by Craig Reed
* * *
Tanner and Liam crouched on top of the container staring down at the missile launcher and the nuke itself. The rest of the team was ten feet behind them, hidden in the shadows.
Illumination from portable work lights lit up the area, reflecting light off the containers and the tarps that covered the overhead gap to help shield the missiles from overhead observation. The space was only fifteen feet wide, and bordered by the containers on the long sides and a four foot drop-off to the deck on each side of the beam.
Tools, equipment, crates and tables were set up all around the missile, and a number of people occupied the immediate vicinity. A new set of odors mixed with the faint aroma of gunsmoke — sweat, food and machine oil combined with the humidity to assault Tanner's nose.
Gunfire from the bow and both the port and starboard sides indicated the battle was still raging.
The launcher occupied the center of the space, and was little more than a u-shaped platform wide enough and long enough to hold the nuke five feet off the deck. The launcher was supported by a number of steel-tube braces welded to plates that were in turn bolted to the deck itself to support the missile.
Tanner judged the missile to be about twenty feet long, two feet in diameter, with a pair of folded wings in the middle part of the body. It was painted a dull gray, with no identification marks anywhere that he could see.
"I can see ten gunmen," Tanner said. "The rest look like civilians."
"Confirmed," Liam replied. "Looks like they're moving out." The men were leaving the space, some of them armed and looking determined, while the rest were unarmed and looked fearful.
"How do you think they're going to fire this thing?"
"Look near the nuke — the man in overalls and two of the crew."
Tanner's eyes flicked over to where the former CIA agent indicated and he saw the men there. One was older, shorter, and deferring to the other. The younger crewman wore a white shirt, dark trousers and boots. An AK was slung over his right shoulder and he was studying something on a table near the launcher. Another man in blue overalls was explaining something to the first man. The third man, a rotund individual wearing brown overalls, stood a couple of feet away.
Liam noticed the ladder leaning against the container they were lying on and tapped Tanner on the shoulder. Tanner saw it and stuck his head over the side to look at what was below them.
The ladder led down to a catwalk similar to the one they had used on the other side of the stack. The cables next to Liam ran down the container next to the ladder, across the catwalk and down onto the deck where they snaked their way to the nuke.
Tanner gestured and both men pulled back. "Javelin, this is OUTCAST.” "We've reached egg number two, but it's getting ready to fly. We're moving in to stop them. What is your status?"
"Near Egg number one," Javelin replied. "Resistance is stiff, but crumbling. You have to stop egg number two from flying."
"That's the plan. OUTCAST out."
Tanner motioned the rest up. "Stephen, Liam, Naomi," he said softly, "take your two flash-bangs and throw them starboard. Dante, Danielle and I will toss our grenades portside. Once they go off, shoot the tangos nearest the missiles first, then any gunman you see. When we've eliminated the nearest tangos, Liam and I will go down the ladder and secure the catwalk. The rest of you, stay up here and give us cover fire until we're down, then follow in the direction where you threw your grenades. Axiam, stay here on overwatch and take out anyone we miss."
Each OUTCAST member pulled the flash-bangs from their harnesses and snuck forward. On a nod from Tanner, they pulled the pins on their first grenades and threw them. Tanner lobbed his toward the crewmen and the man in overalls. A pulled pin later, and the second pair of grenades were on the way. As soon as the second grenade left their hands, the entire team, including Axiam, dropped to the container's surface and shut their eyes tightly with their hands over their ears.
Despite the precautions, the crack of the grenades was still loud and the bright light still penetrating. Tanner blinked to clear his vision, then quickly rose to his feet. With the exception of Liam, who had gone through extensive demolition training as a SEAL, the rest of the team were a little slower to respond, but they were quick on their feet.
Tanner stepped forward to the edge of the container, his MP5 in the ready position. As soon as he saw the man in blue overalls by the missile, he fired, the lead projectiles slamming into the blinded and deafened terrorist. The man spun and slipped to the deck.
Before Tanner could track the other two targets, an ICA gunman stepped out from behind some crates to Tanner's left, his AK rising toward the OUTCAST leader. Tanner spun toward the assailant, his MP gripped tightly in his hands. Before either could fire at each other, the heavier thud of an AK firing from behind Tanner registered. The ICA gunman's head and throat exploded with blood and brain matter as a clutch of 7.62mm rounds penetrated them. He stood still for a second, then toppled over backwards.
Tanner looked back to see Axiam lower his AK and nod at him. "I said I was looking for scalps," the Somalian replied.
In seconds, seven of the ten ICA soldiers were down. Tanner made it to the ladder, and placing his hands and feet on the outside, slid three quarters of the way down before jumping to the catwalk. As he landed, he heard shouts and gunfire. Bullets sparked off the container to his left. Tanner quickly spotted the gunman, near the end of the catwalk, and fired. The ICA soldier spun and fell to the deck, his AK-47 cartwheeling into the air and falling to the deck below.
Tanner felt someone hitting the catwalk behind him. He glanced back just long enough to make out Liam on the other side of the ladder, his back to him. Dante was on his way down the ladder, using the same technique as Tanner.
The OUTCAST founder speed-walked along the catwalk until he was even with the mid-section of the missile. The crewman and the man in the brown overalls who had been standing by the weapon of mass destruction were nowhere to be seen. He continued forward, his MP5 swinging in a ninety degree arc.
"On your Six, Prime," Dante said over the radio.
A ladder was coming up on Tanner's right, leading down to the deck. When he was next to it, Tanner stopped and dropped to one knee. As he swept the deck with the MP5's muzzle, Dante came up and knelt beside him.
With Dante covering him, Tanner stepped onto the ladder and slid halfway down before leaping to the deck. As he landed, Dante laid down fire, cutting down a gunman who had popped up from behind a pile of crates near the opening leading to the deck. As Tanner made his way toward the nuke, three more gunmen rose up from behind the drop-off leading to the port-side deck, aiming assault rifles at Tanner.
He fired on the move as he ran toward a jumble of stacked crates to the front and left of the missile. The first part of his full-auto burst chipped the deck as he walked the bullet hose into the head and chest of the ICA thug in the middle, splattering his comrades with blood-laced gore. As the dying jihadist sunk out of sight, Dante's MP5 burst ripped apart the terrorist on the right. The third foe ducked just as Dante fired again, the burst stitching across the deck near the edge of the drop-off.
Tanner reached the crates and crouched behind them. He glanced around to make sure he was alone, then switched magazines for the MP5.
"Prime to all, status check."
Dante reported first. "Portside is clear for now. Three's here with me."
Then Liam. "Starboard side is secured at the moment. We're moving to cover the opening, but they could still rush us."
Tanner rose and moved rapidly toward the nuke. He detected movement on the other side of the launcher's framework, but the steel pipes and beams were too tightly arrayed to shoot through.
"Five," he whispered, "tango on the other side of the missile. Do you have a shot?"
"Negative," Dante returned. "And be aware that there's two tangos behind that missile."
Naomi joined in over the comm system. "Three to Prime. Moving to your position."
"Copy. Five: stay on overwatch. Two: status?"
"Starboard's quiet," Liam replied. "But I don't think that'll last long."
Tanner halted near the missile’s nose. The precision-guided rocket itself towered above him, sleek and deadly. He tried not to think about the ridiculous amount of destructive force next to his head, but instead crouched and waited for Naomi.
"Tango to your left!" Dante's warning and a flash of movement in that direction alerted Tanner to the danger. He turned to face it.
Before he could fire, he was tackled and thrown back into the launcher's metal framework. His Dragonskin Armor absorbed most of the impact, but Tanner's head slammed into the steel with enough force to make him see stars.
He lost hold of his MP5 and darkness encroached on his vision.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Fighting pain, dizziness and the urge to black out, Tanner drove a knee up into his attacker's chest while slamming his opposite elbow into the man's back between the shoulder blades. The fighter, wearing brown overalls, wrapped his arms around Tanner's waist and screamed something in Arabic.
Tanner kneed him again, but beyond a grunt, the assailant didn't react. Instead, he tightened his grip around Tanner's midsection and tried again to slam the OUTCAST leader into the support framework.
Tanner braced himself and lashed out with a foot, his steel-tipped boot finding the attacker's shin. A sharp crack was followed by a cry of pain. The man dropped to a knee, but maintained his death grip around Tanner's waist.
The sharp staccato rhythm of weapons fire came from Tanner's left and suddenly the grip around his waist loosened. Tanner grabbed the man's head and thrust his knee into his face. The crack of bone and a choked yelp of agony told Tanner that the strike was a good one.
As the extremist crumpled to the ground, Tanner noticed the man's leg was bleeding. He glanced at his face and recognized him as the one who had been talking to the crewman just before the assault. He ignored the zealot’s anguished moaning and sobbing.
Naomi slid up next to him. "You okay?"
"Never better.” Tanner stuck the MP5 around the corner of the launcher and fired off a burst. He was rewarded with a high-pitched scream, then yanked back as bullets bounced off the corner's edge, sparking off the steel.
Heavy gunfire from the other end of the space erupted, hardening Tanner's expression. "Prime to Two… Status?"
Liam’s voice was calm "They're trying to rush us. About six tangos. We have them pinned down, but they're still pressing."
"Javelin to OUTCAST," the SEAL team leader cut in. "Egg number one is ours. How are you doing with egg number two?"
"We have it for now, but they don't want to give it up."
"I have Javelin Two and Three moving in. Resistance is fading."
"That's because they're closing in on us!" Liam snapped. "Four and Six — grenades!"
"We're on our way. A minute, maybe more."
Tanner leaned out around the launcher’s base, looking for the gunman, but he could only see one body next to the launcher. There were a couple of crates near the launcher large enough for someone to hide behind. As he looked, several explosions went off at the far end, followed by screams and weapons discharging.
"Five: We've got one loose Tango around the missile. Do you see him?"
"Negative, Prime," Dante said. "If I see him, I’ll pop him."
A jihadist from behind the crates and opened fire. Tanner pulled back as the bullets ricocheted off the steel frame, sounding like rocks striking a tin roof.
"Tanner!" Naomi hissed. "If he shoots this missile full of holes, this entire space is going to be an inferno!"
Tanner reached for a smoke grenade and held it high enough for Naomi to see it. With a few hand signals, he outlined his plan.
Naomi removed a smoke canister from her harness, pulled the pin and chucked it around the corner. Tanner followed with his, and the area between the crates and the launcher was quickly inundated with thick white smoke.
Tanner stood and stepped around Naomi, who stuck her MP5 around the corner and let off a long salvo in the direction of the crates. There was immediate return fire from the gunman behind the crates, his swarm of bullets raking the launcher's frame and forcing Naomi to take cover.
Tanner paced toward the other end of the launcher, keeping the bulk of the structural supports between him and the enemy on the other side. "Five, you have me covered?"
"Like a blanket, Prime," Dante reassured. "But that smoke's making it impossible to see anyone on the other side of the launcher."
"That works both ways," Tanner said. Naomi and the ICA soldier were still firing at each other, short bursts that sought flesh, but found only steel and wood.
"Two, status?"
Liam said, "We pushed them back, but they're gearing up for another rush. Pulling bodies out of the way."
A string of sharp explosions and intense flashes of light came from portside, followed by a short, but vicious-sounding gun battle.
"Calvary's arrived," Liam said.
Tanner reached the end of the launcher, the bulk of the missile's engine between him and the shooter. Smoke was beginning to drift around the engine nozzle. Raising the MP5 to his shoulder, he slipped around the exhaust nozzle and into the acrid vapor.
* * *
Saleh Narsai again tried to clear his head of the ringing in his ears and the spots that continued to dance in front of his eyes. At least one of his eardrums had been blown out by the explosion. His head felt as if a hundred devils were hammering inside his brain.
He still retained enough sense to pick himself up, grab his AK-74 and run for cover. Faisal was dead, killed by the invaders. On the other side of the nuke, his soldier Basir had been wasted by the attackers, forcing Narsai to seek cover behind the wooden crates. Before all the smoke, he'd seen Dr. Masood lying near the front of the launcher, his brave but doomed attempt to fight the unholy ones bare-handed still fresh in Narsai's mind.
But now he was trapped; his men were failing to hold the enemy back. He could still hear the skirmish playing out on both sides of the ship, though to him it sounded distant and muffled. Even his own assault rifle sounded like it was being fired from a hundred feet away.
He fought the urge to cough as the smoke drifted across the crates. His eyes watered and his lungs felt like they were on fire. He unloaded the rest of the AK's magazine into the smokescreen, then removed the magazine and dug into his ammo pouch, only to find one last magazine left. He cursed bitterly as he inserted the fresh ammunition and glanced at the cruise missile. They had been so close! What happened?
Then it came to him, a vivid image that burned away the stunned feeling and cleared his mind. The nuke may not able to be fired, but it did contain enough liquid fuel to turn a good part of the cargo ship into a fireball. With a little luck, that might set off the warhead, ensuring the death of the attackers and everyone else on the ship.
Narsai pulled the bolt back and aimed the AK at the missile, just forward of the folded wings. He would rake the entire middle of the Babur, punch through the relatively thin skin and ignite the fuel.
But before he could pull the trigger, a shadow emerged from the smoke to his left. Instinctively, Narsai brought the AK down, but before he could fire, intense pain registered in his chest and arm, staggering him.
He steadied himself and began pulling the trigger. A second swarm of something ripped into him and now the pain level was completely debilitating. He stumbled and his legs gave way. His strength gone, Narsai realized he couldn't keep his eyes open. He closed them—
— and died.
* * *
Tanner looked down at the man he had just killed. They had been lucky — it looked like the dead terrorist was about to shoot into the missile. It had taken two bursts to take him out, but he was down and no longer a threat.
"Javelin to OUTCAST. Deck secured. Coming in."
Tanner looked up. The gunfire had stopped. The smoke was beginning to
dissipate and he could see more of the space around him. He transmitted: "Prime to team. Status?"
"Still breathing," Liam replied. "Six is a bit bruised up, and Four has splinters in his hand, but otherwise, were all right. SEALs inbound."
Tanner checked both ends of the ship and saw dark-clothed men moving toward him. They stepped cautiously but with firm purpose.
"Two: Axiam with you?"
"Right at my shoulder," Liam confirmed. "He's already lowering his AK and holding up his hands."
"Make sure the SEALs know he's friendly. Three, Five — form up on me."
Naomi and Dante acknowledged. Tanner walked away from the body, feeling sapped as the adrenalin finally began releasing its hold on him.
"OUTCAST to Javelin. I'm at the launcher."
"Copy. Looking good so far."
Tanner leaned against the launcher, closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Aboard the Saad el Melik
Riyad stared at the radar as if willing it to show him something else. But it displayed the same thing it had shown for the last twenty minutes — the Northstar Venture sitting in one place.
He glanced at the captain. "Anything on the radio?"
Kashgari shook his head. "I think we must assume that both DESERT WIND and SANDSTORM have failed."
Riyad nodded. “What do our current transponder settings show us as?"
"The African Rosebud, out of Capetown."
The ICA colonel nodded. "Good. Hold course for now, and ask the Northstar if they need help as any good Samaritan ship would do. How soon before we're in range for the Termits?"
"Ten minutes."
"Okay. As soon as we are in range, fire two missiles. I want the Northstar sunk."
Kashgari frowned. "That is risky.”
"It would be more risky if we turned and ran away. Alert the crew and tell them prepare. How close is the Pharaoh's Pride?"
