T1 Surprise-Free: Russia Wins
“We gotta bug out.” Craigen’s slammed the sat phone down so hard he nearly broke it. “Right now!”
“What are you talking about?” Thibido challenged, “Rattle, we can’t just leave these people.”
“We can and we will.” Craigen’s massive hands were squeezed into fists. “Kyiv’s fallen. It's over."
“I’m not going anywhere.” Kedzierski placed her hands on her hips and glared defiantly back at Craigen. “I’ve got a mother about to give birth in there,” she pointed towards the row of tents, “and a little girl with burns over half her body. You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving.”
Craigen was dumbfounded. “What are you talking about, Curly?” he asked. “I don't like it either, but we've been ordered to return. You can't stay.”
“You don’t like it?” Kedzierski’s head snapped back and forth, mockingly parroting Craigen’s words. “Do you think I like it? It’s not about liking anything, Rattle. It’s about right and wrong. And it’s wrong to leave, so I’m not leaving. That’s it.”
Craigen could feel his pulse quickening and let loose a tremendous sigh to cool the heat flushing his face. “Dammit Curly, listen to me a minute. Kyiv has fallen, and the Chinese have started shooting missiles into the Taiwan air defense systems. With them dumping the Treasury Bills, it’s a sign that World War III has begun. We’re all going to get stranded out here in Moldova if we don’t pull up stakes and leave right now.”
“First of all, you don’t use that kind of language with me, Rattle.” Now Kedzierski waved a finger in his face. “Second of all, nobody but God orders me to go anywhere. And God wants me right here taking care of these people. I don’t care what PIRA has to say about that.”
“Hold on a second, Rattle.” Thibido stepped forward, physically invading the space between Craigen and Kedzierski to shield her from his wrath. “Just because ‘ole China shot a couple of missiles at Taiwan don’t mean we’re in WWIII. America shoots missiles at people all the time, and that don’t mean war. Maybe this will all blow over.”
“Scooter, we will be trapped here!” Craigen felt he could vent his frustration with Kedzierski and the rage he felt at the PIRA decision on his Cajun friend. He yelled the words, slowly articulating each one for emphasis, “We don’t have a choice. We are leaving!” He pointed an accusing finger at Kedzierski, “All of us. Now!”
Our friendship is destroyed. Craigen watched Kedzierski slam the minivan door after piling her few belongings into the side door. He'd used every ounce of persuasion he had to convince her it was time to go. He'd watched her hug some of the refugees. They were imploring her, weeping. Craigen had the minivan driver pull right up next to her, "Get in, Raquel." He'd used her first name because they were no longer on friendly terms.
Still, she’d resisted him. Finally, it was Thibido who was able to sway her, “We got to go, Curly.” He said gently, “No choice.”
There was a crowd of refugees blocking their path, waiving and shouting. Some were weeping. There were no trucks left to evacuate them, and the minivan was full of Response Team members. Although Craigen had left the tents and relief supplies, it was still jarring to look into the eyes of the vulnerable and injured people they were leaving behind. Many refugees openly wept when they realized the Americans were abandoning them. Some cursed America, others cursed the team members. The sensation of guilt was palpable, and it was impossible not to take it personally. “Drive around. Drive around!” Craigen shouted at the Moldovan driver. Even though he didn’t speak English, the driver understood what Craigen meant by the way he waved his arm.
A stone smashed into one of the driver’s side windows, shattering the glass and nearly coming through. Bolanger shrieked. Craigen yelled, “Go, go, go!”
Once they reached the main road that led back to Chişinău, the Response Team sat in an uncharacteristically icy silence. They made an effort not to touch or jostle one another as they traversed the ruts and potholes that seemed to scourge them for their cowardice. Craigen knew they were all demoralized by the decision to abandon the Varniţa site. Leaving had been extremely difficult for everyone. But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was getting his people back home. Alive and in one piece. If that meant losing a friendship, so be it. She might hate me. They all might hate me. But I’m getting them back, and that’s all that matters.
How long have we known each other? Craigen wondered, Eight years? Ten? So many deployments together. Now that’s all gone. He experienced a physical sensation at her absence. He recognized it as the same feeling you get when you try to sleep alone that first time after a divorce. He squeezed his eyes tightly together, willing the sensation to pass. It didn't.
Some of the Response Team members were sipping hot coffee Craigen purchased from the Bonjour Café. The café was the same little outdoor kiosk they’d stopped at when they first arrived in Chişinău, but this time they chose to take their drinks inside the nearby hotel lobby to escape the cold, wet weather.
Only some team members were present because Kedzierski and her apprentice Raynal Georges had purchased airline tickets the previous night. They were at the airport now and scheduled to fly back to the United States on an early flight. They were quitting the mission, and they were also both quitting PIRA altogether in protest over the decision to abandon Varniţa.
Overnight, after a long talk with Craigen, Bolanger made the difficult personal decision to stay with PIRA. However, her apprentice, Nick Jones, decided to leave the Response Team to join up with a Ukrainian ‘International Legion’ in the fight against the Russians. Even though President Zelenskyy had publicly announced Ukraine’s intention of meeting the majority of Russia’s key demands, Jones still believed there would be a protracted insurgent fight, so he'd left the team to go and be part of it.
The bitter taste of Craigen’s strong, black coffee matched his mood as he considered what remained of his team. Only four members of the choir left now, he thought ruefully, but at least I gave them a chance to get out of here alive.
The thought was small comfort as he listened to Bolanger explain Jones’ decision to the remaining team members. “The consensus is that decentralized forces will continue with guerilla attacks. Putin will find Ukraine to be ungovernable in the long run."
"What about the Ukrainian president? What's his name?" Thibido had quit struggling with the local pronunciations a long time ago. "That boy is a real fighter!"
“President Zelenskyy has been evacuated to Poland,” Bolanger was scrolling the headlines of some news source on her cell phone. “From his hospital bed, he is ordering the Ukrainian Armed forces to lay down their arms and pull back from the cities of Mariupol, Kharkiv, and Kyiv.”
“You mean, pull back from what’s left of them! They nuthin’ but rubble now.” Thibido slammed down his coffee cup and pushed away from the table. “Aw, that’s a load of manure. He can’t quit, too!”
Craigen noticed that Thibido used the word “too.” It required grinding his teeth together to remain silent.
“This says the price in civilian casualties was too high to pay any longer,” Bolanger continued. “In a settlement brokered by the Israelis, Russia has agreed to an immediate ceasefire in exchange for guarantees that Ukraine will never become a NATO member, the formal recognition of the 2014 annexation of Crimea, and the independence of the ‘People’s Republics’ of Donetsk and Luhansk in the eastern Donbas region." Bolanger kept reading silently and intently. Finally, skipping ahead to read aloud the part of the article that captured her attention, "It also says that the Russian government is making it clear to Moldova that it seeks recognition of independence for the autonomous region of Transnistria as part of the ceasefire agreements.”
Craigen could hold back no longer. He pounded down one huge finger on the countertop, “Now you see now why we had to leave?” He glared at the remnants of his team, “We’d have been a couple hundred meters from the whole damn Russian Army!”
Heads turned towards the table where the PIRA team sat in stunned silence. Electric tension crackled in the air between them. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Craigen noted, I cuss more now that Curly’s gone. She would never have put up with that language.
“Yeah, now it’s just dem refugees sitting alone next to the whole damn Russian Army.” Thibido delivered the line at his customarily slow, drawling pace, but with a dose of cynical venom as toxic as any bayou viper, “Who gonna help dem women and kids now, Travis?”
No nicknames anymore, Craigen observed. “Dammit Ricky, we don’t operate in war zones. You know that!” My whole team is gone.
Thibido just sneered and turned towards Bolanger, “What is dey gonna do with Kyiv, Dee?” He asked.
“I'm not sure.” Bolanger kept busy scrolling so she didn't have to witness the conflict in front of her. “Putin keeps talking about the 'de-Nazification’ of Ukraine, whatever that means.” She took a sip of water, hand trembling. “I think it means they’re installing some sort of puppet government, but I can’t really tell from this article.”
“Whoowee, dey carvin' it up good." Thibido spat the words and rose to leave.
“Get back here, Ricky.” Craigen felt the impotence of his command as Thibido ignored him and continued to saunter away.
The Cajun spared a brief glance backward before he walked out the door, “I don’t think so. You said dumpin’ the Treasury Bills meant WWIII, and you know we don’t work in no war zones. I’ll be back in my room. Y'all let me know when you get it figured out.” Then he left.
He listened to some long explanation on the phone before countering, "I'm attending the Cluster meetings, Chief. But they’re not really telling us what’s going on outside of Moldova. What I need is someone from PIRA to let me know the big picture. What’s going on with Taiwan? Are the Chinese and the Russians conspiring to take down the US economy? I’m responsible for the lives of my team. How hot is this thing going to get?
“I understand your frustration, Rattle.” The PIRA Operations Officer tried, and failed, to sound reassuring. “The United States is sending another carrier group to the Pacific, but there’s been no further aggressive action on the part of China. We think that Xi has seen the high price Putin paid for Ukraine and is reconsidering the wisdom of conducting his own foreign adventures at this time.”
“Adventures?” Craigen snorted derisively. “What about the Treasury Bill selloff?” He pressed, more curtly than he intended.
After a pause, "That didn't amount to anything of significance," the Operations Officer stated flatly. "Looks like it was just a normal fluctuation in the international exchange rate. The excess bonds have were absorbed back into the market. We were probably paranoid to get worked up over it, but we continue to monitor the situation."
“Monitor the situation!” Craigen pulled the sat phone away from his face and screamed at the screen. “I pulled my whole team out of Varniţa, and all you can say is that you're monitoring the situation? We left women and kids back there. We abandoned those people, Chief!"
“If you’re done yelling Rattle, that's what I called to talk to you about. New reports are coming out of Varniţa."
“What reports?” Craigen was breathing heavily. He stared angrily at the screen for a long moment and then slowly, almost painfully, placed the device’s speaker next to his ear.
The Operations Officer let out a huge sigh. “We’re getting drone imagery… it looks like mass graves.”
“What are you saying?” Craigen shook in disbelief. The world wheeled around him, and he reached for a nearby wall to keep from falling. "Are you telling me we abandoned those people to be butchered? Who did it? Was it the Russians?"
“We don’t have those details yet, Rattle. The situation is still developing. But don’t you see? You made the right call pulling your team out of there before it was too late."
“You bastard!” Craigen screamed again. “I didn't make that call. You did! You told me I had to pull my team out. We should have never listened to you! You were wrong about Taiwan, you were wrong about the stupid Treasury Bills, and you were wrong to pull us out of there! You're a complete idiot!”
“Just settle down, Rattle!” The Operations Officer countered desperately. “If we didn't pull your team out of there, it might be you lying in that ditch right now."
“If I hadn’t listened to you, my team would’ve helped get those people out of there! As it stands now, we’re done. Curly and Georges have already taken off, Scooter’s checked out, and that idiot Jones has gone mercenary. This team is blown to pieces. I’m blown to pieces too. Don’t ever call me Rattle again, because I quit. You and PIRA can go…” Craigen never finished the sentence because, in a rage, he smashed the sat phone into pulp.
You are the Chief of the PIRA Operations Center. You make the call:
Choose Option 1: You have failed in your humanitarian relief mission, and you have failed to preserve your team. Choose this option if you wish to return to the start point and retrace your steps to determine where you went wrong.
Choose Options 2: You have failed in your humanitarian relief mission, and you have failed to preserve your team. Choose this option if you wish to quit this exercise in Directed Fiction and continue to the solutions page to learn more about how these scenarios were developed.