April 17, 2007
Petty Officer First Class Meghan Castellano tiredly swirled the stirring straw around in her coffee thermos, perfectly aware that the cream and sugar had long since mixed with the hot, bitter liquid. The rhythmic motion, she kept telling herself, was helping to keep her awake.
Or something like that.
She blew over the top of the cup before fixing the lid back on and taking a sip. Scalding, just how she liked it.
The room filled with monitors and work stations was more than a little empty, with only four keyboards clicking away with the urgency of a Monday morning DMV clerk.
Flanking Meghan were two other intelligence specialists, both with their own caffeine storage devices filled to the brim. A yawning man entered the rear of the room, causing both of Meghan's counterparts to stand and snap to attention.
"Sir!"
Meghan simply raised a hand with two fingers extended, "Mornin', Chief."
Senior Chief Petty Officer James Samson waved his hand dismissively, "At ease. Morning, all. Castellano, you got my pick-me-up?"
She tossed an oatmeal bar at him and held up an equally large thermos, emblazoned with a skull and crossed bones on the side, "Extra heart stop-y."
The specialist to her right, PO3 Angela Foster, scoffed, "Technical term, Meg?"
"You know it. Take notes, I'm teaching a course in Important Shit 101."
Specialist Hector Garza hummed, "I'd better buy the textbook for that before it's too late…"
"Alrigghh alrigghh, lefs get dis shit goin'," Samson spoke through his food. He swallowed and shook his finger at Meghan, "Let's talk to our friend."
"Copy that," Meghan removed the stereo headset from the metal holder next to her terminal and placed it snugly on her head. She flicked the switch on the computer base and tapped the microphone.
"Check one, check two," The speakers around the room crackled to life, her voice bouncing off the walls.
She muted herself, "Thank Christ for mic monitoring… we're good to go, Chief."
Samson sat in an empty chair, folding his hands behind his head and putting his laced boots on the desk, ankles crossed. He held the half-eaten oatmeal bar in his teeth as he made himself comfortable.
"This is your show, Castellano. Call 'er up."
Meghan called up the secure communication line and entered the unique identifier and recipient codes before pressing the red "Execute" button. The large central screen in the room flickered on.
Establishing connection…
A green check mark took over the screen before a covered camera appeared. Locational data and a counting clock showed in the corner. Meghan flicked the mic arm down to her mouth.
"This is callsign Hammer, challenge phrase 'Smoke,' how copy?"
An accented female voice came through the speakers, "Callsign Fracture reporting, response phrase 'Fire.' Dzień dobry, moi amerykańscy przyjaciele (Good morning, my American friends). Happy to see me?" The camera feed popped in, revealing a young brunette woman in snug cold-weather gear, a ballcap on her head.
She couldn't help but smirk, "Always. Good morning Elżbieta, I trust all is well?"
Elżbieta sighed, "I fear Yuri suspects something, as he grows increasingly paranoid and short-tempered. He continues to extort and torture, including his own workers. At the smallest of inconveniences, those under him are sent to be maimed or killed. No one is safe."
Yuri Oliynyk, Target Zero. Local warlord, of Soviet descent, working to upset political balance in Ukraine. He'd developed an intensely nationalistic belief system, going on record as saying that the current establishment was too soft, and that only "pure-blooded" individuals should be making decisions. His policies were harsh, to the point where it became dangerous to one's health to publicly oppose him. What started as an albeit heavy-handed attempt to sway public opinion had turned into a bloody struggle for a position of power, spearheaded by the psychopathic head of a political party turned crime syndicate.
The Ukrainian government quietly called on its allies for assistance in "dealing with" their problem, similarly to the handling of the 2004 occurrence known as the Orange Revolution.
Thus, Operation "Orange Sky" was born.
Meghan tented her hands, brows bunching together, "How is the implosion plan progressing?"
Ela talked and worked simultaneously, hands moving in unseen motions, "Highlight the target list, and give me the cursor. Dać (Give (command))."
Foster turned control of the system over to Ela, who pointed to the row of four top targets below Yuri, starting with a blond man with a patchy beard.
"Target One believes his life is in danger because of the apparent mistrust Yuri has for his motives. I have stoked this fire to the best of my ability without becoming obvious. He does not speak publically of this, but rumors spread like wildfire. Any statement from Yuri that could possibly be interpreted as aggressive in any way might set One off."
The next target was a bald man with a long scar down his face, splitting the left half of his moustache, "Target Two has seen a large amount of his money drain from his accounts, and a sizeable enough trail pointing to Target Three and his people. Three has publically complained to Yuri that he does not get enough compensation, so this is sufficiently believable."
Ela paused, expression souring at the fourth target.
Samson sat up in his chair, "And the fourth target, Ms. Bozak?"
Her hair swayed to the side as she snapped to hold his gaze, "He is the one that I am most concerned with. As you know, he has been wary of me since we started, and is considerably smarter than his peers. My attempts at turning him against others were not successful. So, since our last communication, I moved on to making him the odd man out."
Ela held a faded government seal and badge to the camera lens, "At Meghan's suggestion, I planted seeds of misinformation. A large number of people in Yuri's employ believe that Four has been feeding valuable information to the state. Plans, troop movements, locations of resources."
Samson chewed his lip, thumbs twirling, "So where does this leave us, Ela? Don't get me wrong, what you've done to this point is fantastic. My question is, with all of this coming to a head, what's going to kick it off?"
A calculated smirk overtook her pale face, "Today, Yuri called a meeting with the five of us, and all of the direct subordinates of the targets, to address the chaos brewing in his operation over the past weeks. The storm of accusations, implications, and fragile egos will dismantle Yuri's operation by day's end, and the state agents will take care of what remains."
The Chief Petty Officer mulled this over, face shifting from contemplation to acquiescence, "Alright, Ela. Proceed with the plan. Castellano, you good with all of this?"
Meghan nodded, shoulders relaxing, "Lookin' like our best option, Chief. She'll do that, and we'll help her exfil." She sighed, "Well, we know we're heading toward the best conclusion. Yuri's psych profile suggests that his judgment falters when his confidence is shaken, but he'll begin to act like a trapped animal when we put the screws on. I'd say we're well passed that…"
She leaned back, closing her eyes and drumming her fingers on the desk. The gears in her mind turned, and she snapped her fingers.
"Alright. Foster, update the target web with Ela's new info. Garza, I need public transit schedules and traffic conditions in Mykolaiv today. If Ela isn't going to be able to move freely amongst the people, tell us. I'm gonna start pulling all the information I can regarding the meeting location and the nearby area."
Her associates scrambled at her rapid fire instructions, and she turned to the big screen.
Meghan tapped at her keys, satellite images of the area of operation. Densely packed buildings and crowded roads littered the frame, people occupying the sidewalks.
Son of a bitch… they're doing this right in the middle of the city.
"Please tell me this meeting isn't at ground level…"
Ela spoke without facing the lens, "No. It is underground, in a control center for the sanitation system. As I said, the man is paranoid, so he wouldn't settle for anything more conspicuous."
Meghan dragged her hands down her face, "Well that's a pain in the ass, tech might not be consistent."
She turned to Samson, "Chief, what are the odds that we'd be able to clear the blocks surrounding the AO?"
Her commanding officer adorned a thoughtful look and clicked his tongue, "I'd have to make some calls to our friends in the Ukrainian government. Gut feeling says maybe we could manage half a klick without causing a scene, but I can't really guarantee that."
"Alright. Ask 'em, and could you see about getting me live access to the public cameras on the nearby streets?"
He scraped his chair back and stood up, "I'm sure that, at least should be doable. I'll let you know."
"Ela, make sure your LocCams, body cam, ear piece, and GPS tracker are operational. I'm gonna be with you the whole way today. We're nearly through this, so I'm not taking any chances," She raised her voice, "Keep it tight, everyone! We'll be through this by day's end!"
She stood to get more coffee, a confident glint in her eye.
"And Ela!" The Polack looked at the camera, "Don't do anything stupid."
Another smirk, "No promises, Hammer."
Foster grit her teeth, index finger drumming on the desk. The dead silence in the room exacerbated each repeated thunk, grating against the ears of her compatriots.
Samson grabbed her hand and stared at her, "Would you relax? We knew we'd lose GPS tracking as soon as she went under."
Foster's eyes drilled into his, and her knee started bouncing as a result of the impediment, "Sorry, Chief, I can't help it."
Meghan shook her shoulder, "All we can do is wait, and we need to stay calm for Ela. We'll be fine."
Foster took a deep breath and nodded.
"-mer, th- is -cture, how -py?" The speakers crackled at the static.
Meghan lowered the headset microphone, "Solid copy, Fracture. We've lost your pos but we hear you well enough."
"Dobry (Good). Switching on body camera and setting up first LocCam."
Seconds later, two video feeds came to life, the cameras focusing on each other.
Garza blinked rapidly, "Jesus, it's like a funhouse…"
Ela began moving down the tunnel, sticking cameras to the walls as she went. Each feed was of varying resolution and clarity, with little to no rotational movement.
Christ, these things are terrible. Wonder if I could get one that spins…
Meghan squinted at the monitor, panning them as far as they could swivel, "Fracture, there's a blind spot between feeds one and two, can you address it?"
"No time, Hammer, I cannot afford to be late."
Meghan swore under her breath, "Just be careful."
Other voices trickled into earshot, and Ela's camera feed showed several people standing in a cramped room filled with terminals, piping, and mold.
Garza sucked in a breath, "Those are pretty tight quarters…" The trepidation in his voice was apparent, and he too bounced his knee.
Meghan snapped her finger at Foster, "Be ready to transcribe."
She wordlessly nodded. They weren't kept waiting long before Yuri addressed the room.
"You all know why you are here. There have been several… unfortunate, pieces of discourse circulating throughout our organization. For the past months, I hear of nothing but lies and deceit among you and those beneath you. In addition, someone in this room has been leaking information vital to our cause to outside sources. For the sake of your continued health, I suggest someone speak up."
The men in the room exchanged hostile glances, but the only sound that came forth was that of a constant drip from a leaking water pipe.
"No one will speak? Then perhaps I will have to give extra motivation." Yuri drew his sidearm from an unseen holster, pointing the gun at the room in a sweeping motion. The men stiffened, taking a rigid step back, some sliding their hands toward their waistlines.
"Maybe if you didn't threaten us regularly, this would not happen." A taller blond man drew Yuri's attention. Target One.
"Szymon. Such bold words, do you think you could prove that? Maybe if you stupid fools were not so incompetent, I would not have to threaten you! Perhaps you need an extra reminder?"
A redheaded man, Target Three spoke up, "You're going to scold us, the ones who carry out your dirty work for you, for your shortcomings?" He found the gun leveled at himself.
"As a matter of fact, yes, Aleksander, I am. Why else would you find it necessary to steal from Kacper, after bitching to me that you do too much for too little?"
Target Three took a step forward, pressing Yuri's gun barrel into his chest, "You slander me so with these false accusations, why?!"
Ela stood silently as they bickered, keeping herself near the door. Target Four rolled his eyes and heaved a weary sigh before drawing his own handgun and firing at the ceiling. Everyone's hands shot to their ears, and Meghan recoiled at the loud burst that slammed into her earpiece.
"This is getting us nowhere, you stubborn fools. This has happened because we let it happen, we must fix this mess. Although…" He pointed the gun at Yuri, eliciting clicks and leather sliding against polished metal from everyone, "I concur, that perhaps we need new leadership."
Quivering guns pointed at everything, their owners breathing exaggeratedly. Yuri growled and yelled, "You are all traitorous scum, the absolute worst of the Ukrainian people! Maybe I should just liquidate all of you, just like Stalin did in the second Great War!"
Bullets every which way jumped from their chambers, carrying their own argument for debate, one of high velocity metal against the soft flesh of their targets.
The debate did not last long.
Sounds of yells of rage and pain, of rounds barking and burying themselves in concrete and person alike, of panic and resentment assaulted the speakers on Meghan's head and around the intelligence headquarters.
Foster covered her mouth. Garza chewed his nails. Samson crossed his arms, breaths barely audible. Meghan stood up, hands planted on the desk. All pairs of eyes whisked around the screen, watching the carnage unfold.
The door rattled its frame as it closed behind Ela. She turned right, making hastened strides back toward her entrance location. She looked at the shallow trench a bullet had carved in her muscle, and the intelligence room personnel took note of the blood forming a growing path on her sleeve.
"Fracture, what's your status?!"Meghan couldn't hide the stress from her voice.
"I'm fine, Hammer. What am I looking at?"
Meghan shook her head and straightened herself, calling the LocCam feeds to the front. She enlarged camera four's image. Armed men could be seen yelling and running toward the commotion in every feed.
"Camera four: Two tangos in the tunnel, one on each side. Double tap at your 10 and 12."
Ela rounded the corner, her sighted RG15 booming twice at the first target. The second guard jumped at the unexpected slaughter, and fumbled with his weapon before firing. A chunk of the wall exploded as she ducked behind it. Meghan pressed a button on her console, and the camera blasted white noise at the gunman. He fell to a knee in a yell, and Ela took full advantage. She stepped over him and continued on, gunfire continuing behind her. Voices yelling in front of her carried around the tunnel corner, but all she picked out was "coming this way."
"Hammer, they know I'm red now, fire at will."
Meghan switched to the next feed, "Camera three: three tangos, two on right at 230. Left side 11, heavy armor, aim high. Triggering burst."
She slammed the button again, the sound startling the guards on the right side. Ela turned left around the second corner, firing once into each of the guards' heads. She pulled a concussion grenade from her belt and tossed it, the blast shortly following. She turned to see the armored guard with one arm covering his face, his other firing a compact machine pistol wildly. She ended his attempt.
"Camera two: only one, crouched, at your 1130, he's got a shotgun. Firing." The gunman didn't react, save for a slight turn of the head.
It was all Ela needed.
A shift in the thumbnail feeds of the previous cameras caught Foster's attention, and she leaned in to Meghan's microphone, "Fracture, cameras four and three are showing static. Head on a swivel, you're being followed."
Ela stopped, putting a hand to her ear, "Say again, Hammer!"
Meghan saw a figure rush by the second camera and turned up the gain on her headset, "You are being followed, Fracture, turn-"
Ela reacted to the sound of a roaring yell and tried to raise her firearm. The attacker knocked her gun away in a tackle, and a swift punch to her torso broke the body camera, the lens and electronics destroyed. The two wrestled and struggled, the attacker relentlessly driving Ela into an alcove off the main tunnel path, out of the sight of the LocCams.
Blind to the situation, Meghan growled and pounded the desk, "Son a bitch!"
Animalistic snarls and incomprehensible Ukrainian words poured from the side of the cameras, punctuated by blows and grunts of pain. Meghan and her comrades sat in rapt horror as the fight went on, every tick of the clock taking what felt like years from their lives. Water splashes, someone had fallen in the water. A dull, sickening crack, someone had broken something. A loud bang, then another…
Someone had gotten shot.
Seconds ticked by. Nothing, not a sound. Meghan felt something creeping into her system that she had not experienced in a long time.
Helplessness. There was nothing she could do, and it frustrated her to no end.
Foster and Garza looked at each other, then at their commanding officer. His eyes were glued to the display, as were Meghan's. She palmed the microphone.
"Fracture, this is Hammer, do you copy?"
Nothing.
"Fracture, can you hear me?!"
Silence.
Meghan hung her head. This mission was over.
Samson swore under his breath, "Son of a fucking bitch… Castellano, call it-"
The sound of a microphone scraping jerked them from their dazed stupor. Ragged breathing preceded labored speech.
"Hammer, this is Fracture-" Ela coughed before spitting what Meghan could only assume was blood, "-I hope you weren't looking to get rid of me that easily."
Meghan fell back into her chair, puffing her cheeks and blowing at the ceiling, "Solid copy, Fracture. Looks like we'll have to try harder next time. Thank Christ… You ready to get the hell out of there?"
Another cough, "Like you would not believe."
"Alright, get topside and we'll get you home. Can you walk OK?"
"Eh, it probably sounds worse than it is. Drań (Bastard) did a number on my face, but I paid him back my making his explode."
Meghan couldn't keep the smirk from her face, "When you get home, the first round's on me. Now get moving."
Ela did as she was told, and thirty seconds later Meghan saw a blip appear on the overhead map. She pinned the that to the left of the large screen, the other half featuring live feeds from traffic and security cameras.
A manhole cover could be seen sliding from its resting place, and Ela climbed to the surface. Clearly Samson's favor got called in, as no other people could be seen in the immediate area. Wasting no time, she replaced it and hurriedly marched toward her extraction point.
An ocular hub on a street light flickered to life as Meghan took control, "There you are-" Meghan whistled and cocked her chin, "Man, you do look rough."
"Shut up, ty głupia suko (You silly bitch)."
"Aww, that hurts my feelings, Ela." She stopped herself at the sight of the cover being disturbed a second time, three men with partially concealed weapons wriggling from the tunnels.
"Fracture, you have fans approaching your pos. Keep moving, we're gonna give these guys the runaround."
Meghan scanned the overhead view, noting a set of train tracks nearby. An idea clicked in her head and she turned to her colleagues, "Foster, get me today's schedule for Mykolaiv-Vantazhnyi Station. Garza, send the traffic map to the big screen. Chief, can you tell the boys on the ground to standby on the north end of the tracks?"
He turned to walk to the comm terminal, "Consider it done."
Foster beamed the train schedule to Meghan's HUD. She smirked, "Perfect."
She turned back to the monitor, "Alright Fracture, they've split to three different roads, trying to sweep and intercept. I've got 'em all on camera, so just listen up; they're not far behind."
Meghan hot swapped between feeds, relaying short bursts of information. Duck into that alley, blend at the storefront, cut through that yard. One after another they came, every callout barely allowing Ela to stay out of sight.
"Hammer, I can see the tracks!"
"Run like hell, they're almost right on top of you!"
The gunmen converged around their corners, spotting Ela and drawing their pistols to take aim. She weaved between any obstacles in her way, pulling her sidearm to shoot behind her, never breaking stride.
A horn sounded nearby, and a commercial train popped into view less than a few hundred meters out. She ducked her head and pumped her legs harder, the end in sight.
Ela stuttered her feet and launched herself over the tracks, the train crossing her trajectory just a few seconds later. She finally stopped, sucking wind and leaning her arms on her knees. She turned to see the gunmen yelling, though whether it was directed at her or the taser rounds incapacitating them, she couldn't tell as the train cars passed.
Several masked individuals bearing the insignia of the Ukrainian government closed on the men, collecting the twitching attackers and cuffing them. The final carriage cruised by, showing the would-be usurper henchmen glaring at her as they struggled in the grasp of their captors.
Her face pulled into a cocky grin, and she ignored the dull pain resulting, "Dyakuyemo za zadovolennya, khloptsi! (Thanks for the fun, boys!)" She winked and blew them a kiss, prompting snarling howls in return.
A man wearing officer's clothing approached her, "Operatyvnyy Bosak, chy hotovi vy pity? (Operative Bosak, are you ready to leave?)"
"Tak, davayte vyydemo zvidsy. (Yes, let's get out of here)" She walked behind him as Meghan spoke into her ear.
"You are such a showoff." Her thinly veiled pride did not go unnoticed.
"Coming from you, especially after that plan, Meghan? I must be bad. Now, about that drink…"
A knock on Meghan's door roused her from her reading, and she stood at attention, "Sir!"
Samson waved dismissively at her. He took a seat in a free chair and crossed one leg to rest on his knee.
"At ease. I just wanted to congratulate you on the operation, you've done a damn fine job over the past few months, spearheading this mission. It wasn't easy by any stretch of the imagination, but you got the job done well. Not once did you waver under pressure, and you handled things better than most could've."
Meghan relaxed and sat on her bed, "Thank you, Chief, that means more than you know. I'm just thankful you gave me the chance, and after all it is still your name on the report."
"Maybe so, but I was only providing insight where needed, and don't think I left anything out in detailing just how critical you were. You'll make one hell of an intel officer some day."
Samson rubbed his chin, "Speaking of which, you hear back from the folks at USC yet?"
She smiled, a full and excited smile, "I got in, Chief. In the summer, my contract will be up and I'll be headed back to SoCal."
Samson leaned forward and held out his hand, and she eagerly shook.
"You'll do great there, I know it."
She rubbed her arm, "I owe a lot to you, and Foster and Garza."
He chuckled, "Nah, you would've done just fine without us. It's hard to say what exactly qualifies an intelligence specialist, but I know you already have it. All you need's the fancy piece of paper."
Meghan scoffed, "For most people, the most expensive one they'll ever get. Thank God for the GI Bill."
"Ain't that the truth," He clapped his hands, "Alright, just wanted to check in. Have a good evening, Meghan. See you tomorrow morning."
"Good night, Chief."
Samson closed the door behind him as he left. She couldn't keep the stupid grin from her face. Meghan's expression lit up the room at the mere thought of the opportunities ahead of her, and she allowed herself a contented sigh. She found her skin to be tingling, her body shivering from excitement.
Meghan shook her head, short hair swishing. She slid her bookmark into her current spot in the novel and closed it, laying the book on her nightstand. With a flick of a switch, the light in the room was extinguished, and she pulled her thick blankets up to her chin, closing her eyes for well-deserved sleep.
Notes:
The longest chapter to this point by far! I had a lot of fun thinking it up and writing the events, not to mention the dynamic between Meghan and Ela! Hopefully it was enjoyable to read! It was hard trying to make everything believable, given that our two leading ladies are in their very early twenties at this time, so let me know what you think!