0400 hrs
[REDACTED], Jormungand Asia CP
“Chief” . That was the nickname given to him by the staff who worked under him. He ran a tight ship and expected nothing but clockwork precision from his subordinates. In exchange for their professional conduct, he treated them as his children and family. There was little he wouldn’t do to help them in or out of the command post. That said, they all knew he was unhappy when he read the situation report.
“The locals sold our operatives out to the PLM?” He asked his intelligence officer, who was the one who delivered the report.
“As far as we can tell, that seems to be the case, Chief.” Johnson replied as he straightened his glasses and stiffened a little as he consolidated whatever rushed reports he had gathered in the short time he had since Hunter’s distress call came in. “According to Hunter, his team is KIA from a PLM ambush on the local military base. There was only a token force on guard duty, which seems suspicious. If I were to guess, the local commander is in their pocket or a sympathizer. The top military brass asked for our help, and the government agreed, but sentiment on the ground might be different, or we have different factions in their military.”
Chief Harkins sighed. “Do we have any other forces in the area?”
“Alpha Squad was supposed to be there to run sabotage and counter-intelligence operations as assistance to government forces, so no. We have a few other assets on loan to their military but not an actual force.”
The chief nodded and headed out his office. The rest of the command post was a wall of holoscreens and agents coordinating different operations across the region. He walked up to the Myanmar section. “Contact all field operatives in Myanmar near Hunter’s position. See if any of them are able to extra-“
“Emperor, come in! This is Hunter, situation critical.” A feed came in from Hunter’s ARES drone. There was a few curses and hands placed over mouths.
The chief cleared his throat. “As I was saying, contact all field operatives in Myanmar and re-task them. I want air shuttles and support personnel ready to deploy.”
Ephraim glanced at the field pack that had belonged to his second-in-command, Chris. The man had been like a brother to him, and one of the best damn medics he had seen. Professional to a fault. Friendly with civilians. Nothing quite won hearts over as effectively helping to tend to their sick and injured. That was what got that idiot killed in the first place. Tending to a wounded local in the middle of a mortar barrage, Ephraim had told that bastard not to bother about the sodding assholes who sold them out to the PLM, but the man “took an oath”.
He sighed and shook the thought from his mind. He couldn’t quite complain. Healing and treating the sick children and civilians caught in the crossfire won the villagers over to his team in short time. If only the damned fool hadn’t given the last of his medicine to a kid who took a shrapnel piece to the leg. A medic killed by a septic wound. The Big Guy Upstairs sure had a sense of humour. Ephraim just couldn’t quite appreciate the irony at the moment.
“Fuck.” He cursed, as the image on his control tablet showed no sign of changing. The PLM fuckers had rounded up the children and were yelling at the parents, holding guns to the heads of boys and girls too young to even know how to read. No doubt they were looking for him. They had to know Ephraim was nearby. They had sent patrols out to the village when they heard a Jormungand agent survived the ambush. It was why Ephraim declined taking refuge in a widow’s home in the first place. Forget the fact that her family would have been executed alongside him, it was pure stupidity to hole up there.
Still, the locals pointed out a nearby bunker building during World War 2. Someone would smuggle food and water up to him every now and then, with reports on PLM movement in the area, usually one of the shepherd boys. Grazing their flock in the nearby field was the perfect cover story. Unfortunately, the PLM weren’t stupid. Their commanders were usually former-militia members. They knew enough to know where to look. Once their patrols and search parties started disappearing, they more or less knew where he was and who was helping him. So now they were out for revenge. Attacking a fortified position without proper equipment was costly, so they decided to force his hand – he could willingly walk out of his hideout and let them shoot him, or watch them butcher the village children. After that, the locals wouldn’t help him and it would be a matter of time.
They started yelling on their megaphones. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but he got the gist of it. If he didn’t show by noon, the children would die. Ephraim took a deep breath as he conveyed the information back to Emperor – the Asian CP’s callsign, and awaited their response. His own mind was examining the options.
He knew the terrain well enough to sneak into the village, but only if he did it soon. The PLM started broadcasting because their men were already in position. Their defenses would only be more entrenched the longer he waited. On the other hand, he would have more support, hopefully, the longer he waited.
PRIORITY MESSAGE FROM EMPEROR
The status report from his control tablet drew his attention, and he managed a wry smile at the information.
REINFORCEMENTS INBOUND. CLEAR TO ENGAGE HOSTILES. CIVILIAN EVACUATION MOBILISED.
REROUTING AND SYNCHRONISING OPERATIVE COMMUNICATIONS…
There was a telltale buzz of static as Emperor tuned his frequency remotely to that of the other field operatives being sent his way.
“This is Hunter from Intelligence Squad Alpha. I guess you’re my cavalry, but we can save the introductions for later. We have PLM holding a village hostage if I don’t show by noon. That means we have less than eight hours to clear these guys out before they wipe the village off the map. I’m survey the area but I need you guys here ASAP.”
