by Ralph Kern
***
Jack slammed the throttle forward, weaving between the debris and detritus of the pier as it disintegrated in the tumultuous wake spreading behind the Osiris.
The boat skimmed and bounced over the white froth. From the front, Jack heard the occasional crack of Grayson’s rifle firing in a smooth, measured rhythm. Jack couldn’t even begin to imagine how the man could be shooting with any kind of accuracy as they sped forward through the chaos.
A huge chunk of debris rolled over the sea, logs flying away from it. The boat smashed through one. Jack flinched away from a whip of pain across his brow from flying splinters and salted sea-spray. Ignoring it, he concentrated on avoiding the devastation they were careening through.
Before him, he could see the massive clamshell of Osiris’s boat bay beginning to close. Gritting his teeth, he weaved toward it, gunning the engine as hard as he could.
It was going to be tight. Damn tight.
Crack. A moment later he caught a glimpse of the broken body of one of the PMCs ricocheting off the bow of the speedboat amidst the confusion.
The stern of the Osiris formed a steadily narrowing slit. It was the point of abort, he either had to arc away or go for it. If they were too slow, then they would slam into the yacht’s solid stern.
Time slowed. Jack looked across at Grayson, his jaw set, his cheek pressed against his rifle. He turned his head slightly. His shout carrying across the cacophony of noise.
“Do it!”
The speedboat sliced through the wake and under a whipping mooring line, before sliding between the closing doors. The sides of the boat cascaded a shower of spark as they ground against the thick metal.
Then they were in the cavernous boat bay.
The clamshell doors slammed shut behind them with am echoing thump.
Chapter Forty-Two – The Present
“We’ve got boarders,” Hogarth called from his station. “Creighton, get your crews down there and secure the boat bay.”
The scarred man pulled his radio from his webbing and issued rapid-fire orders into it as he turned and ran out the bridge.
Hogarth pressed a finger to his earpiece, a grim look on his face. “Captain, we have a message from Ignatius.”
“By all means.” Wakefield gave a wave of his hand. “Let’s hear what the good captain has to say.”
Hogarth tapped his console. A chime rang out through the bridge. The bridge crew paused in what they were doing and looked up from their touchscreen displays, ready to hear their enemy speak.
“Osiris... Wakefield.” Slater’s voice was firm and resolute. “This is Ignatius Actual. You will heave to and prepare to be boarded. Any further efforts to leave this area will be met with deadly force.”
“She doesn’t beat around the bush,” Wakefield muttered. He looked at Hogarth. His captain’s face was strained in the soft blue lighting of the bridge. “Put me on.”
Hogarth gave a terse nod.
“Heather, this is Conrad,” Wakefield put on his friendliest, cockiest voice. One which had disarmed many an opponent before in the boardroom battlefields. “What seems to be the problem with us getting away from the coast? What with the small matter of a bunch of those pirates attacking my ship and that goddamn swarm heading our way and all?”
The speaker was silent for a moment. The moment stretched to two. Wakefield found his lips twisting in a smile. Either she was doubting herself, or she was so fucking angry she didn’t trust herself to speak. Either way, he considered that a win.
“We’ll get back to you when we’re at a safe distance.” Wakefield made to slash a finger across his throat to cut the coms.
“Conrad. Make no mistake,” the voice came before the radio shut down. “I have a five-inch Mark 45 cannon and a complement of enhanced Tomahawk cruise missiles targeted on you. Those ‘pirates’ are my boarding party. Now, I said heave to, or I will open fire.”
Her voice contained no anger, nor any doubt.
“Stand by, Heather.”
Wakefield keyed his console. On a small wall screen, an image of the boy below decks appeared. “You listening into this?”
“Yes,” the boy responded calmly. “Please listen to her and surrender. This situation can still be resolved peacefully without any further loss of life.”
“Listen, kid. Slater ain’t gonna want to resolve this peacefully. Her crew have already opened fire on us. If she’s found out the full effect of the Locus, then that’s gonna be one pissed-off lady. You want to find the others, then you tie into our fire control and defend this ship.”
The child gave a frown, then nodded. “You must find the others. This situation is growing unpredictable in my current models.”
Wakefield pressed a finger to his temple. His patience was worn thin by the difficult little jackass below decks and the crisis above. “Defend this ship or I’ll personally come down and unplug you. Does that fit in with your current fucking model?”
“I understand.” The boy gave a long pause. “And I will comply with your request.”
“It wasn’t a request.” Wakefield angrily jabbed at his console, muting his intercom microphone. “Thank fuck for that. I not kidding, that little shit is becoming more trouble than he’s worth. Get me Ignatius back on the radio.”
“You’re on, boss.”
“Heather, no. We’re getting away from here until the threat has passed,” Wakefield called out. God knows why he was continuing with this bluff. Form, he guessed. “Don’t try to stop us.”
“So, that’s how it is?” Her voice was icy. Despite himself, Wakefield felt a shiver down his spine at the sheer firmness of those five words. Damn, what he’d have given to have this ice queen on his payroll.
But, she wasn’t and he hadn’t got this far in life by backing down.
“Yeah, Heather. That’s how it is.”
***
Slater leaned back in her chair. Before her, already two miles away, Osiris could be seen steadily pulling away, angling to leave the bay. She clenched her fist so tightly her knuckles gave a pop. Then she relaxed her hand, placing it down on her armrest.
At least this time out, she was going to be fighting her ship from where a captain should, on the bridge, not trapped in the confines of the CIC.
“George. Give me phase one of the firing solution and hold.” She took a deep breath. This was it, the point of escalation. The point where she was announcing this whole thing was going hot... hotter.
“Shot.”
From the open intercom to the CIC she heard her fire control officer respond without hesitation. “Shot, out.”
The five-inch Mk-45 cannon on the bow of the ship boomed. Within three seconds, the autoloader slammed another heavy round into the breach, ready to fire again.
Slater snapped her attention back to the helm. “Accelerate to one half ahead on an intercept course for the Osiris.”
***
The high-pitched whistling noise permeating through the bridge culminated in a plunging splash only a few hundred feet from Osiris’s starboard side.
“Jesus!” Wakefield shouted. He looked down at the screen showing the boy’s face. “You were supposed to stop that shit. Do your job.”
“Ignatius’s fire was a warning shot with no possibility of impact. I have considered the cyclical rate of our LaWS and CIWS capability versus their effective armament and decided not to interdict that fire.” The jargon seemed at odds with the boy’s young appearance. “If you would prefer to retake control, feel free.”
Sarcastic bastard.
“Fine.” Wakefield waved his hand, dismissing his protests and urge to just shut the screen off. “Do what you need to do.”
“That may entail significant loss of life throughout the allied elements of the fleet,” the boy replied.
“For starters, they ain’t allied anymore,” Wakefield snapped. “Just cover us getting out of here.”
“Osiris, Ignatius. Consider that my one and only warning shot. The ne
xt one will take you down,” Slater’s voice rang across the bridge.
Wakefield let his gaze settle on Hogarth. His captain’s jaw was clenched, his hand gripping the top of the console. “Are you with me, Richard?”
Richard turned to stare back at him. Wakefield could see the turmoil in his eyes. Turmoil which only thinly covered fear.
And was that a hint of doubt in there? Was his captain about to show a serious lack of moral fiber? He was damn sure Slater wouldn’t have if she were in Hogarth’s seat.
“All the aces belong to us, Richard.” Wakefield leaned forward. “You know it. We can win this, with his help.”
Wakefield reached into his jacket pocket, feeling the weight of the tiny Berretta Px4 Storm compact pistol wedged in there. The smallest decent-looking gun he could find.
He wrapped his fingers around the handle and thumbed the safety off. Don’t you dare go chicken-shit on me, Richard.
Hogarth gave a wince. Then nodded. “You know I’m with you, boss.”
He turned back to his command console and Wakefield gave a sigh, slipping his hand out of his pocket.
***
“They’re not taking the hint.”
Slater rested her chin on her clenched fist. From the battle of the Locus, they’d got a damn good idea of what Osiris’s capabilities were. In the privacy of her cabin, she’s spend hours contemplating how to take on the only significantly armed vessel they’d encountered—just in case. After all, the tactician in her had little other release.
Damnit, if she could be sure they had a boarding party on the yacht, they could resolve this without destroying Osiris. But without any kind of confirmation, she had to assume they hadn’t made it. That Jack hadn’t made it or he was floating amidst the shattered remnants of the pier.
She watched the Osiris weaving through the boat-congested bay, seeking to escape. The mooring lines had finally been cut, leaving a trail of debris in her wake.
Her mind created a flow chart and worked through it. If they let them go, they had little or no chance of tracking the Osiris down without the extensive network and capabilities of the twenty-first-century military. If that ship went, it’d be gone for good.
If she took down the Osiris now, then it’d be done. But a lot of people would die aboard. And possibly, probably, some of them had been just as much duped by Wakefield as they had. Not to mention Grayson’s partner, who he suspected was still trapped aboard.
Slater came to a decision. Osiris was going to be a tough nut to crack and if she hesitated or held back, there would be no chance of managing it. In modern-day battle, it was the one who struck first who had the best chance of winning.
If she was going in, it had to be all in.
“Match speed with Osiris and stand by to lift the hold on the firing solution.”
She felt the powerful General Electric LM2500 gas turbine engines vibrating through the hull as they fought to accelerate them to flank speed.
***
The red dot of the aim-point sight settled on the man and Grayson squeezed the trigger. Three rounds erupted out of the muzzle of his rifle and hot metal ripped through the guard’s body, splattering the bulkhead behind him with blood. The man tumbled from the gantry ringing the cavernous room, splashing into the pool in which the speedboat had ground to a halt in.
“Moving.” Jack pulled himself over the side of the boat, falling into the water. All around them came the ping of bullets striking metal and the splashes as they struck water.
Jack lifted his rifle and opened fire, taking out a guard on by a metal stairway. “Cover.”
Grayson crashed into the water on the opposite side. A burning hot pain came from his shoulder as a round ripped across it. A subconscious part of his brain noted it, analyzed the injury, and informed him to man-up—it was only a flesh wound.
He sighted another woman firing a handgun, and let off another three rounds. The woman pirouetted to the deck even as the working parts on his rifle locked back.
“Magazine!” He thumbed the mag release catch. The small black box splashed into the water and he reached into his webbing to retrieve another. He slapped it into the receiver and eased springs, letting the rifle’s working parts slam forward.
“Cover on.”
A figure crossed the gantry. Grayson squeezed the trigger and the man flew back into the bulkhead with a cry.
“Clear.” He stood, the water reaching to his waist.
From all around, he could feel the rumble of the ship’s engines, driving the vessel forward. Hastily loaded cargo vibrated around the horseshoe-shaped platform surrounding the pool. A loose crate shuddered its way to the edge and splashed into the water.
Jack keyed his mic. “Ignatius, Atlantica, any station. Are you receiving me?”
Grayson heard a wash of static come through his own earpiece.
“If you’re getting this,” Jack continued. “We’ve made it aboard.”
“Cut the coms, Jack.” Grayson gripped his shoulder. “They’re jamming us, or it just ain’t getting through the hull. Either way, it’s doing us no good.”
“What the hell now?” Jack muttered, abandoning his efforts to communicate. He retook control of his weapon, sweeping it back and forth.
“Now?” Grayson said grimly, looking at a hatch leading into the interior of the huge yacht. “We figure out a way to stop this damn thing and take out Conrad Wakefield.”
Finally, after ten and ten million years. He was aboard.
Chapter Forty-Three – The Present
Osiris surged out of the bay, her powerful engines accelerating the yacht at a rate which Ignatius struggled to match. She was opening up the distance between them and was up to four miles now.
In other words, what Slater still considered knife-fighting range. Little more distant than the cannon battles of her nautical ancestors.
“Target locked in for weapon-mix deployment.”
Slater nodded in approval. Osiris had more than proven her defensive capabilities. Her laser was brutally effective at shooting down shells and that was even before she brought her CIWS into play. The only way they were going to win was to overwhelm those defenses.
And that meant landing the first, decisive, blow.
No more delay, no more procrastination.
“Shot.”
Ahead of the bridge, the silo hatch’s covering two of the vertical launch system missile cells sprang open. With a rumble, a pair of enhanced Tomahawks, the most modern version of the venerable weapon system speared out into the sky.
Simultaneously, the cannon on the bow of the ship roared. Every three seconds a round exploded out of the barrel.
The Multi-Service - Standard Guided Projectiles arced out over the bay. Automatically, fins erupted out of the base of the shells, guiding them toward their target.
Slater looked down at the plotting board. The blinking icons of the missiles and shells raced across the screen toward the Osiris.
Without warning, a huge explosion bloomed in the sky. Slater looked up. An orange fireball dissipated into the night sky.
One of the Tomahawks had just been taken out.
***
Osiris heeled over to the port side as Hogarth looked in surprise at his console. The ship was no longer under his control, instead the boy below now had command of every system and authority to do what he needed to protect her.
Before the bridge, the dome turret of the LaWS whipped around. Nothing visible emanated from it but Wakefield knew it was spitting deadly beams of light, focusing them on the incoming missiles and projectiles, and taking them out.
The ship leaned over in the opposite direction, causing everyone on the bridge to tumble to the side.
The engines decreased in pitch as a massive fountain of water erupted next to the ship. Explosions blossomed in the sky as Ignatius’s shells erupted, each one detonating close to the yacht than the last.
If the kid didn’t do something soon, it’d only be a matter of time bef
ore one found them. And when it did...
“Come on,” Wakefield muttered. The kid controlled Osiris with digital efficiency. Another explosion, and another violent maneuver which Wakefield wouldn’t have thought possible. The superyacht threaded between two huge geysers of water and the engines roared as she accelerated. “Get us the hell out of here.”
From somewhere behind them came the grinding roar of the CIWS opening up. The six-barreled Gatling cannon tore a streamer of fire into the sky.
Another savage explosion. This one much bigger—and damn close—washed over the bridge. A second later, the glass cracked and starred as the shockwave thudded into the ship. The evasion had brought them nearly broadside with Ignatius, bearing down on them and rapidly closing the distance.
One of the box launchers in front of the bridge whined as it turned and elevated.
“Do it, kid.” Wakefield snarled. “Take that bitch out.”
Four missiles roared out, one after the other in a brutal volley.
***
“Vampire, Vampire, Vampire!” The operations specialist in Ignatius’s CIC, Petty Officer Santiago’s voice was strained but calm as it came over the intercom over the bridge, announcing they had incoming missiles.
Four burning points of light grew with horrendous speed as they raced toward the Ignatius.
Slater glanced down at her laptop screen, set up to display the readings from Ignatius’s SQL-32 electronic warfare suite. Two Harpoon missiles accelerated to their top speed of 240 meters per second straight toward them and two more...
Were headed straight toward Atlantica.
Impact in twenty seconds.
In a moment, she processed the Osiris’s horrendous plan to split and overwhelm the destroyer’s own defenses.
Ignatius was a warship, designed from the keel up to give and take damage. She just might survive being hit. But Atlantica wasn’t and there were thousands of civilians on board.
People she was sworn to protect.
In as much time as it took her synapses to flare, she made a decision.
