There was a short click on my headset. Captain Resa didn't even twitch, eyes glued to the laser designator's sight. The radio clicked again, then buzzed with static-laden speech.
"This is Uriel 3-1, checking in. Flight of three F/A-18Es, on approach west 30 miles at angels 10. Seeking contact with Theia 2-3 for tasking, over."
"This is Theia, Force Recon element. We have contact with bad guys north of Hill 83. What do you have for wolves, over?"
"Copy, Theia. Ordnance for lycans to follow: 4-times holy-water/silver combined-effects cluster bombs, 2-times silver-dust 500lb bombs, 600 rounds in the guns, over. Call it."
"Heading 040, distance 4 miles nautical, elevation 0, estimate 40 moving in the open at grid 88014357 marked by laser. Area clear, egress north. How copy over?"
"Good copy. Wings level."
The sound of jets screaming by overhead was cut short by the airstrike itself. Resa raised a hand that trembled ever so slightly, then clenched it into a fist.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (3 so far!)
Intended as a sequel to http://ficly.com/stories/29064, when that's ready.
- #2948 Posted 3 years ago
That's a lot of code speak for me, but I like the formula for the werewolf airstrike. I'm not sure if it was necessary since no one seemed to be mixing it...or were they arranging it on the plane before they dropped it?
Anyway, this piece had a nice mix of cold military with the emotion of regret of killing, or whatever caused him to shake at the end. I didn't picture it as anger or that he was pleased with the justice, rather that it pained him to have to do it.
- #2951 Posted 3 years ago
Always impressed with your military-speak for your stories. Interested on where we go from here.
- #2957 Posted 3 years ago
- Published 3 years ago.
- Story viewed 9 times and rated 0 times.
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