by Jake Bible
“No, actually,” Dr. Morganton replied, “if the device is shielded and only reveals itself when it transmits, then it wouldn’t need much power at all to send a signal, especially if it’s using some type of frequency other than radio waves.”
“High intensity microwaves?” Gunnar asked. “If it’s dialed in right to a receiving satellite then it’d have less of a footprint than a digital watch.”
“If that,” Dr. Morganton said. She turned around in a circle then started to walk up and down the passageway. “It’s gone.”
“Let’s check the rooms,” Gunnar said.
“I’ll go tell Thorne,” Mike said as he started to hobble away. His leg twitched again and he put his hand out against the wall to steady himself. “Fucking piece of crap!”
Gunnar’s and Dr. Morganton’s scanners beeped once more.
“Mike,” Gunnar said, “stop right there.” He looked over at Dr. Morganton and then down the passageway at Mike. “Actually, how about both of you stop right where you are.”
“Me? What for?” Dr. Morganton asked.
“Just stay there,” Gunnar said as he held his scanner up, his eyes going from Mike to the scanner to Dr. Morganton and back to the scanner.
Over and over again he watched the two other people in the passageway while also trying to keep his attention on the scanner. Then Mike’s leg twitched and the scanners beeped.
“You mother fucker,” Gunnar said as he looked right at Dr. Morganton. “You fucking traitorous piece of shit.”
“Excuse me?” Dr. Morganton snapped. “How dare you speak to me that way, Dr. Peterson!”
“How dare me?” Gunnar shouted. “How fucking dareme? Oh, right, because I’m the one that has been working and tweaking Mike’s prosthetics! In fact, it must have been me that decided today would be the day to put synthetic skin on his leg and jolt it with a taser. Was that really a taser, Doctor? Or was it what you needed to activate the tracking device?”
“Oh, shit,” Mike said as he looked down at his leg, “the fucking thing is in my leg?”
“Stay right there,” Gunnar snarled at Dr. Morganton then he sidestepped over to Mike. “Hold still.”
Gunnar knelt by Mike’s leg and waited. In just a couple of seconds, the leg twitched and the scanner beeped.
“Gunnar, listen, you can’t possibly think I had anything to do with that,” Dr. Morganton said. “I’m part of this team, part of this ship and crew. I’ve given up my life for Ballantine and the company! I died for them!”
“Bullshit,” Gunnar said. “I don’t know you for shit, lady. I know everyone else on this ship, but you. You’re a stranger that hitched a ride.”
“You really think you know everyone on this ship?” Dr. Morganton laughed. “You may know the crew, you may know the Thornes, the Reynolds, Darren Chambers, but do you really know Ballantine? Or Darby? Or Ingrid? Or Moshi? Or...Carlos?”
Her eyes went wide.
Gunnar started to argue, but he saw the disbelief and then realization dawn in her eyes.
“Shit,” Gunnar said, “you didn’t build those legs.”
“Carlos did,” Dr. Morganton responded.
“We have to get Thorne and Ballantine and the Team down to the Toyshop,” Gunnar said. “Carlos has all the weapons. He can take this ship at any time, if he wants.”
They both took off running, leaving Mike to hobble after them.
“Hey! Wait up, you fucks!” Mike shouted as his leg twitched. “I still have the fucking tracking device in my leg, morons!”
***
Thorne and Darren took point as they stepped into the pitch dark Toyshop, their M4 carbines to their shoulders and their game faces on. Kinsey and Darby were next with Lucy right behind. They stepped past the counter with the metal cage that was the entrance to the storage area of the armory and quietly made their way past each row of shelves until they came to a long work bench. Sweeping their heads back and forth, their NVGs turned the Toyshop into a glowing landscape in their eyes.
“Where is he?” Thorne snarled as Moshi looked up from the circuit board she was working on, a headlamp lit up on her forehead to make up for the lack of power to the lights.
The headlamp blinded Thorne and Darren rushed forward and yanked it from Moshi’s head. The small woman squeaked and fell off her stool then tried to crawl under the work bench, but Darren grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her out.
“Where is he?” Darren snapped.
“What the fuck is this?” Carlos asked as he came out from between two shelves, his own headlamp blindingly bright. “What the hell are you guys doing? Moshi? Are you all right? What the fuck, guys?”
“Get on the fucking ground!” Thorne yelled and rushed forward. “Get down now, you fucking traitor!”
Thorne grabbed Carlos by the shoulder then swept his legs out from under him. Carlos’s back hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him. He lay there gasping, his hands up, his eyes wide with shock and terror.
“You think we wouldn’t figure it out?” Darren asked. “This ship is filled with trained minds, you idiot! How the fuck could you possibly think you’d get away with it?”
“Get away with what?” Carlos gasped. “I haven’t fucking done anything!”
“We found the tracking device in Mike’s leg,” Thorne said as he dropped quickly and planted his knee in Carlo’s solar plexus, making the man gasp even harder. “It was clever, I’ll give you that.”
“I...don’t know...what...the...fuck...you are...talking about,” Carlos wheezed. “Get...the fuck...off me.”
“Carlos? Moshi?” Ingrid asked as she moved slowly towards the work bench. She didn’t have a headlamp and was feeling blindly in the dim light given off by Moshi’s and Carlos’s. “What’s going on?”
“Get over there with her,” Darren ordered as he swung his carbine towards Moshi.
Then the power came on and Ingrid stopped in her tracks. She looked down at Carlos, looked over at Moshi, and then looked at Team Grendel with their carbines to their shoulders. She stood stock still for a second then turned and bolted.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Kinsey shouted as she slung her carbine and pulled out her pistol then took off after the woman. “It’s not those two!”
Ingrid sprinted between the shelves, dodging this way and that so Kinsey couldn’t get a bead on her. She yanked gear off the shelves and tossed it to the floor forcing Kinsey to jump and leap over random pieces of equipment and weaponry.
“Goddammit, Ingrid!” Kinsey yelled. “Don’t make me shoot you!”
Ingrid didn’t stop. She just kept winding back through the maze of shelves that made up the Toyshop.
“Ingrid! If you stop now, I promise nothing will happen to you! We just need to talk!” Kinsey yelled.
“Yeah, right!” Ingrid shouted back.
Kinsey zeroed in on the voice and changed directions. She backtracked two rows of shelves and then ran as fast as she could down the aisle between them. Ingrid crossed her path and then bolted towards the wall at the far end of the aisle. Just before getting to the wall, Ingrid tapped at her wrist and suddenly there was nothing but passageway in front of them.
Well, almost nothing but passageway.
“Hey, there,” Max said as he slammed the butt of his rifle into Ingrid’s face just as she reached the secret entrance/exit to the Toyshop. “Forget about us?”
Ingrid hit the floor in an unconscious heap.
“I think she did,” Shane said as he stepped up next to his brother.
“I would have preferred if she was awake, boys,” Ballantine said from behind them. “Pick her up and bring her below.”
“Below?” Kinsey asked as she skidded to a stop and tried to catch her breath. “Why below?”
“Because that’s where my interrogation room is,” Ballantine grinned. “I think it’s the appropriate venue for what is about to happen to our dear, sweet Ingrid.”
“Dude, dial back the scary, will ya?” Shane said.
/> “Yeah, I think I peed a little,” Max said.
“Just pick her up,” Ballantine frowned. “We don’t have much time.”
***
The door opened and Ballantine stepped out, wiping his hands on a hand towel as he looked up to see Thorne, Darren, Darby, and Carlos standing in the passageway.
“What?” Ballantine asked. “I didn’t have to lay a finger on her, if that’s what you’re worried about. She confessed to everything.”
“You want to fill us in?” Thorne asked.
“Walk with me,” Ballantine said. “I need some fresh air.”
“Can I see her?” Carlos asked, his eyes flitting from Ballantine to the interrogation room door.
“Not a chance in Hell,” Ballantine said. “You are the one that let this happen.”
For once, Carlos kept his mouth shut and just nodded.
“I’ll wait here,” Darby said as she stepped next to the door. She looked at Carlos. “You can wait with me.”
“Okay,” he nodded and gave a weak smile. “I’m sorry, Ballantine. I didn’t know she was-”
“None of us did,” Ballantine said, “but your apology still means nothing. Part of your job is to know what those under you are up to. You failed with this one, Carlos. It’ll be a long time before you can make that up to me. Especially considering what damage you’ve already caused in the past.”
“Don’t,” Darby snarled, “just don’t, Ballantine. That was never his fault, despite how you want to spin your web of lies.”
“We’ll have to permanently agree to disagree on that one, Darby,” Ballantine said. “Commander? Mr. Chambers?”
“Knock off the Mr. Chambers shit,” Darren said, “it doesn’t impress me.”
“I never intended it to,” Ballantine smiled. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
He walked down the passageway and Thorne and Darren hurried to catch up.
“She’s been in the company’s pocket for quite some time,” Ballantine said. “Apparently her mother has been sick and the company has paid for all of her medical bills as well as hospice care once she took a turn for the worse.”
“Why would the company want her in their pocket?” Darren asked.
“Because they haven’t trusted you since the first Beowulf was lost,” Thorne stated.
Ballantine stopped and fixed his gaze on the commander.
“That’s very perceptive of you, Vincent,” Ballantine said. “You figured that out quickly.”
“I don’t know what went down with that ship,” Thorne said. “Especially since you don’t talk about it.”
“Never,” Ballantine nodded.
“Whatever happened, it was bad enough to put Darby on edge and defend that tech against you,” Thorne said. “I think I know Darby well enough to say that her actions speak volumes on your culpability in the accident.”
“It was far from an accident,” Ballantine said as he started walking again.
“Then what was it?” Darren asked as they took a set of stairs then another up past the next couple of decks. “What the fuck happened on the Beowulf I?”
“Darren,” Ballantine sighed, “I just stated that I never talk about that.”
“I don’t fucking care,” Darren replied. “I just stated that.”
They took more stairs until they were walking onto the upper deck and out into the sunlight and ocean breeze.
“Hey! You guys better come look at this!” Lake yelled down from the bridge.
“In a moment, Captain,” Ballantine said as he waved up at Lake. “We are having a discussion right-”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Ballantine!” Lake snapped. “Get your high and mighty ass up here now!”
“I think we had better do as he says,” Thorne said.
“Apparently,” Ballantine frowned.
They climbed up to the bridge and Ballantine was about to lay into Lake when he was handed a set of binoculars.
“Due east,” Lake said, “just off the horizon.”
Ballantine reluctantly took the binoculars and turned in the direction Lake had indicated. He focused the binoculars and studied the ocean for a few seconds.
“Monkey Balls,” he said as he gave the binoculars to Thorne.
“I’m guessing that’s not good,” Darren said.
“Monkey Balls,” Thorne said as well.
“Hardly original,” Darren responded as the binoculars were handed to him. He put them to his eyes then focused. “Oh, shit. Monkey Balls.”
Just in front of the horizon was a group of ships heading towards them quickly. On the bow of the lead ship were the words “SS Monkey Balls.”
“Those are the people tracking us, right?” Lake asked.
“Yes, Captain, they are,” Ballantine answered.
“That’s a lot of ships,” Lake said.
“It’s not the amount of ships that worries me,” Ballantine said, “but the one leading the charge.”
“I count five ships following the Monkey Balls,” Thorne said then sighed at the stupid name before continuing. “Three are cutter class while two are destroyers. Destroyers, Ballantine. Do you see the flag they are flying?”
“Mexican,” Darren said. “Fucking cartels bought out two Mexican naval destroyers. This is great.”
“The cutters have Somali clan flags,” Lake said. “Fucking pirates again.”
“Tell me, Ballantine,” Thorne said, “if there are three cutters with Somali clan flags and two destroyers flying the Mexican colors, then why are you afraid of the one ship in front with the stupid name Monkey Balls?”
“Because the other ships we can handle,” Ballantine said. “I have faith in the Beowulf and its crew, and more importantly, I have faith in Team Grendel, but the Monkey Balls? If who I think is on that ship is actually on that ship, then I am not sure we can handle them.”
Lake pulled out a Desert Eagle pistol and set it by the wheel. “Can I shoot him if he doesn’t tell us what the fuck is going on?”
“He’s going to tell us,” Darren said, “but you’re the Captain, Marty, you can shoot whomever you want on this ship.”
“There is a Team of men on that ship,” Ballantine continued as if Lake and Darren hadn’t just threatened his life. “A very dangerous Team.”
“A Team?” Thorne asked. “What kind of Team?”
“My first Team, Commander,” Ballantine said as he turned and looked Thorne directly in the eye. “What? You didn’t think Grendel was the first, did you?”
“Son of a bitch,” Darren said.
“You’re saying there are SEALs on that ship coming to kill us?” Lake asked.
“SEALs? Not even close, Captain,” Ballantine replied. “No, they are nothing but cold blooded mercenaries. That’s why when I put Grendel together, and I chose Commander Thorne and his expertise. I knew he’d pick people with integrity and loyalty, as SEALs are trained.”
“So, your first Team didn’t work out and did what?” Thorne asked. “Bit the hand that fed it?”
“Far worse,” Ballantine sighed. “You want to know what happened to the Beowulf I?” Ballantine pointed out at the horizon and the quickly approaching ships. “They happened, Commander, and it is all about to happen again if we don’t prepare ourselves.”
“They are the ones that sunk the Beowulf I?” Darren asked.
Ballantine laughed. “The Beowulf I was never sunk.”
“But you said…?” Darren trailed off.
“Never honest a day in your life, right Ballantine?” Thorne sneered.
“You got me, Commander,” Ballantine shrugged.
“Sound general quarters,” Thorne said to Lake. “Everyone to battle stations.”
“Jesus, Mary, Mother of God,” Lake said.
“Yes, Captain,” Ballantine said, “prayer is a very good idea right now.”
Chapter Four- The Prodigal Is Home
Tank Top was about to depress the button on the handset and hail the Beowulf III when Bokeem cleared his
throat.
“What?” Tank Top asked.
“I’m the fucking captain of the Monkey Balls,” Bokeem said. “I get to do the hailing.”
Tank Top looked at the handset and then at the man in the captain’s chair.
“Fuck that,” he grinned as he pressed the button. “Hello, Ballantine! Guess who this is?”
“Those are the first words you are going to say?” Bokeem laughed. “You’ll really have that psychopath quaking in his leather loafers.”
“Hello, Mr. Lodensheim,” Ballantine replied. “It has been a while since we have had the pleasure of conversing, you murderous fucking asshole of a man.”
“Wow,” Tank Top chuckled, “and here I thought you may not remember me. How ya been, you polo shirt wearing fuck nut?”
“Better than average, but less than great,” Ballantine responded. “Is Bokeem with you? How about the rest of the old Berserker team?”
“We dropped that Team Berserker bullshit years ago, Ballantine,” Tank Top said, “and no one calls me Lodensheim, you know that.”
“They don’t? What do they call you?” Ballantine asked. “Turncoat? Deceitful cunt? Dead man, if I get my hands on you?”
“You know what my handle is, Ballantine, so say it,” Tank Top said then whispered to Bokeem. “He’s always hated my name.”
“Tank Top,” Ballantine sighed. “It’s not a name so much as a description.”
“All good nicknames are,” Tank Top said, “and to answer your earlier question, yes, Bokeem is here. He’s the captain of the Monkey Balls, in fact.”
“Bokeem is?” Ballantine asked. “Well, that’s a surprise. Tell him congratulations for me. The man is a better leader than you could ever be. Not that any of you are worth a shit.”
“I hear your hate, Ballantine, but I think it masks your true feelings,” Tank Top said. “You know you love us. We’re your first born, your first Team.”
“One that should have been aborted,” Ballantine said.
“You tried, but it didn’t take,” Tank Top replied. “Abortion aborted.”
“Get to the point,” Bokeem said. “We have a schedule to keep if we want to avoid the abomination coming behind us.”