Alexis hoped Dr. Nassiri was ready to see his mother in a bad way. A month on the bottom of the ocean didn’t do a body good. She’d seen it before, when the Conqueror assisted with a drowning recovery. She shuddered just thinking about it.
Dr. Nassiri appeared next to Jonah. Alexis could tell he was tense. The doctor began to open his mouth to ask something, but then — Alexis couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was just wrong.
She took a step back from the console. The engine pitch had changed. In fact, it wasn’t just the engine, it was the entire acoustic signature of the Fool’s Errand, a change so imperceptible Alexis could scarcely drag it into her conscious mind. Nothing on the radar — but something was still wrong.
Acting on instinct, Alexis changed the feed channel to an external view, flicking through the screens as quickly as possible. Nothing whatsoever, then—
Holy fucking fuck there it was, a shape just a hundred feet off the starboard quarter, a long, dark streak under the water paralleling the course of the Fool’s Errand. It resembled a shark or a whale, only much too large. The craft didn’t move with the flow of an organic creature; it moved unnaturally straight and parallel to the yacht. Alexis felt a sudden chill come over her, as if they were being stalked.
“Is that—?” she started to say, as the conning tower of a massive, matte-black submarine sliced through the waves, parting a frothing white-foam bow wake. The submarine rose, revealing itself to be even longer than the Fool’s Errand, stretching well beyond the aperture of the surveillance camera. The bow broke from the water as one last wave crashed over the deck. A massive four-barreled anti-aircraft weapon grew from a rear-deck raised platform just behind the stage. This was no pleasure craft, the submarine was built to intimidate, every line deliberate and menacing, more than enough firepower to take on even the largest pirate mothership.
Alexis snatched the radio in her hands. Shit, she knew she had to call this in to the bridge. Shit, they were going to know she had access to the surveillance cameras. Shit. Shit-shit-shit.
“Unidentified contact!” she shouted into the radio. “Port side aft!”
Alexis opened the surveillance feed to the bridge on a secondary monitor, watching as Dr. Nassiri briefly froze, unsure. She could see behind his eyes as he dug into the dark recesses of his brain to remember which side was port and which was starboard. Jonah didn’t hesitate; he stuck his head out the window immediately, cocked it briefly, then returned to his station and snatched the marine radio.
“Unidentified submarine,” said Jonah into the microphone. Alexis heard the call over her systems. “This is the yacht Fool’s Errand. Please state your intentions.”
The radio crackled, but no answer returned. Alexis bounded up the main staircase, just in time to hear Jonah repeat his hail over the emergency frequencies. Hell, it didn’t even matter if the submarine could hear their radio calls or not… the pirates certainly could, and were no doubt already mobilizing to investigate the sudden electronic chatter deep within their territory.
“Who are these people?” she demanded, clad in her cutoffs and tank top and self-consciously smelling of highoctane marine fuel and engine lubricant. “Why are you breaking radio silence?”
“Alexis, I need you back in the engine room.”
“Why?” she retorted.
“Alexis!” shouted Jonah, loud enough that Alexis flinched. “Engine room! Now!”
Without another word, she turned and practically sprinted back down the stairs. She allowed herself a single backwards glance at the bow, where Buzz stood like a mermaid figurehead, his weird soviet SCUBA-gun in hand, leaning far over the railing as if pressing himself over it could somehow allow him further sight. Even with her limited knowledge of firearms, she knew the Russian weapon belonged in a museum, not on the deck of a ship plunging headlong into the most dangerous waters on the planet. At least Buzz looked scary as hell, with his scarredup shaved head and weirdo assault rifle.
Alexis threw herself back in front of her console station, just in time to see a single figure emerge from the top hatch of the submarine. She squinted at first, then realized what she was looking at. The man looked like one of the Anconia Island mercenaries, a welcome sight. An intense wave of relief washed over her as the soldier smiled and saluted the Fool’s Errand.
On the bridge, Dr. Nassiri smiled and waved. Jonah yelled at Buzz to stop pointing his ‘fucking rifle’ at the new arrivals.
Alexis allowed herself a little smile as her tension faded; the cavalry had made quite an entrance. It appeared Dr. Nassiri’s money went further than expected; this was a brilliant show of force. In fact, it probably didn’t even matter that Jonah had broken radio silence. If any pirates showed up, the mounted cannons could open up and it’d be over before it even started.
“Unidentified submarine, we’re happy to see you,” said Jonah over the radio. “Appreciate the escort, we will stop engines and stand by for instructions.”
“Roger, stand by,” confirmed a harsh voice over the radio.
On the bridge monitor, Dr. Nassiri stopped his schoolboy waving, but kept the foolish grin plastered over his face. Alexis brought the engines to full stop, feeling the slight vibration as they spun down to idle.
Over the video feed, a single shaved-head mercenary, rifle slung behind him and armored vest heavy with equipment, removed the stoppers from the barrels and connected the weapon to an unseen ammunition feed in the deck. He swung the quad-gun back and forth towards the horizon, testing the articulation of the impressive weapon.
Alexis froze as the gunner suddenly swiveled around, training the massive quad-barrels on the bow of the Fool’s Errand.
“What the hell—?”
The gunner fired, blinding the security camera with light, noise deafening as the four barrels of the anti-aircraft weapons lit up in succession and laser-like tracer rounds ripped through the unprotected engine room of the Fool’s Errand. Fire blasted apart the thin carbon-fiber skin of the yacht and cut the supporting rib structure to pieces as Alexis held her hands over her ears and screamed. Overhead florescent lighting flickered and died as daylight streamed through the Swiss-cheese hull and deafening ricochets tore through the upper structure of the megayacht. Alexis instinctively hit the deck as a hail of broken glass, splintered fiberglass and red-hot aluminum shrapnel rained down around her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move, her entire adrenaline-compromised perspective a grey, gun-slit view of her own hands as the console behind her exploded in a shower of flames and molten glass. The monitor bank on the console tipped and fell, slamming into the unyielding metal grating with a flash of electrical arcs.
The live feed from the bridge continued to play. Dr. Nassiri curled up in a fetal position soundlessly screaming on the monitor.
Oh great, thought Alexis. I’m going to die watching television.
In slow-motion, Jonah scrambled to his feet, trying to reach a walkie-talkie as a second barrage tore through the bridge.
From the bow feed, Alexis watched as Buzz jumped to his feet, Soviet rifle already shouldered as he stood on the extreme end of the bow, possibly the most exposed position on the entire ship. The submarine crossed their bow, firing as Buzz leaned over the bow railing.