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Description
Chapter One

The transport ship flew high above the war torn world with its deadly payload. It achieved high atmospheric orbit and cruised towards its destination. The sun glinted off of its immense length. Large engines, and oversized drop bay, and an excessive amount of armor plating made the ship look like a miniature mountain in flight. It was launched from a heavily guarded government facility on a vital mission. The end of the war was nigh, and the contest must be settled. This mission would be the deciding factor in who won the war, and who would be erased from existence. The pilot had a few spare moments to wonder at the beauty of the world curving beneath him, before the craft neared its destination and the landscape below turned to ugly reds, muddy browns, and dead blacks. On an instinctive level, the pilot knew that the fate of his country, maybe even his world, was riding on the shoulders of the shoulders of his living cargo. He also knew that no matter what happened, the world would never be the same after that day.

The console beeped, startling the pilot out of his brooding thoughts. The final destination was at hand. The pilot's hands flew over the controls. He prepped the drop bay, activated the final drop sequences, and alerted his cargo. It was time. The pilot keyed the intercom.

"Drop in T-minus 30 seconds."

As usual, there was no response. The pilot took one last look down below, and then fixed his eyes firmly on the timer.

"T-minus 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Dropping. Good luck down there."

The pilot punched the drop button and listened to the wrenching sound of 100 orbital drop pods being released from the drop bay at the bottom of the ship. He turned the ship around, not daring to stick around to see if the 100 comets of death hurtling towards the Earth would make it down or not. He had to get back to friendly airspace before he was noticed. As the transport flew away, 100 pods hurtled towards the ground, towards the final confrontation, towards their destiny, if you will. One hundred genetically engineered super soldiers armed and armored with the best technology a government could develop dropped into the hellhole below. Only one would make it out.

Description
Chapter One

The transport ship flew high above the war torn world with its deadly payload. It achieved high atmospheric orbit and cruised towards its destination. The sun glinted off of its immense length. Large engines, and oversized drop bay, and an excessive amount of armor plating made the ship look like a miniature mountain in flight. It was launched from a heavily guarded government facility on a vital mission. The end of the war was nigh, and the contest must be settled. This mission would be the deciding factor in who won the war, and who would be erased from existence. The pilot had a few spare moments to wonder at the beauty of the world curving beneath him, before the craft neared its destination and the landscape below turned to ugly reds, muddy browns, and dead blacks. On an instinctive level, the pilot knew that the fate of his country, maybe even his world, was riding on the shoulders of the shoulders of his living cargo. He also knew that no matter what happened, the world would never be the same after that day.

The console beeped, startling the pilot out of his brooding thoughts. The final destination was at hand. The pilot's hands flew over the controls. He prepped the drop bay, activated the final drop sequences, and alerted his cargo. It was time. The pilot keyed the intercom.

"Drop in T-minus 30 seconds."

As usual, there was no response. The pilot took one last look down below, and then fixed his eyes firmly on the timer.

"T-minus 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Dropping. Good luck down there."

The pilot punched the drop button and listened to the wrenching sound of 100 orbital drop pods being released from the drop bay at the bottom of the ship. He turned the ship around, not daring to stick around to see if the 100 comets of death hurtling towards the Earth would make it down or not. He had to get back to friendly airspace before he was noticed. As the transport flew away, 100 pods hurtled towards the ground, towards the final confrontation, towards their destiny, if you will. One hundred genetically engineered super soldiers armed and armored with the best technology a government could develop dropped into the hellhole below. Only one would make it out.