Eve and her team jolted awake as the female pilot's voice came over the PA system, amplified and booming in the hollow interior of the cargo bay.
"Check 1-2, check 1-2. Cargo bay, this is the aircraft commander speaking. We're on course to land at FOB D-2, ETA 10 mikes. Current weather is clear. Aircrew will signal when we're five mikes out—check your kit and get ready to exit the aircraft."
Eve had powernapped through most of the trip, save for waking up and having the turkey sandwich and water for lunch. While they rightfully should've been absolutely cooking inside the metal interior of the aircraft, the air conditioning and the fact that they were flying above the clouds.
She shifted her pack between her legs and shrugged her rifle strap higher on her shoulder as it had been slowly slipping. She adjusted her helmet as well. Blinking her eyes and shaking the sleep from her brain.
Briefly unstrapping the oxygen mask that had been connected to her, she opened a packet of awareness gummies and popped one into her mouth, the raspberry-flavoured caffeine kicking in immediately. She quickly snapped the oxygen mask back in place.
Then, the copilot came in over the PA, making them laugh with his informal tone that was a complete 180 from the pilot's and rather out of pocket.
"Alright, hope you're all awake, folks, this is your aircraft 2IC up front. Just a bit of information before we head in—we're currently cruising at 25,000 feet or just a bit above 4.1 nautical miles above sea level. We'll be landing hot followed by our sister goose, and we'll be going 25 000 to zero within five minutes in a tac descent starting in just under a minute. This ain't going to be fun but yall are in for a wild ride to avoid Asphodelian SAMs. Hold on to your shit, try not to puke in our aircraft, and I hope you grab a souvenir for the ride home."
The operators cheered and whooped in the back of the cargo bay.
"Alright, we hear you. Now close your mouths so you don't bite your tongues off. We're going to be descending in five…"
Eve quickly chewed and swallowed the gummy to avoid choking.
"Four…"
The airframe of the cargo plane shook slightly.
"Three…"
Eve felt herself tilt slightly sideways as the aircraft pitched forwards.
"Two…"
Eve grabbed the hanging handle along with all the other operators and handlers, usually used for paratroopers but also for holding on in cases such as these.
"One…"
Eve braced herself.
"Zero."
The aircraft locked into its pitch at 20 degrees downwards and began its steep descent, hurtling towards the ground from 25 000 feet.
There was an immense sound of shaking and rattling as air battered against the fuselage and wings of the aircraft.
Even so, while it was uncomfortable, Eve and the other operators easily endured; they'd experienced several tac descents in training. It wasn't that bad.
Then, the PA light blinked on as the pilot's voice came over the PA system again, albeit a bit too calm for his message..
"Commander to all crew and cargo, we've detected a SAM launch. Tighten harnesses—brace for evasive maneuvers."
A SAM? I know that this is contested airspace, but here when we're so close to FOC D-2? How the hell is that FOB still standing—
Eve's thoughts were cut off as the aircraft twisted violently. A heavy force pressed on Eve's chest as she dug her boots into the deck. Her world flipped and pressed sideways as her stomach dropped. Eve felt the same sensations with every turn and twist that followed.
…!
Eve heard the pop-pop-pop-fwoooosh of flares being dispensed from the cargo aircraft as the plane shuddered.
There was an explosion far off behind them, and Eve expected the worst, however, the mother goose continued its shaky path through the air. There were more explosions that followed it
One, two, three… four, Eve counted.
Eventually, Eve felt the aircraft steady its flight as the turns stopped and it resumed its path towards the ground.
"2IC to all crew and cargo, we've slipped the SAMs. It looks like our sister aircraft took a hit that shredded one of her props, but the other three are still functional, so she should be just fine. We are continuing on our trajectory. Air crew, inform the cargo bay and prepare for landing."
The erratic corkscrew that the pilots had flung the aircraft into had paid off.
Two of the crew sergeants emerged from the doors that connected the cargo bay and the crew compartment. They checked everyone over for landing before one connected a wire to their oxygen mask.
"Hello everyone, this is Crew Sergeant Clover speaking. We're five mikes out from the LZ. Please keep your kit with you just as it is now at all times. Be aware that we will experience about 2-4 gs for a brief moment as we pull out of our dive. We will be returning to the crew compartment shortly and will be back after we've touched down."
They released the mask, gave the operators a thumbs up, and retreated back to the crew compartment with their partner.
A short moment later, Eve felt complete weightlessness in her body followed by the crushing of her body weighing four times its regular weight as the aircraft sharply pulled out of its dive and leveled on the ground.
The cargo aircraft bounced once, twice, before settling on a rough dirt-hewn runway where it shuddered to a halt. Eve couldn't hear anything outside, but the two crew sergeants emerged from the crew compartment once more and indicated for them to take off their oxygen masks.
Eve tugged her oxygen mask off, red and sweaty from the rubber pressing against her skin. Once everyone had done so, the flight crew relayed something to the pilots and with a heavy thump, the cargo ramp hit the floor.
From there, Lieutenant Nia took charge, leading them all off of the aircraft. Ground crew there immediately, leading them off of the airstrip while battle damage engineers rushed to their aircraft.
They could see the other mother goose, the furthest propeller on its right wing completely shredded, as well as their own; while Eve hadn't felt it in flight, their tail had taken some light damage as well.
Once off the dirt airstrip, they were met by a young major and his escorts who led them into FOB D-2.
- - -
The admin officers and NCOs at the TOC were understandably thrown off when a combined total of nearly seven dozen heavily armed TRACE, BHISL, Royal Marine, and Airborne squads arrived in full kit, led in by the major.
The moment the TRACE and BHISL operators stepped off the transport, their masks and visors went on, faces disappearing behind tinted composites. The other units—non–tier 1 forces whose identities didn't have to stay hidden—remained uncovered.
They piled into the largest briefing room that the FOB had to offer—understandably, FOB D-2 was built for standard forces and had to accommodate a much larger number of soldiers, so the squads and their handlers easily fit in the room without issue.
Through her night vision on the way in, Eve had seen more permanent emplacements than she expected—a proper TOC building doubling as a logistics hub, what looked like a field hospital, and several other facilities that she couldn't put names to. The barracks were still tents, but the FOB clearly was firmly implanted in the area and planned to stay.
Inside, the major ordered everyone to line up. One by one, he registered each squad to the region's IFF, synced their HUD maps, and pushed fresh GPS data. As soon as an operator's loadout was updated, they were waved to their seats. His armed escorts helped as well and together, the process went smoothly.
When the last operator sat, the major took off his glasses, gave them a quick clean, and slid them back on. Eve noticed how young he looked for his rank. His hair was neat and well-kept and he had a rounded face, though his eyes suggested that he had seen war for himself. He wore a white clinical mask.
He cleared his throat, coughing a bit before beginning. "You've all had a long flight, so I'll keep this short."
He flicked on the projector, snatched a laser pointer from the table, and brought up a bird's-eye view of the area. He zoomed out until FOB D-2 was just a speck in the bottom-left corner of the map.
"We have limited air capacity. Even though the area is still heavily contested aerially, pretty much all aircraft that you'll see and hear overhead are from an airbase further back in the federation. They have helis, but none could be arranged in time. That means no aerial insertion into your AO. You'll be leapfrogging through our forward outposts—" the major used the laser to circle each position "—until you reach the estimated target zone. Based on recent intel, the drone is likely to be near or in the Asphodelians' first trench line. Fortunately, that isn't far."
The pointer shifted to the right edge of the map, roughly cutting across a swath of land that they'd labeled as a trench line.
"We do have LAVs on standby. They'll move you through secured ground to our first forward observation post—forty-five minutes travel, give or take fifteen. Routes are already cleared of IEDs and guarded around the clock, so you won't have to worry about deadly surprises. We'll disguise it as a routine logi run, and have legitimate supplies riding along with you."
He coughed and hacked a bit. One of his subordinates offered him water but he waved them off.
"I'm fine, sergeant, I'll drink later. I appreciate the sentiment though. Please excuse me, I've been a little under the weather recently. Either way, from the first post, expect a thirty-minute hike to our trench line, then another thirty to theirs. Exact distances will shift, so forgive me for not providing exact distances—we're gaining and losing ground daily—but your HUD data will keep you updated."
He paused.
"Any questions?"