Red Sun

The Enemy of My Enemy

Geez, nothing seems to be working right for my chapters this summer. I noticed that I uploaded a draft copy instead of the real thing, again. I really should get a beta-reader. I'm sorry again, guys! I hope you enjoy the real thing!

"Is the hallway clear?"

"Nada."

"Keep it in English, Guarez."

"Pendejo."

"Can it."

Captain Clark advanced down the hallway, hunched over with his pistol in front of him. Behind him, Emilia and Krogh, covering his back and sides.

So far, we've been lucky. But we're going to run into someone eventually.

"Guard ahead."

Clark halted, barely two feet away from rounding the corner. Emilia crept past him, cloak activated. The Blue Suns security guard leaning against the door to their quarters looked bored, as if he had been waiting for a while. He scratched his chin with the barrel of his rifle.

Suddenly, the guard slipped to the ground and landed face first, smacking his forehead against metal floor with a loud smack. Emilia materialized over him and quickly grabbed his rifle and clips. Satisfied, she opened the door and did a once-over of the room.

"Clear."

Clark and Krogh quickly entered the room, sliding the door shut behind him. The captain looked over his bunk; their belongings had definitely been searched. Fortunately…

Clark's hand reached underneath his bunk and opened the bottom of his mattress. As it opened, a heavy piece of metal slid into his hands and he pulled it out, checking the dual barrels for obstructions. More thermal clips joined his belt and he looked over to Krogh.

"I got everything that they left behind," Clark announced. "How's your bunk?"

"They took the weapons," replied Krogh. He hefted the krogan shotgun in his hands. "But I didn't need them anyway."

"You guys need to do better at hiding your shit," said Emilia, slinging a bag over her shoulders. Her rifle hung on her back.

The door opened.

The three remaining members of the 103rd Marine Division automatically slid behind their bunks, weapons on hand. At the door, at least two squadrons of Blue Suns stood protectively in front of the only exit. An officer stood behind the mercenaries.

"Find them," he commanded, directing the mercenaries to the bunks. "Make sure you check every bed."

Before the mercenaries even took a step, Clark popped out of cover, spraying the mercenaries with a wall of gunfire. The officer dove to the ground, sliding behind one of the metal bunks as the remaining Blue Suns glided to cover. The harsh retort of a sniper rifle echoed throughout the room and a mercenary hit the ground.

"You won't make it out of here alive, Captain!" shouted the officer from behind his bunk. "The whole base is out for your blood!"

"They'll have to crawl over your men's bodies before they get to us," replied Clark calmly, and fired at one particularly daring mercenary.

Shredded cloth floated around the room as gunfire quickly tore through the beds, reducing visibility to a minimum. Feathers danced over his helmet and completely covered his visor. Clark heard another sniper rifle crack and one of the Blue Suns disappeared in a flash of red. How can she see anything in this stuff?

Suddenly, Clark felt a hand grab his shoulder. He twisted around and used his momentum to throw the mercenary, who had unknowingly grabbed Clark's shoulder for support, onto the metal frame of the bunk. His head hit the post with a solid thunk and he slid to the ground, unconscious. Clark returned to an upright position just in time to see a mercenary's head explode in a gory blast as Krogh emptied a shotgun shell into the unfortunate soldier.

Soon, the Blue Suns's numbers dwindled from ten, to five, to finally, one. Emilia barely ducked behind a bunk in time before the Blue Suns officer popped out of cover, firing at her position with a single bullet. The slug cleanly passed through the metal frame and dropped the upper half of the bunk on the Alliance soldier. Emilia!

"Shit!" Clark heard Emilia shout. At least she's fine. But what the hell did he fire at her?

Krogh quickly loaded his shotgun. "He's using a Carnifex, Captain! Don't let it hit you; it'll punch right through your armor."

"Thanks for the tip!" Clark replied, and ducked again as another bullet hit his bunk, throwing a cloud of fabric in the air. Now he couldn't see anything at all. Which isn't that bad of a thing, now that I think about it.

Clark looked to Krogh, who was at least five bunks down his right. With his right hand, he pointed to Krogh and jerked his thumb towards the officer. With his left hand, he pointed to himself, then the officer, and then his rifle. Krogh nodded.

As soon as the lieutenant confirmed it, the captain rose out from behind the bunk, firing at the officer's position. Bullets rained down on the first row of bunks, splitting the frames and disintegrating the cloth beds. The surrounding area quickly became a nigh impenetrable cloud of dust and debris, rendering the officer all but invisible. Still Clark fired. With two thermal clips and the Spirit's rate of fire, I should be able to last a minute.

A quick minute. Before long, the Spirit hissed in protest as the two spent clips ejected from the rifle. As Clark reached for another clip, the officer rose up from a bunk to Clark's far left.

"Not another move from you, Captain," he said, keeping his hand cannon trained on Clark's helmeted head. "Step away from the bunk."

Clark complied, and the officer smirked. "Drop your weapon."

The captain hefted his Spirit. "This one?"

The officer's smirk disappeared. "Now."

Clark looked at his weapon thoughtfully, and then smiled. He looked back to the officer, who was beginning to grow red. "Okay. One more question. Drop mine, or yours?"

Even as Krogh's shotgun pressed against the nape of the officer's neck, Clark was diving for the adjacent bunk, narrowly dodging the hair trigger slug that discharged from the Carnifex. Once Clark was safely behind cover, Krogh began.

"Drop the pistol, officer," stated Krogh, tapping his neck with the cold, metal barrel of the Devastator. "Or I could do it for you."

The hand cannon clattered to the ground. With his right foot, Krogh launched the officer across three rows of bunks, landing him on his face. Clark quickly ran to Emilia and lifted the bunk away from her body. Though she was mildly annoyed, she seemed fine.

Emilia nudged the officer's leg as he rose up, knees on the ground and hands behind his head. "So what are we going to do with you?"

Clark stood in front of him, his Spirit glinting dangerously on his side. "Well, I was hoping to ask him a few questions."

The officer looked up at him, smirking. "You still think you can escape Commander Singh? Get real, Captain. You don't have a chance, much less than the last Alliance soldiers that came here."

"We're not interested in the past, actually," said Clark, letting the barrel of his gun drift towards the officer. "We're more concerned with the present. Where the hell is Commander Singh?"

"Fuck you."

"That statement seems to be the signature response of most of our captives," commented Krogh dryly. Emilia wasted no time and quickly bashed the man's head with the butt of her rifle.

"Wrong response," she spat, literally spitting on the top of his head. "Now answer the damn question."

"He's probably on the landing pad on the uppermost level of the fort," said the officer, sputtering blood as lay on the ground. "That way, he has his back covered and he can evacuate at any time."

"Are there any other Blue Suns outposts that Singh is in contact with?" questioned Clark.

"Not that I know of," answered the mercenary ruefully. "Even he does, he'd only tell his most trusted lieutenants, who are all probably with him in his bunker right now."

"Wait, bunker?" said Emilia suspiciously. "He has a bunker on the roof?"

"Yeah. Thick, steel walls. About twenty feet by twenty feet of space. Probably has gun emplacements around the place, and anti-aircraft weaponry. And the main entrance is likely barricaded. That area was meant to withstand a siege. You're not getting anywhere near him."

"So if he and his lieutenants are up there, who the hell is left down here then?" Emilia growled. "The rejects?"

"The ones who want to stay down here and mop up," replied the mercenary cockily. "Biggest kill count gets the biggest reward."

"Here's your reward now." Emilia swiftly kicked him in the chest, followed by another head bash with her rifle. The unconscious officer slumped to the floor, head wound bleeding freely.

Emilia shook her head. "Are we going now?"

"Yeah," said Clark, stepping over the merc. "Let's move!"

The trio quickly vacated the barracks and made their way across the fort. The usually populated areas like the cafeteria and the storage rooms were strangely empty. Items were still scattered across the floor as if everyone had left quickly and without cleaning up as they usually did.

And they hadn't run across a single mercenary.

"We need to get to the roof," huffed Clark. "Any ideas?"

"Where is Major Coats?" said Krogh. "We could use his help now."

"Shit, I already forgot about him," said Clark, rounding another corner. He quickly stretched his arm out, sore from disuse. As it turned out, it was a life-saving motion.

As Clark's boots crossed the end of the hallway and the beginning of the next, as Clark's eyes met the ten other pairs of eyes that stared at him from behind a solid barricade, the captain instinctively activated his omni-shield. A protective orange wall of energy quickly blossomed in front of his face and body.

A nanosecond later, the Blue Suns opened fire, pelting his shield with a cascade of metal slugs that threatened to shatter the reinforced silicon. Clark's legs buckled to the ground as he turned his run into a slide, gliding behind a stack of crates on the opposite wall. Bullets pinged off the metal surface like raindrops.

Krogh and Emilia were lucky enough to have stayed in the other the hallway. Emilia readied her rifle and was prepared to run into the line of fire. Only Krogh's hand stopped her from moving.

"Don't be an idiot," he snapped. "You walk in that, then we're carrying you out. Wait for a break in fire."

Clark pressed himself against the crates and the wall for what seemed like an eternity. The only thing he could hear was the sound of the mercs' guns and the sound of his cover slowly breaking down. I won't last long here. How much ammunition could they possibly have in a single clip?

Finally, a few of the mercenaries stopped firing long enough to reload their weapons.

"About time," Emilia shouted as she poked out from behind the wall, expertly hitting a merc square in the forehead with her rifle. Krogh ran out from behind her, rolling a small black object towards the barricade while simultaneously leveling his pistol at the mercenaries. The mercs quickly recovered and returned fire, but not before the grenade that had rolled beneath the barricade exploded in a white flash that rocked the entire hallway. Mercs were thrown bodily against the walls as the barricade shattered against the force of the grenade. The familiar, high-pitched whine pierced Clark's ears and he rose up, firing at what remained of the mercenaries' resistance. They didn't last long.

The last mercenary seemed to muster all of his courage as he sprinted from behind his cover, firing at the crates. One bullet even passed through a crate wall and exited not two feet from Clark's nose. Lieutenant Krogh pivoted out of cover and fired one shell. The bullet spread decapitated the last mercenary with a single pop.

"That thing's bloody as hell," Clark commented, stepping over the remains of a mercenary. "Maybe you should take the shredder mod off the barrel."

"Your machine gun is not exactly the cleanest killing weapon in the world, Captain," Krogh replied smoothly, and began to load his shotgun.

"This is why sniper rifles are the way to go," Emilia interjected, hefting her own rifle to chest height.

"Forget that," said the captain, looking to his omni-tool. "We've got a lot of hostiles in this base. It'd be much better if we had some allies to balance that out."

"Aside from the major, we don't have any allies," commented Emilia.

"I think we have some potential allies," said Captain Clark, pulling up a recording he had made not too long ago. "Does anyone know where they make announcements in the fort?"

"Intercoms can be accessed from multiple locations in a military base," said Krogh. "The most obvious location is the Central Operations room. It should be located near the center of Fort Hannover. Roughly two floors above the mess hall."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" demanded Emilia. "Let's go."

"Guys," said Clark, pointing ahead. On the other side of the long hallway, mercenaries were pouring in from connecting passages. Most of the mercs wielded omni-shields, presenting a veritable wall of orange to the three marines.

"Right," said Emilia, quickly moving behind an indent in the wall. "Maybe you should keep that shredder mod on."

Krogh finished loading.

"Indeed."

"This is actually an incredible stroke of luck," commented Coats thoughtfully.

"It looks like it was leftover from the last mission," examined Devon, touching the metal. "They probably parked it and went inside."

"I'm surprised that they didn't run into any trouble," said Carter.

"Major Coats," reported Jarar. "This vehicle has been retrofitted with titanium armored plates, particularly in the front and the sides. It is equipped with Inferno precision kill rockets and a pair of belly-mounted M350 mass-accelerator machine guns. There are several boxes of thermal clip ammunition in the car's trunk, but they can be moved. The car's charge is approximately 40%, which is enough to return back to Fort Hannover."

"What are we waiting for?" demanded Devon. "Let's go already. No need to wait here any longer."

The skycar quickly launched into the sky, riding smoothly despite the disuse of the vehicle. Most of the group had relaxed, but Devon was ever alert, watching the sky for any more signs of danger.

"Have you checked the comm panel?" said Coats, stepping inside the cockpit.

"It is fully functional, sir. I have attempted to contact Captain Pershing again, but there has been no response. Fort Hannover is also unresponsive, sir."

"What?" Major Coats quickly made his way to the comm panel. "You can't raise Fort Hannover?"

"Fort Hannover typically locks down its communications in two instances," stated Jarar, pulling up the panel. "One, a Reaper is present within five miles of the city borders. All outgoing and incoming signals would immediately be halted to avoid detection."

"Unlikely," Devon pointed out. "We would have seen a Reaper if it was nearby at all."

"I still can't get over that shit," said Carter anxiously. "I mean, seriously. They harvest us? Like a farm?"

"And the second situation?" said Coats, ignoring the private's mutterings.

"Fort Hannover is in a state of emergency," replied Jarar. "Commander Singh is either dead or has retreated into his bunker, and all troops remaining in the base are mobilized to shoot anything on sight."

"Is that a possibility?" said Coats, at least slightly worried. "What could cause Fort Hannover to go into a state of emergency?"

"A breach," said Jarar. "Riots. Environmental hazards. Conflict with another group. No matter what is the case, everyone in the base is in some form of mortal danger."

Or, thought the voice in Coats's head. Commander Singh's behind this.

It was instinct. Not based on logic, but simply instinct. Coats had spent years developing that instinct.

"Would Commander Singh kill my teammates?" asked Coats suddenly.

"What?" said Jarar in disbelief.

"I'm asking," said Coats, "if your commander would kill my teammates if he didn't think they were contributing to his precious resources. Because that's what he seems to be the most concerned about."

"I'm not sure that I understand…"

"If my teammates were lying on the ground dying and needed medical attention," said Coats slowly. "Would he help them?"

Jarar was silent for a while. "I do not know the answer, Major Coats."

Can I really trust these guys? Coats thought. He looked at Jarar, then Devon, and then Carter. They're my squad, but they're also Blue Suns. When the push comes to the shove, who will they side with? Can I really trust them with my life?

He thought about Commander Singh and the vast number of soldiers at his disposal. I'm going to have to trust them.

"Get this skycar moving as fast as possible, Corporal."

"Yes, sir. ETA two minutes at subsonic speeds. Note: if anything else is in the air, it'll notice us."

"We'll have to risk it. Let me see if I can get in touch with Captain Clark," said Major Coats, quickly pulling up his contact.

The dial tone sounded. Once, then twice. After the third ring, a sinking feeling entered Coats's stomach. Please answer.

On the fourth ring, someone picked up.

"James?" said Coats.

"It's about damn time! Where the hell are you?"

Two minutes previous…

"I'm almost out!"

Another volley of fire rained down next to Emilia's position. The corner of the wall was completely charred black from the heavy gunfire it had already taken. The marine slid out of cover and fired another round at the mercs. A body hit the ground, but two more took its place. She quickly ducked back as another salvo zipped past her.

"That's it, I got nothing!" Emilia shouted. "I need a damn clip!"

"Use semi-auto!" Clark yelled back from behind the crates. "We don't have that many clips!"

"I can't kill shit with semi-auto," Emilia grunted through her teeth. "Fine, just slide one over!"

Clark quickly unclipped a set from his belt and slid the piece over to Emilia. The thermal clip only made it halfway before the force from a grenade launched it backwards. Out of reach.

"Damn it, Clark!"

"I can't help that!" shouted the captain, and returned fire.

"Emilia, catch!"

The marine turned around and expertly caught the flying thermal clip, jamming it into her rifle and twisting around to fire two rounds at her target. The man's shield burst first and the second round drilled through his helmet, punching through glass, bone, and fiberglass before stopping. Another mercenary slumped to the floor.

"Thank God, someone knows how to throw a clip!" Emilia yelled.

Suddenly, something so unexpected happened that Clark stopped firing. He quickly ducked back behind cover and opened up his omni-tool.

"What the hell are you doing?" Emilia shouted.

"I-I have a phone call!" responded Clark, and opened up the caller menu.

"James?" said a voice through the omni-tool.

It's Coats. He's alive.

"It's about damn time! Where the hell are you?"

"Road trip," quipped Coats. "What's the sitrep?"

"There's about to be fucking revolution in Fort Hannover!" Clark yelled back. "Singh's terminating everyone on his shit list! If I can get to base comms, I can tell everyone what's really going on and then we might have a chance! Of course, none of that matters if we die right now!"

"Where are you in the base?"

"We're on the fourth level!"

Another bullet zinged past Clark. The crates were beginning to break down.

"Clark!" Emilia shouted, firing at the mercs. "Tell Coats to take goddamn message!"

"Where on the fourth level?"

"I don't know! The west side?!"

"You've got to be sure!"

"Fuck! Yeah, I think we're on the west side!"

"How deep in the base?"

"I don't fucking know!" yelled Clark. The crate above him actually burst into pieces as enemy gunfire shredded the remains of his cover. It wasn't going to hold much longer.

"It's important! Are you near the edge?"

"Yes! We're near the damn edge!"

"Then get down!"

Clark didn't question it. The order was ingrained in every soldier's head, no matter what species or what kind of soldier.

"Everybody down!" Clark yelled at his squad. His body flattened against the ground as crate fragments rained down on his back, bullets narrowly missing the reach of his shields. Time was up.

Boom.

The entire world disappeared in a flash of white. A whine filled his ears, he tasted bile in his throat, his skin burned as if scalded, and smoke blocked his nose. Then his vision cascaded into a rainbow of colors: first red, then all the way down to purple before abruptly turning to black. He vaguely felt his body being flipped over by something, and his numb face slid against what felt like the floor. Finally, he stopped moving as the back of his helmet fell against the ground with a solid clunk.

Nothing moved.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Clark rolled over. His bones popped and his muscles ached as he arched his back, slowly bringing his head up. Something seemed wrong with his visor and he lifted it, clearing his vision. There appeared to be a skycar in the hallway.

He blinked. There was a skycar in the hallway. The armored vehicle sat atop a pile of rubble, with pieces of blue armor stuck in the rocks. The car door opened, and Major Coats stepped out, followed by three Blue Suns.

Clark attempted to say something, anything to warn Coats of the impending danger behind him. The major walked towards him unnoticed as Clark croaked, "…mercs…"

"Clark!" said Coats, grasping the captain's arm and lifting him to his feet. "Are you all right?"

The captain stared at the mercs, confused and also a bit dazed. "What…about them?"

Coats jerked his head towards the mercenaries, who were busy helping Krogh and Emilia. "They were part of my squad on the mission. I was going to say a lot happened on my mission, but it looks like you have me beat. What's going on?"

Then Clark remembered the situation, and his expression turned serious. "Commander Singh. He's killing basically all non-Blue Suns personnel in the base."

"What?" The major turned around to Devon. "How long has he been planning this?"

The veteran shrugged. "If the Commander was keeping it under the rug, then I don't have a clue."

"He probably wouldn't have told anyone except people close to him," said Krogh, coughing dust and blood as he made his way to the car. "If he's going to be hiding underground for an extended period of time, then he'll try to limit the number of people hiding with him to conserve resources."

"Wait, Commander Singh is killing everyone?" said Carter in disbelief.

"Yes," snapped Emilia. "Your precious commander is killing everyone because he's a conceited, self-preserving son of a bitch who would blow up the world if he got a free ride off first."

"Why would the Commander do that?" said Jarar, confused. "He's our commander."

"Because the only men he actually cares about are his closest," replied Clark simply. "And his most trusted soldiers are up on the roof with him right now. Anyone else is expendable."

"I don't believe it," said Carter.

Devon shrugged. "I'm unsurprised."

Clark looked at the three Blue Suns. "Whether you believe it or not are up to you guys. The only thing that matters are whether you're with us, or against us."

"I personally prefer the first option," said Krogh quietly. "Of course, it's up to you all."

The mercenaries looked at each other. Carter bit his lip, and Jarar's hung his head. Devon shrugged.

"Sure, why not?" said the veteran.

"And why do you not care?" said Clark curiously.

"I've worked with a fair number of people before in my life," answered Devon. "I'm used to betrayal at this point. With the commander, that seems likely."

"Now that that's finished," agreed Coats. "What's the plan?"

"We get to the command center in Central Operations," Clark replied, rapidly walking towards the other end of the hallway. "There, we can make a couple of announcements."

"We don't have to go that far," said Devon, shaking his head. "Command is above us. Every important room in this fort has some sort of emergency escape built into it. The command center is no exception. If we go the usual way, we'll likely be shot on sight."

"Okay," said Coats. "Do you know where the escape is?"

"Not for Central Operations," said Devon, and looked to his left. "But I'm betting Veravius does."

Coats looked to Jarar. It seems he still harbors some loyalty for his superiors.

The corporal looked about as uncomfortable as turians could look. "There is an emergency ladder connecting Central Operations with the kitchen in the mess hall," Jarar reported hesitantly. "Next to the freezers."

"Thank you," said Emilia. "Now let's get moving."

"Joe. Joe! Damn it, Joe! Wake the fuck up!"

"Wait, what?" Joe sprang to his feet, shotgun in hand. "What the fuck's going on?"

"You were taking a nap," snarled the mercenary. "Again. You're going to get us killed! And I don't mean killed by those Alliance soldiers, either."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Joe sat back down in his chair and faced the door. His shotgun lay on his lap, pointed at head-level.

The mercenary was not impressed. "Joe, if you fall asleep again, Lieutenant Mason is going to fucking murder you. And that's not a joke."

"I get it, Lance," said Joe. "Besides, why the fuck am I doing watching this door? It's locked, and it's the only way in here. Someone else is bound to notice someone walking through the front door."

"You think I make the rules?" Lance hissed from behind him. "If Commander Singh wants it done, it's done."

"There's nothing valuable in Central Operations anyways," grumbled Joe. "Who the fuck would break in here?"

"Those Alliance guys, for starters."

"There's nothing in here to take! Besides, it's not like they could get at the Commander. They'd need, like, explosives or some shit like that. And they're not getting at those, either."

Joe scratched his head. "So Lance, I think you should just tell Lieutenant Mason to fuck off. Yeah. Tell him that."

Silence. Joe scratched his arm; he was just itchy today. "Lance? Come on; don't ignore me. You know I hate that."

Joe felt a queasy feeling in his stomach. "Lance?"

Something cold and metal pressed against the back of the merc's neck. Joe's hand unconsciously tightened on his shotgun.

"Don't even think about it," said a female voice behind him. "This is a Volkox VIII sniper rifle, with an extended barrel and armor-piercing ammunition. I could shoot through you and the door right now."

Joe's hands noticeable relaxed. "Yeah. Uh, I get it. What is it you want me to do?"

"Drop the shotgun."

The weapon clattered to the floor. "Anything else?"

"Keep your mouth shut and your hands still unless we say so?"

Sweat rolled down his neck. "We?"

Joe heard someone else walked past him. A well-armed soldier stood in front of him, pistol gripped tightly on his side. His eyes zeroed in on Joe.

"We don't have much time," he stated, twirling the pistol in his hand. "So try to make this fast. Where are the explosives?"

"Explosives?" said the merc nervously. "I don't know what the fuck…"

Coats leaned in closer, letting the barrel of his pistol drift towards the mercenary's leg. "You just talked about it with your friend there? Actually, do you want to see Lance right now? You could go talk to him in an instant. We can arrange that."

Joe swallowed. "There's an armory on this floor. Of course, Singh's probably cleared the whole thing out by now, but there's a chance he might have had to leave some of it since he started pretty early…"

"Where. Is. It?"

"Down the hallway on the right. Round the corner, and make a left at the intersection. Armory should be directly in front of you."

Coats smiled. "Thank you."

With that, the major quickly smashed the butt of his pistol against the side of the man's head, knocking him to the ground. "Clark? Make the announcement."

The captain's finger hovered over the intercom button. "Will do, Major."

Commander Singh was a somewhat patient man. He had to be in order to stay in his line of work. Demanding contractors, annoying targets, the occasional mutiny; all routine in a day's work for a mercenary.

However, this was getting ridiculous.

"What the hell do you mean you haven't found them yet?" Singh seethed into his mike. "It's three Alliance soldiers; I don't care if they're special operations or if the base is too big! I have half of our forces running around the base. Even the new recruits have been sent out! Tell me, Lieutenant, how is it that you can't even stop three soldiers when we've been fighting Reaper forces for weeks!"

The call ended. A young-looking officer bustled up to the commander, throwing up his arm in salute. Singh sighed, waving him down.

"Commander Singh," he reported. "We lost contact with Sergeant Hamil. He was in charge of checking their barracks."

"Well, I guess I know what happened to him," said Singh, gritting his teeth. "Where is Lieutenant Mason?"

"A few minutes ago he reported that he had divided his forces to comb the third level. They haven't found anything as of yet."

Singh nodded slowly. "They'll come up here, eventually. Even if my men don't find them, they will come here. Have you heard from Captain Pershing?"

"No contact at all, sir. It might be safe to assume that the mission ended badly, considering what happened to Lieutenant Hook's mission to the hospital."

"I was not expecting good results in any case," replied Singh, resting his arms on a terminal. "Still, though. There were at least two squads on that mission that I would have liked to remain here with us. It is a shame that we lost them."

"Commander Singh!" barked a young mercenary, running to his superior. "We have a situation developing in the upper levels."

"What's the situation?" demanded Singh.

"We've lost contact with Central Operations. And there hasn't been any word from Lieutenant Mason since he decided to investigate."

"The soldiers are on the third level," said the commander, stepping past the mercenary. "Send Lieutenant Burnes there immediately. I want all available refugee divisions on the third level. Now."

"We've got them now," the officer crowed. "We can easily close off the pathways to Central Operations. Why would they go there?"

"It makes no sense—

"Attention, people of Fort Hannover."

Something crawled down Singh's back, an unsettling, cold sensations that sent shudders running over his body. They wanted the intercom system.

"This is Captain James Clark of the Systems Alliance military. For a relatively short time, I have been staying with you in the shelter of Fort Hannover. Commander Singh's forces have guaranteed that all of us will survive this terrible time."

"Or have they?"

Commander Singh gritted his teeth. No one will listen to him. What is the point?

"For the past few weeks, maybe longer, Commander Singh has been lying to all of you. He doesn't want to save people. He just wants to save his own skin. He's been using you all, even some of his men, to gather supplies so that he and his lieutenants will be the ones to make it out alive."

Utter foolishness, Singh thought. "Officer, take Lieutenant—

"Maybe I'm not very believable. But Commander Singh is believable, isn't he? I'm going to play something for all you. I hope you enjoy it…"

There was silence. The air was tense, palpable, as if someone could literally feel the pressure in the air as the intercom crackled for a few seconds. No one could speak, not even Commander Singh.

Then, in a voice everyone could recognize…

"We have to prepare to seal off the surface."

"But we're behind schedule. We haven't met our supply quota for the past few weeks. We won't have enough to sustain our entire population as it is now."

"As it is now."

"Yes. We have roughly one hundred and twenty seven people in this base. Our supplies, as of this moment, could last us half a year at best."

A pause.

"You are correct. We do not have the necessary resources to sustain our current population. So, we will have to…reorganize a bit."

"I have already prepared the list of potential personnel."

"Now, now. We can't afford to be reckless, not now. We will remove the Alliance personnel from the base first, then the refugees. Tell the people that they attempted to stage a coup."

"They'll believe that."

The recording ended.

Almost immediately afterwards, half of the men on the rooftop began shouting, yelling at the man who they had thought to be their leader. A few of them began marching towards Singh with seething glares, shouting obscenities and brandishing their weapons.

The commander was only slightly perturbed. After all, there was always a contingency.

"Code Alpha-Alpha-Two-Two-One-Four-Nine," said Singh into his omni-tool, backing up. "All unnecessary personnel. Immediately."

Commander Singh's key to success, his coup de grace. Since he was assigned commander of a Blue Suns company, Singh had developed a core group of trusteds lieutenants. Alongside that, he had also formed a group of individuals that were unquestionably loyal to him. They had learned the value of staying with Singh. Those who did got to keep their heads at the end of the day.

So when Commander Singh initiated the signal for termination protocol, his "men" carried out his orders: swiftly and decisively. Unsuspecting mutineers were quickly mowed down, shot or knifed in the back. Most attempted to fight back against their former comrades but were quickly overwhelmed by Singh's deadly corp of soldiers.

Some were more resourceful. A few of the rebels entered some of the armored vehicles that Commander Singh had seen fit to bring up to the landing pad in case of the need for a quick escape. However, what they didn't realize was that Singh had placed hidden charges within the engines in case anyone had tried to desert. Mutiny was close enough. Soon, a line of burning cars appeared along the edge of the landing pad.

Within a minute, the short-lived rebellion was put down. Commander Singh's boots echoed as he slowly walked past the bodies lying on the ground, surveying the scene. The same mercenary from before ran next to Singh.

"Commander, sir!" said the merc nervously. "We're getting reports of refugee conscripted fighting back against the officers, sir. They won't listen anymore. Orders?"

"All unnecessary personnel," Singh repeated tightly. "Immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Commander Singh turned to his remaining men. "Barricade the entrance to the landing pad," he ordered, and his men obeyed. "Fuse the side doors and lock the emergency exit ladder. If they come up here, they're going to have to walk through the front door."

As he talked, Singh gazed at the armaments on the landing pad. Five gunships, three of which would be armed and ready for immediate aerial support if necessary. Two "tanks", slow-moving armored vehicles that boasted guns powerful enough to destroy half of the landing pad. Numerous machine gun emplacements ready to fire at a moment's notice. And soldiers ready to kill when ordered. Nothing compared to the virtual army at the commander's disposal a week ago, but still formidable and impressive.

Aside from that, the commander had one more ace up his sleeve as well.

"Also," said the Commander. "Bring those two here. Behind me."

"Yes, sir," said the mercenary, and ran off.

"You've played your hand, Captain Clark," said Singh to himself. "Now you can see mine."

"Major Coats."

The major turned to the captain, turning his head to a slightly uncomfortable position. "Yes, Captain?"

"Are you sure this will work?"

"I'm not positive," grunted Coats, hefting another block in front of the entrance. "But it'll have to do."

"Right."

"Jarar, are you in position?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Make sure to hold it tightly. Krogh, are you ready?"

"Yes. Standing by for orders."

Major Coats took a deep breath and clutched his sniper rifle tightly. It could be our last journey together.

"Even so," muttered Coats. "I'm glad it was with you guys."

"What?" said Clark. "Are you talking to yourself?"

"Never mind that," Coats dismissed.

"Come on, guys," said Emilia. "Stop being so morbid. This'll be easy. Just point and shoot."

"A gross oversimplification, but conceptually sound," mused Krogh. "She's right."

"I get it," said Coats. "Now blow the charges!"

Joe the mercenary had been right: the armory was picked clean. Almost. A few decent-sized explosives remained in the corners of the room, and there were a couple of thermal clips left lying around. The explosives had been obviously employed well. With that exception, there was almost no possible way for Major Coats and the group to break through Singh's fortified position.

Even with that daunting threat in mind, nothing could stop Coats from detonating the sizeable explosives that literally ripped the entrance to the landing pad apart. On the other side, the flash and force of the explosion was bright enough to blind and stun Commander Singh and his men momentarily. That delay was just enough.

It was true that they had lacked the firepower to fight the Blue Suns. However, the real treasure had lain in the trunk of their salvaged skycar. Upon opening it, Jarar had discovered a treasure trove of weapons. Heavy weapons. Specifically, one heavy weapon in particular had caught Coats's attention. He had given it to Krogh, who was sure to know how and where to fire the weapon effectively.

In the small delay, Krogh charged the heavy weapon. After a few seconds, the lieutenant aimed and fired the nuke.

"Nuke" was also a gross oversimplification. The M-920 Cain was a portable particle accelerator that fired warp fields which crushed and warped the ambient materials in the air and its own small rounds. There was no nuclear fallout with the Cain's rounds. The overwhelming force created would rebound with frightening explosive force, enough to produce a miniature dust cloud that resembled a mushroom. However, "nuke" was also an apt name in terms of effectiveness.

Coats remembered to close his eyes and dim his visor right before the explosion. Smart move.

BOOM.

The nuke shattered and shook the air as the explosion tore apart the proud bunker that had stood atop Fort Hannover. The sheer force of the Cain's explosive payload blew vehicles and mercenaries alike away. The entire landing pad flashed white and red, painting a massive circle of charred metal on its surface. Commander Singh was lucky enough to have landed on an unfortunate mercenary behind him.

Major Coats and everyone else charged into the heat, firing at the mercenaries still groaning and moaning on the ground. However, Singh's forces were well-trained. Within seconds, the entire remaining contingent of Blue Suns rose to their feet, firing back at the invaders. Coats and company quickly took cover behind overturned vehicles and waited. Soon, the Blue Suns had also stopped firing, after they had quickly gravitated behind cover.

Major Coats's voice was loud and clear.

"Your move, Commander Singh."

His boots clattered loudly against the still floor of the landing pad as Singh made his way to the front of his men. The commander stopped, and drew his pistol.

"You've ruined everything, Major," said Singh with grim determination. "We could have outlasted the Reapers."

"That's bullshit," yelled Emilia. "The only thing you're doing is taking away the resources real soldiers need to fight those monsters."

"Now we need more supplies, since you've seen fit to rampage through Fort Hannover," said Commander Singh thoughtfully. "I believe that Admiral Anderson is the key to finding those resources."

"I'm no closer to finding him than you are, Commander," replied Major Coats.

Singh's eyes flashed. "And that's where you're wrong."

The commander paced. "You fight a lost cause, Major. Nothing can stand up to the Reapers. All we can do is sit back and cut our losses."

Major Coats was dangerously close to shouting. "Those 'losses' you're referring to are trillions of people!"

"It's natural for many to die so that a few may live," quoted Singh. "That's how the world works, Major Coats. Which leads me to my next point. My ace in the hole, so to speak."

Oh no.

A body slammed against the surface of the landing pad in front of Singh. Blood suffused the once proud armor of the Alliance soldier on the ground. His eyes were closed, and his head was cocked at an unnatural angle. Commander Singh stepped over him. One of the mercenaries behind him held up another Alliance soldier.

"Kevin Carson was undoubtedly a fine soldier, Major Coats," said Singh. "His brother might still be one, if you lay down your weapons."

"Singh!" Emilia screamed as she jumped out from behind the truck faster than Coats could see. As her rifle pointed at Singh's head, another mercenary stepped in front of Singh. The mercenary's expression was neutral as an omni-shield blossomed in front of his face.

Krogh also joined his fellow marine as he aimed his shotgun at Singh. His expression was neutral, but the muscles in his neck were taut and he was shaking slightly.

The commander raised his pistol to Daniel's head. "Drop your weapons, Alliance soldiers. Or Daniel dies."

No. Not again.

"Major Coats," said Clark slowly. His face stayed on Coats, but his body and weapon stretched towards Singh. "What are you thinking? What's the plan?"

Coats stared at his pistol, his hands. His limbs visibly shook as his eyes looked downward.

Leo.

I'm sorry about the repost guys! I'll be sure to triple check my work before I put it up next time, which shouldn't be that far away actually! Hope you all liked it! If you would, please review my story; I keep telling people that I actually pay attention to the reviews and improve on the story based on those reviews. They really are helpful! Thanks again.