And just in time, too, as it turns out. Our own chaff frags up our radar view of the NVC facility, and the smoke-mist drek puts normal vision out of the running too. But that’s at ground level. When something gets high enough up, we’ve got line-of-sight over the intervening crap. So that’s how I spot the half-dozen Yellowjackets taking off from inside the compound, then climbing to altitude. The light-attack choppers on both sides kick in full power and dart forward to mix it up like ... well, like yellowjackets. (I’m just fragging glad I’m not up there, priyatel. All fourteen or so choppers have the same Telestrian green and gold livery because they’re all Telestrian-owned birds, and their transponders will all be squawking more or less the same thing. That reduces the value of all that oh-so-wiz Identification Friend-or-Foe tech they’re no doubt packing to precisely zero. You interrogate any bird up there with your IFF rig and it’s going to come back as "friendly," no matter who’s flying it. Nasty and chaotic, and leave it to the flyboys.)