The field generator controller worked out the calculations and entered the commands into the computer system. The Imperials were landing in standard configuration towards the next conquest. The entire Legion was being dropped, dozens of craft carrying All-Terrain Armored craft, a massive prefabricated garrison, all heading towards the continent. Everything was riding on a massive bubble of heated air, that was pierced and like an elevator, with a cut rope, the entire column of air that the craft was on began a freefall. Hundreds of buttons and gauges were hit and atmospheric handling input manipulated in a futile effort to regain control. Thousands of souls were heading towards a rocky grave, the same grave upon which millennia of invaders have been dispatched upon.