Once the initial parachute O2 bottle and gear were on, Lawrence and Mellor performed a JMPI (Jumpmaster Parachute Inspection) on each man. They went over everything with a fine tooth-comb since the slightest miscue would be fatal at that altitude. After the initial JMPI, they worked in buddy teams to attach their bulging, heavy rucksacks. These hung below the parachute against the back of their knees. Once this was done a second JMPI was performed. As each man was inspected, Mellor and Waldek helped him into the access tube to the cramped shuttle, the men waddling through the hatch under 150 lbs. of heavy gear at 1G. Mellor and Lawrence were the last to enter. They would don their rucksacks just prior to departure.

Waldek donned her emergency chute. Survival gear and O2 equipment also encumbered her. She was JMPI'd by Mellor. Afterwards, she went forward to perform final pre-flight. Mellor and Lawrence stepped over the prostrate team as they secured everyone to the floor of the shuttle with breakaway straps. Ken swore to himself about the ramshackle job they were forced to do, given the cramped ship. From a console above in the ceiling O2 hoses ran to each man, which they connected to their masks. This would provide the team O2 while preserving the little air in their tanks. Once all masks were sealed and O2 was flowing, they performed a team O2 check, to ensure proper oxygen flow. Having secured everyone, Lawrence and Mellor secured the shuttles tailgate, donned their rucks, and JMPI’d each other.. Internal cabin lights switched to red. As the tailgate shut, two rating on the other side of the door gave them a final wave, Both wore a "better you than me" expression on their faces. Noone spoke.

Lawrence and Mellor had a communication jack plugged into their helmets, which allowed them to speak with Waldek. They could hear her chatter with the ship’s traffic control officer. It was easy to pick out the tension in her voice. None envied her. She had been thrust into this position with little notice, forced to operate the shuttle on the edge, or just outside its envelope. But desperate times called for desperate measures. The insertion flight plan had to be performed precisely if there was any hope to put them on target without being noticed. The Kohl would not wait around for the shuttle, it too, being on an automated flight plan. She had one shot to nail the insertion, then get back. 946 was usually inserted by the 720th SOW (Special Operations Wing), a highly professional group of crew who Charlie trusted implicitly with his life. Waldek gave him an uneasy feeling, though he hid it from the rest of the men.

“Sergeant Lawrence, The Kohl is on final approach. All systems nominal, no sign of detection by enemy forces. Release in sixty seconds.”

“Thank you Leutnant. Run the disk please.”

“Very well.” Over the rear comm system Holst’s Mars the Bringer of War played. Charlie relayed the music through the team commo so he rest of the boys could hear it. The ominous, martial music would help focus their minds and put them in the right frame of mind for the coming ordeal.

“Thirty seconds until release.” Charlie held up his pointer finger, bent over, the signal for thirty seconds. The music continued to build. Each man’s emotions were hidden behind his oxygen mask.

They felt a sudden lurch, then weightlessness, as the Kohl released the shuttle. Ten seconds later gravity returned as Waldek ignited the main engine. Below her the dark mass of Röt Hafen awaited. The Kohl had released the shuttle well below the planetary horizon of the main settlement and the station in orbit. Waldek would bring the shuttle in “nap of the earth” so to speak. 946 would be released just beyond line of sight sensor range of the main settlement, also named Röt Hafen. Their drop zone was about 40 kilometers from Röt Hafen.

“On flight path. All systems nominal. Enemy sensor sweeps, negative. IP in three minutes.”

Mellor gave a two handed motion like breaking a stick. 946 decoupled the external oxygen supply and switched to bottled O2. The team performed another O2 check.

The shuttle bucked violently as it entered the upper atmosphere. The roar outside increased in volume, as did the music. “IP reached, five minutes until release.”

Mellor held up one hand fingered splayed: five minutes. This was followed by two hands palms facing out: get ready. Mellor and Lawrence stood, Mellor heading to the tailgate, Lawrence to the front. Mellor gave another hand signal, which indicated remove restraining belts. These were passed towards the skin of the shuttle and stowed. The next command, given with both arms extended to the side, palms facing up, then raised above head was: stand up. Heavily burdened, shuttle buffeting, this was no easy task, and the men helped each other to their feet. All were sweating and breathing heavily under the high G, and internal heat. Each grabbed onto each other or whatever he could to keep on his feet. Mellor beat his chest with both hands, signifying: check equipment. The men made a last perfunctory inspection of their own gear. Mellor held up two hands to his ears, signaling: Sound off for equipment check. Each man returned a thumb's up.

One particularly violent bump nearly knocked them over. “Two minutes to drop, one minute to deceleration.” Mellor relayed the signal and everyone held on tight. Charlie was flushed with a mixture of fear and excitement, which kept his heart in his throat.

Up front, Waldek felt the same. The glow of the shuttle’s heat shielding was subsiding. On the horizon she could see a faint hint of planetary dawn. She felt particularly vulnerable up in the cockpit. Were enemy defenses tracking her now? The threat-warning receiver remained silent. Waldek was preparing for a tricky maneuver. The shuttle would have to slow down to almost a standstill, pitched up to stall with the tailgate down in order to dump its cargo. A normal insertion, in a specially designed interface lander, would entail an automated release for the men, ensuing they were put out together in the correct pattern at the correct height while maintaining the proper speed. 946 could rely on no automation. At this height they had to be put out together at almost a standstill, or they would b spread all over the planet. She could feel the overweight condition of he shuttle in the seat of her pants and the straining while of the engines. Worse still, atmospheric conditions were much rougher than she had planned as high altitude winds buffeted the shuttle like popcorn. Odd lighting fluctuations disturbing the atmosphere on the horizon concerned her, but the TWR remained silent.

Charlie and Kenny sensed that the ride was even rougher than anticipated, but that was the pilot’s problem. They had to concentrate on getting the team out. They were pitched forward as the shuttle began massive deceleration. Regaining their balance, the buffeting increased. Each man weighed 500 pounds one second, then was weightless the next. Several felt airsick.

“One minute.” Mellor relayed the message by holding up one finger: one minute. He signaled for Lawrence to release the communications lead form his helmet. This would avoid a nasty whiplash on exit. The shuttle’s tailgate dropped, multiplying the roar by tenfold. This was the moment Charlie liked best. It was pitch black outside. He thought back to home for a quick second, sensing his family peacefully asleep in their beds while he was hanging it out on the line here. What a job! He was focussed and readies to get it on. Though he had disconnected the lead to the ship’s comm system, he still could hear Holst in his head. Everyone switched to night vision. He felt a tingling mix of excitement, anticipation and fear. These ties deeply effected him, as he knew he shared this feeling with every soldier that had ever been in combat since the beginning of time. I t was what defined them as warriors.

Brooks was praying to himself. Jeez, God. I know you know I ain’t that religious. So it would be hypocritical for me to ask for your help now. But I just wanted to remind ya’ that my Mom goes to church like every Sunday. And I know you wouldn’t want to disappoint her, would ya?

Mellor had little time for anything but his jumpmaster duties. He reported rear tailgate down and secure, then unplugged himself from the comm system. He stepped onto the tailgate, holding on to the hydraulic lift bar, checking for any obstructions. Turbulence whipped at his uniform and gear. He began to make out terrain features, ten miles below. A red light beside the tailgate illuminated, signifying thirty seconds to release. Mellor pointed to the floor at his feet, signifying: stand in the door.

946 waddled up behind Mellor as best as they could, the team packed in tight behind their jumpmaster. Lawrence was the stick pusher, his shoulder in the pack tray of the man in front of him. Each man’s eyes were on Mellor, or the man in front of them.

The shuttle pitched up violently, engines screaming as Waldek fought to hold it in the proper attitude. The ship’s computer calculated they had reached the release point and switched the jump signal from red to green. Mellor had whacked his head against the bulkhead beside the tailgate at that last lurch and almost missed the light. Brooks, behind Mellor, gave him a swat on the head. Mellor saw the light and leapt. In less than two seconds all eight men were swallowed by the blackness.

With stall warnings blaring, and the sudden loss of almost four thousand-pounds of payload, combined with a sudden violent gust, flipped the small shuttle over like a toy and spun it earthwards, engines whining violently. Waldek had failed to tighten her restraints before the maneuver and she banged her head against both sides of her shock frame as she fought to regain control. A fuel pressure warning light glared red, as one of the engines developed a malfunction in the heavy spin. The small shuttle plummeted like a rock.