Free Shadow Ops 3: Breach Zone by Myke Cole Page B

Bookbinder’s current intensified with his heightened nerves, and he felt Ripple Drawing her own magic, ready to Suppress him. It was ridiculous. Bookbinder’s magic could spike to the limit, and he would never go nova. His power was a parasite, only working off the magic of others.
    Bonhomme knew better than to turn, and called instead into the radio. ‘Who’s got the stern watch? What’s going on?’
    There was a pause, a brief burst of static. Then, ‘Sir, something big blew up . . . I can’t tell . . . maybe the battery? Big column of smoke. Might be Brooklyn.’
    Bonhomme dropped the radio and pulled another handset down from a bank of them above his head. ‘Sector New York, Sector New York, this is Coast Guard Cutter Breakwater , over.’
    The response was hissing static. He tried again, his voice rising, edged with worry.
    ‘Bosun’ – Bonhomme turned to Rodriguez – ‘nothing on encrypted, can you . . .’
    Rodriguez was already pulling down another handset. It crackled into life before she could depress the button. ‘Coast Guard Cutter Breakwater , Coast Guard Cutter Breakwater , this is New York Naval Militia Patrol Boat 21 . . .’
    ‘Yes! Pete! Hi,’ Bonhomme said, snatching the handset from Rodriguez’s hand. ‘What the hell is going on? We’re seeing smoke. We heard an explosion.’
    The response was staticky, intermittent. ‘. . . talk to Sector?’
    ‘No!’ Bonhomme shouted into the radio. ‘I can’t raise them. What’s going on?’
    ‘. . . lot of folks talking at once right now. What’ve you got on board?’
    ‘For what?’
    ‘Armament.’ Pete’s voice was also rising, breathless.
    Bonhomme turned pale. ‘What the hell are you talking about? I can’t discuss this in the clear on channel 16.’
    ‘Come on!’ Pete yelled back.
    Bonhomme stared at the handset. Bookbinder, despite his seasickness, was already feeling the familiar calm that began to settle over him in a crisis.
    Bonhomme finally swept his arm over the sailors on the bridge and around the crane below it. None carried arms. If there were weapons mounts on the Breakwater , Bookbinder couldn’t see them. ‘We’re a buoy tender, Pete,’ Bonhomme said into the radio. ‘What do you think we’ve got?’
    Silence.
    Then the radio came alive again. ‘Get back to shore. Even law-enforcement gear will help.’
    Bonhomme dropped the radio and turned to Rodriguez. ‘Raise Sector any way you can. Try 21, 23, 83.’
    Rodriguez punched buttons on the radio console while Marks called commands to the helm, and the Breakwater began to come about, rolling harder as the waves took her on the beam.
    ‘Sir,’ Rodriguez said as one of the radios began to repeat a message. ‘All vessels return to base. I say again, all vessels RTB.’ The encrypted radio lit up. ‘Coast Guard Cutter Breakwater , Coast Gu . . .’ Bonhomme snatched up the radio. ‘ Breakwater , Commander Bonhomme.’
    ‘Jeff, it’s MAT4.’
    Bonhomme sighed. ‘What’s up? The radios are going crazy.’
    ‘We need you back here right now. I’ve got gunner running an inventory, but what armaments are you carrying?’
    Bonhomme stared at the radio. ‘Standard law-enforcement complement. Enough for two boarding teams.’
    ‘It’ll have to do. Come on back as quickly as you can.’
    ‘Will you please tell me what’s going on?’
    A pause, then, ‘Manhattan has been . . . invaded. Have your guys ready to go the second you RTB. We’re going to muster at Sector, then head up to the battery. Station’s fleet is already on scene.’
    Bonhomme looked at Bookbinder. ‘Did he say invaded?’
    Bookbinder’s sense of calm deepened. He tried to will some of it into Bonhomme. ‘He did, skipper.’
    ‘What the hell does that mean?’ Bonhomme looked at Marks. The younger man was also pale but continuing to give orders.
    ‘It means we scrub the current mission,’ Bookbinder said, gesturing at the boomer still tied to the crane.