15:55
Synkovichi, Belarus
The sky was streaked in amber as the sun drifted lower, casting long shadows across the treeline below. A formation of aircraft cut across the horizon, their silhouettes sharp against the dying light. At the front flew Athena, her massive frame steady and unyielding. Behind her followed three MI-32 helicopters in tight formation, while five MI-80s trailed in the rear, their blades thrumming in synchronized rhythm. They had been airborne for hours, and now the Belarus–Poland border loomed ahead.
Inside Athena, autopilot handled the flight path with quiet precision. De Luca and Arina moved methodically through the weapons bay, checking ammunition feeds, running diagnostics on the fire control systems, and confirming that the cannons were primed. Every lever, switch, and console gleamed under the low lights, AURA's displays scrolling with green confirmations.
In the briefing room, Annabelle and Mei sat across from each other at the steel table, steaming mugs of coffee in their hands. The air smelled faintly of roasted beans mixed with the metallic tang of recycled air. Both wore their upgraded combat suits: sleek, black one-piece bodysuits lined with red seams, layered beneath matte-black plate carriers. On their right sleeves were stitched the SNA insignia alongside their national flags; on the left, the emblem of Task Force 7 — a knight wielding twin swords — and their ranks, each patch fixed with velcro. Their holsters rested against their thighs, sidearms gleaming from constant care. Ammunition slots lined their vests — three for rifles, two for pistols — every magazine sitting snug, waiting for the inevitable call to battle.
Athena's interior mirrored the design of Artemis, but on a grander scale. Entry was through the rear ramp, which doubled as a garage platform. Parked inside, two armored Subaru Defender SUVs sat gleaming under floodlights, their reinforced exteriors ready for deployment. Between them, a central staircase wound upward to the bridge.
The bridge was the heart of the craft, a room of steel, glass, and technology. Seven seats lined the space: one forward for the pilot, with two columns of three positioned behind. To the right stretched the weapons control system — a swiveling chair mounted on a rail, allowing its operator to glide seamlessly between the 25mm, 40mm, 105mm, and 220mm cannons. Across the bridge, the left wall held two doors: one to the briefing room, with its holographic table surrounded by steel chairs, and the other to the arsenal. Inside the arsenal, seven tall lockers stood like sentinels, each etched with a nameplate and holding the personal loadout of its owner. Every locker represented a life, a role, a piece of Task Force 7's war machine.
Opposite, a single reinforced door led to the rest quarters. Within, three bunk beds were fixed against the wall, sheets pulled taut with military precision. To the side, a narrow door gave access to a compact toilet and wash area. It was a spartan space, but in war, comfort was secondary to survival.
The steady hum of engines, the glow of instruments, the weight of weapons — all of it merged into a rhythm. The team was ready, the machine was ready, and beyond the horizon waited the fight they all knew was coming.
16:12
Belarus–Poland Border
The horizon shifted from orange to red as Athena and her escorts crossed into contested airspace. Mei leaned forward in the briefing room, coffee abandoned, her eyes fixed on the flickering holographic map projected by AURA. Enemy signatures blinked red across the display like a spreading infection.
"Contacts," AURA announced, her voice calm, almost gentle against the rising storm. "Multiple anti-air emplacements detected. Estimated: twelve SAM sites, eight AA gun batteries. Ground troop strength: approximately two regiments, supported by light armor."
Mei stood. "All stations, prepare for combat. This is it."
On the bridge, Annabelle slid into the pilot's seat, her hands steady on the controls. De Luca strapped into the gunner's chair, already rotating toward the firing systems. Arina slipped into her auxiliary station, monitoring radar feeds and relaying ground movements. The thrum of the engines deepened as Athena shifted from cruise to combat readiness.
Outside, the eight SNA helicopters spread out, their rotors whipping the cold Belarusian air. Thirty soldiers per bird, rifles primed, heavy machine guns braced on the doors. Behind them, Belarusian armored columns churned through the mud of the border roads, their treads grinding forward toward the front.
"Engage on my mark," Mei ordered, stepping onto the command platform above the bridge.
The first flash came from below — a SAM turret flaring like a star being born.
"Missile inbound!" Arina called.
Annabelle yanked Athena into a sharp bank. The bulk of the aircraft groaned but obeyed. AURA launched countermeasures, flares streaking across the sky. The missile followed the brightest trail and vanished in a blossom of fire.
"De Luca," Mei said, her voice sharp, "clean them up."
"With pleasure." De Luca rotated to the 105mm howitzer controls. The reticle painted across the landscape below, locking onto the first SAM battery. He squeezed the trigger.
A thunderclap. The 105 roared, the recoil vibrating through the bridge. A second later, fire erupted from the ground as the SAM turret disintegrated in a shower of steel and earth.
The radio crackled. "This is Hunter 2. Taking ground fire! Requesting cover!"
"Copy," Mei replied. "Annabelle, bring us lower. De Luca, switch to the forties. Suppress the AA."
Athena descended through the smoke, her shadow looming like a titan over the battlefield. Below, the Belarusian and SNA troops had engaged, muzzle flashes lighting up the treeline. The air was thick with tracer rounds, red and green arcs crossing like the strokes of some mad artist.
De Luca's fingers danced across the fire controls. The 40mm autocannons spat a steady stream of shells, tearing into an AA nest perched on a ridge. The emplacement exploded, the operators thrown skyward in pieces.
"Two down," De Luca muttered.
Annabelle kept Athena weaving, dipping between trails of anti-air fire. Each move felt impossible for something of her size, but the VTOL's thrusters roared, answering her every command. She cut across the battlefield in wide sweeps, always keeping the heavy guns angled toward the densest pockets of resistance.
On the ground, the eight helicopters disgorged their squads into the chaos. Soldiers hit the mud and advanced under fire, their voices shouting over radios and through the din of explosions. "Hunter 3 pushing east flank!" "Hunter 7, suppress those bunkers!" The fight spread like wildfire across the borderlands.
SNA's Typhoons and Belarusian IFVs advanced side by side, unleashing streams of autocannon fire into entrenched FNA lines. The enemy responded with RPGs and mortars, the blasts rocking the earth and sending dirt and blood flying.
Then came another warning.
"Three missiles inbound!" Arina's voice was sharp.
Annabelle grit her teeth and pulled Athena into a violent climb. Countermeasures deployed in a glittering flare storm, two missiles fooled — but the third cut through.
"Impact in five—" AURA began.
"Not today," De Luca snarled. He swung the 25mm autocannons around, tracking the missile itself. His shells ripped through the sky, a burst of detonations catching the rocket mid-flight. The missile disintegrated, flaming debris falling harmlessly into the forest below.
"Nice shot," Mei said coolly, though even she couldn't keep the pride out of her voice.
"Wasn't luck," De Luca muttered, reloading the feed.
Below, the battlefield turned redder. Belarusian armor smashed through a forward trench, their treads crushing men and metal alike. SNA squads flanked hard, rifles spitting fire. FNA troops fought with fanatic resolve, mounting their AA guns even as shells rained down. One gun battery locked onto an MI-80 and fired. The chopper spun out of formation, flames licking its tail.
"Hunter 5 going down! Repeat, Hunter 5 hit!"
The helicopter spiraled, smashing into the treeline in a ball of fire. The explosion shook the formation, soldiers inside the other choppers shouting curses but keeping steady.
"Target that gun!" Mei barked.
De Luca didn't wait. He swung the 220mm howitzer online. The cannon charged with a deep, resonant hum before unleashing its fury. The shell struck the AA emplacement directly, the explosion so massive it silenced the battlefield for half a heartbeat. When the dust cleared, nothing remained but a smoking crater.
"That's three batteries gone," Arina reported. "Still too many left."
"Keep pressing," Mei ordered. "We bleed them until they break."
Athena soared across the battlefield again, raining fire on anything that dared turn its sights skyward. Soldiers below cheered when they saw her, morale surging at the sight of their steel angel. Yet the FNA kept fighting, stubborn and relentless. More SAM turrets flashed, forcing Annabelle to juke the massive bird side to side. Every time a missile locked on, Athena answered with flares or firepower.
But the battle was nowhere near finished.
The ground was a canvas of chaos: SNA troops in red-black uniforms clashing against FNA soldiers in gray, tracer rounds slicing the air, armored vehicles burning, men screaming into radios. Overhead, Athena carved wide arcs, her cannons never silent. Each blast shook the earth, but for every nest destroyed, another lit up the night.
The Belarusian brigadier's voice broke through the comms: "Hold the line! Reinforcements are en route, but we must not let them cross!"
Mei gripped the railing tight, her eyes fixed on the screens. "This is where we dig in. Annabelle, keep us moving. De Luca, cycle fire, don't overheat. Arina, find me the command post — we cut the head, the body falls."
Outside, the sun finally sank, plunging the battlefield into darkness. The only light came from fire, tracer rounds, and the relentless muzzle flash of war.
And still, the fight raged on.