Chapter 56 Xen
Royce’s gaze lifted from his private thoughts. “Go is authorized,” he said.
“How do you know?” Xen asked—then saw Royce’s faraway look, lips moving slightly. He was speaking with Omara. “Is Sirena still safe?”
“She’s an agent,” Royce said curtly, then turned to address the group. “Omara says not to approach any survivors. Only render aid from a distance.”
Xen’s systems lit before Royce finished speaking.
Multiple emergency transponders fired in tandem: distress beacons from three separate yachts.
On infrared, he registered heat flares from two helicopter engines spinning up hard on neighboring decks.
One craft lifted, the other flared out and listed—tail rotor gone.
Gunmetal pings rang faintly through the auditory buffer: supersonic ricochets. Chaos, rapidly fractalizing.
And in the water: large-scale displacement signatures.
He rerouted to the satellite mesh. It took four seconds to resolve.
At least six subsurface anomalies were converging.
Not vessels.
Tentacled.
“Confirming,” Xen said, already issuing new directives to the outgoing agents. “This is now a live combat theater.”
Lung dropped overboard in a jet-assisted wetsuit. Ellum peeled away on a hydrofoil cutter, its wake streaking silver. Two more strike skiffs were already gone.
Xen stepped forward instinctively—until Royce’s hand caught him and shoved him back.
“Are you seaworthy?” Royce asked.
“Waterproof, yes. Do I float? No.”
“Then stay here,” Royce said. “With him.” He nodded at Kelly’s body, lashed upright in a chair.
“But—” Xen began.
Royce raised a single brow. “Eyes in the sky. Team lead. That’s an order.”