Chapter 8

EIGHT

In-spite of their status as one of the special tasks units, Basilisk teams ‘Headquarters’ was what most would consider ‘underwhelming’. It was a small set of offices around a main reception area, in a long-forgotten corner of Osean Military Headquarters in Oured. Most of the officers assigned to Headquarters assumed that it was just another senator’s token force on a pet project, never paying it any second thoughts.

Colonel Jack Mancuso didn’t mind the lack of fanfare for his units headquarters however, Unlike other teams such as Sea Goblin, Basilisk rarely worked in large operations with multiple factors, and in the rare instances they did, Regional commanders would take the lead and occasionally defer orders up to their Headquarters.  It allowed for the teams to conduct operations without a constant link to Oured, as well as limiting the teams footprint in official records. The entire Basilisk team Headquarters Staff consisted of half a dozen officers and a dozen senior non-commissioned officers, all of whom had been assigned to the operational teams at some point but either due to age or injury were relegated to a rear-line detail. It was important work but Jack could see how some of his men hated trading their rifle for a pen.

Jack had arrived to the office a little after eight in the morning, walking in he greeted his duty NCO and walked to his office across the reception area. Before he could fully get settled however, there was a knock on his office door. He sighed at the interruption.

“Enter” he yelled.

Hearing the door creak open he turned to see the Officer on Duty, Major Stanton.

“Sir, just got a report from the Emmerian team” Stanton reported

“And?” Mancuso asked

“Brief data burst unfortunately. It appears the mission was a success, but Lieutenant Fick also reported the safehouse and team have been compromised by local authorities.” Stanton stated grimly.

“Any news yet on if they were captured?”

“Nothing yet, OIA Feed shows that it was an anonymous tip, they raided the safehouse, but our guys were long gone by then. Unfortunately, they have their current aliases and other basic info. We’re not sure where the leak was from, or if it was a malicious leak or someone just a bit too overzealous.”

“So, I take it the original egress plan is off the table?” Mancuso asked rhetorically.  Stanton nodded

The Emmerian raid was supposed to be a quick mission, no more than three weeks at most, and something Basilisk, and more importantly, the team assigned, had done dozens of times before with other war criminals and wannabe despots. The plan was always the same, fly in under cover, take the shot, and leave before anyone connects the dots. Local authorities getting involved muddied the matters significantly.

“Whats the plan then Major?”

“We were thinking about that. Looks like we have an attack sub nearby in the Razgriz strait.” Stanton reported, producing a printout of a Map of the region.

 

Mancuso studied the document for a moment. The submarine was one of the Seawolf class, the OFS Albacore.

Mancuso leaned over his desk studying the chart.

“What can you tell me the boat?”

“Albacore went underway about three weeks ago. Been playing cat and mouse with this Yuke Typhoon guided missile sub for the past week, the Red something or other. Our plan was for her to break off the patrol and have a quick port call in Gracemeria, from there we just disguise the team as members of the crew, and we slip out with Emmeria none the wiser.” Stanton explained.

Mancuso nodded in approval.

“Major, Im going to need a moment if you will excuse me.” Mancuso explained opening the phone directory on his desk. Flipping through for a moment he found the number he needed. He punched in the numbers and waited for only a second before the line picked up.

“Osean Sixth Fleet Headquarters” The voice on the other end said flatly

“This is Colonel Mancuso, I need to speak with Admiral Whitsel, I have the priority code here” Reading off the code Mancuso waited for a moment, the line went silent before he heard the phone go active again

“This is Admiral Whitsel, to whom am I speaking?” The voice asked annoyed.

“Hey Jim, its Jack”

“Oh, Hey Jack, what can I do for you today.”

“Im going to need to borrow one of your boats”

“That might be a tall order, which one you need?”

“Albacore from the looks of It. I have a team that’s in the shit and will need a subtle exfil”

“Shit Jack, can’t I just lend you a LHA and Marine platoon instead to get your boys out? Why do you want my Attack sub?”

“Not that simple, the port of calls going to be Gracemeria”

There was a brief silence on the line.

“I see. One of those missions then” Whitsel said

“Unfortunately.”

Whitsel sighed heavily

“Fine, I’ll get the priority order sent right away, what else will you need?” he asked

“Probably Uniforms and fake ID’s if you can swing it on a boat like that”

“Fake ID’s? what the fuck for? Your boys 16 and trying to get into a bar or something Jack?” Whitsel asked incredulously.

“Local cops possibly ID’d them, they’re going to need new Aliases and will have to look the part of Sailors” Mancuso explained.

“You really love to just kick us in the balls here, don’t you Jack?” Whitsel complained.

***

“Sonar, whats our distance to that Typhoon?” Commander Bart Lawrence barked

“Four thousand meters and holding” the sonar technician reported.

 

The Albacore had been tracking the Yuketobanian Typhoon-class guided missile submarine Red December for the previous week. It was a standard cat-and-mouse game both the Oseans and Yukes’ had played for decades, even in the inter-war periods following the Belkan War and the more recent Circum-Pacific War. While the politicians made nice, it was men like Commander Lawrence that kept the Yuke threat at bay.

 

“Mister Driver, whats the odds the Yukes know we’re here” Lawrence asked the Executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Ted Driver.

“better than average, even with the advancements, Seawolf’s don’t stop on a dime. And he’s been conducting Crazy-Ivans for the past three days on the hour.” Driver noted.

 

There was a tap on the Commanders shoulder, he turned to see a Yeoman holding a printed off report

“Sir, just got a message on the VLF, priority one from command” the Petty-officer reported.

 

Lawrence snorted and took the paper, dismissing the sailor. Pulling out his reading glasses he studied the order.

“You gotta be shitting me” he muttered.

“What is it skipper?” Driver asked.

“We are to break off our patrol and head straight for Gracemeria for a resupply? What the fuck is this shit?” Lawrence said annoyed.

He sighed. Before giving his orders.

“30 degree up angle, heading three six zero and get us up to Communications depth” Lawrence ordered the Albacore’s pilot.

Lawrence started to walk out of the CIC

“Mister Driver, come with me, Lieutenant Michaels you have the Conn”

“Aye Aye Sir” The officers reported.

***
“Is this a secure line?” Commander Lawrence barked to the boats communications officer

“Yes sir”

the Sub commander stared at the screen for a moment, only seeing the seal of the Osean Maritime Defense Force. Moments later the screen blinked, and he was greeted by two separate video feeds, one of a Marine Colonel he didn’t recognize, and the other feed being that of Admiral Whistel, Lawrence’s superiors superior.

“So, I take it this must be more than just making sure we have adequate supplies I take? I mean you are using one of our last secure comm birds for this chat” Lawrence asked.

“That would be correct Commander” The Colonel responded.

“Am I allowed then to ask what the hell your hijacking my boat for then?” Lawrence asked

“No you may not” Admiral Whitsel replied.

Lawrence pursed his lips in frustration. He wasn’t used to being left in the dark and he hated every minute of it.

“What’s the mission then?”

“You’re going to be in Gracemeria Harbor for three days. In that time, you will take on four extra crewmen- my Marines- and for all official purposes, they will be members of your crew. However, we will need one of your officers to provide Uniforms and documents to a specified drop location, and you will be sent a challenge and response to verify the men being brought onboard are the real deal” The Colonel explained.

“If they’re Oseans, why can’t we fly them out normally?” Lawrence asked

“Classified” Whitsel responded.

“So am I to expect that these men get free reign of my boat as well?” Lawrence shot at the Marine.

“Honestly? I don’t care what you do with them once they’re on your boat. Work em to death or confine them for all I care. Once you get them onboard your new movement orders will be sent and then they will no longer be your issue.” The Colonel explained.

Lawrence was somewhat satisfied with that concession. He had done some work with OIA Wet-work teams and Osean Frogmen teams in the past and he loathed how much they took from his boat with no real way for pushback. From where Lawrence sat, it looked like just a slightly modified asset retrieval mission.

“Will my crew be expected to stay on the boat during the Gracemeria port visit?” Lawrence asked.

“Quite the contrary, what we need is your sailors out, about and most importantly, seen.” The Colonel explained.

Lawrence nodded, understanding the basic plan.

“Great. We should be there by this evening” Lawrence reported.

“Good. Report to us when the Documents have been dropped off” Whitsel said, before both feeds blinked out and Lawrence was once again greeted with the seal of the Maritime Defense Force.

***
Zhao, Morgan and Adams sat around the space heater in the empty Storage container. Dennings stayed by the container door peering out the crack, to his side at the low and ready he carried CZ-82.

 A few moments later a knock rang on the outside of the container.

“Elephant!” a voice shouted from the exterior.

Dennings waited for the other Marines to brace themselves, grabbing various knives and handguns, before responding “Circus!” he shouted, Opening the door.

Fick stood at the entryway, his hands akimbo carrying a lighter and pack of cigarettes. Seeing his figure put the team at ease. Allowing the Lieutenant to enter, Dennings shut the container door behind him. Fick tossed Morgan the pack of cigarettes, allowing the senior NCO to ration out the sticks.

“Whats the plan boss?” Adams asked, lighting up his cigarette. He took a drag, briefly making the tip burn a bright orange, before exhaling the acrid smoke a moment later.

Fick waited for the Marines to start their smokes before he started to explain.

“Well simply put we’re not flying out here as you might have guessed” He explained

“What? Does that mean they expect us to swim back?” Zhao asked rhetorically

“or will we be sneaking into Estovakia? Getting out that way?” Dennings added.

Fick shook his hand dismissively.

“Well, before I continue. Dennings your claustrophobic, right?” Fick asked,

“A bit sir, why do you ask?” Dennings replied truthfully. The Sergeants looked around to themselves uncomfortably, feeling where the conversation was going.

“Well in that case, your going to absolutely love this. Squids are pulling our asses out of the fire on this one.” Fick explained.

“How so? I didn’t think we had any surface warships nearby” Morgan stated.

“’No surface warships’; That is correct Gunny. However, we just so happen to have a fast-attack sub coming to our rescue in our time of need today.” Fick said, flashing a devilish grin.

“Fuck, I think I’d rather swim” Dennings groaned

“Well how about this Corporal? We need someone to go pick up the uniforms and documents that will get us one that boat, How about you and Morgan go?” Fick offered

“Why us?” Morgan asked

“Well the Cops are looking for Zhao and myself, and Dennings really looks like he could go for a drink” Fick elaborated.

“Cool, when do we go?” Dennings asked excitedly.

“Boats coming into port in a couple hours, supposed to meet a crewman there at twenty hundred hours, they’re going to leave the bag for us, and we make our way to the boat tomorrow. It’s a little pub a few blocks from the harbor” Fick explained.

“Finally, getting paid to drink on the militaries dime, aint being a Marine great?” Adams said teasingly, punching Dennings in the arm

“Oorah” Dennings said half-heartedly.

***

Commander Lawrence and his executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Driver, stood aboard the Albacore’s sail, watching the submariners disembark from the boat. 

“I don’t know how I feel about locals running security for us sir” Driver said

“Understandable, Unfortunately the navy wasn’t able to roll out all the considerations in time.” Lawrence assuaged.

It was nearing evening when the submarine pulled into harbor, after the standard fanfare passed that came whenever they visited a friendly port, Lawrence now had to put the actual mission of the Albacore in motion.

“XO, I’m going to need a favor to ask of you” Lawrence said, staring off into the city

“and that is sir?” Driver replied

“Well, simply put, I need you to drop some laundry off at a pub” Lawrence said flatly.

“A pub? Sir?” Driver said confused, “You are aware I’m Mormon right sir?” he added

Lawrence chuckled. “Don’t worry XO, you can have a Diet Coke for all I care, I just need this dropped off, and Local Intel probably will be watching me like a hawk, and COB has his own mess to worry about with all these sailors getting free time. Just take it to this pub, have a drink, leave the duffel bag and just go do some tourist stuff before coming back to the boat” Lawrence explained

“Is that an order sir?” Driver said uneasy

“Yes, Lieutenant Commander, it is. Take the night off after completing your mission” Lawrence ordered.

***

The pub was small, and a favorite for some of the longshoremen who worked in the harbor. To the untrained eye, Morgan and Dennings looked no different than many of the blue-collar workers crowding the few booths and tables in the smokey, faux-wood, lined room. While Dennings nursed another IPA, Morgan sat eating peanuts and studying those who entered the bar. He caught himself wishing he could trade places with Zhao, whose ability to pick out a person from a crowd was uncanny to say the least.

“Hey, what time is it anyways?” Dennings slurred

Morgan glared at him “You better not be drunk” he said deadpan,

“Eh, whats the big deal? I shoot better drunk” Dennings defended himself, before taking another swig from his pint-glass.

“You sir are a fucking hipster” Morgan mocked, before looking at his wristwatch

1859

“Hmm, must be an officer than” Morgan said passively, returning to his studying of the door.

A few moments later, to no-one’s attention aside from Morgan, the door opened. In walked a short black man, his bald head covered by a black baseball cap that had a Submarine Warfare insignia and the words OFS ALBATROSS – SSN-814 in gold lettering on the top and bottom of it. The way he carried himself was stilted, and obviously military. He wore a plain blue blazer and was still wearing his uniform trousers. What also caught Morgan’s attention was that he walked in carrying a duffel bag.

He watched the sailor make his way to the bar, taking a seat he clumsily ordered a drink and started to brood.

Morgan tapped Dennings on the arm “There’s our man” he said in a low voice

“Want me to say hi?” Dennings asked

“Might work, go for it buddy” Morgan said supportively. He watched the Corporal hop off his stool and shakily make his way towards the Osean interloper.

He couldn’t tell what Dennings or the Osean was saying, but from the mans body language, he could tell that the Corporals conversation was making him uncomfortable. Their talk was interrupted when the bartender returned with the Osean’s drink, taking it as a cue to leave, Dennings quickly grabbed the duffel bag and returned to Morgan.

“Nice talk?” Morgan asked rhetorically  

“Yep, Ready to get out of here?” Dennings said, stifling a burp

***

Henderson looked dumbfounded

“What the hell do you mean theres an Osean submarine in the harbor?” he asked annoyed

“Well, they just pulled in, Emergency or something” another Agent reported.

“And your only just now telling me this?” Henderson hissed.

“Whats the big deal anyways?” A Police detective asked, “The testimony Thomas gave has the attackers speaking Erusean, and all the weapons we found in the safehouse were Estovakian, Theres nothing pointing at the Oseans doing this” he explained.

“Which is all the more reason its suspicious that it’s occurring right now” Henderson yelled.

“I think your grasping at straws here Mitch” stated Station Director Fitzgerald “Everything is pointing to the Stovies, and even if it was the Oseans, what makes you think we could get on that Submarine to find them?”

“Well-“Henderson stammered, “We could say one of their crewman broke the law! Then we’d get a search warrant!”  he said excitedly

“Fat chance. Mitch, you’re not stepping a foot on that boat.” Fitzgerald ordered.

“But Sir!” Henderson protested

***
The Marines stood before the port’s entrance, having traded their civilian attire for the flat navy-blue coveralls of the Osean Submariners, they blended in with the dozens of sailors milling around the port before departure.

“This sucks! Navy’s going to give us so much shit for this” Adams complained

“You think that’s bad, I’m supposed to be a fucking Petty Officer” Fick replied, trying to console the Sergeant.  

“Well, it beats swimming out of here” Zhao said depressed.

“Well I just hope I don’t have to see that dude I stole these from yesterday” Dennings said in a joking tone.

The five Marines made their way towards the boat. Finding the ships ensign, they saluted, before continuing towards the front of the boat. Standing single file with the other sailors waiting to board, Morgan looked around nervously

“Relax” Zhao reminded him

Morgan chuckled

“Guess im still nervous after all these years” He confided.

Waiting in the queue, Morgan heard a commotion, turning around, he could see a quagmire unfolding between the local Emmerian military guarding the port and multiple government agents of some kind

“Fuck me running” Adams said astonished at the scene unfolding.

“Boss, Orders?” Morgan growled

“Stay cool, as far as they know, we’re just crewman.” Fick said calmly

Morgan watched as a middle aged officer forced his way through the slog of Emmerian soldiers and started running towards the Boat, Osean sailors and Emmerian Marines, dumbstruck with the scene watched as the man fished out a badge and started yelling at the boat.

“This has certainly taken a weird turn” Fick said bemused. His mood was quickly soured when the agent quickly made his way towards them

“I need you all to come with me!” He barked, His face red with the exertion.

“Im sorry what now?” Adams hissed

“You all are being placed under arrest!” the Agent bellowed

“Under whose authority?” Morgan asked

“Mine Dipshit! Special Agent Henderson, GDES” The Agent yelled, grabbing the front of Morgan’s uniform

Morgan had a brief flash of rage at the intruder, before he could act on his anger, he was interrupted by one of the sailors.

“Under what charges!” yelled the sailor.

“Espionage and murder!” Agent Henderson bellowed, tugging in vain at the much more muscular Morgan. He only stopped attempting when an Emmerian Marine came over and placed his hands on the agent’s shoulders.

“Sir, I think you better leave before you cause an International incident” the Emmerian advised

“Fuck you!” Henderson yelled.

“Is there a problem here? Why are you assaulting my men?” Asked another Sailor, Morgan looked to see the man had a Commanders insignia on his uniform. Morgan read his nametape, LAWRENCE.

“These men are Spies!” bellowed Henderson.

“Interesting, have any proof of that?” Commander Lawrence asked amused.

This stopped the agent in his tracks

“Well… Not exactly, But!-“ The Agent started

“Well I’ve heard enough here, Get the fuck out of here and leave my sailors alone” The Commander cut off Henderson, buying enough time for more Emmerian Marines to come and remove the would-be Intruder. Lawrence turned and looked at the Osean Marines, he studied their name tapes and chuckled approvingly, before making his way across the gangway back to his boat.

***
Osean Special Investigations Agent Jeff Palmer read the incident report multiple times. Henderson was not someone he had met but was somewhat known for his dogged determination in routing out spies. If the Report was accurate, he had also just been terminated from his position in the DGES for nearly causing an international incident with the crew of an Osean nuclear attack submarine.

He sighed disappointed.

“What’s up?” Special Agent Baxter inquired

“I was hoping we could root out that bastard while his team was in Emmeria, guess not” Palmer sighed.

“We’ll get him next time” Baxter said reassuringly. “The bastards smart but he isn’t infallible” Baxter added.