gray area
The so-called "base" is not the massive military facility filled with high-tech screens and busy personnel that YN imagined. It is more like a highly modified and reinforced secret outpost, hidden deep in the remote Alps, excavated and expanded from the ground of several seemingly abandoned forest ranger buildings. It is heavily guarded, isolated from the world, a true information island, and YN's new prison—a larger, more robust prison, but also one without a key.
For the first few days after arriving at the base, YN was placed in a small but fully functional single room. Apart from a bed and a table and chair, there were no other items. There was no internet access, not even a window that offered a real view of the sky, only LED strip lights that simulated the changing natural light.
Her movements were strictly confined to the living area, including her room, a small common lounge, and a makeshift gym. Access to the operations command center, communications room, and armory was electronically locked and guarded, making it an insurmountable no-go zone for her. This complete isolation and idleness nearly drove her mad.
Like a young animal trapped in a cage, she paced anxiously in the limited space, trying to piece together fragments of the outside world from the snippets of conversation among her teammates and the strictly censored news on the restaurant's television. The news coverage of her and Elsa seemed to have cooled down somewhat, but the wanted poster remained hanging high, and the plan to "fake" her was clearly still in the works and had not yet been implemented.
The team members maintained a polite yet distant attitude towards her. Price was the main point of communication, but his appearance was often accompanied by new rules or instructions. Ghost, like a silent phantom, occasionally brushed past her in the corridor, and the cold gaze from behind his skull mask made her feel a sense of being scrutinized. The Hesh and Logan brothers were relatively friendly to her, but their conversations were limited to simple greetings. Konig was the strangest of them all; this massive, muscular man always seemed to want to avoid her, and if their eyes accidentally met, he would immediately look away in a panic, as if she were some terrifying creature. Oh, and there was Sergeant Keegan. She rarely saw him; he always seemed to be on long-range reconnaissance or surveillance missions. Occasionally, in the mess hall, she would see him sitting alone in a corner, eating quickly and quietly. So far, they hadn't exchanged any words.
The turning point came a week after she arrived at the base. Price called her to a small meeting room in the living quarters, which contained only a table and a few chairs. On the table were a laptop that was not connected to the external network and several paper documents.
"Dr. YN, how are you adapting?" Price asked directly, his tone flat.
“If ‘adapting’ means getting used to being under house arrest, then I think I have no choice.” YN tried to keep her tone calm, but a hint of suppressed resistance still showed.
Price didn't seem surprised or bothered. "Good, it's good to keep thinking. Now, I have a task for you." He pushed the files on the table.
YN was taken aback. A mission? For her?
“These are summaries of publicly reported events from the past few years in Eastern Europe and the Balkans, including seemingly isolated low-intensity conflicts, border skirmishes, and smuggling cases, as well as excerpts from geopolitical analysis articles,” Price explained. “I need you, from your sociologist’s perspective, to see if there are any deeper connections between these events that we might overlook in our regular intelligence analysis. For example, cultural clashes, competition for economic resources, or inevitable products of certain social structures.” He paused, then added, “This is just a mental exercise to help you… pass the time. All the materials are publicly available and contain no secrets. Your analysis and conclusions will not be used as a basis for action.”
YN immediately understood. This wasn't a real "task" at all; it was a test. Price was assessing her thinking abilities, and also using it as a way to appease her, giving her something to do to prevent her from acting irrationally out of boredom. The claim that it "would not be used as a basis for action" was just a blatant attempt to cover it up. But she had no choice. Rather than anxiously waiting in emptiness, she decided to seize this opportunity to prove her worth.
“I understand.” YN took the computer and documents. “I need time.”
“You have plenty of time.” Price nodded and left the meeting room.
Over the next few days, YN immersed herself entirely in this "thinking exercise." This, ironically, brought her a long-lost sense of peace. Academic research was a familiar field for her, a battlefield she could control. She used her computer programming skills and sociological research methods to build analytical models, compare timelines, and study the regional ethnic composition and historical grievances.
She quickly discovered that these seemingly random events, if analyzed solely from a geopolitical or economic perspective, were indeed not closely related. However, when she introduced sociological concepts such as the "social disorder index," the "power vacuum following the collapse of traditional authority," and the "mobilization patterns of non-state armed actors," some vague connections began to emerge.
These conflicts mostly occur in marginalized areas where government control is weak and traditional social structures are disintegrating due to the impact of globalization. The patterns of these conflicts are not traditional territorial disputes, but rather deliberate attempts to create panic, damage infrastructure, and incite ethnic conflict. The effect is to keep these regions in a state of "controlled chaos."
She recalled Price's mention of Makarov—a warmonger who made a living by creating chaos. Could this be his doing? Weaving a vast web of instability through countless seemingly insignificant conflicts, creating fertile ground for a larger conspiracy?
A few days later, YN submitted a detailed analysis report to Price. Instead of drawing definitive conclusions, she proposed several hypothetical correlation models based on sociological theory and identified several "key node" areas worthy of further observation.
Price read the report carefully, his face expressionless. After a long pause, he looked up at YN: "A very interesting angle. Especially the model about 'using social structural fault lines for low-cost incitement.' We will... keep it for future reference."
YN knew this was the greatest affirmation of her work. She seemed to have passed a silent test.
A few days later, a new "task" arrived. This time, Ghost came to see her directly. This was her first formal working exchange with him.
“Doctor,” Ghost’s voice, deep and steady, came through the mask, “We are about to be deployed to the border region of Country C for a reconnaissance mission. The local tribal relations are complex, and I need a brief overview of the power structures, generational feuds, and recent developments of the major tribes, especially those related to cross-border smuggling routes. The information is in the terminal.” He succinctly pointed to the computer in the conference room, which already contained some basic background information.
This time, the mission was more specific and clearly related to the upcoming operation. YN felt the pressure, but also saw a glimmer of trust. She spent a great deal of time researching, even sketching out a simplified tribal relationship map based on her memory and limited database, and marking several sworn enemy families that required close vigilance.
As she handed the report to Ghost, he glanced at it quickly, then his eyes (she guessed) hidden behind red sunglasses seemed to look at her, and he simply said, "Very efficient. Thank you." This simple acknowledgment stirred a small ripple in YN's heart. Here, she was no longer completely useless.
However, the real challenge and the realization of her value occurred nearly a month after her arrival at the base. The team was tasked with intercepting an arms dealer operating in City B, who was allegedly indirectly connected to Makarov. The operation plan was standard special operations: nighttime, using drones to locate him, followed by the team storming the warehouse where he was hiding to make the arrest.
YN was allowed to attend the mission briefing for the first time. She sat in a corner, listening quietly as Hesh and Logan explained the assault route, and Keegan outlined the sniper positions and cover for the withdrawal route. Everything seemed flawless.
But when shown a map of the area surrounding the target building, YN noticed that the warehouse was adjacent to a dense, dilapidated, low-rise residential area. She raised her hand and said in a low but clear voice, "Excuse me for interrupting, but I'd like to confirm if the operation will take place after 11 p.m.?"
“Yes,” Ghost replied, “that’s when the target’s activity is most frequent, and when civilian activity is least frequent.”
“I’ve looked into the population data and social structure of City B,” YN said, trying to sound professional rather than provocative. “That area is home to a large number of night shift workers and homeless families. At 11 p.m., many workers are going home from get off work, or families are gathering in public areas to chat. Moreover, the buildings there have extremely poor sound insulation, and any loud noise could cause widespread panic and a crowd to gather. The risk of a forced entry… is probably higher than expected.”
The meeting room fell silent for a moment. Hesh frowned. "We have soundproofing equipment; the operation will be quick."
“I understand,” YN insisted, pulling up several satellite photos and street view screenshots of the area on her computer. Zooming in revealed numerous figures in the alleyways at night. “But panic is contagious. If someone screams and runs, it could trigger a chain reaction, causing unrest throughout the area, severely hindering the evacuation. It could even…lead to innocent people being injured in potential firefights.” Her words highlighted a crucial factor easily overlooked in purely military plans: the human element. The team members were accustomed to dealing with the enemy, but they hadn't adequately considered the irrational reactions of civilians in the face of sudden violence.
Price looked at Ghost and Keegan: "What are your thoughts?" Keegan's deep voice came through the communicator, and YN could almost picture him observing the prepared battlefield through a sniper scope: "The Doctor's observation is reasonable. There is indeed unpredictable civilian activity in that area at night. The original plan is at risk."
Ghost was silent for a few seconds, seemingly reassessing the situation. Then he looked at YN: "Do you have any alternative suggestions?"
YN's heart raced; she hadn't expected to be asked for her opinion so directly. She took a deep breath, recalling the information she had read: "This middleman has a habit of going to a specific café every afternoon, run by his mistress. The environment there is relatively open, but there are few customers. Perhaps... we could consider making contact and taking control there during the day, disguised as customers or law enforcement officers? Although it might not be as impactful as a night raid, the collateral damage and uncontrollable factors would be much smaller."
This proposal was bold, shifting the operation from the familiar nighttime special operations model to asymmetrical engagements in a daytime urban environment. The types of risks were completely different. The team members exchanged glances.
Ultimately, Price made the decision: "Keegan, reassess the sniping and surveillance positions around the café. Ghost, develop a Plan B based on daytime contact. The original plan is a backup. Doctor, thank you for your insight."
After the meeting, YN felt exhausted, but more than that, she felt an unprecedented sense of relief—she was no longer a bystander; her words had a real impact, potentially preventing civilian casualties and influencing the elite soldiers' decisions.
A few days later, feedback came in. The team had successfully executed YN's Plan B. They had taken control of the target in the coffee shop almost silently, without causing any disturbance. Although the target's mistress tried to call the police, the signal was jammed beforehand. The operation was a great success.
That evening at the restaurant, as Logan passed by YN with his tray, he gave her a rare grin and whispered, "Hey, Doctor, good job. That café idea saved us a lot of trouble."
Even the usually silent Ghost nodded slightly in response when she nodded in greeting.
YN sat at the dining table, eating her food in small bites. The base's lights remained cold, and outside the window was a simulated night. But within her, a subtle change was taking place. The gray cage was still there, but she seemed to have carved out a small corner for herself within it, a place where she could stand and breathe. She began to use her knowledge to gradually earn a foothold in this strange and dangerous world. She knew this was just the beginning, and the road ahead was still shrouded in mist, but at least she was no longer passively drifting with the tide.
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