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Previous Episode: Comm-Link #002

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Private L. Winter's Found Journal: I've been languishing here inside this freezing cold base for nearly a week since I went on that Liberty Hall mission with that big lummox Esposito. Murph has calmed down for the most part and spends his time in the Gym now, until all hours of the night. He completely destroyed the common room that all the three other floors overlook. So after his tantrum, Mac Allistar and the O'Malley lads cleared out the broken furniture and placed ammo boxes and crates about so they could gather around together during this lengthy lull in activity.

The huge reinforced window is almost artillery proof according to Dr. Assoulay and while it may look inconspicuous from the outside, which is obviously tactically important, it does little for morale on the inside. We get probably 5 hours of half-light and then the rest of the rooms in the gallery are all equipped with one dim cyan lamp each, except for the labs, which are dug further into the cliffs, down long narrow corridors.

Most days I just stare out the massive window at the blurred Atlantic from the Second Floor balcony, close to my quarters. All the others sit around drinking a disgusting concoction they've nicknamed "the Blank Slate" which is one part gin, two parts lemon cordial, they play cards and swap exaggerated war stories they half remember that I half listen to out of boredom. Sometimes I think they suspect my motives but late at night when the base is still, I can manage to get to sleep relatively easy.

They're clueless, at least as far as I know. After all, I'm the one who shot Captain Petrov from 1.34 km away and I was the one who planted all those Comm-Link Interceptors in Liberty Hall without raising any suspicion from Goshawk. Yet still I feel like a prisoner. Muldoanich, here in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland truly feels like the edge of the world. There's no escape.

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Bnei Yehuda, Ramat haGolan, Israel
Day 4147, 16.30 eRT

Code name Orphan reporting. Baron has insisted I be paired with Ghost and to note my action's into his Comm-Link relay. Simple signal interference may turn into capture. So here it goes.

Goshawk's compound is on south face of the Golan Heights. Estonian rebels smuggled us from Haifa on a food transport convoy heading to Jerusalem. Although Ghost is an intolerable, angry f*cker, Ghost managed to remain professional and pass the 20,000cc, 10 Gold and Baron's schematics of Tallinn's "Neo-Underground" to the Rebel Estonian Commander, Maj. Sander Sepp, who left us at Ein Gev in the pitch black of night.

We stayed off the roads and climbed up the steep hillside towards Goshawk together. Ghost had to be a nuisance and demanded we stop for a cigarette. We looked at the shimmering waves of Sea of Galilee together through the shrubs. All quiet, all calm. Tiberius City twinkled on the opposite coast. Ghost offered me the last half of the cigarette. To my surprise it was a bit more than a cigarette. Ghost whispered "Soothe your nerves, Goshawk's a bigger job. Let's take it step by step." through the Comm-Link. "Aye, aye" I whispered back, trying not to cough.

Goshawk's Main Silo was impressive. It was surrounded by pre-fab structures but they looked like a shanty town surrounding this odd, almost temple-like building. We synced our watches 2.30 hours apart, then I got into Estonian gear that Maj. Sepp had gave me and Ghost got into Israeli gear, also courtesy Maj. Sepp and his Rebels. We planted Baron's main Interceptor and hid it the best we could. Then we took our Transmitters our separate ways. Ghost took the wall near the entrance to the south and I took the sheer 30ft wall to the west.

"I'm pinned down Orphan. I don't think I've been seen but they're talking like they're panicked. What's your 20?". I'd just managed to get over the wall so I couldn't answer him immediately. Once I was in I responded. "S.W, no-ones here. Status?" I laid some Transmitters under the pre-fabs leading towards the Main Silo. Ghost finally responded "They've gone, I'll see you at the gates". The night-guard where on high alert. I commented over the Comm-Link "I didn't expect them to be so jumpy, at least not tonight". I waited for Ghost's response. After about 15 minutes went by I could feel cold steel on the back of my neck. Then over the Comm-Link Ghost hissed "At least not tonight?". He pulled me into the shadows. "I knew you where a spy Orphan, I didn't want to believe it but I knew it."

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Now I'm on this grey rocky beach, talking into this stupid Comm-Link like it's going to give me some kind of an answer. Yes I betrayed Rasa Blank. But all I know is my sister Ellie is out there somewhere and my nephews Dale and Keenan. I don't deserve to die for trying to save them from that bastard Fogarthy.

I may as well finish my story. Murph took me back to this rock unconscious, same way we came, through Maj. Sepp's channels. I stood "trial" shackled and blindfolded. I knew where we where though. I could smell the sickly sweet "Blank Slates" and hear the tide crashing against the window I'd been staring out of for so long.

Dr. Assoulay was dry in his tone, delivering the evidence of my betrayals, almost like he'd known all along, the smug son of a b*tch. Mac Allistar questioned me and I told him why I'd done it. Little Clare O'Malley then held the vote. I was to be exiled. Murph screamed that I should be killed in all sorts of grizzly ways but what I'm beginning to realize is that there is no crueler fate than exile here. I'll either die of thirst, exposure or drown trying to escape.

Update: Someone is coming ashore alone, from a black rubber dinghy. Whoever it is, their face is completely covered and Rasa Blank hasn't spotted them yet. It's dusk and the Atlantic sky is bursting with furious red-gold grandeur. I hope I'm not just hallucinating.

No, it's real. I'm being dragged towards the boat by this mysterious woman. I can hardly hold myself up, I'm so weak. I'm so f*ckin' thirsty. I'll leave this Comm-Link with the pistol they left me. I'm not dead, not yet.

- Lionel Winters, ex-Rasa Blank, The World's Greatest Sharpshooter


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