The jungle erupted long before the mercs reached the clearing.
One moment the canopy hung low and green, the next it convulsed as if something the size of a building had taken a breath beneath the leaves.
A snarl of chitin and teeth slammed through vines and soil, driving toward the squad.
The ground teams immediately answered with a practiced, rhythm: a spray of kinetic rounds, a grenade arming, hisses of laser rifles catching the target's unguarded sides.
"Fangs, this is Harrow," came the corvette's voice over the earpieces. "You've got three bogeys in the north. Recommend throttle-two pattern, keep them spaced. Scouts on overwatch."
"Copy Harrow," replied Marik, the squad leader, his voice flat with the kind of focus that drowns out fear. "Team, left flank. Push two meters, set breachers. If anything breaks, I will send the request and call for suppression."
Twenty boots hit the ground in a practiced scramble.
The squad moved in pairs… Marik and Sera on point, Juno and Rell handling the rear.
Their armour was patched, and full of oil-stained fingers; their weapons were the regular kinetic class rifles that spat lead, favoured for their stopping power against bone and chitin… and also their price.
Two of them carried laser rifle, and three clutched grenade tins, metal casings stamped with little hazard icons and teeth marks.
Above, three scout-class ships kept tight circles ensuring they weren't suddenly surrounded.
"Scout Three to Harrow: multiple life signatures converging at grid zero-two-eight. Two fast movers, plus a broodling pack… heavy biomass. Engaging suppression run in five."
"Heavy biomass confirmed. Harrow standing by to coordinate blast corridors," the corvette answered.
The first creature hit the line like a battering ram.
It was a bulk of limbs and armored plates, a mass that shrugged off two point-blank kinetic bursts as if offended rather than wounded.
Marik dropped to one knee and fired in short, measured bursts, each round finding marks between the plates and sending sticky black blood in sick, slow arcs.
"Sera… frag left!" he barked.
Sera lobbed a grenade in a looping arc. It struck the creature's flank and detonated into a scatter of thermobaric flame; the beast screamed and reared back exposing a softer underbelly.
Rell moved in immediately with a laser class rifle and scored a clean burn down a tendon.
It staggered, then collapsed in a roar that shook birds from the trees.
But the scream was a bell for more. From under the roots and between broken columns, smaller things came… mottled, ankle-sized and razor-mouthed creatures, moving in curved, hunting packs.
They exploited the chaos, darting in to bite at exposed throats and fingers.
"Hit! Hit! I have been hit!!!" Juno's screams reached Marik's ear and he immediately turned his attention to her.
He saw her drop, a spray of red on jungle green. Two small hunters had leapt the distance, sinking teeth into her thigh.
"Pull! Pull! Harrow, we need cover on the left ridge… now!" Marik shoved his comm to open channel wide enough for the corvette to hear.
The corvette's answer was immediate and heavy: a low, pulsed thump through the eardrums as a drone salvo detonated in the trees, shredding roots and soft bodies alike.
A spray of kinetic microshrapnel glittered like harsh stars.
Scout One screamed past overhead, a black streak, then looped. "Fang ground, Scout One… marking safe arc. Pushing suppress at bearing 3-1-0 to 3-2-5. Keep movement into cleared corridor."
Marik barked orders. "Med! Rell, you're on Juno… tourniquet, now. Sera, cover point with me. Two-man sweep, slow. Don't give them a chance to flank us."
They advanced on the corridor the scouts had burned free.
The corvette laid down intermittent barrages from orbital-capable autocannons (macrowave slugs that shook the air and stripped bark off trunks), pushing packs back into the undergrowth where their numbers meant little.
"Marik, bearing zero-two-eight looks stable," Scout Two reported, breathless.
"You've got a fifty-meter strip, maybe clear enough to set a LZ. Recommend immediate beacon transponder drop. Harrow will hold area."
"Do it," Marik said. He fumbled a small, drone-like transponder from his vest… something no larger than a fist… activated it, and sent it skittering into the clearing.
It landed, unfolded spider-legs, and burrowed shallow.
A ring of pale light bloomed on his HUD: LZ confirmed. Coordinates locked. He keyed the uplink.
"Atlas Command, this is Fang Ground. LZ operational at grid zero-two-eight by four-three. Minimal touchdown radius: 36 meters. Recommend Harrow mark for RTB." His thumbs were steady despite his pulse.
"Copy Fang Ground," came Captain Swift's voice from the carrier a beat later… cool and controlled. "Fang, coordinate evac wave. Harrow, maintain suppression pattern for ten minutes."
They had it.
The clearing was small and smelled of burned moss and old iron; the trees had been sheared where ship downdrafts would hit.
Juno's wound was patched; she was conscious and groaning. Three mercs were down with punctures and burns, but breathing.
Marik counted the cost in his head… too many, but not fatal.
For this place, it was a win.
"Status?" Harrow asked.
"LZ confirmed. Two dead, three critical, nine combat-effective. Scouts report persistent interference on active scans… proceed with short bursts only. Recommend immediate rotation of teams for deeper sweep." Marik kept his voice even.
"We'll keep the sky tight," Scout Three said.
"Harrow, we'll run low-altitude circles and spot anything that tries to come up out of the roots."
The jungle settled back into a wary hush as the ships took their stations.
Down on the ground, the mercs reloaded, adjusted, and prepared to push deeper.
The corvette's guns continued their slow, shots on the ground destroying trees and giving more open space.
***
[ Radio Broadcast:
"Attention all hands... this is Fleet Command, FC-310 'Atlas'... Prepare for planetary insertion.
All units: report readiness to your squad leads within ten minutes. Hazard deployment confirmed... pay at five times standard rate per month on-station... plus additional compensation for recoveries, salvage, and validated mission extras. Secure your gear... secure your transponders... and stand by for LZ assignments. Atlas out."]