by Kyla Stone
Kane stood splay-legged, monitoring the hostages as Hollis bound their arms behind them with zip-ties. “If he doesn't shut his ugly mouth, I'm gonna do it for him.”
The Second Officer still stood beside the captain, a grim smile on her face. No one had touched her.
Gabriel started to lift his gun, but Hollis shook her head.
“This is treason! You’re murderers.” Captain Liebenberg looked straight at Gabriel. “Each and every one of you—murderers and terrorists!”
Gabriel flinched. His free hand curled into a fist at his side.
“I'm warning you!” Kane swung his weapon around to point at the captain.
The captain raised his chin defiantly. “I'll see you get the needle, if it's the last thing I do.”
“Nah, man.” Kane smiled with a fierce slash of teeth. “This is the last thing you'll do.”
And he pressed the trigger.
11
Willow
“Hey! Gwyneth!”
Willow spun around, her cheeks heating. It was the boy from earlier in the week, Finn. Her heart gave a little jolt. He waved energetically from the center of the royal promenade, an awkward giant in a sea of elegant dresses and perfect faces scrunched in disapproval. She liked him already.
“Why is that guy calling you Gwyneth?” Zia asked, her nose wrinkling.
“Just go with it,” Willow hissed. She was headed for the library with Zia in tow. After lunch, her mom had dropped Benjie off at the Kid Zone on her way to housekeeping. Willow was stuck with Zia yet again.
“Finn Ellington-Fletcher,” he said as he strode up to them, as if Willow could have forgotten. He was a giant towering over her short frame, at least 6’6” and big all over. He was around her age, with smooth walnut-brown skin, dimples in his cheeks, and a gap in his slightly crooked teeth.
She tucked her hair behind her ears and attempted a sophisticated smile. “Hey, Finn. Uh, this is my sister … Monique.”
Monique? Zia mouthed in horror. Willow pinched her arm. She wasn’t going to let her sister ruin this, too.
“So . . . you having fun?” Willow managed. She was terrible with conversation, especially with an elite. Though he didn’t act like any elite she’d ever met.
Finn shrugged, rolling his massive shoulders. “What's not to love? Though I gotta say, getting shunned by my more affluent and socially adept peers has its upsides. One gets to know the tomes in the quaint library quite well.”
Willow laughed before she could stop herself. Maybe that was rude, but he didn't seem offended. “Why would you be shunned?”
He gestured at himself. “Too big. Too loud. Too much everything. Maybe I'm not refined enough for their tastes?”
“Their loss.” She flushed. “Um, we’re headed there—to the library, I mean,” she blurted before she could stop herself. She cleared her throat, pretending she didn't care either way. “I mean, you're welcome to come if—”
“I'd love to.” Finn fell into step beside her. Zia trailed behind them, scowling furiously.
The library was half tech station, half bookshelves filled with old, mostly leather-bound books. She swiped her mom’s staff wristband over the sensor integrated into the sleek black desk. The navbar display appeared, hovering in front of her. She stared at the display. No vids from Rihanna. Nothing. Not even text.
Willow: You there?
Nothing.
Willow: Rihanna?
No response. She frowned. “This isn't working. I can't connect.”
“Maybe the satellite is down ‘cause of that storm.” Finn lumbered over and scanned his wristband across a different desk sensor. Nothing. He checked his SmartFlex, but it remained as still and silent as the computer.
He grinned mischievously. “We'll just have to roll with the old and archaic forms of entertainment. Would you enjoy a rousing game of mini-golf?”
Willow tugged at her dress. “In this?”
“Excuses, excuses.”
She flushed again. “Why not?”
Finn smiled wider, revealing the adorable gap between his front teeth. “Not quite a ringing endorsement, but I'll take it.”
Zia’s face brightened. “Can I come?”
“It's totally fine if she—” Finn started.
“No way.” Frustration and resentment boiled inside her. She’d had enough of babysitting. She didn’t want Zia around, ruining everything when she’d finally met someone. “Why don’t you hang out here? Read an actual book or something. We’ll meet up later.”
“I'm not supposed to—”
Willow whirled on her. “Enough! You're not a baby. Stop acting like one.”
Zia blanched. “But—”
“I'm doing what I want for once! If that's a sucky game of mini-golf, so be it.”
“Hey!” Finn said with mock indignation.
Zia slammed her book shut with a scowl, dust puffing from the pages. “Why can't I go with you?”
Willow refused to feel guilty. Zia still acted like a little kid. At her age, Willow had helped her lola cook tapsilog and nilagang baka, scrubbed toilets, did laundry, and still maintained her grades. Zia needed to grow the hell up. “Because I'm stuck with you all the time!”
Zia sank back in the chair. She did that big doe-eyed thing, like she might cry. “But—”
“Just stop! Don’t you get it? I don’t want you around!”
Willow regretted the words as soon as they’d left her mouth. But it was the truth. Everything was piling up on her—her irritation at her siblings, frustration with her mom, worry over Rihanna, the gut-wrenching disappointment of her whole stupid life.
It was too much. She needed to get away. She needed to have a few moments of fun for herself or her head was going to explode.
She fled the library before she could see the hurt on her sister’s face.
Willow strode beside Finn, trying not to wobble in her heels. They were Rihanna’s, and she wasn’t used to wearing them. The straps rubbed painfully against her fresh blisters.
They passed dozens of people staring down at their SmartFlex cuffs, tapping the screen, shaking their wrists, and holding it to their ears, like their volume just wasn't turned up enough. The connection must be severed ship-wide.
“Your sister likes you,” Finn said. “That's cool.”
She took a deep breath, willing herself to calm down, to relax. This was her time now. “She's a pain in the butt.”
“You don't usually get along?”
“It's—complicated. You have any siblings?”
“Only child.”
“You're lucky.”
“It's actually pretty lonely. I don't recommend it.”
They climbed the stairs to the lido deck and passed through the glass doors. Outside, the sky glowered a steely gray. The wind whipped her dress around her thighs and snarled her hair. “You have no idea what I'd give to be left alone—to just be without having to think about them all the time.”
“I think you might miss it.”
She reigned in her frustration. It wasn’t Finn’s fault. It wasn’t even Zia’s fault. Her mom was the one always running off to please her boss, abandoning Willow with her siblings. She’d make it up to Zia later. “I know, I know. You're telling me the grass is always greener on the other side.”
“You know where the grass is greenest, right?” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Over a septic tank.”
She snorted.
“Let that little pearl of wisdom sink in for a bit.”
“I see your point. I don't concede, though. You've never shared a bathroom with my sister.” She winced at her mistake. Rich kids had their own bathrooms larger than her apartment. They never shared anything.
But Finn didn't seem to notice. He moved to the glass railing. “There are some little boats out here. Don’t they know a massive storm is coming? Come look at these waves!”
“I'll stay back here, thanks.”
“What? Why?”
She swallowed. “
I have this little thing about heights. That's like fourteen stories straight down. How are those glass railings not a safety hazard? I mean, a strong gust of wind could push you right over.”
“Not me.” Finn flexed his arms, shooting her a goofy grin. “I'm much too strong and manly.”
“I didn't mean you, of course. I would never suggest such a thing.” The air seemed lighter up here. She could breathe freely.
She liked the way he was looking at her. Finn saw what she wanted him to see—what she could be, if she ever got the chance.
12
Gabriel
Gabriel stared at the captain's slumped body, his stomach churning. “You didn't have to do that.”
Kane glowered at him. “He irritated the hell out of me. You got a problem?”
“Nobody has a problem,” Simeon said coolly. “As long as we stick to the plan.”
“That was the plan?” Gabriel gestured at the dead captain, his voice rising. It was difficult to breathe. There wasn't enough oxygen in the room. In all the months he'd imagined this scene, it hadn't gone like this. “He didn't do anything. He's not—”
“Calm down, son. There is collateral damage in every war. Unfortunately, he chose his side long ago.”
“Didn't we need him?” Hollis asked.
“Anything you needed from him, I can do.” The Second Officer wiped in vain at several specks of red on her uniform. She looked up with a grim smile. “Aisha Walsh, at your service.”
Kane slung his rifle over his shoulder and dragged the two bodies around the other side of the console. The two remaining hostages huddled against the far wall in silence, their faces drained of color.
Simeon spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Mission completed. No casualties on our side.”
“What happens next?” Gabriel asked. “When do the others get here?”
“Didn't I say to trust me, son?” Simeon slapped his shoulder. “Walsh will take command of the ship. We’ve taken out the secret service and private security agents per the information you provided us earlier. Everything is on schedule.”
Hollis set up the portable satellite navigation system, since the ship’s communications were still down. She placed two EMMASAT satphones on the console. “We continue as if nothing has happened, at least until our friends arrive.”
Simeon grinned. “And we have many friends. More than we can count.”
The radar blipped and Walsh turned back to the console. “These are your boys?” She pointed to five small green dots making their way toward the ship.
Simeon jerked his mask off his face. “Captain Cheng and his men, right on time.”
“Is he a Patriot?” Gabriel asked.
“Just hired grunts, like I said before.”
“Pirates,” Hollis said in disgust.
Gabriel rubbed his slick palms against his pant legs. “Pirates?”
Simeon shrugged. “Look, this is a twenty-billion-dollar-a-year business—hijacking, cargo theft, drug running, smuggling. Syndicates go after ships containing high value commodities easy to sell on the black market: diesel fuel, steel, and copper concentrates.”
“Captain Cheng is part of the Singapore syndicate,” Kane said. “They control the South China Sea and Malacca Strait, with branches in Vietnam, Malaysia, the Philippines, and now Central America. Their connections with officials in the U.S. government and senior officials on mainland China keep their operations well protected.”
Gabriel still couldn't breathe properly. The stench of blood stung his nostrils. He could taste it, sour and metallic. He’d known others were involved. He just assumed they would be fellow Patriots, not hired criminals. Not pirates. “Who are these people?”
“Gabriel, my son.” Simeon put his hand on his shoulder. “We need them. They're a means to an end. How do you think we infiltrated the ship so easily as crew? The syndicate uses body shops based in radicalized countries—Indonesia, Pakistan, the Philippines. The syndicate pays the agencies to place certain applicants on the rolls, even with zero experience, with screening completely bypassed or fabricated, including retinal and bioscans.”
Kane cracked his knuckles, a satisfied smirk on his face. “It’s the perfect crime. How would anyone begin to investigate? In which jurisdiction? A ship built in Japan, owned by a corporation in Malta, managed by a company in Cypress, crewed by Filipinos, financed by a British bank, carrying cargo by multinational companies or international passengers. How could you follow such a paper trail? Dirty officials either look the other way or take part in the piracy.”
“Money is pouring in, and everyone wants a drink,” Simeon said. “Less than ten percent of attacks are even reported.”
Kane grinned. “Of course, we'll proudly admit to ours. Even then, the government will have a hell of a time nailing any actual evidence to the wall.”
Simeon moved to the main console. “These guys know how to take over a ship. They've made a profession of it. They'll do anything for the right price. Offer them twenty grand apiece, they'll massacre the entire ship.”
Gabriel tried to keep his expression flat, but the blood drained from his face.
“Calm down, kid,” Hollis said. “It's just first-time jitters. You'll be fine.”
He didn't feel fine. His stomach roiled. But arguing only made him sound weak. Complaining only deepened Simeon's irritation. Simeon had vouched for him. He had to prove his worth, his value to the cause. He fell silent.
Simeon bent over the GPS holo map, then pointed. “Here.”
Walsh raised her eyebrows. “That will take us right through the tropical storm, sir.”
“The storm will provide cover. Besides, we only have a small window to meet our extraction point. We've paid our weight in gold, but the syndicate doesn't mess around. We make it, or we're left stranded on the ship. Can we make it, Captain Walsh?”
After a moment's hesitation, she nodded. She swiped the console screen, adjusting their course.
“Gabriel, come with me.” Simeon took his arm and led him through the exterior starboard door. The bridge wing looked like the narrow wing of an aircraft. It was a suspended walkway supported by thin corbeled struts extending over the ocean a hundred feet below.
The sea heaved in choppy waves, the silver water crinkling like foil. The wind beat about his face, whipping his uniform. The sky was battleship gray, as if preparing for war.
Gabriel couldn't get the bodies out of his mind. Nausea roiled through him. His stomach heaved, and he vomited over the side. He spat the sour acid out of his mouth and wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Shame swept over him at his failure. “I'm sorry.”
“I puked at my first dead body, too. Don't worry.”
Silence stretched between them. Even speaking the words felt like a betrayal. “We didn't have to kill them, the captain and the helmsman. They weren't—”
Simeon kept his hand on Gabriel's arm. “The helmsman refused to listen to the warning I offered him. He could have lived. He chose otherwise. The captain wouldn't listen to reason. I wouldn't have chosen for him to die, but it is what it is. We prepared for the possibility. That’s why we recruited Walsh. She’s a Patriot, and a damn fine one. She’ll fulfill the duties of the captain. We must accept this, Gabriel.”
He stared down at the water, fighting against the weakness inside him. The body of the captain and his dead eyes shimmered in his vision. He blinked.
“Every good soldier in every war experiences the same thing,” Simeon said. “In the Revolutionary War, neighbors fought on opposite sides. In the Civil War, brother killed brother. In World War Two, we dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, killing hundreds of thousands of civilians. That bomb we dropped on North Korea three years ago prevented nuclear war. Why did we do it? Because we fought for a larger cause, a greater good.
“We are fighting for the greater good, Gabriel. You must never forget. Innocent people are killed in war every day, including those sanctioned by our own government. But you seldom hea
r our government speak of this, unless they're attacking someone else for doing the exact same thing.”
Gabriel’s hands curled into fists. Simeon spoke the truth. He believed it.
“They will try to get in your head,” Simeon said. “They will try to twist your own goodness and use it against you. We must remain strong. Your mother died needlessly because of Declan Black’s greed. Your father died of a blight manufactured by corporations right here in this country.
“We’ve lost more and more of our freedoms even as the government leaves us to starve. And now they want to chip us, too? Track us like like dogs? They’ll imprison us in internment camps next. This is what we’re fighting against. Yes, we may have to deal with certain . . . undesirables. But it is all for the cause. We are true patriots, fighting for our freedom.”
He nodded, clenching his jaw. “We are freedom fighters.”
“Yes, we are. And I need you. Now is the time to collect the daughter of Declan Black and get her somewhere safe, until I call for you. Take her by force if you have to, but until the rest of the ship is secured, it would be best to stay under the radar.”
Gabriel kept his expression even. He felt nothing for her. Then why did the thought of kidnapping her by force twist his gut in revulsion? Last night, when he’d seen her cowering before her father, he’d longed to smash Declan Black’s perfect white teeth down his arrogant throat.
He took a deep breath, forcing out thoughts of the girl, forcing out the images of dead bodies, forcing out his fear and doubt and hesitation. He was a soldier. He couldn't afford misgivings. Not now.
The arrogant, indifferent elite had to pay for their crimes. The suffering people needed a voice. They needed someone who would fight for them.
The New Patriots fought for them. Gabriel fought for them. This was his purpose. This was a cause worth killing for, dying for.
“I'm ready,” he said, stronger now. “But my brother. I haven't had a chance to warn him. I know you wanted him to fight for us. But it’s not in him.” Another pang of regret struck him. He should never have let Micah on the ship.
