It had been a quiet ride, something that was both an unwelcome stranger and welcoming friend. It was in this silence that gave people the respite to think and it was in this thinking that people began to lose their composure. This was no different, at least in that sense. Above the rotation of the engine and the spinning of the rotors made this an even more morbid place to be. Each had been left to their own thoughts about what they were about to do and the implications of those events. The trip was only a few hours by air but it seemed to each member that their life was slowly playing out in front of them, like they were the participants and the spectators to their lives. No longer noticing the heavy equipment that they carried they were burden by a new weight; their conscious. The U.S.S. was not an organization that was known for its charitable acts and the members were not known for their sin free lives. For the most part, these things could be over looked by those that carried them, but at times like these, in the dark corners of their minds these thoughts slowly began to seep in and like a virus, infect and spread until that was all the mind dwelled on.
With a short static hiss over the head set, their minds returned. Despite the tinted lenses of the masks he knew, he knew that all their eyes were now looking at him and he returned the favour, casting firm looks into the black lenses. Turning his vision down to the floor he nodded, his sharp blue eyes looking back up as he finished the nod. With a quick lean to his right and glance toward the pilot he knew that the time was almost here. In the green light of the instruments he could barely make out the face of the pilot, not that it mattered.
"Two minutes so tighten your panties and get ready". The pilot's voice was gruff despite the humour almost as to say he had done things like this before. In all honesty, he really didn't understand what the pilot had to be dreary about because after all, once his team was put in the pilot got to fly away, maybe never to return. From where he was standing, these two airmen seemed to have the best job in the world.
None of that mattered right now as he returned from his leaning position back to where he had started. Holding up his right hand he brought up two fingers, allowing the others to know the e.t.a. to the LZ. They made no movement but he knew they had seen it and understood as one by one they seemed to come back to life, stretching out and adjusting weapons. This would be Echo team's first trip out together and they were on edge. With the exception of himself, all the other members of the six man team were green, fresh out of the B.O.W. training program. They had all done very well but that was under controlled conditions and far from what the field would be like. But he had faith, faith that they would perform as well as anyone would and that they would all be celebrating over a cold drink in a few hours.
"Thirty seconds." It was the co-pilot this time, his voice seemed a little more sympathetic and remorseful about dropping them into hell. "Good luck…"
His last two words trailed off with that sense of doubt that saying it would make any difference, but it helped, if only a little. From the twin booms that reached out from either side the roof of the hovering Blackhawk the ropes were released, dropping off into the darkness below. He was the first one down, the black combat boots hitting the roof with a thud muffled by the rotors above. On the other side, Spectre touched down. Immediately both performed the tradition hundred eighty degree sweep for hostiles. There were none. With a simple wave of his hand the other four members joined them on the roof, the thuds from their landings also muffled by the rotors that hovered about them.
"Archangel 6 has touched down," he was doing his best to sound as calm and relaxed as he could but even then he noticed a slight uneasy tone in his voice. "Repeat, Archangel 6 has touched down."
For a moment the radio stayed silent, giving a dramatic and tense feel to an already tense situation. After was seemed like minutes it cracked and a soft yet commanding voice came through.
"Confirmed, Archangel 6 touched down." Even without seeing the man on the other end of the line he could tell that the man was one of the top brass, an old desk jockey that was determined to remind everyone that he ran the show and his way was the only way. "Commence Operation Frostbite."
The channel went silent again as he responded with a single, simple sentence.
"Operation Frostbite commencing."