Wednesday, June 14th, 2017
Marseilles
France
06:00 GMT+2 (04:00 GMT June 14th)
OCEAN VIGILANTE
They departed exactly on time; the mooring lines being cast off at the very moment the clock ticked over to 06:00.
Hailee was at the helm and she expertly manoeuvred the megayacht away from the dock before she turned the bow towards the sea. On the deck, fore and aft, mooring lines were being coiled up and stowed along with the rubber fenders which had been lowered to protect the hull whilst moored. It was like there was a professional crew of seamen aboard and it only took mere minutes, but by the time they passed the Pharo Palace at the entrance to the harbour, OCEAN VIGILANTE was looking pristine, shipshape, and Bristol fashion, with not a rope, line, or fender out of place. A little over four nautical miles west of the port, Hailee altered course to the south, and then set the autopilot on a course of one-six-zero before she stepped out onto the starboard bridge wing and turned her binoculars aft.
There, with a bone in her teeth, another megayacht cruised one hundred yards off the starboard quarter, the sun glinting off her highly polished metalwork.
CALEDONIA
06:22 GMT+2 (04:22 GMT June 14th)
The temperature was already over twenty-degrees Celsius and rising steadily despite the sun having only risen just eleven minutes earlier.
Though there were twenty-six aboard, most were invisible below decks, but some were braving the dawn on the upper decks. Up on the sun deck, Amber Dawson, dressed in green three-quarter-length leggings and a white blouse, with green trainers on her feet, sat on a lounger which faced the hot tub, a permanent scowl set on her face. The reason behind her scowl were the three girls who had stripped down to their bikinis and then slipped into the bubbling waters of the hot tub. Olivia, Rylee, and Tanya all ignored Amber as they giggled and laughed in the soothing hot water. Scarlett laughed at Amber's expression and she received a sour look in return. Scarlett was pleased to be afloat; she liked it and she felt free. While she was not as scantily clad as the other girls; she lay on a lounger in thigh-length shorts and a T-shirt, with dark glasses protecting her eyes, and a baseball cap covering her hair, the peak of which shaded her face from the sun. She had applied copious amounts of factor sixty onto her bare legs, arms, and neck. Scarlett was worried about Amber; the girl was growing more secretive than she usually was and Scarlett could tell that something was gnawing away at the girl. However, Scarlett was not about to let Amber and her accompanying storm clouds ruin the awesomely spectacular view out over the azure blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea.
Down below, Harper, Electra, and Kaitlin were on the lower deck, in the bow. The trio were planning some training (read 'training' as 'troublemaking') as they dressed. To the trio, it was heaven being out on the water – the CALEDONIA provided many creative ways to cause trouble . . . and hopefully to get away with it.
"You three are up to no good," Naomi growled.
"So?" Harper retorted.
"Can I join in?" Naomi grinned.
"The more the merrier!" Electra replied. "Let's go – the target for this morning is Charlie."
"Extra points for making her scream!" Harper grinned.
The four giggling girls scampered up the stairs to the main deck.
..._...
On the upper deck, in the upper saloon, Cassie sat with Dakota, Craig, and Marinette.
They were busy discussing the past and future operations. As key members of Vengeance and Honneur they had planning to do, even if the younger members did not.
"Why isn't Olivia with us?" Cassie asked.
"She said she needed to top up her tan," Craig responded.
"She is looking a little pale," Dakota conceded.
Marinette laughed.
"Oh dear," Cassie muttered as she watched the four girls appear from below, grinning fit to burst. "What are you four little shits up to?" she demanded, directing her question at the four girls.
"Nothing," came four not-very-innocent-sounding responses.
"Bullshit!" Cassie responded. "I may be old, but I remember being nine and I loved to cause trouble."
"Well," Harper stated as she threw a cheeky grin at Cassie, "then you know that it is in our being to cause trouble."
"Someone causing trouble?" Yvette ventured as she appeared from aft. "I'm in."
Marinette laughed as the five giggling girls vanished.
Around that same time...
London Stansted Airport
London (surprisingly), England
05:00 GMT+1 (04:00 GMT June 14th)
NIGHTSHADE
At the most eastern section of the airport the matte black helicopter sat on the tarmac well away from any other aircraft.
The Merlin was fully laden and awfully close to its maximum take-off weight allowed at well over fifteen tonnes. Most of that was due to the over four tonnes of aviation turbine fuel which was crammed into the three main internal 1,074-litre fuel tanks, each of which held 860 kilogrammes of fuel. A fourth internal tank held another 878 litres of fuel while a fifth tank, not normally fitted, held an additional 1,051 litres of fuel. A total of 5,151 litres were carried which added up to the little over four tonnes of fuel. At 150 knots, that would give the helicopter about five and a half hours of flight time before it ran out of fuel, and a range of some 825 nautical miles.
Ahead of them, they had a flight of some 1,463 nautical miles, mostly over water. Keira was not a huge fan of long and dangerous overwater flights, but she had grown to tolerate them as part of her time in the Royal Navy. Over land, you had things to look at but out over the seemingly-endless water, there was very little to focus on. Thankfully, she would not be alone, and she would have a second pilot to take over and split the time in the air. On the plus side for both pilots, the Merlin helicopter was well equipped with electronic aids, one of which was the AFCS or Automatic Flight Control System, which could be programmed to fly the helicopter hands off. On the minus side, the pair of them had to wear bulky exposure dry suits, just in case they should drop out of the air and plunge into the frigid waters below.
As well as the airframe and fuel, they were also armed. Both external weapon mounts were fitted, and a combination of rockets and missiles which weighed in at almost two tons were hanging from them. That was the main reason they had been given a very convoluted flight plan to avoid the chances of being seen at close range – from a distance was fine; they could be anybody. Due to the lengthy ten-hour flight, they would need to refuel twice using HIFR – Helicopter In Flight Refuelling – a technique which Kate had been training for but which she had never actually executed for real. In the main cabin, they carried their portable aircraft tug, a pallet loaded with spare parts for the helicopter, and more ammunition.
"You ready?" Keira asked as she looked across at her co-pilot.
Kate was fully equipped for the long over water flight in a dark green exposure suit, black flying boots, and her flying helmet plus white cotton gloves.
"Fourteen hundred miles? A dream," Kate responded sardonically as she finished the pre-flight.
"It'll be hard on your bottom," Keira admitted.
"We have full tanks, and everything is running perfectly," Kate reported. "Weapons are safed and master arm is off."
"Thank you," Keira replied. "Let's get this show on the road."
With a roar of rotor blades and turbines, the helicopter taxied forward and increased speed as it fought to gain lift as the rotor blades bit into the thick air. The rolling take off allowed the heavily laden helicopter to launch safely before it turned a little east of south and cut over the west end of the airport and over the M11 motorway towards Dartford, to the east of London, where they would cross the River Thames. There, they would swing eastward towards the coastal town of Brighton and out over the English Channel where their route would take them between the shipping lanes and then past the French port of Cherbourg and the British island of Guernsey.
After they had passed around the French port of Brest and turned southeast towards the Bay of Biscay, they would then head for their first refuelling.
Thirty nautical miles
southeast of Toulon
09:00 GMT+2 (07:00 GMT June 14th)
OCEAN VIGILANTE
As the bow came down into a trough, the water exploded away from the hull in a cascade of white spray.
The megayacht was incredibly steady thanks to her active fin stabilisers. That meant life aboard was good even for those prone to sea sickness from the constant rising and falling of the deck and the gentle rolling from side to side. Thirty-two were calling the megayacht home for the transit and the vessel, though large, was relatively cramped. However, despite the thoughts of some, it was no pleasure cruise and the megayacht, much like her British compatriot, was much more than just a floating gin palace – much, much more.
Buried deep within the glass-reinforced-plastic hulls, lethal weaponry lurked ready to strike death into the heart of an enemy vessel should the need arise. Both vessels were intended to perform as what were once known as Q-ships. Speed was the defining feature as neither vessel was constructed from steel which might allow the vessels to survive during a real naval battle. The intention was for the yachts to race in and surprise their targets before devastating them with a close-range strike from missiles before then racing off to safety at high speed. Both vessels could readily defend themselves from surface attack and to a limited level, air attack. Woe betide any pirate who tried to attack either vessel on the high seas as either yacht was generally more heavily armed than some major combatants which served in some of the world's smaller navies, not to mention that the crew themselves were more than a match for any would-be pirate.
Of the pair, OCEAN VIGILANTE had already fought a naval battle and won, albeit with some slightly singed paintwork but as for CALEDONIA, she had yet to bust her battle cherry.
..._...
Mindy was on the bridge, studying a nautical chart which was being displayed on a large screen at the chart table.
Their route through the Mediterranean Sea was displayed as a yellow line which meandered around islands and kept the yacht beyond the horizon – where possible – to aid in their surprise arrival off the target shore. Through a door in the aft bulkhead to starboard, the command centre was occupied by Abby and Marty as they programmed the vessels combat systems ready for the upcoming assault. Hailee was at the helm while Marc and Annabelle were on watch. Mindy was proud of the intense professionalism which permeated her entire organisation as well as the sister organisations which together formed what Mindy liked to jokingly call the Axis of Justice, what she saw as a just contradiction to their current foe, the Axis of Evil. That professionalism was blatantly visible throughout the vessel as the prow thrust powerfully through the cool azure-blue Mediterranean waters. From Lucy and Mathilda deep in the bow, going through the weapons in the armoury, through Curtis, Megan, Eva, and Ruth in the main saloon sorting through body armour and combat gear, to Dave and Patrick in the engine room, everyone aboard was doing everything they could to ensure that the preparations for the looming operation allowed for nothing to be missed.
At least most were displaying open levels of professionalism.
..._...
Down in the boat garage, Stephanie grinned as she held the punchbag.
Her two best friends were very annoyed, and both were taking it in turns to lay into the punchbag. To Stephanie's left, eleven-year-old Abigail, in halter top and shorts, kicked the bag violently, her face one of anger. As for sixteen-year-old Saoirse, in sports bra and shorts, she was just as angry, and she punched the bag with every fibre in her being. Stephanie loved her two best friends for reasons she could not fathom, but she enjoyed seeing them both suffer. As to the cause of that suffering, a smirking nine-year-old stood a few feet away, totally unrepentant.
"Was that you?" Chloe asked her daughter, Becky.
"Yes," the girl responded without a moment's hesitation and full of pride.
"That was very good," Chloe grinned.
"What!" Abigail and Saoirse exploded, turning away from the punchbag.
"That little bitch...," Saoirse began.
"Dumped fucking ice and fucking ice-cold water over us!" Abigail continued, ignoring Stephanie's laughter.
"When we were sunbathing!" Saoirse finished.
"Oh, get a grip, you two," Chloe grinned. "But thank you for pounding the bag instead of my daughter."
"Oh, she will get what's coming to her," Saoirse growled darkly as she glowered down at the small girl. "Mark my words."
Young Becky squealed as she bolted out of the boat garage.
..._...
During the thirty-nine-hour transit there was allowance for down time as everyone had to be well-rested for the actual assault, so sunbathing and having fun was allowed.
However, beating nine-year-olds to a pulp was not allowed and the two girls knew that, despite having been almost frozen. However, both had long memories and Becky knew that sometime in her future, her life would take a nasty turn, but until then, she knew that she was safe – relatively at least. For the younger members, there was inherent boredom in downtime. For the four nine-year-olds aboard OCEAN VIGILANTE – the youngest members across all of the organisations – their built-in enjoyment for fun and causing trouble tended to get them into a lot of trouble. Surprisingly, it was Xiāngxìn who was the brains behind the troublemaking while the other three were happy to simply throw in their own ideas and execute the dastardly plans thought up by master schemer Xiāngxìn. The young Chinese girl often kept herself to herself and was not outwardly known to be a troublemaker, however, Mindy knew – she knew everything of course – as did most of the senior members of Fusion, including Chloe who knew that her own daughter could not take a single breath without getting into trouble . . . or so it seemed.
After an hour of pouring over the details for the pending operation, Mindy could feel the stress building within her and she knew that despite what her mind wanted her body to do, she had to rest, or she would become a liability. If nothing else, Dave had taught her that she was only human (Mindy tended to think otherwise, but that was a totally different issue) and that she needed to give her body a chance to recuperate and regenerate. Therefore, Mindy headed aft, passing Jamie and Tommy in the upper saloon playing on an Xbox game. As she left the air-conditioned citadel, she passed out onto the after deck where it was very warm with a matching warm breeze cutting in from abeam. After jogging up the starboard gangway to the sky deck, she passed between the bar to starboard and the upper seating area to port. Joshua smiled at Mindy as he passed her a glass of ice-cold Diet Coke from the opposite side of the bar.
"Welcome to relaxation my purple queen," Joshua chuckled as Mindy simply rolled her eyes.
"Hi, Mom!" Anne-Marie announced from where she, Danny, Becky, and Xiāngxìn were sitting with Jennifer and Iain.
Mindy smiled as she pulled off her T-shirt and shorts to reveal a skimpy purple bikini – Joshua wolf whistled but Mindy ignored him – and she climbed up to the jacuzzi which overlooked the bow. The water was bubbling and steaming. Already ensconced in the jacuzzi were Willow, Ariana, and Freya.
"May I join you, girls?" Mindy asked as she stepped down into the soothing waters.
"Of course," Willow grinned.
Ariana and Freya did not look overly happy at having Mindy so close, but neither said a word and they just smiled amiably.
CALEDONIA
10:00 GMT+2 (08:00 GMT June 14th)
For some reason, the tranquillity of the morning had been shattered by the shrill scream of thirteen-year-old Charlotte Perrin.
That scream had been followed by a violent torrent of extremely foul verbal abuse worthy of Hit Girl herself. Cassie did not waste a breath asking who had caused the screaming, knowing full well that there were five guilty suspects who were about to be slaughtered by Charlotte. Cassie figured that she may have to intervene – not to save lives, but merely to save the operation. As Cassie headed up a deck from the main saloon, she heard the profanity increase in volume and crudeness as Charlotte dug deep into her broad vocabulary to pour abuse on her abusers. As Cassie appeared on the upper deck, she found Charlotte on her knees – actually, each knee was in the chest of a miscreant, pinning them to the deck while she punched them both in their sides. The current pair being punished were Harper and Electra. Also lying on the deck, rubbing bruises of their own were Naomi, Kaitlin, and Yvette.
"Charlie, please don't hurt them too badly – they do need to fight in two days' time," Cassie pointed out.
"That's why I just punched them a few times," Charlotte responded reasonably. "To get the point across that I don't like little bitches winding me up."
"What did they do, Charlie?" Cassie enquired.
"I'd rather not say," Charlotte said, her cheeks turning pink.
"Not saying," Harper responded from the floor as Cassie looked directly at her. "Her fists hurt."
"Okay," Cassie chuckled. "Let them up."
Charlotte released the two girls who began to rub the parts of their chests where Charlotte's knees had been and their sides where they had been punched.
That same time...
Point Alpha
Bay of Biscay
Eighty nautical miles
off the French coast
10:10 GMT+2 (08:10 GMT June 14th)
NIGHTSHADE
The Type 23 frigate, HMS SOMERSET was cruising in an arrow straight line at fifteen knots and had been for three hours.
After 625 nautical miles and four hours ten minutes of flight time, both pilots were relieved to see the frigate exactly where she was supposed to be. The helicopter still carried more than enough fuel to allow an emergency diversion to the nearest land but that could very well spell an end to the mission should the armed helicopter be forced to put down in a foreign country. Radio communications between the warship and the helicopter had begun as the pair had come within visual sight of one another. The evolution ahead was a dangerous one which endangered both the warship and the helicopter, but Keira was expertly proficient at the task – not so Kate as the young pilot slipped out of her seat for the first time in hours, stretching her limbs as she headed aft into the rear compartment where she hauled open the main cabin door.
With expert precision, Keira approached the warship from aft and to port, slowing until she was pacing the warship at fifteen knots, twenty feet to port. Slowly, she moved the helicopter sideways as Kate, in the rear compartment, lowered the winch cable down to the flight deck below where three crewmen were crouched down in deference to the severe downdraft from the five rotor blades spinning above them as well as pinning down the fuelling cable. As Keira reached a point where she was flying over the left side of the flight deck, she stopped moving sideways and hovered in place. Kate lowered the winch cable down to the deck where two crewmen approached, one of whom carried a six-foot insulated aluminium pole which was connected by a thin steel wire to the ship. He reached out with the pole and hooked the winch cable; any static electricity – the shock of which could kill a man – was earthed and fed into the ship's hull and thence into the water around them. Keira's primary job was to ensure that she did not collide with the ship while she left the actual refuelling to young Kate.
Kate had never felt so nervous as she leaned out of the starboard door, a harness preventing her from falling out, and she guided the winch cable with her gauntleted left hand while her right operated the switches for the winch motor. As she watched, one of the crewmen below clipped the hook at the end of the winch cable onto a refuelling hose. At a signal from one of the two observing crewmen, Kate began to winch the cable in, lifting the refuelling hose off the flight deck below her. As the three crewmen manning the refuelling hose stood up and fed out the four-inch diameter hose, Keira edged the helicopter to port, out over the water. The idea being that should any fuel leak, it would fall into the sea, and not splash onto the flight deck – that also applied to the helicopter suffering engine failure and suddenly dropping out of the sky. By the time Keira was ten feet from the portside of the SOMERSET, the refuelling cable had reached the bottom of the helicopter. Kate kept the winch cable spooling up until it was fully retracted at which point the loop of refuelling hose hung directly in front of her. Down on the deck, the four crewmen were holding the refuelling hose and keeping it from moving about in the massive downdraft.
"Take it slow and steady, Kate," Keira said over the internal intercom.
Kate lay face down on the cabin floor, the upper part of her torso hanging out the door of the helicopter. She could feel the downdraft from the rotor blades on the back of her helmet as she reached down to the side of the aircraft, just aft and below the starboard opening and she unscrewed the cap from the refuelling point. Kate lowered the refuelling hose by about two feet and as she unhooked the end of the refuelling hose from the winch hook, she took a deep breath and with both hands, she removed the cover from the hose, and she made to clamp the hose in place. It took her three goes to get the wayward hose in place, but get it connected, she did. Finally, Kate stood up and she made a circular motion with her hands which was acknowledged by the officer on the flight deck below.
"Fuel coming in!" Keira reported as she flicked a switch on the fuel management panel above her head to direct the fuel into the correct tank.
The fuel pounded aboard at 650 litres-per-minute, quickly filling the tanks. During the filling, Keira had to ensure that the additional weight – over three tonnes – did not affect the helicopters altitude or forward speed. Six minutes later, the tanks were full after receiving 3,902 litres of fuel. The fuel transfer was stopped, and Kate was back on her stomach disconnecting the fuel line from the helicopter. She swiftly recapped the fuelling point on the helicopter before she capped the hose and hooked it back onto the winch hook.
Keira deftly moved the helicopter back over the flight deck as Kate lowered the fuel hose back onto the flight deck below. The crewmen on deck hauled the hose in before the man with the earthing pole grasped the winch cable and unhooked it from their hose before they attached something else to the end. Once clear, Kate reeled in the winch cable and Keira moved off to port. Several members of the warship's crew waved as Keira dipped the nose of the helicopter which swiftly gathered speed even as a relieved Kate pulled the starboard door closed. Keira turned to grin at Kate as her co-pilot regained her seat and tiredly strapped herself in.
"Well done, girl!" Keira said and Kate smiled back. "What you got there?"
"I don't know," Kate said as she opened up a small package sealed with duct tape. "We have two HMS Somerset baseball caps, a thermos of . . . hot coffee! Even better, we have four, still hot, bacon butties!"
"Somerset, Niner Niner Eight, we thank you for the fuel, both liquid and otherwise; the engines and crew much appreciate it."
"Good hunting, Niner Niner Eight."
It had been very tiring, and as she bit into the awesome bacon butty, the weary Kate knew that she would be repeating the exercise in just another three and a half hours' time.
Eighty nautical miles
South of Toulon
CALEDONIA
12:51 GMT+2 (10:51 GMT June 14th)
Those who had already enjoyed some downtime traded places with those who had spent the previous few hours working.
Nobody groaned and moaned – that was just the way it was. Somehow – Cassie said she had nothing to do with it – Harper, Yvette, Naomi, Kaitlin, and Electra found themselves on a work detail under the command of Charlotte. Cassie deposited the five miscreants in the boat garage.
"What are we doing here?" Yvette asked.
"You smell something?" Electra asked.
"That smells like diesel," Naomi replied.
"You five bitches are going to get down on your hands and knees and then you are going to clean up the diesel spill under the assault boat."
"Can't we just hose it out?" Harper tried.
"Hose is busted," Charlotte grinned. "But as luck would have it, we have five buckets and five cloths – get to it!"
Kaitlin scowled at Charlotte as she sank to her knees and grabbed a bucket of soapy water and a cloth. Charlotte smiled as she watched the five girls scrubbing away at the teak flooring of the boat garage. Charlotte decided to have some fun as she stood off to one side watching the five girls swearing and cursing as they worked. Despite the girls' unhappiness, they were professional, and they put everything into washing down the flooring. However, after twenty-five minutes, Charlotte decided that the deck was clean...
"Okay, Charlie," Kaitlin said as she threw the stinking cloth back into the bucket. "NO!"
Naomi turned to see what Kaitlin was screaming about and she caught a blast from the hosepipe in her face. As Naomi screamed, so did the other girls until the boat garage echoed with the sound of screaming girls as they were pelted with a jet of freezing cold sea water. Several minutes later, Cassie watched five bedraggled youngsters heading forward to change.
"Don't say a bloody word!" Kaitlin warned as she stalked past.
"Ditto," Naomi added as she followed Kaitlin.
"Thanks, Cassie," Charlotte said as she appeared at the back of the line.
"Revenge is a dish best served cold," Cassie laughed.
Charlotte grinned as she slumped onto a couch.
Point Bravo
Balearic Sea
Eighty nautical miles
northwest of Sardinia
13:38 GMT+2 (11:38 GMT June 14th)
NIGHTSHADE
A good chunk of the transit after leaving the first refuelling was over land.
They had crossed the French coast a dozen nautical miles north of Bayonne on the west coast. They flew high to keep casual observers from identifying the helicopter as it crossed the narrowest part of the country, just twenty-five to thirty nautical miles north of the Spanish border and the Pyrenees Mountains. Finally, after a little over two hundred miles, they left the land just south of Port-la-Nouvelle and found themselves flying over the Mediterranean Sea.
"Those waters look so nice," Kate had commented as she had looked down upon the subtly clearer, azure blue waters compared to the forbidding dark blue of the Atlantic Ocean.
"Hopefully, we'll get to swim in it at a time of our choosing later on," Keira responded.
Both would have loved to get out of their flight suits and into the perfect-looking waters below, but that would have to wait a while.
..._...
Quite a while later, Kate examined the navigation screen which displayed the various waypoints, destinations and friendly vessels within one hundred miles.
The next refuelling point was just five nautical miles ahead, but her eye noticed two other symbols on the display, and she zoomed in.
"We're just fifty nautical miles from Caledonia and Ocean Vigilante," Kate commented. "They're west of us."
"Closest we're going to be until we see them tomorrow," Keira replied. "Let's get back on track."
"Yes, ma'am!" Kate grinned. "Four point eight nautical miles to go."
Keira began to descend to one thousand feet and as they approached the Type 45 destroyer HMS DARING, Kate hauled open the starboard door, ready to repeat her feat of three hours and sixteen minutes earlier. They needed 3,065 litres of fuel to top off their tanks after having covered 491 nautical miles of flight. The procedure was very much the same and within minutes, life-giving fuel was flooding into the empty tanks from where the fuel would then be pumped into the trio of greedy Turbomeca CT7-8E turbines mounted atop the helicopter. It took a mere five minutes to pump the required amount of aviation fuel into the tanks before Kate disconnected the fuel hose and she lowered it back to the flight deck below. In return, they received another package which Kate dutifully unpacked as they turned away from the destroyer.
"What have we got?" Keira asked.
"We have two HMS Daring baseball caps, a thermos of coffee, four cans of Pepsi Max . . . oh!" Kate responded.
"What?"
"Two large containers of chips and four ginormous hotdogs."
"I hear you're good at deep-throating things like that," Keira commented as Kate blushed bright red.
"That was low!"
Keira was thoroughly unrepentant as she settled the large helicopter on course.
Ninety-five nautical miles
west of Porto Torres, Sardinia
16:00 GMT+2 (14:00 GMT June 14th)
OCEAN VIGILANTE
Mindy was getting ratty.
"I wish we could go faster," she moaned.
"Then we'd run out of fuel miles from our destination," Hailee pointed out.
"I know. I know."
Mindy paced the broad bridge of the megayacht, staring out across the seemingly endless Mediterranean Sea. She was impatient for action. The long overseas voyage – long in her mind anyway – was sapping away at her. She longed for the open road on her Ducati and she hadn't hit anybody in days! The wait was simply frustrating, and she knew that there was still over a day to go until they approached their staging point off Sicily. To make the delay even worse, the younger members of the crew were also getting fractious, with several of them quarrelling and a few tempers were fraying. Despite the luxurious accommodations, they were a little cramped, what with the numbers aboard, and that meant that it was difficult for some to stay apart. At the end of the day, many aboard were children, some of whom had the nasty habit of being complete cunts when they became tired and ratty.
At that moment, Jamie and Stephanie were quite literally at each other's throats. Normally, the brother and sister pair were generally very civil to one another, with just a few jibes here and there. Since settling in Jamie had become more open in his relationship with his big sister, and the pair had their little spats, but nothing as bad as they were at that moment. Nasty things were said, and neither child was backing down. Saoirse and Abigail had swiftly moved in when Stephanie took a swing at Jamie to prevent physical injury to their friends. It had to happen at some stage, Saoirse knew. She had seen her best friend grow from that nine-year-old youngster whom she had tried to kill, three times, into an amazing eleven-year-old who Saoirse respected both as a person, and as a highly skilled vigilante. However, Stephanie was still young, and Saoirse sometimes did not agree with how much responsibility Mindy gave her eldest daughter. Abigail and Saoirse sometimes spent time together – they both had Stephanie in common, after all and Stephanie had kind of destroyed both of their lives – and they often talked about Stephanie and her latest escapades (it made for a good laugh, if nothing else). They both had Jamie to think of as well. The boy had not found it all that easy to settle into the family, what with the two younger children and the sister whom the boy thought he had murdered.
Abigail had correctly figured out that the boy felt eclipsed by his big sister who appeared to be Mindy's favourite. Saoirse knew that Mindy loved each of her children equally and Saoirse also knew that Mindy hated favouritism of any kind. But for Stephanie, Mindy had a blind spot and at times Jamie was overshadowed. A blow up had always been expected and in such a confined environment such as aboard OCEAN VIGILANTE, tempers became frayed very easily. Jamie had started it by sniping at his big sister and Stephanie had responded in kind as the super bitch that she was proud to be. Jamie had then poured petrol onto the flames by saying that Stephanie was always trying to one up him and make Dave or Mindy see her as better than him. It was blatantly untrue, but Jamie knew what buttons to push – he had been Stephanie's sister since the day he was born after all – and he was good at pushing those buttons. Normally, though, Stephanie just shrugged it off and went about her business, but she had just about had enough of her little brother saying things which upset her or that spoke ill of Mindy – Stephanie would never allow anyone to speak ill of Mindy without making them endure severe pain.
"I am sick and bloody tired of her!" Jamie exclaimed as he pulled away from Abigail. "I was better off before she came back into my life!"
"You don't mean that, Jamie," Abigail said with as much emphasis as she could manage.
"Don't I?"
"If he wants to be a dick, then let him," Stephanie shot back.
"For fuck's sake!" Saoirse growled as she glared down at Stephanie.
"The little worm gets on my nerves and he knows how to get my back up," Stephanie responded. "He needs a damn good slapping!"
"A slapper would know about slapping," Jamie spat.
"Why you little...!"
Saoirse restrained Stephanie before she killed Jamie.
"Both of you need a damn good slapping," another voice cut in. "Stephanie, Jamie, come aft."
Stephanie scowled at Jamie, but the girl nodded at Joshua as she pushed past her little brother.
..._...
Once the three of them were on the after deck, Joshua turned to them.
"What the bloody hell are you two doing?" he demanded.
"She's being Mummy's little bitchy princess and...," Jamie began.
"Fucking grow up, Jamie!" Joshua growled with enough menace to give the boy second thoughts about a snide response.
Stephanie also bit down her own snide remark, feeling embarrassed about her behaviour.
"Sit down!" Joshua ordered and the three of them sat down at the stern. "You two are brother and sister. You have both been through hell. I can't know what it is like to have a sibling as I was an only child, but I know that you both love one another, very much. Jamie you love Stephanie more than anything and don't you even try to deny it – I heard about when you wouldn't leave her side in Belgium."
Jamie nodded as he scowled at the floor.
"I've been having nightmares about . . . about . . . what Stephanie did to our...," Jamie admitted.
"About me murdering our parents," Stephanie stated. "Yes, I murdered them – and I thought I had murdered you, Jamie. It was the happiest day of my life when I found out that you were still alive. However, I did murder our parents; there is no denying that. You blame me for that, but I did not know what I was doing when I stood in that room and calmly put a bullet into the heads of three people. I have the very same nightmares and I feel the guilt almost every day."
Joshua hated the discussion, but he knew that it had to be done. He had seen the horrific videos in which a young child was brainwashed into coldly killing their very own parents – or strangers as in Jamie's case. Of the fifty or so Predators recovered, the vast majority had no knowledge of the horrible event. Mercifully, for all involved, only a small number had remembered what they had done under duress. Joshua did not envy those like Stephanie and Jamie who knew what had been done in the name of their training.
"It's been there at the back of my mind," Jamie said quietly. "It's been there at the back of my mind for so long . . . knowing that my Mum and Dad were shot by my big sister. The more I've thought about it, the more I've had moments where I've hated her. Sometimes, I see her with Mindy, and I get jealous – I think that I'm second-best; I did arrive last, after all."
"Don't you ever think that, Jamie!" Stephanie hissed. "Mindy respects and loves you just as much as me and the twins. Mindy has given you everything and I'm sorry that you think I overshadow you. That was never my intention and I think Mindy would be devastated to hear you talking like this. Now, I have been remiss with my behaviour and I should know better. I apologise, Jamie, for everything I said, earlier, and I love you dearly."
Joshua was very impressed by Stephanie's mature response. Jamie nodded.
"I overreacted. I love you just as much. Seeing you worshipped by your followers..."
"I don't have followers!" Stephanie exclaimed.
"What about Yvette, Ruth, and Electra, huh?" Jamie pointed out. "You enter the room and they fawn over you like you were Queen Victoria. Even worse, you take on royal airs as if you were Queen Victoria!"
Joshua laughed as Stephanie scowled.
"Are you two going to kiss and make up?" he asked.
Joshua smirked at the two horrified expressions before him.
"I wouldn't kiss him – ever!"
"Yuck! Kiss my own sister?"
Stephanie wrapped her arms around her brother, and she hugged him tightly while Jamie responded in kind.