The Last Photograph
by Wrestlr
11.
You see movies where the hero puts on all this cool-guy military stuff, and you think, Wow, yeah, I wanna be that guy. Then you put on all that gear, and it’s like, Whoa, that’s intense.
Our morning mission gear changed to wetsuits. Our handlers had a specific mission in mind. After our daily programming, when we shifted to active mode and hit the field, we were given specialized closed circuit scuba equipment. I was familiar with this—rebreather equipment meant no bubbles, making divers harder to detect. For special ops missions, stealth is everything.
Our training outdoors shifted to water. I drilled the Soldiers harder, because I knew something was coming. Our handlers did not say when, but we were about to be deployed for something that would test everything the Soldiers had learned so far. The haloes gave them the basic skills—I watched them carefully to make sure they gained the familiarity to perform the mission safely.
Three and a half days later, the time came. We were halfway through our day of training on the scuba equipment, focused intently thanks to the active mode haloes. I felt a tingle in the back of my head and froze; my halo was downloading new instructions. I climbed out of the water. The others too. We marched to a section I had not visited before. A helipad. We climbed aboard a waiting transport helicopter. Mick was already on board. We sat and strapped ourselves in.
Part of me wondered if I would recognize landmarks once we got in the air. Would I be able to determine where this place was?
Mick looked at me and grinned as he pressed a few buttons on his controller.
The blades, the noise—the helicopter began to lift off.
Sleep mode, the little voice in the back of my head said.
My eyes closed, and I slept.
We slept until we arrived. We did not need to know locations.
Active mode.
I blinked and lifted my head, saw the others do the same—saw and felt them come online in the group mind again.
Outside, it was dark. We left in mid-afternoon sometime, and now it was night.
Our haloes had downloaded the mission parameters while we slept. Vessel infiltration and search. We moved by Zodiac transport boat to within two thousand yards of a container ship parked at a pier just off the coast. We would swim one thousand yards, then go subsurface for the final thousand yards to the target. Four Soldiers would pull actions on security. The other three of us would be the search team. The objective was to covertly board the ship and conduct a coordinated search for a piece of precious cargo, a briefcase containing something critical. We would then slip back into the water, recover our gear, and swim back to the Zodiac, two thousand yards away out at sea. All without alerting any other potential combatants onshore.
The mission was a go. We loaded into the Zodiac and headed out to sea.
We geared up. Two thousand yards was as close as the Zodiac could go without risking being heard or seen. “Enter the water,” I ordered quietly, because sound carries, and simultaneously the Soldiers and I rolled backward off the edge of the Zodiac and into the sea. Our mission clock had started, and we had to hit our objective.
We planned to swim on the surface to the halfway point, but no battle plan ever survives the first encounter with the enemy. A helicopter, presumably civilian, entered the area. It could have spotted us and compromised our stealth. All our target needed to do was hear the civilian pilot radio someone about divers in the water and we would lose the element of surprise. I gave the order in my head for an emergency descent. The halo relayed the order to the other Soldiers, and we dove under the water as one. Using the rebreathers, we left no telltale trails of bubbles to give our presence away as we swam below the surface. The difference between planning and execution—that’s why our handlers needed my Special Forces skills.
The mission focus imposed by our halos in active mode ensured none of the Soldiers panicked. Adrenaline kept our heart rates up as we swam, but every thought and motion was purposeful, directed at getting us to the target location. No distractions.
We stayed subsurface and out of view from any patrols or guards. In the pitch black, against a fairly stiff current, we followed the compass-man to the edge of the pier where we prepared to covertly board the vessel. This was familiar for me, but the other Soldiers had never done anything like this, especially in the dark. They had only the downloaded skills and whatever experience I’d been able to drill into them. The swim was not easy, but we were fit and dedicated. We made it to the pier.
I surfaced on the dark side of the ship to confirm we were on target. Thanks to the haloes, all of the Soldiers saw what I saw. Enemy were on board. We definitely would be confronted by good security. I saw at least two guards, both armed. One faced to the stern with his rifle, and another on the aft side of the ladder faced toward the bow with his rifle.
We stashed our rebreathers subsurface. So far, so good. Now it was time to board the ship.
With our rifles, we quietly worked our way up the boarding ladder. As one Soldier climbed, the others covered and looked for threats. This was a critical point in the operation: if we did not get on board quickly, without being detected, it was mission failure.
We successfully boarded the target vessel. So far, we had evaded detection by the enemy on board. Now we had a whole new set of responsibilities in order to complete the mission. First, we had to search the entire ship, stem to stern, looking for the precious cargo which could be concealed anywhere. Second, we had to find the location to plant the explosive charge to disable the ship. Third, we had to get back off the ship with the cargo, back out to sea, and back to our Zodiac, without being compromised.
The four Soldiers on security paired off and moved out to provide cover, while the other two Soldiers and I started a methodical search of the ship for the briefcase. The risk of detection was high. Now, everything hinged on stealth.
Our haloes kept us concentrated on the mission. I could sense all six of them—calm, dedicated, focused.
We found no entry points near the front of the ship. We had to move aft, toward the bridge, where the potential for running into an enemy skyrocketed. We crept slowly to the entry below deck, and at last we were inside. The search for the case began.
A hallway led through the middle of the ship. The first door: A small bathroom—ship-sized shower, toilet, sink, a cabinet underneath. Nothing.
A galley. Styrofoam cups, plastic bowls, more cabinets. More nothing.
An area used as an office. A computer, printer, papers. Clear.
A laundry and storage compartment. Searching this took more time. We came up empty. Time was running out.
When Mick had said Soldiers never talked much while in active mode, that wasn’t correct. We talked a lot—just to each other through the shared thought link of our haloes instead of out loud.
We checked the entire floor. No sign of it, Angel sent to me through the halo link.
You checked everywhere?
Yessir, I looked.
We’re missing something here.
The search was taking too long, and we were losing the advantage.
They are engaging!
That last came from one of the Soldiers topside, on security detail. Through his eyes I saw several enemy emerge from the bridge and fire on the Soldiers. Seven enemy total, five armed.
Once the shooting starts, any plan goes down the crapper. Then everything is up to the team leader to make on-the-spot decisions to get the mission accomplished, get overboard, and get back to the rendezvous point. That team leader would be me.
Engage.
Four Soldiers moving as a coordinated unit quickly took out the four of the armed enemy topside. Another two minutes, and they took out the fifth. The two unarmed went down too.
But now our cover was blown. Enemy forces on land would be down the pier and on us in minutes. If we hoped to complete our mission, we had to move fast. We had to adapt as the mission unfolded, and no downloaded skill could teach you how to do that. I decided I couldn’t wait any longer and altered the mission plan. I reallocated the team—one Soldier on security, all others on search.
We searched the bridge, the engine area, and again the below-decks spaces.
Through one Soldier’s eyes, I saw a false back on one shelf. A quick bash with his rifle butt to break through, and I saw a case. Found it, he broadcast.
The plan worked. We had it.
With the case in custody, another Soldier entered to the engine area and set an explosive charge to disable the ship. It would detonate in fifteen minutes.
We assembled at the boarding location. The search team went into the water first with the precious cargo case. Then the security team and I hit the water. In pitch-black water, we located our rebreather gear and rigged up. We could hear voices at the far end of the pier—oncoming enemy—but they were too late. We slipped away under the water.
Two thousand yards of swimming later, we linked up with the waiting Zodiac, and the mission was a success. We had been able to improvise, adapt, and overcome, and the mission was accomplished.
The Zodiac headed back to meet the transport helicopter. We boarded and strapped ourselves in. “Good work,” was all Mick said as the helicopter lifted off.
Reward mode, said that voice in my head.
I was enveloped in the encompassing white fog of ecstasy, swallowed by it, lost in it, reveling in more pleasure than I’d ever known.