[h2] Commander Stader Volger[/h2]
[b]CO 89th LSC (Onyx-9)[/b]

The gentle thrum of the shuttle reverberated through his boots. A familial sensation as Volger checked the TacLink and found the Lance for the most part assembled. 

[color=007236]Onyx-9 Actual to Lance. Proceeding to objective.[/color]

The shuttle’s accelerated in response. Assuming their own formation amidst whichever one the Lance threw up around the craft. Volger watched the embarked troopers of his shuttle; swaying in their restraints to the gentle motions. Harnesses and mag locks resisting the g-forces for the most part. A sea of emotionless visors locked-

A sudden jerk as the shuttles hastily decelerated. Volger’s contemplation apparently having carried him through the transit. 

“Approaching debris field.” The pilot came over the internal comm. “Stand by EV.” 

Volger’s shuttle was the last to arrive the rest of the unit having already begun to disperse. Blue dots bouncing among the sensor scattering wreckage of battle. 

The loadmaster at the rear of the bay flipped a switch. The soft red glow of the bay switched to a harsher orange tint. The trooper’s stood; mag boots holding them to the deck. 

The loadmaster, satisfied, dropped the rear ramp. Stars replaced the grey ramp as the latter whine opened silently in the vacuum. The orange glare turned to harsh green. The troopers moved in seeming tandem. Rows lifting away and jetting towards the opening; puffs of maneuvering harnesses and the occasional thruster pack as the platoon on the shuttle made their way to-

A light so bright his visor polarized in reflex. Alarms flared on his HUD even as the ship beneath him skewed. Casualty markers on the edge of his vision. His comm flaring to life on Onyx-9’s TacLink. Platoon leaders and Lt. Diaz flooding the channel in the frantic professionalism of troopers in contact.

[color=9e0b0f]”Contact!!!”

“Launcher’s down. Anyone see if Actual made it out?”

“Shooters in the debris field.”

“Second platoon clear that wreckage.”

[/color]

Volger shook his head. The bay in front of him was a visage. A man sized hole was punched through the troop bay’s right side. The remains of four troopers drifted near the breach. Twice that number were in various states of distress. Bright yellow med sealant visible on their punctured armor from their med systems. A surviving medic floated between them. 

Beyond, the bay door was still open. Past the dead loadmaster was the distant strobes of muzzle flashes and the thermal blooms of plasma and laser weapons. Volger jabbed his quick release; snatching a floating PDW from an unfeeling grip. His weapon lost in the blast.

His TacLink’s suddenly blared red as Diaz pushed an image from a helmet cam. His blood running cold even as his company fought though the ambush. A stomper disappeared in a spray of gas as the newest threat made their danger apparent. 

[color=007236]Onyx-9 Actual to Lance. Hostiles have three mech’s in the debris field. I need them gone.[/color]