1964
"Flying over Pakistan, altitude 30,000 feet"
"Approaching Soviet airspace"
"20 minutes to drop off"
"Commencing internal depressurization. Equipment check... Arm main parachute"
An American military gunship was flying through the clouds. The blades on it's wings tore through the formations of ice crystals like they were made of wet paper.
"Alright, you ready to go?"
"Drop zone still showing a high-pressure mass. CAVOK!"
"Good, we've got high visibility"
An older man was talking to the pilots from the command room aboard the plane. He had grey, slicked back hair and a scar that had damaged his left eye.
"Put out that cigar"
In the cargo hold, three people were present. The first's face wasn't visible, hidden under a helmet designed to provide oxygen at the high altitude. He'd been the one to give the order.
"Connecting oxygen hose to interior connector... Put on your mask"
The second was sitting on a bench, towards the back of the room. He was acting as if no one was talking, just smoking his cigar. He had brown hair that went down to his nape and an earpiece connected to a box near his chest. His face had been painted in black camouflage paint.
"Hey, listen to the man, asshole"
The final person was myself. My British accent punctuated the air as the guy just stared at me. I had pre-prepared my mask and oxygen tank, with the rest of my clothes being those made for keeping a person warm, while still able to move freely.
This guy hadn't said a single word to me, or anyone, since we'd left, and he was already pissing me off. I reached over and plucked the cigar from his hand, before throwing it to the ground.
He was up within a second. He got right in my face and just stared at me.
'Why the fuck do I have to be stuck with this asshole' I thought as we stared each other down.
"Save it, you two. We're almost to the drop point" came the CO's voice over the intercom.
The prick just grunted at the order and put his HALO mask on.
I made my way over to the rear hatch and awaited the orders.
Mechanical sounds occurred from the end of the plane and the soldier who had given the orders spoke over the radio.
"Depressurization complete, checking oxygen supply. Six minutes to drop-off, opening read hatch!"
The bright light coming from the sun burned it's way into the cargo hold as the massive hatch opened next to us. The air got sucked out and the sounds of it whipping outside penetrated the air.
"Sunrise... External temperature, minus 46 degrees Celsius. Two minutes to drop-off, stand up" the soldier order the asshole, who hadn't moved from his seat.
The guy came and stood next to me and stared out at the open sky as the CO spoke over our radios, "you'll be falling at 130 miles per hour. Try not to get frostbite from the wind chill".
"One minute to drop-off, move to the rear. Activate bailout bottle"
Me and Cigar moved to the edge of the ramp and heard the CO speak again, "this is one for the history books: The world's first HALO jump"
The wind kicked up the prick's cigar and blew it backwards, right under it's owner's foot as he stamped it out.
"Ten seconds to drop-off, standby"
The wind began biting at my skin, despite the clothes. The clouds were below us now and the ground looked more like a painting than our target.
"Status: all green. Prepare for drop-off. Countdown"
5
4
3
2
1
"Spread your wings and fly, god be with you both"
I leant my body forward and allowed the plane to leave me behind.
It almost didn't feel real. The wind lashed against my body and the clouds quickly passed me by. I tried to follow them with my eyes, but they were out of sight within seconds.
Every second that passed, something about the ground so far below me became a little bit clearer.
Then, I started to remember.
"Jack, I've got some important news. The head of the CIA has finally given us the green light for the Virtuous mission"
I had been given a mission by MI6 to assist in a CIA mission.
"Virtual Mission?"
"How the fuck did you get that?"
"No, the Virtuous Mission. The future of our FOX unit depends on it. If it succeeds, we'll be officially organized into a unit"
"Virtuous Mission"
"Yes, that's what the Major said, try and keep up"
"Sounds like some kind of initiation ritual"
"We've been given a job, asshole. We're going to see it through"
I hadn't liked him one bit. He talked back too much, and his cigars were annoying and smelt as bad as his attitude.
"You'll be working together on this. It isn't a training op so you'd best try and get along" the CO had told us.
The asshole had just grumbled and gone back to his cigar. "So what exactly is this wonderful mission?" he'd asked.
"About two years ago, a certain Soviet scientist requested asylum in the West through one of our moles. His name is Nikolai Stepanovich Sokolov. He's head of the OKB-754 Design Bureau, one of the Soviets' top-secret weapon research facilities, and the East's foremost expert on weapons development" the Major had informed us.
"Sokolov, isn't he that famous rocket scientist?" the arrogant bugger inquired. The CO nodded in confirmation, "the very same".
"On April the 12th, 1961, the Soviets achieved the first manned space flight in history" the CO continued, only to be interrupted by the prick again. "The Earth was blue, but there was no god" he commentated. My brain was yelling at me to tell him to be quiet, but the CO had ordered us to cooperate, and he was still talking.
"Well spoken" the Major told him, "The rocket that carried Yuri Gagarin into orbit was the A1, known as the Vostok rocket. Sokolox is said to be the man most responsible for the multi-engine cluster used in that rocket. After Gagarin's flight, Sokolov left rocket development to become a part of the newly established Design Bureau" he continued.
"From a lowly technician to head of a Design Bureau, that's quite a success story. So why'd he want to defect?" Cigar asked. 'Finally' I remember thinking 'A relevant question'.
"It seems he'd become afraid of his own creations"
"Afraid?"
"Call it a crisis of conscience" Major clarified.
"And for that, he left his country and his family behind and went over the fence?"
"His family were brought with him and stored some where in the West" I explained.
"Precisely, we used a mole to get the family out first and succeeded in sneaking Sokolov over the Berlin Wall shortly afterwards. I was the one who conducted the operation" Major continued.
"The security on the eastern side was still full of holes back then. What happened next?"
"We got Sokolov over in one pieced, but the whole ordeal had left him exhausted, and we checked him into a hospital in West Berlin. It took him two weeks and more than 600 miles to get from the research facility in the Soviet Union to Berlin. He was in no condition to say anything coherent" the Major answered.
"And it was only a week later that we had something much bigger on our hands"
"Cuba" I muttered. That whole day had been hell on earth for everyone on the planet.
"October 16, 1962, president Kennedy received word that the Soviets were in the process of deploying intermediate-range ballistic missiles in Cuba. The President demanded that the Soviets dismantle and remove the missiles. At the same time, he announced a naval blockade to prevent further missile shipments from reaching Cuba. But the Soviets didn't back down, instead placing their armed forces on secondary alert. Soviet transport ships carrying missiles continued on course toward Cuba. US and Soviet forces went on alert for an all out nuclear war. Frantic negotiations were conducted through the UN's Emergency Security Council and unofficial channels to end the hair trigger standoff. Finally, on October the 28th, the Soviet Union agreed to remove it's missiles from Cuba. And so the world avoided a nuclear holocaust, but in order to get the Soviets to pull their missiles out, we had to make a deal" the Major explained.
"You mean the one where the US agreed to remove it's IRBMs from Turkey?"
"No, the Jupiter IRBMs deployed in Turkey were obsolete and we were going to get rid of them anyway. They had no strategic value whatsoever to either the US or the Russians. The Turkey deal was a ruse – a cover story that was fed to the other intelligence agencies around the world"
"So what did the Russians really want?"
"Sokolov. They wanted us to return Sokolov"
"You mean, the Soviets pulled out of Cuba just to get their hands on Sokolov?"
"That's right"
"What the hell was he working on?"
"At the time we had no idea. We were running out of time, it was either give up Sokolov or risk full-scale nuclear war. In the end we had no choice, President Kennedy gave into Khrushchev's demand. The next day, I got Sokolov out of the hospital and handed him over to agents on the eastern side. Sokolov kept on screaming 'SAVE ME!' until he disappeared from my sight. Then, a month ago, we received some new information from one of our moles"
"About Sokolov?"
'No, Santa. YES, OF COURSE SOKOLOV'
"Yes, he was taken back to the research facility and forced to continue on the weap-on in question under KGB supervision. What's more, it's on the verge of completion"
"So what kind of weapon is it? Something to do with space rockets?"
"This ain't Doctor Who, it's real" I told him.
"Missiles"
"Same technology" Cigar grumbled.
"I guess you're right. We don't know the details, but it appears to be a new kind of nuclear device. For half a year now, the Soviets have been conducting frequent nuclear tests at Semipalatinsk"
"Something to do with the weapon, I assume"
"We're talking about a secret weapon so big that Khrushchev was ready to pull out of Cuba to get it back"
"Is Sokolov still in the facility?"
"No, according to our intelligence he's in Tselinoyarsk, a place in the mountains about 3 miles to the west that's known as the 'Virgin Cliffs'"
"'Virgin Cliffs'? Nice name for a Virtuous Mission"
"Get your head out the gutter"
"They moved him there just recently"
"Why?"
"Apparently they're conducting a field test of the weapon. But it's out best chance to get him back. This mission would never have been possible if he was still in the research facility. This is our last chance, Sokolov must have known that, too, when he contacted us"
"Okay, I understand. But why am I being paired up with a rookie" Cigar asked the Major.
The one eyed man looked to me, before turning his head back to Cigar "Mr. Phillips has been working for MI6 for almost as long as you've been working for us. He's here to ensure that another Cuban Missile Crisis doesn't occur".
"I could handle that on my own" Cigar commented, before taking another drag on the cancer tube.
"True, but he has abilities that can prove vital to the mission"
Cigar grunted out a small laugh. All I did was place my hand on his shoulder and allow the images to flow through my mind.
"The cigar's going to burn your hand" I told him.
He didn't even have time to react before he sharply drew breath and threw his cigar away.
His eyes came back to me. They were sceptical.
"Lucky guess" we both said.
"Stop it!" he ordered, as I repeated.
At that moment, the Major came over and explained. "Mr. Phillips can see glimpses of the future when he makes contact with someone. He can definitively see whether or not an action leads to another crisis"
The whipping wind suddenly became a lot more noticeable. The clouds were now far behind me and I could make out the trees on the ground.
My body had been moved to allow the greatest increase of speed, my head facing straight down and my legs above me. "Listen up, both of you" the Major spoke our the radio. "Your mission is to infiltrate Tselinoyarsk in the Soviet mountains, ensure the safety of Sokolov and bring him back to the West" he continued.
Cigar had moved over and was looking at the rapidly approaching ground, probably for the best place to land. "If we don't get Sokolov back before that weapon is complete, we'll have a major crisis. The clock is ticking" the Major informed us, before Cigar pulled his parachute and the large piece of fabric was released. I did the same and felt my body jerk from the sudden change in momentum.
The ground was now within 500 feet and each individual tree was notcable, not to mention the large river that ran through the heart of the forest. "Once we've confirmed the rescue of Sokolov, stand by at the recovery point. A recovery balloon will be dropped at that point, helium will be pumped into the ballon to inflate it. The process takes about 20 minutes. Once it's complete, the gunship's arm will latch onto the balloon and pull it up" the Major explained.
"The Fulton Surface-To-Air Recovery System. I'm familiar with the theory"
"Don't worry, I've used it myself" I told him.
"Do you think Sokolov's up to it?" Cigar asked after a moment of silence. "The shock will be less than during a parachute jump, and the arm can carry up to 500 pounds" Major explained. "So you're planning on going over the border in a single Combat Talon?" Cigar asked in response. "She's equipped with two 6-barrel 20 millimeter Vulcan cannons, as well as two 40 millimetre machine guns" the Major replied.
"Sounds like she could hold her own against a battalion of tanks" Cigar commented.
We were now within shooting distance of the trees. If any of the soldiers on the ground decided to look up, we'd be dead before we hit the ground.
"Even with the fuel in the reserve tank, we're facing a 4-hour time limit. If all goes well, it shouldn't take more than a few hours"
"Home in time for dinner" Cigar quipped.
"But if anything goes wrong, you'll be eating dinner, breakfast and all the rest of your meals in the jungle"
"No need to worry, sir. We'll have the target and be back aboard ASAP" I replied, with determination in my voice.
As soon as we hit the trees, the pain began. The branches struck at my skin, through the jacket, and caused gashes to appear beneath it.
I disconnected the parachute and allowed my body to fall onto the muddy ground. I heard someone else land beside me and saw Cigar had also landed.
I reached my hand up and removed the oxygen mask from my head, allowing my short black hair to meet the light of day.
Taking a moment, I breathed in the cold, Soviet air and exhaled. It felt good to be on solid land again.
Cigar removed all the excess padding on his suit, as well as his mask, and looked out at the view we had from the cliff side.
A beeping sound came from our radios and we put in our earpieces to listen. The Major's voice came through and began giving us instructions. "Do you copy? You're already in enemy territory, and somebody might be listening in" he informed us. "From here on out, we'll be using code names to refer to each other"
The radio went silent for a moment, while the Major told Cigar his code name, before mine crackled back to life. "Your code name will be Naked Scorpion, understood?" the Major informed me.
I wasn't a fan of the name I'd been given. Other operatives often labelled me a scorpion for my use of poison and venomous weapons. But plenty of other creatures used poisonous attack and were way cooler.
"Yes sir" I begrudgingly replied.
"Good, you'll refer to me as Major Tom, understood?"
"Yes, sir"
The radio went silent and I turned to my forced partner. Hopefully, the sooner we got this over with. The sooner I never had to see him again.
But Major Tom had asked us to get along, so I'd at least try.
"Good to meet you" I informed him, holding out a hand.
"Name's Scorpion"
He looked at the hand, before reaching down and grasping it.
"Snake, Naked Snake"