Chapter 19 #3
Outside the briefing room, a pair of officers waited in pressed blues, not looking entirely sure whether to salute or flinch. The older of the two gave Viper a quick once-over, then stepped aside and opened the door.
“Commander. Gentlemen. Inside, please.”
They stepped through as one, the door whispering shut behind them with a finality that rang too loud in the sudden silence.
Rows of chairs lined a long table running down the center of the room, and a massive screen was already flickering to life on the wall. Viper raised an eyebrow at the five sets of eyes peering expectantly at them.
He refused to blink. He nodded to each man of a similar rank to him and saluted the two who ranked at fruit salad level as he walked around the room to take the seat at the head of the table.
Showtime.
The lights dimmed, and the main screen at the front of the room flickered to satellite footage—Saonae Island, pre-blast. A red overlay marked their initial insertion point, and Viper leaned forward, hands folded, posture crisp and professional.
“Operation Caldera,” the briefing officer intoned. “Commander, you have the floor.”
Viper nodded once and jumped straight into debriefing mode. “Initial insertion at 0200 local time. We tracked the HVT—Abdul al-Rami—using heat signatures pulled from a drone sweep six hours prior. Pattern analysis suggested movement toward the island’s eastern ridge.”
He tapped the tablet in front of him, switching the screen to show infrared overlays and a series of GPS pings.
“We maintained low-profile movement through the terrain. Engaged only once—two hostile scouts, dispatched silently. The rest of the island showed minimal resistance. We believe al-Rami was operating in seclusion, likely running independent ops off-grid.”
A man at the table—a Marine colonel—interrupted, “What about the dig site flagged by ISR? You skirted it completely.”
“Affirmative,” Viper replied. “We were aware of the excavation. Avoided it intentionally. Mission parameters were HVT-focused. No civilian interaction, no unnecessary entanglements.”
The colonel scribbled something, but didn’t push any other question his way.
Viper continued. “By 0500, we’d cornered al-Rami in a series of volcanic foothills on the south ridge. We executed a close-quarter sweep, engaged in a short firefight, and neutralized the HVT. No casualties. Mission complete.”
He paused. The screen behind him changed—thermal scans of the volcano in its pre-eruption state.
“Four minutes post-target confirmation, seismic activity spiked. Volcanic integrity destabilized.”
“Define ‘destabilized,’ Commander,” one of the Navy analysts pressed.
“The mountain blew itself to hell,” Reaper muttered from down the line.
“Exactly that,” Viper said. “We were within three klicks of the blast zone when the first eruption hit. Lava flow cut off our planned exfil route. We diverted west, scrambled for natural cover. That’s when we encountered a collapsed lava tunnel with signs of recent human presence.”
He tapped again. A photo appeared—half-buried equipment and a satchel with University of Edinburgh tags.
“There was one civilian survivor. An archaeologist—Dr. Ward Sutherland. He was trapped too. We stumbled over him, executed a recovery and evac protocol. Pulled him from the tunnel and moved him with us through fallback sectors.”
“And you’d never met this civilian before?” another voice asked, the tone cool and skeptical.
“No, Sir. Complete unknown. But he was bleeding, unarmed, and caught in a natural disaster zone. Leaving him wasn’t an option.”
The table was silent a beat before the briefing officer spoke again. “We ran his file. As he told you, he’s an academic. His initial background came back clean. Verified presence on the island as part of a request from the French Ministry of Culture and SAMG. No ties to any flagged orgs.”
“Then he’s exactly what he appeared to be,” Viper said.
“He’s a damn lucky man,” someone muttered.
“Lucky us,” Kaze replied. “He knew the tunnels. We’d have been buried without him.”
Viper held his breath as the officers in the room exchanged looks. This was it—make or break time. If they didn’t believe them about Ward, nothing else they would say would matter. He released the breath slowly when all the men facing them from the other side of the table nodded.
“Very well,” the lead analyst said. “Continue with the timeline from tunnel escape to evac.”
Viper took a breath. “Copy that.” He switched the screen again—this time to topographical data and an elevation model of the western lava fields, pockmarked with glowing heat signatures.
“After the primary eruption, we diverted and moved through Sector Seven. Terrain was unstable. High-risk movement around active lava fields. We located a secondary cave system along this bluff. It had a partial collapse, but it was passable.” He pointed to the map.
“This is where the civilian—Sutherland—helped us. He’d surveyed the island prior to our arrival and had a mental map of the original lava tunnels.
Without him, we would’ve hit a dead end at the next choke point. ”
“That intel wasn’t documented,” the colonel noted.
“It wasn’t official,” Viper replied. “He was operating on instinct and memory. Lucky for us, it worked.”
“And you’re confident he wasn’t affiliated with hostile assets?” someone asked.
“Completely. He was weak, unarmed, and doing his best to stay alive. Nothing about him suggested covert training or enemy ties. If anything, he was terrified.”
The people in the room absorbed that intel for a moment.
“Continue,” the briefing officer prompted.
Viper nodded. “We moved underground for approximately 1.8 klicks through a partially collapsed lava system. Sutherland’s condition deteriorated—we administered field aid, stabilized him as best we could.
By the time we reached a surface break near the north cliff edge, we’d lost visual contact with aerial assets. Ash cloud obscured sat relays.”
“That’s when you initiated blackout protocol,” the Navy analyst added.
“Yes, Sir. We dumped all digital signals and went silent. Once we cleared the ridge and confirmed no hostile pursuit, we began signaling the emergency beacon through analog frequencies. Twenty minutes later, we were in contact with TOC.” He looked around the room.
“That’s the full arc. Target neutralized. Team intact. Civilian recovered.”
“You arrived without a scratch,” the Marine colonel said, his tone unreadable.
“No serious wounds,” Viper replied. “A few burns and a lot of bruises. We lost gear in the blast. Med kits and drones were reduced to slag. But we moved as a unit, and we made it out.”
Another officer leaned forward. “And the civilian?”
“Separated during re-entry to CONUS,” Viper said evenly. “Per protocol.”
The table went quiet for a moment until the Navy liaison leaned back in his chair and nodded.
“For what it’s worth, Commander, you and your team pulled off a miracle.
We had your dog tags flagged in six different internal reports.
You were this close,” he held up his thumb and index finger with virtually no space between them, “to a memorial wall.”
Viper didn’t answer right away. “We don’t die easy, Sir. I’m not sure hell would want the likes of us who work for a living.” He grinned wryly. “And Valhalla’s full of tier one heroes, they won’t want middling ones like us either.”
That earned a low chuckle from most of the men at the table.
“You’ll all be debriefed individually in the coming days,” the analyst added. “Expect psych evals, medical screening, and a minimum seventy-two-hour lockdown while your status is cleared through official channels.”
“Copy that,” Viper said. He fucking hated standard protocol, but he knew better than to argue with it.
“We’ll contact you when clearance is granted for contact with external parties.”
They all knew what that meant for them, and especially for Viper.
Ward.
The screen dimmed, and the lights came up. Chairs scraped as the officers began to stand. The meeting was over for now. But the real reckoning, Viper knew, was still ahead. The hall outside the briefing room was colder than it should’ve been for this location.
Man, am I glad I’m not paying their air con bill.
Viper led the team down a series of corridors until they hit a T-junction where they met a young MP standing waiting with a clipboard and a neutral expression.
“Rooms are preassigned,” the MP said. “You’ve all been cleared for single-occupancy quarters.
Mess is open for another hour. Rec room’s two halls down, but you’re still under restricted movement.
You’ll be escorted if you leave this floor. ”
Viper nodded. “Copy.”
The MP handed out keys, one at a time, without a hint of ceremony. Just government-issue rest, boxed and rationed like everything else in this job. “You’ll be notified if you’re needed for follow-up debriefings,” the MP added. “Get some sleep, gentlemen.”
They dispersed quietly, years of habit kicking in. No one said much. No one had to. They moved like a shadow unit again, and they preferred it that way.
Trace passed Viper and clapped his shoulder. “You need anything, knock.”
“I will.”
“Same,” Kaze muttered. “Though if they show up at 0400 again with a clipboard, I’m claiming PTSD.”
“Pretty sure you already have it,” Zero drawled, rubbing the back of his neck as he vanished down the next hallway. “It just shows up as sass.”
Reaper lingered the longest, watching Viper with his usual hard-edged calm. “You good?”
“Ask me when I’ve seen my Grá Croí.”
Reaper thankfully didn’t press him to talk about his feelings or some shit. He just nodded once and left without another word.
Viper keyed into his assigned room. The door swung open on silent hinges, revealing a standard bunk, a footlocker, a desk with a bolted-down lamp, and a folded set of PTs on the edge of the mattress.
He shut the door behind him, set his gear on the desk, and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows braced on his knees.
For the first time since they’d geared up for Operation Caldera, he was on his own, with only silence to keep him company.
He stripped out of his uniform and pulled on the PTs, noting the tag was still crisp—brand-new, as if they’d just come out of the bag.
He lay back on the mattress, hands folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
He could hear faint footsteps in the hall, the distant hum of base operations still ticking along.
Even though the first few battles had gone in their favor, the war wasn’t over. Not yet. But for now? He let himself breathe.