3-2-2157 1442 hours (Alliance standard time)

HS-3 Stormer Transport Shuttle

Attican Traverse

En route to Torfan

Even with all the preparation taken and the new equipment issued, Hower felt the familiar sensation of anxiety. Considering the essential role his group was assigned, very few could criticize. Adding to the pressure, unlike previous missions where the N7s enjoyed the support of entire armies, the small strike team traveled on their own.

The entire JSF flotilla had taken an entirely different route from the galactic standard, using their alternate FTL modes to bypass a few Relays, eliding the chaotic transportation nodes filled with observant traders – and informants. A small human flotilla, one composed by the Alliance's own member nations, operating this deep in the Traverse would certainly raise questions. Jump by jump, engaging in such paranoid tactics that the apparently legendary Salarians would take notice, the ships reached their target system. Charts listed it as a mere series of numbers and letters, unimportant to any power that mattered. But to the JSF, anonymity meant safety, and the unnamed system was close enough to Torfan to require a single jump with their secondary FTL engines.

'Silent. Deadly. Unseen.' The motto of their elite.

Hower's attention diverted to the feed of several stealth-spy UCAAV drones the JSF managed to insert undetected into Torfan's system, monitoring what furtive traffic used the system.

"Receiving updates from the drones," Velasquez announced from her position. "Two heavy corvettes and one frigate have departed from the moon. Twelve corvettes, seven frigates, five cruisers, and two battle cruisers remain."

Hower strode to the cockpit, doing his best to look calm. He saw the nervous actions, and who could blame them? Their forces consisted of but a single shuttle, filled with nine soldiers and a lone traitor – pitted against the defenses of a moon that had been constructed and constantly modified centuries before. Part of him couldn't believe his years of experience and leadership had led him to this destination, this one point of his life.

"Everyone prep your gear and get ready. The operation rests on this phase," he said. "ETA for real-space?"

"Ninety seconds max. You may want to seek a zuchen place before we land," their batarian pilot responded. The alien's voice grated on his nerves, harsh and uncaring, like the veterans that had seen too much war.

Hower looked through external viewpoint, and stared into the abyss. The vast system of stars and planets shimmered by as the shuttle propelled itself faster than the speed of light itself. The azure mists of lightspeed collapsed beyond the viewport, allowing planetoids streak into visibility, fixed into place by forces beyond his ken. In the center lay a moon, devoid of visible life, its entire landscape composed of rock and sand. If not for the presence of gritty metal structures in sporadic positions, the moon would have looked almost serene in the calmness of space. Or it would have, if not for the obviously hostile ships orbiting above its atmosphere, restrained fury evident in their every line. It brought a mother bear to his mind, daring anything to strike her cubs.

"Vertugn," Han said. "We're coming in." He sat alone in the shuttle's lone pilot chair, armed giants ready to end his life for a single mistake. The pressure was on everyone for this mission to succeed. He waved Hower forwards, with barely a backward glance.

It was strange, Hower thought, to see the batarian so calm and confident, as if he wasn't selling members of his own race for personal revenge. He looked almost comfortable with the events about to unfold.

"What am I looking at?" He squinted at the moon, eager to capture every visible feature. From so close, the shuttle's systems could make out the specks of anti-ship Mass Accelerator cannons and the profiles of several ships as they maintained formation.

The moon's surface is covered with enough weaponry to deter anything short of a full combat Hierarchy fleet within six hundred kilometers of its gravity field. Lucky for us, they won't be expecting an infiltration." Han gestured at an invisible line, one they'd passed. "With my access codes, we'll be able to land undetected, but they will insist on inspecting the shuttle."

"Assuming," Stenzke added, "The Hegemony hasn't logged them as overdue."

"Or belonging to a general currently listed as missing in action," Han grunted.

"And if they have?" Hower questioned.

"Then," Han answered, showing crooked, sharp teeth, "They target the shuttle, bombard it with everything this hemisphere has, and we're annihilated. Survivors would die in the cold, vacuum of space of course."

"That's just terrific." The commander replied.

"In the event we all fail," Han continued. "You are all acceptable souls to be vaporized with."

Stenzke let out the huff of a half laugh. Hower could sympathize, cynical humor was something that eased tension.

"Bonus for us: our new suits offer protection from space." Bellec chimed in. "We have a chance even then."

"Won't matter if you're vaporized along with the shuttle," Frost countered. "A suit can't take an anti-tank shell, let alone a dreadnought-grade round."

"Are you all like this in these situations?" Saren asked from the back.

Hower turned his head, a smile hidden beneath his helmet. "No, this is unusually optimistic for us."

Looking forwards again, he dug his fingers into cheap fabric lining seat's backing, and resisted the urge to lean. The shuttle veered gently towards the moon, the specks of defenses and ships growing larger. Twin heavy battle cruisers, apparent by the extra armor on their hulls, loomed like monstrous statues over the moon, dwarfing the swarms of cargo shuttles, transports, and defense fighters.

Only during the ground war on Shanxi had Hower seen more batarian activity, though he imagined the presence they held in space would have been much more ominous than the segments he'd fought in various cities.

"Mirë, so far so good." Han glanced up at the battle cruisers before returning his attention to the scanners. "It's usually not this busy, but should be useful. To them, we're just another ship not worth monitoring. Here we go …"

The shuttles thrusters rumbled, deck plating trembling as the course was locked and the vessel accelerated through the vast distance separating itself from the moon's gravity. Han worked the comm with one hand and said without a hitch, "Hegemony transport shuttle ME-312 requesting permission to land."

Hower straightened his back, staring intently at the swarming vessels. Han was steadily proving his worth, though he was careful not to trust the batarian any more than necessary. This was the moment he either remained loyal to the cause or fanatically chose to obliterate everyone aboard for his race.

"Transport shuttle ME-312, you're not listed on the arrival schedule," the voice on the comm said. The operator sounded vaguely puzzled.

Han had a steady and confident reply ready. "Acknowledged, traffic control. I am here to inspect the moon's defenses and supervise the destruction of any evidence tying Torfan's activity to the Hegemony's 16th fleet on the orders of Admiral Ban himself. Transmitting officer and identification codes."

The consoles hummed softly before going silent as the dispatch finished. Hower flinched as he heard a sound from behind. He glanced over to see Saren, who seemed to sense the mood, pausing just outside the cockpit.

"Transport shuttle ME-312?" The voice on the comm had returned. "Codes are verified and you are cleared for entry. Proceed to landing pad F-13."

Hower squeezed his hand in a fist, almost shouting in triumph. He spun and gave a nod to Saren. "Go tell the others."

With a nod, the Spectre disappeared into the gut of the shuttle. The descent through Torfan's thin atmosphere, possibly the result of a giant mass barrier, was so smooth as to be almost unnoticeable. The shuttle hurtled over the specks of rocky terrain and slowed only upon approaching a site set aside dedicated for the sole purpose of landing craft. Even without direction, Hower would have recognized it as such; scorch marks, plus a single extended furrow from a particularly unskilled pilot pinpointed the location with exactitude.

Various consoles, set in place by machines all oriented towards the platform indicated it was also a site for resupply, for both terrestrial and atmospheric forces. Mobile workshops, armories, fuel pumps, and service garages littered the area. Other shuttles and even a squadron of interceptors circled the site, spiraling down or rising from the two dozen landing pads. Hower nodded in approval: the machines, purposed to fuel the enemy war machine deep in slumber, would serve as cover for the Spectre team to advance undetected.

A voice came through the comm, bored but professional. "ME-312 clear for landing pad F-13. Acknowledge, please."

"ME-312 proceeding to LP-F13 as instructed." Han replied.

The shuttle banked, dipping below the top of a monolithic fortress, rising from the centermost pile of unmodified stone. The sound of armored boots clanking on metal was heard followed by the appearance of a turian Spectre.

"The main building there," Saren said. "What is it?"

"That's your goal, or at least part of it," Han enlarged the image on a secondary screen. "The base's Citadel command and control tower for this whole facility on the surface. All of the base's data is stored there."

"Can we gain access to the anti-ship cannons from there?" Saren asked.

Han shook his head. "No, just data. The command console for the Mass Accelerators are located in a different area."

Hower was tempted to ask Han to do a second flyby, but decided against it. Confirming what they largely knew wasn't worth drawing suspicion. "Can we gain data over where the captives are being held?"

"If the data is anywhere on this Pillars-Forsaken rock, that's where it'll be."

'They better be.' Hower thought. They'd built their whole operation around finding the location of the human captives. If by some chance the data had been scrubbed, if by any chance Han was wrong and the data had been moved to another location … they had a big problem.

Activating his helmet's built in binoculars, Hower noticed movement atop a tower: the subtle readjustment of a massive single array. "And that dish at the top of the tower? What is it for?"

"That would be the communication's tower," Han answered. "Every channel in and out of this base goes through that dish. Normal transmissions can't penetrate the moon's crust, and a normal dish doesn't have the bandwidth necessary to handle everything on-base at once. I also imagine you can gain access to the moon's defenses near there, if anywhere."

Hower pictured the soldiers in the cabin below, remembering each of their dossiers. It didn't take long for him to stop at the salarian Spectre. He had a vague recollection of the commando taking out numerous stations of similar size. Glancing at Saren, he said, "I won't be able to spare any of my squad; I would suggest your Salarian Spectre take out that dish, and then hack the comms and surface defenses."

"That is why we're here. Don't worry we'll get it done."

"Landing tracks engaged," Han ignored their exchange.

Hower stepped away from the viewport. He didn't expect anyone to spot him, but didn't dare take the chance. "Security?" he asked. "How does it look?"

"The usual," Han responded. "Thus far they have no reason to suspect anything from us, but it's still tight I assure you."

Hower watched the jagged crevices of the terrain, its white surface resembling a desert. For an instant, he caught a glimpse of an armored convoy's boxy outline, large enough to wipe out an infantry company. If the base's defenses were similarly geared towards infantry combatants … the odds were heavily stacked against them.

"Well," Stenzke murmured. "We've faced worse odds."

"No," Hower replied. "We haven't. Not by a long shot."

There was a total of nine soldiers in the main cabin. Nine people waiting to fight and die, half of them looking to Hower for guidance. He'd listened to their chatter during the flight, caught a handful of playful banter between the two groups. They'd swapped war stories, jokes, and barbs, bonding the way soldiers did. All were highly experienced, dedicated soldiers, and yet their numbers didn't even reach the double digits. It was moments like this that Hower lived for, discovering a rich bond that would otherwise remain hidden in any other profession. A bond between strangers resembling that of kin.

Painfully, he realized a part of the heavy responsibility of leadership: no one spoke to Hower, unless he spoke first. He shook away the thought, catching their attention at the same moment. "We've touched down and are waiting for an inspection team to arrive." The soldiers rose, tightened the grips on their weapons, and secured their equipment. Once that was settled, all eyes fell upon him.

'Guess I'm giving a speech now,' Hower thought, standing before the small team of elite warriors.

He didn't bother to raise his voice above the deck plating rattle. Headsets geared to pick out surveillance overrides a dozen meters away could pick out his voice with no effort. Attitude spoke louder than words; confidence, and honesty. "They say a cornered animal will fight like a demon."

No one heckled him. No one raised questions. Even the non-humans respected the moment.

"They have no idea we're coming; no reason to expect us. When we reach our first objective, we'll take a chance and go on to the next. And the next after that, and the next after that. On and on, until we either win or we die." Hower let the anger he kept stoked for occasions such as this flare up. Faked emotion rarely fooled anyone; his squad deserved the best he could give. Honesty. "Their prisoners – our people – are down there, beneath that sun-blasted surface. You know what we'll do: my team will find our people. The Spectres have our backs. If it has four eyes, kill it. If it isn't with us, it's dead. Shanxi is depending on us. Humanity is depending on us. They will tell our story told to future generations, so make sure it's one worth hearing."

There was no applause, but soldiers, elite soldiers, didn't need theatrics. He could have promised them their lives, could have promised fame and fortune, but none of those things could be guaranteed. There were no certainties in war, only that many would die, and a few would live. Hower hoped that was enough.

Saren stepped forward before anyone's attention could drift. "Dozz and Vasir, you are the main fireteam. I want you to go north, get wide of the shuttle. Hack the defenses, and rain hell on these bastards. Maerun and I will take the communications tower. Make each man feel like a hundred. Get the place ready for the main force."

"And what is my role in this?" Han called, climbing down from the cockpit. He flicked his eyes around them. "We never discussed my part after this point."

"Keep the engine running," Saren said. "Until the main force arrives, you will be our primary method of extraction."

'Assuming we're still alive,' Hower thought. He would have said it aloud, but even, as a seasoned veteran he knew himself to be, knew enough to not ruin the moment. Besides, everyone probably had the same thought running through their minds.

A fierce grin curled his lip upward. Gathered around him were some of the bravest soldiers he had ever met. Courageous, committed, and battle-hardened. None would dare shy away from either battle or death. Trouble would be met with bullets, or worse.

"All right then," he eased his rifle into an easier carry position. "Stations." It felt ironic to him; the best the Alliance had to offer, the best the Council space government could send, this strange band of brothers made their next move, preparing for their righteous crusade upon the enemy … by immediately hiding in any pockets of space available and disguising any trace of their presence. In silence, they waited for the inspection team to arrive, their hearts pumping – fear of discovery, yet eagerness for the same.

The cargo inspection went as well as Hower could have hoped. Luckily the shuttle was built to carry and supply twelve fully armed passengers, so it was simple enough for nine soldiers to hide, even laden with full combat gear. Frost had the easiest time; he simply stood in place and activated his JSF cloak, concealing him fully. Hower on the other hand, had to stuff himself into a minor pocket in the cockpit, squeezed between Bellec's frame and the main console.

He listened as the boarding ramp descended, heard booted feet against the metal deck, and Han make quick introductions in the main cabin. The murmurs of the inspection team echoed shallowly around his helmet, foreign syllables in his untrained ear. But especially, he listened for the sound of seven men and women crammed into small spaces like refugees, and was delighted when his ears came back empty. All was dead silent, save for Han and the inspection team.

"You would probably like to look at the manifest," Han said, sounding even more confident and composed than before.

"That would certainly be helpful." Another voice, curt and officious, said.

"It's just up here."

Hower wrapped his fingers around his Avenger's grip. Mentally, he calculated the number of steps needed to spring out of the cockpit; one leap if he needed to, probably eliminating the entire inspection team without taking a single round. But the mission required stealth, not action. He heard the creak of a cargo hatch swinging open, followed by a brief, muffled cry before the sounds of multiple impacts vibrated through the deck. Not a single round was fired.

Quickly, he scrambled forward, fumbling his way through the cockpit and into the main cabin to see Dozz swaggering from the cargo compartment. If the faceplate had been any less opaque, Hower would have claimed to see the salarian with a terrifying smile on his face.

Han stood calmly, nodding in silent respect to the professional take down. The inspection crew lying dead without a single drop of blood. "We're off to a good start," he said as the rest of the strike team emerged.

"Speaking of which," Hower said, taking a pair of polymer-based cuffs and wrapping one end to Han's wrist while attaching the other to a nearby pipe. "We wouldn't want you to get lost now would we?"

"Seems your smarter than you look." Was Han's reply, dipped more in slight annoyance than offence.

Ten minutes later, Hower managed to remove his battle-suit and equip a slightly too large batarian combat hard-suit. The black chest plate looked over-sized for him, and the sleeves felt a little too long over the ceramic gloves. The batarian helmet was a tight fit, but the uniform would have to suffice. He almost chuckled when he looked at Bellec, wearing a similar combat suit like it were perfectly tailored just for him. Even the identification tag on his chest was at a regulation angle.

"You look like a perfect batarian," he jabbed. Bellec simply ignored him.

Stenzke was the most reluctant of the group, both desiring to test out her new battle-suit and despising the enemy's garments. Ultimately, she came around after much convincing from the rest of the group. While it was unfortunate that there were only four members in the inspection team, Frost's cloak allowed him to remain invisible. The Spectres stowed away the dead bodies, sharing the newly hacked frequencies via their omni-tools.

"Frost since you're the only one invisible, you'll have to carry our gear until we find a suitable time to change back. Stay close to us, but be silent," Hower said.

"Do you forget who you're talking to?" Frost snarked, struggling as he shouldered the burden. The end result causing Frost to almost resembled a drug mule with all the load attached to his powered armor. Hower didn't relish knowing the extra weight would prevent Frost from his customary combat efficiency, but could do nothing to change the circumstances.

He checked his hijacked Krehlokk Flechette rifle, an ugly looking weapon, and Mauler pistol to make sure heat sinks were already inserted. He didn't want to run the risk of entering a firefight with an empty weapon. Saren made what he took as a ready signal for his Spectre team.

Properly orienting the batarian helmet, Hower looked at the boarding ramp seeming as if it were the gates of heavens. He felt a shadow at his side. Saren, with a touch as light as the wind, at Hower's shoulder. "Good luck to you."

Hower nodded in gratitude before stepping down the steps, soon followed by the rest of his squad. Together the team of marines that had faced down the grim reaper multiple times before, now wearing the garb of the enemy, stepped out onto Torfan. His instincts screamed at him as he left Han alone in the shuttle, but once again, could do nothing other than take the risk.

Despite having only, the dark expanse of space serving as its atmosphere, Torfan remained bright as a desert. Hower could taste filtered oxygen permeating through his helmet while the suit attempted adjusting its temperature to his; batarians evidently originated on a cold planet, making the interior cooler than necessary. He tried not to look at the shuttles thundering overhead, keeping his chin up and his eyes forward like the now vanished guards had before him. He wasn't sure how well he managed the act and could only hope it did not arouse suspicion. Out of the corner of his projected HUD, he could see Frost trailing behind the 'batarian' inspection crew, keeping up with them despite the extra gear he carried. His footsteps barely audible.

They marched down off the shuttle pad cramped with consoles, cargo crates, and power stations. From there, they followed a short trail to an aboveground bunker linked to a tram station that what little intelligence they had indicated led straight to the tower. Hower blinked away the light provided by immense structures and felt a sudden distant drowsiness, most likely a result of the helmet catering to a different species.

"Sir!" A guard said, tapping a button and the doors of a car slid open allowing the marines access, as the crew reached the terminal.

'Stay focused, Mike.'

"I'd say our odds keep getting better and better," Stenzke murmured.

"Stenzke!" Hower hissed.

"Shut up!" Frost added.

The doors closed, denying anyone else entry. Hower shook his head briskly and shifted his weight as the car hummed into motion.

"What did I say?" Stenzke asked, receiving no answer from.

'Focus,' Hower told himself again, even as he shifted his weight side to side, finding no outlet for his nervous energy and the tension building in his mind. He thought of the human flotilla awaiting for their signal to attack, of what their Spectre comrades were preparing to do on the other side of the battlefield.

"What is it?" Frost asked, his voice low and brisk. He ignored Hower's dismissive handwave, switching to a private channel where no one could overhear. "What is it?"

Hower twisted and peered through the window, the tower growing larger and larger against the dark horizon. "Just – nervous. Of the mission and consequences."

"What about it?" Frost asked.

He tugged awkwardly at one of the glove's fingers. "This mission … it's the first of its kind I have ever taken. I am used to fighting face to face in front of my enemy, not beneath their nose."

"And how is this any different?" Frost was being careful, showing nothing of his thoughts.

"Because," Hower felt irritation rise. "We're wearing the enemy's own clothes and there is a heavy risk of us getting killed by our own side. If we don't win this –" He gestured at the unseen stars. "– people will die in vain. We have to get that data. Save the civvies."

All of his fears rang true, yet none of it was what troubled Hower the most. The greatest fear he held was losing his friends and companions, the only family he had ever known.

"You're going to do fine," Frost muttered awkwardly. It held a compassion Hower rarely heard from the man, but it wasn't the answer he needed.

He would fight to the death to find those human captives. He would trust his team to push him down the course he needed to go. But if the mission went wrong, what then? If he were to lose anyone of them in the chaos …

His entire career he'd fought; for vengeance, for repentance, and for survival. If he fell to his own instincts, what then? He could risk himself for any of his team, but what if he found himself alone? Who would give him the strength to continue onward? The strength of the wolf is the pack, but what happens to the wolf if he loses his pack?

"We're slowing down," Bellec's voice interrupted his thoughts.

'Just focus, Mike.'

The railcar's hum changed in pitch and the dancing shadows relaxed their frenzy. "We'll need a map of the place," Bellec went on. "This place is too big and we're too vulnerable to wander around like girl scouts selling cookies."

Velasquez swiveled her head, but didn't look toward Bellec. "I'm sure there's one lying about."

"You know what you have to do," Hower answered.

The railcar came to a halt before its doors opened. They emerged into the entrance of Torfan's Citadel tower, where the darkness of space that had permeated the outdoors was gone – replaced by rows of illumination strips embedded in dark ceramic walls, and the occasional batarian guard moved at an unhurried pace down the line.

Given the large size of the structure, they were helpless without a map to offer guidance. Hower tugged at his combat hard-suit, becoming even more self-conscious of the ill-fitting uniform.

A security guard strolled past, heading to a discreet hallway cramped with stations and terminals. Hower nodded to Velasquez and they started a leisurely pursuit. He had to resist reaching for his rifle, reminding himself to stay calm. If they'd been detected, an alarm would have rung out. If the others had been detected, the whole base would have been in a frenzy.

They tracked the guard down the long corridor. When the soldier stopped in front of a console, Hower stationed himself against the wall to one side. Stenzke and Bellec took similar positions while Velasquez stalked the guard. With a single motion, Velasquez reached out with her armored hands in a tight chokehold. The guard let out a garbled wail that lasted no more than half a second; then he dropped to his knees as Velasquez stood over him, collecting his access codes before beginning to work on the console.

"Do it fast," Hower urged, maintaining an eye out for anymore guards. He stepped in front of the alcove, still watching down the corridor as if his body alone could block a view of the two soldiers, one of them unconscious. Bellec and Stenzke joined him, the additional bodies creating a barrier around their engineer while glancing down their own end of the corridor

"What is taking her so long?" Stenzke asked.

"High-level data. The whole complex is probably hardened against intrusion," Hower said brusquely. "Getting past their cyber-security would be a challenge."

"What not use your AI to help? I am sure that will speed things up."

Hower shook his head. "Our AI could be singled out as a foreign entity, like bacteria would to a body's immune system. This method may take longer, but it is much safer."

After nearly a minute, he asked. "Velasquez?"

Velasquez lifted her head from the console; it powered down beneath her hands, a single light on the side remaining the only indication it had been tampered with. "The human captives are being held nine hundred meters underground to our northeast, cell blocks A3 – A10 along with other species. From what I can see there are at least eight hundred batarians in our path. We'll probably get killed making it a third of the way there."

Stenzke grunted. "It's going to take a lot more than a large company of batarians to do that."

Bellec pushed the guard's body partially behind the console, stuffing it the rest of the way withoug comment. He gave a thumbs up signal.

"Let's hope everyone else is in position." Hower keyed commands on his comm link, switching to the frequency the Spectres would be using. "Saren, this is Commander Hower, my team has located the captives and are about to move toward the site. How are things on your end?"

"Everything is just about set. Dozz has deployed gas grenades into the ventilation system good news for you, bad news for your playmates. Charges are set on the comm tower and we've just gained access to their defenses. Get ready to call in the reinforcements. Your signal will be shiny explosions, upwards."

"Acknowledged," Hower said, ending the transmission. He took a moment to look back up and down the passage. No one shouted an alarm, no pulsating siren betrayed their presence.

"Looks like the plan is going off without a hitch. So far." Hower tried wiping sweat off his brow, succeeding only in slapping the faceplate of the strange helmet. He bit back a curse. "Let's double time it to the next objective and get out of these monkey suits before our friends arrive."


Slaver Base

Attican Traverse

Torfan

Saren Arterius placed a heavy amount of responsibility in the troops he led, such was the obligation of being a turian. Merit was the key to advancement in the Hierarchy and while Saren wasn't one to be arrogant, he realized the skills he possessed. It was the reason he had been chosen for the Spectres and why it fell upon him to lead some of the Council's greatest soldiers into combat.

In his short time, Saren had come to know each of his soldiers. He knew each of them down to their core, and trusted each with his life. Despite their being of different races, Saren respected their loyalty to the Council above all else, and knew he could rely upon their skills. He trusted his men's fire and fury, knowing they would not disappoint. Failure was simply not an option.

The same applied to the human force that they were now cooperating with. The competitive nature buried deep within Saren urged him to not be outshone by relative newcomers, but his rational side prevented it from taking over. In any military, pride was a common thing but it could also become dangerous if not kept in check. So, he would fight alongside a fledgling race to bring about a pivotal moment in history, one born to bring retribution where resurrection was impossible. All turians that had died from batarian terrorist attacks, both civilians and soldiers, would be avenged tenfold.

Crouching behind a shipping container, Saren watched as a guard blocking their path moved away. "Go!" he barked into the microphone. "Now! We're clear!"

Together the Spectres poured out of the landing pad, sliding through its shadows to avoid detection from the guards or shuttles. It mildly surprised Saren how easy it was to move through the ostensibly high-security base, but attributed it as the result of enemy lazy thinking. Just in case, however, he kept his suppressed Phaeston rifle up, continuing to walk in the shadows and leading the way.

They moved from the landing platforms into the jagged terrain of artificially made trenches, avoiding batarian patrols and spacecraft alike. With the severe lack of manpower, no one was left aboard the shuttle, something Saren did not enjoy thinking about. He had no leverage to keep the batarian general honest; all they could do was hope his thirst for vengeance outshone his loyalty to his brethren.

They wound their way deeper into the complex's surface, an artificial breeze doing wonders to cover their tracks. Saren knelt mid-stride, signaling for Dozz to move up. In perfect silence, his talons flickered in the hand signals requesting aerial surveillance.

Dozz complied, activating a drone, sending it to high altitudes. Monitoring the feed from the drone, the salarian Spectre observed the strength and formation of the enemy. His return gestures were easily interpreted: "Heavy enemy activity, armored convoy en route."

The turian Spectre flattened his mandibles. Not good, but expected. He repeated the 'danger close, stay low' signal.

Like the seasoned operatives they were, the group advanced closer to their objective, mindful to stray from enemy sights. The Spectres once again drew to a halt near a low hillock of terrain, their leader signaling to cease movement. Moving on his armored torso, Saren moved to the edge of the hill and peered over it. The rest of his team mimicked his actions, curiosity overriding caution.

With the aid of his helmet's zoom function, Saren made out the squat profile of a large structure, and the convoy Dozz had mentioned earlier. The Spectres watched as the batarian vehicles of all kinds, tanks, hover-tanks, trucks, and hundreds of foot soldiers, trundled past, vanishing over the horizon.

"Good thing we at least don't have to fight them," Maerun said, gaining a few nods.

Saren returned his attention to the large structure he had spotted earlier, noticing two squads of slavers standing around it. "Barracks," he murmured.

"And a large one," Vasir added, peering from her scope. "With luck, it'll be the only one in the area."

"More like a camp or outpost," Maerun said, eyeing the assortments of buildings, watch-towers, and warehouses.

From their vantage point, the entire camp was spread before them, much like a puzzle waiting to be solved. The Spectres could see guards ambling about in the compound, patrolling the area oblivious of being watched. They even had a perfect view to count the number of guards up in the towers.

It was from here that the team began discerning the general logic of the place, noting the relationships among the various buildings and the layout of the guard's paths. With these key nuggets of information, the Spectres began formulating a plan to deal with the area before moving on.

Slowly moving away from the edge, Saren sketched a map of the compound in the sand, caching notations through the VI in his helmet. His proficiency with firearms as well as assistance from his helmet's VI, allowed him to accurately triangulate the distances between all the camp's major features. Saren took copious notes on every conceivable feature – distances, elevations, building composition – everything. With all these details noted, Saren felt confident that he had everything he needed to tackle the obstacle before him, and sent the outline sketched in his VI to the others.

He signaled to Dozz; the salarian Spectre complied by handing out large explosives to each member. "This is as far as we go together," Saren said. "Fan out. Place your packages in the most opportune location. For now, there is no resupplying so pick your targets carefully. Dozz, you and Vasir move to the comm tower. Maerun and I will proceed to the cannon batteries."

"You sure you two can hack into the system's defenses?" Vasir asked. "Turian's aren't known for their hacking abilities."

"True, but asari aren't known for their resilience in frontal combat either," Saren retorted, smiling under his helmet. "We want chaos, and if the comm tower is disabled, their reserves won't detect anything unusual. As for the batteries, hacking may not be the Hierarchy's specialty, but you forget we are Spectres," He scanned the group and nodded sharply. "Once the charges are set, keep moving to the next location and don't stop for anything. I'll call the timing. Now go!"

The Spectres scattered into two groups, Dozz and Vasir going one way and the turian Spectres moving in another. Normal elites would have deemed the situation high risk – Spectres considered it 'hunting'.

Among the troopers who roamed the dirt paths, landing pads, and bunkers were many dressed in specialized armor for surface duty. Their armor was evidently light-weight and flexible, appropriate for rapid mobility. 'Vulnerable', Saren thought 'to hard swift strikes that broke legs and necks'.

Maerun managed to down the first two targets of the day, sweeping them off their feet before they could complete their patrol around a landing pad and catch a glimpse of Saren planting one of his explosive charges. Saren himself claimed another soldier not soon after, bursting from behind cover to wrap his talons around a neck encased in a black bodysuit, digging his sharp claws beneath the helmet's rim while pulling the unfortunate individual back into cover. He continued denying the enemy air until the helmet tumbled off, allowing Saren to slam the trooper's face against a rock. The slaver did not move again.

Likewise, the other pair of Spectres hunted in sync, Vasir always prowling near Dozz and vice-versa. The asari Spectre did not limit her targets to those endangering imminent discovery, but kept Dozz under observation nonetheless. Where stealth would fail Dozz, she would not. Her hands and arms quickly grew sore. Vasir was strong, but she was no krogan, and didn't have the luxury of using her weapons. She swallowed a thirst creeping from her body as Dozz planted a generous number of explosives on the enemy's barracks before moving away.

The two groups of Spectres soon retreated, the enemy none the wiser of their presence. With haste, the Spectres regrouped but shared no words, advancing until they came closer to their objective than before. The group split once again, Dozz and Vasir moving to the comm tower while Saren and Maerun stalked towards the moon's defense command console.

As the turian Spectres crept ever closer to the command console, Saren's awareness of potential detection deepended. Both he and Maerun quickly dispatched the guards standing near the console. Saren quickly went to work while Maerun kept an eye out for any enemy soldier.

"Saren, its DozzI've located the vents, and am releasing gas grenades. Don't know how many will be affected, but it should swing the odds in our favor a bit. Charges are already set on the comm tower. Waiting on your order."

"Copy, hold detonation until we hacked into the base's defense batteries."

"Acknowledged."

Relieved, Saren continued hacking into the console. His digits danced across the keys, careful not to trigger an alarm; Hegemony security, in comparison to the standard systems he knew, relied on paranoia-fueled identity checks, easily spoofed if the right background programs were known. Immense satisfaction bubbled to the surface as the display confirmed authority transfer to his console.

"Saren, this is Commander Hower, my team has located the captives and are about to move toward the site. How are things on your end?"

"Everything is just about set. Dozz has deployed gas grenades into the ventilation system good news for you, bad news for your playmates. Charges are set on the comm tower and we've just gained access to their defenses. Get ready to call in the reinforcements. Your signal will be shiny explosions, upwards."

"Acknowledged," Hower replied before the transmission was cut.

Saren altered the settings on the command batteries, setting a delay-timer to lock on the enemy fleet above, then preset all defenses getting ready to fire. An icon was displayed upon the console, requesting confirmation on the orders to fire. With a slight smirk, Saren pressed the icon inserting the command.

"Dozz, light it up!" Saren ordered. There was a moment of tranquil, empty silence, the slow churning of machinery and Mass Accelerator canons rotating before charging their barrels. Saren inhaled a deep breath, relieved their phase of the operation had been completed and enjoying the momentarily quiet before all hell broke loose.


HS-3 Stormer Shuttle

Attican Traverse

En route to Torfan

"Sir, we are entering Torfan's barrier gate," the pilot announced from the cockpit.

Solem Dal'Serah nodded in approval. The batarian in question was quite satisfied, earning just a hair under three billion credits in a single transaction, plus another hundred fifty million credits for a meager group of five hundred humans tended to do that. Intermediaries with secret benefactors were some of the most dangerous customers … and frequently the best … but good for business, every time. He'd suspected perhaps it was the Shadow Broker, it was well known he conducted business in such a fashion, but at the end of the day it didn't matter, so long as he was paid. Nothing could perturb him from his good mood. He stood on a metaphorical cliff of greatness, new wealth opening practically smashing open previously locked avenues of business, and best of all: this was merely the start.

With the Zak'kon batarians greatly pleased, news of Dal'Serah's merchandise would spread like wildfire. Already he'd received calls from government officials in Adek, requesting a large shipment of labor slaves. Considering the colony's pathogen-riddled ecosystem – coincidentally severely unfriendly to batarian physiology – it was expected they would desire a work force that could work under the colony's natural conditions.

This was where someone of Dal'Serah's ilk truly shone; as a matter of course, he stocked various species of slaves capable of existing in such an environment with ease. Given the nature of the situation, he believed the best solution were asari slaves; expensive at a million credits each, but profitable due to their large lifespans. Many were merely in their maiden stage, easily captured wandering through the galaxy in search of adventure or glory. To make up for their less than robust biology, Dal'Serah would be prepared to also sell off the majority of his krogan slaves as they had been a heavy burden to maintain and restrain. A personal addition to the order would consist of another five thousand human slaves that would certainly fetch a nice price. While this would drain nearly half of his remaining human captives, more raids upon lightly-defended human colonies could be easily financed. Or he could simply breed the species with those he already had; far slower, but a much more profitable angle in the long run.

Nevertheless, Dal'Serah was, in every way that mattered, the most influential and decorated batarian in the Traverse and would soon be powerful enough to claim the Terminus for himself. What warlords did not join him, he would crush and those that did would find immeasurable wealth. Under himself, of course.

"Beginning final descent now," the pilot called. With almost near-perfect accuracy, the shuttle touched down on the landing pad reserved solely for its singular passenger.

'Finally, two decades of labor bear fruit, and it is certainly an exquisite taste,' Dal'Serah thought, climbing out of his seat. He disembarked with his escort of batarian external forces, waved a brusque acknowledgement at the trooper who'd come to guide him off the executive landing pad.

Dal'Serah quickly overtook his guide as he disembarked the lift and made for the base's Citadel command center. General Vener, the commanding officer of the garrison, and his soldiers stood at attention as Dal'Serah entered.

"Sir!" Vener declared. "Glad to have you amongst us again. How did the transaction go?"

A wide smile appeared upon Dal'Serah's face as he embraced the general. "My friend we are three billion credits richer and this is just the beginning. We already have an interested party from Adek, possibly five thousand workers!"

"That is good news, sir." Vener congratulated.

"Indeed, it is. Have your men make the appropriate preparations. I want the order completed by the end of today if possible."

"I'll put a hundred men on it immediately."

With that, Dal'Serah took a seat at a station overlooking the horizon. Its sights were pleasing, allowing him to be lost in the moment. If his fortune were any better, Dal'Serah would have believed it to be a delusion or a vivid-dream. Then a sudden rumble interrupted his thoughts. Immediately, he began running an eye over the master controls, checking for damage reports, or whatever massive hardware failure had created the sound. But then another rumble followed, swiftly trailed by others in sequence. Realization came to him, and stared out onto Torfan's landscape, smoke and fire ripping up from a dozen points out of the white terrain. What was worse, he realized the explosions weren't limited to the surface; giant fireballs were consuming the fleet in orbit. Already debris from corvettes and frigates were filling Torfan's orbit while the rest of the defense fleet scrambled for safety in the coverless void. All around him, officers were yammering in shock and confusion. Dal'Serah heard no words, but could recognized the tone of surprise.

"Are we blind!?" He shouted, momentarily ceasing all chaos. He had the attention of the entire moon. "Someone tell me what the hell is going on!"

An engineer-looking batarian flicked an eyepiece from his face. "Sir, it appears that Batteries One through Fifty have malfunctioned, and are targeting friendly craft."

Dal'Serah bit back a groan. "Then call our service technicians and maintenance staff underground and inform them of the situation!"

"Sir, that is not possible."

"And why not?" Exaggerated patience filled his voice.

"Because it seems all communications have ceased. There is the possibility the comm tower has also malfunctioned."

'The comm tower and the defense malfunctioning, at the same time? It's not possible, but there is no other explanation …' Dal'Serah thought. A vague possibility swam across his mind. 'What if … no. Too primitive. They don't even know basic trans-luminal programming. And yet…so much money. I was distracted.'

"Deploy the garrison!" He screamed. "We're under attack!"

Movement, organized movement, quickly surrounded him; Vener barking orders and his subordinates pulling up aerial maps and holograms. Swift response was good, a quick decision that accelerated security patterns frequently dispelled attacks long before damage could be done. Still, a thought crawled through the back of Dal'Serah's brain – a thought that should not have frightened him, that meant nothing at this juncture, had no implications on the reality he was facing, but one making his clenched fist tremble nonetheless.

'Is it the humans? Did I underestimate them so drastically? Could the Shadow Broker have tipped them off, paid them to attack me?' A more horrifying though flamed through his mind. 'Did they want me to take the slaves, put them all in one place?'


UNASS Clarence E. Walsh

Destroyer

Command Deck

Captain Murray made it a point to never show true emotion. In tense situations, a calm, level headed leader was needed. It had been two hours since they'd arrived at their destination, a mere FTL jump from Torfan. Without any Relays present, there was no risk of any ship, enemy or otherwise, stumbling upon the UNAS flotilla. Yet with the risks dealt with, the atmosphere across all ships remained tense. After two hours at full alert, waiting for the signal to launch the operation, even the most patient of soldiers was becoming exasperated.

Despite his own concerns, Murray could do little else than have faith in the N7 marines and their Spectre allies. To distract himself, he stood on the bridge of the Clarence E. Walsh and stared into the stars on the view-screen, taking a moment to acknowledge the ship's improvements. A retrofit of such scale required both an eye for detail and an emphasis on implementation. This was certainly amongst one of humanity's greatest achievements.

Yet while it floated in the emptiness of the void, its full fury had yet to be unleased. It would certainly be a remarkable moment, Murray thought, when the opportunity presented itself. Human innovation would be demonstrated on a level no other race had seen –perhaps one of the greatest gifts humanity had to offer. He laughed inwardly at his own childish eagerness. The ships under his command were tools, operated by some of the best naval minds humanity could boast, and like any tool, they had to be applied at the appropriate time.

"Sir?" Commander Otomo approached. Murray indicated his attentiveness with a flick of his head. "Transmission received from Commander Hower. Phase one is a success."

Cheers and applause erupted in the bridge; Murray allowed the exuberant display before raising a hand, bringing instant silence. "So far, so good, but be aware that our mission is not yet complete. We have yet to rescue any human captives and I have no doubt our men on Torfan will need our assistance yesterday if not sooner." Moving towards his command chair, Murray took his seat before opening comms to the rest of the fleet. "All ships this is Captain Murray, phase one is complete, I repeat phase one is complete. Report to battle-stations and prepare for FTL jump."

Otomo, along with the rest of the ship's crew, hurried to their stations. The soft hum of the reactor rose gently in pitch as the FTL drives drained power. Murray folded his hands, observing a pair of freighters, carrying infantry reinforcements, racing towards one of the other ship's hangar bays. All around him, primary and secondary weapons were brought online. After the final ship signaled its readiness, all ships were plunged across space at speeds faster than light itself could reach.

Before the mind could process it, the human fleet dropped back out of FTL. Dozens of vessels winked into existence against the shroud of space, filling the void as if some deity had ignited newly-formed stars across the heavens. Captain Murray could identify all the enemy ship's silhouettes. Already he could see the result of the infiltration teams. Half a dozen corvettes and frigates littered in orbit, killed by their own defenses. The rest were heavily crippled, but the majority still remained.

If the enemy fleet hadn't been bound in shock when their own defenses unexpectedly fired upon them, then they certainly were when a small UNAS flotilla emerged from the depths of nowhere, weapons locked and loaded.

Within the human fleet, bulkheads had been sealed, all flammable material secured, and the ships' AIs were seeking targeting solutions. For a moment, Murray could have sworn time stopped, every weapon on his ship and the surrounding vessels locked into place. His predatory instinct, never deeply buried, howled in triumph.

The initial strike came in the form of a series of light missiles fired from the Freedom,heralding the destruction of the system's comm buoys. Murray nodded in satisfaction. Torfan's lack of comm sat's isolated the system, preventing requests for reinforcements. At the same time, it paid tribute to the initial naval battle of Shanxi, where the batarian fleet had done the same.

Murray did not advert his gaze from the enemy fleet as he gestured to his ship's AI. "Athena, are all ships accounted for?"

"Yes, Captain," Came the response in an electronically pitched female voice.

"Have all ships acquire targeting solutions and fire main cannons ASAP," Without a moment to waste, Murray began issuing orders at near inhuman speed. "Aku, target the battlecruisers with everything we've got. They're the most dangerous opponents. Otomo: all freighters and dropships carrying infantry reinforcements need to steer clear of the battle, and make way towards the moon. Its defenses are still targeting the enemy fleet so they should be safe. Have a squadron of Stingers escort them, the rest engage enemy craft at their discretion. Order all Spirits to target the remaining enemy corvettes and frigates. I want the Independence and Freedom to target the enemy's cruisers. Let's take out the enemy's big guns." Even with the long list of orders, Captain Murray didn't need time to catch his breath. Years of experience had made him accustomed to issuing orders that would strain the lungs of other individuals. "Athena, command counter-measures. I want all ships to coordinate their GARDIANs to form a protective bubble. We cannot afford to lose any ship, especially this early in the fight."

"Affirmative, Captain," the AI replied.

The batarian fleet futilely attempted to regroup, facing the imminent threat of the UNAS ships while beginning to bombard their own defense batteries to avoid further damage. Fighters and interceptors launched from whatever hangars weren't damaged or destroyed, separating to target the oncoming human convoy of landing vehicles while engaging the fleet. However, the JSF Stingers were ready to receive them.

Like apex predators, the Stingers descended upon the enemy interceptors, firing Joint Common and Interceptor missiles. Many managed to hit their mark, inflicting tremendous losses upon the vanguard. 30mm autocannons as suppressing fire, forced the rest of the enemy interceptors to scatter; chaos in their wake.

In addition to the Stingers, the batarians were forced to contend with the elite JSF H.A.W.X squadron and their new Razorbacks, something the slavers on Torfan have never even heard of much less faced. None of the slavers on Torfan had experience fighting humans; JSF stealth tactics and UNAS hardware baffled their programmed responses, and did worse to the inexperienced crews.

The JSF aircraft engaged their ECM systems, obscuring their arrival vector and scrambling all sensors. Disregarding outside of plain visuals, the JSF fighters were for all intents and purposes invisible to enemy radar.

The result gave a one-sided massacre as the enemy small craft were destroyed by missiles or auto-cannons. Yet another nasty surprise sprung upon the enemy as the JSF ships' new GARDIAN lasers, reached forty kilometers further than any other model previously known, eviscerating metal barriers. This alone damaged five squadrons and caused even more disarray upon the enemy. With their numbers greatly dwindled, the rest of the batarian interceptors fell back under the cover of their ships' GARDIAN laser defenses.

With JSF Spirits already locked on a course for the enemy's damaged light vessels, the Razorbacks and Stingers had no choice but to pursue the enemy. In this moment, and in a move motivated by panic, the enemy made the grave mistake of using their GARDIAN defenses to assist their aircraft. Many of the batarian's GARDIAN lasers' hit their target, damaging shields but failing to collapse them. The failed offense allowed the JSF aircraft to continue their onslaught, unleashing continuous barrages of missiles and autocannon fire.

Once within range the Stingers fired their Kinetic Rods, two per bomber for a total of nearly three hundred Rods. The result was devastating, many nearly causing the destruction of several ships upon detonation. Seeing their opportunity, the H.A.W.X squadron concentrated fire with their MOABs, launching all two hundred and forty on a crippled cruiser and managing to destroy it. But the human force wasn't free of damage either, with their shields nearly collapsed the Stingers and Razorbacks were forced to retreat, but not before launching the rest of their ordnance to further exhaust the enemy's GARDIANs.

For a brief moment the enemy had breathing space from the hectic fighting, enjoying some degree of relief. This moment of tranquility was quickly interrupted by an alert, warning of JSF Spirits launching their own payload. With their interceptors greatly dwindled and GARDIANs overheated, the batarian fleet could do little other than attempt evasive maneuvers in an effort to avoid the brunt of the attack. A mixture of bombs, rockets, and Kinetic Rods devastated the enemy corvettes and frigates, destroying five in total before the Spirits launched on a return vector to their flotilla. Many carried scarred hulls from enemy fire, but few were considerable enough to warrant a complete withdrawal.

It was a tremendous sight for Murray to see his fighters and bombers score so many decisive strikes. He did not look away from the main screen, displaying the successful deployment of infantry reinforcements on the moon. Their landing had largely been undisturbed, the greatest loss being a freighter carrying a contingent of LOKI mechs. Freed from the Batarian air support, a squadron of Spirits and Stingers soon began bombing runs on the enemy troops on the surface, giving the Alliance forces time to reform, consolidating their strength.

With that taken care of Murray returned his attention to the enemy fleet, already having lost nearly half of its total force. "All ships, fire main cannons!" He barked. An instant later, he felt the vibration of the ship's recoil as both of its main cannons fired in unison. Over a hundred kilotons of kinetic force bombarded an enemy battlecruiser, the Walsh's serrated metal wedge rounds collapsing the battlecruiser's shields and penetrating deep into its armor, delivering a killing blow to its reactor, causing a chain reaction that destroyed the ship entirely.

The other battlecruiser quickly felt the brunt of the Walsh's attack. This time the attack merely hindered the large ship, collapsing its shield as its own VI sought a lock on the heavy destroyer. Before it could fire, it's hull battered by a barrage of three hundred Javelin missiles followed by a salvo of five Mass Accelerator shots fired by the Independence and Freedom. It was enough to just barely destroy the ship, signaling the loss of the enemy's fierce capital ships.

Unfortunately, the enemy was not so easily intimidated. The remaining ships began firing off their own cannons, missiles, and torpedoes.

"Athena, fire a salvo of ECM missiles," Murray ordered.

The AI did as commanded, firing off a series of ECM missiles with inhuman precision. The missiles did their job, scrambling the targeting vectors of Javelin missiles and Disruptor torpedoes. However, it could do nothing in the face of incoming Mass Accelerator rounds.

Using the recent upgrades, the JSF flotilla sharply maneuvered as they attempted to shift out of the incoming barrage. The move was largely successful, the flotilla only received two of the five shots. The fire strained barriers and crippled armor, but luckily the upgrades on all three ships did their job in holding them together. Before the remnants of the enemy fleet could reacquire targets, the JSF responded. Their counter-attack consisted of electronical and information warfare.

The attack wouldn't halt the enemy for long, but Murray didn't need much time. With their own superior AIs free of ECM attacks and able to process tasks exponentially faster than any VI, the three human ships reacquired their own targeting lock upon the enemy's fleet.

Suppressive fire was a tactic often employed in ground warfare, but on this day Murray displayed to an empty audience the positives of such a tactic employed in a naval battle. Using their peak rate of fire, the Independence and Freedom unleashed a torrent of volley fire with near childish fervor. The two frigates dared not stop for even a mere millisecond, round after round exiting the increasingly heated barrels of their cannons.

Torpedoes, missiles, and kinetic rods followed the firestorm, punching the enemy fleet where it hurt the most. The enemy's sole frigate was destroyed as were half the enemy's cruisers. With the battle largely lost, the remaining two cruisers attempted to flee, only to be blocked by the Walsh firing its dual Mass Accelerators and a heavy barrage of nearly a hundred kinetic rods dispersed equally between the two ships. The attack was the final nail in the coffin, unequivocally destroying the enemy ships. Only husks of hulls and debris of the enemy fleet remained, a cruel fate for any, yet not undeserved.

Despite the success no cheers or congratulations were passed this time around; none of the crew lost their grimly determined look. "All ships, descend upon Torfan. We've got troops awaiting our support," Murray signaled the navigator, including his destroyer and accompanying frigates in the descent. Its underground inhabitants remained completely ignorant of the battle currently being waged. However, in the midst of the action the JSF flotilla failed to detect a lone shuttle heading for the system's Relay, its signature concealed by the enormous debris and the electronic signatures from the husks of ships circling Torfan's orbit


A/N: And now we start the battle of Torfan! Sorry to keep you guys waiting, but the hurricane knocked out my internet, so I couldn't post anything. I hope the delay was well worth it and I hope the initial naval battle was a nice counter to the largely stealth oriented chapter. Fret not however, as the underground hell hole is about to commence.

Also, if anyone is a bit peeved at the somewhat one-sided naval battle, this was done intentionally to demonstrate how far humanity has progressed in the short amount of time it's been exposed to the galaxy. The naval battle of Torfan is meant to contrast the battle of Shanxi and how opposite the two battles were. On Shanxi, a fully experienced, prepared, and arguably the best naval fleet the Hegemony had to offer battled a hastily setup, unexpected, and mixed human/raloi defense fleet. On Torfan we largely see the opposite where a now experienced and prepared human flotilla, composed of some of humanity's most advanced warships, battles a crippled, largely unexperienced (in terms of combating human forces), and quite surprised batarian slaver fleet.

Finally, I leave you with this last note, if you have any questions that you desire to be answered then PLEASE LEAVE CONTANT INFORMATION to get back to you! This will be the last chapter I will reply to guest reviews with questions. After this I will continue to read them, but I will no longer be answering them on follow-up chapters unless one is warranted.

Guest 1 - Q: how about you give the JSF a new exo like the one in call of duty?

A - The JSF already have an exoskeleton that Pioneers use, the APE-1A2 exoskeleton. They can always build off and upgrade that so what need is there for one? What purpose and/or tactical benefits would an exo-skeleton like one from Call of Duty Advanced Warfare offer that the APE-1A2 or subsequent upgrades from it cannot?

Guest 2 – Q: So are you going to put endwar online units on this fic?

A – Such as? Working off my previous post, what need is there for new units? Sure, later in the story there might need a need for new units but for now there isn't really a need for a new arsenal of them. Besides if there was, what units would you like to see? I've tried looking into what units Endwar online has and came out with very little due to the servers hosting the game having been shut down. If you have a detailed list of the units that you would like to see as well as their abilities, please feel free to PM them to me.

Guest 3 – Q: and black ops tech if you want

A – What type of tech? And what purpose would they serve? What need is there of them? Don't get me wrong, I will definitely be having weapons/tech from other games be included in this fic, but nothing ground-breaking and only tech/weapons that fit the criteria of the factions that will use them? For example, the Enforcers won't be using a brute, from Halo, based weapon because it's too heavy, brutal, crude, and contradictory to the E.F's battle doctrine.

Guest 4/5 - For the new chinese republic combat grunts from black ops 3 or the jackals form infinite warfare. [For the new chinese republic combat grunts from black ops 3 or the c12 from call of duty infinite warfare.]

A – You double posted, but it seems you've realized that and asked me to ignore it, but I will address it nonetheless. What reason is there for it? If you can give me a compelling reason why it should be added and how it aligns with NCRA battle doctrine, or how any tech fits the criteria of the faction you would it to be used by, then I won't have any problem adding them in. However, if it's just about adding tech just for the sake of it, then I am against that as it doesn't add anything of substance to the story and actually distracts from it.

Trivia

1. The insertion onto Torfan was inspired by Star Wars Rogue One, with some noticeable differences.

2. Han's quote about their obliteration if they failed is a direct reference to the Green Lantern Animated Series where Razor says the same thing, though the situations are a bit different.

3. The shuttle designation that the infiltration team uses is a direct reference to the Mass Effect franchise and Noble Six from Halo Reach.

4. Hower's speech is loosely inspired by Jyn Erso from Star Wars Rogue One, where she makes a similar speech regarding their chances of succeeding being more important than surviving.

5. The specific portion 'we either win or we all die' is a direct reference to Battlefield 1's Italian campaign, specifically the Arditti's motto. If you have not played it, assuming you have the game, then I highly suggest doing so because it is one of the best stories in BF1 despite being only two missions. The main character's last statements perfectly sum up the tragedy of loss experienced in war and my god was it epic. In case you can't tell, despite me being Mexican-American, I loved that campaign.

6. Saren's 'make each man feel like a hundred' is a direct reference to Cassin from Rogue One who states the same. It should be rather obvious at this point the inspiration behind the chapter.

7. There is a slight Band of Brothers reference hidden in the chapter, specifically in the description of the infiltration team because let's face it that was exactly what the original Band of Brothers from the U.S para-troopers were, a group composed of ordinary Americans from different backgrounds, social class, home-town, etc. It's strange how only in tragedies will you witness these strange bonds. It's kind of sad we don't see this as a common thing in peaceful times.

8. The 'Strength of the wolf is the pack and the strength of the pack is the wolf' is a direct reference to Bungie's Destiny, more specifically the Law of the Jungle trailer. Seriously though, do you guys think Bungie, or what is left of it, has done right by gamers in the sequel or was it a letdown? It seems our childhood memories are being crushed under the weight of greed.

9. Saren's calculations and description of the enemy's barracks is a direct reference to the book Ghost Soldiers, that also served as inspiration for the chapter.

10. This will be the first chapter up since I've gotten internet back and in the aftermath of hurricane Irma.