Ch. 1: Frostbitten

Beeeeep, whiz, bzzzzzzzzzzzz! An elegant machine rose a few feet off its hard, gray, launch/landing pad. It was a marvelous thing, with six sharp rotors supported on a large chassis about three feet wide. This chassis held on to the two, relatively small, landing skis, and the dual .45 caliber machine guns. It was shaped like a smoothed hexagonal prism, and was very strong. Like a giant eye, a sixty megapixel, 120 degree view, streamlined camera was fixed in the middle of it all. The sleek sextacopter was colored with grey, white, and blue on the bottom for camouflage in these high mountains.

A man on the ground shouted, “We’re linked!” A woman yelled back, “Got it!” and spoke into a radio. A crackly, “Standby Delta,” was heard, and all went silent except for the high pitched buzzing of the large drone hovering over its platform.

The men and women of the Delta team sat in anxious silence. Each was dressed in winter camouflaged combat pants, flak jackets, and boots and helmets, and had a heavy coat over the top. Each had an evil looking assault rifle over their back, and a wicked knife strapped to their ankle. Despite the heavy garments, they shivered a little, not from the cold. The woman’s radio crackled suddenly, “Delta, get ready, we go green in sixty seconds.”

All at once, the team stood up, and moved out of their huddle and to computers they had set up haphazardly on crates and with a radio transmitter for the drone. Programs and software were already open when they got there, and now everyone waited for the radio to crackle again. The woman with the radio sat in her chair with one hand on the flight controls and one hand on the radio. “All teams, Operation Frostbite is a go, I repeat, Operation Frostbite is a go!”

There was no cheering, everyone snapped into focus. The woman with the radio, her name was Private Rachel Conchalann, immediately barked “We’re green, go!” The others were already on it. Rachel pushed the throttle forward, and the drone climbed higher. At the same time, she began moving forward. The drone soared overhead. “I need a nav!” She yelled. “Heading: 136 degrees South East! We’re about 15 klicks out by the latest projection!” Replied a man not over 20, just in front of her. Schwartz was his name. The speedometer read 44 km/h. Top speed was 50. It would only take a little while before they reached the convoy. Linda adjusted the flight path and turned on autopilot.

In the distance, black dots were seen moving through the sky. Other drones, some other Apex 754 fighter drones, and larger Orca 22 heavy artillery drones. All moved in the same general direction, and in distinct formations. They were slowly separating in a beautiful, coordinated movement.

Rachel's feed showed a lush pine forest flying below the sky. Here and there, patches of other trees showed flashes of orange, red, and yellow leaves that were only around for a short time of year. “It must be beautiful,” she thought, but she didn’t dwell on what reminded her of explosions. Anyway, she had a mission to stay a part of, right? “Four klicks out!” Shouted Schwartz, and another man, Anderson, entered a command and grasped his controls. “Arms ready!” He shouted. ” To her left, Rachel's all time companion, Private Lee D’Malta, shouted “All systems nominal!” “Let’s do this. Let’s make them hurt.” Said their commander in cheif, Sargent Stacy Greene with narrowed eyes. Delta affirmed. The drone rushed on through the dusk.

All was quiet as the drone flew, save the sound from its, and its two squadmates’ rotors. The sunset set a picturesque, and ironic backdrop for the scene. All around the three was beautiful country, full of snow, sky, and beautiful, strong trees. The occasional lake or herd of caribou could be seen. But there were signs of trouble if you looked. On the horizon, a plume of smoke could be seen. A hastily built road cut through the landscape with tire and boot tracks. In some places, there was red snow, broken branches, and sometimes a boot or a coat was seen covered by the wind-blown landscape.

A sound of truck engines and some shouts could be heard further ahead in the direction the trio was heading. Another trio of fighter drones and a group of three artilery drones met up with the original. They all dropped to less than twenty feet above the tree line. Radar was never an issue, but the element of suprise was still an advantage. Invisible to their allies, and also the common enemy, seventeen of these groups of drones moved in for the kill. Like sharks, they moved beneath the surface, ready to strike.

A wide road was soon seen up ahead, and in one long line, ten strong trucks pushed through the snowbanks. With them were four small vehicles equipped with anti-aircraft guns, a single file collumn of soldiers on either side, and two tanks. The guns were designed for large airplanes and helicopters, not small drones. This would be an easy battle.

The main objective was to disarm this convoy, and keep the survivors pinned until U.S. and Canadian forces could move in, and take the prisoners and supplies. These supplies were to be salvaged, not destroyed. The commander was very clear. The job of the artillery drones was to destroy the armored escorts to the convoy, while the fighters picked off soldiers that provided the biggest threat to the drones. U.S. and Canadian forces were already inbound to take control of the convoy, but they were outnumbered, so the drone teams had to clear the way. As the drones flew over the last of the trees, their teams got the message to engage.