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Lunamaria Hawke
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LiotrentEarth, High Orbit
After short amount of time passing after departing from the Cerberus, the dropships of the 189th were fast on approach to the Earth, maneuvering around thousands of shredded starship debris from past battles, Earth’s orbit was a deathtrap for any pilot who came unprepared and lacked the training. Most fortunate for the 189th Mobile Infantry that their pilots knew what they were doing, unfortunately, one can never truly be prepared to be a moving target.
Colonel Sidonis, Commander of the battalion, hung around in the front of the cockpit of one of the larger transport, his gaze glued several screens playing live feed of the outside world, gripped tightly to the co-pilots seat's cushions, observing the outside as the group flew in a loose formation. Missiles and other projectiles passing by the ship as they fell under attack. The worst he feared came to pass as one of the dropships furthest ahead of the group was hit by an incoming missile, engulfed in a blinding light, followed by fast approaching wreckage from its fresh carcass, the pattern repeated several more times as more dropships were destroyed from their pursuers.
"Son of a bitch!" The Colonel exclaimed, his grip growing tighter. "Get us out of their aim!" He ordered as he turned back to face a crowd of legionaries nervously waiting in the cargo hold. "Don’t faulter! You are Legionaries! The fighting elite of the Eclipse! Show these heretics your undying resolve! You will not break!” The small pep talk was a much-needed morale boost for the frightened recruits, chanting out “Talus Vult!”
“Buckle up! We’re in for a rough landing!” Colonel Sidonis ordered as he leapt down from the steps. Quickly fastening himself to his seat. The others following behind. Despite being safely buckled in, the Colonel’s unit out of sheer habit, gripped tightly on their seats as the turbulence grew more intense. Before long, their hostile pursuers would cease their hunt as they returned to the ensuing battle. The surviving dropships pushing pass the atmosphere, the darkness of space slowly being left behind as Iceland was on the horizon, their isolated enclave in the Atlantic.
After short amount of time passing after departing from the Cerberus, the dropships of the 189th were fast on approach to the Earth, maneuvering around thousands of shredded starship debris from past battles, Earth’s orbit was a deathtrap for any pilot who came unprepared and lacked the training. Most fortunate for the 189th Mobile Infantry that their pilots knew what they were doing, unfortunately, one can never truly be prepared to be a moving target.
Colonel Sidonis, Commander of the battalion, hung around in the front of the cockpit of one of the larger transport, his gaze glued several screens playing live feed of the outside world, gripped tightly to the co-pilots seat's cushions, observing the outside as the group flew in a loose formation. Missiles and other projectiles passing by the ship as they fell under attack. The worst he feared came to pass as one of the dropships furthest ahead of the group was hit by an incoming missile, engulfed in a blinding light, followed by fast approaching wreckage from its fresh carcass, the pattern repeated several more times as more dropships were destroyed from their pursuers.
"Son of a bitch!" The Colonel exclaimed, his grip growing tighter. "Get us out of their aim!" He ordered as he turned back to face a crowd of legionaries nervously waiting in the cargo hold. "Don’t faulter! You are Legionaries! The fighting elite of the Eclipse! Show these heretics your undying resolve! You will not break!” The small pep talk was a much-needed morale boost for the frightened recruits, chanting out “Talus Vult!”
“Buckle up! We’re in for a rough landing!” Colonel Sidonis ordered as he leapt down from the steps. Quickly fastening himself to his seat. The others following behind. Despite being safely buckled in, the Colonel’s unit out of sheer habit, gripped tightly on their seats as the turbulence grew more intense. Before long, their hostile pursuers would cease their hunt as they returned to the ensuing battle. The surviving dropships pushing pass the atmosphere, the darkness of space slowly being left behind as Iceland was on the horizon, their isolated enclave in the Atlantic.