Lincoln sighed with relief, thankful that at least one of his teams had responded.
“Queen Mary 5-2, we got a bird down, but this mission is still a go. I repeat…mission still a go! How copy? Over.”
“Queen Mary 5-2 to King 6. That’s a good copy. We’re ropes down, hittin’ the target in thirty seconds. Over.”
“Copy that. King 6, over and out.”
Lincoln searched the satellite feed for the crash site. “Keep trying to raise Queen Mary 5-1,” he instructed.
“On it, sir.”
He walked out of the TOC, into the AO. His team was scattered about, either nodding, reading, or listening to something through earbuds.
“Colonel!” Al called out from the entryway. “I got ‘em!”
“Casualties?”
“Three wounded, no dead,” he confirmed.
“The medic?”
“In one piece, sir.”
Lincoln ran his fingers roughly through his hair as he devised a plan. With such little manpower, he didn’t have many options.
“Alright, have the medic and two team members stay with the injured. Send the rest on foot to complete the mission.”
Al nodded and returned to the TOC. Lincoln turned to his team.
“Gear up, Kingsmen! We’re going on a rescue mission.”
