“Everyone alright?” Thebes sent over comms once he’d regained his senses. He quickly located the outlines and IFF tags of the group in the low-light even before his enhanced vision came online. Memnon and Carthage were still on their knees, hands either held up to their helmeted face or resting on the ground. Knossos, second in command and the Band’s medic, rushed over to them while Saddam and Athena moved into protective postures, weapons raised and looking out into the darkness.

“Permission to lift my visor?” Memnon, the Band’s marksman, asked from his kneeling position. His voice arrived over comms noticeably crackly. “Atmosphere is breathable, no sign of any dangerous elements.” The scientist named Dr Ngata offered helpfully from nearby, also crackly. “Alright...Make it quick.” Thebes replied, pulling the energy rifle off his back and establishing a sensory grid from his suit. His team’s suits quickly integrated and amplified the field, creating a wide net to monitor motion, heat and other tactical data.

The front of Memnon’s helmet slid back and he promptly threw up between his hands, onto the featureless surface they all found themselves on. Knossos patted his shoulder. “You’re alright.” He chuckled gruffly. Memnon waved one hand around behind him to move the old soldier on. Knossos shuffled over to Carthage, who was having trouble as well. Memnon watched the ground greedily suck in the matter he’d ejected before grabbing his heavy assault weapon and standing up.

595 opened her visor too, standing on the edge of the group. It crawled back over her face, revealing her pearlescent teeth in a Cheshire grin. She sniffed loudly, sampling the air with her nose as three bright blue dots cycled up in each of her eyes. “This place smells different to the Cradle.” She noted, looking around. 

“Ok, let's get this comms mast in the ground first.” Dr Wetherall announced, turning Dr Dlamini around so he could access the equipment attached to the back of her suit. Carthage finally stood up with Knossos’ help, unpacking her SMG. “Well, that was rough.” She crackled. "Good to have you back. Join the wall, look sharp.” Thebes ordered. “Doctor Ngata, may I take those deployable cover modules?” The short, stout suit with ‘CRD’ printed on the front nodded, chucking three containers over before rejoining work on the comms mast.