Turnabout
Chapter 2- Transit
0325 hours, local time
Wet Suit pulled the black Volkswagen Jetta out of the car garage while Shipwreck consulted the map and found the route they were looking for, pointing it out to the younger SEAL. Once he was finished, Shipwreck and the other Joes leaned their heads back and took quick combat naps in their respective seats. Finding the proper on-ramp, he maneuvered through traffic towards the A6-E50. Wet Suit angled the rental car out into the flow of traffic, quickly gunning the engine to merge into the sea of speeding cars.
Christ, even at 0330 the highways in Germany are crowded, he thought. He settled into his seat, estimating he had about an hour and a half drive to Ramstein AB. His thoughts turned to the mission ahead of them, and he wondered what COBRA would send to retrieve the traitor.
While he had no doubts as to his team's capabilities, he also knew they were only four men, not a bunch of super heroes. As he silently thought about the odds which could possibly be stacked against them, Depth Charge cleared his throat softly and said, "You're thinking about that too, eh?"
"About what?" Wet Suit replied.
"How badly COBRA is going to want this person back, and what they're going to send after her," Depth Charge countered.
"Yeah," Wet Suit grunted noncommittally. "What do you think?"
"Well, if it were a Joe traitor, you know what Hawk would do," Depth Charge started.
"He'd throw all the Joes out there to bring that person back, dead or alive," Wet Suit said.
"Exactly. And why should Cobra Commander be any different?"
"Well, he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, for one."
"No, but Destro is, and these are his stomping grounds."
"True. Hopefully we'll be in and out so fast that no one will ever know."
"There is that, but I don't know," Depth Charge hesitated. "I hate to say it, but I've got a bad feeling about this."
"Me too, man. Me too," the big SEAL replied.
0500 hours
As the car slowed down for the exit to Ramstein, Torpedo and Shipwreck stirred awake. Noticing Depth Charge was already bright-eyed and looking at the surroundings, obviously lost in thought, Shipwreck nudged Wet Suit and asked, "What's eating the kid?"
"Same thing that should be eating you, you old salt," came the reply. "He and I are both worried about the possible opposition. It's bad enough we're going into Iraq, but worse not knowing what COBRA will throw our way."
"Psssh!" Shipwreck snorted. "The day I worry about the snakes is the day they'll be throwing dirt on my coffin. We're not going to be on the ground long enough for them to even know we're there, man."
"That all depends on how quickly we locate the defector," Torpedo said from the back seat. "This mission all comes down to how quickly we can locate Turnabout, and her proximity to the border. If she's retreated farther inland, we may find ourselves fighting our way in and out of this country."
Wet Suit pulled up to the main gate at Ramstein and handed over the team's ID cards for verification. The MP on duty couldn't have been more than 19, and he looked cold and miserable. The soldier took the ID cards and headed for the guardhouse, where the Joes could see an older MP drinking a hot beverage and watching the monitors. The younger guard handed the cards to him, and then turned to head back outside.
The warriors all saw the man in the booth pick up a phone, and then the younger MP blocked their view as he approached the car. Always impatient, Shipwreck leaned across Wet Suit and asked, "There a problem, son?"
"No sir. Just routine verification of ID, sir," the nervous guard replied. The Joes couldn't help but notice the young man's hands as he stroked the grip of his M16. Torpedo slid forward in his seat and put a hand on Shipwreck's shoulder, firmly forcing him back into his seat before he could make this situation any worse.
"It's fine, Private." he started.
"Wisniewski," came the reply.
"My friend gets a little aggravated after long flights," Torpedo said, smiling to ease the tension.
"Chief, I." Shipwreck started.
"Stow it, sailor," Torpedo commanded with a stern look.
"Aye-aye," Shipwreck mumbled.
After a few tense minutes, the guard inside the booth called out to Private Wisniewski, who quickly ran inside to see what he was needed for. There was a brief exchange, and finally the younger MP came back outside, ID cards in hand. "Sorry for any inconvenience, sirs," the corporal said. "Since 9/11 we've had to shore up security. Head over to the Military Air Command (MAC) terminal. Just follow the signs and you should have no problems. You can bunk there for the remainder of the night, and your contact will meet you at 0900. Welcome to Germany, sirs. Hope you enjoy your stay." After he handed the cards back to the SEALs, the gate raised and he waved the warriors through.
**********
The observer spotted the black Jetta entering the gates of the base. He dialed a number on his cell phone, and the MP in the guardhouse answered with a quick "Yes?" on the second ring.
"Did you perform your duty?" the man asked. Through his high-powered binoculars, as he glanced outside towards PFC Wisniewski, he could see the MP's shoulders slump.
"The devices you provided have been given to each Joe. Just as you instructed," the MP whispered. "They were difficult to apply, as they wanted to slide off continually, but the job is complete."
"Were any of the Joes wearing gloves?" the observer asked.
"Not that I could see, my lord."
"If they were, we will have to find another way to infect them with the transmitters. Well done. I'll see to it that the Commander is notified, and you are duly rewarded," the gruff voice replied.
"All hail COBRA!" the MP said in a harsh whisper.
Before the connection went dead, the MP thought he heard the voice say, "Indeed."
Destro turned to face the Baroness, who looked stunning in the ermine coat she was wearing. "It is done."
"Excellent." the Baroness purred. "Now let's get out of this cold, darling. We have more work to do."
The Iron Grenadier posing as their driver swiftly opened the back door of the limousine, and Destro stood aside, allowing his lady to enter first. He glanced back over his shoulder at Ramstein AB, taking a deep breath of the cold night air. "Soon, Sharrome, soon." he muttered.
"Did you say something, my love?" Baroness asked from the back seat.
He replied, "No. Nothing at all." He climbed into the back seat and the limo sped away into the early morning hours.
**********
Wet Suit followed the brightly lit signs to the MAC and found a place to park. He popped the trunk, and everyone got out and grabbed their bags. They strode into the MAC and approached the metal detector, slinging their bags up on the table to be screened. Once that was done, they proceeded to check in, then settled in to await their flight to be called. The SEALs found a row of empty seats and were asleep within moments.
1030 hours
Torpedo was nudged awake and looked up to see a young sergeant standing before him. The man saluted and said, "Sergeant Culber, sir. I assume you four are the 'special cargo' headed for Incirlik?"
Torpedo stood, returned the salute, and replied, "I wouldn't say 'special', but yeah, that's us."
Culber looked around at the sleeping Joes, his eyes coming to rest on Shipwreck, who was snoring softly. He flashed a broad grin at Torpedo and asked, "Need a few minutes?"
"Thanks," the SEAL replied. He turned to his teammates and woke each in turn.
"Aww, mom," Shipwreck complained. "Five more minutes? I don't wanna go to school today." He laughed as he stretched, and then rose to his feet. Wet Suit was next, and Depth Charge awoke last. All four warriors shouldered their gear and followed Sergeant Culber towards the main desk, where they stood in line to tag their bags.
"Right this way, gentlemen," Culber said as he led them to an idling tram on the tarmac. Five minutes later, the Joes were standing outside a C17 Globemasters III. A young black man approached the SEALs and saluted.
"Morning, gentlemen," he said in a deep baritone. He saluted the group, who returned the gesture. "Lieutenant Carl Tomlinson, USAF. I'll be your chauffer this fine day."
Torpedo laughed, extended his hand, and said, "Torpedo from G.I. Joe. These guys," he turned and pointed at each in turn, "go by the code names Wet Suit, Depth Charge, and Shipwreck."
"Nice to meet you all. We don't lift off for another forty-five minutes, so make yourselves comfortable. It's about four and a half hours from here to Incirlik, and they're an hour ahead, so we'll arrive there at 1700 hours local," Tomlinson said. The Joes made their way to the seating area of the C17 Globemasters III, stowed their bags and strapped in, while the pilot returned to the cockpit area for his final pre-flight checks.
At 1115 hours, the big engines roared to life, and a few moments later the massive plane was wheeling towards the tarmac. Lieutenant Tomlinson's voice crackled over the loudspeaker, saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Please return all trays and seat backs to their original upright positions. Your in-flight movie for this trip will be 'Driving Miss Daisy'. Sit back, relax, and enjoy."
The Joes groaned at the pilot's attempt at humor, and then, with a powerful surge, the plane was airborne.
**********
Destro glanced up from the computer display he was monitoring when he heard Anastasia rise from bed. Clad only in a sheer black negligee, she padded over to where he sat hunched over the laptop and purred in his ear, "Good morning, dearest. Everything still in working order?"
He turned to face her, a smile lighting his features. "It will take more than s few hours to break me, kitten," he replied. "According to our sources, the Joes are airborne, and the new micro-transmitter technology I developed seems to be operating perfectly."
The green glow reflected in his mask caused a sudden shiver to run through the Baroness. Destro misinterpreted her reaction and instantly rose, shedding his wool robe and draping it over her shoulders, thinking she was cold. "Thank you, darling," she said. "And our agent was able to determine where the flight is headed?"
"But of course. For the amount of money he's being paid, he should have been on the plane himself," Destro responded. "The aircraft should arrive at Incirlik AB at approximately 5 P.M. local time. My Dominator is standing by to take us to Turkey, where we will rendezvous with a squad of Dr. Mindbender's latest creations, the Sand Vipers. There should also be a squad of Inferno B.A.T.s, Vipers, and suitable high speed transport for each squadron."
"Any word from our agents in Turkey as to the traitor's whereabouts?" she asked.
"Not at this time. There have been no transmissions from her since the initial contact with the Joes," Destro stated. "Fear not, Anastasia. We will find her, and when we do."
The Baroness smiled cruelly, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Yes. And then she will suffer as no other."
**********
1645 hours
The intercom again came to life, rousing the Joes out of their slumber. "We're on the final approach to Incirlik. Should be on the ground in fifteen minutes or so," the pilot's voice said.
"If nothing else, the Air Force is always punctual," Shipwreck stated as he glanced at his watch. "It's quarter to five, just like the man said." Depth Charge stretched, then pulled a small notebook out of his bag and jotted down a quick note. Seeing this, Wet Suit stifled a laugh and said, "First Superman, now a diary?" He laughed as the younger warrior flashed a pissed-off look in his direction. "Whoa, man. I've got a pocket full of Kryptonite here, pal. Better be careful!"
Shipwreck joined in the laughter, glad not to be the butt of a joke for once. Depth Charge's attempt to stay mad lasted about ten seconds, then he too burst out laughing. Torpedo leaned over and looked out the window, watching the big plane's descent into Turkey. The base was bustling with activity, which surprised the SEAL since it was the end of the workday for most folks.
The C-17 touched down promptly at 1700 hours, and taxied to a waiting hangar where the passengers and crew disembarked. Lieutenant Tomlinson led the Joes to the Visiting Officer's Quarters (VOQ) and allowed them to get cleaned up before heading for the mess hall. The men had a quiet dinner, followed by a brief nap in the VOQ. At 2130 hours, Torpedo's wrist comm sounded, and an all too familiar voice said, "Welcome to Turkey, boys. Briefing's in thirty at the MAC."
The three veterans rolled their eyes and groaned in unison. Being the FNG, Depth Charge waited to be filled in on what was wrong. After much bitching and moaning, mostly from Shipwreck, Torpedo looked at Depth Charge and said, "Our intel officer is a guy code-named Chuckles. You'll find out why he got that ridiculous code-name in a bit."
To be continued.
Chapter 2- Transit
0325 hours, local time
Wet Suit pulled the black Volkswagen Jetta out of the car garage while Shipwreck consulted the map and found the route they were looking for, pointing it out to the younger SEAL. Once he was finished, Shipwreck and the other Joes leaned their heads back and took quick combat naps in their respective seats. Finding the proper on-ramp, he maneuvered through traffic towards the A6-E50. Wet Suit angled the rental car out into the flow of traffic, quickly gunning the engine to merge into the sea of speeding cars.
Christ, even at 0330 the highways in Germany are crowded, he thought. He settled into his seat, estimating he had about an hour and a half drive to Ramstein AB. His thoughts turned to the mission ahead of them, and he wondered what COBRA would send to retrieve the traitor.
While he had no doubts as to his team's capabilities, he also knew they were only four men, not a bunch of super heroes. As he silently thought about the odds which could possibly be stacked against them, Depth Charge cleared his throat softly and said, "You're thinking about that too, eh?"
"About what?" Wet Suit replied.
"How badly COBRA is going to want this person back, and what they're going to send after her," Depth Charge countered.
"Yeah," Wet Suit grunted noncommittally. "What do you think?"
"Well, if it were a Joe traitor, you know what Hawk would do," Depth Charge started.
"He'd throw all the Joes out there to bring that person back, dead or alive," Wet Suit said.
"Exactly. And why should Cobra Commander be any different?"
"Well, he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, for one."
"No, but Destro is, and these are his stomping grounds."
"True. Hopefully we'll be in and out so fast that no one will ever know."
"There is that, but I don't know," Depth Charge hesitated. "I hate to say it, but I've got a bad feeling about this."
"Me too, man. Me too," the big SEAL replied.
0500 hours
As the car slowed down for the exit to Ramstein, Torpedo and Shipwreck stirred awake. Noticing Depth Charge was already bright-eyed and looking at the surroundings, obviously lost in thought, Shipwreck nudged Wet Suit and asked, "What's eating the kid?"
"Same thing that should be eating you, you old salt," came the reply. "He and I are both worried about the possible opposition. It's bad enough we're going into Iraq, but worse not knowing what COBRA will throw our way."
"Psssh!" Shipwreck snorted. "The day I worry about the snakes is the day they'll be throwing dirt on my coffin. We're not going to be on the ground long enough for them to even know we're there, man."
"That all depends on how quickly we locate the defector," Torpedo said from the back seat. "This mission all comes down to how quickly we can locate Turnabout, and her proximity to the border. If she's retreated farther inland, we may find ourselves fighting our way in and out of this country."
Wet Suit pulled up to the main gate at Ramstein and handed over the team's ID cards for verification. The MP on duty couldn't have been more than 19, and he looked cold and miserable. The soldier took the ID cards and headed for the guardhouse, where the Joes could see an older MP drinking a hot beverage and watching the monitors. The younger guard handed the cards to him, and then turned to head back outside.
The warriors all saw the man in the booth pick up a phone, and then the younger MP blocked their view as he approached the car. Always impatient, Shipwreck leaned across Wet Suit and asked, "There a problem, son?"
"No sir. Just routine verification of ID, sir," the nervous guard replied. The Joes couldn't help but notice the young man's hands as he stroked the grip of his M16. Torpedo slid forward in his seat and put a hand on Shipwreck's shoulder, firmly forcing him back into his seat before he could make this situation any worse.
"It's fine, Private." he started.
"Wisniewski," came the reply.
"My friend gets a little aggravated after long flights," Torpedo said, smiling to ease the tension.
"Chief, I." Shipwreck started.
"Stow it, sailor," Torpedo commanded with a stern look.
"Aye-aye," Shipwreck mumbled.
After a few tense minutes, the guard inside the booth called out to Private Wisniewski, who quickly ran inside to see what he was needed for. There was a brief exchange, and finally the younger MP came back outside, ID cards in hand. "Sorry for any inconvenience, sirs," the corporal said. "Since 9/11 we've had to shore up security. Head over to the Military Air Command (MAC) terminal. Just follow the signs and you should have no problems. You can bunk there for the remainder of the night, and your contact will meet you at 0900. Welcome to Germany, sirs. Hope you enjoy your stay." After he handed the cards back to the SEALs, the gate raised and he waved the warriors through.
**********
The observer spotted the black Jetta entering the gates of the base. He dialed a number on his cell phone, and the MP in the guardhouse answered with a quick "Yes?" on the second ring.
"Did you perform your duty?" the man asked. Through his high-powered binoculars, as he glanced outside towards PFC Wisniewski, he could see the MP's shoulders slump.
"The devices you provided have been given to each Joe. Just as you instructed," the MP whispered. "They were difficult to apply, as they wanted to slide off continually, but the job is complete."
"Were any of the Joes wearing gloves?" the observer asked.
"Not that I could see, my lord."
"If they were, we will have to find another way to infect them with the transmitters. Well done. I'll see to it that the Commander is notified, and you are duly rewarded," the gruff voice replied.
"All hail COBRA!" the MP said in a harsh whisper.
Before the connection went dead, the MP thought he heard the voice say, "Indeed."
Destro turned to face the Baroness, who looked stunning in the ermine coat she was wearing. "It is done."
"Excellent." the Baroness purred. "Now let's get out of this cold, darling. We have more work to do."
The Iron Grenadier posing as their driver swiftly opened the back door of the limousine, and Destro stood aside, allowing his lady to enter first. He glanced back over his shoulder at Ramstein AB, taking a deep breath of the cold night air. "Soon, Sharrome, soon." he muttered.
"Did you say something, my love?" Baroness asked from the back seat.
He replied, "No. Nothing at all." He climbed into the back seat and the limo sped away into the early morning hours.
**********
Wet Suit followed the brightly lit signs to the MAC and found a place to park. He popped the trunk, and everyone got out and grabbed their bags. They strode into the MAC and approached the metal detector, slinging their bags up on the table to be screened. Once that was done, they proceeded to check in, then settled in to await their flight to be called. The SEALs found a row of empty seats and were asleep within moments.
1030 hours
Torpedo was nudged awake and looked up to see a young sergeant standing before him. The man saluted and said, "Sergeant Culber, sir. I assume you four are the 'special cargo' headed for Incirlik?"
Torpedo stood, returned the salute, and replied, "I wouldn't say 'special', but yeah, that's us."
Culber looked around at the sleeping Joes, his eyes coming to rest on Shipwreck, who was snoring softly. He flashed a broad grin at Torpedo and asked, "Need a few minutes?"
"Thanks," the SEAL replied. He turned to his teammates and woke each in turn.
"Aww, mom," Shipwreck complained. "Five more minutes? I don't wanna go to school today." He laughed as he stretched, and then rose to his feet. Wet Suit was next, and Depth Charge awoke last. All four warriors shouldered their gear and followed Sergeant Culber towards the main desk, where they stood in line to tag their bags.
"Right this way, gentlemen," Culber said as he led them to an idling tram on the tarmac. Five minutes later, the Joes were standing outside a C17 Globemasters III. A young black man approached the SEALs and saluted.
"Morning, gentlemen," he said in a deep baritone. He saluted the group, who returned the gesture. "Lieutenant Carl Tomlinson, USAF. I'll be your chauffer this fine day."
Torpedo laughed, extended his hand, and said, "Torpedo from G.I. Joe. These guys," he turned and pointed at each in turn, "go by the code names Wet Suit, Depth Charge, and Shipwreck."
"Nice to meet you all. We don't lift off for another forty-five minutes, so make yourselves comfortable. It's about four and a half hours from here to Incirlik, and they're an hour ahead, so we'll arrive there at 1700 hours local," Tomlinson said. The Joes made their way to the seating area of the C17 Globemasters III, stowed their bags and strapped in, while the pilot returned to the cockpit area for his final pre-flight checks.
At 1115 hours, the big engines roared to life, and a few moments later the massive plane was wheeling towards the tarmac. Lieutenant Tomlinson's voice crackled over the loudspeaker, saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Please return all trays and seat backs to their original upright positions. Your in-flight movie for this trip will be 'Driving Miss Daisy'. Sit back, relax, and enjoy."
The Joes groaned at the pilot's attempt at humor, and then, with a powerful surge, the plane was airborne.
**********
Destro glanced up from the computer display he was monitoring when he heard Anastasia rise from bed. Clad only in a sheer black negligee, she padded over to where he sat hunched over the laptop and purred in his ear, "Good morning, dearest. Everything still in working order?"
He turned to face her, a smile lighting his features. "It will take more than s few hours to break me, kitten," he replied. "According to our sources, the Joes are airborne, and the new micro-transmitter technology I developed seems to be operating perfectly."
The green glow reflected in his mask caused a sudden shiver to run through the Baroness. Destro misinterpreted her reaction and instantly rose, shedding his wool robe and draping it over her shoulders, thinking she was cold. "Thank you, darling," she said. "And our agent was able to determine where the flight is headed?"
"But of course. For the amount of money he's being paid, he should have been on the plane himself," Destro responded. "The aircraft should arrive at Incirlik AB at approximately 5 P.M. local time. My Dominator is standing by to take us to Turkey, where we will rendezvous with a squad of Dr. Mindbender's latest creations, the Sand Vipers. There should also be a squad of Inferno B.A.T.s, Vipers, and suitable high speed transport for each squadron."
"Any word from our agents in Turkey as to the traitor's whereabouts?" she asked.
"Not at this time. There have been no transmissions from her since the initial contact with the Joes," Destro stated. "Fear not, Anastasia. We will find her, and when we do."
The Baroness smiled cruelly, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Yes. And then she will suffer as no other."
**********
1645 hours
The intercom again came to life, rousing the Joes out of their slumber. "We're on the final approach to Incirlik. Should be on the ground in fifteen minutes or so," the pilot's voice said.
"If nothing else, the Air Force is always punctual," Shipwreck stated as he glanced at his watch. "It's quarter to five, just like the man said." Depth Charge stretched, then pulled a small notebook out of his bag and jotted down a quick note. Seeing this, Wet Suit stifled a laugh and said, "First Superman, now a diary?" He laughed as the younger warrior flashed a pissed-off look in his direction. "Whoa, man. I've got a pocket full of Kryptonite here, pal. Better be careful!"
Shipwreck joined in the laughter, glad not to be the butt of a joke for once. Depth Charge's attempt to stay mad lasted about ten seconds, then he too burst out laughing. Torpedo leaned over and looked out the window, watching the big plane's descent into Turkey. The base was bustling with activity, which surprised the SEAL since it was the end of the workday for most folks.
The C-17 touched down promptly at 1700 hours, and taxied to a waiting hangar where the passengers and crew disembarked. Lieutenant Tomlinson led the Joes to the Visiting Officer's Quarters (VOQ) and allowed them to get cleaned up before heading for the mess hall. The men had a quiet dinner, followed by a brief nap in the VOQ. At 2130 hours, Torpedo's wrist comm sounded, and an all too familiar voice said, "Welcome to Turkey, boys. Briefing's in thirty at the MAC."
The three veterans rolled their eyes and groaned in unison. Being the FNG, Depth Charge waited to be filled in on what was wrong. After much bitching and moaning, mostly from Shipwreck, Torpedo looked at Depth Charge and said, "Our intel officer is a guy code-named Chuckles. You'll find out why he got that ridiculous code-name in a bit."
To be continued.
