Adam's heart was hammering in his chest as he was struck by an unpleasant familiarity. His cockpit was lit orange by the fiery glow of the atmosphere as his Orbital dropped into Kitezh's atmosphere. He was having trouble telling if the shaking was him or if the Starstrike was getting some rough vibration from turbulence. The rhythmic tapping of a loose panel suggested it wasn't him, but he couldn't be sure. "Can't believe I'm going to let one bad drop spook me like this." He dialed up his cockpit's sound-dampening as the shaking increased. He checked his status display and cursed to himself.
WARNING: FOMAR-221 At Thermal Capacity. Weapon Disabled For Cooling Cycle.
He adjusted the positioning of the rifle to sit better within the shadow of the Starstrike's entry and increased retrograde thrust to reduce the heat trying to melt the barrels of his only real weapon.

the Starstrike maneuvered itself little by little into a more shallow drop, the trajectory gradually angling away from the ground. In no time the Orbital met it's target altitude and aligned itself with the planet below, it's thrusters flaring and accelerating against the planet's gravity. The projected arc climbed higher and higher as the burn continued, The cockpit rotating internally so that the force would press Adam into the back of his seat instead of crushing his spine. As the G-forces grew, Adam fell back on his training to keep him awake, a hard-won gasp every few seconds keeping him from blacking out. As the Orbital's torso pitched forwards, it straightened it's legs, no longer needing to use it's shin plating as thermal shielding. New thrusters took over as they came into alignment, and it's altitude levels out. As the end of the deceleration came, Adam angled back towards the designated LZ in a long banking turn.

Adam glanced down at his post-reentry readouts.
Status: Thrust heat maximum exceeding 60%.
Thrust maximum output temporarily reduced.
Thrust output efficiency temporarily reduced.
Thrust maximum runtime temporarily reduced.
...
"I know, I know it's hot. Not much we can do now but wait for the heat to dissipate."
Adam dialed back his throttle and began coasting, putting out just enough power to maintain altitude. It would take a while to slow with how fast he was still moving, so he had some time to let his Orbital cool down without losing too much speed. He 'passed' the Bedwyr close enough to spot it's red arm.

<<Coming in overhead. Well boys and girls, anyone seen Adam and Eve?>>
<< I could probably recite the entirety of Genesis if asked. I'd rather not receive infractions for proselytizing during a mission, though.>>
<<No offense Castle, but I feel like praying ten minutes into a mission would be a bad sign on it's own.>>
Adam didn't bother keeping the jovial tone out of his voice. A bit of banter to ease the tension. Lord knows I need it.

He set the Starstrike to maintain it's flightpath and started sweeping for activity. His own Orbital didn't have anything too fancy in the way of sensors, but eyes were eyes, and the bird's eye view he was transmitting back to the Bedwyr might still come in handy to someone.

Halim

Halim knew a great deal about atmospheric reentry....In theory atleast. In practice? Less so, it seemed, if the still dull red glow of his Orbitals armor was any indication as it stumbled into an awkward landing some 50 meters away from an Aurora unit. "It was a lot easier in the simulations..." he moaned quietly to himself, checking the internal temperature readings, cockpit sitting 'comfortably' far above what was probably considered safe. His flight suit aided little in comforting him, beyond perhaps providing an air tight seal for which to stew in his own sweat. A part of him longed to open his cockpit bay, if only to relish in the feel of the chill that the wind might provide.

He pushed such thoughts away quickly. Orders were to maintain combat readiness and he doubted his comfort constituted an excuse from that. With a sigh he checked his readings again, confirming that no internal structures were at risk or damaged from the rather clumsy fall onto the planet. <<"BTF-unit AGL-001 reporting. Atmospheric reentry partially successful.">> He reported, wincing his orbital sagged awkwardly into the lose soil, throwing off his gait slightly. <<"Unit suffers no damage and will be combat ready in 30 sec-">> He begins, cutting himself off at the last moment to re-check his instruments. <<"50 seconds.">> He admits, finally, unable to hide the somewhat worried twinge to his voice.

He maintains radio silence for a few seconds, quietly counting to himself as he absorbed the reports from the overwatching units still airborne as he tried to will his overheat risk away. <<"BTF-Unit ALG-001 secondarily confirms Aurora's assessment Voyager. We are a negative on Target Adam and Eve.">> He reported happily, though with a seriousness that suggested that the joke had less flown over his head and more been lost somewhere back in orbit. The Casket takes a few shaky steps, awkwardly casting its gaze around the LZ for a few moments before his autocannon slammed into position, revving quickly to its idle speed as he settled in to cover the landing shuttle. <<" Stojanović are the heat signature's possibly geothermic activity? Could be an underground hot spring or something...">> He asked, remembering once having heard about how people would sometimes bathe in such things, though for the life of him he still could not figure out as to why.

-I did the big OOPS-

Zakharin made several adjusted to the Odysseus positioning before he hit the planets atmosphere. The old marine was slammed by the G-forced of reentry pushing him back into his seat. He keep he eye on the external temperature readout make adjustments to keep the worst of the heat away from the sensitive systems. Zakharin fired the boosters maneuvering himself out of the dive towards the LZ. The old marine fired his boosters one last time to soften his landing. With the Orbital landed he detached the boosters.

<<I'll send a drone to check it>>

The Odysseus knelt with the pods on its back open. With a thunk each drone was launch out of there pods. Within seconds of ejections each drone fully deployed. Using the system the old cyborg sent one of the recon drones to investigate the hot spots. For the other three he sent them to check the perimeter of the LZ. They were program to feed information to the other Orbitals in the area. Starting to link them into the Battle net. He keep the two gun drone near Odysseus just in case.

<<We just don't know what Adam and Eve look like. They didn't, either, until they ate the apple.>> Gypsy Soul had weathered re-entry with a grace as alien as her aesthetic, and skimmed above the surface with her sensors deployed. The Praxis Clock package meant that she would be doing her best flying from above the ground team, with her sensor and communications packages commanding her full attention. Besides, she had spent years with this unit back in Sol, until they were extensions of each other - so close that it often felt like one was plucked from the other's ribs. Their bond was tight enough that Gypsy could feel the obvious intent behind every message: her Orbital was scared to touch the ground.

I wonder if you could sleep with the Adam or Eve here.

<<You may eat freely of every tree of the garden, but of the tree of knowledge you shall not, for in the day you eat of it you will die.>> She was staring at the heat sources Bedwyr had shared. Chaotic, like buckshot beneath the bleached soil. Some overlapping, some dispersed. Empty apartments and full apartments next door to each other. Like a hive. <<I wonder what it was they ate here. Be advised. Those probably aren't hot springs.>>

Gypsy Soul drew her CFL-M rifle, an archangel floating above the world at long range. The masked pilot's brow was furrowed behind her metallic face, its sheen brightened by a small lick of sweat. Her aim was tracing Odysseus' singular drone, the one exploring the unsettling heat.

//Engage communication suite? Y?N?//

No.

//Will you indeed sweep away the righteous with the wicked? Shall not the Judge of all the Earth do all that is just? Y?N?//

Gypsy rolled her eyes and frowned. In her forehead, a vein throbbed. Don't you start praying on me, too.

<<Solid copy, Odysseus.>>

Having launched with little fanfare, Fox opted to drop in behind Castle; taking up a position a few hundred meters off his six. The exo-frame maneuvering with a speed and sharpness not quite on par with that of the Bedwyr or Starstrike.

<<Castle, this is Outrider. Following you in.>>

Weathering the reentry with little difficulty, Fox took in their LZ through the shared battlenet. Fox frowned as Stojanovic updated the LZ with the abnormal hotspots. The odds of hostile contacts had just gone up significantly. With any luck, they were simply looking at some natural geothermal activity; but the young man had learned long ago to go into any potentially hostile situation expecting the worst. Quickly searching the surrounding area, Fox found a nice dip between two rises a good 500 meters outside of the southern edge of the LZ and adjusted his trajectory accordingly.

<<Outrider here. Establishing overwatch south of the LZ.>>

With a brief bit of maneuvering, Fox rode his heat shield like a surfboard; using it's broad surface to angle his decent without the assistance of thrusters. 100 meters from his chosen landing site, he popped his chutes and let his heat shield lazily sail away into a nearby sand dune. Firing his thrusters at the last moment, Fox made a near textbook landing between the two ridges.

Reeling in his parachutes, the young man launched his Raven drones, connecting their systems to the shared battlenet as they spread out to provide increased sensor coverage. While the Outrider's smart paint adjusted the new environment, Fox settled into the shallow ridge overlooking the LZ and unlimbered his Bolt-Thrower.

<<Outrider in position.>>

GM IC:

<<Nnnno,>> one of the scientists, Dr. Harding, began over the comms. The scientists were all tied into their own network, of course; setting aside the problems with having so many people on the same frequency, the whole lot were so excited that the chatter would never cease. It hadn’t, in fact, since the moment the shuttle touched down. Twelve men and women, the foremost experts in their field, speaking a mile a minute about what they were seeing, hearing, reading, guessing, thinking. It was enough to make their supervisor (the aforementioned, infinitely patient Dr. Harding) wish for military comm discipline. <<No, I don’t think it’s geothermal.>>

Naturally they all had the capability to tap into the pilots’ frequency, as well, though under protocol only she was supposed to do so on a transmit and receive basis. The others were free to listen, not that they were listening to anyone. Dr. Harding felt the ground give under her boot, and despite the danger she wished she could take her helmet off to see and hear the world without a filter. Their suits had been designed for this moment; self contained life support, temperature control, biomedical sensors, GPS positioning relayed through Pandora above. Unlike the usual space suit, and much more like the suits some of their watchful protectors were wearing, their gear had been built for resistance too. A non-Newtonian layer for resisting impacts, a top layer of tough enough weave to stop a small caliber bullet… The mission’s architects had no way of knowing what they would encounter, so they had prepared for everything.

<<I suppose it could be. Our scans of the area are pretty incomplete, but we haven’t seen any sign of substantial geothermal activity in the area. And why would they be distinct but overlapping signatures like this?>> She took her hand away from her visor, after a few moments outside it had polarized against the sun’s glare. <<I’m not sure what they are, yet, but->>

<<Doctor?>>

<<Yes?>> She asked, turning her attention again to the scientists under her watchful eye. <<What is it?>>

<<Well, ma’am, it’s just…>> The scientist speaking shifted on his feet, the slightly nervous tic carrying through despite the suit he wore. <<We got the relays in the ground like you wanted. Three of them, north, southwest, southeast evenly spaced for three points of reference. Soil readings, of course, but also our ultrasonics.>>

<<To map what’s below the surface, yes, I know the plan.>>

<<But you don’t know what we’re getting.>>

Harding frowned at the change in tone from eager to apprehensive, and brought the data up on her HUD; it was preliminary, the devices hadn’t even gotten through a quarter of their cycle. But the approximations…. Hard, geometric edges. Some not far below the surface, irregular masses that were hard to make out. But further down, fifty, seventy, a hundred feet down. A solid plane of a metallic nature. Just the edge, whatever it was extended further north past their LZ. And there was a lot of debris. But…

<<Orbitals,>> She began again. <<Be advised that we’ve got some pretty unnatural looking stuff under the ground. Nothing to worry about yet but it could be in your wheelhouse, so I’m patching the sensor take through to you guys.>>

One of Odyssues’ drones moved further away from the scientists, and the transport, to the strongest heat source. Their depth, now that the additional sensor data was being correlated, varied as much as their spacing. Some were as deep as forty meters down, others as shallow as ten. No other readings, really, but the heat signature was strong and consistent… And familiar.

If that was…

<<One of you on the ground, I need you to do something.>> She pinged the heat signature closest to the surface, estimated at about nine meters down. <<We can’t reach the stuff all the way down, not until we get more gear down here. But before we do any of that we need to dig this one up. Carefully.>>

<<I don’t know about any of you, but accounting for diffusion through the soil that looks a lot like an Oberth Reactor in standby to me.>>

---

Oberth Reactors?

Volana's eyes darted across the sensor data which had been sent over to the Orbital team, following the blips of heat signatures lining up with changes in density from the subsurface readings. The image slowly resolved itself into something clearer; hard, distinct shapes coming into sharp focus. Though the sudden, sharp delineation between what was obviously natural erosion and buildup, and a hard, decidedly unnatural plane thirty meters down caught her attention.

Her mind raced. Not even an hour after having arrived on the surface and they had already found something more than just a planet that was alive. Something had lived here.

Someone.

And they wanted to dig it up. Volana glanced around, the rest of the ground team was currently in position around the perimeter, and she was the closest to the near-surface heat signature.

Just her luck.

<<Affirmative,>> Volana replied, a mix of trepidation and excitement bubbling up beneath the surface, though she did her best to keep it at bay. <<If uh, anything jumps out at me you will be sure I am clear before firing, yes?>>

That last part was to no one in particular, and she was only half-joking.

Volana advanced forward, the Aurora's heavy footfalls sinking the machine a few inches into the soft, sandy ground. She stopped just above the heat signature, the glow from her data-augmented view emanating from beneath her.

She let out a curse, and took a long breath.

While the Aurora wasn't exactly outfitted for digging of all things, it was still a twenty meter tall humanoid machine, and the mass of sand between her and the very artificial, very alien heat source below was no obstacle as she began to dig her way into the soil.

---

Castle chuckled a little at Adam's response (and also at Halim's failure to recognize levity). It was bad luck to be praying in the middle of a mission... but a little faith went a long way.

<<I don't know about that, miss Alexandros. Weren't Adam and Eve created in God's image? In that case, I'd imagine they'd bear some resemblance to Him.>>

Religious and philosophical debates on the origins of man aside, the Ajax continued sweeping the area from its position upon the dune. Outrider, the much smaller Exo-Frame had landed some distance away from the larger Orbital. It moved south from where Castle had initially landed-- it was a wise idea to have a target designator some distance away from the actual artillery, to widen the range of fire, after all.

<<Copy that, Fox. Happy hunting.>>

The Ajax had nothing but the bare essentials when it came to its own sensor arrays. However, in spite of that, there was a wealth of information received on comms-- whether that was from the Odysseus' Battle Net, the Bedwyr's Merlon Target Acquisition Suite, or the Outrider's Hermes Communications Suite. This particular ping, however, came from the science team that was currently on the ground.

Castle grimaced slightly as he received their information. An Oberth Reactor? Here, right underneath the LZ? Was this a lucky coincidence, or an intentional placement? How many more of these were scattered around the planet's surface, he wondered. Shaking the thoughts out of his head, the man looked over to the Aurora; it looks like Volana had drawn the short straw.

<<If anything pops out of the ground, you'll be far too close, even taking danger close into account...>>

It was true. The only things safe for use at this range were the HAG, or the Keraunos Hypervelocity Driver, and even then friendly fire was still a risk. Firing from this position onto the dig site with high-explosive weaponry was not advisable for... multiple reasons. With that in mind, that danger could still be alleviated with a bit of preparation, even if it might result in some close-encounters. Castle opened comms to the other Orbitals

<<...ground team, secure the perimeter. To all other free assets, I recommend supervising the Aurora's excavation with non-destructive armaments. The last thing we want is for an explosion to send the Oberth Reactor into meltdown.>>

Free assets referred to anyone who wasn't currently assigned a task, and with ten different Orbitals on-site, there was certainly no shortage of those. Unfortunately, 'non-destructive armaments' was a catch-all term for anything that could cause excessive collateral damage if there was a missed shot. This meant that explosive weaponry was off the table, but anyone with kinetic or energy weapons could still ably function, with a bit of precise aim. Of course, in the absence of those, there were always melee sidearms... which may prove necessary if something actually does pop out of the ground.

Holden continued his vigilant observations from the north side. One could call him nervous, but trigger-discipline was everything for an artilleryman. His eyes deftly moved in a rotation, from his own sensors to his comms, to his diagnostics, and back to his sensors on repeat-- a habit he had developed while working in the military. Now all he had to do was wait.

...and waiting was the hardest part.

Zakharin looked over the data from the drone as the lead scientist pinged a location of the heat signature. The fact that it appears that someone bury an Oberth Reactor raises more questions than answers. But Zakharin decide to leave those questions for later as Volana went to dig up the reactor. His Odysseus H&K fit the need for a non-destructive weapon. The old marine moved to provide cover for the digging mech. Sending two gun drones ahead to watch over Volana while he got into position.

<<I got you covered.>>

The old marine had moved his Orbital so he had a clear line of fire without the risk of hitting Volana.

GM IC:

“Well, if someone can feed me a targeting solution I can keep the Lancier trained on it. Shouldn’t do more than singe Miss Jacira, but it should knock out anything down there fine.” Artemie supplied, watching from overhead. Voyager was much lower than the more dedicated superiority types, but it simply wasn’t well suited to the sand if she could avoid it. She was just too big, she wouldn’t be able to move around as easily. And staying above kept her out of the immediate vicinity of danger in case she needed to intervene. “Eyeballing it wouldn’t be great.”

Her tone was light, but the Lunite was on the edge of her seat. With worry, yes, but with excitement mostly; they were digging up something artificial, buried on an alien world. A culmination of her own lifelong quest, right here on the first day.

Aurora’s fingers may not have been the perfect instrument but they dug easily into the soil, clearing away years with every scoop. Efficiency didn’t matter at such a scale, the streams of soil sliding back amounting to nothing worth noticing from inside its cockpit. Decades gone in a second, centuries in just a few more, and thousands of years before a minute passes. Only a few long minutes before its fingers brushed metal, wiping the loose layer just above it away with as much dexterity as the war machine could manage. Its sensors refocused, ‘eyes’ peering deep into the earth to pierce the unknown.

And the dead of eons past peered back.

It was tilted up just a little, as though it had fallen on uneven ground. It had a ‘face’ once, at least two eyes even though the left had been mangled beyond recognition. Its head was an elegant crest, tapering back where it pierced deeper into the ground. The Proximal sun struck the dusty black material and it gleamed violet wherever it touched save the surviving eye. The sun struck it directly, it couldn’t do anything else; despite its position it had fallen where it could gaze at the sun overhead. The lens glowed viridian in Volana’s HUD, bright and focused as though it had merely been waiting. The machine was smaller than most of those that had disturbed its grave; assuming it had mostly the same proportions as their own Orbitals it was little more than fourteen meters from head to toe. Her excavation had unearthed down to its collar when she paused.

“Ah, found something. Is an Orbital. Or, something like.” The Aurora resumed digging, more carefully, to reveal more of the shape below. “No unusual readings. Continuing for now.”

Odyssey’s drone was perched towards the edge of the hole, just clear of where Volana dug, and angled to capture and transmit whatever was visible at the bottom. The whole ground team, Dr. Harding included, had the next best thing to front row seats to Volana’s continued excavation. Its shoulders came next, elegant pauldrons with gilded edges. At least, an elegant pauldron. The right was visible, as evidently the machine had been propping itself up on its elbow but the left was completely gone. Wrenched away just to the side of its collar, taking part of the torso with it. Its breastplate was pierced where a living thing’s heart would have been just deeply enough to glimpse its reactor housing. Crystalline shards, perhaps formed by pressure over the eons, rested within the wound where a cockpit looked to have been. Its torso tapered to an impossibly thin waist by any human design and then stopped. Or more accurately it ended. The machine’s lower half was gone, without any sign of it in the immediate soil.

Aurora grasped it carefully now that it was mostly exposed and pulled, lifting it easily free of the soil in a cascade of sand and shrapnel. Its surviving arm hung limply with a long, tapered rifle still held in its hand.

Dr. Harding blew out a deep breath and eyed it carefully.

<<There’s no doubt about it, it’s of the same design philosophy as the handful in Siberia. And ornate. Maybe it was a part of some sort of Praetorian guard?>> She stopped, realizing she was thinking out loud. The field team lead looked at her tablet again and took another deep breath. <<Every one of these signatures could be another machine. Actually, there could be more than that. We’re only picking up signatures from anything with an active Oberth reactor. Left alone the things will run pretty much indefinitely, but if they’re damaged they’ll stop. Which means there’s no way of knowing exactly how many are underneath us.>>

Some of the scientists looked a little uncomfortable even through their suits as the realization sank in that they were standing on a graveyard. A graveyard of God, if His dominion extended so far, only knew how many souls.

Though not all of them.

How long is an age to the earth? People like their hundred years, more if they’re fortunate, and they die. A single rotation of the system is more than enough to mark their time, one more tick towards their end. But the earth doesn’t care. If you give it enough time it may. So many years that the sun goes out, taking the planets with it. Such a passing would be noteworthy. But the years in between are meaningless, the shifting surface as the years march on utterly devoid of anything but the expected. How long for the passing of time to even register on such a scale?

The excitement died down long ago, even so. It had ended in one, incredible explosion of power. Everything went dark. And when they rose again everything was still, and that was good. Their apparati never changed their tune, as common and consistent as the wind. In time they would wind down like the rest. The flickers of celestial bodies striking the surface never even registered, so infinitesimal they were. Until the new ones.

They were discontented. The quiet had gone on for so long, they could not have hidden. Their existence was too fragile. But how, then?

They rumbled and stirred, shedding the planet that had grown around them. The answer would be known.

Kilometers away the disturbance registered, too far for the landbound Orbitals to see. But within easy reconnaissance range of those in the sky.

<<Look alive,>> Harding started again, head snapping in the direction of the rumble she felt in her own feet. <<Science team, back on the bird. Right now. Pilots I need to know if that was natural or something’s moving out there!>>

<<We just disturbed a graveyard full of ancient war machines. I'm sure it's nothing.>>

Fox's artificial tenor came through as dry as the desert around them. Despite his casual tone, the young man began to redeploy with an almost aggressive haste. Redirecting the Ravens up and over toward the disturbance; he kicked on the Outrider's repulsers, pushing up the exoframe to float less than a meter above the ground. Skimming the dune-tops, Fox angled his path far to one side of the disturbance in order to hopefully not be in the way of anything inbound on the LZ.

<<Soo... any bets on what we just woke up?>>

Fox asks a little too casually; settling into a dune as he waits for visual conformation from his drones.

Halim

<<""BTF-unit AGL-001 reminds the Raven Unit that gambling is prohibited under BTF Regulatory Guide Line Article 478 Subsection B as a violation of unearned right to ownership and currency exchange and is punishable by euthanasia. Thank you for your compliance.">> Halim helpfully chipped over the comms as his sensors scanned over the battlefield, though somewhat concerned that said pilot clearly didn't see to remember that bit of regulation. Surely that was common knowledge.

This place was...he supposed interesting was the correct word for it. He'd never given much thought to what it was like to live on the surface of a planet. Did they all have mass graveyards like this? It seemed wasteful to leave all these useful materials just laying around like that. The BTF would NEVER had allowed such a loss. They were good like that.

He felt his thrusters come to life, gently lifting his Casket so that it hovered in the air a meter or so. Just in case a tactical retreat was ordered. <<"BTF-unit AGL-001 detects no immediate threats at LZ. Synching targeting systems with Units Bedwyr and Voyager to provide triangulation for requested targeting solution. Request sending in three...two...one.">> he said, fingers dancing quickly over his controls as he hailed the two Orbitals in question, transmitting a simple feed of his orbitals current coordinates and coordinates of what he was currently aimed at....which largely consisted of 'sand, sand, wrecked Orbitals and-oh what a suprise-yet more sand. Still, between the three Orbitals it should be enough to provide a targeting solution for just about anything that entered the LZ. <<"Request sent. The BTF thanks you for your compliance.">> He added politely as the Casket drifted slowly back and away from the dead Orbital and the Aurora.

@FlappyTheSpybot@Krayzikk@HereComesTheSnow

<<We've gotta work on your sense of humor AGL one.>>

Adam rolled the Starstrike, dropping altitude in a wide banking turn. As the disturbance came into optical range he ended the turn and keyed his sensors to ready for a high-intensity scan. "Return thrusters to ready status and prepare for emergency burn. Designate activity in scan region as unknown contacts." Adam felt his Orbital shift into a more ready flight-stance as it finished dissipating heat. Hefting it's weapon into ready position, the Starstrike began it's approach, transmitting visuals of a cloud of disturbed sand rising from the ground north east of the LZ, opposite his own position.

<<Large dust plume North East of LZ, negative visual on anything else. Too far for penetrative scan or thermal yet. sixty seconds ETA to sensor ranges, Starstrike's got nothing on the Bedwyr's eyes, but I'll transmit when able. It's a shot in the dark, but my money's on alien jellyfish.>>

---

Castle was silent as the impromptu excavation took place. It wasn't just an Oberth Reactor, but a full-blown Orbital (albeit, a deactivated one) with potentially hundreds more beneath the surface. He was no archaeologist, but the recoverable artifacts from this dig site alone would be one hell of a find.

<<Looks like they've got their very own Terracotta Army... except with working suits rather than sculptures.>>

The words from Command had been more than enough to take Holden out of his casual demeanor, though. If this wasn't enough to remind people that they were on an alien planet, then he didn't know what would.

<<Copy that, Command. Ground team, secure the perimeter. Airborne units, we're gonna need eyes on the target.>>

Castle's orders mostly echoed that of Command. Hell, he was certain that with a team like this, he probably wouldn't even need to give instructions and they'd all jump into action. In fact, the Outrider, the Starstrike, and AGL-001 had already begun their recon of the target, in their own ways. Still... the chain of command was here for a reason, and organization and squad cohesion doesn't just appear over the course of a battle.

And yet in spite of everything...

<<...how about a giant worm? Those are classic.>>

...he couldn't help himself from joking around, even a little bit.

---

High above the LZ's airspace, it could be safely assumed that Konstantin had spotted the disturbance and associated dust plume, on account that all six of his available cannons were trained upon what appeared to be its' epicenter. Only God above knew the specifics of what they had just dug up, both in metaphor and in the literal sense, but he couldn't help it if he smelled an engagement. Animal instincts were hard to shake.

<<I can corroborate both. Triangulating artillery coordinates now. All yours, Voyager.>>

That said, he was still a professional first and foremost. Halting his circuit, he quickly darted his gaze across his HUD, indicating the somewhat-excavated Orbital's designation field as TGT. Merlon took over from there, transmitting the updated IFF structure to every synced orbital to quite plainly display upon their HUDs and Radar fields. Once established, the designation's position coupled with the readings of AGL-001 streamed all the aim assistance Isra could need, freezer burnt or not.

Once they got a proper grid set up for this place, then the classic "steel rain" idea would be far simpler. But you work with what you have.

So, that was quite a lot that just happened in the span of seconds. There was no great coincidence that the radiation patterns all but perfectly lined up with Oberth Reactors, then, when the team's first great discovery on this rock was that somebody was indeed here first. While Harding's little slip of the tongue had far from gone unnoticed, there were more pressing matters to attend to than the relationship between Siberia and Kitezh— chiefly that which had suddenly proven to have some sort of ghost in the machine.

Could you really expect a soldier to believe in a coincidence like this?

<<We're digging up Orbitals, aren't we? Maybe somebody else had the same idea.>> he ventured dryly, full attention returned to the disturbance. As the de-facto AWACS and designated guinea pig for General Resources, it naturally fell to him to provide preliminary analysis on whatever the hell just woke up.

<<Range to bogey: three-point-five clicks Northeast from LZ, vector 076. Visual obscured by dust plume at current resolution. Beginning scan cycle.>>

Guns still very much trained, he quickly set to work, running through all available detection filters.

<<...All that said, though, I'd be fine with some kind of crab. Michael could roast it and we could all stop worrying about MREs for a while.>>

Zakharin took a good look at the frame of the Orbital that was dug up. He casted his experienced eyes over the alien machine trying to spot any weak points that could be use incase they had to fight them later on. The old cyborg soon locked on to the rifle in its grasp. He had his orbital reach out and take the rifle from the dead Orbitals grip to look it over. That was when he was alerted to the incoming dust cloud. He sat the rifle on the ground.

<<Going to try to get us a closer look.>>

The old marine have his orbital make his way from the dig site. As he moved to the perimeter he program one of the drone to fly into the dust cloud. Best case they get a clear picture of what's in there. Worst case it can be used as a targeting beacon for the other orbitals.

<<I betting on some sort of mechanized spider.>>

Stel jumped at the thought of an alien Orbital being found so soon. Or she would have, if she weren't in a cockpit. The things she could learn from studying it... If only the science crew would let her when they were finished with it. Or any of the apparently dozens other ones they were standing on. A grave, not just of anyone, but of warriors. Giant, metal, very powerful warriors. Whatever took them out did so without obliterating them completely, so it had to be both mobile and several times more powerful than they were. And now something, quite possibly that very destructive force, was moving towards them. Michael turned towards the approaching red dot on its radar and opened its horizontal wings in case a quick movement forwards would be necessary.

I'm gonna need that kid to not talk about euthanasia so casually like that. she thought to herself.

<<Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but take a bite of this apple... We're on an alien planet, so giant forms of life we're familiar with is unlikely, unless evolution is particularly creatively bankrupt. And the thought of something that could take out a squadron of alien Orbitals is not something I want to deal with, so I'm personally just hoping it can communicate somehow and we don't have to fight.>>

Not the least of her reasoning being that she wasn't sure she knew how to fight in her own Orbital, but she kept that to herself.

---

Volana cursed under her breath, extending the last syllable out as she forced air from between her teeth. At the realization that she had been doing so, the Cytherean pilot unclenched her jaw. It had taken her a few moments to snap back to reality, from her vantage point within the Aurora's cockpit she had been the first to get a look at the piece of alien technology which they had encountered, though the similarities between it and the machine which she had used to excavate it were not lost on her. Not in the slightest.

It was beautiful, in an eerily haunting way. Like discovering the skeleton to some previously unknown entity. All sleek lines, tapering forms. Impossibly delicate compared to the Orbital which held it aloft, and yet undeniably created with lethal intent.

Almost entranced by the visage, Volana reached out with her flesh and blood hand, the Aurora's own mirroring the motion, running it down the length of the armor. Tactile sensors transmitted basic material properties of the sleek metallic coverings, though she paid the stream of information little mind. Her focus shifted, and she wrapped her grip around the slender weapon which hung from the alien mechine's surviving apendage. The weapon, for she assumed it could be nothing but, came free with little effort. Her gaze drifted across the surface of it.

And then she was pulled back to reality.

<<Look alive. Science team, back on the bird. Right now. Pilots I need to know if that was natural or something’s moving out there!>>

Volana tore her gaze away from the corpse of a machine, placing it down next to the hole which she had dug it out from only a few moments before. The battlenet connection was already streaming a visual feed of the approaching cloud of obscuring dust to a small corner of her panoramic view, courtesy of the arial units. She may have been many things, but naïve was not one of them.

<<Aurora purging SRBs, moving to defensive position,>> On her command, the extra boosters were dropped from the sides and back of the Orbital into the soft sand, significantly freeing movement for the time being. She'd need them later to get off this ball of dust and back to the ship, but for now she had the sinking feeling that she'd be better served without them.

Mobility returned to normal, Volana moved forward towards the front of their assembly of Orbitals, under no illusion as to her role among the team.

<<We are engaging, no? Or perhaps waiting until something ah, bad happens?>>

The question, while directed at the whole, was more towards command than anyone else.

<<I am no expert, however I would not say that looks natural...>>

GM IC:

The contacts closed the distance like lightning and the ground rumbled like thunder. The clouds thrown up represented thousands of years of undisturbed dirt, thrown skyward by something moving up just as much as forward. Earth parted like water in before it, and within a few moments the sensors overhead were throwing metallic readings. The dust was too thick for visual penetration and the air too confused for thermals but the data definitely pointed to something metallic; and big.

<<Pilots,>> The COO’s voice crackled with command on the line, her first intervention since they launched. <<The shuttle is withdrawing from this zone. Keep it covered until it leaves effective combat range. As of this second I am confirming a Case Siberia, and your RoE changes with it. Don’t start anything if you can help it but you are not, I repeat not, expected to let them take the first shot. If they look nasty you are cleared to engage.>>

Far above her frown deepened, because she was hearing the chatter from the bridge unlike her pilots below. Communications started picking up something strange as soon as the plumes appeared, and she was feeling very much like they’d dug up something they shouldn’t have. If the UN wanted to bitch about her putting the trigger for interstellar war in the hands of the units on the ground they shouldn’t have given her that call.

<<Explorer One I’m reiterating that you are to get your asses out of there. Right now, Dr. Harding, you can take readings while you leave.>>

<<Confirmed, Pandora, beginning exfiltration now.>>

The science team was buckled in, for the most part, but Dr. Harding pushed her way to the cockpit to watch the instruments. The pilot relaying their status to Pandora might have protested to anyone else… but the doctor was going to do what she wanted. And what she wanted was to man the sensors. Withdrawal may have been a necessity but the shuttle had been outfitted with the best scientific sensors on the market and it would be a long while until they were out of sensor range. She could watch, listen, and record anything that might be important; with how quickly things were taking a turn it might be very important later on.

<<Explorer One requesting a babysitter until we leave the zone, if someone wants to play meat shie->>

Whatever he was going to say trailed off abruptly as the contacts breached the surface. The Orbitals scouting them out got a good look first but no one could miss them. Not at that scale. The two were half again, maybe closer to twice in some cases, as tall as an Orbital with arms too long and hands too big. It made them look top heavy, an impression their hunched posture reinforced. Their feet matched their hands with long, digitous digits that ended in points to better distribute their mass over the loose surface. The mechanoids (for their surface was undeniably metallic) were smooth and seamless, lacking even the limited part separation visible on the alien Orbital. Smooth, curving spines of an unidentifiable crystal crested over either shoulder and as they took another step seemed to top the machines’ digits as well. Their heads had broad, flat ‘faces’ with green optics that stretched back over too little neck to end between their spines. A long tail of sinuous metal rested in the ground behind them.

And the humans had plenty of time to look; they simply stopped moving upon reaching the surface. They neither shifted nor made a sound in the hushed silence, only waited with unerring patience as they drank in the scene before them. Their optics seemed to settle at first on the alien Orbital, but then passed between every construct before them. The field seemed almost to have been split between them as their heads moved in opposite directions with perfect synchronicity to rest briefly on Orbital in their ‘zone’...

Then stop and snap to the same point in unison as the sight of Gypsy Soul.

The now oppressive silence shattered when their ‘mouths’ opened with a sound like splintering metal, issuing forth a harsh, mechanical chattering that seemed to come over the comms as much as resonate through the armor of their machines. And as one entity they fired a pair of long disused energy weapons sending bolts of sickly golden light lancing through their air towards Gypsy Alexandros’ Orbital.

Not that the others were forgotten; one of the mechanoids turned at once towards Volana and advanced again with unnatural speed seeming more to use its hands and feet to stabilize flight induced by means unknown than to run.

At Volana’s feet the alien machine’s surviving optic flared to life and issued what could only be called a rasping, desperate screech from eons passed. Long dead joints scraped and ground as servos tried and failed to fire, a macabre spasm of life from a machine long still.