Striketeam Book Three: Whale Song

By BC Wesley and GS Robison

Caught up in the battle between man and nature, the members of StrikeTeam find themselves facing pirates, corrupt military officers, and the mandatory mad scientist! During this task Sheryl Roberts finds her world view changed on levels she never dreamed of when her mind is switched with that of a baby humpback whale! Now, with time running out and an army of zombie vampire clones closing in on them from all sides, StrikeTeam is forced to step up the plate before the final whale song is sung.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 29, 2002
• ISBN: 9781469721255

BC Wesley

BC Wesley and GS Robison have been writing together for over a decade, creating the universe of StrikeTeam with 12 books completed. Today BC lives in Florida while GS calls a little town in Illinois his home.

Book preview

© 2002 by Derik B Wesley and W Scott Robison

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

Writers Club Press

an imprint of iUniverse, Inc.

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ISBN: 0-595-26387-9

ISBN: 978-1-469-72125-5 (eBook)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Foreword

Chronology

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

16

17

What Became Of?

About the Authors

BC Wesley: I dedicate this work to the family and friends who will always be in my heart and on my mind no matter where I go or what I do in my life. Thank you.

GS Robison: Thanks to everyone who has ever been there for me.

Thank you.

Foreword 

Here we are again. Paper and pen and Microsoft Word, and here you see before you the work of two men and their love for the wacky adventures of StrikeTeam. It takes dedication and a sense of loyalty to stick with these crazy characters after all these years and in this installment we will see the team grow closer to one another as they face impossible odds, enemies close at home and the harsh reality of the conflict between man and nature.

Now, while neither of us would ever call ourselves an activist of any kind, you have to realize that the way the world is going, there has to be a day when you have to stop and face the fact that men don’t rule the world, greed does. While, Whale Song stays within the realm of insane comedy and adventure you’ve come to expect from StrikeTeam this story also has a moral as any good fable does.

Beyond that we hope you enjoy the read and take a little bit of it away with you as well. Thanks for reading the further adventures of StrikeTeam.

BC WESLEY

Chronology 

1989-1990 —Space Battles: The Todlea Chronicles

2000 —Spy on the Finish Line

2001 —Focus of the Mind 2001 —Whale Song

1

Tranquillity.

Yes, tranquillity is a foundation to most creatures’ existence. And if they do not have it, it is something they search their entire lives to find. Sometimes it can be the farthest thing from their minds, or it can be so close it is suffocating. Nevertheless, tranquillity is an ingredient to the spirit each one holds within his heart.

The universe can look and laugh at the feeble trials and tribulations of the life forms of Earth, but this quest is a focus not only here. It is the focus everywhere. And this day is no different from any other.

Life goes on, and so does death, hand in hand with whatever the quest may throw at them. They continue undaunted and undisturbed by the mere mention of tranquillity. For they have it already in the jobs they have taken for themselves. Life and death. Here and now. Then and there.

So, you may ask, what is the point of this mission for tranquillity? Is there any risk worth taking to reach this goal? Perhaps a study of this story will help you to see the truth behind tranquillity, and if it doesn’t—well, we made the whole thing up, so why are you listening to a couple of morons like us? Sheesh, just read the story, why don’t you?

The water was cool, mixing in with the warm currents of the Pacific Ocean. Waves cresting and falling like they always had for centuries past. It was the calm and serenity of the tides that drew people to the water. It was also the force that seemed to direct the newest visitors to the San Francisco Bay.

Unfortunately, however, this day was not a day of tranquillity. It was a day of pain and longing.

The wind was a calm elemental force as it sailed carelessly over the Pacific inlet. The sun hung daintily in the morning sky, giving the playing seagulls seemingly sinister shadows that raced across the waves as the birds floated above. Every once in a while a burst of air from beneath the aqua would send spouts of mist into the sky, scattering the birds. But relentlessly they would continue to return.

The sea birds seemed to cling to the huge mammals moving slowly through the bay, heading for the narrower waters beyond the Golden Gate Bridge. In the distance a small island could be seen, housing a perfectly white mansion. But what did whales have to do with islands? They ignored the land-mass and continued onward.

The smallest of the creatures swam close to its mother, not sure why they were running. They had heard a cry of pain, miles away from them, a cry of distress from one of their own kind. The scavengers had sensed death in the water and directed their paths towards the cry. The whales did not. It was time to run, run until there was no place to go. And that day was fast approaching when there would be no place to go.

The scavengers found the screams to be delightful. Of course they would; it was in their nature. No one could stop the advanceof death, and the scavengers were only working to promote it in their own ways.

Today the whales would not stop running. Mother and child, uncle and aunt, raced towards the river. The river that ran through the city of man. Mother knew that man was something to be feared, something to be detested. But that didn’t matter. All they wanted to do was to escape the screaming of their kind. The water had become tainted with death and with things unidentifiable. Metal containers that leaked with green, killing or scaring all that came into contact. Poisoning the very plankton they survived on.

Their race had once been the rulers of the oceans. Until man claimed the water as they had the land. They could not be satisfied with merely the land and the air; man had to desecrate the water as well. Didn’t they understand that the oceans kept them alive now that the jungles had been hurt so severely? The world wanted and needed to heal, but the monsters known as man and their god known as greed had all but destroyed everything and everyone.

If only they could go unnoticed.

"What? Here? Now?! It can’t be! Half of our staff is on vaca-tion…Red Cross? Charlie, get a brain. They help people, not whales! I don’t know what to do…Of course we have contingency plans to cover this but we don’t have the manpower. I do know one thing, Charlie, they had better not be exploited. Do you hear me, Charlie? I’ll know and I don’t think you want me cross at you at this point in your career, do you?! No, I didn’t think so.

"Get over here now with those pictures. Oh, and Charlie, call Mister Scott Roberts out on Todlea Island. He’s our biggest investor, and he also has a considerable amount of clout in the community, so maybe he can get something done.

I want this problem taken care of. I’m tired of fighting off all of these big business sharks. They don’t care what happens to our animal neighbors; and so help me, Charlie, if Swyson finds out he’ll blow everything up in our faces, and you’ll have the devil to pay!…No, I’m not blaming you for anything Charlie. Yet.

The receiver fell gently to the bottom half of the phone unit. The woman brushed her hair out of her face. She looked out her office window, across to the large Prudential building, then her eyes focused on the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge and the water below it. The whole deal rubbed her raw and made her want to cry.

Roberts has to do something, she thought. He must; I know how much he loves our planet. He must, to want to come here all the way from Workorano. All these years and I’ve never revealed myself to him or any of the others. I don’t think any of them even knew me. Wasn’t like I was a warrior or anything. I’m a deserter, just like them, tired of it all; so I left, only to come home to this mess, almost ten years of death and destruction. I can’t take it anymore! She threw the can of soda she had been drinking and watched as it smashed against the window. Streams of dark brown liquid streamed down the pane and pooled on the window ledge, but she didn’t care.

She didn’t care what happened anymore. Unless it happened to an innocent creature. Then she got riled. And heaven help those who got in her way.

The sun shone down on the shore, bleaching out the wood on the dock. Scott Roberts ran down the beach, his dark sunglasses bouncing slightly on his nose with every step. He smiled as he noticed three people standing near the dock, working on a large sailboat. Scott stopped when he caught up to them, sweat dripping down his chin.

Hey, guys, whatch’a doing so early in the morning? We’re rich, we can sleep in. Scott gave them his boyish smile.

Scott’s best friend, Derik Westford, turned to face him as Derik’s twin brother handed him a hammer.

Amy wanted this old hunk of junk repaired and repainted. I don’t know how he did it but Ivan here talked John and I into helping him.

It was his constant whining and pleading and bribes, John commented.

I not! Amy say she fry us butts! Ivan interjected in his normal Russian accent and horribly wretched vernacular. Although being Derik’s twin brother, he had been raised by Russian parents in the heart of the Ukraine.

The girls went shopping and Stan went to school. I guess this boat will keep us occupied, John smirked.

Traitor, Derik said to him.

Oh? And who’s watching the donut shop? Scott asked.

Derik and John, co-owners of the Terrific Tastries Donut Shop, gave one another looks of horror. Both of the braniacs had forgotten about the shop.

D’oh! John yelled, whapping himself in the forehead.

I guess that means we’re closed today, Derik said. And that is going to make Drake curse our names again.

Man, I bet he made donuts for us all night, John sighed. I’d better go talk to him and pay him triple.

Unless you want to be assassinated, yeah, Derik agreed. Pay him triple from me too.

John ran towards the house.

Todlea Island is the home of a secret organization set up by the President of the United States. Everyone of the family protested this venture into work they had no experience in before, but had found no way out.

Scott Roberts and his wife Sheryl had always wanted a large family; and when the large group of heroes from the Todlea-Oeneaux war returned to Earth, everyone moved in together. The good news was that the government awarded them a beautiful and large mansion on the grounds that had once housed Alcatraz prison. They renamed the island Todlea after their alien benefactors and settled in for the long haul.

It didn’t end there. The Todlean spacecraft several of them had been flying turned out to be constructed of solid gold. Every nut, bolt, cog, spring, and dial. Gold. Gold. Gold. That made them all rich. Rich. Rich. Rich.

Derik Westford, his wife Pam, and their now eighteen year old son Johnathan (that’s a long story we told you in book two. Go read it.) lived on the island along with Derik’s twin from Russia Ivan Zorvich and his darling bride Amy (that would be book one).

The other married couple on the island was John and Juliet Duke, along with their child terrorist Stan Lee. The only other person in the family was a young mecha-empath from Australia, Tavis Greene. (Check book two again.)

The group had succeeded in all of their missions of international interest and everyone seemed pleased with themselves. Life on the small island that had once serviced Alcatraz prison was calm and beautiful. Especially when all the girls had gone shopping and Stan was back in school! Amen to that.

Scott watched the others work for awhile and then turned around as two cars zoomed across the sky. The two cars, Lamborghini look-a-likes, one gold and the other silver, were the two computerized intelligent vehicles, the Silver Bullet and the Golden Condor.

The cars did a loop-ta-loop and landed near the dock.

Scott! There’s a call coming in on your personal line! the Silver Bullet, nicknamed SB, chimed.

Personal line? Hmmm, it’s either the President or Ed McMahon with my ten million dollars.

As if you needed it, Derik smirked jokingly.

Funny guy, Mister ‘We’re Gonna Race.’

Scott climbed into his silver car and activated the cell phone. Yes? he asked.

Is this Scott Roberts? I hope I’ve reached the right number, the voice responded. It was a man’s. A young mans at that.

This is Scott Roberts, the alien ensured.

Great. Sir, I represent Vickstone International and we’ve got some trouble. There are four humpback whales swimming up the bay towards the river and we need help. Laura Fong suggested that we contact you. Sir, we need your help. Whatever you can do would be appreciated.

I understand, Scott said. We’ll see what we can do. My organization will take full responsibility. Tell Mrs. Fong not to worry.

Sir, Mrs. Fong has asked that Edward Swyson not be involved. I know he’s the Coast Guard Commander here in the bay but he’s caused us some trouble in the past.

Yes, I know, Scott told him. Don’t worry, Swyson won’t hear it from me. Don’t worry, son, Vickstone’s interests will be protected. Thank you, now I’ve got work to do.

Thank you sir. The phone line went dead.

SB, trace that line. Did it originate at Vickstone?

After a few moments the car answered. It did came from their complex, SB said.

Okay, then. Scott’s mind was reeling with all sorts of new information. He looked out towards his friends working on Amy’s sailboat and wondered what steps to take next. Hey, Derik, come here. I’ve got to tell you something.

Derik looked at him with a funny look. He then straightened up and sat his hammer down. He smiled at John who had just returned from the house. Gotta go, buddy; the alien calls.

Yeah, lucky you, John snipped, wiping the sweat from his brow. Drake was mad but I explained it all to him.

Cool, Derik said as he walked over towards the car, tapping his fingers along the side of the hood as he went.

Hey you! You’ll dent me! SB said with a giggle in his voice.

Rust up and die, car, Derik simpered then focused on Scott. Yeah, what did you want to tell me boss?

Ever went swimming in the bay? Scott, the king of all vagueness, asked.

Around the dock, why? Look, I only pee in it when I absolutely have to! Derik defended himself.

Ah, that I didn’t want to know. However, the point I was making was something entirely different. It seems as if four humpback whales are swimming up the bay towards the river. You remember that environmental organization I support, Vickstone International? Well, I just got a call from somebody over there that wants us to help these animals before someone makes a spectacle out of the whole thing.

Derik had to interrupt. Ah, I’m not sure we’re the right people then, if it’s a spectacle they’re trying to avoid.

Scott rolled his eyes. Anyway, as I was saying. If it’s one thing I can’t stand it’s the assault on innocent creatures. If the news catches wind of this, everything may blow up in our faces.

Derik looked concerned. He knew how Scott felt about the wildlife around their home and life on Earth in general. But to think they could really make much of a difference was what Derik knew to be the impossible. Why did Scott have to be a PETA person?

When you say us, you mean Vickstone knows about StrikeTeam?

No, Scott said quickly to avert that particular argument. They only know me as an adventurer with powerful friends. They figured that since I’m their biggest supporter in the area I just might protect their interests. If those whales are hurt right under Vickstone’s nose, Vickstone’s reputation of survival of all despite the odds will be mud. It’s up to us to make sure the whales are saved.

Saint Scott of Todlea Island. Who would have guessed, SB stated.

SB! You know that isn’t true! That isn’t the image I’m trying to project. I just want to save a few creatures if I can.

Derik leaned in closer to the window. Okay, Noah. How do we go about building this ark of yours?

First of all, get Ivan and John over here, Scott told him.

The redheaded wonder leaned on the car and grinned at his buddies. Okay, you’re the boss, boss. John, Ivan, come here. StrikeTeam has a job!

It took only a few seconds for the others to abandon the work they were doing and gather around the Silver Bullet. Scott then had to explain the whole ordeal again and endure a second round of questions.

Okay, so we’re going hunting, Captain Ahab. Now all we have to do is round up Johnathan and Tavis, John said.

Day took de Ninja cycles and vent into town, Ivan said with a smile.

Town, eh? Well, Tavis is sure settling in, Derik said. Wasn’t so long ago he was a scared little Australian we were rescuing from a mob of mad scientists.

No, Bro, Ivan corrected. It be Johnathan vho vanted go.

That burned Derik’s bottom. My son! In San Francisco?! He’s just a baby! Those—those—well you know what San Francisco is famous for—had better leave him alone! Derik growled.

I’m sure Johnathan can handle unwanted advances, John pointed out. "And Tavis is there to help him."

Scott remembered vividly the whole wacky adventure against Meanieman the Time Bomb and his henchmen the Professor Force and how they had mutated Tavis Greene. Meanwhile, another more sinister plan by Pam Westford’s gynecologist resulted in the Westford’s unborn child being used in a horrible experiment resulting in Johnathan, a person who shouldn’t even be born yet and now strode the world looking like an eighteen-year-old. (That would be book two again, hee-hee-hee.)

I’m sure Tavis will keep the both of them out of trouble. We have more important things to worry about. Like four whales, Scott said in a tone of hurry, catching the others attention.

"Ivan, get Whirlstrike, I’ll get GC, and John you ride with Scott," Derik said, taking charge.

Aye, captain, Ivan said as he took off for the underground garage.

The Silver Bullet flew over the bay followed closely by GC and Ivan in Whirlstrike. They neared the Golden Gate Bridge as SB’s scanners blazed to life.

What is it? Scott asked.

It’s a bridge, big and red, connects San Francisco to Oakland, SB told him.

Not that, you malfunction! Scott snapped. Try focusing your scans on the actual bay!

SB snorted electronically, and there followed another moment of scanning and blessed silence. "Four very large life