Chapter Six
WHALE Hunt
1.
Damn. He should have been flying at a higher speed before he started shooting. Barely able to keep his Rattler from stalling, Wild Weasel had to punch the thrusters and blast over the Joe hovercraft in order to avoid taking hits from their weapons. He wouldn't make that mistake again.
Cobra's Ace Pilot pulled up and swerved right, enjoying the Rattler's tight turning radius. Able to turn just as fast if not a bit faster than the WHALE, Wild Weasel was ready to strike the poor defenses of the craft's sides.
The Rattler is based on the design of an A-10 Warthog, or "Tankbuster." M.A.R.S. engineers gave it a revolutionary yet highly unstable VTOL ability, as well as a twin-turret cannon reminiscent of a World War II bomber, both features that reduced its speed. However, by adding a third jet intake, the Rattler was given extra engine power, allowing it to perform just as well as any A-10 in existence. And like a Warthog, it is a flying tank destroyer, capable of vaporizing most battlefield weapons and vehicles. Sea craft were no different.
Wild Weasel's thumb danced around the control stick, waiting for the orange HUD cross-hairs to stop wiggling on the WHALE and turn red, signaling a lock-on. The Rattler pilot began to sweat, but it wasn't out of fear—anticipation was just as powerful.
Red.
"Game over, you Joe bastards."
Before Wild Weasel could complete the act of pressing the firing trigger, the water in front of the WHALE erupted, blocking any view of the hovercraft. "What the hell?" screamed the Cobra pilot.
A G.I. Joe SHARC blasted out from beneath the ocean surface, and made a run straight for the Rattler. As the little white submersible aircraft gained altitude, it opened its 30mm twin-wing cannons. Wild Weasel attempted to maneuver away, but the Joe vehicle began a barrage of fire, ripping shreds from the fuselage of the Cobra tankbuster.
"Damn you G.I. Joe!" cursed Cobra's Ace Pilot as he punched his thrusters and flew his flaming jet back towards Cobra Outpost Seven. He jumped as a metallic voice raged over the radio. "Wild Weasel, you fool! How dare you steal the Rattler to hunt Joes, and then lose! Get back to this island now, or I'll get come out there and strangle you myself!"
Cobra's Ace Pilot almost ripped his Rattler's joystick out. "Zartan, I had them, but they ambushed me with reinforcements!"
"Just shut up and bring back that plane before you crash it. I'll take care of everything with the hydrofoil."
Wild Weasel turned his radio off and screamed out loud. After re-catching his breath, he saw that the SHARC had landed in the water next to the Joe hovercraft. He couldn't risk another attack. His prize Rattler's starboard wing was barely able to keep itself attached. On the plus side, even in a damaged state, there was no way that the SHARC could catch him. Bah.
He half-heartedly flew back to the island. Zartan was getting too far under his fingernails. He needed to find an ally. Quickly.
2.
Seeing the Rattler take off and head out for the WHALE was a bit nerve-wracking. Seeing it attack the hovercraft was absolutely blowing Torpedo's mind. But what could he do? Shoot his Uzi at it? No. All he should do was complete his mission. That should be the only thing on his mind right now.
Huh? Torpedo had put down his binoculars for just a second, but in that time he had missed something, something big. Whatever just happened had turned the Cobra jet fighter into a smoking heap, flying back this way. Something else was flying around the WHALE, but what was it? It was just too small to make out. Maybe a helicopter?
Torpedo had to shake it off and turn around. It seemed his friends were safe for now. Someone had saved them. Go figure.
Back to business.
The Rattler's launch may have bothered him, but it did give him a starting point for his recon. He now knew where the helipad was, and that was definitely a place he needed to check out.
As the Joe SEAL slithered through the tropical trees and brush, he smiled. Snake-Eyes' knife proved very effective at clearing the brush and sawing away small branches. Torpedo was anxious to attempt some battle action with it, as well.
Sunrise was beginning to bring a little glow to the eastern skyline, but as the SEAL crept behind a small bunker on the outskirts of the pad, he could see new movement skipping across the ocean, shooting like an arrow out for the WHALE.
Any Joe with a wetsuit knew what that meant.
Again, Torpedo knew that he had to stay focused on his what he was sent here to do. It was obvious that the fuel pumps on the landing pad had recently been repaired, and therefore tools were in ample supply. Using the tools to open the closest pump, he dug out a pack of C-4, and prepared a surprise for the bastard coming back in the smoky Rattler.
Once he had finished, he heard voices approaching the pad. There was a lot of annoyingly high-pitched laughter and use of swear-words.
Dreadnoks.
Torpedo ran to the opposite edge of the helipad and jumped down. Although his common sense told him to run for his life, he was here for information, and knew that he had to stay. He was more annoyed than happy that he could recognize the Dreadnoks by their voices.
"I'm jus' saying' it stinks." That was obviously Monkeywrench. "Everyone else gets ta go out an' shoot up Joes an' all we get ta do is beat up Wild Weasel. We can't even kill 'im!"
"Well," said Buzzer, "Maybe we can't finish 'im off, but Zartan didn't say we couldn't do nuthin' to his plane!" the Dreadnok revved up his chainsaw.
Monkeywrench's tone changed significantly. "Yeah! We can total 'is plane! Ha! Ha! Ha! Uh…jus' one fave, eh Buzzer?"
"Whas' that?"
"Don' let 'im hit me nose."
Buzzer started laughing like a mutant hyena and Torpedo figured he'd heard enough. Apparently Wild Weasel's little escapade was against the rules—rules that this Dreadnok-run operation had set. Very interesting.
The disturbing factor was that Zartan and some other Dreadnoks were heading out to engage the WHALE. The hovercraft had obviously been targeted by the Rattler, which failed, and now a Moray was going to take a pick at it.
Good luck, Cutter.
3.
Hopping across the ocean waves, Lamprey First Class Niles Skellar's Moray rocketed towards the floating gunship bobbing out on the horizon. Skellar's fists clenched as he thought about the passionate battle that Wild Weasel had thrown away. It was every Lamprey's dream to engage a WHALE in all-out combat. It seemed like it would be even easier in a Rattler. How could that moron have botched it up in a tankbuster? Still, he couldn't let negative emotions towards Cobra's Ace Pilot build up. He had enough enemies to deal with out here already.
"I said drop the skiffs!" barked Zartan.
"What?" So lost in thought, Niles missed the command the first time.
"Got to hydrofoil mode, you idiot, now!"
"Uh…aye, sir!" replied the Lamprey, pushed into obedience by guilt over missing the first order.
The skiffs slowly swung down, and as they did, the boat rose out of the water, giving the Moray the appearance of a skate scraping the surface of the sea. As the rocket-engined-boat sliced across the water, the G.I. Joe hovercraft grew deliciously larger and larger, until the miniscule movements of the Joe team members on-board transformed into trackable targets.
Was there something next to the WHALE? And did it just go under water?
Flashes of red emanated from the 105mm main guns of the WHALE, followed quickly buy claps of thunder. Huge splashes thrust up out of the water all around the Moray. Skellar began some dodge-fire patterns and sped up.
"Should I use the missiles, Zartan?" It was too quick of a method for destroying the Joes, but Niles figured he had better suggest it.
"Of course not, you fool! They need to suffer." The Dreadnok leader sneered and grabbed controls of the 55mm main cannons. He was starting to sound like Cobra Commander. "But wait. Drop the torpedoes."
"Excuse me?"
"The torpedoes! Drop them. They are worthless against a floating craft, and are therefore just deadweights."
As much as he hated to agree with Dreadnok scum, it made sense--but it hurt to toss away expensive—and frankly, very beautiful—torpedoes. "Aye, sir." With a couple button pushes, the two enormous "Black-Ray" torpedoes were aimlessly drifting to the bottom of the sea.
"We need speed, Lamprey Niles Skellar. Speed is the one factor we have that the Joes are distinctly lacking. To increase it only makes us stronger."
"Aye, sir." Now he sounds like Destro.
Once the Moray had reached the 23mm turret-cannon firing range, Skellar lowered the skiffs and placed the hydrofoil on an assault course. There. A break in the Joe's firing pattern. Niles sped up towards the WHALE and Zartan pulled the triggers for the 55mm main guns. The hydrofoil pounded out its ammunition; Zarana covered her ears and cursed out loud, but was drowned out by the sound of the cannons. Using its better line at the WHALE, the starboard barrel blasted a chunk off of the Joe craft's port bow.
Victory didn't last long. Skellar tilted the Moray counter-clockwise to block a heavy barrage of rapid fire pouring from the hovercraft's 1.75" twin turrets. The Lamprey made it a point to keep the hydrofoil about fifty yards off the Joes' port side and let Zarana and the Dreadnoks take on the WHALE with the turret and .30-cal. mounted machine guns. That limited the Joes to one turret to respond with, manned by a Marine, and some Coast Guardsman shooting a small assault rifle from the stern. But with the heavy fire coming from the Dreadnoks, they couldn't return much. Skellar also kept focus on the port quad-missile-launcher. As long as he kept the hydrofoil under thirty yards away, it was too dangerous for the Joes to use it.
The Dreadnoks jumped as the hovercraft's main hatch kicked up and a huge Joe crawled out, toting a .50-caliber machine gun. Slowly leveling the monstrous rifle, the muscle-bound gunner started a rainstorm of heavy fire at the Moray. More precisely-fired yet extremely deadly shells began ripping through the upper frame of the Moray, sending the Dreadnoks ducking for cover. Lamprey Skellar turned the wheel right, and accelerated forward. The big Joe didn't budge until Zarana rotated the 23mm turret and opened up on him. The .50-cal. gunner, ("Roadblock" wasn't it?) was forced below decks, and the hatch slammed back down.
As the Moray thrusted away, Niles felt punches into his right shoulder. Snapping his head clockwise, the Lamprey came face-to-face with Zartan.
"Turn this damn boat around!" screamed the Dreadnok over the roar of the engines. "We need to attack the rear of the hovercraft, and take out its propellers!"
Skellar, much to his annoyance, agreed. Following his nod of obedience, the Moray was swung a hard-left fish-tail turn and punched back towards the WHALE.
But the Joes were no fools. They had come about and had every weapon lined directly on the Cobras.
And they were firing them.
Heavy shells and rapid fire swarmed the hydrofoil, sending Skellar into high-speed maneuvering that no Dreadnok could ever dream of equaling. Despite his amazing efforts, however, his precious Moray was getting ripped to pieces. Out of the corner of his eyes, Niles could see that the Joes were paying a price, too. The Dreadnoks were actually blasting out enough fire to chip and scrape away the sides of the hovercraft. One of the 105mm main guns had even been destroyed.
Once the hydrofoil raced past the port side of the WHALE for the second time, it performed another fish-tail, and started a third attack run. Zartan flipped up the front missile fire controls. Raising out from their hidden storage rack beneath the Moray's hull, the row of four short-range assault missiles locked into launch position.
"Punch it!" ordered Zartan. Skellar slammed forward the accelerator, desperate to get to the hovercraft before it could turn about again. Zartan's eyes remained glued to the missile-sights as he pressed the four triggers in sync.
The flaming yellow projectiles growled and shrieked through the air, gaining speed as they blasted their way towards the back side of the WHALE. The armored mammoth began a left turn, and using unbelievable speed revved its propellers up enough to dodge the majority of the missiles. But it was too late; in only a matter of seconds one of the raging hunters had struck its prey. A gargantuan ball of flame engulfed the port fan; one Joe was sent flying overboard and the hovercraft was hurled into chaos.
"Yes!" cheered Zartan. "Victory is mine! This is why I am the leader of the all-powerful Dreadnoks!"
Lamprey First Class Niles Skellar snarled, ready to scream, but managed to reduce it to a loud growl. "You? You? You just pushed buttons! I had all the real skill! If it wasn't for me, you'd be kissin' the fishies, echo-boy!"
The Dreadnok Leader's chest sizzled with red rage. "Do you realize the stupidity of what you are doing right now, Lamprey Skellar? You are going to regret insulting me, you will regret it for the rest of your life!"
A shriek of panic came down from Zarana atop the turret. "Will you two stop yer bickerin' and pay attention to what the Joes are doin'?"
Skellar and Zartan looked back to the flaming, smoking hovercraft, only to immediately jump back to their controls and frantically attempt to get the Moray moving again. A G.I. Joe Marine had climbed to the side of the WHALE and manually turned the starboard quad-missile-launcher towards the hydrofoil. Another couple of Joes were working at the rear of the launcher, fiddling with cables and wires, apparently trying to manually launch the tube-rockets.
It worked.
Just as Skellar fired life back into the Moray's engines again, three missiles launched from the hovercraft, slicing through the air just meters about the water until two of them slammed into the side of the Cobra hydrofoil about ten feet back of the boat's bow. The explosion knocked every standing man on-board flat to the floor.
"Z-Zartan?" whimpered Ripper, "'ave we won yet, 'cause I'd like ta go home now."
"Shut-up, you fool. Lamprey! Bring us about so we can use our main guns on them!"
"Not possible, sir."
"What?" Zartan expected another fight.
"We're taking on water," explained Skellar, "That missile shot put a helluva-hole in us, and if we don't get back to shore pretty quickly, we're gonna sink out here."
The Dreadnok Leader roared out in anger and performed a rare throw-off of his cowl. "Dammit! Fine then! The Joes are too damaged to do anything to us anymore, anyways. Get us back to Outpost Seven, quickly!"
"Aye, sir." With that, Niles Skellar began a very long and scream-filled drive back to the island.
4.
"Dreadnoks…cough—cough…really piss me off."
"Me too, Gung-Ho." Said Leatherneck. "If I ever see any of those assholes again I'm gonna tear their heads off! And Wild Weasel's, too!"
"Be quiet, you two." Ordered Doc. He was pretty badly banged up, but that wasn't slowing him down one bit When there were injured men to take care of, Doc was stronger than a MOBAT. "Help me get Cutter laid out across the deck."
Roadblock slowly climbed out of the hatch and crawled over to the port turret that Doc was trying to get Cutter across.
Leatherneck limped across the deck, holding onto his arm. Gung-Ho didn't look too badly burnt or broken, but he definitely wasn't going to be wrestling 'gators for a while. The Joes spread their teammate out onto what little flat surface there was left on the hovercraft's deck. Doc began CPR. The missile strike hit Cutter the hardest. He wasn't dead, but he was going to be in a lot of pain for a long time.
Roadblock crawled to the starboard side of the WHALE, trying to settle his nerves. Having only caught a glimpse of the blinding explosion, Roadblock could only pray for his friend. You pull through this, Cutter, I guarantee, I'll cook you the best tastin' lobster in the Atlantic sea!
Then it hit him.
"Where's Shipwreck?"
Leatherneck and Gung-Ho looked at each other. "Uh…we just kind of figured he was okay." Said the big cajun.
Pointing to the sides of the hovercraft, Roadblock tried not to let the chills he was feeling overcome him. "Quick, guys, get to the boat sides and look for him! He must have gone overboard with that blast!" The big Joe gunner stumbled to the stern of the craft and looked across the water. As annoying as that old Navy sea dog could be, Shipwreck was a G.I. Joe, and there was no way would Roadblock abandon him.
"Ahoy!" came a call from the starboard side, about thirty yards away. G.I. Joe's master chef stood up and put his fists on his hips.
"You scruffy sea dog, we were actually worried about you!" Shipwreck sat in a relaxed position on top of the SHARC as it slowly made its way towards the WHALE.
"Well, I'm touched, big guy. My leg is a little sore if you want to give it a massage."
"Stuff it, wet-head." Snarled Gung-Ho. The cranky Marine reached over to the sailor and pulled him onto the hovercraft. Deep-Six popped open the cockpit of the SHARC.
"Why the hell didn't you help us with the hydrofoil?" growled Leatherneck.
"My orders are to take out planes and subs. Boats are your problem." Replied the SHARC pilot in his monotone way.
Leatherneck's face grew red. "You bastard! Look what happened to us! And you don't care?"
"I saved Shipwreck."
The hot-headed Joe Marine was getting ready to jump down and swing a punch when Gung-Ho grabbed his arm. "Calm down, Leatherneck! We ain't got time to fight amongst ourselves."
Roadblock nodded. "Deep-Six, despite your orders, we need your help to complete ours."
The Joe diver just sighed.
"Look, your orders are to defend us, and we are just going to float adrift, open for attack unless you help us."
Deep-Six pondered that for a few moments. Roadblock wasn't sure what he was feeling, what with his flat, expressionless face. He finally replied, "Okay, what do you need?"