章 25: Rolling Thunder?
Location: Eastern Mountains, Virek
Date and Time: April 16, 2553 – 1300 Hours
The mountains rise like jagged teeth against the horizon, their rocky faces stark against the dull gray sky. The wind cuts through the pass, carrying with it the scent of dust and something sharper—gunpowder, maybe. It's quiet, too quiet, but that's becoming the norm out here. The URF knows how to hide, and they know how to pick their moments.
We're on the move again. Another mission, another op. But this time, I feel different. Lighter, somehow. Not that the war has gotten any easier, but something about my talk with Emily shifted something inside me.
I still don't know how to balance it all. But I'm trying. And that's more than I could say a few days ago.
Bravo Fireteam is with me, just like always. Santiago at the front, his rifle up, eyes sharp. Dash and O'Neill are covering the rear, moving in sync as we push deeper into the pass. The mountains here are a known URF hotspot, and Command wants us to secure the area.
"Stay sharp," I murmur into the comms, my voice steady. "They're here somewhere."
The squad moves like a well-oiled machine, but there's a tension in the air. Everyone feels it. We haven't had a solid firefight in days, and that's usually a bad sign. It means something big is coming.
We move further into the pass, the walls of the canyon closing in on either side. The terrain is rough—uneven ground, loose rocks, plenty of places for an ambush. My heart pounds in my chest, every sense on high alert.
Suddenly, Santiago holds up a fist, signaling for us to stop. He crouches low, scanning the ridge ahead.
"What is it?" I ask quietly, moving up beside him.
"Movement," he mutters, his eyes narrowing. "Just on the other side of the ridge. Could be URF, could be nothing."
I nod, my gut telling me it's probably not nothing. "Let's check it out."
We move carefully, every step deliberate as we approach the ridge. The air feels heavier here, thick with the anticipation of a fight. My hand tightens around my rifle as we close in on the top of the ridge, and I motion for Bravo to spread out.
We crest the ridge and stop dead in our tracks.
Below us, nestled in the shadow of the mountains, is a URF encampment. It's bigger than anything we've seen in this area—vehicles, weapons stockpiles, and at least two dozen rebels moving between the makeshift tents.
"We hit the jackpot," Dash whispers into the comms.
"Yeah," I mutter, my heart racing. "But we're outnumbered."
I crouch behind a boulder, my mind racing as I assess the situation. We can't take them head-on. Not with these numbers. We need a plan.
"We've got to call it in," Santiago says, his voice steady but urgent. "We can't take them alone."
I nod, already reaching for the comms. "Bravo to Command, we've located a major URF camp. Requesting immediate air support."
The comms crackle for a moment, then Command's voice comes through. "Copy that, Bravo. Air support is en route. Hold position and report any movements."
"Understood," I reply, turning back to the squad. "We wait."
Waiting is always the hardest part. We hunker down, hidden behind the rocks, our eyes locked on the camp below. The minutes stretch out, the tension building with each passing second.
But even as we wait, my mind drifts. Not to the mission, not to the URF, but to Emily. The way she looked at me before I left, the way she told me to take care of myself.
For the first time in a long time, I don't feel like I'm just a soldier. I feel like I'm something more.
The sound of engines roars overhead, snapping me back to the present. The air support is here—two GA-TL1 Strike Fighters, their sleek forms cutting through the sky as they swoop down toward the URF camp.
"Here we go," O'Neill mutters, his grip tightening on his rifle.
The fighters unleash a barrage of missiles, the explosions ripping through the camp below. Fire and debris fly into the air as the URF scrambles to react, but it's too late. The first wave of strikes has already decimated their defenses.
"Move in!" I shout, leading the charge as we rush down the ridge toward the camp.
Gunfire erupts as we hit the ground, the rebels firing back in desperation. But they're disorganized, caught off guard by the airstrike. We press the attack, pushing them back with every step.
I take point, my rifle kicking against my shoulder as I fire into the enemy's position. The adrenaline surges through me, the familiar rush of combat taking over. But this time, there's something else driving me. Something beyond the mission.
We sweep through the camp, clearing it room by room. The rebels are falling back now, retreating into the mountains, but we've already won. The camp is ours.
As the last of the rebels flee, I stand in the middle of the camp, my heart pounding in my chest. The adrenaline starts to fade, replaced by a strange sense of relief. We did it. The mission is over.
But my mind keeps going back to Emily.
Reflection:
The mission went off without a hitch. We took the camp, cleared the area, and completed the objective. But as I stood there, watching the dust settle, my mind wasn't on the victory. It was on her.
I don't know when it happened, or how. But somewhere along the way, Emily became more than just a distraction. She became my anchor. And now, no matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about her.
A Marine. This is what I do. But now, there's something else. Something pulling me in a direction I never expected.
I'm not sure where it'll lead. But I think I'm ready to find out.
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