Jekkasantyle goofy-footed the runner of the cargo hover as it contoured the snow-melt wet mountain plain. Resting on the support of her taut safety line she reached less of the flora than she’d like. But at the easy pace the pilot set for the convoy she expected to set a colorful centerpiece of snatched wildflowers on her table at mess.
Snow still clung to the shadows and where the shadows had been, but the warm sun steamed the moisture up from the lumps of black rock spattered along their path. Tendrils of this ground fog mixed with the microthermals she could feel on her face as they dipped in and out of the cooler zones. Occasionally she’d turn to look into the hold where the rest of her squad hunched. Aubrelia smiled at her each time, but more than once patted her weapon and then pointed Jekkasantyle’s attention back to her perch on the mini-gun. Jekkasantyle checked her gun was safed and then glanced at her line to make sure it was secure. She returned to her high speed gardening unconcerned.
Some more stuff to set a peaceful mood. Maybe even dialogue to convey they are on their way back from battle or that all is well.
Jekkasantyle thought she heard something. Then she did.
Four, maybe five, hovers–at least half a mile–ahead the smooth regular flow of the convoy churned. A Whale cart wheeled into chunks of earth, metal, and flesh. Jekkasantyle’s hover wheeled starboard and she wrapped over the top of her mini so fast face collided with it before she could get a hand up.