In the dark night, crickets chirp, branches sway, and nocturnal birds hoot – making an eerie symphony that is frightening, yet natural and right to the listening ear. For a thousand years this has been the way of the night of this land, yet now it is intruded upon by a low, chopping sound.

The moon overhead is blocked by clouds, but what little light that managed to piece through is enough to illuminate the small form of a little bird agilely turning into a hook as it descends onto a small clearing in the midst of a vast forest of treetops. Five figures jump off the overhanging benches, forming a circle around the helicopter as the it takes off once more – its sound then vanishing into the darkness of the night.

I remain silent as my team and I look into the treeline – our eyes expertly scrutinizing every branch, every shrub, and every contour of the shadows beneath the shade. We aren’t expecting contact, but an enemy has the nasty habit of coming as a surprise.

Seconds pass. We hear nothing but the night, and see nothing but empty trees.

“Left, clear.” Hobo reports through the radio.

“Right, clear.” I follow, “All clear. Team, on me!”

My team and I rise from our kneels and move towards the treeline; our IR lasers looking not unlike alien spears of light as it goes over shrubs, trees, and rocks as we cover all of our angles. Our eyes scrutinizing everything through the green-tinted world of illuminated night.

Perhaps a day ago we wouldn’t be so tense and alert – small as the change may be – but one of our teams have now gone missing in this land, so the caution is very much warranted.

I stop and hold up a hand, stopping my team’s advance as we scan our surroundings once more.

“Clear.” I eventually say, and my team and I go down to our knees before I then key into my comms: “Zeus, this is Bravo one-one; Insertion successful. Awaiting orders. Over.” I say with my eyes still scanning my angles.

“Copy that One-one. Wait.” A moment of silence, with nothing but the night to fill the gap until Zeus radios in once more: “Drone is out, system’s green and… we got it. Alright One-one – we have a locstat on one of Two-one’s transponders; Proceed around five hundred meters to your east. Keep an ear out for course corrections and further details. Over.”

“One-one copies all. Out.” I say and then turn my forearm over to look at my wristwatch’s compass. Having oriented myself, I signal my intent to move us eastwards. My team and I silently pick ourselves up and start to move – keeping quiet as much as we can while warily scanning the trees.

Something erupts from the bushes to our left, and the team collectively snap towards it – five IR beams precisely locking onto the form of the offender with a killing intent.

‘Meew!’

The offender’s hooves sound out as it gallops away from us, with the shrubbery creating just as much noise as the offender rushes through them.

“Goddamit,” I hear Jackie spit out, “It’s a fucking deer or some shit.”

My breathing grows easier as the tension of the sudden encounter wears off. “…Better safe than sorry,” I reply before turning my attention back east, “Come one – let’s get a move on.”

We continue our way eastwards, with strange nocturnal calls sounding out as luminescent bugs in unfamiliar colors float around the trees. The forest is truly a different place at night – and it’s one of the things that make me fully realize the fact that I’m on a different world.

My headset crackles to life, and I hastily bring my team to a knee.

“Bravo Two-one, Zeus: The transponder is somewhere within fifty meters of your vicinity.”

“Copy that. Beginning search.” Upon hearing the word, my team already begins to scan the surroundings. But after a minute of seeing nothing but empty, green forest, I give the signal for us to stand up.

“Stay alert guys, we’re starting a circular search pattern.” I say, then wait for the my team’s affirmation before taking the first step forwards.

Active IR lights illuminate the forest, leaving no shadow uncovered as we meticulously spiral our search outwards. The five of us are spaced out to be able to cover as much area as we can without losing track of each other while I, in the outermost position, keep an eye out for any dangers.

The search lasts for a minute until suddenly, Chappy snaps his rifle towards the root of a tree and shouts out: “Identify yourself!”

The rest of the team follows suit, tracing Chappy’s laser towards the gaps between the roots. There, with multiple IR lights illuminating the spot, I could barely make out the outline of someone trying to hide.

“Second Lieutenant Marquis, Delta Two-two!” The man hastily shouts in reply, raising one of his hands – bandaged, I note – that isn’t holding a pistol. “…Is that you, Bravo One?”

I nod, though I then belatedly note that Two-two’s NODs are missing. “Affirmative. Anyone else with you?”

Two-two pushes himself out beneath the tree – causing me to raise an eyebrow as I notice what seems to be dead bodies inside. “No but-” He grunts as he finally frees himself, “-take a knee and listen-” His worried tone is enough for me to comply, and my team follows suit. “-they have a search party that’s been hunting me for hours now. Any idea if you’ve been tailed?” I feel my grip on my rifle tighten as I look towards the rest of my team, who all shake their heads in the negative.

“We don’t think so, no.” I say, but that seems to have done little to reassure the man who is now looking out into the trees.

“…Keep an eye out anyway – those fuckers know their shit.” I was about to ask who he means by ‘those fuckers’ when he continues: “You guys have a spare NOD? Mine got fucked up.”

“Here.” I hear Hobo say before a small, hand-held device is thrown towards Two-two. The man fails to catch it initially, but then manages to get a grip on the thing as it slide down his vest. He fumbles a bit with it in the darkness before bringing it up to his eyes.

“Pretty shit resolution, man.”

“That cost me ninety dollars, what’d you expect?”

Meanwhile, my focus is on communicating with Zeus: “Zeus, this is Bravo One-one; We’ve located and identified the source of the transponder as Delta Two-two. Break. Two-two says that there might be hostile search parties in the area, do you have anything on ISR? Over.”

Nothing but static for a moment. “Negative Bravo One-one; nothing’s being tracked on ISR but uh… Break. We’re now moving the drone towards another transponder signal eight-hundred meters north of your position. Proceed towards it and initiate a search, how copy?”

Another transponder? Probably Two-five, if Delta Two’s earlier reports are anything to go by. “Solid Copy, Zeus. Break. What about Two-two?”

A pause, “Is he mobile?”

He can move himself out of his hiding spot. “Affirmative, but his NODs are gone and he’s now borrowing one-five’s civilian-grade spare.” I then take a glance towards the man in question, noting the absence of his rifle. “Also, it seems like he lost his primary, over.”

“…Copy that One-one. Have two-two hold his position for now, you’ll pick him up later once we’ve established your exfil. Over.”

“Roger that. Out.” I say and then tap Two-two on the shoulder, “Hey, you’ll be on your own for a bit; we’re moving to investigate another transponder north of here, then come back to pick you up.”

Two-two takes a second before nodding in reply, “Gotcha, I’ll be in my hidey-hole.” And then starts to slink back below the tree, a hand holding the loaned monocular to his eye and another holding his pistol. “And be careful there man – I’m not sure, but think more went after Monk than me.” He adds.

I acknowledge his advice with a nod, then I turn back towards my team and signal my intent to move. We rise and do so, the night betraying little of our presence save for the sound of harshly displaced shrubs and the shifting of our gear as we advance northwards. Eight hundred meters may not sound much, but when you’re on a live mission on the ground? It sometimes seem much more farther than it actually is. Thankfully, the forest of this new world seem to have little in the way of complex terrain and we are able to quickly close in on the transponder’s location.

“Bravo One-one; Halt, halt, halt.” Zeus comes through the radio and my team and I quickly comply, “We have a PID on the transponder: It’s one of Delta Two’s. It seems like he’s currently being held in some small encampment occupied by at least four IR signatures. Advance with caution. Over.”

“Wilco.” I say before turning to my team and signaling the imminent possibility of contact, at which they immediately become more alter in keeping a lookout.

We advance cautiously, taking more care to not only be hidden in the night, but to be quiet in the dark as well. It’s a painstaking process, but one that we manage to do swiftly and, before long, we already have our eyes on the small camp.

It’s a small affair – something that, were it not for the tents themselves, wouldn’t look too out of place for a small camping trip back home. Well, that and having a man tied to a tree near the middle of the camp.

“That’s Delta Two-five.” Romero says, confirming my own ID of the captive. “Should we go in now?”

I wave a hand, “Wait a second, I’m going to tell Zeus about this first.” I try to reach for the transmitter but I fumble in the dark. Inwardly cursing, I look down so that I can-

THUNK!

-An arrow imbeds itself on the trunk just about where my head was.

“CONTACT!” Romero shouts out loud, turning his rifle towards where the shot came from and firing away. The rest of the team follows suit, filling the night with sharp, suppressed snaps. I don’t know if their shots hit anything – my attention is on getting away from the spot where I just almost got nailed.

“Avi Iriata!” Someone from the camp shouts out, and arrows soon start to fly towards our general direction. I hear Jackie curse as a couple particularly close shots whizzes by, but he quickly returns the favour with a long burst from his Mark forty-six. I find myself some solid cover and bring my rifle up, only to see nothing in the trees save for Two-five’s struggling form.

…These ones know how to take cover! I realize before pouring some more fire downrange anyway while my off-hand reaches for my comms.

“Zeus, One-one has been engaged!” I shout before an arrow sails overhead, making me duck instinctively. “Shit… They’ve figured out where we are but we’re still figuring out where they’re firing from!” This seriously would’ve been easier had they guns instead of bows. I privately bemoan and consider relocating before another volley of arrows makes it clear just how bad the idea is.

My comms crackle to life and Zeus urgently broadcasts into the team comms: “You’ve got contacts in the trees Bravo One! They’re up in the trees!”

Upon hearing that, my team and I turn on our IR Lights and start combing up and across the trees – inspecting each contour and each shadow hidden behind the leaves and branches as best as we can.

Chappy’s EBR fires, and a scream cuts through the night. “I got one! I got one!” He then exclaims, making me turn to see where did he-

-a bright light suddenly erupts in-front of me, the intense illumination temporarily blinding me alongside most of my team who immediately take cover to recover their eyesight.

“What the fuck was that!?” Jackie shouts out while I desperately try to blink away the spots in my vision.

“Shit,” I hear Hobo curse, and I turn to look at him – only now noticing that things are looking way too bright than they should be, “They just launched flares or some shit!”

I pull up my NODs and blink away the dark spots in my vision to see that, sure enough, there’s a bright orb of light levitating in the sky like some sort of flare. It confuses me at first, but then my eyes widen at the realization of what the enemy just did.

“Guys get the fuck do-!” I try to warn my team, but another volley of arrows is launched at us and I realize that I’m too late when Chappy goes down screaming, an arrow having imbedded itself into the marksman.

Jackie fires a burst in response, “Fucking get him Romero!” I hear him shout before he then let go of any pretense of controlled fire and just lets his Mark Forty-eight rip into the trees. It seems to be effective, with now less – but still nevertheless accurate – arrows being sent back our way.

Taking the moment of opportunity, I rise and add my own contribution to our volume of fire – only absently noting my comms crackling to life in the midst of whistling arrows, gunfire, and my teammate’s pained curses.

“Zeus, Hummingbird three is on station for close air support. Over.” The voice of our infil pilot comes through.

“Roger that Hummingbird three. Break. Bravo One, you read that?”

I wait for Hobo to take over for me before getting down then reloading and replying: “Affirmative! Fuck up anyone that isn’t us!” I shout before getting back up and joining the fray once more.

“Roger that Bravo One. Hummingbird Three, access drone feed and execute gun run.”

“Hummingbird Three-two, roger – preparing for gun-run. Reference Bravo One; IP zero-nine-eight, target bearing zero-one-five, distance eighty meters, danger close with guns. Are we cleared hot?”

“Cleared hot.”

“Roger cleared hot. Hummingbird Three is inbound.”

The battle takes a lull as the low, chopping sound of the little bird becomes louder and louder. This doesn’t last long, however, as the night’s silence is soon intruded upon by the sound of miniguns letting rip hundreds of rounds into the trees.

BRRRRRT! BRRRRRT!

“Fuck yeah!” Hobo exclaims from beside me, perfectly expressing the team’s relief as we watch red tracers cut into where our enemies are. I spot several figures drop down from the trees and flee but before I could bring my rifle up, the magical flare abruptly gets extinguished and plunges the world into darkness once more.

While I curse and hastily try to put my NOD back down, the little bird pilot comes through the radio: “This is Hummingbird Three; gun-run complete, awaiting further taskings.”

“Roger that Hummingbird Three. Standby. Bravo One, can you give us a BDA? Over.”

I fix up my NOD and then fire a few shots towards where I saw the enemy before responding: “Good effect on target! Enemy forces seems to be retreating. Can you confirm through the ISR? Over.”

“Affirmative, the ISR is showing multiple heat signatures retreating. No movement in the camp…” A pause, and it takes a second for me to realize why and I wince at the implication. “Bravo One, can you move into the enemy camp for BDA and to check on Delta Two-five’s status? Over.”

Shit. “Affirmative. One-one and One-two is moving into the camp with One-four on overwatch.” I say loud enough for my addressed team members to hear, allowing them to prepare for our advance. “One-three is also staying behind to treat One-five. Out.” I end the transmission before patting Hobo on the shoulder, “Lets go. Jackie, cover us.”

“Gotcha, Fly.” The machinegunner replies, weapon already rested against a tree.

With weapons up, Hobo and I cover the short distance between our position an the enemy camp. The small campfire is still burning, making seeing things a bit more difficult since we have our NODs down. Absently, I note that the tents are riddled with holes as well – probably from our initial blind return fire than from our enemy’s arrows – and I see that some of them had been knocked down as well, probably after a bullet punched through the supporting frame.

But still-burning campfires and knocked-down, bullet-riddled tents aren’t our concern – Hobo and I quickly pass by the battle damage as we rush towards the person we came here for in the first place.

“Shit!” Hobo curses as he shine his IR light on the limp form tied to the tree, “Delta Two-five? Hey, man, can you hear us?!” He shouts as we advance towards him, and I then smoothly transition to providing security while my second-in-command checks over the captured operative. “Shit,” I hear Hobo curse again, “He’s unconscious, but still alive,” Thank fuck for that, “But we gotta get him out of here right now, man – he’s too much blood already.”

My hand is already reaching for the transponder, “Alright, you get Romero and I’ll call in the bird.” I say before pressing the transmission, “Zeus, this is Bravo One-one; Delta Two-five is alive but in critical condition, requesting CASEVAC. Over.”

It doesn’t take long for the Major to reply, his voice only barely betraying the tiredness he feels. “Roger that Bravo One-one, hummingbird Three is coming in as CASEVAC… Interrogative: What’s the status of Bravo One-five? Over.”

As if on cue, Romero arrives at our position to treat the critically injured captive. I rely to him Zeus’ question and then transmit his answer with relief: “One-five is wounded, but still combat effective. Over.”

My radio crackles to life as the major gives us our next order: “Copy. In that case, evac Delta Two-five and then perform SSE on that camp and collect any bodies and equipment you find. Another bird is already en-route to be your exfil and will be there within five minutes.”

“Roger that, Zeus. Bravo One is commencing SSE…”I reply, only now that my mind can focus on other things than not getting or Two-five’s status did I notice an enemy body slumped behind a tent – her dead eyes reflecting the fire while blood pours out of the hole in her chest. “…Be advised, seems like whatever faction settlement one was a part of is now active in our area. Over.”