Ep. 1.5 - Dustup - (Closed)
Sept 8, 2014 1:08:19 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Sept 8, 2014 1:08:19 GMT -5
Set in Ep. 1.5, Week One, Day 3!
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Shadows raced across the arid basin south of the Black Ridge Canyons Wilderness.
In loose formation, the two black Kiowa gunship helicopters followed the southern border of the park. They flew low, following what had once been an old riverbed and was now little more than a dried up wash, rocky and banded in red dust. Dense stands of pinyon and juniper lay prickly and green on the upland mesas. The shadows of the helicopters flitted over them, disturbing birds and jackrabbits.
The two gunships flew southwest, roughly following the direction of the far distant Colorado River. Their manner suggested urgency - they did not wander from their heading but hugged the terrain, using the deeper canyons when possible to shield them from both visual and radar detection. The sound of their rotors thudded off the canyon walls, echoing upwards into the brilliant blue desert sky.
Each machine carried two weapon pylons, loaded with .50 calibre machine guns and rocket pods. They were in a hurry, and they were armed.
Over the radio they spoke to one another.
"That's zero contact," said the first. "I've got about forty minutes of fuel left, not counting reserves."
"Roger that," said the second. "I'm the same. Let's rendezvous with Hydra 424 and head back for the day. Should make it to Typhon in thirty. This whole area south of the river looks secure. We'll pass that on to Command when we get back."
"Copy that, 421."
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Shadows raced across the arid basin south of the Black Ridge Canyons Wilderness.
In loose formation, the two black Kiowa gunship helicopters followed the southern border of the park. They flew low, following what had once been an old riverbed and was now little more than a dried up wash, rocky and banded in red dust. Dense stands of pinyon and juniper lay prickly and green on the upland mesas. The shadows of the helicopters flitted over them, disturbing birds and jackrabbits.
The two gunships flew southwest, roughly following the direction of the far distant Colorado River. Their manner suggested urgency - they did not wander from their heading but hugged the terrain, using the deeper canyons when possible to shield them from both visual and radar detection. The sound of their rotors thudded off the canyon walls, echoing upwards into the brilliant blue desert sky.
Each machine carried two weapon pylons, loaded with .50 calibre machine guns and rocket pods. They were in a hurry, and they were armed.
Over the radio they spoke to one another.
"That's zero contact," said the first. "I've got about forty minutes of fuel left, not counting reserves."
"Roger that," said the second. "I'm the same. Let's rendezvous with Hydra 424 and head back for the day. Should make it to Typhon in thirty. This whole area south of the river looks secure. We'll pass that on to Command when we get back."
"Copy that, 421."