The Tide_Ghost Fleet

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  “This is no way to talk to a superior,” Mokri said. “You insolent son of a whore, you were designed to be a soldier, a follower. Leave the bridge and await my orders, or—”

  “Or what, you will run to Spitkovsky like a child? You will tell him we are misbehaving? No, you will tell him we did not destroy the Huntress because you refused to listen to me.”

  Heat flushed through Mokri hotter than the sun over Tehran. “You are nothing but an animal, an attack dog bred for a single purpose. You only know how to kill. You do not know how to win a war. When they made you this thing, did they lobotomize you as well? Or were you always this stupid?”

  Semenov snarled, and he came at Mokri with claws reared back. Mokri stepped back and drew his pistol from his holster. He fired without hesitation. The blast roared in the confines of the bridge. A ringing in his ears replaced the din, and he no longer heard the beeps and pings from the console.

  The Hybrid froze, clutching his chest. His claws scratched against the ribs bulging from his flesh, and he looked down at the wound. Then, even through his muddled senses, Mokri heard Semenov cackle. The Hybrid pulled his fingers away from where Mokri had fired. In the middle of the bony plates, there was a smashed bullet in a small crater. A few cracks fissured around it. Only a small rivulet of blood dripped from the thin layer of flesh coursing between the ribs.

  Mokri raised the gun to the Hybrid’s face. Semenov’s overgrown skull could not protect him the way his chest armor had. Semenov knew this, too. He stopped laughing.

  “You will do as I say,” Mokri said. His words came out sounding like he was talking through water, but he did not let that stop him. “You are tools to me, and you will act like it, only to be used when I say so. You and all your abominable brethren will do as I say, or you will be the first to die. All my men will know this.”

  Semenov’s chest heaved, and his nose scrunched. But the fire behind his eyes had been extinguished.

  “And do not let thoughts of a mutiny cross your little mind,” Mokri continued, never letting the gun waver. “None of you imbecilic beasts know how to operate this vessel. At the first sign of a plot, we will overload the engine. It will take only a matter of minutes before it overheats and explodes. And you know as well as I do what that will do to our cargo.”

  Semenov backed away, never taking his eyes off Mokri until he disappeared through the hatch.

  Mokri turned to Rahimi. “Next time he tries to get in here uninvited, you shoot him. Do not miss, or a bullet will find you instead.”

  The guard nodded and left, closing the hatch behind him.

  Daftary looked at Mokri with concern. “We cannot put the engine into some kind of meltdown. It will not set off the nuclear arms, anyway.”

  “Yes, I know that. You know that. Semenov does not, and we will not tell him otherwise. Now, focus on getting these warheads to the Sahand.”

  Mokri watched the crystalline blue waters part for them as they approached Dubrovnik. The old walled city and its fire-orange rooftops made for a pretty tourist destination. Many a cruise ship had docked there, unloading passengers at the very port where the Karlstad was now headed. Underneath the gaze of a medieval castle and the watch of the green mountains behind it, the Sahand rose from the water. The newly constructed Iranian frigate was built to handle long-range land-attack missiles—ideal for what the FGL had planned.

  “Once those missiles are launched, Frankfurt will be nothing but radioactive dust,” Mokri said. “Their production facilities will be destroyed. Their bioweapons research will be stopped, and there will be nothing to quell the tide of the Oni Agent across Europe.”

  “Yes, sir,” Daftary said. “And what will be done with the other warheads?”

  “We will arm the remaining missiles,” Mokri said. “But we will wait until Spitkovsky lets my family leave Moscow and every last one of the Hybrids are off this ship. This will be the last time we work for the Russians in the FGL.”

  Daftary said nothing more. He was a smart and obedient lieutenant, which was why Mokri kept him around. The man must have understood the implicit threat behind Mokri’s words. The admiral would not stand for this treatment any longer, and now he had leverage against Spitkovsky.

  And if Spitkovsky wouldn’t recognize Mokri’s role in the remaking of the world order, if equality couldn’t be had, then maybe it was time for the FGL to have a new leader.

  -32-

  Dom leapt out of the open side door before the Seahawk’s wheels hit the deck of the Huntress. Smoke wafted from a crater in the Huntress’s deck, and his stomach turned at the sight of it. The ship had taken damage before but never like this. They were damn lucky she was merely incapacitated and not sunk.

  “Jesus,” Meredith said through their comm links as the Seahawk’s blades spun down.

  “We’ve got our work cut out for us,” Dom said.

  His mind was already cataloguing the structural and systemic damage, but he couldn’t tend to the repairs now. He sent the others off to gather more ammunition and equipment, including emergency scuba diving supplies for what he had planned. The hatch to the lower deck slammed open before he could reach it. Thomas Hampton strode out. Relief trickled through Dom at the sight of his first mate. But the dam holding back his emotions burst when he saw Kara, Sadie, and Maggie standing just beyond the hatch.

  Thomas grasped Dom’s hand, leaning in to be heard over the helicopter’s engine. “Your girls did good, Dom.” He ushered them all inside, away from the whine of the Seahawk’s engines.

  Kara and Sadie both gave him hugs. As much as he wanted to spend just a few minutes with them, he couldn’t. If Shepherd’s suspicions about the FGL’s target were right, they could spare no time for reunions. The future of Europe—and for that matter, the rest of the world—was at stake.

  “Don’t worry, Dad,” Kara said. “We know. Just wanted to say hi.”

  She was already backing away, dragging a teary-eyed Sadie and a whining Maggie with her. They disappeared down a corridor to the crew’s quarters. Dom wished he and Meredith could follow them. Instead, he turned and started walking in the other direction.

  “What’s the latest on the Karlstad?” Dom asked Thomas as they marched toward the electronics workshop.

  “They shot down our drone,” Thomas said.

  “As expected,” Meredith said. “With the Essen destroyed, they’ve probably got their tail between their legs.”

  Thomas laughed. “That’s an optimistic way of looking at it. They’re going to be desperate now. It’s dangerous to corner an injured animal.”

  “But at least Ronaldo’s got our backs,” Dom said. “We may have lost the drone, but he still has eyes on the Karlstad, right?”

  “He does,” Thomas said. “It’s currently offloading cargo in Dubrovnik.”

  “The FGL has a forward operating base in Dubrovnik capable of firing a goddamn nuke?” Dom asked.

  “Not quite,” Thomas said. “They’re transporting the cargo to the Sahand. It’s a new Iranian warship made shortly before the outbreak.”

  “Long-range ballistic missile ready, I take it?” Meredith asked.

  “As far as we know,” Thomas replied. “Intelligence is a bit fuzzy on this type of ship since it is so new.”

  “We need to get on that ship and find out, then,” Dom said.

  Thomas paused outside the hatch to the electronics workshop. “Ronaldo also offered to send a few of his airmen landside.”

  “No,” Dom replied immediately. “Nice gesture, but that’s all it is. They’re good at what they do; we’re good at what we do. They’d be more of a liability than a help.”

  Thomas opened the hatch, letting out the sounds of furious typing and buzzing electronics. “That’s what I told him.”

  At the sound of Thomas’s voice, Samantha jumped from her seat. She rushed toward them, scooping up a handful of electronic devices from her desk. When she began speaking, her words came at Dom in an energy-drink-fueled rush. “Got ever
ything here you’re going to need. If all else fails, Chao and I picked up a couple of things from our days working with the CIA.”

  Dom raised a brow. “It won’t fail.”

  “I know, I know,” Samantha said. “But if it does, let’s just say the cyberwarfare division of the CIA has had a hand in keeping North Korea’s missile and nuclear launch programs from misfiring. It wasn’t all incompetence and bad luck. We learned a few tricks from them.”

  “Really?” Dom asked, looking to Meredith. He was well versed in the antibiological weapons efforts of the clandestine service, but even he wasn’t aware of all the covert happenings around the world.

  Meredith offered a mischievous smile. At that moment, even beneath the dirt and blood and soot, she looked so beautiful it made his heart kick. “That’s classified, mister.”

  Samantha distributed the devices to Meredith and Dom. “Just plug or wire these bad boys into any consoles or computers that have weapons control access. And if you can’t find a way to hardwire it, the CIA nicely provided us with some alternative strategies. It’s not going to be easy, but we should be able to override their targeting. The code for that is a gift from Kinsey.”

  “General Kinsey?” Dom asked, unable to believe he’d heard that correctly.

  “That’s right,” Thomas said. “The old bastard gave us everything we asked for.”

  “Jesus, they must be as scared as we are now,” Meredith said.

  “Thank you all for your work here,” Dom said.

  Samantha nodded. “Wish I could do more.”

  “You’re doing more than enough,” Dom said. “We’ll take care of the rest.” Then he turned to Thomas. “How long until the ship is running again?”

  “Hard to say,” Thomas said. “Alden took a hard hit. The other engineers are doing a good job cleaning up the mess, but it’s unclear what it’ll take to get us moving again.”

  Dom paused before he asked the next question on his mind. It wasn’t necessary for the mission going forward, but there was no way to ignore its harsh reality. “How many?”

  Thomas needed no clarification. “Four dead, ten injured. Two of those in critical condition.”

  Dom allowed one moment to center himself as he absorbed the news. First Spencer, then this. “Thank you. We’ll pay our respects as soon as we can. For now, we’ll make sure they didn’t die in vain.”

  In a matter of minutes, Dom was back aboard the Seahawk with Frank behind the controls. The others—Miguel, Meredith, Jenna, Glenn, Andris, and O’Neil—were there, too, each with fresh magazines and clean weapons.

  “Take us up, Frank,” Dom said, patting the pilot’s seat.

  “Aye, Captain,” Frank said then scooped up the handset for the comms system. “Badass Airlines understands you have no choice when it comes to domestic and international air travel. You are stuck with us, and for that, we appreciate you. There will be no beverage service. But you’ve got the best goddamn pilot in the world. Thanks for flying with us, and thanks for kicking FGL ass.”

  Miguel gave Frank a thumbs-up. “I don’t need thanks. Kicking ass is its own reward.”

  “What he said,” O’Neil growled, raising his hands. “These claws will fit nicely in any FGL goon’s stomach.”

  “Gruesome,” Jenna said. “But entirely deserved.”

  “Humanity’s future is on the line,” Meredith said. “We’re facing extinction. O’Neil can disembowel as many of those bastards as he wants.”

  The Hunters went silent as the chopper banked away from their ship, once again revealing her damage. Once they returned, there would be repairs and funerals to carry out. He prayed this mission would not add to either count. They had lost so much already. If they failed today, Lauren and Navid might lose their lives as well, never to return to the Huntress. And if they succeeded, the people of Frankfurt would never know how close they’d come to death. That was the way Dom preferred to work, operating in the shadows without thanks, without reward.

  But sometimes he got so goddamn tired of saving the world.

  Glenn broke the silence pervading the cabin and began to recite in his deep, rumbling voice,

  “Do not go gentle into that good night. Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright. Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

  “Amen, brother,” Miguel said.

  Beneath them, water gave way to the rocky shore of Montenegro. They climbed over a town perched precariously along the mountainside, intersected by a snaking highway.

  As they approached the mountains, Dom spoke up. “There’s no way we can risk an upfront encounter with the FGL in Dubrovnik,” he said.

  Dom unfolded a map before them. “We land here, behind Srđ.” He gestured at the low mountain overlooking the city of Dubrovnik. “This should keep the chopper out of the Karlstad’s line of sight. Frank will unload us just under Fort Imperial.”

  “Ah, the old Napoleonic fort,” Glenn said, nodding.

  “That’s right,” Dom said, amazed as ever at the breadth of the Hunter’s knowledge. “There’s a cable car that leads from Dubrovnik up to the fort, but I suspect that’s going to be out of service, so we’ll be hoofing it.”

  “That is good,” Andris said. “Because I am very afraid of heights.”

  Meredith looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “The guy who jumps off falling minarets in Tangier is scared of heights?”

  “I am scared of them always, but that does not mean I am afraid to do what must be done.”

  “If we can find a way to shorten that, it’d be the slogan for everything we’re about to do,” Dom said. “Once we descend into Dubrovnik, we’ll head straight to the port.”

  “Straight to the port?” Jenna asked. “I’d love to take a tour through Dubrovnik’s old town. Always wanted to go there. Looks beautiful.”

  “Well, the good news is that we’ll be trekking through the city center,” Dom said. “The bad news is that the whole place is bound to be filled with Skulls, so we’re not taking the scenic route to the port. We’ll follow the alleys and walls then slip into the water here.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “The ship is in harbor, but there are no open gangplanks. Plus, we’ve got better cover underwater. Once we’re aboard, we’ll split into Alpha and Bravo. Alpha goes for the bridge, Bravo goes for the missile tubes.”

  Meredith smirked at him. “You always save the good objectives for yourself.”

  “Alpha, we’ll cut the snake’s head off, taking down any and all leadership,” Dom continued. “If we can stop the launch by taking control of the ship, that’s great. Bravo, you are our failsafe. Take over local control of the weapon arming process. Hopefully, we’ll get there before the warheads are loaded. If not, then do what you can to sabotage their launch efforts. Chao and Samantha will patch in experts from the States to help with whatever needs to be done.”

  The chopper skirted low over the spruce and fir trees, kicking up a wave of fallen needles as they passed. Long grass somewhere between green and brown undulated in the rotor wash.

  “Miguel, Glenn, Jenna, you’re on me in Alpha. Andris and O’Neil, you’re with Meredith in Bravo. Questions?”

  O’Neil raised a clawed hand. “If Spitkovsky is there, do I have permission to tear the bastard into pieces?”

  “I’d prefer to bring him in alive, because there’s a lot we need to know from him. But if that is impossible, yes, you have my permission.”

  The rest of the flight went by with all the usual banter between the crew. But the normal electricity of anticipation and nerves Dom usually felt before combat felt different. He sensed it in his crew, too. Each mission they went on seemed more important than the last, the stakes higher every time they went into the field.

  But this time, it wasn’t just a feeling. It was the goddamned truth.

  “All right, boys and girls, one and all, the show is about to begin,” Frank said. “For our first act, we have the amazing, death-defying Hunte
rs. Hold your butts, because this one’s a doozy.”

  All to the west, it seemed there was only grass and trees. The low mountain looked more like a big hill. There seemed to be very little in the way of civilization in that direction. Only a few Skulls meandered about the wide clearings. Their gazes were locked on the chopper, but they would pose little threat. Dom yanked open the side door, and the Hunters spilled out after him, immediately forming a perimeter.

  Frank offered a salute from the cockpit. “Godspeed, friends.”

  “Fly safe, Captain Badass,” Dom replied.

  “It sounds so good to hear you say that,” Frank said. He pulled the Seahawk into the sky. The few Skulls lingering in the tall grass went after it, blissfully unaware that they had no hope of catching the chopper, nor of eating it if they did.

  Dom paid them little heed. The Hunters crested the mountain over Dubrovnik. There they had the perfect view over Old Town. Church steeples rose out of the menagerie of houses and stores and restaurants, dwarfed only by a tower with a Gothic crown at the northwest of the walls. Beyond the city lay the aquamarine waters of the Adriatic, where the island of Lokrum jutted up with its lush terrain just a short boat ride away.

  If Dom squinted and ignored the two warships anchored near the cruise port, the Croatian coast looked like something out of a postcard. But he wasn’t squinting. Sailboats and tourist ferries lay half-sunk, protruding from the protected docks. Through his binos, Dom saw walls and homes pocked with bullet holes. Others had been obliterated, nothing left of them except for a ghostly outline formed by ash and singe marks.

  And amid all the wreckage lay the skeletons of the town’s human inhabitants. Crunching through those picked-clean ribcages and femurs were the bringers of destruction themselves: the Skulls. He counted a half-dozen Droolers and a handful of Goliaths among the more common beasts. All seemed to be in some kind of trance, pacing in circles as if they were lions in a cage at a zoo.