As the shuttle hummed onward and the men populating it chattered on, Weston hung his head in contemplation, feeling more and more uneasy as time went on. Eventually the chatter faded completely into the back of his mind as he thought about the colonel's words before, as if he had known something. The worry ate at the corners of the captains mind until a shoulder nudged him back into reality. He looked over to see one of his lieutenants, Ramir looking doubtfully at him. "What's the damage cap'n?" he asked only half-sarcastically.

Joey Ramir had been the more laid-back of Weston's officers, and also one of the best fighters. Despite his nonchalant demeanor though, Ramir knew how to motivate men and fight through a tough situation. In some ways he was almost a role model for Weston. Straightening his posture, he replied as confidently as he could muster, "Nothing Joey, just getting my head back into field work." True, Weston hadn't been in the field for over a year, but his head had no problems adjusting. He knew showing his doubts about the mission would weaken his team, and if what the colonel said should be taken to heart that would be a bad move.

Finally all the conversation ceased as the shuttle's intercom made a subtle beep and a woman's voice followed: "Now approaching mission objective. Opening all viewports." Suddenly, dozens of slats of metal slid apart on the shuttle doors, revealing large screens that became virtual windows into the outside. The skyline of the city immediately came into view, coaxing several 'ooh's and 'aah's from the men. Weston himself couldn't help but be humbled by the magnificent sight, for his trips to the capital were few and far-between. However, something was off in the picture: everything was normal. The beautiful, massive city was going about business as usual while an entire battalion--maybe more--soared into town like they owned the place.

Son, he could feel his momentum being slowed as the shuttle began decelerating, prompting several moans from the other soldiers. Often times shuttle transport causes sickness from the sudden change in speed during landing. As if on cue, the intercom sounded again, and with it the same voice: "Destination in less than one minute. All passengers recover any belongings and fasten all equipment." Following the voice's orders, the upwards of twenty men all stood up and double-checked every strap and compartment on their gear and threw their longrifles back over their shoulders. 

Weston did the same, then grabbed onto the safety rail above his head before speaking to his crew. "Okay boys," he began, yelling over the increasingly loud hum of the shuttle as it slowed for landing "You and the rest of the 104th will assemble as instructed in Fort Readon's courtyard and Brigadier General Masshu will begin briefing us on the state of the situation here in the capital." That was basically the gist of what every company leader had been told: To waltz into the capital in massive force, then stand in a line and wait for someone to tell them why.

Just as Weston finished, the shuttle lowered to a stop, quieting the humming once more. The doors slid open as the panels realigned and the men began hopping off one-by-one. Seated right next to the door, Weston was one of the first off and immediately began helping his men off the craft. "C'mon boys," he called after letting Ramir off the shuttle, "align with your platoon leader and the rest of the company, then fall on me." Then, he turned around to see several more shuttles lowering onto the paved landing strip--far more than what had left Maxwell. [i]How many troops do we need here?[/i] he thought worriedly before turning his gaze to the skyline over the fort's metal wall.