Chapter 12:

The Preparations Part 2

The Young Knight of the Desert

Nouakchott Air Base, Democratic Republic of Mauritania. 1755 hours (Mauritania Time)

Ryan then took Caguiat to Nouakchott Air Base, used by both the New United Nations Air Forces (NUNAF) and the small Mauritanian Air Force. This base was once Nouakchott International Airport and how it stopped serving Nouakchott was a minor yet unforgettable consequence of World War III.

World War III began in 1989 when nuclear weapons were respectively detonated in the Union of Socialist Soviet Republics’ capital of Moscow and New York City in the United States of America. The bomb in Moscow was discovered to have used material from the People’s Republic of China, whereas the bomb in New York City was discovered to have used Soviet material.

While the USSR fought on two fronts with the US assisting the PRC in one front and in another front the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the French Republic, conflicts across the Third World intensified and Mauritania wasn’t an exception.

Ruled at the time by a junta who took power from the previous one, Mauritania was in the middle of a war with the neighboring Republic of Senegal when World War III started. A month into this war, Senegal mysteriously ceased hostilities with Mauritania, but in a shocking turn of events, bombings struck Nouakchott with the Mauritanian government as its victims. This created pandemonium across Mauritania, and it lasted almost a decade even after World War III ended. This chaos only ended after like-minded civilians and warbands rallied under a charismatic man named Oumar Mbaré who pacified western Mauritania and proclaim it the Democratic Republic of Mauritania with himself as its President. Mbaré was the one who applied for membership in the New United Nations.

Both Ryan and Caguiat came across a V-22 Osprey VTOL transport and its two pilots, a male and a female. “Are you Mr. Ryan and Miss Caguiat?” the female Osprey pilot asked.

Both were in their late twenties with their respective hair covered by their helmets. The man had very light skin and green eyes while the girl had dark intermediate skin and dark brown eyes.

“That’s us,” Ryan replied.

“1st Lieutenant Josefina Valenzuela,” the female pilot said as she introduced herself.

“2nd Lieutenant Sean O’Flaherty,” the male pilot said in response. “We’re to take you to Atar and the troops there will assist you in making contact with the Nomads.”

“Thanks again for the help,” Caguiat said.

“No problem,” Valenzuela said. “Please get in.”


Brotherhood of Freedom Cell Headquarters, Eurasian Tsardom. 2129 hours (Tehran Time)

Tarou Ganji, Sunan Wattana, and Leila Alam returned to Vahid Farahani’s room and, upon entering, they saw Hooman Avadi with Farahani. Tarou then closed the door behind Wattana, and Leila. In his late forties, Hooman was a man with brown hair, light skin, and dark brown eyes.

“From what Senior Volunteer Ganji tells me, there’s something you wish to ask of me?” Farahani inquired to Wattana and Leila.

“We do,” Wattana replied. “Alam and I wish to talk above.”

“That’s it?”

Leila gave her answer, but in Farsi. “She just wishes to talk to Miss Wattana,” Tarou explained in English for Wattana to hear.

“I see. Very well, I’ll allow it but Senior Volunteer Ganji must accompany the both of you. He can also translate.”

“Baleh,” Leila replied.


2257 hours

Tarou, Leila, and Wattana climbed out of the underground complex. The latter two began to look at the stars.

Leila said something, but it was in Farsi. “It’s awfully beautiful tonight,” Tarou said as he translated for Leila in English.

“I can agree with that,” Wattana replied.

Wattana continued looking into the stars, with Tarou joining him. The former turned to the latter.

“Ganji, what do you think of all of this?” Wattana asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” Tarou answered. “It’s the first time I witnessed someone admit to his or her sexuality.”

Leila then turned to Wattana. Again, she said something Wattana couldn’t understand.

“What did she say?” Wattana asked to Tarou.

“She says thank you for helping her come to terms with what she really is,” Tarou answered.

“You’re welcome… I guess.”

Tarou then translated what Wattana said but into Farsi for Leila to hear. Leila then gave a reply.

“She’s asking what you wish to do once this is over,” Tarou explained to Wattana.

“I’m a mercenary,” Wattana answered. “I just plan on earning enough money before retiring. Then… maybe find someone I can truly spend the rest of my life with.”

Leila replied, but in Farsi. “She says that she can try doing that,” Tarou said. “’Finding a job to earn enough money before finding someone special.” Leila continued, but she had difficulty saying the rest of what she had in her mind.

“What’s wrong?” Wattana asked as she faced Wattana with concern clear in her tone.

“She… says that… even though she now knows what she is, she’s… scared,” Tarou answered for Leila.

“What are you scared of?”

“Others accepting what she is,” Tarou answered for Leila.

“I see,” Wattana said before gulping. Both Tarou and Leila knew that Wattana was struggling with what to say next.

“I’ve never said this before, but… ” Wattana started. “I became a soldier for a not-so-noble reason.”

“You never mentioned this before,” Tarou commented.

“I’ve never had a problem with boys. Then, one day, my father caught me sleeping with a girl once. I fought back, with the Muay Thai he taught me no less, and ran away. An uncle from my mother’s side of the family helped me out and because he was in the New United Nations Ground Forces, he recommended that I should join because hate crimes are easily punished there.

“While off-duty, I met this girl at a bar. I thought she was the one person I could spend the rest of my life with. As it turned out, she only spent time with me, in public and private, to amuse herself before marrying some rich idiot. Since then, I opted to not be picky with guys or girls.”

Wattana then looked away from Leila, confusing the latter. The former sighed briefly before looking at her again.

“You know, I really wish you knew English,” Wattana lamented to Leila’s face. “I apologize for that and I do notice you can understand me at times but it would make it easier talking to you.”

Leila then gave her answer in Farsi. “She says that she’s able to understand English because her mother knew the language,” Tarou explained to Wattana. “However, she never spoke it again after she lost both of her parents when the Eurasians invaded.”

“I… really am sorry about that,” Wattana said to Leila.

Leila then said something. Unlike earlier, she said it while smiling.

“She says that she’s at least glad you were being honest with yourself,” Tarou said to Wattana. “And that we must get to sleep already because she now feels that she can take part in tomorrow’s operation without regrets.”

“Same here,” Wattana replied. “And seeing how skilled you are on foot and in Walgears for two days, I can tell you good things will happen to you if you don’t give up. It’s the same with me.”

“Baleh,” Leila replied.

“I can assume that means ‘thank you’?”

“It does,” Tarou answered.


Atar, Democratic Republic of Mauritania. 1839 hours (Mauritania Time)

The Osprey reached Atar, a city that, while a part of the Democratic Republic of Mauritania, it’s a city that was hard to hold. The city once hosted the ruins of Ouadane and Chinguetti, victims of the fighting that ended the earlier Republic of Mauritania. Atar, once the Democratic Republic annexed it, built a training school for the small Mauritanian Air Force. However, the Air Force’s presence is the only proof of the Democratic Republic’s government in Atar.

In truth, the training school hosted the main base of the largest mercenary group in the post-World War III world, the Nomads. Not much was known about these mercenaries other than recruiting from failed states. They occupied a portion of northern Mauritania where Atar was situated in. The New United Nations and the Mauritanian government, reluctantly in the case of the latter, gave the area around Atar to the Nomads as payment. This turned the Nomads into an “army with a state”.

As Oliver Ryan and Alicia Caguiat disembarked from the Osprey, three men appeared to greet them. All hid their faces with balaclavas while wearing a khaki-colored uniform that comprised a tunic, a ballistic vest with the former tucked into a pair of trousers held up by a brown-colored leather belt, and black boots. Two of the three men carried Galil assault rifles.

“So I assume you’re from the FIS?” the man with the balaclava without a gun asked.

“I am,” Caguiat answered.

“Call me A.K. We’ll discuss the rest of this in my office. Follow me.”

“And as for me, this is where I take my leave,” Ryan added before he turned away from Caguiat and the three Nomads. “Miss Caguiat, I assume you can handle the rest?”

“I will,” Caguiat answered. “Thank you for everything.”


1903 hours

Caguiat and A.K. reached the office of the latter. The former looked with amazement that the latter owned such an office, yet there wasn’t much to show A.K.’s character. While Caguiat sat down, A.K. filled a white cup with coffee and offered it to the former.

“Thank you,” Caguiat replied upon receiving the coffee.

“It’s Turkish,” A.K. said. “You will enjoy it.”

A.K. then sat down just as Caguiat took a sip. Finding that A.K. wasn’t lying that the coffee’s Turkish, she continued drinking that she her cup was now half-empty.

“Now mind telling me why the FIS would send you to me?” A.K. inquired.

“Hold on, this might take a while,” Caguiat warned before continuing her coffee. “Three months ago, we offered a job to another but much smaller mercenary company-”

“I know you’re referring to Iron Dutchman Services.”

“How did you know!?”

“It’s not a secret amongst mercenaries that Iron Dutchman Services took up the job of secretly guarding a high school girl. Of course, one member of Iron Dutchman Services hasn’t exactly been covert about it. I’d like to know his name though.”

Thank goodness he doesn’t know about Mr. Ganji, Caguiat thought. “Let me continue. A few days ago, Iron Dutchman Services found a job offer from the Middle Eastern League where they were to guard a weapons shipment supervised by the League’s FIA bound for Iran. However, someone in the FIA told a Eurasian OVR agent about this.”

“And you wish to hire us to help Iron Dutchman Services?”

“That’s right. I’ve already sent for a C-5 to come here and I’m also to tell you in advance about it.”

“So when will this transport plane arrive?”

“Tomorrow morning at the latest.”

“Anything else I need to know?”

“We’re carrying a Walgear for one member of Iron Dutchman Services to use.”

“I can assume those mercenaries will be attacked tomorrow at the latest. Between here and Iran is Euro-African Alliance territory. Have you considered that?”

“My government will deal with the Alliance. We can hold materials for their new Walgears hostage if they refuse the plane entry.”

“I see… ”

“I can hear the reluctance in your tone.”

“Are we mercenaries always available for messes you make?”

“Not me and especially not the Director. I’ve been ordered to accompany the plane.”

“And why you?”

“Because I’m the one who gave Iron Dutchman Services that job offer and this one too.”

“Impressive. Very well, we’ll assist. In fact, allow me to offer some of my men for this operation.”

“How many are we talking?”

“A mixed infantry-Walgear platoon.”

“And I suppose this will increase the amount we have to pay?”

“Allowing that C-5 into this base is free of charge. The men, on the other hand… ”

“What currency?”

“American dollars.”

“How’s fifty million? We’ve paid Iron Dutchman Services one million a month as we agreed when they took up the job of protecting the asset you know of.”

“Then you got yourself a rescue platoon.”

“Also, there’s one last thing I have to tell you.”

“What is it?” A.K. asked coldly.

“The plane will have to make a stopover to Kuwait in the Middle Eastern League. They’ve been notified about it.”

“I see… sixty million.”

“Deal?” Caguiat said as she stood up, put down the cup, and offered her right hand

“Deal,” A.K. replied as he also stood up and grabbed Caguiat’s right hand with his right hand.


Brotherhood of Freedom Cell Headquarters. Eurasian Tsardom. July 30, 2030; 0658 hours (Tehran Time)

Every man and woman in Vahid Farahani’s Brotherhood of Freedom cell gathered at the destroyed village and prepared as they all wore armor and carried varying weapons; most carrying Sayf rifles while some carried G3 battle rifles, Type 56 assault rifles, and MG3 general-purpose machine guns. In addition to the to the Sayfs they carried, two had Artashir sniper rifles slung across their respective backs, while two had RPG-7 launchers slung below their respective right arms and spare rockets slung in their backs.

Farahani then appeared before the men and women. “I am glad to have met all of you,” Farahani started. “Preferably, I would rather have met each and every one of you in better circumstances, but alas... Now, we fight to free Iran from Eurasian aggression. Remember that the Eurasians are as human as we are, yet we must also remember that not every Eurasian soldier is here to oppress us. If we fight our hardest today, tomorrow, and beyond, we can inspire more to join us that we can scare the Eurasians into withdrawing. However, not all of us might live to see Iran free.

“Now, we go to assist our allies in Ameri to attack Bushehr. By taking Bushehr, we will acquire a vital stronghold to press further attacks against the Eurasians. Move out!”

“Yes, sir!” shouted Farahani’s subordinates in unison.

Every cell member rushed to the three vehicles in their possession, two trucks and the BTR stolen from Jam four days earlier. Farahani boarded the truck with Sunan Wattana driving it, Ghasem Madani, Armin Khadem, Anita Hamilton, and every man and woman in Group A boarding it. Group B, with the exception of Wouter Vos and Yusuf al-Saqqaf, boarded the BTR. Vos and al-Saqqaf respectively boarded the two trucks that they brought with them from the MV Arabia.

Unbeknownst to the Brotherhood members and the mercenaries, a drone watched the vehicles leave the village from above.


Tehran. 0930 hours

Vladimir Mirov, Giorgi Kipiani, Nadezhda Aslanova, and Talgat Yusupov appeared in a conference room. Seated far from the door was Aleksandr Mirov. Also seated were two men and a woman wearing varying uniforms.

“You made it, Leytenant Mirov,” Aleksandr said.

“I assume you invited me and my team in here along with General-Leytenant Yesayan, Mayor Gorev, and General-Mayor Karimova because the rebels are on the move?” Mirov asked.

“They are,” Aleksandr answered before grabbing a remote control and pointing it at a monitor found behind him.

Aleksandr immediately moved away after turning on the monitor. The screen on the monitor now showed a digitalized map of Iran with blinking blue dots moving.

“Those are Brotherhood movements,” Yesayan, a man in mid-fifties with short brown hair, blue eyes, and light skin, said. “I’ve pulled out most of my troops away from their positions save for the Collaborationists. Leytenant Mirov, care to explain to us how this plan will work?”

“We let the rebels gain a victory for now, sir,” Mirov answered. “When it appears that they’ve let their guard down, we can strike.”

“And I suppose you wish to go after the cell that’s leaving Banak to link up with the cell in Ameri for their attack against Bushehr?” Mirov’s uncle asked as he pressed his remote again, showing a black-and-white video, collected from a drone, showing four trucks.


“And where will you be launching your attack?” Karimova, a woman in her late forties with light skin, long dark brown hair in a bun, and blue eyes, asked.

“From Shiraz, ma’am,” Mirov answered upon facing Karimova. “Truth be told, I promised Kapitan Nazarov of the Shagokhod training center there that he can assist once it’s clear to attack the rebels.”

“But how much do you want the rebels to succeed before we attack?” Gorev, a man as old as Yesayan but with blond hair in a crew cut, very light skin, and light brown eyes. “I’d rather eliminate any rebels attacking my positions around the Caspian Sea coastline.”

“If it’s a city, let the rebels take it,” Mirov answered as he turned to Gorev. “If it’s a minor outpost, let them take it too. But if it’s a major base, only then is it clear to attack.”

“Consider it done,” Aleksandr declared. “Leytenant, you and your team return to Shiraz for the time being. All information about rebel movements will go to Shiraz in which you’ll give the signal to attack.”

“Spasibo, General-Gubernator,” Mirov replied while facing his uncle.


Atar, Democratic Republic of Mauritania. 0535 hours (Mauritania Time)

A knock came from the other side of the door of the room where Alicia Caguiat stayed at in the air base that was the headquarters of the Nomads. “Miss Caguiat, your plane has arrived,” a woman said from the other side of the door.

“Almost ready,” Caguiat replied while putting on her clothes.

As she finished dressing up, Caguiat grabbed her bags and opened the door to find a woman who covered most of her face with a balaclava, yet she had dark brown eyes and, from what little of her face she showed, she had light skin.

“Please follow me,” the female Nomad asked.

“Wait, who are you?” Caguiat asked.

“You’ll know when we get to the plane.”

Caguiat and the female mercenary reached the runaway, where four beige-colored SH-6s, like the ones used by the Imperial Eurasian Army, were being loaded onto the C-5 Galaxy strategic airlifter that arrived. Unlike the Imperial Eurasian Army’s SH-6s, these had insignia of the Nomads, which consisted of a horizontal tricolor flag with black on top, red in the middle, and green at the bottom yet it was larger than the two colors above it. At the center was a large, yellow-colored “N”.

“Are you about to leave now?” A.K. asked as he appeared beside Cagiuat and his female subordinate.

“I am,” Caguiat replied.

“Then let’s go.”


Above the Republic of Egypt. 1326 hours

In the Galaxy, Caguiat was seated beside the female Nomad who came to her room hours before. “Well, we’re in the plane,” Caguiat said to the mercenary. “Can we please resume the conversation we had back in Mauritania?”

“Fine,” the female Nomad replied. “I’m whom you call Annabelle Yuan.”

She’s Annabelle Yuan!? Caguiat incredulously pondered. She’s not as tall as the reports once described her to be.

“And how long have you been working with the Nomads?”

“Is that the only question you’re going to ask?”

“It is, I promise.”

“Since six years ago.”

“I see. Thank you.”


Farwaniya Governorate, State of Kuwait. 1715 hours (Arabia Standard Time)

The Galaxy reached Kuwait International Airport which was also used as an air base for both the Middle Eastern League Air Force (MELA) and the Kuwaiti Air Force known as Abdullah Al-Mubarrak Air Base. As Caguiat, A.K. and Li got out of the C-5 through the right airstair, a sharply dressed man appeared.

“You’re Miss Caguiat?” the man asked.

“I am,” Caguiat answered.

“Then please follow me. However, the Nomads must remain where they are.”

“It’s fine,” A.K. said when Caguiat turned to face him. “I can assume your business here won’t be long.”

“Thank you.”


Ameri, Eurasian Tsardom. 1847 hours (Tehran Time)

Vahid Farahani and his entire cell reached Ameri. Everyone looked to find that not a single Eurasian soldier or aircraft spotted them. Seeing houses, every vehicle stopped.

“This is strange,” Farahani said as he saw Ameri with no Eurasian soldiers patrolling the city. “Not a single Eurasian and unlike Banak, Ameri suffered minor damage.”

“With all due respect, Commander, I don’t think this is something we can ignore,” Sunan Wattana voiced.

“Agreed, Junior Volunteer. I’ll get the rest of Command Group to investigate.”

Farahani got off the truck and rushed to the rear, where the rest of Command Group along with Group A sat. “Sergeant, I need you and the rest of Command Group to scout Ameri.”

“Roger that,” Ghasem Madani replied.

Ghasem, along with Tarou Ganji and Anita Hamilton, got down from the truck. Wattana then joined them.

“What are you doing here?” Farahani asked Wattana.

“I’m with Command Group after all,” Wattana replied. “Ganji, Doc, and I have smartphones that use Military Communicators.”

“How does that work?”

“They’re registered under a TPG in Japan. It’s how we can communicate without it being intercepted.”

“Very interesting,” Ghasem remarked.

“In any case, I’ll remain here,” Wattana said before facing Tarou. “Ganji, you or Doc will notify us if you’ve spotted something or someone.”

“Got it,” Tarou and Hamilton replied in unison.


Capital Governorate, State of Kuwait. 1826 hours (Arabia Standard Time)

A car came inside the headquarters of the Foreign Intelligence Agency of the Middle Eastern League. As the car stopped, Alicia Caguiat at the man who picked her up from Kuwait International Airport, went through the security checks before arriving at the office of Khaled Hassim, the Director of the Foreign Intelligence Agency.

In his sixties, Hassim was a man with an average height, short black hair, and his skin color being between light intermediate and dark intermediate. “To what do I pleasure of your visit, Miss Caguiat?” Hassim asked.

“I’ve come to tell you that your arms smuggling operation into Iran was not only compromised, but an operative of yours is in danger,” Caguiat answered bluntly. “And that includes the mercenaries we loaned to you.”

“Ah yes. You lent them to us in exchange for what again?”

“That we assist in any particular fashion.”

“And I’m to assume that this is you calling in that favor?”

“Please take a look at this,” Cagiuat requested just as she opened an envelope she carried with her and brought out a photograph.

Hassim received the photograph, but his eyes gathered cold anger at what he saw. “W… Where did you get this?” Hassim asked coldly.

“You’re on need to know at this point.”

“The man’s name is Jamal Sulaiman. He works under Covert Operations, but he makes sure everyone in that branch is paid. He shouldn’t know about the shipments.”

“Luckily for you, my superior has an idea.”

“And what might that be?”

“You’ll need to consult your equivalent in the DIA on this though.”


Ameri, Eurasian Tsardom. 1915 hours (Tehran Time)

“This is Dabri, come in,” Armin said over Wattana’s smartphone with Farahani, Wattana, and all of Group A listening.

“This is Farahani,” Farahani responded. “What’s your status?”


“Halt, who goes there!” a male voice shouted from the other end of the smartphone.

“What’s going on!?”


“Hands up!”

“Who is this?” Farahani asked as he grabbed the smartphone from Wattana.

“Is that you, Commander Farahani?”

“And you are… ”

“Commander Bakhtiar’s expecting you.”

“I see.”

“What do we do now?” Ghasem Madani asked.

“We accept their invitation, of course.”


1937 hours

The rest of Farahani’s cell reached the center of Ameri. Farahani got off the truck he rode while Ghasem and Vos joined him. They found Armin with Bakhtiar.

“Welcome,” Bakhtiar said. “You must be wondering why there are no Eurasian or Collaborationist troops in the city.”

“Why is that?” Vos asked.

Farahani translated what Vos asked into Farsi. “Then follow me. We’re going to my headquarters.”

Bakhtiar and his men took Farahani and his subordinates to Ameri Wharf, specifically a building guarded by two men wielding the same rifle Farahani carried.

“Again, I must thank you for allowing me and Qazvini to take the rifles from those dead Eurasians in Jam,” Bakhtiar said to Farahani and Vos. “We really needed newer guns.”

“No problem,” Vos said. “Glad to let you take those AK-2000s.”

Once they neared the door, Farahani translated what Vos said in Farsi to Bakhtiar. The building consisted of two floors. In the first floor was a table with a map already laid throughout the table. A man was already by the table and he got out of Bakhtiar’s way.

The Brotherhood officers and Vos reached the table, with Bakhtiar pointing at Ameri. “We’re here,” Bakhtiar said before pointing at Bushehr. “And all Collaborationist forces here in Ameri withdrew to Busheher.”

“But what about Eurasian troops?” Armin asked.

“Strangely, there wasn’t a single Eurasian soldier in Bushehr, according to our infiltrators in the city. I even launched a reconnaissance mission to get information from our infiltrators long before you arrived.”

“But what about the towns between here and Bushehr?” Farahani asked as he moved his finger across the gap between Ameri and Bushehr across the map.

“That’s what I really suspicious about the whole thing,” Bakhtiar answered. “Those villages have been abandoned.”

“And what of the locals there?” Vos asked, with Farahani translating into Farsi.

“Acting like nothing’s happening,” Bakhtiar answered while looking at both Farahani and Vos. “They’re the first ones to tell us about the Collaborationists converging into Bushehr.”

“Think we can recruit from them?” Farahani asked.

“We could, but we don’t have enough weapons.”

“Agreed,” Armin added.

“Before we even attack, we need to conduct reconnaissance,” Vos said. “We need to know the Collaborationist positions across the city. From what I heard about the Collaborationists, I don’t think they can be beaten easily just because they don’t get as much training as the Eurasians do. Even if we attack now, the Collaborationists might struggle so hard that we won’t be able to succeed before the Eurasians decide to reinforce the city.”

Farahani translated what Vos said for Bakhtiar. “I agree with Lieutenant Vos. We also have to take into account how much ammunition we have for an attack.”

“Then what do you propose we do?” Bakhtiar argued. “I haven’t heard much from the other cells but if we don’t attack now, we’ll shame ourselves before United Command.”

“We still move,” Farahani answered. “However, we stop before Jaeinak.”

Farahani pointed to where the village of Jaeinak was on the map. “From there, we launch a reconnaissance mission to link up with the infiltrators again. We have them conduct attacks throughout the city, then the real attack once the Collaborationists are distracted.”

“Entering will be the problem, though,” Armin argued. “How many Collaborationists are in the city?”

“From what I’ve been told, they should have about two battalions,” Bakhtiar answered. “One battalion was stationed outside the city and one of its sub-units patrolled Ameri before they, along with the rest of the battalion, mysteriously left for Bushehr.”

“Do they have heavy armor?” Vos asked, with Farahani translating into Farsi.

“One battalion is a tank battalion.”

“Not good,” Vos argued. “While we have RPGs, T-99s can survive an RPG shot, though that depends on the model. It would really help if those T-99s are older models because I doubt the Eurasians would give them the newer models built to shrug off RPG rounds.”

Farahani then translated Vos’ argument into Farsi for Bakhtiar to listen. “Why not force the tanks into the city?” Bakhtiar suggested. “You never bring a tank into a city lest it has good infantry and air support and I doubt the Eurasians could respond fast enough to deploy their aircraft.”

“Then we’ll need to infiltrate the airport to prevent the Collaborationists from calling in air support,” Armin proposed.

“Sergeant al-Saqqaf wanted to go after the airport, so we’ll let him do it,” Farahani recommended.

“Other than him, who else will go into Bushehr?” Vos asked.

“Me and the rest of Command Group will go in,” Farahani answered. “We have Senior Volunteer Ganji. He can pilot the Walgear we stole days before in Banak to distract the Collaborationists across the city, including their armor, enough that Sergeant Madani, Junior Volunteers Wattana and Hamilton, and me will assist Sergeant al-Saqqaf in attacking the airport.”

“Good idea,” Bakhtiar said before he turned to his subordinate. “Lieutenant Farrokzhad, do you agree with this plan?”

“I do,” the man named Farrokhzad replied.

“Then let’s get moving,” Armin added.

“I’ll tell Ganji and al-Saqqaf,” Vos added.


Farwaniya Governorate, State of Kuwait. 1934 hours (Arabia Standard Time)

Alicia Caguiat returned to Kuwait International Airport. To her surprise, she found A.K. waiting by the airstair they came from hours before.

“You really are a patient one,” Caguiat commented.

“Are we done here yet?” A.K. asked.

“Not yet. We’ll need your help with something.”

“This will cost extra, you know?”

“The FIA will be paying for it. However, we’ll have to discuss the rest of the plan in the plane.”