by Jake Bible
“Shit. Okay. Let me get someone to talk with you. Maybe that other chick you were rescued with can help.”
Gunnar tried to ask what other chick, but Jackson was gone fast. He obviously didn’t want to be the one to inform Gunnar as to why Ballantine was supplying a ship called the Fallback. Not that Gunnar was surprised. Yet another plan of Ballantine’s rearing its ugly head.
Gunnar started to drift off and was almost asleep again when the door opened.
“Hey, Gun,” Kinsey said. “I’m so glad to see you awake.”
Gunnar burst into tears.
He’d been expecting Nivia, not Kinsey. Jackson had the women mixed up. Which meant…
“Nivia?” Gunnar sobbed.
“No,” Kinsey replied, shaking her head. “They tried. Shit, did they try, but she didn’t make it. Her skin was so fucking blue, Gun. You were almost that shade, but not as much.”
Gunnar kept sobbing as Kinsey crossed to the bed and sat down.
“Fucking hell,” she said. “They still have you strapped in. Fucking Jackson. That guy is a little loose in the brainpan, if you get my drift.”
Kinsey undid the straps then leaned forward and gave Gunnar a huge hug. They stayed that way for a while until Gunnar finally ran out of tears.
Chapter Eight: You Gotta Have A Fallback
Captain Aubrey Haskell handled the Fallback, her ship, like she handled everything in life: with her full and complete attention. She’d finally received her orders as to what she and her people were supposed to do. It only took Ballantine several years to get her the message she’d been waiting for since that fateful day in the subway.
The day Ballantine had taken her ears. Not that he’d left her much choice.
And not that she’d been sitting on her ass all those years of pretending to be dead.
Ballantine had made sure she slipped into the nothing, the true nothing, of total anonymity, and she’d used those couple of years to study one thing: captaining a ship. Aubrey had grown up in a Navy family, with boats and ships as much a part of her life as Mom and apple pie. But when she joined the Navy, it was Naval Intelligence then on to the CIA. She’d barely been on a ship of any sort during her service; only the minimum required service needed.
So she threw herself into learning everything she could on how to be an effective maritime leader. That way when the message did come, with coordinates attached that led her halfway across the world, she was more than confident she could handle the assignment.
Then she saw the Fallback and her heart sank.
It was a piece of shit, to be kind.
Ballantine had found a mothballed US Coast Guard cutter that no one would notice was missing. It was an old icebreaker and looked like it had gotten broken itself by a couple of icebergs. The thing was held together with spit and bubblegum.
It took Aubrey close to three years of covert repairs in a South Pacific port that wasn’t even on the United States’ radar. Aubrey doubted anyone in DC even knew the island had a name. But it had a port and that was what mattered.
At 269 feet and over 6,000 tons, the ship could hold two hundred men and women and several more tons of gear and supplies. Once she got it to run.
There had been many scrambled satellite phone conversations with Ballantine where she’d expressed grave doubt that the ship would stay afloat, let alone leave the port in seaworthy condition. It was that bad.
But, Ballantine had insisted she was the person for the job and he had the utmost faith in her abilities. He used that Ballantine tone that was part mocking and part confidence building. It infuriated Aubrey, which upon reflection, was probably Ballantine’s true intent since it ended up kicking her ass into high gear simply so she could prove to the smug bastard that she could do it.
Which, in turn, proved Ballantine right and that pissed her off even more.
So, as she sat in the captain’s chair, with Kinsey Thorne sitting backwards opposite her, arms draped over the back of the communications station seat, Aubrey almost had the urge to shoot Kinsey between the eyes and dump her body simply because the woman had a look on her face like she had everything figured out.
But Kinsey Thorne knew nothing. Not one goddamn thing.
“And that’s that,” Kinsey said. “Gunnar is awake and I know that my father and the rest are alive somewhere. We have to go find them.”
Aubrey scratched at the spot between her eyebrows, an affectation she subconsciously did when she was faced with telling someone something they didn’t want to hear.
“Did you hear me?” Kinsey asked. “We need to track down that ship and find my family.”
“I heard you, Ms. Thorne,” Aubrey said. “And we don’t need to find that ship. I know exactly where it is going. It’ll be to its destination by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Wait, what?” Kinsey said. “You know where it’s going? How?”
“Because part of my mission is to go to that same destination when I get the signal from Ballantine,” Aubrey said and sighed. She scratched between her eyebrows. “And before you ask, I have no idea when I’ll get that signal. Until that time, we sit tight and wait. Those are my orders.”
“Sit tight and wait? Are you fucking joking?” Kinsey snapped. “That crazy bitch is going to kill my family! She’s going to kill Team Grendel!”
“I thought Team Grendel was your family?” Aubrey said. “That’s the impression I got from Ballantine. Except for Lucy Durning, it’s your father, your cousins, and your ex-husband.”
“Bitch, do not play word games with me right now,” Kinsey warned.
A couple heads on the bridge swiveled to look from Kinsey to Aubrey. Aubrey gave the eyes that belonged to the heads, her bridge crew members, a hard stare and they returned to their duties.
“You are a guest on my ship, Ms. Thorne,” Aubrey said calmly. “But don’t push your luck. I’ll fucking gut you and toss you overboard if I have to.”
“No, you won’t,” Kinsey said. “Because you work for Ballantine. That means he has some hold over you and you are here for a reason. Same with me. Right?”
Aubrey shrugged.
“Whatever,” Kinsey said. “You aren’t going to gut me. You also aren’t going to sit here and wait for Ballantine to make up his mind as to what the fuck he’s going to do. That man is ten kinds of fucking crazy and waiting for him to have a rational thought could take centuries. We don’t wait. We go get my family and the crew of the B3 before anything happens to them.”
“Before anything happens…?” Aubrey shook her head and laughed. “Ms. Thorne, whatever is going to happen is happening right now. If you think Ballantine is insane, then you should wait until Wire takes the gloves off. That woman, if you want to call her that, is a maniac. I can guarantee at least half your crew are dead or close to it. She loves to carve people up to make a point. We go waltzing anywhere near her territory without Ballantine’s okay and we risk every person getting their limbs hacked off and fed to them, bite by fucking bite. Are you listening, Ms. Thorne? The straight on approach will be a disaster. Our best bet to get as many people out of there alive is to wait for Ballantine.”
“What if he’s already dead?” Kinsey asked.
“He isn’t,” Aubrey answered confidently. “I know Wire. She’ll leave Ballantine for last. Those two are peas in a mad pod. She won’t kill him right off.”
“She killed her mother,” Kinsey said. “She killed Dana.”
“That’s different,” Aubrey said. “Wire and Dana never really got along, even before Wire became Wire. Then after? Dana is who Wire blames the most. Blamed. Blamed the most. You think Dana faked her death only to get away from Ballantine? She was as much afraid of Wire as anyone else.”
“Yeah, that sucks,” Kinsey said. “But that doesn’t disprove my fear.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Aubrey said. “I’ll give you that. But you have to trust me. I’ve known Ballantine a lot longer than you have. This ship is part of a plan he set in motion years ago
. Well before Team Grendel was even a thing.”
“That’s what you say,” Kinsey responded. “I don’t know you, lady. I don’t know a damn thing about you. One moment I’m trying to keep my friends alive and the next your ship is bearing down on me. I get onboard and you start dropping bombs like I’m supposed to know what’s going on. I don’t. At no point did Ballantine clue any of us in on this shit.”
Aubrey grinned.
“What?” Kinsey snapped. “You think this is fucking funny? You won’t think so when I feed you your teeth.”
“Calm down,” Aubrey said, waving off Kinsey’s anger. “I don’t think this is funny. What I do think is you are mistaken regarding Ballantine not cluing anyone in. He clued quite a few people in. He had to in order to keep them safe. Not all of your friends and crew were transferred onto the Resurrection. Quite a few were left on the Beowulf III.”
“What? How many? Who? Ballantine left them to die? That fucker!” Kinsey roared and stood up.
A guard standing by the bridge’s main hatch took a couple steps forward, but Aubrey grunted and he returned to his post.
“Ballantine didn’t leave them to die, Ms. Thorne,” Aubrey responded. “He left them in the safest place on that ship.”
“The ship blew up,” Kinsey snarled. “There was no safe place… That asshole.”
“That right there is a statement I can agree with,” Aubrey said. “Kalis? Turn up the volume.”
“Captain?” a woman said, nodding at Kinsey. “She’s in my seat.”
“Turn up what volume?” Kinsey asked as she got up and moved. “What are we listening to?”
“Your friends arguing,” Aubrey said. “It has been pretty damn amusing. I don’t think any of them know they have their com on and open.”
“On and open? Then Wire could pick it!” Kinsey exclaimed.
“No, the channel is scrambled and unknown,” Aubrey said. “Better chance of winning the lottery than stumbling upon this channel and also having the scrambler code to decipher it.”
“People win lotteries,” Kinsey said.
Aubrey shrugged.
***
“No!” Carlos shouted. “You cannot use an uncontrolled plasma discharge as a propulsion method! That’s insanity!”
“Oh, is it? Is it, Carlos?” Ingrid spat. “What else is there to do? We are trapped in a box. The Toyshop is a floating life raft that—”
“Not floating,” Moshi interrupted. “We are under thirty-seven meters of water.”
“Not sinking either,” Carlos said. “We wait until we are contacted. If we use uncontrolled plasma, then we risk really blowing up, not fake blowing up!”
“If we don’t get moving soon, then when Wire’s people return, which they will, all it’ll take is one sonar sweep and they’ll find us bobbing along down here like sitting ducks!” Ingrid shouted. “We should at least get out of the debris field so we aren’t discovered.”
“Can I ask something?” Lucy said, not waiting for permission. “What were Ballantine’s exact orders?”
“Wait here until we are picked up,” Carlos said. “I spent a lot of time making sure the Toyshop would survive that blast. A lot of time. During all that time, not once, not once, did Ballantine say to me to create a propulsion system. Not once.”
“So, not once?” Lucy mocked.
“Not once,” Carlos replied, missing Lucy’s sarcasm.
“Might I interject?” Ronald asked. He waited.
“Yes, Ronald, please,” Ingrid said when it became apparent he wasn’t going to continue unless invited to.
“Ballantine instructed Carlos to reinforce the Toyshop so it would survive the blast,” Ronald said.
“I already said that,” Carlos snapped.
“Yes, quite,” Ronald responded. He curled his lip so that Carlos got a good look at one of his very long, very sharp canines. “May I continue?”
Carlos nodded and gulped.
“Thank you. Ballantine instructed that the Toyshop be reinforced. He also instructed all of us to seek sanctuary in here so we would not be captured by Wire and her people. But did Ballantine ever say why to any of you? Why we were chosen to remain safe while Team Grendel’s lives were risked by setting them all before Wire? Present company excluded, Lucy.”
“I’m only sort of part of the team,” Lucy said and frowned. “Bullet magnet, remember?”
“That is not scientifically possible,” Boris said. “Most modern bullets are made from—”
“It is a figure of speech, Boris,” Ronald said.
“Yes, well, it is a poor one,” Boris said. “I mean, if you were to refer to the jackets, then perhaps you would have a case. But I cannot see any reason why you attracting jackets would be dangerous. I mean, unless—”
“Boris. Stop,” Ronald said. He cleared his throat and it sounded like thunder. “What I am trying to communicate is that Ballantine is a rather precise person. Most of us cannot see where that precision leads, but the man always has a contingency for any and all variables in his plans. I believe that if he wanted us to move, he would have had Moshi develop a propulsion system for the Toyshop.”
“Yes! That!” Carlos said, stabbing a finger towards Ronald then turning it to Ingrid. “Ha! Harry Henderson agrees with me!”
“I do not get the reference, but I believe it is an insult,” Ronald growled. “Would you like to apologize now? Or must I tear an arm off, Carlos?’
“Sorry,” Carlos said quickly. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Don’t tear my arm off.”
“So all we do is wait?” Ingrid asked. “Great. All of this tech at our disposal and we sit on our hands doing nothing.”
“Not nothing,” Moshi said as she shuffled by with her arms loaded down with gear. “We make armor. You make weapons. We work. Now.”
“Moshi? What is all that?” Carlos asked. “Hey! Is that the new bendable polymer armor fabric? That is not yours to play with!”
“Ballantine say get ready. I get ready,” Moshi countered and stuck her tongue out at Carlos before disappearing.
“What do you mean, Moshi?” Ingrid called. “Did he tell you to work with the polymer armor specifically?”
“Yes!” Moshi called from the stacks.
“How many suits did he say to make?” Ingrid asked.
“One,” Moshi replied, appearing again. She held up a breastplate. “One prototype for the assembly line.”
Everyone stared at her.
“Hold the hell on,” Carlos finally said. “You have orders from Ballantine? What other orders do you have?”
Moshi pointed at Ingrid then Carlos. “Make weapons. Low energy, big kill weapons.”
“Low energy, big kill?” Carlos responded, his face scrunched up so tight it looked like it would implode upon itself.
“Lasers,” Ingrid said. “Ballantine knows I have a thing for lasers. We have more power packs than we could ever use, but they only work with light-emitting devices. Lasers! Yes!”
“Okay, what else?” Carlos asked.
“Be ready,” Moshi said. “I am ready.”
She disappeared once more.
“Yeah, I’m going to go help,” Ingrid said and quickly followed Moshi into the stacks of shelves.
“I would not be against some intellectual stimulation even if it is outside my area of expertise,” Ronald said, walking after Ingrid. “Perhaps I can be used as a test subject since I am quite resilient against physical attacks.”
“Good call, Ronald,” Ingrid replied as they disappeared.
“Hold on!” Carlos shouted. “What about me? What did he say for me to do?”
There was no answer.
“Moshi! What did Ballantine want from me?”
“Nothing!” Moshi called.
Lucy snickered. Cougher turned and stared at the wall. Popeye began whistling a tuneless song. Dr. Morganton rolled her eyes at Carlos and walked after Ingrid and Ronald while Boris stood there looking like nothing had happened.
“Has any
one thought about lunch?” Boris asked. “Or would it be dinner? Dinner? Yes, I believe it is time for dinner. Is there a clock in here? I left my watch back in my cabin. I could fetch it, but, well, the cabin is gone. So, I suppose I cannot fetch it. How unfortunate. I did like that watch.”
“The whole ship was blown up and you’re worried about a watch? You’re one crazy old man,” Carlos said and stomped off in a huff.
“No need to be ageist,” Boris said and looked at Popeye. “I don’t think that kind of attitude is called for.”
“Nothing about Carlos is called for,” Popeye replied. “The guy is always a dick.”
“You and I are close to the same age yet he never brings that up around you,” Boris said.
“Because if he did I’d crack his skull open under my boot,” Popeye said and thumped his leg. His bioalternative cybernetic leg. “He’s well aware of how much I don’t like him.”
“I, unfortunately, do not have an enhanced appendage,” Boris said. “Perhaps I should perform a show of aggression to assert my dominance? I have observed many species of animal obtain great success with that tactic.”
“Have you?” Popeye asked. “What species we talking about?”
“Oh, well, you know,” Boris said. “Several. I once watched a—”
“Don’t care, Doc,” Popeye said. He looked Boris up and down. “I don’t think showing aggression is going to work when you’re dressed in Bermuda shorts and a bright orange T-shirt that says ‘Orange ya glad to see me?’ You get what I’m saying here?”
“Ah, yes, dress for success,” Boris said and wandered off. “Perhaps I can find a uniform that promotes authority. Or a very large gun. People respond to guns.”
Cougher sighed. “Ballantine is a dick for sticking us in here with these people.”
“These people are part of the crew, Cougher,” Popeye said and nodded. “Unfortunately.”
***
Kinsey looked stunned. Aubrey smiled then motioned for Kalis to cut the sound. The chatter from the Toyshop stopped and Kinsey locked eyes with Aubrey.
“I’m going to need the full story,” Kinsey said.