Northern Darfur, inside the underground command center at the "Musician" defense base.
The thick concrete isolates the desert night's severe cold and the sound of the wind. Dim ergency lights barely dispel the darkness in the corners, casting an oppressive dark golden hue over the entire space.
A huge, accurately scaled map of the North Africa local theater is spread across a heavy tabletop made from ammunition boxes, covered densely with colored magnets representing the positions of ally and enemy forces, like a concentrated, soon-to-be-boiling killing sand table.
The cluster of blue magnets representing the GNA forces are densely pressed against the gritty mark representing the border between Libya and Northern Darfur, alarming to the eyes.
Song Heping stands at the head of the sand table, his hands resting on the table's edge, his body slightly leaning forward, resembling a fully drawn bow.
His gaze constantly patrolling the thick line on the map representing the boundary between life and death and the virtual flight path winding from Alexandria Port towards the southern diterranean (representing the possible attack route of the F-15I), each move carrying a heavy weight.
"So..."
Suddenly, he spoke.
His voice was not loud, yet carried a strange penetrative power, instantly suppressing the slight discussions and breathing inside the shelter.
"I must stay here."
"Song! I object!"
Ferrari suddenly stood up, and the wooden ammunition box groaned under the weight.
His voice was raised by a few notches, echoing in the confined space, filled with undisguised anxiety, "This is too crazy! It's like suicide! You are the target! The sole, biggest target! The 'Seagull' interception plan... God bless, it sounds like a science fiction novel! If there's even the slightest deviation, if a single fighter jet breaks through the interception, laser-guided bombs will rain down with precision on top of this command post! Vaporizing you along with this sand table! You should go to Khartoum, imdiately! Right now! There's a safe house there! You can command remotely just the sa..."
"I agree with Ferrari's view."
Henry adjusted the golden rim of his glasses on his nose, standing alongside Ferrari.
"The risks Ferrari ntioned are objectively present, Song. This is not the ti for impulsivity. MI6 and Mossad's recent involvent in Libya exceeds the norm. The fragnted signals we've intercepted and cross-verified feedback from informants show not only was an SAS 'chair' team secretly deployed, but more troubling, Mossad's sharpest 'bayonet'—the Alpha group of the Masada action team, has also been confird to have entered the country."
He pulled out a summary of intelligence from a tablet, projecting it onto a sowhat blurred screen beside him, displaying several processed satellite photos and vague sketches from informants, depicting a few extrely well-equipped, exceptionally covert teams.
"On their task list, guiding bombing and 'targeted elimination' of you is at least a priority, possibly even more so the latter."
He paused, intensifying his tone, tapping his finger on several scattered red dots representing GNA reconnaissance teams near the border.
"Those GNA reconnaissance teams dithering around the border like fleas are smoke bombs, bait, specifically designed to attract our attention and drain our energy. The real eyes and knives are these professional executioners hidden in the shadows!"
Song Heping's gaze slowly swept over each face inside the shelter, filled with either seriousness, anxiety, or trust.
Hunter held his sniper rifle, like a silent and solid rock, only occasionally blinking his eyes revealing the predator's sharpness...
Jiang Feng toyed with a shiny, sharply-edged old coin between his fingers, the coin flipping between them, reflecting the dim light with each turn, mirroring the calm calculation in his eyes...
White Bear's massive body leaned against the cold concrete wall, arms bulging with muscles, the corners of his mouth hung with a nearly ferocious anticipation, as if he slled blood like a polar bear...
His wife, Queen, sat on an ammunition box in the corner, her head down, gently cleaning the slide of a Glock 19 silenced pistol with a piece of deer skin, her movents as tender as caressing a lover's skin, erald eyes occasionally flashing a cold glint beneath lowered eyelids.
He finally let his gaze return to the sand table, onto the glaring red mark representing himself.
He did not pick it up but rather curled a knuckle with an indisputable certainty, tapping lightly on that red mark.
"Tap, tap."
The sound was crisp, echoing in the silent shelter.
"I can only be here."
Song Heping's voice was not loud, yet it felt like a heavy hamr hitting everyone's heart.
"Only this way will they co. Will they co according to the route we 'set' for them."
He raised his eyes, his gaze fierce, seemingly penetrating the thick concrete, seeing those Haftar soldiers outside holding rifles behind simple barracks and sandbag shelters.
"What are Haftar's five thousand n? A sand-built army! A pile of loose sand! Why are they willing to fight with us? Because of money? Yes. Because of weapons? Also yes. But most importantly."
He paused briefly, speaking word by word.
"Because they see here! With them in the sa sandpit, eating the sa sand, under the sa sky that at any mont could drop bombs and blow them to smithereens! If I run, to them, it's like the flag has fallen! The spirit is gone! These five thousand will turn and run at the first wave of GNA's bombardnt, even turn their guns against us for a chance to survive! All our plans will instantly beco mirages in the desert!"
He suddenly stood straight, his body taut as a spear, his arm swung like a battle knife, pointing to a town within Libya marked specifically with a red circle on the map—Desert City.
It was once controlled by Haftar's forces, and it was the critical point for advancing north from southern Libya, guarding the throat leading to Libya's interior.
"This ti, it's not just defense! Not just knocking out a few arrogant bombers!"
His finger heavily jabbed the mark on Desert City, as if trying to push it deep into the map.
"Once 'Seagull' succeeds, the Ibis's 'Thunder' being clipped is the horn of the Haftar forces' counterattack! It's ti to sound the charge!"
His voice suddenly rose, filled with iron and fire's stirring force, "Take it! Nail our outpost into Libyan soil! Then all the way north, driving Sayif and the British into the sea together!"
A scorching battle spirit mixed with the scent of blood and smoke instantly perated the shelter, even loosening Ferrari's tense expression, with a fla igniting deep in his eyes.
It's the kind of aura that rises when a gambler stakes everything or a beast sniffs freedom and the scent of prey at the trap's edge.
"Hunter! Jiang Feng!"
Song Heping's voice was decisive, like an unsheathed sword.
"Here!"
Two figures instantly stood straight from their positions, like two drawn crossbows ready to fire.
"Take your n, and add a special operations company 'Cobra' platoon, infiltrate through the northwest 'Scorpion Tail' passage. Target area, E7 canyon exit. That's the most likely infiltration corridor chosen by the SAS 'Chair' unit. Nail it down for , don't let a fly through!"
"Understood! Guarantee not even a sand rat can sneak through!"
Hunter's lips curled into a cold and brutal arc, like crosshairs in a scope.
The coin flicking between Jiang Feng's fingers was suddenly grasped tightly into his palm with a 'snap'.
"White Bear! Queen!"
"Present!"
White Bear's voice rolled like distant thunder, making the air hum.
Queen lifted her head, her erald eyes locking on the target like a feline predator in the dim light, glinting with a cold, inorganic light.
"You two take the 'Polar Star' platoon, responsible for the southeast 'Hyena' pass. Mossad's 'Alpha' Bayonet unit is ninety percent likely to take that route. Don't let them co within fifty kiloters of the base alive!"
"Perfectly suits . I've long wanted to et this legendary special forces unit."
White Bear grinned, revealing teeth as white as ice, his massive fra exuding a bloodthirsty excitent.
The Queen silently and slowly pulled back the slide of her silenced pistol, producing a subtle yet chilling 'click' loading sound, like a poison snake flicking its tongue.
"Henry."
Song Heping turned to the intelligence officer, "Your eyes, keep them dead on MI6 and Mossad, gather all relevant intelligence to the best of your abilities, report to at any ti!"
"Understood."
Henry nodded slightly.
"Dismissed! Everyone to your stations!"
Song Heping suddenly waved his hand, like waving down the attack flag.
At the end, he turned his gaze to Haftar in the corner.
"General, it's ti. Have your n load their guns, unsheathe their knives, hug their rifles even when sleeping, you and my company's six thousand rcenaries just wait for Ibis Air Force's F15I to be shot down, imdiately cross north over the border, launch a fierce attack on all Sayif's forces assembled at the border!"
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