(Time to fly…)

---

“Here’s our ride,” Jabber said as 4th Squad entered the dropship bay. Around them was organized chaos as the other squads of Bravo Company were prepping to board their own lifts. For the first time, Tavi was able to see the ship which was supposed to keep him alive on the way down to the planet.

Tavi had never seen a more beautiful ship in his admittedly short life. It was Death Incarnate, an avenging angel waiting on high to smite any foes who dared stand in its way. The fuselage was a gray, mottled pattern which faintly resembled his hamatic suit. The blunt nose was painted with a black raven with wings outstretched down the sides, bronze trim etching the edges of the largest feathers. Bronze eyes gazed balefully in front of the massive aircraft. Plus, there were guns everywhere. Tavi could appreciate the firepower. He knew that one day it could mean the difference between life and death, and he wanted his ride to be that difference.

Tavi had seen a Rhino before, of course. But never one which looked like this.

He’d dropped from a designated training Rhino at ACS, a larger version which was capable of handling thirty recruits and their instructors easily. Every legionnaire recruit was required to experience a full-on atmospheric drop in one before they could graduate. Those who screamed, begged for it to stop, or threw up their toes, were forced to do a second drop, and a third, and a fourth . . . as many as it took to ensure they could do a drop without a word of complaint.

Tavi had managed to keep everything down and not emit so much as a peep on his first drop, much to the chagrin of the pilot who’d been determined to make every single recruit in his class vomit. While every other recruit had been forced to wash the interior of the vessel before going back up for rounds two and three, Tavi had been standing at attention on the tarmac waiting for them to return.

And waiting . . . 

 . . . and waiting some more . . . 

He would have rather been on the vomit comet. At least in there he could have been doing something other than standing.

But seeing the raven’s profile on the tail and the bronzed “IV” emblazoned below it for the first time made his heart swell with . . . pride? Joy? Or was it excitement? He couldn’t decide. His own armor sported “XIII” in bronze on his shoulder, but seemed to be lacking the logo on the Rhino. He didn’t necessarily mind. It only made him a little more curious.

One of the things they had neglected during Basic and later, ACS, was the history and traditions of each legion. Which made sense. They were being taught how to be legionnaires at Basic. Let the legions themselves train the new recruits on the whys.

Tavi followed his fire team to their spots in the hold of the bird while a grumpy-looking older legionnaire wearing a flight crew uniform and sporting the distinctive step of a man with a prosthetic leg walked around cracking weird jokes at the flight crew as they boarded the Rhino. The sergeant glanced at the squad, then back onto the loading bay, then over at Sergeant Ord.

“Fourth Squad! Your civilians look reluctant to board!” the man barked. There was a smirk on his tanned face. Tavi didn’t understand why. “Motivate them!”

Tavi looked back over his shoulder at the loading dock and grimaced. Weighted bags were piled there, waiting for someone to load them into the ship. The briefing had covered this, and he’d forgotten already. He mentally chided himself. Nobody had thought to ask their squad leader which fire team was going to be hauling around the “civilians.”

Sergeant Ord leaned forward in his seat and glared at Pigeon. “Team Two! Why aren’t your civvies on this ship yet?”

“Sarge?” Vixen asked from his seat, confused. “Why are they our civilians?”

“Do I really need to explain it, Vixen?”

“C’mon, tasawa, let’s grab a bag and get them in their spot,” Jabber said, pulling Tavi along behind him. “You think that getting rid of some balara would be good for the squad and everyone be happy, but no. Ordo never happy, keiche? That man was born bitter, angry, and old.”

“I swear to the gods if Morty talked, I will fucking end him,” Krawdaddy muttered as he swung the heavy bag over his shoulder. He coughed once and looked at a bag still on the deck. “Right this way, my good sir. We’ll get you safe on board this bee-yootiful bird without problems, and we’ll keep your dumb civvie ass safe from all manner of wildlife—”

“Krawdaddy!” Pigeon snapped. “Stow your shit before you get us KP duty. You’re almost as bad as Jabber!”

“For once it’s not me, bossjna,” Jabber crowed as he easily picked up and handed Tavi one of the bags. The ungainly thing had been weighted poorly, with the majority of the heavier weights at the top. Tavi swung it over his shoulder and nearly fell on his face as something inside the bag shifted. He managed to keep from making a complete fool of himself by swinging a leg around to rebalance himself, making what should have been an ugly and embarrassing fall a graceful and purposeful maneuver. Jabber, unaware of the almost stumble, whistled. “You act like you done this before, tasawa.”

Tavi kept his mouth shut and instead hauled the bag into the back of the bird. There were designated seats forward with extra padding and cushions for the civilians, so he dropped his bag into one of the seats and looked around. He spotted the loadmaster and waved to get his attention.

“Do I need to secure the civilian, Sergeant?” he asked.

“Naw, I got this, cherry. Grab your seat and fix your harness. I’ll be by for a check in a minute.”

“Yes, Sergeant!” Tavi hurried back over to his seat and started buckling in, mindful of how the harness would work over his suit. It took him longer than he would’ve liked, but it was still easier than doing it in his dress blacks.

“Secure helmets and prepare to pressurize,” the loadmaster instructed the rest of the hold once the last “civilian” was secured in their seat. The rear loading ramp closed, and the interior lights shifted from regular to a dim red. With quick professionalism he went to each legionnaire and checked their straps. When he reached Tavi, he double-checked the harness and nodded with satisfaction. His eyes then moved to Tavi’s hands. “Private? Where are your gloves?”

“They didn’t have my size at the armory, Sergeant.”

“Didn’t have . . . shit. Rectify this before your next drop. Your hands are gonna get chewed up otherwise.” As he moved on to Jabber, he called out, “Hey, Ordo! Your cherry doesn’t have gloves!”

“Confirmed,” the sergeant said as his helmeted head turned Tavi’s way. “Carvalho! When we hit the surface, can he borrow a pair of gloves from one of your door gunners? I’ll owe you one.”

“Got it, Ordo. Kid-sized gloves for the kid. I’ll check with HeyHey and see if they have an extra pair.”

Tavi flushed but bit back a sharp response. He knew doing so would be asking for trouble. After promising to never speak a word of it, Jabber had sort of explained to him what had caused Morty’s transfer to 1st—more accurately, what had been the driving force behind it—and he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.

“Comms check,” Sergeant Ord said as Tavi finished securing his helmet. One by one the fire teams went through their customary checks, with Specialist Oscar “Banger” Kolbinger from Fire Team Three being the last to respond. “Comms confirmed. Loadmaster, 4th Squad reads clear. Ready to depart.”

“Copy, Sergeant. Load is secure. Prepare for departure.”

Tavi swallowed as the Rhino lifted from the deck of the Perseverance and, with a gentle tug, was out in space. Using the suit control on his wrist, he began filtering through the HUD settings to cut down on some of the extraneous data feeds coming in until only Fire Team Two showed. Since he wasn’t the team leader, there was no point in paying attention to the data feeds of the other teams for the time being.

“Here we go . . .” Tavi whispered as the Rhino abruptly dropped into the atmosphere, his hands holding on tightly to his straps as he schooled his features into an expressionless mask. There was no point in letting anyone else know just how much he was looking forward to this. Too many people back at ACS had been upset when he’d whooped for joy during takeoff for his first drop.

---

Can’t wait to get your copy? Preorders for print and ebook are available now! Click this link to preorder today.

Missed the previous snippets? No worries, I got you covered.

• Snippet 20
• Snippet 19
• Snippet 18
• Snippet 17
• Snippet 16
• Snippet 15
• Snippet 14
• Snippet 13
• Snippet 12
• Snippet 11
• Snippet 10
• Snippet 9
• Snippet 8
• Snippet 7
• Snippet 6
• Snippet 5
• Snippet 4
• Snippet 3
• Snippet 2
• Snippet 1