Robert A. Heinlein Fanteria Dello Spazio <2024>

The MI moved as a single organism. They didn't run; they marched with the rhythmic thud of pressurized boots. Johnny slid into his egg-shaped pod. The darkness swallowed him, save for the amber glow of the HUD. "On the bounce, troopers!" the radio crackled.

The floor dropped out. For a second, there was the stomach-flipping void of space, then the violent shudder of the atmosphere hitting the heat shield. Outside, the sky of Klendathu was a bruised purple, filled with the streaks of a thousand falling stars—each one a soldier. ROBERT A. HEINLEIN FANTERIA DELLO SPAZIO

The sirens began to wail, a dissonant screech that signaled the "Drop." The MI moved as a single organism

Johnny stepped into the suit, the neuro-mechanical interface stinging as it synced with his nervous system. Suddenly, he wasn't just a man; he was a steel-clad titan, capable of leaping buildings and leveling hills. He felt the familiar weight of the Y-rack on his back, loaded with tactical nukes and jump-jets. "To the capsules!" Zim roared. The darkness swallowed him, save for the amber

He hit the ground at terminal velocity, his retro-rockets firing a micro-second before impact. The pod shattered. Johnny leaped out, his flamethrower clearing a circle of scorched earth before his boots even settled.

"Keep your intervals!" Johnny shouted into the comms, his voice steady. He wasn't the scared kid from the history classes anymore. He was a piece of the Federation's shield. He squeezed the trigger, and as the first wave of Arachnids burst through the crust, he realized that while the universe was vast and terrifying, as long as the Infantry held the line, humanity had a home.

"Don't know why you bother, Rico," Sergeant Zim’s voice boomed from the doorway. "The bugs’ll just cover it in ichor the minute you hit the dirt."