Into The Rift

History Falling Down (37)

He continues on after clearing them, a nervous tinge bleeding through the tone. "It's... mainly these Behemoth types we'll be having issues with. We have to be careful about this one."

I think back to my encounter with those... things, stopping for a moment to recall the sheer amount of gunfire required to immobilize a single unit. InOps' decision to label these things as walking tanks is in no way an exaggeration.

"Don't worry much over them, that's why Strike Blue was prepped for long term." I nudge his side to shake him out of it. From a personal standpoint, I'm fully expecting their missles to make the difference if we get bogged by unforeseen circumstances.

"Definitely, but still..." he mutters, not willing disregard his worry.

I stifle the urge to sigh, knowing it is a valid concern. "We've already agreed to this timing at the start, it's the only feasible way."

This late into the night, most of the locals would be asleep at the settlement, leaving them out of this mess. There should be a minimal number of civilians caught in the probable crossfire if it does come it, a hostile confrontation right at their port.

"They still won't take this lying down."

"...It's a given." That was my greatest concern. The operation did not sit well with me, regardless of our intentions.

No matter the perspective, it will be us assaulting the port. My only wish is to see this through without casualties on either side, and the successful rescue of any captives we can find.

The both of us silently agree to end the topic on that particular note, our footsteps being one of the two things left to signify our presence throughout the overwhelming darkness.

Further up we pass by the two researchers, backs against the wall, expression barely discernible against our head lights. Given the lack of a response to our proximity, I decide to send them a quick inquiry on their well-being, if only to serve as a brief distraction from the upcoming mission.

"How are you doing," I ask, less of a question and more of a statement.

"We'll be fine, as soon as your mission ends. Just... waiting on the Jaguars to bring us back to base," one of them replies with a shiver, demoralized from the conditions here.

Turning to face them, I use a reassuring tone in an attempt to raise their spirits. "You'll be on the way back before noon, if things go accordingly." They have not been through something like this before, so I can understand their obvious show of dejection.

"Hopefully... we're counting on you."

I resume my advance after a short while, content with that slight show of concern, my companion sending them a parting look before continuing along. We make it to the entrance in under a minute, linking up with the rest of the men outside.

The relentless gale billows strongly against my helmet, its foreboding howls adding to the intensity of the weather. No longer sheltered by the cave, I brace myself against the heavy downpour as a wave of cold seeps through the armor's insulation.

"1-3's still holding position, nothing new from them so far. They've cleared us to proceed, the locals haven't caught wind of their presence." Robert informs me, yelling through the intense storm. Appearance slightly blurred by the curtain of rain, I opt to close the distance with him.

"What about the Jaguars."

"Weather's a little rough, but our pilots say it's nothing they haven't trained for. They'll take off for rendezvous once we're near the port."