KEMAL ASLAN.

“Vanguard-2, this is Miller! Lead is down! Officer down! We need an emergency MEDEVAC on the bridge wing NOW! He’s bleeding out!”

It threw his frame against the metal control panel before he crumpled heavily onto the deck. “LIUTENANT!” Harris screamed. “CONTACT! BEHIND THE CHART TABLE!” Miller instantly dropping to one knee and laying down a lethal three-round burst into the dark recess of the room.

Blake didn’t even hear the crack before the kinetic force hit him like a speeding truck. A high-caliber round slammed directly into the side of his tactical plate carrier, shattering his lower ribs and tearing through his flank.

“Control, this is Vanguard-1,” Blake snapped into his radio, turning away from the console. “The ship is unmanned. Repeat, ship is—” 𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗚! A gunshot tore through the cramped steel wheelhouse.

In one fluid motion, Blake unclipped from the line, rolled onto his knees, and brought up his suppressed L119A2 carbine, sweeping the shadows of the upper deck. “Deck clear! Move, move!” Blake’s voice barked over the short-range comms.

Blake was the first to hit the deck. His boots slammed onto the slick, rust-coated steel of the bridge wing with a heavy thud. The damp Somerset fog clung to his visor, instantly turning his world into a blur of green phosphor and moisture.

𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗦 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡. Place: Bristol Channel, UK. Time: Sunday, 02.11 AM.