The Prince

Just outside the coast of Norway, near Bergen
US chopper Thone, callsign Postman
15th November, 1995 - 21:05 CET

The chopper was one of the United States Air Force's best-kept secrets. It was a light and fast long-range transport capable of taking care of itself in engagements with its moderate arsenal. But what made it unique was that it was designed for silent running, it's rotating wings hardly made a sound and what little could be heard from the machinery could be easily mistaken for a breeze coming through a mountain pass or the violent waves of the ocean. It was an excellent vehicle for various covert operations, not just because it was difficult to detect but also because very few knew it existed at all.

The Postman had started its journey from the north Atlantic fleet and landed for a refuel on Iceland. Its cargo consisted of one passenger and its destination was 10 miles just outside of Bergen, where the cargo would be dropped off and the chopper would return to US soil. After that, the two pilots were to forget about the whole assignment and return to their previous duties. They were also supposed to forget about the man they were transporting and what organisation he belonged to. On top of it all they had been ordered not to communicate with the passenger and keep him isolated from the cockpit. Who that last order was meant to protect was never clarified but the order alone was enough to convince the pilots that they didn't want to find out.

In the passenger space of the Postman laid a man spread across four seats. Since he was the only one back there he didn't exactly complain about there not being enough room, though he had been travelling in less comfortable ways in the past. The air in there was getting stale and for a moment he regretted having smoked those two cigarettes after they had departed the base on Iceland but as he started on another one his thoughts went elsewhere, on his mission. For a brief moment he kept that first drag of nicotine within himself, as his mind went through his overall briefing, only to let it go after a while. But the smoke was not the only element that escaped his lips.

"This stinks!"

There were a number of things about this mission that seemed odd. The first thing that came to his mind, during the briefing and still now, was his involvement. Not him personally but the organisation he had been working for during the past few years. But his superior had claimed their involvement, however discreet it was supposed to be, was necessary to protect certain military interests. No, they're exact words had been:

"This is a mission of outmost importance and discretion, officially we can not participate in an event such a this since Norway is not a member of NATO, however we have estimated that there are two many of our interests at stake here to just to leave it all in the hands of the Norwegian authorities. Besides, Umbrella has unofficially requested our aid."

Unofficially, what exactly does that mean? The man gently shocked some ash from his cigarette and brought it to his lips for another drag. He didn't normally ask questions like that during briefings but ever since that event in South Africa he was allowed to possess a certain level of suspicion. And just the mentioning of that corporation's request had triggered just that kind of suspicion although his commander was quick to inform what role Umbrella had in all of this.

"Do you remember that episode last year, when about a group of terrorists threatened to release enough VX gas over Paris that could probably have killed half of its population? Since France is a member of NATO we did have official permission to counter-act that event and it turned out that the terrorists actually had managed to get a hold of one canister of VX gas. During the exchange of gunfire, when we breached their hideout, the canister was damaged and killed everyone… except for our team. They had something inside of them called a bioagent, a biological implant that is genetically engineered to counter any kind of biological differences in its host's body. That was Umbrella's handiwork. Of course, no one knows that this kind of biotechnology exists so we had to tell the press that once our team got up there everyone was already dead. We are the only department in the world that has access to this kind of biotechnology, yet. And as long as Umbrella doesn't starts delivering to someone else we're doing them a few favours every now and then."

They're promising while I'm doing them. The man sat up and stretched his neck, this was not a comfortable bed and he would be feeling much better once he got underway. The water would be freezing and the wetsuit he wore was only going to protect him from hypothermia for a couple of hours, barely the time he needed to swim all the way into the harbour of Bergen and board one hijacked naval vessel. This was standard insertion-method in these solo operations but, as with every other piece of this scenario there was something strange about this part as well.

"What's the insertion method?"

"A Thone chopper will be dropping you off a couple of miles from the Norwegian coast and you're going to have to swim from there. That shouldn't be a problem. Once you've reached the harbour and, specifically the hijacked vessel, you will be able to sneak in from the diving-pool in the bottom of the boat. From there it's all up to you, to do your thing."

"And this diving-pool will just happen to be left open?"

"Of course not! We're expecting the terrorists to have sealed it and posted guards around it, since it's one out of two most likely entry-points for the Norwegian anti-terrorist unit. However, we have the upper hand."

"Such as?"

"We've been able to retrieve certain technical specifics regarding the mechanism that keeps the diving-pool shut and sealed. If you set your codec on a certain frequency you will be able to have minimum control over it. Most likely just enough to sneak in."

"And these 'technical specifics' just found yourself into your hands?"

"More or less, information like this floats through the air every day. The trick is to be able to catch it just in time."

Just at that moment he had decided that he didn't like that intelligence officer and had he been alone with him there might have come a chance when he would have punched him for being such a smartass. As he sat there, going over his briefing, he found himself clenching his right fist when he came to this part of it. Not only was this guy young but he was green as a cold ocean outside. Probably fresh out from some academy where he managed to get his nose far enough up in the arse of someone with good connections. That was the only way, which he could think of anyway, that this rookie was allowed to work with classified operations like this. Fortunately he was the only one who did though and there was also Miles. Not a friend, he would probably sell him out if he had to, but at least someone you know good enough to trust in the heat of battle.

"For a couple of months we've had someone working for us inside Umbrella. Not a saboteur or anything, just a person who've been able to hand over small but important details about certain events that could otherwise undermine our relationship with that company."

"Someone to watch over your investments, you mean. To make sure that Umbrella keeps their end of the bargain."

"Lets not dwell on the details. What's important is that this person is aboard the Tyrannien and during the hijacking he managed to slip out a message. Since then he has repeatedly managed to send out short messages about the situation aboard. The details surrounding the diving-pool, among others."

"I see. So that's why you've chosen to involve us in this."

"Among other things, yes."

The gloomy mood in the passenger cabin was disturbed by a blinking red light going on. The operative stood up again, stretched and started to go over his equipment. Wetsuit, goggles, SOCOM, waterproof ammunition, etc. The light meant that he had only five minutes left before he had to go. In less than four minutes the hatch in the back end of the chopper would open for him to jump out and he would have to make one last call back to the office.

"What's the mission?"

"You go in observing radio silence, neutralise any hostility within the boat and make sure the hostages are secure. Then you get the hell out of there before the Norwegian authorities storm the place, leave those terrorists on the deck for them. The fewer who spots you the better."

"Any idea when the anti-terrorist unit will go in?"

"We have no such information but Umbrella has sent in a certain Mr Smith that will stall them for as long as possible. Hopefully he will manage until we give them the green light. That is, when you're done and on your way back home."

With a very still sliding sound, the hatch started to open and once the operative stepped up to it he saw nothing but darkness and the sudden movement of waves just a couple of feet below. The water looked cold and black. The red light stopped blinking and it was time for him to start his mission. But not before he had reported in one last time.

He raised the volume just a bit, to make up for humming sounds around him, and once he heard the familiar sparkle he started to speak.

"This is Snake, reporting in at the drop-off point."

"This is Foxnest, we read you loud and clear. From now on you will observe radio silence. Use frequency 493,68 for emergency situations only and frequency 517,28 when mission accomplished, to call in for that ride home. Good luck, Snake. Over." The voice on the other side sounded familiar but the operative couldn't picture a face for it.

"Thanks Foxnest! Over and out!"

Snake turned off the codec and returned his attention to the water below. The chopper was hovering now, leaving trails from the chopper-blades in the water. Making his dive seem unnoticeable as the cold arms of the sea welcomed his presence.