“Four minutes post-target confirmation, seismic activity spiked. Volcanic integrity destabilized.”
“Define ‘destabilized,’ Commander,” one of the Navy analysts pressed.
“The mountain blew itself to hell,” Reaper muttered from down the line.
“Exactly that,” Viper said. “We were within three klicks of the blast zone when the first eruption hit. Lava flow cut off our planned exfil route. We diverted west, scrambled for natural cover. That’s when we encountered a collapsed lava tunnel with signs of recent human presence.”
He tapped again. A photo appeared—half-buried equipment and a satchel with University of Edinburgh tags.
“There was one civilian survivor. An archaeologist—Dr. Ward Sutherland. He was trapped too. We stumbled over him, executed a recovery and evac protocol. Pulled him from the tunnel and moved him with us through fallback sectors.”
“And you’d never met this civilian before?” another voice asked, the tone cool and skeptical.
“No, Sir. Complete unknown. But he was bleeding, unarmed, and caught in a natural disaster zone. Leaving him wasn’t an option.”
The table was silent a beat before the briefing officer spoke again. “We ran his file. As he told you, he’s an academic. His initial background came back clean. Verified presence on the island as part of a request from the French Ministry of Culture and SAMG. No ties to any flagged orgs.”
“Then he’s exactly what he appeared to be,” Viper said.
“He’s a damn lucky man,” someone muttered.
“Lucky us,” Kaze replied. “He knew the tunnels. We’d have been buried without him.”
Viper held his breath as the officers in the room exchanged looks. This was it—make or break time. If they didn’t believe them about Ward, nothing else they would say would matter. He released the breath slowly when all the men facing them from the other side of the table nodded.
“Very well,” the lead analyst said. “Continue with the timeline from tunnel escape to evac.”
Viper took a breath. “Copy that.” He switched the screen again—this time to topographical data and an elevation model of the western lava fields, pockmarked with glowing heat signatures. “After the primary eruption, we diverted and moved through Sector Seven. Terrain was unstable. High-risk movement around active lava fields. We located a secondary cave system along this bluff. It had a partial collapse, but it was passable.”He pointed to the map. “This is where the civilian—Sutherland—helped us. He’d surveyed the island prior to our arrival and had a mental map of the original lava tunnels. Without him, we would’ve hit a dead end at the next choke point.”
“That intel wasn’t documented,” the colonel noted.
“It wasn’t official,” Viper replied. “He was operating on instinct and memory. Lucky for us, it worked.”
“And you’re confident he wasn’t affiliated with hostile assets?” someone asked.
“Completely. He was weak, unarmed, and doing his best to stay alive. Nothing about him suggested covert training or enemy ties. If anything, he was terrified.”
The people in the room absorbed that intel for a moment.
“Continue,” the briefing officer prompted.
Viper nodded. “We moved underground for approximately 1.8 klicks through a partially collapsed lava system. Sutherland’s condition deteriorated—we administered field aid, stabilized him as best we could. By the time we reached a surface break near the north cliff edge, we’d lost visual contact with aerial assets. Ash cloud obscured sat relays.”
“That’s when you initiated blackout protocol,” the Navy analyst added.
“Yes, Sir. We dumped all digital signals and went silent. Once we cleared the ridge and confirmed no hostile pursuit, we began signaling the emergency beacon through analog frequencies. Twenty minutes later, we were in contact with TOC.” He looked around the room. “That’s the full arc. Target neutralized. Team intact. Civilian recovered.”
“You arrived without a scratch,” the Marine colonel said, his tone unreadable.
“No serious wounds,” Viper replied. “A few burns and a lot of bruises. We lost gear in the blast. Med kits and drones were reduced to slag. But we moved as a unit, and we made it out.”
Another officer leaned forward. “And the civilian?”
“Separated during re-entry to CONUS,” Viper said evenly. “Per protocol.”
The table went quiet for a moment until the Navy liaison leaned back in his chair and nodded. “For what it’s worth, Commander, you and your team pulled off a miracle. We had your dog tags flagged in six different internal reports. You were this close,” he held up his thumb and index finger with virtually no space between them, “to a memorial wall.”
Viper didn’t answer right away. “We don’t die easy, Sir. I’m not sure hell would want the likes of us who work for a living.” He grinned wryly. “And Valhalla’s full of tier one heroes, they won’t want middling ones like us either.”
