Military Sci Fi Dropship Novels & Stories

The sky above the valley didn't darken with clouds; it turned silver with a cold, geometric shadow. The Mother-Ship, a massive wedge of black carbon with pulsating violet strands, hung above the White Well like an executioner's blade. It was the "Vanguard," the last failsafe Dr. Thorne had put in deep-space orbit. It was set to descend only if the planetary Grid was in danger. As the scout transport rushed into Aethel-Luna's airspace, landing amidst swirling salt-dust and chaos, Elara jumped from the bay before the engines had even cooled.

"It will." Sarah's alert came through at 5:14 AM. "The Leviathan's drop-ship bay opened," she said. "I'm reading twelve separate signatures dropping into the lower atmosphere." A pause. "Gunships. Automated. Moving fast toward the passes." Silas looked at the now-empty sphere network on his display. At the northern pass, which was open and clear and had a supply convoy about to use it. At twelve gunships dropping from orbit. "Aegis-Hunter class," Sarah said. "Air-supremacy designation. They're going to sweep the valley."

he whispered into my ear and nibbled on my neck, making my cock stir. "You damn tease, Ashr," I growled softly and fell back as the transport began to move. Ashr laughed and said,"hold on." The clear covering spread over the top of us and the doors opened. I watched as we shot out of Dregs ship and headed towards a floating station that had all kinds of vehicles parked at it. "It's a fueling/ storage station, there are millions of them across space. I nodded my head and was surprised by the transport landing inside of a very large ship. It was almost as large as the king's and I shook my head at Ashr.

They turned back toward the landing craft, their blades glowing with the same white heat that was currently incinerating my own nerves. ​I walked out of the Hub and onto the main observation deck. The Scrapyard was a vision of hell. Three Harvester Dropships, which were massive, tripod-like structures, had slammed into the valley floor, their legs crushing the historical archives of the old world into powder. From their bellies, swarms of Seekers were pouring out. They were small, multi-legged constructs designed to harvest biological matter, and they were moving toward the civilian sectors with a terrifying, silent speed. ​“You came to the wrong world,” I said. My voice was amplified by the

The Black Citadel. Flight Deck. Twelve Hours Later. The heavy cargo doors of the stealth dropship hissed open, venting white steam onto the reinforced tarmac of the Citadel. Seven individuals stepped out into the glaring hangar lights. They were a chaotic, mismatched group of strangers, torn from their lives just hours ago. None of them wore military uniforms.

She tossed a crushed, metallic cylinder at Dax’s feet. "The beacon is dead, but the handshake completed," Reyes reported, her breathing heavy. "The armada has our exact coordinates. And Steele... they aren't just sending drop-ships. I pulled the telemetry from the spy's cranial implant before I zeroed him. They've deployed the Solaris-Class Dreadnoughts." "How big are they?" Dax asked, not taking his eyes off the horizon. "Big enough to block out the sun," Reyes said grimly. "They don't land. They hover in low orbit and drop Hell-Pods kinetic drilling transports designed to bypass energy shields by burrowing through the bedrock underneath them."

DOG "There she is!" the pilot screams. “The Quarantine Zone wall…” The interior of the dropship is a long, windowless cylinder. The armored marine cadre is seated in rows along both walls of the transit hold, supported by padded deployment seats. I lean forward in my cramped seat and look down the long aisle to the open cockpit and through the gun windshield at the night beyond. Sure enough, there in the darkness is the Quarantine Wall, snaking across the barren landscape like a black snake. With my sensitive eyesight, I can even make out tiny dark dots moving across the parapets - the guards who command the heavy artillery to keep the mutants contained within.

The dark silhouettes of the surviving leviathans pivot sharply in unison, their ventral cargo bays sliding open to reveal a horrifying new wave of weaponry designed to bypass our walls entirely. Our brief moment of triumph is instantly cut short as the remaining four airships, begin to rain hundreds of glowing, red-hot drop-pods directly into our inner courtyard.

I grinned. "You always know how to make an entrance, Lucas," I grinned. "Let's just hope everyone else liked it enough not to shoot me down," Lucas replied. The blur slowed ahead of me, dropping back until it kept pace just in front of my running mech. The camouflage layer on its hull faded, leaving the dropship's sleek grey shape fully visible. The ship was sleek, but in no way small-it was easily the length of a football field in scale. The structure resembled a massive, wingless airplane, screaming along on four nuclear-powered thrusters that kept it aloft. White block letters adorned its side, giving it a numerical designation: Dropship 13.

"The Council. They’re not waiting for my mother to settle the bill anymore. They’re coming to collect the assets." Four "Vulture" Class dropships descended through the violet smoke, their engines roaring with a deep, subsonic thrum that made my teeth ache. They didn't land. They hovered, their side doors sliding open to reveal squads of "Cleaners"—elite Council soldiers in white-gold tactical armor, armed with frequency-disrupters designed to neutralize Alphas. "We have to get back to the Shadow," I said, looking at the tattered remains of the bridge. "Sora... the rebels... they have the dampeners."