Chapter 33: The Hottest Spot North of Havana
Frieda and Harry made it back to the Deliverance, circling behind it to land on the after deck, Tina carrying the drone up the stairs to the bridge to give them space. “How bad is it?” she asked.
“Fugly, Rag Doll,” Harry told her.
“Rag Doll?” Frieda asked.
“My flight handle. Doubly appropriate after my incident in Afghanistan,” Tina said, coming down as Harry went inside, putting the drone on the after deck.
“Rag Doll and Keymaster. No stranger than Cornhusker Three,” Frieda commented as she squeezed her way into the saloon, Tina waiting in the doorway.
The table was put down to allow for more space, what with Frick, Foster, Fred, Harry, Frack, Bernie and Frieda inside. Fran was in the pilothouse driving, and Frieda had to presume Malala and Michie were downstairs. Capo perched on the catch rail. “Second Officer, Second Scout, your report,” Frick asked firmly.
Frieda and Harry reported all that they saw from their vantage point. “A huge Creature From the Black Lagoon wielding a lightning-throwing trident astride a huge fire-breathing sea serpent, bringing down fire and destruction from a cloudy sky. Have I got that right?” Frick asked after the description.
“That’s it in a nutshell, Frick,” Frieda said soberly.
Frick looked down at the floor, gathering his thoughts, a faint purple nimbus coming from his horn. Nobody spoke, nobody moved, hell, practically nobody breathed while he pondered. “We have not come all the way down here from Central Nebraska only to be stopped by a couple of sea monsters sitting outside our destination. We are going to remove that problem,” he said firmly.
“Frick, Havana has big guns, a lot of people, and targeting systems,” Fred said. “What have we got that they don’t have that will make the problem go away?”
Capo let out a squawk, then said “Captain Screwball!”
Eight pairs of eyeballs looked up at the scarlet macaw. The one pair that did not belong to Frick. Slowly, he raised a hoof to point at the bird. “Capo, in this case, is right. You have me to coordinate our actions, using the tools at our disposal. What do we have that the Creature doesn’t? We have our wits, we have our skills, and above all, we have our rules.”
“Bro, since when have we set down any rules?” Frack asked from where he sat next to Bernie.
“We haven’t. That’s our main advantage. We have no rules when it comes to fighting or helping our friends, right? That means we can pull anything out of our proverbial hats.
“Tina, you said that if you take the time to aim, you don’t miss. Correct?” Frick asked.
“Yes, but do you have anything that will work at such a distance? For sure we don’t want to get too close,” Tina said.
“We have two good-sized Mark Seventeen rifles chambered for seven point six two ammunition mounted up on the bridge, slaved together on motor mounts and controlled from either up on the bridge or down in the pilothouse. Think you can hit a target from a quarter-mile?” Frick asked. Gone were any traces of Henry Blake. No, Frick had gone full-up Sherman T. Potter, and everyone knew it.
“If I was in my F-18, I would say no problem. With two rifles, all I will say is that I will give it my best shot,” Tina said quietly.
“Good. Anyone else have any ideas?” Frick barked.
“Ah have two,” Foster said. “One ah’m gonna have to consult with Her Majesty about, the second you gotta get started on right away.”
“And that is?” Frick asked.
“We got us how many bottles of medical alcohol aboard? Take some of the toy balloons we got fo’ Michie, stuff them half-full of poison joke, add alcohol, tie tight and shake well. Don’t get any of the stuff on you. After half an hour of steepin’, get some of that on someone and they is going to be affected. What yuh think of that?” Foster deadpanned to the Captain.
Frick didn’t hesitate. “Break the stuff out and get started. I’ll take over once I see to some other stuff. Frack, relieve Fran at the conn. Fran, go up to the bridge with Tina and train her on the rifle array. Frieda, Malala, keep trying all the Havana numbers we know. Foster, call Marie as soon as I relieve you. Fred, call Maasvlakte and let them know about Havana, then call the Fugro and ask for Captain Skinner. Everyone else, just keep out of everyone’s way. We got work to do!” he declared.
As the various ponies (and others) bustled about, Frick made his way to the after deck, to sit under the cloudy skies and think, finding that the engines rumbling under him was quite soothing. After a few minutes, Bernie came out to sit next to him. “Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.
“I would take it, but I can’t give you change.” was Frick’s response.
“Don’t want change, Frick. Do you think this bird-brained scheme of yours will work?” Bernie asked, putting a hoof next to his.
“It’s like Fred said one time before you arrived, Bernie. There’s no shame in trying and failing, the only shame is in not trying. Sure, the odds are good that we could all get killed trying to pull this off, but if we do nothing, or alter course to avoid the problem, can we look at ourselves in the mirror ever again?” Frick said coolly.
“As Foster has said more than once, it’s always better to go down swinging than it is to go down looking. You know you have our total support. May I tell you why I’m confident some good will come out of this?” Bernie said quietly.
“It’s probably the same reason I’m having confidence. The gods are not telling Fred he’s following a fool,” Frick replied, a little smile on his face.
Bernie thought for a few seconds, her ears swiveling a little. “I didn’t think of that one. My thoughts are that both Michie and Fran are not afraid. Remember the lightning strike? Michie did not panic before the strike, she panicked after. If she knew something truly bad was coming, she would say something. Kids have no filters on their mouths.”
“True. They don’t. I know of it, and I’m sure you do know it. How old was your daughter at the divorce?” Frick asked.
“Just a bit older than Michie. I hope that whenever she comes back, she leads a happy life. Anna never held a grudge, it was all between my wife and I.” Bernie shook her head, making her silvery mane fly about. “Enough of that. Want Harry and I to maintain an overflight as we close in?” she asked.
“You, Harry and Frack. The men are both pegasi. If the Creature’s messing with the weather, maybe they can mess back. Hit the creature with as many attacks as we can muster at once, something’s bound to get through. Damned if I know what, though,” Frick confessed.
“Don’t worry. You have our full support. I’ll even tell you why I’m backing this bird-brained scheme, Captain,” Bernie said gently, but with determination.
“Why is that?” Frick asked.
Bernie pointed with a navy blue wing through the open doors of the saloon to the scarlet macaw up on the catch rail. “If the bird says it’s right, run with it!” she said with a chuckle.
Frick nodded in agreement. “Let’s get to work,” he said with a small smile.
A while later, the Deliverance came to a stop in the water off the shore of Cuba. The Creature and the sea monster were both still there, the clouds still low, dark and swirling around above the Creature. Occasional flaming meteors came from the cloud deck and splashing down in Havana.
Frick relieved Frack at the conn, Fran and Tina got the drone up, Frack, Harry and Bernie took off, Foster took position up on the bridge, staring into the distance, where the Creature and Sea Monster were mere bumps on the horizon. Beside Foster was an egg crate with a dozen water balloons in it, jiggling slightly, full of rubbing alcohol and poison joke. Fortunately, it did not take much poison joke to get the job done. The aerial contingent had four poison joke eggs each, in case they managed to get close enough to drop them.
Frick watched the drone’s signal as it followed the three winged folk, occasionally panning down to watch the creature. Said creature kept its attention fixed on Havana, trying to hit the anti-ship nets keeping it out of the harbor. “That’s it, bucko. Fix on the target. The first rule of Italian sailing- what’sa behind you is NOT important!” he muttered as he slowly moved the boat closer. It was not storming, no rain, but wind and lightning.
“Enterprise to Weather Eight. Think you can jump-jack the storm?” Frick called over the radio.
“Weather Eight to Enterprise. No, we can’t take the storm control away, but we can mess with it a little. Once we do, he’ll be aware of us,” Frack reported.
“Weather Eight, what’s the wind pattern there? Cyclonic or anti-cyclonic?” Frick asked.
“Cyclonic, and he’s in the eye. Thinking of an approach from the south?” Frack countered.
“You got it, bro. Ride the winds and approach from the south or southwest. Keep it guessing where you’re coming from. Closing in slowly from the north,” Frick replied.
“Weather Eight copies traffic. Riding the winds!” Frack called back before leading his tiny squadron up to the base of the cloud deck, circling west.
“Conn to Weapons. Range now nine hundred yards and closing. How close before starting the attack?” Frick asked Foster, who was on the bridge with Tina and Fran.
“Ah wouldn’t even want to try ovah three hunnerd yards, Captain. Best chance to get anythin’ done is at point-blank range, suh,” Foster reported.
“Point-blank it is. Check the console up there for position checks,” Frick said before switching channels on his radio. “Bow gunner, status report.”
Outside, Frieda gave a thumbs-up, her big 50cal mounted, ready and firmly braced on the folded wagon while she was between the grain bins.
“Captain to all hooves and paws. Let’s get ‘er done!” Frick called out over the radio, both channels.
“Do it to it!” Capo screeched from his perch.
Frick advanced the throttles to half-power, counting on the stiff winds going from left to right to muffle the engine noise and blow the exhaust away from the creature. “Any advice, Fred?” he asked his First Officer, who was in the saloon.
“Just do as I do, Frick. Pray hard and hope someone listens. I’ve been trying to call on every deity I know, and I’m getting the same message back from all of them. ‘Just go forward in all your beliefs, and prove to me I’m not mistaken in mine.’.” Fred said soberly.
“Right or wrong, live or die, we have commit. We’re going in and may the Devil take the hindmost!” Frick said, getting a resolute look on his face. Fred privately thought that Frick looked like he was about to ram this little boat through a brick wall. He sent out his prayers again, hoping the brick wall was made of styrofoam.
“Weather Eight to Enterprise. In position,” Frack reported over the radio.
“Enterprise to Weather Eight. Hold. Not yet in full weapons range,” Frick told his little brother.
“Weather Eight to Enterprise. How much longer?”
“Two minutes, Weather Eight.” Frick then keyed up the intercom. “Less than two minutes, folks. At four hundred yards. Get ready.” He heard Foster stomp on the deck above and saw Frieda wave.
Frick waited until his range to target indicator read two hundred eighty yards before keying both mics. “All attack groups, fire at will! Splash that bandit!”
“Weather Eight copies traffic.”
“Topside, roger that.”
Frieda waved, settling behind her gun, watching and waiting as the boat bobbed and danced on the waves.
Frack looked at Harry. “Ready to rustle up some storm?”
“I can only hope. You only showed me how the one time,” Harry admitted.
“Okay, then. You supply storm potential, I’ll shape and target it. Stir it up, Harry!” Frack shouted as he reached his metaphorical fingers out into the storm and rearranged matters enough to form a lightning bolt, target being the trident the Creature was holding.
“Weather Eight, Fire One!” Frack shouted as he struck a spark, targeting the trident the Creature held high. The spark leaped down from the clouds, but stopped short of the trident, blurring into a sparkling sphere around the Creature.
The Creature looked up, hunting for the source of the bolt, his attention having been focused elsewhere, but Weather Eight moved up into the clouds. The Creature looked right at them, but did not spot them behind the clouds. “Weather Eight to Enterprise, we got his attention. Your turn!” Frack called down.
“On it, Weather Eight. Rifle Eight, Cannon Eight, hit them with your best shots. Grenade Eight, weapons free. Here’s hoping!” Frack heard Frick say over the radio.
On the bridge, Tina was the first to fire, a reddish-purple glow limning the barrels of the rifles as she let fly with both clips, rapid fire. The rounds all hit where she wanted, right where the Creature was sitting on the neck of the serpent. That got their attention, the Creature and serpent turning to look at where the sudden pain came from.
Frack fired again, this time the lightning bolt did hit the Creature. Steaming lines ran down the serpent’s neck from the bolt’s impact point, and the pair began to submerge. Quickly, Frieda took a shot, her 50cal letting out a boom. The round struck the Creature’s hand, the one holding the trident. Said trident fell from the hand, followed and pushed by a gout of ichor, splashing into the sea.
Grenade Eight, or Foster, levitated one of his water grenades in his golden glow before hurling it at the invaders, but at the range he was at, he lost control of the guidance and it splashed uselessly into the water. “Crap,” he muttered before grabbing his radio. “Grenade Eight to Bomber Eight. I’m out of safe range. Looks like that part is up to you.”
“Bomber Eight copies. Go to phase two,” Bernie replied.
“Spruance confirms phase two, Grenade Eight. Get started!” Frick confirmed.
“Grenade Eight, Phase two. Confirm,” Foster said as he composed himself, his green gem flickering to life.
“Rifle Eight reloaded, ready to fire,” Tina reported.
“Rifle Eight, stand by. Recon Eight, get closer, if you can. Use your judgement,” Frick ordered.
“Recon Eight,” Fran acknowledged.
“Bomber Eight, swing east, then wait for another bolt before making your attack. Got it?” Frack told Bernie.
“Got it. One at a time, two by two, or all at once?” she asked.
“All at once. If that doesn't work, we got two reloads up here. Go do it!” Frack encouraged with a grin.
“On it!” Bernie said with a smirk as she took wing, fighting the headwinds to get to position.
Below, the Creature from the Black Lagoon (or, as he was named, Oceandark, but few knew that little factoid) was trying to rally his thoughts. These new attacks were NOT in his briefing plans at all! His first focus was to regenerate his hand before recalling the Trident of Storms. He was sure he could get that done before the cyclone dissipated. He ordered his mount to maintain vigilance, and if anything approached, sear it until its bones fell into the water.
As Oceandark regenerated his hand, an order filtered through his thoughts. “Heal yourself. Head for the deepest waters you know. Go to the bottom. Delay there and await orders.” Oceandark balked at first, because his first orders were to reduce this land city to rubble. The new orders repeated themselves again and again and again, each time getting more and more strident and insistent. When his hand was healed, his mind was filled with the command. He ordered his mount to go that way, but it balked. Oceandark reinforced the command.
Above, Weather Eight launched another bolt, which missed the Creature by not a lot. That bolt was the signal for Bernie to start her attack. She dove, readying her bomb packet. The sea serpent thrashed a little at the orders the Creature was giving it, and spotted Bernie almost at the last minute. It opened its mouth to roast the thestral, but she quickly lobbed the package into the serpent’s mouth, where it broke against a tooth, spreading its payload inside the serpent’s mouth and into its body.
The serpent coiled at the bad taste and inhaled, to burn the taste out of its mouth with its fiery breath. However, the poison joke started working right then. The long, sinuous, scaly serpent started to puff up, its scales changing to spikes, its eyes widening. It inhaled again, and grew even larger, a spike impaling the Creature through a leg.
Weather Eight backed off as they watched the serpent change into a pufferfish, one that grew larger by the second. They could see the Creature struggling, a spike growing through one of its legs. “Weather Eight to Enterprise. You see what I see?” Frack reported.
“You better believe it! Glad I’m getting this recorded. Weather Eight, return to base and circle. What’s the status of the storm?” Frick asked.
“The storm is not getting boosted by that trident thingie, so I think it’s starting to dissipate. Ask again once we RTB, Enterprise,” Frack reported.
“Very Well, Weather Eight. RTB and check again. Enterprise out.” Frick concluded, watching the giant pufferfish continue to expand, rising out of the water. Once it did, the fish rolled over in the air, bringing the Creature from the top of the fish to the bottom, it falling gracelessly into the waters below. The giant pufferfish rolled upright, disappearing into the clouds, still expanding.
On the fly bridge, Foster sent another command to the Creature. “Heal thine self, go directly to the greatest deep here, and wait there for further orders. Ignore all other sources of commands, only obey me. Care for yourself, but await in the deeps.” With that thought in mind, Oceandark settled to the bottom, regenerating his leg before setting off for the nearest Great Deep, which was known to the inhabitants as the Puerto Rico Trench. It passed the Trident of Storms embedded in the mire of the sea bed, but paid it no mind as he proceeded to the deeps. The deep meant shelter, protection, home. Wait there for further instructions.
Foster put his heads down, his gold glow and the green gem’s light dimming to nothing. “You performed with honor, my servant. Know my pride in you. You could have killed it, but instead you sent it away. If I have time, I can look in and maybe find a use for it.” he heard in his mind, the voice of his queen, Marie Laveau.
“Killing has its place, Your Majesty. I did not think now was the time or place. Removing it is just as good. Thank you for hearing my plea for your wisdom.” Foster replied over the thought link.
“I trust your discipline, honor and discretion in this, Sheriff. Know also your cousin has been freed from her sentence as a zombie and is now working as part of my staff in New Orleans. Cargill is serving her sentence.”
“Thank you, my Queen. I place my trust in you to put her on the right path. I should not call again until we get to our final port, and speak to those in charge, to arrange official meetings and trade practices. We shall see. Fare well, my Queen.”
“Fare well, Ambassador. Until next time.” The thought link faded, and Foster went limp, exhausted from his efforts. Tina checked him over, carefully closing the lid on the grenade crate.
“Spruance to all Eight units, stand down from red alert. Safe all weapons before reporting back to the saloon for some libations,” Frick said over the intercom before putting the microphone back in place. “Fred, can you get me a can of Jolt, please? I’m feeling a bit drained.”
“Of course, Frick. I don’t know who was watching over us, but it worked. Mass will be done after dinner tonight, once we pull in to port,” Fred replied as he fetched a can of Jolt from the saloon fridge.
From above, Capo squawked. “Captain Screwball done did it!”
Unseen to those below, a bright orange light shone on top of the cloud deck, where the pufferfish discovered that venting a lot of hydrogen in a thunderstorm is not the smartest of ideas…
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Oops. Forgot they had Blue Mercury.
Theres a Lot of Trading Places going on round here. Just hope theres reappearences that are extra capable of helping out on rebuilds for Havana.
Movie references are from “Midway”.
11119847
Correct! Which version, the one with Charlton Heston or the remake?
The one with Charlton Heston.
11120157
Correct! Showing my age, but I still enjoy that movie.
aww yes never depose of a weapon you can put to use for your self.
and now Marie Laveau has a hidden weapon at her disposal.
a grate chapter lots of fun times.