that he had taken from the Atlantica’s engine room muffled most of the sound, leaving only the loudest noises and the ringing of his own tinnitus.

  As one, the five security recruits trudged forward across the dry dirt and rock, careful to keep their handguns pointed down the makeshift range toward the mannequins and turquoise blue sea beyond.

  “Make ready!”

  As one, the recruits drew the slides on the top of their handguns back and released them.

  “To your target in front... go on!” There was a brief hesitation, as if they were all nervous to be the first one to shoot. After a long moment, the first shot rang out, followed by a ripple of fire from the others.

  Down the range the mannequins disintegrated under the fire. The 9mm rounds smashed into the figures, causing plastic limbs to fly off in every direction. More than one of the figures toppled over.

  Maybe the mannequins weren’t such a good idea, Jack thought. But better than empty beer bottles.

  After the last shot, Jack waited a few seconds in case someone was taking their sweet time, before shouting, “Stop... unload and show clear!”

  With varying degrees of speed, each of the shooters released their magazines and performed the clearance drill before presenting the gun’s empty chambers, muzzles still pointed downrange.

  Jack quickly walked past them, repeating “clear,” as he checked each weapon.

  “Okay, ladies and gents, place the weapons down and step over here for a debriefing.” The five shooters came and stood around him in a semi-circle. “Okay, how do you think that went?”

  They began to discuss each of their performances. They didn’t have proper targets, but at least they could see that the targets were being hit.

  “Okay, now more importantly, why the delay before the first of you fired?” Jack cut in after letting them talk for a while.

  ***

  “How are they doing?” Laurie asked from where she was seated on the edge of the pier, her legs dangling down.

  Jack lowered himself down next to her. “They’re okay. Some a bit rusty, but no complete idiots, at least.”

  “That’s good, so your crack commandos are well on the way to being formed. Are they all going to get tattoos that match yours?” Laurie pointed at the one on Jack’s right arm.

  “Ha.” Jack glanced down and slipped up the sleeve of his t-shirt, revealing the crest of the Marine Force Reconnaissance Unit, a pair of wings with a scuba diver etched onto them and a parachute behind. “Yeah, maybe after a little more training.”

  The day had been long, and Jack was tired from having to concentrate for hours. Every movement was checked, every piece of advice he could think of offered. They didn’t have the ammunition to do this many more times, but at least they’d had some live-fire training.

  Atlantica and Ignatius, along with the few other vessels surrounding them, looked like something out of a brochure as they nestled in the bay. The water was so clear and blue, the sky contained only the faintest wisps of cloud.

  It seemed like paradise.

  ***

  Grayson rubbed his tired eyes. He was getting sick of waiting for one of the senior officers to wander past, but at some point, one was sure to. He’d been seated outside of Art Deco at one of the tables for the last three hours, the bustle of the promenade all around him. Life truly goes on, Grayson thought. Even when everything else seems to come crashing down.

  He’d long-since resigned himself since his own arrival that something was very wrong with the rest of the world. The rumors he’d been hearing from the other passengers, as curious and weird as they were, hadn’t quite settled into full-scale alarm for him, but still, it was news to him and his brain had been whirling. What the hell did it truly mean that the rest of the world was gone? Surely it couldn’t have anything to do with his original reason for being in the Caribbean?

  Grayson saw Liam Kendricks walk past Art Deco, breaking his thought process.

  “Hey, Staff Captain,” Grayson called out.

  Kendricks gave a little start and turned to look at him. Grayson noticed his arm was finally out of its sling, but the man was still holding it stiffly and giving the occasional wince.

  “Buy you a coffee?” Grayson gestured with his cup. A look crossed Kendricks’s face like that of deer trapped in headlights. His eyes
darted left and right, seeking an escape route, as Grayson pressed on, “I insist.”

  “I’m a bit busy right now, Karl. Maybe later.”

  Standing, Grayson walked out of Art Deco and joined Kendricks on the promenade. He would try a different tack. “Staff Captain, look, I’ve tried to make myself useful around here. I’ve already joined one of your work crews. I’m not saying you owe me... God no, you saved my ass after all, but we were hearing some pretty strange rumors flying around from when I was on the island shoveling shit. Something about the world being totally different?”

  Kendricks gave him a considering look. “Okay, Karl. Yes, things have gotten awful strange. Truth be told, we don’t know what to make of it.”

  Kendricks quickly and succinctly filled Grayson in on what they had found from the launch of the LEAP.

  Grayson gave a low whistle. “Okay. Well, where does that leave us?”

  “We have to go somewhere. This locus is as good a place as any.”

  “Yeah,” Grayson’s mind whirled. Finally, solid new information. After years of being trapped here, something new, something tangible. The question is, would that stop what was coming?

  ***

  Fifty miles from the island, the fleet heaved to. Twenty ships were finishing fitting machine guns onto them. They ranged from relatively modern M240s through FN MAGs to the many ancient PKP Pechenegs they had found stashed in the container ship.

  The pirates had even modified a couple of the ships with jury-rigged trebuchets on them, each one ready to launch canisters of fuel that would become improvised explosive devices

  One ship even a primitive cannon stretching along its length. Barely tested, probably barely functional, yet nevertheless another testament to the ingenuity of the crew of the fleet.

  But now, they were ready and waiting for the sign that they could attack. That the one ship that would be able to fight off all that ingenuity and effort was no longer a threat.

  Chapter 38 – Day 16

  “I think you should call a halt to the attack,” Grayson’s crackly voice came from the radio.

  Vaughan exchanged a frown with Bautista before lifting the radio mic to his lips. “Karl, this operation has already cost us a lot of fuel. If we turn around now, there’s a damn good chance I’d face a mutiny.”

  “Yes, but they have found something, something that could get us home,” Grayson pressed.

  “Karl, nothing will get us home. We’ve been here for years... we’ve looked and we’ve looked. Get that thought out of your head.”

  Vaughan and Bautista were in the cramped radio room of the Titan, the analog equipment and dials looked old and dated. They matched the tiredness of the flecked paint and worn nature of the furnishings.

  “But—”

  “But nothing. You’re telling me everyone on that island is up and leaving for this locus? Well, they can out run everything but our fastest ships if they go. Our one chance, our only chance, to take Atlantica, and if we’re damn lucky Ignatius, not to mention those trawlers, is now. With the element of surprise.”

  “We have to consider that—” Bautista started to say.

  “Don’t you start. Stand by for our signal,” Vaughan snapped.

  “Listen, Vaughan—”

  “No you listen, Karl,” Vaughan snapped, the base of his fist thudding onto the laminate worktop the radio set was upon. His calm tone had melted away to reveal a simmering anger beneath. “Everything we are doing is for our families, just you remember that.”

  The speaker was silent for a long moment. Finally, a dangerously calm voice came from it, “Are you threatening my family?”

  Bautista shook his head slightly and said quietly to Vaughan, “You don’t want to go down that route. He’s a very dangerous man. You do not want him as an enemy.”

  Vaughan clenched his teeth, forcing the anger back down within before keying the mic. “No, Karl. I’m merely pointing out what’s at stake. If they decide to up and sail off toward this... locus or whatever the hell it is, without us, then we might never track them down again.”

  The silence drew out for long moments. Finally Karl responded, “Very well. Tomorrow morning. 1100 hours.

  ***

  Karl lowered the CB radio, grinding his teeth. He quickly stuffed the radio in his pocket and gripped the muster deck railing so hard his knuckles turned white.

  That prick thinks he can threaten me and mine? Cold fury washed through him. He knew about Eric Vaughan’s history, the executive who had finally carved a real empire out, not just a business one. He wasn’t even convinced Vaughan would go home if he was given a chance. The fact was, here he was the most important person in the community.

  Sure he needed his muscle, Bautista, to keep order and to handle the physical side that Vaughan so sorely lacked. And he needed people like Grayson, with the cunning and skills to operate as scouts and saboteurs. And of those scouts? Grayson was the best, given his... interesting background.

  Grayson turned from the railing, and made to go inside.

  He was normally an observant person; information simply washed into him and he processed it on a near-subconscious level.

  It was a testament to his current stress levels that he didn’t realize the mega lifeboat normally covering the CCTV camera was one that was missing.

  Chapter 39 – Day 17

  The explosion tore through Ignatius’s superstructure, ripping a brutal wound in the tower. The radar domes disintegrated in a shower of debris, blinding the deadly warship while the masts and tower itself groaned and creaked. For one long moment, it seemed as if the whole array would topple and fall into the sea. Somehow it remained upright, coming to rest at an angle.

  Coughing, Perry Donovan stood up from where he had fallen to the deck of the bridge. His ears were ringing from the explosion going off so close to where he was.

  “Rep—” Donovan gave another hacking cough before trying again. “Report!”

  Slowly, the other bridge crew shook off the effects of the vicious explosion, and returned to their stations. Some of the consoles were damaged, others had no feeds from outside, but mainly what Donovan wanted to know was, was the damn ship sinking?

  “No indications or reports we’re taking on water, sir,” one young petty officer called out. “It was definitely above the waterline. Seemed like it was on top of us.”

  “Get damage control parties assembled and coordinated.” Donovan wiped blood out of his eyes and glanced upward. He didn’t know where it had come from and right now, he didn’t have the time to even figure out if it was his or not.

  “Sir, most of my feeds are down.” The petty officer slapped his console in frustration. “I suggest we shift damage control down to the CIC.”

  Donovan glanced around the bridge, the screens flickering and the many of the windows smashed. The floor was covered in shards of glass and his bridge officers were nursing cuts and bruises.

  “Do it,” Donovan said. “And inform the Captain she’s better off running the show from down there.”

  ***

  Grayson had dropped the small mining remote detonator into the sea as soon as he had pressed the button on the top. Even he had been shocked by the size of the explosion; whatever was in the bomb he’d planted on the radar array of the Ignatius had been pretty damn potent.

  Now he was amidst a throng of people who had ran to the railing surrounding the top deck looking over the damaged warship below. Close to the Ignatius’s superstructure, part of Atlantica’s railing had been buckled by the blast. People were injured and the sounds of crying and moaning came from them. The unfortunate people had been too close to the explosion.

  Grayson felt a twinge of conscience. He quickly forced it back down. He was doing this for his family. Still, he didn’t want to cause more misery than he had to.

  Smoothly segueing from instigator to helper, he knelt down next to one moaning old man who was clutching his bleeding face and began checking him over.

  “I
t’s okay, it’s okay, we’ll get you down to the infirmary. I just need you to stay calm...”

  ***

  “Stop!”

  The people on the firing points immediately applied the safety catches on their weapons and looked around questioningly. Jack noted, even while distracted, that the security staff all kept their weapons pointed down the range. As they should.

  Jack pulled his earplugs out and looked around. The noise he had heard sounded wrong, a bang that was far deeper and more echoing in tone than a gunshot.

  He couldn’t immediately see what was the source, but something just wasn’t right.

  ***

  “The SPS-67 is down,” a CIC technician called.

  “Noted,” Slater said as she switched her console over to display her ship’s status. The room had erupted with activity since the explosion. Many of the screens and consoles in the CIC were flickering or down completely, the feeds damaged or destroyed. People checked and rechecked their equipment, pulling together damage reports and figuring out just what the hell had happened.

  “Same with the SPS-73, we’ve got a judder in the AN/SPY... no it’s gone offline, too. We’ve lost all surface search ability.”

  “Noted.” Shit, we are completely blind. This wasn’t an accident, this was a deliberate surgical strike, Slater thought grimly.

  “Captain, I have Atlantica on the radio. She’s asking if we require assistance.”

  “Negative. Tell them we’re watertight, we’re assessing damage now. My compliments to Captain Solberg, but we need to square our shit away before we have a crowd of people on board.”

  Flicking the intercom to the bridge, she called up to Donovan, “Perry, secure the ship. I want us away from Atlantica. This was a surgical attack on our radar systems. Until we grip whatever the hell is going on, I want some space between us and anyone else.”

  “Aye, ma’am. Securing to move now.”

  ***

  A dozen speedboats, each containing five men, were the first wave. They hit the beach at full speed and slid up the golden sand with a hiss. They had beached themselves on the opposite side of the island from where Ignatius and Atlantica were, using the island itself as cover. The men and women on board jumped out, their weapons ready and began sprinting up the incline of the beach toward the tree line.