The Tide_Ghost Fleet

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  “I look forward to that day,” Spitkovsky said. “As does your family, I am sure.”

  A ball of hot fire raged in Mokri’s chest, but he fought to hold his tongue. Spitkovsky had taken Mokri’s wife, daughter, and son to a compound outside Moscow under the guise of protecting them. “They are still safe, I presume.”

  “They are.” A pause, then Spitkovsky added, “For the time being. I worry for their future if you do not succeed.”

  The line went dead. Spitkovsky was a fickle ally at best.

  Yes, Mokri had much to fight for. Vengeance against Holland. A new future for his countrymen and the FGL.

  And the lives of his family.

  -11-

  The computers in the electronics workshop buzzed like a swarm of cicadas. Samantha had her headphones resting around her neck. Some kind of clashing music was erupting from them. Her eyes were lined with dark shadows, signs of exhaustion that her stack of empty energy drink cans had been unable to assuage. Chao sipped from a thermos of steaming coffee. The normally straightlaced and reserved comm specialist had long been adamant about avoiding any mood-altering substance, including caffeine, but apparently after today’s near-disastrous mission, he had finally made an exception to that rule.

  Dom had barely had time to shed his gear when Chao informed him they’d received a message from General Kinsey demanding Dom talk to him at once.

  “Is he on the line yet?” Dom asked.

  “No, Captain,” Chao replied.

  Of course, now that Dom was in the workshop, Kinsey was suddenly unavailable.

  “He better call back soon,” Samantha said, wrinkling her nose as she looked at Dom. “Because you smell like a bonfire where people decided to use shit instead of firewood.”

  That probably wasn’t too far from the truth. Dom could still practically taste the smoke from the container ship, and the odor of death clung inside his nostrils. “Next time I’ll ask the Skulls to shower before we fight ’em.”

  “Much appreciated,” Samantha said. “Speaking of Skulls, how’s our Hybrid friend?”

  “Lauren says he’s probably got a concussion. A couple of his armor plates are fractured, but it’s nothing a little bone cement can’t handle. He’ll be fine. It’s the people of Dublin I’m not so sure about. Any word from Buckley?”

  “Casualties are in the hundreds,” Chao said. “At least thirty dead, many still missing.”

  “Christ,” Dom said. “Any Skulls make it out of the blast?”

  “It seemed that ship was rigged just like the one you invaded,” Chao said. “Most of the Skulls died. The ones that made it to land were killed before they could do any damage. Buckley didn’t report any infections.”

  “It’s chaos down there,” Dom said. “Make sure you warn him to keep a close eye on his people. Symptoms could show up at any time. All it takes is one of his people getting infected by the Oni Agent, and all their work in Dublin will be for nothing.”

  “I’ll let him know,” Chao said. “Lauren spoke with his medical clinic leads, so they’ll be on the lookout. Quarantine facilities have been set up.”

  “Tell them any soldier on the front line needs to be examined immediately,” Dom said. “And have Lauren teach them how to perform the antibody test to detect the presence of Oni Agent in the bloodstream.”

  Dom had to wait for several long, frustrating minutes before one of Chao’s lines finally blinked, calling his attention.

  “Huntress,” Chao answered.

  “US Reclaim Operations Command Center,” the answer came. “General Kinsey is requesting to speak with Captain Holland.”

  Chao handed Dom a headset. “Holland here,” Dom said.

  “Dublin still stands?”

  “Dublin still stands,” Dom confirmed. “How are Washington and Kent?”

  “DC is fine. Kent was hit,” Kinsey said.

  Dom’s stomach sank. He pictured the two midshipmen whose lives had intersected with his a number of times. “How damaged?”

  “Casualties number around fifty.”

  The sinking feeling in Dom’s gut got worse. He had to ask. “There were a couple of midshipmen that helped us on occasion. Are they... do you have any idea about Rachel Kaufman or Rory Booker?”

  There was a pause. Dom’s nerves tingled. It felt like an hour before Kinsey spoke again. “They are both hospitalized. I don’t know the extent of their injuries. They are in a critical care unit, although their prognosis is evidently good.”

  Dom let out a long breath. It wasn’t the best news, but it was better than his imagination had led him to believe.

  “Can I continue?” Kinsey asked.

  “Please.”

  “Kent Island shouldn’t have been attacked like this. The explosion nearly destroyed their defenses. Somewhere along the line, your intel and mine missed something. Everything you brought to us from Morocco said those ships were going to be loaded with Skulls.”

  Dom could sense the accusation in that statement. He still stood on rocky footing with Kinsey. Just getting the man to communicate with him had taken a tremendous effort. The red herrings Spitkovsky and the FGL had planted within intelligence communities around the world had done lasting damage to Dom’s reputation. He’d only been able to buy back that trust with Kinsey by sending Shigeru Matsumoto, the Phoenix Compound, and all the intel he’d gathered on his journey through the Congo and then Morocco.

  Instead of taking Kinsey’s bait, Dom tried another tack. “You’re telling me no one over there intercepted anything to warn us we were operating on bad intel?”

  “We confirmed what you told us.” Kinsey said nothing more, which meant Dom was right. “We’re running scenario models to determine what the end goal is here. Those freighters killed hundreds—maybe thousands—of people across the country. The real question is what happened to that Skull army we were promised? Did they ever actually have an army to begin with? And if so, why did they switch tactics?”

  “All I can tell you is that we saw ships in Tangier stuffed with Skulls and Hybrids. You know as much as I do.”

  “For your sake, I hope that’s true.”

  Dom drummed his fingers on the console. He hadn’t waited for this call just to be Kinsey’s punching bag. “So what do you want from me? More recon?”

  “I’ve got my people on it,” Kinsey said. “You need to stay out of their way.”

  “Fine,” Dom said. It was difficult not saying anything more. He needed to stay on Kinsey’s good side, and that meant operating with a veneer of deference for the man. At least for now. “Then what is it you want?”

  “We’ve reestablished communications in parts of Western Europe. Germany is leading the efforts to retake the rest of Europe. Frankfurt is coming back.”

  “That’s good news,” Dom said. Frankfurt not only had an international airport, but it was also a major component of the power grid and a rail travel hub for all of Europe.

  “You will send some of your medical people to Frankfurt. We need them to start producing the Phoenix Compound at the Mueller Pharmaceuticals facility.”

  Dom thought of the logistics involved. It wouldn’t be too difficult to send a team there, but he needed to be sure there weren’t going to be surprises on the way. “Is there an FGL presence in the area?”

  “Frankfurt and Mueller are completely secured. They’ve repelled the enemy from most of Western Germany. I’m told that they’ve also locked down air traffic in the area.”

  “Frankfurt may be secure, but what about the routes to get there?”

  “I’m not a goddamn genie,” Kinsey snapped.

  Damn, Dom thought, the general is sensitive tonight.

  “Safe or not, I want you to find a way to get your people there,” Kinsey continued. “We need Frankfurt. It is the key to retaking Europe, and it gives us a foothold into the rest of the world. We’ll forward all the details you’ll need, but let me be clear: This is not one of your mercenary contracts you get to pick and choose. This i
s an order.”

  “Understood,” Dom said. He had other words he’d like to say, but those would have to wait until Kinsey was off the line. “Consider it done.”

  There was a second of silence. Dom thought that Kinsey was going to hang up. But evidently, he had more.

  “Mueller Pharmaceuticals’ research is integral to the success of our operations,” Kinsey said. “Because of that, I’ve already warned them about your group. I’ve also given them permission to act accordingly if you or your people threaten their work.”

  With that threat lingering on the line, Kinsey ended the call.

  ***

  “Looks like it’s you and me for the Frankfurt team,” Lauren said to Navid after Dom had relayed Kinsey’s message. They were sifting through the samples of the Phoenix Compound they had stored in the med bay’s lab. “Ever been to Germany?”

  “Nope,” Navid said. “Almost all the traveling I’ve done has been on the Huntress.”

  “Hopefully this flight will be a little smoother than your last.”

  Navid’s last trip had been an ill-fated flight out of Lajes Field. The C-31 from the Portuguese island crashed over the United States when the pilot succumbed to an Oni Agent infection.

  “Better be,” Navid said as he continued packing the samples they would bring to the manufacturing facilities. “I’m not a Hunter, and I’ve had enough face time with the Skulls to last a lifetime.”

  Lauren knew he didn’t want to return to the field, but she had two very good reasons for choosing him for the mission. Peter and Divya would stay on the ship to staff the medical bay, and Sean would continue tracking Oni Agent infections in his role as an epidemiologist. Navid, though, would offer his knowledge in drug-delivery systems to Frankfurt, a skill which the scientists there had specifically requested. And of everyone on the medical team, Navid had survived the most Skull encounters, including his own girlfriend when she turned.

  “I’m curious about this facility,” Navid said. “It sounds like it’s beyond anything I’ve ever seen.”

  “The feeling’s mutual,” Lauren said. “I want to see what our allies are up to. It’s good to know we’re not alone out there.”

  She finished her task and left the lab to check on her lone patient in the adjoining ward. Brendon O’Neil sat on one of the beds. Across his shoulder plate, the light-gray hue of the PMMA—a polymer used as bone cement—shone like a healing scar. Similar streaks spiderwebbed over his skeletal mask and other fracture lines along his limbs.

  “Turns out I’ll be leaving soon,” Lauren said. O’Neil let out a snort of acknowledgment. She still wasn’t sure where she stood with him after their last encounter. “Divya will be taking care of the narcotics while I’m gone. We’re going to try to wean you off those and onto something a little more innocuous. Don’t give her too much trouble.”

  O’Neil’s face broke into a grin. It was terrifying, but Lauren retained her composure. “So long as the pain is in check, I won’t be too hard on the doctor.”

  “How’s your head feeling?”

  “Just a dull headache, but my vision is better now,” O’Neil said. “No more blur.”

  “Good. I need you to stay in a seated position like this for tonight, just to prevent any buildup of fluids on your brain. I know it’s not the most comfortable way to sleep, but it’s the safest way.”

  “Comfortable?” O’Neil laughed. “I’m a walking overgrown skeleton, and you’ve got me on opioids to control probably the worst pain I’ve ever experienced with these damn bones piercing my flesh. I could be hung upside down from the bow of the ship for all I care. I’m never going to be comfortable again.”

  “At least you’re in good spirits,” Lauren said, patting his rock-hard shoulder.

  That earned another demonic grin from O’Neil. “For some reason, I haven’t been feeling too optimistic since becoming a Hybrid. Maybe that’s something you and your scientist friends can figure out.”

  “It’s going to be a tough case to crack,” Lauren said.

  “Was that a pun?” O’Neil said, gesturing to one of the fractures on his arm.

  “God, no,” Lauren said with a laugh. She was surprised he seemed to have forgiven her so soon. “I’m not that awful.”

  “Figured.” Then O’Neil’s face turned stolid and serious again, the brief moment of humor slipping away.

  As a Hybrid, he’d been difficult to treat, both psychologically and physically. But Lauren was growing accustomed to his dark humor. Self-deprecation had been a coping mechanism for him. He appreciated being treated more like one of the crew and couldn’t stand pity. The sudden change in his expression made Lauren question if she’d been reading him wrong all along.

  “Look, O’Neil, about before... I’m truly sorry for pressing you. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to violate your trust.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Doc.” He sighed, his gaze growing distant. “Just thinking about Dublin. The raid went bad.”

  “That’s often the case when the Skulls are involved.”

  “I mean it went worse than usual. All the other times we raided those ships, it was easy. But this one was a trap.”

  Lauren nodded. “Dom told me as much.”

  O’Neil used a claw to indicate some of the scratches on his plate armor. The shallow gouges had been caused by Skulls. “I tried to control them, but I couldn’t. It was too much. No matter how focused I was, they got angrier and angrier.” He lowered his eyes. “And it wasn’t just that I was losing control of them.” His eyes met hers again. “I was losing control of myself.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I felt what they were feeling. The blind hatred. The agony. The hunger. It was as if I could sense the people trapped in the bodies of those Skulls. It almost made me crazy.” He shuddered, rattling his bone plates. “And then I made a decision.”

  “About what?”

  “I want to help you. I have to help you. If you can do something, anything, to control those monsters, then you have to do it. If that means I become a lab rat again, so be it. Even though you’re leaving for Frankfurt, you’ll still be doing lab work, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Then I want you to figure out how in the hell the FGL made me.” O’Neil indicated a cart full of lab supplies near the hatch. “Stick me full of needles. Do one of those live dissection things on me if you have to. I just want to make sure that what happened on that ship doesn’t happen again.”

  Lauren took a deep breath. “I’ll do what I can. But I promise we won’t be vivisecting you.”

  “All I’m saying is that, if you need to do it, it’s okay. Whatever it takes, Doc.”

  “No,” Lauren said. “Never. We’re better than the FGL.”

  O’Neil stared at her for a moment as if he didn’t believe her.

  “I mean it,” Lauren said. “All I need from you is a couple of biopsies to start with. Is that okay?”

  “Go for it.”

  Lauren took out a handful of large syringes and needles. The needles themselves were several inches long and were nearly as thick as a pencil.

  “I’m not going to lie and tell you this won’t hurt, though,” Lauren said.

  O’Neil let out a deep guffaw. “I just fell three stories on top of a Goliath. A few needles are nothing.”

  -12-

  Kara dove under the punch then countered by grabbing Meredith’s extended wrist. She used the other woman’s momentum to pull her forward, hoping to land a takedown.

  But Meredith was too quick. She broke Kara’s grip and smoothly transitioned into a takedown of her own. Kara landed on her back with a resounding thud. The sparring mat absorbed the impact, but it still didn’t feel great.

  “Damn,” Kara said.

  Meredith extended a hand to Kara and pulled her to her feet. She wiped the sweat from her brow, and Kara did the same. Her shirt clung to her body, soaked from her time spent on the mat. Her muscles were sore, and she
was certain there were going to be a few nasty bruises, especially around her tailbone. But damn, it was worth it. She’d needed to blow off some steam.

  “You good for today?” Meredith asked, recovering her breath.

  Kara smiled. “Hell, no.” She went in for a lunge, which Meredith countered and reversed in one swift motion.

  When Kara was lying on her back again, Meredith looked down at her. “What’d you do wrong that time?”

  “Too predictable? Gave you a clear opening, projected my movements.”

  “At least you’re learning.”

  Meredith helped Kara to her feet again. She liked the flow of adrenaline, and whatever music Samantha had lent them to play down here in the gym certainly set the mood. The deep, thumping rhythm coursed through Kara’s bones.

  “How long did it take you to master these moves?” Kara asked, lowering herself into a defensive position.

  Meredith circled her. “Thirty-some odd years.”

  “You fight well for as old as you are.” Kara smirked, deliberately provoking Meredith.

  “Don’t push your luck.”

  Kara had never felt what it was like to simultaneously enjoy and regret something. But in the moment she cartwheeled through the air, flying over Meredith’s shoulder like she weighed nothing, she knew what it was like.

  Meredith helped her up again.

  “Okay, maybe that’s enough for the day,” Kara said, rubbing her tailbone. “At least for takedowns. But I don’t want to quit yet. What do you think we should do next?”

  “I think we should take a quick break,” Meredith said. She dabbed at her forehead with a towel. “Grab some water.”

  “Fine.” Kara sauntered to the edge of the room, pretending that each step didn’t hurt. Meredith had definitely put her in her place today.

  Meredith took a sip of water. “How are you feeling about everything?”

  “I’ve got a long way to go.”

  “You do,” Meredith said. Just like in their training, Meredith didn’t pull any punches. “Don’t feel too bad about the takedowns. I’m condensing a lifetime of training into a couple weeks.”