Captain Jordan Glade looked out over the jungle canopy from the safety of his gunship, taking in its stark beauty under the light of the crescent moon. The wind whipped through the open hatch as their pilots skimmed over the tops of the trees, bringing with it some much needed relief from the sweltering humidity. It also gave him some much needed time to think.
“Testing… Testing… Hello, can anybody hear me?” the voice of his newest problem crackled over his headset.
Sighing, Jordan turned from the open door and looked over the latest arrival to his team. Corporal Leonard Bernard Wolf IV.
There had been precious little time for him to dig up any reliable information on the Corporal before they left their staging base. A newly graduated, fellow American whose specialties included cyber infiltration and analysis.
From an outsider’s perspective, the young man looked like the rest of the highly trained men and women of his team. He was of average height and build, dressed in the United Nations Special Operations black uniform with standard weapons, body armor, and helmet.
But to him and the others on board, Corporal Wolf’s appearance screamed fresh meat. From the slack jawed look of excitement on his face to the pristine boots adorning his feet. The massive ruck sack stuffed to the brim was also a dead giveaway. Not the worst rookie he had worked with, but that didn’t help him feel any better about having an unknown quantity assigned to his team at the last minute. Of course, if that was all he had to worry about than he would have counted himself lucky. He still had to figure out how and when he was going tell everyone that this was his last mission.
“Aww, look at the little chistler!” The woman sitting next to Corporal Wolf said in a lilting Irish accent that practically bled sarcasm. “He’s gone and mustered up the courage all on his own to try out the comm’s a’fore we begin on our litt’l craic!”
Jordan shot the incorrigible woman a warning look, knowing all too well that it wouldn’t do him any good. In response, she gave him her brightest smile.
Uhh…” Corporal Wolf stammered, looking to the others for support. “What did she just say?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, rookie,” the Thai officer sitting on Wolf’s other side replied in what should have been a comforting tone. Jordan rolled his eyes, knowing that their silver tongued executive officer was about to fan the flames. “You get used to Wildfire’s idioms. What she is trying to say is you ought to be proud that you figured out how to use the comm’s equipment all on your own. With a head like that, we might not even need to check your lines before you rappel out of a helicopter to your untimely demise.”
“Um, Boon, sir?” Corporal Wolf responded with a bit of hesitancy, “Could you please stop referring to me as rookie? I know I’m new and everything, but that isn’t exactly the callsign I was hoping for. Could you at least use my last name, Wo...?”
“Oi, no names over the comm’s, rookie!” interrupted the large man sitting across from Jordan, his crisp British accent forcing everyone’s attention. “And what makes you think you get to choose your callsign? Standard rules apply, boyo. You are officially ‘Kid’ until all of us can agree on a proper name. You don’t get a vote.”
“As official UN observer,” another man at the back of the gunship said in a thick Russian accent, “I am pointing out that Kid has asked stupid question. To silence rule breaker, I vote his callsign be V’toroi Durak.”
Snickers could be heard over the radio. Jordan couldn’t help but smile. Vlad, their UN observer for this mission, was not an official member of his outfit due to the fact that the man was Russian. Neither he nor Vlad could officially serve on the same UN special operations team due to international politics, but they often used the observer position as a loophole.
“Fatoroy Druak?” Corporal Wolf asked, mangling the pronunciation. “What does that even mean?”
“Is term of endearment for Americans,” Vlad replied with a bright smile. “And is pronounced Du-rack.”
As if on cue, the others began offering their own suggestion on the Kid’s new callsign, each progressively more derogatory than the last.
Jordan felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. It was as if he had never left.
Turning, he again looked out across the passing jungle, taking in the scenery. It was good to be back. Yes, the men and women of his outfit were a bunch of crazed misfits. But somehow, that made them even more endearing. Being baptized in blood and fire like they had many times over tended to do that.
A beep from his headset cut through his thoughts, indicating a private connection had been established.
“Sir, this is Mother, how are you holding up?” asked the British soldier sitting across from him.
“It’s good to be back with the team,” Jordan replied, looking to where his sergeant at arms sat. Logan Thatcher, the most arrogant, no-nonsense, giant of a man he had ever met. Not to mention the most well-groomed. The man had a mustache that would make Sam Elliott jealous.
“Begging your pardon, sir, but that’s not really an answer,” Mother responded flatly. “This is pushing it, even for you. Things like what happened… well, those things take time to heal…”
“I understand your concern,” Jordan sighed, interrupting his friend. He really didn’t want to discuss this particularly painful topic here of all places. “Believe me, I do. But I’ve been ordered back into the field. Besides, I’m not the only one who needs this,” he said, looking at the rest of his team. While they were joking like they always had, there was a subtle undercurrent of hesitancy that showed in small ways. The tightness around their eyes, or how the laughter cut short just a moment sooner than usual.
His team was on edge, and it was all because of him. Yes, this was going to be his last mission, but it was better than the alternative.
“Acknowledged, sir,” Mother sighed, “I guess ours is not to reason why.”
“Let’s just hope this turns out better for us than it did for Lieutenant General Brudenell,” Jordan muttered.
“Who?” Mother asked, giving him a questioning look.
“Lieutenant General James Brudenell,” he restated with an arched eyebrow, only to have Mother glare back at him like he was an idiot wasting his time. “You know, Lord James Brudenell? The English general? The man who led the charge of the light brigade at the battle of Balaclava? You just referenced…”
“Don’t mean to be rude sir,” Mother interrupted, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. “But I’m taking back my concerns. If you’re already spouting random military history, you’re back to being the normal you. God preserve us.”
There was an audible click and the private line cut out in time for Jordan to hear the last of the suggestions for Corporal Wolf’s callsign.
“Now Wildfire,” Boon’s voice echoed over the radio. “Roach is a terrible choice. It denotes he can survive anything, and, lets face it, the Kid has yet to live through his first mission. Instead, I would recommend we call him Egg. It would explain his fragility and general complexion. The fact that the general shape of his head resembles that of an actual egg is just an added bonus.”
Try as he might, Jordan couldn’t help but snort a laugh at Boon’s tactless recommendation. How long had it been since he had so much as smiled let alone laughed? Honestly, he didn’t know. But their newest member had been the catalyst for the team to begin healing after a long time apart. For that, he was grateful.
Not that Corporal Wolf would likely understand.
As suggestions continued to flow, Jordan watched as their newest member sank lower and lower into his seat.
“This is nothing like Call of Duty, Black Ops,” Corporal Wolf grumbled over the line.
A collective groan erupted from the group, as the serenity Jordan had felt moments before evaporated like smoke in the wind.
They had a gamer on their team.
Over the years, Jordan had worked with plenty of soldiers who considered themselves gamers. It was hard not to in today’s culture. However, none had stayed more than a single mission. In his experience, gamers had a warped sense of reality when it came to combat that put others needlessly at risk, which was something he would absolutely not tolerate.
“What did I say?” Corporal Wolf asked as the others broke off their taunts. His team had been together a long time and they knew when someone had just damned themselves.
“Don’t sweat it, Kid,” Jordan said, keeping the annoyance from his voice. “We’ll come up with a callsign for you some other time. Until then, since everyone seems to have a few extra minutes, let’s do another once over our equipment. Boon and Wildfire, you got the rookie. As you know, he was a last-minute addition. Make certain his gear is to standard.”
The last was said with a knowing look between the group. Corporal Wolf tried to object but was quickly silenced when Wildfire smacked the back of his head. On his other side, Boon had already begun rifling through the Kid’s oversized pack as everyone else began the process of checking their own gear.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
His team followed four basic principles before an operation. Check, double check, check your buddy, then check again was as much a part of their routine as brushing one’s teeth. It was always the small things that made the greatest impact.
Besides, Jordan was curious to see how well the rookie had prepared. Not that his expectations were high. Most soldiers with video game addictions tended to hoard unnecessary gear while ignoring obvious needs, like plenty of ammo.
He didn’t have long to wait. Boon and Wildfire were smacking Corporal Wolf around like a pinata. Knick knacks, snacks, and a 14 inch bowie knife were pulled from the pack. Nothing seriously wrong, but it still showed the Kid’s lack of experience.
The good news was Corporal Wolf had a full combat load of ammunition on him as well as backup batteries for his night vision goggles. He even had a robust first aid kit, not that they needed it. Doc, their Nigerian combat medic, carried what amounted to a portable pharmacy of drugs, bandages, and tourniquets everywhere he went.
All in all, not bad for his first time.
Just as he was about to begin checking his own gear, Wildfire threw a small pouch to the floor with a look of disgust.
Curious, Jordan picked it up, opening the pouch to reveal… lock picks. The Kid was carrying lock picks.
“Do you know how to use these?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Um, sort of?” Corporal Wolf replied, looking a bit embarrassed. “I used them to break into my dad’s office all the time back home.”
“Oh, I like this one!” Boon laughed, pulling the straps on the Kid’s body armor tight.
Personally, Jordan didn’t know whether to be shocked or impressed. The skill had its place and all, but the fact he had used it against his father… well, he would try to learn the reasoning after the operation.
Before long, Wildfire and Boon gave a thumbs up, indicating they were finished. As if on cue, a beep indicated another private line request.
“Green team leader, this is Tower. 15 minutes until radio silence and dark conditions. Amber team on ground reports no change and is standing by to provide support.”
“Acknowledged Tower,” Jordan responded, switching back to their internal feed. “Listen up! 15 minutes before going dark!”
As one, the team stopped moving, giving him their full attention.
Well, almost as one. He caught Corporal Wolf trying to sneak his bowie knife from the pile of discarded items. Wildfire slapped his hand away without looking.
“As you know,” Jordan continued, “we are targeting a facility believed to be operated by Chao Po, the Thai Godfather. For those who don’t know him, he is known to be involved in everything from illegal arms sales to human trafficking. The facility we are targeting came onto Intel’s radar as a possible warehouse for his organization less than 48 hours ago. According to Tower, there was a massive power surge at our target facility that has drawn outside attention. Observation teams have confirmed activities likely related to Chao Po’s operations. Both the Thai government and Interpol have asked for UN assistance, who has cleared the mission.”
“Our first objective is to neutralize any hostiles in the area,” he continued. “The second is to capture Chao Po and Dr. Death…”
“Dr. Death? Really? That sounds like a bad 80’s movie supervillain,” Corporal Wolf interrupted with a snicker. Everybody turned to stare at him. A look of utter horror crossed the Kid’s face. “Uhh… am I actually broadcast?”
Wildfire smacked the rookie over the head. “How ‘bout ye not interrupt Major when he is talkin?”
“Sorry! I think my comm switch is stuck in the on position!” Corporal Wolf said in a panic.
“Try not to speak then,” Jordan said with a sigh, ignoring Wildfire’s use of his hated callsign. Seriously, there were so many more options they could have gone with. “As I was saying, our rules of engagement authorize deadly force against all hostiles. However, and I emphasize, we are to do everything possible to capture both the God Father and Dr. Death.”
Another snicker crackled over the line.
“Do ye have an issue wi’ the name I gave him?” Wildfire spat. Sergeant Keela Murphy, also known as Wildfire, was an Irish red head demolitions expert whose fiery disposition matched the color of her hair and profession perfectly, as evidenced by the heavy kick she was in the process of delivering to the Kid. “I can think o’ no better title, seeing as he is responsible for design’n and make’n the smart munitions and bombs be’in used by rogue governments and terror groups around the world!”
“Sorry!” yelped Corporal Wolf, his face a mix of horror and indignation. “Sorry! I’ll try not to say anything else!”
“As official UN Observer, I approve of such punishment from incredibly good-looking bomb lady,” Vlad interjected with a broad grin as he watched the one sided beat down. Wildfire shot the Russian a withering look.
“Back on topic please,” Jordan interrupted, trying hard not to smile as Wildfire gave the Kid one more solid kick. He wasn’t going to say it out loud anywhere near his demolition’s expert, but he fully agreed with Corporal Wolf. The name was over the top.
“Boon, can you see if you can fix Kid’s comm’s switch?” his executive office gave him a nod and began fiddling with the switch. “As I briefed everyone earlier, we don’t know much about either one of our targets, even though we’ve been after them for years. For that reason, I trust each of you to use common sense. If they look important, don’t shoot them. With that being said, I refuse to sacrifice the safety of our team. If you feel you are in danger you will engage and put down any and all threats with extreme prejudice. Is that clear?”
He had worked with these men and women for the past two years as their commander, fighting and bleeding together ever since the UN had taken an active role against hard target criminal elements. The shared struggles and triumphs made them more than teammates. They were family.
Boon gave a shrug, indicating that he couldn’t fix the Corporals comm’s switch. In the grand scheme of things, this insignificant breakdown wasn’t an issue. He just hoped the Kid would be able to bounce back from the embarrassment.
Seeing that there wasn’t anything they could do about it, he turned to his sergeant at arms.
“Mother, would you be so kind as to review our roles?”
“Yes sir,” the older man acknowledged, stroking his well-groomed mustache. “Landing point is on the roof of the primary facility, which happens to be a run down, three-story manufacturing plant with office spaces on the second and third levels. Sniper teams on the ground will cut power and eliminate visible hostiles on the roof and rear entrances right before our landing. We expect our targets to have back up power sources, but our gunship escorts will stick around to eliminate those if directed. Upon deploying, we’ll separate into three teams. Team one, made up of Major, Wildfire, and Boon, will breach the roof entrance.”
“Pardon,” Corporal Wolf interrupted, looking nervous “I’m confused, why is the captain’s callsign Major?”
Mother glared at the Kid, who wilted under his gaze. At this point, Jordan was actually feeling a bit sorry for the Corporal. He would make sure to pull him aside after the mission was done. Gamer or not, the Kid honestly looked like he was trying.
“Team two, made up of myself, Hero, and Quick,” Mother continued, ignoring the comment as he indicated the two Chinese operatives sitting next to him, “will rappel to the ground entrance on the south side. That is our breach point. Both teams will neutralize hostiles and secure non-combatants.”
“Our initial target is their central security. We are uncertain as to its location but believe it to be either on the ground or third floor, which is precisely the reason we are hitting both floors at the same time. Wildfire and Hero, you are responsible for any demolitions your respective teams come across. Expect something to be there as Dr. Death is hopefully home.”
Wildfire and Hero both nodded their understanding.
“Team three, made up of Doc, Musketeer, Kid, and Nanny,” Mother indicated their medic, who was even bigger than Mother, a bearded Frenchman that was just as big as Doc, and the rookie Corporal. The Nanny callsign was directed at Vlad.
“As official UN Observer,” the Russian growled. “I take offense at callsign and role. I am not some Babushka who watches children.”
“Don’t care,” replied Jordan, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Remember Ghana?”
Vlad gave a slow nod.
“Well, this is payback,” he said with a genuine smile. The others on their team, even the Corporal, chimed in with their approvals of the temporary callsign. “Please continue Mother.”
“And Kid wonders why we call him Major,” Vlad grumbled, “He is major pain in my…”
“As I was saying before the interruption,” Mother said, pointedly looking at Vlad, “Doc, Musketeer, Kid, and Nanny will remain on the roof to assist ground support’s advance, cover for rapid egress, or provide medical support as required. Once security has been neutralized, Nanny will escort Kid to exploit the area for intel and transmit anything gathered to Tower. Major will make the call to either secure the facility, hold for reinforcements if the fighting is too intense, or egress.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Jordan said, relieved to have the crusty Brit by his side. “As the rest of you are aware, we have two sniper teams on standby if needed, as well as a squad sized ground element planted within the surrounding jungle. Intelligence estimates anywhere between 10 and 15 armed guards on site. However, there have been reports of several freight trucks arriving within the last few hours. Our observation teams couldn’t confirm their cargo.”
He turned to his executive officer.
“Boon, you’re the subject matter expert on the Godfather, what’s your opinion?”
“The Godfather is more like a ghost story you tell children to make them behave,” the Thai officer, Anurak Bunyasarn, said with all seriousness. “Most criminal organizations have circumstantial connections to this man at best. When my country receives tips of his activities, we either find a vacant warehouse or accidentally take down one of his unsuspecting rivals. He is an enigma that we have never been able to pin down. Even his name, Chao Po, is Thai for Godfather. My guess? If this is not one of his rivals that we are conveniently ridding for him then he has either vanished or is behind a mountain of guards.”
“Appreciate you ending that on a high note, Boon.” Mother stated in a flat voice.
“Ok team, here’s what we know.” Jordan began, the familiar burden of responsibility settling onto him like an invisible weight. He was about to lead his team… no, his family, into unknown danger. Out of habit, he began checking his gear as he spoke.
“We are assaulting a remote facility in Northern Thailand,” Jordan said, running a loose hand down his body armor, counting the explosive and flash grenades clipped to his vest. Two knives were within easy reach next to the pouches holding several full clips of ammunition for both his assault rifle and side arm.
“Tower believes this to be a central facility of the God Father’s illegal trades. At least 10 armed guards have been identified by the ground teams since their insertion. Be prepared for more.”
Without thought, Jordan adjusted his load bearing vest to rest more comfortably on his shoulders before moving on to double check the power levels of his night vision goggles.
“We also know the enemy is extraordinarily smart and well organized. Anticipate every dirty trick in the book.”
Jordan began looking over his rifle, ensuring the suppressor was securely attached. Satisfied, he inserted a magazine and released the locking mechanism.
“As always, watch each other’s back. Most of us know how confusing fire fights can be.”
They had prepared as best they could with the limited information available. Their training was top notch. With the exception of Corporal Wolf, everyone one of them were seasoned veterans. But the burden of responsibility never lessened. Jordan was intentionally leading his people into a fire fight. More than anybody else, he knew that anything could happen.
Something caught in the back of Jordan’s throat. A long moment passed before he got himself back under control.
“Lastly,” he said, his voice slightly strained as he pushed down the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Don’t hesitate. Kill those who need to be killed. Save those who need saving.”
Like he had done so many times before, Jordan made the same promise he did every time his team found themselves in harm’s way.
“We all come home,” he said, putting as much strength of will behind the words as he could.
“We all come home,” the team replied.
“Green Team, this is Tower,” a voice came over the main line. “The operation is a go. Implementing dark protocols. Good luck.”
“Now this feels like Call of Duty!” Corporal Wolf whispered over the line before the comm’s were cut off.
Wildfire kicked him just as the lights went out.