“We can’t let them get close to Zion,” he said.
“They’ll have to paddle or swim,” Katrina said. She pulled the trigger, and the first EMP grenade thumped away, sailing over the container ship and hitting the water on the far side. Muttering a curse, she loaded another grenade.
Half the boats had already taken off and were headed toward the bay, where the USS Zion sat waiting.
“Pick your targets carefully,” Katrina said to Alexander and Trey.
The flotilla of WaveRunners and small boats fanned out. Nearly all of them were now away from the mother ship. They had definitely spotted the Zion. In a few minutes, they would be within firing range.
Katrina needed just one lucky shot. She raised the rifle again and waited for her opportunity as the Zodiac bobbed in the chop.
The cargo ship was no more than three thousand feet away. She could hear shouting on deck. She was close enough that the EMP blast would also knock out the Zodiac’s motor.
Now she could see the source of the shouting. A Cazador stood on the deck, pointing in the Zodiac’s direction and yelling at the top of his lungs.
Drawing in a breath, she imagined the EMP grenade smacking into the deck of the container ship. Then she pulled the trigger and watched it shoot away. It landed on the weather deck and rolled behind an old-world vehicle that had tracks instead of tires.
Alexander turned the boat parallel to the container ship to get a better firing position. The armada of small craft racing toward the bay suddenly stopped dead in the water. But the invisible EMP blast didn’t stop the Cazadores’ guns.
A flash burst from one of the WaveRunners as a missile streaked away.
“Open fire!” Katrina yelled to her team.
She gritted her teeth as the missile vanished behind a wall of rock that blocked her view of the bay. She waited, dreading the sound of the explosion to follow. Instead, she heard the beautiful crack of the .50-cals. Green tracer rounds lanced across the ocean, riddling the disabled Cazador boats.
Soldiers jumped off their boats to avoid the hail of lead, but for most, it was too late. Explosions boomed all across the rough waters, throwing flames and body parts into the air.
Return fire from the container ship hit the water around the Zodiac, snapping Katrina’s attention away from the slaughter. She aimed her rifle at the muzzle flashes on the container ship. There were five different shooters, maybe more.
“Take down the hostiles on the deck!” she yelled.
Alexander and Trey both went to work, firing laser bolts and bullets at the men shooting at the Zodiac. Bullets punched through the rubberized canvas compartments, and air hissed out.
“Engine’s fried!” Alexander shouted.
Katrina bumped her chin pad to open a line to Eevi. “Don’t hit the fishing boat, and come pick us up. You have our beacon locations.”
In less than the time it took to blink, Katrina saw a red streak coming right toward her. There was no time to move or return fire. The bullet hit her upper chest, knocking her backward onto the boat’s soft floor.
The air broke from her lungs, and tiny stars burst across her vision. More rounds punched into the Zodiac, and water poured in over a deflating section of pontoon.
“Abandon…” she choked. Reaching up, she took Trey’s hand. As he helped her sit up, an explosion rocked the deck of the container ship, obliterating the hostiles.
Two entire stacks of containers burst apart, raining a loud clatter of steel chunks onto the deck. A container slid over the side into the water in a massive splash.
Alexander bent down and helped Trey keep Katrina up as the boat floor sank beneath them. She blinked away the stars and saw one of the most beautiful sights of her life. It wasn’t the sun or a sandy beach with palm trees—it was the USS Zion, barreling out of the bay at full speed, .50-cals firing at anything that moved on the container ship, and the MK-65 pounding the deck with explosive rounds.
Trey and Alexander got a life vest under Katrina’s head and torso. She sucked in air, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get enough. Beneath her armor, she could feel wet warmth moving down her ribs, confirming her fear that the bullet had penetrated.
Through blurry eyes, she watched people jumping from the deck of the container ship, some of them on fire, others trying to avoid the flames. They didn’t all look like soldiers, and she knew they were probably engineers, electricians, cooks, and servants.
As she maneuvered to keep the life vest under her, she recalled what Trey had said about attacking the ship. The fewer Cazadores, the better.
But what about the innocent men and women who weren’t soldiers? How were they any different from the men and women on the airships?
In war, there are no innocents. Everyone is the enemy.
Those words had come from a history book, probably the same one Trey had read in school. Still, as the weapons on the USS Zion slaughtered the Cazadores, she couldn’t help but feel a rising dread.
It’s us against them, she thought. Your job as captain is to ensure the survival of your people.
She hadn’t started this war, but if she survived this wound, she would damn well finish it.
FIFTEEN
The divers at Red Sphere had spent the past hour trying to open the steel door into the labs. Somewhere on the other side was an organic life-form that Timothy Pepper continued to detect in his scans.
Michael had a feeling the AI was right about it not being a spider. Their scans were picking up something else, something bigger, and he had to figure out what before they moved any deeper into the facility to find the defectors.
Les disconnected his minicomputer from the control manual and shook his head. “I can’t hack it, man.”
Michael swore under his breath. He was starting to lose patience. Nothing was going right. The pain meds had already worn off, and his bandage needed changed. On top of that, he was due for another round of ghost pains.
Think positive. You’re going to be just fine. Not an easy thing to do here in the very place he had lost his arm. But too much was at stake to let anxiety and pain mess with his head. X had suffered far worse than this, for far longer.
It was time to get serious about this shit.
Michael held up plan C: the laser rifle. “Everyone back,” he said.
“You’re kidding, right?” Les asked.
“You got a better idea?” Michael asked. “Come on, get behind the wall.”
The team moved back down the passage and around the corner. Even Timothy vanished and then rejoined them behind the barrier.
“Commander, all due respect, but I have more experience with that weapon,” Les said. “If we’re going to do this, best to let me.”
“Be my guest,” Michael said, handing it over.
“Try this one,” Layla said. “Just so we know it works.”
Les took the new rifle from her and moved around the corner to check the target. “If the laser bolts cut through, I’ll try and make us a smaller door, but make sure you guys stay back.”
“Be careful, Giraffe,” Layla said. “And make it big enough for you to get through.”
That got a weak chuckle, which ended in silence as Les crouched with half his body behind the corner, and half in the hallway. Then he lined up the iron sights and pulled the trigger. The brilliant line hit the door, bathing the corridor in a red glow.
“It’s working!” Les said.
A minute later, the door came crashing down on the concrete, shaking the floor and echoing through the space. Michael cringed at the noise.