NoveLight ™
It’s quiet. Usually, around this time, the guys on the roof should be blabbering on the radio, right?
Maybe they’re sharing a few bottles of vodka. The outside temperature is -20 degrees today; those guys patrolling in weather like this are something else… Or maybe they’re just off chatting with someone else instead of us. Whatever. If nothing’s wrong, let’s not worry about it.
Yeah, right. I’m bored to death. Watching CCTV with not a single rat passing by all day…
Swish.
Laurentina subtly squeezed my shoulder. It was a squeeze signal. I cautiously grabbed the door handle and opened it slightly. Thanks to the oiling on the hinges beforehand, it opened smoothly without a sound. Now, it was time to put an end to their boredom.
I aimed my shock grenade launcher at them. The nearly unarmed guards were startled, but by the time they realized what was happening, the bullets had already embedded into their bodies, delivering electric shocks. With grotesque sounds, they began to collapse one by one, foam spilling from their mouths. There were five of them, each managing the CCTV and network control room.
It was impressive how they had transformed this facility into a suitable base in such a short time.
“Now, how do we get into the security facility? Keypad? Keycard? Or maybe retinal scan?”
“The answer is the key bundle hanging around their necks. We’ll need to do a quick inspection of their belongings, so please comply.”
“Don’t joke around with someone who can’t even talk, Laurentina.”
Of course, I wasn’t idle, searching my pockets for USBs and other equipment.
After that, there was nothing more to do. These guys were expected to be knocked out for at least 30 minutes. The problem was any other enemies that might come to this place, but I resolved that through the Icarus gear. I displayed the facility blueprints and lowered all the firewalls and barriers along the path to the CCTV room.
Having acquired the keys, I inserted them into the two large padlocks and turned them. After placing the metal clumps on one side, I entered to find a server room that was rather haphazardly constructed. The ceiling was wide open, perhaps to cool the machines.
“Alright. Connecting to the network… it’ll take about three minutes to decrypt the internal password system. In the meantime, it would be perfect to stuff all the friends we left outside into the trash can.”
“I’ll mark the coordinates here. If we feed one or two cruise missiles to this location, everyone should be quite pleased. I’ll also take care of the air defense system.”
“Leave that to Laurentina. You’re with me for the cleanup, little one.”
“That sounds better.”
Of course, the cleanup meant permanently putting the guards who had passed out into a state of eternal slumber.
Just like I had done at the gate booth, I twisted the enemies’ necks like thin sticks. Shooting them would leave blood stains… or in VR, polygon marks, which would cause a significant headache if enemy AIs came to investigate later. In other words, it was for a perfect crime.
Thus, I gathered the bodies and disposed of five corpses in the large trash collection area sparsely placed outside. Meanwhile, Laurentina was busy hacking. However, even that didn’t take long, and after a while…
“I’ve transmitted the coordinates, and I’ve loosened the air defense and jamming signals. The decryption program was shared through the Icarus gear, so you can check it, and since I’ve finished faking the IFF, Russian drones and CCTV will now identify us as allies.”
“Good to go.”
“I’ll explain the rest on the plane. I can’t just keep the two waiting outside with the squad leader.”
At that, I headed outside.
We returned the same way we came. The barriers and firewalls we had activated just minutes earlier were reopened by Harmony and Dais, allowing us to slip back out through the logistics center. To the west of the place we had just exited, which was the Russian base and department store, there was a road leading to our retreat. And on that road to the west stood a civic cultural center.
As Dais busily controlled the drone hovering in the air, Harmony manipulated the CCTV to check that direction and added:
“Uh, a massive heat source detected inside. It’s probably a lodging area. I’ll mark the waypoint; it’s better to avoid it.”
“Confirmed. There’s also a building directly ahead, so it’d be good if you could check that out.”
“Yeah. That also looks like a lodging area. It seems to be a recruiting station for the National Guard… Anyway, I checked, and there’s no one on guard outside. I’ll set the destination leading to the airport.”
Thus, the three of us, including me, quickly crossed through the darkness.
After walking about 300 meters, Owens, Harmony, and Dais cautiously revealed themselves from behind broken branches. It seemed they had gotten here in advance while we were busy causing trouble inside the department store.
Owens pointed with an infrared laser across the barbed wire.
“Do you see the transport plane ahead? It’s heading for Portland.”
“We need to get on it.”
“Don’t fall behind.”
The barbed wire, which seemed to have been cut off in advance.
It didn’t take long for the six of us to slip through the gap and step into the airport. There were quite a few people around. The loading operation seemed mostly finished, as the internal cargo area was entirely empty. In other words, it meant they had been busy transporting the items—armored vehicles, helicopters, and various goods—somewhere.
I activated the optical camouflage and walked quietly. Three minutes felt like thirty, but we managed to reach the upper deck surprisingly quickly. Memories of the past resurfaced. We had hidden here once and moved to Portland without much trouble.
As if to prove that, the ramp at the back of the transport aircraft closed completely, signaling that the refueling had ended. The aircraft began preparing for takeoff. The distance to Portland was only about 10 to 20 minutes by plane, so it was time to recall what actions we needed to take at the destination.
“Upon fully reducing speed, open the emergency doors and head for the waypoint I marked. Once we cross the Memorial Bridge, we’ll move east about 500 meters, and we’ll find the area with the docks. The four aircraft carriers are located near there. The ships we will seize are… these two.”
At the same time, two Admiral Kuznetsov-class aircraft carriers were displayed.
The detailed structure circled in front of me, filled with countless information, including the predicted maneuvering routes and times, blurred my vision. As planned earlier, the two teams, each consisting of three members, would infiltrate their respective aircraft carriers—after seizing control of the weapons, they would launch anti-ship missiles at the Storm-class vessels waiting about 2 kilometers away on the shore.
Even upon hearing it again, it was an utterly crazy operation. A plan that was worth attempting if one had about fifteen lives. But we had done it for real—though we hadn’t predicted such an outcome when planning the Bluefield operation.
Ultimately, the significant operations carried out by the Icarus operators had all taken this form. Using the enemy’s weapons to blow up the enemy, this method was favored not only by Task Force but also by all operators.
“Currently, the two Storm-class aircraft carriers are approaching, and the situation is chaotic, so infiltrating should be no problem. The rest will be left to everyone’s ability and judgment.”
With those words, I checked whether the oxygen mask and tank in my backpack were still there. The Icarus gear could sufficiently regulate body temperature, so all that was left was to leap into the cold water after exiting the plane.
───Creak!
Just 15 minutes later, the An-124 landed on the ground of Portland.
As the plane rapidly decelerated, I gripped the wall of the transport plane as it began reverse thrust—deactivating nearby sensors for a moment—then opened the emergency door and quickly exited the fuselage. The pitch-black darkness greeted us, but it was only for a moment.
About 1 kilometer away in the distance, two aircraft carriers stood imposing.
There wasn’t much distance left to our destination.
“Designated location reached. Mission preparation complete.”
“From this point forward, engage with all personnel we encounter. Let’s turn the aircraft carriers into ghost ships.”
───Screech!
The pulse swept across the entire ship.
Three floors down from the flight deck, right below the hangar that transported the plane, various bombs, fuel, and everything else were loaded. In other words, this was the territory of the facility maintenance engineers, and as expected, there were quite a few people moving around in a radius of several hundred meters.
However, today, what we were going to do here wasn’t just a straight advance to the bridge, but literally disinfecting this ship. We had to ensure that no one could interfere with our work—originally, the crew of an Admiral Kuznetsov-class ship numbered around 1900, but today it was different. Everyone was resting in the city, leaving only the minimum staff behind.
Thus, the number of enemies remaining on the aircraft carrier was about 700.
There was certainly no shortage of tickets for a one-way trip to the underworld.
Thud…!
Thud!
I cut the carotid artery. Instead of blood, a golden liquid poured onto the floor. The corridors of the aircraft carrier were incredibly narrow and steep, making it impossible to swing an axe; thus, the weapons used for close combat were limited to tactical knives.
In the meantime, muffled gunshots echoed through the air. It was the sound of engineers wandering around the lowest levels of the Kuznetsov-class aircraft carrier becoming corpses one by one. But what mattered wasn’t this floor, but the 03 deck above. The heart of the advanced facility made of expensive equipment. Here, we had to conserve bullets as much as possible and wipe out all personnel roaming the hangar above.
Climbing the steep stairs, I activated the pulse again. About 70 people were busily moving around nearby. The most important thing was to eliminate those who could easily spot the hangar from the balcony above.
“I’ll handle that. You two just clean up freely.”
“Confirmed.”
With one hand holding the knife and the other a modified sticky bomb for close combat.
After activating the optical camouflage, Owens and I slowly emerged from the stairs. Meanwhile, Dais, cautiously ascending the stairs, raised his MCX Rattler and quickly crossed the balcony, pulling the trigger at the individuals monitoring the work above.
“...Cough!”
The sound of him falling to the ground without even a sound, collapsing smoothly onto the floor.
As the guards began to vanish one by one, my work began.
Thud…
Thud!
I didn’t need to twist the neck or break the carotid artery. The moment I buried the spike into the cervical vertebra, the opponent died instantly. With a single concise action, one enemy’s life was extinguished. Meanwhile, I pulled the trigger of the sticky bomb launcher at another one who was busy doing maintenance on the opposite side; his head was carbonized, and he fell right where he stood.
At that moment, I locked eyes with one person about 15 meters away. In that instant, a Tomahawk soared through the air, striking his forehead. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant sound, but it also wasn’t very loud.
Thus began the slaughter.
Typically, reasons for being detected during infiltration operations could vary. Usually, it was either the delay in handling the enemies, poor judgment, or simply bad luck—but the way to fill those gaps was simple. If you had speed and accuracy, the impossible could be brought down to the possible.
Before the enemies spotted us and began to scream or draw their guns, the axe cut through the air. An enemy, whose head was split in half on the spot, fell to his knees. Even if we couldn’t avoid their gaze, we could take them out while climbing over the planes packed in the hangar and then coming down.
Even if that were impossible, Senior Owens or Dais would appropriately take care of it. If the senior officer was in danger of being spotted, I could draw my pistol or throw a throwing knife to take them out.
So, when only about three enemies remained alive in the hangar, communications came in from hundreds of meters away.
Of course, the answer I would give was obvious.
From now on, it was time to wander through the 02 deck, which housed the crew’s lodgings and amenities, otherwise known as the Gallery Deck. And I didn’t need to describe the situation any further—one could simply summarize it by saying that every crew member, numbering in the hundreds, had fallen into an eternal slumber.
Thus, the two aircraft carriers slowly transformed into ghost ships, and it ended with the enemy stationed at the bridge being laid to rest in their chairs forever.
After a short delay of a few minutes, the other Kuznetsov-class across from us would undergo the same fate, and while gazing at the faintly visible outside, I connected to the fire control system.
“I’ve inserted the key.”
“Good. Let’s turn them simultaneously… system all green. We’ll also use the TPSP-21. Let’s wipe them out.”
“Of course. The container platform is operational. There are no civilians in the expected explosion radius. We’re going to wipe out everything in Augusta and Lewiston within 4 minutes.”
“Confirmed. Time it right.”
The missiles launch.
About two minutes later, the chaos erupted everywhere. Communication traffic soared as many hurriedly prepared. However, the air defense and radar of Augusta’s military command had long been weakened. It would probably be detected only about a minute before impact.
In the distance, Storm-class ships were seen firing several missiles somewhere. I wondered if it was for interception, but it didn’t matter. As memories from the past overlapped, my hand moved instinctively, and I selected all 20 P-800 Yakhont missiles loaded on the aircraft carrier.
Now was the time.
“Target adjustment. Synchronize the launch with the other Kuznetsov-class. Use 60% of the available power. The remaining 40% will be fired at the Russian military bases and escort fleets we previously confirmed.”
There was no response.
As the hatch opened, twenty anti-ship missiles were unleashed toward the air.
Simultaneously, distant explosions erupted in the dark sea. With a tremendous roar, the two aircraft carriers turned into heaps of scrap metal, hundreds of thousands of tons sinking into the cold, dark winter sea. Of course, now it was our turn to endure the backlash.
As promised, we swiftly left the bridge and fell several meters before plunging into the cold winter sea. After about a minute of swimming…
“Ouch. This is insane.”
“Is anyone hurt?”
“Fortunately, not a single person.”
The two Kuznetsov-class aircraft carriers we had just occupied were blown to bits by anti-ship missiles.
Of course, we faced no major problems since we had submerged deep. If it had been torpedoes, the story would have been different, but fortunately, the attack was solely from missiles—while underwater, our conversations were conducted through voice synthesizers.
Thus, while the four aircraft carriers completely sank, one more task remained—sending the locations of the escort fleet waiting off the coast of Maine to the Columbia-class nuclear submarine.
We had to clean up everything right until the end.
Through encrypted communication, I heard a voice.
“Is there something you want, our Terminator friend?”
“I’d appreciate it if you could just send over about 75 Tomahawks, now that we’ve sent the target data.”
“It’s time for the missiles rotting in the arms depot to see the light. Consider that request granted.”
And everything unfolded just as we wished.
After rising to the nearby shore and shaking off the frozen seawater ice from my body, the fireworks began anew over the cold winter sea. About four or five escort ships desperately shot out CIWS and interceptor missiles, but unfortunately, numbers equated to violence.
As ships, each taking about ten hits from a native axe, began to gradually become more familiar with the cold winter sea, the remaining enemies were displayed as a percentage on one side of the UI.
“Phew. This is easy.”
“If you have the energy to say something weird, why not help us find a vehicle to the retreat point, Eugene?”
“Of course.”
What could I say? Although the progress differed slightly from the last time, it was a successful operation.
After shaking Logan’s hand as he pulled me up, I reiterated through encrypted communication to the Columbia-class.
“We have 30 minutes until the retreat point. You’re not telling us to go to Boston, are you?”
Fortunately, instead of an answer, the screen went black.
An automatic cutscene played, signaling the completion of the mission.
It was a moment where we were about to ascend one more step to obtain the complete answer to the secrets entangled in this world.
tyfc
TFNC
Thanks for the chappies!