Author's Note:

Coment9: Thank you.

henderusmc: I do apologise if I misread your comments a tad, not to be rude but they are rather grammatically… poorly constructed. Regardless, onto your first point. Personally this level of detail is what I enjoy, and in particular this story is establishing the setting for future stories, so will be slightly exposition heavy as a result of it pulling double duty like that. I can understand how some may not enjoy that, however I know that others do, including myself, so I feel fairly fine continuing as I am. Also, yes, I have a comprehensive plan for this story, and the next one after this one actually, as well. That is the thing, I have already planned out the entire setting fairly well.

As for politicians, well, for one thing in my experience they tend to be VERY short sighted, and also the one thing you have to consider is that they ARE preparing for potential war as well, they are just not directly aiding the Anglo-French Sphere. At best, they hope the war will weaken the British and their allies, before they are forced to help, at worst they hope they can negotiate with the aliens before they could potentially start a war with them too. You also have to consider the differing situations here, while the Citadel Council has only ever experienced unified species, Humanity has only experienced a divided one. Naturally, the Turians WOULD assume that they are at war with the ENTIRE human race, but also, Humanity will assume that the Turians would be also split into nation states much like themselves, and hence will think it is a TURIAN NATION at war with a HUMAN NATION, rather than an interspecies war. It is all a matter of perspectives clashing, really.

Pop: Thank you.

Chronus1326: Thank you as well, Arcadia was not actually destroyed by Britain, they just blame their internal collapse on them. It would kind of be akin to the Soviets blaming the USA for their collapse, the USA did not actually directly cause it. Arcadia is just salty about the whole situation of going from dominant world power to secondary power.

And thank you to the Guests and Vitor42 as well. Sorry for the delay in this coming out, but University is University. This is another fairly calm chapter, but action will start again next time, so look forward to that if that is what you are here for!

25/08/2157 - 12:35 HMS Alexander Fleming Time

It was all over the news. 'The Russian Federation Mobilises', 'Are Aliens All We Should Worry About?', 'Russian Navy In A State Of Alert Not Seen Since The First Cold War', and all manner of sensationalist media, in a veritable deluge of paranoia and concern. Of course, Parliament dealt with the situation in a roughly comparable level of calm, with all three major parties at odds with one another about how to deal with it, all while Russia was proving to be as ambivalent to international outrage as always. Laurence was using the rather convenient trail of BT Comm Buoys left by the Grand Fleet to observe the political fallout in real time, and make his move in response. Sending emails this way, messages that way, providing the occasional remote face-to-face interview, all to ensure that despite his being away from Britain, he was still in the game, and more important, in the media's spotlight.

However, even with this, the recent trends had been worrying him mightily. From what he could decipher from pro and anti Russian sentiments being yelled from each media outlet, the Russian Navy had entirely mobilised. Of course, some degree of mobilisation was expected given the whole alien invasion Britain was dealing with, but the Arcadians, Chinese, and the other powers had simply activated a portion of their fleet, while the Russian Navy had gone as far as even activating all of their previously decommissioned pre-Mass-Effect Battleships. This was combined with the fact that every Earth-based naval power had recently agreed to increase the force garrisoning Arcturus Station in an unprecedented success of international negotiation and diplomacy that he had most certainly not seen coming. Every naval power EXCEPT Russia, as they had abjectly refused to take part, and instead seemed to be funnelling ships to their extrasolar Colonies.

Of course, rumours were running rampant, and as were accusations, everything from a plan to invade the neighbouring British Empire while it was weakened by the necessity to assemble the Grand Fleet, to a secret war on ANOTHER Alien Empire, all accusations of which were avidly denied by the Russians. Apparently these were simply precautions against the Aliens Britain was fighting, in the eventuality they decide to ignore the fact that they were separate sovereign states, but such excuses made no sense in the light of the international co-operation in preparing for just that eventuality.

Which is why Laurence found himself locked in his quarters for most of the flight, wrestling with engaging in politics remotely, and why a sudden message from the Terra Nova Commonwealth Bank was not as much a surprise as it would have otherwise been. With everyone scrambling around the stock market and economy had experienced a disruption so sever that every organisation, company, and bank were doing everything in their power to try and assure people of their stability and preparedness for any eventuality. Of course, as far as he could see these efforts were proving rather ineffective, but needless to say he had already been used quite a bit as a means to an end by those panicking financial institutions.

Opening the message, it called for a meeting with one of their primary owners. Not an interview, which was odd, and in such messages the exact wording often meant far more than it would otherwise. They were tailored for purpose, they had to be, to ensure that if brought to court, or leaked to the public, the organisation or company could avoid any responsibility, and the difference between a 'meeting' and an 'interview' was substantial. Reading further, it stipulated the exact time of day it wished this to occur, as well as all the necessary details for establishing a secure link. The wording and layout of the message spooked him, he was not afraid to admit, so he was most certainly not going to miss it. However, it was not to occur for a few hours, and he had spent the last half day dealing with journalists, so he felt a break was in order, and lunch, given the void in his stomach.

Of course, the walk to the mess hall was short given the small, cramped, nature of the vessel, and as he bent his head over to get under the door frame of the entrance to the room, he noticed the presence of a number of the xenolinguists he had gotten to know sitting at a table, alongside a diplomat. This would not be that odd, if not for the fact that they were all looking at him in an oddly predatory way, though that could just be paranoia caused by a combination of slight cabin fever and the recent message he had received.

Quickly selecting Spaghetti Bolognese out of the array of pre-prepared meals, and heating it in the microwave, he tried to put the meeting out of his mind. The one thing he did miss about being planet side was proper food, but given the fact that relay exploration vessels had to remain in space for years at a time, and internal volume was an inherently limiting factor, the pre-prepared meals were the solution. Slightly better than MREs, from what he had heard, but still hardly comparable to having an actual cook, or fresh food. Laurence's attempt at distracting himself was interrupted by the ping signifying that his food was ready, and concluding that it would be rude to ignore his new friends, he made his way over to their table, hoping sincerely that his most paranoid fears were not to be realised.

25/08/2157 - 06:56 Local Time

'BZZZZZT BZZZZZT'

Another day, same as all the others. The aliens were still striving to develop some form of translation program, and credit where credit is due, the translators used by the guards and interviewers were becoming more effective, but by god was it getting tiresome. At least their hosts had the decency to allow for some recreation for them, after a few others had complained, granted it was extremely limited and did not offer much in the way of variety, between exercise, card games, and what ever games they could scrounge together, like Chess and Chequers, but it was something. However, it was clear they were also using this as an opportunity to study us. No one else seems to have noticed, but during every recreational period purple face was always just close enough to watch, while seemingly being occupied with something else, such as talking to a guard, or checking on infrastructure. He would wager some of the other alien scientists were also watching, but purple face was the only one he readily recognises enough to make them stand out in a crowd, given how vibrant their face paint was compared to the others, and how much time he has to spend every other god damn day being interviewed by them.

Kane had still yet to really open up to the others. He knew that he was notoriously loud and chatty, he just liked to put on obliviousness about that fact for the benefit of others. Not that he would have remained oblivious for long, had he not been feigning, given how often Harry pointed it out back in the Trenches. Somehow, though, being captured and studied really put a damper on that and he simply couldn't bring himself to maintaining his normal attitude, nor really make a concentrated effort to make friends among the other prisoners. He just hoped it would all be over soon, either with the defeat of the alien invaders, or their victory, at this point he was starting to think the latter is more likely. At least if their treatment thus far was any indication, it would not result in a holocaust. He hoped.

Internal melancholy aside, he enters the mess-tent and was once more given the same mystery alien meal, and turned to make his way to his normal seat. Things were different this time, though, people normally spaced themselves out fairly evenly over the tables, but this time they were more concentrated. Not that significantly, but enough that he noticed the difference. He did not like the looks of this, he had seen too many cheesy vids to not immediately draw unfortunate conclusions.

"So, how goes the preparations?" The quiet of the table as he approached put him even more on edge, and as he sat down with his pre-prepared meal Laurence put on his best politician's smile. It would not do to let his fears impact his social life here, given how much longer the trip was slated to be. "Well, I hope?"

"Of course, a number of donor languages have been collected and collated. The entire Hellenic family, Latin, Pictish, Gothic, Gaulish, Celtic-"

"Oh god, do not tell me we are going to have an alien race speaking Welsh."

"Ha, god no. The language will be selected on which best fits the cultural associations Britain and other English speakers have to the nature of the alien race and its culture. Then the words will be selected based upon ease of pronunciation, and best fit of meaning. Even if we do end up using Celtic or Gaelic languages as donors, there won't be any fifty letter words." The man returned to his sandwich.

"And then, of course, other nations can use our translation as a basis, and create their own based on their own cultural associations to best fit themselves," another of them interjected. "Not that that is our primary concern, but it was an eventuality the xenolinguistical community have been discussing and planning for for a while now."

"Besides," the woman opposite Laurence adds, "We will most certainly have the time to complete the translator before the war ends. Of that I am most sure."

"I thought we were supposed to end the war as soon as possible? As soon as possible generally tends to be far shorter than anyone is prepared for, in my experience, which should be a good thing in this case." He hadn't touched his food yet, so he stuck his fork in and took his first bite of the terribly mild pasta and sauce.

"Well that all depends upon the strategic and political situation, for all you know we may need to delay attempts at negotiation until we have a proper source of leverage." As he talked, the diplomat gestured with his fork, before narrowing his eyes. "As they say, War is just politics by other means, and you of all people should know that if you do not have leverage in politics, you have nothing."

This was a marked change in tone from their normal conversation. Or, he was just taking implication where there is none. He hoped it was the latter. He swallowed his mouthful. "At the same time, for all we know they could so far eclipse our own forces that any attempt to secure, ahem, 'leverage', may result in the exact opposite. Sacrificing any potential power we would have had at the negotiation table, and simply angering them even further."

"Nothing risked, nothing gained."

"All the same to you, but I am rather disinclined from risking countless lives for an entirely theoretical possibility of gain." Laurence leaned back, "'I only need a few thousand dead so that I can sit at the peace conference as a man who has fought', Benito Mussolini, regarding his late joining of the Axis invasion of France. His is not a philosophy I wish to remotely mirror, in even the most minor of ways."

"Why don't we focus on eating, our food is getting cold."

"I have a sandwich, I would be rather worried if it were hot."

Sure enough, as he sat down the conspiratorial tones of those around him were readily apparent. For god sake, do they seriously-

"Ah, Kane. You heard?"

"Heard what?" He had never talked to this man in his life, how did he know his name?

He leaned in. "Heard about 'The Plan'?"

"The what now? Please do not tell me it is what I think it is. It would not work, it would just result in all of our deaths. Hell, for all we know these dinos have super-hearing and can tell exactly what everyone is talking about."

"Through their shitty translators? Fat chance. Also, before you say anything, they are aliens, they do not share our body language or its meaning. They don't know shit, and they would not think what we are doing now is remotely suspicious. For all they know it is a weird human tradition, or part of how we socialise."

"That is alot of assumptions, I would also feel a bunch of people suddenly whispering would be suspicious regardless of species. Forget it. I am not involved, and I am not getting involved."

"Kane, you haven't even-"

"How do you know my name, I do not think I have even seen you before."

"Richmond, I was on the Southern Trenches, like you. Few dugouts down, in fact, and your voice carries very well over that distance, you loud bastard."

"Uh huh. Yeah, no. Not interested."

"Let me pitch it first! The plan hinges upon the fact that the 'Saurs seem compulsively tied to their schedule, and Jenkins noticed that-"

"Do NOT involve me. By telling me this, you are involving me. You want to try and commit suicide, go ahead, but they are treating us well enough that it is not life or death, and I am more than content to wait until either rescue or release."

"Yeah, but imagine the disruption we could cause, help the poor gits still fighting in the city-"

"We would not cause any remotely important disruption. Just give it up, please. If you really must talk to me, talk about something else."

"Fine, suit yourself. You know Jenkins, that same guy who noticed… Yeah… Turns out he had some damned nice 'content' on him when he was captured, if you know what I mean. Managed to avoid the aliens taking it when they captured him, somehow. He is renting it out in exchange for any food you can smuggle-"

"Funnily enough, also not interested in that either."

"Fine, fine. You heard about what some people are doing to fuck with the Dinos? Someone managed to convince them that the term for car is 'Wheely Automobily'! Imagine what else we could convince them if we tried hard enough!"

"Yeah, incredible. If you don't mind, my, uh, mushroom steak thing is getting cold."

25/08/2157 - 08:00 Local Time

The General made his way down into the bunker, having used the time granted by the minefield to give himself and his fellow officers at least some time as a break from the war. This was his first time back down there since he had granted them that small holiday, and as such would also be his first time seeing the efforts to repair the damages done by enemy artillery. Closing the door to the Lionheart, the places where the rock that made the walls had been cracked were clearly apparent, having been filled with concrete, and reinforced with steel bolted into the intact granite to either side of the void. Given how frequent these patches were across the vehicle bay, the damage done by the enemy munitions was clearly far worse than William's had initially thought at the time. No matter, he guessed, given that their bombardment had stopped, and those patches would hold well enough for the rest of this war. He hoped.

Regardless, he had a job to do. As he made his way through the short corridors to the central command centre, his mind ran a mile a minute. The second the enemy Taur aliens cleared the minefield, they would no doubt assault the city directly with as much force as they could safely dedicate, and as much as he hoped defending the city internally would be easier, that was still an extremely difficult proposition for a force so much less advanced and well trained. They would have to play every card they could, pull every trick, and fight tooth and nail for every centimetre of ground given. What made this worse was that the Governor had made clear to him just how tight the time scale was. He had met with her for dinner the night before, and it had been laid bare just how dire the food situation was. At this rate, even with significant rationing, they would only last until half way through September, and such rationing would worsen the already poor morale situation in the civilian population, still packed like sardines in the lower levels of the buildings sufficiently far from the future frontlines. All while their airforce had been crippled, their tanks depopulated, and an enemy salient continued to persist in the East of the city, like a pustule of enemy armour and men ready to burst at any moment.

It was enough to turn a man grey, he thought, as he entered the circular command centre once again. Already filled by the staff who had arrived before him, clearly only slightly refreshed from their raw state at the end of the last bout of engagements. Still, it was better than nothing, and he knew damned well that ensuring the men under him were even a little more refreshed could very well be the difference between life and death, victory and defeat. Mistakes cost lives, and fraught nerves make them infinitely more likely.

"Ah, General." Baxter was here, leaning against the holographic table, which had clearly seen some major maintenance since he had last seen it. He guessed the dust must have gotten into its delicate inner workings, somehow. "You are just in time, reports from the sniper teams in the outskirts say that the Taurians are damned close to getting through the mines." Ward looked up with an incredibly world weary expression. "You better have some damned good ideas for augmentations to our current plans, or we are screwed."

"'Taurians'?" He questioned as he made his way to join them, dodging the others moving back and forth with reports within the centre on his way.

"Oh, yeah, Taur Aliens, Taurians, seemed natural. Troops already using it as a call out, apparently. That is besides the point, sir, we have to fix this shit or we wont hold until relief arrives." Baxter left the possibility that relief is not even on its way unspoken, but it was clear from his eyes.

"The break afforded me time to think. To be entirely frank, I feel our best bet is to lean far more into deep defence. Full on ambush, hit and run, style combat. Pull the actual defensive lines as far back as possible while retaining the necessary distance to the civilian buildings to afford them time to escape further into the centre of the city, and dedicate a larger portion of our forces to using the tunnels and towers to wreak havoc on the enemy as they advance."

Fiddling with the settings for a second or two, Baxter set the table to project a depiction of the city, showing friendly forces in green, civilians in blue, and enemy forces in red. The 3d image was very useful to differentiate the tunnels from the towers, and just served to highlight the worryingly high concentration of enemy forces in that salient.

"The issue with that, sir, is that the enemy will no doubt advance with their armoured behemoths, and as we know from our attempts at ambush, they are damned near impervious to infantry AT weaponry. Even with the advantage of surprise we barely made a scratch, the only thing that did anything were the gunships." He turned to glare at Ward. "Which are apparently now not going to be used for their fucking designed purpose."

"We were lucky, god damn it! Helicopters are bloody vulnerable, and the only reason they were not shot down was that the enemy fighters had been recalled, and their tanks were surprised. Now they know they exist, and can most certainly connect the dots to make the conclusion of their vulnerability. We try and use them again, and all we will do is kill good pilots for little gain."

"Use the buildings for cover! Their fighters wont be able to follow you there, and with their countermeasures, they could easy lose enemy missiles in that steel jungle! Just fly low, in the cover of the towers, and co-ordinate your strikes with infantry hit and run attacks. The hit and run attacks distract the enemy long enough that their anti-air guns wont be trained on the gunships, and then let fly!"

"Just how easy do you think it is to fly a helicopter?" Ward gesticulates wildly, pointing at Baxter's chest before throwing up his hands. "For god sake, we are a backwater colony, we don't have the best of the RAF here. Not to mention that all it would take is a few seconds for the enemy to retrain their turrets onto them and destroy them in short order!"

"Then their pilots better get good at flying that low quickly, Ward, because I agree with Baxter here. This is our only option to have a hope of delaying the enemy advance, we have to take it. Just because the enemy now know what a helicopter is, doesn't mean they know everything about our capabilities, and we must capitalise upon this as much as possible. Their apparent total lack of an equivalent could very well be what we need to turn this from certain defeat to at least defeat with dignity."

"Or not defeat at all, if the Navy got off of their arses in time."

25/08/2157 - 14:00 HMS Alexander Fleming Time

It was time for that meeting that that message had requested, and Laurence was not at all confident. He would just have to feign it, he guessed, feign it until he felt it. Reaching the ship's rudimentary holographic communication's room, he dimmed the lights and input the provided details. A few short seconds later, and the request was accepted by the other party, the reduction in the time delay afforded by the Comm Buoys was really something.

Before him appeared a crude, flickering, hologram of a suited, well groomed, man, sitting in a chair. While he could not make out much, the man seemed to be young, yet carried himself like one much older.

"Hello, Captain Laurence Harrison. It was about time we met." The mysterious man brought his hands together and steepled his fingers.

"If I may be so bold, who are you?"

"Hmm, no, you may not be so bold. All you need to know is that I represent the interests of Her Majesty's Military Intelligence Twenty. MI20 is dedicated to alien technology, and potential alien threats. I am sure you can agree that those threats are no longer potential, but rather are very much manifest."

Shit.

"You see, Captain Harrison, we have a patented interest in extending this war."

"You what!? You want to intentionally extend a war?" What kind of maniac-

"Seeing war as a purely negative thing is a rather… Restrictive mindset, Captain. Hardly something a future Prime Minister should possess, if they wish to serve our country properly. While wars do cause deaths and destruction, they also bring great innovation, both technologically and societally."

He knows of his plans, his ambitions. Well, not that unexpected, given how much he had been pushing himself into every political discussion he could, but still. That was unnerving, which was probably the point of the man mentioning it.

"This is an alien power, we have no idea of their capabilities, they are at least leagues more advanced in their usage of the Mass Effect! For all we know, they could be more than capable of crushing us entirely within a matter of months! We also do not know their mind set, their goals-"

"The female vote, women in the workplace, radar, computers, all brought to Britain from war. This war, however, is even more important, for these aliens are clearly more advanced than ourselves, as you yourself have noted. If we could capture substantial quantities of their technology, we could leap forwards decades, if not centuries, ahead of the other major powers."

"That is not worth the risk! Even if it were true! Also, no, those technological developments came before the wars, they were just brought to the fore by them, so hardly justification for directly condemning countless people on both sides to death!" That bastard. Who could want to extend a war which has already claimed hundreds of lives!

"Captain Harrison, calm down, this is hardly becoming of you. You also have to consider our negotiational position. We need to ensure that when we do enter into peace with these aliens, they know their place, and know ours. We need to ensure that they know we should not, cannot, be messed with. We need to ensure that they do not leave this war thinking us a power barely capable of breaking even with them, but a power that can crush them should they seek to take advantage of us. The British Empire must retain her dominant position, even in the face of an alien power."

The mystery man leaned back in his chair. His smugness clear even through the interference.

"That can only be achieved if we have leverage. Such as the occupation of one of their own colonies."

"Wait a second, the xenolinguists, the diplomat-"

"Ah, they were a bit too obvious about it. I guess that much is to be expected from such people, academics. Yes, even if you do not agree to this, you need not worry, for we will be more than able to ensure negotiations take as long as we want them to. Oh, and do not even consider reporting this to anyone, MI20 operates for the best of the Queen, Britain, and their Empire, and the government very well knows this, we have made sure of that."

In other words the bastards had paid them off. No wonder they use the Terra Nova Commonwealth Bank as a front company, they probably augment their pitiful government funds with shells companies much like it. I mean, with no alien contact the treasury saw no need to fund them beyond the bare minimum, but this, this must be highly illegal.

"I take your silence to mean your acceptance, or resignation to the fact that we will get our way regardless. It really does not matter which. Just bare in mind that this is our goal, and if you co-operate, we can most certainly grease the gears of the political machine for your rise to 10 Downing Steet. Thank you for attending this meeting, it was most… Productive."

With that, the man shut off the connection from his end. This, this was worse than he had feared. One thing was damned sure though, if he got into power, he would do everything in his power to remove them. Mild corruption was one thing, this, this was absurd, and entirely antithetical to what the British political institution should stand for. Even if it takes making a deal with the Devil, he would ensure that very same Devil is never able to make a deal again.

26/08/2157 - 09:30 Local Time

As usual, Kane was stuck in front of purple face, putting words to pictures. At least they had moved past the purely military related images, he guessed, a good change of pace. What was worrying is that these pictures had clearly been obtained from inside the buildings in the city, which had obvious and concerning implications for how the defence was going. The latest picture was clearly from the living room of some evacuated family, with a fully armed and armoured Dino to the side of the picture. In the centre was a large plasma screen TV, which had not been turned off by the evacuating family apparently, still playing some reality TV show.

"What is this?"

"Television."

The dinosaur made a noise in their peculiar sub-harmonic flanging sound in its throat, before getting up and gesturing at him.

"Good. Follow myself."

Kane complied, of course, but this was very different to the normal course of things, and as annoying as he was, Richey was right, they really liked to follow their schedule. Which made this a particularly odd occurrence. The alien lead him through the camp to a portion where no human had gone before. No one had been even allowed near this section, which was where the guards seemed to spend their time when not, well, guarding. He got a few odd looks, but apparently being lead there by purple was more than enough to quiet any complaints. As he was lead through, he could see some sitting at tables, playing with those weird orange holographic things on their forearms, while others seemed to be gambling over weird alien cards. Figures that gambling would be universal. Towards the end of this section was a medium sized alien tent thing, and it is was quite clear that is where Purple was leading him.

Upon entering, it was clearly some form of cramped office. There was a desk, with a fancy arse computer using a holographic screen on it, alongside a holographic keyboard. Behind it was another of the aliens, surprisingly lacking in face paint, sitting at the desk, who gestured at Kane to sit at an offered chair. He guessed he would call him Pale, considering he had by now established Purple as, well, Purple. Purple positioned themselves at Kane's left shoulder.

"You were confirmation. We could hear you." Purple placed his taloned hand on his shoulder, a remarkably uncomfortable proposition for Kane, carrying vaguely threatening implications. Though, to the aliens that may not be the intent. "It is a good thing you know just how badly their plan would go."

Then, the pale faced one spoke up.

"It is in all of our best interests to stop this. We do not want to harm you. The collective you, I mean. I lead the translation efforts, which would be most disrupted by such an effort as well." Purple removed his hand, much to Kane's relief, and Pale seemed to do some form of weird alien throat clearing. "If you join this… Plan. You can tell us what it is. We can then ensure it is impossible, and avoid you trying it."

"I am afraid to say, uh, humans do not work that way. If we have it in our mind to escape, such simple things as impossibility, or logic, won't get in the way. We are absurdly stubborn."

"Admirable, but troublesome. Unless you have an alternative?"

"I mean, we can at least try. I am happy to help, I guess. Just to be clear, though, I am doing this for their good, not yours. Bloody invaders." That last phrase resulted in a fairly noticeable look shared between the two aliens, as well as some slight sub-harmonics from both. The purpose of which was entirely opaque to him. He hoped they would take that in good humour, not particularly wanting to end up an example should they decide that playing nice was now off the table. Pale spoke up after a few tense seconds.

"Understandable. It is in your best interest. You as in the group, again. Tell them that this was a private medical checkup. Something embarrassing that you did not want others to see. Like Scale Itch."

"Scale Itch?"

The two seemed to laugh, in their odd sub-harmonic augmented way. The translator must be really coming along if it were able to convert their version of expression of mirth and humour to laughter.

"Does not matter what Scale Itch is, you get our meaning." Oh god.

"Yeah, sure. Guess it is back to being interviewed?"

"Yes. Will change soon though, written language is next. Excitement."

27/08/2157 - 10:00 HMS Invincible Time

Latest estimates placed the Grand Fleet's arrival at between the tenth and twentieth of September, depending upon delays, and time spent discharging static at gas giants, or convenient Colonies with magnetic fields. With such a time frame in mind, the various fleets that formed the titular 'Grand Fleet' had only relatively recently started to conduct exercises and simulations in preparation for the attack. Something which, of course, should have been happening the entire way there, but a combination of a priority on maximising speed, as well as the entire command staff being focused upon creating a plan of battle, and its numerous requisite backup plans, and backup plans for those backup plans, had delayed it until the point where there was now a panicked rush to get it done. Which is why the entire Ops room of the Invincible was currently acting as though she were already in her place in the right flank of the fleet above Scafell, facing the aliens, who for the simulation's purposes will be assigned a different composition, VI, and technology level for each different run of the exercise.

Besides them to the right was the Battle Line. An outdated term, considering it was more of a Battle Plane, but with the Royal Navy tradition was tradition. As per standard doctrine to either side of the Battle Line of Dreadnoughts were the flanks, formed from the Battlecruisers and Heavy Cruisers of the fleet. Though those same Heavy Cruisers could also be found above and below the Battle Line, unlike the Battlecruisers which were solely to either side. The Light Cruisers, and Heavy Destroyers screened the Battle Line, while the Frigates formed a close-in Picket half-sphere. The Carriers were further back, protected by the lines, and by their Light Destroyer escorts, with the HMS Canada and HMS Cyrpus position at the back of even the Carriers. Each flanking force also had its own dedicated force of Light Destroyers and Frigates for screening as well, though those screening forces were far smaller than that of the main Battle Line.

Everyone on the Bridge was ready, with a tense air of anticipation. The previous runs of the simulation had gone well, and competition had already started between the various Battlecruisers over who could bag the most successful hull-hits. Each station was manned, and through-out the rest of the ship the crew were similarly ready. It was a fully immersive simulation, of course, except for the skeleton crew assigned to the normal procedures of keeping the ship on the route to the Shanxi system.

The Fleet Admiral gave the order, and the simulation commenced in an explosion of activity upon every display. Immediately the klaxon began to blare, and the pre-recorded voice called for 'Action Stations' shouted over the din. At the same moment, the Ops Room bulkhead doors slammed shut, cutting them off from the rest of the ship. From the Damage Control display he could see that many doors all through the ship to sections or rooms did as well, no doubt deemed unnecessary in combat.

"Full thrust forward! Prepare the main guns for firing, and load the ship-to-ship missiles!" Captain Kenning immediately started giving orders.

"Sir!"

"Set course 025 Degrees by 010 Degrees, and ask the Repulse what the bloody hell it thinks it is doing!"

The end result was made clear on the central displays. The ship swiftly moved ahead of the Battle Line, alongside the other Battlecruisers on either flank, while the Heavy Cruisers remained back to protect them against potential enemy flanking attempts. The Battle Line had already opened fire, while the non-Troop-carrying Carriers launched their Combat Air Patrols and Torpedo Bombers. HMS Cyrpus and HMS Canada, meanwhile, had let loose a deluge of troop transports, both heavy and light, towards the surface of the planet.

It was at this point, just before the first fighter squadrons got to the main Battle Line for screening, that the simulation was shut down by the Fleet Admiral. A few of the bridge crew let out disappointed sighs, but the most upset was the Captain, who immediately contacted the HMS Victory and demanded an explanation, shortly before the Fleet Admiral opened up a channel with every ship in the Fleet.

"My apologies for disrupting this exercise, but it has just come to my attention that someone or something has been leaking these simulations to the media back home through the Comm Buoys. Until the leak is identified, all exercises will have to be conducted locally on each individual ship." Just as soon as he had finished, he cut the connection. Clearly he had things to do, probably directly involved with the aforementioned leak.

The Captain immediately began ranting and raving to his Second in Command as the bulkhead doors rose all through the ship, but as far as Hackett was concerned, the benefits of these exercises far outweighed the potential impacts of the leak, or leaks. However, he was but a lieutenant, and a young one at that, so his opinions really do not impact decision making of that level. Still, if he knew the Captain, they would just continue locally as the Admiral had suggested, so they would still get-

"All right, open up the ship-wide PA system." Hackett did as was ordered, opening up the channel to the ship's myriad of speakers through out its corridors and rooms. "Thank you," the Captain picked up the microphone and pressed the button on the side. "Unfortunately, today's simulation has been halted by order of the Fleet Admiral. The presence of a leak within the fleet had apparently been determined, so there will be a thorough investigation regarding this matter."

"However, despite the unfortunate circumstances, I am sure none of you wish for the proud ship Invincible to enter battle without being as prepared as she can be. You need not worry, for we shall continue with our own ship-local simulation exercises, using VIs to simulate the other ships in our fleet. These shall commence following the necessary updates and changes to the infrastructure." The Captain cleared his throat after the PA system was deactivated. "Well, get to it everybody, I want us ready to re-enter exercises as soon as possible."

28/08/2157 - 07:30 Local Time

Well, he had finally managed to get Richy to trust him enough to let him in on 'The Plan', something he had not anticipated being this hard given how forward he had been about it previously, and now he should finally be able to stop this ridiculous plot. That or, if it is actually plausible, help it from within the trust of the aliens. He was still undecided, and also still somewhat confused as to why he was the one trusted by the 'Saurs.

"Come on, this way. We noticed that they don't have any view of this small part of the Camp during this time of day. Very convenient when we don't want them to find out about what we are talking about."

"That is a tad rich considering what happened a few days back in the Mess hall."

"Yeaah, that was a mistake, but a necessary one. Would have been too slow to induct people one by one when we are sure we wont be noticed. A gamble, if you want."

With that last word, they turned around a corner, and found themselves in a nook nestled between two sleeping quarters for the prisoners, with a pre-fab wall to their backs. Quite clearly when a Dino was guarding those same quarters the area would be entirely in their sight range, but for the period between wake up and the start of the working day, there were no guards stationed there.

"So, what is this 'plan' then?"

"You are mighty determined to find out for someone who was VERY clear about their lack of interest only a few short days ago." Fortunately, no one had actually noticed his absence when Purple had taken him to see Pale. That was a great relief as it meant he did not need to somehow spin a story of seeking alien help with something too private to show other humans. What were they thinking with that?

"Being a prisoner of war does weird things to a guy, you know. Just needed that time to get my head on straight." Kane feigned a sigh.

"Fair enough, don't need to tell me. Well, lets just say this isn't the only gap in their security, the only chink in their armour. They are bloody confident, over confident, and that will be their downfall."

"Correct me if I am wrong, but if it is just more nooks and crannies where you can talk unobserved, that does not seem to be the form of great undoing you think it is."

"Oh, ho, ho, ho. The other mistakes are not nearly so minor. You know where they do the interviews and scans? That ENTIRE fucking lab? For most of the day it has NO guards in it! The doors are even closed!"

"Ah yes, great plan, we rebel, overpower the civilian scientists, and then realise we are trapped with very angry anthropomorphic raptors crowding the only entrance or exit."

"Lets just say that is not the only entrance and exit. Or at least, wont be after we are done." He taps the side of his nose. "Tunnels take too long to dig, but that lab is built on seriously uneven ground. All we would need to do is tear up a floor panel and we would be home free."

"Only a small portion of our people are in there at any given time. Surely you cannot be willing to risk reciprocal action by our captors to allow a dozen or so to escape?"

"That is the thing. This is not being done to escape, no, this is being done to distract them from the front." Richey leans in. "They will have to dedicate men, equipment, drones, to searching for the escaped prisoners. For all these mistakes, their security is fucking tight, there is no way we could orchestrate a full escape before the invasion is over, but we could most certainly buy the city the time it needs for relief to come…"

29/08/2157

Desolas had alot of reports to finish, as much as he appreciated the promotion, it had come with alot more work, and stress, alot of stress. Especially regarding the potential rebellion the Prims were brewing, though, if he could trust the judgement of one of his best people, that Prim that was dragged in here a while back should be more than able to help them stop this. Imagine the Fleet General's response if they were forced to put down a rebellion by force, it would be abysmal for optics, no matter what they did it would look like they were abusing and suppressing the prisoners of war.

However, as stressful as that was, what took most of his time was the bloody reports. The General seemingly wanted to know everything that happened in the camp, on a daily basis, to excruciating levels of detail. He barely had the time to actually talk with those under him, and that was actually partially necessary for the creation of the reports!

Just as Desolas was about to finish his latest one, summarising the progress on the translator and biological studies that had been achieved that day, his door was opened by a very familiar, thankfully apparently unkillable, face.

"Saren! Haven't seen you in a while, how's your Squad doing?"

"Very good, in fact, they are ready for duty already!"

"Really? That was quick." Saren was clearly proud, though whether that was over his field promotion sticking, or pride of his squad recovering quickly, Desolas could not tell.

"Well, we are kinda being rushed to the frontlines ready for when the mines are cleared enough for us to advance into the city. They aren't FULLY recovered, but orders are orders."

That made sense, the General REALLY was biting at the bit to get going, and after all the delays that Palanurus had pushed on him Desolas had no doubt he would push to get everyone marching on that cursed Prim city as soon as he could. Which means that Saren was once more entering the firing line, after such a close run in last time.

"Good luck out there, they almost shredded you last time."

"Heh, don't need luck when you have skill, and the enemy are fighting you with no armour. This will be a fucking blast."

01/09/2157

Both he and his spotter stared through their respective optics, at the very distant mine field. They were deadly focused on one thing, the cluster of enemy tanks equipped with quad-blade prows churning up the ground. In the front of the vehicle where the first pair, akin to angle bulldozer blades, creating an almost pike nose which split the ground in front of them, and shunted it to the side. Then, behind them, mounted so they significantly exceeded the width of the tank, were the second pair of prows, which dug up ground in front of themselves, all while also directing the flow of dirt and detritus from the forward two blades out to the sides. Why they weren't just detonating the mines was a mystery to him, but he was a sniper, he knows jack shite about mine clearing.

What was important was not the method though, that they had known for weeks. No. The important thing was just how damned close to finishing they were. That and the fact that Taurian forces had been gathering on their side of the trenches for two days now, preparing for the assault, no doubt, as soon as the flood gates opened. He knew he couldn't do much to stem the tide, hell, even with the other snipers arrayed against them he doubted they could do much more than annoy them. A Sniper's job was taking out High Value Targets, not just random troopers, something the public and vids always seem to get wrong, and that was damned hard when all of the enemy infantry looked the same as each other in their armour. The best they could do is target the ones with the clearly larger guns, but that was hardly appropriate enough target prioritisation to maximise their effectiveness, something more important than ever with how dire the situation was getting. The one advantage they had was that their guns were FAR more effective against their personal kinetic barriers than the standard SA-23 the other men were stuck with.

The two men continued to watch the inexorable progress of the alien giants, only pausing to give periodic updates over the radio and comms, using both in case the Taurians began to use Comms or Radio jamming equipment. Then, then the event they had all been waiting for with equal parts dread and anticipation happened. They had broken through the Mine field, and immediately the tanks moved to the side of the new path, ditched the prows, and turned forward again to begin moving towards the city. The bloody disciplined bastards had already began moving their troops forward, forming up for an assault on the city!

"This is Hunter Four reporting. The Taurians are through, repeat, the Taurians are through."