Simply put, this was pure hell. All of the craft flying SAR had reported extremely rough weather as soon as they entered the storm. Even the most hardened of the Fleet SAR team and the Marine Rapid Response unit had taken anti-motion sickness shots and motion compensators were working overtime to keep up.
There had been several times that the search operations had almost been called off, but each time the team announced that they were willing to keep going. So far, the effort had paid off and most of the lost souls had been found. Granted most had been frozen to the bone and sent immediately the Paladin for frostbite and exposure, but they were going to live. But that wasn't what Nico was focused on.
The six search craft had been split up into search grids and Rescue 1, the Pennine had taken the largest one. So far, they hadn't found anything. As the storm had gotten progressively worse, Nico had taken a huge risk and gotten himself locked into his Bloodhound, reasoning that when he really needed to go, he would have to go in an instant. Just getting into his suit had been a real challenge, which had earned Nico several bruises and one really good crack across his ribs from careening off the suit locker. Rescue 1's pilot was doing a frantic job of keeping the craft free of obstacles while flying the pattern and the rest of the crew was straining out the background 'noise' in order to pick up any beacons or life signs.
Nico tried not to keep his mind from racing, but the craft bouncing around wasn't helping. Come on, Major, give us something. Give us a sign. As if someone was listening, the sensor operator spoke up.
"Chief, I think that we've got something. I've got some indistinct life signs. I can't lock on because of the storm."
"Pilot, get us closer." Nico's moved his hand closer to the restraint release, just in case.
"Aye, Chief. Hang on, we've got to come down a bit." With that, the Pennine plunged downwards, heading towards the contacts.
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