The ARK Pgs. 01-30

CHAPTER 1 -Who's Spying on Whom

Soaring around the peaks and cliffs, the searing heat lifted him higher. This raptor, Messenger of the Gods, glides with ease. Gliding on an invisible carpet of air, he searches for his prey. The Golden Eagle covers his two-hundred-kilometre home front in the Hindu Kush ranges between Afghanistan and Pakistan. Not losing focus while he combs every inch of his turf... he watches. Bulleting down at three hundred kilometres an hour, he drifts at the last moment to drive his massive razor talons into the unsuspecting prey pulling him off a ledge into thin air. The screams and bleats from the goat echo through the range in a reverberating fruitless plea.

Watching from below, another predator sees why the Golden Eagle symbolizes courage, strength, and immortality; both these predators are searching, watching... always watching.

Captain Mike Madden (Sherlock) was the team leader of an Australian recon SAS team. He was positioned one hundred and fifty meters south of the Taliban compound, sucking in dust, blending with the environment. The mission was to record conversations and radio messages coming in and going out of the enemy base to see any truth to the intel received. For example, the Taliban may have a new breakaway group. The information has been gathered over the past five days, and now the minutes are ticking down to extraction.

'Won't miss this heat, a few more minutes then back to base, then on leave,' Sherlock thought to himself. He quickly gave himself a mental bitch slap, 'shut up and focus, think of home, and don't get home. Focus, focus.'

Sargent Sebastian Morrison (2 Planks) broke his train of thought. Morrison, the second in command, repeated his ideas.

"10 minutes Sherlock, can we go home early?". "No" was the short sharp reply.

2 Planks knew that would be the response, but it never hurts to ask.

"Can't wait to hit the waves 2 Planks; they were riding high the last time I checked," Corporal Deen Wellings (Quassy) added with a high note of excitement in his voice.

Corporal Katelyn Gouw (Steel) had the lead in this mission and was only a couple of meters from the Taliban base that they were sent to record and infiltrate. She had been sitting in the enemy's pocket for 5 days now, without them suspecting. Planting microphones and surveillance cameras to record everything said and done in this camp. Hidden within meters of the soldiers, listening to conversations in their bunk rooms, mess areas, and even the latrine. She needed the team's focus to watch her back. This was her first time on lead, and it was hard to keep her adrenaline in check. She was that close to the enemy, knowing which ones regularly bath. This lot smelt like rabid goats.

"Shut up and focus, you two," she snapped over the comms.

"Steel, get ready to pullback in five, to stage one," Sherlock instructed.

"Copy," Steel replied.

Just as Sherlock was about to give the order to pull back, Quassy snapped over the comms "movement!".

"Confirm Steel," Sherlock requested, with a hackle rising on the back of his neck. He knows there is no regular operation or patrol scheduled for this time of day.

"Approximately fifteen armed and organizing," "fifteen confirmed," Quassy replied to Steels count.

"Could be just a new patrol, Sherlock," 2 Planks stated, half convinced. "Breaking into two groups," Quassy informed.

The instincts that Sherlock was renowned for kicked into action, as he relayed orders that were not challenged or even repeated, just done. "Steel pullback fifteen behind my ob. spot, Smith (Corporal Zikmund Chvalat) contact base and change pickup to Delta LZ, 2 Planks, Quassy, Smith form up, The Game is afoot." Without missing a beat, Sherlock directed his troops and received the answers he wanted to hear "copy, copy, copy, copy."

With regret, he knew what was coming, and with the call sign, 'the games afoot,' an old Sherlock Holmes quote, the team knew their jobs. They were to go into their backup phase of the operation, which was deception. Each team member was dressed in clothing depicting a local enemy of the group they were spying on, in this case, the Pakistani mountain people. Although to not tarnish the intel, the team would also shout in the native tongue and use modified weapons accustomed to this region.

Steel wasted no time and moved through the thick undershrub to her designated position. As Steel made her way past Sherlock, she gave him a nod to confirm she was ready and focused on the task ahead. The two Taliban groups raced around, grabbing weapons as one man shouted instructions. He looked different from the rest, he wore no headcover, and Sherlock noticed his accent had a thick Russian tang to his Arabic as they came out of the compound entrance. They seemed agitated and fired up, which was in stark contrast to the patrols observed in the past five days, which could only be described as 'sleepy.' They were constantly walking within meters of the team, not noticing anything. As Sherlock watched the two groups form, he thought 'the person in charge giving the instructions, he is organized and seemed to have a plan. Not good, not good at all.' The two teams started working a grid pattern, searching quickly, heading straight towards the area between Steel, himself, and the rest of the group.

Not to be outmanoeuvred, Sherlock made the call, "We'll go around the outside" 2 Planks could see that Sherlock and Steel were cut off from the team and were heading to the new LZ and that he was in charge of completing the deception and getting to the Delta LZ, on time.

Even though these times in a mission, where they had to use deception, was potentially dangerous, 2 Planks didn't mind a little 'in your face' time.' Giving the nod to Smith, he grabs two of the six grenades he has lined up neatly in the dirt in front of him like some OCD War machine. Pulling the two pins together, he quickly throws one in front and one in the back of the patrol closest to them for significant impact. Within seconds thunderous explosions erupted through the mountainous valley with screams of injured soldiers. To capitalize on the sudden confusion, 2 Planks and Quassy unleash a hail of bullets from their modified AK47. To complete the deception, the group started yelling expletives in Pakistani.

"The Taliban must die," "leave our mountains or die," or Smiths personnel favourite "your mother was a goat fucker". The commotion had the desired effect; soldiers were diving for the nearest rocks and keeping their heads down for cover.

Smith could hear commands being yelled and ceased his random barrage of fire to listen and assess the situation further. 2 Planks had his head down at that moment while he reloaded his weapon. Smith didn't realize that stopping his barrage was what the Taliban commander was waiting for; he had started moving his troops to try to outflank the aggressors from the ridge above. As Smith watched their movements, a return volley of fire from two different areas concentrated on his position. Bullets started flying around him, skipping up rocks and shale all around. As his brain convinced his muscles, "To get the fuck down," he heard two bullets rip past his head like supersonic bees, zzzip zzzip. As Smiths' body was pulling its self-down, one of these supersonic bees landed with a zzzip thump. It had happened in seconds; that's all it took; Smith hit the dirt, grabbing his shoulder.

"Mother fucker!" he yelled. "When did these fuckers learn how to shoot straight" he shouted to 2 Planks.

"Where are you hit?" 2 Planks enquired while returning fire.

"A graze on the arm, nothing critical," he informed 2 Planks,

"Fucken hell," 2 Planks spat out,

"No, it's alright 2 Planks, I'm fine," Smith assured him.

"No, it's not about you. You know Sherlock won't call it a successful mission if you've been hit."

"Oooh well, excuuuuse me for bleeding on your perfect mission, my arms fine, thank you very fucking much for asking," sulked Smith.

"Shut up and start returning fire so we can get control again," yelled 2 Planks over the sound of heavy AK47 fire and some more of those supersonic bees.

"Anyway, I'll cover it up, and he'll never know."

"He'll know...He always knows," 2 Planks stated.

Out of the kill zone, Sherlock and Steel were watching when they noticed the leader of the two groups started shouting commands to his troops. They seem to fear him more than the hail of bullets raining down from the ridge above. Knowing that they could soon lose their advantage in the deception, Sherlock puts through the call, "Quassy 1 o'clock. Cut the head off the snake", within seconds a shot rings out, and the Taliban leader drops to the ground. Taking advantage of having the upper hand, another hail of bullets and grenades rained down on the pinned patrol, having the desired effect of making the patrols hide for cover again.

Sherlock and Steel, noticing the deception was working, started making their way past the Taliban encampment, making their way to the Delta LZ fifteen kilometres away.

Quassy saw that the best time to head off was now, "let's move." So, they made a break to get a head start on the ensuing chase to come. The deception team heads west 1 kilometre to their phony base camp.

To add to the deception, a base was set up with old blankets and food scraps, two old jammed AK47s to show the enemy that their prey is not skilled in maintaining weaponry. Once the team reached the site, they turned due West along a ridge that blocks the line of sight for any Taliban that might try to follow. Now, they start their journey sixteen kilometres to the new LZ.

2 Planks looks at his watch, and everything is within the time schedule, but there's no time to 'stop and shop'; they will get to the LZ just in time for the ride to the base, then off to some well-earned downtime. 'Time to surf,' 2 planks thought, but then a bucket of ice water thoughts shouted to himself, which he ended up repeating out loud. "Think of home, don't get home." Quassy starts to laugh, "you were thinking about surfing too, weren't you? It's amazing how Sherlocks' training sticks in your head".

"That's why we're still alive," Smith came back in a cold, sobering voice. "Focus, let's get home," and that was the last word said between the group on the trek back, using hand signals to relay commands when traversing possible dangerous areas.

While reaching the top of a ridge that overlooked the enemy compound from the West, Sherlock retrieved his binoculars and looked back over the area where they had just ambushed the patrols. It looked like only three or four followed the deception team, but it was the 8 that stayed and searched the areas they had planned to search in the first place. It troubled him, troubled him deeply. Finally, he turned to Steel, gave the nod, and continued on their path to the LZ, this is still a hostile territory, and there's still a long way to go.

There was a sense of relief when 2 Planks and the rest of the squad made it to the LZ with ten minutes to spare, covered in sweat and sucking in the big ones; they all looked exhausted. 2Planks must have set a fast pace on their trek. Everyone knew the drill; they spread out to keep the LZ safe. The last few minutes seemed to last an eternity before they heard the whoof whoof whoof of the chopper. Upon landing, Sherlock signalled for Steel to get on first, on which Quassy always retorts "ladies first," which pisses her off to no end; she hated this sexist bullshit. Her being on the chopper first was due to her being the team's lead medical person, and in case we were set upon at the LZ, the team would need her safe on the chopper to patch anyone that was hit. She seemed to buy the story even though it was mainly because his mother would kill him if he ever left a female behind to get injured. Mrs. Tabatha Madden weighing fifty kilograms wringing wet was not a woman to ever cross.

The team was loaded with the precision and speed of a formula one pit crew. Sherlock stepped last into the chopper, and it began its ascent heading back to base. Sitting, not noticing anything passing by, Sherlock's thoughts kept rolling through his mind trying to filter and analyse all he'd seen, but he always came up with the same answer.

"I know that look Mike, what's wrong?" After forty-two missions, Seb knew his friend well; something didn't sit right.

"We're all safe, we have the intel, the deception seemed to stick, a successful mission." Seb summarized.

"The patrols," Mike said

"Yeah, that was a bit of bad luck."

"Seb, they were searching... they were searching for us!" a chill ran up Seb's spine. The revelation was a bit too hard to swallow.

The ride back to base was a bit quieter than usual, especially since they were all heading on a much-deserved leave shortly. As Mike pondered the events and the unscheduled patrol, Smith had covered his wound with a jacket to hide it from Sherlock, and the others spoke quietly amongst themselves. As they exited the helicopter, Mike was the last to get off; as was his protocol, he would always be last and his team first; no one gets left behind.

They loaded their gear onto a base transport, they all headed together to the base headquarters. Mike would give his report to his commander, as the team stayed in formation outside waiting to be dismissed by Sherlock, their commander.

As the team walked past the basketball courts and rec rooms, a familiar but unfriendly voice called out, "Well! If it isn't the Ghosties, having a hard time shifting through other people's garbage boys?" Mike turned and saw the face that went with Captain Garth Sipple's irritating voice, team leader for one of the other Australian SAS groups. Noted for his big mouth and tough talk, Captain Sipple had the highest kill ratio out of all the teams and the highest death ratio of members in his team (which he always seems to leave out during his rants). Nevertheless, he appears to be tolerated by the brass because of his father's high connections.

"Hard at it, I see. So did the brass finally put you on ice," Katelyn shot back.

"Quiet girl, the men are speaking; once you've finished cleaning your team's gear, you can head off to the mess and start preparing their dinner." Mike automatically shot out an arm to block Steel from jumping this idiot, holding her back and keeping her from biting out his jugular.

"Let it go," he whispered to Katelyn. "Let me handle this," Mike insisted. "Has it been a slow week, Garth; I haven't attended any funerals for your team this week, don't worry, I'm sure you'll catch up." Captain Sipple was enraged, throwing the basketball he was holding hard onto the ground, "Shut your mouth Madden, take your little housemaid and piss off," Sipple snarled at Mike.

At the sound of "housemaid," it was on, Mike had to spin sideways to take the full force of Katelyn wanting to rip his throat out, it wouldn't be a bad idea, but Mike knew Sipple would take it further and have her court marshalled for the assault ... once he got out of the coma.

"Settle down, Steel, don't let him bait you" Katelyn's eyes raged with fire, but still, Sipple didn't know when to keep his mouth shut; he stepped forward.

"Come on, let her loose, Madden, let's see what the little girl has to say." Sipple stepped forward towards her. Seeing the step ahead as a threat, Seb steps forward and in front of Katelyn, all 6'5" of him.

"Got something to say, Captain," 'Oh shit,' Mike thought, I can't hold two of them, 2Planks would have no qualms with beating the living shit out of an officer if he was in the wrong. So, Mike had to pull rank to unravel this mess.

"Stand down! Both of you, don't get caught up in his dribble; HE has to go play with his ball, so he can figure out a new way to kill off his team" That broke the ice and the tension, Katelyn and Seb both started laughing, which they knew pissed Sipple off to no end, from the points Mike scored.

"Just fuck off, the lot of you," Captain Sipple blurted out. Mike's team turned and went on their merry way laughing at how Mike had torn him down.

As the team reached the headquarters of the base command, Seb brought the group to attention. "At ease, team," Mike commanded, then he swiftly turned away and entered the offices.

Inside, there were three people Colonel Jim Briggs, Mike's commanding officer, General Thomas Blaine, Brigg's commanding officer, and a Warrant Officer named Small (which he was not). Small was 6'5" if he was an inch, Small was in charge of the stores, and Mike had spoken to him regularly because Mike's team was on a unique hidden budget that very few knew about. Mike saluted Briggs upon entering; the General was just dismissing Small, so he held his salute for the General until it was returned. As the General turned, he quickly returned Mike's salute and got straight down to business.

"Report Captain," the General blurted out. "Was the mission successful?" he continued with an impatient tone he was noted for.

"I believe so, General," Mike responded.

"What's a, believe so? This is the army son, the mission was either a success, or it wasn't," he returned gruffly.

"We encountered an unscheduled patrol as we were leaving, sir, "Mike informed the officers.

"Did the information get compromised?",

"No Sir,"

"Did you lose any of your team?",

"No sir,"

"Then it was a success, Captain; it's that simple."

"Congratulations, Briggs; it's good to see one of your Captains knows how to keep his team alive," Blaine spouted

"Thank you, sir, permission to dismiss my team," Mike requested

"Yes, yes, good work." Mike issued another salute to the officers, which was quickly returned. As Mike turned, he offered Colonel Briggs a head nod pointing outside; he needed to talk to Briggs urgently.

As Mike left the office and the Colonel followed, "ATTENTION!" 2 Planks commanded his team as the Colonel exited.

"At ease," Briggs said as he returned the team's salute.

"Team dismiss, hit the mess, showers, check and clean your gear, we will debrief at 1900 hours...Oh, and Smith get that arm seen too," Mike commanded.

"Team dismiss" 2Planks issued the command and immediately looked at Smith with an 'I told you so' look.' The team turned and headed for the mess, most other teams hit the showers first, but 2Planks team always goes to the mess first because they know the Sargent in charge always complains about the odour. He then issues a complaint to Mike, upon which Mike informs them to not do it again. Then the team does it again, and so goes on the mess joke.

Mike turned to Briggs. "It's about the unscheduled patrol,"

"I thought it would be; you were a little hesitant in there," Briggs enquired. Mike informed the Colonel it was too coincidental, the change in attitude and urgency and the precise deployment of the troops to where his team was positioned.

"The base was sleepy, then it came alive, a 2-prong sweeping patrol, heading straight towards us, Steel and myself were cut off from the team, so I called in the ruse to help facilitate the team's extraction and changed the LZ and time". Mike explained.

"You know these things happen sometimes; you have plans in place for them," Briggs offered.

"Yeah but, you know I've been doing this a long time, Jim, I swear they were looking for us,

"But you feel the intel is still intact?" Briggs enquired

"Yes, I believe so,"

"I'll get onto my man at ASSIO to see if there's been any chatter about the team; I don't think it could be from inside the base. Very few people know what you do," Briggs informed Mike.

"I hope so, Colonel; I certainly hope so," Mike responded.

Mike digs into one of his pockets, pulls out an envelope, and hands it to the Colonel.

"What's this?" the Colonel enquires.