Trident's First Gleaming: A Special Operations Group Thriller Read Online Free Page B
Author: Stephen Templin
school—”
“If you’re not interested, I understand.” Chris stood up, turned around, and walked to the door. He picked up his cooler. “I think I know how to write my report.”
“Wait,” Mordet said.
Chris stopped and turned to face him.
“Give me the wine and cooler, and I will tell you where Young is.”
“It doesn’t work that way. After we find Young, you get what’s left of the wine and my ear. I’ll write a report about your belief in your mystic power. Then it’s up to you to prove to everyone that your power is real. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Chris reached for the door.
“Patience, patience. I will tell you where he is.”
Chris anxiously fingered the lighter in his pocket. “You can tell the interrogator. If your information helps us rescue Young, you get the wine and my ear. And I’ll update my report. Until then, talk is cheap.”
“This rescue means more to you than Young himself. Why is the rescue so important to you?”
His own kidnapping flashed back to him. The feelings of despair, of terror. The darkness of the pit he’d been kept in. The aftermath.
“Good-bye, professor.”
“Will you leave me your email address in case I think of something more?”
Chris walked out the door without turning back. He wanted to run, putting as much distance between himself and Mordet as he could, but he denied Mordet his influence and walked at a normal pace. He wanted to teleport himself out of this hell—far from the despots and devils. Events after that were a spinning blur to him. He didn’t know if it was the exhaustion of the op, blood loss from his ear, or the soul-sucking interrogation that drained him, but somehow he found his way to his rack and lay down.
Just over an hour later, Little Doc came to Chris’s rack. “Come on! We’re going to get Young!”
They geared up with their teammates and rushed across the grey tarmac to where two Black Hawks and a smaller Little Bird MH-6 helicopter were already spinning up. His adrenaline beat with the thwop-thwop of the choppers’ blades. The helos were waiting for Chris, LT, and his seven men.
Hannah met Chris part-way and shouted above the noise. “The gator took the credit, but it was because of you that Mordet gave us Young’s location!” There was a twinkle in her eyes that he’d only seen when they’d first met, and it made his soul soar.
“No, we found Mordet because of you and your asset!” He wanted to hug her—and he wanted to be finished with the war on terror—but now he had to find Young. Everything else would just have to wait.
“We’ll play pool when you get back!” she said.
He nodded. Hannah was a talented colleague and a good friend, and in moments like this, he wanted to get to know her better. It seemed like the time to say something epic, but all that came out of his mouth were two words: “Thank you!” He turned and sprinted to the chopper without looking back.
The helos were painted a dark green, but in the night, they loomed black. Their blades beat the air with a thwop, thwop, thwop , making the earth quiver beneath Chris’s feet as he neared his Black Hawk. Their rhythm continued to pulse in his blood. He took a seat inside with Senior Chief and their squad. LT and his squad of seven SEALs boarded the other Black Hawk. Two snipers, one starboard and one port, sat on the Little Bird with their legs dangling outside the helo. Diesel fumes struck Chris’s sinuses like holy incense.
This time, instead of carrying the smaller sound-suppressed MP7 9mm submachine guns, Chris and his mates carried the more powerful HK416 5.56 assault rifles, wore bullet-resistant vests, and carried a deadly assortment of grenades. Every available pocket bulged with extra ammo. This was not a stealth mission.
The helos slowly lifted off the tarmac. Clouds blanketed the sky and the world shone green and 2-D from underneath his night vision goggles. One of the snipers flipped his middle
“If you’re not interested, I understand.” Chris stood up, turned around, and walked to the door. He picked up his cooler. “I think I know how to write my report.”
“Wait,” Mordet said.
Chris stopped and turned to face him.
“Give me the wine and cooler, and I will tell you where Young is.”
“It doesn’t work that way. After we find Young, you get what’s left of the wine and my ear. I’ll write a report about your belief in your mystic power. Then it’s up to you to prove to everyone that your power is real. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Chris reached for the door.
“Patience, patience. I will tell you where he is.”
Chris anxiously fingered the lighter in his pocket. “You can tell the interrogator. If your information helps us rescue Young, you get the wine and my ear. And I’ll update my report. Until then, talk is cheap.”
“This rescue means more to you than Young himself. Why is the rescue so important to you?”
His own kidnapping flashed back to him. The feelings of despair, of terror. The darkness of the pit he’d been kept in. The aftermath.
“Good-bye, professor.”
“Will you leave me your email address in case I think of something more?”
Chris walked out the door without turning back. He wanted to run, putting as much distance between himself and Mordet as he could, but he denied Mordet his influence and walked at a normal pace. He wanted to teleport himself out of this hell—far from the despots and devils. Events after that were a spinning blur to him. He didn’t know if it was the exhaustion of the op, blood loss from his ear, or the soul-sucking interrogation that drained him, but somehow he found his way to his rack and lay down.
Just over an hour later, Little Doc came to Chris’s rack. “Come on! We’re going to get Young!”
They geared up with their teammates and rushed across the grey tarmac to where two Black Hawks and a smaller Little Bird MH-6 helicopter were already spinning up. His adrenaline beat with the thwop-thwop of the choppers’ blades. The helos were waiting for Chris, LT, and his seven men.
Hannah met Chris part-way and shouted above the noise. “The gator took the credit, but it was because of you that Mordet gave us Young’s location!” There was a twinkle in her eyes that he’d only seen when they’d first met, and it made his soul soar.
“No, we found Mordet because of you and your asset!” He wanted to hug her—and he wanted to be finished with the war on terror—but now he had to find Young. Everything else would just have to wait.
“We’ll play pool when you get back!” she said.
He nodded. Hannah was a talented colleague and a good friend, and in moments like this, he wanted to get to know her better. It seemed like the time to say something epic, but all that came out of his mouth were two words: “Thank you!” He turned and sprinted to the chopper without looking back.
The helos were painted a dark green, but in the night, they loomed black. Their blades beat the air with a thwop, thwop, thwop , making the earth quiver beneath Chris’s feet as he neared his Black Hawk. Their rhythm continued to pulse in his blood. He took a seat inside with Senior Chief and their squad. LT and his squad of seven SEALs boarded the other Black Hawk. Two snipers, one starboard and one port, sat on the Little Bird with their legs dangling outside the helo. Diesel fumes struck Chris’s sinuses like holy incense.
This time, instead of carrying the smaller sound-suppressed MP7 9mm submachine guns, Chris and his mates carried the more powerful HK416 5.56 assault rifles, wore bullet-resistant vests, and carried a deadly assortment of grenades. Every available pocket bulged with extra ammo. This was not a stealth mission.
The helos slowly lifted off the tarmac. Clouds blanketed the sky and the world shone green and 2-D from underneath his night vision goggles. One of the snipers flipped his middle
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