Alpha One

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The Sahara Desert, Africa.

Sahara is the world’s largest desert. It covers over 3½ million square miles, or 9 million square kilometres, an area that is roughly equal to that of the United States. The landscape of this vast African desert includes mountain ranges, rocky plateaus, gravelly plains and sandy wastes. This barren desert is only broken by the cultivated land along the long, winding Nile River.

The green, army ‘Super Stallion’ helicopter roared over the desert, staying low to the ground. It had left, with a full crew of United States Marines, over an hour earlier from a Navy aircraft carrier stationed in the Mediterranean Sea. Currently, the chopper was flying South over Libya. It’s current location was roughly 600 kilometres off the South coast of Africa, and almost 400 kilometres South-East of Libya’s Al Fuqaha. This placed the Army chopper right in the middle of a barren stretch of desert known as the Rebiana Sand Sea. And, with no sign of life in any direction, the ‘Super Stallion’ began to slow.

Standing in the cargo bay of the large helicopter, Captain Michael Tara stared out over the desert below as the sand rushed by. In all directions, large cliffs or mountains cut up from the sandy, rocky floor. It was one of the most barren and most harsh environments on the planet. And Michael’s Alpha One team had been sent there. It was almost the time for landing, and Michael felt a little adrenaline rush up through his body.
Turning to his Marines, all seated in two rows behind the cockpit, Michael smiled. It was the best sight in the world to see a fully-strength, organised Marine squad ready for action. Now, with minutes left in the air, it was time to brief them. That was one of the captain’s strange traits. He would never give details to his team until the last minute.

 

I rolled the dice, double sixes. "Ha!" I said, and moved my last three pieces off the backgammon board.

"By Allah, Jusuf Bin-Ibrahim," Hasan said, "You're the luckiest backgammon player ever! Now I owe you three guard duties."

We were sheltering from the blistering sun in a small wadi, or dried out canyon, on the northern side of the camp, about 3 km from the fence line, both dressed in long white bedouin robes with turbans wrapped across our faces to protect from the windblown sand. Suddenly we heard the low noise of a large helicopter.

"What's that?" Hasan asked as he reached for the radio. As he turned to look to the north, I pulled out a small inhaler bottle. Slipping behind him, I put it under his nose and sprayed it into his face. He slumped to the ground, and I took a syringe and gave him enough I-8 to keep him unconscious for a day. I drug him over to the shade of some rocks. Climbing up on the top of the rocks, I took out a pocket mirror and started signaling to the approaching chopper, directing it to a nice flat dip in the canyon that would make a good secluded landing zone.

 

Michael paced up and down the chopper's holding bay, looking into the eyes of his soldiers.

"Ok, men. Listen up. The mission is simple. Transporting weapons and US explosives, two civilian trucks that were undercover were stolen, hijacked, last week. Using satilite images we picked up earlier today, a small camp was located in this area. Out of all the camps known to the US, this one was off the list. We will approahed, when signalled by our inside man, and exicute a quick landing. The chopper has been ordered to pull back until needed. It WILL all go smoothly. Keep your minds and guns ready, and expect anything. This might be a small meeting of terrorists, or it may just be a civilian camp. Be prepared. Drop in three. Lock and Load, Marines."

With that, Michael made his way to the cockpit where the pilot had spotted the flashing light in the distance.
"That's it, Jericho." Michael said to the pilot.
"Take us down."

 

The group had trained together under the command of the Captain. Of the Task Forces he had served with Hal knew this to be the best. He was prepared, equipment checked and ready.

He felt the motion of the chopper change as it began it's descent.

 

Damien dated the passage and closed the book, he slipped it into his pack. Damien had decided since he started the army to keep going with his writing, his hobby, he loved it, almost as much as the army. He kept journals of every mission he'd ever been on. His journal was soon driven out of his head though, adrenelin was started to pump through his body, he loved what he did, just like his father, must run blood he always thought, there was no other explanation. He did a quick recheck of his weapons, last of all his SIG-sauer P220, a hand me down from his father's glory days, he slipped it back into it's holster just as the chopper started it's descent. Standing, Damien slung his pack onto his back and grabbed onto one of the many handholds lining the wall.

 

Michael watched his Marines rise, one by one, grabbing hold of the handrail on the chopper’s roof. He smiled and waited, holding his M4 in one hand, next tot eh large side door. The Super Stallion slowly descended, and the Marines were ready. As the huge chopper arrived at a level of roughly thirty feet above the ground, it began to hover loudly.

“This is it, soldiers!” Michael Barked at his team.
“Two at a time. Damien, take the rear. Take Hal too. One, two… Go!” On his order, Michael and the first marine grabbed the two zip-lines attached to the door and slipped off the chopper. Landing quickly, coming into a crouching position, Michael brought his assault rifle up and checked the area. All clear. He signaled for group two.

 

Damien nodded to his captain and walked to the opposite door to his captain. He grabbed a zip-line and dropped out of the chopper, sliding silently down the zip-line, Damien drew one of his MP-7's. He landed heavily, the MP-7's fold out stock held firmly to his shoulder, he moved up behind his Michael just four more marines dropped down from the chopper. "All clear on my side sir."

 

I waited behind a large rock until the chopper was away and all the dust had stopped flying around. "I'm a friendly, I'm coming out, do NOT fire on me. Okay?" I yelled. Someone yelled back, "Okay, come out nice and slow."

I slowly peeked around the rock, then stood up with both hands in the air. From my experience, this marine team was the best, but anybody could get an itchy trigger figure, and with my bedouin robes, dyed black beard, and extra tanned skin, I did fit the profile of an unfriendly.

I slowly walked up to their commander, feeling the creepies crawl up the back of my neck, as they always did whenever I knew that several assault rifles were aimed at my body. I saluted Captain Tara.

"Okay, here's what I know. There are seven other two-man watch posts like the one I was stationed at here. They're all 2 to 3 clics from the main camp. They don't have wire, but I suspect at least some mines around their perimeter. The vehicles are under camo tarps in separate earthen berms. They've got at least four heavy MG posts with good fields of fire on most approaches."

I spit some sand out of my mouth. "Have the brass decided what they want done with the vehicles and weapons yet? I've been out of contact for a few days, and they hadn't yet figured out whether we needed to recover everything, or just make sure it's all rendered inoperable. It'd be kind of nice if we could just lay down some laser target points on the camp and have the carrier send in a couple cruise missiles. Mission accomplished, but how often does it get to be easy?"

Just then I heard Hasan's radio cackle with some Arabic. "They want a report on the dust cloud someone saw. What do you want me to tell them?"

 

Michael was happy to see his inside man hadn’t been blown to pieces yet.

“Good job, soldier. I’m not sure what is needed yet. However, the weapons, and maybe vehicles, are to be retrieved and evacuated from the site. Tell me, before we do anything else, are there any prisoners? And tell your friends in there that you’re checking out what looks like a civilian helicopter landing.”

 

Nathan waited impatiently in his room. Any minute the Captain would barge in and brief him on his mission, but he already knew what it was. He had to destroy what he wanted to fight for. But he wasn't going to do that he was going to abort and take revenge. He knew if he failed he would die, but maybe dying was worth saving what he believed in. He would die if he failed to destroy the Americans anyway. Even if he did destroy the americas they would probably kill him anyway. Yeah, he had made up his mind he was to switch sides and fight for what he thought was right. And you never know maybe he'll live to tell the tail and maybe the Americans would take him under their wing and he could be just like his father. But he had to focus on the now. The trained they had given him and all the pain he had went through was finally going to pay off. He would use it against them, give them a taste of their own medicine. Just then the Commander walked in. He was tall and chunky. He had a thin pointy mustache.

"Are you ready, boy?" The commander asked in a sturn voice.

"Yes," Nathan replied.

"You will use these three weapons." Said the Commander.

The commander showed a traditional style Japanese sword, two elbow blades, and a single pistol. Nathan has trained with these weapons all his life. To conserve amunition the Japanese gave their young soldiers swords. They were to use the pistol only when it would be the greatest asset. Like if there was a whole bunch of soldiers around some explosives or to shoot the pilot of a helicopter etc. To kill a single man they were to use only sharpened steel. But he trusted his training with these blades. Nathan could stop a bullet just as well as a soldier could with the best armour money could buy with his sword. He could kill 10 men just as quickly as a soldier could with an assult rifle with his elbow blades. Nathan nodded to the commander.

"When the Alpha One team arrives back from their latest mission you will lead a group of soldiers of your rank into their facilities. You will assassinate them quickly and precisely. You will report back here with the results. If you fail you will be executed or you may kill yourself. My soldiers will attack the base to create a distraction for your group to move in for the kill. Again I will say do not fail!" Said the commander roughly as he left the room.

Now all Nathan was required to do was wait. A task which seems easier than it is.

 

"Okay, just a second," I said. I spoke shortly into the radio. "Regarding the drivers of the vehicles, one is already dead, the other three are in pits about 10 meters south of the vehicle berms. None of them will probably be in conditions to walk, much less run, so they will need assistance to get out of there. Since it looks like we're going to need to do this the hard way, one of your men could put on Hasan's clothes, and we could say one of us got stung by a scorpion and we need to come in before our guard shift is up. Once in, we should be able to create some havoc to cover the rest of the team's advance."

 

Michael nodded. However, as he began issuing orders, a voice came in over his mike. It was Jericho, the chopper captain.

“Captain? Captain Tara? Do you copy?”

“Copy, Jerry. What’s the problem? I’m in a good mood here, and ready to go in. What do you need?”

“Well, Mikey. This is going to hurt you bad. Captain Schoefield just called in. He wants you to recover Scot, then abort the mission. A team of Bravo soldiers are taking over in two hours. We’re to be back at base by then. On the carrier, Schoefield said he’d brief you on a new, more important mission. Over.”

Michael simply swore, keying his helmet mic.

“What the ****?! What does he want us for?”

“Don’t know, sir. My orders are to pick you guys up and take you back to the carrier. I’m coming in now.”

There was nothing left for Michael to do. He turned to his troops and, despite the swearing protests, explained the situation. Within a minute, the team, along with Scot, were climbing aboard to Super Stallion.

Michael swore again, as the team left, heading back to the carrier.

 

Damien listened to his captain, just catching his voice above the complaints of the other soldiers. 'What the f***k' he said to himself. Nonetheless he climbed back aboard the Super Stallion when it arrived. He tossed his pack against the same wall his was leaning against before, he threw himself down next to it. (After having taken off his shotgun.) He took out his journal and opened to the most recent page...

 

Hal climbed back in the chopper. It wasn't the first time a mission had been aborted and he doubted it would be the last.

He made himself comfortable and wondered what the new mission was. More important usually meant more dangerous. He looked forward to it.

 

I sat on a bench in the chopper. Well, there was one fire fight I wouldn't have to check my luck in. So much the better for me. Hopefully the Bravo team would kill everyone in the camp, that way, my Yusuf alias could still be effective, I'd just say that I escaped in the chaos of the attack. I looked around at some of the marines in the chopper. I'd seen several of them before on previous missions. I nodded at a few who made eye contact with me.

 

The chopper roared across the desert, the agitated Marine team in it. They were moving quickly, and before long another Super Stallion came into sight. As it past, Michael looked through it’s open, side door. Despite the speed of the two shoppers, and the distance between them, Alpha One’s captain clearly saw the Marine team aboard the second chopper. It was most probably Bravo One.

After about an hour of mostly silence, the land dropped away beneath the helicopter and the sea arrived. Michael stood, stretching his legs, and made his way to the cockpit. Through the windscreen, a large Aircraft carrier was in sight.

“Star, this is Alpha One. Preparing for landing. Copy?”

Jericho let go of the transmitter button as a voice came over the speakers.

“Alpha One, this is command post of the Star. Deck has been cleared. Commence landing.”

And so they did. Michael didn’t sit down, though. He simply held onto the handrails on the roof and waited as the chopper hit the landing pad. Instantly, the captain jumped off board and headed toward the main building, known as ‘the island’ on Aircraft carriers. Out of the main door, an armed group approached. Leading it was Commander Schofield. He stopped just in front of Michael, watching the Alpha One unit leave their chopper. Ignoring all manners, Michael instantly snapped out at the Commander.

“What the hell is all this about?”

 

Damien was the last to get off the chopper, the adrenelin had all but left his body. He jogged after the rest of the marine team, as he caught up his captain was having a go at another important looking person. Damien idly looked around the marine group opposite them, the looked dangerous.

 

I walked up to a position just behind and to the right of Captain Tara. I was very curious as well to find out what the hell this was all about, and where, if anyplace, the brass wanted to go next. Maybe they'd forget about me for a day or two and I'd get a chance to catch up on some sleep.

 

“Well, captain Tara. I believe you know that Bravo One has been sent in on your leave, yes?”

Michael simply nodded, feeling like he wanted to rip Schofield’s head from his neck. Anger was streaming through the Marine’s veins.

“Well. We have a more important mission. It involves a man on base, here on the carrier. He needs to see you and your team. He, I believe his name is Nathan, will give you the briefing. He can be located in the living quarters at the back of the carrier. I hope you can make your way there.” Then, finished, Schofield turned away. However, as he did, he caught Michael’s eye contact and gave a brief wink. Something in his eyes was wrong.

Michael, trying to work out what was going on, grabbed his pack from the chopper and headed off down the deck to a service elevator that would lead down to the living quarters aboard the Star.

“Come on, men.” He called after him.

“To the living deck.” And, assuming the other eleven Marines were following, Michael continued ahead.


Meanwhile, unknown to Michael and his team, a man was watching. From the top floor on the control tower, the Marine spoke into his helmet mic.

“Nathan? Nathan, this is Hawk. Alpha One is heading towards your location. They’re heading to the living quarters now, sir.”

 

Hal grabbed his pack and rifle in hand followed his captain to the elevator. Although aboard the safety of the Star he felt his adrenalin rising at the anticipation of the new mission.