Seasons - Ghost X Soap

Chapter 5: Winter, again

June 1, 2023
Western Paraguay
10°C / 50°F

The following evening, Price called an urgent meeting in the command tent.

"We have a time-sensitive matter on our hands," the captain said without preamble to the packed room. Over half of the entire FOB's personnel had been mustered.

Price spread a pile of photos across the table. Candid shots of smiling civilians. Family pictures.

"The mercs at Site Zulu-9 have taken hostages from a nearby village. Five families—ten adults, seven children. They've caught wind of what we're up to and they're demanding we destroy the data we've collected. They're giving us one hour. Most of you have scouted that location by now—it's a fucking stronghold."

Yeah, Soap was familiar with the place. One of the more blatant fronts for a mercenary training camp: a small lithium mine kitted out with armed patrols, a heavily reinforced perimeter, a radio tower, and extra buildings that clearly housed more than illegal labourers. Sneaking in had been an absolute bitch, but they'd gotten the job done.

Not well enough, evidently.

"Laswell's already there to negotiate. She'll stall for time and make sure the hostages stay where we can see them. Currently, they're being held in Building 4, second floor. We—" Price's steely gaze swept across the gathered soldiers— "are getting them back."

He pulled up a live feed from a circling helicopter. From above, an open pit mine sat like a round scar upon the earth. Laswell and a brace of Marines were speaking with a man at the front gate, while groups of armed mercs watched from within the compound. Several Humvees were hidden in the forest behind Laswell.

Then the camera cycled to Building 4, illuminated by the helicopter's spotlights. Civilians knelt with their backs to the windows, their bound limbs on clear display. Six women, four men, and seven children.

"Creepin' bloody Jesus, there's a toddler in there," Soap muttered. His ever-present exhaustion swirled inwards and condensed into a red-hot dot of rage.

Beside him, Ghost shifted slightly.

Price continued, "Our priority is to secure Building 4 and defend it during civilian evac. We'll attack from three sides simultaneously. Snipers on all four helis will take out the mercs guarding the hostages, then cover the second floor while ground teams force up. Alpha Team will drop at Laswell's position and use the Humvees for a frontal assault, with air support from Cobra-1. Bravo Team will breach the northern gate and carve through the rear—Nik, you'll assist us with your gunship. It's shock and awe—they outnumber us, but we'll be in and out before they realise what's hit 'em. Any questions?"

"Fuckers don't deserve a quick bullet," Soap growled.

"That ain't a question, Soap, though you're not wrong—but remember, our primary objective is to rescue the hostages. Be advised, there are also civilian workers within the site—illegal labourers, but no intel suggesting that they work with the mercs. They should be indoors at this hour, but if you see them, check fire. Again, these seventeen hostages are our priority. Clock's ticking—let's move, everyone!" Price commanded.

Soap geared up with single-minded focus and hopped onto Nikolai's idling helicopter with the rest of Bravo Team. In the mad scramble to get ready, there wasn't time to exchange well-wishes with the other squads, but he traded fist-bumps and good lucks with anyone that hurried by.

Price came over to set up an aerial sniper rig across the open doorway. "Eager, Sergeant?"

"Positively rarin' to go, sir," Soap replied. "Fuckin' cowards think they can hide behind human shields. Let's see them try an' hide after they're pumped full o' lead."