Chương 105: Chapter 104: IPB (10/02/1993)

DATE: Saturday, October 2, 1993 LOCATION: Mogadishu, Somalia | Mogadishu International Airport (The Hangar) LOCAL TIME: 07: 00 PM EAT The heat was heavy, smelling of burning trash, jet fuel, and the ocean. Task Force Ranger was living in a hangar at the airport. We slept on cots. We ate in a mess tent. We waited for the code word "Irene." Tomorrow was the day. I sat on my cot, stripping my weapon for the third time.

"Hey, Chad." It was Specialist Blackburn. He was young. Eighteen. He was the one who would fall from the helicopter. The event that started the cascade.

"What's up, Blackie?"

"You got a bad feeling?" he asked.

"You look... intense."

"I'm just focused," I said. I looked at his gear.

"Let me see your gloves," I said. He held up his standard-issue leather rappel gloves. They were stiff.

"Too thick," I said.

"You can't feel the rope." I reached into my ruck. I pulled out a pair of custom flight gloves—Nomex, with a reinforced palm I had stitched myself using a polymer grip material from the Fractal labs.

"Take these," I said. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"These are nice," Blackburn said, trying them on.

"Sticky."

"They grip the rope," I said.

"Don't wrap your thumbs. Just let it slide." I looked him in the eye.

"Tomorrow," I said, "when we fast rope... don't look down. Look at the horizon. And brace for the rotor wash. The Black Hawk creates a vortex."

"I know how to fast rope, Chad," he laughed.

"I know you do," I said.

"Just... humor me. Wear the gloves." He nodded.

"Thanks, man." He walked away. I laid back on the cot. I had run the simulation in my head a thousand times. The mission was to capture Aidid's lieutenants at the Olympic Hotel. The mistake in the original timeline was the delay. The convoy got lost. The helicopters got shot down because they hovered too low and too steady. I couldn't stop the mission. The chain of command was set. But I could change the tempo. I pulled a folded map from my pocket. It wasn't the standard J-2 intel map.

It was a Fractal Systems satellite composite, printed on silk, smuggled in via a care package from "Mom." It showed the alleyways. It showed the kill zones. I took a marker. I drew a red line. The "Lost Convoy" had turned right on Marehan Road. That was the ambush. I needed to make sure they turned left.

"Tillman," Sergeant Struecker called out.

"Op order in ten mikes." I stood up. I put on my helmet. I checked my ammo. 12 mags. 4 frags. I checked my body armor. I had replaced the standard ceramic plates with "prototype" boron-carbide plates that were 40% lighter and hit-rated for 7. 62mm armor-piercing. I was lighter. I was faster. I walked out into the humid night. History was a train coming down the tracks. I was standing on the rails.