Aiden adjusted his targeting, holding the shot until the Bountiful Harvest hit the top of the swell and sank back down. The rifle barrel followed the boat as it dropped, releasing the dart just prior to hitting the bottom of the swell. The next two darts struck true.
Three down, two to go. The grizzled captain jumped up. Rifle in hand, he staggered across the deck toward the wheelhouse.Aiden took aim, held the shot, then let it go just as a cross wave broke across the railing and knocked the captain off his feet. The dart flew over the gray head. By the time Wolf passed Aiden a fresh rifle, the captain had disappeared inside the wheelhouse. Aiden turned back to the final deckhand, gently squeezing the trigger just before the boat lifted up again.
“Captain’s the only one left standing,” Cosky said through the comm.
Binoculars back up to his eyes, Wolf studied the wheelhouse. One of the windows exploded outward and a rifle barrel appeared. No other sign of thewoohantathough, he was hiding below the glass.
“Fuck.” Aiden growled. “I can’t hit him while he’s in his hidey hole.”
“We could launch a gas grenade through the other window,” O’Neill suggested.
“Do it,” Wolf ordered, without lowering the binoculars.
O’Neill brought two of the grenade cannons forward and handed one to Aiden.
Brrrrooooft.
The boat rolled. Wolf watched the cannister hit the wall below the wheelhouse and dropped to the deck. The gas was colorless, so he couldn’t tell if the cannister had been discharged. But even if it had, the gas wouldn’t reach thewoohantainside the wheelhouse.
“Again,” Wolf said.
“Try to land this one,” O’Neill said as he handed the second cannon over.
“I’ll land it right up your ass if you keep running your mouth.”
Brrrrooooft.
This time, the canister crashed through the window and disappeared inside the wheelhouse.
Wolf continued watching with the binocular. The rifle barrel remained in the window.
“Can you tell if he went down?” someone asked, either Winters or Simcosky; the two former SEALs were hard to tell apart.
“No.” Wolf lowered the binoculars.
“Launch a third canister.” For backup, if the first cannister hadn’t deployed.
Brrrrooooft.
The third and final canister slammed into a monster swell as it broke over the wheelhouse. Sheets of water hit the small cabin and fell to the deck in streaming rivers. The metal canister floated across the deck and under the railing.
“That was the last on,.” O’Neill said.
Wolf grunted. His gaze remained locked on the wheelhouse.
The rifle barrel still bristled through the broken window. It hadn’t moved. It hadn’t fired at them. Three gas canisters had felt like plenty for the open ocean. Next time they would bring more.
Silence fell—the kind of silence throbbing with unacknowledged realities.
“We need to open that hold,” Aiden finally said.
More silence.
O’Neill was the one to break it. “Anyone who boards that boat is risking infection.”
“Boarding is not needed.” Wolf turned the binocular onto the deck and the boat’s refrigerated hold. A large O-ring was fastened to the closed door. The crew must attach a crane cable to the ring when they open the hold. “We can drop a warrior in harness, and he’ll attach a cable to the ring on the hold’s door. If we winch the door up, we can see inside without anyone touching the deck.”
“It’s our safest option, assuming the captain isn’t still awake and ready for some target practice. Whoever goes down therewill be a sitting duck.” O’Neill stared down at the boat, his gaze lingering on the broken window and rifle barrel. “There’s also a chance that O-ring and hold door are crawling with bots.”
