CMDR SAGAN "VULTURE" KODOS
The drop started, and the horses were off. Sagan shifted his control mode to one-hand with the stick, using his other to start tapping away on an AR interface with his haptic gloves. With this many targets coming in, he'd have to refine and limit the targeting AI's intake so that he, and the rest of the squad by proxy, wasn't bombarded with a massive flow of data. Despite the MAS cooling system's best efforts, sweat came fast when it did start, dripping down his neck and forehead in beads.
This wasn't his first rodeo, of course. But hot dropping was never something one got used to. This far up, death was something far past your control, with only the lucky few having any opportunity to avert burning up in atmo the moment something went wrong.
Unfortunately for that poor fucking rookie over the tacnet, it seemed something did go catastrophically wrong for her. Plate locked on one foot. Damn. Sagan did his best to divert his attention back towards the oncoming battle as someone thankfully muted the rookie's death spiral. Hopefully the one on his team wouldn't go that way.
In contrast, once they made it to atmo, the real fight started. Gelcastre started becoming more than a twinkle in the distance below, and Sagan quickly switched back to dual-lever controls, preparing to disengage his plate.
<< Vulture, dropping plate. Commie, Rabbit's got the right idea. Cover our ground-pounders and deal with the flyboys coming in, I'll run overwatch. >> He disengaged early, the Watchdog's flight boosters kicking into full burn as it tore through the sky, coming down after the Secutor and Blackout started decimating ground-bound AA.
<< Rhino, Hex, acknowledged. Good work, stack up and start moving to make a push, I've got your backs. Rook, still alive back there? Keep up and don't play hero. You pull that shit you did in space, you're gonna die. >> The Watchdog reached close enough to the ground that firing on landbound targets was viable, and Sagan quickly opened up with the HPK, sighting up an incoming mixed squadron of fast response vehicles escorted by a few Fenrirs and pulling the trigger.
<< Fuck, enemy fast mover engaging us! They got Zhang!
>><< I can't get tone, bad angle, bad angle!
>><< Missile in the air, missile in the air! Defending-
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ >><< Shit, shit, shit, our escorts are down! He's closing in!
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