In the Darkness of Shadow Moses : The Unofficial Truth, By Nastasha Romanenko
A biographical and complete review of the Shadow Moses, the events leading up to and the results of the mission
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. Chesterfield. 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 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 through 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 ATGC 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 Raven, 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 tack. "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 minutes 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 identify 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 impostor -- ! "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 investi- gators 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 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 war- head. 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 systems 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 conventional 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.
Snake had a few things to say to Campbell after learning the truth. He knew as well as anyone that if the fact that the U.S. had been developing a new breed of nuclear weapons were made public on the eve of START3, negotiations would break down and U.S. would suffer a devastating embarrassment. "Did you know about this, Colonel?" "I really am sorry, Snake." "You really have changed..." "I won't offer any excuses..." "Snake, you've got to hear this," Dr. Emmerich broke in, ignoring Campbell. "The new missiles were complete in simulation only. That's why they had to perform this exercise -- to get field data that would back up their simulation results." "How did the exercise go?" Snake asked. Emmerich's reply was discouraging. "It seems to have gone better than they expected, but I can't find any of the data. There isn't a trace of the thing on the entire network. You'd think it's backed up somewhere, but zilch." "It's on the optical disc that Baker gave me."
"You mean you still have it!" Campbell exclaimed hopefully. "No, Ocelot took it." Snake replied bitterly. It must have happened when he was a hostage. Did this mean that Ocelot had known of the existence of the exercise data before- hand? "This doesn't look good..." Campbell murmured, deep in thought. I glared at Richard. "You knew about this too, didn't you?" "Knew what?" "The small matter of this new nuclear weapon technology." Richard shrugged. "If I'd told you, would you have cooperated? You probably would have tried to leak it to some media contact. And that would have forced our hand..." He left it at that. Would he have had me killed "in the interest of national security"? Something like that, I supposed. In the world Richard inhabited, preserving secrets always merited higher consideration than human life. But I was a privy to that secret now. What would happen once the mission ended? I felt a chill go down my spine as I considered the possibilities. Richard was quietly puffing on his cigarette.
He had too many men with him, working for him every moment. There was no way I could simply walk out of this house. But I had something up my sleeve as well, and I was not about to let myself be exploited without a fight. I looked over at my PC. The screen saver had kicked in, and geometric patterns flitted across the dark monitor. I slipped my PDA into my pocket and headed for the bathroom to send some mail. One of Richard's men trotted over with a slip of paper. Richard studied it, and after some consideration, raised Campbell on the radio. "What can I do for you, Major Ames?" Campbell's tone was openly hostile, but Richard paid no heed. "Colonel Campbell, I'd like you to start interrogating Naomi Hunter." "Interrogate her? What are you talking about?" Campbell said sharply. "There are suspicious points about Dr. Hunter's background, as you've heard. I've therefore sent one of my men over there to talk to her, but she seems reluctant to cooperate." Richard lit another cigarette.
"But she's taking a nap." The Colonel insisted. "Actually, she's not." "What?" "In reality, she's been taken into my agent's custody." "How -- dare you!" Campbell barked angrily. Richard was unfazed. "If, as Master Miller charged, Naomi Hunter has falsified her identity and is in communi- cation with the enemy, there are serious repercussions. I trust you understand." "FOXDIE..." Campbell groaned. FOXDIE? This was something new. This mission was like an onion, with layer after layer of secret intent. "She won't talk to my agent. She may talk to you. Find out from Naomi who she is and what her objective is." "Absolutely not. I don't take orders from you. And I'm having Dr. Hunter freed immediately." "What makes you think you can do such a thing?" replied Richard, exhaling a cloud of smoke. There was a long silence. "Who exactly the hell are you?" I could hear the barely suppressed rage in Campbell's voice.
"The DIA wouldn't have the authority to send a man into a Navy submarine and hold someone prisoner." Richard did not answer. Campbell continued. "And that's not the only thing. Nothing has been done through the usual channels, including the way you induced Snake and I to cooperate. This mission isn't even official business, is it? So who else can mount such a major operation..." Campbell suddenly broke off, as though struck by something. "Is it possible that -- the Patriots?" He murmured. Richard ignored Campbell's outburst. "Does it matter what I am? It doesn't change the fact that your life, not to mention your precious Meryl's life, is in my hands. Isn't that right?" This time it was Campbell's turn to be silent. I had never suspected that his participation in the mission had been arranged by force. The Colonel was literally fighting for his, and his niece's, life. "Think it over carefully, Colonel." Richard's voice was the coldest I had ever heard. There was no reply from Campbell.
"And Snake has no need to know about any of this; we need his full cooperation at this point. Just tell him that Naomi was a terrorist spy and was apprehended while sending them a coded transmission." "Do you expect me to betray a friend, keep him in the dark?" Campbell objected furiously. "A friend? Are you referring to Snake?" Richard smiled coolly. "Do you really think he considers you a friend anymore?" He had hit a sore spot; Campbell had no answer. Richard moved in for the kill. "You've already lied to him too many times." "Against my will, under your threats!" Campbell was roaring, but Richard barely seemed to register his anger. "Certainly, but that's not an issue. You were, after all, giving him false information and relaying false orders to him of your own accord. Then there's FOXDIE..." I could almost see Campbell grinding his teeth in frustration and rage. "Do you still have the right to call yourself his friend?" There was nothing Campbell could say. "You will cooperate with us. Understood?" "Understood..." The transmission ended.
"Who are the 'Patriots'?" Richard looked away towards another direction at my query. "What are you talking about?" "Don't B.S. me." He turned towards me. His gaze was icy. "Nothing you need to know about. By the way, not that I need to remind you, but don't mention to Snake things that don't concern him." "And if I do...?" Richard's stony silence answered my uncompleted question. I was too far into this business, and suddenly seemed to sense danger everywhere. "What do you intend to do with me once this mission is over?" "Nothing." "Don't expect me to believe you." Richard allowed himself a brief, oddly sad smile. "I suppose I can't." In the meantime, Snake was inching towards the launch code entry interface. At that point, he received a call from Master Miller. "Snake, we need to talk about Naomi Hunter." "The Colonel's looking into that." "Turn the monitoring off." "All right, it's off. Mission control is out of the loop. You want to tell me what this is about?"
Snake believed that he had switched us off, but I could still hear everything. Radio malfunction? I guessed not. Someone had made sure that nothing could get past mission control, ever. I had a more than good idea who that someone was. But Master Miller obviously did not. "Sorry about that. I didn't want Campbell to overhear." "What is this about?" Snake repeated. "I have a contact at the Pentagon. He told me that a new -- assassination tool had been recently developed under DIA guidance." I looked over at Richard, but he pretended not to notice. "Assassination tool?" Snake was asking. "Snake, have you ever heard the term FOXDIE?" I tensed. There was that word again. First Richard, then Campbell, now Miller. "It seems to be a virus that can target specific individuals. I don't know the details." Miller continued. Richard remained expressionless next to me. "So? What are you getting at?" Snake raised his voice slightly, sounding annoyed by Miller's roundabout methods. "They share common features."
"What shares common features?" "The deaths. The ArmsTech president and the DARPA chief -- or I guess I should say Decoy Octopus. They both died of what looked like a heart attack, right?" "Yeah?" "Well, it seems that a death by FOXDIE virus looks like a case of heart attack." After a moment, Snake spoke up. "Are you saying that Naomi was the one who set this up?" "Snake, think. Did Naomi give you any kind of a shot?" "The nanomachines..." Snake murmured. Snake had in fact been injected with nano- machines and anti-hypothermia compound before the start of the mission. Was Miller suggesting that there was a killing virus in the mix as well? "One thing's for certain: she's in the best position to perform this kind of sabotage. But we still don't know her motive or objective..." "What about the Colonel...?" Snake asked after a lengthy silence, his tone brooding and full of doubts. "I don't know. And I don't think he's interro- gated her yet either." "All right. I'll ask him."
Once he was off the radio with Miller, Snake called up Campbell. "Colonel, any new developments with Naomi?" "I've -- just had her taken into custody." "What?" Snake said incredulously. "She was sending a coded transmission to an Alaskan location. I don't want to believe it but -- she's definitely one of the terrorists." Campbell sounded anguished. "Are you sure?" "There's very little doubt. She's being interrogated right now." "What kind of interrogation?" "I don't want to resort to force, but we don't even have thiopentothal on hand..." "Let me know if you learn anything." Unaware of the machinations behind this latest development, Snake ended the commu- nication. I longed to tell him the truth, but knew that Richard and his men would never allow that to happen. Despite his growing doubts, Snake continued to penetrate deeper into the hangar. He had almost reached the code interface when a call suddenly came in. "Snake, can you hear me? It's Naomi..." "Naomi!?" Snake exclaimed in surprise.
"What are you -- !" Richard tensed and leaned forward. "I managed to get to another transmitter. The Colonel and the others haven't noticed yet." Naomi whispered rapidly. "Naomi, is it true? What the Colonel says?" "...yes. But not everything I told you is a lie. Some of it was the truth." Her voice was sorrowful. "Who are you really?" "I don't know. I don't know what my parents looked like even, or what they were called. I bought the name I use, the whole identity, with hard cash. Remember I told you why I was so fixated on genes? That was the truth." "Because you wanted to know who you were. That's what you said." "Yes... I don't know what I am. My ethnic background, age..." "Naomi -- " There was a pause before Naomi started speaking again in a rush.
"I was picked up in Northern Rhodesia, in the '80s. I was an orphan." "Rhodesia? During all the guerilla warfare?" "Zimbabwe used to be a British colony, you know. There was a sizable Indian population there then. Maybe that's where I get the color of my skin, but I'm not even sure of that." "Naomi, why dwell on the past? If you can understand who you are now, isn't that all that really matters?" "Understand what I am myself? No one could ever understand me, least of all myself." Naomi's voice was suddenly defiant. "I was always searching for myself, alone. Until I met my brother and Him." "Your brother?" Snake asked. "Yes. Frank Yeager."
"What did you say?" Snake was taken aback. "He was a child soldier too. He found me almost dead of starvation on the bank of the Zambezi and fed me from his own small ration of food." Child soldiers. It is not rare for children to participate in war as combatants in many of the most conflict-ravaged regions of the world. This is especially true for those developing nations where minors account for the majority of the entire population. A harsh regimen can and does turn innocent children into the most brutal of soldiers. In many cases, various drugs are used to numb the natural fear response. The result is an obedient killing machine whose "bravery" marks them out for posting to the frontlines of the fiercest battles and to scouting duties in the minefields.
