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Chapter One Communications-Operations Center "They're dead, General Abernathy. All of them." "I heard about the Jugglers from Director Medina, Sparks, just after Kamakura, Scarlett and Snake Eyes brought me in." "No, sir," Sparks said from his communications console. "Sorry, sir." He pointed at the display where a report was streaming in from the West Coast. "The Los Angeles bureau was annihilated by a suicide bomber, General. About fifty support agents and Green Shirts were posted there. Some psychopathic guy got past security at the Los Angeles Federal Building, found his way to the sub-basement, and blew our people to hell." General Clayton "Hawk" Abernathy pounded his fist on the edge of the wooden table where he had his papers strewn about, shaking the wheelchair that his injuries kept him shackled to invisibly and swore under his breath. "Who are these people?" he nearly yelled, not expecting anyone to answer. "More and more evidence says it's these Red Shadows causing all the buzz, Hawk," Alison "Lady Jaye" Hart-Burnett said from behind the crippled soldier. She placed a steaming coffee mug next to him, along with a folder of intelligence reports. "Do you feel any heartbreak for the fact that they iced General Gibbs and the rest of those damn Jugglers?" "Hell, no." The general eyed the coffee but chose not to drink it yet. "But it's costing our team valuable lives. Sure, they're hurting Cobra too, driving them underground. But this supposed faction is equally against everyone here. It's the worst threat imaginable, because it's like they can appear and disappear at will. They must be hooked into places we don't even know about. Their ability to get good intelligence on us means they can even manipulate parts of our own bureaucracy." Lady Jaye cleared her throat, hesitating to speak. "Flint suggested we put the word out to all the surviving reservists and active team members - to initiate Throwback." Jaye's use of the code word "Throwback" was almost like a slap to General Abernathy's face. It was the name of one of his many contingency plans should Cobra ever gain the upper hand against the Joes. It had actually been filed and approved by the President because of the Cold War and was based on similar survival plans elsewhere, even though Abernathy never had any intention to use it if conditions became that dire. He jerked at the wheels of his chair to spin around and face the team intelligence specialist, knocking his coffee mug to the floor with a clatter. "Throwback means we've admitted defeat! We're supposed to run with our tails between our legs back to the old Pit at Dugway Proving Grounds and hide out until we can find a way to fight or till it blows over? How many innocents will die while we do that? How many of our fellow soldiers will give their lives to stop this menace because they weren't privy to the plan? What if we never figure out the solution? "No! Damn it! We have to stand! Our country is depending on us!" Lady Jaye had been startled and took a step backwards when the general knocked over the coffee mug, and she instantly regretted even mentioning the discussion of using Throwback to preserve the remainder of the Joe Team. However, Abernathy was right. If the Joes retreated, there would be no defense standing in the way of the Red Shadows usurping power around the world. Sacrifice was part and parcel of their credo. *** Meanwhile, in Badhikistan Captain John "Claymore" Zullo sighed as he sopped a forehead full of sweat with his already damp military-issue field towel. While two other Joes assigned to his task force, Sergeants Ronald "Dusty" Tadur and Vince "Pathfinder" Ianotti, kept a watchful eye on their perimeter, the former G. I. Joe deep cover agent scanned the entrance to a gaping, dark cave cautiously. Probing ahead a few feet at a time with his flashlight, the veteran infantry officer and Special Forces operator swept his light across the rocky floor and craggy walls before taking forward steps. He was looking for any clue of the presence of booby traps or 'drop behind' sensors that an enemy might use to detect his movement. The open fighting between allied soldiers from the United States and six other nations, versus the combined forces of Cobra and its spun-off faction, The Coil, had mostly died out with the terrorist organizations being heavily bloodied and unwilling to keep up the campaign. With the loss of their advantage, a corrupted experimental weapons system called the Tempest, and despite inflicting almost fifty thousand casualties on the small nation of Badhikistan and the allied combatant forces in the field, the momentum had mostly run out of the terrorists. Thus, the handful of G. I. Joe tactical advisors left in country when the vast majority of their resources were needed elsewhere had stayed behind with the task of cleaning out any remaining Cobra or Coil resistance. They also busied themselves by running down leads to locate sleeper cells, and investigating any potential hiding places for the enemy's leadership. No one in the stay-behind group wanted to deal with the newly christened "Multi-National Stabilization Force" and its top brass of United Nations-appointed generals. A few steps into the cave, Claymore stopped hearing the ambient sounds of the Badhik desert's nocturnal animals, but a steady drip-drop of water from a hidden, underground spring led him deeper into the chasm like a hypnotic siren song. With each cautious step, loose sand and particles grinding in a soft crunch under his combat boots, the officer probed further into the cave and thought about why the three-man detachment had come out. Rumors had spread among several villages, with the word reaching all the way to the Badhik capital, that a small handful of Cobra or Coil escapees had avoided the closing noose of military checkpoints and twenty-four-hour per day stop, search and seizure operations. The elusive group had kept to several cave networks that had been carved out of the mountains from natural tectonic activity and erosion from what used to be major rivers that flowed through the high peaks of that part of the world. Apparently, a reconnaissance and security patrol from the badly mauled Badhikistan Republic Army stumbled onto one of the caves, and gotten into a firefight with the escapees before they had a chance to report into the MNSF-Badhikistan headquarters. By the time it was over, one wounded soldier out of the heavily armed, twenty-man force made it to a nearby village, and the MNSF summoned the Joes. Claymore rounded a bend in the cave, and began to see signs of human activity. Scorch marks on the walls and ceiling of the cave, coupled with textures that were much smoother than the beginning part of the chasm, indicated that someone had been blasting out the cave section, perhaps to build an antechamber. Some of the scorching was quite obviously from Russian-made RPG-7 or RPG-18 weapon detonations, and the smell of the rockets' noxious propellant chemicals still hung in the stagnant air. The toe of the officer's boot rapped onto something that didn't feel like stone - quite softer, actually, and when Captain Zullo brought the flashlight mounted to his M-4A1 carbine to bear, a surprised gasp escaped his lips. In one quick, fluid motion, he swept the cave chamber looking for targets or cover, while keying the radio mike that hung near his mouth. "Dusty! Pathfinder! Get your asses in here pronto and call Dial Tone for some more help from the MNSF! You're not gonna believe who I've just found..." *** The Silent Castle, Scotland "Donegan, how much verification do you have on this report?" Destro asked, holding the office phone to his ear while reading a flash report from a MARS agent in the Badhik capital. "Very little yet," Colour Sergeant Donegan replied from Destro's communications center. "Our man was signing off some orders from the Multi-National Stabilization Force, for surplus European equipment that we were contracted to build for Cobra. We'll be shipping a few hundred units of first-generation HISS tanks and Stinger jeeps to re-arm the Badhik Army. He was in the staff areas of the new headquarters at the capital when the report came in and a request for a field graves registration team and several troop and cargo helicopters." "Very well. Try to get independent confirmation and see if your people can listen in on some of the MNSF's cross-chatter frequencies. They're not fully encrypted, so that some of the lower-tech armies that fought in the area could still receive orders from the allied command. You should be able to pull down some of their daily intelligence staff updates." "As you order, m' laird." Destro read the short summary text over and over again. He couldn't believe what he saw. "MNSF thinks they recovered three or more senior Cobra leaders hidden inside a cave in the Badhik hinterlands, just a few kilometers away from the largest mountain range in the country. An investigation into a tip that had come from nearby villages yielded surprising results." Even though the men weren't named directly, Destro could only assume that Tomax, Xamot and Cobra Commander had been discovered in their attempt to either flee Badhikistan or re-establish a Cobra/Coil resistance force. He almost forgot that the line down to Colour Sergeant Donegan was still open. "Donegan. Are you still there?" "Aye, m' laird." "Find out as much as you can about the identities of the persons they found in the cave. And focus especially on each one's status." "Status, m' laird?" "Living or dead, Donegan. Living or dead." *** The Badhikistan Hinterlands "Wow," Dusty remarked with a soft whistle, after erecting a wide-area portable lantern to light up the cave chamber that the Claymore had discovered. "This is some find." "Check them all to see if there's even a possibility to save these guys," Claymore ordered, while Dusty and Pathfinder began to inspect the collapsed figures of Cobra Crimson Guard soldiers and the senior leaders they had been charged with protecting. "I don't want to let the idea of death keep the intel in their heads out of our grasp." "Should we line up the dead ones and get them ready for the graves team?" Dusty asked, poking gently at a prone Siegie with the barrel of his M-4 carbine. "No. Don't move anything, either of you. Dial Tone and Scoop are coming to videotape and document everything in this cave as we found it. Just see if there's anyone we can render aid to and do a thorough search in case someone's still hiding out here waiting to bushwhack us." Pathfinder spoke up while he cautiously scanned the chamber with his rifle at the ready. "Didn't you say the tip came from villagers who said a Badhik army patrol came by here? It doesn't look like there are any uniforms lying here aside from Cobras." Claymore began to look around more carefully, under the light of the large electric lantern. He nodded his agreement with Pathfinder's observations. "Yup. Looks like this battle was one-sided, and Cobra lost. Wanna make a bet that this is a put-up job?" "Most of these guys look deader than your average doornail, Captain," Dusty remarked. "They were obviously pigeon-holed in this chamber for a 'last-stand' defense. All the mismatched small arms, half-empty grenade crates, and partly unpacked gear looks like they were trying to either move in or out in a hurry when they got hit, and then they just fought in place to the bitter end." "They could still have been covering the escape of some higher-ups," Pathfinder added. "But I don't see anyone that's tops on our hit parade yet; just a couple of ranking Siegie officers so far." "Let's keep looking deeper in the cave when more troops arrive," Claymore said. "For now, we set our perimeter here." *** G.I.
Joe Command and Operations Center "General Rey!" Sparks called out across the main briefing room and message center. "Flash traffic coming in from Badhikistan! Dial Tone is relaying a spot SITREP from Claymore in the field!" "Give it to me, son," General Philip Rey, the Joes' commanding officer, said quietly. "Dial Tone reports that an investigation team under Claymore's command located the opening to a cave and a hidden chamber with a number of dead Cobra soldiers inside. He's requested Scoop for video documentation and an Army Graves Registration team to collect all the evidence for cataloguing. "The team only has three Joes so far, so Captain Zullo isn't sure if the cave network is larger, or whether more people are trapped deeper inside. A tip from local villagers reporting a gun battle between a Badhik army patrol and someone hiding in the mountains was what brought our guys out to have a look-see." "Very well, Sparks," Rey replied. "You keep your ears on the satellite channel in case Claymore's people check in with more about that discovery. Send a reply to Badhikistan that reads: 'Good Work, Joes'." "Roger that, sir," Sparks said, tapping out the short reply on his console. Rey turned to the group of Joes assembled at the room's briefing table, the selection being comprised of First Sergeant Conrad "Duke" Hauser, Staff Sergeant Shana "Scarlett" O'Hara, and Chief Warrant Officer Dashiell "Flint" Fairborn. "So," Rey said. "What do you think about this cave thing?" "Could be the usual enemy cell that tried to go underground," Flint said. "It would be a waste of time to try speculating on how important the Badhikistan team's find is until they report back with more details." "Agreed," Duke said. "We have bigger fish to fry right now domestically, and on the global front. The Red Shadows may be causing a number of these terror incidents around the world, as a smokescreen to cover their actual plans while they set their agenda in motion." "Yeah," Scarlett added. "We could thin out our roster trying to globe-trot and investigate all these individual flash points. At the same time, we're trying to lock down the remaining bureaus, beef up security and recoup lost personnel in light of the recent attacks on our own infrastructure. As it stands right now, the Joe Team will be hard-pressed to be effective at either mission." Flint cleared his throat, as if hesitating to broach another option. Rey caught on to the slight change in his body language, and noticed that Lady Jaye had also entered the room to deliver more intelligence updates. "Did you have something else to add, Flint?" "Well, sir... there are other contingencies we could consider..." "Out with it, soldier!" Rey said. "I'm looking for answers. Even though General Abernathy is back in the fold for now, and Director Medina says we still have some Presidential leeway to keep going after leads, we can't get into a losing campaign even though we won the battles in Badhikistan and Cobra Island. We can't lose to these Red Shadows if they're already organized to take us on!" "Well," Flint said. "There is always the Throwback contingency." Duke gasped at the mention of the name, although not as violent a reaction as Lady Jaye had received from Hawk when she mentioned their little talk. Duke, as the unit's first shirt since the beginning of the Joe Team, had been privy to the contingency plans as well, but no one had had the time to brief Rey in on the old emergency 'code word-clearance' materials. "Get me a brief on it, and we'll talk more," Rey replied. "Let's break this meeting for now and see what else is developing." *** The Silent Castle "Damn!" Destro swore unexpectedly, his alloy-clad fist pounding hard enough onto the surface of the thick, mahogany desk in his office to make a large, round blister in the aged hardwood. The assembled Iron Grenadier officers that were delivering their reports tried their hardest to stay at stiff attention. "This last reported attack by these supposed 'red ghosts' has cost us a hundred Iron Grenadiers and almost five hundred of my best technicians and machine operators! Not to mention, one of my largest weapons plants on the European continent has been flattened to nothing more than matchsticks! How did they find out about the facility? And why are they after us?" The Iron Grenadier officers were among Destro's elite senior leadership, the cadre of troop commanders underneath the international arms mogul's inner circle of advisors and generals. No one among them had much of an answer to proffer their leader. "Get out! All of you!" the Scotsman bellowed, shaking his clenched fist above the desk as if to pound another dimple in the expensive, lacquered wood. "None of you comes back in here without some sort of information or evidence! DO YOU PEOPLE HEAR ME?" None among the group of officers understood the extremity of Destro's emotional response, other than knowing the obvious signs of some sort of strain crossing the laird's brow. The men quietly scurried out of Destro's sight rather than incur any further wrath. After the collection of black-garbed unit officers left, a single Iron Grenadier cautiously entered the laird's great hall. He wore the inverted chevrons of an Iron Grenadier NCO high on his uniform's right shoulder. "M' laird?" the NCO asked almost timidly. "Yes, what is it?" Destro replied, in a tone that was dismissive. "My apologies if I disturbed you, m' laird. I'm Donegan, and I have a report from your signals room." "I'm not in the mood for any more reports with no substance, Donegan. What do you have for me?" The NCO cleared his throat cautiously and stood before his employer. "I'm afraid there have been no additional transmissions from Badhikistan worth relaying, m' laird, concerning the status of the Cobra enclave that was located by the G. I. Joe scouting party. There is something else, though." Destro shook his head slowly, his tolerance at an ebb. "Out with it, soldier." "Your surveillance team has returned from Cobra Island - the ones that had gone in under cover as United Nations radiological materials safety inspectors - and they brought back a body." For that news, the laird looked up at his NCO. "A body, Donegan? Anastasia?" Donegan nodded. "Yes, m' laird. We have recovered a corpse that resembles your Anastasia. Would you approve an autopsy by the castle physician prior to preparing her for burial?" "No!" Destro nearly lunged across the desk. "Do not defile the body of my beloved! Just clean her up and prepare her. We shall assemble a memorial formation in the main courtyard, and we'll place her in the Destro family crypt. Call out the Iron Grenadier honor guard, Donegan." "As you order, m' laird." *** Destro remembered the scene vividly on the landing beaches his reconnaissance commando squad had chosen for the ship-to-shore landing. The fighting between the Cobra forces under Cobra Commander, the Coil under Serpentor, and the G. I. Joe Team was pitched all across the island. And that was all before his Iron Grenadier regiment had begun its operation to secure the beachhead. The cream of Destro's Iron Grenadiers had breached the lines of Cobra-emplaced mines and shore obstacles. Their orders were to push inland and begin the search for the Baroness and their laird, both of whom were being hunted by Cobra Commander. The Commander's mental stability was waning along with the effectiveness of his troops to continue the running battle. With all the shells and bullets flying, Destro couldn't figure out how in one moment the Baroness was running at his side, urged on by the advance scouts from his regiment, and in the next, she was lying in his arms, dying in a pool of blood. He didn't see or hear the whistling of the Coil 60mm mortar rounds that were sailing toward the beach until it was too late. The explosions of the barrage caused the Iron Grenadiers to scatter for the meager cover on the beach, forcibly dragging their laird into a hastily dug shallow crater in the sand dunes and covering him with their bodies. He was separated from his beloved Anastasia on that beach. As his men carried him to their assault craft and evacuated him to his private yacht, all Destro could do is picture the limp and dying body of his love left behind. If the mortar fire didn't shred her to bits, the nuclear blast that literally carved the northern half of Cobra Island away and disintegrated it could have engulfed her in the fireball of expanding gases and heat from the detonation. While the decimation of both Cobra and the Coil might have been worth some loss to Destro - it certainly was for the Joes who escaped the US-launched weapon by the skins of their teeth - it wasn't worth losing his beloved. But, after the battles had ended. After the yacht had sailed all the way back to Faslane and deposited its soldiers on native Scottish soil. After laird Destro had dragged his beaten and worn body back to the safety of his castle, he still sent some loyal troops back to the Caribbean in the hopes that her body or remains could be found. "Even in death, my dearest Anastasia, my love shall endure..." *** |