Mega 3: When Giants Collide (Mega Series) Page 9

  “Bokeem has already reminded me that we’re on the clock today, Ballantine,” Tank Top said. “We’re steaming to you and plan on boarding without incident. You make this easy for us and we spare the crew.”

  “That’s a worthless lie, if I ever heard one,” Ballantine said. “You’ll butcher us all, just like before.”

  “I didn’t butcher all of you, now did I?” Tank Top said. “You’re still breathing, unfortunately. Those weapons nerds are still breathing, even though you sent that loser Carlos to try to trap and blow us up. I count his escape as one of my greatest failures as a soldier of fortune.”

  “That’s what you call yourself? A soldier of fortune?” Ballantine laughed. “That’s like a fresh turd calling itself a diamond.”

  “You are just full of insults today,” Tank Top exclaimed. “Certainly not the polished gentleman I remember from before. I guess living with those SEAL pussies has rubbed off on you.”

  “You’d be a fool to consider my new Team pussies, Lodensheim,” Ballantine said.

  “Tank Top,” Tank Top insisted.

  “Jason,” Ballantine mocked.

  “Whatever,” Tank Top shrugged. “Hey, is Darby still with you?”

  Ballantine didn’t respond.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Tank Top smirked. “She ever tell you that we fucked on your desk? You know that sweet dark mahogany number you had in your office? Yeah, all over that. Man, we slicked the top of that thing up so much you could see the reflection of our asses as we went at it. That Darby sure gets wet when she’s excited.”

  “It would be wise to close your mouth now, Jason,” Ballantine whispered. “It would be very wise.”

  “She there by your side as always?” Tank Top asked. “Put her on, if she is. I’d love to reminisce about old times. Hell, if she’s nice, I’ll even let her fuck me on that desk again. Yep, I still have it. I left your office exactly the same. I go in there for a morale boost when I’m feeling down. Beating you and taking your ship was one of the high points of my career.”

  “I have a new ship, Jason,” Ballantine said, “and it can blow yours out of the water.”

  “Maybe,” Tank Top replied, “but, I doubt it can blow the Mexican destroyers out of the water. At least not before they unload every missile they have on you.”

  “If that was the plan, Jason, then they would have done it by now,” Ballantine said. “So that means you need at least one person from this ship alive. Which person is it? Is it me?”

  “Oh, there’s that ego I’ve missed so much!” Tank Top exclaimed. “You just can’t believe that someone else might be more important to our employers than you.”

  “Who?” Ballantine pressed.

  “Okay, full disclosure, yes, we need you alive,” Tank Top admitted. “We also need the Thorne twat and her daddy. If we get all three of you, then your crew and the ship can go free. Scout’s honor.”

  “You have no honor and I’m fairly certain you were never a Boy Scout,” Ballantine said.

  “Not true, not true,” Tank Top said, “I was. I even got the cock up the anus by a troupe leader badge. Probably why I have issues with authority and lack any sense of rage control. I’m deeply scarred.”

  “No shit,” Bokeem laughed.

  “Bokeem agrees with my self-diagnosis,” Tank Top continued. “His input has saved me thousands of dollars in therapy fees.”

  “I can understand why the company wants me, but why would they want the Thornes?” Ballantine asked.

  “Who said anything about the company wanting the Thornes?” Tank Top asked.

  ***

  The smell of oil and grease permeated the water, despite there not being any ships within fifty miles of the creature. It was an offensive smell, but one that drove the shark towards its target.

  Not that it needed the smells to hone in on its prey. Even from its far off distance, the shark knew how many ships were in the ocean ahead, their sizes, their weights, and even the amount of people that made up their individual crews. The monster was a feat of science and engineering that transcended almost all breakthroughs during the past century.

  It was a killing machine of impossible size with an intellectual capacity that one of its long dead species should never have been capable of. It could reason, plot, plan, and out maneuver most humans, and it perfectly intended to once it caught up with its target, even if it had to destroy the other ships that its mind quickly realized were its competition, not its allies.

  ***

  “We are not fucking around here!” Thorne shouted. “You are getting in the fucking water with Team Grendel!”

  “That’s stupid,” Kinsey snapped as the two Thornes hurried down the passageway to Gunnar’s lab. “As soon as they realize I’m not on board, they’ll start torturing or shooting crewmembers.”

  “That’s why I’m staying behind,” Thorne said, skidding to a stop as he entered Gunnar’s lab. “What the fuck is she doing in here?”

  Everyone looked at Ingrid who was busy working on Mike’s left prosthetic with Dr. Morganton, as the man lay back on a lab table.

  “I needed her assistance,” Dr. Morganton said as she stepped away from the lab table and approached Thorne with her hands out in a pacifying gesture. “I couldn’t disengage the tracker without frying out the main junction of the leg’s brain.”

  Thorne was less than pacified.

  “Legs don’t fucking have brains” he yelled, “and she is an admitted traitor! Get her back in the fucking brig right now!”

  “Daddy, I think-” Kinsey began.

  “Not one more word from anyone!” Thorne roared. “Ballantine and I have given orders and we expect them to be carried out! The life of everyone onboard depends on the chain of command right now!”

  “Chill, Vinny,” Gunnar said as he stepped up next to Dr. Morganton. “We need Mike in the fight. We also need to get the tracker off this ship. The shark is zeroed in on it and that means it’s zeroed in on the B3.”

  “What the fuck do you mean it’s zeroed in on it?” Thorne asked. “I thought it had been disabled.”

  “It has,” Carlos said, “for the most part. There is a sub-frequency signal still transmitting from the device. I can’t figure it out, Moshi can’t figure it out, and Ingrid didn’t know it was capable of transmitting that kind of signal. Technically, it’s a theoretical signal and nothing should be able to transmit using a sub-frequency like that. As annoying as it is, it is fascinating to see it in action.”

  “You know what’s fascinating to see in action?” Thorne growled. “My boot-”

  “Up our asses,” Gunnar and Kinsey said in unison.

  “Let it go, Daddy,” Kinsey said, “and let it go that I’m getting off this ship.”

  “Darby is already suited up, so are the boys and Darren,” Thorne said. “You are going with Grendel and you are going to help take these ships down before they surround us.”

  “I’m on that list,” Mike said, looking at Ingrid, “right?”

  “If everyone will please be quiet so I can work on this,” Ingrid said. “Then yes, you will be able to suit up as well.”

  “I’ll be below getting ready,” Kinsey said as she turned her attention to Carlos. “Gear all ready for me?”

  “Suit, mustache, and channel guns,” Carlos nodded. “Checked and ready.”

  “Good,” Kinsey smiled. “Thanks.”

  She kissed her father on the cheek and took off out of the lab. Thorne started to follow, but a cry from Ingrid made him turn his attention back to the lab table.

  Ingrid was holding her hand to her chest as a small square of metal shivered on a tray next to the table. Small blue sparks emanated from the square as tendrils of smoke wafted away from it.

  “What the hell was that?” Mike asked as he flexed his leg.

  “Stop that,” Carlos grumbled. He took over Ingrid and checked Mike’s leg for damage. “Systems are in the green. I’m closing it up. You’re ready for duty.”


  “The thing bit me,” Ingrid said.

  “Bit you?” Gunnar asked.

  “Well, it shocked me,” Ingrid said. “I don’t think it wanted to be pulled free.”

  “Who would?” Mike smiled as he looked to Carlos for the okay to start flexing his leg again. He got the nod and eased himself off the table. “I’m a sexy hunk of SEAL. No one wants to leave this bod.”

  “Careful there, stud,” Gunnar said, “that ego isn’t very sexy.”

  The square sparked more, then began to bounce up and down on the tray. Moshi pushed past everyone and looked at the wiggling hunk of tech. She glanced around the lab then hurried over to a counter and grabbed a pair of rubber gloves. When she got back to the tray, she carefully picked up the tracker then smiled as she met everyone’s eyes.

  “I’m not sure what you want, Moshi,” Ingrid said.

  The silent woman held out her hands, but not to the techs or the scientists.

  “What the hell would I want with that thing?” Thorne asked.

  Moshi smiled and looked around the lab then back at the commander.

  “Someone help me here,” Thorne said.

  “Duh,” Carlos said as he slapped his forehead. “She’s right. We can use this against them. The shark is tracking this device, not this ship.”

  Thorne got it immediately then.

  “Get me some gloves,” he said. “I have to get this down to Grendel.”

  ***

  “Incoming Zodiac,” Lake said over the com as Lucy laid prone in the crow’s nest, her .50 cal rifle tucked against her shoulder. “You got it, Lucy?”

  “I got it,” Lucy said.

  Lucy watched through her scope as the Zodiac bounced across the waves towards the B3. Three men were in the Zodiac and all of them heavily armed. The one that rode at the fore of the raft wore a pair of khaki shorts and a black tank top; Lucy guessed he was the leader that Ballantine had told her to watch for.

  The other two men were both large, muscled, and armed with M4s that looked heavily modified. Lucy doubted that the men would be easy to take down once they were on the B3 and her finger itched to fire as it rested next to her trigger guard. She could take all three men out in less than three seconds, but Ballantine had said to hold her fire unless she was fired on.

  She turned her scope from the Zodiac and lifted it towards the shop that was steaming closer by the second. Monkey Balls. She laughed at the name, but the laugh caught in her throat as she saw that she wasn’t the only one playing sniper.

  “Lake? We have three shooters with eyes on us,” Lucy said as she studied one man in the Monkey Balls’ crow’s nest, then one on the observation deck and another standing on the bow. The one on the bow waved to her as he waggled his .300 Win Mag back and forth. She glanced at the other two and they were doing the same thing. “The shooters are smart asses.”

  “That isn’t good,” Lake said. “Smart ass shooters tend to hit what they aim for.”

  “Yes, we do,” Max said over the com.

  “We’d hit our targets anyway,” Shane added, “because we’re that good, but being smart asses doesn’t hurt.”

  “Guys, shut the fuck up and get prepped,” Darren said. “Sorry, Lake, I’ll keep them off the channel.”

  “Switch to Team channel,” Thorne ordered. “Ballantine?”

  “I’m here, Commander,” Ballantine responded, “what can I do for you?”

  “I’m going with the Team,” Thorne said. “Sorry, but they will need me. The plan has changed.”

  “Has it?” Ballantine asked. “I wasn’t aware we’d decided to change the plan.”

  “Don’t worry,” Thorne said, “we have it all under control.”

  “I am sure you do, Commander,” Ballantine said.

  “What channel do you want me on?” Lucy asked. “Grendel or Beowulf?”

  “I get an Anglo-Saxon woody when you say things like that,” Max said. “Ow! No hitting, Darby! Ow! Okay...I”ll shut up.”

  “Stay on the Beowulf channel,” Thorne said. “Coordinate with Ballantine and Lake. If I need you I’ll switch over.”

  “Got it,” Lucy replied as she continued to move her scope from one sniper to the next and back.

  They weren’t waggling anymore and Lucy shivered knowing she had three sniper rifles all pointed at her.

  ***

  The hatch to Specimen Bay One opened and Team Grendel hurried through, hustling across the deck to the open water. They each slipped off the deck and into the water without saying a word. Their compression suits adjusted automatically to the pressure of the water and each member of the Team winced as the mesh tightened then loosened.

  “It’s like a hug from a creepy uncle,” Shane said.

  “Not you, Uncle Vinny,” Max said as he placed his mustache rebreather under his nose and pulled the tabs at each side. Tubes slid up his nose, into his sinuses then down his trachea and into his lungs. He choked and gagged for a second then shook his head. “That’s just gross.”

  The rest of the Team did the same with their rebreathers, all agreeing silently.

  “I’m pretty sure all you have to do is place this on the hull,” Carlos said as he knelt by the edge of the deck and handed a small box to Thorne. “The tracker is still active and should send the shark right for the other ship.”

  “You’re pretty sure?” Thorne frowned, his voice a little off putting as it was amplified by the mustache instead of coming directly from his mouth. Due to the rebreather sealing off the airway at the back of his throat, as it did for all the Team members, there was no way for him to speak normally, although the facsimile the rebreather produced was fairly accurate.

  “I haven’t had time to study the tech,” Carlos said. “I’m only making educated guesses here. If you want, I can take it back and spend the next few hours dissecting it. Will that work on your precious time table?”

  “Thanks, Carlos,” Kinsey said, “you did what you could.”

  “I’m here!” Mike said as he rushed into the bay. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “You’re not late because you’re not coming,” Thorne said.

  “What?” Mike protested. “Why? Because of my legs? Max broke his only a few weeks ago and you’re sending him out.”

  “The water helps,” Max said. “It’s physical therapy with guns.”

  “I need you on this ship as backup,” Thorne said to Mike. “You make yourself scarce and keep your eyes and ears open. I want to hear regular updates in my ear on the Team channel, got it? If things go south, you shout ‘Monkey Nuts’.”

  “Monkey Nuts?” Max asked.

  “It’s Monkey Balls,” Shane added.

  “I know what the fucking name of the ship is,” Thorne growled.

  “Uncle Vinny isn’t in a funny mood, is he?” Max whispered.

  “See? What’d I tell you about the creepy uncle hugs?” Shane whispered back.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Thorne muttered.

  “You want me to stay below decks?” Mike asked.

  “Below decks and out of sight,” Thorne ordered. “The Toyshop might be a good place. Get in there with the techs and lock it down. They have the equipment to monitor the whole ship.”

  “We have the equipment to control the whole ship,” Carlos said. The Team all turned their attention on the man. “What?”

  “You can pilot the ship from the Toyshop?” Darren asked.

  “Yeah. So?” Carlos replied.

  “If we live through this then we’re having a sit down where I learn every single thing about every aspect of this ship and crew,” Thorne snapped. “So fucking tired of learning about things just as I’m getting in the shit.”

  “What Uncle Vinny said,” Max nodded.

  “I second that emotion,” Shane said.

  “So now probably isn’t a good time to tell you that I modified your compression suits so that the nanotech can magnetize, allowing you to scale the hulls of ships, then should I?” Carlos smirked.

&nbs
p; “I get to shoot him,” Max said.

  “No way, I’m calling that one,” Shane said.

  “Get to the Toyshop,” Thorne said to Mike, ignoring his nephews and Carlos, “and have this asshole fill you in on any other need to know information he’s been holding back.”

  “Hey,” Carlos protested, “I didn’t hold that back, I just forgot until now, and as for the controls in the armory, I just thought Ballantine would have told you. Or at least told Darren.”

  “He didn’t,” Darren said.

  “Well, that’s your problem, not mine,” Carlos shrugged.

  “Come on,” Mike said, “time to tear you away from all the friend making.”

  “Not my fault these Jarheads don’t know how to ask the right questions,” Carlos grumbled.

  “Hey!” Thorne, Max, Shane, Mike, and Darren snapped.

  “I’m the only Jarhead,” Kinsey said as she raised her hand. “Jarhead refers to a Marine, not Navy SEALs.”

  “Who fucking cares?” Carlos shrugged as Mike dragged him back to the hatch.

  “The guy with the channel gun pointed at your crotch,” Max glared.

  Mike got Carlos through the hatch and slammed it shut. He peered through the porthole them gave a thumbs up. Claxons and flashing red lights filled the bay as the pressure changed and the space began to fill with water.

  Having used the mustaches before, none of Team Grendel panicked when the water completely filled the bay. They all just took deep breaths through their rebreathers then gave each other the thumbs up that things were working right.

  Below and in front of them, the bottom of the bay split open to reveal the ocean outside. Thorne locked eyes with each member of the Team then pointed at the opening and started to swim.

  Team Grendel was through the doors and on its way to the Monkey Balls.

  ***

  “We should have brought more men,” a thick-necked man said as he steadied the Zodiac by a ladder that had been dropped from the B3’s railing above. “Three of us won’t hold long if their whole Team decides to start wailing on us.”

  The thick-necked man was in his mid-forties with a deep brown sailor’s tan and a shaved head. Across his head, was a tattoo of a mermaid holding an M16 machine gun and smoking a cigar. The tattoo was marred by a long, white scar that ran from the top of the man’s skull and all the way down to his ear.