Nope, the world was pretty much fucked. The war had no end in sight, and my two year stint away from the Teams wasn’t going to hurt anyone… as long as I survived long enough to go back.
“You all right, Jacob?” Helena asked casually. “We’re going to need you sharp tonight.”
“I’m fine. Just reminiscing.” It was probably best she got my attention when she did. I hadn’t had a chance to think about my father yet, and all the bullshit that came with that stream of consciousness.
“Well, wake up. The shore’s in sight. We should reach the ship in ten.”
I gave her a quick thumbs up and got to work.
***
A short distance from the giant cargo ship, Bordeaux cut the engine, allowing the small boat to drift idly towards its target. The rest of us were crouched low in the boat, weapons at the ready. Making contact with the ship, Wang attached a small, but powerful, magnet to the hull, securing a rope between it and the CRRC and anchoring them together. Next, Santino took an old fashioned grappling hook, a device left relatively unchanged in design since the Romans, and flung it over the edge of the railing. Giving it a quick tug, making sure it caught, he turned towards McDougal and smiled.
McDougal nodded and pointed up. Santino returned the nod and began climbing, Vincent not far behind him, ready to take point. A few agonizing minutes later, Santino transmitted the all clear double click over the radio.
Wang, Bordeaux, and McDougal followed. Once their feet cleared the railing, Helena started up after them, leaving me to deal with our little boat.
Making sure I had a firm grip on the rope, I pulled out a stopper holding the air in the inflated ring around the boat, and pulled a simple plug from the rubber hull, allowing water to flow aboard. Within seconds, the boat started to sink, engine and all. Normally, SEALs would take their CRRC ashore and hide it, but our mission parameters made that difficult. When it was almost fully submerged, I detached the line attached to the magnet and pocketed the anchor.
Quickly pulling myself up the rope, I reached the railing, swung my feet over the edge and dropped quietly to the deck. I pulled up the rope, collapsed the grappling hook, and handed it off to Santino, who efficiently reattached it to the appropriate spot on the back of his rig. As the team’s lead scout, he traveled light. His rig was more of a harness than a vest and was lightly burdened, with only magazines, a few tools, the grappling hook and rope, and a rather nasty looking knife that belonged in a Rambo movie. He had a small pack attached to his back, containing his computer hooked up to his eye piece, and as our scout, he was in control of a small aerial drone that Vincent carried on his back.
The UAV was basically a small helicopter, its circumference no more than that of large dinner plate. It consisted of three helicopter blades that jutted out from the circular chassis to create a three points of a triangle. It was extremely quiet, almost invisible, and very effective. It carried high resolution cameras outfitted with night vision and thermal lenses for use in the dark. It could climb a thousand feet in the air and had an effective radius of two miles. It was solar charged and had the shelf life of a Twinkie.
As soon as Santino secured his grappling hook, he began creeping forward while Vincent kept pace with him. Santino could stalk anything on the planet, so I imagined Vincent might have trouble keeping up. He could tip toe over broken light bulbs to sneak up on a prowling panther if he had to. Still, Vincent was a veteran, and knew his way around. He’d keep up. Besides, Santino could easily peel off on his own if McDougal thought it was necessary. He probably preferred going lone wolf anyway, with nothing but a knife in his teeth, and streaks of blood on his cheeks.
As he crept forward, the rest of us followed at a safe distance. I was rearguard in the formation checking our six constantly to keep our rear secure. Thankfully, everyone must have been asleep as we didn’t run across a soul. After a quick stroll over the deck of the ship, we came across the stacked cargo containers.
Santino pulled down his night vision goggles to scan the containers. According to intelligence, our local contact had tagged those going to the terrorists’ stronghold with infrared paint, invisible to the naked eye, but brilliantly luminescent under night vision.
Santino pointed to three containers, the first of which we inspected was conveniently only half full, but still a tight squeeze for any swim pair. It was a good thing I wasn’t paired with Bordeaux, since we were the two biggest guys on the team. He was with Wang, who was the smallest, but McDougal will be with them too, making for a tight fit. Of course, being in such tight proximity to Helena probably won’t be the most comfortable thing either.
I made sure not to look at Santino, who I knew would never give up an opportunity to screw with me. I was saved from my embarrassment when I saw him moving off to the side of the ship. He looked for an infrared beacon that would point out our contact’s position and would send a return signal to alert the local resistance to our presence.
McDougal pointed to Vincent and then a container, then Helena and a container. They nodded and headed towards their assigned containers. I followed Helena. As she opened our container, we peered inside, noticing it was even less spacious than the last. Looking at each other, I gave her a shrug.
“After you, ma’am,” I whispered.
She gave me an indignant look, but went inside all the same. She studied the layout, and after a few minutes, decided on the position that would keep her close to the exit, comfortable, and most importantly, as far away from me as possible. Unfortunately for her, she had to get out, let me in first, and basically lie next to me in a veritable spooning position to achieve that goal. I couldn’t even have been lucky enough to be on the outside, instead, I left all hope on my confining wetsuit to contain any dignity that manages to sneak out. Thankfully, my mind on the mission, I could focus on things other than Helena, but a quick memory of her leaning over in her tight BDU pants and sleeveless undershirt made me think otherwise.
I shook my head. Get your mind out of the gutter, Hunter.
I felt completely uncomfortable. I knew there was nothing to do but take the initiative and make the first smart ass comment. “Keep your hands to yourself, Strauss, we’re on a mission.”
She couldn’t turn to look at me after she shut the door, securing it from the inside, but I knew she must have been fuming. “Don’t get any funny ideas, Lieutenant. Remember, I’m supposed to be covering your ass on this mission.”
Ouch, the innuendo was killing me.
“Well, just don’t take a nap, you’re going to need some fancy moves to get out of this thing.”
“Is that a hint of concern I hear in your voice, Lieutenant?”
“Well, umm, no,” I stuttered.
“Don’t worry,” she consoled. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had to jump out of a moving vehicle.”
That sounded like an interesting story, but it seemed best to just shut up at this point, no sense rising to the bait. She wants me, she’s just playing hard to get, but two can play that game. I liked the game. The hunt. It must have been the sniper in me. It was always the best part.
“Listen.” She whispered, before I could come up with a witty retort. “The crew is getting ready to put us in the truck.”
I hadn’t heard, but after she mentioned it, I craned my neck, and did in fact notice the obvious clanking sound of machinery.
She had good ears, I had to give her that. Having good eyes wasn’t everything for a sniper, but ears were important too, especially when people sneak up on you. She probably carried a myriad of motion sensors and fisheye cameras that she could hook up to doors, ladders, or any other entry to guard her back as well. If the sensors were tripped, a 3D map of her location would be displayed on her eye piece to show where her sensor was triggered, then fisheye cams would give her visual confirmation.