tears apart ship

“Thank you, sir,” said the Fixer, giving a short, sharp bow toward the camera. “When can we expect extraction?”

Instead of answering, Mr. Sunday looked up from the sat phone, raised a small device so that the audience could see it. Then he pressed a button.

On the screen, the picture of Mr. Ichi vanished. The feed from the drone, however, continued to focus on the ship. The middle section of the Shirase suddenly bulged upward as if the whole craft were made of inflatable rubber. The illusion persisted for a full second, and then a massive fireball burst upward from the part of the ship where the engine room had been a moment before. The blast was massive, tearing the icebreaker in half and flinging pieces of metal, wood, and human flesh high into the air. Mr. Sunday let the video play for a full fifteen seconds as debris rained down in what seemed like surreal slow motion. By the time the last bits slapped onto the icy water, both halves of the icebreaker were gone, each slipping beneath the waves to vanish entirely.

-Relentless pg. 168, Kindle Edition.