President Ma studied the display, then sighed deeply. “Your assessment… honestly, can we really hold?”
Harrington met his gaze directly. “With full deployment? Preparation? Your people’s courage? Hell yeah, we can hold.”
The President stood, extending his hand. “Mr. Harrington, Commander Mitchell. On behalf of the people of Taiwan, I want to thank you for your steadfast dedication and your willingness to fight and die if necessary, defending our people.”
Harrington shook firmly. “The honor is ours, Mr. President, but let’s save the thanks for after we win. We’ve got work to do between now and then.”
As they prepared to leave, Ma asked one final question. “Humor me. Just tell me why. Why do you and your men choose this?”
Harrington paused at the door. “We’re warriors, Mr. President — sheep dogs who have chosen a life of service to protect the flock. We fight for those who can’t, to defend the cause of freedom,” Harrington explained. “I know it sounds silly. But some things matter more than living. Freedom, democracy — those ideas have to be fought for, and have to be defended. If we just give up, if we choose to look the other way, what kind of future does that leave those who come after us?”
Leaving the residence as they walked toward the waiting vehicles, Harrington felt good about the meeting. He really hoped it wouldn’t come to war with China.
The C-130J Hercules banked hard left, and Captain Alex Mercer felt his stomach lurch. Through the porthole, Sweden’s unsinkable aircraft carrier materialized from Baltic haze — ninety miles of limestone and forest, ringed by cliffs that looked ready to repel invaders.
“Two minutes!” The loadmaster’s voice crackled through the cabin.
Mercer keyed his throat mic. “Blackjacks, final checks.”
Around him, thirty-four paratroopers from his advance party stirred. Body armor adjustments. Weapon slings. The familiar pre-insertion ritual that meant business was about to begin. First Sergeant Elijah “Big E” Tanner moved down the aisle like a prowling bear, checking gear with practiced eyes.
Senior NCO Daniel Holloway leaned close. “It’s too bad we can’t arrive via a combat jump, sir.”
“Yeah, that’s
The Herc touched down with a controlled thump, engines screaming in reverse thrust as the pilots slowed them down and began to taxi to the military side of the airfield. Peering through the window, Mercer spotted their welcoming committee. A contingent from the Gotland Regiment, CV90 infantry fighting vehicles and Patria armored personnel carriers arranged in precise formation, a company of soldiers in their distinctive M90 woodland camo waiting for them at parade rest. They looked impressive, professional, and cautious. Exactly what Mercer expected from a nation in the crosshairs of whatever game it was the Chinese and Russians were playing.
As the aircraft came to a halt, the ramp began to lower, revealing the beauty of the Swedish island of Gotland, home to some 63,000 people, 25,700 of whom lived in Visby, the provincial capital. No sooner had the ramp touched down than a strong, Baltic wind hit Mercer like a cold slap across the face. He could taste the salt and smell the sea mixed with scents of jet fuel and fresh pine. Mercer led his advance team onto the tarmac as he made his way toward an officer waiting to greet them.
“Good afternoon! You must be Captain Mercer,” the Swedish officer announced as he walked toward him.
Mercer smiled. The colonel who approached had the weathered look of someone who’d spent more time in the field than behind a desk — Lindqvist, his name tape read. As the officer came to a stop, Mercer snapped a salute. “Colonel Lindqvist. Bravo Company, Second of the 503rd Airborne. Honor to be here, sir.”
Colonel Lindqvist returned his salute crisply. “Welcome to Gotland, Captain. It is an honor to welcome you to our island. Your reputation precedes you.” His flawless English and tone gave the impression of a learned man. “Your commander said you had previously served in the Ranger Regiment once upon a time, yes?”
Mercer smirked at the mention of his time in the Regiment. The last time he’d been to Gotland was during his time with the Rangers. He wasn’t sure if anyone from back then would still remember him.
“I did, but that was a long time ago, sir.”
