Action Force: Infiltration

[Sundance]

This story takes place between AF2: Escalation and AF3: Devastation.

Gulf of Mexico

It had been three months since Action Force battled the Red Shadows in Alaska. Several Red Shadow cells had carried out attacks around the world. There’d been a suicide bombing in Washington DC, an attack on the Pyramids in Egypt as well as more in Manchester, Turin and Los Angeles. Now a group had seized an oilrig in the Gulf of Mexico.

A SEAL team had died trying to land on the platform when their helicopter was shot down.

Dolphin stood near the stern of a US Navy destroyer with Beaver as Sabre climbed down a rope ladder to a kayak floating beside the warship.

“I still don’t know why you couldn’t use the Stingrays,” Dolphin commented. “The sea-sleds would get you there undetected.”

“I’m supposed to be a swimmer-canoeist,” Beaver replied as Stakeout dropped a paddle over the side and Sabre retrieved it. “I haven’t had a chance to do any canoeing yet.”

Dolphin shrugged as Stakeout and Barracuda lifted a second kayak and dropped it into the dark sea as Sabre paddled clear.

“Fine,” the navy officer commented as Barracuda scrambled down the rope ladder.

Sabre steadied the radar-invisible craft for the Frenchman to board it.

Stakeout dropped a paddle over before helping Beaver to drop the third kayak over the side. Boffin had been pleased by Beaver’s decision to use the kayak’s since they were some of the latest gear he’d had built.

Stakeout climbed down the rope ladder as Beaver picked up the other swimmer-canoeist’s paddle.

Once Stakeout was clear, Beaver and Dolphin lifted the last kayak and dropped it over. The Canadian descended the ladder before Dolphin dropped his paddle to him.

“Good luck,” Dolphin said.

Beaver gave him a thumbs-up and the group paddled off.

They had a mile of open sea to cross and an hour to do it in before the early dawn light would leave them at greater risk of being spotted.

Each of the four commandos wore a Nomex survival suit that would keep them warm in the cold sea as well as being waterproof. The suit also had Kevlar plates sewn into the chest, knees, back, shins and thighs to provide protection. A helmet protected their heads and supported the night-vision goggles they wore. An MP-5SD3 suppressed sub-machine gun was strapped to their backs in a waterproof case.

Paddling steadily, they began the journey.

When the four kayaks finally slid under the oilrig to the jetty used for rescue boats to dock at, Beaver was surprised there was no sentry. The four commandos scrambled from their boats and quickly pulled out their guns.

Beaver took the lead up the stairs, Stakeout close on his heels.

Near the top, Beaver raised his hand to signal the others to halt. A sentry was at the top. Beaver raised his sub-machine gun and fired a three-round burst that took the sentry down.

The group climbed the rest of the way and paused in the doorway. Two Red Shadows were walking toward them from the direction of the wellhead.

Beaver and Stakeout dropped them with bursts to the chest. Beaver turned to Barracuda and waved him and Sabre on his way. The pair hurried toward the large crane to the left and then on past it, toward the small air-traffic control room.

Beaver and Stakeout crossed the rig’s top deck to a small shed-like building. The door opened, Beaver peered in and saw it was a storage room, filled with racks of parts. He shut the door and waved Stakeout on.

The pair reached the corner of the large building on the rig’s top deck, which held the crew’s mess hall on the lowest of three levels. Peering in the window, Beaver saw around half the crew seated on the floor, cross-legged, with their hands on their heads.

Four Red Shadows were guarding them. The two commandos dashed to the door. Beaver gave Stakeout a hand-signal. Both switched their weapons to single-shot. Easing the door open, they raised their guns and fired, shattering the two long strip-lights in the room’s ceiling.

As glass fragments showered the floor, the Red Shadows automatically looked up. Beaver and Stakeout fired at the two furthest gunmen. The 9mm bullets shattered their faceplates and dropped them to the floor. They then shot the two closest gunmen in the back.

A few whimpers came from the hostages in the dark. Beaver pulled out his torch and turned it on, casting a red light around.

“Sh,” he whispered. “We’re with Action Force. Stay put. We’ll be back.”

The two soldiers slowly climbed the exterior stairs to the buildings middle level. No sentries were present and they slipped inside. A narrow corridor bisected the level, with a weather centre on the left and a communications suite on the right. The weather centre, used to monitor Caribbean hurricanes, was empty.

The other room held a single Shadow whom Stakeout shot.

Returning outside, the pair crept up to the top level, where the ops room was. Peering in a large picture window, Beaver could see another fifteen hostages, with six Red Shadows.

He communicated his plan to Stakeout with hand-signals. The Scouser pulled out a flash-bang and held it ready as Beaver aimed at the window. A single round shattered the glass and Stakeout threw the grenade in.

A blinding flash of light and a deafening bang followed. The two soldiers leapt to their feet and aimed through the broken window.

The Red Shadows were all disoriented by the stun grenade, leaving them easy prey for the commandos.

The two soldiers led the freed hostages down to the mess hall.

In the dark room, by the light of Beaver and Stakeout’s red torches, Beaver asked the rig’s foreman, “Where’s the rest of the hostages?”

“Some of them are in the gym,” the foreman answered. “I heard them saying that they were keeping the rest there, but after they shot the helicopter down, they moved some to the drill-head.”

“How many of them are there?” Stakeout asked next.

“About twenty,” the foreman answered.

Stakeout looked at Beaver. “Four in here, two on patrol. Guy in the radio-room, sentry at the stairs, six in ops.”

“That’s fourteen,” Beaver said. “At least two at the helipad. That means the rest should be at the drill-head or in the gym.”

“How many ‘around’ twenty?” Stakeout asked.

“Twenty-six,” answered another worker.

Beaver and Stakeout exchanged a look. “Ten more to get,” the Liverpudlian said.

“Everyone stay here. We’ll be back to get you.”

They left the room and headed toward the helipad. Barracuda and Sabre were standing guard.

“We need to get below,” Beaver told them. “Hostages in the gym and the drill-head.”

“We got two Shads here,” Sabre said. “How many are there?”

“Twenty-six,” Stakeout answered. “There’s ten left.”

“You two head down to the drill-head. We’ll take the gym,” Beaver ordered.

“You got it, Sergeant-Major,” Sabre replied.

Beaver and Stakeout jogged across the rig’s deck toward a hatch leading below, whilst Sabre and Barracuda took an external staircase near the drilling tower.

Down on the first level inside the rig, Beaver and Stakeout lifted their NV goggles on to their helmets and headed along a corridor toward the rig’s gym.

They crept slowly along the corridor as they passed the cinema and neared the gym.

When they reached the doors, they stood either side and pulled a small mirror on a stick from their webbing. They were the kind of mirror you could buy in a chemist for checking your teeth, or like a dentist would use.

After a quick peek, they signalled to each other that there were four Red Shadows inside. Two were near the doors with their backs to them. The other pair were on opposite sides of the gym, carrying RPD machine guns.

Beaver pulled a second flash-bang from his webbing and readied it. Stakeout took up a ready stance to hit the guards nearest the doors.

He nodded and Beaver threw the flash-bang.

Stakeout shot the two guards in quick succession and then pivoted to the right as Beaver leapt in the door, pivoting left. Both fired and took out the disoriented machine-gunners.

They quickly led the freed prisoners up to the mess hall and left them there. They raced below to the drill-head.

On the lowest level, they found Barracuda nursing an injured arm, six dead gunmen and Sabre untying the remaining hostages.

“Flesh wound,” Barracuda said as Stakeout pulled out a small medical pack and moved closer. “I got grazed by a bullet.”

One of the hostages came over. “There’s a doctor up top,” he said. “We’ve got a medical bay.”

“Merci,” Barracuda said. “I’ll get him to take a look at it.”

“Oh, thanks. I did pass a medical training course, y’know,” Stakeout complained.

Beaver smirked as he pulled out his radio and set it to the correct frequency.

“Beaver to Stockdale. Do you copy?”

“Stockdale here, we read you,” replied someone aboard the US Navy warship.

“All hostages are secure. Red Shadows are down. You can move in.”

“Stockdale copies. Out.”

The four commandos led the hostage up to the mess hall and the rest of the crew.

As the sun began to peek over the horizon, the Arleigh Burke class destroyer steamed its way toward the oilrig. The SAS Force soldiers were met by Dolphin who slapped them on the back.

“Good work, lads. Mission accomplished. Time to go home.”