*Author’s note is available here.
Riley raised a hand.
“I’ll sound off a warning right away. We are not up against an ordinary Stealsky this time. It’s the Belarusian state, with its Soviet era police and its Soviet era paranoia and its Soviet era government. If we get caught, we’re in such deep trouble.”
“Pun intended,” Marilyn interjected.
Riley shot Marilyn a look. “And frankly, the idea of salt mines. Just Turns Me Off.”
Riley referred to the longstanding expectation that salt mines were slave mines for convicts or political prisoners in the Soviet Union. She imagined that Lithuanians were once forced to work in salt mines.
Angel turned to Riley. “You’re wrong, you know. Need to read the material in more detail.
These are no longer, at least ostensibly no longer, for political prisoners. Belarus has converted these mines to health facilities. Supposedly for people with respiratory problems or allergies. So there are not supposed to be any prisoners there.”
“All the same, we’re not supposed to sneak in, am I right?”
“We don’t need to sneak in.”
“Belarus is like the USSR. Completely off the tourist radar. How do you think they’ll react to five mismatched people showing up as ‘tourists’?”
“But it has a weak economy and needs foreign currency. We just show up as regular tourists from abroad,” Stacy said.
“Is that doable?” Marilyn sounded amazed.
“Yes. It’s more than doable; it’s normal! Just buy entrance tickets and accommodation, and you can live in the salt mines for a week or more!”
“Sorry… I just find it hard to imagine that anybody born in the USSR would actually pay to live in a salt mine,” Marilyn said.
“Halotherapy is an accepted alternative medicine in Eastern Europe,” Riley commented. “I don’t believe in it, but people do pay to stay in mines in Poland, Romania and so on. Enjoying the saline air microclimate.”
Still, Riley didn’t look that happy about the prospect of spending time in a salt mine.
“That’s right. It is officially a spa.”
“So…”
“These salt mines have 5 shafts. The primary suspicion actually falls on the 5th, which is not open to outsiders. It’s supposed to be for special patients, privileged patients, etc. Hush hush, Belarus officials seen going there once in a while, that kind of stuff.
The basic premise is, we hop down to Soligorsk Spa. Stay in the place for a week. Check it out. Try to locate any political prisoners if any. Communicate with them, and try to obtain evidence that they are being detained unwillingly.”
Riley raised a hand.
“We should know more about the people before we try to get in touch with them,” Riley said. “For starters, how many are missing?”
“The missing are not few, but not too many either. Depending on who’s counting, there’s fifteen to twenty. Men and women.”
Stacy looked into each teammate’s eyes in turn.
“We have brief bios. Go ahead and look through. But I’ve already noticed. No high level folks. You’re not talking about powerful dissidents who pose any mortal threat to the Belarusian government.
Nobody is a presidential election candidate, leader of some top group, capable of summoning a hundred thousand protesters into the streets.
High level dissidents will definitely be able to get foreign governments inquiring after them too.”
Angel was already looking over the bios.
“Cake shop owner who made a cake mocking Lukashenko?”
“Grandfather who planted flowers that spell New Leader Wanted?” Marilyn stared at the words. This was the kind of prank she might play herself, if she thought she could get away with it.
“Office worker who forwarded an email criticizing Lukashenko?” Riley frowned.
“These aren’t high level detainees. No wonder Lukashenko doesn’t want to spent serious prison resources locking them up and guarding them,” Naz noted.
“All the same, he’s stuffed them somewhere and forgotten about them.”
“And I’m starting to understand why this place, too. It’s for people who aren’t criminals or dangerous, but which the state doesn’t really want to release anyway.”
And they’re too unimportant for foreign diplomats to waste precious political capital on pursuing the issue. If Minsk says they don’t know where these folks are, they just get forgotten into limbo.”
“So all right, I get the picture,” Riley nodded.
Angel had finished reading, so she pushed back her chair. “I don’t expect top level security presence. The info packet suggests that the mine is not guarded by heavily armed troops. It’s probably just a convenient low level detention center.”
“This is just the brief introduction. But as leader, I need to see if you’re all right with taking this mission,” Stacy said.
Marilyn
“I don’t feel that comfortable,” Marilyn said. She had a furrowed forehead, which somehow looked cute on Marilyn.
“It’s all right, let us know why,” Stacy said gently. “Maybe we can find a way to work with this discomfort.”
Marilyn ran her hand through her hair and looked around. She seemed to seek out Angel and Naz’s eyes. She was probably expecting that both Naz and Angel might be more sensitive to her concerns.
Riley studied Marilyn without saying anything. She felt pretty sure that Marilyn wasn’t claustrophobic.
“… well, you see, I’m a sniper. I am the type of person who doesn’t like to get too close to other people, unfamiliar people. And it’s a salt mine. Close quarters. I feel a bit uncomfortable.”
…
Stacy maintained her expression without saying anything.
Truth be told, Stacy didn’t really believe this. Marilyn had served in a male dominated security outfit for a few years. There had to be many cramped quarters in her experience where she was stuck with other soldiers, police, and MXX officers that she had never met before.
…
“Marilyn, if you don’t say what’s on your mind, I’m going to say what I think is on your mind,” Angel said after a while. “And you know I’m terrible at putting things forward in a tactful manner. You’ll look silly.”
Even this rendition already proved to everyone that Angel was terrible at putting things forward tactfully.
It proved successful, however, in getting Marilyn to open up. Because she didn’t want Angel to make her look silly.
…
Five minutes later…
Riley folded her arms. “So you’re a bit afraid of mixed groups.”
“That’s right.”
“Weren’t you in one? The MXX should be overwhelmingly male.”
“But it’s a uniformed outfit. There are strong rules of conduct, and these are enforced. Plus, um, we’re a Muslim country…” Marilyn’s voice got smaller.
“Is that the official position of Tashkent?” Naz sounded curious.
“Um… no…”
Stacy figured it out. Uzbekistan was an officially secular country, and the government was quite firm about it. This was not just the position of a few top elites; it was a widespread view supported by the government, bureaucracy, military and most educated people.
But under the secularism, there was also a substantial religiosity. Which the government tacitly allowed, as long as it was done Uzbek style.
Pork was not banned, alcohol was commonly available, hijabs were not allowed in schools and so on. But also it was taken for granted that if you were a woman, men wouldn’t try to get fresh with you. Of course, the woman was also under cultural restrictions. She didn’t walk around scantily dressed.
So all this Islamic identity was strictly managed to be in line with what was traditionally acceptable to Turks. They did not allow customs prevalent in Arab nations or Iran to permeate life in Uzbekistan.
Even though Marilyn was not an actively practicing Muslim, she did share many values and customs with most people in Uzbekistan. She assumed that in a spa, she would be naked and squeezing through tight mining tunnels with lots of unfamilar men. And that was very hard to accept.
“It’s not going to happen. It’s just a sanatorium.”
“And there is no gender segregation?”
“It’s mixed. There’s no women-only section.”
“Isn’t it a spa?”
“It’s also called a spa.”
“And we’re not going to be dressed in few clothes?”
“No.”
“We’re not going to be naked?”
“Oh no, everybody will be fully dressed!”
“Marilyn, the sanatorium part is really done through the ultra clean, salt-ion purified air.”
On further conversation apparently Marilyn was imagining something Central European. Such as a Roman spa where naked women walked around.
“It’s called a spa, but you’re going to be dressed normally. It’s mainly for respiratory stuff. You breath unique air…”
“Oh. Dressed normally…”
Angel grinned. “Any further objections?”
“None,” Marilyn replied bashfully.
So the cultural barrier was overcome.
Riley and Naz
Riley voiced her concerns right away.
“I don’t think we can take on the Belarusian state. Not in these cramped quarters. We have nowhere to hide. Even if we run fast down a kilometer long tunnel, what’s going to be awaiting us at the other end? The militsya!”
“We have been asked to investigate. Nothing more. We’re not going to enter into prolonged combat with representatives of Belarus,” Stacy said reassuringly.
“Oh, and it’s actually a stealth mission,” Angel added helpfully.
“I think it’s dangerous,” Riley said with an uncomfortable expression on her face. “There are many kilometers of shafts, but mostly linear. And lots of dead ends. Not much for stealth. We can’t really hide if they discover us and want to catch us.”
Naz didn’t say anything. She had not finished reading the text descriptions, but she was now studying some diagrams intently.
“Going through the schematics, huh?” Riley asked.
“There’s a lot of complicated looking diagrams. Surely you’re not trying to sabotage their pipes and sewage system,” Angel said.
“These aren’t pipes and sewage systems,” Naz looked up. “And Stacy is right. This is doable.”
With her chemical engineer’s background, Angel had assumed the diagrams referred to piping and wiring. But actually there was an intricate system of overhead air shafts through the mines. After all, these mines are deep. You need to allow some outside air into the mines, so that oxygen levels can be replenished.
“… and all photos show that these shafts are all rectangular. Standard industrial stuff,” Naz commented. “It’s possible to sneak through these shafts to distant parts of the mine.”
“And no sharp industrial fans blocking the way?”
“Are you imagining stuff from movies where the hero has to sneak past dangerous fans?” Naz asked. “If so, no worries. There are none.”
“You sure?”
“In the first place, the original shafts were for ventilating the place for miners. When it became a speleotherapy spa, they stopped pumping in outside air. Otherwise outside microbes would just enter and defeat the purpose of the salt-purified air in these mining tunnels!”
Naz pointed to various points in the diagrams, which nobody else actually understood.
“Assuming this is a proper representation of the mechanical systems in the mining complex, it’s easy to understand. Hardly any moving parts apart from elevators. The machinery and rails must have been dismantled long ago, to make room for an authentic healthcare establishment. It would have been easy to resell the fans. And looking at the photos, it makes sense.”
“But what makes you so sure the diagrams are an authentic representation of the current system? It could have been Soviet era.”
Riley’s concerns were valid. A lot of things in Belarus hadn’t changed since Soviet days. But what if there were changes? Would the Belarus government even keep such good records?
Stacy made a little noise in her throat, and her team turned to look at her.
“ZIL members, I do admit. We’re the outsiders depending on our client to provide whatever information they can get. I don’t know how much is good or safe.
But look on the bright side. We don’t have a time limit,” Stacy said. “And our mission brief is simple and unambitious. It’s only to confirm the presence of political prisoner- or prisoners deep within these mines.”
Angel nodded. “Not being able to rescue them makes me feel a little unhappy, but our mission brief is correct. These confined places are death traps for stealthy rescuers. And we’re lacking in detailed information anyway. We can’t rescue anybody under these circumstances.”
“So we don’t rescue?” Naz knitted her red eyebrows together.
“We don’t rescue,” Stacy confirmed. “Of course, we do try to get more information. Take photos if possible, record sound of interrogation and speaking, maybe even get in contact with the prisoner to smuggle out a recording. But fundamentally, our job is just to confirm their existence, so that the respective human rights organizations can press Belarus about the issue.”
“Now that’s good. But I think my earlier concern isn’t fully addressed,” Riley said. “We’re not sure if what Naz says will work.”
“It’s an initial assessment based on available information,” Naz looked up. “We do have to survey the site in greater detail before taking further action. For instance, if I notice that the ventilation shafts or their moorings are rusty, we should forego sneaking through them. The shafts might be unable to bear our weight, and collapse.”
The word collapse sounded dangerous, especially when paired with a mine deep underground. Stacy noticed a change in atmosphere. This is what happens when you use words associated with other words in close proximity to certain words.
When you are above ground, the word ‘mine’ just connotates a hole in the ground. Most people don’t think a lot about mines and mining. People feel distant enough that mention of a collapsing shaft doesn’t create discomfort.
But when you are thinking about going underground, ‘collapsing shaft’ sounds terrible. Even if it is actually just an overhead ventilation shaft collapsing.
Stacy cleared her throat lightly, thus interrupting everybody’s thoughts from collapsing shafts.
“I think voting to take a mission does not mean we are bound unto death to complete it. We vote for a mission based on a reasonable analysis of available information. It is only when mission gets underway, that we see how conditions are in the field. Even if we find that it is too hard to complete the mission, we can still obtain more information for our client.”
Riley pursed her lips. “I think this is the right approach. We don’t have the abilities and resources to rescue people for now, but any information we gather might be helpful to others who have the political leverage or other resources.”
Having said her piece, Riley sat back and draped an arm over the back of her chair. She was sitting with thighs apart, so her white panties (actually worn outside her skin colored bodysuit) were visible.**
Stacy took note of Riley’s obviously relaxed posture. This suggested that Riley had changed her position on the mission after Stacy revealed that the mission was to obtain information, not to effect a rescue.
Angel was thinking.
“Wait, in order to communicate with these prisoners, we still need to go through these shafts and talk to them.”
“I think so,” Riley said. “Since passageways are likely to be guarded or blocked off, we probably have to crawl through the ductwork.”
Riley didn’t say that she thought only herself and Marilyn were capable of that. It was a very unattractive mission for her, but Riley considered fighting dictatorship a Lithuanian thing. If Lithuanian Green People could endure years of hardship fighting Soviet troops from the forests, Riley could certainly crawl through a few ventilation shafts and ducts.
“I was thinking, maybe we can use drones or build remote control cars?” Stacy asked. “Then we send these through, and use them to communicate?”
There was a sudden loud metallic rap. Naz had brought a metal tool down on her table.
Everyone turned to Naz with looks of shock or surprise on their faces.
“Sorry, sorry!” Naz waved both hands hastily. “I didn’t mean to give everybody a shock.”
“But you are opposed?” Riley had misread Naz’s action.
“No, I’m for!” Naz said affirmatively. “Stacy’s proposal was very interesting to me, so I got excited.”
“You mean drones or remote control cars?”
“Yes,” Naz said. “Since these are tight tunnels, drones won’t be helpful. Too easy to see. But I think we can send remote control cars through the shafts. These are very long but straight, so control should be easy.”
“But what do you propose for the remote controls?” Riley asked. “Infra red and bluetooth are too short ranged.” Riley was not keen on radio, because radio could be detected and interfered with. And too many tunnels and ducts and shafts anyway.
“I’ve noticed we have very fine and light cables on board.”
“Yes. A lot of fiber optic cables. Fantastic stuff, expensive,” Riley said. It was really like the Benefactors to go for quality right away, and wire everything up on the MMM using a fiber optic cable network rather than old style copper cables. Or maybe they used fiber optic because it was vastly lighter.
Naz looked excited.
“I could build remote control cars controlled by cable, and send these down some shafts. They can have a camera and microphone mounted on them. When we have better information we could decide what to do next.”
“We have a lot of leeway on how to complete this mission,” Stacy stated. “And we have a broad range of skill sets in our group. Apart from putting remote control cars through the ventilation shafts, surely something can be done with the phone cables, laying of bugs and what not?”
“You’re talking about bugging the place or tapping the phone lines?” Naz asked.
“That’s right,” Stacy said. “The length of the tunnels is also a disadvantage to anybody who wants to guard communications along the tunnels.”
“Looking at the photos, I can see wiring along the walls,” Angel said.
“It’s not even modern high speed internet,” Riley said. “Soviet era copper phone cables. I can definitely tap these. And we only need to confirm if prisoners are being held to get the minimum reward? All right! I’m for it!”
The ZIL members voted 5-0 to take the mission.