Routine Flight

______________________________________________________________________________

Boss’ eyes felt heavy with post-sleep fatigue, urging him to take at least another few minutes of rest. Yet a low hum that seemed to rattle one’s bones kept him from re-entering slumberland.

Boss pondered upon this rumbling, specifically on why it felt so familiar...it almost felt like...

His eyes flew open, casting away the fatigue like an unwanted blanket. Boss looked around him, seeing the metal innards of a C-130S’s cargo hold and the six other sleeping figures slumped along its twin benches.

With the fatigue gone his memory rushed back to him, filling him back in on what exactly they were supposed to be doing.

“Damnit,” Boss muttered to himself, annoyed that sleep had snuck up on him and stolen some of his precious time.

Speaking of which, Boss glanced down at his watch, trying to determine what time it was. Hopefully it wasn’t too close to the jump, he still had a few things to go over with the team.

1200, his watch reported, garnering a frown.

That was impossible, they’d left at twenty-one-hundred. There was no way more than half a day had passed by. Unless...

Boss looked up, glaring around the hold before activating his comlink, switching to the pilot’s channel.

“Harbinger one, I think one of my team messed with my watch while I was asleep. How many minutes to the drop zone, over?” he asked.

The plane trembled a little bit as it met some turbulence, the specialized stealth engines continuing to rattle Boss’ bones. Yet other than the rumble, no other noise came from the plane, including Boss’ comlink.

Frowning, Boss tried again, “Harbinger one, that last question was for one of you pilots. I say again, how much time till the drop zone? Over.”

Again Boss was met with no reply.

His face taking on a scowl, Boss got to his feet and walked over to the door that led to the cockpit. He gave two loud, angry knocks before pushing it open.

“Your guy’s mics not working or something? How long until...” Boss was cut off by a startling fact that punched him right in the face: the cockpit was empty, the pilots were gone.

“What the fuck!?” Boss growled, stepping into the cockpit and glaring around the tight space, not seeing the pilots anywhere.

Looking over the dashboard, Boss checked to make sure autopilot was on. Once he confirmed that it was, he was struck by another fact: the sky outside was a light blue, something that should not be so considering that this was a night mission.

“Shit,” Boss swore again, changing channels on his comlink again until he reached the right one, “Harbinger one to JSOC, over,” he said, turning back to the hold and confirming that the pilots weren’t there either.

Silence was his only reply...again.

“Harbinger one to JSOC, important message! Over!” Boss tried again, growing both angry and uncertain.

“Boss?” a man with a bald head, shining white as opposed to Boss’ own ebony tone, asked, stretching. The man blinked dark brown eyes in an effort to clear them of sleep before turning to his superior, “What’re you yelling about?”

“The pilots are gone and the sun’s up, I’m trying to get to JSOC to try and find out what the hell’s going on,” Boss replied, then to his comlink, “Harbinger one to JSOC, answer me, goddamnit!”

“Wait, what?”

“Redneck, try to get JSOC on your comlink, we need to find out what’s going on. Pilots don’t just up and disappear,” with that, Boss gave the cockpit a final glance before turning back to the cargo hold, “Everyone up!” he yelled, stomping forwards to shake shoulders and get everyone awake.

“This is Harbinger two to JSOC, over,” Redneck said into his comlink, stretching his arms above his head and leaning forwards to look into the cockpit through he still-open door.

The cargo hold seemed to come alive as the other five members of Harbinger team came awake.

“Time to jump?” a man with ice-blue eyes and a head like Redneck’s asked, his accent hailing from Australia.

“Best hour of sleep I ever had,” another man, this one with light brown eyes and closely cropped black hair said.

“I think it was a little longer than that, Pike,” Boss replied, “get in the cockpit and keep us airborne. Something’s happened.”

“What?” Pike asked, freezing mid-stretch.

“Cockpit. Now. Keep us airborne,” Boss snapped, causing Pike to hop up and rush to the cockpit, muttering curses all the way.

“Harbinger two to JSOC, we’ve got a situation here, over,” Redneck said, shaking his head when he caught Boss’ eyes, he wasn’t getting anyone either.

“What? Did the pilots get drunk on the job or something?” a man with a smile and aryan features asked, looking from Redneck to Boss.

“Can the shit, Snipes. This isn’t the time,” Boss growled, tone saying that he wasn’t in the mood for any goofing around, “the pilots are gone and the sun’s up,” giving his watch a glance, he continued, “Everyone check your watches, what time have you got?”

“Twelve oh three?” the australian said, tone unsure.

“Twelve oh four, Dice,” Snipes corrected, his smile turned into a frown of confusion.

“Same here,” a man with an accent hinting at Russia said, brown-haired brows furrowed over brown eyes.

“Something’s definitely going on here,” a man with brown-blonde hair and green eyes added, “I’ve got the same time.”

“Me too!” Pike called back from the cockpit.

“Harbinger two to JSOC,” Redneck continued, nodding to Boss and tapping his watch, “urgent message, over.”

“Everyone check your comlinks, they can’t all be busted,” Boss growled, turning to the cockpit and heading in, “Pike,” he said, “Is this plane’s communications system working? Try to hail someone on the ground, find us a spot to land.”

“Roger,” Pike replied, slipping on a pair of headphones and tapping the microphone attached to them, “Mayday, mayday, this is C-130 aircraft...” he paused, finding the vehicle’s number, “...two-zero-niner-niner. We’ve got an emergency, over.”

That taken care of, Boss turned back to the cargo hold.

“I’m not getting anything,” Redneck said.

“Damnit,” Boss cursed, turning to Dice, the australian, “Dice, you’re next. See if you have any luck hailing JSOC,” he changed his comlink’s channel again, this time to a channel that communicated with the rest of his team, “Mic check,” he said.

“I heard you,” Redneck said, the rest of his team nodding as well, confirming that his comlink was working.

“Uh, guys,” the soldier with the brown-blonde hair said, leaning over an open compartment, “All the parachutes are still here, how’d the pilots jump?”

“Spotter’s right,” Snipes said, jerking a thumb back towards the plane’s door/ramp, “Plus, how’d they close that door after they bailed? It opens and closes from the inside, from the look of it, the cockpit doors are also closed. You can’t close one of those things after you jump out through it.”

“So, what?” the Russian asked, “Did they fucking land or something? Did anyone hear anything, feel us land?”

“Nope,” Snipes said, “Spots and I were asleep, Holey.”

“Same here,” Dice said, having tried fruitlessly to hail JSOC.

“Did you hear anything, Pike?” Redneck called into the cockpit, “What about you, Boss?”

“I was asleep as well.”

“Ditto,” Pike replied.

“Well, shit,” Spotter said, combing a hand through his short hair, “What if the pilots landed the plane somewhere and then sent us off again?”

“Oh, gimme a break,” Snipes replied, slapping a hand onto Spotter’s shoulder, “Why the hell would they do that? And how the hell would they get the plane airborne again, they’d have to bail out, remember?”

“Unless one of us took off for them,” Redneck suggested darkly, getting a variety of looks, “Not saying that one of us did, just that that’s a possibility.”

“Maybe it was Pike!” Snipes proclaimed, pointing a finger at the cockpit and getting some rolled eyes, “He’s the only one who can fly one of these things!”

“Go to hell, Snipes,” Pike replied annoyedly.

“Maybe we should get him and tie him up...just in case,” Snipes said, fingers knitting together evilly.

“Cut the bullshit, there’s gotta be a reasonable explanation for this,” Boss reasoned, thinking over things for a moment, a hand at his chin, “Everyone, gear check. I want to know if anything’s missing, if anything that wasn’t here when we took of is here now.”

Boss turned to the cockpit again, heading in.

“I’m still not getting anyone on the plane’s communicator,” he reported, “It’s also not like someone’s jamming us, the plane’s systems would detect that.”

“Hm,” Boss nodded, “Any idea where we are?” a closer look through the windows gave the view of a few white wisps of clouds with deep-blue seas below.

“Heading dead East over an ocean at twenty thousand feet. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine,” he tapped a small screen with his right index finger, taking that hand from the wheel for a moment, “Our GPS isn’t getting a signal, it says: ‘no connection.’ But that’s not possible; we’ve got nothing but clear skies for miles around and if our receiver was busted, we’d get a notification of that. So unless someone decided to turn off all the GPS satellites, we should be getting a signal.”

“And it’s not being jammed, right?” Boss asked, looking over the dashboard again.

Pike shook his head, “No, like I said, we’d get a notification if we were being jammed.”

“Damnit, well how much fuel do we have left? What’s your chances of landing this thing?”

“Fuel...” Pike said, checking the respective gauge, “We’ve got a bit less than half what we started with, enough for a thousand more miles...” he ran the numbers through his head, glancing at the ceiling of the cockpit and muttering a few numbers to himself, “...That also means that the States are out of our range, we’d run out of fuel before we hit them. As to your second question, I don’t know. I should be able to land us if we can find an airstrip, but landing something heavy like this in a field or the ocean isn’t gonna end well for us...at least not with me behind the wheel.”

“Are any of the instruments acting funny?”

“Besides the GPS...” Pike looked over the dashboard, “I suppose the onboard clock, we left at twenty-one-hundred, but now it’s twelve-hundred-hours. Also,” Pike ducked his head to get a better angle out the window, “the sun must be busted since it’s at about ten-hundred-hours in whatever time zone we’re in now. It oughta be later than twelve-hundred.”

“And you’re sure that we’re heading East? The compass isn’t broken?” Boss asked.

Pike frowned at that, looking over at the compass, “Well there’s a thought, I guess. But I doubt it.”

“Is there anything good that you can tell me?” Boss asked.

“Well we’re still airborne, so there’s that.”

“Yeah, but that ain’t gonna last,” Redneck said from behind Boss, causing him to turn and meet the man’s eyes, “Gear checked, everything’s where it should be, nothing’s where it shouldn’t,” he reported.

“Yeah, besides the pilots!” Snipes called from the back of the plane, “Couldn’t find them anywhere. Reminds me of my damn car keys, always losing those little bastards.”

“Whoa, landmass in sight, dead East!” Pike reported, “Someone get over here and try to cross reference with a map to find out where we are, I’m gonna try to get someone on our communicator again.”

“Redneck, Holey, Spotter, go help Pike with that map, find out where the hell we are and try to find us a place to land,” Boss ordered, the three soldiers headed to the cockpit while Pike began to send out their distress call again, “Snipes, Dice, let’s double and triple check our gear. I want to be a hundred and ten percent sure that we aren’t missing anything...”

______________________________________________________________________________

(Twenty minutes later)

“Nothing’s missing from any of our rifles?” Boss asked.

“Nope,” Snipes replied, opening and closing the bolt of his rifle to make sure that he’d put it back together right, “Sep’s fine, all your SARPs are fine, all our sidearms are fine, and our explosives should be the same. Unless the pilots decided to snort our powder and put the bullets back in before they played Houdini, everything should work fine.”

“Good,” Boss said, turning and striding to the cockpit, “So where are we?”

“Dunno,” Holey reported.

“Yeah, nothing’s matching up,” Redneck added, “We’ve tried every continent from every angle, we’re not getting anything.”

“It’s like we’re not even on earth anymore,” Spotter added.

“Bullshit,” Boss said, “Where the hell else would we be? What about civilization? Anywhere we can land?”

“We might have seen what looked like small roads or train tracks or something, but nothing else, meaning that those might have not been anything at all. There’s a large storm South and a large mountain North, so one of those might be hiding something. But nowhere to land and no one’s replied to my distress calls.”

“What...” Spotter began, choosing his words wisely, “What if this is one of those new simulators. Y’know, they put you to sleep and then put your conscience in a virtual reality sort of playing field?”

“Again bullshit,” Boss called, remembering a particular aspect of the relatively new device, “Remember that in those simulators it’s impossible to consider the possibility of being in a simulator. You can’t tell when you’re in a simulator, but you can tell when you’re not. Some sort of way to make sure people don’t go crazy, thinking that they might be in a simulator.”

“Boss’s right,” Redneck agreed, “but what if something went wrong? Whatever it is that they do isn’t working, allowing us to consider that possibility?”

“Quit it with these bullshit theories! There’s got to be a reasonable explanation for all of this!” Boss growled, the weight of the situation a dead weight on his back.

“And what if there isn’t?” Redneck asked darkly.

“Well aren’t you just a bucket full of sunshine as always, Reddy,” Snipes said happily.

“There’s always a reasonable explanation!” Boss repeated, stepping back into the hold, glaring at the ground as if it held an answer.

The pilots had disappeared, they were in the middle of not even god knew where with no map and no GPS, none of their communications systems were working, and it seemed that their watches neither matched what time it should have been, nor the time that it currently was.

‘Shit,’ Boss growled mentally, stopping in the middle of the cargo hold to think. His eyes suddenly alit the door/ramp, a smile crossing his face as he jogged forwards. Above the door, located on a small rack, was the plane’s black box. A device that recorded everything in the cockpit from the pilot’s voices to the instrument’s readings. If something happened in mid-flight, it’d be recorded on that device...

...Then again, they’d need to download the information off of the device before they’d be able to play any of it.

Boss considered his options for a moment, hand placed thoughtfully under his chin.

“We’re bailing out,” he said, turning to the cockpit and striding forwards.

“What?” Spotter asked.

“We’re bailing out,” Boss repeated, “Everyone, grab a parachute. Pike, I want you to grab the plane’s black box. We get the information on there and we’ll have an explanation of what the hell happened, double time, people!”

______________________________________________________________________________

(Two minutes later)

“Okay,” Boss began, his team assembled in front of him and waiting, “Listen up, we’re HALO jumping because I want as little time in freefall as possible. Pull chutes below five hundred meters. On the ground we meet up and find a small area to clear up and set down, try to see if we can’t jury rig these things,” he gestured to the black box Pike had strapped to himself, “to play via comlink or something. Independent of if we can or can’t, from there we try to find civilization. If those were train tracks or roads that you guys saw, they’ll lead somewhere. Anything I missed?”

“Rules of engagement?” Snipes asked, raising a hand as if he were in a classroom.

“Don’t fire unless fired upon. Even then, only try to scare them off. I don’t want to inadvertently start a war if some dipshit with an AK shoots at you and you blow his brains out.”

“Where are we setting up at? Our map isn’t right,” Pike put in.

“We set that up independent of a map, we should all land close enough that we’ll be able to get together and find a spot.”

“And if we don’t?” Redneck asked darkly.

“Always with the pessimism, Reddy,” Snipes commented, a smile on his face, “I can tell why you chose to be a clown here rather than in the circus.”

Redneck shot Snipes a glare, though kept his mouth shut.

“We will,” Boss reasoned, ignoring Snipes’ comment, “Besides, our comlink’s are working locally, we’ll be able to talk to each other if anything goes wrong.”

Silence reigned for a few moments.

“Okay then, let’s jump,” Boss strode over to the door/ramp’s opening mechanism and hit the button. Everyone slid their masks on to make sure they got enough oxygen on the way down.

Wind rushed past the C-130S, its noise more prominent with the new opening.

Snipes jogged forward and off the lowered ramp with a cry of, “Geronimo!” over his comlink.

Spotter quickly followed, Holey just behind him when a massive shudder wracked the plane. Spotter was already out, but Holey’s feet were knocked out from under him from the violent movement and he hit the ramp before bouncing out of the plane.

“Fuck!” he yelled.

The rest of the team pressed back as the plane began to tilt to the left, nose pulling in that direction.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Pike swore, rushing to the cockpit and almost falling over as he did so.

“Everyone just hold onto something!” Boss yelled as Pike began to right the plane.

“What the fuck was that! Ow, chërt vozʹmi!” Holey spat.

“What happened?” Spotter asked.

The plane was soon back on course, Boss rushed to the cockpit, hitting the door/ramp’s close button and quickly cutting off the sound of rushing wind.

“What happened?” He asked, pulling his mask back, “Is someone shooting at us?”

“In the C-130S? If they can lock onto us then they probably deserve to shoot us down, no,” He looked over the dashboard before muttering a curse and looking out the right windshield, “something hit our right engine,” he said, “goddamn bird strike! It looks like the engine’s still running, but at half speed, leaking fuel like a stuck pig.”

“Pulling chute!” Snipes called out, Spotter’s and Holey’s voices reporting the same thing a few moments later.

“Guys, it looks like we might be getting split up after all,” Boss said, “We’ll get to the ground and meet up then, out,” Boss said, turning to leave.

“Hey, wait a sec!” Pike said, leaning forwards to look out the windshield, “Boss, you see that?”

“What?” Boss turned.

“You see that?” Pike repeated, pointing, “Looks like a small town or something.”

Looking to where Pike was pointing, Boss noticed a series of shapes, mostly rectangular, that stood out from the surrounding area.

“I see it, that’s definitely a town.”

“What direction?” Holey asked over his comlink.

“Uh,” Pike said, looking down at the compass, “East, bearing about zero-eight-zero.”

“Change of plan, then,” Boss said, heading back to the hold, “We head to that town. Snipes, Spotter, Holey, we’ll scope out the area and wait for you guys there, got it?”

“Roger,” Holey replied.

“Okay, then, let’s get off this plane!”

“Hold up, hold up!” Snipes’ voice came over the comlink channel, “What the hell’s that?”

______________________________________________________________________________

“What’s what?” Boss asked, over his comlink, already considering the fact that Snipes was messing around again.

“I’m serious,” Snipes replied, down on one knee with Spotter and Holey, pointing.

“I think I see it, small clearing, looks like someone set off an explosive there,” Holey added, looking at a small crater though the trees, “Recently too.”

“Well, look,” Boss began, the sound of rushing wind giving away the fact that he’d jumped from the plane, “We’ll be on the ground shortly, if you want to take a quick look then fine, just be ready to head after us when we hit the ground.”

“Roger that,” Holey said.

“Can we, daddy? Please?” Snipes asked, smiling goofily again.

“Spotter, cover us,” Holey said, gesturing for Snipes to follow.

Being the team’s primary designated marksman, Spotter moved up to a tree, pressing his weapon into the bark to steady his aim and looking down the ACOG scope attached to it.

Covered, the two soldiers headed in, moving towards its flank instead of heading directly for it.

“Everything looks clear from here,” Spotter whispered over his comlink, “Don’t see anything moving.”

“Roger,” Holey replied, equally quiet.

Holey and Snipes moved through the trees and foliage, eyes and weapons covering every angle, Holey with his rifle and Snipes with his sidearm.

The woods were oddly quiet, as if a predator roamed nearby, the little light that trickled through the trees did nothing to help the unsettling atmosphere.

“Fuckin spooky,” Snipes whispered.

“Shh,” Holey spat back.

As they neared the epicenter of what had originally appeared to be a blast, more details formed, giving them a better idea of what had happened.

“Check the trees,” Snipes pointed out, jerking his head towards some of the trees around the crater. Some of their branches were busted downwards, as if something had hit them hard from above, “looks like something fell out of the sky here if those broken branches tell us anything.”

“Really? What is it?” Boss asked, a hint of genuine curiosity tinting his voice.

“Dunno,” Holey replied, weapon pointed towards the crater, which appeared to be a yard or two in diameter, “But it hit recently,” he paused, “and hard, there’s still a few wisps of smoke coming off it.”

“Maybe it’s an alien spaceship,” Snipes suggested quietly, “Maybe they’re really small aliens.”

“Only one way to find out,” Holey said, looking around the area once more, he nodded to Snipes, who returned the nod.

The two sprinted forwards, coming to a sliding halt at the lip of the crater, freezing. Neither of them said a word as their gazes were glued to the crater’s contents.

“What is it?” Spotter hissed.

“Holey, Snipes, report. What’s in the crater?” Boss said.

The two soldiers looked up at each other, exchanging a blown-away sort of look.

“You see what I see?” Snipes asked.

Holey looked back in the crater, weapon trained on its contents.

“Sir,” Holey said, “It...it’s a small pegasus.”

Snipes looked back into the crater, staring confusedly at the grey-coated, blonde-maned creature of myth that lay before them, unmoving...

...and then the creature opened its eyes.

Author's Note

So there's the first chapter. Hopefully I've brainwashed many of you into faving and looking forwards to new chapters. I'll probably devote these Author's Notes to a sort of appendix for any special words or terms that might not be common knowledge (since Peace invented some of them).

-C-130S: a fictional version of the famous Lockheed C-130 Hercules. The C-130S combines the low-profile of a stealth plane with the holding capacity that the C-130 is famous for.

-Mic: shortened version of microphone, to any who didn't already guess.

-JSOC: Join Special Operations Command, the head (as far as Warren Peace knows) of the United States special forces. This is not fictional.

-'Sep': Snipes' pet name for his rifle, an SSSP, or S3P, where he got the name: 'Sep' from.

-SSSP: Semi-automatic Specialized Sniper Platform. A fictional rifle designed to, with a small adjustment, accept a wide variety of 7.62mm cartridges (7.62x39mmR through .300 Winchester Magnum).

-SARP: Specializes Assault Rifle Platform. Also fictional, this rifle comes in four versions and boasts the ability to use a wide variety of intermediate cartridges (5.45x39mmR, 5.56x45mmNATO, 6.5mm Grendel, 6.8 SPC, 7.62x39mmR, etc.)

-'Simulator': the simulator some of the characters mention is also fictional. Peace probably ripped the idea off of the movie: Inception, hence the whole 'you can tell when you aren't in a simulator' thing. [He told me that he resents me claiming that he ripped off inception, but I don't care ]

-Black Box: a duet of recording thingamajigs that are used in most large planes to see what went wrong if the plane goes kaboom. Non-fictional.

-HALO Jump: High-Altitude, Low-Opening. Useful when you don't want to be seen by badguys, you jump from a high altitude and don't open your chute until you get close to the ground.

-"chërt vozʹmi!" (Черт возьми!): Russian, according to Google Translator, it means 'goddamnit'.

-Bird Strike: A bird strike is a non-fictional term for when a bird hits something like an aircraft. Results can and have been fatal, and not just to the birds.

-ACOG: Advanced Combat Optical Gunsight. Typically coming in a 4x32mm (four times magnification with a thirty-two millimeter lens) version (as employed by the United States military), ACOG scopes are useful when your enemy is a bit far away. Non-fictional.

And that pretty much sums it up. See you next chapter!