The Dark Edge Chronicles - Clan War

Blutholt

White-capped waves streaked by underneath the Nighthawks as land finally appeared in front of them.

"Mixed signals in and around the target area but no active comm traffic," Narcist reported from the Electronics Countermeasures station just behind the pilot's chair.

Lash, sitting in the pilot's seat, nodded in acknowledgement. It wasn't unusual to come across a battle scene where there were signals scattered everywhere, mostly from comm units that were still on even though their users were dead. It was a sign that one side was recently ambushed and suffered heavy losses before being forced to retreat without recovering their fallen.

"Kingsguard, Nighthawk Actual," he said into his comms, as the Force Recon squads had gone to individual comms five minutes previous.

"Actual, Kingsguard. Go," was her reply.

"Operational window is now open. Operational redesignate to FR Actual. Acknowledge."

"Acknowledged. Redesignating to FR Actual," Naryan smartly replied.

Lash carefully banked to the left as the Nighthawks passed over the shoreline. Blutholt their target was only ten klicks further up the coast. They had taken a curved course out over the water to avoid flying over human habitations. Back over solid ground, they were about to start what they had come here for: the search for the Ventru lilith Amylia.

A glance at the operations chrono on the dash then:

"Nighthawk One, Nighthawk Two."

"Nighthawk Two, Nighthawk One. Go," returned Morel's voice.

"Two minutes to drop on my mark. Mark."

"Acknowledged, Two. Going to full stealth. FR assets prepped to drop on your signal."

"Roger prep. Stealth engaged. Standby." Lash switched back to comms. "FR Actual, ninety seconds to drop."

"Copy, Nighthawk Actual. Clipped and wrapped. Dropping on your signal," Naryan indicated.

"Sixty seconds," Narcist said. "All quiet."

Lash took another scan over his readouts.

"How are we looking, Truk?"

Sitting in the co-pilot's seat, the stocky Ventru checked long distance radar and LiDAR.

"Some traffic over Esbjerg but skies over Blutholt... hold up. LiDAR is picking up two drones in orbit over the enclave."

"Narcist?"

"They're not transmitting so Countermeasures isn't picking them up," the tech specialist reported.

"Monitor and advise."

The enclave, a community of nearly 10,000 vampires at its height, appeared in the distance. Seeing that, Lash tapped his interface.

"Drop doors open," he indicated. "Tension on yoyos. Standby for spill."

Another glance at the operations chrono.

"FR Actual. Drop in five, four, three ..." a shift on the steering yoke slewed the Nighthawk to the side, her fans humming to keep her stable. At the same time he saw Nighthawk One doing the same on a dedicated monitor.

"Two, one, go for drop!"

The tension monitor jumped as each FR asset dropped out the slots that had opened in the Nighthawk's belly and let the lines clipped to their drop harnesses rappel them smoothly to the ground. Then the tension was gone as Naryan's team unclipped and let their drop lines get pulled back inside.