The Tide_Ghost Fleet

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  She weaved between the people standing at the open hatch to the engine room. A latticework of pipes and bent bulkhead cut off half of the space where the fire had taken hold. Amid clouds of gray smoke, she saw a body.

  “Jesus!” someone yelled. “Somebody go get him.”

  Another crew member, his face blackened with soot, said, “I can’t get back there! It’s too tight.”

  “I can’t reach him, either,” Divya said from near the hatch. Her eyes searched the crowd. They met Kara’s gaze.

  The cries of the other crew members trying to fight the blaze seemed to fade away as she walked toward Divya. There was panic in the doctor’s eyes.

  This was bad. Very bad.

  “What’s going on?” Kara asked.

  It was a dumb question, but she didn’t know what else to say. Someone was trapped. There were crew members working to move the debris, but the fires were still flickering in there. The two crew members with fire extinguishers couldn’t get past the fallen pipes. The white powder covering the rest of the engine room and the corridor showed the fire suppression systems had activated, but for some reason, they hadn’t gone off everywhere. Either there was a malfunction, or they had been destroyed in the blast that had rocked the ship. Judging by the state of the engine room, she figured she knew which one it was.

  “Someone’s hurt in there,” Divya said.

  “How bad is he hurt?”

  “All we know is he’s unconscious. We can’t reach him.”

  Now Kara understood why Divya had singled her out from the crowd. “I’ll do it,” she said without hesitation.

  There was a look of uncertainty on Divya’s face. Kara and the doctor both knew what her father would say in a situation like this. He’d tell her to go back to her cabin and keep an eye on Sadie.

  “Be careful!” Divya said.

  Kara was already running to the pipes. The people clearing the debris made way for her. There was only a small gap, maybe a foot and a half wide and half that in height. No wonder the others hadn’t been able to reach this person.

  She ducked low, trying to suck in a deep breath that wasn’t clogged with dark smoke. The air scratched at her throat.

  Okay, Kara, you got this.

  She reached through the narrow hole. Metal pushed against her shoulders. Her hands searched for purchase as the sweltering heat wrapped her in its relentless embrace. Smoke stung her eyes, and pain ignited in her shoulders. With a primal yell, she forced her shoulders past the obstacle, bone and muscles screaming at the tight squeeze. She popped through and landed on the other side.

  “Here!” Someone passed a fire extinguisher through the gap. Kara took it, pulled the pin, and squeezed the handle. She sprayed around the corners of the CODOG and intake, attacking the base of the fire. Even after she expended the contents of the extinguisher, the flames still raged. She wondered how close they were to finding a fuel line and sending the whole place up.

  What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have left Sadie.

  Kara pushed the thoughts from her mind. No room for distractions. Her sister—and everyone else aboard the Huntress—needed her to put out this fire. She grabbed another extinguisher someone handed to her and went after the flames again.

  Smoke still billowed at the ceiling, but it was slowly dissipating, sucked into the air ducts. The deck and bulkheads were still hot, but Kara felt a cool breeze on her face. She looked up to see...

  Stars?

  The attack on the Huntress had punched a hole straight through the top deck into the engine room. The sight made Kara’s stomach sick. How many of the crew had been caught in that blast? There was nothing she could do for them, but there was one life she could save.

  “Hey, I’m here to help,” Kara said, kneeling next to the man. She brushed away a singed metal plate to reveal a familiar face.

  Kara’s breath caught in her chest. Now new panic coursed through her. Alden kept the Huntress running, and without him to direct the repairs, the ship was as good as dead in the water.

  There was a knot forming across his temple, and his face was pale. Kara clumsily felt for a pulse.

  There it was! She wasn’t sure whether it was strong, but it was there, and that was all that mattered.

  “Kara! Give him this.” Divya’s face poked through the gap in the fallen pipes. She passed Kara an oxygen mask, and Kara rushed back to Alden. She placed it over his face and strapped it behind his head. She waited, praying he was okay. Maybe all he’d suffered was a concussion and some smoke inhalation. At least he didn’t seem to have any cuts or burns.

  The engine room was in much worse shape. They needed Alden to fix it.

  “Come on, Alden!” Kara said. “You’ve got to wake up. You’ve got to!”

  Alden’s eyelids fluttered open. He blinked several times before locking eyes with Kara. He coughed violently before he was able to speak.

  “What are you doing in here?” he asked. For a second, Kara worried he’d suffered amnesia. “One lesson and you think you run the place, telling me what to do.”

  -31-

  Lauren rotated a plastic vial between her fingers. The clear liquid inside caught the fluorescent lights. The seemingly innocuous contents of the tube looked like little more than water.

  “All the power of the Hybrids, distilled into that little thing,” Navid said, eying the vial. “I can’t believe we got this isolated and produced so quickly.”

  “Half the job was done for us,” Lauren said. “All we had to do was steal the work the FGL performed from the Hybrids.”

  “Hey, if it works, it works. At least, that’s what my professor always said. No need to reinvent the pipette if it still transfers liquid efficiently, right?”

  Lauren loaded the vial into a plastic device that amounted to little more than a sexy spray bottle. “Your professor seems to hand out a lot of life advice.”

  The door opened to the lab, and Felix Becker strode in. “Come on,” was all he said.

  Lauren and Navid fell in behind him. He marched them through hallways bustling with activity. They waded through what seemed like a sea of manufacturing techs pushing carts laden with cartons of vials, each filled with what Lauren assumed was the prototype batch of Phoenix Compound. The crowd parted at Becker’s approach without even glancing up at the man. Many stared blankly with glazed-over, bloodshot eyes. Deep, dark bags hung under those eyes, and most had hair matted down by oil. They looked more like zombies than the Skulls did.

  She knew how they felt. Exhaustion trickled through Lauren’s muscles. At the back of her mind, there was a constant longing for her cabin on the Huntress. And for Glenn, too. God, she missed him. They seemed so much like passing ships in the night, hardly seeing each other before they dashed off on new missions. It made her miss the days when she had a home base in a CDC lab and a normal bed to return to after a long day of dealing with exotic diseases and biological weapons.

  But those days had long since passed. Exhaustion was a constant companion, and she wondered if she’d ever feel fully rested again.

  Oh, quit the pity party, Lauren thought. At least you’re alive. At least you’ve got a purpose.

  She tried to mimic Becker’s confident stride, catching up beside him.

  “How do you do it?” she asked as they rounded a corner in an empty hallway. The corridor led to a staircase that took them deeper into the facility.

  “How do I do what?” he asked in his strong German accent.

  “You and your people must be working overtime. They’re practically falling over. But you seem to be filled with energy. I want to know your secret.”

  Becker laughed. “My secret?” He leaned toward Lauren and Navid with a slight smirk. “In college, I doubled majored.”

  “Chemistry and business?” Navid guessed.

  “No, chemistry and theater.”

  “Theater?” Navid asked. “That doesn’t seem relevant.”

  “That’s what my chemistry professors said. But they
didn’t understand how to run companies like I did.”

  Lauren followed Becker through another door. The cries of the imprisoned Skulls sounded like the wails of haunting spirits. “Maybe I’m missing something, but that still doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Ah, but it does,” Becker said. “I am drained, exhausted, vanquished, defeated. I want nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep until this is all over. But I cannot do this. I must lead these people. I do not hide behind my desk in my executive suite, sleeping when they aren’t looking. I am among them as much as I can be. But they do not want a sad and tired leader. They want one that is strong and alive. So I must act like that is me.”

  “Fake it until you make it?” Navid said. “That’s your secret?”

  “Well, there is something else the theater taught me.” He swiped a hand beneath his eye. A smudge of something came off on his fingertip.

  “Is that foundation?” Lauren asked.

  “It is.” Becker let out a deep, belly-rolling laugh. “Another secret of the theater: stage makeup. I am acting and looking like I know exactly what we are doing and exactly where we are headed. And if that is enough to keep my people motivated, then that is what I must do.”

  Navid raised his eyebrow at Lauren when Becker wasn’t looking. The young scientist was a no-nonsense guy. He appreciated honesty, no matter how brutal it might be, and she doubted very much he had been to many live theater performances.

  But Lauren understood where Becker was coming from, even if his way wasn’t how she dealt with such feelings. She had pushed her own physical and mental boundaries when their lab work demanded it. She too refused to sleep when her crew was still saving patients and running experiments.

  Becker paused at the doorway to the Skull holding chambers. “Dr. Winters, Dr. Ghasemi—”

  Navid seemed like he was about to correct Becker about his title again but stopped himself.

  “I trust you,” Becker said. “So let’s keep this a secret between us, okay?”

  He opened the door. The voices of hundreds of Skulls slammed into Lauren with an almost palpable force. Their wails resonated in her bones and evoked a deep, primal instinct telling her to run. She didn’t think she could ever get used to this. Her thoughts turned toward Glenn and the others in the field. How in the hell did they go out there to face these things in the wild?

  Navid clenched his jaw, standing straight. But Lauren noticed his fingers trembling.

  “I will be honest,” Becker said, turning to them. “This is one place where I find it very difficult to act.”

  There were guards stationed around the wide space, but even seeing their weapons didn’t make Lauren feel better. She followed Becker through the rows of cells. Skulls threw themselves at the partitions. They bit and clawed until they smeared blood and saliva over the clear acrylic.

  Becker paused at one of the cells. Inside was a Skull with one arm. The arm that remained was nearly as thick as Lauren’s torso. A few strands of hair poked from between the horns rimming its head. It hammered on the partition and tried to bite at them with its mouthful of daggerlike teeth. When that didn’t work, it backed up then threw itself with violent fury. The barrier shuddered each time the Skull hit it—and Lauren did, too.

  “This one will do,” Becker said. He whistled, and two of the guards rushed to his side. “This will be our first test subject.”

  The two guards nodded. One held a rod with a snare at the end. It looked to Lauren more suited for subduing a stray dog than this monster.

  Becker noticed her skeptical look. “Don’t worry. We do this all the time.”

  One of the guards punched a button beside the cell. As soon as the partition lifted, he slammed the stock of his rifle against the Skull’s chest. While it clawed at him, the other guard placed the snare around the Skull’s neck. The monster screeched as the snare tightened, and the guard pushed it to the back of the cell. The Skull’s shrieking spurred a chorus of hellish voices from the other cells.

  “Do you have it?” Becker yelled over the cacophony.

  “Have what?” Lauren said, still trying to comprehend the chaos around her.

  “The cocktail.” He held out a hand.

  “Ah!” Lauren fished the spray canister from her pocket and handed it to Becker. He tossed it to the guard nearest him.

  “Spray!” Becker said.

  The guard approached the Skull as if he were wielding a canister of pepper spray. He aimed at the Skull’s face and let loose a concentrated stream of the liquid. The liquid dripped over the bumps and spikes along the Skull’s face, and its deep, enraged breaths sucked droplets of the solution into its mouth. Its red eyes widened, and it thrashed against the snare. The guard restraining the Skull was shaking. He seemed ready to lose control.

  Lauren took a step back. Navid did, too. But Becker stepped right into the cell with the guards.

  “Should I shoot it?” the guard yelled over the creature’s cries.

  Becker calmly held up a hand, shaking his head. He moved closer to the Skull then turned to Lauren. He winked. “I trust my scientists.”

  Lauren opened her mouth, ready to plead with him to step away from the Skull. No experiment worked the first time. Especially not something like this. They’d skipped over the battery of lab experiments she would normally perform before trying the pheromones on a living being.

  The Skull slammed its fists on the snare, pulling the guard toward him. It headbutted the guard. His fingers loosened around the snare, and the Skull got loose. It whipped its grotesquely overmuscled arm at the other guard. The man’s head cracked against the wall, and he fell forward.

  The Skull stalked toward Becker, claws outstretched and teeth snapping. Its red eyes locked with the German scientist’s, and Becker threw up his hands, shielding himself against the attack.

  Lauren already knew what would happen next. His feeble defense would do nothing against the claws and teeth. His flesh would be hanging off his bones in ribbons, blood pooling around his body. Then the Skull would be on her and Navid. She could hear the footsteps of guards rushing to their aid, and the other two were recovering. But it would be too late. Becker would be dead because of his hubris. Because he trusted Lauren and Navid too much.

  “Holy shit,” Navid muttered.

  Suddenly, the howls of the other Skulls sounded as if they were miles away, along with the panicked shouts of the guards. Becker was still alive. The Skull had stopped in front of him. Its bloodshot eyes stared at a point only it could see. Saliva dripped from its mouth, and its claws hung limp by its side. Slowly, Becker lowered his arms. The guards both stood and secured the snare around the Skull’s neck once more.

  It hardly mattered now. The Skull was a standing vegetable. The experimental calming solution had worked.

  ***

  “Damn them all to hell!” Admiral Mokri said, slamming his fist on the console. The calm blue seas around the Karlstad belied the fury aboard his ship. They had made it to the Balkans, and they were almost ready to unload their precious cargo in Dubrovnik.

  But the Hunters were making that more difficult than it should be.

  “Tell me that the radar is lying,” Mokri said, glaring at Daftary.

  The lieutenant shivered, unable to look Mokri in the eye. At that moment, he seemed more afraid of Mokri than he was of the Hybrids. “No, I am afraid not. The Essen has been sunk.”

  “Bastards,” Mokri said. “And the Huntress?”

  “It is still there,” Daftary said. “But its speed... it is slowing. The Essen hit it with at least one missile before she sank.”

  “What kind of damage can we expect from that?” Mokri asked.

  “Based on the Essen’s last transmission, they were aiming for the engine room as we advised,” he said. “Judging by the rate of deceleration, it would seem their aim was true. There are bound to be casualties as well.”

  “This could all be a feint,” Mokri said. He paced the bridge, his mind racing. S
pitkovsky would not be pleased to know the Huntress was anything but underwater. “Still, if they aren’t moving, we may have a chance to unload in Dubrovnik.” Then Mokri pointed to another display. It showed a small blip trailing them from far away. “We are still being followed?”

  “Yes, the drone has course-corrected as we’ve made our way toward Dubrovnik. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone is still following us despite their ship being stalled.”

  “Then by now they must know we led them into a trap. Take out the drone.”

  “Yes, sir,” Daftary replied. He armed and fired one of the last ship-to-air missiles. A plume of smoke carried the missile into the gray sky. For a moment, Mokri wondered if it was a mistake to waste it on such a little aircraft. But he could stand these Hunters no longer. They were as persistent as a fly on horse shit.

  Seeing the blip of their drone disappear from his screen gave him satisfaction. He knew he should not be so pleased with himself, but it seemed a way to tell the mercenary Americans to, in their words, “go screw themselves.”

  The hatch to the bridge flew open, revealing one of his Iranian guards.

  “Rahimi, I told you to knock before you barge in,” Mokri said, enraged by the man’s lack of obedience.

  Rahimi didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. Semenov held Rahimi by his throat. The Hybrid’s claws bit into the man’s neck, and Rahimi’s fingers worked desperately to free himself from the half-man, half-monster’s grip. Semenov stalked toward Mokri, his eyes glowing red and his teeth bared like a rabid animal.

  “You failed,” Semenov said, his taloned feet clicking along the deck.

  “Put that man down,” Mokri said. He fought the instinct to step back from the approaching monster.

  Semenov threw Rahimi against the bulkhead. The guard’s hands grasped at the scratches along his throat, his breath rasping. Color slowly returned to his face, but he didn’t stand.

  “You failed,” Semenov repeated. “I could sense your frustration, your anger. And even if I couldn’t, I see it in your face now. I told you to let us do this our way. If you had, the Hunters would all be dead.”