Robert A. Heinlein Fanteria Dello Spazio Link

Johnny didn't look up. "Maintenance is the difference between a jump and a burial, Sarge."

He hit the ground at terminal velocity, his retro-rockets firing a micro-second before impact. The pod shattered. Johnny leaped out, his flamethrower clearing a circle of scorched earth before his boots even settled. ROBERT A. HEINLEIN FANTERIA DELLO SPAZIO

"Don't know why you bother, Rico," Sergeant Zim’s voice boomed from the doorway. "The bugs’ll just cover it in ichor the minute you hit the dirt." Johnny didn't look up

It was a sentiment straight out of the Federal Service handbook, but for Johnny, it wasn't just propaganda anymore. He remembered his father’s disgust when he first signed up, the lectures about the "reckless pursuit of a vote." Now, looking at the scarred metal of his suit, he understood what his teachers back in Buenos Aires never could: authority is a heavy burden, and citizenship isn't a gift—it's something bought with the willingness to stand between home and the war's desolation. Johnny leaped out, his flamethrower clearing a circle

The MI moved as a single organism. They didn't run; they marched with the rhythmic thud of pressurized boots. Johnny slid into his egg-shaped pod. The darkness swallowed him, save for the amber glow of the HUD. "On the bounce, troopers!" the radio crackled.