Mega 3: When Giants Collide (Mega Series) (20 page)

“What about-”

“The robots, Doctor,” Ballantine said, “that’s the only other staff on the island, yes?”

“Yes,” Boris smiled weakly. “There are over sixteen thousand robots of various sizes and designs, all programmed to do precise tasks when ordered. Between them and the animals, I haven’t missed other humans at all. Not that I would have time, what with my work.”

“What robots?” Kinsey asked. “If there are sixteen thousand, then shouldn’t we see some?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Boris replied, “they are offline and out of sight whenever a human is present. It prevents accidents.”

“There were unfortunate issues with the first staff,” Ballantine said, “but we fixed those issues and brought the robots here to work.”

“Brought them from where?” Darren asked.

As one, including Tank Top and Bokeem, they turned and looked at Ballantine.

“Marvelous, isn’t it?” he grinned as he ignored the question and walked away towards the door at the other end of the atrium. He started humming and Kinsey grabbed Darren’s arm.

“Ow, ‘Sey,” Darren snapped, “you just broke flesh with your nails. Trim those fuckers.”

“Is he humming Pure Imagination from Willy Wonka?” Kinsey asked.

Darren listened then shook his head. “Yeah, I think he is.”

“We are so fucked,” Kinsey said as they started walking and hurried to catch up with Ballantine.

Thorne let everyone get ahead then nodded to Tank Top and Bokeem. “Walk,” he ordered.

“You know Ballantine is insane, right?” Tank Top asked. “Look at this fucking place.”

“Yeah, I know,” Thorne said, “but I don’t care. So far, in my experience, I have yet to meet a truly sane person anyway.”

***

Lake looked out the bridge window at the beach and the captives, as Dr. Morganton sat next to him, a beer in her hand to match the one in Lake’s hand.

“That is quite the sight,” Dr. Morganton said, her eyes focused on the massive wall with the bay doors. “Looks just like the facility where I worked.”

“What?” Lake asked, his attention pulled from the beach. “What do you mean? I thought you were undercover?”

“For only a year,” Dr. Morganton replied. “Before that, I spent most of my career on an island just like this. All alone with no one to talk to but my creations.”

“All alone?” Lake asked. “Why the hell were you all alone?”

“It’s how Ballantine wanted it,” Dr. Morganton said. “The first few months were hard, but after a while, I realized that’s what the job needed. My total focus without distractions.”

“I wouldn’t call being around people a distraction,” Lake shrugged, “more an annoyance.”

“You’re a sailor,” Dr. Morganton replied, “you’re used to being in close quarters with others and still do your job. I’m not made that way. The isolation was good for me. It helped me foster coldness to my personality that came in handy once I had to deal with the cartel.”

“How’d that even work?” Lake asked. “Going from being around no one to being around killers and psychos?”

Dr. Morganton looked about the bridge, took a drink of her beer, and then smiled. “You tell me, Captain. You know killers and psychos better than I do.”

Lake clinked his beer against hers and laughed.

“No shit, lady,” Lake said.

“Lisa,” she smiled.

“No shit, Lisa.”

***

“Having us work in here non-stop while he’s out on that island drinking his daiquiris and eating his coconuts,” Carlos grumbled as he held a flexible sheet of metal in his hands. “I hate that man. I hate him so much.”

Ingrid poked her head from around the corner of a set of shelves. “Island? What island?” she asked.

“Haven’t you checked any of the security monitors?” Carlos scoffed. “You’re supposed to check them regularly.”

“No, that’s Moshi’s job,” Ingrid said as a hand with a thumb extended poked out from around a different set of shelves. “See. Moshi checks the security feeds. I’m on buoyancy while you’re on shielding.”

“Right,” Carlos sneered, “there’d be no way Ballantine would put you on security after you betrayed us.”

Ingrid stared at Carlos for a second then ducked behind the shelves. She came running back around with a cup of glowing multi-colored goo and dumped it over Carlos’s head.

“What the fuck, Ingrid?” Carlos yelled as he tried to wipe the goo from his face, but only ended up smearing it around as it stuck to his skin. “This burns, you idiot!”

“Huh,” Ingrid said as she threw the cup at Carlos. He ducked and it struck a shelf behind him, and then bounced to the floor. “I thought the gel would maybe keep your assholeness in check, but I guess you’re just too much for it. My bad. At least it’ll keep the pineapples in place.”

“You stupid cow! Help me get this off…” he stopped and looked at Ingrid through half closed lids. “Did you say it will keep the pineapples in place? Are you already finished?”

“Yep,” Ingrid said, “how’s your shielding coming?”

She walked over, took the flexible sheet of metal from him, and then placed it on the workbench in front of the shelves. She studied it from different angles then looked at Carlos.

“You aren’t even close to ready, are you?”

“Shut up,” Carlos said, “it’s not as easy as it looks, even with those notes that Ballantine gave me. I can get it to shield, but the second it has to stay in form, it goes rigid again, which defeats the purpose of the flexibility.  It has to be able to cover every inch of equipment in this ship. Anything left exposed could be fried beyond repair.”

“Yeah, I know the science,” Ingrid said. “I may be a weapon smith like you, but I’m a really good one.”

“We’re more than just weapon smiths,” Carlos said.

“I know, I know,” Ingrid replied then saw Moshi peeking at them from behind her shelves. “Hey, Moshi. What’s up?”

The small woman walked over and picked up the metal sheet.

“Be careful,” Carlos warned.

Moshi frowned at him then went back to studying the sheet. She stared at it for a couple minutes then hurried away with it in her hands.

“Hey!” Carlos yelled as he and Ingrid followed her. “What the hell?”

The woman set the sheet on her workbench then picked up a large screwdriver. Before Carlos could stop her, she started jabbing the end of the screwdriver into the metal, creating a couple dozen holes.

“NO!” Carlos yelled when he finally was able to yank the screwdriver from Moshi’s grasp.

The woman pushed him away, picked up the metal again and rushed over to a different workbench. She took down an instrument that looked like a cross between a vacuum cleaner and a TV. Moshi set the sheet of metal on the instrument and pointed.

“What, you nutjob?” Carlos asked.

“Activate it,” Ingrid said.

“No,” Carlos replied, “she’s ruined it!”

“Activate it,” Ingrid insisted.

Carlos sighed and took a small box from his pocket. He walked over and touched it to the metal. Instantly, the sheet became flexible and form fitted itself about the instrument.

“Doesn’t matter,” Carlos shrugged, “it won’t hold when the pulse hits it.”

“Move,” Ingrid said as she pushed him out of the way and set a large battery down by the metal.

She hooked up three electrodes to the metal and flipped a switch on the battery. The sheet began to waver, but it didn’t return to its sheet state or move from the instrument.

“There,” Ingrid said, “flexible shielding that holds its shape thanks to Moshi.”

“I hate you guys,” Carlos said.

***

“You hungry?” Mike asked the two prisoners as they sat on the brig’s cold metal bench behind steel bars three inches thick each. “I can grab you some chow from the mess.”

Lug and Gil glared at Mike, their eyes filled with barely contained rage.

“Suit yourself,” Mike shrugged. “I’m hungry and I am going to get something to eat.”

“You’re gonna just leave your post?” Gil asked. “That how you lost your legs? Doing something stupid like dereliction of duty.”

“Stepped on a land mine,” Mike said.

“That was dumb,” Gil sneered.

“Tell me about it,” Mike glared. “If I had it to do over, I probably wouldn’t step on that mine.”

“Hindsight and all that shit,” Gil said.

Mike stood up to leave, but stopped and looked at Gil.

“You knew Ballantine from before?” he asked.

“Sorta. Yeah,” Gil nodded, “what of it?”

“Was he a weird, crazy bastard back then?” Mike asked.

“That fucker was off his rocker,” Gil snorted. “He sent us in some strange places to do some strange shit.”

“How’d you end up taking the ship from him?” Mike asked. “That was the original Beowulf, right? How’d you get it away from him and Darby?”

“Darby,” Gil laughed. “Don’t get me started on that bitch.”

“She’s good people, so I’ll let that slide,” Mike said, “but don’t call her that again, got it? Just tell me how you tricked Ballantine out of his ship.”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Gil said.

“He doesn’t talk about it,” Mike said.

“Rightly so,” Gil replied, “I wouldn’t talk about it either.”

“I got the feeling the ship sank,” Mike said, “but obviously it didn’t. Why the hell would he say it sank when you guys still had it?”

“Ask him,” Gil smiled, “it’s a great story.”

“Like I said, he doesn’t talk about it,” Mike said, “and neither does Darby.”

“What about the geeks?” Gil asked. “They still keeping things quiet?”

“The geeks?” Mike asked, puzzled.

“Carlos and the pigtailed chick,” Gil said as he snapped his fingers. “What’s her name?”

“Ingrid?” Mike asked. “You mean the elves?”

“The elves!” Lug laughed. “That’s funny!”

“They hate being called that,” Mike said.

“Nobody likes being called elves,” Gil said. “You should ask them though. Go have a chat, but watch that Carlos guy. He lies like a fucking snake.”

“Yeah, I may do that,” Mike said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Hey,” Lug said, “you guys got any muffins?”

“What the fuck?” Gil asked as he frowned at his comrade. “A muffin?”

“I’m hungry,” Lug said, “but I don’t want anything heavy.”

“Yeah, there’re muffins,” Mike said. “They taste like shit, though. We lost our Chief Steward a few months ago and he did all the cooking. The new cook sucks, in my opinion.”

“Blueberry would be good,” Lug smiled, “anything but banana nut. I hate bananas and nuts.”

“You have got to be shitting me,” Gil said as he leaned back against the wall. “Fucking muffins.”

“Be right back,” Mike nodded then hurried from the brig.

He closed the door and keyed in the lock code. If anyone tried to get in or out, he’d be alerted immediately over the com. He took one last glance through the heavy glass porthole in the door, saw Gil and Lug just sitting there, secured behind those thick bars, and turned and left.

He needed to hurry since Thorne’s last words were for him to “watch those mother fuckers with your life, and never let them out of your sight,” but he hadn’t eaten since the day before and he was starving. He’d only be gone for a couple minutes.

He rushed down two passageways and was about to ascend the stairs that led up to the mess, but he stopped and looked down the passageway to his right.

The Toyshop was down that way.

“Get your food and get back,” he said to himself. “Curiosity killed the cat and Thorne will kill you.”

The mystery of the Beowulf I was too strong to ignore. He hated not having some rudimentary idea of what happened. It could have bearing on their current situation. He looked down at his prosthetic legs and frowned, knowing that it was a lack of solid intel that had led his Team into the mine field that ended up taking his legs, and the lives of five of his closest friends and Teammates.

“Fuck, Ballantine,” Mike said, “he doesn’t get to keep secrets.”

Mike wound his way through the passageways until he came to the Toyshop.

“Hey? You guys in here?” he called out as he worked his way past the rows of shelves and towards where he thought he heard voices. “Guys?”

“What?” Carlos snapped as he and Ingrid looked out from behind a set of shelves. “We’re busy. Go the fuck away.”

“He could help,” Ingrid said. “We need help getting the sheets on the equipment and instruments.”

“Sheets?” Mike asked. “What sheets?”

Moshi peaked around the shelves as well and shook her head while she tapped Carlos on the shoulder.

“Right,” Carlos nodded, “aren’t you supposed to be in the brig with Gil and that other guy?”

“Lug,” Mike said. “You didn’t know him from before?”