0540 Hours, 12th November 2676, USN Ticonderoga, Morril Asteroid Field.Mature

Machines whirred and clanked, amplified by the many surfaces present in the drop bay, the landscape changed constantly, hydraulics and pistons swivelling, rotating and twitching around, troopers jostling about on various tasks, and technicians repairing and maintaining mechanical parts with the aid of Servitors. The bulky, still forms of the dropships sat atop their individual cradles, undergoing final preparations for their deployment. John felt as if the very ambience of the chamber had swallowed him up, and almost failed to notice that Carter was trying to engage in conversation with him.

"Huh?", he blundered, while she was mid-sentence.
She seemed mildly offended, closed her eyes for a second and started again.
"This helmet still seems a bit dodgy", she repeated, rather forcefully. John strained to hear her over the din of noise in the bay.
He quickly pieced together what she said, and assured her that the Servitor's observations were just.
Her face showed her doubts, but John believed the servitor had made an accurate diagnosis.

Orderlies, Ensigns, Munitions Officers and pilots scurried around, getting ready for the launch sequence. Non-Important personnel were evacuated from the bay, the officers and their staff along with the pilots secured sealed helmets, completing their Vacuum suit's protection. A siren blared, red lights flooded the bay, and John ordered the echelon to secure their own helmets. Carter fidgeted with hers after she put it on. The dropship cradles were lowered along with the craft upon them, settling level with the deck, the dropships framed snugly by the depressions in the deck under each one, which housed the airlocks.
The siren blared a second time, and even more red lights flickered into existance, and with an explosive force, the Atmosphere was vented from the bay.

The troopers, now separated into their individual squads, proceeded towards the boarding ramps in the sides of their transports, retaining their ability to walk thanks to their magnetically- assisted boots. John stomped up into the belly of the bulky craft, it's blocky form housing multiple weapon racks towards the front, with missile launchers and railguns protruding from each. he sat upon one of the seats within the craft, and pulled the sturdy harness down over him. the rest of his squad took their seats and secured themselves as he did.
The large armoured boarding ramp came up to meet a securing panel, interlocking when they had fullyclosed and melded with the hull. The craft's interior was bathed in greens, reds and oranges, creating interesting effects with shadows and illumination. the cluttered troop hold seemed even more cramped with tonnes of power-armoured troopers hunched in safety braces and harnesses. John called readiness checks with his squadf, and the echelon as a whole.

"Falcon 1-1, this is Ticonderoga bridge. Your callsign ready to deploy?", howled the transmission in John's helmet.
"Bridge, Falcon 1-1 through 1-5 are prepped and ready. Awaiting drop order, over", Crackled the craft's pilot.
John's squad gave thumb's up to signify they were ready, and John nodded after Carter, the last to announce readiness, gave her thumbs up.
"Alright Falcon Wing, overriding Bay C-41 lock. Bay is open, you're cleared to launch."
John braced as a thunderous rumble built within the Dropship, accompanied by a harsh, growing whine from the engines.
"Rotating cradle mounts now. Standby...", There was no gravity, but John could still feel in his gut as the dropship was pointed downwards "... complete. Releasing cradle mounts."
The rumble built to an earthquake, the whine to a Banshee's scream.
"Venting built energy through thrusters. Standby for launch."
an explosive force rocked the rear of the craft, and John again felt the sensation of movement.
"We are away. All callsigns, Falcon Wing, report in. 1-1 status: Green.
Time to shine, gentlemen."

The End

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