Christensen and Sean rushed to the duty room. Christensen grabbed the handset and called out, "Mike, Mike, can you hear me?"
But the microphone remained silent; all he heard was the broken-line beeping tone. Hastily, he asked Sean, "The line's dead. Did he say anything?"
"Just that he had something to tell you," Sean replied.
"How is he calling in on a satellite phone?"
The more Christensen thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. He walked over to the radio operator and asked, "Are we currently out of contact with Sparta O-1?"
"Signal was normal until Apollo 2-2 evacuated; then we lost it," the radio operator answered.
"Damn it."
Christensen's mood soured. He turned and shouted at Sean, "What are you standing there for? Call back immediately."
"F\*ck, this damn signal is garbage."
Murphy tried calling several times after the disconnection, but every time the phone went unanswered. This meant the two-hour satellite communication window had already passed.
The radio system was now useless; the satellite signal was gone, and the next window wouldn't open for another two hours.
There was no way anyone could be in a good mood.
Nearby, Marcus was about to explode with anger, sarcastically saying, "Maybe we should just burn the sheep and send them smoke signals."
Deitz snapped back irritably, "Yeah, maybe I should just go down to the village and borrow a phone."
Two old cynics.
"What's the use of this nonsense now?"
Long Zhan, who was interrogating the shepherds, was tired of asking. He stood up and pointed at the shepherds, addressing everyone, "Our primary concern now is how to deal with them."
"You talked to them for a while—any reliable intel?" Marcus asked.
"No, nothing," Long Zhan shook his head.
"But there are three things I'm certain about. First, they clearly know who we are.
Second, they hate us with a passion.
That old guy's disguise is decent enough; if you're not paying attention, you wouldn't notice. But that kid is too green—the hatred in his eyes is impossible to hide.
Third, based on those two points, I can conclude that while they appear as civilians, they definitely have ties to Shah, possibly even working for him.
I suspect they're using the shepherd identity as cover while actually monitoring the village perimeter."
Long Zhan's three points had some basis. Murphy and the others, trained in reading expressions, could sense the hatred radiating from the two shepherds.
Yet all of Long Zhan's assertions were still educated guesses—no solid proof.
Without evidence, it was as if nothing existed.
Murphy could neither dare nor justify giving the direct order to kill these two shepherds as Taliban militants. If they did and completed the mission, they wouldn't return with honor; instead, they'd be sent to a military tribunal.
His plans to marry his girlfriend would be completely ruined.
After a difficult moment of contemplation, Murphy decided to follow the old SEAL standard procedure: gather all five team members who participated in the mission, and openly share his thoughts.
"We only have three options now. One, we let them go and move to another location.
This carries a serious risk—we could be exposed within an hour, and the next satellite communication window is two hours away.
Two, we gamble—tie them up here and leave.
But that puts Hongliang at risk; they might be eaten by wolves or freeze to death. We'd be responsible for their deaths."
Murphy paused, his eyes showing the weight of the decision.
Matt, growing impatient, asked directly, "What's the third option?"
Murphy's gaze lingered on the two shepherds, reluctant to say, "The most straightforward way is to eliminate them all, then move to another location and continue the mission.
The villagers won't know where we've gone, which buys us extra time—maybe an hour or two.
That way, we can safely wait for the next communication window and contact command."
The final option was to kill civilians—obviously against the laws of armed conflict and very likely to get Marcus, Deitz, Matt, and Murphy himself sent to a military court.
All of them wore cold, frozen expressions in silence.
Only Long Zhan looked disdainful. He was unimpressed by Murphy's three options and believed there was a better way.
So, Long Zhan spoke up boldly, directly challenging Murphy, "Why do we have to leave? I think this position is excellent; there's no need to move."
Murphy hadn't yet understood Long Zhan's point and retorted, "If we don't leave, we'll be exposed."
"Then why not just avoid being exposed? It's an easy problem to solve."
"You—"
Murphy frowned, annoyed, "Shepherds have appeared. How could we not be exposed?"
"Captain, I think your logic is flawed."
Long Zhan was tired of formalities and spoke openly, "Why not just keep them tied up here? Like they are now. We can do whatever we need to do. How is that any more dangerous?"
"If we control the shepherds here and they can't return, villagers will come out looking for them. If we're still here, isn't that dangerous?" Murphy's face darkened.
Being silently called "brainless" by Long Zhan in front of everyone was a serious blow to Murphy's pride as team leader.
Long Zhan laughed. Finally, something clicked.
He understood why the SEAL Team—a top-10 special forces unit worldwide with unmatched individual combat ability—had taken such a huge hit dealing with shepherds.
Putting aside every other factor—
Neither the novels Long Zhan had read nor everything Murphy said understood the fundamental truth:
They simply did not understand what "pasturing" really meant.
Born and raised in the United States, where pastoralism was extinct and replaced by factory farming, the SEALs had no real concept of herding.
They thought pasturing was like walking a dog—just take the flock out for a while and then bring them back.
So Murphy's three options all revolved around this mistaken assumption, blowing a small issue way out of proportion.
In reality,
Pasturing is a purely natural feeding method, with no added feed or hormones. The flock just won't be full for a short period after being brought out.
Especially in the barren Afghan mountains, sheep graze and defecate simultaneously.
The time out would inevitably be much longer.
Shepherds won't let their sheep starve; they'll bring them out early at dawn and won't drive them back before dark.