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Tate thought about his promise to Ballard. She wouldn’t be able to watch the Oregon’s final moments. But he would. And then he would chase down the Deepwater to avenge her.
67
Juan stood on the deck of the Oregon next to the HOB, short for Hoverbike. It looked akin to one of Gomez’s small drones, only bulked up on steroids. This one was more than twelve feet across, with six propellers, two bicycle-style seats with handlebars for both passengers, plus seat belts and stirrups. Each of the props was encircled by a protective casing to keep riders’ hands from being sliced by the blades.
Linc walked toward him, a .50 caliber Barrett sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. He had nothing more than some extra ammunition with him to keep the load light, which was a relative term given the former SEAL’s bulk.
“For the record, I’m not loving the idea of being a passive passenger on this thing,” Linc said.
The HOB had no pilot controls on it, another weight-saving measure. Instead, the drone was controlled remotely, using the tiny cameras and sensors on board to guide it.
“It’s very stable,” Murph said from behind him. “Gomez taught me everything I know about how to fly this thing.”
“Did he teach you everything he knows?” Juan asked, specifically using the present tense even though he didn’t know Gomez’s fate yet.
“Probably not. I’m sure I can work out the rest.” He winked at Juan without Linc seeing him.
“You better be kidding,” Linc said as he pointedly checked the magazines holding the huge bullets for his rifle. “This ammo has a two-mile range, you know.”
Murph put up his hands in surrender. “I will do my best.”
Eddie was the last to join them. All he was carrying was a pair of high-powered binoculars. He would be Linc’s spotter. Both of them were wearing white-camouflaged cold-weather gear and had goggles around their necks.
“It’s going to be chilly up there,” Eddie said, pointing to the top of the glacier where they were headed. “Wish I could bring a thermos of coffee.”
“Don’t worry,” Murph said. “I’ll bring you back down as soon as you give me the word.”
Linc and Eddie were going to give Juan advanced warning of the Portland’s arrival. The top of the glacier had an expansive view of the fjord below, but it would have taken the two of them too long to climb to the top over the icy terrain. The HOB was the only way to get them up there in time.
“Linc needs to ride in front to balance the load,” Murph said.
Linc held out his hand to Juan, an unusually serious look on his face.
“Chairman, it’s an honor to serve with you.”
Juan shook his hand and said, “The honor is mine.”
Linc climbed on, and Eddie shook Juan’s hand as well.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Eddie said. “I hate it, but I understand it. We’ll give you our best, Juan.”
“I know you will, Eddie,” Juan said. “I’ll do the same.”
Eddie got on the Hov
erbike, and Juan backed away until he was next to Murph, who was sniffling.
“I think I’m getting a cold,” Murph mumbled, but Juan could hear him choking up.
Both Linc and Eddie gave them the thumbs-up, put on the goggles, and gripped the handlebars.
Murph tapped on the control tablet, and the propellers whirred to life, sounding like a sextet of giant bumblebees.
The HOB gently lifted off the deck and banked toward the glacier. It rose until it was even with the crest of the ridge, almost a thousand feet high, and Murph found a flat spot to land. The trip that would have taken hours on foot had been completed in less than a minute.
Linc and Eddie waved as they dismounted, and Juan checked the comm system.
“How do you read?”
