by Jake Bible
Seated around the table were the Reynolds, Lucy, Bobby, Darby, and Mr. Ballantine. This time Ballantine didn’t take the head of the table and was actually seated towards the end. They all faced a large video screen that slowly unfolded from the ceiling.
“Have a seat,” Darren said. He waited for Kinsey and Thorne to sit before he began. “Welcome to Team Grendel. It’s an honor to have all of you here.”
“Team Grendel?” Max asked. “Who came up with that?”
“I did,” Mr. Ballantine said, “it fits the theme.”
“Right,” Max nodded.
“I get it,” Shane said. “Beowulf. Grendel. Wyrm. Are you like completely obsessed with ancient Anglo-Saxon epic poetry?”
“No,” Mr. Ballantine replied, “just the one poem.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Darren said, “I like the name and we’re keeping it. Team Grendel it is.” Shane raised his hand. “What?”
“What’s the sub’s name?” Shane asked. “Is it named after Grendel’s mom?”
“It’s named after your mom,” Lucy smiled.
“Hey, that’s my mom too,” Max said. “And Dorothy is a shitty name for a mini-sub.”
“The sub is named Wiglaf,” Mr. Ballantine answered.
They all stared at him.
“After the kid that helps Beowulf slay Wyrm?” Shane said. “Seriously?”
“I like Dorothy better,” Max said.
“Me too,” Lucy replied.
“It’s Wiglaf,” Mr. Ballantine said, “and that’s the end of it.”
“I’m still calling it Dorothy,” Max whispered loudly.
“Does that mean the sub and the helo have to fight?” Shane asked.
“The helo will kick that sub’s ass,” Bobby replied.
“Don’t count Dorothy out,” Max said, “she’s one tough broad.”
“Okay, okay, enough,” Darren said, “business time.”
A man’s picture came up on the video screen.
“This is Daacad Khalid Shimbir,” Darren explained. “He is the leader of one of the most notorious pirate gangs in the Darood tribe. He is one tough motherfucker and his men almost worship him.” The picture changed to an aerial view of a small compound. “This is his stronghold. The compound is two miles inland in the Somali city of Hilweyne. There isn’t much between the coast and the compound, just residential buildings. We’ll hit the coast at 0200 hours and make our way on foot to the compound.”
“Hit the coast?” Max asked. “Who’s driving the boat?”
“I’ll have Jennings pilot the Zodiac,” Darren said, “he’s the best at it and won’t panic if things go south.”
“Go south?” Shane asked. “How? You just said it’s only residential buildings between the water and the compound.”
“Right,” Darren replied, “but this is pirate territory. Armed men could be anywhere. Unfortunately, there is no way to know when or where. Think of these guys like the insurgents in Iraq or the militias in Afghanistan. They aren’t trained like the Taliban, they have no discipline except to listen to their leaders. They are thugs that walk around with AK-47s and intimidate whoever they come across. If they see us, they will start shooting. At that point, we go in hard and hot and fight our way to the compound. Instead of waiting for extraction, Bobby and Lucy will bring in the Wyrm and lay down some cover, letting us do our thing.”
“So, no sat cover?” Max smiled.
“Not this time,” Mr. Ballantine answered, “but if this mission is successful, then the next one will have drone cover. We’ll be able to relay an overview to your goggles.”
The Team just stared.
“I’m sorry,” Thorne said, “relay to our goggles?”
“I’m still stuck on the ‘not this time’ part,” Shane said.
“Who flies the drone?” Bobby asked.
“There’s no drone yet,” Darren said. “The funding for this Team will be staggered. For every successful mission, you will be paid handsomely, and our budget increases. The company Mr. Ballantine works for has pretty deep pockets.”
“Bottomless,” Mr. Ballantine smiled.
“Get back to the goggles,” Thorne said. “What do you mean relayed?”
“Each of us will have the latest generation of night-vision goggles,” Darren said. “Instead of four tubes, there is one long visor. The great thing about the goggles is they are basically high-def monitors. Any visual you need can be sent to you, including aerial visuals from drones. You can even see what your teammates are seeing.”
“That could get messy,” Shane said.
“It has to be switched from the ship,” Mr. Ballantine said, “and upon request. You can’t accidentally switch visuals. If there is a malfunction, then the goggles go black so they don’t send a wrong visual or fry your eyes.”
“Oh, okay then,” Shane nodded. “Can we have a robot dog too? I’ve always wanted an assault dog, but never wanted to clean up the mess. A robot dog would be perfect.”
Mr. Ballantine smiled at Shane; it didn’t make him feel comfortable at all.
“That’s scheduled for 2020 at the earliest,” Mr. Ballantine said, “sorry.”
“He’s kidding,” Darren said. “So let’s get back to the mission.”
“How many fighters are we looking at?” Thorne asked.
“Depends,” Darren said. “It varies. We hope to hit them while they have some of their men out on raiding parties. If that’s the case, then the compound will be all but deserted. They’ll have guards on the hostages, guards at the main gates, but very few on patrol.”
Thorne studied the photo of the compound.
“Which building are the hostages in?” Thorne asked. “I count, what, three main buildings and a couple sheds?”
“Yes,” Darren said. He directed a laser pointer at a building on the east side of the compound. “This is where the hostages are being kept, if our intel is correct.”
The whole Team laughed at that, all having had their own experience with “correct” intel. Darren smiled at them, liking how the negatives brought them together. It made for a stronger Team. If they were successful, then he couldn’t wait to see what they were like after the mission. Battle always brought soldiers even closer.
“Right, if our intel is correct, then the hostages are in there,” Darren continued. “The building next to it is the barracks and kitchen/mess. The last building is Daacad’s personal residence. He has several children by multiple wives.”
“Multiple wives?” Max asked.
“Yes,” Darren said, “Daacad, like many Muslims, believes he honors God by procreating.”
“Watch out for the sister wives,” Shane said, “they bite.”
“You will have to watch out for them,” Darren said. “We can’t have any non-hostile casualties on this mission. That is a stipulation by the company. And you only engage when engaged.”
“Wait…what?” Shane asked. “If I’m on overwatch and I see a hostile coming towards the Team with an AK-47, you’re saying I can’t take him out until he starts shooting?”
“Blast him,” Max said, “who’s gonna know?”
“Your goggles,” Thorne said, “they’ll know, right?”
“Very good, Mr. Thorne,” Mr. Ballantine said. “I was wondering who would figure that out first. I’m pleased it was you.”
“Oh, shit,” Lucy said, “the goggles record and transmit too?”
“Yep,” Darren nodded, “so do all the scopes and sights on your rifles.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Max and Shane said at the same time.
“No one messes with my rig,” Shane said.
“Mine either,” Max said. “You hired us to do a job and part of that is we bring our own tools.”
“Your tools are being retrofitted right this moment,” Mr. Ballantine said. “There is an armory below deck with three techs. You dream it, they build it. Trust me, you won’t know your gear has been touched.”
“Uh, they weren’t part of t
he tour,” Shane said. “Where are they?”
“Below deck,” Darren said, “that’s all you need to know.” He sighed and then sat down. “Okay, listen up, because I’ll only say this once. This mission is your audition. You nail it and you get the keys to the theater. You bomb and you get the hook.”
“Why the theater metaphor?” Max asked.
“I’d personally prefer some type of medical metaphor,” Shane said.
“Like what?” Max asked.
“Like you get one chance to keep the patient alive,” Shane said, “you screw up and the patient dies and you lose your license. How’s that?”
“That wouldn’t work,” Lucy said, “Doctors don’t lose their licenses because a patient dies. That’s stupid.”
“Sure they can,” Shane argued, “if it’s their fault the patient dies.”
“Yeah, but there’s a whole review process,” Max said, “they don’t just get fired right then.”
“Oh, and we will?” Shane asked. “Is Mr. Ballantine going to be standing on the beach like Donald Trump yelling, ‘You’re fired!’? Is that what’s going to happen?” Shane looked at Ballantine. “That’s not what’s going to happen, is it?”
“Shut up,” Kinsey said, quiet until that point. “Let Darren speak, please. I’d like to get this briefing over and get back to sleep. I have a feeling the next few days are going to be grueling. More so for me than for all of you.”
“Thank you, ‘Sey,” Darren said. Bobby visibly bristled at the use of the nickname. Kinsey smiled at that.
“Fuck you, ‘Ren,” Kinsey said, “but please, go on.”
Darren stood back up. “I wouldn’t have picked any of you if I thought you’d fail.” He glanced quickly at Kinsey. “So don’t fail.”
“And where will you and Ms. Darby be?” Kinsey asked.
“Darby,” Darby said, “just Darby.”
“What are your qualifications exactly?” Kinsey asked, turning the focus on the woman seated by Ballantine. “You can fly a chopper, so good for you. Where’d you learn that? What’s your training?”
“Darby doesn’t need to explain herself to you, Ms. Thorne,” Mr. Ballantine said. “She is well qualified. That’s all you need---”
Darby held up her hand. “I was Mossad for a while then switched up to Sayeret when I got bored with the paperwork.”
“Wait,” Max said, leaning forward, his eyes locked on Darby, “you just ‘switched’ to the Sayeret because you were bored? That’s like the fucking Israeli Special Forces, right?”
“Yes,” Darby nodded. “I was with Sayeret 13 at first, and then moved up to Sayeret Matkal. Similar to your Delta Force and SEAL Team Six. Is that qualified enough?”
“Will you marry me?” Max asked.
“No,” Darby said, “not a chance.”
“Is it because of my face?” Max asked.
“It’s because you are breathing,” Darby replied.
“I will keep asking,” Max smiled.
“He will,” Shane agreed.
“I’ll keep rejecting you,” Darby replied.
“Now that we’ve settled that,” Darren said, “can I continue?”
“Can you?” Shane asked.
Mr. Ballantine laughed. “You SEALs are nothing, if not entertaining.”
“There is other intel we need,” Darren said, “on the other side of town. Darby and I will be obtaining that while you free the hostages.”
“Uh, can we address the 100 ton elephant in the room?” Lucy asked. “Not that I want to stir anything up.”
“Don’t you mean the 100 ton sea elephant?” Max asked. “Because that’s part of why we are here, is to find Ditcher’s white whale.”
“No, no,” Lucy said, “I don’t care about that. That’s after the mission and I’ll have been paid by then. Who cares if Ahab wants to hunt a whale?”
“It’s not white, and I’m not Ahab,” Darren said. “This thing is real. I bet my life on that.”
“You’re betting our lives on that,” Thorne said, “because if it wasn’t dangerous, you wouldn’t need us.”
“I need you for the hostage extraction,” Darren said.
“Yes, you do,” Thorne said, “but that could have been a one and done operation. Paid us and let us go on our way. But you want us on board to help find this whale.”
“Mr. Ballantine insisted on a security Team while we are researching,” Darren said. “I don’t know if you heard, but there’s pirates in these here waters.”
“Uh, that’s not what I was talking about,” Lucy said, glancing over at Kinsey.
“Oh, right,” Darren said.
“Yeah, right,” Bobby said, “why is she part of this?”
“Because I want her to be,” Mr. Ballantine said. “I’ve read her file and I believe she was a political casualty. She should have made it through SQT and been the first woman SEAL. The fact she wasn’t is a shame and since Mr. Thorne insisted she come along, I decided we should actually have her work for the large sum of money she is to be paid.”
“But she’s a junkie,” Lucy said. “No offense, Kinsey.”
“None taken,” Kinsey said as she looked everyone in the eye, one by one, “I’m the first to admit it.”
“So?” Bobby said. “You want a medal for that? Having you on the op will jeopardize everyone. You may have come close to being a SEAL, but you aren’t one. That’s a liability in of itself.”
“Says the Coast Guard pilot,” Kinsey laughed. “How dedicated are you? I heard you wouldn’t even suck a cock to keep your job. I would have sucked ten cocks to become a SEAL. Fuck knows I’ve sucked more than that being a junkie.”
The room went still and quiet. The only sounds were the waves slapping against the ship and the slight hum of the motors. Other than that, a mouse could have farted and it would have sounded like a fog horn.
“Oh, Jesus, Kins,” Thorne said finally, “really?”
“Fact of life, Daddy,” Kinsey said. “I fucked a few guys too. Kept me in smack and booze. But none of that shit matters since there isn’t a pinch of heroin on this ship. I can wish all I want, but I’m getting clean. Gunnar has me on some new cocktail which will keep the worst side effects at bay and allow me to train. Which is what I plan to do until the mission. I plan on training.”
“You’re still a junkie,” Bobby said, “which means you can’t be trusted. And even if you do have an eight day training montage that whips you into super perfect shape, at the end of it all, you can’t be trusted. You’re useless to the Team.”
“Care to step outside and let me show you how useless I am?” Kinsey asked.
“Seriously?” Bobby laughed, looking around the table. “Is she serious?”
“She sounds like it,” Max said as he stood up. Shane joined him.
Thorne stood up too. “I’d like to see this. Where should we do this? Is there a gym?”
“There is,” Darby said, “below deck. But the empty helipad will work also.”
“Let’s go,” Kinsey said, standing and gesturing to the door, “or are you afraid a junkie will beat you?”
“D? Are you going to let this happen?” Bobby asked. “I don’t want to fight her!”
“Yeah, D? Are you going to let this happen?” Kinsey laughed. “You were a SEAL, right? You know once a challenge is thrown down you can’t back off. If she can’t take care of herself, then how can any of us trust her to take care of her job? Or us on the mission? She chickens now, and she’ll chicken then.”
“Fucking A,” Darren said, looking to Mr. Ballantine. The man just shrugged and smiled. “You went after her, B. You called her out. I’m sorry, but you made your bed. That’s just how it works on a Team.”
“But this isn’t the SEALs!” Bobby protested. “And I’m not a SEAL. I don’t have to play by old macho rules!”
“You’re not a SEAL?” Kinsey laughed. “Isn’t that part of the argument against me? You come outside and take your beating like a woman or I have a feeling
we’ll be using Darby as our extraction pilot while you take a row boat back to Cape Town.”
Bobby scanned the faces and found no one, not even Lucy, backing her up. She had called Kinsey out and even though she detested the arcane boys’ club rules, she knew she had to put her money where her mouth was.
“Fine,” Bobby said, stomping out to the deck, “come take your fucking beat down.”
“You wish, bitch,” Kinsey laughed, following close behind.
“Now we’re talking,” Max said.
“Hooyah!” Shane hooted.
“Don’t let them get too hurt,” Mr. Ballantine said as he took Darby by the arm.
She looked down at his hand and he released it. “They’ll get as hurt as they get,” Darby said. “You wanted to play with toy soldiers and I warned you what could happen. This will not be the last grudge fight you witness. Men and women trained at this level will let off steam however they can, even if it means beating each other bloody.”
“She’s right about that,” Thorne said as he pushed past.
They all hurried out into the sea air and over to the second helipad. It was smaller than the one the Wyrm sat on, which told all of them it was designed for lighter choppers such as maybe a MH-6 Little Bird. Kinsey and Bobby stepped up onto the helipad, watching each other closely.
“I blame you for this,” Thorne said. “You should have told me one of the Team members was your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Darren said. “We have a very loose, casual thing. I honestly didn’t expect this.”
“But you knew I was bringing Kinsey,” Thorne said, “and you know how Kinsey gets.”
“Which is why I protested from the start,” Darren replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you details, but would it have mattered if I did?”
Thorne shrugged. “Probably not.”
“It’ll be good for them,” Max said, eavesdropping. “They’ll get a chance to stretch their claws and maybe get some of that estrogenic rage out.”
“You’re a pig,” Lucy said, “I thought I was going to be away from guys like you.”
“It wasn’t intended to be derogatory,” Max said. “I would have said the same thing if two guys were up there, except I’d have substituted testosterone for estrogen.” Max smiled at her. “What’s its name?”