This is Chapter 11 of the series.- Wild
Bombs Over Baghdad
December 15th, 1998
"Good evening, Mr. President," I acknowledge the man before me, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Six hours ago, Cassiopeia called and ordered me to fly directly into Reagan International in Washington, D.C. where she would meet me for another Special Assignment over Winter Break. I landed less than 30 minutes ago. It was a short drive to our current destination during which, she threw a duffle bag at me filled with black fatigues. I had no idea what was going on but knew she'd tell me what I needed to know when I needed to know it as she always did.
Silently, I changed into my military issued tactical gear and pulled my hair up into a tight bun. When she pulled up to the front gate of the White House my heart started to pound and eyes widened in surprise. When I turned to look at her she finally spoke, "I'm briefing the President." She paused, "And you're going back to the Middle East." That was all she said.
Now, here we stand in the Oval Office where the President of the United States, William Thorne has just entered the room followed by the First Family: his wife, First Lady Katherine Thorne and their daughter Kelsi, whom I know from Camp Council as one of the heirs.
"Ma'am," I nod with a soft smile at Katherine, acknowledging her and then to her daughter, "Kelsi," I address her quietly. This is our first interaction outside of the camp we attended as children; I haven't seen her in four years since I went active in the field and stopped going there in the summer.
"Julia," Kelsi responds with quiet alarm and disbelieving eyes to see me standing before her in battle fatigues. "What are you doing here?"
Her mother looks equally startled to see me. "What is this?" Katherine's eyes flash from mine to Cassiopeia's. Her tone is both startled and accusatory. "Why is she here, General?"
"Agent Taylor will be carrying out the mission tomorrow evening, ma'am." Cassiopeia answers her.
"You can't be serious," Katherine pales considerably looking at me. "She's just a child."
"You were supposed to run this Op, General. That is what I agreed to. You or another First Gen." President Thorne interjects and my confidence is taken down a notch with the way he's looking at me. Like I'm a little girl playing dress up instead of the seasoned combat vet I already am at age 17. I have no idea what this mission is I'm supposed to be going on, but it must be very serious and important given the President agreed only to send Cassiopeia or another First Gen.
"Agent Taylor is fully qualified. She is the best of her peers and quite capable of the task at hand, sir." Cassiopeia answers him without hesitation. I can't help but feel a swell of pride she actually just said that I was the best of my peers. Considering who my peers are, this is an incredible acknowledgement. Especially from Cassiopeia as she never doles out compliments or recognitions of any kind in response to our performance in the field. "With her previous success in the region this past summer, Ulric insists that it be Julia who goes in now." She adds quietly after a moment.
Katherine visibly tenses with eyes scanning me relentlessly in disbelief and the President's jaw clenches at hearing it was on Ulric's insistence that I be the one performing this mission.
"Mr. President," The White House Chief of Staff speaks from the doorway gaining all of our attention, "They are all assembled and waiting in the Situation Room for the briefing, sir."
"Thank you." President Thorne nods at him, "We'll be along momentarily." He dismisses the man. "Kelsi," He turned his attention towards his daughter, "I'm sorry I'm going to have to miss dinner on your' first evening home from school. This just came up and I must deal with it." He reached for her and pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. "Hopefully, it won't take too long and I'll see you before you go to bed."
"It's fine, Daddy." Kelsi answered with a smile, "I'm still on West Coast time so I'll be awake a long time. Come find me when you're done." She laughed softly.
I couldn't help but watch the interaction with fascination, both as a daughter who never had this kind of relationship with my own father, and as a Worker Bee watching an Heir with her father who happens to be the President of the United States. Kelsi had started college this fall and this was her first trip back home during the Winter Break. It'd been all over the news given she was the First Daughter that everyone adored. She was a year and a half older than me and in Mikael's class during camp. Kelsi had always been kind to me during those years at camp, but we had very little one-on-one interaction after we were split for training as she was an Heir and I was a Worker Bee.
"I love you." She kisses her father's cheek with a smile and then turns to her mother. "Are you ready, Mom?" She asks.
"I'm so sorry, Sweetheart, but I need to be here for this. I'll make it up to you tomorrow night. I promise." She grabs Kelsi and hugs her tightly. Another bewildering sight given how fierce of a reputation Katherine Thorne has.
"It's okay. I get it." Kelsi smiles hugging her mother back tightly. "You two. Some things never change." She laughs obviously not upset her parents were bailing on her arrival home dinner for important worldly matters. "It's good to be home. I'll see you both later." She kisses her mother's cheek and turns, "General," she looks at Cassiopeia, acknowledging her as she prepares to depart the room. "Julia," She turns to me, "I don't know where you're off to, but give'em hell." She smiles more widely catching me off guard with her informal encouragement. "And take care." She adds quietly with a nod and I respond in the same manner, nodding once in return.
Kelsi leaves and we follow the President and First Lady out of the room and into the Situation Room. A long table sits in the middle where highly decorated officers from each branch of the military wait for us along with the Secretaries of Defense and State and the Directors of the CIA and NSA and the commander of CENTCOM. The President takes a seat at one end of the table, with Katherine sitting to his immediate right. Cassiopeia points for me to sit in one of the chairs along the back wall and I do so quietly watching as she walks towards the other end of the table and takes a seat as the presenter.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," The President addresses those in the room waiting on his arrival, "There has been a change of plans." His eyes glance around the room and land on Cassiopeia. "General, why don't you fill them in."
Cassiopeia nods and begins, "The campaign you are all about to embark upon will be serving two purposes. The first objective is one you're all aware of. The leaders of Iraq have refused UN inspections for WMDs. Targets have already been established and in 14 hours the bombing raids are set to begin on several key structures. The second objective is to obtain Highly Classified information from the personal computer of the Secretary General located on an SSO server located inside Ba'ath Party Headquarters in Baghdad."
I'm quite sure I quit breathing the moment she said just whose computer it was I would be hacking into; none other than the miserable dictator himself, Saddam Hussein.
"Information about what?" The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs asks with narrowing eyebrows.
"Information pertaining to the manufacturing and sales of Chemical, Biological and Nuclear Weapons." The Director of the CIA adds.
"What is an SSO server doing inside Ba'ath Party Headquarters?" The Secretary of State asks thoughtfully. She's the only other woman sitting amongst these men other than Cassiopeia and the First Lady.
"When Qusay Saddam Hussein took over sole control of Special Security Operations in 1995 after the departure of Husayn Kamil, his father, Saddam, had this server moved from SSO Headquarters to Ba'ath Party Headquarters." Cassiopeia answers her.
"Why would information on weapons sales be on an SSO server? That's not really their jurisdiction. And why hide it inside Ba'ath Headquarters?" The Secretary of Defense asks just as confused, clearly not liking the last minute change to their operational plans and being kept in the dark about this second objective to the mission. "What is really on that server you're after, General?"
"What is on the server is classified by The Council as Need to Know." Cassiopeia looks at the Director of the CIA sharply to stop him from answering that question. This was technically supposed to be one of his Ops. "And you, sir," Her eyes glance back to the Secretary of Defense, "are not in that category as of now."
My eyes widen slightly at seeing Cassiopeia put the smack down on these powerful men. She's only 31 years old, sitting in a room full of people mostly twice her age and yet, she's speaking for the most powerful force in the room. I'm reminded once again of the supreme power The Council holds over them all. They are all members of The Council; all heirs that were placed into these positions and ultimately answer to the world governing body we are all apart of.
"Our best guess is that they were trying to hide the server from the UN inspectors. The Ba'ath Party Headquarters is the one area repeatedly refused access, too. Assets working on the ground learned of the servers' existence and relocation some time ago. The only computer able to access the server is that of the Secretary General. But we haven't been able to covertly gain access." The Director of the CIA adds.
"Until now." Cassiopeia interjects, "With the air raid already in place and scrambling their resources we have an opportunity to seize the information located on his computer. Agent Taylor, call sign Raptor, will be retrieving the information off the server via his personal computer during the bombing campaign. The distraction of the raid will provide with adequate cover for her."
My eyebrows hit my hairline. They're dropping me into Baghdad during a bombing raid to sneak into Ba'ath Headquarters. Just how I wanted to spend my Christmas vacation! I knew this was going to turn into one of those missions where the probability of me getting injured was exponential and I'm really getting tired of being shot. Twice already this year was enough. Thankfully, I'm able to recover the horrified look on my face in time before all heads and eyes turn around to look at me.
"You've got to be kidding me." The Commander of the Joint Chiefs glares at me. "You're sending a child in to obtain information that none of us are even at liberty to know it's deemed so Highly Classified? The Council Field Mice are getting younger and younger the older I get." His disdain for those of us he deems beneath his heir status as lowly Council Worker Bees is quite clear. "No offense, Doll, you're a cutie but this isn't any kind of thing you should be trusted with. This mission is going to take more than a pretty face." He speaks to me and I can almost feel the searing heat rolling off Cassiopeia with his 'doll' and 'pretty face' remarks, patronizing me not only for being young but also female. Insinuating that I'm more suited for Swallow Missions of seduction as a Siren than stealing Highly Classified data out of a war zone during a bombing raid. He clearly has no confidence in my tactical abilities based on appearances alone.
"She is no child nor a simple field mouse, sir." Cassiopeia bites back speaking rapidly and I sit a little taller with pride hearing her take no flak from this older heir. "She is an Elite Human Weapon whose sole purpose in life is to do just such things."
"She's not a First Gen." He counters clearly not happy with the decision to send me instead. "Third Gens haven't had enough time in the field yet to be trusted with missions of this caliber. This should be a First Gen mission only!" He insists with tone growing angrier.
"Though the target package is Highly Classified, the mission is very basic and straight forward. Agent Taylor can handle this. She's worked part of the summer in and around the area gathering Intel for this raid you're all conducting, which wouldn't be possible without her work. I can assure you, Raptor is quite capable. She's called Raptor because she is a brilliant problem solver, quick, quiet and very lethal. And like a raptor, the greatest mistake is misjudging what she is capable of based on outward appearances." Cassiopeia explains the mission call sign I've been given by the First Gens upon our graduation from the Training Program.
Apparently, I remind them of the terrifying dinosaur from one of my favorite childhood movies. Nyah was given the call sign Rogue for her deceiving abilities to render a foe incapacitated and without power and so far, the names are pretty accurate.
"She may be a Third Gen, sir, but I've no doubt that Raptor will secure the package and will be in and out in record time." Cassiopeia adds.
I groan internally and lose whatever moment of joy I temporarily felt wondering why she had to add that last part. Now I'll be expected to complete my task faster and better than ever before or make her look foolish for saying such a thing to these people. I'm representing not only myself here, but also her and our entire unit of 'field mice' as this old salty man referred to us.
"And just how is she getting in and out during the middle of a bombing raid?" First Lady Katherine Thorne asks quietly looking directly at me across the room from her. Her hands are knitted together in front of her face, with elbows perched upon the table and a concentrated gaze piercing my eyes. Everyone knows she and her husband really run this country together as a team and whatever she has to say is just as important as her husband, the President. She's a brilliant, formidable woman in her own right. With a well-known tenacity from her days of being an attorney to get whatever it is she's after. The way she's looking at me now makes me shift uncomfortably in my seat. The vibe coming off her is mixed of both concern and rage and I don't know how to read it.
"At the conclusion of this briefing, Raptor will be sent directly to the island of Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean onboard a military transport." My ears perk up, as this is the first I'm hearing of the details of my mission as well. "Upon arrival, she will be briefed on the situation with the most current information and then board an AC-130. At precisely, 23:00 hours she will perform a High Altitude High Opening jump at 35,000 ft 34 clicks, miles," Cassiopeia pauses correcting her terminology for those who aren't familiar with military speak, "south of her target, the Ba'ath Party Headquarters in downtown Baghdad. By this time the B-52s should have lit up both of the University of Baghdad's Research Lab and the Intelligence Agency surrounding Ba'ath Headquarters. Four guards are stationed on the two separate roofing spaces of the Headquarters building. She will eliminate the two on the South roof as she approaches and eliminate the second two upon landing. By this point in the bombing raids we expect minimal personnel to be present in the building with the majority taking shelter after witnessing the bombing of both neighboring structures. She'll proceed with her mission objective, and obtain the server information before the B-52s circle back to bomb the building. The AC-130 will return and pick her up off the roof via Skyhook and be flown back to Diego Garcia. As I stated, a very straightforward mission."
My mouth goes instantly dry. No wonder she says I'll be in and out in record time if I must worry about being blown to ashes and dust with a B-52 hot on my heels.
"Will you be monitoring this mission via video feed?" The President asks Cassiopeia with clear concern in my ability to pull this off.
"Yes, sir, I will." She nods. "As her Control Officer for this mission I'll be working closely with those in charge of the bombing raid at the Pentagon to ensure we time everything correctly. Raptor will have a camera attached to her body at all times in addition to Coms."
"We're going to want access to that feed." The President responds.
"Yes, sir." Cassiopeia nods. "If that's all, she really needs to be going."
The President stands and so everyone else follows suit.
"Agent Taylor," He turns to face me and I stand at attention before him.
"Sir," I answer him as he closes the distance with a soft smile and extends his hand to shake mine.
"Thank you for your service. God be with you." He adds quietly in his sweet southern charming voice, clasping my hand tightly with both of his. "Return home safely." He nods.
"I will, thank you, Mr. President." I answer with a soft smile of my own.
"Julia," The First Lady approaches me next extending her hand as well. A fiery bolt of electricity shoots up my arm and my heart starts to race once more with the first contact and the way she's looking at me. The anger I feel coming off her is extremely disconcerting yet this time I'm realizing she's not directing it at me, but at something or perhaps, someone else. I know this woman to be a champion for children and women's rights and I get the impression she knows I'm capable as a young woman doing this mission but she doesn't agree with it. Her hand squeezes mine, "Be careful." She adds quietly and then quickly pulls her hand back, looking away and exiting the room as everyone files out.
December 16th, 1998
The AC-130 plane is rocking back and forth as I watch them lower the ramp. Blasts from the Iraqis efforts to blanket the sky in hopes of hitting one of the bombers has me swaying back and forth as I latch my mask securely to my helmet. I'm all alone in this massive aircraft except the minimal crew and I salute the young man opening the door as I step closer to the edge. My heart is pounding and blood rushing in my ears as I hear the loud booms and see the fiery explosions below me as targets ignite.
Dear God, don't let me die by fire. I send a prayer heavenward unable to think of a worse way to die and look at the watch on my wrist. 30 seconds left before I am to jump and then glide into Baghdad. The constant upward barrage of explosions from the Iraqis was not part of the plan and so the plan has changed. Instead of opening my chute at a high altitude slowly gliding in, I'm now going to be diving in as fast and far as I can before opening the chute as low to my target as possible in hopes that I'm not hit with flak on the way down now by their counter measures or this entire mission fails.
I press the button on my face shield and bring up the green GPS markers so I know where I'm going. Reaching into my front vest pocket I hit play on my new iPod that Nyah had given me as an early Christmas gift and smile when I hear the first sweet chords of AC/DC's Thunderstruck singing through my ears. Everyone needs their' favorite jam playing just before jumping to what might be certain death. I'm relieved when Cassiopeia doesn't say anything to me about it. I know we have extra listeners and viewers with us this evening and had been worried she would sideline my now ritual rock out session before such a mission. I know she understands the need to both pump yourself up for something like this and drown out everything else around you.
"Raptor, get ready," I hear her voice come over my Com link in my ear. I zip up my flight suit and unhook myself from the tether. "Go!" She commands and I run forward on swift legs then jump head first out the rear of the mighty plane. I pin my arms back and dive as the altitude reading on the screen before my eyes starts plummeting while my speed increases. I see a bomber in front of me release their load about to ignite a Republican Guard barracks on the outer city limits and kick my arms out to open my wings. I lean left and the wind sharply turns me away from the ensuing blast of heat I now is coming. I'm able to make it around the blast and get back on track with my target zeroing in fast. I won't be able to take out the two guards on the south roof as I'd planned to do before landing when I was supposed to glide in slowly and know I need to get by them silently now.
I'm thankful when another blast directly behind the building has caught their attention and they miss seeing me completely as I zip in over their heads not more than 20 feet above them. I see my target approaching and reach back, grabbing my chute chords and pull. The chute deploys immediately and lets me gently hit the roof. The noise of the chute opening is muffled by the bomb blasts. I have only a minute to release myself from my chute, remove my helmet and sneak up on the first guard. Silently, I reach into the pocket on my flight suit and retrieve my knife, coming up just behind the big man I jump onto his back and simultaneously slit his throat and break his neck, bringing him down face first and without a noise. The moment his body hits the roof I've already bounced off of him and am running at full speed on silent feet towards the next victim killing him in the exact same way and less than 30 seconds after my feet first touched down.
My fingers grip the zipper of my flight suit yanking it down and freeing myself. I pull off my backpack and dig for the repelling line. I secure it to a steel pipe and jump over the edge face first. I need to drop twenty feet down off this giant concrete fortress to gain access to the window where the Secretary General's office is located. A bomb drops on the building across the river and I can feel the heat blast as I roll to face the building. In my teeth I've clenched the pen laser that will cut the glass allowing me access. I bite down hard trying not to drop it as another blast shakes the entire building.
When I'm in position I brace myself and use the laser to cut a large hole through the thick bulletproof glass window and climb through. I take a deep breath standing on the smooth white marble counter beneath my feet and take a look around. The outside of this building may look more bunker than palace but the inside is so elaborate and ornate it looks as though it belongs on Mount Olympus. His giant marble desk is strategically positioned in the center of the room facing the doors. I know it can't be this simple and check the perimeters of the room from what I can make out in the dark. A faint red dot appears every few seconds along the floor and runs the length of the wall then turns and comes back. It's a sweeping laser grid trip wire. To be sure, I reach into my backpack and find a small aerosol can of fine powder for just such things.
I lie on my stomach on the counter and reach my arm down near the floor and time the red lights, spraying a short mist of powder when it's near. It illuminates a red spectrum of sweeping light 3 inches off the floor scanning for any disruptions in the grid and then moves to the immediate right after 7 seconds, doing the same but rescanning the last 15 degrees of the original grid. Quite clever for trying to catch someone who has figured out the 7 second intervals but not the over sweep. Thank God Cassiopeia taught me to watch for this.
I reach down spraying once more when the light comes back and illuminate the beam. As soon as it disappears I roll off the counter and land softly on the ground, taking a step back I spray and watch as the beam sweeps back 15 degrees towards me then moves on. I step forward two steps and then spray, waiting for the beam to sweep back and then move forward again. Timing it out perfectly until I reach the desk and climb upon it to get off the floor.
Quickly I set down the can of aerosol and retrieve the flash drive the CIA has given me to copy the data onto from the computer. I lean over the edge fully prepared to insert the drive and find nothing.
"Shit," I gasp with heart thundering now in my ears staring at the empty space. All that is left of where the tower once stood are cables, hastily unplugged by the looks of it. "The tower is gone." I whisper into my Com with a sigh of defeat.
"Shit," I can hear Cassiopeia gasp exasperated under her breath and equally pissed off echoing my sentiment.
"What floor are the servers on?" I ask quickly having an idea as I look up and watch the ceiling above me shaking with each bomb blast outside. Bits of white dust are starting to flake down with the relentless pounding outside.
"Second floor." Cassiopeia answers me quickly, "Two floors below you."
"On it." I answer her refusing to let us both fail at this mission with such an anxious audience. Once again I spray the floor with the powder and leap my way across the grid towards the door. Quietly I slip into the hallway and as I round the corner come face to face with my first guard. He starts yelling at me in Arabic before I can render him silent, alerting others to my presence before I spin kick and knock him to the floor. Slamming the butt of his own gun into the side of his head and knocking him out. A bullet whizzes by my ear and I roll to avoid being shot in the back by another guard firing at me from behind the corner. My thigh holsters hold my pistols and I release them quickly, waiting for a moment to fire back at him, hearing him hiss when I make contact. His voice is joined by many others, seven more by my count, and I know back up forces have arrived.
"Raptor, you don't have time to do this neatly." Cassiopeia reminds me in my ear. "Bombers are already inbound to take out your location in less than 11 minutes." I sigh, taking a deep breath. She's right. I need to charge at them quickly as they're covering my path towards the stairs to reach the second floor. I give myself a silent count of three and then roll into the open, firing both Glocks towards them taking down two at a time in a hailstorm of fire as I shift and roll towards them. When I'm too close to shoot the last three, I drop my weapons and attack with flying fury in hand-to-hand combat. My elbow collides with the side of one's face before I feel someone's fist hit me across the jaw. I use the momentum from their punch to spin around and throw simultaneous kicks and elbows into the guy approaching from behind with a knife, throwing him into the guy in front of me, whom he stabs in the chest instead of me in the back, using their bodies against each other. They're also trained in the martial arts but not as well as me. It doesn't take long. Bones are cracking and blood sprays the pristine white walls as I take them down one at a time in rapid fashion.
With lungs heaving, I pick up my guns and run for the stairs. Thankfully the building has been mostly abandoned because of the raids and I locate the door to the server room without any further troubles. I use my laser pen to burn through the lock and open the door. They already know I'm here so I no longer bother with worrying about the security laser grid on the floor and rapidly run up and down the rows of massive servers looking for the right one.
"One of these is not like the other." I say out loud to myself as I think about what I know. This server was moved here from the SSO recently and shouldn't look like the rest. Row after row I see the same smaller white-shelled servers until I spot the one that is different. "There you are." I gasp with a smile and race towards the giant silver box as large as a commercial refrigerator.
I look frantically for a port to plug the flash drive in but see none. The Intel that it could only be accessed by Saddam's personal computer is accurate.
"There is no way to download the information onto the flash drive." I inform Cassiopeia. "So I'm just going to have to take the whole damn thing." My eyes look down quickly and see the four corners of the massive server are bolted into the concrete floor with ½ inch bolts into steel plates. I step back, reaching for my pistols take aim, turn away and fire, blasting away the top of the first bolt and move quickly around the server doing the same to all the bolts until it is free. There is a metal loop welded to the top of the heavy server that was used for transport purposes and I scramble to the top.
"ETA on bomber?" I ask Cassiopeia quickly not wasting a second to look down at my own watch to find out when the bombers are to arrive. My hands are frantically working to secure the thin steel cable through the servers transport loop.
"Five minutes and 23 seconds." She answers and I can tell she's anxious. None of this was part of the plan. I should have been long gone by now after a simple download off his computer. I set the timer on the end of the cable for 4 minutes and 45 seconds. "Call back my ride." I tell her as I slide off the server, pulling out a roll of explosive Breacher tape and frantically pulling on my backpack and racing towards the stairs. I dart off into the third floor and find the room directly above the servers. It is filled with office desks I violently shove aside. Quickly my eyes scan the floor below me. "Which direction is my ride coming from?" I ask rapidly looking up at the ceiling.
"They've looped back, they're coming in from the northeast now." Cassiopeia answers me. I've already set to work taping off a large section of the office floor in the southwestern direction at a diagonal. I know I need to create oppositional swing room for the cable and make sure I blast the ceiling next to the server but not directly above it or risk crushing the thing when it all comes down.
I push the desks back to the edges of the lines I've created and jump up onto them. Using them as step stools, I reach towards the ceiling and map out the same rectangular shape with tape there as I have on the floor.
"1 minute 10 seconds ETA on your ride, Raptor." Cassiopeia reminds me, "1 minute 41 seconds bomber ETA." She adds a little more urgently.
Faster than I ever thought possible I leap from the desks and run towards the door and up the stairs towards the roof. As soon as I break into the open I'm fired upon. The remaining roof guards have been alerted to my presence and are stalking me. I take refuge behind an air-conditioning unit under a hailstorm of fire as the skies around me erupt with more bombs dropping all around us.
Fuck! I curse internally feeling the zing of a bullet zip past my ear ricocheting off the metal near my head. I pop up from behind the air-conditioning unit firing off more rounds and nail one between the eyes with a bullet while the other seeks refuge. I don't have time to wait for him to attack and immediately set to work laying down another strip of explosive tape. He fires on me from closer range and I roll to avoid being hit. His arm is raised to fire again when I fire first and hit him in the chest, emptying my clip.
"You have 20 seconds, Raptor." Her voice is clearly urgent now and my adrenaline surges. I unroll the tape into a somewhat sloppy looking rectangle and then dive for cover behind the air-conditioning unit once more pressing the detonator button on my watch. The rooftop implodes along the tapeline and falls down onto the next level, which implodes in a pancake fashion creating a giant hole in the center of the building. I hear another 'boom' and then a moment later the giant white strobe balloon rises from out of the darkness high into the sky. I have just moments to slip into my extraction harness hearing the roar of the AC-130 as it zooms in low to grab the line. Its engines are nearly drowned out by the thunderous boom of a bomb blowing up more of the University across the way. The second the plane's hook has captured the balloon line it lifts the server out of the hole flying it into the air. I quickly reach for my anchor gun, attach its cable clip to me and shoot at the top of the server trying to catch the line. My cable spins rapidly around the one attached to the server, forming a tight hold and instantly I am flying off the roof into the air, trailing behind both the server and the plane.
I am in the air soaring above Baghdad burning below me for less than 30 seconds when the roar and rush of the B-52 above us steals my breath. I watch the bombs fall into the building I'd just left behind. The blast sends a wind gust hurtling towards me and the AC-130 veers dramatically off to the left to try and avoid me getting singed as I swing violently through the air with the server. An anti-aircraft rocket is launched from somewhere below and it narrowly misses the plane but explodes right above me, rocketing me back in the other direction. The cable the server is attached to, has taken a hit with the flak and I can see the wires start to fray 20 feet above the server.
"The cable is breaking!" I shout into my Com above the blasts and look upward at the fray, knowing Cassiopeia can see what I do with the camera attached to my contact lens.
"Pull her up! Pull her up! Pull her up!" I can hear Cassiopeia chant somewhat anxiously into my earpiece to the crewman operating the wench for the skyhook retrieval.
"It's going as fast as it can go, ma'am!" The young man answers her frantically. "This skyhook cable was only meant to hold a human with gear up to 500lbs! This load weighs at least 1000 lbs, ma'am. It's going to take awhile to get them both onboard!" That's my fault. The balloon and cable attached to the server were only meant to extract me. Not this giant piece of hardware.
"We don't have a while." I gasp seeing more of the cable unwinding and breaking above me as we swing through the night. We are climbing higher and higher into the sky as the plane ascends to get above the bombing and anti-aircraft missiles from below. The server is near the plane ramp now but cable is down to its' last strand. I know there is no way it will hold for us both any longer. "It's not going to hold." I speak calmly into my Com knowing what I need to do. I can see the Euphrates River approaching beneath me. Nearby bomb strikes have lit up it's surface with fires burning from oil spills like a beacon calling to me. I know that if I time it correctly, I may at least have a chance at surviving what I'm planning to do.
"Julia," Cassiopeia says my name, breaking protocol by not using my call sign, with a warning tone following my movements on the camera as I climb my cable creating slack so I can unbuckle myself. "What are you doing?" She asks quickly.
"It's not going to hold us both. You know that. This will buy you another 30 seconds at least. That's all you need to get the server onboard the aircraft." I answer her struggling to use my muscles to hold on with one hand and release myself with the other.
"No!" She yells back at me. "You're too high!" She's right. I'm at least 20-stories above the ground now but it doesn't matter. I'm going to fall one way or another with this cable breaking. I'd rather it be by my choosing as to when that's going to happen. Go out on my own terms if that's in the cards.
"I'll be okay." I answer her calmly lifting the buckle out of my harness. "Mission before self." I release the breath I'm holding.
"Julia!" I can hear her voice scream but it's too late. I let go. There is something to be said for time slowing down when you're plummeting towards the earth in the darkness in a freefall. I regret my decision to let go the second I feel nothing but air beneath me. Time seems to go on endlessly in this weightless nightmare and I can see the crewmen hauling the server onboard the ramp. At least I've done my job.
"It's okay." I tell her through my Com, still hearing scream my name as she watches me freefall on the video feed. I feel a moment of serene peace come over me. "It's okay." I roll forward into a dive, sticking my hands out in front of me and locking my fingers and arms with palms facing away from me, trying to protect my head aiming into the fire covered water below. Closing my eyes, I brace for impact. I feel the fire burn my hands and arms for just a second before I feel nothing.
My height in falling and rate of speed send me darting deep towards the bottom in my dive. I'm knocked unconscious immediately; for how long I'm not sure.
When my eyes open, I'm momentarily stunned with the wind knocked out of me from impact and from how cold the water actually is. It's winter after all, and even in Iraq the water temperature is cold. Really cold. Especially at night when the air temp drops to around 35-40 degrees Fahrenheit. My body refuses to move as I hang suspended in the deep water for a minute while my senses come back to me. The bright orange glow and warming water above me, remind me that the surface above is on fire. I must find another way out.
Pain is surging through my limbs. My right arm is severely broken with bones protruding out of the skin of my forearm. I'm certain I've broken all my fingers from them snapping back on impact and several bones in my hands but at least I am not dead. I force myself to swim hard and fast the best I can with both arms no matter how badly it hurts, I bite back the pain and my screams beneath the water. The current is taking me down river and away from the oil slick thankfully, helping my efforts. My lungs are on fire with the need for air and I break the surface, gasping for breath. Unbelievably, I am alive.
I try to fill my lungs repeatedly and control my breath while I look for the safest option. The area I've surfaced in is still under attack and not the safest place to surface. The current is moving swiftly and I'm exhausted. The impact into the water has taken its toll. I need to rest and I'm struggling to keep my eyes open from a massive concussion and to keep my head above water. I spy a palm tree that has been blasted out of the banks and is about to float by me and grab on. Clinging to its sharp bark with my fingers until I can get my good arm over its trunk. I keep low along the trunk with just my head above the water until we've floated quite away down the river not wanting to be spotted from the shores.
"Command?" I call out quietly into my Com to see if it's still working. "Cassiopeia?" I call again and hear nothing in response. The contact lens containing the visual camera has been washed out of my eye and my Com in my ear has as well. It's all been ripped away. So are my backpack and watch, all having been torn off on impact. I sigh deeply, realizing I'm on my own now.
I'm flowing south, the direction I want to be going. The river is carrying me away from the danger zone to the north in Baghdad. I know the Euphrates River flows towards the southern region of the country where allied forces are just over the boarder in Kuwait. That's a very long ways away. I need to get out of the water for now, but not out of the river, as it's my refuge. I'm cold, wet and if I don't do something quickly I'm probably going to go into more severe stages than I already am with Hypothermia and likely shock.
As if God is listening directly to my thoughts, I see the lights of a village approaching. Not just any village as I see the tops of the ruins in the moonlight. I've reached Babylon. Hanging on for as long I as did to the Skyhook tether at least got me far enough down river to be some 50 miles away from Baghdad. That means I'm only 250 miles or so away from the Kuwait border.
A long dock stretches out into the water and at the very end a beautiful sailboat is tied up. It's like an early Christmas gift just waiting for me. The boat belongs to one of the Iraqi elite in Saddam's regime, no doubt. But right now, it is Heaven sent just for me. I feel a surge of new adrenaline and push off my tree trunk hard and swim fast to cross the river and catch the end of the dock with my good arm. With cramping hand from the cold and strain, I untie the small sailing vessel so it is free to float with the current down river. Carefully, I shimmy around the boat towards the stern.
"Argh," I swallow my scream in pain pulling myself up onto the tiny ledge in the back. Then into the boat with another surge of effort and I collapse onto the floor in a heap. My muscles are burning and it takes everything in me to will myself to move. I have to get out of these wet clothes as soon as possible.
Please let there be something dry in here for me to wear. I say another prayer feeling as though I'm being watched over especially on this night. I pull the door open on the cabin and slide down inside the tiny but cozy space. A small bed and kitchen are all that fit into the barrel of this sailboat and yet it's perfect. Like Christmas morning has come early. Fresh cotton linens with fluffy pillows are on the little single bed and beach towels are rolled at its foot just waiting for me to dry off, get warm and wrap my broken arm.
I start peeling off my wet clothes with great difficulty not having much use of my hands or arms and wrap my shivering body with a towel drying off. My hair is soaked and I set it free from its tight bun doing my best to dry it as well before I lose any more body heat. My teeth are chattering and I'm shaking uncontrollably. I need clothes but cannot find any so I lay mine out to dry. I find a single wool blanket and more beach towels that are stashed in the tiny compartments. They're going to have to do for now, I decide and settle in.
With shaking body, I wrap myself up as best as I can. I stuff the end of a towel in my mouth and bite down, knowing this is going to hurt. I managed to wedge my right arm between the door and jam and yank out as hard as I can, pulling the bones protruding the skin back inside my arm. The pain is out of this world and I scream into the towel stuffed in my mouth with raging tears before collapsing backwards onto the bed. A rush of blood surges from my arm with my efforts and forces me to keep working. A small strip of teak wood used as trim around my bed will work nicely as a splint so I pry it from the wall. It's just the right length when I place my arm on it. I wrap the open fracture tightly with a towel and secure it with my belt then hunker down under the covers of the bed to warm up. It's definitely a lot warmer in here protected from the wind and water.
Slowly, I start to warm up as time passes. The adrenaline rush has worn off and my body is exhausted. My muscles begin to relax as I try to control my breathing to temper the pain. Eventually my eyes fall shut and my breathing slows down. As long as the bombs are falling from the sky, I am safe here. It sounds crazy but it's the truth. No elite Iraqi will dare coming out of their bomb shelters in the dark of night as long as allied bombs are being dropped. I hope to make it as far south as I can before the bombing campaign ends.
For the next three days I float down the Euphrates River. I find a map of the river in the boat that becomes incredibly helpful and feel for sure that angels must by guiding me home. I'm able to use the map to navigate the river enough to know when I need to pull up and anchor until nightfall. Once the bombs start falling again, I am safe to move through the little river cities without anyone paying any attention. Several boats, trees and other debris are now floating down the river after the raids. I'm certain that if anyone does see my little sailboat they assume its just another lost boat floating away. Given something of this much value could only belong to a member of Saddam's Regime, no one would dare try to recover it for themselves fearing punishment if caught with it and so they ignore it's passing. It's the perfect place for me to hide right now and sail right out of this hot mess.
I get off the river before I reach the city of Nasiriyah because I know that just after the city, Saddam has built a canal to divert the Euphrates River and I don't want to go anywhere near it. Especially since several targets for Allied Forces are around there. In the cover of darkness in the early morning, I pull the boat off to the side of the river and disembark. I've placed explosive tape against the hull of the boat and push it back out into the flow of the river. I watch for just a second thanking God for the boat that had been my lifesaver before carrying on by foot.
I move as quickly as I am able along the riverbank towards the village of the Ma'dan. I'd been through this area of the country earlier in the year with Nyah while we were on another mission, scouting targets before the current air raids. The Ma'dan or, Marsh Arabs, are no fans of Saddam Hussein or his regime of mad men. After their uprising against him in 1991, Saddam had tried to destroy their thousands of years old way of life on the river by building his giant canals to reroute the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, draining their homelands. Many fled as refugees and only a few remained still clinging to their old ways of life.
"Zainab," I call out quietly as the sun begins to set from the riverbank. The middle-aged woman has returned from another day of gathering river reeds to sell in the market and when she turns around, I step out from the shadows with a smile. "Marhaba, as-salam alaykum." I greet her in Arabic, saying hello and peace be with you in a traditional greeting. Her surprised eyes turn to wide smiling ones when she recognizes me.
"Julia! Walaykum as-salam" She calls out excitedly and tries to make her way towards me on the muddy riverbank. "What are you doing here?" She asks in Arabic while her smile fades softly as she approaches seeing my condition. My split lip and cheek and the bruises forming on my face from my fights with the guards at Ba'ath Headquarters are settling in. She glances from them to my blood soaked towel wrapped arm and the horrid shade of purple and pink my fingers are turning with decreased blood flow.
"I fell from the sky." I respond with a smile pointing up and she smiles, shaking her head in understanding.
"You Americans." She sighs with concern. "Always making a grand entrance. Come. You cannot be seen out here dressed like this." She waves me over to follow her quickly. This is exactly the response I was hoping for. Ma'dan never turn away guests and help however they can. Right now I'm hoping for a change of clothing to help blend in as I move further south. My black fatigues with their burned and singed holes, ripped to shreds in places from the force of the water entry definitely send the wrong message.
"Qassimiya!" She whisper shouts to her much older sister, who is more like her mother, as we enter the small reed and thatch covered home. "We have a guest." She announces my arrival and instantly the older woman appears with a child on her hip I know to be Bakur, Zainab's daughter, named after a female pig to keep the evil spirits away.
"Julia!" Qassimiya looks at me with as much surprise as her sister had. Instantly concerned with my appearance she sets the child down. "You are hurt." She steps forward with gentle hand cupping my face to inspect my wounds there and then gently touches my wrapped arm.
"I'm fine, Qassimiya." I try to assure her with a smile. Her rough skin from many hard days working to cut reeds, feel like sandpaper against my cheek but I smile anyway at the tenderness of her gesture. She is like everyone's favorite grandmother; always worried about your health and if you're eating enough.
"How did you get here? And in the middle of all this?" She waves her hand in the air indicating the constant barrage of bombs and missile strikes going on around them.
"She says she fell from the sky, again." Zainab enters the room again carrying a stack of black clothing "She already thinks you are an angel with golden blonde hair, Julia."
"An angel?" I ask with a smile looking between them. "Why is that?"
"Because you fell from the sky." Qassimiya nods enthusiastically and I can't help but laugh. The first time we met last August, Nyah and I had also Halo jumped into the area falling from the sky.
"That is true. I do fall from the sky often." I smile. "But I'm no angel." I laugh softly reaching for the stack of clothes but Qassimiya stops me with hand to my wrist.
"What does this mark mean?" She asks looking at the tattoo she can see. It is a small black figure eight that represents the Infinity Sign on the underside of my left wrist. A permanent mark engraved into my body when I turned sixteen by The Council. It was meant to remind me and us all as Worker Bees that our service to the greater good was never-ending.
"It means that I am but a slave. Not an angel." I answer her quietly but with a soft smile. She knows I serve a higher master.
"Ah ha!" Qassimiya points to the sky, "I am only more certain now, that you are an angel! As angels who serve Allah also do not have any free will. They serve but for a greater purpose." She smiles at me, kissing my cheeks. "Please change and then let me feed you."
I can't help but laugh at the old woman's insistence as well as her penchant for wanting to feed me. I honestly can't stand the fish and curdled buffalo milk I know she will be serving but I haven't eaten in about five days so I'll take whatever I'm offered.
"She believes you keep the bad spirits away, Julia." Zainab smiles. "And I do, too." I know how much this culture believes in the folklore surrounding evil spirits. So much so they purposefully try to name their children hideous names in hopes the spirits will leave them alone.
"Thank you. You are both very kind." I graciously accept their beliefs, not one to argue when I know how important those beliefs were to them. If they wanted to see me as a good omen and spirit, I wasn't about to argue. To do so would be incredibly rude given they are my hosts.
There is nowhere to change in this one room house and so I strip where I stand putting on the black robes and hijab that will conceal my identity and hide my bandaged arm. I'm only two hours driving time away from Kuwait and freedom. Zainab's husband, Chilaib drives me to the border where I bid him farewell and thank you. From there, I stow away in the back of a truck bound for Kuwait City. When I see the signs for the US Army military base, Camp Doha, I jump out and roll into the ditch, thankful its' sandy and soft. Everything about me hurts and I feel my body shutting down now. I only have a mile or so more to walk and then I will have reached safety.
As I approach the base security post I remove my hijab head covering and let my blonde hair flow, walking slowly with my hands in the air to let them know I am of no threat. I am dressed in black robes from head to toe and the last thing I want is some 18 year-old Army Private with a happy scared trigger finger pumping me full of lead. I was actually quite proud that though I was injured on this mission, I wasn't shot again and I wanted to keep it that way.
"Halt!" The guards scream at me with guns raised as I approach.
"I'm a friendly." I announce and see they're confusion by my perfect English in contrast to my appearance. I kneel down on my knees with hands in the air in surrender and then lay on the ground. "I'm an American and need help. I'm wounded." I say quietly as they approach with caution making sure I'm not a suicide bomber. "Rubicon." I say the access code known only to a few and see one of the young officer's eyes light up. "Rubicon. Scan my finger." I slowly slide my hand over the pavement towards him. Cautiously he removes a digital keypad from his pocket and places my finger on it to scan my fingerprint. It illuminates immediately with the word Rubicon in flashing blue and his eyes widen.
"What does that mean?" The other young guard asks to his superior officer. "I've never seen that before."
"It means she's intelligence." He says quietly and my eyes fall shut. I can't keep them open anymore. I have no energy left and I know I'm safe now. "Sir, we have a situation at the north gate." He speaks softly into his Com. "We have a female injured Rubicon." Is the last thing I hear before I pass-out surrendering to the darkness.