Terminal Justice by Alton L. Gansky

Many inexperienced sailors lose such crafts without so much as a radio cry for help.”
    “It still seems odd,” the captain said. “Maybe they’re in shock.”
    One of the men on the deck groaned and mumbled.
    “What’d he say?” the captain asked.
    Rudy leaned over the man and listened.
    “Dan … danger … talk to … captain … warn him … captain … danger.”
    A puzzled look crossed Rudy’s face. “He’s asking for you, sir. Something about danger.”
    “Danger, is it?” The captain looked at the gathering crowd around him. “Back to your stations, men!” The group scattered like mice. “Let’s see if we can learn what this danger is.” Adair crouched down and put his face close to the mumbling man. “I’m Captain Adair. Can you hear me?”
    “Danger, warning, captain,” the man spoke in English just above a whisper.
    “What danger,” Adair asked leaning closer to hear.
    “You … are … in … danger.”
    “From what, man?”
    Suddenly the man sat straight up, stood up, and faced the captain.
    “Easy there,” Rudy said. “I don’t think you should—”
    Rudy stopped midsentence as the other man quickly stood to his feet.
    “What is this?” Adair asked forcefully. “This had better not be some game.”
    “It’s not,” the man said as he reached down the front of his pants and pulled out a small pistol. The other man did the same. “No game at all.” The man rushed the captain and shoved the gun under his chin. “Be very still, Captain, be very still, or I will scatter your brains all over the deck. Do you understand?” Adair stared at the man through steely eyes and slowly nodded. “That’s wise, very wise.” The man’s words were heavy with accent.
    When Chief Adizes and Bill Shank rounded the corner with stretchers in hand, they froze for a moment and attempted to take in the situation. Before them, the two men they had pulled from the raft were holding guns on the captain and Rudy.
    “What the—” Adizes was cut off before he could swear.
    “Be quiet and come here, or I’ll blow a very big hole in your captain.”
    Adizes and Shank slowly set the stretchers down and walked toward the group. In a single motion the first man spun the captain around and placed the gun in his spine. The captain winced in pain. The second man did the same with Rudy, except he shoved his pistol in Rudy’s temple hard enough to force his head to one side.
    “Stand by the rail!” the man ordered. “Both of you, right now, by the rail.” Adizes and Shank complied. “Move over. I want you in front of me.” Again they complied.
    “Listen, mister,” the chief said. “I don’t know what this is about, but there’s no need to do anything stupid.”
    “You’re right. You don’t know what this is about, and you never will.” In a single fluid motion the man brought the gun from behind the captain and aimed it at Adizes. A moment later the echo of the gun’s report bounced off the bulkheads and out to sea. The second round was fired a split second later. Adizes and Shank flew backward against the white rail of the ship and then slumped to the deck dead, their uniforms marred by a circle of red emanating from their chests.
    “No!” Adair cried. “You cowardly—” He swallowed his nextwords when the still hot barrel of the revolver was pressed deeply into his cheek.
    “You were saying?”
    Adair said nothing. Rudy stared unbelievingly at the lifeless forms on the deck.
    “To the bridge, now,” the man shouted and shoved the captain toward the stairs. “Run, run, run.” The captain took off in a trot, keenly aware that the revolver was never more than a few inches from his back. He could hear the footsteps of Rudy and his captor behind him. Moments later the four men burst onto the bridge.
    “On the deck, everyone on the deck,” the man cried. The bridge crew—Salizar, the helmsmen, and a cabin boy who brought in fresh coffee—turned to see the man