Chapter Seven
On approach to the Sirine Queen...
"Hmm. Curious..." - the squad's comm specialist, a British-accented, wiry man, frowned over his field comm unit's screen, his eyes narrowing behind the holes in his balaclava. The somewhat bulky armour suit he was wearing, did little to obscure his thin, almost gaunt frame.
"Problem?" - Zelazny leaned over, keeping one eye on the ship looming closer through the rain ahead, as their catamaran silently sidled up to the larger vessel's flank.
The squad, under full armour and geared up, was about to board the cruise ship clandestinely through the anchor wells, using magnetic climbing gear, while another team, the ostensible 'contraband inspectors', currently arriving via a Coast Guard patrol boat some distance beyond, would be the ones to meet the captain on the top deck and sell the illusion, performing their inspection and keeping the crew's attention on them.
The Inter-Guarda vessel was running in full stealth mode, completely invisible to the cruise ship's radar, and given heavy rain and limited visibility, not to mention the fact it was the middle of the night, would make it very unlikely that anyone on the Queen would even suspect there was another ship nearby.
Originally, the plan was to simply announce themselves as an 'anti-terrorist team', once the sabotage was underway, but since there had been no reports from their contacts aboard, and no sign of any sabotage attempts – Zelazny opted for a more covert approach.
"Unclear, sir... for a moment, I thought I picked up an unknown carrier wave, trying to latch onto our encrypted frequency. Possibly an outside attempt to listen-in... I'm going to scramble the codes, just in case." - the man murmured, fingers flying over the unit's keyboard.
"You're sure it's not legit? Have we been detected?" - Zelazny was suspicious. The man nodded.
"Positive. It's not on any of the standard maritime frequencies. Looks like it's being run through a recursive filter, trying to mask itself as random interference from the storm... but the pattern is too regular. Best guess, a black-hat signal. And it's on shortwave... so it has to be someone on the ship." - the man glanced up.
"Locked out. We're secure. But someone could well be expecting us." - significantly.
Zelazny nodded.
"Send out the Seekers. Passive-scan only, silent running low-power mode, have them look for any aug-grade EM signatures. Let's get an idea where the primary target is, as well as any potential secondaries. Rest of you, standby for deployment as soon as the Coast Guard vessel docks. We'll take full advantage of the diversion.
"Sir, having them on low-power mode, will limit their scan radius and speed. Might take a while for them to find anything. Especially set to passive-scan only." - the squad's tech scowled.
"I'm aware of that. But full-power mode will light 'em up like a Xmas Tree on any milspec ultrasonics. I'd like to not give Fedorova advance warning that someone's coming, if possible. Do it!" - Zelazny countered.
Meanwhile, back on the ship...
"36.1 gigahertz... has to be some kind of Infolink trasmission. Wait- I just got cut off. Whoever it is, they've detected my attempt to freq-lock." - Jamella murmured, squinting at her laptop. A few minutes ago, she began picking up this strange... echo... on her freq-locking hardware. But despite her best efforts, she couldn't lock on to it. The pattern of firewalls suggested a sentient effort on the other end, to deny her access.
On TV, the movie was still going on, muted, while Irwine scowled at the radar readout still transmitting to his PDA.
"Something just came into radar range... coming from what I'd guess is Puerto Rican coastline. Lemme check the comm chatter..." - he added, dialing in the same number Jamella gave him before, linking into the ship's outgoing comms.
A tinny gabble of Spanish voices sounded out on speaker. As best as the three could understand, the ship was being stopped by a contraband inspection team, now inbound aboard a Coast Guard vessel.
"Is the signal embedded in it?" - Yelena whispered. Jamella shook her head, not even glancing up.
"No. Standard maritime frequency. What I picked up was different." - frowning, as her fingers flew over the laptop.
"I don't buy it. A contraband inspection team in the middle of the night out at sea, and not in port? In a storm, no less? Plus as far as I remember the regs, they don't just pull a surprise act like this. It's all scheduled and announced in advance. Something fishy's going on."- Irwine growled.
Yelena nodded, gliding over to the wardrobe and quickly getting dressed.
"I will take a closer look, on who exactly is in this 'inspection team' when they board. Maybe it really is unrelated... but that signal you picked up suggests differently. Jamella, stay here and be ready to trigger the jammers. But NOT until I give the order. Irw, brief our three new friends, and get them ready to run interference if we need them to." - she instructed.
"Right. But they don't get their guns back. I don't trust 'em. Period." - the man was decisive, getting up himself.
The cyborg woman looked ready to argue the point, but the look in Irwine's eyes was telling. She sighed.
"I don't – trust – them either, Irw. But if this is a strike team, we'll need extra gun hands to divide their attention. And they can hardly draw any attention unarmed! Even armed, I don't expect them to be very effective."
"Yeah well, I'll be sure to tell 'em to get creative. I mean it, Yelena. I'm not arming three Cartel thugs, and trust them not to shoot us in the back if they get a chance, deciding to switch sides. Besides, you know we need extra firepower ourselves – we didn't account for anything like this happening. End of story." - he growled, pulling out the two handguns, a Zenith and a Diamondback, and another Buzzkill stun gun – the weapons they confiscated from the three men.
The cyborg woman grimaced, but couldn't argue with that. They were severely under-armed for what might be coming. Even with the confiscated weapons, it still wouldn't be enough, if it came to a proper firefight... but one had to work with what one had.
"Good point. Give me the Zenith." - Yelena reached out to the pistol, preferring it's rapid-fire controllability over the revolver's stopping power, but Jamella stopped her.
"I'd like the Zenith, if you don't mind... I've trained the most with it, and I don't wanna be stuck here with a zapper, if anyone drops in on me in the cabin. Plus you know as well as I do that these stun-gun things don't always work too well on heavily augmented people.
Yelena raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise, as she took one of the Diamondbacks, instead. This was a far cry from the Jamella less then an hour ago, being a nervous wreck. Just one reason out of many, why she had grown to like the young hacker so much. Despite her occassional – softness – Jamella definitely had it in her to act steady under pressure. She nodded.
"Let's hope you do not have to use it. But if you do – do NOT hesitate." - she paused there, letting the point sink in, as the girl nodded solemnly.
"Stay on the Link at all times, and also let me know of any trace attempts. We can use our own signal as bait, the same way your trace attempt was blocked. Let's see if anyone tries to lock-in on ours..."
Jamella winked.
"Good call. Maybe I can backtrace it to the source."
"No AP rounds... just basic softpoints here. This won't be getting through any armour. And I think these ten-mils are those underloaded civilian-grade peashooter loads that make a .40S/W blush. All about expansion over penetration. Problem is, we won't be dealing with soft targets here, most likely. Fuck... I'd take a solid +P nine-mil over these, any day. I'm glad I got my own piece with me." - Irwine growled.
He popped out the mag from one of the Zeniths, and checked the markings on the ammo, with a derisive expression, before he popped it back in, and handed the weapon to Jamella.
"Uhh... what does that mean?" - she asked, blinking in confusion.
"It means that if you have to use that, mind the shot placement, or you will be ineffective, if any armour is involved. Head or neck should be your targets. Remember what we practiced... do not tense up. It applies equally to a firefight, not just a close-quarters encounter. And don't pull the trigger, gently squeeze it." - Yelena instructed the girl, getting a slightly shaky nod in return.
The cyborg woman then checked the ammo in her Diamondback. Her grimace spoke volumes. It wasn't even loaded with .357mag, but the .38special rounds. Softpoints, from the looks of them. But – in Antigua in particular, commercial sale of firearms and ammunition over a certain powder load, was strictly regulated, and this was probably all that those thugs had access to, without direct Cartel supply.
Oh joy. If I'm lucky, it might not glance off a relatively thick skull, or get stopped by thick clothing. Alright – new priority. Secure an effective weapon.
She thought, wishing for her pair of modified TMP's, and their +P ammunition, that she had stored back at their place, along with her thermoptic suit. But like she told Jamella a day ago – they had to work with what they had. And battles were rarely won or lost, through firepower alone. A lesson she learned several times, during her years as a Tyrant operative.
The Inter-Guarda squad divided into three teams of three, with Zelazny heading the first team, while the fourth triad remained on the ship, as backup and support. Of the twelve, five were fully mil-specced augmented operatives, Zelazny included. He was the only one with an "S" classification, for 'supersoldier', meaning a fully integrated augmentation suite. The other four were "E" 's, for 'enhanced troops', utilising a number of enhancements, but without a unified power grid, or full system integration, similar to Tyrant Sneakers. The remaining members were either minimally augmented, or naturals.
The political and societal fallout in the past couple of years, regarding human enhancement, had taken it's toll among even the private security corporations. Military augmentation was being increasingly regulated, and even the Illuminati-sponsored outfits had been affected by the new laws. One of the downsides of trying to manage global opinion... one had to maintain at least a pretence of following their own laws.
"Teams two and three, begin a grid search of the lower decks. Stay on-line with the Seekers, and use any localised EM signatures they picked up as a starting point. Remember, we're after an S-grade asset. Do not alert any civvies, unless engaged. Team one, let's start from the top. Upper deck, the lounges, the walkways... work our way down. Same game plan." - he issued the orders, ignoring the near-constant downpour of heavy rain flowing down his face, his NRG rifle held at the ready.
He tried to get a readout through his onboard radar... but aside from a myriad of contacts behind bulkheads – he assumed they were mostly sleeping passengers – it was difficult to isolate specific contacts. With so many people aboard, this could get... problematic.
Too crowded... and if any firefights start, we'll have civvies stampeding all over the place and getting in the way... Probably collaterals... shit. Let's hope we catch 'em sleeping, take 'em out, get off this boat, and call it a night. But the good Lord knows that wishful thinking and reality don't usually vibe.
The large man thought, somewhat self-recriminatorily... remembering the many ops he was either a part, or in charge of, that ended up much bloodier then initially planned for. Especially when it came to civilian collaterals. He fervently hoped this wouldn't turn out to be one of them.
Of the squad, himself and Vande were the only ones equipped with plasma rifles. There were no laser weapons to be seen, courtesy of the bad weather, and the lasers' notorious lack of effectiveness in refractive-heavy environments like rain. Not to mention, their refractive nature made them less-then-ideal against any kind of metallic or parametallic armour. Plasma had no such downsides... but the cost was prohibitive. The rest of the troops were equipped with a mix of Sanctions and TMPs, with one heavy, sporting a powerful Linebacker grenade launcher.
~"Team two here, we've got an EM spike. Deck D, rear section. Near the engine room. We're sending our Seeker to confirm."~ - a report sounded from the second fire team, sounding a bit tinny across Zelazny's Infolink.
~"Go to EM imaging. Check your surroundings and don't enter the engine room until we get there. We're on our way."~ - he instructed promptly, as he nodded at Vande, to follow him down the stairwell. At the same time, he engaged his Smart-Vision enhancement, determined not to get caught off-guard.
~"Contact made. Deck D, engine room. Three of 'em, and what looks like a recon drone. They're following our bait's EM signature. No idea how many more, and I doubt any of these three is the guy in charge."~ - Irwine's subvocal tone came, on an encrypted channel to Yelena.
~"Good. Continue to observe, do not engage. I want to know exactly how many are we dealing with. So far no contact up here near the conning tower. Aside from the inspection team, now interacting with the night-shift crew. Plenty of raised voices... the captain is none-too-happy with this unscheduled inspection, it looks like."~ - the cyborg woman's reply was prompt.
~"You sure they can't pick up your EM footprint up there?"~
~"I'm sure. If this is their diversionary team, meant to occupy the crew, they will stay as far away from it as possible. Which makes this position the safest one on the ship for me, until we trigger the jammers. Keep me updated."~ - Yelena replied, closing the channel, before she opened one to Jamella.
~"Status?"~
~"They're on the waves. Active Infolink transmissions all over the place. Encrypted through Echelon III protocols. Dead giveaway. I'm about five minutes away from getting into their channel. Amateurs."~ - the girl's subvocalised reply carried a note of professional disdain.
But Yelena bit her lip, as she hopped lightly at the very top of the conning tower, in a balanced, 4 metre leap, where she cloaked, and took a look around, her attention no longer solely on the exchange going below. The raindrops lightly sparkling off of her cloaking field, her top and slacks soaking wet. She seemed not to even notice. She herself could certainly sense the Infolink activity. And if she could do so... they could as well.
Peering hard through the storm, she tried to spot anything out at sea. But the visibility was near-nonexistent, even for her zoomed-in vision.
Still. She'd seen the pattern before. When the operational procedure had passed the point of comms blackout, and entered 'search and eliminate' phase. And if they were following standard Tyrant protocols... or anything even remotely similar...
~"No. It means the gloves are coming off."~ - she rebutted, sharply, ~"Comms silence from now on, and pass it along. Do not give them any means of triangulating us via backtrace. And kill your attempts to penetrate their channel. It could be a deliberate bait, to track the source. And..."~ - she paused briefly, making a decision, purely on intuition...
~"Activate the jammers. Now."~ - before she closed the link.
Possibly premature. Possibly she was jumping the gun... the thought crossed the aquiline woman's mind. But her long experience taught her, that taking the initiative away from the enemy, was one of the primary goals in a tactical engagement. Especially when fighting from a disadvantaged position. They were coordinating, and she preferred her enemies not to be able to coordinate. It was time to deprive them of the ability to do so. And possibly... make them overreact in the process.
The effect wasn't long in coming.
"We've lost Seeker telemetry! I can't get anyone on comms... verdomme! We need to find cover!" - Vande growled, looking around the hallway they were in, almost as if expecting to see someone jump them, her NRG plasma rifle weaving around. Unlike her late sister Raye, Ena Vande lacked the steely grace under fire, being much less experienced and much more excitable and emotional.
"Focus, sargeant! And keep it down... we don't need civvies waking up and getting underfoot!" - Zelazny snapped, grabbing her firmly by the bicep for a brief moment, before he let go. Then he frowned... "It's some kind of localised jamming field... also scrambles my radar readout. There's nothing on this ship that can do that normally, so my guess is Fedorova and her associates set up a little welcome for us." - his tone hard, but under control.
"How the hell would they have known to prepare?! I don't get-" - the Dutch woman snarled under her breath, but he cut her off.
"Same reason why our Cartel informants aboard haven't been reporting-in for the past day and a half. They've been made! Fuck... I told Rand that relying on thugs to conduct surveillance is a mistake. And subcontracting it to that Cartel sellout... whatever. What's done is done! We've lost comms, but so did they. And this little stunt probably got the ship's comm officer jumping out of his seat... we'll have a mess on our hands soon. Let's hope our diversionary team can spin 'em a good story... in the meantime, we need to find everyone and regroup back at the boat. Figure out our next move." - just as he said that, the doors nearby suddenly slid open, and a bleary-eyed middle-aged man dressed in pajamas stepped out, clearly woken up by the raised voices outside his cabin.
"What's go-" - he started, rubbing his eyes, but his words died down stuck as he caught sight of the two heavily armed and armoured, masked people outside, inhaling sharply. The male one in particular, was huge, and bristling with cybernetics. But it was the woman who addressed him.
"Return to your quarters! Anti-terrorist operation is in progress." - Vande intoned sharply, her weapon vaguely pointing in the man's direction.
The poor passenger didn't need to be told twice, as he nodded, face paling at the sight of the weapon, stumbling backwards into his room, and locking the door.
"Good job. But that's just the start of it. Fall back to the boat, we need to reconfigure." - Zelazny growled.
Skulking around the corner down on Deck D, Irwine observed the trio suddenly backtracking the way they came, out of the engine room and up the stairwell. He gave them a five-count, before he followed, silently, motioning behind him...
"Right... looks like they're spooked by the jamming. You, stay here and keep an eye if any more of them show up. Don't get seen. You, get up to the conning tower and bring my lady friend up to speed. Don't worry about finding her, she'll see you first." - he whispered to the trio of thugs next to him.
"You, stick close. I want to see where those three are going." - he added, motioning forward.
The three thugs did a good job being the EM bait, one of them using a PDA that Jamella modified, to simulate a cybernetic signature, which he hid inside the engine room, before slipping out. And the ex-Marine had to give them credit... when properly commanded, they did a decent job doing what he needed them to do.
Then again, the looks of fear on their faces when they first saw the masked Inter-Guarda troops, probably had something to do with it.
"Yeah, goes without saying... I don't wanna tangle with those freaks 'less I have to." - the mohawk-haired one muttered, the one sticking with him, then glared briefly at Irwine's back.
"Not without guns anyway... you gonna give me my piece back sometime soon?! I-" - before Irwine cut him off.
"You'll get it if you need it. You don't need it right now, and I don't need you gettin' trigger happy. And don't think that peashooter of yours would do you any good against body armour anyway. Now let's move." - with a 'drop it' glare.
As the thug grumbled under his breath, Irwine's face darkened slightly, remembering the letter from Saxon, that Yelena showed him four days ago. Those markings...
Inter-Guarda... no way. Can't be a coincidence! I really need to see who's in charge of this squad. And hope to hell my hunch is wrong...
From her vantage point atop of the conning tower, Yelena had a birds' eye view of the sudden and entirely unexpected massacre, down below. Truth be told... this wasn't what she had in mind, when she thought about their unknown 'guests' overreacting... but it was telling.
The ship's captain, and the entire night-shift crew, eight of them, was dead, as the 'inspection team' suddenly produced silenced weapons, and opened fire, quickly clearing out and taking over the tower, and gaining control of the ship. She hopped silently down to the accessway and flattened next to the bulkhead, to listen-in, any sound she might make fully covered by the raging thunder, still under cloak. She could overhear them frantically trying to contact 'control' , and snarling at each-other on the source of the 'jamming'. In the distance out at sea near the Queen's bow, she could see the patrol ship that brought them, edging away from the cruise vessel. Clearly hoping to put some distance between them.
Jumpy... very jumpy! I wonder what you thought was going to happen... ?
The woman frowned in surprise. In her experience, only the rank amateurs ever lost their nerve like this... but she wasn't going to pass up on the opportunity. Nor did she feel any compunctions on what she was about to do. Their conduct towards the crew was proof enough that they operated on a 'no loose ends' basis. Or were just scared shitless and overreacted. That made her lip twist in contempt.
Fear is never an excuse.
Taking a quick look inside, she counted five of them. Two armed with TMP's, the other three with Zeniths. All silenced. The leader of the team was unarmoured, dressed in a waterproof raincoat, the rest were clad in Puerto Rican Coast Guard light plating. None of them paying the slightest bit of attention back at the bridge entrance, as they all busied themselves with the ship's comms equipment, trying to find a clear channel.
Not able to help herself, Yelena bit her lip in eager anticipation, as her HUD overlay came alive with projections of distances and timing calculations.
Softly drawing her twin blades, she slipped inside. Quickly and cleanly, she dispatched the rear-most one, without him letting out a sound. Then another. Only as that woman's body hit the deck, did the rest of them even wake up to the fact someone else was there.
It didn't make any difference. Caught off guard, and not equipped to see through Yelena's cloak, they were trapped with her on the bridge, like hens in a henhouse, with the fox sneaking in.
In five seconds, it was all over, as the tall cybernetic figure decloaked in the midst of five crumpled bodies, blood mixing with rainwater on the deck. Face and hair slick with rain, her clothes entirely soaked, the top clinging to her hard, shapely torso, tightly enough to accentuate the curves of her breasts, Yelena's face was a mirror of intense focus, as she leaned down to collect the pair of TMPs, and a pair of spare mags for each.
She almost smiled, quickly double-checking the weapons, before she slipped out into the rain once more, disappearing in a mirror-like cloaking effect.
The more things change – the more they stay the same. Time to hunt!