I peeked towards the male muffled voices, the C.O came down with a group of officers and they emerged from the vessel with boxes, equipment and exploration gears. The strangers weren’t invaders like they were being treated and made appeared to be. I didn’t understand the fuss, the secrecy and the heavy artillery displayed to keep them hostage.
***
The entrance to the locker room, shut behind Nile, the spunky Psy Op from HQ, as I donned my camouflage attire. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the strangers. Of course, I knew the standard modus operandi: interrogation— worse, torture.
“No,” I startled. I hoped by heavens he hadn't been tortured; the one I saved. Why was suddenly becoming such a softie? Besotted and mushed over by a total stranger? I retrieved from my locker, a book I started reading a few days ago,
‘Indigo’ by D. S. Verka, a 2010 classic, one of the best thrillers I ever read, then dashed outside with no plan in mind.
Standing across the yard, half a dozen choppers flew in with diplomats, army generals, analysts, engineers, specialists and scientist all geared up, carrying trunks of equipment.
The Commander clutched his hat as he briefed the burly decorated General, leading him and his team of high ranking officials and secret service agents to the crash site as a team of specialists set up equipment, running preliminary diagnostics of what it was they could possibly be dealing with. Beaming excitedly, their faces lit up as they marvelled at the once in a lifetime witness to a historic event.
I watched from a distance. All I could perceive was muffled voices and nothing worth of concrete and informing Intel. Soldiers of my rank weren’t given the clearance to be briefed on the looming occurrence and I was in dire need of intel.
The top dog military personnel viewed the spec ops as an expendable force who were supposed to act, not ask and be a low rate military force.
The secret service agents whispered in their COM links, marching majestically in dark attires, matching eyewear, their tactical gear and state of the art weapons intact, keeping watch at all and everything. I admitted I was a smidgeon envious of how cool they appeared. Well, just a tad, since technically I had more clearance than most of them.
A few minutes later, the C.O and the General emerged from the tent, heading towards the holding room. I kicked a rock in frustration. I needed to get insight into what was going on. Only top officials and seniors ranking as such had security clearance to the covert affairs. Maybe it was time to cosy up to Kian.
He was a senior officer and thanks to my profiling and analytic skills, I’d found out he blushed whenever I passed by. He certainly was a shy and low self-esteemed type of guy—not that there was anything wrong with his looks. He was a fairly good-looking guy, neat, muscular and well behaved. If my guess was right, he had a crush on me. Perhaps, I could use some of my charms to gain Intel from him.
“Hey, Kian,” I sashayed, lifting my eyebrows. Being a gentleman as Kian was, he bowed slightly, his thin, subtle lips curled, emphasising his clean shaved chin.
“Eden.” He blushed, a rare twinkle gleamed in his heavy-lidded brown eyes.
“What’s going on?” I waved my index finger, acting up all surprised and shocked, placing myself a few millimetres away from him.
He cleared his throat nervously and stammered.
“I… I’m sorry, Eden, I cannot let you in on this one. It’s top secret.”
“Pretty evident right?” I licked my lips as he scratched his thin brow.
“I mean, what’s the harm? I just want to know if they are from earth you know, I’m really scared.” I shut my eyes, clutching my chest.
“Oh Eden, you don’t have to be scared. All I can say is, the Confederate government knows nothing of this. It’s not a military drill or exercise and…” He paused, heaving a deep breath.
“We do not know their origin—for now.” He finished, clutching some paperwork to his chest.
“Oh my goodness! Are they aliens?” I squinted excitedly as he held his palm up and gestured.
“Shush, keep your voice down. That’s all I can say for now wish I could say more and hey?” He furrowed his brow.
“What?” I peered.
“Don’t tell anyone.” He whispered, closing towards me. I could smell his minty breath.
‘That’s alright. What’s there to tell anyway? I think it’s pretty evident to everyone.” I yawned slightly, cleaning a tear from my eye swaying and he blushed even more.
“I have to go now.” He jolted from his trance-like gaze, watching me sway with the wind.
“Wait, Kian” I flustered my lashes.
“Are they being tortured?”
“Of course not.” The curves of his mouth quirked up once again.
“We aren’t barbarians, but General Siyir, though,” He wagged his finger.
“Is no joke. I’m sure he would have no qualms resorting to such archaic methods if the foreigners do not cooperate. I’m sure you’ve heard of the stories of the terrible Siyir.” Kian blurted turning on his toes.
“Siyir. His name was as fearsome as his large, stubby fists.
Over forty decades ago, he was one of the most feared men alive on the continent and beyond. He was hewn from a deadly rebel group, the bullhorn freedom fighters, that had trained him as a child soldier, freed by the then-Republican government, where he’d harvested human ears, jaw bones and fingers for keepsakes. If anything, the man was an expert on torture.
“So, they aren’t cooperating?” Disenchantment hinted in my voice. Kian shrugged his broad shoulders and sauntered off murmuring,
“I’ve said enough already. See you around Eden.”
En route to Pelmar
The ghost copter engines revved with a meek hum, its rotors taking us airborne as team Goldfinch and Mockingbird, flared side by side into the atmosphere.
I emitted a nostalgic eye over the base, sighing inside the belly of the Boeing AF-68 Apache, with my squadron, my 60-pound tactical gear hanging from my back.
Marie and I didn't make it into the same team. She made the orange team and me, the green. She and I were the only female spec ops operatives in the platoon.
It was no longer the early two thousand, Africa, where gender stereotypes had seeped deep into the military ranks, headed by an unapologetic misogynist, who made sure women couldn't enlist in the spec ops. It irked me.
Five years back, the first female, a Sudanese, had enlisted in an attempt to make history but had failed suffering many injuries.
Boot camp training was near impossible to complete. Out of 250 mutts enrolled, I was one of the 12 to have survived the gruesome selection process. Many had quit, others didn’t make the cut. Many came into boot camp looking ripped with all muscle groups in place. What they failed to realise was; they had to be mentally strong and not intellectually deficient, meanwhile forgetting everything they thought they knew, destroying conceptual barriers and above all, excel in academics.
I clasped my gloved hands, cracking my knuckles that were bruised and scarred from the 30month brutal training just as the radio chattered as command instructed,
"Operation blazing fox is a go."
"Roger that." Lieutenant Lon responded firmly as I shuffled my feet with anxiety and enthusiasm.
I played the scenario in my head over and over again. The chief of operations had made us rehearse the mission plan and glue to our memories, the strategy map. The plan was to parachute down to the narrow peninsula, from the Jedi stealth choppers into the mountains and crawl to the small town, access property from the backyard, set up C4 charges, raid the compound, capture all meeting attendants, detonate charges and annihilate the building, rumoured to harbour narcotics and sophisticated weapons, rally at the rendezvous point and bring the culprits back to base. But I had my own covert mission. Eliminate all targets at all costs.
I watched my team from the corner of my eye as they slumped in their seats. They looked every bit as anxious as I was. For most of them, it wa
s their first time going on a mission. I might have fooled them with my reserved outlook, but I was no neophyte in the spec ops scenario. I was so much more. If only they knew.
They didn’t suspect anything, not even Marie. After all, I had trained with them faking pain and discontent.
I was an undercover government operative specially forged to keep tabs and intel on top government and military personnel who were supposedly mounting government conspiracies, working hand in hand with terrorist organisations and rebels to overthrow the Confederate government of our country and of other countries as well.
After years of civil unrest between the English speakers and the French, the Republican government and its cronies fell in 2022 and history was made by way of common sense: peace under a confederate government. But everyone wasn’t happy. That was where my job came in. Fish out the black legs and report back to HQ, without risking exposure.
My father was a retired secret service operative and I happily took after his footsteps to my mother’s discontent. I excelled in every test until I was assigned a top-level mission, infiltrate the spec ops.
I didn’t cheat through BUDS. It was every bit as gruesome and challenging. The Secret Service stood as a speck of dust in comparison to Spec Ops training. It was by far the toughest in the world.
There resided a dead silence in the chopper. Streaks of sweat formed on my forehead as the helicopter suddenly rocked, startling us.
A loud blink of blinding light tore through our orbs. The pilot wavered and the chopper spiralled out of control in the instant monochromic moment. What seemed like blazing blue comets, rained in the stratosphere.
“What in holy hell is that?” Lieutenant Lon adjusted his tilted helmet as the chopper steadied in rhythm with my heartbeat. I took short breaths clutching the metal rail beneath my seat for extra support, my heart fluttering out of control.
“Damn it!” Addis, the lanky sniper cursed as the hopper once again rocked, this time taking a direct hit from one of the flaming balls, breaking of the chopper tail. We stumbled in the air as the chopper somersaulted. Yells and screams erupted within the squadron. I took a profound breath, stifling a yelp as we crashed into the deep blue ocean.
In my moment of NDE, I flashed back to my BUDS training. Swimming wasn’t my forté. I was scared of water. Apart from the OCD; repetitive patterns that freaked me out, water was my bane. However, I had faked through the training and not one person knew my weaknesses.
As the icy water whooshed through my ears and massive bubbles erupted from the choppers impact with ocean water, I struggled to keep a sane mind.
Events unfolded in a slow motion before me and thoughts of death sprouted in my mind.
The weight of my gear pulled me to the ocean bed as I hurriedly shed it off, retrieving my knife from my tactical duty belt and cutting the interwoven safety net that had tangled to my back gear. I had no sense of exploration as beautiful aquatic beings swam passed by. I only struggled to hold on to my very tiny fabric of existence. I could only last five minutes underwater.
I gazed into the water and saw the carnage. The chopper whose turbines still fanned in the water, receded to the bottom of the ocean as my teammates struggled to get out of its way. I followed them as we pushed upwards, emerging from the water. Air never felt so good.
“Everyone alright?” Team captain Lon inquired, cleaning excess salty sea water from his face, squeezing his goatee as we swam towards the shore. I coughed throwing off my camouflage jacket. I would freeze to death if I had kept it on.
“Shed all heavy gear and keep light weapons,” Lon screamed as we saw the beach appear up ahead.
“It seems we are under attack.” I gasped as a strange UFO scout ship circled from a distance.
“We have to make it out of here quick before the assailants spot us. Get back to base, regroup and launch a counter attack.” Lon ordered.
“This cannot be a coincidence. Just a few hours after the UFO crash-landed in the compound, then this? Maybe they have raided the base to retrieve their people. Whoever they are.” I grunted as we touched down on white sandy shores.
“Marie.” My heart jolted.
“What of team two?” I asked, crawling from the water onto the sand.
“I saw their chopper take a direct hit before we crashed.” Lieutenant Mokika, groaned.
“Look,” Adiné yelled, pointing at the water. We saw soldiers swimming ashore.
“It’s them.” He squawked as recognition dawned on his face. There were only three teammates. My heart flustered hoping Marie was amongst.
As they came into full view, Lon inquired aiding the survivors ashore.
“Where are the rest of you?” Lon demanded, his expression hardening up.
“Dead!” Croaked Dino, an athletic built team two operatives.
“Marie,” I yelled as she stumbled out of the water, her eyes red, stung from the salty water.
“Are you ok?” I searched her face and she nodded a few beads of tears commingling with water.
“I couldn’t…” She coughed as I shushed.
“I couldn’t process what happened. It happened so fast. I saw you go down.” She whispered.
“I thought we were all going to die.” She sobbed.
“We have to keep moving,” Lon announced.
“More than anything you get to use everything you learned during training. This is not a drill. This is happening. We are under attack and we know not by whom.” He warned.
He was right. We had to get out of sight before the scout ship spotted us and finished what it had started.
Lon pointed a footpath to the jungle, retrieving a wet map from his pocket mapping our location and our destination.
“It should take us about ten minutes from here to base if we trot. Hey,” He snapped.
“Try to stay up to speed, folks.” He advised as we scampered following his lead.
The communication gear was lost at sea. The GPS tracker and satellite phones soaked with sea water. One would have thought at this age; communication gears would be waterproof. Shocker. I puffed.
Some things never changed in Africa. We were back to the organic and analogue system.
I checked my magnetic compass and binoculars still attached to my duty belt with my Berretta pistol and knife with very little munition... hoping not to come in contact with aggression with so little ammo.
We trotted in stinky marshes, crouching under the dense woods that had also taken a hit from the flaming energy balls, scanning the skies and the perimeter assessing danger, startling scared locals who’d been hiding in sheds from the phenomenon.
In no time, the rear faction of the compound emerged in front of us as we crouched, assessing the imminent level of aggression.
We climbed on the barbed wire fence which was no longer laced with electricity to our advantage. Perhaps, the aggressor had taken out power. We crouched behind the nearby bushes, scouring and assessing the situation.
Six scout battleships hovered in the perimeter with missile projectiles poised to annihilate the enemy. One Mothership, same prototype as the scouts, just bigger, hovered in place. The trident shaped vessel with a semi-oval elongated front view, beamed yellow lights, hovering under the bright morning sun.
The compound was alight with an exchange of fire. Battle horns resonated as spec ops operatives on ground countered the aggressors, attempting with little success to fend off the attack.
Undoubtedly, the crash landing and the aggression were linked somehow. Several operatives lay dead and others incapacitated. Half demolished buildings stood in the wake. The sound from the UFO torpedoes was unlike anything I have ever heard. It was the sound of death. It suddenly hit me. Perhaps, this was Armageddon.
There were hooded humanoid silhouettes. They donned orchid coloured outfits underneath light, stale, grey, meshed, hooded overalls, pale in complexion as if they’d never seen a streak of ultraviolet rays. They had transparent shades to shield their orbs from the sun. They fl
ew on grey Flyboards, blinking red lights, brandishing futuristic weaponry, aimed at the human prey.
The beings spooked me as I caught sight of one of its greying eyes. It was like I stared at hell right in the orb.
Some of these shades, as I termed them, wielded two electric chords with spurts of electricity lashing out. The weapon extended to about thirty meters, emanating from their palms. It sprang out like tentacles. Some wielded kinetic guns that sent pulses of light, transferring undetectable current to its target. The result was evident. How deadly a weapon that was.
I watched in horror at the damage they wreaked with their sophisticated artilleries. A ball of bile rose in the pit of my stomach. They would pay. I handed the binoculars to an eager Marie, who cussed as her hand fell limp by her side.
“Enough! We need a plan to infiltrate the compound and take out those wraiths or whatever they are.” I bit my lower lip turning to the Team captain, whose face was drained of blood as if he’d seen a ghost.
“We aren’t prepared for this magnitude of the attack. Hell no. We are all going to die.” He drifted back into the shrubs, stammering and rattling his head. I gave him an eye roll and diverted my attention from him to the team.
This was the man who had taken us through gruesome drills, spurted obscene insults when we tired and who’d been an epitome of a nightmare to most recruits. Here he was, quivering like a haggard leaf in the dry season. I was nothing short of dazed and thwarted. He had given up before the battle had begun. There was no time to deal with him for now. Time wasn’t on our side and the team needed leadership. I took upon myself as a reflex act, drafting a plan of action as the squad looked up to me, bravery and determination written on their faces.
“We have to infiltrate the compound somehow, find out where the strangers are being held and ask them what they know,” I stated, staring each of them in the eye. I was dying to know who they were and where they hailed from. This was my chance.
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