The ship rocked away from its motherly embrace, engine burning as it pushed off of the bigger ship. The commander talking with the ship’s pilot, coordinating with the other ships, ordering out position to the respective ships and figuring out their respective parts in the mission. Jimmie sat strapped in like the rest of the soldiers, helmet fogging up by his ragged breaths. He hated these helmets, felt like it trapped him, a cocoon of insufferable, inescapable metal. Which wasn’t far from the truth, thought Jimmie. If anything happened, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to change the fact. That thought scared Jimmie, something that he vehemently denied to himself.