Capítulo 52: Return to Normalcy, Kinda
Location: Near URF-Controlled Territory, Virek
Date and Time: May 22, 2553 – 1130 Hours
The sound of boots crunching against the dirt and the low hum of the Warthog's engine fills the air as we approach the drop point. The sun's heat beats down, but the tension in the air is more intense than the sweltering temperatures. The URF has been regrouping, and this recon mission is supposed to give us the intel we need to disrupt whatever they're planning.
I glance over at Santiago, who's sitting in the passenger seat, his rifle cradled in his lap. Dash and O'Neill are in the back, their expressions grim but focused. None of us need to speak to know what's at stake.
"Ten clicks out," Santiago mutters, checking the map on his datapad.
I nod, tightening my grip on the wheel as we veer off the main road, heading toward the ridge that overlooks the URF-controlled territory. The Warthog's tires kick up dust as we maneuver over the rough terrain, but the real challenge is what lies ahead. The URF has been quiet, too quiet, and that means we're heading straight into the unknown.
As we approach the ridge, I park the Warthog behind a cluster of rocks, and we dismount, moving quickly to find cover. The landscape ahead is barren, but I can see the faint outlines of what look like fortified positions in the distance. The URF is here—there's no doubt about it.
We spread out, setting up in different positions to get a better view of the enemy's movements. My heart pounds in my chest as I scan the area through my binoculars, trying to make out details through the haze of heat and dust. The URF has set up a small outpost at the base of the ridge, and I can see patrols moving in and out, their weapons glinting in the sun.
"Got eyes on the outpost," I whisper into my comms, keeping my voice low. "Looks like they've got a few squads patrolling the perimeter. Could be more inside."
"Copy that," Santiago replies from his position. "I've got movement on the west side—could be reinforcements coming in."
We watch in silence for a while, taking note of the enemy's positions and movements. It's risky, but this is what we signed up for—gathering intel and staying one step ahead of the URF. The only problem is, we don't know how long we have before they realize we're here.
Suddenly, Dash speaks up over the comms. "You guys seeing this?"
I adjust my binoculars, following his line of sight. What I see sends a chill down my spine. A convoy of URF vehicles is approaching the outpost, and from the look of it, they're bringing in heavy weapons—rocket launchers, machine guns, and even a few armored vehicles.
"Damn," I mutter under my breath. "They're gearing up for something big."
"Looks like they're getting ready for a full-scale assault," O'Neill adds. "If they hit our forward positions with that, it's gonna be a massacre."
I grit my teeth, feeling the urgency of the situation pressing down on me. This isn't just a recon mission anymore. We need to get this intel back to command, fast. But the URF is better equipped than we thought, and getting out of here without being seen won't be easy.
"Alright, we've seen enough," I say, my voice firm. "We need to move before they spot us."
We begin to pull back, moving carefully along the ridge to avoid detection. Every step feels like it could be our last—one wrong move, one sound, and the URF could be on us in an instant. But we keep our heads down, staying low as we make our way back toward the Warthog.
Suddenly, the crack of a rifle echoes through the air, and a sharp pain explodes in my side. I stumble, hitting the ground hard as my vision blurs. For a second, I don't know what happened, but then I realize—I've been hit.
"Kowalski!" Santiago's voice comes through the comms, frantic. "Are you hit?"
I grit my teeth, pressing a hand to my side where blood is already seeping through my armor. "I'm fine," I manage to say, though the pain is nearly blinding. "Just grazed."
"Hold on, we're coming to you," Dash says, his voice urgent. "Stay low!"
I try to move, but the pain is overwhelming. I force myself to stay calm, to focus on breathing, but every breath feels like fire. Santiago and Dash reach me within seconds, pulling me into cover behind a large rock.
"We need to get you out of here," Santiago says, his face set with determination. "Can you move?"
I nod, though I'm not sure how far I can go. "I'll manage."
O'Neill covers us from above as Santiago and Dash help me to my feet. The wound in my side burns with every step, but I push through it, knowing that staying here isn't an option. We move quickly, staying low as we make our way back toward the Warthog.
By the time we reach the vehicle, I'm barely holding on. My vision blurs again, and my legs feel like they're about to give out. But Santiago and Dash help me into the passenger seat, and O'Neill jumps behind the wheel, gunning the engine.
The Warthog tears across the terrain, the sound of its engine roaring as we speed away from the ridge. I lean back in the seat, trying to stay conscious, but the pain is making it hard to think.
"You're gonna be fine, Kowalski," Santiago says, his voice steady. "We'll get you back to base, and Emily will patch you up."
The mention of Emily brings a wave of determination over me. I can't let this take me down. Not now. Not when there's still so much left to do.
"We've got the intel," O'Neill says as we race back toward the base. "Command's gonna need to see this. The URF is planning something big."
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