Chapter Five
Impatience
1.
There it was again. His radar couldn't pick anything up, and his binoculars just weren't strong enough to swear by, but dang it, something was floating on the horizon, he was sure of it. He didn't get to be a great pilot by having weak eyesight.
Wild Weasel jumped down from the side of the helipad and onto a pile of gravel. The loose rocks nearly broke his ankle, but he didn't have time to worry about that right now. He ran off towards the docks, praying that Zarana had enough intelligence in her to let him take off in his Rattler and check out whatever it was that had been sitting out on the horizon for the last hour staring back at him.
The Dreadnok Princess could have been clearing debris that was scattered across the docks, but instead she was sitting on a folding lawn chair she had dug up and admiring her new-found wealth. The Hydrofoil could be seen spraying up from the south, closing in on the island and only a couple of minutes away.
Zarana was startled by Wild Weasel's heavy footsteps across the concrete dock. "What are you doing down here, stupid? I told you to stay up with the plane!"
Cobra's Ace Pilot was too anxious to worry about her insults. Not wanting to miss a combat opportunity, he decided to use his best etiquette. "Miss Zarana. I think I see a ship on the eastern horizon I ask for your permission to take the Rattler and go investigate it."
"Are you nuts? Zartan's almost here! Besides, I thought you didn't have enough fuel."
Nobody can be this stupid. "I've refueled the Rattler as you asked, Zarana, and there is plenty more in the island reserve. It'll be a quick flight, I promise."
Zarana fluttered her hand at him. "No, forget it. Shoo. Back up to your plane. Zartan's almost here. These matters are for him to deal with, not you. I'll make sure he hears how rude you've been to me."
Wild Weasel strained to withhold a curse, then turned around and walked back up to the helipad. To hell with her, he thought to himself, this is my kill.
As Cobra's Ace Pilot distanced himself from the Dreadnok Princess, he missed the sly grin that spread across her face.
2.
This swim had been a doozy, but not one for the record books. Torpedo had been kicking for over twenty miles, which really was nothing to brag about, but he was pushing a recon sled full of gear, which made it a little more respectable. Add to that the fact that although it was a nice, clear night in the gulf, it was pretty windy, and the waves were rather high.
There were only a couple of visible lights on Sammeston Island. There was some movement on what was obviously a landing pad, and a small stationary light sitting on a large dock. Another point of interest was a water-craft racing towards the dock. The Joe SEAL couldn't recognize the craft from five miles away, but he could recognize its movements--and it moved like a Hydrofoil. That would be bad news for the guys on the WHALE. There were very few battles between Morays and WHALEs in the Joe vs. Cobra history, so there was really no clear choice on which one was more powerful.
But that wasn't Torpedo's concern; getting onto that island, doing a lot of recon and probably a bit of sabotage was. Looking over the port side of the sled with his night-vision goggles, he could just make out a dense chunk of jungle-like shoreline on the south-eastern side that would make an ideal insertion point for him. What made the landing point ideal was the bank of land spearing out into the water, blocking any view of his approach to the dock and landing platform up on the north-eastern side of the island. This was going to be easy.
Right.
As he rode the waves behind the jagged spear of land, G.I. Joe's top SEAL was both excited and disturbed by watching the Moray pull up to the dock. Confirmation of the vehicle was a little exciting, but seeing Zartan jump off the side made things a little nerve-wracking. The Dreadnoks were morons, but Zartan was sharp, and if he caught you, his thugs would tear you to pieces.
The good news was it was more than obvious that no one saw him glide up to the island.
Torpedo pushed the recon sled up the short beach to the edge of the jungle. Using lightning speed, he tossed his gear to the ground and began shoveling sand. The recon sled had to be buried, and it took a lot of sand to do it. The SEAL started to wish that the sled was a deflatable raft, but he knew that if it was, it wouldn't have got him here as fast. Perhaps.
After a lot of difficult burial, eventually using sand from the ocean and some rocks, Torpedo geared up. Naturally, he had Snake-Eyes' knife, some night-vision goggles, a pack of C-4, detonators, a radio, a digital camera, a mini-computer and an Uzi. The only thing that felt awkward was the mini-computer, but really it was about one-fourth the size of a laptop, and in this day-an-age, if you're going to steal information, you don't steal papers or take pictures. But he could do that too, if need be. His wristwatch carried a homing signal and a GPS if he needed them. Was he in the military or a spy thriller?
Now that he was set up, it was time to move.
3.
Land never looked so beautiful to Skellar before. It was finally a chance to get these uncivilized behemoths out of his precious Moray and give him a little bit of peace and quiet. Or so he had hoped. The Dreadnoks were scum, but at least they weren't very frightening. Zartan on the other hand…
"Enjoying the look of land, Lamprey?" asked Zartan.
"Immensely." Replied Skellar.
"Still got it in you, eh? Heh. I'm just aching to see you in a battle." With that, the Dreadnok leader got out of his seat and walked to the aft of the Hydrofoil. "All right, you nimrods. Now that we're at the dock, get out and tie the Moray down. "
Torch raised his hand. "Uh, Zartan? What's a Moray?"
Zartan's chesh glowed red. "It's the Hydrofoil, you fool!"
Ripper turned to Buzzer. "I though it was one o' them wingy fish things."
Their leader's chest crackled with energy. "Shut up and start securing the boat! Monkeywrench get down here!"
"Yes, sir, Zartan, sir!"
As the Moray bonked against the dock from the Dreadnok idiocy, Skellar scrambled to flip pads over the edge of the Hydrofoil. Eventually, the huge assault watercraft drifted perfectly at the dock and the Dreadnoks began throwing out their gear, then sat on the edge of the craft eating chocolate donuts and grape soda. Skellar was seconds away from shoving the slobbering fools into the water.
Suddenly, everyone was caught off guard when a blasting, thunderous roar screamed down from the helipad. Buzzer and Ripper were so shocked that they fell off the side of the Hydrofoil and into the water. Zarana collapsed backwards onto her folding chair and broke it. Zartan's chest fired with so much energy it seemed that his hologram suit would explode.
Looking up from the Moray, Skellar could see Wild Weasel's Rattler lift off from the helipad, rotate its wings forward and blast off across the Gulf waters.
"What the hell is going on?" screamed Zartan.
"It's Wild Weasel!" answered Zarana, "He wanted to check out something suspicious on the horizon, but I told him not to go! "
Zartan growled and gritted his teeth. "That traitorous bastard! Everyone, back into the Moray! We're going to bring him back!"
Nervously, Skellar had to emphasize a point. "Um…Zartan, sir. We really shouldn't."
The Dreadnok leader whipped him a fiery glare. "I don't have time for your crap, Lamprey!"
"But, sir, the Hydrofoil is out of fuel!"
Zartan screamed a roar of anger and began throwing debris off of the dock. He pointed a finger at Skellar. "Fill it up, now!"
"Yes, yes, sir!"
Then Zartan pointed at Monkeywrench and Torch. "Rescue the other Dreadnoks before they drown!"
"But Zartan," whimpered Ripper, "We don't know how to swim either."
"Then learn!" he barked.
Everybody was in chaos, except for Zarana, who seemed to be enjoying what was going on. Had she expected this to happen?
As the Moray pilot worked to refuel the Hydrofoil, he noticed that the starboard cargo door was cocked open. No one had stored anything in there for the trip over, so why was it open now? What had been in there?
Or who?
4.
Roadblock looked down, wiping the sweat from his hot brow. He had him. Gung-Ho wasn't getting away this time. That sly Marine had weaseled his way out of plenty of duels, but this time G.I. Joe's master chef was gonna slap the bad gumbo on that cranky Joe's face, no doubt about it.
Slamming down his five wet, wrinkled cards, the big machine gunner called out "Full house, Cajun boy, kings and sevens!" Roadblock rubbed his palms and grinned like a Cheshire cat.
The Joe's bare-breasted Marine simply lifted the brow of his cap, shook his head and gently laid down his hand. "Sorry, chef. Four Jacks. You buy the beer."
"Roadblock's rock-solid jaw just about hit the hull of the WHALE. "How the heck do you always do that?"
"Voodoo magic." commented Shipwreck as he picked up the cards and began re-shuffling. The big gunner was beginning to believe it. Gung-Ho shot the SEAL a mean glare.
"You buying the booze again, Roadblock?" asked Doc from the bridge. He had been talking with Cutter for the last couple of hours while the team drifted out at sea.
"Yeah, but if you guys keep making' me waste my pay on drinks you'll never get feasts for you birthdays!"
"Maybe some of us would rather have beer." Snarled Gung-Ho.
"Ow! Through the heart, my man." The gourmet chef was pondering a response, but didn't get a chance to deliver it.
Cutter's commands were so intense everyone jumped up. "Battle positions! Shipwreck, get back here and untie the depth charges! Leatherneck, use a 'scope and confirm what just took off from Sammeston Island!"
Every head on board turned towards the island, but Joe discipline reminded the soldiers not to keep the look for long. Doc crawled across the hull and then below decks as Shipwreck crawled aft and began unhooking chains. Leatherneck jumped out from below deck with a rather powerful-looking set of binoculars which he immediately whipped up to his eyes. Roadblock and Gung-Ho swerved the turrets into forward positions and unlocked their clamps, allowing the twin cannons to freely swing up and down. Cutter unlocked the 105mm main cannons and quad-tube missile-launchers .
Leatherneck gave his report in a thundering voice. "It's a Rattler! Roughly sixty feet off of the surface. I'd guess 150mph. Straight at us!"
"Cocky bastard." Growled Shipwreck. "Nice and slow with no attempts at protecting himself."
"Must be Wild Weasel." Reasoned Cutter.
"No bet."
"Thanks, Leatherneck. Get below deck. I need you and Doc watching the cannon loading systems."
"But I'd be better up here with a gun!" complained the Marine.
"Not against a Rattler you wouldn't. Get down there!"
"Yes, sir." Grumbling complaints, Leatherneck dropped down and closed the hatch.
Cutter powered up the fans and turned the hovercraft straight towards the approaching bomber.
Hairs across Roadblock's back began to scrape against his uniform; he was about to face a tankbuster head-on. There wasn't much choice, though. A WHALE had three-times as much weaponry facing forward as it did to the sides, and absolutely nothing to the stern. But it had nothing that could compare to the array of death hanging from a Rattler's wings, or a Rattler's 30mm cannon—like the one that just started sparkling white.