Стефани Перри - SNAFU - Survival of the Fittest

Behind Rook in their line-up, as they penetrated the storm, was a woman, callsign: Pawn. Anna Beck had formerly been the team’s security specialist, when they were a part of a larger organization. Now she functioned as a spotter for the team’s one-eyed, Korean-American sniper, Knight. She also held her own in a fight either with her FN SCAR or in hand-to-hand combat.

Shin Dae-jung, callsign: Knight, moved up beside Beck, and kept pace with her. After an injury in Africa had taken his eye, he’d learned several tricks to deal with the loss of depth perception, and he had even briefly used an artificial, computerized implant, but the thing had given him sizzling migraines. While the implant was still there, it was turned off. He was using old-school techniques until the pain-causing kinks were worked out. Pawn was always by his side, to prevent his limited vision from causing him problems. She spotted for him when he was sniping, covered his back during incursions and held his hand in their down time, as his lover and friend.

A few paces behind them, another small figure trudged through the howling snow and ice. At just over 5’6”, Bishop was the second of three women on the six-person team. Asya Machtcenko, a former Russian soldier, and King’s sister, hauled spare drums of ammunition for the M240B Rook carried. The huge weapon was also covered in plastic, although the vents on its barrel assembly were covered with a thinner layer, which could be quickly punctured with a pin, should the shooting need to start. The weapon needed to vent its heat. Bishop and Rook would take turns using it, if there was a need.

“It had to be during a Zud ,” she said.

“A what?” Queen, the final member of the team, asked. Zelda Baker was the team’s medic, and also its most deadly hand-to-hand combatant. She stalked through the storm just behind Bishop, carrying yet another FN SCAR rifle, and several more ammunition canisters for the big gun.

Before Bishop could answer, the team’s handler, a man named Lewis Aleman, who communicated remotely with them from a hotel room in Beijing, replied, “She means the winter. It’s a Mongolian term for a particularly bad one. Entire herds of livestock can perish when these Siberian anti-cyclone storms keep temperatures plunging to forty below.” Aleman, callsign: Deep Blue, orchestrated matters from afar, providing whatever satellite intel he could for the team’s missions, although their resources were not what they used to be.

“This gorilla suit is keeping me plenty comfortable,” Rook said.

“Pretty sure she meant the lack of visibility, numbskull,” Queen retorted.

“It’s going to be hard enough to find this terrorist base,” King spoke up, “with them being dug in underground somewhere.”

“Sorry I couldn’t get you better intel, guys,” Deep Blue’s disembodied voice replied. “All we know is the Bright Tomorrow cell is operating out of the area. Military sat coverage didn’t show anything, so they must be concealing heat signatures and working out of a tunnel system or a cave or something.”

“We’ll find them,” King said, determination filling his voice and lending the others hope.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Rook said. “I think my Aunt Mabel’s half-blind dog could find them.”

The others reached Rook’s position, where he had stopped in his tracks. As they looked up, another hard gust of wind blasted into them from the north, pushing away a wall of grit and white, extending their view to over a hundred yards and revealing what appeared to be a huge castle.

“Can you believe this, Blue?”

“I can’t see it, King,” Aleman reminded him. While Aleman was used to having a video feed, on this mission he did not. The others quickly described the structure to him.

“Okay, you’re right. I don’t believe it. There was nothing on sat scans. Nothing on Google Earth or half-a-dozen geographic aerial photos.”

As Aleman spoke, the others melted back into the edge of the storm cloud behind them, until the building was no longer visible, and they were concealed from any prying eyes on the tops of the battlements, the style of which reminded King of the Great Wall of China. The sloped walls, constructed from rammed-earth, brick and stone, had crenellated tops, all supporting four corner watchtowers. He had glimpsed it only for a moment before moving back into the cover of the raging storm, but that was enough for him to question his location, since the nearest segments of the Great Wall should have been almost 400 miles to the southwest.

“Are we at the right coordinates, Blue?” King asked.

“That’s confirmed. My best guess would be that the Mongolians built it to be modeled after the guard tower sections along the Great Wall, which they would have been familiar with. Why? Beats me. The top must be painted in local camo patterns to conceal the structure from sat photos. And the area is covered in clouds or outright storms, like you’re dealing with, for much of the year. It’s still amazing nothing showed it being there.”

King settled flat on the snowy ground with the others. If the particulates in the air were swept away by another gust, their suits would camouflage them somewhat. All of them kept their weapons trained toward the strange building in the desert. “Sounds like the perfect place for Bright Tomorrow to operate out of. But I wonder why none of the other teams found it.”

Aleman had tasked the team with finding the terrorist command camp after several attempts by US and joint European teams had failed to locate the headquarters. Most of the special forces teams sent into the stormy region of desert had simply not returned. Those who had come back alive complained of supernatural creatures in the sand that had killed or eaten entire squads of men. The stories had been conflicting and unbelievable – exactly the sort of thing Chess Team faced on a regular basis.

Although the team had been surprised by the sight of the building when they had been expecting caves, King was already strategically assessing the situation. “Bishop, take the 240 and break right. One hundred yards, and set up there. Crawl forward until you can just barely see the building. The edge of the storm probably won’t hold here, but you should have some cover.”

Bishop collected the big gun and slipped away into the white gloom.

“Rook and Queen, break left.” King didn’t need to elaborate any further. “Knight and Pawn, the back. Find a way in. Those towers look like good overwatch.”

“Visibility would be crap from up there, but we’ll find something,” Knight replied. He and Pawn were up and following Queen and Rook to the left. They would then circle around the left side of the structure to the back. That left King to cover the front of the building – a hundred yard long wall with a massive twenty-foot high set of banded wooden doors in the middle, closed against the rage of the storm.

He crawled forward in the blinding snow and sand, noticing for the first time that the grit scraping across the full faceplate of his helmet was actually scratching the plastic. If this went on too long, they would be blind, even when the wind cleared the air. Another of a thousand small variables he filed away in his head for later.

“Blue, how long until you can get us infrared coverage?” King asked Aleman.

“Another twenty minutes – and that’s if I can get in. It’s a DARPA satellite, and their encryption is crazy.”

“Do what you can. I’d like to know if someone’s coming up on us from behind, before they actually step on me.”

“It’s not that bad,” Knight mumbled.

King recalled a report from a mission Knight had been on in Uganda, where a soldier had actually been standing on Knight’s concealed sniper position – had actually been standing on Knight’s arm, completely oblivious to the danger he was in. If that was the only time that ever happened, King would be happy.