by Alex Siegel
"Good," the legate said, "but that doesn't answer the most important question. Where is the ship now?"
Zane shrugged. "I don't know."
"You have no way of finding out? A ship costing millions..."
"Two hundred million."
The legate raised her eyebrows. "Two hundred million dollars, and you're not even curious?"
He thought for a moment. "The ship has a microwave link to a dish on San Bruno Mountain. I might be able to tap into the aiming diagnostic..."
"I don't need the technical details."
Zane typed on one of his many keyboards. The great number of computers around him was clearly more than he could possibly need.
"It was in the Bay yesterday," he said, "but then it headed out to sea. I lost the microwave link last night."
"What is the range of the ship?" the legate said.
"I don't know, but it's pretty fast. It could be hundreds of miles away by now."
Her shoulders sagged. "We'll never find it at night in the middle of the Pacific."
"Ma'am," Hanley said, "it's probably not that far. Vulture would want to remain relatively close to the operation. He's still after the girl." He glanced at Olivia.
"It has to be over the horizon to break the microwave link," Zane said. "I'd guess that's at least thirty miles out."
Nobody spoke for a moment. Hanley resigned himself to waiting until morning. Their only hope was looking at satellite photos of the Pacific, and those photos could only be taken during the day. Marina would have to survive on her own until then.
Zane straightened. "Wait. I have another idea."
"What?" the legate looked at him.
"The Fearless Star is equipped with a custom tri-band radar system. I'm sure nothing else in the area uses the same type. It has a unique electromagnetic signature which can be detected at long range. You just have to put the right kind of detector into an airplane and fly it over the Pacific."
"I have an airplane, and it's packed full of fancy detectors. I'm sure one of them will work. Put the technical data onto a CD or something."
Zane went back to his computer and began typing. "You never told me why you need to find my ship."
"That's right," she said. "We never told you."
After a few minutes, he handed her a USB thumb drive. "It's all here."
The legate shoved the drive into her pocket. "One last thing. You've been helpful, but I need to make sure you don't talk to anybody else about this. Take one of these." She took a small bottle of white pills from her pocket. "You'll sleep through the night."
"Is it safe?" His eyes widened.
She grabbed his hair and forced his head down. "Make him cooperate," she told Olivia.
Olivia touched his head again, and he smiled and sighed. The legate gave him a pill, and he popped it eagerly into his mouth. A minute later, he fell asleep on his chair.
Those are two females I don't want to piss off, Hanley thought.
The legate jumped off the platform and headed for the door. "Let's go!"
Chapter Twenty-three
Marina was listening to the portable radio she had taken from the enemy. It was giving her invaluable information about what sections of the ship were being searched, allowing her to always stay one step ahead.
"Check the engineering section again," one guard said over the radio.
"We've already checked it three times, sir," another replied.
"Your ability to count is impressive but irrelevant. Check it a fourth time. That bitch is on this ship somewhere, and we're not stopping until we find her."
"Yes, sir."
Marina smiled. She stuffed the radio into her pocket.
She was working her way through the ship below the main deck. The interior of the Fearless Star seemed more like a mansion than a boat. Plush carpet covered the floors. Lighting on the walls and ceiling made the big rooms feel more open. The strategic use of brass and fine woodwork added to the sense of decadent luxury.
She peeked around a corner and immediately pulled back. Six armed men were guarding a large, wooden door. There was a good chance Vulture was behind it.
It was tempting to go after him now. The problem was the gunfire would draw attention, and there were still plenty of enemies on the ship. She couldn't interrogate Vulture while fighting for her life. She had planned to save him for last, and that still seemed like a good idea. Making contact with her team was more important.
Marina went another way. The enormous ship offered plenty of places to explore and people to kill.
Having fun? God said.
She froze. The communication from the Almighty had come without warning.
Yes, Sir, she thought.
This is your reward for saving Olivia's life. Enjoy.
Is she OK?
Better than OK, God said. She and Wesley are already in love. They'll marry someday.
Marina smiled. I feel like a fool for the way I acted during the last two days.
You shook off the enemy's influence in the end. It was an impressive feat even to Me. You're ready to pass through the aperture.
What do you mean, Sir?
The Lord's presence was gone, and Marina was left with an empty feeling. The news about Olivia was delightful but also melancholy. Marina would never be able to marry Aaron.
She took a quick peek around another corner. Two guards were standing on either side of an open doorway, and the room beyond seemed to be some kind of control center. She had glimpsed men and women working at consoles covered with buttons and displays.
Bingo, she thought. That room had to contain a way to talk to her team in San Francisco.
She looked around and spotted a bar for serving drinks. There was a nice spot behind it to hide. She made a whistling noise just loud enough for the guards to hear, and then she hid.
It wasn't long before Marina heard soft footsteps which sounded like a lone man. She emerged when the moment seemed right and came up behind him. She sunk her fingernails into his neck and injected a toxic dose of venom. There was a tingling sensation in her fingers as the liquid passed through internal ducts.
The guard had a fragmentation grenade on his belt. Nice, she thought. She grabbed the grenade and pulled the pin, but she held the safety lever. She stuck it under the body in a place where the weight of the corpse would barely hold the lever, but the grenade wasn't visible. Any disturbance would set it off.
She grabbed her portable radio, and in a low voice, she transmitted, "Man down near the control room. Port side. Man down near the control room. Port side. Need assistance!"
With a smile, Marina hurried off.
She was hiding in a nearby kitchen when the grenade exploded with enough force to make the hull ring. She rushed back. Six men were in the room, all dead or badly hurt. She used a knife to finish off the survivors.
The noise would bring even more reinforcements. Happily, she discovered two more grenades on the bodies. She used the grenades as booby-traps just like before, and she went back to the kitchen. This was fun!
The second round netted ten more enemy casualties. The once pristine room had become a slaughterhouse. She decided trying a third time was pushing her luck, so she just grabbed a utility belt and buckled it around her waist. The belt had a grenade, a flashlight, another radio, and a nightstick.
Marina checked the control room again, and the guards at the door were gone. They were probably among the dead. She snuck forward and stole a very quick look into the room. Six operators sat behind elaborate consoles with multiple screens, and more monitors on the walls showed real-time information feeds. The walls were made of metal painted brown.
The control room was nice, but she wasn't greatly impressed. She had defeated adversaries with much more formidable lairs.
She had counted nine enemies: six operators and three more guards in black body armor. She wanted at least one operator left alive to help her with the sophisticated equipment.
The grenade on her
belt was an option, but it might kill everybody and make a mess of the equipment she needed. It seemed like her gun was a better choice. Nine guys was a lot though, and she wasn't confident she could get them all before they got her.
Marina was eager to try anyway. God was pouring extra strength and energy into her like she had never experienced before. Her heart was racing, and she couldn't keep still.
Of course, Aaron wouldn't have hesitated. The man had a magical ability to plan his entries down to the last perfect shot. It was like watching a conductor lead an orchestra.
She tried to put herself in the same mindset even though it wasn't her nature to be so methodical. She mentally rehearsed the firing sequence and considered alternative scenarios until she settled on the one that seemed best. She had to be very quick and precise.
She drew her pistol, took a deep breath, and charged into the control room. Three headshots took out the guards before they knew they were in a fight. She killed one of the operators and dived to use his console as a shield. She rolled, shot two operators, rolled again, and shot two more. The sequence ended with her gun aimed at the head of the last survivor.
Marina exhaled. As good as Aaron, she thought.
She stood up slowly while keeping her gun aimed at the console operator. He was a tall, lanky man with thick, straight hair. The arms of his red uniform were a bit short. He had his hands in the air, and there was a terrified expression on his face.
"What do you want?" he said in a quavering voice.
"I want to place a phone call to my friends," Marina said.
With one eye on her enemy, she evaluated escape routes. She would have more company before long, and she needed to know where she was going. A door in the corner looked promising.
"I don't think I can..."
She hit him with a spinning kick that extracted a few of his teeth. He fell to the floor, spitting blood.
"I don't have time to argue," Marina said. "Just do it."
The operator got back in his chair. He handed her a headset, and she inspected it for explosives before slipping it over her head. She also moved very close to him so he would be killed if the headset exploded. She gave him a special phone number which had been created for emergency situations like this one. He worked with his computer for a moment.
She heard ringing.
"Hello?" Min Ho answered.
"This is your commander," Marina said.
"Thank God!"
"I'm on a ship called the Fearless Star. We're in the Pacific, west of San Francisco, but I don't know exactly where." In retrospect, she realized she should've written down her GPS coordinates when she was looking at the navigation system on the bridge.
"We already have a plan for finding you, ma'am," he said, "but it may be a while. Stay safe until we reach you."
She heard footsteps in the corridor. "I have to go."
Marina whipped off her headset. She kicked the console operator hard enough to snap his neck. She sprinted to the other door and escaped.
* * *
Hanley looked up at the legate's private jet. He recognized the sleek, fearsome profile of a B-1B bomber, but this one had been modified. There was a bulge behind the cockpit where one wasn't supposed to be. The landing gear appeared beefier than usual. The black and gray paint certainly wasn't standard in any air force.
"You fly around in that thing, ma'am?" Hanley said in disbelief.
"I more than fly in it," the legate replied. "I often live in it. So do my pilots."
"It's a bomber."
"Obviously."
They were accompanied by Ipo, Katie, Yang, Boreas, and Jia. Olivia had been dropped off at headquarters in exchange for the hacker.
Everybody climbed a flight of stairs and entered the aircraft. Jia went to the cockpit with the USB thumb drive. She would provide technical assistance with tuning the sensors to the frequencies used by the radar on the Fearless Star. The rest of the crowd went to the passenger cabin.
The Spartan accommodations surprised Hanley who was expecting something more elaborate. The walls were made of plain metal with thick ribs as reinforcement. Almost everything was painted a dull gray. A dozen seats were bolted to the floor, and the cushions were covered with simple, black cloth.
"Buckle up for takeoff," the legate said.
Everybody found a seat and buckled themselves in.
As the engine warmed up, Hanley looked at the front of the cabin where big monitors hung on the wall. Some showed video coming from cameras mounted on the exterior of the aircraft. Even though it was dark outside, the images were sharp and clear. Other screens showed radar, maps, weather, and situational analysis. There was even a feed from the North American Aerospace Defense Command. He was impressed.
The bomber taxied to the runway. When the engines went to full power, he became even more impressed. It was like taking off in a fighter jet.
"Wheee!" Katie said.
He shared her opinion, but the legate gave Katie a disapproving look.
They were over the Pacific in just a couple of minutes, but Hanley wished it had happened even quicker. Everybody had heard about Marina's phone call, and they knew time was of the essence.
The legate unbuckled herself and stood up. "Let's move! We need to be ready to drop when the Fearless Star is located."
The group followed her towards the back of the bomber. The next room was the armory, and it was about the same size as the armory in headquarters. It was divided into two sections: one for the legate and the other for Boreas. The legate's equipment tended to be small and light, while her bodyguard favored the big guns. Four identical, silver-plated machetes were hung on the wall. Hanley hadn't realized the legate had spares, but it made sense.
The group entered a conference room next. A table and chairs were made of clear plastic, and strong bolts secured the furniture to the floor. A bookshelf held hundreds of tomes bound in leather, and iron bars held them in place. Each book had golden Roman numerals on the binding in increments of five.
"What are those, ma'am?" Hanley pointed.
"The tabella," the legate said. "The secret history of the Society from its inception in 500 AD. It's shameful that you don't recognize them, but of course, your cell won't get a new set until you move into a permanent headquarters. Let's continue."
They entered a narrow corridor with rooms on either side.
"What's back here, ma'am?" Katie said.
"Bedrooms, exercise rooms, storage, my office. Everybody seems to think my plane must be full of exotic artifacts, but most of it is quite ordinary. There are just a few unusual items. Let's go below."
The legate opened a door which led to a ladder. She quickly climbed down into the belly of the aircraft, and everybody else followed. They entered the original bomb bay.
Hanley was stunned at what he saw. Clamps held two enormous bombs, and they had radiation warning symbols on them. The bulbous shape of the bombs told him what they were.
"Thermonuclear weapons," he said in a tone of awe.
"Yes," the legate said. "The ultimate solution to intractable problems. Every legate has this option, but fortunately, none of us have ever used it. We're dropping in that."
She pointed to a thing shaped like a speedboat, except the black hull went all the way around like a submarine. Small windows on the front allowed the occupants to look out from the enclosed interior. Parachutes on the back had explosive charges like a drag racer. Water jets on the bottom would provide propulsion. The thing was suspended over the bomb bay doors where it could be dropped out of the bottom of the aircraft.
"Is it safe, ma'am?" Ipo said warily.
"I'm not sure," the legate said. "I've never had to use it, but it's the quickest way to reach the ship from the air. Make sure your seatbelt is on tight. It could be a rough ride."
She walked over and opened a hatch. One by one, the team climbed inside.
* * *
Marina estimated she had killed about fifty people so far. It had been
great sport for her, and it was getting easier as she learned the intricacies of the ship, but the enemy had gotten smarter, too. Most of the survivors had congregated into barricaded, defensive positions at the bow and stern. There were two roving squads of heavily armed guards with eight men each. The squads were moving in tight, professional formations, and they weren't falling for any more tricks. Her predations had taught them to take her seriously.
Marina had been able to stay out of trouble by constantly moving and listening. Her portable radio had provided key intelligence. She had picked off enemies opportunistically, but now it was time to work towards the endgame.
She was prowling through the lowest deck when she came to a locked door. This deck wasn't as nice as the others. It consisted of storage spaces, mechanical rooms, shops, crew quarters, the engine compartment, and so on. The metal walls were painted a utilitarian white.
She was curious about what was behind the door, but it was secured with a padlock. She had lost her lock picks at some point, and the lock looked difficult to pick anyway. She remembered seeing bolt cutters in a nearby tool room.
She padded silently through the corridor. The enemy was searching the upper decks at the moment, but being careful never hurt. She found the cutters and returned to the closet. The tool was large and unwieldy, and it took a minute for her to get the right angle, but eventually, she snipped the lock.
The closet turned out to be a weapons locker, and she grinned at the glorious selection of toys. A crate of teargas and some gas masks caught her eye. There was also a grenade launcher made to fit her Italian assault rifle along with a couple dozen 40mm grenades. She could definitely have fun with that stuff.
The grenade launcher came with two bandoliers. She stuffed grenades into all the slots and strapped the bandoliers across her chest. She also decorated her body with as many full rifle magazines as she could carry along with a couple of smoke canisters. She fitted the grenade launcher to her rifle.
She slipped a gas mask over her face. The rubber wasn't comfortable against her sweaty skin, but she pulled the straps tight. The atmosphere in the ship was about to get nasty.
With a grunt, she picked up the heavy crate of teargas. She had seen the ventilation system earlier, and she went back there. She entered a room filled with huge ducts, blowers, heaters, and chillers. The tangle was confusing, but the rattle of fans told her what equipment was actually in use. She pulled an access panel off one of the large ducts.