(In which we learn that it still counts whether or not your helmet is on…)

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As they continued to drop altitude, Airspace Control vectored them around a live-fire training exercise. Blue’s HUD automatically filtered the bright flashes of high-yield ordnance off her left wing. A few minutes later, she banked the aircraft thirty degrees left in a descending turn that dropped them down to their cruising altitude.

The high desert training area, all twisting canyons and narrow rivers, passed by beneath their wings. Envy stabbed into Blue’s heart. The rest of Bravo Company would be conducting their training session there today, which meant low-level flying, possibly within the canyons themselves. Those were the best sorties, even if the Rhino wasn’t the most agile bird in the sky.

Unfortunately, 4th and 5th Squads had somehow drawn the short straw and would be the ones actually on scientist babysitting duty on Aurora. Since the Legion always trained how they fought, their exercise for the day would mimic the upcoming mission parameters and local conditions. Sagetnam was blessed with a variety of ecosystems, so Blue reluctantly left the canyons behind for the jungle training area located on a large island off the coast.

Blue had a sneaking suspicion that the Morty incident had something to do with her legionnaire squad getting tagged with babysitting duty.

Ravens might not get the legionnaire scuttlebutt directly from their boys, but their Crows, or enlisted aircrew, was another matter entirely. Blue’s gunners had been only too happy to share the latest gossip with her while they’d been inspecting their babies. Nobody was entirely certain what the 4th had done to “convince” Morty to request a transfer to 1st Squad, but it had spawned a new game as everyone tried to guess. Sergeant Miguel Carvalho, her loadmaster, was running the betting pool.

Blue had quietly transferred fifty denarii to Carvalho and told him to put it wherever he wanted. Despite losing a leg during his ground pounder days, the man had an ungodly lucky streak. It was probably the only reason he’d survived to retrain as a loadmaster.

Up ahead, the greenish-blue horizon resolved into the vast expanse of a tropical ocean. At their current altitude, Blue couldn’t yet see the jungle island training area, but the massive thunderstorm on their weather radar was visible as ominous dark clouds to the south, with the brilliant flicker of lightning flashing every few seconds. Thanks to their new route, they were flying through clear skies with only the occasional puffy cloud, but even this far out the ocean was unsettled, with white-capped waves rolling beneath their wings.

A hard gust of wind rocked the Rhino, but Blue easily corrected. As they left the coast behind, the turbulence increased, and Blue grinned as the dropship dipped and swayed. A low level over the ocean wasn’t the same as canyon flying, but it was still fun. Her hands automatically made the tiny adjustments necessary to keep them on course.

After a few minutes of bumpy flying, a miserable groan filtered over the comms, and Blue flipped over to the aircrew channel. “Carvalho, how’s our newest legionnaire doing back there?”

“Near as I can tell, just fine,” he said cheerfully. “He’s not our groaner.”

At another groan and a watery belch, Blue hurriedly switched back to the ops channel. “Sergeant Ord, kindly remind your boys of the rules.”

“You puke, you clean the ship, boys.” Sharp amusement infused the legionnaire sergeant’s voice. “The whole ship.”

“Bronze Raven Four could use a good scrubbing, don’t you think?” Twister asked with an innocent smile.

“Why yes, yes it could.” Blue smirked, nothing but the devil in her own smile. “I bet Five could use a scrub down, too.”

Twister chuckled and got on the comms. “Bronze Raven Five, how would you feel about a little extra maneuvering?”

“Bronze Raven Four, Killi says the flight controls feel just a little . . . stiff. Can’t have that. I bet a few aggressive maneuvers will solve that problem right quick.”

That was all the agreement Blue needed, but while she wanted to mess with the legionnaires, her aircrew was another matter entirely. “Standby maneuvers, Crows.”

She only waited long enough for her gunners and loadmaster to double-click acknowledgment over the comms. With a little warning waggle of her tail for Killi, she dropped the nose and pushed the Rhino into a hard right bank. Keeping a close eye on the altimeter, she abruptly leveled the wings, gave it a two-second count, and threw the sturdy dropship into a left bank.

Out on her right wing, Killi mirrored her before she abruptly popped up several hundred meters and spun her Rhino into an impressive snap roll.

“Oooh, someone’s playing to win,” Blue murmured in appreciation at the sharp maneuver. With a grin, she pushed the throttles to max and launched into a series of twists and the quick right and left breaks designed to get a dropship clear of any ground fire. There were a few groans over the ops channel, but a couple of whoops as well, proof some of her legionnaires enjoyed flying. “Hmm, no winners yet. Let’s try this.”

Blue threw the Rhino into a defensive spiral, dropping altitude in a dizzying spin that whipped the view outside the cockpit into a colorful blur of turquoise ocean, blue sky, and gray storm clouds. She leveled out barely fifty meters over the ocean, so close to the waves the salt spray kissed their belly.

As they raced across the water, the dropship bucked beneath her hands. Blue pulled back on the controls, pointed the nose up, and pushed the Rhino back into the sky, chasing the altitude she’d lost on the last maneuver. She was pressed back into the padded seat and tightened her abdominals in response. A sidelong glance at Twister, a sly smile, and she abruptly pitched the nose low, trading in all those positive Gs for weightlessness.

And one of the legionnaires retched miserably, while the rest cheered.

“And we have a volunteer!” Sergeant Ord bellowed.

“But Sarge,” Vixen protested. “I puked in my helmet, not the ship!”

“One, that’s disgusting, Vixen, and you will be thoroughly cleaning your armor after the training ex. Two, is your helmet on the ship?”

A brief pause, then a very miserable, “Yes, Sarge.”

“Then you’re cleaning the ship.”

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

• Snippet 22
• Snippet 21
• 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