What do mothers want for their sons?

Maria stared across the ocean. What they would have wanted for daughters she couldn’t say. Her own ma’d passed too soon for it to matter. The crucifix hanging around her neck on the same chain as her dog tags was the only thing she had of the woman. It was a difficult thing to verbalize. Now, what fathers wanted, she knew damn well what that was. Be a good girl, do as you’re told, see that pig-shit farmer? Fuck him and settle.

No, that was not to be. Maria chose a gun over a bouquet. Happened to break such that joining the military was in the cards, and from there yet greener pastures. What must that old man think of where she’d gone. Where she still could go. But the question nagged at her. What did she want? Phillips, her pilot, gestured at her. Target of approach was close. She settled into her seat, nodding.

The whirling blades of the helicopter she commanded drowned out everything but her own thoughts. Not that there was much else to hear. She stared ahead into the darkness. No, she never did settle down, but she still had a family all the same. Time was not to be spent thinking of that. So, she focused on the bleak void, knowing what awaited. The stars were gone, the sky caught in the last moments before dawn. Few looked to stars with wonder anymore. Not after those damned bugs attacked.

The future rested on her shoulders. She would bear that weight. Her attention focused as it came into view. The Nikolai, a Soviet carrier from the vaunted Black Fleet. They were gaining, soon to overtake it. Motioning to Phillips, he nodded slightly, pulling the chopper into a steep dive. Grabbing the handrail, she braced against the impact, the vehicle landing abruptly onto the deck of the ship.

This was nothing new. The chopper was built to survive rough landings. Behind the cockpit the doors opened, two soldiers exiting on either side. Sid, Natalia, Haig, Jacek, her fire squad including Phillips. A small tactical team for missions like these. Their grey and black uniforms were made rough and ready, with a heavy harness built into their chest armor. Helmets with built in radios were assigned for each, obscuring their faces. At the center of the armor were matching badges, mirroring her own.

An unusual thing about them was that they were a mercenary crew. Typically, she would be paired with soldiers from an allied nation, a different team every time. But these were not typical times. For consistency, and due to the nature of the work, she assumed command over this group. They had been busy for the last week straight, with this being their final mission on the docket.

Swinging her legs out, her grey uniform was designed to attract attention. No camo, no helmet, a refined style compared to the combat fatigues of her comrades. It was all a touch too high-class shit as far as she cared but it did its work. Her uniform, white stripes running down either arm, appeared buttoned at the front like a modernized cavalry rider. She wore one medal on her breast. A golden five-pointed star, set against a black satin backing. It was framed by a chromed octagon badge and woven into the center of the chest. The initials S.U.N. were inscribed across the center.

The outfit was a status symbol as much as a mark of her rank. Her brown, rough hair bristled in the wind, held by a simple ponytail. Brown eyes surveyed the top of the carrier. No cargo, no jets, no helis of their own. Not that she expected any. What they needed was below. Her squad carried modified HK-11s, fanciful German machine guns. She didn’t think much of their boxy design, but the extra ammo built into the top was nice on any occasion. She didn’t bother keeping hers. Wouldn’t need it. The Wolverine pistol in her holster hadn’t failed her yet.

Already the Russians were scurrying. One ancient seabird, missing an eye and walking like arthritis kicked him in the dick, was fast approaching. Sid and Natalia broke off, heading towards one side of the ship. Sid was a slight man, even thinner than she was, at a short stature. Made him easy to ignore. Natalia was the second tallest of the team, second only behind Haig. She made it easier for Sid to go unnoticed. Important for what his role was.

Jacek and Haig followed, going to the other side of the ship. Somewhere you could reach the lower decks. Haig was a bruiser’s bruiser, a man who looked every bit like he carved a statue using only his face. His shoulders were twice as wide as the next man and his arms swung so freely you were never sure when he was swinging at you. Jacek wasn’t slim or short by any means but could easily disappear into his shadow without much effort. He was downright unassuming looking. Right until the knife you didn’t notice him holding slit your throat.

Maria, on the other hand, was average in height. Five nine, six even if she was feeling frisky. Her nose was a bit crooked on account of the one cop she set ablaze who got a lucky shot off. Her dark complexion hid all but the worst of her thirty-nine years on this world. By any metric she looked fine. She never quite lost the weight of pregnancy but replaced fat with muscle.

“What is the meaning of this?” The Captain kept his voice even, even though she could tell he was stressed.

She gave him a thin smile. “Official Supreme United Nations business, Captain Markov.”

His lone blue eye glowered at her, shifting between her and Phillips, who remained at her side. He looked behind them at their ‘chopper, a heavy beast tooled for damage. The logo of the Supreme United Nations was plastered across the front, sides and back for all to see. Bit of an eyesore but at least folks knew who they were. Wouldn’t matter in the end. Maria often wondered if they branded the bullets too. She offered her hand.

“Operative Phantom, at your service. We’re here to do a routine inspection before arrival.”

He scoffed. “Is that why our coms went down right as you pinged our radar?”

She glanced back at Phillips. Her slim bean companion looked impressed.

“You saw us?” Phillips said.

“Don’t be so shocked,” Captain Markov said. “We might be behind the SUN in some ways but we’re catching up. Your fancy stealth tech ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“No, but that’s why we double layer it with a jammer,” Phillips said. “Going to be fun figuring out how you guys can ping us.”

“The hell do you ghouls need now?” Markov said, attention swinging back to Maria. The Captain’s voice was rough. Probably the salt air, she mused. “You already took us from our fleet to ferry the damn abominations around, what else do you want?”

She remained impressed he kept from yelling.

“That’s S.U.N. business. We’re going to be redirecting where your ship is heading to deliver your cargo to a new location. One that must be kept discreet.” She said, emphasizing S-U-N as was proper. You could tell a lot about someone by how they pronounced it. In her opinion, only children should be casual about it.

The Captain went red in the face. “Fucking Hell we will! Drop the jammer, I’m not taking this from some lapdog!”

“I’m afraid you will, Captain Markov,” Maria said.

“What are your people even doing? Prancing about my ship like they own it, I want them recalled this instant!”

Maria frowned. He was crossing a line.

“They are doing what they were told to do, Captain Markov. We all have orders. We all make choices. Your orders are to do as I say, because I say so. Now you must choose if you follow those orders.”

Two men flanked the Captain. On the ship was a skeleton crew of maybe fifteen according to intel. Hate and embarrassment flared in his eye. This was where things always turned difficult.

“I know how you jackals work,” the older man spat. “There are channels you have to go through. Hoops to be jumped. You’re up to something. This isn’t sanctioned.”

“Captain Markov, escort me to the helm,” Maria said. Her arms were relaxed, eyeing the two soldiers who looked tense, wary.

The Captain crossed his arms. “I’m not doing a damn thing you say until I get word from higher up. You don’t own me, girl.”

She sighed, looking out to the dark waters beyond. “You don’t know it, but the Nikolai is already ours. This is only a formality.”

The old man roared with laughter, though devoid of mirth. Waves crashed against the ship as storm clouds started sweeping in across the morning twilight. He turned back to her, fury in his eye.

“I want your men back on deck, now. I want that jamming device turned off,” the Captain said. “I want you off my fucking ship, off my back, and back to your masters.” The two flanking him were gripping their rifles. The Captain was reaching for his service pistol.

She looked him in the eye. “This is your choice?”

“It is.”

Maria relaxed. The Captain and his officers were still tense. She nodded.

“That’s reasonable. I see what I could do about some of it but,” Maria trailed off. “There is a problem.”

“What’s that?”

She flashed her teeth. “It doesn’t matter.”

To her mild surprise the soldier to the right of him was shot first. Two rounds cleared her side arm as she brought it up, one tearing through Markov’s knee and the other his chest. The next two shots, the weapon rising, bore into his neck and blew apart his remaining eye. The soldier to the left was splattered by skull fragments and gore.

Markov collapsed scant moments after the first soldier tumbled, right as the final man on deck was similarly gunned down by Phillips. Three round burst at point blank range, not a lot they could have done to avoid it. The Germans knew their guns. The pilot fired two more bursts into each soldier before heading towards the ship controls. She emptied the rest of her clip into the captain’s body then sent a silent signal to the other two teams.

Maybe it was for the best. The operations team that was waiting at the new location wouldn’t have allowed the crew to live.

“You’re the best, Phillips.”