Mega 3: When Giants Collide (Mega Series) (11 page)

“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.

“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.

“Gil, you need to relax,” Tank Top said as he grabbed the ladder. “They aren’t going to do shit, not with two Mexican destroyers pointing all guns at them. Trust me, Ballantine won’t come at us head on. That sneaky bastard like’s his attacks to be unseen.”

Tank Top tapped at his ear.

“Bokeem? You read me?”

“Loud and clear,” Bokeem replied over their com system.

“How’s it looking from Shabby Paul, Wonkers, and Bub’s angles?” Tank Top asked.

“They have the chick sniper clocked and see the ship’s captain standing on the bridge with a pair of binoculars pointed right at us.”

“You pointing your eyes at them?” Tank Top asked.

“Nope,” Bokeem said, “that’d be too clichéd. John Bill and I are having some tea right now. You just give us a shout when you need us.”

“Is he fucking joking?” the third man, Lug, nearly shouted. “Tea? They’re up there drinking tea while we do all the work?”

While large like Tank Top and Gil, Lug had a nervousness about him that made him look smaller than the other two. He had the vibe of a fourth grader that had missed his last three doses of Ritalin.

“You think we’re doing all the work?” Tank Top asked the man then looked over at Gil. “Gil? Would you say that we’re doing all the work?”

“Our fair share,” Gil shrugged.

“Exactly,” Tank Top smiled. “Our fair share. You hear those words, Lug? We’re all doing our fair share. It’s all good, so calm down. I need you calm, Lug. Are you calm?”

The man twitched and ticked, but nodded.

“I’m calm,” Lug said.

“You don’t look calm,” Tank Top said then punched the man right between the eyes.

Lug didn’t even flinch or stumble back. He shook his head and his whole body seemed to relax instantly.

“Thanks,” he said to Tank Top, “I needed that.”

“You punch him?” Bokeem asked.

“Right between the eyes,” Tank Top replied then looked at the ladder and the man that peered down at them from the railing above. “Let’s go meet Ballantine’s new Team, shall we?”

***

The shark rocketed through the water, ignoring the small fishing vessels above it as it sped towards its target. It wanted to stop and devour the boats, rip them apart plank by plank, and swallow the crews whole as they screamed their way to their ends.

Even the desire for blood, food, and carnage couldn’t tear it away from its path. The target was so close and every nerve ending in the beast was alive with the thought of the final catch. All of its existence had built up to the last chase, the end game.

The massive shark swam closer to the surface of the water and let its dorsal fin nudge the hull of one of the fishing boats. Even from under the water, it could hear the men above cry out in alarm. Marine biologists would have dismissed the grin on its face as anthropomorphizing since sharks don’t smile.

Those marine biologists would have been wrong. Very, very wrong.

***

Ballantine stood on the upper deck of the Beowulf III and watched as a ghost from his past climbed over the railing and gave him a huge smile.

“Jason,” Ballantine said as he walked forward and offered his hand.

“Fuck you and your mother, Ballantine,” Tank Top said, ignoring the offered hand. “This isn’t a reunion, so don’t get cute.”

“Two more coming up, Ballantine,” Popeye said from the railing as he looked down at the side of the B3.

“Thank you, Popeye,” Ballantine said.

“Popeye?” Tank Top asked as he turned and looked at the smaller man as if he’d just noticed him. “Yeah, I can see the resemblance, but the cartoon guy had both his legs.”

“You can have both of these,” Popeye said as he turned and raised the middle fingers of each of his hands.

“Now, that’s cute,” Tank Top laughed. He turned his attention back to Ballantine. “Where’re the Thornes?”

“They won’t be joining me,” Ballantine said.

“Really?” Tank Top asked, folding his arms across his chest. “That is kind of the opposite of my instructions.”

“Yes, I am aware of that,” Ballantine replied.

Tank Top waited for more then laughed. “Jesus tits, Ballantine, you haven’t changed one bit.”

“I like to think I have,” Ballantine replied. “What is the point of life if we don’t achieve growth?”

“Oh, go fuck yourself with your cock sucking wisdom,” Tank Top said. “It was all just words when I worked for you and it’s all just words now. Go get the fucking Thornes so I can get back to my ship.”

“Like I said, Jason,” Ballantine sighed, “the Thornes will not be joining me.”

Tank Top closed on Ballantine in a blink, his hands clutching at Ballantine’s shirt collar.

“This is not a negotiation, Ballantine,” he snarled, “call the Thornes up here or I’ll have the Mexican Navy blast this ship out of the fucking water.”

“Then give the order,” Ballantine said. “Be my guest.”

“I’ll do it,” Tank Top warned, “as soon as I have you down in that raft and we’re halfway back to the MB, I’ll have every gun open up on this tin can and send it to the bottom of the ocean forever.”

“Ooh, not forever,” Ballantine grinned. “Forever IS such a long time.”

Tank Top gave Ballantine a hard shake, and then shoved him away as he turned to the two men that climbed up after him.

“Lug? Gil? Search below deck,” Tank Top ordered, “be thorough. I want every corner and shadow checked and double checked.”

“I know how to search a ship,” Gil said as he pushed past Tank Top and Ballantine to the main hatch. “Come on, Lug.”

Lug was busy looking Popeye up and down. “Is this guy for real?” he asked as he reached out and pressed a finger to Popeye’s shoulder. “What happened to your leg?”