“What’s wrong?” Layla asked.
Les swallowed hard, unable to form a response.
Skeletons. Dozens of skeletons, all of them cut into pieces like butchered animals. Guns, some sliced in two, lay next to their former owners. Burn marks crisscrossed the overhead and walls.
A battle had happened here, and from the looks of it, the losses were one-sided.
Could this be Dr. Diaz and his team?
“What do you see?” Layla asked, trying to move past him.
He moved ahead to let her in. They had to go through the mass grave to get to the operations center. She took in the scene of carnage better than he had expected. Keeping her voice low, she said, “Lasers.”
Les held his breath as he passed through the slaughterhouse, as if he were trying to keep out the scent of rot, even though little was left but skeletons and tattered suits.
He halted at another door, also broken off its hinges. Layla went first, and he followed her into the room, where dozens of monitors lined the walls. All the chairs and desks were gone, used in the barricade in the hall they had just left behind.
“I’ll try to bring on backup power,” Layla said.
Les nodded and stood at the doorway, trying his best not to look at the bones strewn about. The bodies had been sliced in almost perfect lines. But the more the thought about it, the less shocked he was at the display of firepower. After all, this was nothing compared to the power of a nuclear weapon.
The real question now was, who were the defectors?
“I’m in,” Layla said a few minutes later. “I think I can tap into a battery and get your uplink working topside.”
Les moved to watch her work. She had a single screen online, its glow covering them in an eerie blue. Tapping the monitor, she said, “Bringing on battery backup in, three, two, one…”
The lights suddenly flickered and lit up the room. He turned to look at the hallway. Brown streaks painted the walls—blood and gore of those who had perished here.
“Okay, let’s see if this works,” Layla said. “Go ahead and try the uplink.”
Les raised his wrist computer, which was still synced with the satellite on the rooftop. With a cord, he patched the computer to the screen, and Layla did the rest.
“Command, this is Raptor Two,” she said. “Do you copy?”
White noise broke over the channel, and then a voice. “Copy you, Raptor Two, this is Ensign White. It’s great to hear your voice.”
Les checked his first impulse, and instead of whooping with joy, he drew in a long breath of relief through his nostrils.
“Same here, Ensign White,” Layla replied.
“Captain DaVita is currently not on the bridge, but I’ll connect you, Raptor Two.”
Les checked his magazine while they waited—a nervous tick, since he had yet to fire his weapon. He ejected it, then palmed it back in with a click.
“Raptor Two, this is Captain DaVita,” she panted. “Is everyone okay down there?”
“Les and I are fine, but Erin and Michael were both injured on the dive.”
“How bad?”
“They’ll be okay, but as you probably know, we’re stranded here by the storm.”
“I know,” she said. “I’m working on figuring a way to get you all home. In the meantime, have you been able to search the facility and docks?”
“Yes,” Les replied. “I think I found what you sent us here for. It’s a military vessel. Looks like some sort of stealth boat, but I don’t know if we can make it run. Commander Everhart ordered us to contact you first.”
“A stealth boat,” Katrina said. A brief pause of white noise sounded. “Your mission is to get that ship working.”
Layla and Les exchanged a glance, but before either of them could reply, a distant screech like rusty hinges echoed through the room. They both turned to look into the corridor.
“What the bloody hell was that!” she whispered.
Les shook his head. “I have—”
The sound came again, like an axle that needed greasing, followed by an electronic wail that reminded him vaguely of a bird. His first thought was Sirens.
“Layla, Les, do you copy?” Katrina asked.
“We’re here,” Les said. “But I think something else is, too…”
The birdlike screech continued, growing louder.
Les flicked the safety off his rifle and brought it up to his shoulder. He stepped out into the hallway, careful not to crunch any broken glass.
He pivoted right, training his rifle on the elevator shaft at the other end of the passage, well past the ghastly remains strewn about.
Several recessed lights in the ceiling flickered, still working after all these years, but long sections of hallway were still in shadow.
He took another step, his boot crunching a shard of glass.
A screech rose from the open elevator shaft, and a sudden orange glow lit the inside where the doors had been pulled back. Looking closer, he saw claw marks in the metal wall and the frame.
Les pulled his hand off the stock of the carbine, holding the gun in one hand and signaling Layla with the other.
She didn’t need verbal orders. She knew that it was time to run.
FIFTEEN
Sheets of rain pummeled the Sea Wolf in choppy waters. X aimed the speargun at the top of the mainmast, waiting for the right moment to fire.
“Get ready, Mags!” he yelled.
She moved into position next to the mainmast. They had brought the sails up from the lower deck and fastened them to the mainmast and mizzenmast.
The next step was to try to straighten the kinked mainmast without snapping it at the top. If that happened, they were dead in the water.
With nothing but the rudders to orient them, the vessel was already at the mercy of the waves, and it was really starting to make X cranky.
He kicked away a bloody shark fin that came skidding across the slick deck, then planted his boots firmly, careful not to slip in the sticky blood pooled near the stern, where he had butchered the carcass before dumping most of it overboard.
The vessel briefly leveled out, and he seized the moment to squeeze the trigger.
The tip penetrated the hollow mast and broke through the other side. The line from the spear tautened, and the winch engaged. He grabbed the wheel handle and began to crank it manually.
The line could handle up to a ton of resistance, perhaps a bit more. After all, it had dragged a giant shark through the water back at the Turks and Caicos Islands.
Looking up, he watched the mast begin to bend back into place.
“Pepper, do you copy?” Sweat stung his eyes.
“Copy you, sir.”
“Make sure we’ve got our back to the wind,” X ordered. He squinted as if that would help him see through the water running down his visor. Across the deck, near the stern, stood Magnolia.
He felt a slight change in course under his boots as the AI worked the rudders. The Sea Wolf cut through the water as he continued cranking the winch.
“Okay, let’s go!” X shouted.
Magnolia grabbed a halyard and began pulling back on it, lifting the mainsail up the newly straightened mast. Once it was most of the way up, she transferred to the winch. She wrapped a rope three times around the drum and then began cranking the winch manually.
“Careful, Mags!” X yelled.
The wind had picked up over the past half hour, and too much added pull could break the mast. He checked the top again before cranking it tighter. The mast was almost straight now.
X moved over to help Magnolia with the winch. She kept cranking and shook her head at him.