EDITOR’S NOTE
This story is in-so-far unique to CLIFFHANGER! Magazine, specifically in the time period in which the story takes place. Typically, I am on the lookout for tales that set in Classic Pulp-inspired time periods that maintain that vintage aesthetic. Author R.H. Riffenburgh, however, has keeps alive the Pulp tradition through prose and characters that are immediately reminescent of something one might read in ADVENTURE, TOP NOTCH, or BLUE BOOK despite the modern day setting. It helps immensely as well that Riffenburgh’s yarn is inspired by a classic comic strip contemporary to the Pulp Magazines of old.
But I’ll let him tell you more about that…
AUTHOR’S NOTE
My title is reminiscent of Terry and the Pirates, a comic strip debuting in 1934. The common public perception of pirates was of centuries-old swashbuckling, eye-patched Europeans. Author Milton Caniff brought this perception up to date with Asian pirates–who still operate today, as in my story. He published a Big Little Book in 1935. I got a copy in 1936 when I was just learning to read and was hooked. I followed Terry from then through WWII and a bit after, until Caniff exited as author.
PEPPER AND THE PIRATES
By R.H. Riffenburgh
PEPPER MEADE, A journalist for the Continental Broadcasting Network, felt very small as she looked out on the Pacific Ocean. It was vast and bare as far as she could see. She couldn’t stop herself from visualizing what it would be like if they went down before reaching their destination. Their helicopter had left the tiny Japanese weather station island of Minami-tori 1,100 miles out to sea southeast of Tokyo. The only other place to land was the American mining platform, anchored in international waters still farther to the southeast.
You’re a tough woman, she told herself sternly. Don’t be a sissy.
She forced her mind to questions she could ask in her impending interviews with the contract miners. Did the isolation affect them? Did the rare earth minerals they mined motivate them? Were they afraid of the radiation from the ore’s toxic emissions?
The helicopter’s whop-whop-whop broke her focus as they began to descend. The platform looked diminutive in the boundless reaches of the ocean. As they approached, it grew to be enormous for a structure moored at sea.
#####
LIEUTENANT DANIEL BAKER, Medical Corps, USN, idly watched the helicopter settle on the landing pad. He watched a woman hopping down to the deck, distaining the steps below the door. She’s an agile one, he thought.
She straightened up. “Ooh,” breathed Daniel as her tailored jumpsuit revealed her body. “Umm.” Daniel more felt than noticed her feminity. His blood quickened. His knees felt weak.
And then the hair follicles on the back of his neck stood up. She was familiar. Could she be …?
“This is a catastrophe!” She spoke out loud to herself as she looked in her bag. She had said her words slowly and quietly. This came out as the-us. Catastrophe came out as catay-ustrophe. Her speech had never lost its Savannah roots.
Although it had been years, Daniel would recognize the music in that voice anywhere. His wide blue eyes opened wider. It had to be Pepper Meade, his love from college days. “Pepper?”
She looked up. Her eyes widened. “Daniel?”
He straightened involuntarily, pulling in his stomach. He ran his fingers through his mop of hair.
They stared at each other for a minute. Their eyes said more than words. Recollection. Moments of sharing. Moments of ecstasy. The attraction consumed him as it had years ago. The surprise left him speechless. He sought some small talk to break the spell.
With a frown to convey worry on his part, Daniel spoke. “What in the world are you doing in a war zone?”
“War zone? There’s no war in this part of the world.”
“Then I’ll say ‘danger zone.’ It’s in danger of coming under attack by pirates.”
“Pirates? With a wooden leg standing on a wooden ship?”
“Ha! Only in Treasure Island. I’m serious, Pepper. Mining and refining rare earth minerals from the seafloor is so expensive that only governments or huge corporations can capitalize it. But pirating the minerals after they’re refined is cheap and easy. A shipment is ready and is planned for transport tomorrow.”
“I see.” She nodded, looking into his eyes. “You have no need to worry about me, Daniel. I have had extensive martial arts training since we … parted. I can take care of myself.”
“Martial arts won’t stop a bullet, kiddo.”
She glared at him. “Kiddo, huh?”
Another memory surfaced—the antagonism between a pair of alphas, male and female. How could he sidestep her rancor?
“Anyway, what’s the catastrophe you referred to, Pepper?”
“Why, I forgot to bring my nail polish.”
He frowned. Concern with appearance in the face of danger was beyond his male ken. “What are you doing here, Pepper?”
“Nowadays, I’m a reporter for CBN. And, to be clear, I’m a journalist, not a commentator. I’m aboard this mining platform to interview the folks who mine rare earth minerals. As you must know, rare earth minerals are in great demand all over the world.”
He interrupted. “Of course I know,” he said impatiently. “Why do you think I’m here?”
“Why are you here, Daniel Baker, in all your Navy finery and two silver bars?”
“I’m the medical doctor aboard a destroyer that is here to guard the mining rig. The U.S. is very dependent on rare earth minerals—as you alluded to. It wants to be assured of a safe source of supply away from China, where ninety-five percent of them come from.”
“But you’re on the platform, not the ship.”
“I’m tasked to care for the miners as well as the sailors. I came from the ship over to the platform to treat a miner who had an injury.”
“Is he all right?”
“He’s fine. Broken finger. I set it and braced it.”
She looked at the ship standing some distance away from the rig. “That looks like a mighty big ship, Daniel.”
“It’s pretty small by Navy standards. An aircraft carrier might weigh 100,000 tons. It’s crewed by thousands of sailors, airmen, and marines. It’s like a small city. In contrast, my little ship weighs a tenth of that and has a crew of only 300.”
Pepper was silent, expressionless.
“I get it,” he said. “You’re bored with the figures, but might need them for an article.”
Her demure smile told him he had nailed it.
“Why is it called a destroyer? Aren’t all Navy ships meant to destroy things?”
Daniel grinned. She stared at him a moment, giving a little shiver.
“In the late 1800s, the Navy made countermeasures to torpedo boats called ‘torpedo-boat destroyers’. It got shortened to ‘destroyer’.”
She cocked her head to one side and stared at him. Unsure of what to say next, he looked out over the Pacific Ocean. “I was about to go to lunch at the mining company’s canteen for something different from our ship food. Would you care to join me? My treat? We can catch up.”
“Why, thank you, Daniel. I’d love to. I’m famished.”
#####
THEY SAT IN the canteen long after they finished lunch. They started their catch-up from their time together. Neither referred to their budding conflicts. Or to the fight that led to their separation. Each traced their path through life after they parted. The hours slipped by without their noticing. Their reminiscences finally caught up with the present.
“So, Pepper, you say you’re a reporter but not a commentator. What does that mean?”
“Why, it means I gather the news, assess it, verify it, and write it, but I don’t read it on the air. They don’t like the way I say mah words, so I write the text and they get some pretty little air-head to read it.”
Her velvet voice caressed him.
“I am sent out in the world to describe carnage and send the report back to the States. You see, since I don’t read the reports on the air, I’m expendable. The sexy little bit of fluff that reads it is not. But I’m right glad of that. I want to be a professional, not a performer.”
“I’d rather listen to you than any commentator I’ve ever heard.”
“Why, that’s so sweet, Daniel.” She smiled at him. Her shoulders quivered and turned ever so slightly. It defined her breasts, hinting at an unconscious sexual invitation. His breath quickened.
“So what ‘carnage’ did CBN send you here to witness?” he asked.
“Why, I was only being dramatic, Daniel.”
“You’re so good at that.”
“True. I’m a writer. You have to forgive writers for being dramatic.”
“I’ll rephrase. Why did CBN send you to this mining rig?”
“They want a story on how the U.S. is getting its rare earth minerals. There are all sorts of questions. Basically, what, how, why, and who. For example, why here? How can we mine here but nobody else can?”
“Here because we need the minerals and there are very few places in the world where they are found. We’re in the middle of a field of rare mineral ore on the seafloor as big as Spain.”
“Can we just mine wherever we want?”
“The U.N.’s International Seabed Authority has granted only the U.S. an exception from its prohibition on seafloor mining and only at this location in international waters. It was granted due to the severe shortage of rare earth minerals outside of China. My ship is here to protect our platform.”
“It sounds like you have an exciting life, Daniel.”
“So far, the broken finger is the biggest excitement I’ve had.”
“So how does this pirate thingy work?”
“The miners bring up ore from the seafloor.”
“I didn’t ask about ore. I asked about pirates.”
“If I started with what the pirates would do, you’d ask, ‘Why would they do that?’ C’mon, Pepper, be patient for two whole sentences.”
Her mouth formed a straight narrow line. She waited.
“Well, they bring up the ore. They ferret several minerals, some radioactive, from the seafloor slurry. When they accumulate enough, they put it in cannisters for transit to the U.S. They store the leftover slurry in a radiation-proof chamber. At present, they’re just finishing a load. That’s a prime time for a bunch of thugs from a Philippine or Chinese crime cartel to hijack the shipment and sell it to the highest bidder.”
“But, surely, your ship would intercept them, wouldn’t it?”
“If they arrived in a boat waving guns and shouting, yeah. Geez, Pepper, they’re not that stupid. In fact, they’re goddam bright. And well-funded. They aren’t desperate peasants like Somali pirates. They’re big-crime cartels. Think Asian mafia. They use sophisticated technology.”
“So wouldn’t your ship look for that technology?”
“If they thought that might be happening, yes. But at the moment, our captain is distracted by Chinese navy ships sailing in the vicinity. The Chinese don’t want Americans to tip over their rare-earth apple cart—their near-monopoly.”
“You think the Chinese navy might attack?” She asked, incredulous.
“I don’t. I think they’re posturing to make a political point. But our captain can’t take a chance. He’s all jittery about Chinese ships coming close.”
“Well, tell him about the pirates!”
“He knows, but a Chinese incursion has a higher probability and also a higher cost in the event it should occur. He formed a quick response team in case of pirates, but he has fixed his primary attention on the Chinese.”
“Did he send you over here to guard the mining platform?”
“No. I told the captain I’m remaining aboard the platform for the night to care for the injured workman. It’s in no way necessary, but I’m the medical officer and he can’t double-guess my medical decisions.”
“So you’re going to fight off the pirates all by your lonesome. How noble.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Pepper. No. If pirates show up, I’ll call the ship by satellite phone and ask for help.”
“How would the pirates attack? Specifically?”
“Ah! Pepper! You’re in reporter mode, aren’t you?”
A fleeting smile was his acknowledgment. “Tell me, Daniel.”
“OK. They would probably pose as a ‘fishing boat’ to get close but not too close.”
“Then how in the world would they get here?”
“They would send scuba divers in underwater diver propulsion vehicles, DPVs for short. DPVs are sort of underwater scooters that carry people and equipment—and payload. They’ve done that in the past.”
“Wouldn’t the ladders be blocked? To get up on the platform?”
“They’d throw grappling hooks and climb up ropes. They would try to kill everybody fast to prevent an alarm. That’s their usual modus operandi. Then they’d load the radiation-proof mineral canisters on their scooters. They’d return to their boat, unseen under the water. The boat would then sail to a port, likely in the Philippines. So if they show up, Pepper, you go hide in a locker somewhere and stay there, totally quiet, ‘til they leave.”
“Not my style,” said Pepper, frowning. “But couldn’t your ship stop them?”
“If it knew they were doing it, yeah. But there’s nothing to distinguish them from an honest fishing boat. They’d be quiet and quick, planning to get back and sail away before the Navy even knows they did it. And, Pepper, they’re deadly. Don’t be stupid. Hide. They’ll kill you if they see you.”
“Grisly,” said Pepper, shivering. She grew quiet, looking out to sea. Daniel watched her for a moment.
“I can almost see the cerebral wheels spinning as you take mental notes. You’re planning to get a big story out of this, aren’t you?”
“If they come, oh, yeah. I wouldn’t pass up the story of a lifetime. Now, tell me more about these underwater limousines.”
“My guess is they would have two. One couldn’t carry enough of the stolen minerals. More than two would be hard to coordinate and might make enough disruption to alert the platform.”
“And,” added Pepper, “would cost more capital for the operation.”
“That, too. And would take longer to launch and recover when they’re in a hurry.”
“So … two. How many pirates?”
“A large DPV could carry four. So, eight. One diver would stay with each DPV to keep it positioned and receive and store the canisters when they arrived. The other six would board the platform.”
“How long would it take to get from their mother boat to the platform?”
“Their ‘fishing’ ship could probably get within three miles without looking suspicious.” Daniel took out his phone and did some calculations. “At a speed of about 400 feet per minute, the scooters would need 45 minutes to reach us. At a 40-foot depth, an 80-cubic-foot tank of air would last 45 to 60 minutes. They’d have to carry a second set of tanks for the return trip.”
“How much money would they get out of it?”
“Wow, Pepper! You’re full of questions.”
“That’s how a journalist gets a story, silly.”
Daniel calculated. “I would guess they could carry, maybe, 200 kilograms in each DPV. They’d probably choose the most profitable ones. Terbium oxide brings $1,300 per kilogram and dysprosium oxide brings $400.”
“Good grief! I should have a necklace set with that terbium stuff,” Pepper said, scribbling.
“Except that it’s radioactive. You’d have cancer of the larynx in no time.”
“Killjoy.” She was standing close to him. She moved a bit closer. She lifted her lips, red and soft, quivering just the slightest bit. She stared, unblinking, into his eyes. Their breathing quickened. She moved even closer, her lips almost touching his. They could feel each other’s breath. They stayed unmoving for half a minute. Then Daniel drew back.
“My God, Pepper, if we start that, we’d be AWOL if an attack comes.”
“It might be worth it,” she said.
“Rain check,” he said.
“How romantic.”
“I’m not good with literary responses.”
She sighed and stepped to the railing. “You were saying about the value of the shipment.”
He shook himself like a dog coming out of the surf. “If enough terbium were available, they would get about half a million dollars worth. Even if they had to take half-and-half of the minerals, it would be worth a third of a million.”
“And it’s all in labeled canisters? They just pull it off the shelf and run?”
“That’s it. It’s stored in radiation-proof capsules with the nature and weight of the net contents listed.”
“Are there any of their boats close today?”
“Lookouts on the U.S. destroyer saw fishing boats not far away. That’s not unusual. It didn’t alarm them. It alarmed me—because of the timing. This is the night between preparing the shipment and shipping it out tomorrow.”
“How would they know when it would be shipped?”
“They might have a contact among the contract miners. But, cheaper and less dangerous, they could hack electronically into status reports sent from the mining platform to its headquarters.”
“Makes sense,” Pepper said.
They took a fast walk around the upper level of the platform, returning to the canteen for dinner.
“This isn’t much different from the lunch,” Daniel said. “I wonder how the contractors put up with it week after week.”
“Fresh greens,” Pepper said. “And I refer to their pay. It’s a form of bribery. But I should think it would be cheaper to overpay one creative cook than a score of workers.”
“I think most of the overpayment is for the risks of working with radioactive materials.”
“Point taken. But back to the meal, in one word, how would you describe our dinner, Daniel?”
“Hm … I would say monotonous.”
“Humdrum.”
“Boring.”
“Tedious,” Pepper finished. “I used more creative words. I win.”
“Win? I didn’t even know it was a competition. You secretly declare it a competition. You set the rules. You choose the criterion for winning. And then you win. What a surprise.”
“Don’t be petulant, Daniel.”
“But that’s you all over. Manipulation and triumph.”
“Well, look at you! Sulking and sucking your thumb because YOU aren’t the winner. Who’s fixating on triumph now?”
“OK, Pepper. Truce. Belay the hostility.”
“Navy talk. You know what ‘belay’ means. I don’t. Satisfied?”
“Deep breaths,” Daniel said. They sat quietly for a bit.
“They assigned me a bedroom,” Pepper said. “Where are you going to sleep tonight?”
“I’m not. I’m going to patrol the deck to be ready. Those guys are quick and ruthless. They’ll plan on almost everyone being asleep.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“You shouldn’t do that, Pepper. You’d be way safer in bed.”
“If there’s going to be a story, I have to be there. What sort of weapon do you have?”
“My Navy-issue sidearm is a NATO Sig Sauer 9-mm. If that means anything to you.”
“Standard 17-round magazine or the extended capacity 21-round? I’ve been around, Daniel. I’m not the distressed, naïve damsel you knew years ago.”
“You’ve never been a naïve damsel, Pepper.”
“That gun is loud. S’pose you want to bestow your caress on a pirate quietly?”
“Good point.”
“And I don’t have a weapon. Scratching them might break my fingernails and we can’t have that. Let’s pop into the galley and find us a couple of butcher knives.”
“Us?”
“Us. Don’t think you’re going to deny me a front-row seat at the year’s best news show, Danny-boy.”
“I won’t let you stay in a vulnerable space. It’s too dangerous.”
“Who do you think you are, Daniel Baker? It’s just as dangerous for you—maybe more so because your uniform marks you as a target.”
“I’ve got a gun, you don’t.”
“I’ve got hand-to-hand combat skills, you don’t.”
“My God, Pepper. You are so hard-headed!”
“Pot calling kettle.”
She got up and headed for the door to the galley. After a moment, Daniel sighed and trotted after her.
The galley was closed at this hour. They flipped on the lights. They found two long, heavy carving knives, located a grinder, and sharpened them to a razor’s edge. Daniel slipped his knife into his gun belt on his left side—his gun was on the right.
Pepper went to her cabin. She washed her face and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She changed into dark, loose-fitting clothing in which she could move freely. She returned, barefoot, her knife stored under her belt.
Daniel gasped. She was a completely different person. He wouldn’t have known her. Her face was no longer framed by curls. Her feminine form was masked by her slack garments. Even her walk was different—a lithe and aggressive stride rather than a sexy mince.
“I’ve never seen you like this, Pepper.”
“Just don’t get in my way,” she said, her voice quiet and sincere.
The platform had several levels, from the control room and heliport on the top to workrooms on the bottom. Outside the workrooms, on three sides of the platform, was external workspace deck. Daniel and Pepper settled into deck chairs in the center workspace. An overhang shadowed their presence.
“What about the platform crew? Aren’t they guarding the shipment?” Pepper asked.
“Sure. They have an armed guard inside watching. He patrols around the platform hourly.”
“If pirates come, there will be half a dozen, plus or minus one,” Pepper said. “And they’re intent on killing everyone they see before an alarm can be activated.”
“That’s the logic. But only logic. No sure thing.”
“So if we see one, he’s fair game to take down before he can take us down?
“‘Fraid so. Any legitimate people coming aboard would come by helicopter. Even if someone came from the Navy ship by boat, they would call to have the ladder hatches opened. And no visitors are scheduled. So anyone we encounter clandestinely sneaking aboard would want to kill us on sight. They would be, as you so picturesquely put it, fair game.”
#####
TOWARD THE MIDDLE of the night, Daniel and Pepper were dozing on and off. A clump-scratch sound startled them awake. They jerked upright in unison. Daniel put his hand on Pepper’s arm.
In the dim light, Pepper made out a grappling hook snared on the railing. Daniel drew his gun. Pepper put her finger to her lips. He nodded. She moved close to the hook, drew her knife, and lay on her belly on the deck.
A head appeared over the edge of the deck. Before the boarder could mentally process her presence and cry out, Pepper slashed out with her knife, cutting across just below the chin. She severed the carotid arteries and larynx. The boarder silently let go and fell back into the sea.
Daniel’s jaw dropped. His eyes widened. “Pepper? Good lord!”
Then he got hold of himself. He was in the middle of combat.
She turned her head and looked at him. He held up two fingers and pointed. She got it. At least two men would have been coming up. They waited. In the dim light, they didn’t see a hand gripping the rail. Suddenly, a figure swung up, one hand and one leg over the rail.
Pepper slashed out, but he was above her. He swung over the rail, landing in a crouch. He was raising his automatic weapon when Daniel fired. The intruder was hit and staggered backward against the rail. Daniel fired again, hitting his upper torso. The man dropped his gun to the deck and went backward over the rail.
Pepper had risen by then. She tugged on the grapple. It lifted easily showing that no one else was weighing down the rope. She tossed the grapple overboard.
Daniel spoke aloud. “They know we’re here now.”
Pepper picked up the submachine gun the pirate had dropped raising it close to her eyes to examine it. “It’s a high-velocity 5.56 millimeter. Real good in close quarters.”
“There’ll be other pirates that have gotten aboard,” Daniel said. “Probably around the deck on the sides.”
He pulled out his phone and called the ship. His phone was on speaker. Pepper heard the dialog.
“Duty officer.”
“This is Lieutenant Baker aboard the platform. Wake the captain. Tell him the platform is under attack by pirates. Tell him it’s likely their mother ship is that fisher about three miles out.”
“I have standing orders on that, Lieutenant. A squad of marines is on fast-call duty. They’ll be awake and manning a gig within five minutes. They should reach you in about fifteen. We’ll be readying the ship to get underway while I call the captain.”
A shadow from above in the dim light crossed Pepper’s eyes. She looked up. A face was peering over the edge of the deck above them searching for them under the overhang. Pepper raised her gun and let a volley fly. He jerked, straightened up, then fell forward over the railing onto the deck in front of Pepper, near Daniel.
“Oh my God, Pepper, he might have been one of the miners.”
“Look at him. He’s barefoot. Wet clothes. Dripping hair. Automatic weapon. Obvious.”
“But you didn’t know that when you shot.”
“I was right. That’s what matters. If I had waited to identify him, you and I would be dead.”
“My God, but you’re a bloodthirsty bitch, Pepper Meade.”
“My God, but you’re a gullible son of a bitch, Daniel Baker.”
They glared at each other.
A clatter from above jerked them back to reality. Then the chatter of a machine gun. Then silence.
“The platform workers don’t have machine guns,” Daniel said. “They must have been coming out from their quarters after hearing my gunshots.”
“And got gunned down,” Pepper added.
They turned and dashed through the door toward the staircase.
When they reached the top, they saw three platform workers on the deck. Two lay in grotesque positions. Daniel made a quick appraisal. The two were dead. The other one was wounded.
Daniel examined the wound. It had hit the left side of the chest, probably shattering a rib, but not penetrating the lung or opening any key blood vessels. It was only oozing a bit. Daniel asked him what had happened.
“There were three pirates,” the miner gasped. “They took one of our guys who wasn’t hit. They asked where the shipment was. When he didn’t tell them, they started to take slices off his ear and said his fingers would be next. He told them. That’s where they went.”
Daniel’s quick look at the wound showed it could wait a few minutes to be tended. He handed the man a cloth. “Hold this on the wound tightly until I get back,” he said.
“I know where the shipment is,” he told Pepper, rising and starting to run. She followed.
As they neared the storage room, they heard two shots. They were from a rifle, not a machine gun. They rounded a corner and reached the door to the storage room. The worker who had been on guard over the shipment was crouching on an upper walkway, holding a rifle, half hidden by a lifeboat.
He raised the rifle, recognized them, and lowered it. On the deck at their feet, two of the pirates had fallen. They were not moving. A few feet down the hall was the hostage worker, holding his head in his hands, sobbing, and bleeding from what was left of his ear.
“When I heard the gunshot, I hid up here, Lieutenant,” the guard said. “They didn’t see me until I opened fire. There was one more. He got away.”
They heard running feet and yelling. A squad of marines came trotting along the deck. Daniel spoke to the sergeant in command, summarizing what had happened. The sergeant assigned a marine to keep that particular area secure. The remainder went to search for the missing pirate.
With safety restored, Daniel was free from the requirements of combat. He turned his attention to caring for the two injured men, Pepper assisting.
#####
AFTER TREATING THE wounded, Daniel sought out the supervisor of the mining operation.
“We’ve posted guards on the shipment until it leaves in a few hours,” the supervisor said. “What do you think the missing pirate will do?”
“Try to escape,” Daniel said. “It’s his only chance now. The question is if he will sneak or shoot his way out. The marines made a thorough search. No sign of him.”
“There’s only one place on the platform nobody looked.”
Daniel cocked his head, wide-eyed. “And where in God’s name would that be?”
“The storage bin for toxic waste. Where we store the radioactive ore slurry after we extract the rare earth minerals. It’s death to go in there.”
“Do you have surveillance cameras in there?” Daniel asked.
“Yes, but nobody would ever go in there without a hazmat suit.”
“Unless maybe he thought if he got in and out quickly, he wouldn’t get enough radiation to damage him.”
“I get it,” the supervisor said. “In to wait while the marines go past searching, then out to escape. I’ll check the cams.”
The supervisor was back in five minutes. “Lieutenant,” he said, talking fast. “He was there. Plus, the lifeboat monitoring system has been disabled. One of the lifeboats has been launched.”
“Can that take him very far?” Daniel asked. “A boat from our ship could go after him.”
“It sails under its own power. If he knew how to disable the monitoring system and launch a boat, he’d know how to operate it. We don’t know what direction he went. We don’t know when he left, so we don’t know how far away he is. It’s stocked with enough water, food, and fuel to permit travel to the Japanese coast, about 1200 miles. If he doesn’t hit bad weather, he would probably have enough fuel to make it to the Philippines. Even with radar-equipped drones, the boat would be a needle in a haystack.”
“How long does the cam show he was in there?” Daniel asked.
“Like maybe twenty minutes or so.”
Daniel spent a few minutes searching his cell phone for information and formulas and then used it to do some calculations. “I figure he’ll have had at minimum 6 Sieverts of effective dose. That’s very approximate. We don’t know what composed the mix of radiation sources in the cast-off slurry where he hid. We don’t know how close he was to which source or the exact amount of time he was in there. However, it’s safe to say that he’ll start feeling sick and weak by tomorrow. After that, he’ll be vomiting and will find it hard to function. It will continue to get worse with time. He’ll be dead in a few days.”
#####
PEPPER HAD BEEN ‘comforting’ the wounded workers by getting them to detail what had happened to them while she made notes. She took photos of them. She went around finding key people and key places on the platform, photographing them as well. Her story was shaping up nicely. She came across Daniel in the control room.
“Our missing pirate has escaped,” Daniel said. “We didn’t find him because he hid in the radiation waste storage locker.”
“Ooh! He’ll glow in the dark.”
“Almost. Within a couple of days, he’ll be too weak and sick to function. He will suffer a slow and miserable death. I’ll bet he’ll be wishing he had been killed like the others.”
Pepper looked up at the red of the dawn with a great smile. She spoke so softly that Daniel had to bend and cock his head to hear her. “I do believe the sun is coming up,” she said.
A sailor with the two arm stripes of a second-class petty officer came up and saluted. “Doc, Captain wants you to call him. NOW.”
“OK. You just came over from the ship, didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Did the ship intercept the pirates’ fishing vessel?”
“Yes, sir. We boarded her and found plenty of evidence. We secured her crew. The captain assigned a prize crew to sail her to an American port—probably Wake Island.”
“Do you know what happened to the DPVs?”
“Yes, sir. They showed up. They had nowhere else to go. They had left one operator with each. When it became obvious that their attack had soured, they rode them back to their boat. We took them into custody …. Lieutenant, the captain said ‘NOW’.”
Daniel took out his phone and called.
The captain answered. “Is this Baker?” Even a couple steps away, Pepper could hear the rasping voice resonating in anger.
“It is, sir.”
“What the hell have you been up to, Lieutenant?” They were fellow officers on a small ship, usually on a first-name basis. The formality told Daniel he was on the carpet.
“Sir, I was about to call you.”
The silence on the other end spoke to the credibility of his intended call.
“Sir, the situation is well in hand. We killed all but one of the pirates. The last one hid in the toxic waste storage chamber. He got away on a lifeboat, but there is no doubt he will die of radiation poisoning before he reaches a port.”
“Were you involved in the combat?”
“Yes, sir, I was. We took out five of the six pirates who boarded. As to damage, they shot three of the contract miners. Two are dead and I treated the other. He will be OK. In addition, they tortured another contractor and I treated him as well. In summary, I have resolved the situation entirely.”
“Very well. Return to the ship and write a report of the incident. I’m sending my gig across for you.” The line went dead. Daniel sighed.
After a minute, Pepper spoke. “YOU have resolved the situation entirely. How quaint.”
“It needs to be that way on the record. It would become a nasty political issue if we listed a civilian girl as a participant in military combat.”
Pepper was breathing fast as she fought to control her anger. How could he belittle her like that if he truly cared for her? On one plane, she knew she still loved him. On another—the plane of adrenaline-fueled anger—she wanted to hit him. On a third plane, she wondered how much of her reaction was emotion left over from their combat. She failed to control her anger.
“You goddamned arrogant bastard! ‘Girl!’ ‘You resolved!’ Tell me, Daniel, who killed the first pirate while you were sucking your thumb? Who killed two to your one?”
Daniel, an officer who had stood tall talking to the captain, now seemed to shrink. “Well, Pepper, it’s like this….”
“No, Daniel, it’s not ‘like this.’ You’re reporting your part but not my part. You even implied my kills were your own. You are going off to write that in a report because you value what I did less than your paperwork. You always have to be the big shot, the one in control.”
“And you want to be the one always in control, don’t you, Pepper?”
“Daniel, you can go straight to hell.”
“I’ll take you up on the ‘go’ part of that.” He turned to go, then turned back. “This is what has happened to our relationship every time. You just always have to be the big cheese, don’t you?”
He turned again and stomped off to board the captain’s gig, the steam of anger spewing forth, almost palpable. She noticed the unevenness of his hairline at the top back of his neck. She realized she loved even that along with all the rest of him. Each stomp of his steps was a nail in the coffin of her love. Then the tears in her eyes obscured his retreating back.
Return Friday, Januray 9th for six-guns and shootouts in a Wild West yarn penned by author Bob Olson!
Cliffhanger! Magazine 
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