“How are they?” O’Neil asked.
“Sofie was happy to see me. The girls were pissed because I had to leave again.”
“It’s nice to be wanted.”
“Won’t argue there, brother.”
Another door to the room opened. Lieutenant Cory Smith strode in.
“Attention!” Reynolds called.
The room fell silent, all eyes on Smith.
While most of the troop wore beards and longer hair—at least longer compared to their brothers in the Marines and other branches where regs prevented them from anything else—Smith was clean-shaven. He had a chiseled chin and a way of standing in front of a room that made him appear confident without the cockiness O’Neil sometimes saw in other commissioned officers rising the ranks. The guy always looked like he’d rolled straight from his room after ironing his uniform and showering.
Some of the guys joked that the scientists had sprayed him in some kind of anti-dirt chemical that kept him clean, when they knew Smith had been running back and forth between impromptu meetings and even, sometimes, direct action when the Skulls pressed too hard on Detrick’s defenses.
“You guys did a good thing,” Smith began. “I know it’s not always easy to run a mission and we don’t save all the targets. You all have been a part of worse, patrolling all the way to a hot zone only to find out our targets are already gone. But no matter what happens, I want you all to know how damn proud I am of this troop—and really, our whole squadron. Time after time, you guys have proved you’re the best the Navy has to offer.”
Then he cracked a grin.
“The best the US military has to offer. Don’t tell the boys on Delta Force.”
Just as quickly, that brief moment of levity disappeared. Smith wasn’t here to tickle everyone’s balls and tell them how good they’d done. Definitely wasn’t the kind of officer that let them all pat each other’s backs in one big circle jerk.
He started digging into the after-action report with a seriousness that made it clear there would be no more joking. That as well as the teams had performed, there was no tolerance for errors. Because even if he forgave them, the Skulls sure as hell wouldn’t.
First thing he did was ask what they could’ve done to keep the targets under control and prevent that Skull from punching Tate’s ticket. Then he asked the SEALs about the packs of Skulls they’d encountered on the trek from the LZ to the research center, seeing if the teams had done anything to rile those Skulls up. If maybe they should have taken a different approach or if they could somehow reduce any noise that might’ve set the beasts off.
Some operators suggested setting the Black Hawks down even farther away, spending more time and distance patrolling into the target location. Others suggested maybe the beasts were growing more reliant on their sense of smell now that they had seemingly devoured every last bit of prey in the area.
For the next hour, they troubleshooted the challenges they’d faced.
O’Neil appreciated the honesty of these sessions. That the commander, chief, and rest of the guys could explore what would make them function better as a unit next time, ensuring that their success this past night wasn’t a one-time thing.
That success was their habit, and failure was something they always planned strategically to avoid.
Toward the end of the debriefing, O’Neil could feel his bunk calling to him. Felt the weight behind his eyes. A quick look at his watch showed this was about the usual time they called these AARs to an end, and they had seemingly exhausted every opportunity for improvement they could discuss.
Day had fully taken hold of the base, which meant it was far past bedtime for O’Neil.
But Smith didn’t dismiss them.
Instead, once they were done discussing the previous mission, he took his place at the front of the room once more. Paused a moment as if he was a doctor about to tell someone their loved one had just passed in the OR.
O’Neil didn’t like that.
“All right, boys,” Smith began. “I know you all have been wondering how long we’re going to be fighting Skulls in this country. Today, that changes. We’re not just playing defense any longer. We’re going on the offense. So instead of grabbing shuteye in your bunks today, you can sleep as a C-17’s engines sing you a lullaby on your way to Europe.”
Reynolds turned on the screen at the front of the room using a laptop hooked up to it.
A map of the Baltic states appeared.
“We’re headed to Lithuania tonight.” Smith pointed to one of the country’s coastal cities, Klaipėda in Lithuania. “Klaipėda used to be a cruise ship destination and shipping port. From what we know, the city was almost entirely abandoned at the start of the outbreak, except, of course, for the Skulls.
“However, intel reports point to suspicious activity all up and down the Baltic region. We suspect that Russian military elements have been active everywhere from Kaliningrad, a Russian port city sandwiched between Poland and Lithuania, up to Tallin, Estonia. We’re not sure exactly what the Russians are doing.”
“Sir, is this official Russian government activity or independent groups of Russian nationals?” Stuart asked. “Kaliningrad is separate from most of Russia, so it would seem odd to me that they’re basing some kind of military activity out of the Kaliningrad province.”
“Good observation,” Smith said. “Our friends at Langley and the Commander-in-Chief’s administration have been unable to hail any of our former contacts in the Russian government. We are currently operating under the assumption that these Russian military elements are in fact operating on their own volition. Russia may have undergone a coup or fractured. We’re not quite sure exactly what’s going on with their government.
“However, we are sure that these Russian elements are bad players. The groups we’re tracking are suspected to be involved in the production and potentially deployment of the Oni Agent.”
“Sir, did this information come from the Hunters or Langley?” Henderson asked.
“I won’t lie to you,” Smith said. “I realize there have been rumors about the Hunters and military action to figure out exactly how this organization is involved with the Oni Agent. Part of the intel does indeed come from them, but most of what we’ve pieced together is from our own sources. What you need to know is that hostile Russian forces are sending a shipment of goods to Klaipėda from Kaliningrad by boat. We have identified a group of non-Skull individuals and trucks in the area thanks to drone and satellite imagery. Once that shipment arrives, we believe these individuals are planning to use this convoy to transport this shipment somewhere inland.”
He paused for a moment.
“We suspect that this shipment may have to do with the Oni Agent, but have not confirmed it. Unfortunately, we don’t know where they’re headed. Which means we may only have one shot at stopping this shipment and figuring out what in the hell it is. Everyone understand?”
O’Neil sure as hell did.
He’d been on high-profile, risky missions where nearly everyone in the military was involved and government bureaucracy made its way into their planning process, thinking of more and more situations and preparations that would have to be considered, delaying the execution of the mission until it was too late.
This was the type of mission that clearly prohibited them from having the luxury of time. If this shipment was less than a day away, they needed to move. Now.
Smith went over the mission plan, rehearsing it with the team, ensuring everyone knew the details of exactly what was expected of them. O’Neil had long since forgotten about his exhaustion and his bunk. He was ready to bring this fight to the enemy. To go after answers instead of responding to attacks.