April 25th, 2025
Hotel in Yaoundé, Cameroon
"Do you know when you'll be back?"
Mirwais posed the question genuinely, either forgetting or ignoring the fact that he had asked her at least a dozen times over the past month. He was a smart boy, bright in the unsure way of a teen still figuring out his place in the world. In all likelihood he had known that she couldn't answer him before she had said so the first time, her vagueness on details making it clear that whatever she was doing was not just another trip to Austin. Still he asked, hoping that he'd be wrong and his mother could give him some soothing definite answer.
Arsala could do no such thing. She couldn't tell him where she was going, when she'd be back, if she would make it home in one piece or at all. The only thing she could do for poor Mirwais was smile, sink into her seat on the cheap bed the hotel had provided, and swallow her doubts.
"Soon, I hope. But I don't know. This case I'm working, I don't know all the details yet but it's complicated, complicated enough they're calling for help from all over. It might take a while, but I'll call as often as I can."
"Sounds good."
He was better at hiding his feelings nowadays, but there was no getting past Mom. It was the little things that gave Mirwais away. His inflection, the slight downturn at the corners of his mouth, hints of discontent that he wouldn't recognize until he himself had children. She could stomach the standard teenager fuck you, I won't do what you tell me! acting out, even if it made her grumble. This genuine loneliness he was giving off, the sense of abandonment that he couldn't hide?
That hurt.
"We'll do video call; that way I can make sure you've been practicing your signing!"
"Okay, if you want to."
Her smile wavered. After a couple of years humping around her homeland and then another two decades as a cop she was pretty good at keeping a game face. Car wrecks, shootings, burn victims, once she saw enough of them they all blurred together. Her only weak point was her children, and Mirwais blowing off the project they had been working on was enough to give her pause. Arsala considered her name prophetic, for what she was if not a lioness taking care of her cubs? But sometimes she had to step away from the pride, and they lacked the context to understand why.
"Well, I know you're supposed to be going to Thomas's. I won't keep you. Make sure to call your dad if you need a ride home. Have fun!"
"I will, thanks Mom."
She wanted to keep him longer, tell him all the things she might not get to if the operation went badly. How proud of him she was, how grateful she was for him setting an example for his sister, that she saw him grow and change day by day and year by year into a fine young man. But he valued his space more than her sentimentality, the same way she had valued her own at his age. Arsala resigned herself to sending an email or something later, waving goodbye as she moved to switch off her laptop.
She waved, and instead of reciprocating Mirwais crossed her arms over his chest, holding them tightly just long enough for her to see before pointing at her.
This time her smile stayed strong.
"I love you too."
-----
April 27th 2025
Just inside the border of Taniland
She thought she had left long-haul flights in clapped-out cargo planes behind her when she got discharged but there she sat once more, surrounded by capital-o Operators and enough gear to fight a small proxy war. It was like being in G Squadron all over again, except this time she wasn't a young grunt with something to prove but an experienced officer, the oldest on the team if she wasn't mistaken. She also had more to lose these days and less experience working with people she wasn't familiar with. She knew more about the rest of Spearhead than she knew them personally, with the obvious exception of her partner.
Zaland sat between her knees, the dog panting contentedly as her fingers traced lazy circles between his ears. The other hand was busy with the booklet she had made for herself, combining the information Spearhead had provided on Taniland and pages of notes from her own research. She had started the flight with a nap, the brim of her hat tipped down to shield her eyes, but she could only sleep so much. With shuteye out of the question she felt it was prudent to review as much as she could before touch-down.
The rattle of chunking engines signaled a turbulent landing, Arsala taking hold of her rifle as Zaland made a plaintive whine for attention. The requisitioned MRAD was an exact copy of her own, a condition of her deployment. When asked what weapons she required Arsala had given them the specs of her personal armory, her favored weapons that she wasn't willing to lug around the world to get banged to hell in a firefight. It was something like twenty-five thousand dollars worth of longarms when factoring in scopes and suppressors, before all the taxes and fees that came with getting licensed to own suppressors and full-auto submachine guns. It had been a ridiculous request, one designed to give her an excuse to turn the op down, but she had forgotten just how quickly the military could spend tax dollars.
She had her guns within days, and now it was time for her to hold up her end of the bargain.
The only weapons on Arsala that were hers to own was her knife and her pistol, custom-made keepsakes that couldn't simply be dragged out of an armory. As loathe as she was to put her own equipment in harm's way she wasn't about to leave those at home. The plane managed to skid to a halt without snapping its landing gear, Arsala standing and stretching as the door was thrown open. She put on her aviators before stepping out, trailed closely by Zaland.
The lady meeting them was a classic spook, an obvious foreigner in business casual attire hanging around the dusty ass-end of nowhere. Khattak had worked her kind before, and quite frankly she hadn't enjoyed the experience.
It was hard not to regret signing up for this thing. There was a reason she had left all that high-speed, low-drag shit behind her to book DUIs and DVs. Shootings happened, and for Arsala they happened more commonly these days, but she liked knowing that pulling the trigger was the last resort, the choice she made when all others were exhausted. Here she'd be expected to shoot in the back, to jump right into the highest level of the use of force continuum. She had signed up for another war.
It was natural for her to feel unsure, but the tension in her gut would either subside or be ignored once the doorkicking began. The Order were a special sort of scumbag, bad enough that they were a military threat and not a law enforcement one. Arsala could compartmentalize for as long as it took to handle it. In the meantime she just tipped her hat at Jamison and loaded her things onto the bus, picking a seat at random so Zaland could clamber into her lap.
The drive, like the flight, was less than comfortable. This part of the world wasn't famous for its infrastructure at the best of times and something told her that the current rulers weren't interested in paying for upkeep.
"What am I supposed to say, no? I'm already out here, might as well get to work."
Arsala snickered as she took her turn with the dossier, committing the details to memory. It was like Afghanistan all over again-the locals weren't going to be clamoring to help a group of heavily armed outsiders without a local headman there to provide bona fides. You needed someone with respect from the community, a warlord or a tribal leader or a politician, and you needed that someone to be willing to work with you.
Pulling Adebayo out of a fire would kickstart a working relationship.
"How many enemies are we expecting in the compound? How many in the village itself? If they've got this place locked down we can expect there to be militia crawling up our ass at the first sign of trouble?
Hotel in Yaoundé, Cameroon
"Do you know when you'll be back?"
Mirwais posed the question genuinely, either forgetting or ignoring the fact that he had asked her at least a dozen times over the past month. He was a smart boy, bright in the unsure way of a teen still figuring out his place in the world. In all likelihood he had known that she couldn't answer him before she had said so the first time, her vagueness on details making it clear that whatever she was doing was not just another trip to Austin. Still he asked, hoping that he'd be wrong and his mother could give him some soothing definite answer.
Arsala could do no such thing. She couldn't tell him where she was going, when she'd be back, if she would make it home in one piece or at all. The only thing she could do for poor Mirwais was smile, sink into her seat on the cheap bed the hotel had provided, and swallow her doubts.
"Soon, I hope. But I don't know. This case I'm working, I don't know all the details yet but it's complicated, complicated enough they're calling for help from all over. It might take a while, but I'll call as often as I can."
"Sounds good."
He was better at hiding his feelings nowadays, but there was no getting past Mom. It was the little things that gave Mirwais away. His inflection, the slight downturn at the corners of his mouth, hints of discontent that he wouldn't recognize until he himself had children. She could stomach the standard teenager fuck you, I won't do what you tell me! acting out, even if it made her grumble. This genuine loneliness he was giving off, the sense of abandonment that he couldn't hide?
That hurt.
"We'll do video call; that way I can make sure you've been practicing your signing!"
"Okay, if you want to."
Her smile wavered. After a couple of years humping around her homeland and then another two decades as a cop she was pretty good at keeping a game face. Car wrecks, shootings, burn victims, once she saw enough of them they all blurred together. Her only weak point was her children, and Mirwais blowing off the project they had been working on was enough to give her pause. Arsala considered her name prophetic, for what she was if not a lioness taking care of her cubs? But sometimes she had to step away from the pride, and they lacked the context to understand why.
"Well, I know you're supposed to be going to Thomas's. I won't keep you. Make sure to call your dad if you need a ride home. Have fun!"
"I will, thanks Mom."
She wanted to keep him longer, tell him all the things she might not get to if the operation went badly. How proud of him she was, how grateful she was for him setting an example for his sister, that she saw him grow and change day by day and year by year into a fine young man. But he valued his space more than her sentimentality, the same way she had valued her own at his age. Arsala resigned herself to sending an email or something later, waving goodbye as she moved to switch off her laptop.
She waved, and instead of reciprocating Mirwais crossed her arms over his chest, holding them tightly just long enough for her to see before pointing at her.
This time her smile stayed strong.
"I love you too."
-----
April 27th 2025
Just inside the border of Taniland
She thought she had left long-haul flights in clapped-out cargo planes behind her when she got discharged but there she sat once more, surrounded by capital-o Operators and enough gear to fight a small proxy war. It was like being in G Squadron all over again, except this time she wasn't a young grunt with something to prove but an experienced officer, the oldest on the team if she wasn't mistaken. She also had more to lose these days and less experience working with people she wasn't familiar with. She knew more about the rest of Spearhead than she knew them personally, with the obvious exception of her partner.
Zaland sat between her knees, the dog panting contentedly as her fingers traced lazy circles between his ears. The other hand was busy with the booklet she had made for herself, combining the information Spearhead had provided on Taniland and pages of notes from her own research. She had started the flight with a nap, the brim of her hat tipped down to shield her eyes, but she could only sleep so much. With shuteye out of the question she felt it was prudent to review as much as she could before touch-down.
The rattle of chunking engines signaled a turbulent landing, Arsala taking hold of her rifle as Zaland made a plaintive whine for attention. The requisitioned MRAD was an exact copy of her own, a condition of her deployment. When asked what weapons she required Arsala had given them the specs of her personal armory, her favored weapons that she wasn't willing to lug around the world to get banged to hell in a firefight. It was something like twenty-five thousand dollars worth of longarms when factoring in scopes and suppressors, before all the taxes and fees that came with getting licensed to own suppressors and full-auto submachine guns. It had been a ridiculous request, one designed to give her an excuse to turn the op down, but she had forgotten just how quickly the military could spend tax dollars.
She had her guns within days, and now it was time for her to hold up her end of the bargain.
The only weapons on Arsala that were hers to own was her knife and her pistol, custom-made keepsakes that couldn't simply be dragged out of an armory. As loathe as she was to put her own equipment in harm's way she wasn't about to leave those at home. The plane managed to skid to a halt without snapping its landing gear, Arsala standing and stretching as the door was thrown open. She put on her aviators before stepping out, trailed closely by Zaland.
The lady meeting them was a classic spook, an obvious foreigner in business casual attire hanging around the dusty ass-end of nowhere. Khattak had worked her kind before, and quite frankly she hadn't enjoyed the experience.
It was hard not to regret signing up for this thing. There was a reason she had left all that high-speed, low-drag shit behind her to book DUIs and DVs. Shootings happened, and for Arsala they happened more commonly these days, but she liked knowing that pulling the trigger was the last resort, the choice she made when all others were exhausted. Here she'd be expected to shoot in the back, to jump right into the highest level of the use of force continuum. She had signed up for another war.
It was natural for her to feel unsure, but the tension in her gut would either subside or be ignored once the doorkicking began. The Order were a special sort of scumbag, bad enough that they were a military threat and not a law enforcement one. Arsala could compartmentalize for as long as it took to handle it. In the meantime she just tipped her hat at Jamison and loaded her things onto the bus, picking a seat at random so Zaland could clamber into her lap.
The drive, like the flight, was less than comfortable. This part of the world wasn't famous for its infrastructure at the best of times and something told her that the current rulers weren't interested in paying for upkeep.
"What am I supposed to say, no? I'm already out here, might as well get to work."
Arsala snickered as she took her turn with the dossier, committing the details to memory. It was like Afghanistan all over again-the locals weren't going to be clamoring to help a group of heavily armed outsiders without a local headman there to provide bona fides. You needed someone with respect from the community, a warlord or a tribal leader or a politician, and you needed that someone to be willing to work with you.
Pulling Adebayo out of a fire would kickstart a working relationship.
"How many enemies are we expecting in the compound? How many in the village itself? If they've got this place locked down we can expect there to be militia crawling up our ass at the first sign of trouble?