Into The Rift

Blind Reach (11)

===Antarctica, Cygnus Station===

-0748 hours Standard Time

The cold lashing winds sink in from all sides, biting through layers of protective insulation. Perpetual whispers hung over my shoulders as the bitter chill slowly worms its way into my core. Warmth was a sensation I was struggling to hold, especially in the extremities.

'Minutes in, and it's already unbearable,' I muse through shivering muscles. The coat was doing its best, but it was not enough to stem the tide.

I hated this place with a passion. There was little else I could do but wait as my hands and feet grew numb.

Suffering through the climate beside me, Douglas, James and Robert stood along the snow-stricken runway, their hands digging deep into pockets. Most of our idle time was spent staring at the horizon, waiting for the slightest hint of movement to alert us of an incoming arrival.

"We should see the plane by now," Douglas remarks over the silence, "still nothing."

"Give it time, we've only been here for like five minutes. Maybe the weather's acting up on their end," Robert swings back with a casual tone.

Douglas shrugs, placing his hands deeper into the pockets, "Command would have radioed us if that's the case."

Accompanying my fireteam in this miserable assembly are eight additional operatives. Chevron squad. I did not know much about them aside from the basics, but it was bound to change during the course of our joint mission.

The men are recent additions from yesterday's inbound flight from across the South Atlantic, likely sharing my team's case of being pulled in from the African sector.

"Wait," one of them squints ahead with a raised arm, "I think that's it. They're keeping close to the ground."

Following the operative's gaze, sure enough a small speck was visible just above the horizon.

"It's not really that big," he further remarks, warming up his gloved hands with a huff.

The rest of his squad gather into a loose circle independent from us, moving away from the runway's edges.

Despite being relatively new to the scene, I can rest easy in knowing these operatives hold relevant experience in our craft. Africa, particularly in the east is a hotbed of activity, none of which could be spun as positive. There was no shortage of conflict in the region, especially with several countries already on the brink of social collapse.

Much of the ensuing conflict was powered by a lack of basic amenities and the sudden rise of extremist tendencies among the local populace. Anyone deployed to the continent for even a month is bound to have seen plenty of action.

"Desert-Four. We've got visual," Robert states over radio, "it's approaching the station."

A few seconds pass before channel lights up with a reply, "Copy, stay clear as it lands. The briefing room's already prepped for our guests."

"Clear away!" Robert signals everyone with a yell, stepping away from the makeshift runway.

A slow drone rolls around as the aircraft comes in for landing. Its bright colours and smaller fuselage made it apparent the jet was not a military asset. The design certainly screamed expensive, and likely represented current trends and advances in private avionics over the past decade.