July B.W. 0001, Seventh Space War

Three weeks prior to the final operation

Cloud 9, Bureau of Military Intelligence

Making his way through the long hallways of the building Lieutenant j.g. Spenker entered one of the offices with an armful of classified reports. One of the lesser tasks associated with being an adjutant to Colonel Duvell. Much to his surprise he found the office empty. The desk light was turned on, as well as some view screens on the wall. A still smouldering cigarette butt in the ashtray confirmed that somebody was definitely around. Perhaps in one of the adjacent rooms. Spenker opened the wooden door of the chart room and found his superior examining a collection of aerial photographs.

"Colonel?" Spenker half said half asked, after he cleared his throat.

Duvell raised his head and motioned Spenker closer while he pulled out a new cigarette. "Finally. I hope they didn't make too big a fuss of it?"

"None at all, Sir. They were all gone." Spenker smirked "Lunch break and all that."

The cigarette almost fell out of his mouth when Duvell heard it. He scowled and cursed the whole bureaucratic incompetence of the Bureau. "Unbelievable, Spenker. Our biggest military secrets unguarded because of lunch." Duvell shook his fist angrily into the air as to put force by his words "I'm surprised that the Nates haven't yet marched directly into Cloud 9 with these stupidities." He then focused back on the files and sighed fatalistically "Let's just look at the reports. Incompetence aside, we still got a war to win."

"Complete for the last week." Spenker handed over the files and asked "Perhaps the Colonel could give me a rough idea of our problem?"

Duvell couldn't help but snicker "Actually I can be quite specific, Spenker. Seidel Rasso wants the UNE Council brought from Earth to Cloud 9 in chains."

"My God…"

"God?" Duvell asked amused to his visibly shaken adjudant and answered in his place "He backed out of this war a long time ago, Spenker."

For a moment the two men stood there, each occupied by his own thoughts about the situation. Then, out of the blue, Spenker remembered one of the reports while he skimmed through them in the hallways. He sifted through the scattered reports on Duvell's desk.

"There was something that might fit our needs. Came in yesterday I think. Maybe… Ah here it is. From agent Raven, stationed in Toledo."

Duvell examined the file briefly.

"Interesting… Where exactly is this Toledo?"

"It's almost dead centre of the Iberian Peninsula, former country of Spain."

Even more interesting… Rob Duvell thought to himself. Spain got hit pretty badly in the beginning of the war as part of a diversionary attack. While most of Southern Europe was bombed flat the SRA invaded the then lesser defended North American continent.

"Get me a map of the general area."

Spenker entered a few parameters into a nearby control panel and within seconds a view screen lit up and showed Toledo and its surroundings from an aerial perspective. A live feed from one of few spy satellites left in Earth orbit.

"Larger scale, Spenker."

The map magnified and revealed more detail. Mostly ruins, flat desertlike terrain and not any mentionable military presence in less than a half day's travel. The only thing left standing is a newly-built circular bunker complex in the demolished city centre. As good as isolated.

Isolated…

"Maybe God hasn't backed out of this war just yet. Look at this, Spenker. It's just thrown into our laps." Colonel Duvell grinned excited, a glint in his left eye. "How reliable is this agent's Intel?"

"It's transmitted through dead comm-frequencies. Raven's messages are hidden in what would otherwise be random static. I don't know the specifics about this system, it goes far beyond me. But the Nates surely haven't discovered it yet."

From behind Duvell's black eye patch a plan started to form. Simple, ingenious and most of all bold. They have everything available for a successful raid on Toledo except for one thing; a man crazy enough to lead it.

The next day Colonel Duvell and Lieutenant j.g. Spenker studied a pile of personnel files who were deemed qualified for the job. Every available officer was screened by rigorous standards set by Duvell himself. Out of a thousand officers a dozen were chosen. One file fully absorbed Rob Duvell's attention. So much even he forgot all about the cigarette in his hand. As he continued with the profile he inadvertently started reading it aloud with growing awe.

"Special Forces raid on Satellicon during the Sixth Space War… Crash-landed in North America with the first invasion drops, Seventh Space War. Wounded in the battle of Phoenix, Arizona. Received the golden Victorus Star. Led a voluntary charge of 197 men on Blythe, California, to relieve a cut off brigade. Received the Knights Cross of Valour with Oak Leaves… Dropped with his 162 remaining men on New Vegas, Nevada…"

Duvell's voice changed when he read the next paragraph but he wasn't less determined about this officer.

"Sentenced with his 115 men to the XVII Penal Battalion after a wash list of charges. Michael Kane. Former Major of 5th Para, Air Wing Special Forces SRA."

"And language, Sir?"

"Can speak English without a spacenoid accent."

The room grew silent for a moment as Rob Duvell contemplated the situation. This feasibility study started out as a waste of time and yet it has become a radical opportunity to turn this war around. It felt to Duvell as were he guided by an unseen force, laying out the cards before him. It reminded him of a philosophy class from his long past school days.

"Are you familiar with the works of Jung?"

Spenker, who was caught up in his own heap of papers, shook his head.

"I've heard the mention of his name."

Duvell cleared his throat "A great thinker, Spenker. A rational man. Yet he speaks of something called synchronicity. A series of seemingly random events that are connected by an underlying dynamic."

"I fail to see the connection, Colonel." Spenker admitted his ignorance.

Duvell made a faint smile as he walked towards a view screen, displaying Toledo from the air, and continued.

"Take this affair. His Excellency comes up with the absurd suggestion which calls for the abduction of the UNE Council. For political reasons we are forced to create a useless report of the prospects. And then, suddenly, synchronicity rears its disturbing head."

"So far I'm still following, Sir."

"We receive a routine report with a brief notation that in two weeks from now several, if not all, high ranking council-members will assemble in Toledo. An abandoned city cut off from civilisation in an arid wasteland." He pointed to the viewscreen and then made a hand gesture to simulate a step-by-step motion. "At any other time this report would be of no importance, especially since we are struggling for control of Earth orbit. Or we would simply carry out an orbital bombardment on Toledo. But at this particular time, this particular file and this particular soldier… To me it seems that synchronicity is rolling out the red carpet for us, now all I need are the means, resources and authority necessary for the job."

Spenker grinned unbelievingly "But you honestly don't think we can pull it off?"

"A wink from a pretty girl seldom leads to a climax, Spenker." Duvell grinned "But a man is a fool not to push a suggestion as far as it can go."

Both men laughed with the obvious insinuations of the joke. As Duvell took his place again behind the desk he looked at Spenker and said "Get me the whereabouts of this Michael Kane. He's been away from Cloud 9 for far too long."

In the following days an intricate plan was formed around the back and forth coded communications with the Spanish field operative, agent Raven. It seems Raven has managed to infiltrate into the UNE ranks, posing as a NCO, and obtain access to the Toledo bunker complex. And now the feasibility study is completed and seems to have become a full-fledged covert operation. Colonel Rob Duvell is highly satisfied of his work of the past days. Even when Lieutenant Spenker was unable to confirm the current location of the XVII Penal Battalion due to the great level of secrecy of the court-martial.

"Raven's reports are excellent. He is to be commended, Spenker. Full layouts of the ground and upper levels of the facility. To bad about the lower areas but our targets should remain on the ground level the entire time."

He closed the thick file and turned to his adjudant.

"Here, Spenker. See to it that it goes through the right channels. And whatever you do don't give it to those guys from last time. Might just as well give it to a double agent while we're at it."

"You know, Colonel…" Spenker joked "I might be a double agent as well."

"Come now." Duvell pulled out a cigarette and let himself slide into his armchair. "Give the Nates at least a little bit of credit. Eh, Spenker?"

As the evening set in, around seven, a knock was heard on Duvell's office door. Not waiting for a response the door opened and Spenker strode in to introduce a guest for his commander. A tall and skinny man with sharp chiselled cheekbones and an even sharper hawk's nose. His eyes peering through black circular sunglasses. He sported the normal blue SRA uniform with a grey oilskin overcoat draped over one shoulder.

A Sepo no doubt. Duvell thought to himself.

Still stepping forward the man flashed his badge and spoke the way you'd almost expect from a lackey, borderline stereotype.

"Agent Todt, Secret Police. Cloud-Marshal Plasence requests your presence at his office immediately."

And I was right…

July B.W. 0001, Seventh Space War

Two weeks prior to the final operation

Cloud 9, Cloud-Marshal's residence

Somewhere else in Cloud 9, about a fifteen minute drive from the Bureau of Military Intelligence, laid the Cloud-Marshal's residence. His villa nearly rivalled the grandeur and bombastic neo-rococo style of architecture and decorations of Seidel Rasso's palace. A stifling feeling crept up as Duvell walked into the office and halted at two paces distance of the massive desk. "Colonel Duvell, at your command!"

The Cloud-Marshal, although aware of Duvell, kept bowed over the files on his desk. With an almost unnoticeable glance he could see his guest nervously await some sort of reaction, as a knight waiting outside the dragon's lair would. Without lifting up his head he finally gave a form of mandatory hospitality.

"You seem nervous, Colonel. Please, sit down."

Duvell, who understood that as 'make yourself at home' as well as some sort of friendly gesture, instinctively pulled out his aluminium cigarette case.

"May I smoke, Sir?"

"No."

Disappointed he looked around the room as he put the cigarette case back in his chest pocket. The office was decorated with several types of wood carved with the most intricate of detail. In space wood was a rare commodity, for it could only be obtained on Earth, and here it was lavishly used as very expensive wallpaper. Duvell was sickened by this vulgar display of wealth. Dead centre of the wall on his right hung a somewhat tasteful nude painting, no doubt annexed during the invasion drops, positioned just opposite of an official portrait of Seidel Rasso. Quite amusing. So the old goat still likes a fresh green leaf.

Finally Cloud-Marshall Plasence raised his head from the documents and peered through his big spectacles, looking like a mole coming out of its hill, at Duvell. With a faint chuckle he complimented the set-up of the report. "A masterpiece."

"Thank you, Sir."

"You know, there would be people that'd say that this plan is unable to succeed. But we would be fools not to push a suggestion as far as it can go."

Plasence leaned a bit over his desk towards Duvell, squeezing his eyes, trying to find any trace of distress. "Does that phrase sound familiar, Colonel?"

"I don't immediately recall, Sir." Without giving a twitch on the outside Rob Duvell felt immensely uncomfortable on the inside. Somewhere or somehow Plasence has heard him say that sentence. But only he himself and his adjutant were at his office at the time. His office bugged? Or was it Spenker- or worse… In the Seventh Space War you can't even trust your own side.

"I know all about your plan. I know what is written on every single page. Even the one you haven't yet received." Again Plasence had to chuckle as he pulled out another file from his desk and slid it in front of Duvell. "The court-martial of Major Kane and his men, for example. The arrogance of this Kane is dazzling."

Rob Duvell picked it up and began to leaf through the pages while Plasence continued to talk about Michel Kane.

"An unusual man, this Kane. Intelligent, ruthless, a superb soldier. But above all a romantic fool. He threw away everything; rank, career, future… He's presently serving in a Penal Battalion in Cloud 2. And all for the sake of some Nate girl he never laid eyes on before. Besides his recent slip-ups, he does seem to be the ideal man for the job."

"If the Cloud-Marshal thinks so-"

Plasence interrupted his guest by holding up his hand, gesturing for silence. "And so do you, Colonel. But Admiral Quale has never truly believed in this mission from the start, has he now? It wouldn't be first time he had doubts about one of His Excellency's suggestions."

Duvell sensed where the Cloud-Marshall was going with this and he instinctively tried to distance himself from the ulterior motives of his superior officer. "My loyalty to the Admiral-"

"-Is exceeded only by your loyalty to Seidel Rasso. Isn't that so?" The Cloud-Marshal finished Duvell's sentence for him and peered again at Duvell for any sign of discomfort before he grinned pleased. "I'm sure of it. His Excellency wants this mission to be carried out."

For the first time during this meeting Duvell let his emotions loose for a split second. He swallowed and had to blink a few times with his eye before he regained his cool.

Once more Plasence reached into his desk and gave a closed letter to his guest. When Duvell tried to read it he was interrupted by Plasence who told him to read it aloud. With each spoken word his left eye opened more and more in genuine surprise. Rob Duvell had to clear his throat when he realised all this was for real.

"Colonel Duvell is acting on my direct and personal orders in matters of the utmost importance to Cloud 9. All personnel, military and civilian without distinction of rank, are to assist him in any manner Colonel Duvell sees fit to demand. Signed, Seidel Rasso."

"So you see, Colonel, under the terms of that document even I find myself under your personal command." Plasence chuckled at the mere idea and continued. "Good luck. I can only envy your inevitable success."

Knowing that the Cloud-Marshal was obviously not telling him to whole story, Duvell stood up and saluted before he turned around on his right heel and made his way towards the door. Synchronicity had delivered him the last piece of the jigsaw. There's work to be done. Much work.

Duvell now knew that until this operation is finished he has to plan all his moves with the utmost care, because if anything should go wrong there's no doubt he and he alone will be responsible. That's what Plasence was holding back. He felt a lump in his throat. The situation had grown from a ridiculous suggestion into a game of Russian Roulette outside of his control. It was a suicide mission with marginal chances of success, he knew it well. Duvell ate his dinner that evening with very little appetite. Synchronicity be damned.

Sepo: derogatory term used to identify a member of the Secret Police of Cloud 9