James Rollins
Ghost Ship: A Sigma Force Short Story
Now you don’t see that every day…
From the vantage of his horse’s saddle, Commander Gray Pierce watched the twelve-foot saltwater crocodile amble across the beach. A moment ago, it had appeared out of the rainforest and aimed for the neighboring sea, completely ignoring the trio of horses standing nearby.
Amused and awed, Gray studied its passage. Yellow fangs glinted in the morning sun; a thick-armored tail balanced its swaying bulk. Its presence was a reminder that the prehistoric past of this remote stretch of northern Australia was still very much alive. Even the rainforest behind them was the last vestige of a jungle that once stretched across the continent, a fragment dating back some 140 million years, all but untouched by the passage of time.
As the crocodile finally slipped into the waves and vanished, Seichan frowned at Gray from atop her own horse. “And you still want to go diving in those waters?”
The final member of their group — who was acting as their guide — dismissed her concern with a wave of a darkly tanned hand. “No worries. That particular salty bloke is a mere ankle biter. Quite small.”
“Small?” Seichan lifted an eyebrow skeptically.
The Aussie grinned. “Some of the males can grow to be seven meters or more, topping off at over a thousand kilos.” He nudged his horse and led them across the beach. “But like I said, not much to fret about. Salties generally only kill two people a year.”
Seichan cast a withering look at Gray, her emerald eyes flashing in the sunlight. She plainly did not want to fill that particular quota today. She tossed the length of her black ponytail over a shoulder in obvious irritation as she set off after their guide.
Gray watched her depart for a breath, appreciating the grace of her movements. The sight of her almond skin glistening in the sweltering heat drew him after her.
As he joined her, she glanced to the rainforest. “We could still turn back. Spend the day in the lodge’s spa, like we’d planned.”
Gray smiled at her. “What? After we came all this way?”
He wasn’t just referring to the trail ride to reach this isolated stretch of beach.
For the past half year, the two of them had been slowly circumnavigating the globe, part of a sabbatical from their work with Sigma Force. They had been moving place to place with no itinerary in mind. After leaving D.C., they had spent a month in a medieval village in France, then flew on to Kenya, where they drifted from tent camp to tent camp, moving with the timeless flow of animal life found there. Eventually, they found themselves amid the teeming sprawl of Mumbai, India, enjoying humanity at its most riotous. Then over the past three weeks, they had driven across the breadth of Australia, starting in Perth to the east, traversing the dusty roads through the Outback, until finally reaching Port Douglas on Australia’s tropical northeast coast.
Seichan nodded to their guide. “Who knows where this guy is really taking us?”
“I think we can trust him.”
Though the two of them had been traveling the globe under false papers, Gray had never doubted that Sigma was covertly keeping track of their whereabouts. This became self-evident last night, when upon returning from a day hike into the Daintree Rainforest, they had stumbled upon a familiar figure holed up in their hotel’s lounge, belting down a whiskey, trying to act inconspicuous.
Gray eyed the broad back of their rugged Aussie guide. The man’s name was Benjamin Brust. The fifty-year-old Australian happened to be the stepfather of Sigma’s young intelligence analyst, Jason Carter. The Aussie had also helped Sigma resolve a situation a year or so ago in Antarctica.
So to find the man seated in their hotel bar…
Ben had tried to dismiss the chance encounter as mere coincidence, quoting Casablanca at the time. “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world…”
Gray hadn’t bought it.
Ben had recognized this and simply shrugged it off, as if to say, Okay, you caught me.
From Ben’s presence, Gray realized that Sigma’s director must have leaned on former colleagues and associates to keep an eye on the pair during their half-year sojourn.
Accepting this reality, Gray hadn’t pressed Ben on his subterfuge. Exposed and apparently apologetic for agreeing to spy on them, the man had offered to take them on a guided tour to a few of the region’s highlights, spots known only to the locals.
Judging by the scuba gear they carried with them, Gray expected they were likely headed to some remote dive spot. Ben had refused to offer any further details, but from the mischievous gleam in his blue eyes, he had some surprise in store for them.
“We can tie the horses in the shade over there.” Ben pointed an arm toward a tumble of rocks amid a copse of palm trees.
Gray leaned toward Seichan. “See, we’re already here.”
She grumbled under her breath, while maintaining a wary watch on the beach and forest. He recognized the tension in her back. Even after months on the road, she refused to let her guard down. He had come to accept it. Trained from a young age to be an assassin, she’d had paranoia and suspicion incorporated into her DNA.
In fact, Gray shared some of that same genetic code, courtesy of his stint with the Army Rangers and his years with Sigma Force, which operated under the auspices of DARPA, the Defense Department’s research-and-development agency. Members of Sigma Force acted as covert field agents for DARPA, protecting the globe against various burgeoning threats.
In such a line of work, paranoia was a survival skill.
Still…
“Let’s just try to enjoy this adventure,” Gray said.
Seichan shrugged. “A hot stone massage would’ve been enough of an adventure for me.”
They reached the tumble of boulders and dismounted. In short order, they had their horses secured.
Ben stretched a kink from his back with a rattling sigh, then pointed to a forested promontory jutting into the blue sea. “Welcome to Cape Tribulation. Where the rainforest meets the reef.”
“It is stunning,” Seichan admitted with some clear reluctance.
“Only place in the world where two UNESCO World Heritage Sites butt up against one another.” Ben pointed to the forest. “You got the Wet Tropics of Queensland over there.” He then squinted out to sea. “And the Great Barrier Reef stretching way out there.”
Seichan kicked off her sandals and wandered farther along the beach, her gaze taking in the sight of the jungle-shrouded cliffs tumbling into the crashing waves. Birdcalls echoed across the beach, while the perfume of the fragrant forest mixed with the bitter salt of the Coral Sea.
Gray stared appreciatively after her, which Ben noted.
“Quite the sight,” he said with a big grin. “You should put a ring on that finger before you lose your chance.”
Gray scowled at him and waved to the laden horses. “Let’s unpack our gear.”
As they worked, Gray nodded to the promontory. “How’d this place get the name Tribulation?” he asked. “Looks pretty damned peaceful to me.”
“Ah, you can blame that on the poor navigation skills of Captain James Cook. Back in the eighteenth century, he ran his ship aground on Endeavour Reef.” Ben pointed out to sea. “Tore out a section of the keel and almost lost his boat. Only through some desperate measures were they able to keep her afloat and manage repairs. Cook named the place Cape Tribulation, writing in his logbook ‘here begun all our troubles.’”
“And not just for Captain Cook,” Seichan called back to them, plainly overhearing Ben’s explanation. She pointed down the beach, drawing both men toward her.