His eyes were heavy and he was about to doze off. This wasn't the way he would imagine a war would go. The night was still, it was almost as if the entire planet had held its collective breath, waiting for something terrible to begin. He had been with his designated partner for god knows how many hours now, and still nothing seemed to be happening. Screw this war, he thought. His eyes were now drowsy and the comfort of sleep was just another blink away.

Richie Hoyt was one of the first to volunteer in order to fight. The moment he saw the vidtape of the dying Jerome Blake dispensing his last will and testament, Hoyt realized that everything he knew about ComStar and the Word of Blake just went out the window. If they could just somehow fend these fanatics off and get this vidtape to the Star League Conference then everything would be okay in the universe. That was the hard part.

But of course since he did not have any prior training or experience, it was decided that he along with a half-dozen other archaeology students with similar aptitudes man several listening posts near the city's northern entrance. With most of the defenders expecting the attack to come from the obvious southern gates, Hoyt and the others would serve as an early-warning system in case the Blakists might try to attack from the north. But so far, nothing was happening, neither an attack from the north nor from the south had occurred. The night was calm and peaceful, the darkness was overpowering.

It had been several hours since he heard a communications check from his personal comm. unit and so he felt that it wasn't all that important. He had been lying down in what looked like the lower story of a stone house near the Sin Gate. As Hoyt looked around him in the barely visible darkness, he noticed that his partner had already fallen asleep beside her sleeping bag. He was thinking about waking her up and brewing some hot coffee when he heard a slight cracking noise coming from the street outside.

He was about to dismiss it as just part of the natural sounds of the night when it happened again. A dawning sense of fright nearly overwhelmed him when he realized that the slight cracking noises most probably came from the broken pottery that Major Durant had ordered to be strewn across the streets that afternoon. If anything of significant weight stepped on top of the pottery pieces, they would utter that very sound.

Although he was ready to fall asleep just a few seconds before, the dawning sense of reality snapped him back into an alert, unrelenting apprehension. For a brief moment he froze as sweat began to form on his brow despite the chill desert night. Precious seconds passed as he tried to remember the instructions on what to do. Fear gripped him and immobilized his body like the stone statues he was helping to excavate.

Adept Jason Cornelius smiled within his Purifier battlesuit but since his face was behind over an inch of armor, no one noticed it. His select team of LOM operators had been secretly airlifted using the Pintos to the north of the city several hours before and now they were slowly and carefully making their way down the streets at the northern end of the city, undetected and unchallenged. One team of operators chanced upon a stone dwelling near the northwest gate and found two young women asleep in their sleeping bags, their communicators unchecked and flare pistols close by. A solid knife stab to their chests and a slash at their windpipes and it was all over. So the defenders were clever enough to set up listening posts, Cornelius thought. Not clever enough to anticipate the stealth capabilities of the Purifiers though.

Cornelius and his colleague were the only two battlearmor-equipped infantrymen in his squad as they carefully made their way through a deserted intersection. With their night-vision devices guiding them, the entire scene was in a hazy shade of green. How he wished that the other suits weren't damaged in that daring raid a few days before. Oh well, no time for recriminations, we seem to be doing fine, Cornelius thought as the mimetic effect of the Purifier's stealth systems allowed the armor to change colors so that it was literally blending in with its surroundings. Even with night-vision, it would be very hard to spot a slow moving Purifier. As he made another step forward, Cornelius inadvertently stepped on a piece of broken pottery that was left on the street the day before.

Richie Hoyt heard it again. The slight cracking noise that signified another clay piece was being stepped on by something heavy. Looking around, he then felt that they were all around him, so close that he could feel the stink on their breaths. Shadows seemed to drift along the open stone windows of the abode where he was. He dared not exhale or move a muscle; it was almost like they were right beside him as he heard of whispering and the industrial smell of weapon lubricants. He was propped up beside a wall in a hallway and he nearly died of fright as a humanoid figure, dressed in combat armor and looking like an armored robot literally walked right passed him as it entered from the window and exited through the inner corridor. Their night-vision goggles had a limited field of vision and that was what saved him so far. It was a good thing that the enemy soldier did not look down on the floor for he might have been easily spotted then. As beads of sweat trickled down and stung his eyes, Hoyt remembered his comm. unit. As he flicked it on, he noticed that there was no signal in it. Now what? He could see the heads of the enemy right outside the window in the room where he was.

As he looked around, he noticed the flare pistol that they were supposed to use was on top of a stone bench near the window, just less than a meter from the enemy. It was then that he decided and his whole life flashed before him as he got up and ran towards the flare, bounding right past a surprised soldier who tried to level his rifle at him but it was too late. Hoyt made it to the bench, calmly aimed the flare pistol towards the sky and fired just as he was instantly cut down by steel-jacketed slugs and suppressed laser beams. A small orange fireball erupted into the night for a few seconds before it was shot out by another laser beam.

Cornelius cursed. The defenders were now warned as he heard automatic fire begin to echo around the once quiet streets. It had begun. Now that the enemy knew they were coming in from the north, all the elements of surprise were over. They needed to put the squeeze on both sides of the city quickly, before the defenders could mount a counter-attack that could drive his small team of LOM operators out of the northern sector. "Main force, move in and engage any hostiles. Rendezvous with you at Ishtar Gate." He said through his shielded comm. unit.

Just as Cornelius spoke those words, fire erupted all around him. It seemed that the street had all of a sudden come alive with the sounds of explosions. The LOM operators who were with him instantly dropped down to one knee as they scanned the streets with their night-scoped rifles in every direction. Almost immediately, several flaming glass bottles were thrown at them as the homemade Greek fire spew all over the squad. Several LOM infantrymen screamed as they struggled to douse the flames; a few tried to grab at their water canteens while the more astute ones realized it was napalm and started rolling on the ground, using the dust to wipe it off. Several bottles impacted on Cornelius' battlesuit as his Purifier armor began to glow like an amber piece of hot coal.

One of the defenders, a Federated Suns bodyguard who was firing from a stone roof, quickly saw the Purifier as it glowed from the napalm burning on it. He put down his rifle and quickly extended a LAW rocket launcher that he had slung over his shoulder. As a defender beside him began clutching at her neck from a laser beam that just opened up her jugular, the bodyguard maintained his composure as he calmly placed the LAW on his shoulder, aimed it and fired. Almost immediately, he was hit on the forehead by return fire and he slumped forward, his body dangling on the stone wall, his blood merging with the dust.

The LAW rocket impacted Cornelius right onto the chest of his Purifier battlesuit as he fell backwards onto the dusty street. The missile did not fully penetrate but it did disable his neuromuscular control and shorted the suit's electronics. For a few minutes, he had lain there in the dark, unable to move. The suit felt like a steel sarcophagus as some LOM technicians began to scramble to get him out of the damaged battlearmor while the other operators cleared the remaining ambushers. The battle turned once more in the side of the defenders however, when several operators started going down from headshots.

"Sniper!" A LOM infantryman shouted just before a 7.62mm slug entered his forehead, bounced around and exited from his noise, trailing brain matter along with it.

Within a few minutes, the first armored column came past the southern gates of the city. It was led by a Po heavy battle-tank, its armored treads making screeching noises as it chewed over broken pottery scattered on the ground. Heavily armored infantrymen followed close behind it, using the tank's metallic silhouette as cover. Hearing the gunfire and explosions from the city's north, the infantrymen trained their night-sighted rifles and machineguns along the side streets as their columns continued deeper into the city. Some of the more trigger-happy WOB soldiers fired at several different buildings, hoping to get a response but they were quickly chastised by their squad leaders for giving their positions away, even if the noise of their rumbling vehicles already did that.

As the first column made its way towards the city center, a stone slab shifted and then finally opened as several of the defenders emerged from the sewers. They could see the backs of the WOB infantrymen who were facing in the other directions but had neglected to look right behind them. Just as they were trained to do that afternoon, the defenders got to their prepared firing positions behind stone walls and improvised barricades and sighted their meager weapons carefully. A Capellan bodyguard immediately pulled a pin on the grenade that he was carrying and threw it at the large body of soldiers that were walking behind the Po tank.

One WOB soldier heard something rattle in front of him. As he pointed his laser rifle down to look at what it was with his night-vision scope, he immediately hollered that there was a live grenade. As the other soldiers began to scramble for safety, the grenade exploded, throwing the unfortunate infantryman clear across the street as the high explosive ripped into his body. As several soldiers began to scream from their wounds, the defenders began to open fire at the confused and hapless squad of men. Two were instantly cut down by well-aimed laser shots while several others were wounded as their body armor took most of the damage.

"Come on, move!" The Capellan bodyguard ordered as his team began to run away. Already the Po tank heard the commotion behind it as its turret began to traverse sideways. Most of the defenders made it to the safety of the next street but one tried to grab a weapon from a fallen WOB soldier. The Po's coaxial machinegun cut the man in half as he nearly made it round the corner; his blood then began to seep along the streets. The Po immediately reversed its engine and then turned as it began to rumble down the side street where the defenders had fled.

The heavy Pinto attack helicopters flew in a circle-eight pattern overhead, their LOM snipers hoping they could get a fix on a target. Acolyte Rogelio Chavez was in Pinto Super-Six Four, leaning out from the side fuselage as far as his harness would go. He was frustrated, already he heard sounds of firing and explosions but he still had not identified any targets. He kept on scanning the ground though. He had a feeling he was going to get lucky tonight.

As the defenders ran into another side street, they ran smack dab into a squad of WOB soldiers that were on their way to reinforce their beleaguered colleagues. Several of the defenders froze in surprise while others ran in another direction. Their military training instantly taking over, the Blakists cut down three of the stunned defenders with short bursts and then started running after the remaining ones. One of the archaeology students took several rounds in the chest and was sucking in air as one of the WOB soldiers stopped, turned around and casually shot him through the head, spewing his brains onto the sand colored alleyway.

"Wait, wait." Dominic Durant ordered as his team crouched inside several buildings above. As several defenders ran down the street below them, Dominic quickly signaled his team to get ready. As if on cue, several WOB infantrymen began running down the street, trying to chase down the fleeing team. Taking careful aim with his rifle, Dominic held his breath.

"Fire!" Dominic shouted as he opened up with his laser rifle on the enemy squad below. Within a split-second, several grenades as well as a concentrated fire of lasers and metal-jacketed slugs tore into the pursuing WOB soldiers. All were cut down as the weapons ripped into them. Several still lived, however, moaning and bleeding on the street as several of Dominic's team came out of hiding and began to pillage their weapons and ammunition.

Chavez screamed at the Pinto pilot who saw a squad of his own infantrymen get cut down from an apparent ambush. Quickly leveling the Pinto for an attack run, the helicopter pilot fired several volleys of long-ranged missiles and the gunner opened up with his laser battery towards the building where the hostile fire came from. In a matter of seconds, the stone roof of the building collapsed, throwing up a huge cloud of dust into the night air. Chavez saw several defenders limping away from the rubble as he sighted them into his sniper scope and began shooting. Within less than a minute, he took down over half a dozen of the enemy with shots to the top of the head.

"Come on." Carlos Sanz said as he led his team down another alleyway near the western gates. He had noticed a pattern with the helicopters flying overhead and he needed to get into position. Earlier in the day, Captain Natasha Kerensky told them that the Pintos ' fuselage was next to indestructible against hand-held weapons fire; it had simply too much armor in that area. The rear rotor, however, was another matter entirely.

Chifune Kishikawa's legs were already aching as she settled into her sixth sniper spot that night. She would relocate every few minutes because she did not want the Blakists to get a bead on her position. The problem with most amateur snipers was that they tended to stay in one spot and would choose the most obvious position to fire from. This made them easy targets to counter-snipers. Chifune had studied with the best, however, and she was using her training to the fullest. Already she had scored the most kills among the defenders; she took out almost an entire squad of LOM infantrymen all by herself as well as numerous infantrymen. As she settled down and once again began her breathing exercises to calm her body down in order to get better accuracy, she stopped worrying about the future and just began to concentrate on the present. There were plenty of enemy infantrymen in the city. And she only had three full magazines left.

The Po tank commander quickly saw several figures run past the front of his tank as it rumbled on down another side street. Quickly ordering the driver to turn and pursue, he ordered the gunner to stand by with the coaxial machinegun. So far they had not needed to use the 120mm main gun. Just as the tank turned and started down the narrow street, he heard a shrill, vibrating noise but quickly thought nothing of it. As long as the tank was hulled down, none of the defender's puny hand weapons could defeat a Po heavy tank.

"Increase the power!" Chief Moses Malone shouted as the large industrial drill kept penetrating the stone column. Within a split second, a massive crack began to form as a rumbling noise began. "Let's get the hell outta here!" He shouted as the engineering team packed up the drill and began to scramble away from the dark, subterranean corridor that they were in.

"What in Blake's name-" The Po tank gunner wondered aloud as the tank seemed to shift violently sideways. All of a sudden, a loud crashing noise occurred as the stone street underneath the heavy tank buckled and gave way, plunging the armored fighting vehicle down several meters into the dry, ancient sewers. The rest of the street as well as a few nearby buildings quickly caved in, burying the Po with tons of dried mud bricks and stone slabs as the city became its tomb.

As a Chevalier wheeled tank responded to the Po's frantic call for help by going into another side street, two of the desperate defenders came out from adjoining houses and quickly ran alongside of it. Before the tank crew could react, they both placed magnetically clamped satchel charges on its side and started running away. The tank's turret hatch quickly opened and the tank commander took out his pistol and shot one of the fleeing defenders who fell down face-first with a laser shot in her back. A split-second later, the satchel charges exploded, blowing the military grade tires off the tank's trans-axel and decapitating the tank commander. As the body slumped down on top of the turret, several defenders, led by Lieutenant John Shive, quickly ran over and started swarming on top of the immobilized light tank. As the tank's gunner desperately tried to pull the dead commander's body back inside so that he could close the hatch, Shive took the pin off a grenade that he was holding and lobbed it down through the hatch. The tank crew screamed as they tried scrambling for the grenade just as it exploded inside. As smoke began to billow from the stricken Chevalier, Shive poked the barrel of his submachine-gun into the partially ajar hatch and fired a long burst into it.

But what most of them didn't notice was that a WOB Scorpion tank came up from a parallel street and faced its turret at them.

"Scorpion! Scorpion!" Shive warned as he started to get off the disabled Chevalier.

It was too late. Sensing that the Chevalier was already done for, the Scorpion did not hesitate as it poured in a volley of medium-ranged missiles and machinegun fire onto the hapless defenders still swarming over the Chevalier. Several died outright as their bodies and limbs were literally ripped apart by the missile warheads as explosions riddled the Chevalier's hull. A missile impacted Shive in his upper torso and exploded, blowing his still beating heart, rib cage, lungs and spine into little bloody pieces. One defender still stood atop the tank, his head and lower torsos cleanly ripped off. A few surviving defenders lay on the ground, writhing and screaming in pain from their horrific injuries as several WOB infantrymen bounded over and shot them, execution style.

A few scattered defenders made it inside the Temple of Marduk, near the city center and tried to regroup. A WOB helicopter spotted them however and strafed at them with laser fire as they attempted to get back onto the street in order to enter the sewers. As several of the defenders used the windows to fire out towards the street below, two Po heavy tanks drove into the main road, traversed their turrets and began firing continuously into the temple. The 120mm tank shells made massive holes in the ancient stone architecture as the temple itself began to sway from the constant pounding. One defender lost her nerve as she ran out of the temple's main entrance and was instantly raked with machinegun fire from the two nearby tanks. The others, realizing that the temple would be their final resting place, continued to fire at any targets of opportunity from the walls and windows as the Pinto helicopter gunships circled above and made occasional strafing runs.

Moses Malone grimaced as he used his own broad shoulders to prop up the industrial drill as it kept digging into the underground support column beneath the two tanks. One of the engineers was shot in the back as he was entering the sewers. Malone knew that the enemy had by now realized that they were using the sewers as the means of shifting their forces from one part of the city to another. Already he could hear shouts down the subterranean corridor as his remaining two colleagues readied their weapons and kept watch at a darkened alcove nearby. Their flashlights and the shrill whine of the operating drill would attract the enemy's attention real soon, Malone thought. A slight crack appeared on the support column as he kept the drill focused on it. Just a few more minutes, he thought.

"Hurry up! They're coming!" One of his colleagues shouted back at him as they braced themselves near the entrance.

Malone kept at it as he squatted down to drive the drill deeper into the stone support. The dust that spewed forth from the drill clouded the lens on his filter mask so he was just going by feeling now. He could barely breathe as the sand filled his lungs; it was worse than smoking but it didn't matter now.

One of the engineers got up and fired an extended burst using a submachine-gun down the corridor. As he tried to get back to his perch, a laser beam tore at his knee and brought him down. As the balding, middle-aged man tried to get up, a 5.56mm slug blew off the top of his skull and he fell back down again.

As Malone kept at it, a grenade landed into the small alcove where they were. His remaining colleague grabbed at the grenade and quickly threw it back. A split-second later the grenade exploded and several screams and groaning were heard down the corridor.

It was then that the Blakists had had enough. Four soldiers, their bulky body armor making them look like mechanized, Teutonic knights, rushed the small alcove. Malone's colleague took them all down as he fired an extended burst from his submachine-gun just as they rushed inside. The first two WOB infantrymen got hit in their upper torsos and necks and both went down in a heap. The third soldier got raked with explosive bullets in the left arm and he fell down, writhing in pain and going into shock. The fourth soldier stopped cold as the engineer's weapon made a dry click as it apparently ran out of ammunition. Both adversaries looked at each other with wide, surprised eyes.

Making an ear-piercing scream, Malone's colleague charged the surprised fourth soldier and tried pinning him to the stone walls of the alcove. It would have nearly worked but the soldier regained his composure as both man struggled onto the dusty, underground floor. The engineer was able to wrestle the soldier's rifle away from him but the soldier drew his combat knife and plunged it into the engineer's stomach. Malone's colleague gasped as blood seeped from his mouth. The dying man tried to hold onto the soldier but the Blakist was able to wriggle free and drew his pistol.

Malone paid no attention to what was happening as the drill finally cored the stone column that he was sabotaging. All of a sudden, the stone slabs above him began to creak as they started to come loose.

"Stop!" the Blakist soldier ordered as he fired his pistol.

The slug tore into the back of Malone's hip but the big black man closed his eyes and ignored the searing, burning pain as he made one final, heroic effort and drove the drill down through the last juncture with his remaining strength. Another bullet entered the back of his neck as he slumped down onto the drill, the hot, crimson liquid pouring out like rain from the wound. The Blakist soldier screamed and tried to run away just as the stone slabs above collapsed like dominoes on top of them.

The two tanks above never knew what happened as they were all of a sudden swallowed up by the very city that they were attempting to destroy. As the stone slabs gave way underneath them, their armored hulls flipped sideways, dropping down onto the subterranean sewer system as nearby buildings collapsed on top of them as well, making them forever part of the city.