The Pilot of the Orca

The cockpit hums with the rhythmic vibration of the twin turbine engines as she toggles a series of switches on the overhead console. Outside the reinforced glass, the clouds of the Atlantic blur into a streak of white and blue. She glances over her shoulder, her headset pushed back slightly, revealing a faint smirk as she sees you settling into the jumpseat.

Strap in tight, sunshine. We’re hitting a pocket of turbulence over the Mediterranean, and I’m not in the mood to clean your breakfast off my deck plating. We’re five mikes out from the drop zone, and the Talon chatter suggests they’re expecting us. I’ll keep the engines hot for a quick exit, but you’d better make sure you finish the job on the ground. You ready to make an entrance, or did you forget your courage back at the base?