Cold War Stories:- Betrayal on the Sands Pt 2( Based on an Original Idea by Arc)
Posted: Fri Dec 01, 2023 9:45 pm
Here's part 2 can Harper catch up to Samantha and destroy the weapons shipment...
Rushing quickly out of the office, Harper slung out her AKM flicking off the safety, then pulled back the charging handle knowing she would have to kill the attackers and escape this place. It was regrettable but Harper knew her mission came first. She returned to the courtyard to find a scene of chaos, soldiers rushing to the walls firing down at attacking Afghan fighters. Harper knew grabbing a vehicle was impossible in this hell, she would never make it out alive instead she rushed for the walls her only way out. Darting up the stairs, Harper ducked as a hail of bullets cut down the Soviets ahead of her, then two Afghan fighters both men jumped over the walls clutching AK47s. Harper didn't recognise the men, Harper fired a burst at the first figure scything the man down before he could react he screamed falling over the wall. The second barely had time to react, as he raised his weapon. She opened fire with a free round burst, sending the man down to join his fellow. Harper lowered her smoking rifle, as she ran towards the wall, seeing only darkness beyond. Taking her chance before she was shot, Harper threw her rifle over the wall then leapt over the wall into the night tucking herself into a roll.
Harper landed with the Grace and agility of a cat, into the desert sand. Flicking on her torch she found her rifle and flinging it over her shoulder, she started to run away from the chaos of the fort. However, she heard the sound of galloping hooves behind her and a blood curdling female cry. Harper turned to see a female Afghan fighter on horseback, garbed in a black hijab under which she wore a flowing black robe, Soviet issue camo webbing around her waist. A curved Afghan dagger sheathed on her shoulder. The woman levelled her old Mosin- Nagant rifle and fired, Harper rolled out of the way just in time drawing her stolen pistol, the shot impacted the ground to her side. "Wait! I'am an American! Stand down! I'am on your side!" Harper knew it was folly, she just saw the uniform and knew no English. Harper couldn't take that chance. Before the Afghan could cycle the bolt on her weapon, Harper shone her torch into the woman's face blinding her then fired two shots with her Makarov. The woman gave a grunt of pain as she tumbled from her horse, falling onto the sand with a dull thud.
Harper holstered her pistol, flicked off her torch as she rushed to the fallen woman. Kneeling Harper turned her over, finding the woman was still alive but Harper's shots had penetrated her sternum and belly, her breathing shallow, she didn't have long. Harper shook her head. "Sorry about this, but you gave me no choice. It was you or me, I chose me." The woman grabbed Harper's shoulder, muttering something in Pashtu. "I'am sorry but I don't speak your language." The woman gave one last breath, before she died her arm fell limply to the ground. Shining the flashlight in her face, Harper had good look at the girl. She was quite young, around Harper's age with supple tanned dark brown skin, high cheekbones and rounded features and almond shaped deep brown eyes, which Harper closed. She was a pretty little thing, Harper felt a little ashamed for killing her and for the idea that came into her head. Harper gently caressed the folds of the woman's robes, they were a little bloody but would come in handy. After all, she would have better look crossing the desert in her clothes, then dressed as a Soviet soldier which was an invitation to get shot. Besides, she could find another Russian disguise there were no shortage of soviet fighting women after all. Harper quickly stripped off her stolen corporals uniform, electing to keep the underwear then started to strip the dead Afghan. She removed the woman's sandals, webbing and hijab revealing the girl's raven coloured hair knotted into a simple bun. Then Harper unfastened the robe, pulling off the slightly bloody garment from her shoulders one arm at a time, revealing she had gone topless under her robes. After letting the half naked body flop to the ground, Harper admired the well rounded C-cup breasts slightly pointed with perky dark brown areolas. The beauty of her slim attractive body marred by the two red holes, left by Harper's pistols. The only thing the Afghan was wearing was loose black trousers, which Harper peeled down the dead woman's long tanned legs, exposing a black loincloth which protected her modesty. Harper quickly dressed in the stolen Afghan fighters clothing, finding it quite comfortable and free flowing. When she was finished, Harper walked over to the horse gently calming her, using techniques taught her by her kossack relatives, before she checked the woman's saddlebags. She found a pair of WW2 binoculars, and a canteen full of water. After taking a swig of water, having not drank since left Pakistan, Harper looped her AKM over her shoulder and mounted the horse. It was a 6 hour ride to Kandahar due North, but Harper having grown up on her families ranch in Montana surrounded by horses was used to a long ride. Kicking the horse into a slow gallop, she knew she would make Kandahar by dawn. Enough time to catch up to Samantha. Harper rode into the desert, leaving the half naked corpse of the Afghan girl to cool behind her.
Outside Kandahar Airbase, 08:00am
Sleep did not come easily for Harper, in the night she had dreamt of the time she had first met Samantha, who had been recruiting for Operation Cyclone. Harper was just a lowly private in the 101st Airborne, and had to beat 4 men to join the ranks of the CIA's Special Operations Group or SOG. Casting her mind back now, Harper wondered if Samantha was merely grooming her for this day? Was their brief affair nothing more than an attempt for Sam to manipulate her? Harper shook these thoughts from her mind, the past didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was to complete the mission and somehow escape Afghanistan. That was if she survived the next couple of hours. Using her stolen binoculars, Harper observed Kandahar airbase from a rocky outcropping overlooking the base. Harper knew that the weapons would most likely be located near the hangars near the airstrip, but getting in world be tricky. The base was patrolled by elite VDV paratroopers, in their distinctive blue berets and desert camouflage uniforms, of both genders. Harper knew that she needed one of those uniforms. She took her binoculars and scanned the area, finding a single female VDV paratrooper a klick away from the base perimeter. The woman was manning a radio set, an observation post if Harper had to guess. With a Russian jeep nearby. Smiling since the woman was just her size, Harper replaced her binoculars in the saddlebag and mounted her horse. It was time to get out of these bloody rags.
" Control this is Alpha 214, Private Borozova. I spotted a suspicious lens glare near the south perimeter, over." All Private Yuliya Borozova received in reply was static. She hit the radio in anger, as she tried to tune it but nothing. "Stupid piece of Georgian junk!" Yuliya cursed as she wiped the sweat from her brow. At 22, Yuliya had been in Afghanistan for two months following her completion of basic training in Ekaterinberg, training that didn't prepare her for just now desolate and blisteringly hot it was going to be. Why Chernenko wanted to hang to this desolate shithole, was anyone's guess. In Yuliya's opinion, the Afghans were welcome to it. She was a beautiful example of the Soviet soldier, with high sculptured cheekbones, soft emerald eyes and slightly squared features. Her eyes were framed by sand goggles, and jet black hair pixie cut hair covered by her desert camo boonie hat. The distinctive blue beret looped through her left epaulette. Yuliya's uniform consisted of a matching mottled soviet desert camouflage tunic and trousers, with beige combat webbing and laced combat boots, a olive green shemagh scarf around her neck. Under her uniform was the striped blue and white spetsnaz undershirt and standard issue white scanty panties. Her AKSU-74 submachine gun looped over her shoulder. " Alpha 214? This..co.ntrol...repeat..ast...ver?" ' Jumping in surprise, Yuliya grabbed the headset, but before she could answer she felt a hand clamp over her mouth, followed by a sharp pain at the back of her neck at her brainstem. Yuliya gave a brief muffled cry, as her killer lowered her to the sand. Pulling her Afghan dagger from the woman's neck, Harper wiped the blood from the paratrooper on the sleeve of her black robes. After sheathing it, she took the headset. "Alpha 214 here. There's a sandstorm coming in, request permission to leave my post, and seek shelter over?" Harper said in her most fluent Russian. There was a slight pause, before the reply. "Understood, 214. Permission granted, just notify the gate guards over." Harper smiled. "Affirmative, control. Out." Harper replaced the headset, as she caressed the lapel of the paratroopers tunic. "Let's get you stripped, before that sandstorm gets here." Harper said to the dead woman, as she glanced at the approaching wall of sand.
Harper stripped off the bloody outfit she took from the Afghan fighter, including the olive undervest she took from the corporal back at the fort. Now half naked, Harper started to strip the dead paratrooper. She removed the woman's hat, goggles, boots, white socks, webbing and scarf then unbuttoned the dead woman's tunic. Leaning the corpse against her, Harper slipped off the uniform shirt from the woman's shoulders then holding up her arms, pulled the striped undershirt over her head, careful not to stain the garment with the soldiers blood. After pulling on the undershirt, Harper let the half naked corpse flop back onto the sand, then stop to admire the buoyant C-cup breasts with circular perky dark pink areolas. "I will say this about you reds, you are made up so well." Harper quipped to the half naked dead soviet, as she unfastened the woman's trousers working them from her shapely hips down her long toned legs. This left the dead paratrooper wearing nothing but her white standard issue scanty panties. "You can keep those, bitch. I'am all set." Harper said to the half naked corpse, her toned athletic body on display, as she dressed in her stolen uniform. When she was finished, Harper covered her face with the scarf snapping the goggles onto her face then scooped up the radio set and the woman's AKSU-74 walking over to the jeep. After placing the equipment in the jeep, Harper switched on the engine and drove down the slope towards Kandahar. Leaving the desert to claim the naked body of Private Borozova.
Kandahar Airbase 07:56am
Harper brought the jeep to a halt as a VDV paratrooper, walked in front of her holding up is hand. She brought the scarf around her mouth, trying the best she could to keep the sand out as the storm howled around them. "Greetings, comrade" The man said in Russian as he flashed her a friendly salute, as he walked around her jeep, which Harper returned. "You coming in for shelter? Looks like it's going to be a rough one." Harper nodded pulling down her shemagh. "Tell me about it comrade. How command expects me to see the Afghans in this shit is beyond me. Besides..." She gestured to the radio, in the back of the vehicle. "...I have to get that piece of junk inside before it gets clogged with sand. I hope it clears up soon, I have a flight to catch. " The soldier smiled under his face mask. " I hear you, hopefully it will clear up soon." He turned gesturing to his partner, a female paratrooper to open the barrier. "In you go comrade, get some food in your belly." Harper smiled, saluting the two soldiers as she drove pass them into the base.
As Harper arrived at the hangers near the heliport, she could see that soviet engineers were too busy with sheltering a single Hind gunship with tarpaulin. She knew that had to be Samantha's flight, and if that's were Samantha was going be, she needed on that helicopter. Getting out of her jeep, Harper walked into the hangar finding it empty save for a pile of boxes at the centre, lashed together with cargo netting. It was the weapons shipment. Harper smiled under her scarf, recalling one of Samantha's lessons " Luck is the infiltrators best friend, Harp. Whether it's a woman who happens to be your size, or a simple hunch. Never forget, lady luck is your biggest friend." Taking out the Afghan Dagger, she had managed to smuggle tucked into the waistband of her stolen uniform, Harper pried open a box at the top of the pile taking out a C4 satchel charge. Setting the charge for an hour and ten minutes detonation, Harper replaced the bomb inside the crate. As she walked out of the hangar, she heard voices coming from the other side of the hanger. One of them was the unmistakable Carolina accent of Sarah Bruckner. " Is the chopper fueled and ready to go?" Reacting quickly, Harper unslung her AKSU-74 and stood by the hangar door, working her disguise pretending to eavesdrop. "Da, comrade. But with this sandstorm, it could set back our departure time considerably." Replied the pilot, a tall man in a navy blue flight suit and olive green helmet. Samantha, who was flanked by two VDV paratroopers, two women, shook her head. "I don't want excuses! I know the flight was for 09:00am, but my mission is of paramount importance! Besides, this sandstorm will not last forever!" Samantha shouted over the storm. As if somehow she controlled the weather, the sandstorm had passed. Looking up in the sky, Samantha fixed the pilot with a broad, smug grin. "There, you see it never hurts to be optimistic comrade-lieutenant. Complete the preflight checks, I will get use clearance to depart." Turning on her heels, the traitor marched up towards the control tower with one of the soldiers. While the other, walked towards Harper. As the pilot disappeared into the gunship.
The paratrooper, a young redheaded woman also a private approached Harper with a frustrated look on her face. "Of all the things I could have imagined myself doing, when I was deployed here. Taking orders from an American suka wasn't one of them. You don't happen to have any smokes on you? I'am dying for a cigarette." Looping her SMG around her shoulders, Harper fished around her pockets feeling a bump in her stolen trousers. It seemed the woman she had killed, was a smoker. "You're in luck, comrade. Here have one of mine." Harper said as she gave the soldier a cigarette lighting it, before replacing the pack. The private took a drag, sighing with relief as she blew out a plume of blue smoke. " Spacibo, comrade. I really needed that. Hey you don't want one, you look like you need it?" Harper shook her head. "No comrade, I'am cutting back." She lied, in fact she never smoked. In fact, she considered it a filthy habit. Harper knew she had to take her opportunity, now. This woman represented her best opportunity to get on that chopper. "Hey, you know those things will kill you know, comrade." The private chuckled, as took another drag. "Well, between the Afghans and this..." She held up the cigarette. "I think I will take my cha-ugh!" She was unprepared for the swift knee to her groin Harper delivered stunning her. Then closing her hands around the soldiers neck, Harper jerked her head upwards savagely breaking her neck. She dragged the dead private into the hanger, stashing the body in an empty crate. "Well now you have no chance at all, comrade." Harper quipped as she sealed the box, before returning to the pile of weapons. She quickly reset the bomb for 15 minutes, enough time for the helicopter to leave and for Samantha to see her plans go up in smoke. Feeling satisfaction, Harper pulled up her shemagh and exited the hangar, just in time to see Samantha walking towards the gunship, with her guard in tow. She turned when she heard Harper's boots. " There you are, private. Come on, I'am not going to fly myself to Kabul. Let's go." Harper fell into step behind Samantha as they boarded the helicopter. Walking up the steep steps, Harper couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation at what she was about to do.
As the gunship spooled into life, Harper sat opposite Samantha and the other female paratrooper. As the chopper lifted off, Samantha cocked her head. "Don't I know you, soldier? You seem familiar to me." Harper knew she wouldn't be able to fool her former lover for long, so she stalled. "Niet We have just met when I was assigned to guard you." She in said in Russian, masking her Montana drawl. Samantha narrowed her eyes, suspiciously. "Remove your scarf, soldier." She replied in English, causing the other paratrooper to chance at them confused. Suddenly their was a loud explosion from behind them, both Samantha and the blonde paratrooper rushed to the window. From her seat, Harper could see the large mushroom cloud as it plumed above the torn remains of the hangar below them. Samantha, punched the hull of the chopper. "No! It can't be!" Taking that as her cue, Harper jumped up cutting down the paratrooper with two shots from her AKSU-74, before training the gun on Samantha. "Suprise, bitch! I told you didn't I? The next time we meet..." Samantha turned slowly clapping her hands. "Well done, Harp! I knew I should have never underestimated you. After all I trained you. You must have to great lengths to find me." Holding her hands up, she gestured at Harper's uniform. "You killed to get that uniform. Do you think the CIA values such resourcefulness? The offer still stands, my love. Join me, and mother Russia. It will be like old times, Harp. It's only with me, with the Soviet Union, that strong women like us will we realise our true potential." She held out her hand. For a moment, Harper lowered her weapon but then raised it. "No, I cannot. I will not sell my country, my soul to you or to these murderers. I'am sorry, Samantha. I didn't want it to end like this. Goodbye." With tears streaming down her face, Harper pulled the trigger. Hearing a dry click.
"Fuck!" Harper cried as she threw the gun at Samantha, momentarily stunning her former mentor, who was about to draw her Makarov pistol. "God damn, it Harper don't make me kill you!" Samantha screamed as she battered the AKSU-74 aside. Harper drew her Afghan dagger and rushed Samantha. But, her ex lover had quickly recovered drawing her pistol, and firing once. Harper barely registered the shot that had hit her right shoulder, the pain blocked out by the adrenaline coursing through her body. She shoulder barged Samantha, sending the pistol flying out of her grip and pain shooting down her arm then brought the knife downwards, but Samantha deftly caught her hands. "Why? Why did you have to ruin everything Harper!? " Harper could feel the pain shoot down her arms, as Samantha started to punch her in the solar plexus. "You're a damn traitor Sam! You betrayed me! You never loved me!" Riding Samantha's blows, Harper saw a slim chance she stamped on Samantha's foot causing the woman to scream in pain and loosen her grip on Harper's dagger. Using the momentum brought by the opening, Harper plunged the dagger deep into her old mentors chest. Samantha let out a small gasp of pain, transfixed by the sight of the dagger protruding from her chest, blood straining her uniform red. "You killed me Harp." She said softly, blood tricking down her mouth as she fell forwards, despite herself Harper caught her. She lowered her former lover down to the floor of the gunships troop compartment, to her surprise tears were streaming down her face. "Oh my god! Samantha, I'am sorry! " Samantha coughed up blood, gently caressing her face. " Don't fret my love. You have always made me so proud." Harper felt a lump in her throat, as she looked into her lovers eyes. "Was it ever real? What we had? Or was that another one of your lies." Samantha's breathing became more ragged as she coughed up more blood. "It was real, it was always real. I...have...never...loved anyone more than I loved you, Harper." She could hear knocking behind her, the door to the cockpit. Samantha grabbed Harper's shoulder. "You better go...my love. Live for yourself, but remember you are better than what they think. You were meant...for more. I love..." Samantha's arm collapsed from Harper's shoulder, as she let out one final rattle of breath before her big brown eyes closed forever. "Goodbye, my love and thank you." Still running on adrenaline, Harper pulled out the knife and sheathed it before she walked over to the box containing parachutes. Ignoring the stabbing pain in her shoulder, Harper pulled one a parachute out and slipped it on them walked towards the boarding ramp. Smashing her fist against the button to the ramp release, Harper could feel the warm Afghan air hit her face. Just as one of pilots burst through the cockpit door, pistol drawn, Harper leapt from the Hind gunship into the blue sky.
Harper felt herself plummeting for what seemed like an eternity, before she pulled the chute cord. Screaming in pain as she was jerked somewhere behind her navel, Harper gripped the parachute and descended rapidly to the earth. Harper saw thr ground rush up to meet her, as she hit the desert. From the distance she saw black figures on horseback approach her position but couldn't make them out. Where they friend or foe? Harper didn't care, she had killed the woman she loved. Then from a mixture of exhaustion and shock passed out, her world turned black.
Mujahedin Camp, Helmand Province the next day
"Samantha...please...come back. I'am sorry." Harper said softly as she stirred, slowly opening her eyes. "Easy there, Harp. I thought we lost you there." Came a familiar male voice, whose hands gently pushed her back into her cot. She blinked a couple of times, her eyes coming into focus. "Burke, sir? Is that you? Where I'am I?" The heavyset grizzled face of her handler came into focus. "It's alright, Rasinski. You're safe now, you are in a Mujahedin Camp." Harper could here the sound of gunshots in the distance, but somehow didn't feel safe. She had a low opinion of the locals, after her ordeal at the hands of Bashir. "With all due respect, sir. I don't trust them, neither should you." Burke fixed her with a broad patrician smile. "Now, Harper. We may not trust them, but they hate the commies more then they hate us." Harper scoffed at that, he hadn't been on the receiving end of Bashir's fist. She leant back into her cot, wincing at the pain from her bandaged shoulder. "Report, Rasinski. Is Bruckner dead?" Harper took a deep breath, pain and rage wracking her body. "So you knew, about Samantha's defection? God damn it, she was right!. You sent me to kill her! With respect sir why didn't you tell me?!" The smile on Burke's face disappeared. "Because, we had no idea whether or not you were involved. We needed to know that you were 100% behind the Agency and your country. We were aware of your...relationship, and we needed to now if you were capable of putting your loyalty first. So is the traitor dead, can you confirm the kill?" Tears welled up, in her eyes, she couldn't believe it Samantha was right! "I just killed the woman i loved! There are you happy, sir?!" Harper screamed, the pain blocked out by her anger. Burke rose from his chair. "That couldn't have been easy. For what it's worth I'am sorry, Harp." Harper, tears of rage streaming down her face shook her head. "That isn't worth much to me, sir. By the way, I have destroyed the weapons. If you even care." Burke folded his arms. "Of course I care, the agency cares. We will have time for a full debrief when we are back at Langley. I will leave you to get better, Rasinski." With that he turned and left Harper to her thoughts. She laid back into her cot, and closed her eyes. "I'am sorry, Samantha. Please forgive me." She muttered as she fell to sleep, to the sound of gunfire
Rushing quickly out of the office, Harper slung out her AKM flicking off the safety, then pulled back the charging handle knowing she would have to kill the attackers and escape this place. It was regrettable but Harper knew her mission came first. She returned to the courtyard to find a scene of chaos, soldiers rushing to the walls firing down at attacking Afghan fighters. Harper knew grabbing a vehicle was impossible in this hell, she would never make it out alive instead she rushed for the walls her only way out. Darting up the stairs, Harper ducked as a hail of bullets cut down the Soviets ahead of her, then two Afghan fighters both men jumped over the walls clutching AK47s. Harper didn't recognise the men, Harper fired a burst at the first figure scything the man down before he could react he screamed falling over the wall. The second barely had time to react, as he raised his weapon. She opened fire with a free round burst, sending the man down to join his fellow. Harper lowered her smoking rifle, as she ran towards the wall, seeing only darkness beyond. Taking her chance before she was shot, Harper threw her rifle over the wall then leapt over the wall into the night tucking herself into a roll.
Harper landed with the Grace and agility of a cat, into the desert sand. Flicking on her torch she found her rifle and flinging it over her shoulder, she started to run away from the chaos of the fort. However, she heard the sound of galloping hooves behind her and a blood curdling female cry. Harper turned to see a female Afghan fighter on horseback, garbed in a black hijab under which she wore a flowing black robe, Soviet issue camo webbing around her waist. A curved Afghan dagger sheathed on her shoulder. The woman levelled her old Mosin- Nagant rifle and fired, Harper rolled out of the way just in time drawing her stolen pistol, the shot impacted the ground to her side. "Wait! I'am an American! Stand down! I'am on your side!" Harper knew it was folly, she just saw the uniform and knew no English. Harper couldn't take that chance. Before the Afghan could cycle the bolt on her weapon, Harper shone her torch into the woman's face blinding her then fired two shots with her Makarov. The woman gave a grunt of pain as she tumbled from her horse, falling onto the sand with a dull thud.
Harper holstered her pistol, flicked off her torch as she rushed to the fallen woman. Kneeling Harper turned her over, finding the woman was still alive but Harper's shots had penetrated her sternum and belly, her breathing shallow, she didn't have long. Harper shook her head. "Sorry about this, but you gave me no choice. It was you or me, I chose me." The woman grabbed Harper's shoulder, muttering something in Pashtu. "I'am sorry but I don't speak your language." The woman gave one last breath, before she died her arm fell limply to the ground. Shining the flashlight in her face, Harper had good look at the girl. She was quite young, around Harper's age with supple tanned dark brown skin, high cheekbones and rounded features and almond shaped deep brown eyes, which Harper closed. She was a pretty little thing, Harper felt a little ashamed for killing her and for the idea that came into her head. Harper gently caressed the folds of the woman's robes, they were a little bloody but would come in handy. After all, she would have better look crossing the desert in her clothes, then dressed as a Soviet soldier which was an invitation to get shot. Besides, she could find another Russian disguise there were no shortage of soviet fighting women after all. Harper quickly stripped off her stolen corporals uniform, electing to keep the underwear then started to strip the dead Afghan. She removed the woman's sandals, webbing and hijab revealing the girl's raven coloured hair knotted into a simple bun. Then Harper unfastened the robe, pulling off the slightly bloody garment from her shoulders one arm at a time, revealing she had gone topless under her robes. After letting the half naked body flop to the ground, Harper admired the well rounded C-cup breasts slightly pointed with perky dark brown areolas. The beauty of her slim attractive body marred by the two red holes, left by Harper's pistols. The only thing the Afghan was wearing was loose black trousers, which Harper peeled down the dead woman's long tanned legs, exposing a black loincloth which protected her modesty. Harper quickly dressed in the stolen Afghan fighters clothing, finding it quite comfortable and free flowing. When she was finished, Harper walked over to the horse gently calming her, using techniques taught her by her kossack relatives, before she checked the woman's saddlebags. She found a pair of WW2 binoculars, and a canteen full of water. After taking a swig of water, having not drank since left Pakistan, Harper looped her AKM over her shoulder and mounted the horse. It was a 6 hour ride to Kandahar due North, but Harper having grown up on her families ranch in Montana surrounded by horses was used to a long ride. Kicking the horse into a slow gallop, she knew she would make Kandahar by dawn. Enough time to catch up to Samantha. Harper rode into the desert, leaving the half naked corpse of the Afghan girl to cool behind her.
Outside Kandahar Airbase, 08:00am
Sleep did not come easily for Harper, in the night she had dreamt of the time she had first met Samantha, who had been recruiting for Operation Cyclone. Harper was just a lowly private in the 101st Airborne, and had to beat 4 men to join the ranks of the CIA's Special Operations Group or SOG. Casting her mind back now, Harper wondered if Samantha was merely grooming her for this day? Was their brief affair nothing more than an attempt for Sam to manipulate her? Harper shook these thoughts from her mind, the past didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was to complete the mission and somehow escape Afghanistan. That was if she survived the next couple of hours. Using her stolen binoculars, Harper observed Kandahar airbase from a rocky outcropping overlooking the base. Harper knew that the weapons would most likely be located near the hangars near the airstrip, but getting in world be tricky. The base was patrolled by elite VDV paratroopers, in their distinctive blue berets and desert camouflage uniforms, of both genders. Harper knew that she needed one of those uniforms. She took her binoculars and scanned the area, finding a single female VDV paratrooper a klick away from the base perimeter. The woman was manning a radio set, an observation post if Harper had to guess. With a Russian jeep nearby. Smiling since the woman was just her size, Harper replaced her binoculars in the saddlebag and mounted her horse. It was time to get out of these bloody rags.
" Control this is Alpha 214, Private Borozova. I spotted a suspicious lens glare near the south perimeter, over." All Private Yuliya Borozova received in reply was static. She hit the radio in anger, as she tried to tune it but nothing. "Stupid piece of Georgian junk!" Yuliya cursed as she wiped the sweat from her brow. At 22, Yuliya had been in Afghanistan for two months following her completion of basic training in Ekaterinberg, training that didn't prepare her for just now desolate and blisteringly hot it was going to be. Why Chernenko wanted to hang to this desolate shithole, was anyone's guess. In Yuliya's opinion, the Afghans were welcome to it. She was a beautiful example of the Soviet soldier, with high sculptured cheekbones, soft emerald eyes and slightly squared features. Her eyes were framed by sand goggles, and jet black hair pixie cut hair covered by her desert camo boonie hat. The distinctive blue beret looped through her left epaulette. Yuliya's uniform consisted of a matching mottled soviet desert camouflage tunic and trousers, with beige combat webbing and laced combat boots, a olive green shemagh scarf around her neck. Under her uniform was the striped blue and white spetsnaz undershirt and standard issue white scanty panties. Her AKSU-74 submachine gun looped over her shoulder. " Alpha 214? This..co.ntrol...repeat..ast...ver?" ' Jumping in surprise, Yuliya grabbed the headset, but before she could answer she felt a hand clamp over her mouth, followed by a sharp pain at the back of her neck at her brainstem. Yuliya gave a brief muffled cry, as her killer lowered her to the sand. Pulling her Afghan dagger from the woman's neck, Harper wiped the blood from the paratrooper on the sleeve of her black robes. After sheathing it, she took the headset. "Alpha 214 here. There's a sandstorm coming in, request permission to leave my post, and seek shelter over?" Harper said in her most fluent Russian. There was a slight pause, before the reply. "Understood, 214. Permission granted, just notify the gate guards over." Harper smiled. "Affirmative, control. Out." Harper replaced the headset, as she caressed the lapel of the paratroopers tunic. "Let's get you stripped, before that sandstorm gets here." Harper said to the dead woman, as she glanced at the approaching wall of sand.
Harper stripped off the bloody outfit she took from the Afghan fighter, including the olive undervest she took from the corporal back at the fort. Now half naked, Harper started to strip the dead paratrooper. She removed the woman's hat, goggles, boots, white socks, webbing and scarf then unbuttoned the dead woman's tunic. Leaning the corpse against her, Harper slipped off the uniform shirt from the woman's shoulders then holding up her arms, pulled the striped undershirt over her head, careful not to stain the garment with the soldiers blood. After pulling on the undershirt, Harper let the half naked corpse flop back onto the sand, then stop to admire the buoyant C-cup breasts with circular perky dark pink areolas. "I will say this about you reds, you are made up so well." Harper quipped to the half naked dead soviet, as she unfastened the woman's trousers working them from her shapely hips down her long toned legs. This left the dead paratrooper wearing nothing but her white standard issue scanty panties. "You can keep those, bitch. I'am all set." Harper said to the half naked corpse, her toned athletic body on display, as she dressed in her stolen uniform. When she was finished, Harper covered her face with the scarf snapping the goggles onto her face then scooped up the radio set and the woman's AKSU-74 walking over to the jeep. After placing the equipment in the jeep, Harper switched on the engine and drove down the slope towards Kandahar. Leaving the desert to claim the naked body of Private Borozova.
Kandahar Airbase 07:56am
Harper brought the jeep to a halt as a VDV paratrooper, walked in front of her holding up is hand. She brought the scarf around her mouth, trying the best she could to keep the sand out as the storm howled around them. "Greetings, comrade" The man said in Russian as he flashed her a friendly salute, as he walked around her jeep, which Harper returned. "You coming in for shelter? Looks like it's going to be a rough one." Harper nodded pulling down her shemagh. "Tell me about it comrade. How command expects me to see the Afghans in this shit is beyond me. Besides..." She gestured to the radio, in the back of the vehicle. "...I have to get that piece of junk inside before it gets clogged with sand. I hope it clears up soon, I have a flight to catch. " The soldier smiled under his face mask. " I hear you, hopefully it will clear up soon." He turned gesturing to his partner, a female paratrooper to open the barrier. "In you go comrade, get some food in your belly." Harper smiled, saluting the two soldiers as she drove pass them into the base.
As Harper arrived at the hangers near the heliport, she could see that soviet engineers were too busy with sheltering a single Hind gunship with tarpaulin. She knew that had to be Samantha's flight, and if that's were Samantha was going be, she needed on that helicopter. Getting out of her jeep, Harper walked into the hangar finding it empty save for a pile of boxes at the centre, lashed together with cargo netting. It was the weapons shipment. Harper smiled under her scarf, recalling one of Samantha's lessons " Luck is the infiltrators best friend, Harp. Whether it's a woman who happens to be your size, or a simple hunch. Never forget, lady luck is your biggest friend." Taking out the Afghan Dagger, she had managed to smuggle tucked into the waistband of her stolen uniform, Harper pried open a box at the top of the pile taking out a C4 satchel charge. Setting the charge for an hour and ten minutes detonation, Harper replaced the bomb inside the crate. As she walked out of the hangar, she heard voices coming from the other side of the hanger. One of them was the unmistakable Carolina accent of Sarah Bruckner. " Is the chopper fueled and ready to go?" Reacting quickly, Harper unslung her AKSU-74 and stood by the hangar door, working her disguise pretending to eavesdrop. "Da, comrade. But with this sandstorm, it could set back our departure time considerably." Replied the pilot, a tall man in a navy blue flight suit and olive green helmet. Samantha, who was flanked by two VDV paratroopers, two women, shook her head. "I don't want excuses! I know the flight was for 09:00am, but my mission is of paramount importance! Besides, this sandstorm will not last forever!" Samantha shouted over the storm. As if somehow she controlled the weather, the sandstorm had passed. Looking up in the sky, Samantha fixed the pilot with a broad, smug grin. "There, you see it never hurts to be optimistic comrade-lieutenant. Complete the preflight checks, I will get use clearance to depart." Turning on her heels, the traitor marched up towards the control tower with one of the soldiers. While the other, walked towards Harper. As the pilot disappeared into the gunship.
The paratrooper, a young redheaded woman also a private approached Harper with a frustrated look on her face. "Of all the things I could have imagined myself doing, when I was deployed here. Taking orders from an American suka wasn't one of them. You don't happen to have any smokes on you? I'am dying for a cigarette." Looping her SMG around her shoulders, Harper fished around her pockets feeling a bump in her stolen trousers. It seemed the woman she had killed, was a smoker. "You're in luck, comrade. Here have one of mine." Harper said as she gave the soldier a cigarette lighting it, before replacing the pack. The private took a drag, sighing with relief as she blew out a plume of blue smoke. " Spacibo, comrade. I really needed that. Hey you don't want one, you look like you need it?" Harper shook her head. "No comrade, I'am cutting back." She lied, in fact she never smoked. In fact, she considered it a filthy habit. Harper knew she had to take her opportunity, now. This woman represented her best opportunity to get on that chopper. "Hey, you know those things will kill you know, comrade." The private chuckled, as took another drag. "Well, between the Afghans and this..." She held up the cigarette. "I think I will take my cha-ugh!" She was unprepared for the swift knee to her groin Harper delivered stunning her. Then closing her hands around the soldiers neck, Harper jerked her head upwards savagely breaking her neck. She dragged the dead private into the hanger, stashing the body in an empty crate. "Well now you have no chance at all, comrade." Harper quipped as she sealed the box, before returning to the pile of weapons. She quickly reset the bomb for 15 minutes, enough time for the helicopter to leave and for Samantha to see her plans go up in smoke. Feeling satisfaction, Harper pulled up her shemagh and exited the hangar, just in time to see Samantha walking towards the gunship, with her guard in tow. She turned when she heard Harper's boots. " There you are, private. Come on, I'am not going to fly myself to Kabul. Let's go." Harper fell into step behind Samantha as they boarded the helicopter. Walking up the steep steps, Harper couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation at what she was about to do.
As the gunship spooled into life, Harper sat opposite Samantha and the other female paratrooper. As the chopper lifted off, Samantha cocked her head. "Don't I know you, soldier? You seem familiar to me." Harper knew she wouldn't be able to fool her former lover for long, so she stalled. "Niet We have just met when I was assigned to guard you." She in said in Russian, masking her Montana drawl. Samantha narrowed her eyes, suspiciously. "Remove your scarf, soldier." She replied in English, causing the other paratrooper to chance at them confused. Suddenly their was a loud explosion from behind them, both Samantha and the blonde paratrooper rushed to the window. From her seat, Harper could see the large mushroom cloud as it plumed above the torn remains of the hangar below them. Samantha, punched the hull of the chopper. "No! It can't be!" Taking that as her cue, Harper jumped up cutting down the paratrooper with two shots from her AKSU-74, before training the gun on Samantha. "Suprise, bitch! I told you didn't I? The next time we meet..." Samantha turned slowly clapping her hands. "Well done, Harp! I knew I should have never underestimated you. After all I trained you. You must have to great lengths to find me." Holding her hands up, she gestured at Harper's uniform. "You killed to get that uniform. Do you think the CIA values such resourcefulness? The offer still stands, my love. Join me, and mother Russia. It will be like old times, Harp. It's only with me, with the Soviet Union, that strong women like us will we realise our true potential." She held out her hand. For a moment, Harper lowered her weapon but then raised it. "No, I cannot. I will not sell my country, my soul to you or to these murderers. I'am sorry, Samantha. I didn't want it to end like this. Goodbye." With tears streaming down her face, Harper pulled the trigger. Hearing a dry click.
"Fuck!" Harper cried as she threw the gun at Samantha, momentarily stunning her former mentor, who was about to draw her Makarov pistol. "God damn, it Harper don't make me kill you!" Samantha screamed as she battered the AKSU-74 aside. Harper drew her Afghan dagger and rushed Samantha. But, her ex lover had quickly recovered drawing her pistol, and firing once. Harper barely registered the shot that had hit her right shoulder, the pain blocked out by the adrenaline coursing through her body. She shoulder barged Samantha, sending the pistol flying out of her grip and pain shooting down her arm then brought the knife downwards, but Samantha deftly caught her hands. "Why? Why did you have to ruin everything Harper!? " Harper could feel the pain shoot down her arms, as Samantha started to punch her in the solar plexus. "You're a damn traitor Sam! You betrayed me! You never loved me!" Riding Samantha's blows, Harper saw a slim chance she stamped on Samantha's foot causing the woman to scream in pain and loosen her grip on Harper's dagger. Using the momentum brought by the opening, Harper plunged the dagger deep into her old mentors chest. Samantha let out a small gasp of pain, transfixed by the sight of the dagger protruding from her chest, blood straining her uniform red. "You killed me Harp." She said softly, blood tricking down her mouth as she fell forwards, despite herself Harper caught her. She lowered her former lover down to the floor of the gunships troop compartment, to her surprise tears were streaming down her face. "Oh my god! Samantha, I'am sorry! " Samantha coughed up blood, gently caressing her face. " Don't fret my love. You have always made me so proud." Harper felt a lump in her throat, as she looked into her lovers eyes. "Was it ever real? What we had? Or was that another one of your lies." Samantha's breathing became more ragged as she coughed up more blood. "It was real, it was always real. I...have...never...loved anyone more than I loved you, Harper." She could hear knocking behind her, the door to the cockpit. Samantha grabbed Harper's shoulder. "You better go...my love. Live for yourself, but remember you are better than what they think. You were meant...for more. I love..." Samantha's arm collapsed from Harper's shoulder, as she let out one final rattle of breath before her big brown eyes closed forever. "Goodbye, my love and thank you." Still running on adrenaline, Harper pulled out the knife and sheathed it before she walked over to the box containing parachutes. Ignoring the stabbing pain in her shoulder, Harper pulled one a parachute out and slipped it on them walked towards the boarding ramp. Smashing her fist against the button to the ramp release, Harper could feel the warm Afghan air hit her face. Just as one of pilots burst through the cockpit door, pistol drawn, Harper leapt from the Hind gunship into the blue sky.
Harper felt herself plummeting for what seemed like an eternity, before she pulled the chute cord. Screaming in pain as she was jerked somewhere behind her navel, Harper gripped the parachute and descended rapidly to the earth. Harper saw thr ground rush up to meet her, as she hit the desert. From the distance she saw black figures on horseback approach her position but couldn't make them out. Where they friend or foe? Harper didn't care, she had killed the woman she loved. Then from a mixture of exhaustion and shock passed out, her world turned black.
Mujahedin Camp, Helmand Province the next day
"Samantha...please...come back. I'am sorry." Harper said softly as she stirred, slowly opening her eyes. "Easy there, Harp. I thought we lost you there." Came a familiar male voice, whose hands gently pushed her back into her cot. She blinked a couple of times, her eyes coming into focus. "Burke, sir? Is that you? Where I'am I?" The heavyset grizzled face of her handler came into focus. "It's alright, Rasinski. You're safe now, you are in a Mujahedin Camp." Harper could here the sound of gunshots in the distance, but somehow didn't feel safe. She had a low opinion of the locals, after her ordeal at the hands of Bashir. "With all due respect, sir. I don't trust them, neither should you." Burke fixed her with a broad patrician smile. "Now, Harper. We may not trust them, but they hate the commies more then they hate us." Harper scoffed at that, he hadn't been on the receiving end of Bashir's fist. She leant back into her cot, wincing at the pain from her bandaged shoulder. "Report, Rasinski. Is Bruckner dead?" Harper took a deep breath, pain and rage wracking her body. "So you knew, about Samantha's defection? God damn it, she was right!. You sent me to kill her! With respect sir why didn't you tell me?!" The smile on Burke's face disappeared. "Because, we had no idea whether or not you were involved. We needed to know that you were 100% behind the Agency and your country. We were aware of your...relationship, and we needed to now if you were capable of putting your loyalty first. So is the traitor dead, can you confirm the kill?" Tears welled up, in her eyes, she couldn't believe it Samantha was right! "I just killed the woman i loved! There are you happy, sir?!" Harper screamed, the pain blocked out by her anger. Burke rose from his chair. "That couldn't have been easy. For what it's worth I'am sorry, Harp." Harper, tears of rage streaming down her face shook her head. "That isn't worth much to me, sir. By the way, I have destroyed the weapons. If you even care." Burke folded his arms. "Of course I care, the agency cares. We will have time for a full debrief when we are back at Langley. I will leave you to get better, Rasinski." With that he turned and left Harper to her thoughts. She laid back into her cot, and closed her eyes. "I'am sorry, Samantha. Please forgive me." She muttered as she fell to sleep, to the sound of gunfire
) The secuce-the-target-to-lure-her-into-a-secluded-place always has a special flavor - maybe because it's not been done as often as other tactics. Plus, Stephanie was even allowed to keep her undergarments. Do I have to see this as a token of French-British friendship? 