You are a Commander

You stirred awake, disoriented in the sweltering Saharan heat. As the grains of sand clinging to your face shifted with your movements, the memories came flooding back - taking the pill from your rookie, the rush of sudden dizziness, collapsing into unconsciousness.

You pulled yourself up slowly, sand tumbling from your ghillie suit. Your mind raced sluggishly, still hazy from the effects of the unknown drug. That was definitely not just water like the rookie had said - but what then? You stared out at the shifting desert landscape, scrubby bushes and knolls of sand as far as the eye could see. There was no sign of your supposed protégé.

A feeling of dread crept over you as the implications set in. Betrayed out in the middle of enemy territory, disoriented and alone - it was a death sentence. You pushed yourself unsteadily to your feet, squinting against the glare of the sun.

The satellite phone buzzed insistently on the map table of where you and your soldiers had set camp. Ghost scowled down at it, impatience mounting. Still no answer from you - it wasn't like you to be out of contact for this long.

Beside him, Soap scrubbed a hand over his jaw. "Keep trying, something's not right. Captain, any word from your contacts in the area?"

The grizzled captain shook his head, brows furrowed. "Nothing but sand for miles. Our Commander knew the risks going undercover but they are one of our best. We find them, lad."

Gaz pored over the maps, running scenarios. "Last transmission had the Commander near the Algerian border. Could be equipment failure, could be..." He didn't need to finish. They all knew the risks their men faced.

As the phone continued its plaintive beeping, Ghost punched in your number again with more force than necessary. "Come on, you stubborn bastard, pick up. Bloody hell, why isn't the Commander's rookie picking up either?" the masked lieutenant growled, his usual indifference fading.

One way or another, they'd be mounting a search at first light.