The Warfighter, the Storm, and the Moon

Chapter 25: Arrowhead

'Arrowhead'

06-Sep-2030, 0100U

Leo Valdez, Hero of Olympus, Son of Hephaestus

Legion XII

Mendocino National Forest, California, USA

Having become a literal god, I didn't think that Frank or I would actually need oxygen. But Percy wasn't willing to take that chance, and made sure we were all "pre-breathing." Moreover, he suited us up with gear similar to him: camouflage fatigues, face paint, ghillie suits, plate carriers, helmets, night-optical devices, goggles, strobes, radios, water bladders, even grenades—no firearms, however, with him only giving Tyson a machine gun. Meanwhile, the rest of us brought our own swords, daggers, bows, and crossbows, along with any other gear—much of which ended up in a bag that hung between our legs and made it hard to walk.

However, he did give me something called the "Android Tactical Assault Kit"—basically a smartphone strapped to the plate carrier he strapped on me (for a moment, I felt special, before realizing he gave one to each guy in the group). It allowed for me to track any other friendlies in the area, mark positions, and generally assist with situational awareness—something that would be very useful in a forest I wasn't familiar with after jumping from the chariot at thirty-five-freaking-thousand feet.

Oh yeah, Percy got the literal goddess of the moon to give us a ride up, with the Moon Chariot serving as the "jump platform" and "C-2 bird." Apparently, Reyna and Hazel were supposed to stay up here with Diana (the only one that didn't need oxygen) and serve as command and control (despite us having a damn Predator drone), while the rest of us jumped down. Dear old Dad hadn't joined us—though that was understandable, considering how cramped we were—instead electing to be part of the "QRF," which was made up of thirty infantrymen (including medics), ten cavalrymen with their mounts, and a dozen eagles flying overhead, all from the Old Goats.

Together, we were Task Force Arrowhead—apparently because they were in the middle between hammers and scalpels (which certainly made sense, considering the absolute size of some of them)—and this was Operation Black Squirrel.

"Viking, this is Bronco Actual. We have reached Staging Area 1," my old man suddenly called over the radio. "I say again, Bronco has reached Staging Area 1."

"Roger, Bronco," Percy replied as he hung onto the chariot, looking beyond the back end of the chariot as we zoomed across the night sky. "We'll reach DZ-1 in fifteen mikes. Is the UAV still overhead?"

"Viking, this is Cobalt," a robotic voice replied—one of Dad's automatons, I presumed. "The Predator has maintained an orbit above the AO, and we can confirm the enemy is still in place. Are you receiving the footage on your ATAK?"

"Stand by, Cobalt... roger, Viking 2-1 is receiving feed.... Viking 2 is receiving feed... Viking 1 is—1-5 is it transmitting to you? 1-5?"

"Uh... yeah, Viking 1-5 also receiving... thing," I replied as I snapped back to reality, feeling like an idiot as I quickly checked my ATAK. After confirming I could see... something on the screen, I sent Percy a thumbs-up towards the sailor as he shook his head. I couldn't quite make out his eyes through his goggles, but they were probably rolling as he turned his head back towards the land below—apparently to watch out for any hazards before we jumped.

Speaking of which, I wasn't jumping on my own due to a lack of experience, nor were Tyson or Frank. Instead, they were to be strapped to the biggest guys in the group—Kahale and Dakota, respectively—while I was stuck with Juan, resulting in the pack between my legs being extra large as I had his gear too. He was on the smaller side, but only relatively speaking, considering the presence of Tyson and Frank.