Page 28 of Silent Dust
“Yeah, I’m good. What’s up?” Bear’s voice came through, steady as always.
Hawk paused, the early morning calm hanging in the air. “Flora’s alive, but it’s not just a simple battle anymore. Someone got to her—drugged her again with more Silent Dust. She’s hanging in there, but it’s serious.”
“What? What the hell did she get mixed up in?”
Hawk quickly filled him in on the timeline from the night before, explaining how Maria had stepped in to save Flora.
Silence hung heavy on the line, and Hawk could feel Bear’s frustration and anger coming through.
“They put Flora in a medically induced coma to help her recover,” Hawk said, trying to keep his tone steady. “She’s in isolation in the ICU for her safety. Ghost is in the room with her, and Red and Zulu are trading shifts guarding the door. We might have Hank bring in some backup.”
“God damn it!!” Bear exploded, his voice a raw mix of anger and helplessness. Hawk could almost picture Bear’s fists clenched tight on the other end of the line.
“You promised you’d protect her! What the hell are you doing?” Bear demanded, his voice rising. “You need to catch this son of a bitch!”
Hawk could hear Bear pacing around whatever cramped space he was in on the ship. He knew he had to rein him in before his anger spiraled out of control. Drawing on his days as a Captain, he spoke sharply into the phone, “Lieutenant!” His authoritative tone sliced through Bear’s fury, grabbing his attention.
Hawk listened as Bear took a few deep breaths, waiting for him to regain his composure.
“Sorry, Sir! Damn it, Hawk. I… I need to be home!” The frustration in Bear’s voice was obvious, a mix of anger and helplessness that Hawk totally understood.
“Please take care of her for me and catch this guy. We’re leaving in the next hour to hopefully finish this mission. As soon as it’s done, I’m on the first plane home.”
Hawk could feel the weight of Bear’s responsibility pressing down on him from miles away. “I promise, Bear,” he said, his voice firm and reassuring. “We’ll take good care of Flora and thekids. You focus on your mission. Just keep your head on straight and stay safe out there.”
The silence on the other end was heavy, but Hawk knew Bear was processing everything. “I read you,” Bear finally replied, his voice steadier now, though still laced with concern.
“I know,” Hawk said, empathy woven into his words. “But you’re a damn good leader, and your team needs you right now. We’ll handle things here. Just get the job done and come back.”
“Thanks, Hawk. ‘preciate it,” Bear replied, a hint of gratitude breaking through the tension.
“Anytime, brother. We have your six,” Hawk assured him, feeling a renewed sense of determination. “Now, you go kick some terrorist ass.”
14 - BEAR
As the RIBglided silently alongside the cargo ship, Bear’s fingers snapped into a sequence, sharp and deliberate. Each movement was mirrored instantly by the others: a subtle curl of a finger, a quick tap against a knuckle, the flick of a wrist. Years of ops had carved their silent choreography into muscle memory. The night air bit at their skin, the salty breath of the sea thick in their lungs. The engine's low drone and water’s soft slap swallowed their approach whole. Above, the moon outlined their target in silver, casting long shadows as they readied to move.
Bear slipped over the side of the RIB. Link and Nova stayed behind, monitoring the radio and providing overwatch, their gaze sweeping the dark horizon. Two miles away, the carrier waited on standby for their call. The cold water shocked Bear briefly, an icy jolt against his skin, as he broke the surface. The salty taste lingered on his lips. He looked back to see Moose following close behind, a dark silhouette cutting through the water like a whisper.
Blast and Dog moved with them, disappearing into the water’s depths, their wetsuits blending seamlessly into the darkness. The cargo ship loomed above, massive and foreboding, its hull a steel fortress cloaked in shadows. Bearmotioned for the team to swim low, bodies nearly submerged to avoid detection. The ocean's gentle chatter was a constant reminder of their delicate position, but adrenaline coursing through him pushed aside any flicker of fear.
He scanned the hull, faintly barnacled and slick with algae, gleaming softly in the moonlight. This ship was stubborn, unyielding against the churning water. Bear felt the weight of the explosives strapped to his back, the small devices Blast designed specifically for stealth, carefully tested and rechecked. Blast had spent three hours perfecting these—targeted, reliable, built to disable without a cataclysmic explosion that might attract attention.
Reaching the ship’s side, Bear paused, taking a moment to scan the deck above him. His eyes adjusted to the low glow from a single overhead lamp, casting faint yellow pools across the peeling paint and rust-streaked containers. Shadows flickered subtly in the dim light, telltale signs of movement or guard patrols, although right now the deck was eerily quiet. A distant hum of machinery and the faint clang of metal echoed through the darkness, but no telltale footsteps or voices reached his ears.
The turbulent waves pressed against him relentlessly, pushing his body against the hull. With each stroke his taut muscles fought both the water’s resistance and the weight of his gear. The salty tang of the sea stung his nose and drifted into his throat with every breath, the brine filling his mouth as his gaze drifted upward, alert for any sign of guards.
His ears strained to catch the faintest sound; he heard nothing but the constant whisper of water lapping against metal and the drone of the engines. He exhaled slowly, steadying his breath, then signaled to Moose and Blast that they’d breach at the stern. Bear’s body moved low in the water, eyes still alert to the deck above for movement or threat.
With a swift, easy motion, Bear reached up, found a sturdy handhold and pulled himself onto the deck, muscles tight from the effort. Moose and Blast followed close behind. As they rose, they removed their fins and slipped them into low-profile, water-resistant pouches secured to their belts. These packs were designed for quick storage, easy to hide among crates or in shadowed corners, so they could retrieve them swiftly when it was time to leave.
Closer to their bodies, each man kept his K-Bar secured in a discreet sheath attached to his gear, ready for close combat if needed. They hid their equipment in a shadowed crevice, among stacked crates, ensuring everything was ready for that final quick retrieval when it was time to debark.
The cold metal plates pressed beneath their boots. The air hung thick with the scents of oil and rust, mingling with the faint, distant hum of machinery. Shadows stretched long between stacked containers, where pale beams of light flickered and danced. Bear glanced at Blast, who moved purposefully beside him, while Moose took position a few feet away near the stern rail. Their aim was clear — precise, silent demolition of the ship’s critical points.
Below deck, Dog and Warden slipped through narrow corridors and storage bays, their flashlights dimmed to avoid detection. Their mission was to verify the presence of the chemicals hidden somewhere in the maze of cargo containers. Quiet footsteps echoed softly beneath the metal floor plates as they searched, their eyes sharp for any sign of the hazardous materials.
Blast, ever meticulous, had spent three hours designing the charges. He’d reviewed each placement with Bear and Moose, emphasizing the importance of precision—targeting critical systems to maximize damage with minimal detection risk.These charges weren’t just bombs; they were tools of surgical destruction, made for stealth.
