Panthera Spelaea
Repel Boarders

“Those who want to fight with me. Those who don’t, follow Julie,” Art said as he stood from the table. Julie was one of the young servers.

“Do you have guns?” Olivia was moving towards Art with Duncan at her side. Edward was going his way too.

“Lots of them. John, can you shoot? I’d rather we not go beast just yet. It makes us too easy to target.”

Could I shoot? “I’m a Texan. I could shoot before I could walk.”

The Captain was on the PA system. “Repel boarders, Repel boarders. Four speedboats, twenty assumed hostiles off the starboard quarter. Hold fire for my command.”

I looked at my girls. “Your choice.”

“We can use shotguns,” Anna said. We had a pump-action shotgun at the dacha, and I’d taught the girls how to use it just in case.

“Come on.” Art led us towards his office. The hallway was full of crew members gearing up as hidden storage compartments exposed protective gear and a small armory. As you walked through, you grabbed a bulletproof vest, a Kevlar helmet, a weapon, and extra ammo. Since we were guests, we waited until last. The crew geared up quickly, each person’s gear with their names and designated weapons and positions. “Jenny, help the girls gear up with shotguns. They can join us on the bridge.”

“Yes, boss,” the young server said. The girls donned their gear and grabbed stainless steel Remington 870 Marine combat shotguns. I donned my gear and looked at the weapons remaining. I’d done a lot of hog hunting, so I picked an M4 with a scope and stuffed extra magazines in the webbing of my vest. The rifle was identical to the rifles I used on our ranch, except the select-fire lever for single shot, three-round burst, or full auto. “Be safe,” I told the girls as they headed for the stairs with Art and Jenny. “I love you.”

There was no way I’d let the attackers get anywhere close to the bridge. “Where can you use help,” I asked the second mate at the end of the line. Edward has chosen a bolt-action scoped rifle, while Duncan and Olivia had M4’s like me.

“Main deck aft,” he said. “The hull is steel and provides some protection up to the gunwales. Stay low and use the scuppers as firing ports.” We followed him out to the starboard side, hunched over to stay hidden. “Find a port and listen to the announcements.”

The Captain had the engines humming, and the big yacht was slicing through the waves at full speed to the west. I found a firing position and set up prone with the barrel sticking through the six-inch tall, twelve-inch wide opening. The second mate pointed to five others with guns facing aft. “If they start boarding from the swim deck, they have to come up the ladders on the port and starboard side. When I call out ‘boarding aft,’ move to support us.”

“I’m ready,” I said as I flicked the safety off. I had the second mate to my right and Edward to my left. Duncan and Olivia were on the port side.

The boats roaring to intercept us were rigid-hull inflatables with big outboards. They were five hundred yards out and closing, too far for the 5.56mm rounds this rifle carried. I could see gunners in the bow of each boat, dressed in tactical armor with vests.

A red flare shot out towards the boats. “BREAK OFF YOUR ATTACK OR BE FIRED UPON,” the Captain warned. The answer came almost immediately, with their gunners opening fire. They were idiots; no one could fire accurately from the bow of a boat bouncing through the waves at top speed. Our platform wasn’t perfectly stable, but it was good enough. I heard Edward start to fire; his hunting rifle was big enough to work at this range.

Edward wasn’t the only one. I could hear bigger guns open up. When they were two hundred yards out, the AR-15’s opened fire, sounding like popcorn popping as we fired round after round into the small boats. One of the speedboats turned to cross behind us, and another turned right to overtake us. The other two made straight for our stern.

I saw one of the men in the lead boat pick up something and bring it to his shoulder. “RPG! TAKE HIM OUT,” the second mate yelled.

Every gunner on the starboard side switched over and poured rounds into that boat. I could see him take hits, and then he was knocked on his ass when Edward’s high-powered bullet hit him high in the chest. The RPG launched but flew over us harmlessly.

I kept firing on the boat, which had now closed to fifty yards or so. Two gunners plus the boat operator were left. Rounds pinged off the steel and aluminum hull from incoming fire, which I ignored. I aimed at the outboard motor and the man operating it, pumping round after round out until the magazine was empty.

I swapped magazines and looked back out. Thirty yards. My next shot hit the bad guy in the right eye, blowing his brains out over the outboard. He slumped to the deck and let go of the outboard engine tiller. The outboard motor, running at full power, swung to the starboard stop and the boat nearly rolled. One of the gunners flew off into the blue waters, while the other lost his rifle while holding on.

The other gunners on my side and the stern killed everyone on the second boat before reaching the swim platform. There was only one boat left for us to aim at, and I had to shift positions because it was off the starboard bow and running parallel to our course. Our concentrated fire soon knocked it out.

The engines slowed to a stop, and the big yacht started to turn to port. “CEASE FIRE, CEASE FIRE,” the Captain ordered. “Boarding team to the launch. Boarding team to the launch.”

“Nice shooting, Tex,” the second mate said. “Anyone hit?”

Edward and I were good, but one of the crew members on the stern got hit in the bicep. One of the other men was holding a cloth on it while they walked him to the Infirmary. I cleared my rifle and looked up. “I have to check the girls,” I told the mate.

“Go. We’ll handle cleanup, and thanks for the assist.”

I could see the fourth boat spinning in circles as the Captain turned the superyacht around. The guys on the port side only had one target, and it didn’t last long. Edward and I thanked the other crew members as they reorganized for the cleanup operation. “Friendlies, coming up,” I yelled when I got to the stairway leading up to the bridge level.

“John?” I could sense the relief in Anna’s voice.

“We’re fine,” I said as I ran up the stairs. Anna and Svetlana met me at the top, just outside the bridge doors, and we embraced as best we could with the tactical gear. I made sure my lion calmed with their scent before I let them go. They were fine, but I could see rifle impacts on the bulkhead by the bridge. “What happened up here?”

“We took some fire, but this isn’t your typical yacht,” Art said with a smile as he joined us. He pointed to the spiderwebs from bullet impacts on the side window. “I built this yacht to be a fortress in plain sight. The superstructure is aluminum surrounding reinforced with ballistic panels, and all the glass is bulletproof. Nothing smaller than a fifty-cal is getting through.”

“The RPG would have,” I said.

“They were probably aiming that at the engine compartment, but you guys got him in time. The girls were well-protected here with me.”

I followed him onto the bridge. The Captain was talking to the bosun about getting the launch out. “How long until the authorities arrive?”

Art snorted. “We don’t call the authorities, John. We can’t endure the investigation, and not everything on this ship is legal. The Italian Coast Guard would not appreciate our armory.”

I guessed not. The rifles were military-issue. European gun laws were stricter than Texas, and the ship’s armory could outfit an infantry platoon. “So, what do we do now?”

“Recover the bodies and the weapons, sink the boats, and destroy the evidence,” the Captain said.

“What about the ship? It looks like it’s sailed into battle.”

Art laughed at that. “A little Bondo, some white paint, and you’ll never know the difference.” The yacht came to a stop near the attack scene, and I heard the whine of the outboard as a team headed to the first derelict speedboat.