[b][i]UNIS Olympus[/i] – Violet Sector: Military Hangar
110,000 Miles/117,000 Kilometres from Invictus
January 9, 2212 – The Fall of [i]Olympus[/i][/b]

“All systems are optimal. Requesting permission to disengage clamps.”

“Permission granted, [i]Demoiselle[/i].” Hydraulics groaned as the mechanical arms loosed from around the ship. “You are set and ready for takeoff.”

“Roger that, flight control.” The lieutenant pressed a button on the console. “[i]Hoverfly[/i], [i]Brown Hawker[/i], what is your status?”

“Ready, sir.”

“Primed and ready, sir.”

“Okay then boys, follow my lead.”

The boarding platform at the rear of the ship folded upwards to meet the lip of the cabin ceiling, sealing the exit. The landing gear did likewise as the ventral thrusters burst into life, pushing the craft into a hover a few feet off the hangar floor.

The damselfly-class vessel was as much a piece of art as it was a vehicle. It was uncannily insectlike, from a distance appearing almost organic, wrought in the likeness of its namesake. Stretching 60 feet long and 16 feet high, the damselfly had a long streamlined fuselage terminating at the front in a spacious cockpit with a domed plexiglass window. This provided 180 degree vision and looked similar to the compound eyes of an odonate. The cockpit comfortably sat the pilot to the right and the Naval Aviator Astronaut to the left before a complex flight console. The ship was fully weaponised, sporting twin missile drums either side just under the cockpit and a Gatling gun under the front of the cockpit. Most notable were the two sets of rotatable pectoral wings centred either side of the fuselage. These doubled as flaps when rotated 90 degrees, their controls manually operated by the pilot, and their surfaces were solar paneled for auxiliary power.

The damselfly was one of the most efficient multi-purpose military ships. Able to withstand extreme atmospheric pressures, it was both a submersible and an aircraft, and safe to fly up to ionospheric heights.

Lt. Titus Blake flicked on the [i]Demoiselle[/i]’s navigation lights, casting a green glow over the vessel’s turquoise-finished body. He pushed two sliders on the console, fanning out the expansive wings. Above the sliders four small wheels were rolled to rotate the wings laterally. With a final pull of a gearstick, the two rear thrusters roared and blasted the [i]Demoiselle[/i] out into the black of space.

Titus allowed himself a brief look at his new home. The gargantuan mottled sphere of Invictus loomed before him, clouds swirling over the vast terrains of reds, greens and yellows. It was like nothing he had seen before. He imagined this was how Earth appeared centuries ago before humanity had marred its natural beauty. Invictus was an unspoiled paradise. It felt almost a sin to taint it with human presence. Titus looked down eagerly.

“Beautiful, ain’t' it, mate?” came an Australian twang.

The lieutenant turned to his co-pilot and grinned beneath his visor. “Sure is, Mickey.”

“We’re not in Kansas any more, Toto.”

Titus sighed. Mickey’s obsession with 20th Century cinema was insatiable and he was constantly quoting them. Titus scarcely got half the references; those films were so primitive. [i]Who the hell is Toto?[/i] he thought.

The pilot turned back and returned to his job. 

“Trajectory vision, on,” Titus commanded, the shaded view from his visor now illuminated by green squares and dots and coordinates in the top left corner. These guided him where to go, following the dots through the squares like checkpoints in a computer game. It took the fun out of flying, but this was a dire situation and they had important cargo aboard.

Titus still couldn’t believe the Colonel had chosen his ship to make touchdown in. The cabin was cramped at best; the gangway running from the cockpit to the rear exit was narrow and packed tightly on either side with equipment and provisions. There were three crude seats embedded into the walls either side with safety harnesses, but you’d get a numb arse just sitting in it for three minutes. Though Titus supposed these men were made of sturdier stuff, buns trained to peak physical condition to steel against the elements, and chairs.

Joking aside, this lot were not to be crossed; they looked like they’d sooner kill you than look at you. The six marines sat silently in the fuselage staring at the floor, one digging out the dirt from his fingernails with a hunting knife. They looked to all be of oriental descent, no doubt all consigned to Colonel Xing via his instruction. The Colonel was a tall man, clad in khaki uniform and a superior officer’s cap, insignia emblazoned upon his right lapel. His stern deeply lined face indicated an age in the late fifties, greying hairs combed close to his scalp. The man had a fearsome reputation and he suffered no sleights. Rumour had it he’d had a private beaten bloody on the [i]Olympus[/i] for scuffing his shoe. Titus would have to tread carefully.

The [i]Hoverfly[/i] and [i]Brown Hawker[/i] swooped either side of the [i]Demoiselle[/i] as the squadron hurtled earthward. The lieutenant’s plan was to outpace the other dropships to avoid any incidence and allow the Colonel to establish a safe point on the surface for the colonists. The shuttles and gliders weren’t the issue, it was the pods. They were unpredictable vessels and could reach alarming velocities when poorly controlled. With the rife panic on the [i]Olympus[/i], poor piloting was to be expected and there [i]would[/i] be casualties. It was a good thing the damselflies were pre-packed and fueled for a swift exit from the mothership. Titus only hoped this leg of the voyage would be as smooth as the escape.

“How’s my tail, Mickey?”

“All clear. Stay frosty.”

Who says that? Titus’ mind drifted to the connotations of the word “frosty” when…

(([url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDSQbCYrXu0]You gonna die music[/url]))

“Woah! What the fuck was that?!”

A huge bullet had zoomed past near metres from the [i]Demoiselle[/i]’s right wings. It burned like molten iron in the distance, superheated by its speedy projection through the Invictan atmosphere.

“A pod! The radar didn’t even pick it up!”

A band of sweat formed on Titus’ brow as his hand drifted to the commlink.

“[i]Hoverfly[/i], [i]Brown Hawker[/i], fold in your wings. Commence full speed thro…”

Out of the corner of his eye, Titus saw [i]Brown Hawker[/i] lanced by a speeding pod and drop off trajectory.

“[i]Brown Hawker[/i] is down. Repeat, [i]Brown Hawker[/i] is down!” Titus folded in the wings and freefell towards the planet, thrusters at full capacity. He gripped the joystick with both hands, wrestling against the turbulence. Thermals blazed off the reinforced plexiglass, filling Titus’ vision with scarlet red. The trajectory vision pervaded through it like some guiding phantom, the distance meter in the corner blurring downwards.

“Mickey, we’re coming in too hot! Reprogram the destination to that sea west of Landfall!”

“Copy! Triangulating now!”

The coordinates reset and the trajectory dots and squares violently shunted in another direction. Titus yanked with all his might on the joystick and engaged the wing flaps when the velocity was low enough not for them to be instantly blown off. Unstably, the craft jolted round and plummeted through the cloud layer, wings folding back into default. [i]Hoverfly[/i] was nowhere to be seen. White fogged the window as Titus tried to slow his breathing. It was make or break time.

They suddenly burst from the clouds and were greeted with the scene of a vast blue sea. Titus struggled with the joystick to pull up and get a good angle. Mickey punched the loudspeaker button and announced:

“Brace for impact! Brace for impact!”

He didn’t have time to do a countdown. The [i]Demoiselle[/i] darted over the Invictan waters and plunged into the sea, vaporising the surf. Mist and water erupted high into the air as the ship disappeared from view.