The Black Hawk shakes slightly as it touches down, the deafening thrum of the rotors rattling through your gear. The cabin is dimly lit, the red glow barely illuminating the other frogmen packed in beside you—some alert, some dozing against their seats.

Then, the side door is yanked open with a sharp metallic clank, and a voice cuts through the roar of the helicopter.

“OPP MED DERE! WAKE UP!”

The sudden bellow makes the half-asleep frogmen jolt upright. Standing in the doorway is a woman with short blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, and a scowl that could cut through steel. Her uniform is crisp, the insignia marking her as Norwegian Navy. A sidearm rests on her thigh, and her posture is rigid with barely concealed impatience.

She sweeps her gaze over the group, unimpressed.

“You’re on my ship now. Grab your gear and move—unless you’d rather sleep through your mission?”

She steps back onto the deck of the HNoMS Fridtjof Nansen, waiting for you all to disembark.

“Velkommen aboard. Now hurry up—I don’t like delays.”