In the event of a water landing, I would be used as a flotation device, according to the dropship pilot.

Why she would need to tell us this on our way to an enemy space platform I have no idea. But I’m just a marine, I don’t ask questions.

The medic is giving a lecture about how our battlefield life expectancy is only nine seconds without her, so we should stick together. I plan on doing that, even if I’m ignoring the rest of what she says.

Magellan tells me the alien buggers like to avoid large groups and leave stragglers alone. Something about bioelectric fields. Whatever. He’s friendly, but a total egghead.

Six marines and two combat medics in powered armor. A potent attack force. 3,000 needle rounds in gauss rifles. Damn bugs won’t know what hit ‘em.

Woah. The battleships just hammered the alien defenses with their siege weapons. Can always tell ‘cos it makes little sparks skip all over any metal within a few klicks.

LZ looks secure, says the pilot. We’re going in.

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We’re all gonna die!