helicopter pilots with nerves of steel in our organization.
Axel watches me during the short flight to a seedy marina. He knows it’s killing me not to be with my team. We exchange a look, and he tells me not to worry. He’s got my back and will take care of my girl until he can hand that responsibility off to me.
As we close in on the marina, I inspect the ragtag fishing boats lining the docks. It’s dark down there. No lights are on. I can’t make out the Zodiacs waiting for our guys, but I don’t expect to. They’re hidden and secure.
While there’s no way to hide a low flying helicopter, we perform a rapid insertion. Speed and I man the ropes as the teams rapidly rappel out of the helicopter. Alpha and Charlie are out of the chopper in less than two minutes; then we’re on our way.
While they load up into their Zodiacs, Ariel will take Speed and me downriver, following the shoreline until we meet up with the tanker. We’ll do a slow pass overhead, seeing if we can find where Moira might be hiding, and scout out the locations of any men on deck.
In the minority, I assume Moira’s hiding and is not currently a prisoner. Mitzy doesn’t like my assumptions, but I know Moira. She’s strong, almost too strong, and she’s resilient as well as smart.
I wish she’d lower her walls and unbottle her emotions, but the girl is a survivor. The only person she relies on is herself.
Someday, I hope she’ll open up to me and let me carry some of her pain, if only for a moment. God knows she’s got a lifetime of pain to unload, and there’s been nobody there she could rely on. I hope she’s ready because I intend to become that person.
I listen to the progress of Alpha and Charlie through the comm channel and follow along as Ariel reports our progress. In three minutes, I’ll be flying right over Moira. I wish she knew we were coming. If she sent the SOS, and I believe she did, she should be watching out for our arrival.
Almost there, little minx.
T-minus one minute and our pilot piles on altitude. We’re not that far from the Gulf, where helicopter traffic is as dense as fleas on a dog in summertime as they ferry offshore oil riggers to and from their rigs. Our presence should go completely unnoticed.
I check my safety strap and lean out the open bay door. Pitch black outside, wind buffets me as the rotors overhead drown out all noise with their low roar. It’s only a little cooler up here, but the humidity is still thick as molasses. My night-vision goggles are linked to Mitzy’s array of technical gear, reporting back everything I see.
“On first approach,” I call out, not for Mitzy’s team’s benefit, but for my guys on the water.
“Roger. Roger.” A disembodied voice replies through my headset. I grit my teeth at the bastardization of proper radio etiquette.
Ariel slows as much as she’s able as we pass slantwise across the tanker. From bow to stern, I make a broad visual sweep, seeing if I find anything to add to Smaug’s higher-level assessment. Mitzy’s drone flies far overhead, cloaked, and nearly invisible to anybody who cares.
Towers of containers greet my visual inspection. Neat little rows stacked high enough I’m surprised they don’t tip and fall overboard. It’s a full ship. There are only a few spots where the stacks run short. For now, the enhanced night vision of my scope registers those as deep, dark pits.
“First pass complete,” I report back to those watching.
“Roger. Alpha team’s in the water. Charlie’s holding back in reserve. T-minus ten minutes for insertion.”
“Copy that.”
The tech team loves their radio code, saying things like ROGER and ROGER WILCO, which is just dumb. Prior military, Guardians keep things simple. We don’t tolerate any superfluous chatter clogging communications. Mitzy’s team, by contrast, is bound and determined to bastardize common radio etiquette.
The pilot swings us wide, crossing to the other bank and heading downstream. We’ll cross again and do another sweep coming from stern to bow. I keep my eyes on the water, looking for other craft, but there’s nothing that approaches the tanker.
As for Alpha, if I see them, they’re doing a piss-poor job of hiding their assault. Alpha team does nothing piss-poor.
I only wish I was down there with them.
“Second approach,” I announce our progress. Beside me, Blade sweeps the machine gun