1100 HOURS, FEBRUARY 03, 2033CE
PASHTUN, SALAFI DESERT
It was mild weather today for this region – stinging winds, swirling sand devils four-meters-tall and a pitiless desert sun scorching all beneath it. Endless golden sand dunes curved across the heat-shimmering distance. I was crawling along their forking baseline. The harsh environment didn't really concern me. My sharp mind continued dwelling upon this mission's increasingly unpredictable endgame...
Random gunfire broke out ahead of me.
I froze, mid-crawl.
Hot metal ripped overhead. Screams sounded, followed by angry shouts and an answering hail of gunfire. Dual reinforcements converged from the distance on all sides. Chaos. Death. My quiet infiltration route through the sand dunes was now the deadly eye of a bloodstorm.
"Getting your bad luck out of the way early?" mission ops' silky male voice whispered through my earbud.
Hidden by my All1 facemask: a brief smile.
Young as I was, my classified CV was already filled with successfully completed Covert Ops including infiltration, extraction and assassination. So like always, I had done my geopolitical homework before deciding to take on this current mission. Pashtun was known as a desert nation of endless conflict, even for our world. Its' harsh central government was authoritarian but its' scattered oasis tribes were stubbornly independent. This typically caused regular armed clashes which culled successive generations. Government forces were most recently led by the implacable mercenary force called Lockstep Army (rank 6), the tribes championed by a broad underground collection of fanatical rebels. A dangerous environment by any stretch of the imagination, the only silver lining for me was that neither side had any particular reason to want ME dead...
Yet. Because this mission's purpose was to hit both sides HARD and finally bring the perpetual carnage here to a grinding halt.
Disappointment briefly burned me.
Both sides had engaged too early today, so unfortunately I would need to postpone my penultimate infiltration mission into Lockstep's Pashtun HQ, Qaleat Al'Easifa (translation: storm fortress). Jinder, the rebel elders and today's sacrificial lambs would be pissed off about this, and it would take at least another two weeks to prepare for a second attempt here, but-
Resolve immediately CLENCHED. My mind moved on to the next objective...
Bang! BANG, BANG! BOOM!
A rebel rocket attack? Useful for me.
Timing my quick spin to the explosion's fiery sand plume, I then began stealthily crawling away from ground zero. The Lockstep Army was an overwhelming juggernaut in its totality, but slow to assemble. While various mechanized units rumbled out from nearby Qaleat Al'Easifa to begin crossing the dunes, outfield squads hunkered down upon strategic dunetops to weather the first fierce, but undisciplined, charge of the suddenly ululating rebel forces. Combined with the Salafi desert's low afternoon visibility, the unfolding battle was an increasingly swirling mess for the senses. With all of this occurring around me, I glanced down at the dim display circle upon the back of my gloved hand to view an aerial feed showing combatant positions all updated live via advanced satellite telemetry: every direction led into further danger, only one directly towards my distant hidden camp. This made my exit-route clear.
Straight into the advancing army's teeth.
I hunkered lower, crawling on my stomach along the sandy culvert. Left arm pull, right arm pull, left arm pull, slowly dragging myself forward at an oblique angle. Screaming rebels sprinted across surrounding dunetops. Black smoke drifted, shrouding a blazing sun. Sand devils spun, further obscuring sight. All of this aided concealment, although my fullbody All1 sneaking suit was the ultimate lynchpin for my survival.
An incredible piece of military hardware, the All1's web-like fabric was bulletproof (to an extent) and equipped with a suite of useful features. Active Camouflage was its crowning technology, allowing the exterior to change color at will. This meant I merely appeared to be a golden blur retreating through the sand dunes forking, occasionally shadowed baselines. Unseen and unheard...
As military escalation continued.
Rising gunfire began shredding nearby dunetops. I crawled steadily forward, using my display circle's aerial view to avoid developing hotzones. However, war remained somewhat unpredictable. Stray shots impacted close, raising violent puffs of sand. Combatants shifted position, forcing me to continuously adjust my stealthy route around them. The tribal rebels eventually brought forward their full complement of rocket launchers and launched devastating volleys of missiles into the Lockstep Army's forward positions. Unfortunately, by this time I was firmly embedded within those same positions. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! A few explosions struck neighboring dunetops, flinging out clumped showers of bloody sand. I was pelted repeatedly. No flinching. The ululating rebel's surged forward again, overtaking a few nearby positions and pressing closer to my own. Most concerning of all, a distant rumbling grew ever closer. Army orders were suddenly bellowed. Their mechanized units had arrived. Lockstep's famous young commander Luther Kennan (rank 2) lead them, shouting for the way to be cleared. Infantry squads scrambled out of their way. Some even slid down the dunes, skidding closeby. One group headed right towards me.
Decisions, decisions.
A rebel rocket impacted above, showering sand down upon my body. This decided me. I tumbled downslope with the rolling cascade sand, passing well before the advancing infantry. The last dangerous stretch of my retreat went smoothly...
Until I was nearly past them. "Halt!" shouted a lone soldier. "Is someone there?!"
Immediately: I twitched my fingers, signaling my All1 Sneaking Suit to flush Lockstep red and gold. I raised both arms, staggering upright. "Don't shoot!"
His rifle aimed for my upper torso. "Identify yourself, soldier! Now!"
Falling heavily onto one knee, I held a hand up to my chest (as if injured) and fumbled through my utility belt with the other. "Hold on, my ID keycard-"
The enemy came a single step closer-
I twisted left, lunging forward. A single bullet fired wide of me before I disarmed him. My firm choke-hold allowed only a desperate gurgle to escape. Brutally twisting, I snapped his neck.
Threat eliminated.
My All1 shaded back to yellow. I slipped away.
Lockstep war engines from Qaleat Al'Easifa began arriving in bulk. Armored Turtles rumbled into position up front, massive alloy plates deployed to fully shield the waiting infantry. Heavy Transport vehicles followed, disgorging more troops. Armored bikers went ROARING outwards on all sides to envelope the rebel flanks. Black scorpion tanks slowed to a halt atop dune after dune until they formed a long bristling wall of artillery. Sighting. Aiming. Firing! BOOM BOOM BOOM! BOOM BOOM BOOM! BOOM-
The inevitable rebel slaughter had finally begun.
My crawl slowed to a subtle forward wriggle. The Lockstep vanguard was now confidently advancing forward on all fronts, thoroughly scouring each dune for leftover rebels. Lieutenant General Nashville (rank 1) led them. He was a talented young killer, and the top ranked soldier in Lockstep's entire army. His elites would tear this place apart...
Crowds thickened. Close. Closer. It became impossible for me to push further to freedom. Detection became likely. Abruptly: I came to a halt, edging into the dune-bottom beside me. Boots stomped. Explosions sounded. Both caused sand to rain down, eventually burying me past any possible recognition.
Waiting.
Grim squads of Lockstep veterans marched past in waves. Distant rebels began to flee in sand buggies. Some bought time for the retreat by leading doomed counter-charges. No one saw me, although one heavy Lockstep soldier unknowingly stepped upon my gloved hand in passing.
My lips pressed harder together.
Soon: they all were past me. Clear.
I quickly wriggled out of the sand, rolling forward up into a jog. This soon took me around the final dune...
Smoke swirled. Wind shrieked. Explosions thundered.
... and my run began. Speed building. While the Lockstep Army finished today's rebel culling I was flat-out SPRINTING at 40.8 km/h off into the shimmering desert afternoon; a slender yellow ghost disappearing into mirage.
Away.