From the ground the Rockwell B-1R Lancer bomber was invisible as it slipped through the atmosphere at around 42,000 feet. The high speed, high altitude bomber was doing a tick over Mach 2, and at that speed and height, it was well beyond the range of guided missiles. The craft had been cleared by the Iraqis on the pretext it was examining the radiation bloom traveling across the continent – but only part of that data had been true, as the examination to be undertaken would be a little more intrusive than the locals expected.

The three figures seated in the back looked more like assembled robots than human beings. From head to boot, they were encased in an armored uniform that reflected the inside of the bomber’s rear cabin. It was an adaptive camouflage that interpreted their surroundings to provide a suitable cloak, blending them to their environment.

For now, it was as black as the shadows they sat within. Some of the molded plating looked like the exoskeleton of an insect. Further adding to this image was the full-face helmet that had dark lenses, glossy black, and impenetrable insect-like eyes. Over the back and shoulders were aerodynamic packs in a twin-bulbed case that contained a simple thruster propulsion system. Not that the HAWCs would need any more speed on their way down, but as they had no parachutes, there would be a reverse blast from the turbine fans when they needed to slow. Parachutes could be seen from the air, and in some cases even picked up on radar. A single falling body, with low metallic trace, was harder to see … and therefore harder to hit.

Weapons were stored in pouches and sheaths. Heckler & Koch USP45CT pistols, a HAWC favorite, were smooth and matte black sidearms made of a molded polymer with recoil reduction, and a hostile environment nitride finish. The variant trigger made it lightening quick, and the upgraded frequency shifting pushed discharge noise beyond the range of human hearing. The HAWCs also had K-Bar knives – long and short, their tanto edge was like that of a chisel and they were laser-honed so they were sharp enough to perform surgery, and strong enough to cut bone.

The lights in the rear cabin’s bomb bay went to red, and everything took on a gothic gloom. Alex stood and looked at his small team. Both Casey Franks and Sam Reid rose to their feet. Alex held out a fist and they all brought theirs together at the center, the plated knuckles clacking as they struck one another.

“We are ghosts; in and out without a trace.” He waited as they repeated the phrase, knowing it by heart. He stared into the glossy black eye-shields. “We are the sword and the shield. If any get in our way, they will fall.”

“They will fall,” came the response.