19:25
Belarusian Military Base (Temporarily under SNA East Europe Command), Synkovichi, Belarus
A corporal with a clipboard under his arm escorted the four members of Charlie Squad through the base's maze of low, concrete corridors. The distant thrum of helicopters still echoed through the walls, a reminder of how fresh the battle was. The corporal brought them up to the second floor of the living quarters, a narrow hallway lined with steel doors.
"Your rooms, sirs, ma'am," he said curtly.
Mei, De Luca, Arina, and Annabelle nodded their thanks. Each room was the same: a cot, a desk and chair bolted to the floor, and a cramped washroom barely big enough for one person to stand in. The paint on the walls peeled with age, and the faint stench of antiseptic clung to everything.
Mei didn't linger in the hallway. "Everyone, get some rest." Her voice was clipped, as if she had already moved on to the next step of their mission. She entered her room and shut the door.
Inside, she turned on the sink and splashed cold water across her face. The reflection in the cracked mirror stared back at her—calm, poised, unreadable. She sat down on the cot, still in her full combat gear, and pulled out her phone. After a pause, she dialed.
"Hello."
Sohel's voice, ragged from exhaustion but steady, came through the line.
"Hello," Mei answered, her tone softening for the first time that day.
"How's the situation there?"
"We've secured the border and halted FNA's progress for now," Mei said. "We still aren't sure about the hostages, so we're moving with caution. What about you? How's your mission going?"
"Smoothly. We're at Nowshahr now. Will infiltrate Liora's dockyard after midnight." His voice grew darker. "She's nothing like any of our opponents before. Too cautious. Always two steps ahead. And it's just intuition—but she might be a sociopath."
Mei exhaled slowly. "Take care."
"You too. Let me know if the situation changes."
"Yes, sir."
The call cut off. For a moment, Mei stared at the dead screen, her thumb resting on the power button as if reluctant to put it away. Then she slipped the phone back into her vest pocket and stood. Without hesitation, she left the room.
---
20:11
The light above the commander's office door flickered. Mei stood outside, straightened her shoulders, and knocked.
"Come in," a tired voice replied.
She pushed the door open. Brigadier Sergei Smirnov stood in front of a wall-mounted screen, his posture slouched as he read the mission report from earlier that day. Numbers glowed across the screen in stark red and white.
Friendly KIA:
SNA: 57
Belarus Army: 255
Injured:
SNA: 76
Belarus Army: 512
Wheels lost:
SNA: 2 MI-32 transport choppers, 1 Typhoon APC
Belarus Army: 17 MI-171 transport choppers, 14 modified Black Hawk gunships, 32 T-72BM3 battle tanks, 4 APCs
Smirnov's eyes were glassy. His voice cracked when he finally spoke. "We lost good men today, Captain."
Mei's reply was cool, almost detached. "It's the cost of winning, sir. Victory demands sacrifice."
Smirnov turned to face her, his jaw tight. "But tell me, Captain—what was the need? We didn't want this war. Why do my men have to die for this?"
For once, Mei didn't have an answer. Her lips parted slightly, then closed again.
Suddenly, AURA's synthetic voice cut into the room. "Commander, I'm receiving video transmission signals from an unknown source."
Smirnov's brow furrowed. "Accept the signal and put it on my screen."
Mei stepped closer, her hand instinctively brushing against the grip of her sidearm. Into her concealed mic she whispered, "AURA, track the transmission source."
The screen blinked, static washed across it, then resolved into the smug grin of a familiar face: Noam Cohen. Mei's hands balled into fists at the sight of him.
"Good evening, SNA," Cohen said, his tone mocking. "Are you enjoying the war?"
Smirnov's voice was like gravel. "What's there to enjoy in a war?"
Cohen leaned closer to the camera, his grin widening. "What's there not to enjoy? The smell of cordite, the screams of dying men, the thunder of explosions…" He chuckled. "It's the greatest form of entertainment in the world."
"Location acquired," AURA whispered in Mei's ear.
A thin smile tugged at Mei's lips. "Oh? Then let's call an air strike."
"Woah, woah, woah," Cohen interrupted, feigning shock. "Not so fast. You wouldn't want them to be collateral damage, would you?"
The camera shifted, panning to the room behind him. Smirnov's face drained of color. Mei's smile vanished.
Four people sat huddled together, terrified. Their identities needed no confirmation: Isabelle Josephina Watson, First Princess of the United Kingdom and Annabelle's older sister. Saiko Takehiro, Imperial Princess of Japan. And their two bodyguards.
Cohen's voice oozed with satisfaction. "You see, my men intercepted a jet above Germany the other day. These four happened to be inside."
Smirnov clenched his fists. "What do you want?"
"I could demand the complete surrender of the SNA," Cohen mused, tapping his chin. "But you'd reject that. So let's keep it simple. I want all SNA troops to pull out of Eastern Europe."
Smirnov barked, "SNA doesn't negotiate with terrorists."
Cohen tilted his head, mock sympathy on his face. "You're clearly hotheaded. I'll give you forty-eight hours to cool off. If a single SNA troop remains in Eastern Europe after that, prepare to hold two royal funerals."
The transmission cut. The screen went black.
Silence lingered. Smirnov looked at Mei, despair in his eyes.
Mei's lips curled into a thin, cold smile. "You said it yourself, sir. SNA doesn't negotiate with terrorists. Don't worry—we'll rescue the princesses."
She turned on her heel and left the room.
---
16 July 2037
08:35
The conference room smelled faintly of stale coffee and gun oil. Around the table sat Mei, De Luca, Arina, Annabelle, and Sergeant Elina Parker.
Mei stood at the head, arms crossed. "Sergeant Parker, I've already spoken with Brigadier Smirnov. You're with me now. Do you understand?"
Elina straightened her back. "Yes, ma'am."
De Luca leaned back in his chair, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. "Looks like you've gotten over your panic attacks."
Elina met his gaze firmly. "I did. Thank you for asking."
Mei's sharp eyes shifted to Annabelle. "Princess, Athena stays grounded. If we move her, we risk revealing our advance. But be ready—we'll need her for exfil once the hostages are secured."
Annabelle gave a crisp nod. "You got it, Captain."
"Okay, soldiers." Mei's tone sharpened. "Time to go."
They filed out of the conference room and crossed the tarmac toward Athena. The massive aircraft loomed like a steel beast at rest. Its engines were silent, but its presence dominated the airfield.
A hiss of hydraulics echoed as the rear ramp lowered. Moments later, two armored Subaru Defender SUVs rolled out, engines growling, headlights cutting across the base's dusk-lit yard.
Mei slid into the passenger seat of the lead SUV. De Luca took the wheel. Arina and Elina climbed into the second vehicle.
The convoy rolled forward, passing through the gate of the base. The SUVs accelerated onto the road, disappearing into the Belarusian countryside.
Ahead of them, in the shadow of Cohen's threat, lay the true battlefield.