Exclusive Enterprise

Exclusive Enterprise: A Dark Intelligence

~~ Ukraine and Poland, 2065 ~~

The room was filled with a soft, warm light. The polished wood gleamed slightly and it slowly filled with old-timers. She slipped onto the stage and sat on her stool. She smiled out at the crowd, then at the band's signal started singing.

Dear Soldier,

I'm called Red, mostly because of my hair and temper. I'm a Scottish but second-generation American female. I signed up for Soldiers Angels to reach out and offer comforts of home at least somewhat. I'm a lounge singer at a club. It pays the bills. I also write books and draw, but I'm not published yet. Maybe someday.

Favorite things:

The color blue.

Chocolate Mint Milkshakes

Forget-Me-Nots and White Roses

Chocolate filled strawberries

Favorite music:

Rock and Roll

Oldies

Jazz

Favorite foods:

Pizza

Steak

Sushi

Favorite games:

I'm a closet nerd, so I love TTRPGs and Video Games.

Favorite movies:

Down Periscope

Fifth Element

Undercover Blues

Hackers

Favorite TV:

Firefly

Stargate SG 1

Anime - Cowboy Bebop

I'm not sure what else to share about me, but I hope you share back. Or just let me know if you want me to keep sending emails. I can also talk about random things happening here. Of course, properly sanitized because the Government is watching us. 😉

Best Wishes,

Red

She sighed after she sent off the email, chastising herself. She sounded dumb and overly organized. She bit her lip, then turned back to her novel. She wanted to get a few more pages written before work. 'Fire flashed across the screen as the ship lost orbit, slowly plummeting towards the planet beneath. He could only hang on and pray for his safety, nothing else would matter."

++++++++++

Vince trudged into the forward outpost of the US Seventh Armored Division. Tossing his backpack to the side next to a cot that he had been assigned but hadn't seen in a week and a half, he unslung his M4A1 and stood it upright against the wall. He peeled his boots off while standing and then walked off toward the tent showers at the back after grabbing a spare set of clothes he had stashed under the pillow. Mud, sweat, and dust clung to his body in layers and he felt like ass.

He peeled his clothes off as he got into the shower and stood under the water for a long time. It wasn't hot, per se, but it wasn't frigid either and that was enough. A week and a half of babysitting a relay antenna trying to get a lead on and decode some useful Russian SigInt had left him filthy and exhausted. The squad that had gone with him had put some hurt on the Forty-second Guards Mobile Rifle Division, getting a few points on the board for the Ukrainians and the Polish, whose countries had been decimated over a long war with Russia, but it hardly seemed like a drop in the bucket. The intelligence take had been slim pickings and he felt like he had wasted his time.

About fifteen minutes later, he dried off and put on the clean clothes before taking the dirty ones to the laundry and putting in a ticket with his name. Then, he went to the mess hall and got himself some food, sitting down at a table with a hot meal for the first time in almost two weeks. He closed his eyes and sighed, allowing himself to relax a little finally. After he ate his food, he wandered over to the communal electronics room where he surfed around on the internet for about ten minutes before, on a whim, he checked his email. There was an email there from Soldier's Angels.

Vince had heard of them before, of course. Nearly every soldier had. But he had not expected to get anything from them. He opened up the email and began to read. It was from a woman named 'Red', or that called herself 'Red' at least. Interestingly enough, she had similar interests. His lips curled up in a wry smile. "What the hell," he murmured finally. It couldn't hurt anything, and it would be nice to have someone to look forward to notes from.

Dear Red Angel,

I have to say that I was surprised to get your note. I had completely forgotten that I had signed up with Soldier's Angels, and then got busy doing what we do. It was a nice thing to come back to the barracks to an actual communication for me that wasn't "official US Military business".

I guess if what I know about my family is correct, I'm mostly English, though perhaps with some Irish in there somewhere. Probably in a dark corner drinking. They've all passed on, though. It's just me. This, ironically, is another reason your email was a surprise. I don't typically check mine but once every couple of months. I only did so on a whim today.

You and I have a lot of similar interests it would seem, although I could never be a lounge singer. My voice cracks whenever I try to project it. I could never have been a drill sergeant. No one would have taken me seriously. I'm not a big fan of sushi - the combination of texture and temperature puts me off, but I really enjoy cooked seafood. The rest of the things you listed? I currently enjoy or have enjoyed them all. Though I will confess that it has been a really long time since I've sat down to roll dice with anyone.

I guess there's not much more I can share other than that I'm really invested in computers in all aspects, not just gaming, though I enjoy that too. Oh, and I like puzzles and books that make me challenge my worldviews.

I hope that this finds you well and that doing this is not an inconvenience to you. Regardless, you've made a tired old soldier smile today, and he very much appreciates it.

All my best,

Your Soldier

He read it a few times and then clicked 'Send', then got up and went back to his bunk. Pulling a book out of his pack, he laid back on the bed and began reading. The book was a text on the history of the modern use of computers in cryptography. He read for a couple of hours before he finally dropped off to sleep. Tomorrow, he would have to present his report, but for the evening, he let all of that go and idly wondered about a certain red-headed lounge singer.

She read the email and smiled slightly. She pulled up the documentation, she was allowed to send small gifts through them and it would get to her soldier. She pondered, as much as she'd love to send a hard copy, she figured a digital copy would be better.

My Soldier,

I was very happy to hear from you. To be honest, I didn't really expect anyone to want to talk to me. I'm sure you noticed how organized my letter was. I like everything neat and tidy. I'm a fairly fastidious person.

I am glad we like some of the same things, sushi isn't for everyone so don't worry, I'll eat your share. 😉 To address your statement, you are not now, nor ever will be an inconvenience, bother, problem or issue. Now, I might occasionally go dark for a bit because of my work, just like you'll have to, but I will always, always send an email as soon as I'm free. As long as you're interested and don't tell me to stop.

Now, I checked my documentation and I am allowed to send gifts of less than ~25 so. I have included a purchased pdf for you. If you're interested and would like, no pressure obviously... I have sent you a copy of a game called Starforged. It's a gm-less game that uses an oracle system. I was thinking that since you haven't played in a while, and I'll eventually run out of random things to talk about, we could play together.

Thought process:

I email you the character I want to play

You email me the character you want to play

We create pieces of the setting

We email each other things that we do, taking turns

We focus on telling the character's stories over just, 'smash the door', 'attack the NPC', or 'seduce the NPC'.

If this sounds like something you would enjoy trying, let me know. Or if you have other suggestions or ideas I'd be happy to listen. Either way, the pdf is a gift for you. I was going to send a hard copy but then I figured it'd be extra weight to hump around and that wouldn't be much of a gift at all.

Your Angel,

Red

She pondered before she hit send, then sighed. The worst that could happen was that he'd stop talking to her. Hopefully, though, he'd want to play and spend time with her. It'd be nice to have another friend. She headed downstairs to start her show. For some reason, she felt it appropriate to sing 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy' tonight.

Vince replied, thanking her for the gift and expressing his interest and so their correspondence began. He also expressed that periodically, he would need to go out on a mission that would be variable in time length and that he would not be able to respond if it were his turn. He did, however, try to reassure her that he was indeed interested and would not be giving up on either their game or their communication in general. Typically, their letters consisted of a brief introduction with a synopsis of how they were doing, and then the rest of it was their playing of the game. This went on for just over a year until their campaign came to what they felt was a natural stopping point.

My Soldier,

Happy Anniversary. It's been a year since we started emailing. It's a little late, not because I forgot but because I had to wait for it to come out. Included is a PDF of a book. This book was one you mentioned wanting to read. You also have a hard copy of it in your... well Becca said it was a storage locker in the states. I figure, you can read the digital copy and when you get out, you'd have a hard copy and even better you don't have to hump it around.

Life is good, my first book was published. I can send you a copy if you want it, but I should warn you it's pretty erotic. I had some help from a pen pal named Annabelle Moorwind. The lounge is doing fine. The owner is looking to sell, so I'm a little nervous about that. I also heard the word. You might be getting out soon, so that's something to look forward to.

Your Angel,

Red

P.S you'll also find enclosed the pictures you wanted me to send you of my art. I hope they please you.

He read the note several times. Several things stood out to him. First was gratitude for the book. The fact that she paid attention and celebrated the little things was incredibly endearing. She was, perhaps, the best friend he had ever had and they had never even met or talked about anything substantial that wasn't under the watchful eye of the US Military. Second, he hadn't known she was an author, and not only that, of erotica.

Suddenly he found himself very curious. He would have to get a copy of her book. Third, he knew the name Moorwind and it fit in the context. Moorwind was a company in Minnesota that specialized in the manufacturing of premium, sex-positive products. It also meant she was likely into, at the very least, Dominance and submission, and possibly Mastery and slavery. His mental 'image' or 'dossier' on her began updating on its own in very, very intriguing ways.

Fourth, and last, the owner of her lounge was looking to sell and it made her nervous. Something about that rubbed him the wrong way. He didn't like the idea of her being nervous. He just wanted her to be happy. He began wondering if there wasn't a way that he might solve the problem. He sent off a quick email to a financial manager of his. Being in the Army didn't pay absurd amounts of money, but a Captain in Signals was a heck of a lot better off than a grunt Lieutenant. He asked whether or not there were any high-yield, decent risks that could be taken with the sum of money that he listed. The individual in question was a high school buddy of sorts. Rather, he was one of the few people that didn't make fun of him for his interests in computers.

Satisfied that he'd done what he could from where he was to shift fortune in his favor, he returned to her email to re-read it a few more times and pondered a reply for several minutes. Finally, cracking his knuckles in a stretch, he started typing:

Dear Angel,

You are correct. I am retiring from my Army service. Fifteen years is a long time, and I'm getting too old to go out in the field anymore. I'll probably still do some consulting for Uncle Sam, but I think it's time to find my way in the private sector. Not going to ask how you knew, but however it is, your source was well-informed. Bravo.

Thank you for the book. It's one I've been anticipating for a while now. But your email has me anticipating reading another book. You never told me you were an author. Angel, that's amazing! Good for you! I'd love to read your book. And I promise, no judgment. I mean, hell. I'm a red-blooded American male. Do you honestly think I don't enjoy that kind of thing in text or... other forms?

The pictures are breathtaking. That may be the single most wonderful thing you've sent me. Not that the other books and such weren't great. They were. But this art... It's a piece of you. I will find a way to treasure it always. As far as the lounge, don't give up hope. Things eventually seem to turn out OK, even if we can't see how that happens. It's not always on our time, and that is particularly frustrating, but it always seems to happen. Besides, when I get home, the delays between our emails won't have to be so long, so there's stuff to look forward to.

Keep your chin up, Red. And remember that there's a crusty old soldier somewhere that's thinking of you more often than not, and fondly.

Always,

Your Soldier

It was a day or two later that she sent him an email back. She was nervous again, but this time she was worried about his thoughts changing about her. She bit her lip for several moments. It was under a pen name so nobody she knew would know she wrote it. Finally, she added the pdf. She blushed at the thought that not only would he read it, but whoever his MI watcher was would read it as well.

My Soldier,

You promised no judgment so... I included the book, 'Cloaked Noon'. It's written under my pen name. Mostly so my family doesn't know. They're... extremely conservative and already hate me for having a job as a lounge singer.

Book includes:

Explicit Erotica

Master and slave domination

BDSM

Non-graphic murder

I hope you enjoy it, but if you don't feel free to tell me of things and places I can improve on. I also went back in and put in 'alerts' on the places that have the erotica in case you want to skip them. I don't want you to be uncomfortable with me after reading it. I don't want to lose my friend.

All my love,

Your Angel,

Red

She hugged herself after hitting send and laid her head back against her chair. "Fuck me," she breathed. "I'm going to come across as a desperate horn dog in this book."

It was later that day when she received a brief reply from him.

My Dear Angel,

Please stop worrying that you are going to 'lose your friend'. My parents taught me that if I were going to be friends with someone, in other words, more than a simple acquaintance, I should never be able to be accused of being a 'fair weather friend'. I promise... nothing you could possibly have written in that book is going to make it so that I am no longer your friend. The only thing that does that is for you to tell me that you want no further contact.

I don't have much time to write more, but I'll get started on that book right away and let you know. I'm sure it will be great. In case you don't hear from me for a few days, I hope your next week (or so) goes wonderfully and that life treats you well. This old soldier will be thinking about you.

Yours, Semper Fidelis,

Soldier

He sent it off, then walked back to his bunk to grab his gear. He, his team, and a small element of tanks were going to hit a Russian forward command post and he needed to be on-site for data retrieval. He was likely to be gone for at least two or three days. He pushed the book to his kindle and slid it into the bag before shouldering it and picking up his carbine, sighing, and then walking off to the first of several briefings, and the only one of which he would be a simple attendant.

She went downstairs and walked over to meet with her agent. The book was selling well and she was preparing to do a second book. Annabella loved it and enjoyed the ideas it gave Michael. She pondered that she'd have to thank her soldier. His compliments on her storytelling during their game were what gave her the courage to share her writing with another.

The small coffee shop was no Starbucks, but she could get a wonderful cup of coffee and she enjoyed talking with her agent. Her first royalty check was nice and quickly deposited into savings. The lounge that night was a little more pop, so instead of sitting, she danced a little as she sang.

After the night was over, she retired to her rooms. She wasn't interested in dating anyone. Somehow her thoughts were on a man she had never actually met and was thousands of miles away. She decided to do something she hadn't done since she was a little girl and sank to her knees beside the bed. Her head bowed and she folded her hands. "Heavenly Father. I know I haven't talked to you in a while, but I have tried to live my life in a good way. I come before you now, not for me but for someone I have come to care for. Please, keep my Soldier safe and let him come home unharmed."

The next evening where he was, they struck. The tanks encircled the troops, creating noise and causing confusion as the SpecOps squad went in for the command post. They kicked the door in and shot two Russian soldiers as the rest of the team at that building, including Vince, entered the room. Not seeing that one was not quite dead, they got to work and as Vince was hooking up his laptop, the man raised a pistol shakily and fired. The bullet caught Vince in the shoulder, just outside of his ballistic vest, slamming him back into the wall with a growl. His squadmates quickly ended the man's life and then turned to him. He was sitting down and his arm was bloody.

"Slice... Don't you go bleeding out a few weeks before your retirement, buddy. That's bad juju...," the gunnery sergeant, a burly Hispanic guy named Ortiz said as he knelt next to him.

"No such luck, Ortiz. It's just a through-and-through. Stings like a motherfucker, though. God damn Russian bastard," he grunted. Ortiz was already pulling a wrap from his small med kit. The corpsman was with the squad lieutenant working on the bulk of the active troops, but every member of the squad was trained in basic first aid and field trauma procedures, just like the corpsman was trained to shoot the standard M1A4 carbine, a sniper rifle, and the medium machine gun that Hawkins usually carried for them. In a pinch, he could even use a mortar, but not anywhere near as well as Jeffries. That man was the mortar whisperer. He could put a round on anyone in range in three shots, max. Usually two.

"Let's just get some pressure on it like... this!" Ortiz grunted as he pulled the ends of the wrap tight to get pressure on the wound.

Vince yelped in pain. "SON OF A... GRRRR!" he growled, glaring at Ortiz, who just grinned at him.

"Wake your white ass up, don't it?"

"Fuck you, Ortiz," he grumbled, using the wounded arm to gently push him out of the way to indicate that he was function-capable, and standing up. He returned to the laptop he had been hooking up and began to work faster. He wanted to make sure he got everything before someone somewhere else figured out they were here and decided to snatch the cookie jar back from him.

It took several minutes, but he finally got the transfer started of unencrypted drives. Gritting his teeth and pumping his fist in the air, he growled, "That's right! Fuck you, Ivan!" Looking up at the other men with a triumphant gaze only to receive bemused expressions in return. Vince was a real soldier, to be sure. And he had more than earned his place in the field. But he was also a tech geek. And the stigma was still there and probably always would be.