Stealth Missions
By : Robert Oxford
Ch1
Mark Garrison, man of action and man of intelligence yet again lacked these two traits as he was being held at gunpoint by Saudi Arabian Rebels in a small, terrorist base near the border of Oman. AK-47's, Glocks, these were definitely not amateurs.
He was in a small, one room office near the rear of the building. He had been doing an easy recon on the base as a practice scouting expedition for the S.E.A.L.S., thinking the compound was abandoned after the Persian incident. It was really a war and everyone else knew it. The public however would never believe that the US would 'attack' a country and use force for the good of the states. Never. Never the though of the US actually starting it. Good lord no.
Mark had been striped of his gear. No one in his scouting party lived to tell what happened. No one knew he was gone. In a couple hours, they might get a feeling of his 'greenness' and might have gotten lost. The ship was not directly communicated with the party, but thought the communications guy was killed in the ambush. He was hopeless.
The terrorists spoke to each other in their tongue. No one there seemed to speak and English. A good thing, considering that they could not ask him questions. That means not talking, and not being killed. Sooner or later, they will have to do something with him and had to escape soon, or be rescued.
"Admiral, all scouting parties returned except Theta,
we cant get a link to them and there is no sight of them anywhere."
Admiral Derekson was the least concerned with a
training mission when he has an aircraft carrier to steer as close to the
damn Iraqi's radar without hitting it.
"Just give me an update in an hour Captain Fredrik,"
the Admiral said without and care and returned to the helm. The Admiral
went to the communications tower and sent another transmission. He
decided then to take matters into his own hands.
"I need a chopper to start a search in the area last
know to the Theta scouts. Report anything that you may feel be them. I don't want this to get out of hand. Much less this ship."
The radio operator scrambled a chopper and a small crew
from the U.S.S Freedom.
Mark was now sitting in a chair facing a corner
in the same office. One guard was on him this time. He looked
around for something that could be useful. As he did, he heard an
English speaking voice. No good. A man he had not yet seen
enterd the room with two guards. One of the guards spun Mark's chair
towards the new man. Every gun in the room was pointing at him.
"So, you wanna kill us eh? Secret Black project
to wipe out an unknown terrorist compound? Then why send a rookie? You got a tracer on you? Tell us why you are here or my friends here
will drag you out so deep into the desert, you will die a slow, slow death."
Very bad. Mark was'nt actually invited here. He couldn't exactly tell him 'Ya, im just a US Navy S.E.A.L. just scouting
out this area for a training exercise. We figured no one was here
and just made our selves at home.' One, no one would believe that
a scout would be on the cost of Oman, walked 100 odd miles to scout this
out. Second, He couldn't tell them that this was a training mission. This was, as stupid as it may sound, top secret information on the locations
of training sites throughout the world. Third, they would kill him
for not believing it, starting another war.
"I am Lt. Mark Garrison, 3rd infantry identification
number 560031753." A smart move and what is one of the first rules
taught to scouts, 'You know nothing except name rank and ID #'
"I don't want this silent treatment bullshit. We have guns, you want to die, then tell us why the hell you are scouting
out our compound, Mark Garrison."
"I am Lt. Mark Garrison, 3rd infantry identification
number 560031753."
"Fine, Mark Garrison, you just wait here for a
while. We'll get back to you in a minute with your answer."
Good, he bought some time. Need a plan. But what? In the middle of a war zone, at least 200 miles from the
ocean, and they might not be looking for him. Maybe just stick tight. Wait them out. Let them crack first. Ya, that's how James Bond
would do it.
Mark then felt as though the whole compound started
to rumble. Then the familiar sign of a helicopter rocked his chair
and flew directly over the compound.
"Roger six zero niner, repeat, training compound is inhabited
by unconfirmed people, confirm weapons in hand, and sure looks like they
own the place or something" the co-pilate said jokingly back to the
U.S.S Freedom.
"Roger, stay under radar and keep a look out for
any one of our men."
"Copy that sir, out"
Admiral Derekson entered the communications room,
"Commander, we are clear of the radar, now lets get those men back on board."
"Well I dispatched a helicopter to scout the training
area and they say that the abandoned compound we use is inhabited by unconfirmed,
armed men. Not ours. Lots of them, sir"
"Any sight of the missing scouts?"
"Not yet sir"
"I'm afraid we might be dealing with a terrorist
situation. I'll contact Washington.
"Aye Sir, we'll keep searching here"
John Clark was relaxing on base in England, reading
Pride and Prejudice, again. He was getting board. The world
had been in a peaceful state for at least three months now, and his men
were getting weak. More training, sure, but they need actual experience. They need to actually watch a bullet pierce the body of a human.
Phone, hopefully a job. Although he never
wishes terrorism, it would be nice to do something once in a while, "Clark"
"John, Its me, we need your men immediately, we
got trouble in the Gulf."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
'Ch 2 comming soon.'
contact the author
sniperwolf_09@yahoo.com