by Anya Nowlan
There weren’t any guns kept on the bridge, only hers. Even if there were, she doubted that any of the people there really knew how to handle one. Though they’d all gotten trained on what to do with pirate boardings – not that those ever happened in the waters The Pearl Princess sailed in – that didn’t mean that the crewmembers had taken the classes as anything other than a chance to let off some steam.
“Captain, are you certain?” the officer manning comms asked.
“Deadly certain. Lock the door behind me,” Amy said, thinking on her feet.
“Ma’am, you can’t do that,” a voice called behind her.
She didn’t turn to check who it was.
“If they get in here, they have the ship. I can hold my own, you can’t. Please lock the door behind me, relay my commands and try to keep control as long as I can. We have friends onboard but they need our help. Do as I say,” she said, her voice ringing authoritative and true.
So much so that even she almost believed herself when she finished with ‘it’ll all be okay.’
As soon as she stepped off the bridge, the door was locked solidly behind her. She checked the radio on her hip and turned down the volume, so as not to give herself away.
Unlike some bridges, The Pearl Princess’ entrance opened into a hallway that split into two a few feet further. Swallowing drily, Amy moved forward, picking her vantage point behind a corner that would give her a shielded view of both of the forks. She didn’t yet know where the men would be coming from but she knew she had to take them out before they got to the bridge.
There was no telling how long it would take for Shifter Squad Nine to make it up there. And if there was trouble in ventilation control then the odds were good that they might not make it up at all. She couldn’t risk the fate of the entire ship on simply hoping that someone would come to her rescue, after all.
I promise, I’ll keep you safe, she thought, running her free hand over her belly as she smushed herself against the wall and took another soothing breath.
She didn’t have to wait for long.
The thunder of heavy footsteps came down the corridor at lightning speed just some minutes later and Amy felt herself entering the zone she had so many times before. That moment before the battle, when she knew that the only person she could truly lean on was herself, was when her head was the clearest and her aim the deadliest.
She exhaled at the very moment the first man veered around the corner, his gun brought up and shoved solidly against his shoulder. Amy leaned out of her cover for only a flash, shooting off two shots. The man grunted and fell back.
Tangled feet and muffled voices, followed by a grunt, told her that she had at least hit something. It was hard to tell, considering the man was wearing protective body armor. Though she had rifles and every manner of assault gear in her suite, her little handgun would have to do the trick for now.
If she came out of this one alive, Amy promised herself that she would never leave home without a damn shotgun again.
As if smelling it in the air, Amy ducked down in time for a barrage to rattle into the wall above her, gnawing through the corner as if it wasn’t even there. She gritted her teeth and rolled across the floor to the opposing corner to give herself a moment, managing to pull the trigger two more times during the maneuver.
This time, it was unmistakable. She had hit one of the men in the ankle through his combat boots and he touched down on one knee. Sensing her chance, Amy hopped up and took one more shot, right at the face this time.
The bullet bit through the cover he wore over his eyes and entered through his left eye. He dropped like a bag of bricks.
Fucking take that, Arctics scum, she thought with fervor, only to find herself staring down the barrel of the man’s companion’s gun.
“Captain, I presume,” he snarled, his grin hateful and victorious at the same time.
Amy’s breath caught in her lungs. He motioned for her to drop the gun and she did so, letting it fall on the floor with a clattering sound. She hated letting go of it but she was no fool. Even with as fast as she was, he already had her in his sights – he would turn her into more Swiss cheese than human by the time she got one shot off.
God dammit, she cursed under her breath.
The fact that he hadn’t taken the shot yet gave her hope, though. It meant that he needed her for something. For Amy, it meant that she had time to find a way out.
“You’re right about that,” another voice came behind him.
The man turned to look behind him, meeting the butt of Price’s rifle in welcome. He grunted as he fell back against the wall, while Amy grabbed for her gun. Price didn’t let up, bringing his rifle down two more times on the enemy werewolf, before letting it swing back on his shoulder by the strap as he grabbed the knife from his hip in one fluid movement.
A split-second later, with the commando’s eyes flashing the distinct gold of a shifter, he was clutching at his throat, wheezing out his last breaths as scarlet blood leaked all over his gear. Price yanked the assault rifle out of the man’s hands and checked it, plucking the ammo belt off the man, as well as the mask he had around his neck at that moment. He tossed the gear to Amy, along with a winning smile.
“Miss me?” he asked, though she could see the relief in his eyes, which were only now returning back to green.
Whether he admitted it or not, the scary, badass werewolf soldier had been afraid for her life. She didn’t know whether to be touched or insulted.
A bit of both, probably. Okay, so the former more than the latter.
“Like the plague,” she quipped back, though she smiled at him as she put the ammo belt on and tucked her handgun in it as well. “Thank you.”
Shouldering the gun, she almost felt like herself.
“Don’t mention it,” Price said, already turning on his heel and heading back towards where he came from.
“What’s going on down below?” Amy asked, catching up with him.
Price had his hand over his headset, talking into it hurriedly. She didn’t catch most of it, but the gist was that he’d found her and she wasn’t a pile of bloody goop on the floor yet. And apparently that was a relief to everyone.
“Well, what isn’t?” Price started in a conversational way, shrugging his wide shoulders as they half walked, half ran through the corridors.
By the time they passed the spot where the young crew member had been lying in a pool of blood, Amy was relieved to find that he was not there anymore. She hoped it meant that he had found the help he needed, instead of stumbling on another werewolf.
“It seems like that rotten little fox that worked for you was as his people have always been. A conniving little shit,” Price growled, visibly tensing as he said that. “He ratted us out. The Arctics are trying to bring the whole ship down. Prowler overheard him. I assume he’s still alive because apparently the ventilation control room sounds like some sort of private rendition of a Fourth of July parade is being put on in there, but I don’t know for how long.”
“Jorge? I can’t believe it,” Amy said, swallowing that notion when Prowler gave her a pointed look.
Apparently for a wolf, it was perfectly reasonable to assume that a fox shifter was a ‘conniving little shit.’
“Do you know about the mission Shifter Squad Six ran on that airplane a couple years back? When that off-duty Marine got involved?” he asked quickly, flying down a set of stairs and heading deeper within the cruise ship.
“I do,” Amy answered with a frown, recalling the mission file on that one.
As the lead for Shadow Two, she saw most of the mission paperwork that came through for the Shadow teams. After Squad Six had gotten through with their work, it had taken Shadow One and Shadow Three four days to tie up all the loose ends and make sure that no one was going to spill the beans about the noxious gas that had been released on a passenger airplane and almost caused everyone to kill one another.
“No… wait… Are you saying what I thi
nk you are?” Amy asked, horror in her voice.
“Yup. But it’s worse this time. They’ve obviously improved the formula. If they think it’s enough to wipe out everyone on the ship, it has to be far more potent than it was before,” Price explained.
“Shit,” Amy said, echoing the general consensus that must have gone over Shifter Squad Nine the moment the realization had dawned on them.
“My thoughts exactly. Everyone else was heading down there, to ventilation control, but I was in the engine room when Prowler’s message came through. He got one more transmission in after the first one, naming your little pal. I figured it meant that they knew about you. I was right. Is there an override for ventilation control? If they get that shit in the air supply…”
Price trailed off, but Amy knew exactly what he meant. If that stuff hit the ventilation then no one would be safe from it on the ship. She brought one hand up to the mask that was hanging around her neck now, guilt burning her up. If they didn’t stop this calamity in time, then there could be thousands who suffered for it.
Amy had never had a mission with so many innocent lives at stake at once.
“There is a way,” she said suddenly, remembering the auxiliary controls that were one deck higher.
If she could reach those, she could put the vents on forced lockdown. Since The Pearl Princess had plenty of access to outside air, there would be no problem with not having the vents running for a while. Even if someone got a little lightheaded on the lower decks due to a lack of oxygen, it was still a better option than… well… a massacre of untold proportions.
“Follow me,” she hissed, pushing past Price and running as fast as she could now.
Not only did she have herself, her unborn kids and the men she loved to protect, but the lives of thousands of others rested on her shoulder as well. And she was damn well going to make sure that they remained safe on her watch.
Twenty
Prowler
I couldn’t have volunteered for comms duty, Prowler thought, keeping his head low as shots whined over his head, tearing into the reinforced walls of the ventilation control room.
He’d been pinned down for the better part of the last ten minutes, with the last five having been a mix of a grueling firefight between most of Shifter Squad Nine and The Arctics. It had taken Squad Nine a moment or two to realize, though, that at best they had about half of the confirmed Arctics between them. The other half was still missing somewhere, probably wreaking havoc on the ship.
“Prowler!” Dice roared, making him peek out from behind the chemical vat he had been hiding behind.
With one glance, he understood perfectly what his squad lead was trying to tell him. The guy who had tucked the chemical away in his bag was sprinting for one of the ventilation grills that opened up to the filters below. If he dropped whatever he had in there, it would all be over.
For fuck’s sake!
The rest of the squad was too far, and getting held down by enough enemy gunfire to put most actual choreographed battles to shame.
Of course, as soon as Prowler peeked his head out, at least three bullets whizzed past him. Snarling under his breath, he rolled around to the other side of the large vat and then got up from his crouch. He counted his blessings and then sprinted out, expecting to be dropped at any second.
Miraculously, he made it to the next piece of cover, a control panel of sorts. The commando with the tube of sloshing silvery liquid was half-way to the ventilation grill he was heading for, unscrewing the top of the bottle.
Now or never, Prowler thought grimly.
He took aim, ignoring the rounds whizzing past him, one of which could easily hit him and take him out in the very next instant. His careful, precise hands guided the shot perfectly and when he squeezed the trigger in time with his exhalation, he didn’t even need to watch to know that it would find its target.
The yelp that followed as Prowler dropped back down behind the cover confirmed that much.
“Shit!” Dice’s voice ground out, making Prowler pop back up again.
His sentiments exactly.
Though he had managed to get the guy in the neck and drop him where he stood, the bottle had been flung from his hands and rolled across the floor. It was leaking the liquid all over and some of it was already dribbling into the vents.
“Put your fucking masks on!” Dice yelled, and every single one of the men in the ventilation control room did as he was told, Arctics and Firm operatives alike.
The auxiliary controls…
Prowler’s heart was thudding so hard in his chest that he thought it might bounce out of his chest cavity at any moment. His ears were humming, adrenaline washing over him fast and hard. He knew far too well what was at stake here.
Just about everything, as far as he was concerned.
Ignoring the hailstorm of bullets that seemed to be enveloping the large space, friend and enemy alike, he ran out again. The spirits had protected him so far and he damn well expected them to keep doing so.
Making it over to the spilled bottle, he kicked it away from the grill with the back of his heel and kept running on. He zigzagged past the clusters of Arctics and made it to the door. There was no time to explain what he was doing to the rest of the squad and thankfully enough, he could trust Shifter Squad Nine to be intelligent enough to assume that he wasn’t just turning tail and running off.
“Prowler!” a muffled voice called as he passed his squadmates.
Prowler turned to glance in their direction as Rio threw a bag at him, one of those small, waterproof ones that would clip to his gear belt.
Explosives.
He nodded to Rio as he shouldered the door and headed out, his heavy breathing beginning to fog up his mask slightly. If worse came to worse, Prowler knew that there would have to be some sacrifices made. In certain cases, that meant having a hell of a lot of firepower with you.
Mentally calling up the plans for The Pearl Princess, Prowler hooked the bag to his belt and kept running as fast as he could. When he had a free hand, he touched the button of his headset and spoke into it.
“Lynx Five. Prowler Three, come in!”
“Lynx Three, copy,” Price ground back, making Prowler let out a heavy breath of relief.
At least his brother was somewhere, probably doing the right thing.
“Lynx Five. Ventilation control contaminated, gas in ventilation. If it doesn’t get shut down right away, we’re in for a hell of a ride.”
“Lynx Three. On it.”
The answer was about as strained-sounding as Prowler had expected.
He knew that the ventilation problem would start from the maintenance decks and move first lower, and then higher. The lower levels were practically devoid of people and Prowler could only hope that the maintenance decks were empty now too, what with the kind of racket they’d been putting on in ventilation control.
The fact that he had yet to come across any security personnel meant that The Arctics had probably taken them out already or they were otherwise indisposed, fighting said Arctics. Fighting and most definitely losing, considering the level of preparation of cruise ship security compared to some of the most ruthless terrorists the world had to offer.
Easy mission, my ass.
The time it took Prowler to get up one level and reach auxiliary ventilation control seemed to be almost half a lifetime. He kept expecting to run into a squad of Arctics, but when he heard the fighting coming from the room he was headed for, it all made sense. They’d gone straight for the same place that Price and Prowler had targeted.
Prowler blew in with his rifle squarely on his shoulder, his head leaned against it and aiming. He managed to drop two of the Arctics operatives from behind, with neck-shots, before they were even really aware that he was in the room. When their buddies turned on him though, Prowler went scrambling for cover.
It began feeling like he had spent his evening running and falling and not much else. He collided with the ground with a
grunt, finding himself staring at Price from across the room. Amy was next to him too and she gave him a little wave that Prowler couldn’t help but meet. The situation was as ridiculous as the rest they’d been in on this cruise, regardless of how much firepower was involved.
“I’m never coming on a cruise again!” Prowler yelled across the room as he reloaded, discarding the empty clip.
“So how bad is it?” Price asked back, the Renard twins happily engaged in their usual mid-battle banter while at least three times as many people were trying to make mincemeat out of them.
“Could be better,” Prowler admitted.
“Did they empty it all?” Amy asked urgently.
Prowler could only nod.
But what he didn’t expect was what she did after that. Biting down on her lower lip, Amy looked at first him, then Price, then down at her stomach. She threw her rifle off her shoulder as Price was taking a few pot shots at the guys across the room from them, close to the ventilation control panel that could put everything on lockdown.
“I’m sorry,” she mouthed, before she got up so fast that Prowler barely had time to blink.
She scooted out from cover and ran straight for the panel. Practically throwing herself over it, she slammed down on the two buttons that needed to be pushed to activate lockdown. The vent above Prowler’s head shut off immediately.
“You fucking bitch!” one of the Arctics growled, the characteristic baby blue eyes and blond hair marking him as a probable officer.
He clutched her by the wrists and pulled her over to the other side of the panel, causing Amy to yelp.
“You let her go!” Price roared, jumping up and aiming at the area where she disappeared behind.
“Fuck off,” the man snarled back.
When he grunted out a few syllables of pure pain, Prowler knew that Amy was not going willingly. But there wasn’t much they could do when he stood up with her in a chokehold, a handgun trained to her temple.
