“I…” Selene began as several explosions rocked the dropship. The chrono in her visor was spiraling down dizzyingly.

“Fifteen seconds,” she said to the corporal, rooster?, with the clinical detachment she had in a chaotic OR. Press the release, get off the boat. That was the first step, just get off the ship before some rebel with a hundred dollar RPG blew apart a dropship worth a hundred million. Plus a cargo of marines whose training costs and equipment but it into the billions.

Despite the timer predicting it to the hundredth of a second the impact came with shocking suddenness. Selene’s teeth clacked shut with the impact. The marines sprang to their feet even before the explosive bolts in the hatches fired to fling them free. Dust billowed in and Selene got her first breath of air on Sorta. It reeked of jet fuel and cordite.

“Go Go Go!” someone screamed over the comms and the entire world was alive with scrambling armored men.