Ethan was at his wits end. He knew these engines as if they were his children, and he could not figure out why they just quit out of nowhere. He pulled all the plugs, checked the coils, and cleaned the fuel injectors. There wasn't anything in the diesel tanks that would plug it up, and the generators were going right on as if they were new. The fact that both engines gave out at the same time was what gave him the most irritation.
No ship he had worked had ever had such a thing happen, it was statistically impossible. The electrical system worked. The cylinders were getting fuel, and air. There was literally no reason for them to be stranded in the middle of open water. And without some jumbo sized paddles.
"Any luck Hammer," Dutch called over the radio.
Ethan raised his eyebrows, "Who?"
"You. Hammer."
"If you want to call me by a nickname it ain't going to be Hammer. I've had Mechanic for years. As to the engines, no. I've never seen anything like this. They just quit. We have about a weeks worth of diesel in the tanks, electrical is fine, and the things are getting fuel. I'm going to do a top end disassembly and check the pistons."
"Keep me notified. Mechanic."
Ethan shook his head. He had been given the nickname Mechanic years ago when he first started hopping engine rooms. He wasn't real fond of people knowing his name, it was a liability, and he couldn't really remember it now. Hammer, though, had only ever been applied to hulky queers in his experience. He would never accept that one.
It didn't really take him all that long to tear the top ends of both engines down, and find nothing. Until he stepped next to where the ignition circuit entered the fusebox. If he hadn't had looked at the side of the box he would never have seen the small puff of smoke come from it. Opening the box was not pleasant. All the fuses had been burned out some how. Which meant that the Lagoon was going to have a retrofit to have circuit breakers.
"Hey Dutch, fuse panel is dead. Guess fifty years is all they had in them. We are going to have to get a tow in."
"Shit, I'll see if I can raise anyone we can trust. There ain't many tug boats coming out of Roanapur, or will go there. And I sure as hell don't want to attract the Thai Navy's attention."
"In the meantime I will see if there is anyway I can run a bypass to get the engines to start back up. Also put gaskets on the list, high pressure ones."
It was a miracle that Ethan had been able to pull off the feat of running what he called a burnout bar, basically just a steel bar jumping the circuit. He hated to do it since it meant a week of him replacing all the wiring in the system, but he figured it was just as well since he was going to have to redo the fusing anyways. He had never seen such a thing happen before.
Of course he had a bit of trouble getting his hands on the proper equipment to do such. Household circuit breakers were his choice to replace the most important fuses, ones that would have to be diagnosed quickly in an emergency situation. Others he managed to get ahold of military grade aviation breakers. Wiring the panel wasn't so bad, Dutch had all the necessary diagrams for the wiring systems, and the materials list for the wiring.
The week went by fast, with Ethan staying on the Lagoon spending every bit of time he could working on the work he needed to do. That being said he wasn't real fond of the rats, spiders, or that fucking snake he found in the armory's bulkhead. That being said, the mummified hand missing a couple of fingers didn't bother him any. It was amazing what all you could find in the bowels of a fifty something year old combat craft. He figured the somewhat mint Luger he found hidden in the crawlspace in the engine room would earn a pretty penny.
It was when he was when he was finishing wiring the breakers in that he heard someone on the deck. Ethan made it a point to recognize the sounds of his crewmates walking on deck. He cursed himself for having left his .38 up in the cabin. This wasn't a good thing. The engine room led straight up to the deck, it was separated from the rest of the interior for safety reasons. This meant that to do anything he was going to have to confront this individual barehanded.
At the very least he had a bigass ratchet with a two inch socket on it, and that would lay a beatdown on someone no problem. Slowly and silently he popped the hatch and looked out only to see: Balalaika.
"What the hell are you doing down here Sofiya, tired of riding a desk," he asked coming out on deck.
The Russian turned to look at him, "Ah, Mag. While I do not enjoy desk work that much, that is not why I am here. I seem to remember during our time together you mentioned being from Texas, in the United States. Am I correct?"
"Yeah, Abilene. Born there in '67. Left in '80. Why do ask?"
Balalaika looked him straight in the eye, "I have a business appointment with a Sentinel International Security Services in Dallas. I have never been in America before, and would appreciate having someone native to the area with me."
"Sofiya, I have not been in the U.S. in almost seventeen years. I don't know what help I could be. Hell, I've never even been to Dallas. As is I haven't even heard of this Sentinel International. If you want to hire me as a bodyguard, that would be one thing, but if you want a tour guide then you best look somewhere else."
"What's your going rate?"
"Excuse me?"
Balalaika smiled, "What is your going rate for bodyguard work? It's a simple question, one that could be profitable for you."
"Are you serious? I just... honestly... you can't. Fine, three mil a month, or a mil for ten days. I have strong conditions under which I work, and I make all arrangements to ensure security. Any documents supporting my employment must be supplied by you. Meaning authorization to carry a weapon, and any diplomatic documents. I review any entourage you take, and am present for any meetings. Non-negotiable. I also check any room before you enter."
"Well Mag. It seems like you have perfected this to a very high degree. I can agree with some modifications."
"Not negotiable. I work in a specific way for a reason. If I am running individual protection I am trying my best to come out alive as well as keep my client alive. I've run protect since I was twenty, I know what I am doing, and how to do it right. Don't like it, don't hire me. It isn't like I don't have a job anyways."
"Do not forget that I am quite capable of protecting myself, as well as having a full divisions worth of former Soviet special forces behind me."
"Well then Sweetheart, what the fuck do you need me for then," Ethan held nothing back with the question.
He could see how livid the older woman was. He just didn't care. He also wasn't real interested in the job. They were profitable, but he swore they took ten years off his life every time he ran one. He wasn't afraid of her temper, or the Stechkin being whipped out in his direction.
"Sofiya, you should cock a pistol before pointing at someones face. You know as well as I do that a Stechkin is a single action, and that hammer is down. I also know that Soviet doctrine was to carry a pistol with a full magazine and unchambered after the Second World War. In fact the Makarov's issued holster is designed to rack it. Don't forget that I am not just some random fuckhead off the street here. I don't fear you, or anyone in this city. I have faced worse, some I killed, some I didn't. Others I worked for."
"Fine Mag, your hired, and I will do it your way. Also Revy and Rock will be accompanying me as well. Rock for his negotiation skills, and Revy to act as his guard."
"Charming."
"YOU DUMBFUCK, SIS COULD HAVE BLOWN YOUR HEAD OFF FOR THAT," Revy screamed in his face after he relayed what he had done.
"I know Soviet Doctrine, and I worked with quite a few expat Russians. They are so steeped in their ways it is almost impossible to break them of it. A pistol is strictly a backup weapon, there is no need to keep it hot when you aren't in a hot zone. To Balalaika, Roanapur is nowhere near hot enough for her to keep her gun cocked," Ethan wasn't even really in the mood to actually discuss things.
The closest he had been to America since he had left was Puerto Rico. He didn't want to go back, and were it not for this he wouldn't be going back. As far as he knew there wasn't any desire for his death by an American letter agency. It was simply the memories of his childhood that he was running away from.
"I just want to know why she always wants to co-opt my people into doing her work. I need to sit down and figure out a way to make money just hiring you people out. Be nice to sit on my ass all day and pimp Rock out as a secretary," Dutch said as he was propped against a wall.
"I should have just told her no. I didn't want the job, and I still don't. The pay is too damn good though, and it feels kinda good to make her relent."
Rock intoned, "That's what is worrying me. I haven't known her to back down to anyone in the few years I've known her. Whatever made her want to hire you must be very important to agree to your, actually very intelligent and reasonable, terms. Then again, she can't exactly smuggle a large group of soldiers into the U.S. like she did in Japan."
"I don't even know what the sentiment is regarding the Russians in the U.S. now. When I left they were still this evil Red Menace that every child had look under his bed for. It's like they thought Brezhnev actually gave a damn about what was going on in every household in the country. Hell, I met some Soviets once that didn't even know that America even existed. That was a trip I tell you. They had a goddamned shrine to Ioseph Stalin in their living room."
"I don't know that they even think about them all that much after the wall fell. The fall of the communists probably was seen as a reason to ignore Russia. Regardless, how are you going to be able to work in a place you've never even been," Dutch's question was warranted, though trivial in Ethan's mind.
"I doubt that Dallas, Texas is going to be anymore dangerous than Mogadishu, Somalia. At least fewer people with RPGs shooting at my VIP