"One minute until impact," Urle called.

Apollonia shifted, her fear outweighing even her embarrassment at her current situation.

Everyone else in the pod was in a normal seat and harness, but hers . . . well, it was so ludicrously big and protective that it made her feel like a little kid.

Because she didn't have the same enhancements as the others she got this monstrosity . . . Though maybe it would keep her alive.

Just keep breathing and don't think about that, she told herself.

At least her training with Kiseleva had helped with her helmet phobia. So far she'd only thrown up once, and it had been controlled enough that she hadn't choked.

Thank fuck for the stupid suction hose.

Only adding to it was the armor. It felt like a spacesuit but bulkier, and despite their best efforts it didn't feel like it fit her right. They had said it was measured to her specifications perfectly, but she disagreed.

That was probably just her contrarian nature.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Brace for impact," Urle called.

The braking rockets fired, slowing them, and she suddenly felt like she weighed five hundred kilos.

Apollonia braced as much as she could, the fear rising again in her stomach. She was going into a combat zone, she'd never been in combat, she was going to get shot and there would be blood and her guts everywhere and she'd-

Despite the braking, the impact was still jarring.

"Everyone all right?" Urle called, but Apollonia knew it was mainly her he was asking about. She alone did not have full-body sensors implanted to tell them every heartbeat.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice hoarse.

Urle unhooked, coming over and waving a sensor wand over her. "You're good," he said.

"I just said that," she muttered as her harness released.

She still felt thrown off by the hard stop. It had to have been at least a few hard Gs.

The Response team pressed forward, crouching behind heavy shields on treads. Small smart slits could shutter closed if they saw a bullet incoming, and the walls carried their own guardian turrets for stopping incoming projectiles.

She fingered her helmet again, hoping it was really proof against the flying shrapnel.

The door suddenly slammed open as the laser drills finished burning through the hull. She heard a whoompf of air that faded rapidly as the air blasted out through the loose seal.

"Forward!" she heard the commander yell. The shields and troops surged in.

Urle had his own shield, lighter than the others but still looking massive and heavy, attached to his left arm. He kept it in front of her. Mechanical limbs came up off his back, four of them - two guardian guns and the other two offensive weapons.

"Go, go!" he said, slapping her on the back. He moved forward in a rapid crouch and she tried to emulate it.

There was gunfire outside, but it was sparse. By the time they were out, it had already stopped.

"Only two hostiles nearby, both unprepared," the Response commander said.

"Good work," Urle replied. "I'm sending the drones ahead to find us a clear route to Team One. We'll be . . ."

His words faded from her consciousness. She still saw him talking, saw the Response officers moving, but she felt suddenly like this was only something she was watching. An old 2D, but muted.

"Apollonia?" Urle said. Her name sounded muffled.

"Are you there?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said automatically, without intonation. It sounded just as muffled as the other words.

"With me, then," Urle said. He moved off, and it felt like an enormous effort to make herself move with him.

She wondered, dispassionately, was this fear?