Mr. білий-S.E.A. #2

 

/SPECIALEXECUTIVEAGENCY//INTELLIGENCEREPORT05JUNE2025//TSSCI//

TARGET VESSEL: M/V BOUDICCA

OTHER KNOWN NAMES: STAR SHINE, MOVRITOV, GOLDEN SHIMMER

FLAG: GUYANA (UNCONFIRMED)

PORT OF ORIGIN: ODESSA, UKRAINE

LAST PORT: BALTIMORE, MARYLAND

NEXT PORT: NORFOLK, VIRGINIA 

SPOOFING AIS LOCATION 

YEAR BUILT: 1995 

BUILT IN: TURKEY

200M LENGTH 30M WIDEST BEAM

50 FOOT FREEBOARD UNLADEN 20 FOOT FREEBOARD LADEN

CURRENT FREEBOARD ESTIMATED AT 30 FEET

CREW: 10-20 CURRENTLY ESTIMATED AT 20 PLUS 10-15 ARMED ESCORT

CREW LIKELY RUSSIAN UKRAINIAN MIX, ESCORT UNKNOWN

ESCORT ARMED WITH SMALL ARMS, ONE LIGHT MACHINE GUN IDENTIFIED ON ISR, NO KNOWN SURFACE TO AIR CAPABILITY

VESSEL SUSPECTED OF CIRCUMVENTING TARIFFS AND SANCTIONS, POSSIBLE HUMAN TRAFFICKING.

VESSEL TO BE TAKEN AND REDIRECTED TO INTERNATIONAL WATERS, ESTIMATED TIME ON TARGET IN 2 WEEKS AT 1600 ZULU

“So we don’t have to move?” Susy’s voice sucked Neil out of the document. 

“No we don’t” He replied without looking up trying to signal his focus.

“Well good! I had enough disruption with you at that selection, not even a phone call!” 

“It was remote, we were busy”

“Well you should be busy here with me!” Susy demanded. 

“I will be, baby” Neil looked up for the first time. He wished he could tell her the gravity of his new situation, but suspected she wouldn’t care or understand. It was strange enough walking around, smiling at people on the street who had no idea of the shadowy work he was involved in. He suspected they wouldn’t care even if they knew. Most people are absorbed in the petty issues of their lives or the clown show of the news with no interest in the possibility of action or adventure. Or the reality of the world. 

“Well I haven’t seen it yet! You’re gone for months and now you’re so absorbed by those papers, what is that anyway?” Susy continued in a huff.

“I told you I can’t show you, besides I got a promotion, so I have to make sure everything is squared away.” Neil assured her.

“If you say so Mr. promotion” Susy came over and Neil quickly hid the document. He held her but his mind was still occupied by the mission, and why he had been chosen as leader. His promotion had already won him enemies, who made no attempt to hide it as they were leaving Zulu facility. 

Everyone had returned to their prior homes, less suspicion if they weren’t centrally located. They only communicated via a special phone, and documents had to be picked up at federal offices from intel agents. There had been no training in the week they had been back, but maintenance of their skills was placed on the operator. They would all meet next week to mission-plan and execute their first assignment. 

Just a simple vessel seizure seemed too simple, why didn’t the Coast Guard or SEALs do it? Why was Neil in charge? He couldn’t shake the thought. His government phone rang, it was Bill. 

“Hello” Neil answered, it was a hollow greeting. 

“Neil, can you speak here?” Bill asked with his typical urgency. 

“Yes Bill.”

“You got all the documents we sent over?”

“Yes Bill.”

“Good. That’s good Neil. You have time to review the roster of everyone and build your teams?”

“Already sent it out, Bill.”

“Good great alright. So you’re tracking next week?”

“Just that we’re getting together, no info on where or when.”

“Yeah we haven’t sent that yet, but it will be by you, you saw the TOI is heading towards Norfolk?”

“Yes I did Bill.”

“Yeah so we’ll all come out there, we’re thinking Constellis or Fort Story, less conspicuous, definitely not Dam Neck you know how the rumor-mill is with those guys.”

“You don’t even have a spot yet?” 

“Too secret Neil, it has to be short notice. But Neil you’re ready? All good-to-go?”

“Yes Bill. I’m ready.”

“Great awesome, so I’ll…”

“Bill.”

“Yes, Neil?”

“Why was I put in charge?”

There was silence for a moment as Bill pondered the question, “You’ll have to ask the President. Anyway, see you next week Neil.” Bill hung up. 

Neil sat back in his chair and stared out the window at nothing. A cardinal scared a bunch of finches away from a tree branch. A hawk landed nearby and they all scattered. 

The week went by without more interruption, Neil went to the range and trained his other skills daily, while beginning the planning process with his team leads over the phone. Thursday they got the official message, they had an old cluster of shacks on Fort Story as their FOB, very inconspicuous. Neil spent the weekend getting it ready. 

Monday was a whirlwind, Susy was mad about something, but Neil didn’t have the bandwidth to even remember what it was. Almost 200 personnel landing at three different airports at different times, all renting vehicles, and all checking into hotels where they had to be picked up and shuttled to the FOB. Complex, but it had to be. 

They turned the shacks into one of the most advanced facilities on the east coast in 12 hours. There were men everywhere, setting up comms, laying down razor wire, hauling cases of weapons and equipment, and Neil was in charge. The questions came hot and fast and the feeling that he didn’t belong there weighed on him like an iron chain around his neck. He stepped into the headquarters shack to try and escape the commotion for a few minutes. He sat down in a big rolling chair and took a cup of coffee. Before he took his first sip the door opened and 3 men in suits stormed in.

“Neil! Great I’m glad we found you, any more coffee?” It was Bill and his entourage. 

Neil gestured at the carafe. He had never seen the two men with Bill before. 

“Super! Gents get me a hot cup!” Bill commanded his acquaintances with his signature slightly-too-loud voice before sitting down and laying a hard-sided briefcase on the table. “So Neil things are looking good. I have updated intel right here and we should get to it! Looks like we’re getting pushed to the left.” 

Neil took his first sip of coffee and nodded. The ship picked up her pace, unclear why. But it would put her in Norfolk 3 days earlier. Not a big deal, but that was 3 less days of rehearsals and their first op had to be perfect. 

“I don’t want to step on your toes, Neil. I’ll stay out of your way during the training, I just have to be here to liaison for the big guy! He has total faith in you!” Bill encouraged with a firm thumbs-up for emphasis. 

“Thanks, Bill. There’s copies of the training plan on the table. Do you guys need anything else?” Neil looked up to Bill's stoic frowning comrades and only received his reflection in their sunglasses for a response. 

“No thanks Neil we’re just great! I’ll let you know!” Bill said with a double thumbs-up. 

“Very well.” Neil gave a thumbs-up back and stepped out into the heavy summer sun. He was quickly approached by Nate, the short heavily-biceped SEAL who had been the first to greet him at Zulu Facility. 

“Hey man, let’s talk.” Nate gestured with his chin to a spot behind some of the shacks. Neil followed without a word, too tired to ask. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Nate got straight to the point.

“Neil Dare, the leader of this unit.” Neil didn’t know what else to say. 

Nate spat. “Fuck you, man. You know what I fuckin mean.” 

Neil straightened his posture and looked Nate straight in his jet black eyes, “No, I don’t.”

“Like hell you don’t, you know exactly what I mean “leader of this unit”. How the fuck did you pull that? Were you even commissioned? You weren’t even from a Tier 1 team right? And now your bitch-ass is in charge of me and the other SEALs here?” 

“Nate, I’m just as confused as you.” Neil responded, Nate showed no signs of surprise but he didn’t interrupt Neil, “I wasn’t commissioned. I wasn’t Tier 1. And I've asked myself the same questions every day. But they chose me and I’m not in a position to tell them no, so all I can do is the best for the guys. Do you think I’m fucking it up?”

Nate thought for a moment, “Well it’s fucked up man. It’s too early to tell if you’re fucking it up really bad. Have you ever even been in a gunfight man? Fuck.”

“No. Just trained for them.”

“That’s what I fucking mean. Look man. Just don’t get any ideas that you’re better or special. For all we know they picked you randomly. It should be a SEAL.”

“Well we’re going to have to work together as is, are we cool, man?”

“Sure man, for now.” Nate stormed off, presumably to inform the other SEALs. 

“God damnit.” Neil muttered to himself as he went to get the first rehearsal started. 

The week of training and rehearsals passed, and despite tensions the team was a well oiled machine. Contingencies were discussed and trained, medevac platforms established, insertion plans ironed out. Neil felt confident, but no more like he belonged there. After all, they brought the best of the best together, all he had to do was not get in the way. 

The final brief went down, Bill was taking copious notes for his brief to the president. No new intel, the hit was to take place at exactly 0200 while the ship was five nautical miles away from international waters. Bill gave his brief and Mr. Trump gave the greenlight. Gear checks, comms checks, the birds spun up, and they were hurtling over the blue-black midnight Atlantic. Their first operation, all within 6 months. It all felt like a dream to Neil, but the wind from the open helicopter doors proved it was all too real. 

 Moonlight pierced the cabin, a sharp line splitting the helicopter interior between light and shadow. The blue light sharply defined the silhouettes of the operators stuffed into the cabin and armed to the teeth; their eyes faintly illuminated by the pale glow of their NVGs. None spoke or moved, Neil was rehearsing the actions on target over and over in his head, and each did his own quiet personal pre-mission ritual. Ancient and grim, the silence before the raid, as thousands of warriors had done before, contemplating death and victory. Outside the open doors of the cabin the undulating ocean glittered as the birds rushed over, low and fast. The waning moon shone through stratus clouds which obscured the stars. 

“Five minutes.” The door gunner gave the hand signal and everyone repeated the call. 

“Three minutes.” Radio chatter picked up, the overwatch drone was relaying positions of individuals on the target. 

“One minute.” Everyone unclipped their safety lanyards. 

“Thirty seconds”. The sniper bird took its first shots at sentries on the bridge wings, two tangos down. 

The deck appeared suddenly beneath them and the ropes were kicked out. One after another they hurried to the doors and hurtled down the ropes. Somewhere automatic fire had opened up. Neil's feet hit the deck and he loosened his sling, bringing his rifle up as he moved to cover and scanned the superstructure in front of him. The bursts of automatic fire were coming from a window on the second deck of the superstructure, quickly silenced by a 40mm grenade. This allowed the SEA element on the starboard side to advance under suppressive fire from Neil's element. He caught sight of a silhouette in one of the windows holding a rifle and squeezed off four rounds, the silhouette disappeared and they got the call to move. 

The training kicked in, his reactions were fast and automatic and the team moved with fluid precision. Neil's element pushed up the exterior stairs to the bridge. On the third deck up the hatch flew open as the element passed by and they took fire from several doorways further down the passageway. Flashbangs and smoke grenades were deployed followed by four small explosive drones to hunt down the disoriented enemy. Muffled explosions indicated they had found their marks. 

Meanwhile Neil and his fireteam had pushed up to the bridge, engaging three tangoes through the windows. They blew out one of the side windows with a shotgun and filled the bridge with flashbangs while another team used a saw to cut the door open. Neil was the fourth man inside, raising his rifle just in time to see a man emerge from the stairwell and lift a rifle. Neil's laser appeared on the man’s forehead and he painted the wall with his brains. 

The assault force wrapped up the cowering crew, “Engine room secure” crackled over the radio. Smooth, confident execution. Neil felt his confidence surge with every objective met, even if it had just as much to do with the quality of the men than the quality of his leadership. Neil gave his first orders of the operation, “Bravo-1-1 and Echo-1-1 clear the superstructure and link up with the engine room, leave me four men to hold the bridge.”

“Check.” Was all the response necessary. 

The rest of the assault went as smoothly as the approach, although Niel only heard it over the radio while they began the evidence gathering on the bridge. All told the count was 23 enemy killed, 20 crew in custody, and 1 wounded assaulter (cut by a foe who leapt out from a closet before the assaulter could drop him with his pistol). So much for 10-15 armed escort. Secondary searches revealed stashes of small arms, ammunition, cash, flour, meth, and 7 blonde Ukrainian girls aged 17-24 in a conex box. 

“Neil, look at this.” One of the assault team came up to Neil with a document. A printed out email in Russian. 

“What does it say?” 

“It’s a communications for orders, sir, it references a “Mr.білий” 

“A Mr. Billy? Who is Billy?" 

“It means white in Russian sir, Mr. White.”