Syren's Song by Claude G. Berube Read Free Book Online Page A

Chinese assistants would have to suffice until more people were inspired to join the cause. Once that happened Gala would have all the workers he needed. If only Vanni had given him just two strong men, he reflected bitterly, he would not be clinging to a crate inside a dark container while his blood pooled on the deck below. Would he have to hang on like this for two more days until they reached Sri Lanka?
    Gala felt the great ship surge forward on a rolling wave and his stomach lurched. Life at sea was foreign to him, but not to Vanni, who saw the sea as the great liberator of his people. In fact, Gala had first met Vanni on a ship—a large freighter that had been intentionally beached, along with many others, at one of the largest breaking yards in the world. Gala had watched in awe as Vanni tore through the ship, savagely ripping away pipes, culling every piece of valuable metal for reclamation that would profit the rich of Sri Lanka while the local Tamils labored at the dangerous work for paltry pay. Gala had struggled to do the manual labor while his mind naturally gravitated toward ways to make their jobs easier.
    Gala’s time working in the Mullaitivu Breakers was short-lived. Vanni quickly recognized the young man’s intelligence—a gift that would be wasted in hard physical labor. “Gala,” Vanni had declared during a brief work break when they were given time to sip some water, “you came here from school. Now you must return to school and learn more. Much more. I will see to it.”
    A few days later a manager came to take him away. Vanni had nodded once at the manager and once at Gala, and with that Gala was sent to school in Trincomalee and then eventually to university in Beijing. And when Gala’s scientific training was complete, Vanni had contacted him. Gala could not deny the man who was his benefactor.
    Now Gala was alone and afraid; he could think of nothing to counter the forces of nature that held him in a prison as dark and dank as the ships in the Breakers yard. He turned back to the crate. Inside was his salvation—the means to get back into Vanni’s good graces and to save his people from the powerful elite who ran Sri Lanka. He just needed to escort it safely until he could transfer it to its final destination.

DAY 3 DAY 3
    M/V Syren , Laccadive Sea
    S yren hummed along effortlessly toward Colombo at twenty-five knots. Stark left control of the bridge to his helmsman and began the underway inspection of the ship. He made his way down the ladder, through the galley, past the combat information center, and to the cargo bay. The sixity-foot-wide aft cargo bay doors were open, and some crewmembers were working on the RHIB launch platform. All were wearing the Highland Maritime uniform—light gray coveralls with yellow nametags and charcoal gray ball caps with the company logo.
    Six twenty-foot containers lined each side of the cargo bay. The first on his right and left were extra crew quarters, each able to house eight personnel. The next container on the right was labeled “Weapons.” Inside he found Gunny Willis cleaning pistols with two of the Highland Maritime guards. Willis acknowledged his captain’s presence but kept on with his work; this wasn’t the military. He had worked long enough with Stark to know that Stark preferred informality so that training and maintenance duties could proceed uninterrupted. The ship was well provisioned with weapons and ammunition, a necessity for ships operating in the Gulf of Aden. Other private security firms relied on the twenty-two floating armories stationed from the Red Sea to Sri Lanka for their weapons, but many of these facilities were operated by questionable Ukrainian or Russian companies. With Syren ’s storage capacity and port agreements Stark had no need to deal with ships and personnel who looked more like the depraved misfits in the post-apocalyptic movie Waterworld than legitimate