This chapter is a little shorter than usual, but you'll have to forgive me. I had lost interest in this story for a long, long time. Even writing this much was a struggle. Just as well there isn't much left at all. Three chapters at most, then an epilogue. I was told in a review that I needed to work on my character interaction more, that the conversations left a little to be desired and that the character development had been ignored. This is not really a story in that sense. There are characters all right, but they only exist because they had an effect on the events. This is a description of the events that transpired with the Hundred and Six, not the story of the crew members. I like to think this is something like an Anthony Beevor book (like Stalingrad,) but I fear that may be a little pretentious, as well as presumptuous, of me.

However, I'm really grateful to all those who waited to see what I produced next, and those who reviewed in my absence. It made me happy.

The Field Master gave the order to advance. Plasma bolts crossed the gaps between the two armies with rapidly increasing tempo, striking here and there as the distance narrowed and they became more accurate. The towering Hunters formed an integral part of the wall, their heavy cannons decimating the GA troops not in cover. Beam rifles from the surrounding buildings began to add to the fury of firepower. As the phalanx advanced, using its cover squads broke off from behind it and struck the buildings, darting in through windows, doors, any openings they could find. Fierce room to room fighting enveloped the surrounding architecture, the flashes of grenades being echoed by the hissing of plasma bolts and the squeal of laser fire. Somewhere behind the GA lines, their Field Commander was barking orders seeking tank support. Mobilising, the tank force that had been building on the outskirts of the city began to advance into the streets. Reassured with that knowledge, the GA general gave his order.

.

Against the might of a phalanx, the GA military could do little in the ways of offensive manoeuvres, particularly in close quarters. They fell back, drawing off and allowing the Covenant to regain some footing and strengthen their defences. Turrets were replaced, fresh grenades were handed out to the troops and damaged weapons were exchanged.

.

As the Covenant gathered themselves again, the GA moved back out of firing range, giving both themselves and the Covenant a much needed break in the fighting. However, that was only a secondary outcome, not the initial desired effect. That was approaching rapidly, the tank force drawing ever nearer. Or rather they were trying. The Armoured Division of the Fleet of Divine Intervention had intervened, from a distance, and plasma shells were in the process of slamming into the ground, throwing up great gouts of fire and earth. Any tanks in the firing line were reduced to nothing but ashes.

.

In orbit, the Supreme Commander brooded over the battles, both on the ground and in the void. Those dreadnoughts hadn't managed to properly engage his forces yet, but he was hard pressed to order his CCS class ships to avoid combat with the behemoths that threatened his lines. Close quarters fighter actions were sufficient to sting the dreadnoughts repeatedly. He really hoped he didn't have to send his cruisers against them, he'd lose more ships than the win would be worth, but at the same time, he couldn't fight in a sweeping fast movement battle that he would have favoured to keep his smaller ships harrying the larger dreadnoughts. As it was they were fighting a retreating battle against much larger forces that his enemies were outputting. Dozens of frigates, corvettes and cruisers darted ahead of the dreadnoughts and ploughed into the Covenant line. Furious firefights erupted at sporadic intervals as the battlecruisers got just as heatedly involved as ever.

.

"Supreme Commander."

"Yes?"

"Sir, I regret to report word from Naboo. Your friend is dead."

There was silence in the CIC. The Supreme Commander turned to his Ship Master.

"Ship Master, you have command for the next fifteen minutes."

"As you wish."

"Maintain present formation and battle tactics. I will return presently."

The Supreme Commander turned and left. There were a few murmurs once the doors had closed behind him, but the Ship Master barked an order for double attention to detail and they ceased.

.

The Supreme Commander sat in his meditation room as the battle raged all around him. What was he to do now? His closest friend, one of his most valued subordinates was dead. He was rapidly losing control, even if his grief did not show itself on his face. Briefly he glanced down at the stump where his left hand had once been. This war was all for nothing. The enemy were the aggressors, true, but his people gained nothing by fighting. They weakened themselves through this, they weakened their fleet. His people could not support themselves with such a drastically reduced force, they would be prey for any who decided to attack them. He also was aware that this was a losing battle. No matter how well his forces fought, they did not have enough resources to win, nor did they have enough soldiers. This galaxy had more than enough of both to succeed. What made things worse was that they were committed to the fight now. Thousands of ships opposed them, possibly more than a million troops were engaged against his forces as he spoke and more would be coming. But what could they do? Surrender was not the option he wanted to consider. Doing so would mean they would be taken prisoner, probably dispersed throughout the galaxy, the leaders, including himself, executed. He could not see this ending well at all. However, he could see only one other alternative, fight to the death, an equally unfitting end.

.

There were just too few options, they were all going to die anyway.

"No." he said to himself.

"No!" he repeated, louder than before.

"No, I will not bow before the inevitable. I will raise my head and I will surpass this with the honour of my people intact. We can surmount this obstacle!"

Surrender was out of the question, but a ceasefire, then a peace treaty was not. They were not rebels, they could not be forced to surrender. Fondor could be exchanged as part of the agreement, his forces would withdraw from Corellia and his fleet would retire. That would give them enough time to swing by Kamino and pick up their females. The possibility rallied his mind. He needed to level the playing field however. Those with a stronger position do not think to make a ceasefire with those they believe weaker than themselves, he needed to take away their advantage. The Supreme Commander stood and strode from the room, a confidence in his walk borne of cold grim realization.

This will be the final push of the Hundred and Six.