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Post by Friendly Neighborhood Negro on Apr 15, 2006 21:57:37 GMT -5
All I have done is part of the briefing, but whatever. I'll update as I go. Sam woke up in a haze. A bright light above his head was the only thing visible in the room, and he could tell it was meant to illuminate him. He groaned; he could feel the after-affects of whatever he'd been drugged with. He could see figures moving in the darkness that surrounded him. He realized he was bound to a rough wooden chair. "It's been a long time, Sam," said a familiar voice from the shadows. He recognized that man... "I should have known it was you, Colonel," Sam said, peering closely at the figure that now stepped into the light. "That's no way to greet an old war buddy, now, is it, Sam?" said the Colonel. "What do you want with me?" Sam said, looking at the ropes that bound his arms and legs. Too tough to break free. "I just invited you so we could have... a chat," said the Colonel, smiling slightly. To Sam, he looked sick and twisted. "Invited?!" yelled Sam, violently rocking his chair, trying to break free of the ropes that bound him firmly in place. "That's what you call sending armed soldiers after me?!" "Sorry if they were a little rough with you," said the Colonel curtly, "But we've got a serious situation here. You're the only one who can handle it." Sam looked the Colonel straight in the eye. "I'm retired from FOX-HOUND," he said. "You're not my commander anymore. I don't have to take orders from you or anyone else." "You will take these orders," said the Colonel, staring right back at him. "I know you will." Sam heard a cough to his right, and he turned his head sharply to see another figure emerging from the shadows. "Excuse me," said the figure, brushing a single strand of hair out of her eyes. Sam jerked his head back to the Colonel. "Who's this?" he demanded. "Dr. Arielle Hunter," said the Colonel. "Chief of FOX-HOUND's medical staff and an expert in Gene Therapy." Sam looked back to Arielle. "Are you military?" "No, civilian," she said. "I've been sent here from ATGC. Pleasure to meet you." She moved next to Sam and pulled out a long, shiny needle. "Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit." Sam eyed the needle cautiously. "What's the shot for?" "What's wrong," she said, sticking the needle in his arm, "You afraid of shots?" Those were the last words he heard before he slipped into blissful unconsciousness.
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Post by Friendly Neighborhood Negro on Apr 16, 2006 13:22:16 GMT -5
The next thing Sam knew, he was in a room. He was still secured to a chair, but this room had a projector. It was directly in front of him, but nothing was on it at the moment.
"Sam, listen up," came the Colonel's voice from behind him. He had a sense of urgency in his voice that Sam hadn't noticed before; perhaps it had been there the whole time, and the narcotics were just now wearing off...
"It all went down five hours ago," the Colonel continued. "Heavily armed soldiers occupied Shadow Moses Island, a remote island off the coast of Alaska."
Sam interrupted him. "What soldiers?" he asked.
"Next-Generation Special Forces led by members of unit FOX-HOUND," said the Colonel. "They've presented Washington with a single demand, and they say that if it isn't met, they'll launch a nuclear weapon."
Sam was suddenly interested... and frightened. "A nuclear weapon?" he asked, indifference masking his true feelings.
"I'm afraid so," said the Colonel, solemnly. "You see, the island is the site of a secret nuclear weapons disposal facility.
"FOX-HOUND..." Sam said, disbelievingly, "Hi-jacking a nuclear weapon?"
"Now you understand how serious the situation is," said the Colonel, an edge of seriousnes in his tone. "You'll have two main objectives. First, you're to rescue the DARPA Chief, Dupin Anderson, and the President of ArmsTech, Luis Baker. They're both being held as hostages."
Sam sighed. "Those are some heavy-duty hostages."
"Secondly," the Colonel continued, as if Sam hadn't said anything, "You're to investigate whether or not the terrorists have the ability to launch a nuclear strike, and stop them if they do. Any questions?"
"Questions?" Sam grinned. "I don't recall saying I'd go through with this mission."
"Well," said the Colonel, obviously annoyed, "You can make up your mind after you hear more about the situation."
"Tell me more about the nuclear weapons disposal facility," Sam said.
Pictures of the disposal facility began to flash onscreen. "The disposal facility contains a hardened underground base," said the Colonel. "Even with our most advanced intelligence-gathering equipment, we can't tell what's happening inside."
"So," Sam said, "Someone needs to penetrate, gather intelligence, and report back... sounds like a bad spy book." He laughed. "What's the insertion method?"
The Colonel sighed. "Well, an air insertion is impossible."
Sam nodded. "Not with this storm going on."
"We'll approach the disposal facility by sub," said the Colonel.
"'Approach?'" asked Sam curiously.
"Yes," said the Colonel. "Within a few miles of it. The facility is equiped with sonar detection capability. They'd be able to hear our propeller or engine noise."
Sam sighed. "And then?"
"We'll launch a one man SDV," said the Colonel. "Same as a torpedo. Only difference is this has no propulsion device of its own. After the SDV gets as close as it can, dispose of it. From there on, you'll have to swim."
Sam was taken by surprise. "You want me to swim in sub-zero Alaskan water?"
"Don't worry," the Colonel reassured him. "That suit represents the latest in poly-thermal technology. The nuclear weapons disposal facility covers the whole island. I'll contact you by Codec after you reach your target."
Sam nodded. "Anyone going with me?"
"As usual, this is a one-man infiltration mission," said the Colonel.
Sam nodded again. "Weapons and equipment OSP?"
"Yes," said the Colonel. "This is a top-secret black op. Don't expect the official support."
Sam sighed. "The chief of DARPA and the president of an arms manufacturing company... what busines did they have at a nuclear arms disposal facility?"
"The truth is," said the Colonel, "Secret exercises were being conducted at the time the terrorist group attacked."
Sam shifted in his seat, the ropes bounding him making him uncomfortable. "Must be extremely important exercises if those two were involved directly. Were they testing some sort of new advanced weapon?"
The Colonel sighed. "I don't know."
"Do we know exactly where they're being held?" asked Sam.
"The DARPA chief has also been injected with a mini transmitter," said Dr. Hunter. Sam was surprised to hear a female voice. "As you get closer, you should be able to pick up his location on your radar."
"Do they really have the capability to launch a nuclear weapon?" Sam asked.
"They say they do," said the Colonel grimly. "They even gave us the serial number of the warhead they plan to use."
"Was the number confirmed?" Sam asked.
The Colonel sighed. "I'm afraid so. At the very least, they've got their hands on a real nuclear warhead."
Sam sighed, too. "Isn't there some sort of safety device to prevent this type of terrorism?"
"Yes," said the Colonel. "Every warhead and missile in our arsenal is equiped with a PAL, which uses a discreet detonation code."
"PAL?" Sam asked.
"Permissive Action Link," explained the Colonel. "A safety control system built into all nuclear weapon systems, but even so, we can't rest easy."
"Why not?" asked Sam.
"Because," said the Colonel, "The DARPA chief knows the code."
"But even if they have a nuclear warhead," Sam said, "It must've been removed from its missle. All the missles on these disposal sites are supposed to be dismantled. It's not that easy to get your hands on an ICBM."
The Colonel sighed. "That used to be true, but since the end of the Cold War you can get anything, as long as you have the right connections."
"So," Sam said, "What are their demands?"
"A person's remains," replied the Colonel.
Sam was surprised. "Remains?"
"That's right," said the Colonel. "To be more accurate, cell specimens which contain the invividual's genomic information."
Sam shook his head. "Why would they want cell specimens?"
"The terrorists need them," said the Colonel. "You see, these Next-Generation Special Forces have been strengthened through gene therapy."
"Strengthened?" asked Sam.
"You've heard of the Human Genome Project, right?" asked the Colonel.
"Of course," replied Sam, nodding.
"Well," continued the Colonel, "They've been mapping the human genome, and they're nearly finished. Following up on this research, the military has been working towards identifying those genes which are responsible for making effective soldiers."
"There are genes that do that?" asked Sam.
"Yes," said the Colonel, "And, using gene therapy, they're able to transplant these genes into regular soldiers."
"This is getting complicated," said Sam. "Gene therapy?"
"I'll explain this part, Colonel," said Arielle. "With gene therapy, we can remove those genes which we know to lead to sickness or disease, and at the same time, splice in genes with beneficial effects, such as resistance to cancer."
"In other words," said the Colonel, "We can overcome all sorts of genetic diseases and, at the same time, add genetic characteristics as desired."
"Okay," said Sam. "So if you knew what genes were responsible for making the perfect soldier, you could implant them in the same way."
"Yes," said Arielle.
"But," added the Colonel, "It all depends on being able to identify those 'soldier genes.'"
"In order to do that," said Arielle, "It's helpful to study the genomic information of one of the greatest soldiers ever."
Sam was worried. "One of the greatest soldiers ever?"
"The man they call the greatest warrior of the twentieth century," said Arielle.
Sam shot straight up in his chair. "You don't mean... Big Boss?"
"That's right," said Arielle. "We've been working feverishly to identify the genes responsible for his incredible combat skill. So far, we've discovered about sixty of his so-called 'soldier genes.'"
"So," Sam said, relaxing a little bit. "His body was recovered after all."
"Yes," said the Colonel. "His cells have remained frozen in cryo-chamber. His genomic information is a priceless treasure to mankind."
Sam laughed. "Priceless to the military, maybe."
"His body was burned severely," said Arielle, "But it was possible to restore his DNA profile with a single strand of his hair."
Sam shook his head. "You people are amazing... and then you're going to transplant those genes into soldiers?"
"Yes," said Arielle. "We'll use a process that I discovered called gene targetting. The strongest soldiers didn't become what they are by aquiring their skills through training or experience. We now know that heredity factors are far more crucial for creating superior soldiers."
"Sam," said the Colonel, "We can't give them his body. It's potentially more dangerous than all the warheads on that island put together."
"I hear the terrorists are calling themselves 'the Sons of Big Boss,'" said Arielle.
Sam shook his head. "The Sons of Big Boss... what's the time limit?"
"Twenty-four hours," said the Colonel grimly. "They said they'll launch after twenty-four hours."
"Did they say what the target will be?" asked Sam.
"They haven't mentioned a target," replied the Colonel.
"When did the countdown start?" asked Sam.
"Five hours ago," said the Colonel.
"Colonel," said Sam, "Who are you speaking for?"
"Naturally," said the Colonel, "I'm speaking for the U.S. government."
"So," Sam continued, "Who's in supervisory control of this operation?"
"The President of the United States," said the Colonel.
"Which means the President must be meeting with with his top aides in the map room right about now," said Sam.
"No," said the Colonel. "At this point, they're still video conferencing with each other."
"If that's a real warhead," said Sam, "Shouldn't they issue a COG?"
"Not yet," said the Colonel. "The Secretary of Defense has operational control and is fully aware of the situation. After you infiltrate, if you determine they have nuclear launch capabilities, a COG will be issued."
"Well," said Sam, "If they haven't relocated to the nuclear shelter under Mount Washington, I supposed there isn't much reason to worry yet. Is the National Security Agency in on this?"
"Yes," said the Colonel. "So is the DIA."
"The DIA?" repeated Sam. "I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this."
"They'll be sending us some support," said the Colonel.
"We don't need desk jockies," said Sam. "We need a nuclear weapons specialist."
"Of course," said the Colonel. "A nuclear weapons specialist has already been assigned to us."
"We need backup from a specialist," said Sam. "I'm just an amatuer when it comes to nuclear weapons."
"I know," said the Colonel. "That's why I've requested the assistance of a military analyst named Libitina Romanenko. She'll be providing you backup by Codec. She's built up an impressive record as an advisor to the Nuclear Emergency Search Team. She's also an expert on hi-tech weapons. Contact her if you have any questions."
"Where's she working from?" asked Sam.
"Her home in Los Angeles," said the Colonel.
"California," said Sam. "Seems like a million miles away... how well-armed are the terrorists? I know there was an excercise going on at the time that they revolted."
"Heavily armed, I'm afraid," said the Colonel.
"What about battle experience?" contined Sam.
"The six members of FOX-HOUND in charge are all hardened veterans," said the Colonel. "They're tough enough to eat nails and ask for seconds."
"I wouldn't expect anything less from FOX-HOUND," said Sam.
"The others are Next-Generation Special Forces," continued the Colonel. "They're not your average grunts."
"Tell me about these Next-Generation Special Forces," said Sam.
"They started out as an anti-terrorist special ops unit," said the Colonel, "Made up of members from former biochem units, technical escort units, and the Nuclear Emergency Search Team. Their purpose was to respond to threats involving next-generation weapons of mass destruction, including NBC weapons."
"Until 'they' were added to it," said Arielle.
"Who are 'they?'" asked Sam, and a picture of a group of soldiers flashed onscreen.
"These guys didn't start out as a regular army," said the Colonel.
"Looks like a pretty international group," said Sam. "Mercenaries?"
"Yeah," said the Colonel, "And it gets worse. Most of them were from a merc agency I think you're familiar with. They were part of Big Boss's private army and after Big Boss went down, the military just bought out all their contracts."
"Outer Heaven," said Sam.
"After that," the Colonel continued, "They merged with our own VR Unit, Force 21, and re-trained. If you ask me, these so-called 'Next-Generation Special Forces' should be called 'simulated soldiers.' They have no real battle experience."
"Video game players," said Sam.
"Don't forget," said Arielle, "They've all been strengthened with gene therapy. They carry genes which make them excellent soldiers. Don't get careless just because they don't have much experience."
"I thought using genetically modified soldiers was prohibitted by international law," said Sam.
"Yes," said Arielle, "But those are just declarations, not actual treaties."
"The interesting thing is," said the Colonel, "Nearly every member of the unit conspired in this attack."
"How could an entire unit be subverted into rebellion?" asked Sam.
"They're calling it a revolution," said Arielle.
"Since they all went through the same gene therapy," said the Colonel, "They probably feel closer than brothers. They see the unit as their only family."
"The Sons of Big Boss..." said Sam. "But if they were regular army, they must have been interviewed periodically by army counsellers."
"According to their files," said the Colonel, "They got straight A's on their psychological tests. They seemed like fine, upstanding patriotic soldiers."
"But they all took part in the revolution?" asked Sam.
"No," said the Colonel. "Some of them didn't show up for the day of the exercise. That's why there was a resupply of troops."
"Was there any sign recently that something might be wrong?" asked Sam.
"There was a report a month ago that they were acting strangely," replied the Colonel.
"Apparently," said Arielle, "They consulted classified information about the soldier genes and performed their own gene therapy experiments."
"They can do that without you?" said Sam, surprised.
"Well," said Arielle, "Our gene therapy process is almost completely automated. Besides, they're all geniuses; they all have IQs of 180 or higher."
"Even the existance of this genome army is a national secret of the highest order. We'd been hoping to investigate this quietly and deal with it behind closed doors." The Colonel sighed, and another picture flashed onscreen. "Hi-tech special forces unit FOX-HOUND. Your former unit, and one that I was a commander of. An elite for combing gunpower and expertise. They're every bit as good as when I was commanding them."
"So they're still around," said Sam.
"There are six members of FOX-HOUND involved in this terrorist activity," said the Colonel. "Psycho PJ, with his powerful psychic abilities. Sniper Charlotte, the beautiful and deadly sharpshooter. Decoy Derik, master of disguise. Vulcan Snicket, giant and shaman. And Revolver Akbar, specialist in interrogation and a formidable gunfighter."
"Looks like a lovely bunch of folks," said Sam. "Too bad we're meeting under these circumstances."
"And finally," said the Colonel, "In charge of them all, FOX-HOUND's squad leader, Dante."
Sam looked up in alarm. "Dante?!"
"Yes," said the Colonel. "And we believe you're the only one who can stop him."
"Dante..." mumbled Sam feebly. "Tell me what you know."
"He fought in the Golf War as a teenager," the Colonel said. "The youngest person in the SAS. His job was to track down and destroy mobile SCUD missile launching platforms. You were there, too, I believe. Didn't you infiltrate western Iraq with a platoon of Green Berets?"
"I was just a kid myself back then," said Sam.
"The details are classified," continued the Colonel, "But it seems that he originally penetrated the Middle East as a sleeper for the SIS."
"He was a spy for the British Secret Intelligence Service?" asked Sam.
"But he never once showed his face in Century House," said the Colonel. "He was taken prisoner in Iraq, and after that, there was no trace of him for several years. After you retired, he was rescued and became a member of FOX-HOUND."
"I thought that by the time I left," said Sam, "They were no longer using code names?"
"I don't know his real name," the Colonel admitted. "That information is so highly classified that even I can't look at it. Here's a photo of him." A picture of Dante flashed onscreen. Sam couldn't believe his eyes. "Pretty shocking, huh? His skin tone is a little different, but otherwise you two are exact duplicates."
Sam couldn't think of what to say. The Colonel was right; they both looked exactly the same.
"I..." started Sam. "I have a twin?"
"I don't know the details," said the Colonel, "But it seems so. That's why we really need you for this mission."
"You're the only one who can stop him," said Arielle. "Now that I've met you, I'm sure of it. You've got something he doesn't. I can see it in your eyes."
Sam laughed. "Why don't I find that more comforting? Colonel, I don't work for the government anymore. Take me back to twin lakes."
"Why, Sam?" asked the Colonel. "Is your life in Alaska all that great?"
"There's a dogsled race next week," said Sam. "Next Saturday, I have to be in Anchorage."
"The Itidarod?" said the Colonel. "The longest sled race in the world? When did you become a dog musher?"
"Right now," said Sam, "My fifty huskies are my only family. I have to go take care of them."
"Don't worry about your dogs," said the Colonel.
"What do you mean?" asked Sam.
"I'm sorry, Sam," said the Colonel, "But this vessel's heading for the Berring Sea. There's no room for debate."
"I told you!" shouted Sam. "Even if I do owe you something, I don't owe this army, or this country anything!"
"You will accept this assignment," said the Colonel.
"Why would I be stupid enough to do that?" asked Sam. "I'm no patriot."
"Sam," said the Colonel, "There's enough dirt in your file from your days as an agent to keep you in the stockade until you're a very old man."
"Oh," said Sam. "I see. Blackmail."
"No, Sam," said the Colonel. "I look at it as helping you to come to a decision more easily. I know you better than that. You'd take this assignment even without the threat."
"Why do you say that?" Sam asked.
"You're a natural born soldier," said the Colonel. "You're not the type to grow old gracefully. It's the same for all of us that have seen some real action. The only place we can feel truly alive is on the battlefield. I'm a soldier, too, Sam; I know those feelings of powerlessness. The feelings of frustration you feel every day. You've tried to play the boy scout out there in Alaska, but you can't race dogs in the snow forever. Why don't you come back to us and be a soldier again?"
"You think my life is some kind of joke?" said Sam.
"Sam," said the Colonel. "I just want to give you back your purpose in life."
"Colonel," said Sam, "You're retired. Why are you doing this?"
"Because there aren't many people who know FOX-HOUND as well as I do," said the Colonel.
"Is that the only reason?" asked Sam.
"I've been a soldier for a long time," said the Colonel. "I don't know anything else. I guess even though I'm getting a little old, I still love to be in the field."
"You're a terrible liar," said Sam. "Tell me the real reason."
"Okay," said the Colonel. "I'll be frank. A person very dear to me is being held hostage."
"Who is it?" asked Sam.
"My niece," said the Colonel. "Pandora."
"What was your niece doing there?" asked Sam.
"Several soldiers were reported missing during the day of the revolt," said the Colonel, "And my niece was one of those called in as an emergency replacement." He put a picture of her in Sam's hand.
"She looks like you," Sam said.
"She's my brother's little girl," said the Colonel. "He died in the Gulf War. Since then, I've been looking after her."
"A personal motive, Colonel," said Sam. "That's not very perfessional."
"I'm retired," the Colonel said. "I'm just an old man now... and I'm your friend."
"Since when are we friends?" asked Sam.
"I've thought of us as friends since the fall of Zanzibar," said the Colonel.
"With my personality," said Sam, "I don't have too many friends."
"That's what I trust about you," said the Colonel. "It's what makes you human. Please, Sam, save my niece..."
"Alright," said Sam, "But I have two conditions."
"Name them," said the Colonel.
"One," said Sam, "No more secrets between us. I want complete disclosure at all times and two, I'll only accept orders from you. No cutoffs involved, okay?"
"Agreed," said the Colonel. "That's why I was called, but there's one thing..."
"What?" asked Sam.
"I'm not a colonel anymore," said the Colonel. "I'm a retired old warhorse."
"I understand, Colonel," said Sam. "That doctor... is she part of this operation, too?"
"She's in charge of FOX-HOUND's gene therapy," said the Colonel. "She knows more about these men than anyone else."
"You mean you've seen them naked?" Sam asked Arielle.
"Make no mistake," said Arielle. "I'm not a nurse, I'm a scientist."
"By the way," Sam said. "What was that injection for?"
"It's a combination of nanomachines and and an anti-freezing peptide," said Arielle, "So that your blood and other body fluids don't freeze, even at sub-arctic temperatures."
"Nanomachines?" Sam asked.
"Not just one kind, either," Arielle continued. "There are different types that will replenish the supply of adrenalin, nutrition, and sugar in your bloodstream."
"Now I don't have to worry about food," said Sam.
"I also put some nootropics in there," said Arielle.
"Say what?" said Sam.
"Nootropics," Arielle repeated. "It's a class of drug which will help improve your mental functioning."
"It'll make me smarter, huh?" chucked Sam. "Anything else?"
"Bezedrine," said Arielle. "It's a type of stimulant. It'll keep you alert and responsive for twelve straight hours."
"That's quite a cocktail," said Sam. "Anything else in there?"
"Those nanomachines will also keep your Codec's batteries charged up," said Arielle.
"I guess I can call you when I'm ready to go on a diet," said Sam.
"You're welcome," said Arielle.
The Colonel was certain Sam wouldn't try to escape. He started to untie him.
"I'm going to need your scissors," Sam said, twisting his wrists to get the blood flowing back through them.
"What are you going to do?" Arielle asked, handing them to him.
"I just need to clean myself up," said Sam, taking them.
"What?" Arielle said, confused.
"I don't want to be mistaken for the leader of the terrorists." And with that, Sam cut off his long hair in the back.
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