Darke Mission by Scott Caladon

why we are not going to destroy the sub and we also do not want to risk alerting the North Koreans by having a drone hum overhead taking photographs. The NGA and CIA are going to direct their satellite over for one more image before we head out, to give us the most up to date interpretation of the sub’s status.”
    â€œCommander O’Neill,” said Barry Minchkin deciding not to be informal. “How are we getting there and when are we going?”
    â€œWe’re heading out in two days’ time, so anything personal you need to do or anything required for your successful participation in this mission, now’s the time to do it,” responded O’Neill. “As to how we’re getting there, we are privileged to be the first operational SEALs team to piggy-back a ride on the
USS Zumwalt
, our flagship stealth destroyer,” announced O’Neill. Smiles all round at that piece of information.
    The commander continued. “North Korea operates a 50km exclusion zone around its perimeter so the
Zumwalt
will drop us off as near to that in the Gulf of West Korea without risk of detection. The two teams will then take to the augmented rubber raiding crafts we know and love.”
    Yang Dingbang was a thoughtful soul and to this point he had taken everything in but said little. “Commander O’Neill,” he piped up, deciding not to call him Mark as they didn’t really know each other and because he regarded Evan Harris as his team leader.
    â€œYes, Ding,” said O’Neill.
    â€œDo we know where we are delivering the submarine, Sir?”
    â€œNo,” replied O’Neill. “We do not know and we will not be told until we have successfully secured our target and have exited the exclusion zone.”
    â€œOn that point…” responded Ding. “It’s a Russian sub in a North Korean naval base. There is bound to be information regarding the sub’s security in Korean and, I’d be almost certain, the operating system for the radar will be in Russian.”
    Unfortunately, thought Mark O’Neill, as his body tensed and his throat dried up, he knew where this was going.
    â€œNone of us speak or read either language. We’ll be a bunch of dead in the water fuckbrains if we’re sitting in the sub, wondering how to get it started and/or how to drive it,” continued Ding. “What’s the scoop, Sir?”
    â€œIt’s funny you should bring that up, Ding.”
    * * *
    Carolyn Reynolds liked her apartment in Key Towers, Alexandria, not far from Springfield. It was modern with all the gizmos a young woman could want. She was on the fifth floor, had decent views from her bedroom and living room and the lift always worked. Her two bedroomed flat was decorated in mainly light colours, creams and pastels for the most part and her Queen sized bed was big and fluffy. When she was little her dad called her Princess, surely like a lot of dads to their baby daughters, but it felt special to her. As a princess she thought she needed a princess bed so from then on her bed was the most important piece of furniture. She still recalled vividly her mum or dad sitting on the chair reading her bedtime stories. Her mum preferred to read Dr Suess books to her, which were great, her favourite being
Horton Hears a Who!
Her dad preferred to read fables and tales of adventure like
Sinbad, Ali Baba,
and more modern stuff along those lines. Maybe it was her dad’s entertaining delivery of the derring-do books that led her to the CIA, then the NGA. She loved her work at the NGA and felt lucky to have a friend and colleague like Dannielle, and a boss like Henry Michieta, even though the big Maasai preferred Danni, she smiled to herself. Anyway, tonight she was meeting up with Danni in downtown Alexandria. They were going to The Lounge Restaurant for some good food and drink. Well, a decent burger and a Bud for starters.
    Dannielle lived in Springfield