It would be amusing if it weren’t so frustrating.
Day 35
Shadow Mountain Base, Alaska
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Mackenzie snarled, his face thunderous. “Aren’t we due for a break? A situation that won’t escalate to the end of motherfucking everything?”
O’Neill didn’t blame the asshole for whining. At least not much. He’d had a similar reaction when Wolf’s LFT news ruined what looked like a promising day spent with Gracie. If they’d sunk two of the damn things at the Harbinger’s grave, they could have prevented this trip. But nobody, not even Cap, had expected the LFT’s power supply to fail.
Fuck...talk about a tsunami of catastrophes lately.
“Seriously,” Mackenzie continued with his tirade. “Of all the bluefin tuna in the Pacific Ocean, why does that motherfucking trawler have to camp out there? Above that fucking ship?”
“We don’t know theyarefishing there,” Aiden broke in. “All we know is they’re headed that way. They could still turn around.”
O’Neill smirked. Aiden didn’t sound optimistic though. In fact, the squid looked kind of shook. Guess finding out Capland’s sound device had quit working, right after Benioko’s dream warning, had spooked him. Bet the dude’s subconscioushadn’t seen that coming. Wonder how he was explaining the coincidence to himself.
“Fuck no,” Mackenzie shot back. “Our luck’s too shitty for them not to camp right over that spot and drag in a motherlode of fish.”
“Indeed.” Wolf’s placid voice made Mackenzie’s complaints sound even more strident. “Nevertheless…” His voice trailed off.
But then there wasn’t much more to say. They couldn’t ignore the warning. O’Neill grimaced and supplied the obvious. “We have to intercept the trawler.”
“How about we go old school and call in an anonymous trafficking tip? Get the Coasties to intercept them?” The suggestion came from Simcosky.
“Already done, ” O’Neill said. “But the Coast Guard can’t hold them for long. When they don’t find evidence of drugs or illegal fishing, they’ll release them.”
“How long do you figure the Coasties will hold them?” Aiden asked.
“We’ll be lucky to arrive before the trawler is released,” O’Neill admitted reluctantly.
“And you can’t reach out to one of those mysterious contacts of yours and get the boat detained indefinitely? Or at least long enough for us to chopper out and drop another LFT, ridding the area of fish?” Aiden asked, a clear challenge to his voice.
“Not without questions. Questions we can’t afford to answer,” O’Neill admitted.
“Maybe the Coasties’ search will rattle them enough to send them back to port,” Winters offered, although he didn’t look like he believed in that pipedream any more than the rest of them did.
“I suggest we drop two LFTs over the contaminated water this time,” Capland broke in. “As an additional failsafe.”
“What if we don’t get there before the fishin’ starts?” Rawlings interrupted. His voice sharpened. “If the fish are infected with those damn bots, and the harvestin’ has started, just handlin’ their catch will expose the crew. What then? Are we gonna sink that boat too?” There was a shitload of accusation in the question.
A tense silence fell.
Mackenzie leaned forward in his chair like he was about to verbally explode. But Winters grabbed his arm and squeezed. With a volatile scowl, the commander settled back in his chair.
“No decisions will be made until we arrive on site and assess the situation.” Wolf’s voice remained as mild as ever.
Cosky broke the tense silence. “What are they doing out there, anyway? The site’s in the middle of the damn ocean.”
O’Neill shrugged. “They’re probably after unfished schools. Bluefin tuna has become increasingly lucrative, which means more competition.”
“When do we head out,” Aiden asked.
“The Chinook is being prepped,” Wolf said.
“We have no authority to prevent anyone from fishing over that spot.” Winters grimaced, running a tense hand over his hair. He glanced at Wolf. “We better pray the captain doesn’t radio the Coasties when we show up.”
“I can jam their radio broadcasts,” Capland offered.
