The Battle of Kurtzenheim #3

Episode Three: Armageddon

"Und läßt uns im Stich einst das treulose Glück,
Und kehren wir nie mehr zur Heimat zurück,
Trifft uns die Todeskugel, ruft uns das Schicksal ab - ja Schicksal ab:
Dann ist uns der Panzer ein ehernes Grab."

(And should at long last, Fickle Lady Luck leave,
And we remain here, leaving family to grieve,
A bullet with our name on it, find us and seal our fate - yes, seal our fate,
Our tanks will our grave be on that final date.)

-Final Stanza, der Panzerlied-

1418 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

Fuel was already becoming a problem now. With her reaction mass tanks now less than a quarter full, Warrant Officer Adelene Chan wasn't going to have to be careful how she maneuvered her Intruder.

There was some good news and there was bad news as well. First, the good news. She had managed to get clear of the roiling melee that continued to rage around the Nightingale. Having successfully disengaged from that swirling mess

Now came the bad news. And there was plenty of it. Returning to the fleet and the Vigilant, she had found several CEGA exos and fighters still shooting up JAF warships. Checking in with Vigilant's Tactical Officer, she found that the last set of instructions to her were still in effect.

And so, low on fuel and down to her UV gatling laser, she had ploughed through the Earth forces, coasting wherever possible to conserve fuel. The CEGA fighters were already beginning to withdraw, their munitions and fuel almost completely exhausted. She had ignored these since they posed no more threat to the fleet.

She had pounced a Fury that had been headed for Vigilant, a stream of energy from her gatling laser shearing off her target's thruster assembly, while the strike carrier's point defense lasers perforated the powerless hulk with several dozen high powered bolts of light.

The fuel gauge showed her eating into the remaining 15% of her reaction mass. She could only pray that it would outlast the CEGA exos which were themselves beginning to withdraw in waves.

1425 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

Kurtzenheim and its surroundings were gripped in chaos. As far as Hauptmann Peter Tan could tell from the garbled snippets over the radio, the action in space was one grand melee that rivaled the ferocity of the ground battle that was moving ever closer to his nation's capital.

From what he could piece together, in addition to Federate forces trying to hold back the Republican assault, the Jovians were landing in force around the planet to assist Republican troops in covering the evacuations and to hunt CEGA exos that had sought refuge on the Martian surface. Follow-on CEGA forces were also arriving, to hunt the Jovians who were hunting their comrades.

Communications were a complete mess as electronic warfare operators on all sides battled for superiority of the airwaves. No sooner had Republican jamming been defeated would it be replaced by Jovian wide-band jamming, which in turn would be countered by CEGA efforts. When the Federates got a break, Peter would then hear scattered updates from higher command. Then the cycle would simply start again.

"Hauptmann!" That voice almost made him jump in his seat. He recognized it at Oberleutnant Becker, one of the assistant grupen commanders. "Hauptmann Tan, where are you, sir?"

He scanned his radar. Becker's exo was showing at the edge of his sensor display. Damn it. He had figured that he had managed to slip away cleanly in the confusion following his order for the 12th Sturmobergrupen to scatter.

Now it seemed like he had picked up a trail. And he was just short of where he had last seen the Jovian exo-armors too.

"Hauptmann, we have new orders from Command!" Becker continued even though he received no answer from his superior. "We are to turn around and form a new line to hold back the Jovians!"

Peter didn't answer. Instead he pushed his exo forward, trying to coax every last ounce of energy from its tired reactor. He simply had to lose his comrade and then he'd be safe. Maybe there was a chance the he could elude detection . . .

"Sir! I know you are out there! Please respond! Command is demanding that you respond now!"

Peter knew that if he had any second thoughts about defecting, now would be his last chance to turn back. But then he knew that even if he went back now, hard questions would be asked about why he had ordered his unit to scattered in the face of the enemy advance. No, he told himself. He had already crossed the point of no return when he gave that order.

"Transmission garbled . . . please repeat . . ." And with that he shut down his exo's comm unit. A moment later, he toggled off the IFF transponder as well, making him invisible to friendly units. Without squawking an Identification Friend or Foe code of any sort, he would essentially be fair game for anyone who didn't see the Martian Federation markings on his vehicle. It was a risk that he was willing to take.

1427 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

Corporal Joshua Loke twisted his linear frame and consequently, his entire exo, snapping off a hurried shot at the fleeting glimpse that he got of his target.

But he knew he was already too late as the bolt of blue lighting crashed into the ridgeline that his quarry and disappeared under. Red Martian dust turned to black glass as the charge particles sizzled whatever they touched.

He checked his sensor display but he needn't have bothered since the image was heavily snowed over by jamming from at least a dozen different sources. He looked around and realized suddenly that he was alone. So engrossed had he been in tracking down the Wyvern that was his target that he had allowed himself to be separated from his comrades.

"Deliverer Ten to any Deliverer, come in please?" His eyes searched the Martian terrain desperately for anything that might look like an exo, be it friendly or otherwise. Vast pillars of red dust were rising now as exo armors threshed about, emerging long enough to fire before disappearing into cover once more.

"I say again, this is Deliverer Ten. Is there anyone out there?"

As if on cue, a chunky humanoid shape stepped out of the gloom just in front of him, causing him to literally jump in his linear frame. Had in been in space, that would not have been a problem. But his knee-jerk reaction had caused his exo to literally jump and stumble backwards even as the CEGA Wyvern sent dual streams of mass driver rounds slashing out towards him. Joshua grunted as several round bored through his Deliverer's chest armor, rocking the pilot housed within.

It was a good thing that he had been tumbling when the first shots struck since his exo armor had hit the ground as the worst of the salvo passed overhead. Raising his combination weapon pod which housed his particle cannon and railgun in over-under configuration, he sent a slug screaming at the retreating form.

Rolling his damaged Deliverer over and onto its knees, he checked the status displays. Most of the damage had been structural though he noted that the right arm, which bore his vibro axe was responding a little slower than normal.

Realizing that his attacker was very likely circling around for another shot, he brought his exo back up to its feet. The key to a battle like this was to keep moving. Staring into the swirling murk, he realized that it was hopeless trying to spot his assailant. It was very likely that the Wyvern had encountered him purely by chance.

He toggled on the massive thrusters and felt his exo rising in a thick pillar of dust. Scanning the ground below him, he thought he saw an exo slipping in and out of the dust clouds and he shot over on his thrusters, coming back to earth just behind it.

The other pilot must have either felt the impact of the Deliverer landing behind him or simply sensed the danger since the exo began to turn even as the Deliverer's knee joints were absorbing the impact of landing.

Even from its side, Joshua recognized his target as a CEGA Wyvern, possibly the same one that had attacked him earlier. His own combo weapon pod was already raised he made a split-second decision to use the railgun since he couldn't fire both weapons simultaneously. It was unfortunate that the CEGA pilot was raising his own arm to bring his weapon to bare since then there was nothing to stop the solid, ten-kilogram slug from crashing into the weakly-armored waist section.

Armor buckled and splintered and the Wyvern sagged, mortally wounded. Switching to his linked Vulcan cannons mounted on either side of his exo's head, he send a withering hail of ultra-dense 20mm shells chewing the vulnerable area under the Wyvern's armpit.

A green light came on, indicating that the particle cannon was now ready to fire and Joshua sent the bolt of accelerated particles crashing into his target's upper torso just to make sure it was dead. Blue lightning played across the exo as it collapsed face-first onto the ground. A bright light seemed to emanate from within and Joshua's eyes widened in horror as he realized what was about to happen.

1429 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

The dust cloud around him vanished suddenly and a shockwave nearly bowled his Defender Camel over had it not been for his quick reflexes. He waited for the buffeting shock to pass and looked to the source.

Standing no more than fifty meters ahead was an exo armor. The most menacing model he had ever seen.  It looked a bit like a Pathfinder, except for the massive rocket pods (thankfully empty) on it shoulders and the mean looking axe grasped in its right hand.

The unidentifiable remains of another exo lay strewn at the first exo's feet, and it was clear that the victim's reactor had exploded. Somehow, the victor stood before Hauptmann Peter Tan now, charred, battered but still operational.

For one terrified moment, he thought that it was a Republican machine. But then he saw the partially scorched motif on the chunky shoulder pads. Jovian thunderbolts . . . He felt his heart skip a beat and he lowered his exo's railgun even as the Jovian machine finally turned to face it fully.

Yes! He had finally made contact with Jovian forces. He had not thought it possible but here was the meanest-looking Jovian exo he had ever seen. And for once, he was glad to see a machine of his adversaries up close and personal.

The problem now was trying to convince this Jovian that he was trying to defect before he decided to blow him away. The Jovian's main weapon was coming up and Peter found himself staring into it twin barrels.

1431 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

Adelene allowed herself to sagged into her acceleration couch and release huge sigh. She was a spent entity, which was just as well since they were clear of enemy forces now. The JAF fleet had broken up into numerous task forces after the initial salvos.

Vigilant, her home vessel had somehow managed to keep up with the Gilgamesh and the flagship's consorts in the midst of the grand battle that had ceased only moments ago as the last of the enemy exo armors fled for the safety of their home carriers.

Alone in the still silence of her cockpit, she could hear her labored breathing and the runaway pounding of her heart. She took several gulps of oxygen in an effort to calm her nerves and slow down her heart rate. It took nearly a full minute to do that.

When she trusted herself to finally speak, she thumbed the transmitting button on her HOTAS (Hand On Throttle And Stick) system and spoke into her helmet pickup. It was then that she realized how dry her mouth really was. It felt as if she had been chewing on cotton and it was no surprise then that her voice sounded hoarse.

"Camelot, Camelot." She croaked. "This is Lancelot One. Requesting landing clearance."

"Negative, Lancelot One." That was the voice of the Deck Commander on the Vigilant. "Half our flight bays are down and we're trying to recover the exos first."

Right . . . Adelene rolled her eyes. It was always the exos that got priority in the JAF. Sure, the fighters were the ones who could get to the combat zone first and often did. But exo armors were the pets of the Jovian High Command. Maybe it had something to do with the relative expendability of the interceptors as opposed to the exorbitant price tag that came with each one of those humanoid war machines. 

Coasting past the Vigilant, she could see the extensive damage that had been done to her portside flight bays. Unlike the more popular Lancer interceptor fighter, the Intruder she flew had a real clear canopy rather than the opaque, wraparound holoscreens of the Lancer. That little feature allowed her to view the damage with her own eyes as she closed in on her mothership. Several jagged holes and scorch marks marring her once sleek lines.

Crossing over to the strike carrier's other side, she could see a badly shot-up Retaliator Alpha trying to dock with one the three operational flight bays one the starboard side. She suppressed a snort of disgust. The exo looked fit for scrap and yet they were trying to recover it before her own, relatively unscathed fighter. It made no sense to her at all. The wrecked Retaliator would simply take up space in the flight bay, unable to contribute any further to this battle.

"Better make it quick, Camelot. I'm about to go running on fumes." Adelene finally said, glancing nervously at her fuel gauge. She had the engine throttled back since she did not need the thrust.

"Watch that tone, Lancelot." The Deck Commander snapped back at her. "We'll recover you as soon as we're done with the exos. Captain's preparing search and rescue assets in case you fighter jocks run out of fuel before then."

Adelene felt her gut twisting at that. Back at flight school, it had been taught to them. Upon transfer to an active squadron, it had been further reinforced by the squadron leaders. But never had she expected to hear it happening to her for real.

Interceptors were considered expendable to the Jovian Armed Forces. In combat, they were supposed to use their speed to get in quick and do as much damage as possible until the exo armors arrived. If fuel ran out, the pilot was expected to wait for search and rescue assets to arrive and pick them up. And that almost always meant ejecting, leaving their relatively replaceable fighters to the cold depths of space. The machines may have been considered expendable but the pilots were obviously not.

She looked at her fuel gauge again and felt an honest sense of dread. She wasn't very big on being out in space. Even with her A-9 flight suit on, she always felt vulnerable in space without the protective shell of her fighter cockpit wrapped around her.

Taking several more deep breaths, she tried to calm herself down and keep her stomach from doing anymore flips. There was a lump growing in her throat now as every second seemed to bring her closer to the inevitable act of ejection.

"Lancelot! Lancelot!" Camelot's frenzied voice was barely recognizable. "We have multiple high-speed incoming!"

"What the . . .?" Adelene leaned forward at that panicked call, feeling the seat restraints digging into her shoulders. Her mind and pulse rate were racing again at the threat of imminent danger.

"Confirmed! Multiple enemy exos inbound on high burn!"

Adelene's sensor display chirped as numerous red blips were updated to her targeting system courtesy of the crew in the Vigilant's communications center. There were about a dozen of them, coming from straight ahead, having swung around the lee side of the Red Planet. Whether they were simply a group of exos using the planet as a slingshot to return home or a strike force intent on attacking the Jovian flagship, it was clear that they were going to pass through the JAF force.

"Looks like a lightning strike . . ." Adelene said to no one in particular. The rate of closure displayed on a sidebar. It would be less than thirty seconds before they got into firing range.

"Go get them, Lancelot!"

"With what?" Adelene retorted. "All I've got left . . ."

"Just do it!" Vigilant's Tactical Officer screamed back. "Protect the flagship!"

Adelene needed no further encouragement. Pushing her throttle forward and disregarding the blinking red light that warned her of impending fuel starvation, she placed her gun reticule over one of the exo armors that was screaming towards her. Her targeting computer identified it as a Fury, an improved version of the Syreen.

They way she figured it, she'd have about a window of two seconds to fire her gatling laser before they passed each other. The thing about lightning strikes (given that both sides had enough to time to line up their targets) was that whoever had the most firepower won. And Adelene knew it wasn't she who held the advantage. She could only hope the Fury wasn't aiming for her.

She watched the range counting down faster than she could track. The reticule flashed red and she squeezed the trigger, sending out a hail of coherent light. Her target flashed into view and she saw several hits, armor peeling off her victim. But it wasn't enough and the Fury zipped overhead in a flash without firing.

And that was it. Adelene sagged into her seat once more, exhausted. She had her on chance at stopping the attack and she had failed. There was nothing more she could do now as the CEGA exos streaked into attack range of the fleet. As if her mood were some sort of cue, the fuel gauge let out an alert as her fighter consumed the last of its reaction mass and the thrum of her engine thrusters died, leaving her alone with the sound of her hard breathing once more.

1416 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

A dozen CEGA exos, mostly Furies and Cerberuses were dashing through the web of defensive fire being thrown up by the JAF warships. The JAF warships opened fire with everything they had the moment the enemy craft came into range. A few explosions erupted in the cold, silent vacuum of space, marking the passing of Earther machines.

But the rate of closure was simply too great and even the fleet's combined firepower could not stop them all before they could carry out their lightning strike. The CEGA force flashed into range. Even though their window of opportunity lasted no more than five seconds, the surviving exos cut loose with everything they had.  

Missiles, particle beams, railgun slugs and hypergolic bazooka shells streaked through the void, mostly concentrated on one target – Gilgamesh. Even as the exos streaked through the Jovian fleet's formation, explosions were blossoming as their ordnance struck their targets. One of the Furies, already suffering a damage thruster, careened into the Jovian flagship's hull, coring a great maw through several decks before finally exploding.

The resulting explosion tore through several more decks, touching off the Jovian flagship's missile magazines. Even as the surviving CEGA exos sped off in the opposite direction, Gilgamesh trembled as secondary explosions swept through her interior like a wave. Bulges appeared in the Gilgamesh's armored hull like some grotesque metal blisters, then burst in molten hot splinters that spun crazily into space.

Admiral Gordo Sullivan, commander of the Jovian peacekeeping force had only a fraction a second to realize what had happened before the command center of his flagship disintegrate with the passage of the expanding fireball engulfing the forward section of the Gilgamesh.

1432 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

"Oh, God!"  Someone on the Falchion's bridge gasped. One the display that provided them with an optical scan of the ship's surroundings, they could all see the horrific damage done to the fleet's flagship in the sudden exo attack.

Captain Andy Ho swallowed as the damage became apparent on-screen. It looked as if someone had just split the flagship open like a tin can. Several of her decks were visible, open to space and she resembled a gruesome cross-section cutaway that was more commonly found in technical manuals.

Deprived of her bridge and command spaces, there was no one to control her and already drifting out of position, her flaring engines and gravity combined forces to decide her course.

"Gilgamesh is falling out of formation!" The navigator announced even though it could clearly be seen by all on the bridge.

"Comms, try and raise them!" Captain Ho snapped, shaking off the shock of what had just happened. "Sensors, talk to me. Where are those enemy exos?"

"Looks like they're coming around for another attack!"

"Then I suggest you vector our exos after them."

"Captain! The Gilgamesh . . .! She's . . ." The navigator looked back him with stark horror written all over her face. Captain Ho looked at the video screen and the image spoke for itself.

Something had gone horribly wrong. Instead of simply wallowing out of formation at cruising speed as it had begun, both her drives were flaring hotly now, increasing the stricken battleship's speed.

"Sir, here particle defense shields are up at maximum power!" The sensor operator exclaimed.

"Good heavens . . ." Even the normally reserved Andy Ho could not resist the urge to gasp, Gilgamesh was had come out of its turn now and her course seemed fixed. Mars lay just beyond her crumpled prow. "Please, God, no . . . We've got to stop her!"

Apparently, the captain of the destroyer Troy seemed to realize what was going on as well and he maneuvered his ship in a manner that interposed his vessel with the Gilgamesh. It was a suicidal gesture and far from adequate. The Athena-class destroyer's top laser fin came off as the flagship's engine section collided with it. But the impact had hardly had any effect on the larger ship's course and she continued to barrel towards the planet.

"Navigator, plot Gilgamesh's trajectory!" Ho said, his eyes fixed on the image of the warship that was being pulled down by the invisible tendrils of the Red Planet's gravity.

"She's definitely headed for Mars . . . project point of impact is the Syria Planus!" The navigator stared at her instruments in shock as she did the rapid calculations.

"We've got to stop her!"

Several escorts fired at the flagship in a vain attempt to knock her off course. It was a terrible thing to fire on one's own ships. But compared to the catastrophe that would occur should the battleship hit the planet . . .

But the Jovian command vessel was already too far away to be hit by the bulk of her escorts weaponry and the geometry was mostly wrong. There was no doubting where she was headed now – Mars.

And there was no stopping her now.

 "Speed is now 15 kps. She'll hit the atmosphere in ten seconds!" The navigator called out excitedly. "Sir, the damage will be . . ."

"Belay that! Someone find a way to warn our people on the ground!" But even as he gave the order, he knew it was almost too late.

1434 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

For what had seemed to be an eternity, the two exos had faced off. Both unwilling to move or take the first shot. The Jovian Deliverer, with Corporal Joshua Loke in the cockpit, still had its weapon trained on the Defender Camel piloted by Hauptmann Peter Tan.

The Jovian corporal felt his finger hovering over the trigger. But something had stopped him from shooting. Maybe it was because the Federation exo pilot hadn't shot at him yet. From his vantage point, he could see that the Martian vehicle was already quite beat up with several deep gouges in the armor where railgun slugs had grazed it.

On the other hand, the Hauptmann Tan had stared at the Jovian, his heart thumping away in his chest as his hands poised over his controls to raise his weapon arm should it come to that. For now, his railgun was lowered so that he would not present a threat to the Jovian.

How the hell do I defect now? Peter asked himself. He realized that he hadn't given any thought to this part of defecting prior to his decision. I can't just walk up to him and announce my intentions now, can I? His mind had pondered the question in minutes that had dragged by.

There was a tinny sound in his ears. Some static. And then a voice.

". . .leutnant . . .ker to Hauptmann . . . lease respond!"

Becker. Hauptman felt a stab of fear. The young Oberleutnant had always struck him as the zealous sort and he began to wonder what orders the man had received from higher command. He had not expected the man to have pursued him so doggedly though.

And even if he finds me . . . what does he expect me to do? Reform the unit? Peter shook his head. That was impossible now. The 12th Sturmobergrupen had been completed scatter beyond all hope of regrouping. At least for this battle. A more ominous thought hit him. Did someone suspect his true intentions?

It was possible, he conceded. But it was unlikely that Becker would be one of them. If he had been instructed to hunt down a rogue and he wouldn't be simply running after him now, calling out to him. But then again, the Hauptmann had learnt a long time ago that things were never what they seem . . . especially in the Martian Federation.

He had to move soon or Becker would catch up with him. And he was sure that officer had no qualms about firing on a Jovian exo. He had to make his move now.

There was another voice on the radio now. On a general frequency. Amazingly, this one was free from enemy jamming and though atmospheric conditions and great range still interfered with the signal, the words were unmistakably clear. And panicked.

"All Federate units! Clear the Syria Planus! All Federate units! Clear the Syria Planus now!"

Peter could sense the raw panic in that voice and whoever was giving that order had certainly lost it. The Syria Planus covered several thousand square kilometers of the Martian surface. How the hell is anyone going to clear the area in time for . . . He stopped in mid-thought. In time for what?

In front of him, he saw the Jovian's weapon arm waver and the exo, mimicking its operator's movements, was looking up into the sky. Peter followed suit and realized that nothing he had ever seen in his life could prepare him for the spectacle that played out before him now.

Like a fiery comet, something big was arching down towards the ground. Jacking up the magnification of his exo's optical sensors, he saw the barely recognizable shape of a spaceship. Well, at least it was what remained of a spaceship since most of it had been molten beyond recognition as it burned through the atmosphere.

The sky had turned into a diffuse red now with the passing of this great, glowing, planetbound object. The sky in its wake seemed to be on fire and the plunging ship's arch was almost merging with the horizon. Peter felt an invisible hand gripping his heart as he checked noted the direction. Kurtzenheim . . . home . . .

The knot in his gut grew ever tighter as it looked like only an inch now separated the streaking object from the horizon.

Mein gott . . . no . . .

There was a bright flash in the distance, more brilliant than a dozen suns. The sky seemed to change color and Peter saw a wall of light coming towards him, sweeping across the Martian surface.

And then everything yielded to the magnificent all-encompassing radiance.

1435 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

"Get our people . . ." Captain Andy Ho turned to his communications operator.

"Captain!"  The navigator's cry was horrified and anguished at the same time.


"What the h . . ." And he stopped in mid-sentence at stared at the real-time video feed that showed Mars. They were already too late. "No, goddamn it . . . "

Even from high orbit, the blossoming explosion that marked Gilgamesh's passing was visible. It looked like a tiny pinprick of light at first, but it rapidly grew into a palm-sized inferno on the video screen, the wall of fire expanding outwards in a destructive sphere.

"Confirmed. Gilgamesh had hit Mars." The navigator said rather needlessly in a hoarse whisper.

"Sensors indicate that about forty percent of her mass remained intact to strike the planet," the sensor operator was trying to deliver his report calmly. "She was going at 12 kps when she hit."

"Sir . . . what do we do now?" The navigator looked at him helplessly. Captain Ho realized the rest of the brigde crew were watching him as well. Never in his entire life had he felt the burden of wearing those twin gold bars on his collar any more than he did now. For the first time in his career, he realized he did not know what to do.

1436 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

The half-melted hulk of the JSS Gilgamesh had hit the Syria Planum while traveling at nearly twelve kilometers per second. The resulting detonation had no modern precedent. Anything at ground zero was instantly vaporized a crater, some five kilometers wide had been gouged out of the red earth.

The explosion itself was more powerful than a thousand nuclear explosions and a ring of fire emanated from the point of impact, sweeping outwards at several hundred kilometers and hour. Walls of flame, accompanied by choking dust and roiling winds swept through everything in their path for miles around, flattening hills and mountains and even cities.

The Martian Federation's capital had been no more then twenty kilometers away from ground zero and it had taken slightly over a minute for the blast wave to arrive. Military units as well as civilians who had gotten word of the impending disaster and were trying to flee the area could only watch helplessly as the tide of destruction rolled unstoppably forward, consuming everything in its path.

 Kurtzenheim's city domes, built to withstand the most potent of Mars' sandstorms, cracked and burst open as if they were merely eggshells. The city stood against the holocaust for a minute or two, and then like everything else before it, was swept away.

Hovertanks and exo armors fighting in the capitals vicinity were picked up and tossed around like toys while aircraft unfortunate enough to be in the way were hurled out of the sky and sent plummeting into the ground. Regular infantry and their exo-suited counterparts scattered for whatever cover they could find. 

Ground effect vehicles, such as tracked APCs and wheeled jeeps were tossed onto their sides while exo-suits were flung though the air like rag dolls. For the men who wore nothing more than their Mars suits, the superheated rush of air and fire was powerful to churn the boulders they were hiding behind into pebbles, leaving them not much chance for survival.

And when the shockwave finally lost steam, what remained in its wake was the greatest sandstorm that the Red Planet had ever seen in recent years. Not that it would really matter to the six million Martians who had been living in that portion of the Syria Planum. Or the thousands of Martian, Jovian and Earther soldiers who had only minutes before been fighting against one another.

1439 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

Adelene could not find the words to even describe what she had just witness. It was utterly horrible. And yet, a part of her had stared at that corona of flame and smoke and felt a detached sense of awe and wonder at the raw beauty of such wanton destruction.

She wasn't sure what appalled her more. The magnitude of the disaster, or the fact that she found the sight of Gilgamesh crashing into Mars actually beautiful. She checked her radar screen. It seemed like everyone had stopped fighting the moment the Jovian ship's plunged had ended abruptly against the planetary surface.

Already, she could see the CEGA forces disengaging from the Jovian command task force which she had been asked to protect. They were scattering now and the Jovian exos, satisfied with the reprieve, made no attempt to pursue.

One of the Syreens was burning away from the Jovian warships when it seemed to spot her.  She saw it change its course, tracing a wide graceful turn that brought it on a course towards her.

"Oh, shit . . ." She reached out for the throttle and goosed it desperately even though she knew what the likely result would be.

Nothing. She had used up every last bit of her reaction mass in her effort to stop the exos that had been targeting Gilgamesh. When the fuel had run out, she had coasted along, confident that she would be recovered once the battle had ended.

But now an enemy exo had judged her to be easy pickings and was closing for the kill. And she was a sitting duck with nowhere to go. "This is Lancelot One! I'm in trouble here!"

There was nothing but static in her headset and she felt pure terror gripping her. She spoke urgently into her helmet pickup again. "This is Lancelot One! Someone . . . anyone, please help!"

The Syreen was coming out of its turn now, decelerating as it did. The pilot was coming on leisurely, taking the pleasure to indulge in a bit of target practice. Adelene felt totally helpless. She couldn't even turn her fighter's nose to face this enemy exo so that she could at least go down fighting.

Her hand rested on the ejection handle that was situated on her acceleration couch between her thighs. She felt the rigid, striped cord and took a deep breath. She did not relish the thought of ejecting from her fighter. And it wasn't a guarantee of survival. If her tormentor was particularly bloodthirsty, ejecting wasn't going to help. And even if that wasn't the case, an ejection pod's life support was far more limited as compared to staying in her fighter.

"I need help, damn it! Anyone . . .?"

A Wyvern was falling in behind the Syreen, coming in at full burn. Adelene felt her heart sink. If the Syreen didn't finish her off, the Wyvern's hypergolic bazooka would be more than enough to scatter her and her fighter across several hundred cubic kilometers of space.

Her hands tightened around the ejection handle as her pulse rate raced out of control. She would try to stay as long as possible, hoping that by some miracle, both exos would miss her. And even if they did hit her, she'd stay as long as possible. She had ejected once before and had almost died before rescue assets had reached her. She wasn't ready to relive those horrifying moments alone in space with her oxygen running out unless she absolutely had to.

A laser beam stabbed out at her. Even though she had tried to prepare herself for it, she had literally jumped in her seat as that spear of light snapped out at her, rasping off several inches of her right wingtip.

More laser beams were beginning to reach out for her when she saw something which she would consider even  more incredible than Gilgamesh's demise. The Wyvern that had been following, closed right in behind the Syreen and loosed off a single bazooka shell, right into the back of the Syreen.

The Syreen pilot had been too engrossed with toying around with her to notice the Wyvern. Not that he or she would have expected to be fired upon by a friendly in any case. Either way, the result was the same. The legless exo's thin armor collapsed under the impact of the exploding shell, and fires fed greedily on the onboard store of reaction mass before the entire craft and its pilot disintegrated in a ball of incandescent gas.

And then the Wyvern was streaking towards her, leaving the dead Syreen in its wake. For a moment, she thought she was the CEGA exo wave at her before barreling past her without so much as firing a shot.

She stared at the glowing thrusters of the Wyvern as it raced away from her, leaving her alone once more in the deathly still silence of space around Mars. She still couldn't believe what she had just seen. Checking her radar scope again, she noted that all the other CEGA exos were headed away from the Jovian fleet. More importantly, no one was fleeing her way.

Looking back now at the tiny speck that had been her saviour, Adelene allowed a deep sigh of relief. "Thank you . . . whoever you are." And then she slumped back into her acceleration couch and waited.

1441 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

"This is Oberst Amara Azura of the Martian Bundesarmee." The face on the screen kept jumping and fading in and out though the static-laced audio was clearly audible. The transmission was coming in over public channels.

Captain Andy Ho stared at the pale, narrow-faced woman with grey hair whose image was projected before all of them. She was wearing the crimson red jacket with gold piping of the Martian Federal Army dress uniform. The rank tabs denoting her status as an Oberst were pinned prominently on her high collars.

"Kurtzenheim has been totally destroyed. Premierminister von Braun is dead." She announced quietly though everyone could hear her clearly. "In the absence of a leader, I, Oberst Amara Azura am assuming control of the Federation for the duration of the crisis."

Andy Ho didn't want to know just how much of the Federation's power structure had gone with the loss of Kurtzenheim. An Oberst was the Federation equivalent of a Jovian Colonel in terms of rank, though they were equal in their power and authority to Jovian Generals.

"On behalf of my nation and the planet of Mars, I wish to appeal to all belligerent parties to comply with an immediate ceasefire. As a sign of my good will to the Martian Free Republic, I am ordering all Federate forces to stand down and cease offensive action. They will still return fire should they be fired upon." She paused for a moment then looks straight into the camera pickup and spoke again. Captain Ho could see that she was forcing herself to speak. The words were not coming easily. "I would also respectfully request the Jovian and CEGA fleets to cease hostilities with one another and to commence search and rescue operations immediately. I will allow rescue shuttles from either side to land on Mars to retrieve any personnel who are currently planetside. These operations should be conducted with the utmost speed, after which it is my earnest hope for both parties to disengaged and withdraw, leaving Mars to deal with her problems."

There was another pause. A longer one this time. "I implore all sides to agree to and honor this ceasefire. Please . . . there has been enough blood shed today." Azura was looking at someone or something off-screen now. "With immediate effect, all Federate forces on and around Mars are standing down and withdrawing to defensive positions. Please . . . help stop this madness . . ."

She stared once more at the camera, choked with emotion before she finally said. "This is Oberst Azura, Martian Bundesarmee . . . signing off. God help us all."

Indeed, Captain Ho thought to himself. God help us indeed. He sat in hic command chair in silence for a very long while before he turned to face his communications operator. "Any instructions from anyone on our side."

"Not as of yet. No one has assumed command at this time." The comms operator shrugged. "But I'm picking up transmissions from the other task forces indicating that CEGA forces have already disengaged and are deploying rescue craft. Several of our ships are also commencing search and rescue operations now."

"Very well. I suggest we get started too then."

1451 HOURS – 30 AUGUST, 2213

Peter came to and noticed that it was dark in the exo's cockpit. It took him a moment to regain his bearings. When the blast wave had hit them, he hard remember trying to keep his exo upright. But it had all been in vain and he had been swept away, tumbling over and over into the desert, blacking out before he had come to a stop.

Testing the linear frame tentatively, he managed to bring his exo up onto his knees. He stared at his sensor display, scanning for the Jovian exo. He needn't have bothered. Either the sensor arrays had been fried or the cockpit instruments had been destroyed. The radar screen was blank.

He rotated his exo, scanning the area around him. What had once been rolling slopes and ridges had now been flattened. In the recently transformed landscape, it had only taken a moment to spot what he was looking for.

The Jovian exo lay on its back in a crumpled but still-recognizable heap. But over it stood a one-armed Defender with a familiar paint scheme. It's railgun was aimed at the Jovian exo's cockpit.

"Becker!" Peter yelled into his pickup. Apparently, the Oberleutnant had heard him since the railgun lowered and the Defender turned towards him.

"Hauptmann?"

Peter realized that there was no turning back now. They were probably the only three people for miles around now. And he didn't think Becker was going the spare the Jovian pilot, He had seen some of the things this officer had done to Republican prisoners. It wasn't pretty. And then Becker would probably become suspicious even if Peter pulled rank to get the Jovian spared. And the Jovian was his only chance at defecting.

"Herr Hauptmann?" Becker repeated, his voice wavering slightly.

Peter hardened his heart and brought his railgun up in one fluid motion, and then triggered a single ten-centimeter slug right into the other Defender's cockpit. Becker's exo staggered as the cockpit caved in from the hit. And then the one-armed Defender sagged and tumbled forward drunkenly into the Martian sand.

He suppressed the urge to sob. He had just killed one of his own. And in the distance, he knew Kurtzenheim, his home, was no more. His exo stumbled a few more steps forward to the fallen Jovian exo before the leg units finally failed. The Defender Camel fell unceremoniously onto its side, never to rise again.

In the cockpit, the Federation Hauptmann spared the other destroyed Martian machine one last look. He felt the pangs of guilt coming again but he shoved those thoughts away. Becker deserved what he got, he told himself as he pulled the jettison handle above his head. The cockpit hatch blew open and a wave of heat hit him. He checked his suit's environmental scanners.

It was slightly 'hot' outside though the radiation levels were not anywhere near dangerous proportions yet. Pounding the quick release stud for his linear frame harness, he felt the restraints go slack and he allowed himself the short plunge out of his machine's cockpit and onto the soft sand below.

It took him only a moment to recover from the fall though he felt like every part of him was aching when he finally stood and began to stagger over to the Jovian exo armor. Smoke was billowing from the joints of the machine and several gashes in its armor. Its guts were spilled out in some places, wires, myomer bundles and other components hanging out of ruptures in the metal body.

He reached down to his thigh holster and retrieved the gyroc pistol that he always carried with him. It always paid to be prepared. There was no telling how the Jovian pilot would react to him . . . if he were still alive.

He was moving faster now and he finally came up to the small mountain of metal that was partially embedded in the soft sand. The cockpit hatch was open, facing skyward. There was evidence to suggest that the cockpit had been torn open by the metal-shod hands of another exo. Peter knew it had to be Becker's work. He spared a glance over his shoulder and noted with satisfaction that there was no sign of life in Becker's Defender. That railgun slug must have pulped him as it passed through.

Hauptmann Tan made his way up with the help of handholds and he finally reach the open cockpit. The pilot was still inside. The short, squat, bespectacled man who wore the stripes of a corporal was choking at the acrid smoke that surrounded him as he struggled with the linear frame restraints that had been entangled with his body.

The Jovian saw him and stopped thrashing abruptly, eyes widening at the sight of Peter's uniform and gyroc pistol. The man swallowed visibly, then squared his jaw in an attempt to look defiant and resolute.

"Corporal Joshua Loke, Jovian Armed Forces. Serial number . . ."

Peter held out a hand to stop the man. Then he flipped the pistol around so he was now grasping its barrel and handed it over to the Jovian.

"Hauptmann Peter Tan, 12th Sturmobergrupen, Martian Bundesarmee." Then with the slightest of grins at the corporal's astonishment, he added. "It is I who wish to be your prisoner."