Unfathomed (The Locus Series Book 1)

by Ralph Kern

  Mack yawed the helicopter around, presenting the open side door to the ferry. A loud, rumbling drone resonated through the aircraft as Hank fired the GAU-17/A minigun. A hundred rounds of 7.62mm ammunition streaked through the ferry. The people gathered on the top dropped prone as holes appeared all around them.

  One of them, braver than the others, went for the machine gun, swinging it around toward the helicopter and returned a stream of fire toward them.

  Mack winced as she heard a pinging noise coming from the hull of her bird. She pushed the cyclic forward and drove the collective down, causing the helicopter to dart forward and down out of the torrent of fire.

  “Take out that goddamn gun.”

  The drone reverberated through the helicopter again and the man on the Liliana’s machine gun disintegrated in a cloud of red mist. Under him, beneath the top deck something exploded, ripping a gaping hole in the top.

  “She’s turning away, ma’am. Want me to keep going?”

  Below them the ferry began to angle away from the Atlantica, smoke billowing out of the gaping wound left by the explosion.

  Mack thought about it for a moment. To kill that damn ferry would likely use up every round she had on-board. And even then not guarantee they’d sink the thing. She was begrudging not taking the time to load up on Hellfire missiles, but the extra weight would have meant more fuel burn. And they didn’t have very many of the precious missiles anyway. Besides, like it or not, there are probably non-combatants on board that ship, and I for one don’t want to be responsible for killing them.

  “Negative, Hank. If she gets cocky again and turns back to the Atlantica, remind her she’s better off anywhere else but here, but we aren’t going to burn the ammo.”

  “Roger that.” Hank’s voice was disappointed.

  The Liliana had come about to the opposite heading and began speeding away. The speedboats quickly took on the survivors from the abortive attack and raced after their hurting mothership.

  “Well done, boys,” Mack said to her crew as she yawed the Seahawk back toward the rapidly retreating Atlantica. Pressing the radio stud on her cyclic, she said, “Atlantica, U.S. Navy Seahawk. Looks like that ship is retreating. Request permission to land on your flight deck.”

  “Granted, and maybe you can tell us just what the fuck is going on.”

  Yeah, Atlantica, if you think you’re not happy now, just wait until you find out what bizarre clusterfuck you’ve found yourself in, Mack thought grimly as she flew back toward the massive liner.

  ***

  Bautista clambered, soaking wet, out of the speedboat onto the platform on the inner side of the catamaran’s hull. Climbing rapidly through the crowded ship, ignoring the cries of the children gathered close to their mothers and the moans of the injured, he reached the rear balcony of the ferry. Far in the distance he could see the cruise ship pulling away from them.

  “What do you want us to do, Urbano?”

  The lean man turned to his second in command who he had left in control of the Liliana. “We will return to the Titan, Davey. We need to tell them about what has arrived.”

  “He’s gonna be pissed. We lost a lot of people today, not to mention burned a lot of resources.”

  “Yeah, but a prize like that? She’s even worth risking going into the Ignatius’s territory for.” Bautista watched the Atlantica shrinking toward the horizon, his eyes narrowing. “She could change everything.”

  Chapter 12 – Day 3

  “Liam, are you fit?”

  Kendricks grimaced, cupping the phone awkwardly between his ear and shoulder as Dr. Emodi finished bandaging his arm. “Yeah, Captain. I took a hit, but it’s only a flesh wound.”

  “Good,” Solberg said distractedly. “Get up to the flight deck. We’ve got some visitors. That Navy chopper is putting down.”

  “Liam, I would rather you rested up. You—” Dr. Emodi started to say.

  “Doctor, thank you for your concern, but I’ll rest when the current crisis is over,” Kendricks said, wincing as he stood from the crate the doctor had sat him on while he worked. He glanced over at Jack who was holding a drip for the medical team as they worked on a horrendously injured security officer. “What about you? You coming?”

  Jack nudged one of the medics and handed the bag of saline to them before stepping toward Kendricks, nodding. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” Kendricks gave the carnage-strewn hold a glance. As much as he wanted to stay and help, he couldn’t get bogged down in first aid when he had an entire ship to consider. Even if, technically, he was one of the casualties.

  Dr. Emodi finished putting Kendricks’s left arm in a sling and patted him lightly on the right side. “You’re good to go. Just please, no more gunfights, eh?”

  With a grunt, Kendricks started walking towards the hatch. “That’s for damn sure.”

  ***

  “What the fuck happened?” Grayson hissed into his CB. He was in a spot not far from where he had murdered Grissom, leaning against a support stanchion for one of the orange lifeboats. “This was supposed to be a goddamn cakewalk. This is a cruise ship, not a warship. We’ve got to be well inside Ignatius territory. How the hell am I supposed to get back?”

  “Karl, calm down. We’re heading home but we’ll be back soon. I suspect the boss will consider that ship worth taking on the Ignatius for.”

  “Well, let’s hope you’re not writing checks the boss can’t cash,” Karl said grimly. “I’m signing off.”

  “Okay. We’ll have a relay boat shadowing Atlantica. Keep in contact once per day.”

  ***

  The helicopter's rotor blades span down as Jack, Kendricks, and a pair of uninjured security guards approached the large grey Seahawk which had settled on the circular green landing pad on the bow of the ship.

  Coming to a halt, the four men watched the helmeted, olive flight suit-clad crew through the cockpit window as they flicked switches, shutting down the aircraft. The pilot opened up the cockpit door and stepped out, pulling off her white helmet and laying it on her seat. Kendricks nodded at Jack and the two of them stepped forward, approaching the ebony-skinned woman.

  “Lieutenant Grace McNamara of the USS Paul Ignatius,” the woman said as they approached her.

  “Staff Captain Liam Kendricks of the M/S Atlantica and this is Jack—” Kendricks paused as he realized he had forgotten the man’s last name in the confusion.

  “Jack Cohen,” Jack filled in for him. “Sergeant, USMC.”

  “What’s your status, Captain? I trust there is no significant damage to the ship itself?” Mack asked, no nonsense in her tone.

  “No, no. We’ve taken casualties, at least seven dead. A few more injured, some seriously.”

  “And the pirates?”

  Pirates? Kendricks thought. An odd term for terrorists.

  “We got at least ten of them, thanks to Jack here. One more is injured. He isn’t going to make it. The rest took their chances jumping over the side.”

  “My condolences for your losses,” Mack said quietly.

  “Lieutenant,” Kendricks looked the pilot straight in her brown eyes. “What the hell is going on? We have had no communication for days. Our navigation systems are down, even the compass is ass-backwards and now we’re being attacked by terrorist-pirates.”

  Mack looked down, taking a deep breath. “Staff Captain... I have a lot to tell you. Maybe it would be better if I could do so with your Captain present as well?”

  Kendricks and Jack exchanged looks. Jack gave a slight nod.

  “Very well. We’ll take you in to the ship’s conference room.”

  “Thank you.” Mack looked back at the helicopter. “Boys, stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

  “Lieutenant? If you wouldn’t mind, ma’am?” Jack pointed at the sidearm Mack had nestled in her shoulder holster.

  The pilot raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Ship’s policy.” Kendricks responded for Jack. Frankly, he agreed that right no
w the less people with weapons onboard, the better.

  The pilot gently plucked the weapon out with her thumb and forefinger, making it clear she wasn’t drawing it as a threat and proffered it to Jack, butt first. “I want that back.”

  “Of course,” Jack said, taking the weapon and handing it to one of the security officers before gesturing toward the hatch leading inside the Atlantica. “After you.”

  Mack nodded and walked toward the entry.

  “Kendricks.” Jack took hold of the other man’s uninjured arm and leaned in close. “Clearly we’re in some kind of military situation. There is a man among the passengers who it may be worth getting briefed at the same time, a recently-retired admiral.”

  Kendricks nodded. “That might be an idea. Okay, go get him, then bring him up to deck twelve.”

  ***

  “Laurie, it’s Jack. Open up.”

  Jack knocked on the door of the suite. Finally, the door opened slightly, revealing Admiral Reynolds’s face.

  “Jack, are you okay?”

  “Yeah, how’s Laurie?

  “She’s fine. She was holed up in here the whole time with me.” Reynolds fully opened the door, revealing the spacious lounge area of the suite where Laurie stood, looking at the door anxiously.

  “Glad you’re okay,” Jack said to her.

  “I am,” Laurie said. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  “Not completely. Actually, sir, it’s you I need.” Jack ignored the hurt look on Laurie’s face. “We have a situation where your perspective may prove invaluable.”

  Reynolds glanced at his daughter, then back at the earnest-looking man in front of him. Nodding, he slipped a light linen jacket off the back of one of the dining room chairs. “Lock the door after I leave. Don’t let anyone in until I come back.”

  ***

  Solberg pointedly looked at his watch as Jack and Reynolds entered the bridge’s conference room. Mack was seated alone on one side of the table, her hands clasped. Solberg and Kendricks the other. The two newcomers joined Solberg’s side. To Jack, it felt like he was taking part in a promotion board for the calm and composed pilot.

  “Now we’re all here, if we can begin?” Solberg said impatiently.

  “Of course,” Mack said. “I’m Lieutenant Grace McNamara, stationed on the USS Paul Ignatius, an Arleigh Burke class destroyer, formerly assigned to the Fourth Fleet.”

  Mack paused as Admiral Reynolds regarded her with his cool blue eyes, the question at the word “formerly” obvious in them.

  “Now, as far as we can tell, we are the Fourth Fleet, in its entirety. For the last two years, we have been out of communication with Mayport, U.S. Southern Command, the Pentagon... in fact, anyone outside of our immediate sphere of influence, which you are now in.”

  “Lieutenant, I retired a few years ago,” Reynolds said in a calm measured voice. “Whilst I am not as familiar with U.S. Navy deployments as I once was, I am very sure that a loss of communications with a major surface combatant of any navy in the world would have appeared on CNN. If you would be so kind as to start again, and this time, kindly tell the truth.”

  “Sir,” Mack said. “I wish I could tell you the full story. We simply don’t have it, though. What I am telling you is our own experience. Something happened to us, the same thing that has happened to a number of other ships and boats we have encountered throughout this vicinity. And the same thing, I presume, that is happening to you. We have found ourselves in an unknown region with no communication with the rest of the world, no satellite uplinks, nothing. Gentlemen, we aren’t in Kansas anymore, and that’s about all I can tell you about where we are.”

  “Quite, but that does not account for the two years a United States destroyer has been out of the loop.” Reynolds said pointedly.

  “And that is where things get strange, sir. Or at least stranger.” Mack’s brow furrowed and she leaned forward. “Whenever we encounter a new ship or boat, they always list the last confirmed date they were in contact with anyone else as July 12, 2024. Whether that be land or navigation uplink. For us, the Ignatius I mean, we are at 752 days post-event, however our last communication with anyone else was July 12, 2024—”

  “Which was three days ago,” Solberg cut in irritably. “Listen. I don’t know what shit you are giving us here, but frankly I don’t believe it.”

  “Captain, I appreciate this may well be a lot to take in.” Mack looked levelly at the man. “But I am not messing around. Every ship we have encountered has believed that the last external navigation data or contact they had with anyone, whether that be via GPS link or radio communication, was that day.”

  “Assuming what you are saying is correct, and please don’t think I’m convinced by any stretch of the imagination,” Reynolds said, “then that implies that somehow, you have found yourself isolated here. And other ships have appeared at different periods over the last two years, but all thinking it’s the same day?

  “That’s about it, Admiral.” Mack nodded. “However, we weren’t the first. We have encountered several vessels that have been here for longer than us, including those we have just had a run in with.”

  “Yes, about them,” Kendricks said, rubbing the arm that was lodged in the sling. “Who the hell were they, and why did they attack us?”

  “They are a faction—a loose alliance I suppose—who found themselves here before we did. They now prey upon ships which come through, taking what they need.”

  “So they really are pirates then. Well, unless they have a bloody warship, Lieutenant, can I ask why you haven’t simply blown them away?” Admiral Reynolds asked pointedly.

  “Because the Ignatius has hardly any fuel left,” Mack said. “And how do we find them? The battle scape is awfully limited when you’re down to one destroyer, a single functioning helicopter, a pair of RIBs, and a few allied non-combatant boats.”

  “Point taken,” Reynolds said as he leaned back.

  “So, the big question is... where the hell is America, and for that matter anyone else?” Kendricks asked the obvious question.

  “We don’t know. We have explored back to where the coast should be. The most we’ve found is a little island, which is where we have set up base.”

  “Set up base?” Reynolds asked.

  “Yes, sir. It’s hardly big, but it has helped to support us while we’re... trapped here.”

  “Captain, going there sounds like an option until we figure out what’s going on,” Kendricks said.

  “Well, is it?” Solberg asked of Mack.

  “Is what, Captain?”

  “Is it an option?”

  “Yes, Captain Slater extends her compliments,” Mack said. “She would welcome you under the Ignatius’s protection if you so wish.”

  “And if we don’t wish?” Solberg replied.

  “You can take your chances with the pirates.” The pilot gave a shrug.

  “Very well, you have given us much to think about. If you would excuse us,” Solberg said, gesturing through the glass partition to one of the security officers waiting outside. “I think we need to discuss this.”

  “Take your time. When you come to the right decision, I’ll provide you a heading.”

  ***

  “What utter bullshit,” Solberg spat once the pilot had left. “She’s expecting us to believe that the whole world has disappeared?”

  “Some things are starting to make sense, Lars,” Kendricks said quietly. “We have no contact with anyone, GPS is down, and Nassau has disappeared... and as for being attacked by goddamn pirates this close to American waters? It answers that as well.”

  “Don’t you start.” Solberg waved his hand dismissively. “We could have just missed Nassau.”

  “Captain, as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle said, once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever is left, no matter how improbable, must be the truth,” Reynolds said.

  “Admiral Reynolds. The whole fucking world disappearing is impossible,” Solberg poi
nted out. “I’d rather believe that these pirates have somehow taken out the whole of the U.S. fleet.”

  “Fair point. But at the moment, the evidence suggests that the impossible is what has happened. Jack, what are your thoughts?”

  Jack lightly drummed his fingers on the glass table, considering the conversation of the last few minutes. After a moment he spoke, “My first thought about the pirates was that they were some kind of terrorist cell, or drug runners. However, it has been bugging me that they were completely multinational—men and women of several ethnic backgrounds. Although it’s not unheard of, neither terrorists nor runners are exactly renowned for their equal opportunity employment policies. It does support Lieutenant McNamara’s story.”

  “Quite,” Reynolds said. “How about this for a plan? Let’s resume a course aiming for America. If and when we confirm that the land is gone, we return to the Ignatius.”

  “Hold on. This is my ship. I make the decisions here,” Solberg said in a low voice.

  “Of course,” Reynolds held his hands open in supplication. “I am merely here in an advisory capacity. But I would strongly recommend that course of action. If, and by that I hopefully mean when, we make contact with America, I’m sure the U.S. Admiralty will be very interested in what’s going on at their door step. Not the least of which appears to be some very sophisticated jamming capability. If we don’t, and the good lieutenant is telling the truth then I, for one, would rather take my chances with the Ignatius than pirates who have clearly shown their hostile intentions.”

  Solberg glanced around the table at the others. Kendricks gave a nod, Jack merely gazed back at him with calm in his eyes.

  “Very well. I have decided,” Solberg emphasized the I. “We will resume course toward Florida. If this bullshit turns out to be true, we will go find this Captain Slater.”

  Reynolds gave a nod. “Good decision.”

  “Captain,” Kendricks shifted uncomfortably, both from his wound and what he had to bring up. “We have seventeen fatalities. Dr. Emodi tells me that’s going to go up to eighteen in a matter of hours when one of the captured pirates... succumbs to his wounds.”