The Legendary Iron Brigade

Recovery Actual

There were already bug-men on the roof too. Just as I suspected, it was a trap. Oddly, they held their fire. A shimmering heat-wave at the edge of the helipad became some kind of UFO which floated forward. It was black and just big enough for one person, with a glassy obsidian-esque exterior. My mind took over again, actively analyzing from the background.
It looked like it was kept afloat by some kind of large ionocraft repulsors. It was a marvel of engineering, obviously a one of a kind prototype. The expense for the kind of power source to keep itself afloat let alone carry a payload would have to be prohibitively expensive, if not cash-wise then certainly in resources.
My thoughts were interrupted by Third's radio.
"Enemy contact, position Recovery Actual, danger close."
I could hear whisper-soft rotors appear suddenly from below the edge of the roof.
The radio was awash with tactical comms.
"Crimson-2, engage with LSAT."
"Engaging."
"Crimson-3, clip the wings off that bogie."
"Thunderbolt deploying."
A twin rotor craft not unlike an Osprey, but more like a small Black Hawk, rose up and unleashed an absolute hellstorm of tracer rounds at the bugs from a mounted door gun. The chopper swung around and a sharp whistle emitted from the other door, a sound unique to another Ragnarok product, the Thunderbolt craft-deployed anti-vehicle rocket, or CDAVR for short. The rocket hit the UFO and exploded in a shower of thermate-derivative. The bad guys never stood a chance. The LSAT carved surgically through the insects' ranks without even getting close to me and Third.
People in armor deployed from the craft; one, the leader judging by the rank bars painted on, herded me and Third to the chopper and relieved me of my weapon. The rest mopped up the remaining bugmen, many of whom were crawling half alive toward the stairwell, as if they could open the door.
Once in the chopper, I could no longer keep my eyes open. I passed out to the sound of radio chatter and rotor wash.