First Battalion looked to be in the thick of it. Connory crouched at a slanted viewport and assessed the mess from half a klick straight up. Outpost Six might still fall, but if it did, it'd be over a whole lot of dead bodies: the First seemed committed. Comms chatter indicated the same.
"Thanks for the ride, Lieutenant," Connory said, and stepped out the hatch.
He dropped like a stone for the first four hundred and fifty metres. Then low-grade inertial dampeners kicked in, a pair of repulsorpacks flared to life, and his cybernetic legs flexed on impact. He'd touched down right behind the line of Armadillos, where the First's infantry were redeploying after a rout. He couldn't blame them: those bugs brought back all kinds of memories.
On the plus side, now the First had a little respite. As the first rounds of the airstrike began to chew into the bugs' main force, Connory got up on an Armadillo and switched his Boneshatter carbine to AOE. He'd designed its subsonic hum to ward off large predators, and though the bugs had plenty of momentum, their front ranks faltered a little. The Commonwealth troops' headgear would protect them just fine.