Chapter 11
Strike One
1.
It wasn't the noise that was unbearable. The Dreadnoks were surprisingly quiet considering that they were locked up inside a G.I. Joe hovercraft. It wasn't too bright or dark, either. Only two windows were left unbroken, but they controlled the amount of bright sun rays to a pleasurable level.
No, it was the stench.
Wet, bloody, sweaty and very gaseous primates like the Dreadnoks were not the type of people that could keep a room "April fresh" for more than ten seconds. And now that Wild Weasel was crammed into the tight hold of the WHALE with them, the problem grew exponentially.
The only good news was that his heathen roommates were in too much pain themselves to give Cobra's Ace Pilot much trouble; they were actually leaving him alone. Well, as well as could be expected in the cramped little space they had. He had time to think about his situation and how he could get out of it—with or without the Dreadnoks.
The fact of the matter was that Cobra was going to make a bombing run on Outpost Seven, and he was stuck on the beach in a useless boat. Skellar may have been able to get this hovercraft going again, but that fool blew himself up, along with Wild Weasel's favorite Rattler. That stupid bastard!
Anger wasn't going to get him anywhere, and Cobra's Ace Pilot knew it. One thing he had always heard in movies was to figure out what assets he had. Well, about all he had with him was a squad of wounded morons that smelled like they rolled through a dumpster full of rotten fish. Still, wounded or not, they were brute force, and since they were so stupid, they were easily controlled. Another point of interest: no one in the WHALE was handcuffed or chained—everyone could still move freely. The Joes just didn't have any 'cuffs with them. Maybe things weren't as bad as he thought.
The trump card that Wild Weasel had over the Dreadnoks was that he knew what the Joes were up to, and the stinkers didn't have a clue. That information was what would give him all his power over them. It was time to make his move.
"Dreadnoks, listen to me."
"Wudda you want, Weasel?" asked Buzzer.
"I want what you want."
"Some grape soda and chocolate donuts?" said Torch.
"No, you moron. I want to get out of here."
Ripper laughed. "And how do you suppose we do that? There's a hundred flamin' Joes out there! We seen 'em landin' in their choppers."
Wild Weasel looked out the window. "Look outside now. The beaches are empty. They only left their doctor and one guard to watch over us. The rest went on to fight Cobra."
"Fight Cobra? Where?" asked Buzzer.
"On the other side of the island—far, far away."
"Why did they go all the way over there?"
Wild Weasel snorted. "Don't worry about that. We just need to worry about getting out of here. Now, I've got a plan--."
The Dreadnoks started laughing so loud it was painful to hear.
"What the hell is wrong with you? What is so funny?"
Buzzer spoke up. "Plan? We don't need one of your plans. We just need to wait for Zartan. That's all the plan we need." He punched Wild Weasel playfully in the shoulder and started laughing again.
"Yeah, Zartan will save us!" cheered Ripper.
These stupid morons. How can they put their faith in someone almost as brain-dead as they are?
As the Drednoks laughed and cheered, Wild Weasel could think of only one thing: So much for my peace and quiet.
2.
Are we there yet?
Time had seemed to stop for Roadblock as he lay in the Tomahawk, agonizing over its slow and comfortable pace above the waves of the ocean. Since the Sky Hawk needed the landing pad on the Jane for a while, the Tomahawk's pilot, Updraft, saw no reason for a rush back to the freighter.
The pains in Roadblock's arms and chest had lessened thanks to the drugs that Lifeline had given him, but he still felt terrible. Probably 'cause of the side effects. He hated getting filled up on pain-killers, but recognized their importance.
His mind replayed the fight with the Zartan-clan over and over. There was nothing he hated more than losing to cheep shots from opponents who lacked the courage to come up and face him like a man. At this point, the big Joe chef had a little more respect for Zarana than he did for her scuzz-bucket brother. She had fired at him from a secure location, but never tried a sleazy shot-in-the-back. And who knows? She's a scuzz-bucket, too, but maybe, just maybe, Roadblock made a little bit of a connection with her when he helped her. If he could turn-around just one scuzzy Dreadnok, then today might be worth it.
Alarms screaming from the cockpit snapped Roadblock out of his moment of contemplation.
"What's wrong?" asked Lifeline.
Updraft leaned around and called back, "We've got a warning from the Jane! A couple of low-flying first-strike aircraft slipped underneath radar and swung around the sides of the island. It looks like they're heading for the Jane!"
Lifeline's face started to lose color. "What are our orders?"
Updraft turned back around and started searching around the window. "We're ordered to intercept one of the aircraft, and do whatever we can to keep it away from the Jane."
Lifeline lost more color, "I won't shoot a gun, Updraft."
The pilot's voice deepened, nearly to a level of rage, "If you want us to live you will! We have two wounded Joes on this chopper, and only me to fly it and you to man the fifties!"
"P-please. Don't ask me to…"
"I'm not asking, I'm tell--!" The Tomahawk jerked hard left and started north at full speed. "I've got a bogie in site! I'm heading to intercept!"
Time jumped from a stand-still to a race for Roadblock now. He was strapped to the floor of a helicopter that was ill-equipped for fast-paced combat, with the only available gunner unwilling to fire the weapons. The pain in his body was flushed out by the power of the adrenalin flooding his system.
Updraft was pumping far more adrenalin than Roadblock was. He was a good helicopter pilot, a damn good helicopter pilot, but he was a Retaliator pilot, not a Tomahawk pilot. Roadblock cursed himself for doubting his teammate. He's a lot better than you'll ever be!
As the red and black object drew closer, Updraft recognized it, and called back, "It's a Mamba! It's changing course to engage us! Lifeline get on that damn fifty!"
As the big Joe chef lay strapped to the stretcher, he painfully strained to hear the sounds of the battle. Oddly, there were no sounds of missile fire. That could only be because the Mamba was supposed to save the missiles for the G.I. Jane. But it did fire its two sets of twin 9mm machine guns. It had a wider firing spread than the Tomahawk, but they weren't as powerful as the Joe 'copter's 20mm turret cannon. Sounds of cracking shatter-proof glass and bullet-pummeled metal were nearly deafening. Updraft skillfully kept his focus and chased off the Mamba with the turret. Hopefully, he made a lot of good hits.
"Damn that thing's fast!" called out the Joe pilot. "I only scored a few hits! I need to drop the heavy ordinance. If one of our bombs gets hit we're going down instantly." Clicking sounds from clamps around the Tomahawk snapped in as the heavy load of explosives fell down into the sea. "Lifeline! I need you on the fifties to hit the Cobras as they veer away from the 20mm!"
"I won't shoot a gun, Updraft." Said Lifeline quietly, but sternly.
Roadblock cussed. There would have been a perfect shot for the left side .50-caliber machine gun a minute ago—if someone were there to man it. But Lifeline simply sat in his chair, looking both guilty and stone-faced at the same time.
Updraft turned the Tomahawk hard right, thanking the better close-range maneuverability of the big Joe helicopter, then cursing its portly design. The Mamba's only weakness was that it was too fast to be very maneuverable in tight combat, and since it wasn't using its missiles, it had to fight close.
The 20mm buzzed a massive volley of bullets at the Cobra craft, but only managed to chase it away. Using its speed, the Mamba practically rocketed out of sight, then performed a wide left turn, and came in for another blasting run at the Tomahawk. Roadblock looked at the sleek twin-bladed helicopter complete its turn, and couldn't control himself anymore. Ignoring the pain and the blood, he broke the straps on his stretcher…
Updraft turned the right side to face the Cobra super-copter this time, since it had taken less damage thus far. He aimed the 20mm at a 45-degree angle and opened fire. But the Mamba was firing first, ripping up the side of the Tomahawk, blowing off an empty bomb-wing and sending it crashing into the ocean below. The Cobras had gotten dangerously close, so they dropped down and cut right for a quick escape from Joe 20mm. To their shock, they came right into a volley of heavy machine gun fire from the right .50-cal! The center pilot's cockpit cracked and shattered, and shells pounded into the engines.
Updraft, cut up from broken Plexiglas and bullet scrapes, whipped around to look behind him. Roadblock, barely able to hold himself up, stood behind the gun, firing like mad as the Cobra aircraft swooped beneath the Joe helicopter. Lifeline was begging him to sit down, but Roadblock was yelling at him to shut up.
"Yeah, go Roadblock!" cheered the Joe's pilot.
The Joe chef slowly turned his head and gave a thumbs-up before falling to his knees. Lifeline pulled him back from the gun.
The extra fire from the fifty didn't kill the pilot commander or even destroy the engine, but it was enough to scare the Mamba away. Smoking in defeat, the Mamba kept heading for Sammeston Island and didn't turn back around to attack the Tomahawk or the Jane.
"That was really stupid, Roadblock." Scolded Lifeline as he painstakingly pulled the big lug back onto his stretcher and put on a blanket. "You could have killed yourself."
Roadblock closed his eyes. "Just sitting on my ass would have killed us all."
Lifeline set down the blanket, sat back in his seat, and stared across the ocean with a stern, blank face.
3.
"Incoming!"
Giant red flashes ripped through the air, slamming into the side of the G.I. Jane. They were joined by even larger streaks that obliterated supply crates lying atop the deck of the large freighter. Many of the crates were covers for hidden weapon launchers and deck cannons that ruptured when struck. Navy enlisted men leapt for their lives as massive balls of fire began engulfing the ship.
Torpedo didn't even have time to set the Sky Hawk down on the landing pad. Duke was grasping onto the side of the jet craft with all of his strength. Despite the chaos, he called down to the scrambling sailors.
"Stand your ground, men! Man the deck guns!" The orders only caught the attention of a few enlisted men, who ran back to their posts.
Torpedo turned his head as something caught the corner of his eye. He could clearly see the attacking Mamba now. It had fired every missile it had at the freighter, and now made an obnoxious low-altitude pass over the Jane—the pilot was gloating over his apparent victory.
Duke began pounding on the Sky Hawk's window. "Forget about landing!" he screamed through the Plexiglas, "I'm jumping down! Take out that Mamba!"
Unable to think of a response, Torpedo just nodded and watched Duke fall twelve feet to the fiery deck. Raising himself up another thirty feet, G.I. Joe's top SEAL swung thirty degrees left, then rocketed after the Mamba.
To be considered "combat-ready" in any Joe vehicle, a pilot must be at least at level three. Torpedo was merely at level two in the abstract Sky Hawk aircraft. He could keep one in the air and fire its weapons, but chasing targets and dodging fire with one was a bit of a challenge.
It didn't take long to see that the Mamba had turned around and was coming back at Torpedo—it wasn't a run on the Jane this time. Nine-millimeter machine-gun fire began scraping the Hawk, and the Joe SEAL attempted to lock his 20mm cannons and return fire, but didn't return more than a handful of blasts before he was overwhelmed and forced to veer off.
Surprisingly, the Mamba continued a course for the Jane. Torpedo cursed at himself for getting the Sky Hawk so badly shot up, but was relieved that it could still fly. Quickly spinning it around, he chased after the Cobra 'copter again.
Thanks to his aircraft's jet engines, he caught up to the Mamba again, and decided to switch to missiles. He only had two to use, so he knew he had to make them count. When the missile-lock light turned red, the thrill of victory rushed through his body.
He pressed the trigger. Torpedo excitedly watched the smoke trail chase the Mamba—the Mamba that quickly pulled up, sending the Sky Hawk's missile to slam into the starboard side of the G.I. Jane, and violently rupture its hull.
"No! You bastards!" Torpedo was pistol-whipped with shock. His Sky Hawk was responsible for even more destruction of the G.I. Jane. Had Torpedo killed again? Did he kill his own friends this time?
Slowly floating across the roaring, crackling deck, he watched the seamen desperately attempting to spray water on the flames to save the supply crate weapons and maybe even a few of their lives.
When the Hawk emerged from the black cloud of smoke, its pilot was staring coldly across the ocean, hungry for a Mamba now making a run for the northern point of Sammeston Island.
4.
"I surrender!"
"What?"
Zartan dropped to his knees with his arms spread. "Please! I don't want to die! Get me off of this island! I am weaponless, take me with you, I beg of you!"
Grunt kept his M-16 lined up directly at Zartan as the Joe jumped off of the WHALE. "Dreadnoks are never weaponless. You're up to something."
A very theatrical expression of shock came to the Dreadnok leader's face. "But, how could you say such a thing, to a desperate man?"
"Aaaaayeeeeaaaahhhhh!" A loud scream came shrieking from the north, and Grunt turned to see Zarana running frantically down the beach waving her arms and jumping like mad.
Doc stood up from the back of the WHALE. "What the heck is going on?"
"It's Zartan's sister. She's going nuts!" Grunt turned back to face Zartan—but he was gone. "Damn!"
"What is it?"
"Zartan's disappeared! Keep your eyes open for anything!"
The Dreadnok Leader stood with his back against the WHALE watching the idiot G.I. Joe infantryman whipping himself around, searching the ground and around the corners of the hovercraft trying to find him. He never would. The Joe was so obsessed with finding Zartan that he completely forgot about Zarana.
Zartan's sister performed an amazing leap up onto the deck of the WHALE and landed a brutal kick into the Joe doctor's face. Grunt ran around the hovercraft and began some very generic threats.
"Get down from there right now! Get off or I'll open fire!"
Zartan de-cloaked behind the screaming Joe, and thirty seconds later walked away carrying his M-16.