Southern Cross by Windstar

The pilot, Ilthiron, or Ile as he liked to be called, was talking to her. She wrenched her attention
away from the desire to strangle a certain politician and nodded in return.
"Get me down planet side, Pilot, and do it fast."
"Yes, Ma'am, dropping now."
The ungainly box shaped craft dropped out of the Guardian Class ship, as the massive blast doors
opened below it. The magnetic clamps above it which had held it to the ship released with a dull,
familiar clang. Emily tightened her hold on the armrests and concentrated on not letting her rage
get the better of her.
It was a difficult battle.
The drop ship was full of armed Marines, all of whom were double-checking their unpowered
armor and weapons. Two other drop ships followed hers out of her ship self's drop bays. Each of
which were loaded with Marines, one of which had a Dagger of jump troops onboard.
The craft bucked as it slammed into the upper atmosphere. Her eyes flicked towards the pilot and
copilot in the front of the small ship, and she sighed as she suddenly recognized the pilot. She
should have known Ile would have found a way to be involved in this. As long as he gets me
down in one piece, I won't even comment about his little mishap over Quebec.
Red light seeped across her area as the view port next to her began to glow. To anyone below,
the three ships would look like shooting stars as they screamed across the sky. Inside of the
ships, their crews were buffeted as the fast drop rattled them. Emily double-checked her mental
bond with her ship self, more out of habit than anything else. Angwar had stayed aboard her to
keep an eye on the new recruits, and she trusted him to sort things out while she was away.
They were sticking to the letter of President Fairchild's statement. The craft was dropping
straight downwards from the high orbit that North Star had been in, towards the island at the tip
of Manhattan. It was at the limit of a drop ships capabilities, and the high-pitched whine of their
plasma engines made Emily's teeth ache. The Americans wouldn't even have to try to blow them
out of the sky if one of those plasma engines's failed though. They were at maximum output to
do what Emily had ordered, and if one failed, the other one was quite likely to simply rip the ship
into small pieces.
"Ma'am?"
Ile didn't even try yelling over the turbulence, he used her armor suit's com system to talk to her.
"I've got a communiqué for you from Governor's Island. We're also being challenged by
NORAD, what should I tell them?"
Emily flicked on her own com screen to take the call from Governor's Island, while snarling at
Ile.