---

A smile, one born of excited anticipation, crept across her features as Volana paused a moment at the corridor to wait for the PDA-equipped pilot to make his way over. There was a growing sense of... accomplishment, one which had taken root the moment consciousness had rushed back to her mind not even an hour earlier. Regardless of what happened from here on out, she had made it. They had made it. She wasn't the biggest believer in luck, though the pilot still did what she could to keep the feeling from welling up too much from the back of her mind. Later, once things were settled in she would have time for it, now was time for the present.

A slightly less foggy recollection guided her towards the hangar from the mess, some real food having gone a long way to get her body back into gear as it pieced back together the steps of living. Her attention focused on the captain's address which was coming over the intercom, his sentiments echoing her own, before the image of a sandy brown marble hanging suspended against a backdrop of inky blackness filled nearly every screen around. It was hauntingly beautiful, an alien visage that bore a twisted sense of familiarity. Earth was not her home, but she could not help but feel as though they were discovering some sort of cosmic sibling. Another world with patches of green and blue, with white wispy clouds that danced across the surface.

It was exactly as Artemie had described it... and so much more.

"So much for getting there early," Volana smirked, prying her gaze away from the screen with the planet to shoot Fox a grin. "Guess we will have to ask about naming privileges later, yes?"

Fortunately, her memory had held up well so far, and a short lift ride brought them to the hangar proper, the doors opening with a hiss to the cavernous space which offered a welcome sense of familiarity in an otherwise new vessel. Not the least of which was thanks to the massive, stationary forms of the Orbitals which lined the hangar. Her eyes darted from one to the other; a mishmash of colors, designs, and markings that appeared to represent nearly every major power from home; before settling on the iridescent glint from her partner in crime.

A finely engineered mass of weapons and sleek armor, the Orbital's stance even when deactivated likening it in her mind to some enormous bipedal feline. A poised grace that seemed at odds with it's construction as a machine of war built by man. Some Orbitals were built utilitarian, others gave an air of nobility and strength; her own... well it wasn't difficult to determine the purpose behind it.

A new spring in her step, Volana made her way across the gantry towards her Aurora, cycling through her suit's systems with a practiced efficiency as she did.

She could feel the anticipation creep back into her chest.

Stel quickly finished her food and went to drop off the tray as the first of the other pilots left. Soon enough, there was an announcement and the image of the planet appeared on every screen she could see. By the time the captain finished speaking, the other pilots were on the move, so Stel quietly followed a ways behind them to the hanger. When she finally got there, she looked around to see the myriad of different mechs and colors throughout. The ones that caught her attention were the ones the other pilots were standing at. Beautiful blues near the girl with white hair, stark red and white by the guy with the distant look in his eyes, deep indigo and grey by the man with the heavy facial hair. There was striking crimson by the girl with the mask, military green and grey by the mostly cybernetic man, ancient latin markings on the one near the girl who talked about the planet. And then the next, in order of how far away they were from her, was her own Michael cast in its scarlet and black coloring. She began towards it, waving at the supports staff nervously, and took her helmet from one of them.

If it weren't for her wearing her flight suit already, she doubted any of them would believe the young girl was a pilot at all, at least until she went up the stairs next to the Orbital and activated what was affectionately known as the "Can Opener." The machine twisted and pulled at just the right amounts in just the right patterns to open the back of the METATRON, allowing her to step inside and open the cockpit of the inner mech. She ducked in and closed the door, straddling the almost motorcycle-like command center of the Archangel unit. As she waited to find out what she should be doing, she set her PDA to play some quiet music and turned on her helmet's comms, fiddling with her suit to make sure it didn't have any problems or tears, since she hadn't inspected it yet. There was an almost cold feeling in her chest and butterflies in her stomach as she nervously sat in her Orbital, waiting for instructions.

---

"Kitezh," Konstantin breathed in a murmur, allowing the name to roll over his tongue like a new, alien taste as he stood at attention. Before him was displayed the image of their new "home". Or perhaps their new "target". It depended on mentality, maybe, but it did not change that the colony module was now their forward operating base in the stringent terms of official military designation. If that dusty rock of brown, splotched by greens and blues by the lifegiving dye of liquid water, was to be treated as official combat Area of Operations, then he as a soldier would reflect the part.

There would be no higher security measure taken than this first drop into the gravity well, atmosphere, and most importantly, biosphere. Extant lifeforms had long been confirmed, that he now knew, and it was a fleetingly rare moment in history when people like them— those thinking themselves explorers, pioneers, trailblazers, made truly peaceful contact with anything native to that unknown land. Readiness was a sword on the hip, even if you came in peace.

Upon their dismissal, the pilot wasted no time reporting to the hangar. That it was ordered of him by their CO was one thing, but simultaneously... he'd slept for 15 years. Even if his mind barely knew the time had passed, and his body had not felt the ravages of a decade and a half upon it, both felt a distinct yearning for the controls. The recycled air of a cockpit. The power of an Oberth Reactor, thrumming through the frame of the walking fortress beneath him. He suspected it to be the same for his fellows, all assembled at their Orbitals in a conga line of the various stages of pre-launch checks.

The Bedwyr was not hard to spot, even amongst its kin. Konstantin's personal chariot, a colossus of iron, stood tall and proud amongst its fellows, cutting an almost knightly silhouette where other designs leaned more towards the utilitarian, or to the feral, or even to the fey. The wings, folded behind and flat below the shoulders of the great machine, almost suggested the form of a surcoat. A quartet of guns protruded outward from the otherwise human bodyplan, a pair above and a pair beneath where arm met torso. A yellowed visor impassively regarded its pilot from high above, as though gazing upon an old friend from between the massive barrels of its shoulder turrets, so routinely polished as to gleam in the white cast by florescence high overhead. Took our time, didn't we? It seemed to say, matter-of-fact as he was.

In truth, his OF-2D had been very clearly the subject of spirited upkeep in its entirety— even his trademark coat of paint looked touched up for the occasion. Striking reds upon a subtly blued white, ascending past the realm of mere trimming or pinstripes when the eye inevitably found itself drawn towards that left arm, awash with the hues of blood. Not for nothing, either.

"Looks like you kept him in good shape for me." he called from below, clambering up the ladder to the boarding catwalk as the head of the attached tech team hailed him with a wave. A veritable tree stump of a man, Konstantin couldn't help but note that a few more wrinkles had graced the ridges of his eyes, even if the GR pin on his lapel was nice and shiny. He had already been pushing 50 when they'd last met.

"Had a hell of a time with it too, considering your proclivity for coming back with three limbs. After reading your record, I nearly decided to just ditch the damn thing entirely." He made a show of grumbling as he pulled up the master schematic on his PDA, blue light reflecting off of the nametag: Harling Schroeder. While not strictly military personnel, his presence on the repair crew was all but essential. To begin with, the representative had been involved with OF-2 project since its inception in Germany, and likely had a greater working knowledge of the errant specifics of the platform than any other greasemonkey you'd find—

"Ah, it was only twice. The red is for good luck."

"If you say so. Either way, we've got her running hot as she's ever been now that Jim worked out a bit of a balancing issue. Just to be sure, give your wings another pass once you step inside. The aileron right here wasn't responding in time, wiring issue. Other than that, we just need to get you acquainted with Merlon."

—And he had also brought with him a skunkworks project the Dam's software division had cooked up. Gesturing to the helmet that rested within the crook of the pilot's elbow and then to the open cockpit nestled within the Bedwyr's chest. Konstantin had already noticed the differences in design to his usual headgear, most notably the input jack for what he had to assume was the systems integration process between suit and frame.

"You'll find the wire over the left shoulder. Think the opposite of a seatbelt."

Of course he would— the fiber-optic cable that dangled behind his seat was impossible for him to miss. Even if he wasn't familiar enough with this machine that it felt like slipping on an old glove, his eyes still worked.

Wisely, Konstantin did not share the sentiment, instead slipping the sleek plastics and composites over his skull as he nestled himself in. Getting snippy with the guy in charge of maintaining your machine was like shitting on your waiter— just asking to get spit in your beer. Considering that he was currently in the middle of plugging something into what was very close to his own brain, he was not to keen on finding out how the metaphor might translate to information to and from a seventy-foot war machine. The doors closed before him as he tugged on his harness, satisfied with its snugness. For a brief moment, he was alone in a dark box.

Then, with the flick of a switch he hadn't needed to see for ages, the world came into crystal focus once more, the yellow eye of the one-armed knight flaring to life in the hangar as a low hum sprouted from deep within the Orbital's iron breast. Ambient audio, the muted sounds of orbitals and crew alike within the hangar, piped into his ears to back the current silence on official radio frequencies— one shattered after a moment by a bell-like chime, and the flashing image of a sword stabbed into an anvil superimposing itself upon his video feed.



Oh.

He took a brief moment to appreciate just how many objects of interest in his field of view had been designated, complete with shorthand IFF descriptors. FRND. FRND. NTRL. FRND. NTRL. NTRL. NTRL.

That's new.

A gleam in his eye, he began to jaunt his way through the practiced routine of finalizing pre-flight checks, brimming with an intense curiosity and excitement, a child that couldn't wait to play with this new toy. In so many ways, this promised to be perhaps the most eye-opening sortie he'd ever experienced.

The marine made sure to absorb all the information given during the briefing. His mind began to run possible outcomes for the upcoming mission as he walked to the hanger. Planet was far more habitable meaning humanity can establish itself without too much problems. He made a mental note to get a topographic map of their landing site. If combat conditions are assumed he is going to make sure as hell that the fighting takes place on favorable grounds. As he thought he removed the cigar from his pocket and lit it.

When he entered the hangar he took another puff of his cigar. Locating his parked orbital he made his way over to the technician running its diagnostics.

"How do we look?"

“Green across the board. Just slaving the drones to the orbital.” technician replied. The drones on the nearby rack lights flashed on.

The old marine circled to the back of his orbital climbing up the ladder he opened the hatch on its back. Zakharin dropped into the cockpits after securing his kit. Once the marine was properly seated he activated the drone network. He went through each drones loadout equipping them with recon and protection as he waited for more information.

---

Castle looked down at the holographic planetary model, a curious glint in his eyes as he listened to the announcement from the bridge. It certainly didn't seem like the lush garden world one would've expected from a place that was supposedly like Earth. Artemie was right in that regard; Earthlike, but not lush. Still, he figured that the newly christened Kitezh was still a garden world in some respects-- just that it was a 'zen garden', rather than 'flower garden'. He pondered this as he made his way to the hangar where the others were setting up.

There was a myriad assembly of Orbitals here. Some were newer, cutting-edge models. Others were older, potentially obsolete ones. Some appeared humanoid, while others seemed to be more animalistic in appearance. Some bore multiple weapon ports, and some only carried what was necessary. Whatever they looked like, each Orbital was similar to each other in a single way: these machines and their pilots were here for a reason. Each one had a role to play, and each pilot was likely skilled enough to carry their weight and then some. Soon, the group split up, each one moving to their own Orbitals to perform pre-launch checks and prepare for combat conditions.

Holden was no different.

Castle made a beeline for the towering goliath of deep blues and greys. The Ajax seemed to be in excellent condition, as evidenced by the newly-refurbished slabs of armor and freshly-replaced barrels that were now in place. A few crewmen were in the process of loading the Orbital's backpack with munitions, and a few were making sure the thrusters were up to snuff. Holden took a moment or two to admire this sight, before strolling up to the woman who was at the head of it all.

"Miss MacKenzie!" Holden grinned. "How's the Ajax holding?"

"Better than ever, boss."

Caitlin MacKenzie was a part of the engineering core who worked on maintaining the Orbitals of the Saturn Defense Force. Despite being among the youngest of her peers, she was a rising star and a whiz with a wrench who quickly became in charge of maintaining an Orbital of her own, which just happened to be Holden's RGM-96X. Where the Ajax went, so did she. After the man's retirement, she signed on as a representative of Dodekatheon Industries, which put her at the top of the potential list of candidates for the crew who would maintain his Orbital.

And neither of them would have it any other way.

"...I'm not your boss anymore, you know. We're co-workers now. You don't have to keep calling me that."

"Sure, and you don't have to call me 'Miss Mackenzie' anymore either." She rolled her eyes at the hypocrisy of his statement.

"Hah. Not happening."

"Worth a shot." She commented. "The Ajax is all ready for ya. Even spent some extra time making sure he looks good as new!"

"I noticed." Holden nodded in approval as he put a hand on the Orbital's hull. "Good work."

With that, he put on his EVA helmet, the suit quickly sealing and pressurizing with a sharp hiss. SDF Flight Suits doubled as both an EVA suit and an armored battlesuit, in case a pilot had to enter ground operations for whatever reason. Holden figured the environment down there would've been breathable enough even without the need for breathing apparatuses, but it was better safe than sorry. Castle ascended the nearby ladder and moved towards the Orbital's cockpit through a passage near the top of the backpack.

The door opened with a groan as the hydraulics opened the blast doors aside. Holden marched forward proudly and took a seat at the controls. After putting on the seatbelt and safety harness, the man began flicking through the various switches and buttons as he began running system diagnostics. He knew the risks of going down there-- of facing an unknown alien threat that is, in all likeliness, more advanced than anything humanity had ever seen.

...or the place could just be nothing but dust and rocks, but what are the odds of that?

"All systems nominal..." Cait said. "...try not to scratch the new paint job too much."

Castle chuckled a bit at that.

"I'll try."

There it was. The world Artemie had only glimpsed.

Not a beautiful blue marble but hauntingly striking in its own right. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been different once, that the surface she saw now was a remnant. It wasn’t anything she could have put into words. But she couldn’t shake it, nevertheless. She parted ways from her colleagues with a nod and crossed the hangar with growing purpose.

On the way her eyes passed over the machines to her left and right. Some of them were familiar; she spied a couple G-Falcons and an artillery that bore a close resemblance to units she had seen before. But others… Brand new (to her) and gleaming in the hangar light, every inch lethal and efficient. And of course… Her brows furrowed a little at the red one. It was small, it was… Alien. In appearance. Its striking paintjob and design certainly drew the eye. It didn’t look anything like the others, but its design was naggingly familiar. Something about its aesthetics and layout, the design ethos behind it, was exactly like something she’d seen one before. Her hair stood on end when she crossed in front of it because she heard the diminutive Orbital raise its voice, a thing of infinite familiarity and a bottomless uncanny valley.

'Now it shall be said of Jacob and Israel;
What hath God wrought?'
Pre-flight checks are now complete.
Anemoi-001 is now alive.

Well that was… Foreboding. Rushing in where angels fear to tread for certain, huh?

But none of them were the machine she waited to see. Bay after bay, all full, until the very end of the row… And there she was. IS-049. Voyager hadn’t gotten quite the same spitshine the others had Artemie had to admit. Came from having no dedicated flight crew. Someone had given her the onceover but not the same personal touch.

But that was alright. Artemie’d fix that.

She slipped her foot into the loop and gripped the line, letting the winch pull her up to the hatch on Voyager’s side. Unlike most Orbital cockpits which were accessed through the chest, Voyager’s would have been blocked by the emitter in place. Last time she entered through the back; her stasis chamber had been docked there, and she had gotten into place through its airlock from the ship that ferried her to Pluto. But that module wasn’t in place now. There was no need for it. The boosters were still in place but she was accessing the cockpit through the hatch near its ‘ribs’. She swung her legs in first and wriggled sideways into the cockpit hearing it ome alive the moment she was detected.

“Arty,” the computer began in a low, playful voice. “Been a while. Seven years, five months, and twenty three days. You don’t write anymore.”

“Kinda been asleep, Starlight,” Artemie said absently settling into her seat. The cockpit was pristine. Not that surprising, she hadn’t spent very much time in it. When she wasn’t on an EVA she’d been waiting in the stasis chamber. Or asleep in the stasis chamber. “But you’re still chatty, huh?”

“Always. Sleep well?”

“Like the dead.” The Lunite answered, turning her attention the controls in front of her. Starlight’s personality matrix was pretty basic, but having someone to talk to had been nice on her voyage. And the stock computer voice always felt too cold. Even a little basic intonation went a long way to giving it some life, and she’d had a while to tweak it. “But it was a relief to wake up again. How’re we looking?”

“Tiptop, boss. Pyxis pushed out a navigational update to all units based on the data we’ve got so far. Reactor is operating nominally, and Voyager’s capacitors are at one hundred percent. As are Dauntless boosters one through four.”

“Good…” Her voice trailed off as she flipped through the weapon systems, running circuit tests on each in turn. The three emitters along Voyager’s body glowed faintly as theirs were completed, illuminating the golden letters on its chest. Nothing came up wrong. As far as she could tell, everything was good to go.

For the first time in twenty years she picked up her helmet and twisted it carefully into place.



“Alright, folks!” The Chief of Orbital Operations, a tall woman with her arms crossed, shouted. “You heard the skipper. The scientists are all loaded up, you’re launching first. Staggered launch, I don’t want any screwups just because you’re all feeling rusty. Those of you without flight capabilities, your crews rigged up entry and escape assist boosters. You should all be checked out on them. Deploy your boosters and heat shields on time during descent, and fire those boosters again when it’s time to leave. You can ditch ‘em down there if things get hot, we’ll reattach ‘em or get you back up here another way.”

“Once on station, I want those of you who can fly in the sky keeping an eye out. Artillery units, you guys’ll establish a defensive perimeter with your peers. You all know the drill. Eyes peeled, ears open.”

“Proceed to the catapults when ready. Flight Ops will handle timing control. Get going!”

Adam broke into a jog as the group of pilots dispersed into the hangar, seeking out their own individual Orbitals. He was having trouble spotting his smaller Skyhammer among the mix of heavier artillery platforms and frontline units filling the Orbital bays. Luckily, he didn't have to go far before he spotted the recognizable matte white paintjob of his personal SFC-11. He frowned as he looked over the factory-standard color. It looked impersonal, soulless and it gave the model a more unsettling appearance. His eyes were drawn to a familiar crest painted on the right torso; an oblong diamond sitting in the nadir of a thin crescent angled down and to the left. He hadn't had time to have his replacement Orbital done-up like his first, but seeing the small customization carried over as he slept helped. He spotted the maintenance crews pushing a diagnostic cart into storage at the back of the bay and made his way over.

"How's she looking? Everything ready to fly?" He nodded towards the Starstrike II, and the lead mechanic walked over to him, dressed in Martian Naval colors. "Your Starstrike is ready to go. Just had to double-check the flight controller after we fed it a data-set Bell-Isle sent us. Communications were irate about the bandwidth being choked for two months, but we argued them down. She held out her hand to shake, and Adam returned it. She had a strong grip, because he could feel it through their gloves. "Name's Amber, nice to meet you Adam. Didn't have the time or supplies to paint it, but Sam found enough to get it's emblem up a month ago. The real paint will have to wait. As for right now, all that's left is for you to so is make sure the control surfaces work and wake sleeping beauty up. Good luck out there." Before he knew it, she and the rest of the work crew was gone. He fit his foot into the lowered reel-lift and looked out at the hangar as he was raised into the cockpit. He saw Amber and company filter heading for the hangar. Adam stepped into the opened cockpit and settled into the seat just long enough to run the Orbital's boot-up process. The reactor began it's ever-present hum as low-resolution text scrolled down his viewscreens and the hatch folded shut in front of him.

MARTIAN ANTI PIRACY UNIT: RED ATLAS SPECIALIST ADAM GILFORD

SFC CoreBoot...SUCCESSFUL
11G(C) Module Boot... SUCCESSFUL
Oberth Reactor............... OK
Capacitor Submodule..... OK
Flight Control System.... OK
Reentry Supplemental.. OK
Motor Control System.. OK
Optics Array................ OK
Sensors Array............ OK
Weapons Systems.... OK
Thrusters....... TEST PENDING

Adam heard and felt the countless thrusters covering his Orbital power up and blast through the thruster test, each pair of twin reversible engines pulsing "forward" thrust and then then inverting. The output was a minuscule fraction of the maximum, but it made a lot of noise, and blasted the area around it with uncomfortably hot thruster exhaust. The thruster check completed after a few seconds and the cockpit screens switched to exterior view. His instruments indicated the capacitor cable had disconnected from the wall and that the Orbital was now running fully on reactor power. HUD elements blinked into existence as passive sensors identified numerous nearby Orbitals. Adam punched in a command and the yellow "unidentified" pin-marks were replaced with green chevrons indicating friendlies. Adam finished his prep just as orders were handed out. Sounds simple, but we're dropping with zero intel. Let's hope SAM launchers don't grow on the trees down there.

Adam guided the Starstrike out into the center of the hangar before walking it towards catapult access, an optical sensor sweeping each side of the facility to build up it's list of logged Friendlies. His grip tightened on his controls to suppress the shaking in his hands.
Warning: Pilot heart rate elevated: stress
"Just the pre-mission jitters. That's all."

---

From her spot in front of the gleaming, armored cranial unit of the Aurora Volana regarded the blank polycarbonate sensor array quietly, slipping off the glove from her right hand. Without the bright illumination from the active scanning it looked more than a bit akin to the dead, empty sockets of an animal skull. For fifteen years it had stayed as such, empty and dead.

Well, not for much longer.

Volana glanced down to her flight suit's forearm, keying in a quick string of commands into the screen there. A faint hiss of hydraulic locks disengaging emanated from the Orbital before her, a sound she half-expected not to have heard given how long it had been since the last time the command was received. A sound that was louder than she had ever heard it before. The lack of conversation from techs to drown it out was a strange shift from the normalcy she had known back home.

There was no ground crew to be seen, no one to send her off. It wasn't a surprise, in fact it was one of the only reasons why she had managed to get the Aurora out into the black this far with her. It may have been her Orbital, but the technology and equipment behind its prototype systems were still buried beneath a mountain of red tape and ink. Or at least, they had been fifteen years ago. The secrecy meant only a select few individuals were actually qualified to even service the machine, and sending those scant few off to another solar system entire had been out of the question for Ishtar. A brain drain the likes of which no government would have been comfortable with, stagnating development at best... and completely killing it at worst.

Of course, it was perfectly acceptable if she went. By all means, they had said. She was the Aurora's pilot, a damn good pilot at that, but at the end of the day she was just that; a pilot. Another could be trained, and probably already had during the time she was frozen, and she would be replaced. A minor hiccup in the eyes of the higher ups.

So here Volana was, plus one Orbital but sans ground crew. A faint thread of thought wondered what they were up to now, the faces that she had gotten to know, ones that felt like she had seen just yesterday. Their robotic simulacrum that Ishtar had provided in their stead were quiet and unseen, probably tucked away in some alcove of the hangar. She just had to trust them to maintain her Orbital.

The armor panels before her fell away, sliding up over themselves like some insectile maw that opened on the Aurora's chest. With a single, practiced motion Volana stepped off the gantry and slid the few meters down the Orbital's sloped iridescent armor to the cockpit opening. The plates moved back into place as she entered, sealing with the sound of magnetic bolts locking into place.

A dull red light was the only illumination within the cockpit proper, not that she needed it given how much was ingrained into muscle memory at this point. Twisting around in the space, Volana took a single step backwards and felt her harness snap into place, a quick barrage of physical clamps clicking into alignment one by one up her back. Another reassuring click as her helmet twisted into place, the readout on her forearm changing from red to yellow as it did so. The Cytherean pilot held up her flesh and blood hand, still nothing but bare skin, before placing her thumb on a readout just to her side.

Volana winced involuntarily as a small prick of pain shot down the digit, though it faded nearly as quickly as it arrived. Being prepared for it never helped.

An instant later and Volana was being pulled backwards into the cockpit proper, the small entryway giving way to a dark, larger space that left her feet dangling. A space that was partially illuminated by a section of screen that had slid into place as she cleared the entrance. The blockish type blinked before her, scrolling through a set of commands.

DNA//VERIFICATION

COMPLETE

DBLBLND//CONFIRMED

DISENGAGE//COUNTERMEASURE

DISENGAGE//IKELOS

STANDDOWN//VISYS:makaria

VISYS:makaria//HANDOFF//AISYS:aurora

COMPLETE

UNSHACKLE//AISYS:aurora

Suddenly the cockpit was illuminate in bright white, and Volana squinted as her eyes took a moment to adjust. The cockpit came into focus proper, a nearly perfectly spherical space that was covered nearly entirely in displays. The white glow from them darkened, and resolved itself into a real time image of hangar around her; albeit one from the vantage point of the Aurora from 22 meters up.

"Jacira, Volana. Activation confirmation," said pilot spoke, watching the rest of the pilots nearby board their own machines through the augmented view provided by the sensors. She put her suit's glove back on, and the readout switched to green, before removing her prosthetic and attaching it to the armature her harness was connected to.

"Privyet Volana," came the acknowledgement over her helmet, the voice smooth, feminine, and distinctly artificial. Volana felt inertial gel close around her boots, as the fluid slowly started to rise to fill the cockpit. The voice continued in her native language, "System startup successful, operational capacity nominal. Reactor idle, output nominal."

"Start prelaunch sequence, confirm external boosters and heat shield integrity," She responded in kind, reaching up to grab onto the control which had not been visible in the darkness before. Or, one of the controls. The second simply interfaced where her prosthetic had been moments before.

"Integrity confirmed; external boosters integrated."

Volana slowly nodded in satisfaction, more to herself than to the AI, and glanced around the hangar. IFF signatures overlaid themselves on the image before her, flicking from yellow to blue as they were identified as friendly. At least she could get data from the shared battlenet well enough, even with all the different sources of information flooding it at the moment. There was of course the matter of well, communicating with all these disparate Orbitals effectively.

"Open a channel too..." Volana turned to look at the Orbital standing at attention to the right of her own, the bright crimson unmistakable, "...the Bedwyr."

A click indicated the comm channel connecting, and Volana returned to English.

<<Oh good, it does work. Sorry, wanted make sure everything was compatible between us. First time connecting to an Earthling Orbital and all.>>

<<Sort of small disappointment. Was expecting something different, you know?>>

So much for getting there early," Volana smirked, prying her gaze away from the screen with the planet to shoot Fox a grin. "Guess we will have to ask about naming privileges later, yes?"

With a shake of his head and a lopsided grin of his own, Fox silently followed behind Volana as they made their way toward the hanger. Pausing at the lift doors for moment to take in the sheer breadth of Orbital designs and colors, Fox let himself stare for a few more seconds before moving on in search of his mech.

Dwarfed by the proper orbitals around it Fox's Outrider was tucked back in it's bay, not even close to filling the space allotted to it. As he made his way over, Fox was met by an older woman in UN fatigues and a pair of work overalls. Tossing Fox his helmet, she leaned to one side and offered a dry grin.

"Have a nice nap, Kid?"

"Like a rock. How 'bout you Sarah?"

Fox replied with his 'actual' voice, both hands catching the helmet. The engineer in question, Sarah Copeland, stepped back in mock surprise.

"He speaks! We in serious mode today?"

"Don't know yet. The day is still young."

Fox signed back cheekily, his helmet tucked under one arm. Groaning, Sarah turned to face Fox's Exo-Frame as the young man stepped up to join her.

"Sitrep?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Regular tuning aside, you've got an ablative heat shield & chutes for the drop; booster pack for breaking orbit."

Pausing for a moment, Sarah snapped her fingers.

"I did actually have enough to enough time to hit the booster with smart paint and get it synced with stealth suite. So on the off-chance there are actually angry little green men down there, you won't have to ditch the pack for full stealth. Outrider's all warmed up and ready for ya."

"Excellent work, Ms. Copeland, as always."

"Kid."

Giving his engineer one last nod, Fox slipped his helmet on and pulled himself up to the open cockpit of his mech's chest. Strapping in, he brought the Exo-frame out of rest mode; the mech thrumming slightly as all of it's systems came fully online. As he went through the pre-launch checklist with practiced ease, Fox paused at the stealth systems.

...Always better safe than sorry...

Opening a short range broadband comm, Fox spoke up.

{This is Fox in Outrider. Testing stealth systems in 3, 2, 1.}

With that, the smart paint shifted from the clear cut UN blues and whites to the grays and metallics of the hanger itself. A translucent field shimmered into existence around the Exo-Frame a couple meters from its surface; bending light around the mech and rendering it little more than an unidentifiable mass from the outside. Emissions control and sensor baffling came online next, further obscuring it from any other sensors. Launching one of his raven drones inside the field, Fox gave the smart camo a once over.

...Looking good. No odd detection patterns...

Moving the drone out through the field, the stealth suite automatically opened a micro hole in the field, allowing for continued laser guided control. Giving the outside of the field a quick inspection and finding no issues, Fox disengaged the the stealth suite and returned the drone to it's docking port.

{Test complete.}

With the pre-launch check done, Fox stepped out of mech bay in the Outrider and into the hanger proper. Queuing up for launch behind Adam's Skyhammer, Fox's Exo-Frane was dwarfed by the Orbital, not even coming up to it's waist.

---

"No bugs, right? Last program test showed everything running clean." Harling's voice piped into Konstantin's ears at roughly the same time he experimentally flexed the Orbital's digits and checked the wrist's wrange of motion. All green. Smooth response time, too. Honestly, it felt like the Orbital had woken up from a refreshing nap of its own— he had half a mind to ask if it hadn't gotten a little extra fine tuning under the hood. He certainly would appreciate such.

"Yeah, a few." the Serb replied in a pointedly off-handed tone, eyes sweeping the field of view the Bedwyr's visor afforded him. "It seems you replaced my HUD with something from a videogame. I can paint you guys on the ground just by squinting a little. What happened to regional, manual designation?"

"Eyeball tracking includes your pupils. The system reads your subconscious dilation and retinal movement when you recognize another human— we all instinctively do it. For our expedition's purposes, all humans are friendly until further notice, so don't get any funny ideas regarding the tiny blue dots."

"Can it be spoofed by images? If video feed gets uplinked, I don't need the COO with a blue box around her. I know she's not friendly."

While his technical advisor snorted, maybe even scoffed, Konstantin busied himself with double-checking to ensure that he hadn't been broadcasting on any of their official channels. He didn't fear any man or woman, but he was willing to admit that he feared the possibility of being forced to sit this initial sortie out.

"You've got a spectroscopic program working in tandem with it now that we overhauled the program to play nice with this— and a few other new toys. I'll keep it brief since they're ushering us out: the chemical composition of the human body's unique enough that with 15 years of free time we found a way to sneak it into the list along with shit like iron and water."

"So it'll cross-reference. I see. From what I understand, I'll also be providing video feed to the research teams?" He asked, testing the orbital's "neck" by letting his gaze follow the team out of the hangar. As the door slid shut, Harling turned back from his position as last in line, a wry smirk on his face.

"Well, if we're tracking where you're looking, may as well track what you're looking at. Happy Hunting, Pilot. Bring her back in one piece."

And with a single chime, the audio feed from the mechanic's handheld disconnected. Fair enough.

Couldn't really argue with the logic.

He satisfied himself with cycling between the Merlon System's visual filters— thermal, geiger, low-light— when a small ping in his ears and at the bottom of his vision (would need to get used to that) indicated a direct connection request from... well, who else?

<<If you want to check compatibility, I'd sooner suggest dinner.>>

His reply came evenly, dry as Kitezh's equator, and accompanied one last pass through his flight control surfaces. Sterling. Everything to spec— damned near factory-new. That was the last of it that could safely be performed in-hangar. Time to get out there. He already had the navigational information at his literal fingertips; all it took was one button on the dash for the heading arrow to appear, just above his velocity gauge.

<<Better everything work than something get in the way of our full potential, I say. We're dropping into a new world— best make the best impression we can.>>

Heat shield carried in crimson hand, the OF-2D looked in so many ways a crusader of old as Konstantin walked it out to the catapult bay, tall and proud and so very dangerous. It was common among pilots to liken Orbitals to bikes— once you learned, you never forgot. Nothing else in the worlds compared, truly. No matter how mechanically taxing, complicated, or abstract it could be, there was a certain irreplaceable something about mastering a twenty-meter war machine shaped in man's own image that drew men and women like them in. Heedless of danger, of worry, they found beauty in the act, in the experience— something that made it worthwhile to them. Not even those elder statesmen, bless Cross and Zakharin, could peel themselves away. They had their reasons, surely, but Konstantin was sure they also shared his.

He switched to the universal shared comms channel as he pulled up to Catapult 2, alongside Adam and the Starstrike. Indulging in the mechanical possibility within the Bedwyr's design, he greeted the man with a nod, the yellow visor bobbing his field of view up and down with the motion. He leaned back in his seat, getting in one last stretch of the spine.

<<Shall we, then?>>

And then, he gazed out into the void. Into the inky blackness, the many stars drowned out by the light that reflected off of Kitezh's dusty surface. At the ball of mud and brush itself, far below. All of this before him, endless and massive. He knew why he couldn't imagine himself doing anything else, every time he stepped up to the plate.

This was a pilot's kingdom.

The flight control team had given them the green light. Sliding his orbital into place and listening for the magnetic clamps locking, Konstantin gave the universal pilot's ready signal: a thumbs up with the free hand.

<<This is Stojanović. I'm headed out.>>

And then, with all the energy the powerful generator far, far below could pump through those electrodes at his feet, the mechanical knight rocketed forward, down the strip, a sharp yet smooth acceleration that carried him clear of the bay in a half-second, full second, second and a half—

Pressed into his seat in the most enthrallingly familiar fashion, Kon pulled back on the controls.

—Just as the catapult released him, the Orbital suddenly swept upward, thrusters firing at full burn and sending all that momentum into a tight curve, hitting multiple Gs mere instants after takeoff. Screaming silently through the vacuum, the OF-2D corkscrewed, retros and pilot rolling it through undeterred. It could handle much more than this. The first model, with its shittier avionics, could effectively Immelmann in Earth's atmosphere. Out here? Maneuvering was child's play.

Yep, everything's working.

Swiftly guiding his chariot onto the proper heading, there was a previously-absent touch of vigor in Konstantin's voice as he made the first radio transmission between two objects in Kitezh's orbit. That they knew of, anyway.

<<Proceeding to LZ.>>

Stel blanched as she heard the instructions from the COO. She quickly took off a glove and pressed her five fingers to a screen to the right behind her, activating Michael's inner, smaller engine. She put her glove back on and finally donned her helmet, the only part of her outfit still from Pluto, which scanned her head and eyes to ensure that she was indeed the pilot. With that the controls lit up and she flipped several switches behind her to remotely activate the "Can Opener" to close the entry port of the armament. The switches slid back to into the wall to avoid being hit again during use of the Orbital, and as the port closed the inner mech recognized that the METATRON was attached, activating the armament's own engine and dropping that of the inner mech to minimum output simultaneously. The various hexagonal screens in front of and to the sides of Stel lit up, the center seven combining and displaying a small sprite version of a grayed out Michael. A sprite of the METATRON slowly descended onto it, then grayed itself out as well.

She checked her comms first, and once they were active and working correctly she flipped their switch and the sprite's "ears," for lack of a better word, lit up black and red. Next, she checked the visuals, the other screens lighting up to give her a 160 degree vision, with some of the hexagons viewing to the sides and behind her for a further increase in awareness. The eyes lit up green on the sprite and the actual Orbital. The capacitors were next, all full, causing the rest of the head of the sprite to turn black and red. Double checking and confirming the Oberth Reactor turned the left arm the correct colors of the Orbital. Once she made sure that the mechanics' walkways were out of the way and nobody was standing in the way, she activated the wheels in the feet for a moment confirming that they were in an operational state and causing the feet to light up on her screen. Stepping forward a few steps combined with running a diagnosis on the legs lit them up as well. Finally, she clenched the FLAME arm's hand a few times and popped an energy canister into place, lighting up the right arm and the cockpit as well now that a full check had been done. The sprite disappeared from her screen and the hexagon it was on split back into seven smaller ones, taking the visuals from the ones just outside of it which themselves were replaced with radar, comms, ammunition/fuel, a simple "Friendly," "Neutral," and "Hostile" which listed a number by each of them, a duplicated of the center hexagon with those same terms that showed up when she looked at something, and a small representation of the METATRON with various pieces listed at 0% in green.

Stel sighed. Everything was working correctly, but she still had to do some pre-flight work. She opened a comm channel to the engineer who handed her the helmet she was wearing and hooked her PDA into a port below her on the cockpit's "seat."

"Hey, can I get the friendlies data and data on the boosters?" she asked.

"On their way."

A few seconds later, the number next to "Friendly" rose to include all the other Orbitals on the radar and another number appeared in parenthesis to list the number of living people in the same range. Similarly, the small depiction of the Orbital now had several boosters attached to it, each with a green 0% as well, and the fuel screen added a new number and percentage below the standard ones to signify the boosters. She leaned forward, resting her stomach on the "seat" as it was meant to be piloted, ready for action.

"Thanks. I'll need the timing for the booster too. I've... I've never used them before."

The engineer sighed loud enough for Stel to hear causing her to flinch. He rattled off some flight jargon and instructions that Stel was luckily able to understand and she gave a thumbs up with the Orbital's left hand. She carefully stepped forwards to be behind Fox and his Exo-Frame, a pit forming in her stomach from apprehension.

---

Even through the meters of composite armor, alloy structural bracing, and combat-rated inertial compensation systems Volana could feel the impact of the Orbitals making their way towards the launch catapults. A faint vibration that terminated in the back of her jaw. Back, well before she had even considered going through the selection process for pilots, she had seen the massive mechanical warriors with no small amount of trepidation. A basal, primal fear that was born from the sheer insignificance of her own capabilities next to these Orbitals. Now, after experiencing the world through the electronic gaze of her own Orbital for countless hours, the paradigm had shifted. The lines between her sense of self and the machine which she commanded had already begun to become so very tenuous behind conventional controls, so as to become practically nonexistent from within the Aurora's bleeding edge systems.

<<If you want to check compatibility, I'd sooner suggest dinner.>>

<<Better everything work than something get in the way of our full potential, I say. We're dropping into a new world- best make the best impression we can.>>

Volana's eyes widened momentarily, before narrowing to regard the golden sensor array of the silvery-white Orbital from which the transmission had originated from. The channel closed with a click before her brain could fully form a reply of her own, though in hindsight this was probably for her own good.

Her attention returned to readout of systems running down the side of her field of view, as each shifting from grey to blue in confirmation of startup and operational status.

This was it.

Volana took a breath, attempting to fill her body with something other than anticipation. She was less than successful. A single command started the gantry retracting away from around the Aurora, while the clunk of disconnecting bolts followed a dull thud that reverberated through her body confirmed the power umbilical ejecting. In her peripheral she saw the Bedwyr begin to move, and watched the practically knightly machine cross her field of view as Konstantin made his way towards the catapults. The last element on her HUD switched to blue, the Aurora now completely operating under it's own power for the first time in fifteen years.

At that the Aurora-no Volana-took a step forward for the first time once again. A step that was far more steady and assured than the one she had taken after emerging from cryo.

This was where she belonged. Lightyears from the star which she had called home, displaced over a decade, unreachable by any other soul save those which she had taken the journey with, and unlikely to ever see that place she had called home ever again... and there wasn't anywhere else in this cold sea of stars Volana would rather be.

She followed a few heavy paces behind the Bedwyr towards the launch catapults, joining the menagerie of Orbitals from across the solar system. The Starstrike stood poised, it's angular armor bare save for a printed single sigil. Behind it was the no-so-mute pilot's frame, a civilian model modified to near unrecognizability, followed by a distinctive red and black armored Orbital that her IFF identified as being piloted by the younger girl.

Before her Konstantin secured his mech in the launch pad, and beyond him the barrel of the catapult terminated into the deep black.

<<This is Stojanovic. I'm headed out.>>

One moment the heavily armed Bedwyr was there, the next it was accelerating at breakneck speed down the electromagnetic launcher. There was a burst of light at the end of the track from what she assumed were the Bedwyr's thrusters flaring at the last second, followed by Konstantin's IFF tag rising sharply relative to their position.

Show off.

Pulling the supplied heat shield before her, Volana stepped up onto the locking mechanisms.

<<Aurora, full power.>>

She felt her breath catch for a moment.

<<Launching.>>

Volana felt her body press back into the inertial gel as the magnetic accelerators sent the Aurora flying down the length of the ship. The g-forces were welcome, giving way to an almost euphoric, child-like excitement that she couldn't quite bury, nor could she stop the smile that spread across her features.

She had been asleep for so very long. But now...

Now she was alive.

A small burst from the Aurora's ion thrusters set her course towards the pale brown marble which hung above them, even with the added weight from the heat shield and lift boosters her commands felt responsive and crisp.

<<On your six Stojanović, following you in.>>

---

It felt to be behind the controls again. Fifteen years of cryosleep had not numbed his senses, nor his desire to be behind the wheel. As the veritable procession of metal colossi sauntered up to the catapults, Castle could feel the rumblings of their footsteps, even from within his own Orbital. He briefly wondered what it was like for the people in the hangar right now, to see this happening-- to feel these vibrations as these pilots left the relative safety of the ship and onto unknown and uncharted territory.

Castle grinned. This was his duty, and he found no small satisfaction in performing it.

The Ajax joined the line of machines near the catapults. Starstrike. Outrider. Michael. Bedwyr. Aurora. Each one marked as a 'friendly' thanks to the Diomedes' IFF indicators. The Greek Hero of Myth followed behind the Aurora as they prepared for launch. This wasn't a combat drop straight into a hot zone, but it very well might be. Who knows what was down there?

<<This is Stojanovic. I'm headed out.>>

The Bedwyr was first. It launched at supersonic speed, only further amplified by the roar of its engines. Stojanović was a man of spectacle, it seemed.

<<Launching.>>

The Aurora was second. It let the force of the catapult carry it downwards, before hitting the ion thrusters. It looked like Jacira didn't intend on slowing down either.

The Ajax put a metal hand on the heat shield as if confirming its presence. On blasted moons without an atmosphere, the Adamantine Armor Plating was typically enough to function on its own-- a point in the Ajax's favor. Here, though? It would be necessary, lest the Orbital turn from the Ajax into the Icarus. The pilot locked his machine into place, before taking a deep breath.

<<Initiating descent. See you all planetside.>>

With that, the Ajax disappeared in an instant. It was hard to imagine that nearly eighty tons of metal, composite, and ordnance could move that quickly, but there it went. Holden grit his teeth as the sheer inertia of the fall pushed him against his seat. This wasn't his first orbital drop, far from it-- but there weren't exactly many planets with an atmosphere like Kitezh's. As the blood rushed to his head, the man hit a switch, prompting a small burst from the Ajax's lower thrusters.

Compared to the Bedwyr or the Aurora, the Ajax was... cumbersome. It was too heavy and too bulky to ever hope to keep up in terms of agility. However, with help from the Talaria Jump Jets, the Orbital could, at the very least, stay in relative proximity of the duo-- provided that they don't start trying to shake him. It wouldn't do to be separated from one another before reaching the LZ, so this helped keep their groupings nice and tight. He was certain that the other, more agile Orbitals could follow him just fine.

<<Castle Two-One to all units. Forming drop convoy right behind the Aurora. Ground units, fall in line behind me.>>

Castle didn't actually have any jurisdiction or command over his fellow pilots, and he knew it-- it just happened to be his habits from the military kicking in. Still, if they did maintain groupings, it would be more convenient for everyone, so he didn't think on it too hard.

Two of the Starstrike's three optics stared back at the Bedwyr as it took position on the second catapult, tiny movements and adjustments making the smaller Orbital seem alive in an otherworldly way. It's limbs made small rolling adjustments, the legs seeking better stability on the catapult while the arms maintained balance in the artificial gravity. As the Bedwyr nodded, the Starstrike turned it's head to better view it's launch companion and returned the gesture before returning it's attention to the launch port. <<Shall we, then?>> Adam's response was swift. <<Race you there>>
<<This is Stojanovic. I'm headed out.>>
<<This is Adam Gilford, Ready to launch.>>

As the mag-clamps engaged and the pair of catapults began accelerating, the Starstrike's thrusters warmed up in preparation for it's first powered flight in fifteen years. Adam was pressed against the back of his pilot seat, but he was used to the acceleration. As his Orbital cleared the launch platform, it's thrusters pulsed, and the machine dropped from the launch trajectory. Adam pushed his Starstrike into an extended hard burn, rocketing towards the alien planet and away from the Pyxis.

<<Launching.>>

<<Initiating descent. See you all planetside.>>

Adam white-knuckled his controls as he pushed the throttle higher, his Orbital virtually glowing with EM radiation as it poured power into it's propulsion. Despite everything going on, the loudest sound in his ears was his own labored breathing as the physics of acceleration pressed upon him. in the eerie silence of space, his body straining against hard acceleration, Adam's eyes wandered over the image of Kitezh on his viewscreen illuminated by an alien star. He struggled to focus on any single point, focusing on maintaining control and awareness through his flight. With a small chime, a speed threshold was met and propulsion cut out, the Starstrike drifting along it's course. With the lack of acceleration, Adam heaved a sigh of relief and set his Orbital to spin into correct orientation. So far away from his allies they barely registered on his optics, and the distance between them was quickly growing.

<<Castle Two-One to all units. Forming drop convoy right behind the Aurora. Ground units, fall in line behind me.>>

<<Moving to flight team advance position. Think they'll let my feet touch the ground at all?>>
Nav Data loaded, Trajectory Display enabled.
Adam angled his Orbital to fly along the newly displayed trajectory, his higher speed resulting in a more shallow projected curve.

"Passive Sensors. Prep for reentry braking." His voice shook as unpleasant memories invaded his mind. His Orbital's generic pilot-assist voice chimed helpfully in a synthesized response. "Switched to Passive Sensors. Limb orientation to reentry burn aligned." There was an unsettling pause and text scrolled across the maintenance screen by his right hand.
WARNING: planetary gravity/distance mismatch detected. Calibration error in flight instrumentation likely.
Adam was confused enough to re-focus entirely on this new problem, forgetting his fear for the time being. It doesn't recognize the planet, so it can't calibrate for an unknown, huh? Adam rolled his orbital to face Kitezh and started improvising. "Set name for waypoint, LZ-1 Planet Kitezh. You just had your eyes checked, you're just seeing something new. all of us are." He saw text scroll across the screen again
Logging planet: Kitezh. Data found: Probe_Scan_Data
Gravity Calculation Estimate: Earthlike
Atmospheric Conditions Estimate: Earthlike
Flightplan unmodified: attempt braking in higher atmosphere. Maintain altitude for Scout/Interceptor operations.

The Starstrike pulled it's primary weapon off it's magdock on it's back and prepared for the heat of reentry by pressing it's lower legs together into a low-end thermal shield, knees bent for maximized coverage. The silence of space faded away and was replaced with the sound of a thin atmosphere protesting against the Starstrike's intrusion.

<<This is Adam Gilford, I'm hitting the upper atmosphere. I'll relay once I'm through reentry how the marshmallows I stuck on the antenna turned out. Over and out>>

Zakharin extinguishes his cigar on the inner hull after taking a final puff. Slipping his helmet on as he checked the boosters. As he did both Bedwyr, Starstrike, and Aurora were launched. With the boosters checking out fine the old marine had the drones dock into Odysseus. The old cyborg had the orbital take a few steps out of its berth into the hangar. He felt how it moved to see if the 15 year long trip had diminished its performance. Passing the old cyborgs inspection Zakharin went into the launch bay.

Odysseus entered as Castle's Ajax was catapulted out into the void. Zakharin stepped into an open launch bay. Secured by the mag-clamps he waited for the launch.

<<This is Zakharin Launching now>>

Once he was accelerated in an instance he could feel of G-force pushing on what parts of him that are still organic. Once he was out of the Pyxis he moved with honed skill. He swiftly maneuvered into formation with the other Orbitals. The Odysseus was never meant for high speed maneuvers so he fell into the rear of the formation. While he feed any data from Starstrike into his orbital's battle net.

<<Taking up escort positioning>>

GM IC:

The LZ wasn't much to look at.

An expanse of uneven, loose shifting soil expanded before the descending pilots. Sensors could pick up vegetation just at the edge of visual range, the band of life that bordered one of the planet's sources of water. But the coordinates were very specific; their target was this spot halfway between that band of life and harsh desert. The ground was firm enough to support the landing Orbitals, but their feet sank a short distance every time they took a step. Digging in it wouldn't be too hard.

The shuttle ferrying the scientists down proceeded towards the surface, safely nestled roughly in the middle of the pilots that had sortied.

One thing the area didn't lack for was wind; the uppermost, loosest layer of the ground shifted easily in the breeze, but most of their sensors returned very little. Except, perhaps, for those of Bedwyr and Odysseus; it wasn't obvious, and even if it had been it might have taken a careful look to make anything of. But it was just strange enough for their sensors to throw as an observation, something that didn't quite match; the whole LZ seemed to have a multitude of heat sources under the ground, just a little too warm for their surroundings and overlapping at random intervals.

Its first escorts safely at the zone, the shuttle landed towards the center of the LZ.





Voyager stomped, louder than most of its counterparts, towards the second catapult. The spires atop its shoulders folded forward while it maneuvered, both to fit more comfortably inside the launcher and to align their emitters for planet fall. Its feet slotted into place, magnets securing her to their surface. Voyager leaned forward, much the same way Artemie herself did, distributing most of its weight opposite the direction its inertia would want to take it. She had only ever carrier launched once or twice, but she remembered the recommendations.

Actually entering the atmosphere was something she had to think about.

<<Isra.>> She announced, the timing sequence appearing on her screen as operations initiated the countdown. It was an old custom to announce your launch, something from decades before she was born. She'd been pretty cheeky about it before. 'Be right back', 'see you soon', and she'd really gotten a lecture when she decided it'd be funny to be more colorful. But it was important this time. She felt it the same way she had felt when she looked at Voyager for the first time and knew what she would need to write on it. Sometimes you needed to make a statement.

<<Voyager, taking off. Let's introduce ourselves.>>

Operations handed off timing control and Artemie was pushed hard into her seat as the rails shot her forward, even more when she fired Voyager's thrusters at the end of the line. Pyxis' grays gave way to the black of space and then that blue and brown marble filled her gaze.

Her trajectory already had her on a nearly least time course towards the LZ, but she deviated just a little while she tested her mobility. Voyager flowed left and right, up and down, making a single lazy rotation on its vertical axis. Everything checked out. The Lunite flicked a switch to warm up the G-Aegis, but she knew it wasn't strictly necessary. She helped write the manual on the system, and she'd been paying close attention when the X Corp tech walked her through its use during reentry. The barrier projected in front of her would increase her aerodynamics breaking into the atmosphere, and her own flight capabilities would let her minimize friction. It'd get a little toasty, but nothing even worth noting.

"Starlight, you're flying backup. We won't need the boosters."

"Yes, ma'am." The computer answered promptly, managing to imply the 'obviously' left off of the end. Or maybe that was Artemie's imagination. But it was obvious, and only her excitement (and nerves, not that she'd admit it) made her reiterate it.

And they were hitting atmo in three... two... one...

The Aegis flared, purple light enveloped in the dull red of friction-tinted light. The colors were magnificent from inside the cockpit and she wished for a second she could have seen them from outside. But the moment was brief, and the Aegis shut back down at exactly the correct time. No need to waste the energy now that she'd made the transition.

<<Coming in overhead. Well boys and girls, anyone seen Adam and Eve?>>

---

<<Not quite,>> the expeditionary force's resident Serb replied over the comms, cycling through Merlon's sensor suite from his lazy circuit of the LZ's designated perimeter some five hundred meters up. All told, the descent into atmosphere was as smooth as one could ask for— the shield had been rated for Venusian Entry burn, to say nothing of this, much less oppressively dense as it was.

To tell the truth, between the winds and the desert in the distance, he hazarded a guess at this being roughly similar to the feeling of operating in the khamsins of Egypt— simple enough, after you learned to stop letting turbulence spook you. Naturally, the winds that tossed around dusty soil at surface level were a touch stronger half a click up, and rather than listen to his Orbital shift with the buffeting gusts he elected to simply ride them when able. Atmospheric flight the evidently rare luxury it was, it may as well be used to loiter with mobility— perhaps it was old habit, but he much preferred circling to hanging still in the air. The wings on the Bedwyr's back facilitated it regardless, ailerons responding to stabilizing microadjustments thanks to fly-by-wire.

<<Something different, actually.>>

Especially if his attention was going to be planted squarely on the ground for the next few minutes. Thermal imaging outlined everyone and everything in a healthy red thanks to reentry burn, so he hadn't passed over it during the drop— opting instead for geiger, spectroscopy, polaroid (for some reason), and biometric. Once they had determined that there were plants to the north, largely inert silicates in the soil, and no lens flare to worry about...

<<Stojanovic to Landing Team. Be advised, Merlon's picking up multiple hot spots on the ground, incongruent with the topsoil temperature. LZ is full of them, no discernible pattern. Heat is probably radiating from some below-ground source. Stand by for region designation.>>

On the way down, he had made sure to set up a datalink with each craft in formation, the target identification software piggybacking off of the signal used for IFF communication. As far as Konstantin was concerned, he was playing the role of AWACS for this mission— offering those on the ground as clear a picture as they needed to do their jobs.

One by one, those on terra firma would find the soil beneath them begin to light up as a field of thin-lined boxes labelled as simply "HEAT" blossomed onto their HUDs outward from the zone's center, each congruent with a location, size, and depth of discrepancy.

High above, the Bedwyr continued its loitering.

---

The cherry-red glow of high pressure atmosphere wreathed the edges of the ablative shield which Volana held before the Aurora, the streaks of flame which made it past the heatshield weaving their way across the contours of the Orbital's armor. Her panoramic view from the perspective of the Aurora darkened considerably to avoid being blown out from the glow from the plasma. It was a surprisingly smooth descent, all things considered. Not as effortless as reentry on one of the more airless moons she'd sortied on before, but not nearly as nerve-wracking as dropping back home was. Though she couldn't confirm, it was how she imagined it was like on Earth.

Well, nearly. Local gravity here was measurably different than Earth's own, if the small readout off to the left of her vision tracking her fall to the planet's surface was to be trusted. Volana could feel the vibration through her controls as the Aurora pushed through the increasingly thicker and thicker atmosphere, the deceleration as she bled off orbital velocity tugging at her feet. It took only minutes for the flames of reentry to disappear and she began to drop towards the LZ less as a ball of fire at a more sedate pace.

Kicking back on her ion drives, Volana coasted the rest of the way down, maintaining a respectable distance from the shuttle which they were escorting; close enough to keep tabs on it. She relaxed the stance of her Orbital somewhat, moving the heat shield to the side to get a clearer look at the surface of the planet.

Slowly, more and more detail from below resolved itself. Sensors, both her own and the data she was getting from the comm net augmented the visual with additional layers of information. It was dry. Dry and windy, the muted browns and tans reminding her almost of the surface of her home, albeit in a less pressure-cooking way.

500 meters...

400...

Volana counted down the seconds, matching the one displayed to her.

200...

100...

50.

Volana opened up the Aurora's thrusters, the high energy wash kicking up dust and dirt which hadn't already been whipped around by the wind.

Boots on the ground.

Volana allowed herself a brief moment. A feeling of content gratification that propagated from the shake she felt through the cockpit as the Aurora's metallic frame touched the surface of an alien world for the first time.

And then the moment passed.

Volana pulled the Orbital upright, discarding the now scorched heatshield off to the side, the hunk of metal dropping to the ground. She took a few tentative steps forward, clearing the area for the rest of the ground team and the shuttle, noting the slightly stronger gravity than she was used to.

<<Acknowledged Stojanović, thank you for the warning.>> She affirmed over the comms, just as her HUD began populating the immediate area with the regions of heat from the datalink with the Bedwyr. Cautiously, Volana pulled the Aurora's rifle from its stowed position on the mech's back, holding it at a low ready as she looked over the area.

<<LZ is clear from down here. Not anything but wind.>>

Just inside her visual range were bands of vegetation, what she would give to go check those out right now.

The Michael stepped forwards to follow the other mechs off the ship, locking into the catapult's mag-locks and preparing its boosters.

<<Uh... Michael, firing?>> she stated as a take-off message before following the Voyager's lead and leaning forwards a little.

The catapult shot the Orbital forwards and that was all there was to it. Stel was pushed downwards and backwards on the "seat" and managed to barely time the boosters to get her up off the ship and down towards the planet. A few moments later she was close to crashing into the ground a ways behind the others, lucky that the Michael was able to right itself or she may have made a landing, sideways. The heavy armament was built to withstand heat, so entry was no problem on that front, but it definitely wasn't built to go through that much of a fall in a planet's gravity. Stel was lifted upwards from the fall and stayed airborne for a few seconds before she crashed back down onto and bounced back off the padding she was laying on as the boosters kicked up to slow her decent and stabilize her. Luckily her comms weren't open when she screamed perhaps slightly melodramatically.

She was about to drop the boosters' output when she got the Bedwyr's warning. She hesitated, but it didn't look like she'd be able to keep herself in the air even if she wanted to. She lamented the design choice of only being able to fly like an arrow and not like a bird before she carefully landed on the edge of the LZ.

<<Landing, mostly successful.>> she said to anyone who would listen.

---

The sky screamed in protest as the Orbitals blazed across the sky, the heat shield doing an excellent job at deflecting the friction from atmospheric braking. Judging by the comms and sensors, the Aurora was directly ahead, while the Odysseus, the Voyager, and the Michael were behind. The Bedwyr and Starstrike circled overhead as the ground team made planetfall. As they began their landing, Castle couldn't help but grin.

<< I could probably recite the entirety of Genesis if asked. I'd rather not receive infractions for proselytizing during a mission, though.>>

The Ajax was combat-rated for multiple environments, whether that was in Zero-G or in high-intensity situations. The heavily-armored hull lent it a degree of resilience that allowed the Orbital to survive locations other machines would not. You could even park the thing in orbit of a gas giant-- though you'd certainly be tempting fate with that. Kitezh's climate was Earthlike in nature, which was the baseline of most Orbitals, the Ajax included. It would have no problem working here.

The Ajax had long since breached the Kármán line and was now hurtling through the planet's stratosphere. Castle wondered if the people in the shuttle could smell the burning ozone as the Orbitals came closer to landing-- though in hindsight, they were probably in full EVA gear, much like the rest of the pilots here. As the Saturnian pilot pondered this, he looked to the information being provided to him by the Bedwyr's overwatch. Judging by these readings, there was something beneath the ground, radiating heat.

<< Copy that, Stojanović. Ground team, watch your step.>>

With that, the Ajax made touchdown shortly after the Aurora and Michael did. The massive steel colossus promptly discarded the heat shield as it took in its surroundings. The particulates in the air and the strong winds would make vision a problem, and the ITU was already taking those variables into account for aim adjustments. The Ajax took several steps towards the north, avoiding the patches of heat beneath the ground just in case, with the intent of establishing a perimeter on a sandy dune. The height advantage was negligible at this sort of altitude, but it did help establish visuals better.

<< Moving to secure northern perimeter. All quiet so far.>>

The Ajax removed the Hephaestus Assault Gun from its magdock, the metal backpack opening up to allow for easy access to the ordnance within. The Typhon was here too, but hopefully, it wouldn't have to come to that. All weapons systems were fully calibrated, and they were ready to go at a moment's notice.