by Jake Bible
Dr. Morganton rolled the synthetic skin then proceeded to slide it up and over Mike’s left leg. It extended past the prosthetic by several inches and bunched around Mike’s thigh. He looked down at the wrinkled skin and frowned.
“I look like I have elephant skin,” he said.
“That will be fixed shortly,” Dr. Morganton stated as she grabbed what looked like a basic taser.
“Whoa!” Mike exclaimed. “You are not going to tase me!”
“Actually, I am,” Dr. Morganton replied, “but the current will be set to a low level and you shouldn’t feel much discomfort.”
“Much?” Mike asked.
“Shouldn’t?” Gunnar smirked.
“I haven’t had a chance to try it on a living person,” Dr. Morganton said.
“That sentence brings up so many more questions,” Gunnar said as he turned and leaned back against the counter, his arms folded across his chest. “First being, so have you tried it on a non-living person?”
“Yes, of course,” Dr. Morganton replied. “Ballantine has been very forthcoming in procuring cadavers as I need them when we have been in port.”
“Right,” Gunnar laughed, “of course he has.”
“We have cadavers on board?” Mike asked. “Where?”
“My lab,” Dr. Morganton said, “or the less than adequate space Ballantine has given me to use as my lab.”
“I told you we can share,” Gunnar shrugged, “but Ballantine wants you working alone.”
“Yes, I am painfully aware of that,” Dr. Morganton said then smiled at Mike. “Ready?”
Before Mike could answer, she activated the taser and the synthetic skin on Mike’s leg began to contract. In seconds, the skin had fitted itself around the prosthetic and looked completely real. Except that, it was a different shade than Mike’s true skin color.
“Yes, I can see the issue,” Dr. Morganton said before either Mike or Gunnar could point out the color discrepancy. “I’ll have to incorporate a skin tone matching element.”
“Hey, that actually looks like skin,” Mike grinned. “Gun? Look at this!”
“I see it, Mike,” Gunnar said. “You are almost a real boy.”
“You are already a real asshole,” Mike said. Then he frowned. “Hey, Doc? Should my leg hurt?”
“How do you mean hurt?” Dr. Morganton asked.
“Like with pain,” Mike replied as he winced. “That kind of hurt. Ow. It burns. Ow! Hey! Shit!”
The leg started to twitch and then kicked out uncontrollably. Mike’s foot hit Dr. Morganton in the hip, causing her to bend over, then nailed her in the forehead, sending her falling backwards onto the floor.
“Shit,” Gunnar snapped as he rushed over.
He grabbed a screwdriver from Dr. Morganton’s cart, and jammed it into Mike’s knee while also dodging the flailing leg. He ripped the skin free, inserted the screwdriver into a small slot on the inside of the knee, gave it a couple twists, and then slammed the end of it with his hand. Mike’s leg froze in mid-kick.
“Thanks,” Mike said, sweat dotting his brow. “That fucking hurt like hell.”
“You alright?” Gunnar asked as he knelt next to Dr. Morganton.
“I’m fine,” she said. “The electrical charge must have shorted something in his prosthetic. I’ll need to work on the insulation levels in the skin so that doesn’t happen again.”
“Good idea,” Gunnar said as he helped her to her feet.
“Everything okay in here?” Kinsey asked as she walked into the lab. She gave Gunnar and Dr. Morganton a concerned look. “What happened?”
“My rubber broke,” Mike said.
“Never mind,” Kinsey said, “I don’t want to know.”
“What’s up, Kins?” Gunnar asked as he assisted Dr. Morganton with stripping the rest of the synthetic skin off Mike’s leg.
“Ballantine is calling a briefing,” Kinsey said. “I was sent to fetch you.” She nodded to Dr. Morganton and Mike. “All of you, actually, so it’s a good thing you’re all right here.”
“We’ll be up in a minute,” Dr. Morganton said. “Just let me recalibrate Michael’s prosthetic.”
“Don’t take too long,” Kinsey said. “We’ve already kept Ballantine waiting while we played with the elves’ new toy.”
“They hate it when they’re called that,” Gunnar said.
“Carlos hates it,” Kinsey replied, “and fuck him.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Gunnar smiled. “We won’t be longer than five minutes.”
“Cool,” Kinsey smiled. “I’ll let big bossman know.”
As soon as she was gone, Dr. Morganton looked at Mike. “So much for the leg rubber,” she sighed. “You’ll just have to promise me you’ll make sure your compression suit is sealed before you get in the water, and then dry before you get out of it, okay?”
“Okay,” Mike nodded.
***
Everyone filed into the briefing room, chatting and laughing as usual. At least until they saw the look on Ballantine’s face, and the shattered sat phone on the table.
“That wasn’t a good phone call,” Thorne stated.
“No, Commander, it was not,” Ballantine replied then waved towards everyone. “Don’t bother sitting, the briefing is postponed for now. We have a bigger task at hand.”
“Such as?” Thorne asked.
“We have to double check this ship to make sure there are no tracking devices or locating beacons,” Ballantine said.
“I thought that had been done,” Thorne said.
“As had I,” Ballantine replied, “but the information I just received proves otherwise. Apparently, while I was conversing with my acquaintance, something began to broadcast our location.”
“Just now?” Darren asked. “How?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Chambers,” Ballantine sneered. “If I did, then this wouldn’t be so distressing, would it?”
“Back off, Ballantine,” Kinsey said. “Same team, asshole.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” Ballantine said then sighed and leaned back in his chair as Carlos, Ingrid, and Moshi arrived at the briefing room’s doorway. “What can you tell me?”
All three of the techs held modified tablets in their hands. Moshi looked at Ingrid and Ingrid looked at Carlos.
“The armory is clear,” Carlos said.
“Toyshop,” Max said under his breath.
“As I knew it would be,” Carlos glared. “All company tech has been removed from every single device. There isn’t a piece of hardware down there that is connected to the company in any way. They’d have better luck tracking a single drop of seawater than tracking us.”
“Do you have more scanners?” Ballantine asked.
“As many as needed,” Ingrid said.
“Good, then assign one to each member of the crew and break the ship up into grids,” Ballantine ordered. “We shut down the power until we find what is giving off the signal.”
“Shut down the power?” Darren asked.
“That way we don’t have any interference from the B3,” Ingrid said. “If our scanners pick anything up, then we’ll know it’s not tied into the ship and could be the tracking device.”
“You want us to be sitting ducks while we have ships on our ass and a giant shark hunting for us?” Thorne growled. “At what fucking point does that make sense?”
“It makes sense because where we are going, no one can know about,” Ballantine said. “I would rather risk those ships and that shark catching up to us than exposing our destination.”
“Is it a secret clubhouse?” Max asked.
“No girls allowed?” Shane asked.
“There better be girls allowed,” Kinsey said.
“How about no little dicks allowed?” Lucy asked.
“Max will be fine then,” Darby said.
Everyone turned and looked at the Reynolds brother. He just winked and gave a thumbs up.
“GODDAMMIT!” Ballantine roared as he slammed his fis
ts down on the table. “This is fucking serious! I am tired of the constant jokes and sarcasm! From now on you act like fucking professionals or I throw you off my ship!”
“Marty is captain of the B3,” Darren said, “it’s his ship, not yours.”
“Don’t test me, Mr. Chambers,” Ballantine snapped.
“Don’t test the chain of command on a ship at sea, Ballantine,” Thorne said as he stepped in front of the group, taking Ballantine’s focus all on himself. “Things fall apart very quickly when that chain of command is fucked with. It’s there for a reason.”
“Captain Lake works for me,” Ballantine replied. “There’s your chain of command.”
“Everyone out,” Thorne said.
“Yes, everyone out,” Ballantine said. “You have scanning to do.”
Carlos, Ingrid, and Moshi left immediately, but no one else moved until Thorne looked over his shoulder and nodded. They were reluctant, and made sure Ballantine was very aware of that, but they departed and left Thorne and Ballantine alone in the briefing room.
“This isn’t all about a tracking device,” Thorne said. “We’ve always known we’d get caught at some point, so tell me what really has you pissed off.”
Ballantine opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it, then sighed and shook his head.
“We’ve been let go,” Ballantine said. “Officially.”
“Let go?” Thorne asked as he took a seat at the table. “By the company?”
“Yes,” Ballantine said. “As of an hour ago, the Beowulf III, its crew, and Team Grendel are officially free agents. We have no country and we have no company to fall back on. We are alone.”
“Good,” Thorne said.
“I’m sorry?” Ballantine asked. “Did you just say that’s good?”
“I did,” Thorne said. “I never liked working for your company, and since I’m disavowed by the country I have spent my life protecting and bleeding for, then I’d rather we were cut loose and on our own. Simplifies things.”
Ballantine studied Thorne for a long time then took a deep breath.
“Simplifies things,” Ballantine smiled sadly. “If only that were true. Without the company’s protection, we are now open game for every enemy we’ve made. Plus every enemy I’ve made.”
“Every enemy I’ve made and every enemy Darren has made and every enemy my daughter and nephews have made,” Thorne laughed. “I am pretty fucking confident Darby’s made some enemies too. We all have enemies, Ballantine. So fucking what?”
“So fucking what?” Ballantine barked.
“So fucking what,” Thorne stated.
“So fucking what…” Ballantine muttered then smiled. “Yes. So fucking what? We have some of the most capable people on the planet on this ship. We’ve proven ourselves as a unit that can’t be taken down. We’ve fought governments and impossible monsters. We’ve dealt with cartels, traitors, and pirates.”
“Plus cannibal tribes,” Thorne grinned.
“Yes, those too!” Ballantine laughed. “That was something, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” Thorne said, “and we’re still here.”
“We’ve also lost team members,” Ballantine said, “and some of us have been wounded permanently.”
“Company didn’t really help prevent any of that, did it?” Thorne asked.
“No, the company did not,” Ballantine agreed. “We probablyare safer on our own.”
“Less variables.”
“Yes, less variables,” Ballantine said then slapped the table, but not in anger that time. “Thank you, Vincent. You have cleared the fog from my mind and shown me what we need to do.”
The lights in the briefing room went out and the constant hum of the ship died.
“Let’s clean house and begin our next chapter as rogues and malcontents,” Ballantine said as he stood and extended his hand.
Thorne stood as well and grasped Ballantine’s hand tightly.
“I think we’ve always had the malcontent part covered,” Thorne said. “You’ve met my nephews.”
***
“So we sit here and wait for the ships and the shark to catch us,” Lake said as he leaned against the dark control console on the B3’s bridge. “Just hang out in the ocean until we find a tracking device that we should have found a long time ago. What could possibly go wrong?”
“Not my call, Marty,” Darren said as he systematically waved the scanner over every inch of the bridge. “Carlos says we need the power off and Ballantine does what Carlos says when it comes to tech.”
“Anyone think to ask me or Cougher or Popeye?” Lake asked. “We’re the fucking professional sailors. Maybe we could have come up with a way to scan without stopping the ship.”
“Is there a way?” Darren asked, looking up from his work.
“Fuck if I know,” Lake shrugged. “What the fuck do I know about tracking devices?”
Darren grinned and got back to scanning.
“I hear ya,” Darren said. “You have to vent.”
“Fucking A right I do,” Lake grumbled. “I’m captain of this ship, not just a fucking chauffeur.”
“No one thinks you are,” Darren said. “Trust me. We all had your back when Ballantine broke the news.”
“There’s more to it than he’s telling us,” Lake stated.
“I know,” Darren agreed, “but Ballantine is used to juggling secrets. He’ll tell us when he’s good and ready.”
“He better,” Lake said, “or I’m turning this thing around and going home.”
“We don’t have a home anymore, Marty,” Darren said.
“Fuck!”
***
“There they are,” Bokeem smiled as he pointed at the satellite image on the screen by his chair. “Just where we were told they’d be.”
“Beacon is still working?” Tank Top asked as he moved around behind Bokeem for a better view.
“Still working,” Bokeem said. “Even though they’ve powered down the entire ship. Look at this reading. They don’t even have a coffee maker going.”
“Then what’s that?” Tank Top asked as he zoomed in on the image of the B3. “That looks like something has power.”
“That’s where the beacon is hidden,” Bokeem smiled. “What I want to know is why it took our ace so long to activate it?”
“Being a traitor on that ship can’t be easy,” Tank Top said. “You know how it is. The real question is how they don’t know the power source is active? That ship has tech we have wet dreams over at night, even with all our new gear.”
“I haven’t got a fucking clue,” Bokeem replied, “and I don’t really care. As long as we can catch up to them, then I’m happy.”
“Me too,” Tank Top said. “John Bill?”
“Yeah, Tank?” a short Indonesian man replied from the helm.
“How far out are we?” Tank Top asked.
“Eight hours at the most,” John Bill grinned. “They keep their engines down and it’ll be shorter than that.”
“Eight hours,” Tank Top sighed. “It’s like knowing you have a winning lottery ticket and 7 p.m. can’t come fast enough.”
“7 p.m.?” Bokeem asked.
“Yeah, you know, when they draw the lottery numbers,” Tank Top replied.
“They draw those at 11 in Kentucky,” Bokeem said.
“Kentucky?” John Bill asked. “I thought you were from Nigeria.”
“Do I fucking sound like I’m from Nigeria?” Bokeem snapped. “Who the fuck are you to talk? You’re Indonesian with an Irish accent.”
“I grew up in a Catholic orphanage,” John Bill shrugged. “It’s how I learned English.”
“A Catholic orphanage in the largest Muslim country in the world?” Tank Top laughed. “That had to be fun.”
“Loads,” John Bill frowned.
“How did we start talking about this?” Bokeem asked.
“The lottery,” Tank Top replied.
“Right,” Bokeem nodded, “the
lottery.”
“A cool half a billion dollars,” Tank Top grinned. “Doesn’t get better than that.”
“Makes you wonder how much those dipshits are paying our employer if that’s our cut,” Bokeem said as he switched the view on his screen to the ships following behind the Monkey Balls. “Too bad we couldn’t cut out the middle man.”
“Not how we play the game,” Tank Top said. “The middle man keeps things honest.”
“Yeah, right,” Bokeem laughed deeply. “Honest!”
***
“We’ve been at this for hours,” Gunnar said as he walked down the passageway with Dr. Morganton, each with a scanner in their hands. “We have to have covered the whole ship at least twice.”
“We haven’t found the tracking device,” Dr. Morganton said. “Until we do, Ballantine won’t be satisfied. Not to mention Thorne.”
“It’s weird that Ballantine just found out there was a tracking device at all,” Gunnar said.
“He said it had just been activated,” Dr. Morganton replied.
“Yeah, but why now? And how?” Gunnar wondered. “Does that mean we have a traitor on the ship? Is someone working for the people coming after us?”
“I don’t know,” Dr. Morganton said.
“Hey!” Mike called as he turned a corner and hobbled up to them.
“How’s the leg?” Dr. Morganton asked. “Still glitching?”
“A little,” Mike said as he got up to them. “It’s like it has a skip in it.”
“A skip?” Gunnar asked.
“Yeah, every few seconds it just kicks out for no reason,” Mike replied. “It’s starting to piss me off.”
Mike’s leg twitched and he had to brace himself to keep his balance.
Both Gunnar’s and Dr. Morganton’s scanners beeped.
“Did you see that?” Gunnar asked as he checked the reading on his tablet. “We had the tracking device for a second there!”
“Yeah,” Dr. Morganton replied. “My scanner shows the same thing. It’s a weak signal, like it’s shielded.”
“How could a tracking device be shielded?” Mike asked. “Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose since someone wants the signal to get out?”
