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35.2

Cameron didn’t know if he had jumped, or if he had been pushed, but as he plummeted through the clouds, breaking through, and getting a look at the quickly approaching surface, one thing was for certain; There was no turning back now.

There was enough light breaking through the clouds, that Cameron could make out several distinct features about the planet itself. Various large plateaus dotted the landscape, standing out in the distance, high-walled mesas of rock and vegetation that seemed to scrape against the sky itself. Down below, a rolling ocean of sickly green gas roiled amongst itself, giant plumes of thick smoke wafting and twisting together to form tornadoes of dense toxic mist. And as they grew closer, straight down from where they currently were, Cameron could make out the distinct blue pulses of rail cannons firing out into the smoke, only stopping once they hit either a rock, or the fast moving figures quickly approaching the position of where the shots were coming from.

“Honeypot, this is Grizzly one, how copy over?” Logan said, his voice echoing out over the communication system. His question confused Cameron, uninitiated in radio lingo, before another voice chimed in, his tone harried and stressed as the screaming pitches of rail cannons firing could be heard cutting through the static.

“Grizzly one, this is Honeypot actual,” The voice said, screaming it more into the mic than speaking it, “Uh, shit’s hit the fan on our end Grizzly. Mines have blown four of our axles to pieces and I’ve got contact on six o’clock looking to finish the job we’re doing our best to keep em suppressed, but we can only shoot so much plasma and they’re closing in fast.”

“Roger that Honeypot, we’re en route to put some steel to skull, rendezvous is two thousand meters straight down and we’re screaming towards it as fast as we can. You got a count on hostiles? What hazards are we looking at? Anything helps so we can hit the ground running, literally.”

“I’m counting nine total but I could be- Hammond! Melt that fucking barrel if you have to, but keep those fuckers off our flank!” The man said, cut off mid sentence as he tried to relay orders to whoever on the train was manning the rail cannons, while giving Logan the information he’d requested. There was a muffled exchange of words followed by more shrieks of rail cannon fire, that Cameron could now see more clearly as he looked below him towards the swirling mass of green death. After a few minutes, and with the crackling feedback that sounded like someone was trying to finagle a headset on their head, the man’s voice came back over.

“Sorry about that Grizzly One,” He said, “Pretty certain they saw you drop in so they’re getting aggressive now, you’re in for a fight when you touch down.”

“That’s just how we like it Honeypot,” Logan said, his voice sounding confident and strong, likely trying to instill some confidence in the man below, “You got nine hostiles right?”

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“Yeah, nine that I can confirm, mostly Squires, but I did clock the plasma bolts of a couple of archer units as well. I can’t give you a certain figure on that end. But I can warn you about two things, one they definitely have Warden, that much I know. Heavy armor, giant claymore, the works.”

“And the second?”

“Second is, that if they breach your cockpit, you’ll be dead before you blink.”

There was an awkward pause on Logan’s end before he responded, “Is that all?”

A thunderous explosion, the likes of which both mercs could see from free fall told them both that there was definitely more. Now it was the mans turn to take a pause before he came back over the line, sounding sheepish and slightly embarrassed.

“Uh… unfortunately yeah, are targeting system just overheated to the point of explosion…”

“Of course that happened,” Logan said, extracting a nervous short nervous snort from the man.

“We’ll be firing blind while you’re down here so… try not to get hit if you can.”

“Roger that,” Logan said, “We’ll make it work, Grizzly out,”

“Care to explain what the hell the plan is, boss?” Cameron asked after a moment.

“You heard the man,” Logan said, sounding more serious and cold-blooded, “If the pirates want to try bum rushing and outpace the rail cannon fire, then we’re gonna outpace the pirates.”

“How?”

“We’re going to use that rocket you’re strapped in,” Logan said, scoffing as if it was obvious, “I want you to insert in the middle of those squires and put em in the dirt. They can’t compete with your speed or agility, and those archers aren’t going to fire into their own people. Gives you long enough to get your bearings and cause a ruckus before engaging on the real targets. I’ll run interference on the tanker itself and make sure no one slips past and escapes. We can stop it here and be back home for dinner.”

Cameron gulped, anxiety rising up in his throat, still he managed to get out a stiff, “Roger that,” before tilting his body forward, aiming headfirst at the ground, following Logans lead.

“Don’t be scared, sugar,” Thelma said reassuringly into his ear, “My scanners indicate five squires, two archers, and two wardens, none of which comes close to the Headsman’s speed, agility or output. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“I-If you say so, Cameron said,” feeling slightly better.

“Do you think some classical music would make you feel better?”

“Um… maybe?” Cameron said, raising an eyebrow as, right after saying that, a strange melody began to play in his ears, rhythmic, thunderous, and pleasant sounding, with a strange string instrument grinding and whining mixed with a concussive drum beat. Soon, his anxiety faded, replaced by a gentle bobbing of his head, as a soft smile spread across his face.

“I like this… who’s the composer?” He asked, leaning into his enjoyment of the song.

“It’s an ancient anthem from earth actually,” Thelma said, “My records indicate the composer is actually a symphony called… AC/DC.”

Before Cameron could respond, they breached through the top layer of the Caustic sea, where the battlefield was completely revealed to both Cameron and Logan.

There was the tanker train, industrial in design and nearly a half a mile long, possessing blackened steel oil tubes, and at the end of the line, protected by a clear dome of plexiglass, was the crew compartment, filled with people as they ran around, trying to fight back at the five squire units approaching them at full speed in a wedge formation, firing suppressive shots from twin rail cannons from their positions on either side of the compartment, encased inside a smaller plexiglass bubble.

“Five seconds,” Logan shouted into the comm line, as he shifted to the left, leaving Cameron to take the right where the squires were quickly approaching, “Put em in the fucking dirt!”

As the song reached its climax, Cameron couldn’t help but smirk, pushing his boosters to their limit as he rolled to a feet first position, reaching with an arm, and feeling

the physilight proxy forming in his hand.

“Gladly.”