March 12, 0100

The satellite connection is made.

100 feet below the desert sands, and beneath 10 feet of dense concrete and steel, lies the heart of Shamballa's communication center. I am nervous and I pace before the large set of screens and consoles.

"Shamrock this is Leprechaun group 4, we have found the pot of gold - repeat - we have found the pot of gold! Over."

I adjust my headset and flip the mouthpiece down in a clean motion.

"Leprechaun group 4, this is Shamrock you have authorization to secure the pots of gold. Repeat. Authorization granted to secure pots of gold. Over."

"Understood. We're moving out. Over"

I watch as the staticky images on the wall screen display the conflict. The R12U Silencer-suppressors on uzis are deadly in the hands of professionals and no doubt these men are nothing if not professional.

Their signal breaks up. Nothing to worry about. I know they are not getting a clean signal out from the underground bunker.

Tech12 attempts to perform a complex maneuver by sending one of our passing polar satellites into a geostationary like position. It's perhaps 1/36 of the altitude for a geostationary track and Tech12 fires its reserve fuel tanks to compensate for the earth's rotation and extend it's stay.

"This is chowing down the fuel like a funnycar special."

"It can't be helped. This is too important."

Almost as if on cue - the signal flickers back and we see our gasmasked forces making their way carefully yet quickly through very smoky rooms.

That smoke is a safer derivative of BZ gas, this one a neurological antipsychotic. Under the circumstances its the safest way to remove large groups of soldiers in a, hopefully, non-permanent manner.

We here automatic weapons fire, unsuppressed and definitely not from our forces and I can tell by the sound of it, it is a Steyr Aug or two - weapons probably acquired in Saudi Arabia.

Two gasmasked Iraqis bluster forward blindly upon the forces but our forces can see through the smoke and their weapons hit their targets.

"Move out!"

What appears to be a heavily fortified door emerges from the smoke.

"Use some C-4." I say over the headset.

In less than a minute two small playdoh can sized amounts of c-4 are placed near the vault style door hinges and a remote detonators are placed within.

Soldiers run back a good safe distance and into the previous room, still filled with white smoke.

I adjust my headset so that the sound of the explosion doesn't go straight into my ears. A violent steady crackling sound
tells me the C-4 has been detonated.

More gas is shot into the next room and past the half dangling 1ft thick steel door.

I watch anticipatorily as they squeeze past the door into the next room the infra-red display shows the room is an office with desks and an ottoman.

"There it is!" shouts Leprechaun5

Lined against the far northern wall are jugs slightly larger the size of a watercoolers. VX. Deadly stuff.

"Neutralize it."

I watch with fascination as one of the Leprechauns approaches the jugs with what appears to be a flamethrower.

However what emerges is a blast of air which encompasses the jugs. After a moment, when the blast subsides I see ice crystals and frost on the jugs.

Another long blast from a safe distance - and I can see the jugs contents are frozen solid. Such is the power of a new Suva derived military application refrigerant from DuPont.

The jugs of one of the deadliest chemicals known to man are now pried from their icy cling to the floor and can be handled more safely.

"Get em outta there! Over."

"Pots of gold secured Shamrock! Over."

"Return to base. Over."
Another stash of horrible weapons of mass destruction bites the dust."

I allow myself to breathe a sigh of relief. Those jugs could kill nearly 50 million Americans if properly distributed.

SDAI-Tech1