The briefing had just begun with a blurry photo of a drone on the projector screen. The drone sat in a shallow divot in the dirt, partially hidden under a cloth. A colonel stood at the front of the briefing room, a laptop before her.
"You're looking at Asphodelian tech," she began. "This drone isn't ours, and this photo was captured by a quadcopter recon drone around the Dokuchaev region. Based on parts we've seen their R&D move into the area, we believe this is what they've been working on. With the level of secrecy around it, it must be important as well as all the intel we've gathered so far, it must be important."
She clicked to the next slide. "Here's a rundown of the operation, starting with our transportation to the AO[1]. After this briefing, you'll head to the armoury—your equipment is already prepared and ready for pickup. After pickup, meet on the tarmac next to the numbers 13 and 14 no later than 10:30 hours."
Eve checked her watch. 08:20. She'd only just gotten out of quarantine after spending the night inside following the Cloud Shepherd operation,
"I'll be there, along with your respective handler officers. They'll guide you to one of two cargo lift planes. We'll fly for the rest of the day into the Dokuchaev region—lunch will be served en route. We'll arrive at a dirt landing strip at FOB D-2 at around 20:00 hours. FOB D-2 will be our temporary launchoff point for the operation. Is everyone following?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Alright. From there, we'll head straight to D-2's operations center for more intel on the drone's estimated location. Then we move out. We don't know how far we'll have to go or how long it will take, so as noisy as the cargo aircraft will be, try to get as much rest as possible. In the Dokuchaev forest, there will be smaller advance operating posts."
The colonel rubbed her temples.
"Unfortunately, given that we don't know how long this will take, you'll each be carrying a day pack. Each of these posts are relatively close to our estimated AO, so they will be your points of resupply. Their locations will be available and marked for review on your HUD maps."
The slide changed to another overhead shot. Most of it was forest canopy, but Eve spotted trench lines snaking between the trees.
"You've probably already figured, but our AO is the Dokuchaev region. It's still highly contested, so expect opposing forces, especially BAR. Always keep in mind that blue-on-blue[2] is possible. Once we arrive, D-2 will issue us their IFF[3] keys and register us as allies. Expect dense forest and rapidly changing lines of sight. Both sides have entrenched positions. Until further notice, be aware that the drone could be hidden within a trench network, and probably is, as trenches along with the forest offer absurd concealment."
The colonel shook her head like she was trying to clear a headache. Eve felt much the same—trench raids were a nightmare, especially with vast networks with possible hostiles around each corner, and they might have to go through everything to find the drone.
The colonel continued. "On the upside, the canopy should make FPV bomb drones unlikely."
She advanced to the next slide. "Assets: we'll have quadcopters for overwatch, but air cover will be limited—the skies are still contested, and air-to-ground visibility is poor. Each squad will have access to a singular Vespula microdrone, but only one. Use it well. As our operational body, we have TRACE squad 1, along with Seaward team 1, who've been lent to the Halcyon military by the Seaward Wolves. Until further notice, they'll be operating as a TRACE team."
The colonel gestured about the room. "We will be pulling four more TRACE squads from around the base, who are all present."
There was a small cheer with smattered clapping.
"TRACE will work in cooperation with six BHISL squads, four Royal Marine squads, and two engineer and airborne squads each."
A smaller cheer.
She clicked to the next slide. "You'll infil on foot. A helicopter insertion closer to the target is possible, but unlikely, as D-2 has under half a dozen helis available. This operation will be disguised as a standard raid with regular forces. You are cleared hot, but use discretion so it's not obvious we're after the drone."
She paused to drink from her water bottle before continuing. "If a squad locates a drone, secure the area and establish a perimeter. The squad leader will ping TOC with coordinates. Engineers will arrive first—due to its size, the drone might need to be disassembled. Once complete, move it to the nearest suitable clearing, navigating using your GPS. D-2 has agreed to lend us a single hummingbird heli. Call it in, load the drone, and protect it until it lifts off for D-2. After that, you'll exfil back to base on foot. Use the observational posts along the route if needed."
Then, the final slide appeared. "This operation will take place at night, immediately after we've landed and given our secondary briefing. Your thermal and NV on your visors will be essential."
The colonel scanned the room. "Any questions?"
- - -
Eve's loadout was a lot lighter than she'd expected it to be for the operation. The pack she'd been given carried military essentials along with food and water, but honestly didn't bog her down as much as she'd thought it would.
They'd been equipped with forest-camo combat suits along with slimmer body armour and plate carriers.
Eve's weapons stayed much the same, and so were the weapons of all the other members of her squad.
They had, however, been supplied with more grenades than they'd usually carry, including smoke grenades, flashbangs, flares, and fragmentation grenades.
It made sense, given that they were heading into contested trenches, where grenades would prove extremely useful.
After her team had grabbed their loadouts, they headed out, heading towards the airfield. It astounded Eve how big TRACE HQ was every time that she was there. She saw the base alive in the morning, operators doing their daily PT[4] while others filed to the mess hall and towards the airfield as well, probably for other operations.
Eve was… slightly nervous. The past two operations dealt with anomalies, so I felt that I performed well then. But what about now? I can't afford to let myself slack off because I managed two operations and came back. I need to be sharper than ever.
She slung her rifle over her shoulder and tucked her helmet away on top of her pack before she slapped her face with both hands. Eve flinched a little as her raw skin stung.
After arriving on the tarmac, skirting around aircraft, (some stationary, some being directed towards taxiways and runways) they arrived at numbers 13 and 14. Fueling on the spots with chocks wedged between their landing gear were two medium sized freight aircraft.
Eve recognized the two troop transports. Their formal name was a long string of numbers and letters that nobody remembered, but they were affectionately dubbed "mother geese" by their operators. Eve remembered flying in and jumping out of the quad-propellered aircraft during training.
Eve stared at the canvas seats that lined the rugged interior of the troop transport, the grooves and slots in the floor of the fuselage meant for securing cargo.
Their cargo bays were open, and operators had already begun onboarding.
Eve and her squad were called over by lieutenant Nia to the mother goose parked in slot 14. Eve noticed that the lieutenant was in BDUs as well.
An airforce cargo crew sergeant checked them over before giving them a thumbs-up and waving them into the aircraft.
Without its propellers churning through the air, and sitting on the ground, the mother goose was disturbingly silent, and their footsteps against the carbon and steel floor of the aircraft felt much too muted.
Eve and her squad sat down in their canvas seats, placing their bags between their legs. More and more TRACE squads filed on board before it was largely full.
A few moments later, she heard the loud clanks of fuel hoses being pulled out of aircraft wings and the slow chunk-chunk-chunk as the tankers drove away.
Finally, lieutenant Nia and several other handlers stepped on board, performing a brief head count. Finishing, they nodded to the air force crew sergeant.
He called something over the radio.
Just as he'd finished, the cargo ramp in the rear of the aircraft slowly closed, sealing the operators in the metal belly of the troop transport with a clank that sounded of finality.
[1] Area of Operations; where an operation takes place
[2] Friendly fire
Blue (friendly) on Blue (friendly) = Friendly on friendly fire
[3] Identification friend or foe- grossly oversimplified, it's a system used to tell who's on your side and who's the enemy.
[4] Physical Training