Gunfire erupted from below. Rounds sparked off rock five feet from Sarah's position. "Incoming fire!" Walsh shouted.
"We're exposed." Sarah made the calculation in a half a second. They couldn't go back up. They couldn't stay here. They had to go down directly into gunfire and do it faster than their enemies could aim.
"Combat descent," she ordered. "Morrison and Chen, suppressing fire. Walsh Rodriguez dropped with Park. I'm going first to clear the landing zone." She kicked off the rock face and rappelled in bounding leaps 20 feet at a time while Morrison and Chen provided covering fire from above.
Rounds whipped past her. One creased her thigh. She barely felt it. Another tore through her uniform near her shoulder, missing flesh by inches. She hit the ground.
Rolled, came up with her weapon raised and engaged the hostile patrol. Three targets, three rounds, three down. Training and combat experience translating into mechanical precision. "LZ clear drop now." Her team came down in controlled falls, bringing Park with them.
They hit the ground, formed a defensive perimeter, and began moving toward the extraction point at a tactical run. Park supported between Rodriguez and Walsh. Sarah on point. Morrison and Chen providing rear security. The extraction helicopter was inbound.
They could hear the rotors in the distance, but between them and the landing zone were 300 m of open ground and an unknown number of hostile forces alerted by the gunfire. "Captain," Walsh said over the radio. "We've got movement left flank. At least two squads converging on our position."
"Keep moving. Morrison and Chen, prepare to break contact. I'll hold them while you get Park to the bird." "Ma'am, no." Morrison started.
"That's an order, petty officer. Get Park on that helicopter. The intelligence he's carrying is more important than any of our lives. Move." They moved.
Sarah positioned herself behind a boulder formation with clear sight lines on the approaching hostiles and began engaging targets with methodical precision. 1 2 3 4. Suppressing fire to keep them from flanking her team. The helicopter touched down. She saw her team load. She saw the pilot gesturing frantically 30 seconds until they had to lift off or risk taking fire that would down the bird.
She fired her last magazine, dropped the empty weapon, pulled her sidearm, and sprinted for the helicopter. Rounds kicked up dirt behind her. Someone was shouting in Arabic close enough that she could hear them over the rotor wash. 20 m, 15, 10, 5. She dove through the helicopter door as it lifted off Walsh and Morrison, pulling her inside. Rounds pinged off the armored hull as they climbed, but they were airborne.
Clear. Safe. Sarah lay on the deck, breathing hard, adrenaline draining away to leave exhaustion in its place. Park was secured in a seat. Medics working on his leg.