The Ghost Ship (MOSAR Book 3)

by C. R. Turner

  “I … I don’t know if I can go back there, Dad,” my voice quivers. “I feel like I’m losing.”

  “You’re strong, Joel. Stronger than I ever was. Know that true strength doesn’t come from brawn: it comes from your soul; it comes from deep within, where nobody can get to. Don’t forget that. Don’t forget to believe in yourself.”

  I study my father’s face, not wanting to leave this place, but I can feel myself being drawn away.

  “Know I’m proud of you.”

  I wrap my arms around my father, knowing it will probably be the last time. “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you, son.”

  I wipe my eyes. My father is gone. A black snowflake falls. I hold my hand out to catch it, and puzzle. More black snowflakes fall, a cascade of darkness descending from the sky. The ground turns black, the sky turns black, the light dies, and darkness comes forth.

  My black snowy surrounds morph into the black rock of the cavern.

  The Butcher stands over me.

  “I don’t blame you for what you’ve become,” I whisper.

  “You don’t know the first thing about me,” he says, stepping away.

  My time is running out. I don’t even want to know how much blood I’ve lost. My left hand has been re-bandaged – another finger missing. The Butcher picks out another cutting tool. Here, in a grave-like cave, being tortured by the Butcher of Blackrock, I finally find that primal instinct to survive. I wiggle my toes and clench my right fist to test my motor functions. A cold shiver runs down the back of my neck. My adrenaline surges. This is it. I peer through closed eyelids as he grips a serrated knife, holding it blade down. As he leans forward, I grip the edge of the table with my right hand and grunt as I swing my left leg through the air, making contact with his forearm. His tight grip aids me as the knife penetrates his abdomen. With my remaining strength, I grab hold of his fist with both hands and push. My blood-soaked hand slips. I lose my balance and fall to the floor. I’m in terror as he flounders back in shock. Before he has a chance to react, the ground quakes with the thunder of an almighty explosion. Rocks and dust fall from the roof, and the iron tools hanging on the walls clank against one another.

  I smirk. “That’s my friends coming for me.”

  The Butcher pulls the knife from his abdomen. “Plac tarh tria.”

  I can see him calculating whether to end me or flee. I struggle to my feet. A tsunami of adrenaline surges through my veins. I run through the open gate and into the pitch-black cave. I only get a short distance before I’m wheezing and faint. With the only source of light left behind, I slow to a crawl’s pace as I fumble, feeling my way. It’s like being blind. I try to look back from where I’ve just come, but can’t even tell what direction that’s in. My heart hammers. I’m short of breath. Dizzy. I push on. I’ve got to put distance between me and the Butcher. I stumble over rocks, arms outstretched. Was that a noise behind me? I freeze, hold my breath.

  Silence.

  My head spins. I suck in air. Running on empty, I push further into the darkness. My adrenaline is wearing off, fatigue kicking in. I claw at the walls, trying to stay on my feet, but collapse to the ground. I close my eyes and exhale.

  The cave falls to a deathly silence. I’m fading, as though I’m about to fall asleep for the final time. My heart slows then stops. Pain. So intense. My eyes burst open as my heart pounds back to life, and I gasp for breath in the cold.

  Cold rock on my back. Shivering. Darting lights slicing through the darkness, painting a vague picture of the cave. There’s a commotion. Bradley, Taylor and Kelly come into focus, hovering over me like angels. Bradley holds up the empty vial from the cavern. “Have you been given X72?” His words are slow and muffled as if he’s yelling through a long pipe.

  I nod. “I’m sorry.”

  Bradley shakes his head, his lips are moving, but his words are lost on me. My body’s so numb I can barely feel my legs and arms being moved as Taylor and Bradley go to work. My left arm runs cold. The pain fades.

  When I come to, black rockface is running past me like a waterfall, the collapsible bars of a stretcher by my sides. I look toward my feet. Bradley is bearing one end. Light blinds me as we leave the cave. The grey overcast sky is like a giant incandescent blanket. I imagine this must be what’s it’s like to die. Light rain falls from the heavens. I close my eyes as droplets streak down my face. I hear more voices. Panicked voices.

  A few heavy clunking sounds, then I’m slid into the back of a Hurricane, my head just behind the front row of seats, the rear seats folded flush with the floor. Taylor and Bradley climb in and sit by my side.

  I cough to clear my throat. “Where’s Sam?”

  “I’m here,” Sam’s shaky voice comes from above.

  She’s sitting in the front seat, looking back. I raise my left arm and hold out my hand to grasp hers. Sam whimpers as she gently clasps my blood-soaked bandaged hand. Bradley pushes my arm back down by my side. I exhale and close my eyes. The Hurricane roars to life.

  A feeling of flying into the sky pulls me from my slumber. It’s dark, but there’s an intermittent flash of light through the Hurricane’s windows – the main lift in the Timberwolf. I’m nearly sick when the lift decelerates. The Hurricane rumbles back to life and we start moving again.

  A minute passes, then the rear doors fly open. I’m pulled from the Hurricane and carried into one of the Timberwolf’s infirmaries. Sam’s wearing a steely but teary face, her warm hand on my forearm as Taylor and Bradley busy themselves. Hawkins stands at the foot of the bed. Whatever happens next – at least I’m surrounded by family.

  Chapter 10

  The roar from two Firestorms jolts me awake to a crystal-clear sky. I turn my head to the side – it feels like a lead weight – and I’m surprised to find I’m being carried along the spaceport tarmac on Terra Primus. Blood-soaked bandages cover my legs and hand, and a line links a cannula inserted in my arm to a bag of fluid hanging from the side of my stretcher. People’s voices are still muffled, but I can feel the danger of near death passing.

  Ahead is a strange aircraft I’ve not seen before. It’s similar to a Makri Kyt but jet-powered with a serious heavy-duty military look to it. I don’t understand. What’s going on? Where am I being taken? My head spins as I try to sit up.

  “Stinson, calm down,” a deep voice calls out.

  We head up the rear ramp of the strange aircraft. It’s big enough to carry several Hurricanes, although it’s currently empty. Wires and hydraulic pipes run through the roof of the fuselage. Turbines whine. A minute later we’re airborne.

  Lights fly overhead as I’m wheeled down a corridor. The stringent smell can only mean one thing: a hospital. Someone rushes to my side. A familiar face.

  “Stinson, you’re going to be alright,” Doctor Lister says.

  There’s the sound of air sucking as automatic doors swing open. Bradley, Taylor and Sam disappear, and I’m suddenly surrounded by nurses and doctors.

  “I’ve been given X72.”

  “We know. You’re in good hands.”

  We’re in an operating theatre with bright lights, screens, and pneumatic equipment hanging from the ceiling.

  A nurse stands by my side and places her hand on my arm. “You’re going to have a nap now.”

  A tear runs down my temple. I hope the nurse doesn’t see it.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  My eyelids flutter open. Light is beaming through the hospital room windows, illuminating suspended dust particles. Bradley’s asleep in a chair with his feet up on my bed. I just lie for a second, watching him rest peacefully. I turn my head and find Hawkins standing at the foot of my bed, reading my med-screen.

  “Hey, there he is,” Hawkins’ deep voice booms through the quiet room.

  Bradley leaps to his feet as I remove my oxygen mask.

  “How are you feeling, mate?” Bradley asks.

  “Okay. Where’s Sam?”

  Hawkins walks over to a b
ed in the corner where Sam’s sleeping and wakes her. I exhale with relief. As they all gather around my bed, Taylor walks in with a tray of food. Her eyes light up as she smiles. I feel hands on my arm and look up at Sam. Her face is filled with exhaustion and anguish.

  “How do you feel?” she asks as our eyes lock.

  “Numb. How long have I been out? Where am I?”

  “You’re in a Union hospital on Terra Primus,” Bradley says. “You’ve been out for over six hours.”

  It’s now I remember and take a deep breath as I reluctantly raise my left hand. I’m shocked to see all my fingers, albeit wrapped up.

  “Before we even landed,” Bradley explains, “I contacted the hospital, and they started printing two new fingers. They were ready to go when we got here.”

  “Oh … nice.”

  I examine my hand more closely. The tightly wound bandages have a couple of tiny splotches of blood seeping through. As I lower my hand to my side, Sam sniffs. A tear runs down her cheek.

  “I’ll be okay,” I try to reassure her. I hate seeing her cry.

  “Do you remember much?” Hawkins asks.

  I roll my head from side to side. What little I do remember I’m trying my hardest to forget.

  I glance between Bradley, Hawkins and Taylor. “Thank you.”

  Bradley shakes his head. “Don’t mention it.”

  “Is Max okay?” I ask.

  Bradley chuckles. “Yeah … he’s fine. That’s how we found you. In the morning, we found Max lying next to a rocky outcrop, and when I tried to lead him away, he wouldn’t leave. I searched the area and found the entrance to more caves.”

  I smile as I picture Max stubbornly lying on the ground, refusing to budge.

  Bradley adds, “The cave system was like a rabbit warren with miles and miles of tunnels running all over the place.”

  One question is burning in the front of mind that I’ve been too afraid to ask, but I have to know. “Did we get the Butcher?”

  Bradley purses his lip and shakes his head. My heart sinks.

  Bradley goes quiet, his mind appearing to wander, as though he’s not really sure what to say next. “Doctor Lister said you’ll make a full recovery. You’ve got some rehab in front of you though. You’ll probably be in here for several weeks. He said you had high levels of a hallucinogenic compound called XMDET in your system.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh … that explains a lot.”

  I throw Bradley a smile and look up at Sam. Her face brightens.

  “Where’s the Timberwolf?” I ask.

  Bradley chuckles. “It’s at the head SESS R&D facility being drooled over by a hundred nerds in white lab coats.”

  “Hey,” Sam raises her voice, then gives a thin smile. “I have a white lab coat!”

  Everybody laughs. It hurts to laugh, but I don’t care. I need it.

  “We paid our friends at SI a visit,” Hawkins says. “They detected a chemical isotope in the deactivated nanoids we brought back with us. They traced it back to a planet called Claritous. Turns out the nanoids were stolen from a military research facility on Claritous eight years ago. The Butcher likely stole them and sold them to someone who then released them on Te Enthai. The hybrid nanoids weren’t made in the lab on Te Enthai; they were studying them, trying to stop them.”

  I shake my head. “The Butcher needs to be stopped. Before something like that happens here.”

  Bradley nods. “He will be.”

  Bradley pauses for a moment, as though he’s searching for the right words.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Grand Master Nueran has negotiated a peace treaty with the TPRA. They’re laying down their guns.”

  I draw a deep breath. “What? Are you serious?”

  Bradley nods.

  I smile. “Bloody hell! That’s fantastic.”

  “I thought you’d like that,” he says, beaming.

  Hawkins gives me a joyful smile.

  “How did that happen?” I ask.

  Bradley explains. “SI have been investigating the Antarum military and found that they’ve been back-channelling weapons and funds to the TPRA. Presumably, in revenge for the Union’s involvement in the proxy war on Antarum.”

  I shake my head in amazement.

  “It’s not all good news though,” Bradley clears his smile. “Antarum has deteriorated into a full-scale civil war.”

  I shake my head again. Damn, when will it ever end?

  Bradley picks up his bag and rests it at my side as he rummages through it. I gasp when he pulls out my knife.

  “You didn’t find my MOSAR scarf?”

  “No. Sorry mate.”

  “Where did you find my knife?” I ask.

  “The Butcher might have given us the slip, but we found his cache of weapons,” Bradley says. “I’ll leave it in your top draw.”

  I have mixed emotions about seeing my knife again after what happened. I look down at my bed sheets, wondering what I’ll find when I look under them. I’m desperate to know but don’t want to check while everyone’s here. My mood deflates as thoughts of failure run through my mind. Did I let the team down?

  “What’s wrong?” Sam asks.

  “If I hadn’t been so careless, we might have caught him.”

  Sam gasps and shakes her head.

  “You didn’t let us down,” Bradley rebukes. “That’s the closest the Union’s been to catching the Butcher. We now have a proper photo of him, blood samples, and know where he lives … or used to live … I dare say he won’t be going back there again.”

  “But if I was more careful … we might have caught him.”

  “Stinson, snap out of it. You’ve got nothing to apologise for. You did your job, and you got bit. We’ve all taken hits. What’s important is you dust yourself off and head back out there.” Bradley looks torn between navigating the fine line between tough love and a caring bedside manner.

  “Pos, sir,” I reply.

  Reading through the mission report for the umpteenth time, looking for anything that we could have done differently, I’m going out of my mind. I’ve been lying in bed for over a week now, only getting up for rehab or a walk in the garden. I guess they’re more worried about my new fingers being rejected than my legs. Another soldier has been in here even longer. An infantry man with his right arm and a good part of his shoulder blown off.

  A nurse stands in the doorway, pointing into the room. “Stinson, you have a visitor.”

  I drop the mission report on my bedside table and push myself up against the pile of pillows. Pisano limps through the door in SESS uniform.

  “Stinson, how are you doing?” he calls out.

  I return his smile. “Hey. Good, mate.”

  “You up for a walk?”

  I throw my sheet out of the way revealing my black and blue legs. “Yeah, sure. Can you grab my crutches?”

  I turn and slowly swing my legs over the edge of the bed to give my muscles a chance to stretch. Pisano hands me my forearm crutches. I struggle onto my feet and grimace as pain shoots up my legs.

  “Take it slow,” the nurse berates. “Let your muscles get used to moving again before you run off.”

  “Pos, sir,” I reply.

  Pisano limps ahead and holds the door open for me. I step outside and wait for him.

  “We’re like a pair of old men,” I joke.

  Pisano laughs. “Give you a race to the bench?”

  I chuckle as I shuffle along, Pisano having to wait for me. I stop in front of the bench and wince.

  “Now the hard part,” I say as I struggle to sit. “Aww. Hell, that hurts.”

  Pisano sits alongside me with a sympathetic face.

  I add, “Walking’s okay, it’s my quads that hurt the most when I have to sit. It’s like his knife is still in my leg.”

  Pisano mashes his bottom lip into his top lip. Look who I’m telling, my injuries are nothing to what he went through.

  “When are they going to make a printer that
can print a whole leg?” Pisano asks with a grin.

  I laugh. “I don’t know. You know, even if they had such a device, it wouldn’t have worked in your case. A new organ or appendage needs to be attached within a day. They say technically I shouldn’t have even received my new fingers.”

  Pisano’s smile fades. “I know … How’s your rehab going?”

  “Good. I’ve walked a few times without crutches. I bent over to pick something up the other day. It brought tears to my eyes.”

  We both laugh.

  “How’s your leg going?” I ask.

  “Yeah, good … can’t complain.” Pisano pauses as if something’s on his mind. “I was talking the other day with the Explorer-class starship development lead … he was asking about Sam.”

  My interest piques. “Yeah?”

  “I think he has plans for her.”

  I smile. “I don’t think you could drag her away from an off-world assignment.”

  “This would be off-world,” Pisano says. “Being part of the Explorer development team means she would go where the Explorers go.”

  “Oh … she hasn’t been asked to leave SF Raptor yet, has she?” I ask.

  “Nah.”

  We sit in the sunlight for a while, listening to the birds and taking in the tranquil setting of the gardens as we chat. It’s funny how our relationship is so different to my relationship with Bradley and Hawkins. I wouldn’t say Pisano and I are better friends, just different. I don’t know why. I’d like to think him losing his leg has nothing to do with it, but truth be told, it probably does.

  Bradley and Sam lead the way as we leave the hospital and step outside into the sunlight. I’m still relying on my forearm crutches to take some of my weight. It’s so nice being released after being cooped up inside for a couple weeks. When we make it to the tarmac, a short distance from the hospital, Max is standing in front of a strange aircraft. I grin as he stares at me from afar. The pilot lets him go, and he bounds across the tarmac toward us, his ears flapping. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since leaving Blackrock, and I tear up. He stops in front of me, and I raise my arm to pat him with my crutch dangling from my forearm. He’s surprisingly gentle and just stands there letting me stroke his fur.