Page 29 of Silent Dust
Moose moved furtively along the deck, low and cautious, already nearing the first cargo container. Meanwhile, Bear’s gloved hand slid inside the slim, sewn-in interior pocket of his wetsuit, designed specifically for covert operations. He carefully extracted a small explosive device, its compact frame cold and smooth in his grip. His mind flickered back to Blast’s instructions—exact spots, angles, and placement points drilled into his memory to ensure maximum damage with minimal risk of detection.
Bear’s gear was tailored for the mission’s demands. The neoprene of his wetsuit was reinforced with low-profile, airtight pockets, each sewn seamlessly into the interior and secured by discreet magnetic flaps that opened silently. His other hand traced the strap of a lightweight harness strapped close to his chest, fitted with hidden pouches containing tools, spare charges, and other essentials—each designed for silent release and rapid access. The harness molded close to his body, minimizing noise and bulk as he moved.
Every second counted. The shadows around him stretched longer, thickening the darkness as Bear navigated the deck with deliberate, measured movements. His gear, combined with years of training, let him work swiftly and silently, each calculated action executed to avoid detection and complete the task before the night shifted against them.
“Stay quiet and quick,” Bear whispered, pressing the adhesive against the cold, metal surface. Trust in Blast’s expertise drove him. Moose was already positioning the next charge nearby, eyes sharp.
Below, Dog and Warden moved through the maze of containers, navigating the shadowy underside of the ship insilence. Their mission was to verify the presence of the chemicals—an essential piece of the puzzle.
Back on the RIB, Link kept a steady watch, radio whispering softly: “Everything’s clear. No movement yet.” Nova stood near him, scanning the distant water and sky for patrol vessels or aircraft—anything that might jeopardize the operation.
On deck, Bear finished securing the first charge, his heart pounding but his grip firm. He communicated silently with Moose and Blast, trusting their coordinated movements. The tension perched heavily in the air; each second mattered.
“Good. Keep an eye out. Once Warden and Dog confirm the chemicals are here, we finish,” Bear murmured.
Time stretched as they set the charges, shifting from one container to another. Every click, every adhesive strip, felt fraught with the weight of thousands of lives in their hands. Blast’s carefully planned layout provided a sense of assurance amid the mounting tension.
Warden’s voice crackled quietly over comms: “Package confirmed.”
Bear acknowledged with a brief tone.
“Execution phase—now,” he relayed back, voice low.
Nova kept a keen eye on the water, rifle at the ready. “All clear,” she reported calmly, though her eyes flicked nervously toward the approaching perimeter. The team knew their window was closing quickly—seconds could mean the difference between success and exposure.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from a nearby corridor, loud and abrupt, slicing through the quiet. Bear’s heart jumped. Instinct took over as he signaled for everyone to freeze. Tense silence stretched out, punctuated only by the distant murmur of guards making their rounds.
Flashlights swung past, their beams sweeping the deck, peeking into the shadows. Bear held his breath, body frozenagainst a large metal drum. Moose and Blast darted behind a stack of cargo, pressing into cover. After what felt like eternal seconds, the guards passed by, their footsteps fading into the distance.
Bear exhaled slowly, signaling the team to resume. Their focus returned to the task: completing the placement of charges before detection was unavoidable.
Once the last explosive was secured, the team regrouped near the ship’s side. Bear nodded to Moose and Warden, silently confirming they were ready. They moved swiftly, slipping into the water, the coolness rushing over them as they swam back toward the RIB. The dark silhouette of the cargo ship faded behind them, the distant glow of the moon shimmering on the water.
The moment they reached the boat, Moose roared the engine to life. The RIB cut through the waves—faster now, the urgency building in each engine sputter and splash. Bear’s eyes remained fixed on the ship’s receding outline, mind racing ahead to the detonation.
Bear pulled out a waterproof tablet, its faint glow illuminating the small screen. Coordinates, timing—everything checked and double-checked. Moose was at the controls, the engine humming steadily.
“Set the timer,” Bear shouted over the roar of the boat engines, glancing at Blast.
Blast’s fingers moved swiftly over his own rugged tablet. Seconds later, a digital countdown flickered on both screens, synchronized perfectly. Blast double-checked the display, ensuring the timer was accurate.
“Confirmed,” Blast said softly, eyes fixed on his device. The tension in the air intensified as they prepared for the final step.
“Ten seconds,” Bear announced, steady and clear. Nova scanned the horizon once more, vigilant. “Keep an eye out. We don’t want any surprises.”
The seconds ticked down—each one feeling heavier than the last. Bear’s heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears. His hands clenched the tablet as he prepared for what was to come.
“Five… four… three… two… one… detonate!” His finger pressed the button.
The explosion followed immediately—a deafening blast that lit up the night, flames erupting skyward, debris scattering like fireworks gone wrong. The cargo ship shook violently, her hull splitting apart, containers bursting open and spilling into the sea in a chaotic, fiery deluge.
“Direct hit!” Moose exclaimed, a grin breaking across his face despite the seriousness of the moment. Without missing a beat, he threw in a mock victory dance—a quick shimmy and a finger point to the sky—before settling back into his seat, eyes still wide with adrenaline. The team watched as the explosion consumed the vessel—proof that their mission had succeeded.
Nova rolled her eyes but grinned. “Nice moves, Moose. Maybe save the victory dance for later,” she teased, “Keep your feet on the deck until we get to the carrier.”
But danger was far from over. Bear’s eyes swept the surrounding waters. “We need to move—quick!” he ordered.
Moose pushed the throttle to maximum, racing the RIB away from the chaos. Behind them, the water churned, the heat and shockwave still vibrating in the air. Sensors on their vessels would alert the carrier group soon enough.
