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“What sort of stuff?”

“Robots, ray guns, jet boards… dude, if you’ve got any ideas, send ‘em through.”

“I’ll see what crazy shit my team can dream up. I’ll let you get back to your lifting.” Ryan reached out and gripped his hand firmly. “Congrats again on getting hitched and building a mini-Rick. Give my best to TJ and the boys.”

“Will do.”

As Ryan headed off to begin his own workout, Rick slid back under the bar. In his mind, the weight represented his guilt. He let out a grunt as he shoved it toward the ceiling. Why was it so hard for him to tell people that he and Jenny weren’t having a little boy? Channeling his shame into rage, he pumped out reps until he could barely return the bar to the rack. Then he lay on the bench staring at the ceiling. He had to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a girl dad. Nothing would change the sex of the infant growing inside the woman he loved, and nothing could make him care for it more than he already did. Life was changing, and he had to adapt and overcome.

Chapter Seven

“OK, Rick. What have you got for us?” asked TJ as the team jumped out of a Navy van in the parking lot alongside the dreaded Coronado obstacle course.

It was mid-morning, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the ocean across the beach was dead calm. The team was dressed in their amphibious operator rig, which included lightweight camouflage wetsuits, buoyancy-neutral body armor, and maritime boots.

“This one will blow your hair back,” said Rick as he led them down onto the beach where the new toys were waiting.

“Surfboards?” said Ernie when he spotted four black boards on the sand.

“The bay is glass,” added Mike.

“These bad boys don’t need waves,” said Rick. “They’re gas-powered, capable of hitting almost 40 knots.”

“So, they’re jet skis?” asked TJ as he stood over one of the boards.

Rick bent down, picked up his ski, and tucked it under one arm. “Could you do this with a jet ski? These things weigh less than forty pounds. Dude, we could jump these out of a helicopter or even under a chute.”

“You want to jump out of an aircraft with that? Dude, you’re about to be a dad,” added Ernie.

The hulking SEAL considered the point. “OK, valid. But think about the possibilities for interdicting vessels at sea. We could hit them from multiple locations on these bad boys. Throw a grappling hook up the side and climb onboard.”

“Easy, cowboy, how about we get them out on the water and see how they handle, first,” said TJ.

“Yeah,” added Mike, an avid surfer. “Let’s get these bad boys ripping.”

Rick gave them a quick heads-up on how to start, launch, and control the craft. Then, as a team, they carried the boards to the water, waded into the deep, and pushed off. All the SEALs surfed in their downtime and had little problem getting from their knees to a standing position. Once their boots were locked into the bindings, they gunned the silenced two-stroke engines and cruised out onto the harbor.

Mike soon got the hang of railing the board, pushing his weight forward onto his toes or back onto his heels to carve across the glassy surface. He was by far the most experienced surfer, but a quick check on the others confirmed they were all upright and getting the hang of the power boards. He cut toward Rick and jumped his board over the corpsman’s wake.

After the thirty minutes of familiarization, they carved their way back to the beach.

“So, what do you guys think?” asked Rick.

“These things are sick,” said Mike.

“All kinds of fun,” agreed Ernie.

Even TJ couldn’t suppress a grin.

“The next step is testing their tactical application,” said Rick.

“I’m not jumping out of a C-130 with this thing strapped to me,” said TJ.

“No fear, Chief. I was thinking more along the lines of a simple interdiction of a medium-sized vessel. We’ll launch from the beach when we have visual and see how easy it is to maneuver on board. If we’re happy with that, we can build up to doing it at night. I’ve got a boat standing by.”

“Good plan, Rick. Let’s run it. Make the call.”

“Right on.” The corpsman took his mobile from a dry bag in his rig and dialed as the others downed water and swapped tips on carving on the boards.