Teenage Mutant Ninja Torpedoes, Page 3

  Nobody had any idea what to do with the brain-bands, so Wolf took them to the Zeballos Prison and Franklin Franklin's home. Wolf was curious to see what he would find in the prison. He ended up shifting the freight there on his own because Wizard was squeamish about going into the prison. Wolf would almost certainly have explored the prison to find out exactly what sentence Franklin had received; however, I found no record of him sharing his findings.

  Most of the other crates from the North Korean freighter were addressed to The Citadel, Alaska. The contents were described as Replacement Parts. Most of the crates were long, wide, and not very deep. Others were huge rectangles. Wolf cracked open one of each and said, "Will has to see these."

  The last part of the shipment consisted of two large crates that were addressed to Safe Haven Ranches, for pick up in Seattle. The contents appeared to be expandable dog collars but the crates also contained controllers that were similar in appearance to Zzyk's brain-band controllers. Actually, the dog collars were similar in appearance too, in that they were shiny and probably had some electronics inside. However, they were clearly intended to go around a human neck.

  # # # # # # # #

  On the 18th, Wizard, Lucas, Winnie, and Patella headed out in a Saskatchewan copter to a village named Clearwater in the Aboriginal Nation. Wizard was trying to find a source of lumber so that he could move on to the next phase in the development of the Wilizy gardens. His original plan had been to hire Albertans to harvest some trees and cut them into various sizes and shapes of lumber that could be used in construction. Wizard was ready to purchase one of Saskatchewan's monster copters to transport the finished lumber and that was why Lucas and Mathias were being trained as pilots. Wizard had calculated that it was more efficient for the Wilizy to own their own fleet of heavy-duty transports than to lease them from the Saskatchewan military. However, Wiz reassessed his plans after Zzyk's announcement about border posts which no longer restricted him to acquiring his lumber from inside Alberta. Zzyk had opened up the borders and the Wilizy could now import lumber without limitations.

  As to the recording device located inside the monster copter, these transponders were an obvious ploy to allow the DPS to track them wherever they went. But Wizard didn't see any downside to that since his monster copter was going to be used only as long haul, heavy load transport for Wilizy business. It wouldn't be put to military use. Zzyk might have put listening bugs inside the transponders, but that was easily countered by conducting conversations in mind-speak. Besides, the noise of the heavy rotors all but made conversation inside the cockpit impossible. The Wilizy directors signed the necessary We won't smuggle Albertans document and gave Wizard approval to buy one monster copter from Saskatchewan provided that he found a suitable source of lumber. They asked Saskatchewan to equip all of their leased copters with DPS transponders for when they needed to lease them again. With the scope of his search for an active lumber mill now expanded beyond the borders of Alberta, Wizard was feeling more positive about the future development of the garden land.

  Wizard had learned about the village of Clearwater on the North Thompson River from the Internet. Before the oil shock, Clearwater had a logging and sawmill business in the town. However, with no oil and insufficient electricity to provide the power, the mill shut down and people left for the lower mainland where there were still jobs. Now, the mill remained more or less intact, but inactive. The villagers squeaked by on fishing and hunting. There were rumours that some old-timers in the village had worked in the mill and knew how it operated. Winnie was on the trip to Clearwater with them in case villagers claimed to have skills that they didn't have.

  # # # # # # # #

  Lucas set them down on the flats next to the North Thompson River and in front of an abandoned sawmill. They were in the middle of a small collection of houses all close to the river. Back when there was the risk of an overly fast snowmelt in the spring, such a location might have been in danger from flooding. Now, without glaciers and snow to feed it, the North Thompson was still a river, but not a dangerous one.

  "Looking for the chief," Wizard said to the first child who came close enough to inspect them within speaking distance. Every house on the flat had at least several faces looking out doors and windows at the monster copter. All were aboriginal.

  Wizard had ample warning to make a quick change in plans when he saw the chief approaching. "You're now in charge of this trip, Winnie. You're the granddaughter of the Wilizy's chief. I'm the Wilizy's business manager. Lucas is our pilot. Introduce yourself to their chief and ask me to explain to her why we're here."

  The chief walked around the copter first before standing in front of them and inspecting them too. She was average in height and carried her ample weight with ease. Wizard guessed her age at about 50 - 55 and he noticed her gray hair and deep lines in her round face. She was wearing an apron – the arrival of a monster copter obviously bringing her out of her kitchen in a hurry, although she showed no emotion other than curiosity. "Big copter," she said to nobody in particular. "Who are you? Whad'ya want?"

  Winnie gave her name in her native tongue.

  "Little Gem, eh?" Then, she made some clicks of her own.

  Winnie could only shrug her shoulders. "Sorry," she said. "I don't understand."

  "Not your language. You can call me Wanda. You act as chief, Little Gem?"

  "Yes, I act as chief today on behalf of my grandmother. She is known as Xmdlphs," which is as close as your language-challenged narrator can come to Granny's native name.

  "I've heard of her. Short woman? Somewhat shy?"

  "Big woman with a big bow which she can use," Winnie corrected. "Speaks her mind."

  "That would be her. And your mother and father?"

  Winnie made some sounds.

  "I've heard of them too. The Aboriginal Nation protects its own. We fight to the death. We don't run away?"

  "That's them."

  "You are welcome here, Little Gem. Bring your wolf, but leave your brothers with the copter. You can tell me and my sisters why you've come to Clearwater." At that, she put two fingers in her mouth and split the silence of the village with three shrieking whistles. That in turn produced three rotund women who left their houses and ambled towards the largest building in the village. Half an hour later, the chief stuck her head out the door, whistled six times, and disappeared. Everyone in the village made their way to what Wizard expected was the tribal center. One small boy approached the copter and motioned Lucas and Wizard to follow.

  "Speak only when you're invited to speak and don't interrupt Nonny if she's talking at you," he said. "She gets really annoyed at that. When you enter the tribal center, if your sister is sitting on the blankets with the assistant chiefs, the meeting went well. If she's hanging from the rafters by her ankles, not so good."

  # # # # # # # #

  In London, Mac had found a safe, anonymous place to live. Her one room bedroom was the equivalent of burying herself in a military foxhole deep in the prairie soil with only a glimmer of her periscope sticking above ground. She had found other urban foxholes, but this one had the advantage of being near a seedy part of the city. Mac was going to a job interview there today. She had let her hair grow out so that her blonde hair was almost fully back. She had it cut short, but fashionably so, for this interview.

  Mac was dressed in a blue blazer, short sleeved white blouse, and gray slacks – equivalent to a man's business attire in downtown London. The high heeled shoes with the steel spikes inside the heels made her costume slightly different. Plus, if she took off her blazer, the holster and pistol in the small of her back would become visible, as would the short iron bars strapped to both forearms. With these bars, Mac could disable an assailant with a single swing of her arm. The sheath that was strapped to the inside of her right arm would also become visible. That quick-release sheath held her favorite weapon– a throwing knife with a long pointy tip and sharp cutting edges all the way down the blade. M
ac had named the knife Pea Sticker because she could stick the tip of the knife through a tiny pea from a 10 meter distance.

  Mac had surveilled the bar enough in the last two weeks to learn vital information. The boss, name of Mike, was a decent man. He ran a clean bar, allowing no drug trade or sex trade. Both of these were common in other establishments in this area of the city. He had two bouncers who managed to keep his rowdy male patrons mostly under control. His waitresses were required to wear skimpy clothes, but the bouncers would step in to protect them if they complained about patrons taking advantage of their clothes to grope them. What Mike didn't have was someone to protect the waitresses from the bouncers. Nor did he have the business sense to protect himself from the considerable amount of skimming that took place behind the bar during the busy nights. And, he didn't have anyone to keep the rowdy female patrons under control – the risk of having sexual abuse charges filed against his bouncers and his liquor license being revoked weighed heavily on Mike's mind.

  Mac walked into the bar at 2 p.m., hours before they were officially open. The bar drunk was already soaking up the atmosphere through the pores inside his mouth. Mike was behind the bar. Big man, but with a large paunch on him. Balding head with wisps of black hair arranged to cover up the bald spots. They had lost that war several years ago.

  "Looking for a job," Mac said as she approached the bar.

  Mike gave her the once over and discarded her as a potential waitress. "Nothing for you, duckie. Strip joint down the street will hire anyone who's willing to prance around naked."

  "Not a stripper. Not a waitress either. I'm here to fill the opening on your security team."

  "We don't have an opening."

  "Want to bet?"

  # # # # # # # #

  The terms of the bet were easy to understand. If Mac could put their number 1 bouncer down for five seconds, Mike would consider her application. If she couldn't, well, too bad. If she were injured in the attempt, too bad again. Mike considered Mac a nuisance and would be happy to see her leave.

  Mac didn't know the number 1 bouncer's name; in her mind, she had given him the name Pug because of his apparent experience as a not-so-good boxer. But he was a very good bar brawler. Big, very strong, and he liked to fight. All Mike asked was that he take the fight outside. Mac had named the second bouncer Mug because he believed everything that Pug said which made him a mug in British slang. Mug's forté was trying to kidney punch Pug's fight opponents from behind. Sometimes, from very far behind.

  "She'll be going for your little beasties," Mug warned Pug as he and Mac circled each other. Pug had taken off his shirt; Mac remained in her formal British attire, the only thing missing was the bowler hat.

  Mug's warning proved to be accurate. Mac approached Pug in a quick one-two hop and raised her left knee. Pug made the appropriate countermove – this kind of attack being common in a bar. He raised his left knee and turned it in to his body to protect the tender area. This left him turned sideways and with only his right foot still on the ground. Mac turned sideways herself, finished the knee raise with a back kick that turned Pug into a graceful high kick dancer but without the graceful dancing part. As Pug fell awkwardly, Mac positioned herself so that she was standing above his head when he landed. She put one knee on his forehead and slid two fingers of her left hand up his nostrils.

  The common reaction when someone has her fingers up your nose is to try and pull the head back to dislodge the aforementioned intrusions into one's personal space. Pug couldn't move his head backwards because he was lying on the floor. Raising his head was a worse choice, even if he could, because that would only put her fingers further into his skull. Turning his head was even worse.

  Mac started lifting her left hand – the one with the two snot-diving fingers – while keeping her knee on Pug's forehead. The pressure in the nostrils became intense. Either Pug would have to lift his head soon, or the nose was going to go.

  "I can turn you into a mouth breather for life, or you can slap the floor three times," Mac announced. "Your choice."

  Back to the Table of Contents

  Chapter 5

  From Will's journals: Friday, May 19, 2083.

  It was good to be home and to see Izzy again. We spent a couple of days being tourists on Vancouver Island which we hoped was small enough, and remote enough, that we wouldn't be noticed. Izzy had gone to her browns to help in that regard. We looked at Victoria's old parliament buildings but couldn't get in because they were lopsided now from the big earthquake. Then we were off to the Butchart Gardens, which was now mostly empty of all of its flowers and bushes, but the site itself was worth seeing. We ended up spending a day and a night on the beach south of Port McNeil where Doc had camped as a youngster and had seen Bonanza Peak. I was going to ask Izzy if she wanted to see where Bubba Franklin's camp was, but I took some time to think about that and decided not to. I didn't believe that she would want to be reminded of Franklin. Izzy hadn't actually told me about Franklin's visits to her cell, but when she put her Zorro boots on the judge's table at the trial, I realized what had happened. At least in part. Sometimes Izzy keeps secrets from me.

  We had some hockey games but I think both of us were going through the motions. I certainly wasn't enjoying myself. Instead, I was working hard to concentrate on something – anything – other than what I really wanted to do. I expect Izzy was doing the same. We mostly cuddled after that. I told her about our progress on the genetics project and Professor Ramsbottom's rambling ways. I also told her about my trips with TG to the pub and what had happened at the end of my investigation into the effects of alcohol on an Albertan's body. I didn't tell her that I had only drunk a half bottle of beer. I didn't need to be a mind reader to figure out what she thought about that experiment.

  "Serves you right," she said. "You know what I think about people who drink. You shouldn't be hanging out in bars, Will."

  About an hour later, I realized what had happened. She had told me not to go to bars. It took me another two hours to come up with what I could have said back to her. By then, she was sleeping in my arms. It was probably not a good time to wake her up and discuss whether I could go to bars or not.

  I remembered my conversation with TG, and his comment that it was just luck that an old fool had captured us in that awards ceremony and not someone like Rick. I had told him that it had been Izzy's decision for us to go. But I realized now that it had also been my decision. I could have stopped us from going, but I had decided not to say anything. Our capture hadn't been Izzy's fault. It had been both of our faults. I realized that TG was right. I had to speak up. I had to become more assertive.

  Early the next morning, I decided how I could go about that. I'd learn how to take charge of a meeting. That's why I called an R&D meeting for the Friday.

  # # # # # # # #

  I was surprised by the turnout. TG was sitting with me at the front table to give me moral support, he had said. I had expected only two other people to be present – Lucas to talk about his scouting trip over The Citadel and Wolf to present some information on The Citadel crates he had found. I figured that running a meeting that small wouldn't be too difficult.

  But Wizard, Theo, Doc, and Hank had showed up too. Izzy walked in at the last minute and sat at the back of the room with Doc and Hank. She had waggled her fingers at me, so that made me feel good. But as I counted the crowd, I wasn't so sure anymore. Then, Stu joined us from the kitchen where he had been making goodies and Granny came out too, drying her hands. Hoo-Boy. This was going to be harder than I expected.

  I rapped on the table and began. "The purpose of this meeting is to collect information and ideas on weaponry and defenses that I may need to invent before we face a war against both Zzyk and The Citadel."

  # # # # # # # #

  I was collecting details from Lucas on his surveillance of Alaska's light ship. He had told me everything he could remember, so now I was probing. Stu and Granny had left after
serving goodies during the break, but everyone else had stayed.

  "The ship's bubbles," I reminded Lucas. "You said that they were thick around the ship. When they were fired horizontally, what happened?"

  "They landed in the sea."

  "The bubbles didn't turn around and come back for a second try at a plane?"

  "No."

  "That tells us that the ammunition wasn't guided. It had one chance to hit a plane and if the shot missed, that would be it. What about the bubbles that went up in the air? What happened if they missed?"

  "They landed in the sea."

  "What did their flight path look like?"

  "Like an upside down U," Lucas said and used his right hand to demonstrate. "Is that useful? Wouldn't that always be the case?"

  "This tells us that the ammunition didn't have a booster on it that would ignite and take the ammunition higher. You had a good idea of their maximum altitude, right?"

  "Yah. I looked at the altimeter."

  "So, what's that tell us?" I was trying to show Lucas how to make detailed observations so that he could draw conclusions. If you observe, but don't see the details, you might as well close your eyes.

  "Attackers high in the air can't be hit by the ship's bubbles?"

  "Right."

  "Except the Alaskans would still have their planes."

  "True, but it's useful to know in what situations the ship is vulnerable to attack. Try this question. Did you ever see a plane get hit by a bubble that was falling after it had reached its top height?"

  Lucas had to think. "Yes. I did."

  "So that means that whatever it is in the bubble that knocks planes out..."

  "It's active both going up and coming down. Dual purpose. Means that you can't count on flying low to sneak through the ship's defenses." Lucas smiled at his conclusion. He had discovered that he knew more than he thought.

  "Good. But that means now that their carrier has one big huge hole in its defense."

  Lucas shook his head indicating he didn't know. As did Theo. As did TG. Wolf had the answer. "The ship's guns will have something preventing them from shooting bubbles straight up into the sky. If they did, that ammo would still be live coming down."