The Mission Begins
“Valya,” crackled Colonel Sokolov in her earpiece. “Confirm position.”
“On the perch,” she replied, her voice calm but sharp. Her steel-gray eyes scanned the remains of the city below through her multi-lens visor. “I have visual on the target area. Rail hub’s in shambles, but secondary Russian logistics center is active. Estimated three platoons, light drones patrolling, multiple armor units.”
“Perfect. Satellite says they’re moving munitions through this hub to reinforce Donbas,” Sokolov said. “That hub falls, their logistics shatter.”
Valya nodded to herself, her metallic fingers tightening around her custom sniper rifle, the long barrel etched with the names of her fallen comrades. One name always stood out: Sofia. The sister who had been her anchor in their chaotic village childhood, the sister she couldn’t save. She gritted her teeth, a raw anger brewing just beneath the surface.
The Betrayal
As she prepared to take her first shot, a second voice broke through the comm channel. “Valya, wait!” It was Maksym, the only person in her squad who dared to speak to her with unfiltered concern. “Intel update. We’ve intercepted signals from Russian Command. There’s a mole in our operation.”
She froze. A mole? Even in war, betrayal cut deeper than any bullet.
“Who’s compromised?” she asked flatly.
“That’s the thing,” Maksym hesitated. “We think… we think it might be Colonel Sokolov.”
“That’s impossible,” Sokolov growled into the channel. “This is a dirty disinformation ploy, and you’re falling for it, Maksym!”
Tension crackled louder than the distant explosions. Valya’s mind raced. There had always been whispers about Sokolov’s past dealings with Moscow, but he had led them through impossible victories. Still, the stakes of this mission were too high. If Sokolov was playing both sides, it could cost Ukraine one of its most crucial tactical advantages.
“Valya,” Maksym pleaded, “you need to decide now. If the Russians know we’re coming, this mission’s a suicide run.”
She inhaled deeply, feeling the cold weight of her prosthetic arm. She wasn’t just a soldier anymore; she was a symbol. Her choice would have consequences, not just for her team, but for Ukraine’s hope in this brutal war.
Forged in Fire
“Continue the mission,” she said after a long pause, her voice like iron. “We’ve come too far to turn back.”
The channel fell silent. Maksym didn’t argue. It wasn’t his way. But she sensed his unspoken disapproval like a shadow at her shoulder. She disengaged the safety on her rifle, adjusted her visor, and locked onto her first target: the central munitions truck. One trigger pull and the explosion rocked the valley like thunder tearing the sky apart. Fire bloomed, erasing entire squads of Russian soldiers before they could even react.
The Russian drones sprang to life, buzzing like angry hornets as they searched for her. Valya didn’t move. Let them come.
As the drones zeroed in, her arm hummed with energy. She extended it outwards, launching a pulse that disrupted their circuits, sending the machines spiraling uselessly to the ground. Moments later, the rest of her squad emerged from the shadows, striking the now panicked enemy with precision under her cover fire.
Victory seemed inevitable until a deafening roar split the air. A Russian attack helicopter appeared on the horizon, its missiles aimed straight at the logistical hub. Her heart stopped. She knew instantly that this was no ordinary assault—it was retaliation, a scorched earth tactic to destroy everything, including their own supplies, just to deny Ukraine the resources.
“Valya!” Sokolov barked. “Take it out before it reaches the hub!”
Her fingers hesitated over the rifle’s trigger. If Maksym was right and Sokolov was compromised, this could be a trap, leading her to reveal their sniper position by prioritizing the wrong threat.
The Choice
She exhaled slowly, time stretching to an impossible length. The faces of her fallen comrades haunted her peripheral vision, ghosts urging her to choose carefully. Then she remembered Sofia’s last words before the bombing that had claimed her life: “Only forward, never back.” Valya trusted her instincts, born not from her commanders, but from the battlefield itself.
“I’ve got this,” she muttered.
She adjusted the rifle and aimed carefully—not at the helicopter, but at the rail hub below it. With surgical precision, she fired, igniting the munitions still stored within. The resulting blast consumed the hub, the helicopter, and its surrounding defenses in a blinding inferno. She shielded her face with her prosthetic arm, feeling the heat even from her vantage point.
The Fallout
“Sokolov’s comms just went dark,” Maksym announced, his voice tight with shock. “Wait… we’re intercepting a message. He was signaling the Russians.”
Valya stopped breathing for a moment. She’d gambled everything on her gut—and it had saved them all.
That night, as the squad regrouped in the safety of the forest, Maksym approached her quietly. “You made the right call,” he said, handing her a flask. For once, he didn’t need to elaborate. The grim weight of her decision hung between them, but so did a quiet respect.
She raised the flask to her lips, the alcohol burning her throat. “Only forward,” she whispered to herself. And yet, in her mind’s eye, she could still see Sofia’s face—smiling, proud, and free.
The Source...check out the great article that inspired this amazing short story: Ukraine Can Now Directly Strike Russia
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