Chapter Six: Drop Zone

Nearing Drop Zone - New Mexico Desert (Sector 3467)

=== 5 minutes till insertion ===

The cool desert wind blew into the open helicopter door, while Trenton's eyes took in the dark ground as it slowly passed below him, more than 70 feet below.  Chills ran down his spine as he tried to imagine what awaited them.  He couldn't be sure what the other men were feeling.  They knew as much what approached them as he did.

"If anyone on the base acts as or is determined by any operative to be a threat, they are to be neutralized immediately". 

"We're approaching the drop zone now, lock and load!" Trenton shouted above the ear-defining sounds of the spinning helicopter blades.  All around the cabin guns were loaded as the men prepared for the drop

The helicopter pilot looked back at Trenton and nodded, signaling that they were on their descent.

"Night vision."

Trenton looked to see some friendly pats on the back, but saw nothing.  These men took no pride, and certainly no honor in what they were doing anymore.  Deep down, in the dark recesses of Trenton's soul, he knew that he was the same.

"Alright, remember the plan," Trenton yelled, looking out the windows to see the shapes of several buildings, "keep a tight formation, one trip around the hangar, then we make entry."

Even though the base's lights were completely off, the shapes of the different buildings were very visible now, roughly 40 feet below them. 

Trenton's adrenal glands were on overdrive, secreting his natural fight or flight impulses.  Well controlled after years of training, but still an ever-present force inside his body.

"I will see you on the desert floor…"

"I am point-man."

================================================

Well hidden behind a barracks building, a lone marine, covered in blood and limping on his tattered left leg, peered out over the darkened base.  He looked in horror as, silhouetted over the full moon, three dark helicopters approached, and eight men rappelled down from each of them. 

"Shit…shit…shit," the young marine muttered under his breath.

"What? What is it?! Who are they?!" the radio hanging on his BDU jacket shrieked.

"Sir…" the man's bloody hand held the radio up to his face, "We've got hostiles."

================================================

Trenton hit the ground hard, but kept his balance almost perfectly.  The sand sliding beneath his boots, he ran to join formation with the others, all stationed on the southeast corner of the hangar building.  He hardly noticed the other teams as they made their own descents, as he hardly noticed the helicopters hastily evacuating the area.

"Quick perimeter sweep," Trenton whispered over his tac-radio - mounted snugly inside of his mask. 

Without any remark his squad took a tight formation behind him and, step by step, made their way around the hangar, all the while on the lookout.

"It's so quiet..." Trenton heard one man mutter over the radio.

And it was.  Aside from the soft sound of combat boots running through sand, the base was extremely silent. 

Reaching the side entrance of the hangar, Trenton gave a quick survey of the surrounding base.  Even with the night vision goggles, the empty base looked more like a ghost town than an army base.  All the buildings looked completely undamaged from the outside.  Further in the background, Charlie team was visible quietly checking the three ospreys, sitting still as death on the runway.

"No sign of anyone in or around the runway," a voice that Trenton recognized as Stevenson said, "What's your status Alpha, Beta?"

Trenton's tactical-radio was programmed so that he could communicate with everyone on his team, and also switch to secure radio channels to check in with Nyles, Stevenson, and even Commander Ryan.

"We… we just did a quick check around the barracks, perimeter secure," Nyles nervously replied.

"Situation normal, exterior hangar secure." Trenton heard himself mumble into his radio.

"- prepare to make entry, keep this thing tight and by the book," Commander Ryan cut in.

"What an odd choice of words to use", Trenton's mind wandered.  In what they were doing it was quite obvious: there was no 'book'.

"Uh, sir," Stevenson's voice crackled over the radio static, "we checked out the three ospreys on the runway…"

Stevenson continued, "Two of them are fine, but- sir, the third…"

"Yes?" the commander impatiently responded.

"The osprey's cabin is almost completely covered in blood."