Ammad Drop Zone

The Dropship, Flamberge, hurtled towards the bright side of the planet. The crews and forces on board wouldn't be able to see off of it- even high-strength glass was a little too great a weakness to consider- but they could feel the steady rumbling of planetary entry, a sensation familiar to all of them.

On the Bridge of the massive dropship, where the Officers would likely be for the landing, the crew of the dropship bustled about with efficient adherence to protocol. Surroundings were scanned, again and again, until camera visuals were possible- at which point the sensory arrays were set to neutral to limit the chances of detection. On the sensor displays the fields, forests, mountains, and canyons surrounding the landing zone started to become more and more clear.

After a descent that could have been hours long, the dropship came to an abrupt halt- clunking down onto the ground and sinking a bit into the relatively soft terrain, trees and foliage burning from the thrusters.

"Preliminary scans are clear," one of the Bridge crew informed the rest of the ship. "No contact detected. Defensive batteries are online and drop zone is cooling. Ground teams, commence departure."

Rook took a deep breath as the ship was getting ready for drop. Back into the battlefield once again, and his small crew of soldiers were pumped for combat. He looked at his Assault rifle, and looked at the others with him. There was no hesitation, they were ready to fight.

With the bridge crew informing them that they were ready for drop Rook and his team wasted no time in hitting the ground. They quickly scanned their surroundings, fingers on their trigger. "Alright men, secure the zone and prepare to move out." Rook spoke into his earpiece.

Fintan rounded up his two field boys while the other engineers got the playground in order. A quiet hum of activity set in motion the instant the engines spooled down and the clack of restraints were free. Grunts and hups were everywhere as engineers of all descriptions piled out of landing positions toolboxes in tow. What talking among dodging feet went on was from the ones organizing the chaos making sure things got done and brought in the right order. The dance card was full but other than a few very young pups in training no toes got stepped on. By the time Fintan arrived on scene the tow is already warmed up.

There was scouting to do before sending the portable workshop anywhere. Bo, the driver was a hearty old gun with wide shoulders framed with brown wavy hair. Though the sideburns greyed a bit with his beard the tow was his baby and the seat fit just right. His amber eyes set on the console and started the engine as soon as the Fintan and his second were onboard. Nikolaos, Fintan's backup, was his second for watching scans or just plain looking for trouble. Nikolaos had a face that just wouldn't crack and they made fun of it sometimes. His gut must pudge from the damn third eye in it but he knew trouble when he saw it. They headed out behind Rook and his team the face up top on scans and Bo easing smoothly around pits and craters the landing craft flung about. The three of them needed to look for a decent forward position if later resources would get difficult. Best to start looking for salvage now. Not to mention the type of damage would tell them who won the battle and what with. How long the fight was and how much punishment things took before they went down. Badly maintained vehicles didn't last long. Fintan watched the onboard sensors twirling his mustache while the glow reflected off his goggles.