"Incoming!"
The transport rocked violently as defense systems detected multiple projectiles approaching from the south. Alarms blared throughout the cabin with mechanical urgency, the pilot's enhancement ports flashing emergency patterns as she executed evasive maneuvers. The sudden movement sent everyone lurching, the scent of fear rising sharp and acrid in the confined space.
"ATA gunships," Torres reported, tracking through external sensors with veteran calm that belied the danger. His scarred face reflected the tactical display's glow, casting his features in harsh relief. "Three units. Advanced configurations. Weren't there during insertion." His tone carried the weight of suspicion, eyes narrowing as he processed implications.
Kasper moved to the deployment hatch, reconfiguring the KS-23 for anti-aircraft capability. His exoskeleton distributed the weapon's weight with a series of mechanical adjustments, compensating for the transport's erratic movement. The metal floor vibrated beneath his feet, a constant reminder of their vulnerability.
"Someone tipped them off," Diaz said, securing the downloaded intelligence with frantic focus. Blue light pulsed at her wrists with increasing urgency, her youthful face tightened with concentration. "But I diverted all security systems..." Self-doubt crept into her voice, unusual for her confident demeanor.
Kasper's enhanced senses calculated another possibility, the prototype's words replaying with perfect clarity. "The prototype wasn't surprised to see us," he recalled, the realization settling cold and heavy in his gut. "The Director sends his regards. He's been monitoring your progress." The implications tasted bitter, metallic like blood.
A direct impact rocked the transport with bone-jarring force. Warning lights flashed across the tactical display in angry crimson, systems registering structural damage with a chorus of alarms. The smell of electrical fire seeped into the cabin, acrid and threatening.
"Port stabilizer hit," the pilot announced, strain evident despite her professional tone. Sweat beaded on her forehead as her fingers danced across controls with enhanced precision. "Losing altitude. Can't maintain course." The ground below rushed up with alarming speed, details becoming clearer with each passing second.
Vega assessed their situation with practiced efficiency, his massive frame braced against the transport's violent movements. "Extraction route compromised. ATA converging from multiple vectors." His deep voice carried the weight of experience, amber ports pulsing with tactical calculations. "We won't reach command." The admission hung in the air like a death sentence.
Kasper processed alternative options, his enhanced systems working through possibilities with cold precision. Their primary mission was complete—but if the ATA captured that intelligence before transmission to Rivera's command center...
"Diaz, transmission status?" he demanded, bracing against another violent maneuver that sent loose equipment sliding across the cabin floor. The taste of adrenaline flooded his mouth, sharp and electric.
"Eighty-seven percent complete," she reported, determination overriding fear. Her fingers moved across the transmission device with blur-fast movements, blue light pulsing with increasing intensity. "Routing through distributed nodes, but connection quality's dropping with each evasive turn." Frustration colored her words as she fought against technological limitations.
Another devastating impact struck with the sound of tearing metal, the transport shuddering like a wounded animal. Red emergency lighting flooded the cabin as primary systems failed in cascading sequence, bathing everyone in bloody illumination that transformed familiar faces into masks of war.
"Critical damage," the pilot reported, muscles straining as she fought the unresponsive controls. Each word emerged through gritted teeth, her enhancement ports flaring with maximum effort. "Can't hold altitude. Emergency landing protocols active." The resignation in her voice told them everything they needed to know about their chances.
Through the viewport, Kasper saw densely forested hills giving way to a narrow valley. Not ideal landing terrain, but potentially survivable with the transport's emergency systems. His enhanced perception calculated impact vectors, survival probabilities for different approaches, each option less appealing than the last.
"Secure positions," he ordered, his voice cutting through the cacophony of alarms and failing systems. "Diaz, protect that data at all costs. Torres, prepare for defensive deployment on landing. Vega, extraction assessment." The calm in his voice belied the storm of calculations running through his enhanced systems.
The team moved with practiced efficiency despite the chaos, muscle memory and enhancement-integrated training taking over where conscious thought faltered. Kasper's internal network mapped system failures, structural weaknesses, potential escape routes—the cold mathematics of survival.
"Brace for impact," the pilot warned, her knuckles white on the controls. "Twenty seconds." The ground rushed up to meet them, trees and rocks becoming dangerously distinct.
Kasper's exoskeleton locked into position with pneumatic hisses, reinforced plating protecting vital organs. The connection points at his spine burned like hot needles as the system distributed impact forces across enhanced neural pathways. His vision narrowed, time seeming to slow as his enhanced senses prepared for trauma response.
The world outside the viewport became crystal clear in the final moments before impact—each tree, each rock, each shadow etched with unnatural precision through his enhanced perception. In that stretched moment of anticipation, a single thought crystallized in his mind with perfect clarity.
None of this was an accident.