A New Journey

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Using firm motions of her arms, Absinthe guided the second plane's pilot into the bay. As soon as it was deep enough for the roof's shadow to cover the cargo ramp, she was giving the kill signal.

"Get that ramp down!" she shouted. "We've got a bird waiting on the deck! Go, go, go!"

Lash nodded as the plane lurched back into motion. That meant plane two was offloading and they were getting waved forward to get ready to come into the bay. A glance at his chrono revealed they were almost at the point they would see the Nighthawks appear on the edge of the airstrip as they moved into position to pick up the Ventru strike team.

Almost as if the AI's guiding the gunships were listening in on his thoughts:

"Lord Commander Lash, Nighthawk One," a sexless voice spoke into his earpiece, likely having cycled through active vampire frequencies in use in the local area to find the right one.

"Nighthawk One, Lash. Go."

"Lord Commander, One and Two will be on-site in sixty seconds. Be advised, you have incoming enemy aircraft. Permission to assume active combat umbrella."

Enemy aircraft?? Lash took a step towards the window and looked out, eyes narrowed. Where? Better yet, how??

"ACU authorized, One. Go weapons hot. Protect the airstrip; we have assets in play."

"Acknowledged. Assets are in play. ACU now active. Firing."

With the rhythmic thud of helicopter rotors working hard against the thinner mountain air, two SA330 Pumas in dark gray paint jobs but with no identifying markings lifted above the edge of the airstrip. Each had their side doors open to reveal mounted and manned M134 mini-guns.

"Kadasa!" Lash snarled as he watched the two barrels swing around to focus on their transport. "Everybody down!"

Absinthe jerked as she heard the soft chitter of mini-gun fire slice through the thumping of the rotor blades and leaned out to take a quick look at the two Pumas hovering as they laced the third transport blade with devastating fire.

"Third plane is taking fire!" she snarled. Then she, Jensen, Morel, Faust and Kazza were stepping out in the open to open fire with their rifles at the two helicopters as, behind them, with their heads down, the rest of the breeders scrambled down the ramp and towards the entrance into the hub.

Armored against small arms fire, the two Pumas were untouched by the hailstorm of bullets the Ventru sent their way, multiple sparks marking the points where bullets were deflected away, including the glassed in flight deck. But it was enough to get their attention. As one stayed on station, raking the transport broadside with a two thousand rounds per second rate of fire, the other started swinging around, its mini-gun firing a line along the fuselage and over the cockpit before falling silent to allow the helicopter to bring it to target the hangar.

The Puma had its nose pointing at the hangar, the mini-gun swung as far forward as possible to begin firing as soon as it had a solution when, with a flare of motion and exhaust, an Impaler air to air missile hammered into the open side door and the Puma erupted into a ball of flame. It then quickly dropped out of sight.

Then, from the far end of the airstrip, the first of the Nighthawks appeared. With two large horizontal rotors on its shoulders with the ability to independently move to aid maneuvering, and smaller fans providing stability in the tail, the black painted Nighthawk was all curves and menace as it swung into view. Then the second helicopter was disappearing into another ball of flame, victim of another Impaler in the tail section.

A heartbeat later the second Nighthawk appeared over the left hand edge, smoothly and silently lifting into view, its gatling guns on gimballed mounts on the edge of the main rotors shifting uneasily. Then they were opening fire. But not at anything nearby.

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