A strange sensation washed over Qianlong—his movements flowed seamlessly now, every intention translating perfectly through the controls. His Reaper moved with uncharacteristic grace as it matched Aina's pace.
"Atmospheric entry in ten seconds. Recommend manual activation of secondary impact buffers."
Following Phantom's prompt, Qianlong engaged the override. Additional armor plates slid into place over the cockpit just as turbulence slammed into them. The temperature spiked to 50°C as gravity tripled.
"V42-52 gravity at 3G and rising. Activate level-3 antigrav. Reduce life support to 70% to preserve thruster reserves."
Sweat dripped down Qianlong's neck as he adjusted systems. Outside, his mech glowed cherry-red from atmospheric friction.
"Time to exit?"
"172 seconds."
He counted down. At ten seconds, Phantom guided corrective maneuvers:
"Fire ports four and six. Cut main thrusters."
The Reaper stabilized perfectly upon breaching the cloud layer. Aina glanced back, surprised—the rookie's jerky movements had vanished.
The trio hovered as scout mechs swept the desolate landscape below: cracked earth, impact craters, jagged peaks. No signs of life.
"Preliminary all-clear," came the transmission.
"Move out." Aina led the descent.
On the surface, she briefed them: "We're planting 108 seismic probes across three sectors. Qianlong—you get 30. Stay in your zone and scream if something eats you."
The probes—palm-sized drills—would analyze subterranean compositions. Even one positive reading would justify the mission.
As Qianlong began his tedious route, Phantom calculated: "Deployment time: 16h23m. With return: 23h11m."
"Odds of resources here?"
"70% common minerals. 5% rare. 5% unknown."
Not bad for commissions. Reapers earned 1% of whatever they extracted—5% for landmark discoveries. (Terms subject to Hyperion's discretion, of course.)
Dusk brought plunging temperatures. "-124°C incoming," Phantom warned.
Qianlong pressed on until—
"Detecting unstable pressure front."
His scanners showed nothing. Phantom offered options:
- Divert to coordinates 712,142
- Take shelter in nearby rock strata
- Full retreat
Option two seemed safest, but the storm's ferocity was unknown. With a grimace, Qianlong veered toward the first coordinates—deviating from his assigned zone.