Chapter Nine
Eruption
1.
As Wild Weasel climbed up the ladder towards the cockpit of his Rattler, he attempted to re-attach his helmet. Alas, it was far too damaged to ever be worn again. Not even the tools in the supply bunker could help him out. With a hefty sigh of frustration, he tossed his trusted equipment to the ground and climbed into the cockpit. Looks like I do this bare-faced. Great.
In only a few minutes, all systems were checked and ready for flight. Something was bugging Cobra's Ace Pilot though…
Of course! Fuel! You idiot!
Wild Weasel climbed back out and attached the only remaining hose to the Rattler's right wing. Realizing that the hose was only long enough to reach that one wing, the pilot cursed the Dreadnoks for damaging all the other hoses when they tied him up. Still, he had flown with one engine before. If only one had fuel, he could make it to Cobra Island. The left engine still had enough fuel for a take-off, at least.
Walking over to the pump, Wild Weasel reached out to flip on the motor, when the Lamprey started calling up to him from below the landing pad.
"Weasel! Hey, Weasel! You up there?"
Where else would I be, you idiot? "Yeah, I'm prepping the Rattler for take-off."
"We need to get out of here, quick! The Joes've landed on the beach and captured all the Dreadnoks!"
Wild Weasel's face went pale. "Did they get Zartan?"
"I don't think so. I didn't see Zartan or his sister, but I know some Joes went looking for them!" Skellar climbed up onto the landing pad.
"Then we need to speed things up. Now we have the Joes and Zartan trying to get to us. So much for your big plan."
"It's still good, it's still good. Just get on your radio and call in the strike. As long as everyone is here, our plan'll work."
"Me? Why should I call in the strike? And by the way, it's your freakish plan, not mine."
Skellar frowned, "Do you think that Cobra Command'll listen to the request of a Lamprey First Class? I don't bloody think so! If we want to request an air strike, who better to request it than the leader of the Cobra Air Force?"
As much as Wild Weasel hated to admit it, Skellar was right. Still, if this didn't work, it would mean his death. "All right. I'll go call it in from the Rattler. You start pumping fuel."
"Aye, aye."
Cobra's Ace Pilot crawled back up into the cockpit, and noticed that Skellar wasn't pumping fuel just yet. Apparently he wanted to hear what the pilot was going to say. Ugh.
Flicking the radio transceiver on, Wild Weasel began the transmission, "Cobra Command, this is Rattler One, do you copy? Hail Cobra." Remarkably, a reply came back in only a few moments.
"Rattler One, this is Cobra Command, what is your situation? Hail Cobra."
"Cobra Command, Rattler One reports Joe dominance of Cobra Outpost Seven. Cobra assets in perilous danger. Request immediate wipe-out of Outpost Seven to deny Joe access to Cobra assets. Hail Cobra."
The dead silence was nerve-wracking, but not unexpected. Cobra agents were trained to never repeat transmissions. Wild Weasel had made a big request, and it probably went straight to Destro, or even the Commander himself.
"What's going on?" asked Skellar.
"The request is being cleared by a high-ranking official. Patience, Lamprey!"
After almost four minutes, the reply came: "Rattler One, this is Cobra Command. Request accepted. Hail Cobra."
There it was. Said and done. No ETA was given, since the Joes probably heard everything, but Wild Weasel's guess was that in about half-an-hour, this island was going to be blown back below the sea.
2.
Zandar! That son-of-a-bitch Zandar! Where did he come from?
Roadblock gritted his teeth as Zartan's brother lowered the butt of his rifle—the butt that just knocked Torpedo face-first onto the ground.
"Brother!" praised Zartan, "So good to see you again! Excellent timing, as usual."
Zandar simply nodded his expressionless face.
"Excellent timing?" growled Zarana as she stood up, holding her shoulder, "These Joes nearly killed us!"
"You're safe now, sister." said Zandar, rather dryly.
"That isn't the bloody point! Where have you been all this time, while we've been fightin' for our bloomin' lives?" Zarana's face was blood red. Zandar was still expressionless.
"I was doing exactly what I was ordered to do: wiping the Outpost's computer systems memories clean. When I heard the battle begin, I left the mansion and picked up the trail of this Joe SEAL. Unfortunately, I couldn't reach him until after he had assaulted you."
Zartan put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "You have nothing to feel sorry for, Zandar. You did an excellent job." Zarana snarled. "Now, let's quickly dispose of these Joes and rejoin the Dreadnoks."
"Fsh." Mocked Zarana, "You really think that those idiots aren't captured by now?" Zartan's chest flared red.
"She's right, brother. We need to fend for ourselves, for the time being."
Painfully admitting defeat, Zartan asked "Then where do we go?"
"The landing pad."
"And these Joes?"
"Kill 'em." Replied Zarana.
Despite the pain, Roadblock realized he had no other choice. Not giving Zandar time to aim his weapon, the massive Joe gunner jumped up and grabbed the Dreadnok by the neck with his left hand. The pain was intense, and the bleeding from his bicep increased, but he was not going to let go.
"I can kill your brother just by makin' a fist, Zartan. I suggest all you Dread-jerks drop your weapons and get out of here."
"You can't be serious, mighty Roadblock. Remember, we can just as easily kill you." Zartan aimed Zarana's small rifle at the Joe chef.
"Go ahead, chameleon-man. I guarantee you'll still have one less brother."
Zartan's eyes narrowed, then he smiled. "What if you have one less Joe teammate?" The Dreadnok Leader re-aimed the rifle at Torpedo.
Roadblock smiled, "You Dreadnoks are so predictable." The big gourmet swung Zandar into his brother. When the siblings stood back up, both were smashed face-to-face by Roadblock's monstrous iron fists. It didn't take long to see that Zarana was thirty yards away, running as fast as she could.
Roadblock was in serious danger. He had already lost a lot of blood, had a lot of skin torn up, had three large arrows stuck deep into his body—a couple actually through his arms, and he was pretty sure he had bullets wedged into his shoulders. Despite this—and a roaring headache—he grabbed his teammate Torpedo by the shoulders, and began dragging him back to the beach, and then down towards the WHALE.
He only made it about 50 yards.
3.
He had never held all the winning cards before. Seeing the puzzle pieces fall into place, the way he wanted them to, was an incredible feeling. It could only be said one way: Niles Skeller was winning.
Still, winning or not, he only had a few minutes to get himself off of the island before it was carpet-bombed by the Cobra Air Force. Wild Weasel seemed like a bit of a reclusive, self-centered mercenary, but at least he was doing exactly what Skellar needed him to do so far. How long that would continue would be determined by how long Cobra's Ace Pilot valued his alliance with Skellar. But Niles was a good exaggerator and liar. He could keep Weasel's panic up. But once the ride to Cobra Island was done with, Skellar would wait for a clear shot at the pilot's back…
"Hurry up with the fuel, Lamprey!"
Skellar's face tightened up. He didn't like being told what to do, especially by Wild Weasel. Still, he needed the pilot the get off of the island, and he needed Cobra's Ace Pilot to do it. Better to let the mercenary think that he was in charge. Niles would do as he was told for now. After all, he didn't want to ruin that beautiful hand of cards he was holding.
"It's coming, it's coming."
Carrying a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear, Lamprey First Class Niles Skellar walked over to the fuel pump, and flipped the "On" switch.
4.
The thunderous blast knocked Doc onto Roadblock's body. The Joe doctor cursed and looked behind him, as did the other Joes. They all saw the dark cloud rising from the direction of the landing pad.
"What the bloomin' barnacles was that?" asked Shipwreck.
Torpedo's face went pale as he lowered the ice-pack from the back of his head. "That was the C-4 I rigged to the fuel pumps. Looks like someone turned them on."
The expressions on everyone's faces fit perfectly with the dead silence. Leatherneck was the first to break the ice.
"You blew away a bunch of Cobra's with a C-4 trap? That's funny."
"Why would you do such a thing?" asked Doc.
Torpedo was lost in a rush of emotions. "I…I meant to blow up the pumps as the Rattler was landing, but I was forced to hide by the approach of some Dreadnoks. I just wanted to destroy the pumps, not massacre people. I thought everything was okay now…"
"Look, what's done is done," said Gung-Ho, "Let's go up there and check for survivors. Shipwreck and I will go. The rest of you keep an eye on the Dreadnoks."
"Well, I'm going, too."
"Fat chance of that, Leatherneck. You're injured." Leatherneck cursed and kicked some sand, only to realize his mistake, quickly grit his teeth and grab his leg.
"I'd like to go." Requested Torpedo. Gung-Ho thought about it for a few moments, then nodded his head.
"Okay."
The Joe team reached the platform in less than five minutes. Fire was still spread about in patches spewing waves of smoke into the air. Luckily, the nearby plant-life had been cleared far enough away with the platform's construction that a fire hadn't caught and spread across the island.
Parts of the Rattler were flung towards the east, about fifty yards away from the landing pad. The jet fighter was destroyed, but apparently didn't have enough fuel in it to cause a second eruption—it just shattered. The cockpit was still in one piece, thanks to its armor plating, and had rolled about fifteen feet off of the platform.
Gung-Ho shook his head in amazement. "Shipwreck, let's go check out the bunker. Maybe somebody is hiding around there. Torpedo, go check out the cockpit; see if anyone was in the plane."
"Aye, aye, sir."
Torpedo walked around some burning rubble and hopped off the edge of the platform. Feelings of guilt were eating him alive. All he wanted to do was surprise the Cobras by blowing up the platform as they were landing. Why did he forget about the sabotage? He had it rigged to the "On" switch so that the electricity would activate the detonator. Now that he thought about it, that was very risky. Why hadn't he considered the fact that someone would be incinerated if they turned it on? Did he want this to happen?
Maybe commando-work wasn't for him after all. What would Snake-Eyes think? So far the only person who liked what he did was Leatherneck, but that guy would punch his mother if he felt like it. Torpedo would have to justify his actions eventually. But…could he?
The Rattler's cockpit was pretty burnt and beat-up, but it still held its shape. Shards of shatter-proof glass were spread about, as were scraps of metal. No surprises there. The real surprise came when Torpedo walked around to the top of the cockpit, which had been lying on the side opposite from him.
"Gung-Ho! We've got an injured pilot!"
Torpedo kneeled down and checked Wild Weasel's vital signs. His heart was still pumping, and thanks to his helmet being removed, his breathing could be confirmed. The Joe SEAL began unhooking the Cobra Pilot from the seat and pulled him out onto the ground.
"What have you found, Torpedo? Who is it?" asked Gung-Ho as he ran over.
"I can't say for sure since his helmet is missing, but his flight-suit looks like Wild Weasel's."
"Wild Weasel!" said Shipwreck in shock, "I never thought we'd catch him lying on the ground!"
"Let's get him out of here before the fires move over and eat up the rest of his plane." Ordered Gung-Ho. "Maybe Doc can wake him up."
The Navy Joes said "Aye Aye", picked up the body and started taking it back to the beach.
A feeling of fear began to overtake Torpedo. Who activated the fuel pump?