T1 Pessimistic: Tactical Nuke
“PIRA wants us to evacuate immediately.” Craigen’s switched off the sat phone and slid it dejectedly across the café table with one hand, he rubbed the top of his bald head with the other.
“Do they want us to redeploy to a new location?” Kedzierski asked.
“No," Craigen shook his head, "The mission's over. The situation here is deemed too unsafe for continued operations. We're not set up to operate in war zones."
Thibido leaned forward, grinning conspiratorially, “Ever since they closed the Moldovan border I figure the good ‘ole US of A is back on track and gonna put an end to this madness once and for all. It’s the daggone tomahawk missiles we’re shooting at them Ruskies that’s got me fired up. Whoowee!”
“Did you forget Putin has nukes, Scooter?" Bolanger shot back. "He's said he will use them if he feels threatened, and now those fools at NATO are sending troops to Georgia. They're are backing him into a corner. This is all going to go terribly wrong!”
“Why would NATO send troops to Georgia, Dee? That don’t make no sense at all.” Thibido was genuinely perplexed.
“She means Georgia the country, not Georgia the state, Scooter,” Kedzierski explained. “They've agreed to accept up to four US divisions. They want to keep the Russians separated from the Iranians.”
“Knock it off!” Craigen shouted and held his hands out to end the discussion. It's bad enough the mission is scrubbed without these idiots gossiping about every conspiracy theory that comes along. He wanted to choke somebody.
“How many times do I have to tell you to just stop with the rumors?" He hated the condescending tone of his voice, but he was so balled up with tension that he couldn't help it. "In case you weren't paying attention, we’ve got to get out of here right now. I’m going over to the airport. Get your gear packed.”
The Response Team traveled light, and with Craigen pushing them hard they were soon sitting together in the Chişinău International Airport terminal. Craigen's agitation was made worse by the thronging mass of humanity collected there. For the most part, travelers were packed into hurried, bustling groups of exhausted-looking people heading en masse for the departure gates. But he noticed there were also a fair amount of adventurous-looking people disembarking from the arrival gates. They were easy to spot with their safari shirts, hiking shoes, and outsized bags that probably contained cameras or other gear.
Did we look like that when we first arrived? Craigen wondered, fully aware that his team’s appearance now fell squarely into the category of exhausted-looking, rather than adventurous. How long have we been doing this? Eight years? Ten? So many deployments together. But never one this bad, with so little accomplished. His grief over the aborted mission was made worse by the stinging sense of guilt he felt for losing his temper. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sensation. He concentrated on taking a few deep breaths. There would be time to wallow in self-pity once they were safely back in the United States.
An unnatural hush descended on the airport terminal. It became eerily quiet as thousands of people simultaneously stopped moving and talking. “Rattle, you need you to see this right now.” Kedzierski tugged on Craigen’s sleeve, whispering in urgent tones as if disturbing the silence was some sort of mortal sin.
The eerie silence instantly triggered all of Craigen’s alarms. Despite the pounding of his heart, he responded to her in the same discreet tone, “What’s the matter, Curly?”
“Check out the TV,” was all she said.
By the dozens, by the hundreds, people were crowded around the monitors that lined the airport concourses. The Response Team members followed the Ukrainian newscast by reading the English subtitles. “Breaking news. Tonight Moldova 1 can confirm that there has been a nuclear detonation outside the City of Mariupol.”
“Oh, my God!” Gasped Kedzierski.
Thibido added, “That idiot’s gone and done it!”
“Hush Scooter, let me read the rest.” Craigen waved him back.
“Analysts suspect the Russians employed the Iskander-M missile." The newscaster was a slightly overweight, middle-aged man in a rumpled suit. He looked haggard. “They are the centerpiece of the Russian nuclear arsenal of smaller tactical nuclear devices, fired from mobile launchers and have a range of approximately 300 miles. Estimates are that the smallest yield of these missiles is approximately one-third that of the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima, Japan, during WWII.”
An announcement came blaring over the airport loudspeakers. "Attention all passengers, attention all passengers. All flights in and out of Chişinău International Airport have been temporarily suspended. I repeat, all flights in and out of Chişinău International Airport have been temporarily suspended. Please move in an orderly fashion to the ticket counter to receive a voucher for compensation. I repeat, all flights in and out of Chişinău International Airport have been temporarily suspended due to international security threats.” The message was repeated several times in many different languages.
Craigen knew he had to think quickly. “Curly, take your apprentice head back to the hotel ASAP. Try to re-book our rooms. There’s going to be a lot of folks looking for a place to sleep tonight.” He tuned to Bolanger, “Dee, Scooter, I need both your duets to go over and see if we can get our checked luggage back. I’ll head to the ticket counter and see if I can book us another flight.” Craigen knew his odds were slim. A nuclear attack! He checked his sat phone, "Good, my phone’s still working. We meet back up at the hotel unless I call you and tell you I’ve got another flight… I’ve got to call HQ.”
“Travis, wait.” Kedzierski used his first name to get his attention. It worked. Her hand was on his arm.
Craigen's expression was troubled, jaw muscles twitching, stress lines creasing his face, eyebrows knit together in concentration.
“We should check in first.” She meant, check in with Jesus.
Craigen grunted. “C’mon, pull it in everyone.” All seven members of the PIRA choir joined hands in a tight circle. A momentary soap bubble of silence and peace with the throngs of airport passengers rushing past. What can I possibly say now?
"Heavenly father…" Craigen's voice trailed off. He hesitated, then found courage and began again. "Heavenly Father, we're in trouble. We need your help, and we can't do this without you. I don't understand how you can look upon the foolish decisions we make down here, but we beg your forgiveness as we pray for the souls of those lives that have been taken by this terrible war. For all those that have suffered, especially the children. Please have mercy on my team, Father, and just help us make it back home safely. We ask all this in Jesus' name. Amen."
“Amen.” The group intoned, and then split up to tackle their assignments.
The airport closure resulted in a mass of people seeking shelter and they'd been too late to re-book the same hotel rooms. However, some fast talking made it possible for all seven members of the PIRA choir to sleep together in a single suite. Craigen felt lucky to get even this on such short notice. Now, as they spread out on the floor, the Team had a chance to decompress and discuss the day's events.
“The Russians have a doctrine of ‘escalate to de-escalate,' which means we might not have entered WWIII." Bolanger rolled out some blankets on the floor and placed her backpack for use as a pillow.
“Not since Hiroshima and Nagasaki have atomic weapons been used in war,” Kedzierski sat on the edge of the narrow bed, rummaging aimlessly in her shower kit for something she needed. She dropped her hands down in her lap in exasperation. “I can’t stop thinking about it. They’re going to start shooting ICBMs at each other. The whole world will be destroyed. It’s the end of days.”
“Not necessarily,” Bolanger tread carefully, because she’d come to respect the depth of Kedzierski’s religious beliefs, even if she didn’t share them. “What remains to be seen is NATO’s response. The reports I'm seeing say that Putin detonated the warhead over the ocean, near the City of Mariupol, which lies on the north coast of the Sea of Azov. The fact that he didn't hit a densely populated area like Kyiv leads me to believe Putin wants to send a message. He's serious, but he doesn't really want a global war.”
“Looky-here Dee," Thibido was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, knees drawn up, and resting his head on his folded arms. He wore a mask of concern. Worry etched deep lines into a face more accustomed to displaying his easy grin, rather than the terror he seemed to be confronting now. "You're too young to remember. In fact, I think except for Curly, and maybe Rattle, you're all too young to remember the way it used to be. We all grew up during the Cold War. Back then, everybody figured that some idiot would touch off the big one, and that would be that. The end of all life on earth. Now it's gone and happened, and I'm just waiting," he blew out a long slow breath to calm his nerves. "Waiting for the whole world to burn up."
Craigen tried to change the subject, but everything seemed to revolve around the nuclear attack. “Did you say it was over the ocean, not on top of Mariupol? Are you sure?”
“I can’t be sure about anything,” Bolanger confessed. “The news services are full of wild rumors, and a lot of the internet sites are spotty, at best.”
“I can’t get through on the sat phone either.” Craigen gestured dismissively at the device that lay next to his bedroll. “I think they shut down the satellite service.”
Bolanger nodded, “I know for sure that the US has gone to DEFCON 2, and some sites are even saying DEFCON 1. They've probably cut satellite connection as part of the protocol.”
“What’s DEFCON 1?” Kedzierski asked.
Bolanger pursed her lips and looked out of the corner of her eye in Kedzierski’s direction. “Um… it’s basically a cocked pistol, maximum readiness, with a potentially immediate response.”
Kedzierski dropped her head to her chest and raised her hands to the sky, "The seal has been opened, come Abba! We await your Parousia." Tears streamed down her face as she was overcome with emotion.
Craigen moved to take a seat beside her and put an arm across her shoulders. “Amen.”
Kedzierski turned to him and buried her face in his chest. "I just want you all to know how much I love each and every one of you," she sobbed.
Craigen folded her into his arms. “We love you too, Curly. We love you too.”
Kedzierski settled down after a few minutes. She straightened up and wiped away tears, making an effort to brush back her unruly hair. “I’m sorry. I’m OK now. It’s just been a long day.”
The sat phone rang.
Craigen scrambled to get back to it. “Chief! We've been trying to get a hold of you. What's going on?"
“Putin's strategy backfired on him." The PIRA Operations Officer brought Craigen up to date. “He’s united the whole world against Russia.”
“After what we’ve seen,” Craigen responded, “I don’t think Putin cares one bit what the world thinks about him.”
“Well, he's going to care now, Rattle.”
“Why?”
“Because China’s come out against him …hard.”
Craigen knew that the way the Operations Officer emphasized the word indicated a major development. So he switched open the speaker on the phone so the whole team could hear it.
“China’s stopped all economic activity with Russia, including oil and gas purchases as well as access to all capital markets until all Russian forces withdraw from Ukraine.”
“So, the war’s over?” Craigen asked hopefully.
“No, it's not that straightforward, unfortunately.” The OPS Officer explained, “The nuclear detonation caused the few Ukrainian forces defending Mariupol to surrender immediately. The Russians now have complete control over what remains of that city.”
“We’d heard they bombed it nearly to rubble already,”
“You heard right, Rattle.” The Operations Officer agreed, "But what came next was worse. Putin began making incendiary comments about how he would do the same thing to Kharkiv, and then to Kyiv, if NATO didn't remove the No-Fly Zone. Then he called for the immediate surrender of all Ukrainian forces." There was a pause as the Operations Officer took a deep breath and then released it in a long sigh. “Words can’t begin to describe how frightened we’ve all been. Zelenskyy’s government agreed to make concessions, and they’re still at the negotiating table with the Russians right now.”
Craigen shook his head, “What do they hope to gain now that the Chinese have come out against them? I thought they were demanding that the Russians leave Ukraine immediately?”
“They did demand that, but Putin’s just not leaving!” The Operations Officer sounded exasperated, “He got NATO to lift their No-Fly Zone right away, but if the Chinese hadn’t stepped in, Putin would probably have taken over the whole country. As it stands, we think he's trying to at least carve out the eastern sections of Ukraine so he can claim that his war was not a complete failure. The whole thing's a catastrophe."
Craigen nodded and looked around the tiny hotel room to see if his team had any further questions. They seemed satisfied by the explanation, so he redirected the conversation towards more immediate concerns. "Chief, the airports are closed here. What's the plan to get us back home?"
“The European airports are just beginning to open back up to civilian travel. So you’re going to be stuck there for at least a couple more days. Can you handle that?”
“Yeah, we're a little cramped here, but we're together and safe,” Craigen reassured him. "We can hold out for a while, no problem. There's still a lot of activity going on here in the city; maybe we'll find some way to make ourselves useful while we wait."
“I advise against that, Rattle.” The Operations Officer cautioned. "Just lay low and try not to let anyone know you're Americans."
This brought Craigen straight upright, “Why?”
“America’s got a big black eye from this debacle.” There was some static on the line. “Look Rattle, I’m losing my signal, but everyone’s blaming the US for this mess. First, for doing nothing to prevent the run-up to the war, then beating the drum to intervene, and finally by pulling out and leaving the Ukrainians defenseless. Nobody trusts us anymore. Just lay low and get out of there as soon…”
The line went dead.
“Well, at least it ain’t WWIII.” Thibido quipped nervously, but nobody laughed.
You are the Chief of the PIRA Operations Center. You make the call:
Choose Option 1: You have managed to preserve your team despite the difficult and dangerous conditions they encountered. They are together and safe. Your humanitarian relief mission is a failure, and a new world order is emerging where the United States will no longer serve in the leadership role. Choose this option if you wish to return to the start point and explore other possible outcomes.
Choose Option 2: You have managed to preserve your team despite the difficult and dangerous conditions they encountered. They are together and safe. Your humanitarian relief mission is a failure, and a new world order is emerging where the United States will no longer serve in the leadership role. Choose this option if you wish to cut your losses and end this exercise in Directed Fiction and continue to the solutions page to learn more about how these scenarios were developed.