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Chapter 6 No Chance of Redemption
“Terrik
Breshkhev, now where have I heard that name before?”
Eugene La Salle asked himself.
Just why does that
name sound familiar. I can’t put my finger on it,
though, but it sounds vaguely familiar, like a name from
a nightmare. The mission should be a success, there'd be no way they'd fail. Which means that in some comical way it would. Admittedly, even with reinforcements the size of the squad would only be thirty. But an increase from nine to thirty more then triples the chance of success and survival. It was too good to be true. Something, somehow would destroy the mission. I sighed. The run of luck wouldn't last for long. The commander who was supposed to transfer people from the Soviet and Asian continents was a competent leader, 1st Lieutenant Terrik Breshkhev. He was temporarily transferred from the Russian Spec Ops team. It was up to him to get the best from the East. Still thinking about that particular subordinate, an unknown private simply called number 089746 came in. “I have a message for you from Lieutenant Breshkhev.” “Hmm? Ah, the messenger. Give me the message. I want to read it for myself.” I can’t be here at the moment. I’ve been sent on an important mission by my country. A Polish person called Yugorovski is working on a big project. It’s potentially the most dangerous thing that could happen to the world. I have to halt it before it gets to the final development stage. If his project succeeds, then this'll be hell on Earth. I’m sorry that I can’t do more but unless something happens, the 20 who are being sent to you should get there before battle commences. The survival of the world depends highly on the success of my mission. We have to keep tabs on Yugorovski before his organisation gets too powerful. If he succeeds in his plans then he could become the leader of the most powerful terrorist organisation since the Taliban. He cannot be allowed to succeed. Good luck. These guys are still the best of the best and I’ve done all I can to make sure that the parts of Eastern Europe and Asia don’t steal them back for their own missions. Sorry I can’t be there. This mission must be completed by Russia’s finest. They can trust no-one else to do it. Soon, I’ll be back. I might be too late but I will be back. 1st Lieutenant Terrik Breshkhev. I reread every line, trying to make sure that I'd missed nothing, futiley hoping that there was something I'd missed. Every line I read worsened my mood. By the end of the read I was about to have a hissy-fit. Scrunching the letter into a small ball I threw the ball full-pelt into the bin. Surely he could’ve asked another UN peace-keeping unit to take this job off him, but no! Breshkhev has gone off on another wild-goose chase. At least this time he’s succeeded in his primary objective, even though he was supposed to get there himself. Well, no matter how you look at it, he has improved our situation. I walked through the temporary base, which would, hopefully be removed before the enemy even knew what was happening. There were some ‘ifs,’ some major ones as well but hopefully they wouldn’t affect the outcome. Soon I’ll get a message from my 2nd in command, Corporal Paulo Rodriguez. But until then it was time to rest. Got to get it when and where possible, sleeping is difficult when a conflict is going on all around you. At 0500 hours I was awoken, rether rudely, by a loud knock on the doorway. Corporal Rodriguez stood there haggard and haunted. "Sir, the enemy has arrived. ETA in two and a half hours." All pretence of sleeping gone, I got up, looking slightly worried. “What’s the news of our reinforcements? Surely they’re en-route now?” “No reinforcements, they're being used on a highly classified mission elsewhere. High command has hijacked them from us." Under my breath I cursed, using all my ability at languages to make some rather nasty comments, “What have we done to high command to warrant this? Why has high command sent us to our fiery death?" “Not us, sir, Terrik.” “What has the slime-ball got himself into this time?” I asked, knowing and dreading the answer. “Captured sir, all of the reinforcements he promised to us have been sent to bail him out.” Smashing my fist against the table, I sent splinters of wood flying all around the room, “He said that he would make sure that nothing along the lines of us not getting our reinforcements would happen. He even wrote it down! The slimy SOB. He conveniently missed out one bit, the small bit about our own forces not using them for another mission,” my already strained voice rose to a scream. “Yes, he wrote down that the other countries wouldn’t get their guys back. Indeed, he conveniently forgot to mention this to High Command.” Stroking a hand through my greasy hair in a futile attempt to calm myself down I growled, “So now what? How much of a ground assault team? What's our chances of survival?” “At the moment we have confirmation of two light tank platoons and a small flight of 4 Bell 204’s, plus an estimated 290 troops of various capabilities. Looks like they’ve come prepared. ETA in one hour and fifty-five. They're closing in faster then anticipated.” My eyes widened in utter disbelief, "How long do we have before they overcome us?" "At most we have half an hour after they arrive. Extensive usage of simulations have presented us that if we try to fight after that time, we will die. Not just some of us, all of us. His face was pale but Paulo Rodriguez still had a sliver of humour, "Guess its up to you to get us out, eh Commander? I wonder just what trick you'll have up your sleeve to get us out alive." A faint smile appeared on my pale face. "I wish I knew, but Vladimir and I will start digging a way out of here, with a spoon! Not really, but shovels aren't much better." My face darkened, the gravity suddenly sinking in. "You and six other men will defend the outpost. There's no other way. We have to prepare for the worst." “That was the last time I saw Corporal Rodriguez alive. I have you to blame for that. If you’d have sent us the reinforcements as you were supposed to he might still be alive, but no, you conveniently forgot to tell the UN High Command that they couldn’t take them off us either.” Pressing the gun into his neck Commander Eugene La Salle venomously spat out his next line, “What have you got to say about that, then.” Terrik shot a venomous icy stare of utter hatred at his ex-comrade. “I should’ve known you’d pin all of that on me, just because I understand the commies.” He opened his window of the cat and spat outside. “I did every damn thing I could; I dodged, ducked and scrapped all the rules. I almost got fired from Russia itself. At the end I was begging to High Command!!” He screamed, sarcastically. “That was one thing you’d never imagine I’d do. I begged the Boss to make sure that nothing would happen should anything happen to me. “But how do you think I was going to explain the mission that Russia sent me on to the Boss. Think, I couldn’t tell him because he would’ve said this one was more important, the narrow sighted fool!” All of the fight disappeared out of his eyes, replaced by pain and the haunted look you only got from truly remorseful criminals, “I got captured and the Boss forgot everything I’d asked him and sent the 20 men to rescue me. Currently, they’re as much of a mental experiment as I was. They never escaped.” Above the mountains of the Verknovansk range. Thousands of feet up was the hum of a converted Iluyshin Il-76. It was part of the Russian air-force. In fact it was the command center. Inside was a large empty storage room. Further along was a mahogany desk, polished to an almost perfect gleam. Sitting there was me, admittedly a younger and less broken version of me, but still me. The giant of a man sitting in front of the desk shifted slightly. He may have been a General but inactivity often disturbed him. His dark eyes shifted across his face, his impatience shining through. "Terrik, you'd better listen, and listen good. We have recieved disturbing intelligence that Gregor Yugorovski is trying his hand at defence and weapons development." “Weapons development? Surely the rest of the world would stop him? And why should I risk my neck? I have an appointment to keep with friends from the UN. My alliance lies foremost with them, and even though my country wants me, I try to stop conflicts. This would be me starting one.” “True, but we have no-one else we can trust. The American media is on our tails with this one, and we're trying to avoid meeting with them as much as possible. Surely you'd risk your life against this great danger? I mean I would, but the last time I tried to actively fight, I almost got kicked out of the force because I was too 'important' to fight on the front.” “So what is this research that we don’t want Yugorovski completing?” At that moment Kievonovich turned on the screen which was feeding new information to the maps beside it. “We aren’t sure about that. We haven’t been able to get close enough to find out. To be truthful, we think its a shield testing rig, but it could also be for secret weapons development. “Your insertion-point will be about 5 miles south of the installation, here, on the beach at Cagliari,” he said, pointing at the position with fat, stubby fingers, “Don’t expect any resistance until you actually get there. At the moment we suspect there are around 25 guards surrounding that area. I admit that there may be more since our last scan. Yugorovski plans for every problem in the book, and many others besides. “They won’t be expecting anything so you can use the element of surprise to your advantage, but it has to be quick. If you do get captured say nothing. You’ve survived interrogation worse then even the marines could put you through. If you die, there will be no-one sent after you. You are the only person we’re committing to this mission. No-one else must learn of it. “You will be fitted out on the heavy destroyer Sturmovitz. That will be all. Have a rest, we’ll be landing soon” Finally, the next day I checked the equipment the navy had shelled out for me. Sitting on the table was a pair of fully functional, x5 magnification lens, IR goggles with a red film on it. Besides that was a crate of 10 or so grenades, set to 3 seconds, perfect for destroying Yugorovski’s experiments. If it was to be a quick insertion I'd have to escape fast. These grenades would be the way to go. Finally, besides that was a GeoSat transmitter. Remembering the position of the waypoints was tricky, but I had no choice but to take the long way. So the GeoSat was the only option I could use to map me across the island. It would be 5 minutes before the Sturmovitz got close to the shore, close enough to take the motorboat the rest of the way. Plenty of time to take one last look at the mission briefing and plenty of time to formulate a rough and ready plan for execution. Perfect! I felt exhilerated. “We’re ready to dock, Terrik, sir. You’d better be on deck with your new equipment in a minute. The landing craft will then depart for the Sardinian coastline.” “Ok, man! Just because my name is Terrik you have to bring in Star Wars remarks. Why don’t you just call me Booster as well? Oh, and while you’re at it, bring in a bloody Lambda shuttle so that I can ionise your head off.” “Ooh, touchy!” he smirked, then his voice rose to a shout, “Engage docking sequence. It’s time for lift-off. Power up the drives.” Then he turned back to to talk to me, “You’ll emerge in 5 minutes in the Italian controlled sector of Sardinian coastline. And I’m an avid Star Wars fan, so shut up before I blast your flipping head off, mate.” Slowly the final check was done on the motorboat. I clambered aboard and was lowered into the Mediterranean Sea, my destination: the southern Sardinian coast, which is where the GeoSat transmitter kicks in. I revved up the outboard motor, and gunned it towards the island. The coastline was materialising ever closer in my sights. This must be it. Cutting off the engines, I got out. About two-hundred metres from the shore. I dived in, the water feeling cool and soothing. But there was no time to enjoy. I had to be ready to go. On the dock sat two unarmed guards, their weaponry stupidly left about twenty metres away from them. Unfortunately, even if they weren’t close enough to a weapon, they could alert someone who was. Those two were my first targets, no doubt. They presented the most dangerous threats. Even if they didn't get to their guns in time, someone could hear them and cut my victory parade short. One of them picked up a coffee; Columbian by the way it made him buzz. I crawled my way along the beach, slowly edging my way to the dock. Positioning myself so that they couldn’t see me, yet I could see them from every noticable angle. I took out my Walther PPK. I put on the silencer on the gun. That way they wouldn't really notice unless one of my missed shots hit a rock. They both slumped, a bullet through their necks. A quick way to go! Taking a swig off the coffee I'd felt much better, far more assured. I could feel victory at my fingertips. My first sign of over-confidence since the mission. However, even though my presence wasn’t spotted there, it soon was. Spotting a spotter in an outpost I shot, the bullet going through the head. An instant kill. Too late for celebrations though, the problems were only just beginning. Putting my Walther back in the holster I knew that stealth was well and truly out of the question. So I'd brought out my MP-60. Quickly, I dived behind a well-placed rock and started shooting well aimed bursts. The battle seemed to take hours, while only taking minutes. I was outnumbered and outgunned, my skill doing little against the numerical advantage they'd got. 6 enemy casualties were lying dead on the floor before I went down, 3 shots down my left side. “Ha, I’d escaped the battle, but the worst was yet to come.” Smiling ironically, Terrik recollected what limited memories he’d had of the place. “About two hours later I’d woke up, after having my wound roughly stitched, I was one of Yugorovski’s new toys. He was hoping I’d break, he’d be gaining some psychotic pleasure out of seeing me suffer, seeing my mind warped beyond recognition. Soon, he got bored; he’d have to wait a long time before I caved in. “Pretty soon, the High Commander of our peacekeeping segment sent the reinforcements in, about two days before the operation. He’d heard about my kidnapping, and as usual, he made the stupidest decision, in my opinion, to get them to rescue me. After all I said they were the best of the best. “Yugorovski caught wind of this plan, too, and before long he’d mustered up another 12 replacement soldiers and had bought some second-hand Apaches off the black market. “Before long he’d rounded up all twenty,” Terrik spat, shaking his head as he was remembering all of the details, no matter how sketchily, “Some of those he would show me, sometimes giving me a before and after showing of those he successfully broke. If I escaped I said I’d rescue them, as I owed them that much. “When I escaped only about five of the really tough ones remained sane, had any glimmer of sanity. The rest were as good as dead. “Yes, it was all my fault, in one way or another, but he couldn’t be allowed to succeed. Evil is as evil does, and this guy was evil. “Anyway, mission failed, he’s now on to the prototype stage. AtomBurner shield generators, except he needed a way to make the shields heal themselves while still in operation, and to prevent any holes from rendering the shield useless. Apart from that, he has the power to turn a small army into something practically invincible. We have to strike, ASAP, and I need to make my case to Russia’s spec-ops team and to the UN boys. "Later, a lot later we found the command post deserted and burnt to the ground. There wasn't much that could be done about that. However, we found two sets of blueprints. One for the original shields and one for a helicopter borne superweapon. Unfortunatrly that was almost useless, like another one on the back of a mssile attack system. “People like Yugorovski should die, slowly and painfully, while being made to watch the destruction of their empire.” Terrik stared, his old life a distant memory, "I should never have gone on that suicidal mission, common sense tells me that now. But without that mission we would never know what Gregor Yugorovski was up to. "That mission sent me, and countless others to their deaths. I'm sorry, truly I am." “Seems to me, Terrik, that you screwed us and yourself good and proper. I still hold you responsible for the deaths of Vladimir and Paulo, but, for the rest, our Commander in Chief has still got some explaining to do.” Eugene reasoned, not feeling sympathetic but he now thought that Terrik had done all he could in the situation, something he didn't believe half an hour before. “So, he’s still the incompetent leader of High Command?” Terrik asked, flippantly. “Yes, we still have the old fool as leader, and he’s still making the same old mistakes. Unfortunately, nobody else has such good standing with the gutless politicians.” At this point Gustav made a poignant point, “Look Terrik, you’re gonna need to redeem yourself with Commander La Salle, and somehow Commander, you’re going to have to forgive him before it’s too late.” Finally Dafs sighed, a long, tense sigh which spoke of his recent anguish. “We need to get out of here. You guys, sort the problem out between yourselves, I need some sleep.” With that he went, a troubled sleep with dark premonitions of what was to come.”
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