h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

I dedicate this book to the casualties of Shadow Moses as well as to all those who suffered the tyranny of the nuclear weapons – and to Richard Ames.
- Nastasha Romanenko

PROLOGUE

Shadow Moses Island:

Even the local fishermen rarely venture to this outcropping of land. Yet the incident of all incidents took place on this remote isle, north of Alaska’s Fox Islands. A number of confirmed facts undermine the U.S. government’s denial of the entire affair. Among those are the sudden appearance of the Ohio-class nuclear submarine USS Discovery off Shadow Moses, far away from its designated position, and an official record that shows that a squadron of six fully-armed F117?thread="/h2g2/categories/C4" >C4 explosives. Before Snake could free Baker, he came face to face with the originator of this trap: a FOXHOUND operative called Revolver Ocelot. It seemed that he had anticipated Baker’s rescue attempt upon receiver news of Snake’s arrival. According to Naomi Hunter, the former director of FOXHOUND’s genetic manipulation program, Revolver Ocelot is a former Spetznaz. He moved into OMON (Otryad Militsii Osobogo Naznacheniya, the Interior Ministry riot squad, AKA Black Berets) and the SVR (the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service) – a successor to the KGB’s First Chief Directorate – after the collapse of the Soviet Union, but was unable to adapt to the new regime and dropped out. He cut a swath through the world’s hot spots as a mercenary before being recruited by FOXHOUND. As his codename indicates, Ocelot is a master marksman with a marked preference for revolvers. We could hear the gun battle between Snake and Ocelot over the radio. Ocelot was using an antique Single Action Army revolver against Snake’s SOCOM pistol. The first Single Action Army Revolver was manufactured in 1873. A small number of them are still in production today, but strictly for collectors and antique weapon fanciers; using this outmoded weapon for live combat is unheard of. But Ocelot seemed to invest the vintage gun with diabolical powers. He would purposefully fire against the walls and the floor, weaving a tight web of ricocheting bullets around Snake, gradually hemming him in. All we could do was silently monitor the battle. However, Snake was slowly but surely gaining the upper hand by dodging the ricochets and exploiting the revolver’s lengthy reload window. Finally, just as Snake was about to deliver the decisive blow, an explosion rang out.
"My hand!" Ocelot's scream came a second later, followed by more explosions.
"What the hell is going on!?" Richard cried. The controller in charge of the data sent in by Snake’s nanomachines started a running commentary. "We don’t know yet. I’m seeing a life sign other than those of Snake, Ocelot or Baker." Explosions continued to boom out over the radio.
"The unidentified fourth subject is knocking down girders. No sign of firearm use! Whatever it is, it’s moving fast!" The controller’s voice rose with excitement. "The speed is well above anything a human being should be able to handle." The situation was chaotic. I could make out Ocelot’s voice through the roar of collapsing metal.
"Stealth camouflage! Someone left a job only half done! As for you - we’ll continue this later!" It seemed Ocelot had left the area. The explosion went on one after the other as girders crashed to the ground. In the midst of the collapse, Snake confronted what we could only guess was the fourth life sign.
"Who are you?"
"I’m like you, I have no name." It was not human, but an artificial machine voice that answered. In spite of the metallic tones, there seemed to be in that voice an unspeakable pain. Baker’s labored groans could be heard over the conversation.
"You have a reinforced skeleton -- !?"
Suddenly, the possessor of the metal voice let loose an animal howl. The shattering scream set the communication speakers screeching, and I instinctively covered my ears to shut out the maddening sound. The cry went on and on, then cut out as abruptly as it had begun. In the ringing silence, the controller’s voice floated out, thin and hollow.
"The fourth subject had disappeared." The words brought us out of a state of shock.
"Can we track him?"
"Negative. He’s vanished, no traces."
"Collect as much data as you can."
"I have the full results on information relayed by the nanomachines. There’s an electromagnetic pattern that resembles a stealth camouflage signature."
"Stealth camo and reinforced exoskeleton," Richard muttered, deep in thought.
"Not everything is happening according to plan, I take it?" I inquired with some sarcasm.
"It’s within acceptable deviation. The mission will go on as planned." For a split second, his eyes betrayed his disquiet; then he quickly recovered his characteristic arrogance.
"You just concentrate on your job."
Snake had called the fourth life sign the 'Ninja'. I could not help but wonder about the identity of the name’s bearer, and what it was that accounted for the superhuman abilities he had just demonstrated. Far away on Shadow Moses Island, Snake was attempting to raise the shaken Kenneth Baker back on his feet. We could hear Snake asking him about the nuclear launch code, knowing the answer even as he spoke. Baker painfully acknowledged that he had volunteered the information. His arm hung broken and useless by his side, presumably Ocelot’s handiwork. According to Naomi Hunter’s intelligence, Revolver Ocelot had served as a Special Interrogations Consultant in the Soviet gulags during the days with the Spetznaz. In other words, he was an expert in torture. There was no way that the weapons technology executive, an untrained civilian, could withstand the techniques of coercion developed in the cells of Lubianka. We now had confirmation that the terrorists possessed both launch keys. The situation was more desperate that ever. Baker’s response to Snake’s queries about the emergency override keys was almost grim. He had entrusted a soldier, a woman who had refused to join the mutiny, with it while they had been sharing the cell. I caught Snake’s sudden murmur.
"The Colonel’s niece?"
The 'Colonel' was presumably Campbell, and Snake seemed to know something I certainly did not. I stole a glance at Richard, but his _expression was as closed as ever. He no doubt had known from the outset about the presence of Campbell’s niece on Shadow. Snake was pressing Baker, asking him whether there was a way to stop the launch without the override code. The executive gave him a name: Dr. Hal Emmerich. If it were indeed the case that the launch codes were in hostile hands and the strike sequence had been started, it stood to reason that the only person who may know of a way to cancel the launch was the chief of Metal Gear’s development program. As Snake promised to search out Emmerich, Baker handed him a single optical disc. It contained, he said, all the data from the training exercise. What exercise data? He had to be referring to the Metal Gear exercise. I saw Richard raise his eyebrow sharply. Baker, oblivious to the frenzy of speculation he had remotely set off, continued.
"There’s no need to feign ignorance. You were sent to retrieve this, and we both know it."
I was now even more puzzled than ever. If Metal Gear was being developed on Shadow Moses, surely the research data was backed up somewhere outside of the ArmsTech Lab. Not only that, but why would the president of the company have been carrying the data himself? I was apparently not alone in my disconcertment. Snake took the disc, obviously uncertain. It was clear that he, like myself, had not been briefed on the existence of the disc. The disc safely out of his hands, Baker’s tones became pleading.
"You have to stop them. If the truth got out, AT would be finished - I would be finished!"
"But Metal Gear technology is already a known factor."
"The core technology is, but that’s not -- " Baker trailed off, suddenly pale with pain. "Oh God, what did you do to me?" We could hear his labored coughing as he gasped out.
"It can’t be. That thing! Damn Pentagon bureaucrats! I get it now! You son of a -- !" He tried to lunge at Snake, but reeled back in a fresh wave of pain. Still clutching his chest he fell down, dead. It was too similar to the last moments of Donald Anderson’s life, and the fact had not escaped Snake. He was immediately on the radio with Campbell.
"Colonel, you’d better be listening real well. This one dropped dead too."
Snake demanded an explanation, but neither Campbell nor Dr. Hunter could provide an adequate one. Snake was clearly dissatisfied, but Campbell directed Snake to cooperate with his niece, Meryl. The only way left to prevent a nuclear strike was to obtain the emergency override key, and the key was in Meryl’s hands. Snake walked away from Baker’s body in search of the elusive commando. Kenneth Baker had been colluding with Donald Anderson, the DARPA chief, to secretly develop a new Metal Gear on the government’s so-called Black Budget. My later investigations revealed that regular payments in the tens of thousands of dollars had been made to the cooperate account of a firm for which Anderson’s wife ostensibly acted as a consultant. The ArmsTech payoff into this dummy company had started several years ago. The total amount is difficult to estimate, but there is little doubt that Anderson had been bribed to the tune of an astronomical sum. Even the government's Black Budget had limits, however. I recalled a rumor from some years before the Anderson payoff started. The CNO (Chief of Naval Operations) at the time had a classified pet project, and the scuttlebutt was that it involved the construction of a completely new type of battleship. Just what kind of a ship was never revealed, since the entire program fell apart after the CNO suddenly passed away. The unexpected death coincided with ArmTech’s launch of the Metal Gear development program. The Black Budget earmarked for the CNO’s little project must have been freed up by his death; the question was whether it had been freed up for allocation to the new Metal Gear development. The manner of the CNO’s death was officially ruled a suicide, but I could not help recall the theories to the contrary that had made its rounds back then. Whatever the background, Anderson and Baker’s deaths could not be a coincidence. Anderson’s dying words included a reference to the Pentagon, and I was certain that there was more to it than met the eye.
"So now Baker is dead as well. Are you looking into his medical records too?" I asked Richard.
"We’ll do that. Just as a precaution." He did not seem particularly disturbed. It may have been for the best, anyway, Having to babysit a senior citizen with a broken arm sure wasn’t going to help Snake with his mission.
"You haven’t changed a bit, I see."
"What?"
"That bad-boy act of yours. You only talk like an insensitive jerk to divert attention from something. I wonder what you’re hiding?" Richard turned away.
"Nothing. There’s nothing to hide."
Having successfully made radio contact with Meryl, Colonel Campbell’s niece, Solid Snake agreed to put off a rendezvous with her in favor of rescuing Dr. Hal Emmerich, the chief of Metal Gear development. He reached the lab just as the Ninja was attempting to attack Dr. Emmerich, and the two fighters immediately squared off. Snake and the Ninja launched into a silent hand-to-hand combat, a balletic exchange of blows that seemed almost to serve as a private dialog. The fighting seemed interminable to us as we followed over the radio, but just as in the last encounter, the Ninja suddenly let loose an inhuman howl, and vanished in the maelstrom of its ragged echo. It was our second encounter with the Ninja, and we were as in the dark about him as ever. But Snake had recognized something during their battle, and he raised Campbell on the radio.
"Its Gray Fox - the Ninja is Gray Fox. I’m 100% sure."
"That’s impossible. You took him in Zanzibar Land." We could hear the perturbation in Campbell’s voice. Naomi Hunter suddenly cut in.
"Yes, he was supposed to have been killed. But he wasn’t."
Dr. Hunter revealed that her predecessor at the helm of FOXHOUND’s genetic treatment program, one Dr. Clark, had been conducting human testing. Gray Fox, the alpha soldier of FOXHOUND and the only member allowed the FOX designation, was the subject. After he had been shipped back from Zanzibar Land mortally wounded, his superior physical abilities and combat skills had marked him as an ideal test subject for genetic manipulation and skeletal reinforcement experiments. He was listed as killed in action, but kept alive in a lab. I could not help but note with some surprise the emotional tone in which the normally collected geneticist described these events. When Snake asked why she had not volunteered the truth of the Ninja’s identity earlier, Naomi had only a terse reply. 'It was classified information. According to records she had seen, the subject "Gray Fox" had died in an accidental lab explosion two years ago. I turned to Richard.
"Is this true?"
"What’s true?"
"The accident in the lab."
"It’s true. The cause of the explosion was never determined. Dr. Clark died in the accident, and the only remains they could find of Gray Fox were fragments of the reinforced skeleton."
"So Naomi wasn’t the only one who knew about this and didn’t say anything."
"It was classified information." Richard mimicked.
Snake secured Dr. Emmerich after the Ninja’s departure. Amazingly enough, the engineer had believed Metal Gear to be a portable tactical missile defense system, rather than a nuclear-capable tank. It was a peculiar irony that the chief developer himself had been unaware that the project was one of offense, rather than defense. On discovering that he had been deceived, Dr. Emmerich volunteered his expertise to Snake. He mentioned his grandfather’s involvement in the Manhattan Project, and the ethical turmoil the man had carried with him to the end of his days as a result. Ironically enough, the older scientist’s son, Hal Emmerich’s father, was born on the day the atomic bomb had found Hiroshima.
"Three generations - sometimes I wonder if nuclear warfare is our personal albatross, an inherited pathology."
We could hear the pain and the regret in Dr. Emmerich’s voice. He seemed genuinely upset that the technology he had developed purely for the furthering of knowledge and betterment of mankind had been exploited for weapons development. You may call me harsh, but I felt little sympathy for him. Technological and scientific innovation need not have direct bearing on nuclear or virological research to contribute to the making of weapons of mass destruction. After all, the Ninja was born of genetic engineering and cybernetic research, which could easily have healed a civilian rather than improved upon a soldier. A scientifist cannot plead naivete to the practical products of their own research. The consequences must be anticipated, and the ethical burden of a newly developed technology must ultimately rest with the individual researcher. I wonder if Dr. Emmerich would ever realize that onus. Freed from the laboratory where he was being held, Emmerich cloaked himself with a stealth camouflage of his own making and promised to keep out of sight. With the stealth camo, he could easily evade the terrorists’ surveillance. His rescue charge safe, Snake departed for a rendezvous with Meryl. Snake’s objective was to meet with Meryl and re-enter the launch code using her override key, outwitting the FOXHOUND psychic Psycho Mantis all the while. To this end, he headed towards the hangar where Metal Gear was being stored.
The best laid plans: Meryl was ambushed on the way by the FOXHOUND sharpshooter Sniper Wolf. Snake, attempting to rescue the wounded commando, was himself captured. He was taken to the terrorist command post still unconscious, stripped of all his gear. However, his cochlear-implant radio passed unnoticed, and we could hear the terrorists conferring about the incapacitated operative. We gathered from their talk that the preparations for the nuclear launch were complete. Richard was unusually intent on identifying the individual terrorists in the room. From the voices involved in the conversation, we confirmed the presence of Sniper Wolf, Revolver Ocelot, and the leader of this uprising himself, Liquid Snake. What little I knew of Liquid Snake was troubling, and it came entirely from a slim file folder Richard showed me just prior to mission commencement. The man with the same designation as Solid Snake was recruited into FOXHOUND after Solid Snake’s departure from the unit. His fighting skills were formidable, and he quickly rose to the leadership position in FOXHOUND’s field operation team. His real name, place of origin and other information remained classified. Only a single photograph accompanied the documents, and I had not been able to contain my astonishment at the sight of it.
"It’s not a mistake. That IS Liquid Snake," said Richard, echoing my thoughts.
"But - how?" The face in the photo was the spitting image of Solid Snake.
"I wouldn’t know. But once the two Snakes run into each other, something may come out." His words were noncommittal, but Richard’s tone spoke volumes. And now, the two Snakes - Solid and Liquid - had indeed come fact to face. But Liquid had little to say.
"So long, brother." He called out before turning and walking away. The voice was full of hatred, but there was also something in it that seemed to confirm and gleefully anticipate another meeting. Why this was so was as mysterious to me as the reason he called Solid Snake 'brother'. I would no find out the truth until a little later.
What awaited Snake after his brief encounter with Liquid was Ocelot’s KGB-tested 'interrogation' techniques. Ocelot apparently had no interest in extracting information, but rather appeared to be enjoying the acts of torture for their own sake. Snake’s ragged gasps echoed from the radio in the silence of the control room. The heart rate and other physiological data transmitted by his nanomachines graphically demonstrated the extent of his suffering. All we could do was listen and wait. After Ocelot was done, the battered Snake was taken to a cell. Campbell soon established radio contact with him, but Snake had some hard questions for his former CO instead. He had realized that Metal Gear was a nuclear delivery system, and for once, Campbell was at a loss for an answer.
"So you did know about this all along!" Snake rasped out bitterly. Campbell continued to be silent. It was all the confirmation Snake needed.
"You should have told me."
"I’m sorry."
"Pawns don’t need to know, is that it? You’ve change." Campbell had no rebuttal to Snake’s barbs.
According to Campbell, even the President had apparently been unaware of the existence of Project Rex until the day before. To make matters more complicated, he was due to meet with the Russian president the following day for the formal signing of START3. The treaty stipulated further reduction of the nuclear arsenal, picking up where START2 left off. The agreement would reduce the number of Russian and American tactical ballistic missiles to somewhere between two thousand and twenty-five hundred, and the signing was a historic event that had been made possible by long and arduous process. If the fact that a new nuclear weapon was being developed by the United States were made public, there was a significant chance that the signing would never take place. Worse still, the loss of confidence in America’s commitment to non-proliferation could create international turmoil. The government clearly had every reason to keep the situation under wraps, and there were ample indication that the terrorists had counted on the fact. The timing of this takeover as well as the twenty-four hour deadline said as much. Campbell continued to plead his case with Snake.
"Snake, you’ve got to stop them."
"Sing it to someone else."
"You’re the only hope we have."
"All right then, tell me what this new warhead is about."
"I told you, I don’t know."
"I don’t believe you."
"..."
"If the situation is so desperate, why don’t you accept their demands? Give them Big Boss’s body. It’s just a corpse."
"That’s not an option." Campbell was floundering under the barrage of Snake’s questions.
"Is there a reason you can’t comply with that demand? A reason you haven’t told me?"
Naomi broke in as Campbell fell silent.
"The President passed a number of policies that severely restrict genetic engineering on humans. He can’t afford to have the public know about the military’s use of genetically-enhanced soldiers."
"Is that really all there is to it?" Campbell did not reply.
I received a call from Snake soon after. Captive, alone in enemy territory, unable to trust his own mission controllers to tell him the truth – there was little I could say to help a man in Snake’s situation. “Capture does not mean defeat. Stay vigilant for a chance to escape, and don’t give up.” I had doubts about the effectiveness of these words coming from someone with no combat experience, but it was the best I could offer. We had no choice but to trust in Snake’s abilities. As I closed the radio channel, I caught Richard studying me.
"Yes?"
"You’re very - passionate about this job."
"Do you object? It’s the job you forced on me, after all."
"No, but I admit that I’m a little jealous."
"Ah, the jealousy act. Yes, I know that one too."
Richard averted his eyes.
"I wouldn’t call it an act. If - no, forget it." He lit a cigarette. Chesterfields. The same brand as Humphrey Bogart.
"You still smoke the same brand."
You know me. Once I decide I like something I can’t kick the habit. Cigarettes, line of work, woman - everything." He didn’t look at me as he replied.
The torture was conducted again and again, solely for the purpose of breaking Snake. He held out each time, but his strength was steadily ebbing, and the voice we heard over the radio was growing more labored.
"Naomi, talk to me. I need something to distract me."
"What do you want me to talk about?"
"Anything."
"I’m not good at finding things out to talk about"
"Tell me about yourself."
"About me? That’s not so easy."
"You got any family?"
"It’s not a very happy story."
"I don’t have any family. I guess there was one person, someone who called himself my father."
"Where is he?"
"Dead. I killed him." I was even more taken aback by what Campbell volunteered next.
"You’re talking about Big Boss."
"What? Big Boss was your -- ?"
"No reason you should have known." Campbell elaborated to Naomi. "It was six years ago, in Zanzibar Land. Snake and I are the only ones who know about it now."
"Oh God - was Big Boss really your father?" Naomi still seemed disbelieving.
"That’s what he said, and that’s all I know."
"You knew and you still killed him?"
"Yeah."
"Why?" Naomi asked fiercely. There was a pause before Snake answered.
"Because that’s what he wanted. And what I wanted."
"But it’s still - patricide."
"Yeah. I know. My personal nightmare too." Snake’s voice was the faintest we had heard.
"Is that why you left FOXHOUND?"
"Maybe. I can’t deny that it felt good to lose myself. It’s easy to do that in Alaska." After a moment of silence, Naomi confided in a low voice.
"I don’t really have a family of my own either. I have a brother who put me through college, that’s it. He’s not a biological brother - and a lot older than me."
"Where’s he now?" Naomi’s reply was deeply pained.
"He’s gone." There was deep sorrow in her voice, and, I thought, something more.
"A stepbrother who put her thought school. I wasn’t told about that." Richard muttered. There was suspicion in his voice, and puzzlingly enough, a hint of anger.
I opened the personnel profile on Naomi. Naomi Hunter. Born New York City, 198X. Ph.D. in genetics. Recruited by the industry giant ATGS soon after completing doctoral program, moved to California’s so-called Biotech Bay area. Led several genetic therapy programs, until recruited by FOXHOUND to fill the post of chief geneticist as a result of her accomplishments in this field. Parents died in car collision when Naomi was two years old. One brother, ten years her senior, a U.S. Marine. Killed in training-related accident when Naomi was seventeen. Richard thought for a minute, then scribbled something in his notebook. Summoning one of his men, he tore the page out and handed it to him.
"Wire this message to the skipper of USS Discovery. And make sure Campbell doesn’t know about it."
"What are you plotting now?" I knew even as I asked that Richard would not respond.
The torture was repeated time and again, but Snake managed to take advantage of the guard’s waning vigilance and escape. The location and the fate of his fellow hostage, Meryl, eluded us. Evading the intense manhunt that followed, Snake still refused to stray from the course that led to the Metal Gear hangar. What drove him? Guilt for Meryl’s capture and an urge to avenge her? A sense of duty to the mission? The will to stop the carnage of a nuclear strike? None of them seemed to apply to Snake. He was an enigma. We could do little but watch over him as he ran, wounded and exhausted. After successfully taking on Sniper Wolf as she reemerged for an ambush, Snake closed in on the Metal Gear hangar only to discover Vulcan Raven blocking his way. The giant FOXHOUND operative, armed with a fighter-plane Gattling gun, was a daunting enemy. In the end, however, Snake eventually prevailed. The stricken Rave, leaning against the wall, started to speak as Snake approached him.
"There are some breeds of snakes that nature never intended. I think you and the Boss belong to one of those. Go and settle it with him. I’ll be watching how it ends." The dying Raven then dropped the bombshell.
"I’ll give you one clue. The man who died in front of you wasn’t the DARPA chief. It was Decoy Octopus - one of us FOXHOUNDs. He was a master of disguise. I guess the Grim Reaper was the only one he couldn’t fool."
"Is he dead?" Raven did not answer Snake’s sharp query. Snake tried another track.
"Why go to all that trouble and impersonate Anderson?" Raven smiled faintly.
"That’s all the clue you’re going to get. Everything else, you’ll have to figure out yourself." A few minute later, Vulcan Raven died. Richard was chagrined.
"So that’s how it was. They had us completely fooled."
"Why would Octopus impersonate Anderson?" I asked.
"I don’t know. Maybe to get information out of Snake."
"That would mean that they knew Snake was coming." Richard stubbed out the cigarette without answering. His face was expressionless, but I knew exactly what he was thinking.
We had a leak.
While Richard and I were talking, a call was made to Snake.
"Snake, it’s me -- "
"Master?" Snake answered. It was apparently Master Miller.
"I need to talk to you about Naomi Hunter. Turn the monitoring off -- " Miller had barely finished his instruction before Campbell cut in.
"What about Dr. Hunter?" Miller made an exasperated sound. It was clear that he had not intended Campbell to hear what he had to say.
"Colonel, is Naomi there?" Snake asked.
"No she’s trying to catch up on her sleep."
"Okay." Campbell turned his attention back to Miller.
"What were you saying about Dr. Hunter?"
"All right. Maybe it’s better that the Colonel hears about this now." Miller said resignedly.
"Go on," urged Snake.
"That’s not the real Naomi Hunter you’re working with, Colonel."
"What!?" Campbell raised his voice, astounded. Miller continued coolly.
"Naomi Hunter does exist. Or rather, she did. She went missing in the Middle East some time ago. This impostor must have gotten a hold of her identity somehow."
There were a number of ways to obtain someone’s Social Security Number and commit an identity theft, certainly. But Dr. Naomi Hunter an imposter -- !
"Who is she really then!" Campbell was agitated, but Miller remained cool as ice.
"Probably a spy."
"A spy!"
"Yes - sent in to ensure this mission’s failure."
"Are you saying she’s one of the terrorists?" Campbell’s tone was disbelieving, but Snake backed up his former instructor.
"I don’t want to believe it either, Colonel. But it’s true that she’s a FOXHOUND personnel."
"So it would not be surprising if she took part in this insurrection." Campbell finished dully, as though Snake’s words had crystallized his own doubts.
"Or she could be working for another organization." Miller suggested.
"Another -- ? No, that’s not possible.." As Campbell trailed off, Miller spoke up, his tone ruthless.
"Take her into custody, Colonel."
"What!"
"It’s clear that Naomi Hunter is working against us. Interrogate her and find out what her objective is."
"If she really is their spy, we’re in serious trouble." Campbell murmured. Miller pounced on the gravity of the Colonel’s tone.
"What are you talking about?"
"N-Nothing in particular." Campbell tried to recover himself.
"Campbell, did you give her access to some other line of classified information?"
"..." Campbell remained silent, but Miller pressed on.
"Does it have anything to do with the way the DARPA chief or the ArmsTech president died?"
"Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about."
Clearly, Campbell knew something. It was equally obvious that he had no intention of revealing what he was privy to. Perhaps sensing that fact, Miller dropped the pursuit abruptly.
"In any case, it’s too dangerous to retain her in the mission."
"H-Hold on a minute. She is an integral part of this mission. In fact, we can’t afford to proceed without her." Campbell was being too insistent about Dr. Hunter’s value. I had to wonder if it was indeed the case that he had trusted her with highly classified information. Snake was also suspicious.
"More secrets, Colonel?"
"Give me time. I’ll have her background and movements re-checked." That was all Campbell could say.
"Hurry. Find out what she wants as quickly as possible." Miller was unrelenting.
"Of course." Campbell agreed reluctantly. "Snake, just give me some time."
"Time is something I wasn’t given a lot of." Snake growled bitterly.
"What’s the deal?" I said to Richard. "Is Miller right about Naomi?"
"I don’t know, to be honest. It’s obvious there were things in Dr. Hunter’s past that I didn’t know about. I’m having them go over her background again." Richard was visibly upset, a rare occurrence. I suddenly wondered there had been something between him and Naomi. Richard lit a cigarette and continued in a more composed tone.
"But if what Miller said about Naomi is true, it raises questions about him in turn."
"Why do you say that?"
"He’s supposed to be in his cabin in Alaska."
"So I hear."
"How did he manage to find out so much about Naomi by himself and from the middle of nowhere when the DIA investigators couldn’t?" Richard called one of his men over and ordered them to look into Miller’s activities.
"You check up on even one of your own?" I asked as the agent who hurried away.
"How do you know he’s one of our own?" Richard shot back, blowing a stream of smoke.
"Should I assume you don’t trust me either?"
"You’re the one who doesn’t trust me. Never have." He said quietly, and ground his cigarette into the ashtray.
Snake had finally reached the Metal Gear hangar, and stood in the shadow of the machine’s fifty-foot-tall bulk. But considering Metal Gear’s state-of-the-art composite armor and Snake’s limited arsenal, it was improbable that he could destroy the tank while evading enemy patrols. The most practical avenue of attack was to re-enter the launch code using the override key and thereby cancel the scheduled nuclear strike. As Snake methodically searched for the code entry interface, Emmerich radioed in. He had been making himself useful by breaking into Baker’s protected files. From these, he had pieced together the true nature of Metal Gear and its prototype warheads. According to Emmerich, the weapon used a built-in rail gun to fire the ballistic missiles clear of the atmosphere. The missile would then automatically realign itself, and reenter the atmosphere on its designated trajectory toward the target.
I understood exactly what all this meant, and the knowledge left me cold. Normally, ballistic missiles go through four phases from launch to impact. The first is the boost phase, which consists of the time between the missile’s launch and the point at which it leaves the atmosphere and exhausts its supply of rocket propellant. Following the burnout, the rocket enters the post-boost phase, which concludes with the separation of the reentry vehicle that contains the warhead. The third stage is the midcourse phase, in which the reentry vehicle separates and achieves a controlled descent back into the atmosphere. The warhead’s reentry into the atmosphere and its arrival at the target mark the fourth and terminal phase. Current missile defense system detect incoming ballistic missiles by scanning for the rocket burn that takes place during the missile’s boost stage. However, Metal Gear’s missile technology employs a rail gun rather than convention rocket propulsion to achieve boost-stage acceleration. As a result, there is nothing for existing missile defense systems to detect. The rail gun’s effectiveness is nothing short of amazing, with a range of over 3000 miles, rivaling that of mid-range ballistic missiles. It reliably homes in within 170 feet of the target 50% of the time, placing it in the same class as high-end ICBM’s. The ability of a Metal Gear to conquer virtually all terrain means that the rail gun can launch a stealthy nuclear strike from almost any spot on the globe. This invisible attack would make it impossible for anyone to pinpoint the origin of a given missile even in the event of a strike. Without a clear aggressor to retaliate against, the concept of mutual assured destruction falls apart. Without the fear of MAD, the existing rules of nuclear non-engagement would no longer apply, and the world would fall into chaos.
"I can’t believe Naomi was Gray Fox’s foster sister!" Richard murmured bitterly.
"Are you happy? You know who she is now after all."
"I wouldn’t say that." Richard’s expression was complex.
"She said she wasn’t the one who deployed FOXDIE." I decided to risk putting out a feeler. Richard said nothing, and that told me everything I needed to know.
"It was you, wasn’t it?"
"Yes," I was taken aback by his ready admission. "FOXDIE was one of my projects."
"And Naomi?"
"Was a top-notch professional. The FOXDIE research had hit a brick wall when she pitched herself to us. She’d somehow heard that we were looking for a genetic engineering expert. As soon as she joined the team, the project took off in a major way." Richard paused, then plunged ahead.
"I assigned her to lead the development effort. When the virus was finally engineered, it was she that named it FOXDIE."
"What I thought was dedication to the work was actually thirst for vengeance. She didn’t let that slip, not once." He murmured ruefully. I knew what his relationship had been with Naomi when I studied his face.
"You were seeing her."
"She was using me." He corrected and gave a hollow laugh. At that point, one of his men came tearing over. After an urgent whisper, Richard’s face grew grim.
"What happened?"
"Master Miller wasn’t Master Miller.” Richard was visibly shaken.
"What?"
"The man I sent to investigate Miller just reported in. He found Miller murdered in his home, up in Alaska.”
"Who was it that we were talking to then --!" But there was no one who could provide an answer to that question.
Around the same time on Shadow Moses, Snake had finally made it past the enemy’s defenses and successfully re-entered the launch code. But something was amiss: as the code was accepted, an alarm was triggered.
"Launch code entered." An electronic voice intoned. "All systems ready. Standby for missile launch." Snake stared around him, aghast.
"No! I just overrode the launch authorization!" He cried. His questions were answered by an unexpected source when a radio call came in.
"Thank you, Snake." It was Miller - or rather, an imposter who had taken the murdered man’s identity. "The launch preparations are now complete. Nothing can stop Metal Gear now."
"Master, what’s going on!"
"We’re very grateful to you. Not only did you bring the key, you just entered the launch code for us as well."
"What?"
"We never did get his part of the code form the DARPA chief. Even Mantis’ abilities couldn’t break through, and Ocelot managed to kill Anderson off before we could try anything else." As Snake listened in horror, "Miller" continued.
"You see, we couldn’t launch the missile. Not even a warning shot. We were dead in the water, with nothing to back up our demands."
"Master, what are you saying?"
"With the launch code out of our reach, we had to fall back on another plan. We decided to have you work for us, Snake."
"What?"
"Having Decoy Octopus impersonate the DARPA chief was a part of it. We were trying to extract information from you but - FOXDIE got to him first," "Miller" said savagely.
"Are you saying this whole thing was fixed?" Snake asked through clenched teeth. And it was all to get me to unlock the launch sequence?" The terrorist’s mocking laugh rang out.
"Did you think you got this far thanks to your own abilities? Think again."
"Master, what about you? Are you a spy?" The other continued as though he had not heard Snake’s question.
"But everything is ready for the launch now. Once they get a taste of the new warhead, the White House will have to hand over the antidote. And they’ll have nothing on us anymore, ever again."
"Have nothing on you? What do they have on you now?"
"The Pentagon’s already accomplished what it set out to do with you. It happened right there in that torture chamber. You’re the only one who’s in the dark. It’s not fun, is it, Snake?" He sneered.
"Who are you!?"
"I’ll tell you -- if you manage to get to me."
"Where are you?"
"Very close, Snake. Very close."
Campbell suddenly broke in.
"Snake, that’s not Miller!"
"Hello Campbell. It’s a little late for that," the impostor said mockingly.
"Master Miller’s body was discovered at his home. He’s been dead three days. We didn’t know sooner because the communication was down. According to Mei Ling, the transmission is originating inside that base."
"Then who are you?"
"You’ve been talking to me all along -- " The man responded. "... Snake." His voice suddenly changed, and I knew who it was. So did Snake.
"Liquid..." Snake broke off communications, and started to run. Metal Gear had already been activated by the time Snake reached it. Liquid was about to climb into the pilot’s seat when Snake called out to him, the barrel of his SOCOM pointed straight at Liquid.
"Liquid!"
"Are you going to shoot your own brother?" Liquid remained languid.
"Why did you impersonate Miller?"
"To manipulate you, of course." Liquid said conversationally as though the two were discussing the weather. "It worked too. You did exactly what we needed you to do." Snake’s indignity was compounded by Liquid’s next comment.
"I’m sure your masters at the Pentagon agree."
"Why do you keep mentioning them?"
"You don’t even question the orders that you’re given any more, hm, Snake? Where’s your pride? A warrior, reduced to a pawn." Liquid sighed exaggeratedly. "All this 'stopping the nuke, rescuing hostages', it’s a charade."
"Charade?" Snake was taken aback.
"All the Pentagon wanted was to effect a meeting between us." Liquid explained, obviously enjoying Snake’s reaction. "That’s how the ArmsTech president and Decoy were gotten rid of."
"Can’t be..."
"Actually, it can be. The point was to selectively kill us off and retrieve our extremely expensive genetically engineered corpses along with Metal Gear. You were sent in by the Pentagon merely as a FOXDIE vector!" Snake was in shock.
"That’s insane. And Naomi - was she working with the Pentagon all along!?"
"That’s what they thought. But it seems she wasn’t quite as soft as they read her to be."
"What do you mean?"
"I have ears at the DOD. Naomi apparently managed to make some tweaks to the virus right before the mission. Her motive and objective are unknown." I heard Richard’s impatient grunt beside me.
"Is that what you had Naomi arrested for? To discover why she did what she did?" Snake challenged.
"Very good. It’s disappointing that this was nothing more than a run-of-the-mill revenge scheme. But we still don’t know what kind of changes she introduced to FOXDIE." Liquid fell silent for a moment, then continued.
"But enough of that. I’ve already added the FOXDIE antidote to my list of demands to Washington."
"There’s an antidote?" Snake asked in surprise.
"There should be. Hunter would be the only one to know but even that may not be necessary."
"Why not?"
"You’ve successfully infiltrated the facility. We’ve all been affected with the execution virus according to their plan. Octopus and the ArmsTech president died of it for certain. But neither myself nor Ocelot - not to mention you - have shown any signs of infection."
"You’re saying there may be a flaw in FOXDIE’s targeting program."
"Who knows. But as long as you’re healthy, I’m safe. We share the same genetic code after all."
"So we are -- "
"Twins, yes. But not in the ordinary sense. We’re the flip sides of a counterfeit genetic coin. ‘Enfants terrible’" Liquid’s voice grew hoarse with anger. "You lucked out. They handpicked all of our father’s superior traits for you." Snake was silent. His father, Big Boss, was a part of the past he wanted to leave behind, a past tainted by the crime of patricide. But Liquid was not finished.
"Everything that was undesirable, I got. Or should I say that I was everything undesirable left over from the creation process that was designed to produce you. The only reason I came into being was so that you could be born."
"How could I be the superior - specimen?"
"Oh, but you are. And I’m the dregs. You couldn’t begin to understand what it was like starting out life as genetic garbage!" The hatred and rage in Liquid’s voice shook us, and left Snake speechless.
"But it was me that our father chose." Liquid said slowly and purposefully.
"Is that why you’re obsessed with Big Boss? Some kind of twisted love?"
"Love? Hatred, my brother. He chose me knowing that I was biologically inferior. Now I’m about to pay him back for that crime!" Liquid laughed, mocking Snake’s bewilderment.
"You couldn’t understand that either. Someone who got the chance to kill his own father wouldn’t! You managed to deprive me even of that revenge. But I will accomplish what our father dreamt of and never achieved. That’s how I’ll kill him - by surpassing him." Liquid ended his proclamation by leaping into Metal Gear’s cockpit. Snake fired a burst from his SOCOM, but the bullets ricocheted off Metal Gear’s armor.
"Damn!" Snake gnashed his teeth as Liquid called out mockingly from the cockpit.
"Snake, count yourself lucky. You get to die by the greatest weapon the world has ever seen. It’s the least I can do for my brother."
Metal Gear, already in activation mode, started to stir. A high-pitched noise, like the whine of a turbo engine, began to sound as Liquid’s voice boomed out of the amplifier, “I’ll give you an advance showing of what the rest of the world will learn soon – that the 21st century will belong to a devil they don’t know!” Metal Gear struck at Snake like a living thing. Its state-of-the-art composite armor was virtually impregnable to all but high-yield explosives like HEAT (High Explosive Anti-Tank). But Dr. Emmerich had advised Snake to take out the radome and knock the sensors offline in a bid for survival. Snake struck again and again, but he was fighting a difficult battle, given Metal Gear’s immense firepower and agility. Finally, one of Metal Gear’s huge feet lashed out towards Snake in a crushing blow.
"It’s time to die, Snake!" Liquid called out. The foot hit the floor with a deafening crash. Snake, however, had escaped. Someone had pulled him out of the foot’s path at the last second.
"Get out of her now!" The voice was a familiar one.
"Gray Fox!" Snake cried out. The Ninja - or rather Gray Fox - launched a fiery arc towards Metal Gear, destroying the radome. The tank froze in confusion for a second, and Snake and the Ninja found cover during the brief lull.
"Why, Fox? Why are you helping me?"
"I’m a captive, Snake. Death is my prison. You’re the only one who can release me!" Gray Fox replied, his voice clear and sane.
"Fox, don’t involve yourself in this business anymore. Think about Naomi. She’s destroying herself trying to avenge you!"
"Yes, Naomi!"
"You’re the only one who can stop her," Snake urged, but Gray Fox’s replay was discouraging.
"No, I can’t!"
"Why not?"
"I’m the one that killed her parents." Gray Fox’s startling words stunned Snake. "I was just a child myself, and I couldn’t stand to kill her too. I took her with me because it was the only way I could think of to assuage the guilt. I raised her to satisfy my half-baked conscience, but she gave me the love and respect I didn’t deserve - called me her brother."
"Fox --"
"We may have looked like a happy little family, but I was terrified every time she looked me in the eye - that she would see the truth. Tell her for me, will you? Tell her that I’m the one who took her family from her, not you." Many former child soldiers are permanently traumatized by their horrific was experiences. It was possible that Gray Fox’s compulsions - whether it be taking in his victims’ orphaned child or returning again and again to the battlefields with Big Boss - had its roots in his childhood scars.
"There you are!" Liquid called through Metal Gear’s speakers. A concentrated volley of Vulcan cannon fire followed, the rounds closing in on Snake and the Ninja.
"It’s almost time to finish this," Fox cried. "I’ll slow him down!"
"Fox!" Before Snake could stop him, Gray Fox leapt out into the open and went for Metal Gear. We could hear the roar of Metal Gear’s Vulcan cannon. Gray Fox’s reinforced skeleton gave him a faster reflex, and he dodged the volley. But the next second, his body had been plucked up by Metal Gear’s massive jaw.
"Fox! Snake’s shout reverberated throughout the hangar. Metal Gear’s engine revved louder and Fox’s reinforced skeleton creaked audibly.
"How long will his bones hold out? Hm, Snake? Are you going to abandon him?" Liquid taunted. But Fox was far from dead.
"A cornered fox is one of the most dangerous animals!" Laser fire burst from Fox’s right arm and Metal Gear’s radome exploded. Liquid was now blind, since Metal Gear’s cockpit was completely sealed from the outside.
"They didn’t give you a Fox rank for nothing, old comrade. But this is where it ends!" Liquid’s unamplified voice called out. He had apparently discarded the cockpit hatch to use his own eyes in lieu of sensors. The next thing we hear was an explosive crash. Was Gray Fox now under Metal Gear’s foot? My fear was confirmed by the ominous and unmistakable sound of Fox’s reinforced exoskeleton creaking under pressure. At the same time, we heard Fox’s gasping voice.
"Finally - I can finally die, and with you as my witness. After Zanzibar Land they took away the fight from me. I wasn’t dead but didn’t feel alive. So futile for such a long time. But finally it’s over!" Fox’s voice was down to a whisper now.
"Snake! We’re not just tools for politicians and generals! All I did with my life was fight, but at least it was my choice. Goodbye, Snake." With a dull crunch, his reinforced skeleton finally gave away.
"FOX!!" Snake screamed. Liquid laughed.
"He was a fool. It was over the moment he begged for death." He ground Fox’s battered corpse underfoot with Metal Gear, then bellowed.
"Do you get it now! You can’t protect anyone, let alone yourself! Die!" Metal Gear’s Vulcan cannons roared into action. But with all sensors offline, the fire lacked its previous accuracy.
Robbed of his old friend and comrade, Snake gave free rein to his rage. Taking up a Stinger missile launcher, he fired at Liquid, sitting exposed in his cockpit. It was a direct hit; even the composite armor could not protect against a shot that penetrated into the cockpit itself. Its piloting system destroyed, Metal Gear abruptly spun out of control and pitched towards the ground with a deafening screech. A massive explosion followed seconds later. Snake was still out cold, but his radio was online. We could hear smaller explosions from the wreck of the Metal Gear, and the sound of flames greedily sucking up the leaking fuel. Snake showed no signs of coming around. A few minutes later, a sound of footsteps emerged from the general chaos. It was moving towards Snake. There was a faint murmur.
"Snake - it’s not over yet." It was Liquid’s voice.
"Snake!" I yelled into the radio, but Snake did not stir. "Isn’t there any way to wake him?" I asked Richard, but he shook his head.
> Liquid had reached Snake’s side, and to our surprise, picked up Snake’s limp body. He started to carry Snake, heading in the direction of Metal Gear’s prone form. We listened, helpless, in a tense silence. It was Snake’s battle; there was next to nothing we could do. Liquid had now climbed onto Metal Gear’s back, where he carelessly laid Snake down. He apparently planned to simply wait for his adversary to regain consciousness.
"So -- " Liquid said. Snake was still out of action.
"I know you’re listening. You have a radio implant in this one." It was clear that Liquid was talking to us.
"You think you’ve pulled off FOXDIE. Think again. You’re never going to kill me with a thing like that. Never." The knowledge that he was already infected with the killer retrovirus made no difference to Liquid Snake. It was a force of will that commanded respect.
"You have no idea how excited I am - knowing that you’re still out there. Revenge is a candy I’ve been deprived of too many times!" The hatred in Liquid’s voice was chilling. "You - ‘Patriots’!" At that moment, Snake let out a groan. He was starting to surface.
"He’s almost ready. Listen, all of you. When I’ve settled the score with this one, I’m coming after you next. I’m going to end your miserable lives in a way that’ll make even the Reaper’s stomach turn."
"I’ll look forward to it," Richard murmured starkly. Snake groaned again. He was apparently awake.
"Still a light sleeper, huh?" Liquid said to Snake conversationally.
"Liquid - you’re alive?"
"You won’t get rid of me, not as long as you’re breathing."
"Sorry your insurrection was a bust," Snake commented.
"Do you think that I’ll give up my fight just because we’ve lost Metal Gear?" Liquid had lost one of his confidence.
"Your fight?" Snake shot back. "What’s your real objective here?"
"To make sure that the age of warriors comes again. Warriors like us, Snake."
"That’s Big Boss’s pet delusion all over again."
"No, his legacy!" Liquid exploded at Snake’s words. "All throughout the Cold War - during the times of turbulence - the whole world wanted us. Gave us our due. We were needed!" He fell silent, as if to mourn for the days that were no more.
"That’s all changed. Hypocrisy and fraudulent peace are replacing warfare. There is a terrible emptiness that comes from losing an arena for your gifts. And the terror that you will become a dinosaur, no longer useful. You must know that fear better than anyone." Snake had no reply to Liquid’s entreaty. I wondered whether Liquid’s words had found their mark.
"The prototype nuclear warheads will provide me with the leverage to acquire my campaign funds. The funds will make more global acts of terrorism possible. Violence begets violence, and this complacent world will erupt into confusion. Violence, mistrust, and conflict will compound each other and create more hatred – and our sphere of usefulness, the ecosystem of war, will grow larger and larger.”
"As long as human beings are around, there will always be war, somewhere in the world." Snake argued. "There’s no need to create more."
"It’s a question of balance," Liquid responded in a flash. "The balance that our father fought for."
"And that’s the only reason you need to do this?"
"It’s more than enough for me. And for you too."
"That’s not the kind of thing I want. Not now, not ever!" Liquid laughed at Snake’s dogged refusal.
"You’re lying. Why do you think you’re here? You’ve been lied to, betrayed by your own team. But you still wouldn’t abandon the mission. Why?" Snake could not answer.
"I’ll tell you why," Liquid continued. "Because you enjoy it. The thrills. And the kills."
"No, that’s not -- !" Snake was struggling for words, but Liquid cut in.
"Are you going to deny it? You’ve killed dozens of my men today."
"But that was-" As Snake faltered, Liquid laughed in contempt.
"Every time you delivered the kill shot, your face brightened up."
"No!"
"There’s no reason for you to deny your own killer instincts. That’s what we were created for, after all."
"What we were - created for?"
It was all the encouragement Liquid needed to reveal the details of a secret project known as 'Les Enfants Terribles.' It was the 1970s. The U.S. had not yet awoken from the nightmare of the Vietnam War when a plan was hatched by key figures in the government to artificially create the ideal soldier. The man selected to serve as the genetic template for the project was the most famous living mercenary of the time, Big Boss. Big Boss was, however, incapable of reproducing, a result of past war injuries. As a result, his body cells were harvested for a cloning attempt. In addition to the existing 'analogue' cloning protocol, the program incorporated the so-called "super-baby" technique. The super-baby technique involves carefully dividing the fertilized egg whose nucleus had been switched with that of the donor cell. The result is usually eight zygotes which are then implanted in a surrogate’s uterus. Six of the embryos are strategically aborted over a period of time in order to boost the growth of the remaining two.
"We started out as octuplets." Liquid reflected.
"Octuplets?" Snake was clearly taken aback.
"Six of our brothers were killed so that we could be created. We’ve been causing death and destruction even before we breathed outside air."
"That left the two of us. Two zygotes that shared the same DNA. But there was one more sacrifice to be made. One of the embryos was engineered to manifest the full potential of its genetic makeup - at the expense of the other one, which was purposefully relegated to the bottom of the curve. You are what you are, Solid Snake, thanks to the death and deprivation of your brothers!" Liquid surveyed the stunned Snake and smiled.
"But if you think that I’m the only sibling you have left, think again."
"What?"
"The genome soldiers. They were bred from our father’s DNA too. The only difference is that they’re not analogs of him like we are." Liquid went onto tell an astonishing story. The Human Genome Project, concluded late last century, the “Les Enfants Terribles” Projectr and the intensive study of Big Boss’ genetic samples had led researchers to many of the secrets of the so-called “soldier genes.” The isolated traits for initiative, discipline and other tactically desirable characteristics had been secretly integrated into the genetic structure of next-generation special forces soldiers.
"All those commandos you murdered on this base were your brothers."
"The genome soldiers -- !"
"Incomplete creatures, certainly, forcibly grafted with a piece of Big Boss’ genetic sequence. But still family. They share in the family dysfunction too - their lives also cost dearly."
"How so?"
"Human experiments." Liquid hissed angrily. According to Liquid, the military had secretly started 'treating' its men with the soldier gene when the 1991 Gulf War broke out. The unexplained "Gulf War Syndrome" among the returning personnel was apparently one of the gene therapy’s unfortunate side effects.
"That means that those Gulf War Babies born to vets are -- ?" Snake asked, stunned.
"Exactly. Our earliest siblings."
"And the next-generation special forces were the finished product?"
"Finished?" Liquid sneered. "Hardly. They’re defective. We all are. On a path to extinction, if you will!"
"What did you say?"
"You ever heard of the law of biological asymmetry? There’s a natural tendency towards left-right asymmetry. On the other hand, species that ran out of genetic diversity and are on path to extinction start showing complete symmetry. That’s what’s happening to the genome soldiers. And to us." Snake stared at Liquid in bleak shock.
"Every one of us is dying on a genetic level. The question is when the decline will start. That’s why I need our father’s body, to get some answers."
"You expect me to believe," Snake asked, "that you demanded Big Boss’ body so you can save yourself and the genome soldiers?"
"Siblings start out life competing, but they always band together against outside threats. Why do you think that is?" Liquid waited for Snake to respond, but the latter said nothing.
"It’s because they share your genes, and by helping them, the chances of your genes making it to the next generation are bettered. Natural selection favors nepotistic species. The instinct to help our own kind is an inherited trait."
"Your DNA is ordering you to help these genome commandos?" Snake said skeptically, but Liquid agreed in reverential tone.
"No one can go against their genetic destiny. We were born for the sole purpose of recreating our father’s DNA in its basest and most ideal incarnations. I will follow my destiny – and surpass it. I can break my own biological curse, and that’s why I’m going to kill you, Solid Snake…” He spoke quietly, but it was clear that he meant every word. He suddenly called out in a different tone.
"Look behind you!"
"Meryl!?" Snake exclaimed. Meryl was apparently lying behind Snake. I guessed that she had been brought there before Liquid had carried Snake onto the roof.
"Is she alive?"
"I wouldn’t know. She was definitely breathing a few hours ago, though. She kept calling your name, over and over again." Liquid said coolly.
"Meryl..."
"She’s a fool to fall for a man who doesn’t even have a name."
"I do have a name."
"No, you don’t. And no past and no future! That’s the way it is for us!" Liquid shouted. "The only thing we do have are instructions written in our father’s genomes!"
"Liquid, let Meryl go!"
"After we settle things between us. We’re just about out of time."
"Are you talking about FOXDIE?"
"No, the Pentagon. It seems that the DOD came to a decision when they heard about Metal Gear’s destruction. They’re not even interested in a Bonder report at this point. Ask your shadow Campbell if you want. He likes to listen, doesn’t he?" Snake raised Campbell on the radio.
"Colonel, can you hear me?"
"I’m here."
"What’s the Pentagon up to? You’d better tell me, Colonel."
"The Defense Secretary’s personally taken control of the mission. He’s on an AWAC heading your way."
"For what?"
"An air strike." Campbell replied bitterly.
"WHAT?"
"That’s not even the bad news. A bomber just took off from the Galena AFB. It’s carrying the B61-13 surfacing-piercing missiles."
"Christ, Metal Gear’s already been destroyed." Snake raised his voice. "Doesn’t the Defense Secretary know that?"
"He knows. But because of Naomi’s betrayal, he no longer has any faith in FOXDIES’s effectiveness. Your taking out Metal Gear means that the threat of nuclear strike has been removed, and he’s free to ensure a direct and complete cover-up of the whole affair."
"By blowing up all the evidence and everyone who knows anything sky-high with a nuclear bomb." Snake finished angrily. But Campbell’s next words were unexpected."
"Don’t worry, Snake. I’ll halt the air strike."
"What?"
"It may be a technicality, but I’m still the field controller for the mission. If I call in an order to halt the strike, it should wreak enough havoc within the chain of command to buy you some time. Use it to get out of there." Richard called one of his men over and muttered an order. There was little doubt that it was for Campbell’s arrest. Snake and Campbell, ignorant of the roomful of ears who were listening in on their every exchange, were still talking.
"Colonel, you know what would happen to you!?"
"It’s all right, Snake. But you should know something. There was a top-secret internal investigation being conducted into FOXHOUND these past few months. Meryl was transferred out to Shadow Moses the day of the insurrection - as a hostage to ensure my cooperation."
"What a -- " Snake broke off in disgust.
"Now go, Snake."
"Are you sure about this? You’ll lose everything you’ve worked for."
"I’m sure. And this way, I get to keep the things that are really important - that I would otherwise lose."
"Colonel -- "
"All right, I’m putting in an order to halt the strike. This is the point of no return- What the hell!?" Campbell gasped. It seemed that Richard’s men were trying to restrain him. The only thing we could hear over the radion were gunshots and unintelligible noise. I was once again a helpless spectator of a life-or-death struggle. Mei Ling burst in abruptly, as though she had seized the microphone.
"Snake!!"
"Mei Ling, what happened to the Colonel!"
"I don’t believe this -- !"
"Tell me what’s going on!"
"Snake! The Colonel!" Mei Ling’s voice was lost in the shower of static before she could reveal more. Instead, an unfamiliar male voice started to speak.
"This is Jim Houseman, Secretary of Defense. Roy Campbell was just relieved of duty."
"Let me talk to Colonel Campbell!"
"He’s been arrested for compromising national security. He’ll be charged with treason."
"That’s insane!"
"No, it was Roy Campbell who was insane if he truly believed that he had any real say in this mission!"
"You -- !" Snake was seething, but Houseman went on nonchalantly.
"The nuclear strike will go forward as planned. The sea will take care of what little there is left. It’s what the President wants."
"So this is an executive order?"
"The President of the United States is a very, very busy job. Let’s just say that I take full responsibility for this strike."
"How are you going to explain to the media why you dropped a nuke on American soil?"
"Don’t worry, there’s a cover story ready. A band of terrorists took over the Shadow Moses facility, and were extremely careless with their nuclear missile."
"You’ll be killing your own genome commandos - all the researchers too."
"Donald is already dead," Houseman suddenly said with genuine sorrow in his voice.
"So you didn’t plan on killing the DARPA chief after all." Snake asked.
"He was my closest friend."
"And the rest of the poor bastards stranded here aren’t so to hell with them, is that it?"
"That depends. If you transfer the contents of the optical disc over to me, there may be room for negotiation."
"What disc?" Snake feigned ignorance, but Houseman was not so easily put off.
"The disc that contained the full exercise data. Donald was supposed to personally bring it back."
"I don’t have it."
"Hm. That’s unfortunate." Houseman said calmly. "The fact remains that the two of you are a liability. You belong to an age no one cares to go back to, and you have the potential to needlessly embarrass this great nation. No, you cannot be permitted to ever leave that island. Take the time until the air strike to catch up. Then rest in peace - you are a ghost of the Cold War, after all." The transmission ended.
Snake and Liquid had engaged each other in a fierce hand-to-hand combat, but Richard had other things to attend to. He had one of his men open a radio channel. "Yes, what is it?" I realized with surprise that the person he had called was none other than the Secretary of Defense Jim Houseman. "An air strike was an unwise decision." Richard sounded displeased. "With a nuclear-armed Stealth bomber airborne, a complete cover-up is no longer an option. ‘They’ are not happy with this." "It’s the only way to destroy the evidence. The results will bear out the correctness of my decision." "There will be no results. I’ve already aborted the air strike." "How dare you!" Houseman started to roar, then suddenly petered out. He no doubt had remembered the powers-that-be that stood behind Richard. "What do you intend to do then?" He asked with barely suppressed rage. "There is another viable way to salvage the situation." "Make me take the fall? I don’t think so!" Houseman’s voice shook with fury. Richard sighed exaggeratedly. "You don’t think so? It seems, Mr. Secretary, that Colonel Campbell is not the only one who ‘truly believed that he had any real say in this mission.’" "What are you saying!" I heard the sound of scuffling on the other end. "Hey, what do you think you’re doing! Get your hands off of me!" Houseman had apparently been restrained. It was exactly the same scenario that had played out during Campbell’s arrest. "You have several choices." Richard explained with something resembling pity. "It’s up to you which ending this particular story has. I myself would suggest a quiet retirement from public life." "You’ll pay for this, Ames. I swear to God!" Houseman spat out as he struggled vainly against his captors. "Personally, I don’t condone rough measures. I hope you’ll come to the same decision." Richard ended the call. The transmission from Shadow Moses was still active. Liquid’s dying scream tore through the speakers. "Looks like things are wrapping up nicely over there," Richard murmured. Richard cleared all of the personnel out of the study. We were now alone. I could hear Snake and Meryl over the wires. It seemed that he had succeeded in rescuing her in time. "Now the question is, what am I going to do with you?" Richard said as he turned away from the radio. The time had come for me to make my move; I walked up to my computer. "This machine has been recording everything that went on in this study and relaying it out to a remote location. Once there, the data was immediately backed up on an optical disc." It was no bluff. It was just a more covert version of a real-time remote conferencing system. Because of my work, I frequently must acquire information from such unsavory types as black-market arms dealers and Mafia members who specialize in plutonium smuggling. The recordings were my standard insurance policy. "I’ve already sent a message to the collocation administrator. He’ll give the disc to my media contact if he can’t get in touch with me by a certain time." That had been the mail I’d secretly sent from my PDA earlier. "If anything happens to me, the contents of the disc will be all over the world." But Richard was unfazed. I started to feel apprehensive as he calmly lit another cigarette. "You mean this disc?" He took out a shining optical disc from his inside jacket pocket and slid it into my PC’s drive. A few quick clicks of the mouse and the playback started. I stared at the slightly grainy footage, horrified. The audio seemed overly loud in the silent room. "You should be hearing from him soon. You’re clear on how to use the radio?" Richard’s voice was raspy in playback, but it was definitely the data I had secretly collected and sent out. "How?" "You shouldn’t underestimate me," Richard said as he ejected and pocketed the disc. "Everything in this house has been vetted and monitored since the operation started. Nothing got in or out without my knowing about it - including electronic signals. That e-mail you sent from the bathroom never got to its destination." He’d seen right through me. With that realization, I felt strength leaving my body. The game was up. "But even if you had managed to get this data out into the world, that wouldn’t have guaranteed your safety. No one would have believed yet another conspiracy theory, least of all the press." "Your - people would have made sure of that, I’m sure." Instead of answering, Richard stubbed out his cigarette and slid his right hand inside his jacket. There was an awkward bulge there, in the clean line of his tailored jacket. It was where he kept his gun holstered. Cold sweat trickled down my back. I was slowly backing away from Richard, and I did not even realize the fact until my back hit the wall. There was no way out. "Are you really prepared to kill me?" I could not hide the tremor in my voice. "You should know the answer to that." He said quietly, looking me straight in the eye. Then he pulled his hand out from under his jacket, and I instinctively shut my eyes. But even after what felt like an eternity, the muffled shot and the pain I was expected did not come. I warily opened my eyes, and saw what was in his hand. It was not a gun, but a disc. "Everything you ever wanted to know about FOXDIE." Richard walked up to me and placed the disc in my hand. "As I said, a recording of what took place in this room won’t guarantee your safety. There’s no solid proof, just talk. It can easily be denounced as a fabrication and covered up." "But the FOXDIE data is a different story," He continued. "This disc contains everything about that project, from its origins to the names of every individual involved. As long as you have this as an insurance, they won’t be able to touch you." "Why, Richard?" He did not answer my question. "You’d better get out of her quickly. Your car’s just out back." "What about you?" "That’s not something you need to worry about." "But --" "You don’t need me, Nastasha. And I have things to take care of." "Why are you doing this?" I asked again. "You’ll figure it out someday. Do what you have to do, all right?" He suddenly held me close and put his lips on mine. As we broke apart after a long kiss, he whispered in my ear, "I wanted to do this again, just one last time." Then he gently eased my away. "Now go. Hurry." There was gravity in his voice that allowed only one response. I nodded, and sped out of the room. That was the last I ever saw of Richard Ames. After I fled from California, I went into hiding. There has been no sign of pursuit, for now. The terrorist incident on Shadow Moses Island came to a conclusion with the destruction of Metal Gear and the death of Liquid Snake. The United States government, however, has not yet officially acknowledged the incident. The roster of the dead included Liquid Snake, Psycho Mantis, Sniper Wolf, Decoy Octopus, and Vulcan Raven. Revolver Ocelot’s body was not recovered, but his personnel file was closed with the notation, 'Missing in Action.' FOXHOUD had, in effect, been decimated. The survivors from the next-generation commando unit were all removed to the Peace AFB in New Hampshire, ostensibly for training. As far as I know, they remain prisoners there to this day. The government has repeatedly denied allegations of genetically engineering super-soldiers, but rumors that the research continues remain persistent. The deaths of Donald Anderson, the DARPA chief, and Kenneth Baker of ArmsTech ended the development of a new Metal Gear. The Metal Gear REX unit itself had been all but completed under Hal Emmerich’s leadership, but my source at Lawrence Livermore indicated that the rail gun warhead delivery system had not been fully operational. Apparently, there had been some serious issues with the rail gun’s targeting accuracy. This was no doubt the reason Baker had entrusted Snake with the exercise data, and Jim Houseman, the Secretary of Defense, had so aggressively pursued its whereabouts. The data is now lost, and the development program has been closed down. I dare to dream that the new nuclear delivery system will never see the light of day. A few days after the incident, I heard on the news that Houseman had shot himself. The suicide was attributed to a temporary nervous breakdown related to job stress. Supporting statements from family and subordinates were widely aired. The air strike order for Shadow Moses was glossed over as an unfortunate evidence of the late Defense Secretary’s unraveling mental state. I remembered Houseman’s words from the final hours of the mission, and thought I knew what had really happened. He had refused to take the fall, and paid for the defiance with his life. The record of the Shadow Moses Incident and the FOXDIE data disc that Richard gave me are still under my vigilant guard. The FOXDIE program data covers Naomi’s careful analysis of the unauthorized reconfiguration she had made to the virus. The information showed that Snake was indeed one of the targets for the deadly retrovirus, but the incubation period had been changed to a wildcard value. Even Naomi herself did not know when the virus would awaken within Snake. It must have been the best revenge she could think of, condemning him to live in this fearful limbo. Colonel Roy Campbell was released after the Defense Secretary’s own arrest, and is once again enjoying his retirement. Mei Ling also made it safely out of the mission, and is back in academia. Dr. Hal Emmerich did not return to ArmsTech following his rescue from Shadow Moses. His whereabouts are unknown, but there is some indication that he made his way to England where he has family members. Snake and Meryl appear to have successfully made if off Shadow Moses Island. I could however find no tract of them; I hope that the same is true for those who have an interest in seeing them silenced. Naomi Hunter was formally taken into custody after the incident’s conclusion. Three weeks later, as she was undergoing debriefing in a certain facility, she escaped. She has not been heard of since. Officials were close-mouthed about the circumstances of the escape, but inquiries into other quarters elicited the fact that someone had broken Naomi out of the base. I knew of only one person who could have breached the base’s tight security and successfully led someone to freedom. And then there was the matter of Richard Ames. I called in a favor and had an inquiry made to the DIA about one Major Richard Ames. The Agency’s response was that there was 'no DIA personnel fitting that name and description.' Buying my safety and freedom had been a costly act for Richard. It was then that I decided to go public with what I knew. By exposing the conspiracy, I may be putting myself in renewed danger. But I am through with being a spectator, an objective bystander. The powerlessness I felt watching Snake’s solitary infiltration on Shadow Moses has been a bitter wake-up call. This time, I am determined to make a stand. This is my war now - to tell the truth about what happened on the island. That is my responsibility and privilege as a survivor, and a cause for which I am prepared to give my life.