Dawn of Titans

by F13D

There is nothing fair, just, or honorable about war. There is only winning and losing, the living and the dead. Humanity has learned this truth and has ascended to the stars. What effect will this have on the rest of the galaxy, one that has experienced millennia of peace? Will it be able to maintain the peace or will it be ushered into a new age of war? Let the end begin. A/U

7. Chapter 7 - Guardians of Freedom

12-25-2156, 2156 hours (Alliance standard time)

SSV Tampa

Cruiser

Private Quarters

Dain rubbed his tired and fatigued face with a single hand, hoping to relieve his redden, itching, and burning sunken eyes. It did little to alleviate his discomfort, but it did bring him some measure of relief. His hunched back and sweat-soaked body clearly exhausted from the day's events.

Sitting on his chair facing his desk, he read over the information packet Selene had sent to him. It was a treasure trove, detailing fleet numbers, systems the invaders held, their biological information, and an interesting footnote on a separate species. They were avian in nature, with facial markings resembling tattoos. A unique entry on the species indicated they were dextro-acid based, opposite to human biology. The codex referred to them as turians, and while intriguing, the information was demoralizing. The data went into great detail, explaining how they were a superpower and how their fleets outnumbered and outgunned the aliens invading Shanxi, which were properly called batarians. From what Dain had gathered, the turians were most likely an ally of sorts to the batarians; otherwise, why have information specifically tailored to an alien species on your ship?

At this point in his life, Dain had more than enough of extraterrestrial aliens and would give anything to return to the ignorant fool he had been hours ago. Never would he have thought how comforting it was to hold the simple belief of intelligent aliens being nothing more but fantasy. With the information he held, he was quite possibly the most important human at the current moment. Obviously, this data had to reach Alliance command. However, due to his previous gambles, the ship's communication relay was badly damaged. Hackett had suffered the same fate; his broadcast unit was all that remained while, ironically, Dain merely maintained a receiver.

Inwardly he cursed, if he was to get the data to Alliance command, he would have to work with his longtime rival. With both he and Hackett retaining the same rank, there was no clear line of authority, which meant both commanders would have to share command and responsibility over what remained of the allied fleet … provided no superior officer arrived soon. Sighing, he was a bit relieved of the situation. In his tired state, he was glad to have someone else to keep him in line from making a mistake.

Feeling a need for introspection, Dain turned to his window. The asteroids barely doing anything to block his view of Shanxi; the sight making his heart shudder.

'Jesus Christ, I can't wait until this is all over.' Dain could see the debris floating around the planet, much of it heated to incredibly high temperatures and badly damaged. The batarians had gained orbital supremacy and if the fireballs starting to coat the planet were an indication, their campaign on the planet would be brutal.

Hopefully the information gathered from the nearby derelict enemy ships would allow further insight. Salvage teams had already been deployed and had thus far reported no enemy survivors. That was good news at least; the aliens didn't seem wear sealed armor aboard their own ships, something he would have to ensure he did not repeat.

'Although,' he mused, 'it might have helped if we were able to send a few live bodies back to Arcturus.'

In similar fashion, Hackett was busy overseeing the repairs of his own ship, the Nagasaki, as well. Dain had sent some of his technicians to speed up the process. Even though both their ships were technically docked, they've yet to properly speak to one other face to face … or at all really. He must've guessed Hackett wasn't pleased with having to share command of the flotilla either, but both of them would have to cooperate or have Shanxi fall.

Mentally, Dain groaned. 'Why couldn't I have been posted somewhere quiet?' He lifted a data stick, of itself rather worthless, but made priceless by its cargo. 'Well sooner or later, I'll have to talk to Hackett about the info, and I'm guessing the sooner the better.'

Pressing a few keys on his desk, Dain saw Selene's avatar appear.

"You called for me, Commander?"

"Yes. What is the sit-rep of the repairs?"

"Overall progression is adequate, however you're most likely more interested in a deadline," The AI said off handily.

"You know me so well," Dain replied, his face failing to mask the exhaustion he felt.

"Unfortunately, I do. My estimates show that both yours and Hackett's ships should be finished with repairs by Earth's evening or earlier." Seeing the surprised and hopeful expression on the Commander's face, Selene elaborated further. "I was referring to the repairs being done on the communication systems. The damages done to the Tampa's cannon and the Nagasaki's armor will require a proper repair ship to bring both vessels to their former glory."

Dain's face fell, but he wasn't too surprised. He knew he should be thankful that those were the worst damages both ships had suffered. Getting up from his chair, he turned to the exit.

"So, I suppose you're on your way to meet with Hackett?" Selene called out.

"Yea, you mind informing him?"

"Already done." The smile painted on the AIs face was enough to make him curse. No doubt she was looking forward to the commanders arguing.

'Sometimes, they're more human than I'd like them to be,' Dain thought as he pressed the holo-keys to bring up the elevator.

---

Alliance Military Headquarters

New Denver

Shanxi

"They're everywhere!?"

"Golf Juliet, repeat!" General Williams said.

"I'm looking at fighters and shuttles over Baja! We need reinforcements!" yelled the city's air traffic controller. In the background Williams could hear the sounds of fighters, bombers, and troop transports screaming through the sky. There was also the sound of explosions and gunfire, which meant there were already heavy battles occurring within the city.

Williams had long considered his posting to be a safe and quiet one, but all that had changed in the past hours. He had awakened, expecting another routine day to come and pass like any other. Now he was in command of all human ground forces on the planet. With the bulk of the combined Alliance/Confederate fleet in orbit beaten back, his only hope now was the 5th Fleet's QRF. Regardless of the situation, Williams had to hold out the best he could and his task was certainly no walk in the park.

"Stand by Golf Juliet," Williams rumbled, coming out of his thoughts. "Com! Connect me to the closest unit operating in that sector!"

A pause followed his request, filled with the half-static squelching common to all radios. One of the specialists spoke up. "Sir, we're attempting to establish contact with the nearest unit in that sector, but there is too much radio traffic."

Before Williams could snap at the specialist, a voice was heard on the other line.

"This is General Parker of the JSF eighty-fifth division, I read you. Do you copy over?"

Williams had never been so relieved to hear General Parker's voice in his life. "General Parker, this is General Williams. We have heavy extra-terrestrial contact coming in hot over Baja, I need your division to reinforce that position, over."

"Roger that. We're half a click out. We'll stop them, Parker out."

General Williams then got on the com to deliver an urgent message on every human frequency. "Attention to all armed forces of humanity, we are now at Defcon-0. I repeat we are at Defcon-0, we have hostile extraterrestrial contact. This is not a drill, this is a planetary invasion. All armed forces are now under the command of the Alliance, over." Even though he had informed the other commanding officers, Williams wanted to ensure every citizen on the planet knew that as of this moment it was now the Alliance leading a united human front against the alien invaders.

Another voice sounded out, this time from within his own command center. "General Williams, I am reading over 50,000 bogeys heading your way." Vianna said, highlighting the contacts on the general's map.

"Thank you, Vianna." Williams said, checking the detailed holographic display. As he scanned the map, he realized something didn't look right. Early reports indicated the enemy invaders had more than enough to secure an entire continent. Eyeing the map, he expected at least a division-sized force. "Do you know where they are dropping the majority of their forces?"

"Yes, it appears the bulk of the alien's forces have landed in Gozevech District, sir." The AI answered.

"Who is in charge of that district?"

"Colonel Morgunov."

Williams face paled slightly at the response. "My god, I almost feel bad for those bastards."

"Sir, there is more. The first waves of aliens only seem to be targeting major cities. Any remote settlements they're coming across are simply annihilated."

"Any idea why?"

"No. As of now we have no knowledge of the aliens' objective other than the total extinction of the human race. However, they are highly intelligent in warfare. Several human stations across the planet have detected numerous probes being deployed from the enemy fleet. My prediction is that the aliens are trying to detect our planetary cannons and will most likely send ground troops to either capture or destroy them. "Likewise, any airfields they encounter are immediately destroyed. Seems they want achieve aerial superiority as quickly as possible. I recommend deploying all aerial assets at risk and reinforce our airfields."

"Do you have any good news?" Williams questioned

"Yes," the AI replied, bringing up several displays over the map. "The invaders seem to be experiencing heavy resistance from the Republic Army; General Chu has his men heavily fortified in the suburbs across the planet. General Bando has already deployed the majority of his forces worldwide and those within the city are setting up choke points, I advise we reinforce their positions." Vianna informed.

Williams was impressed at the Enforcer's ability to rapidly deploy. He analyzed the overall status of Shanxi and somewhat agreed with the AI's evaluation of the situation. The JSF and SGB would have their hands full with the brunt of the attacks but would counter with their strengths; the JSF would use their advance robotics and rely on stealth to harass the enemy before they clashed. No doubt they would make heavy use of Spartan artillery and Blackfoot gunships.

The SGB on the other hand relied on resilient strength and heavy armor, making them perfect for any head-on assaults. Williams may have never liked the brutal tactics of Colonel Morgunov, but it looked like this time they would be put to good use. The Enforcers would be in their element in urban warfare and he suspected they had some nasty surprises for the aliens. The Republic Army had vast amounts of resources at their disposal and their numbers were greatly needed as indicated by the numerous battles already occurring.

That only left his own men and women of the Alliance Marine Corps. Four divisions of Alliance marines awaited his command to take the fight to the enemy. The Corps' size was adequate for keeping the peace, and Alliance doctrine stated that home divisions were able and equipped to deter any invasions. The problem was that it was all theoretical, and this was one theory Williams was hoping that the Alliance got right.

Already several companies of Alliance Airborne troopers had managed to gain a foothold in the city, waiting for the bulk of the Corp to reinforce them. The city's police and counter-terrorist units were currently directing traffic and had set a perimeter around the bridges and highways leading out of the city. From his tactical display, Williams could tell the fight for New Denver would be a bloody one.

"Vianna deploy the Sixty-Seventh. Have them assist General Bando's men any way they can. Do you have any news of the militias?"

"Yes, sir they are mobilizing as per your orders," The AI replied.

"Good. Are all fighters ready?"

"Yes, sir."

General Williams smiled. "Once the batarian shuttles are within the city limits, scramble all Slamhounds and Tridents. Have the Stingers provide air support for General Parker's men over Baja, they'll need it. Inform a few squadrons of Hailstorms and our bombers to lie in reserve until we regain air dominance. Once we have air superiority order all bombers to target enemy fortifications and armor."

"As you wish, sir." Vianna's hologram disappeared as she began relaying the news.

In the moment of chaos, a sudden realization hit General Williams. 'For the first time humanity stands united.'

---

Baja

Shanxi

Archon Command Vehicle

General Parker had never imagined that his career would have led him to staving off an alien invasion. With the system's comm. buoys destroyed long range communications were severed, practically isolating the planet. Much of the planet had already stopped reporting in and Parker had assumed the worst.

The majority of their fleet, if one could have call it that, had broken off and retreated leaving the people of Shanxi vulnerable. Majority being the operative word as a couple of hardened ship commanders had decided to stay behind and assist the defenders of Shanxi with their corvettes. Parker was awed by their commitment and had ordered one of them to defend a heavily contented harbor where the enemy was attempting to capture the local uplinks. An anomaly to be sure as the bulk of the foreign invaders had been much more content with destroying the uplinks rather than capturing them.

'I wonder if it just simple variety in tactics between the alien commanders or do they share the same separation of identity as us?' He pondered, reviewing recorded battle-logs and after-action reports. The way the invaders would engage differ from operating in warzones like a raging hammer or would be much more subtler in combat like an invisible dagger in the wind. He put those thoughts aside as he returned his attention to the more pressing matter of defending the city.

Parker reviewed his other assets available to him. A few functional Angel satellites remained in orbit; intact, but only barely. The vast majority had been destroyed by the aliens' first major attack. Still, even with the satellites having expended their payload, Parker debated whether they would have been of any use to him with a remaining salvo. Had a couple of kinetic rods still remained, he could have chosen to fire upon the enemy's ground forces. The Angels would have caused horrific losses upon the enemy and potentially tip the scales in his favor, but would also have risked hitting civilians before being destroyed by the enemy fleet. If he had decided to use the satellites on the enemy fleet, a few of their ships could have been destroyed in the ensuing chaos, but quickly realized the functioning Angels would then become immediate targets and be destroyed in all probability, leaving the JSF without a means to monitor the enemy fleet.

After careful analysis, he concluded it was better to observe the enemy's movements and attack patterns in hopes of countering them. The aliens most likely didn't know it, but each Angel had a VI installed sending data back to the forces on the planet. The intelligence gathered by them could greatly assist Alliance reinforcements or at the very least help in holding the planet.

If the situation in space had been horrific, on the ground it was near hopeless. Certain settlements were already being bombarded, his troops were spread thin as it was, and an enemy corvette, accompanied by two frigates, was laying waste to the outskirts of the city. They were smart enough to keep their distance from the human air force and AA defenses, but continued to try to bait Parker into spreading his air cover outside the defenses of the city. Obviously, he hadn't fallen for it, keeping all operational aircraft within range of small anti-air batteries. If not for the valiant efforts of Alliance and JSF pilots, the damage the enemy ships could have unleashed would have been much worse.

Undisputedly, the enemy held the advantage in both space and on the ground. Earlier, he had sent troops across the city to battle for the west side and were attempting to push the invaders back, but his main attention was diverted to the Sentinel bridges located to the southwest. Generals Williams and Bando were attempting to hold New Denver, nearly eighteen hundred kilometers to the north-east, which left only his men and several militia squads for him to rely on.

He growled under his breath. The aliens seemed to know the importance of Baja and had sent their second largest ground force to secure it. No surprise as Baja was essentially a central transportation hub for the Gian continent; it was famous on the colony for having routes and highways to other major cities. If the enemy managed to secure it, not only would they have a direct ground route to New Denver, but they would simultaneously cut off both General Chu's men, who were evacuating civilians from the nearby suburbs and Colonel Morgunov, located about sixteen-hundred kilometers further northwest from the Enforcers and Alliance marines' positions, in the mountainous terrain of the Gozevech District where it was practically freezing.

General Parker ordered one of the men at the monitors, in his Archon command vehicle, to bring up a holographic display. The analyst nodded and tapped on his computer without hesitation. Parker walked to the rear of the vehicle where a massive console laid. It was one meter in height, but it reached ten meters in length and width. The tan checker boarded surface of the table lit up, lights beginning to appear above it. A massive 3D hologram appeared above the table as well as data scans highlighting data on the areas of interest. The continent was shaded in the same tan color as the JSF uniform, whereas the ocean floor was left unmapped. He'd sometimes wondered why no one had uploaded the relevant maps, but soon given it up as a lost cause.

'Let the science lab rats deal with their oceanography' Parker decided. The hologram zoomed in on Baja and a signal began to patch through. It was scratchy and nearly unrecognizable as that of a natural voice, but the audio boosters cleared the transmission up.

"What's the sitrep on Baja?" He questioned the individual on the other line.

"Not good, sir. The aliens have neutralized most of our planetary cannons. The entire city is a blood bath and Griss harbor is a freaking SAM site. The aliens have air superiority over the skies, without air support it's a losing fight. To make matters worse, our men at the Sentinel Bridges are taking heavy casualties."

General Parker cursed under his breath. The alien bastards just wouldn't give up, would they? "We cannot and we will not lose Baja," Parker snarled. He had already ordered enough men towards their graves trying to hold this city to let them have died in vain. "Are there any remaining units in the general vicinity of the battle zone that we can request?"

"Affirmative: The Thirty-Seventh battalion is being held in reserve," he reported. "But the majority of the unit is composed of newly graduated recruits, sir."

With the quick glance to the men at the monitors, another holographic display temporarily replaced the hologram of Baja. The display showed the names, years, and combat effectiveness of the unit. The field commander hadn't been kidding, the majority of the unit was composed of cadets, with only the NCOs and COs having any combat experience.

"Put them on the line," He ordered. With a few commands on the consoles, Parker was immediately connected to the CO of the unit.

"Major Keating here, we are at the ready," the commanding officer of the unit said.

Parker immediately hesitated. 'A major being in charge of the battalion? That can't be right.' He looked down and saw the casualty reports. The colonel along with the bulk of his senior staff residing over the battalion had been killed during an airstrike. Parker was hesitant to be sending in inexperienced soldiers, but he simply had to no choice.

"Major Keating, General Parker here. I'm sending your men into the fight," Parker said with a grim smile. The hologram began to change and he sent a copy layout of the Sentinel Bridges. When it zoomed in, Parker noticed a large enemy ground force moving in. "Now for your mission objective: the invaders are moving in on the Sentinel Bridges. I need your battalion to reinforce and hold that position. I'm seeing reports of jammers in place so you boys will have no radio contact from HQ once you cross the dead zone. I'm sending ground and air assets to assist you, over."

"Copy all, we'll get it done, sir." Keating responded shortly before cutting the link.

Parker hoped Keating was right, and that the major had more than just a large amount of confidence in his men. He was sending boys and girls straight into war. Either way, they had to hold the bridges by any means necessary.

---

Baja

Shanxi

JSF 37th Reserve Battalion, 7th Platoon

"This is beyond insane!" Corporal Dunn shouted. He'd already decided that fighting aliens wasn't much fun, but found it preferable he wasn't doing it up close and in person. The barrel of the mini-gun he manned was heating up, despite the larger heat sinks afforded by the Raptor. The gun's temperature kept climbing as he poured 7mm sized rounds at the parachuting armored figures.

All around them, AA fire ignited small fireballs across the morning sky, each spitting enough smoke and ash to mask the full moon. Whatever rays of the evening moon were able to penetrate through the cloud of smoke were completely covered by swarms of enemy aircraft coursing past. Overhead several transport shuttles arrowed across the city, dropping more of the aliens while allied fighters fought for control of the sky. The aliens seemed to be everywhere; for every alien shuttle destroyed another three would replace it. Several squadrons of Stingers were on their way to relieve Alliance pilot reserves, but they had to hold out for another twenty minutes.

Dunn shook his head. "Did I miss the memo where we were supposed to be fighting four eyed aliens today?"

"It was in yesterday's report," Sergeant Foley chortled as he drove the Raptor through the war-torn streets. Not even an hour into the battle, and already enemy bombers had collapsed entire buildings. It looked as if the aliens had bombed indiscriminately, annihilating anything that looked vaguely important. The end result was a predictable mayhem; buildings and skyscrapers were on fire or collapsing, enemy ships looming over the city like hungry vultures, and to make matters worse, any human resistance in the city was weak at best. With the majority of their planetary cannons knocked offline, the allied human forces were opened for inaccurate orbital strikes. Numerous units have been sent in to recapture the city's uplinks and restore power to the cannons … but none had responded since then. With the immense chaos everywhere, the entire planet seemed to be crying out from the pain of war.

Eighteen-year-old JSF cadet Scott Mitchell sat in the passenger seat of the lead Raptor; holding his SCAR, a powerful and easy to handle rifle, capable of firing 6.8mm rounds at high velocities, close to his chest like a security blanket. Being a cadet meant he still had two years of training to undergo before being promoted to Private and then be formally inducted into the JSF military. However, General Parker had ordered every able-bodied soldier into the defense of Baja. While lacking a proper receiving ceremony, he was nonetheless proud of his tan colored, standard issued JSF Ghost Nano-composite suit. The small diamonds webbed into the armor on top of the nano-composite materials gave the armor a perfect balance between protection and flexibility; less sturdy than the SGB, but more durable than the EF standard. It even came with an active camouflage projector, which practically made him invisible. The only down side was the speed reduction as a result of the projector having been damaged; if the wearer moved too fast, the screen would dissipate.

He checked his helmet's restraints, sliding one finger around the thick straps to ensure its seal remained intact. The M50 series had a good reputation, providing everything from a protective air filter and HUD to a tactical cross-com camera, and even a vital sign system monitor. It vaguely resembled the helmets from popular science fiction franchises, which ironically it was somewhat modeled after. It wasn't the quality of the helmets used by the 15th Special Operations Battalion, but it got the job done.

Mitchell had originally come from a medium sized family in Ohio as a natural citizen of the UNAS on Earth. Having been the oldest of four children, with two brothers and a sister, he had learned to accept the burden of leadership in raising his siblings from a young age especially since both of his parents worked during his childhood. He had grown relishing independence and self-reliance along with discipline. After graduating high school and knowing he could not afford to go to college, he enlisted in the JSF military, rather than the Alliance. Very simply he was born a UNAS citizen and would serve as one, protecting his homeland.

Ironically after enlisting, he had been shipped off to Shanxi, far away from humanity's home planet, to begin his training. Initially he planned to leave after a tour and use the benefits from serving to go to college, but during his first year in training he found that military life suited him perfectly and had decided he was going to stay. Of course, … those plans hadn't included being sent straight to the frontlines against an alien invasion; especially as a cadet … but then again military life was filled with surprises.

Sergeant Foley ignored the Corporal's other complaints, returning to the task at hand. Being in the lead of several Raptors and a few Fastback IFVs, he and his immediate squad were on their way to reinforce a bridge currently under siege by alien forces. If the aliens managed to take it, then they would be able to bypass several roadblocks and reach the suburbs. The squad hadn't been informed if the New Chinese Republic Army had evacuated all the civilians, but nevertheless they couldn't let their enemy take those bridges. The mission was simple: hold the bridge and take back the city. However, he knew that no mission was that effortless.

The eight-vehicle convoy carrying the JSF platoon, designation Ice-pick, rolled briskly through the streets, catching small arms fire on occasion. According to the map, they had about a mile left to go before reaching their destination near Colon Park. The majority of the battalion was assisting the second mechanized in holding a major highway and several key locations in the city.

As a result, the seventh platoon had been ordered to branch off and find another way to their objective after it was clear the battalion wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. Several militia squads have been assisting the Ghosts, freeing the Pioneers to concentrate their firepower on enemy shuttles and armor around the city.

Sergeant Foley eyed the GPS as he drove well over the 80-mph speed limit. "It says here we have to take a right and follow Quarry Street all the way to the Sentential Bridges."

"Didn't we already pass Quarry Street?" Mitchell shouted up, his eyes scanning the street for signs of activity or for any silhouettes of enemy soldiers. He had to speak up or else his voice would have been drowned out by the sound of the Raptor's mini-gun firing.

"No, Quarry Street is past the police department," Foley explained. "And we still haven't passed the police… wait a moment …"

"What! What is it?" Mitchell asked, concern showing clearly on his face.

"I thought I saw some…"

There was a loud shriek followed by an explosion that shook Mitchell's teeth. The rear Raptor jumped, rolling midair, and dropping onto its back. Mitchell turned and saw that the heavy duty, all terrain tires had been completely blown away. In the seconds following the explosion, the street lit up with small arms fire. Immediately, the convoy came to a stop in a defensive perimeter and began exchanging fire.

Dunn dropped from the over-heated turret, opening the Raptor's door and equipping his M268 SAW. It was essentially a portable micro-gun that fired the same type of ammunition as the SCAR. The SAW's high rate of fire and portability made it a devastating weapon, able to cut down entire squads at a time. With that capability held in both hands, Dunn became a walking one-man army, unleashing a withering barrage of rounds upon the invaders. The APE-1A2 exoskeleton he wore allowed him to operate the devastating weapon like a toy, as well as tripling the weight of gear he was able to carry. It was necessary since Dunn had to carry a large number of rounds for his SAW and the AT5CQ rocket launcher, or Fire Spitteres as they were more commonly known.

The presence of ambushing enemy soldiers was an obvious signal to Mitchell that his squad had reached the frontlines. The whole street seemed to come alive with enemy infantry and armor. A strange tank, blocky in design with fixed wings and hover turbines, seemed to float in the air as it fired on the platoon's Fastbacks. Several shots were exchanged before the hover tank used its improved maneuverability to literally fly over their heads as the JSF opened fire. Great difficulty burdened the Pioneers attempting to get a lock on it with this missiles, but eventually the tank withdrew after sustaining heavy damage, leaving them to concentrate fully on the enemy infantry.

Looking out from the window, Mitchell saw the remains of a Mantis gunship collapse towards them. "Look out!" he yelled.

The Raptor accelerated, turning and shuddering into a rollover, shaking the soldiers inside it as the Chinese made gunship crashed onto the road. Dazed and baffled by what had just happened, Mitchell tried to free himself from his seat only to be interrupted by a loud bang, sending him into darkness.

Through the darkness, a voice kept hammering on his consciousness, pounding on the comforting black veil surrounding him. "Mitchell, can you hear me? Mitchell!"

Mitchell slowly opened his eyes, feeling his head swim. Why was he sleeping on metal? Where was … he remembered his training … his orders … and his mission! Details flowed back into his mind; he was lying on his side in a turned over Raptor, slumped back on a chair with a metal shard barely missing his neck. Blood dripped from his cheek down onto the floor, sizzling as it touched the super-heated metal below. He groaned, shifting in his seat, unbuckling himself. He could smell the sharp, tangy scent of smoke, charred metal, and flesh. The sickening smell of blood filled the air as he looked around, trying to gain awareness of his surroundings. The first thing he saw was Foley on his right, fidgeting with the seat-belt before the sergeant grabbed a combat knife and slashed it off.

"You alright, son?" Foley asked him.

"Yeah, just a little banged up is all," he replied.

"Can you still shoot?" the sergeant questioned him.

"As long as I can find my rifle," Mitchell said flatly, searching the Raptor for his SCAR. He finally found it wedged underneath his seat. The magazines were lost as well, though he suspected there must be plenty more lying on the street if he was lucky.

Mitchell flexed his grip around the SCAR's secondary stabilizer, and squinted through the hybrid sight, checking both sniper and standard modes. He actually preferred the accuracy of the longer sight, but for now, he left it as the single red dot hovering in the center of its viewfinder.

"Grab your weapon!" Foley said, grabbing his own SCAR. "We have to move!"

Mitchell nodded. Strapping the SCAR's strap over his back, he pushed the door on his right open and was met with the city's skyline. The sounds of rounds being exchanged engulfed his ears; his head throbbed in pain as he forced himself out of the overturned Raptor.

A missile flew across the sky. Mitchell saw it smash into a nearby skyscraper with a massive explosion. Another missile followed the first, impacting the same location with great force; crumbling the rest of that portion of the building into a shattered mess, sending large chunks of material down to the warzone with a massive crash. Glass, metal, stone, and singed materials from inside the building fell, the debris landing on the infantry, luckily causing only minor injuries. Oddly enough, despite all the massive amounts of damage occurring, Mitchell noticed the wheels on the Raptor still turning aimlessly, remaining in its sideways position.

Dunn, along with the rest of the platoon, had already established a perimeter. Several more Pioneers took up positions with their SAWs, their heavier shields allowing them to put up suppressive fire while absorbing massive amounts of punishment. The remaining Raptors and Fastbacks opened fire, managing to bog down the enemy soldiers with their tumultuous barrage. With a greater arsenal of weapons being brought to bear, the hostiles decided to fall back after throwing smoke grenades to cover their retreat.

'Smart tactic. You never want to expose your back to your enemy,' Mitchell thought, seeing a small battle in a giant war been won.

Just behind him, Mitchell heard Foley leaped from the Raptor. The young cadet began surveying the area around them as the dust fell. He saw the sergeant charge forward, unclipping a magazine from his belt and tossing it to him. Mitchell caught it in midair, shoving it into the cartridge and tapping it a second time to ensure it was secure. He clicked off the safety and set the rifle to fire on fully automatic as Foley got close enough to address the whole squad. Relatively speaking.

"Everyone listen up! The bridge is just under a mile north of here," he bellowed over the explosions enveloping the city. "We're going to leg it from here. Fastbacks and Raptors up front, got it?"

"Roger that," Richard Allen replied, hoisting up his huge sniper rifle. As both the team's sniper and medic, Allen held a critical responsibility to the squad. Mitchell had always felt some kinship with Allen, both of them having enlisted right out of high school.

"Save that ammo of yours, Mitchell," Foley told him. "There should be more ammo up ahead, but make sure to pick your targets."

Mitchell nodded, clicking the setting back to semi-auto. He paused as a deep vibration rocked his feet. Moments later, a duo of Schwarzkopf tanks rumbled down the street ahead of them, firing its massive cannons as several JSF Ghosts and Pioneers ran with it. They helped supplement Mitchell's platoon and the two Raptors and three Fastbacks began rolling behind them.

"Allen, Dunn!" Foley yelled. "You guys up?"

"We're good!" Dunn replied.

"Alright everyone!" Foley yelled, sending fire at the enemy slowly forming down the street ahead of them. "From here on up, there's no retreating; we will get to those bridges! Hit them hard and fast so we can get out of this hell-hole!" The troops replied with a series of firm affirmatives, pushing further and further down the street.

Several missiles flew around them, the small explosions destroying stores and small shops in the buildings on either side of them. Rubble flew around everywhere as Ice pick continued onwards, leading the rest of the human force. Heeding Foley's words, Mitchell only lightly feathered the trigger on his SCAR, carefully aiming for the weak points, mostly the aliens' neck and head region. Normally, he would have fired at their major body mass since the head and neck were both narrow and difficult to hit at times, but with the armor the aliens were wearing he would have to fire at least five bullets of his forty-round magazine to neutralize a single target, the calculation didn't include the shield strength of the enemy infantry nor did it account for shots impacting different regions of the aliens' heads. That meant unless he aimed straight at their heads, he would only neutralize eight enemies before he ran out of ammunition with optimal conditions.

From initial intelligence as well as first-hand experience, Mitchell noticed how the bulk of the enemy's weapons were coil-based similar in concept as the NCRA's weaponry. As a cadet, he had learned everything he could about Mass Effect weaponry, especially since one of the major opponents of the JSF used them. The strange hardware worked by shaving small bits of metal, just about the size of a grain of sand, off of an ammo block, then use element zero to accelerate the grain so that it moved at extremely high-velocities. The slugs fired from the weapons were designed to flatten or shatter upon impact to increase their slug's damage. Otherwise, there wouldn't be much damage if the rounds managed to pass right through enemy armor. The advantage was that the aliens essentially possessed a limitless supply of ammunition, but at the expense of creating ungodly amounts of heat. If Mitchell was right in that assumption, the aliens had to rely on heat sinks just like the NCRA or something similar otherwise their weapons would overheat. Of course, he couldn't be sure of his hypothesis and subsequent performance of the enemy's weaponry, but he had to perform at his best with such miniscule intelligence.

What Mitchell could be sure about was the reliability of the amperage powered rifle within his hands, a rail gun as most people referred to it. Unlike the element zero based weapons, the JSF's weaponry didn't suffer from overheating; the coils inside his SCAR were designed to operate with minimal maintenance. The other major advantage of the SCAR was its 6.8mm round. The larger size and aerodynamic shape allowed it to penetrate enemy armor more effectively, and cause more trauma than the sand-grain sized slugs, at the cost of a reduction of range.

But like every weapon, the SCAR, and by extension the entirety of the JSF's arsenal, did suffer from one major setback: Logistics. The UNAS' small arm weapons still relied on magazine cartridges much like the Enforcers and the Spetsnaz. A standard magazine could hold forty rounds and the JSF's tactical armor allowed soldiers to carry twenty in total, amounting to eight hundred rounds per soldier. Individually, the aliens maintained an advantage, but as Mitchell looked to his sides and saw his fellow Ghosts and Pioneers fighting, he took pride in being a part of a team, and a team could always do more than a single individual.

"Hey, sarge do we know anything about these aliens?" Mitchell heard Allen shout over the sound of gunfire.

"No, what makes you think otherwise?"

"Well isn't the CO's job to relay critical information to his troops?" Allen questioned. Mitchell could tell the sniper was teasing the sergeant, who didn't appear pleased at all.

"Just shoot the damn four eyes!" Foley shouted, making a clear reference to the alien's biology.

"Four-eyes!? You know I actually like that name." Mitchell shook his head at the sniper's antics, but chose not to say anything.

While the JSF infantry were surprisingly effective in combating the enemy, despite being largely composed of cadets, there hardly seemed to be a need for the Ghosts or Pioneers to fire their weapons as the Schwarzkopfs', Fastbacks', and Raptors' heavier armaments continued doing most of the heavy lifting. That was until another hover-tank smashed through, or rather flew over, a blockade down the street, the massive gun mounted on top of the vehicle tearing through several Raptors.

Mitchell ducked behind a smoldering police car and switched to the ACOG sight on his SCAR, relishing the enhanced vision it afforded. Aiming just outside of the shattered windows, he sighted the gunner and fired two shots into the alien's head; unfortunately, the shots were repelled by a kinetic barrier. To make matters worse, the aliens manning the hover-tank noticed him and began aligning the tank's cannon in his direction. Though his shields may protect him from rifle rounds and even the kinetic energy of a few missiles, they wouldn't be able withstand the force of a tank's cannon. Luckily for Mitchell, before the hover-tank could fire, one of the Schwarzkopf came within range and fired. The massive 130mm round easily penetrated the kinetic barriers of the hover-tank, a massive explosion engulfing it an instant later. What had once been a death-spitting machine was now a crumbling pile of ruined parts.

The sound of high-performance engines grew overhead, until suddenly a VF-1 Falcon appeared overhead, dropping off a package into the middle of the street. Running over, Mitchell tore off the top and dug inside for ammunition. He loaded one magazine into his rifle's chambers and quickly strapped another eleven onto his armor vest. He also noticed a new weapon, barely out of prototype stage, the XM322 Semi-automatic Anti-light Vehicle Grenade Launcher lurking inside. Deciding the extra firepower could be useful, he grabbed the massive gun along with its ammunition, strapping it securely to the back of his armor. The weight dung into his soldiers, a total of seventy pounds of gear acting as a gravitational force. In his conditioned state he maintained proper combat posture, but began thinking of the benefits of not having to carry ammunition all the time.

'Perhaps the Chinese were onto something,' he thought.

A massive explosion vibrated from down the street and brought him back to reality. Mitchell instinctively took cover behind the ammo cache, realizing only seconds later how futile it was. Fortunately, what came down the street was not of enemy origin, but rather two Blackfoot gunships escorting another VF-1 Falcon as several squads of Ghosts and Pioneers roped down and stormed the street on their right. A few Alliance marines were also with them, their comparatively garish armor obviously different from their comrades. Once all the soldiers were down, the Falcon heeled over, returning to base while the pair of Blackfoots headed to a new area likely where they were needed most. Grateful for their assistance, Mitchell ran forward. The marines however did not know which side they were on, firing off a few warning shots.

"Check your fire!" Mitchell yelled after a few shots from his allies nearly hit him. "We're friendlies! Not four-eyes!"

"Mitchell, are you alright?" Allen asked.

"Fortunately." Mitchell was somewhat grateful for the marines' horrid accuracy.

"Hold your weapon, Dunn!" Allen said to the Pioneer with a large grin on his face, being well aware of the Pioneer's short temper.

"No shit, Allen," Dunn replied with a scowl. Sergeant Foley hailed one of the marines, a young man with short black hair.

"Name's Foley, is this your squad?" Foley asked. The marine responded with a curt nod.

"Affirmative," He responded. "Sergeant Jake Garrnet. I've-" he was cut short as an enemy trooper ran out from behind a large pile of rubble. He carried no gun, wielding only a long, sharpened omni-blade. Before he could reach anyone, Mitchell fired upon the charging alien, killing him.

"Holy shit!" Garrnet nearly squealed. His eyes wide, focused on the wicked blade that was a few short feet from his heart.

Sergeant Foley recovered from the sudden attack first. "Alright," he said. "That was too close for comfort. Stay alert and move on me." Ice-pick closed ranks, advancing down the street before turning right at an intersection with the rest of the JSF and Alliance infantry. They only had three Fastbacks and the dual Schwarzkopf tanks left for support, the rest of the Raptors having been destroyed by enemy missiles. Far ahead, in the middle of the road, was a massive pile of rubble that blocked the fastest route to the bridges. They would have to maneuver around it, as Mitchell doubted the IFVs would be able to scale it.

But instead, before he could blink, one of the Schwarzkopf tanks fired its main gun again with a Beyond Line of Sight, or BLOS, round and tore a gaping hole in the middle of the blockade. Mitchell ducked as gunfire rebounded off of the canyon-like walls of the city. Alien machine guns mounted in windows high in the skyscrapers surrounding them began to tear into the JSF troops.

The squad took cover and returned fire at the enemy positions above, but the aliens were too quick to hide before Mitchell or anyone else could accurately shoot at them. He guessed one of the Fastbacks had relayed the peril the infantry were in to the other mechanized units; their canopies rotating upwards to face the threat. Within seconds, once targeting solutions were locked in, the three Fastbacks fired a barrage of HE rockets right at the skyscrapers. The rockets raced towards their targets, slamming into the buildings housing enemy troops and killing any within the blast radius. Debris raced down onto the street as numerous holes were left in several buildings. The slight veil of smoke caused by the Fastbacks' salvo cleared up fairly quickly, allowing Mitchell to witness the damaged caused. He was surprised the skyscrapers hadn't collapsed on themselves following the attack.

Just then enemy infantry began to climb over the rubble as well, firing down from the massive, seven-meter pile. The alien's armored vehicles, armed with a mounted machine gun on top, attempted to assist their infantry, since the rounds from the light side-arms were bouncing hilariously off the Fastbacks' armor. The aliens IFVs however were a different story. Their mass accelerators were noticeably stronger, inflicting heavy casualties on the Alliance marines.

The marines responded with heavy fire of their own, FGM-90 missiles blasting across the battlefield leaving thin trails of vapor in their wake. Luckily the aliens only had three IFVs at their disposal; with the missiles pummeling the machines, the Schwarzkopf had little trouble dispatching them. Even in the chaotic environment, Mitchell noticed how the enemy's IFVs bared some resemblance to the NCRA's Makos. Both were rectangular in shape, operated on six wheels, and had a mass accelerator as a main weapon. The only difference he could determine was that the Mako had a higher suspension; its mass accelerator was mounted in front rather than in the rear, and lacked the side glass found on its enemy counterpart.

A grenade blast nearby caused Mitchell to duck back into cover and not a moment too soon. Enemy troopers poured in, but the JSF vehicles, Ghosts, Pioneers, and Alliance marines cut them down as easily as slicing butter with a knife.

The situation changed when the sound of hovers filled the firefight and nearly a dozen hover-tanks flew above the pile, firing their cannons at the Fastbacks, who in turn launched another salvo of HE rockets. Both barrages collided with their intended targets, causing casualties to both sides. Not able to take the strain of the hover-tanks' rounds on top of the enemy infantry missiles, two Fastbacks exploded, sending fire and metal in all the directions. Some Ghosts and Pioneers were killed in the explosions, forcing the rest to fall back in a hurried retreat.

The enemy mimicked the action, now lacking heavy firepower of their own. The Fastbacks' rocket barrage managed to destroy four hover-tanks, but six still remained. The last JSF IFV pulled back, firing its 30mm chain gun, as the Schwarzkopf tanks rolled forward, taking the brunt of enemy fire on their durable armor and shields. Their massive 130mm cannons fired once again, belching rounds from their barrel, completely ignoring the kinetic barriers of the hover-tanks and destroying them in two salvos. The surviving JSF Pioneers joined in on the action, firing their own Fire Spitters in a concentrated attack for good measure as more hover-tanks streamed forward.

Loading another clip into his SCAR, Mitchell noticed Dunn aiming a Fire Spitter at the nearest hover-tank before firing. Mitchell was surprised when, instead of dropping in a fireball of spare parts, the hover-tank's kinetic barriers merely absorbed the blast. However, it was soon destroyed by another Pioneer's Fire Spitter.

"Sergeant, it takes two rockets to destroy the tanks!" Dunn yelled.

Foley's smirk was incandescent on his grimy face. "Pioneers, you heard him! Pair up and take the hover-tanks out! The shields on our tank can't take much more!"

As if to prove the sergeant correct, one of the Schwarzkopf's shields collapsed a few seconds later. The hover-tanks took advantage, firing everything they had in a desperate attack. Luckily, the tank's thick, multi-layered armor protected it from the blasts, preventing it from exploding, however noticeably large dents were made on the tank's armor. It retreated behind its brother, whose shields managed to fully recharge.

The Schwarzkopf and the Pioneers, working in unison, managed to destroy the remaining hover-tanks. The mixed Alliance/JSF force immediately pressed the advantage as the aliens began retreating. A few enemy soldiers tried to make it into cover, but were cut down long in advance of getting close. The street shook as more bombardments ravaged the city. Mitchell suspected that a few missiles had destroyed another building, which would make passage through the streets even more difficult. Looking to his right, Mitchell saw a massive skyscraper fall, like one of the mythical titans of legend.

"Holy shit, are you guys seeing this!" Dunn cried out

The crashing skyscraper sent out a thundering crash, vibrating through Mitchell's ears and shaking the ground beneath his feet. Everyone was astonished at the massive tower's demise. "My… god," he whispered, his anxiety increasing tenfold.

"Everyone stay focused, we have a job to do!" Foley reminded the platoon. "C'mon keep moving!"

"I just hope no-one was inside," Allen told Mitchell, who shared the same sentiments.

Trying their best to ignore the scene they'd just witnessed, Ice-pick continued advancing. They took a left turn on an avenue just ahead with everyone on guard. Foley stopped them as they came upon a shimmering TV in front of a wrecked electronics store. The show airing on the sparking screen was ANN live news, recording the battle of Baja, more specifically the fighting ravaging Griss Harbor. How they were still alive, Mitchell didn't know nor did he have a clue why the JSF military would allow reporters anywhere near the fighting. He surmised they simply didn't, but couldn't have done anything to stop the reporter.

"This is Janet Coleson reporting to you live from Griss Harbor where a massive alien force has invaded Shanxi and is making a massive push." The reporter stated, covered in grime and wounds. "As you can see behind me, the JSF are doing everything they can to defend the city's uplinks power the planetary cannons." The camera angled up to show a battalion-sized force, arrayed in staggered lines, defending the harbor against a massive alien assault. Numerous Fastbacks and Railmen provided cover against enemy aircraft and gunships; launching brilliantly colored rounds towards the air while the Schwarzkopf tanks roared their wrath in the form of crushing attacks on the enemy lines. The loud thundering boom of Spartan artillery was also heard, smoke trails of their 155m shells raining down like hellfire from the heavens.

The watching platoon stared at the screen, silently cringing as missiles flew from an enemy frigate overhead right into the harbor, tearing into more buildings and warehouses. Even from their locations, the platoon was able to hear the echoes of the blast. Fires ignited on the nearby buildings, hiding the approach of an allied corvette until it roared into view, seemingly challenging the enemy frigate.

"Oh … my … god! Are you getting this?" The reporter shouted, ducking as a missile hit nearby. The camera shook as it reoriented to show the blast. The signal from the camera became static as the reporter tried to show as much combat footage as possible. Yet despite the lack of signal quality, the feed was able to clearly depict what appeared to be a clash of titans.

The Alliance corvette and enemy frigate battled it out over the battlefield, pumping pure devastation into each other's naked flanks. The corvette's energy cannons easily bypassed the frigate's kinetic barriers, causing portions of the frigate's armor to literally melt off. The frigate answered by targeting the corvette with its mass accelerator. The direct hit collapsed the corvette's kinetic barriers, knocking one of its cannons offline.

Still the corvette held its own, firing all kinetic pods it had remaining. The frigate absorbed the damaged, but was heavily crippled. The Alliance corvette appeared to be readying for the kill until a squadron of enemy fighters and interceptors arrived. The corvette activated its GARDIAN batteries, lines of lasers scoring a direct hit each time. The frigate used the moment to escape, firing off torpedoes while the corvette struggled to hold off the enemy aircraft. With its defenses overwhelmed the corvette exploded in a large fireball, sending shockwaves and what was left of the ruined ship plummeting straight into the sea.

With air dominance achieved, the alien aircraft began making dive attacks against the defenders. The area became infested with missiles and bombs, destroying everything nearby. One such missile flew right at the camera, causing the screen to go black. Once again, the platoon tried to keep their moral up despite witnessing another tragic event.

"So, what's the game plan?" Dunn whispered, unsure of what to even feel anymore.

"Same as before," Foley replied, moving further through the street. "Get to the bridge and kill the bad guys."

Dunn let out a forced chuckled. "I like it," he said.

The platoon struggled for footing as the street shook underfoot. Street lights began to flicker uncertainly in the gloom, thrown from their normal routine by the pillars of dust casting long shadows over the road. It was difficult to see through the ash and smoke, but not impossible, which was the only reason allowing them to continue. As they advanced, they saw several destroyed enemy gunships lying on the ground. The alien crafts had managed to smash through the reinforced asphalt in places, colliding into underground water pipes. Water leaked from the alloy tubes, causing the street to become completely submerged in water in some places and slightly flooded in others.

The sound of artillery firing became louder and louder as Ice-pick continued to advance. Foley stopped his platoon when they came upon an enemy artillery emplacement, apparently firing on allied positions within its range. "Alright men, you know the drill," the sergeant bellowed.

The platoon reacted accordingly, suppressing the enemy with their impressive arsenal. Mitchell tossed a frag grenade in the alien's direction. They failed to notice his throw, the grenade landing right at their feet. The grenade detonated, sending shrapnel and red liquid into the air. The aliens screamed as they were cut down with lethal efficiency. Their blooded carcasses reeked as they lay on the road, staining it with their red blood. One of the four eyes had his left arm and both legs blown off, but was still alive despite the blood loss. Mitchell shot the poor bastard in the head, killing him instantly.

He then saw Foley trying to use the short-range radio link, most likely to call any reinforcements in the area. "This is Sergeant Foley, commanding officer of the Seventh platoon, Thirty-Seventh battalion, call sign Ice-pick! Does anyone read me?" Static was the sergeant's answer. The man cursed, using language words Mitchell didn't recognize … even after a full boot camp experience.

"Right." Foley glared at the protruding edges of the Sentinel bridges. "Looks like they want to make this some kind of challenge." He turned a bloody grin to his men. "I say: bring it."

The platoon roared in response, making the grin grow wider. Mitchell felt a similar smile breaking out on his own face. Intellectually, he knew it was dangerous, letting the group influence his decisions … but at that moment, all he wanted to do was kill.

Mitchell, along with the rest of Ice-pick, complied, following the sergeant as he charged headlong through the warzone. The road underneath him continued to vibrate; the Fastback and the Schwarzkopfs rolling ahead of him. The feeling was intoxicating, carrying death in hand, followed by the near personification of doom in the form of rolling tanks.

"Maintain the pace," Foley said, running easily. "We have to reach those bridges." The platoon yelled out affirmatives, forming up on the tank once more. As they were about the reach the bridges, a transmission came through the radios.

"… any human forces, we are being hit on both sides of the Sentinel bridges. We are surrounded and outgunned. We need reinforcements immediately!"

"Shit, that's the men on the bridges. They need our help." Allen said.

"Everyone Oscar Mike it to the bridges! We're only half a click out and they need us there now!" Foley ordered. Their vehicle support hit the accelerator, continuing at top speed. The two vehicles rumbled through the street like giants on their way to battle, the Schwarzkopf tanks taking point. Suddenly the trio of JSF vehicles came to a stop, approximately 200 meters north of the platoon's position. When Foley reached them, he looked up ahead with wide eyes. He held up a hand to silence the rest of the allied force and signaled them to get down.

"We got shooters up ahead," Foley whispered. "Allen, you're up."

Allen gave a nod and moved forward while everyone else took up positions behind cover or behind the vehicles. Allen aimed his M120 sniper rifle downrange and waited for the signal. Sergeant Foley held up three fingers. He closed them sequentially and pulled down his fist, giving the signal to open fire. Allen immediately sent one hypersonic .50 caliber ferromagnetic slug after another at his chosen targets. The brash noise of the weapon firing completely overshadowed everything else. Every time a round from the sniper rifle connected with alien meat it practically tore it to shreds, eviscerating entire limbs and ripping bodies apart. A split second after his first shot, the rest of the platoon joined in on the action, the vehicles shuddering a basso line to their higher-pitched side arms.

Despite the fact that they had been killing aliens the entire way, for some reason the aliens were completely unaware of the JSF's presence, completely blindsided when bullets, grenades, and massive cannon rounds obliterated their positions. Their bodies slumped to the ground as the barrage flew through their ranks. The combined human force ran down the street in an orderly fashion, keeping the enemy suppressed as they came to bear on their destination. The aliens began firing on the large platoon, but they had lost momentum, and were now trapped and taking fire from two sides.

Mitchell ducked behind cover again to reload his SCAR, and then flicked off the ACOG sight to fire at the remaining invaders with as much peripheral advantage as possible. Bullets shattered glass around the JSF troopers while abandoned vehicles caught fire as the platoon fought their way through the intersection leading to the bridges. Once the forward enemy position was eliminated, the platoon regrouped with the remnants the JSF battalion guarding the bridges. The combined platoon, haggard from long hours of fighting, ran over to the more experienced, but far more exhausted, Ghosts and Pioneers with Foley beginning to assess the situation.

"What's the sitrep?" he asked.

"The four eyes are dug in deeper than a mole," the Ghost captain growled. "They're kicking our asses, we can't secure the other side of the bridges, and destroying them is not an option. Command says they are a strategic asset. We're outnumbered and the enemy is setting up armor on the other side for a final push."

"How many tanks do they have?" Foley asked.

"We counted at least twenty." The Ghost replied.

Foley cursed, the Fastback and the two Schwarzkopfs wouldn't be able to take out that many.

Mitchell however was struck by an idea. He caught the sergeant's eye, and shipped his SCAR to his back while unstrapping the prototype XM322. He hefted the massive gun onto his shoulder, loaded a grenade magazine into the rear cartridge, aimed, and fired. The grenade impacted against the nearest hover-tank in front of them; unfortunately, its kinetic barriers merely absorbed the blast. Before it could fall back, Mitchell immediately fired the remaining 11 grenades, the combined explosions obliterating the hover-tank as well as a number of exposed enemy combatants near the vehicle.

'One down, nineteen more to go.' he thought. Mitchell fired another two magazines at the hover-tanks, destroying two more. He fired another magazine, but changed targets to the enemy infantry, hoping to slow them down. Unfortunately, the bridges were now crawling with the alien bastards, apparently to be intent on taking them.

---

Baja

Shanxi

Hegemony 5th Order, 23rd Infantry

General Turik' Han glared at the stubborn contingent defending the weak point. Warfare wasn't his most favored occupation, but his mind had a natural turn for tactical situations, and the decision had been made. It wasn't all bad. As the commander of the glorious 23rd Infantry of the 5th Order, he had won the right to own property, buy Tier 2 slaves, and challenge others for insults to his House.

'Unfortunately, there are some exemptions to being challenged … he glared at the Special Advisor once again. 'Slaves should be protected carefully, not wasted like animals!'

"Your men aren't capturing the bridge, general." Kalph' Amon commented acidly. The advisor unhooked a small set of binoculars, putting them to his lower pair of eyes. "It appears the aliens are receiving reinforcements. What do you plan to do now?"

'First, execute you for gross negligence. Second, challenge your House for damages sustained to my own. Third, order an orbital bombardment of every civilized sector of this planet, and see to it any blood relative of yours is caught in the blast.' Han tilted his head, acknowledging the superior position his opponent held. "I would return to my initial suggestion, advisor. Engage them with aerial bombardment, followed by an armored vehicle push."

Amon snorted. "Our fighters are being torn apart whenever they get close to the ground, and our Harsa tanks are getting shredded by side arms. Side arms!" He put down the binoculars, rolling his left eye set, "This raid has cost us over two hundred mobile armored units as it is. Use infantry."

"As you say, advisor." General Han stepped to one side, sending out orders for reinforcements. He didn't like it, but the slavers were in charge of the ground assault much to his chagrin.

'I have watched over my slaves as the Pillars of Strength instructed: Those who are entrusted to you, show your character. This fool has none.' As Han gave the instructions, he had a thought. 'I have tried to inculcate some level of intelligence in my people, perhaps they will get the message?'

Two minutes later, he rejoined the advisor, still not content, but satisfied with his endeavor. "Two platoons are en route. I asked them to bring support as able."

"Good. We'll show them who's in charge …" The advisor's voice lowered to a softer timbre. "They will make excellent slaves, incredible combat potential."

Eavesdropping was strictly forbidden in the Hegemony. Therefore, it was to Han's surprise when he realized it was practiced by everyone. '

'I shouldn't be surprised, but I am,' he thought.

He took a moment, mentally evaluating his chances for surviving a sudden loss of a superior, but decided they weren't high enough in his favor.

'It is war, there will be opportunities.' Han thought, watching as his men progressed through the bridges. He growled as yet another charge failed to oust the stubborn resistance. Only years of practice stopped him from drawing his blade and testing the rumor of the ice-blooded Na'Hesit.

'He can't be anything else, what with how callous he's been to my men.' Han hefted a sniper rifle, ostensibly searching for targets. In reality, he was giving himself breathing room after the odious attempt of that … budalla të përgjakshme to gain credit at his expense.

'Hundreds of good people, lost to stupidity!' Han caught sight of an alien, peeking out from behind a vehicle. Instead of instantly squeezing the trigger, he watched, memorizing the behavior. 'The aliens were highly trained,' he decided after witnessing the alien reload his weapon without looking. That opinion had to be revised, after seeing the alien fall to a sniper round from an oblique angle. 'Trained, but new to open warfare. No veteran would have left himself exposed like that.'

Han scanned the entire bridge, admiring the methodology for the monster piece of hardware blasting away at his own light vehicles. 'A pity I had to trade my own artillery for better training,' he mused. 'One good flanking maneuver and the bridge would be mine. Better yet, a single strafing run would clear it.'

His thoughts were interrupted by the presence of the person he despised the most. Instantly, he was on his guard; the Na'Hesit were renowned for eliminating those who failed, or simply failed to accomplish tasks. That was acceptable, anyone who was unable to adequately defend himself was worthy of death. What was more worrying was the absence of Vras Me-Shume, the body servant he'd assigned to care for the advisor. Equally disturbing was the smirk gracing the ruthless man's face.

"I trust everything is going well?" the advisor commented.

"I fear not," Han responded with a guarded tone. He made a quarter turn, keeping the Advisor in his peripheral while scanning the bridge again. Movement caught his eye. "What's this?" He started to raise his arm, intending to order the platoon back under cover. Amon, however, froze his arm with a single glance.

"Leave it. I took action, after your ineptitude cost us several hundred men."

For a moment, Han couldn't believe his ears. 'He's blaming me … of all the cowardly — and he's trying to make me angry! Why!?'

Once again buying time, he swung the entire pivot, turning his back to the advisor. "My suggestions are logged as per regulation," he said quietly. "I will accept justice as the Pillars demand." A snorting sound met his ears.

"Pillars," Amon sneered, "A weakness for weak men. Strength comes from what you take for yourself, from victory and success. No matter what the cost." He nodded at the platoon making its way to the bridge, being met by a withering wall of incoming fire. "That's something old Vras knows well."

Han's keen eyes picked out the tall figure of his bodyguard, leading the platoon forwards. His mouth went dry. 'No! Not Vras, the man that taught me how to fight, to evade capture, who protected me from harm on a hundred battlefields!'

"What have you done!" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Done? Why, secured victory, of course." Amon carefully stalked to the wall beside Han, just out of arms reach. "When I mentioned to Vras that a failure here would undoubtedly reflect negatively on your career, he … volunteered … to personally direct the next assault."

'Marrëzi. He would no more leave my side than take an oath of Heresy.' Han thought. Aloud though, he said nothing.

Amon prowled closer. "I am certain he will do a fine job, particularly since it was he that taught you all you know, yes? He seemed very fond of that idea."

Han kept the rifle in both hands, in order to prevent his shaking hands from betraying him. 'Pillars, give me strength. Sutras 37:5, watch your charges, guide them with firm hand as I have guided you. Sutra 52:5, if the stranger in your gate be hungry, treat him as your own. Protect him as your own. Defend him as your own. But if he betrays your trust, cast him from your gates, for he is anathema in my sight.' Something snapped. 'I will not disobey the Pillars, no matter what the cost.'

"You are right, sir." Han hung his head slightly. The gesture, although potentially mistaken as humility, was also a lesser-known request for penance, acknowledging a previous error.

'In this case, for allowing one under my ownership to be sent to the slaughter. I will avenge him.' Han declared.

"Aren't I always?" Amon leaned on the wall, resting his weight on both hands. For one brief moment, he turned all four eyes away from Han, providing the Hegemony general with the perfect opportunity.

In that moment, Han acted. In one casual move, he extended a leg, tucking it under the advisor's own lower body, and lifted it. The unbalanced officer tipped forwards off the ledge, tumbling over the edge of a twenty-story fall. The sound of scraping armor, punctuated by a terrified scream, bounced off the hard walls provided by the city, almost like a final courtesy for the falling man's rank.

Before the Amon reached the ground, Han had his communicator up. "Vras, get your men back. I'm calling in an airstrike." With a sinking heart, he watched the batarians clear the bridge. He hoped it wasn't too late.

---

Baja

Shanxi

JSF 37th Reserve Battalion, 7th Platoon

The JSF infantry regrouped on the Schwarzkopf as the enemy made a massive push. The Pioneers used their SAWs and Fire Spitters to keep the hover-tanks and enemy engineers from destroying their last heavy tank. Ghosts used their SCARs and M120s to try and suppress the aliens; but they couldn't keep up with the numbers. Only two Alliance marines were still left alive, the rest either dead or wounded.

Suddenly a comm. transmission came over the radio. "To all units in Baja, this is the 239th JSF airborne. We have eliminated the enemy jammers. All isolated units are ordered to regroup to the nearest JSF stronghold and await further orders, over and out,"

"Well that's one small victory," Allen shouted, firing his powerful sniper rifle at the enemy.

Relieved that they now had a link back to command, Foley began transmitting. "General Parker, this is Ice-pick lead," Foley called into the radio, hoping there wasn't too much radio traffic. "I'm requesting an immediate air strike on enemy armor, seventy-nine meters north of our position, over!"

"Sergeant Foley," General Parker's voice replied within seconds. "All of our air support is already engaged. Additional reinforcements are en route to your position, but have encountered heavy resistance, over."

"Copy that," Foley said as he took cover behind a car. Numerous civilian vehicles still remained on the bridge, making it harder for the aliens to traverse. However, their hover-tanks could easily bypass the blockade. "Be advised, we've reached our destination and are taking heavy fire, over."

"I copy," Parker replied. "I'll send what I can, but you need to hold out."

"Roger that."

"Sarge?" Dunn asked as he took cover from enemy snipers. "Did HQ just tell us to go fuck ourselves?"

"Pretty much, Corporal," Foley grunted as they dug into their position. The hover-tanks flew down the bridges, firing at any exposed infantry within range. They became death machines, decimating entire positions and leaving only burning ruins. The JSF soldiers dove behind cover as the hover-tanks tore into their positions, blasting cars apart and tearing them into pieces.

Mitchell took out a smoke grenade and tossed it down the bridge. It rolled down until it hit the center of the bridge. The pin clicked and flew off, and a large cloud of artificial smoke flew up, surrounding the bridge.

The JSF vehicles and infantry switched their optics to infrared, aiming their weapons down the bridge and firing into the enemy ranks, which were momentarily exposed. The combined fire saw a few hover-tanks destroyed and many enemy infantry troops killed, but the same cover the JSF was using worked for the aliens as well. Mitchell saw several enemy gunships fly overhead, however the Fastback's AA railgun with its light missile system and the Pioneers' Fire Spitters kept them at bay. A few were wiped out of the sky before the remaining enemy gunships decided to disengage, probably to target weaker JSF positions.

Finally, seeming to have decided they'd had enough; four-hover tanks flew high above the JSF position firing their cannons their massive cannons on the infantry and the vehicles. The JSF vehicles returned fire; but the Fastback was destroyed in the process. The Schwarzkopf tank, along with the Pioneers, fired everything it had at the tanks, destroying all of them. The massive tank had been badly beaten and wouldn't be able to take much more hits. To make matters worse several alien shuttles arrived, beginning to unload even more enemy troops on the other side of the bridges. The JSF infantry on the left bridge were faring a bit better while Foley's men appeared ready to collapse at any moment. Strengthen in numbers, the aliens, along with their vehicles, charged at the JSF line.

The Schwarzkopf and any remaining Pioneers targeted the hover-tanks, while a few of the stronger Ghosts swapped their rifles for the SAWs of their fallen engineers and fired on the enemy infantry. Mitchell fired on the targets, dropping them one by one. Each time he shot there was a red splatter as the heated blood flew in all directions. Then, another smoke screen appeared in front of them, but with Mitchell switching his helmet's optics to thermal, he easily saw the enemy coming. The Schwarzkopf fired a HEAT round at the center of the bridge, killing a hover-tank and twenty nearby enemy infantry, leaving them lying in pieces.

What Mitchell was truly worried about, however was how their own numbers were dwindling. Fast. They were down to thirty-eight men as opposed to the hundred and fifty they'd picked up along the way. Aside from the hover-tanks still hitting their position, Mitchell saw all of the enemy troopers beginning to evacuate the area and fall back to the other side. He was extremely relieved; the enemy had taken over three-fourths of the bridge and had been dangerously close to overrunning the JSF position.

"I think those four eyes had enough!" Dunn said with a grin.

Before Mitchell or anyone else had a chance to comment, something else appeared in the sky. Soon the silhouette morphed into the shape of a pair of enemy fighters with their weapons trained on the JSF's position.

"ENEMY FIGHTERS! GET DOWN!" Foley yelled. The order echoed in Mitchell's ears as he saw the ground in front of him shudder and be torn apart, scattering tons of debris. Billowing smoke, ash, and dust flowed forth, obscuring his view.

The fighters each fired four missiles, while peppering the area with their nose cannons. The missiles impacted the Schwarzkopf tank, completely obliterating it. The massive vehicle was knocked to one side as its crew was incinerated by the blast. Several JSF infantry were torn to pieces as the fighter unleashed their nose cannons upon them. Entire limbs were torn off as gallons of red, crimson blood were forcefully poured out of their bodies. Yells of agony and pain from several wounded Ghosts and Pioneers were heard as they were left on the bridge with barely any medical supplies to assist them. Once the fighters finished their run they peeled off and disengaged; their ordnance leaving the JSF practically defenseless as it destroyed whatever remaining cover they had left.

After the attack, Foley grew furious and tried once more to contact General Parker. "General, this is Foley! We need immediate reinforcements, I repeat we need reinforcements! WE ARE COMBAT INEFFECTIVE!" he yelled. He had to cough into the headset as some of the debris slipped in through his helmet.

Seeing the defenders in a hopeless situation, the aliens plunged deep into the bridge, victory within their sights once more.

"Sergeant Foley, I read you. Reinforcements are on their way, but they are experiencing enemy resistance. Whatever you do, hold that bridge at all costs!"

"Affirmative," Foley replied grimly.

The thirteen remaining Ghosts and Pioneers knew what that meant. Whatever lives they may have had, they were now ordered to give them up for the very same bridge they stood upon. Mitchell, Dunn, Allen, Foley, and the rest of the surviving soldiers aimed their weapons down the bridge as the remaining hover-tanks fired their cannons at any debris or vehicles still left on the bridge, paving a way across for their infantry. Through the enhanced vision of his ACOG hybrid sight, Mitchell could easily see twenty enemy troopers within weapons range. Many more were behind the first wave of enemy soldiers as they shouted in their native tongues. He guessed they could practically taste victory.

"I won't lie to you men, the situation is grim," Foley began speaking. "Now I know all of you here are mostly cadets, but based on your bravery and courage here to today I'm proud to say all of you have earned the right to be called JSF," Foley said. The same grin he'd worn earlier returned to his face. "Now, let's show these four eyes what we can do, horahh!"

"HORAHH!" Screamed every JSF soldier still alive as they opened fire. Even the wounded forced themselves into firing positions, intent on going down fighting.

Mitchell squeezed the trigger on his SCAR, feeling the reassured kick as the rifle fired like an angry beast. The array of JSF weaponry at his side answered the enemy's assault with all the fury men backed against a wall could muster. Doomed, but deadly.

Bodies began piling up on the bridge as the enemy began to overwhelm the defenders. The JSF infantry were beginning to run low on ammunition as they fired everything they had at the enemy troopers. Dunn ran out of ammunition on his SAW so he switched to his LP4 pistol. Allen, still having several magazines on his sniper rifle left, gave the rest of his SCAR mags to those who needed them. Foley still had two left, though his rifle was quickly eating through them.

Mitchell was on his last one as he dropped a few enemy soldiers, his heart hammering almost as fast as his rifle. Unfortunately, the remaining hover-tanks were all in position, lining up their cannons at the JSF line.

"Well I guess this is it. It's been nice knowing you all," Dunn said grimly.

BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM.

Suddenly there was a loud series of explosions, rumbling through the air almost as if artillery was firing. The human survivors looked up to see a most pleasant sight ... several artillery rounds, followed by the famous JSF Grid Smasher Rockets, flying through the ash covered sky. The aliens didn't know what hit them as dozens of 155mm Howitzer artillery rounds crashed onto their position, followed by hundreds of rocket pods. The hover-tanks were obliterated as the enemy infantry were torn to shreds. Crimson blood and limbs seemed to overflow the bridge as several alien soldiers were thrown aside, their bodies landing in the river below.

Whatever hope the aliens may have had was quickly evaporated as several squadrons of Blackfoot gunships appeared in the skies overhead. "Diamond back to bridge, we have the enemy in our sights. Get ready for the fireworks." One of the pilots said, before his gunship fired its 30mm chain gun.

The others followed suit, shredding multiple exposed enemy troopers. At the sight of the gunships and with their momentum destroyed, the aliens began retreating. But only a few of them managed to successfully fall back without being killed by the relentless gunships. General Parker had come through for them after all. The JSF survivors cheered as the friendly gunships tore through their enemies.

"It's about time you guys got here!" Dunn exclaimed as he, Foley, Allen, and Mitchell watched the show. Several dozen VF-1 Falcons appeared dropping off reinforcements. Sergeant Foley had the platoon take care of the wounded, every single one being carried onto the Falcons and airlifted away to any nearby hospitals controlled by friendly forces.

"Sergeant Foley," General Parker called. "I have a new mission for your boys."

"Roger, what's the mission?" Foley asked.

"The enemy is capturing uplink Alpha as we speak and we still have that blasted enemy corvette up in the sky, along with a couple of frigates. The majority of our ground troops are still heavily engaged and we can't take any large offensive actions with those ships in the air. I need your men to secure the uplink in the city's harbor; otherwise there won't be a city to save."

"I copy. We're loading up the wounded right now. Once we're done we'll head over to Griss Harbor."

"Just be careful," Parker warned. "I'm picking up a lot of enemy infantry in the area. They seem to have no armor, but I advise caution."

"Copy that, general. Over and out." Once Foley finished talking to the general, he addressed his men. "Alright you heard the news, mount up. We have a new mission, let's go!" He ordered.

Whatever remained of Ice-pick loaded up on the Falcon transports, intent on rejoining its parent company within the battalion. Reinforcements, bringing up the platoon to half strength, were already waiting aboard.

"General Parker, this is Ice-pick lead," Foley called. "We're en route to the cannons now."

"Acknowledge. God speed Ice-pick." Parker replied.

Mitchell looked outside at the Baja skyline, the destroyed buildings glowing like hot embers in the broad moonlight. Black smoke began to evaporate into the dark, black sky, allowing the first few rays of light to penetrate through the clouds. For the moment, he allowed the first wave of hope to wash over his body.

'Maybe, just maybe we'll get through this," he thought as he transported through the city.

---

Baja

Shanxi

5th Order, 23rd Infantry

Things were going so well. The 23rd began crossing the bridge, the resistance reduced to nearly a skeleton crew, victory was all, but assured. Then doom began droning from the skies. It all started when he heard the loud booming of giants. Before he could warn the leading officers, artillery shells and rockets fell from the sky. Vapor trails appeared like magic, explosions blowing apart entire companies. The bridge's surface was cracked by the sheer force of the impact. The tanks he had sent to the bridge were now disintegrated ragged sheets of metal. But the massacre did not end there. No, the true horror was when he heard engines from the sky, similar to the piercing cry of vengeful birds. Very large, exceedingly angry birds.

Han watched as a squadron of enemy gunships obliterated his men, taking out entire platoons at a time with their rockets and guns. The machines showed no mercy, and why would they? To them the 23rd was just an invading force and Han watched as his men were destroyed. Those that tried to retreat were killed. Knowing he could not save his men, he took cover underneath a collapsed building, barely avoiding death from the enemy's gunships. He stayed down, listening as the predatory machines, their howling fading into the distance. The floor felt cool, comfortable against the back of his neck. All around, he could hear the cries of wounded soldiers, and the occasional crack of small arms fire. The temporary lack of movement gave him a chance to review the actions of both himself and the planet's defenders. Somehow, their reliance on stealth rose to the surface of his mind, swift tactics that looked as if they would work on multiple planets in a myriad of surroundings.

'This isn't a raid,' he realized. 'No primitive race would provide such sophisticated levels of resistance. No, this is war.'

---

SSV Tampa

Cruiser

Com Station, War room

"Commander Dain, I understand your reasoning. But, keep in mind this no time to let your emotions get the better of you." Hackett's glare did not waver, even more potent in person.

Dain slammed his fist on the table, sending a loud bang across the room. Thankfully they were the only two in the room. Apparently, every technician knew of his less-than-cordial relationship with the other commander. "Spare me the formalities, Hackett. You and I both know this is the last situation we'd both wanted." His eyes narrowed. "What I want to know is why you are so insistent on letting those colonists on the planet die without a good cause!" Dain raised his voice, nearly yelling at his rival. The walls couldn't contain his volume, unfortunately, most likely encouraging eavesdropping crewmembers to listen in.

The two commanders had gone back and forth for a good hour, laboring over their next step. The AIs' had finally completed their analysis, sending the data packet to every compatible communication system. The crux of the matter was that not every available com. system sets were capable of receiving the data; Hackett's, being partially damaged, could only send data. Dain's could only receive; and it was apparent that all communication systems on Shanxi had been preset to communicate solely with other terrestrial units via a central hub. One massive bureaucratic snafu Dain was going to be bringing up with Arcturus Command at his earliest convenience.

'We have to send this to Williams, this could save lives!' Dain fumed. Without the unique broadcast unit most corvettes possessed, he had to rely on his counterpart for any outgoing data-streams. Hackett, however, wanted to refrain from such an action, seeming to believe the energy signature from such a broadcast might alert the enemy to their whereabouts. Neither had shown any indication of budging; the Alliance did not promote the weak-willed to positions such as theirs.

Hackett narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw in an attempt to withhold his fury. "Let me be clear Commander. While it is true we have valuable information on the enemy that is true, do you honestly believe risking our position to inform Williams that he's dealing with slavers would improve the outcome? Our fleet has been forced to retreat; we're the only ones still left in the system." He gave Dain a meaningful look. "We're the last eyes and ears present. The best thing that we can do is wait and keep tabs on the enemy."

"Then that's it? We just sit here and watch as good men and women die defending that rock called Shanxi? We have an opportunity to help those stranded on and it is our deputy as Alliance soldiers to-" Dain should have been used to being interrupted, but it still drove up his blood pressure.

"Duty? DUTY!? Our duty is to ensure the survival of what ships we have left! Any intelligence we can gather on the enemy will assist the Alliance in the long run far more than a single frontier world could. You want to take another gamble and risk getting your crew needlessly killed? That's your choice, but leave my ship out of it!" Hackett bellowed, his voice filling the room.

"May I remind you, Commander, that is was my gamble that saved your ass?" Dain said, dangerously close to Hackett. Both men, under normal circumstances, had an air of authority that intimidated nearly every crewman in their presence. Yet, the discipline each possessed held their fury in check, preventing the situation from escalating. "Now I understand your reasoning, I do, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to sit here and watch those batarians kill any more humans!" He spun on a heel, facing a terminal. A few taps brought up a display of Shanxi, batarian ships crowding over it like vultures. "Moreover, we don't know when Alliance reinforcements will arrive. It could be days, weeks, even months and by that time it'll be too late."

Hackett growled in frustration. "I realize that, but we are no good to anyone if we're dead! The most we can do is deploy probes and monitor the batarian fleet. Look at the conditions of our ships, Dain! A single mass accelerator slug from a frigate would be enough to finish us off! I know your heart is in the right place, but avoiding a firefight with the enemy should be our top priority."

"I know," Dain responded, rubbing his temple. The stress from the arguing had given him a headache and his body cried out for rest.

Hackett was obviously not faring any better. The young man's eyes had circles around them as well, showing an equal lack of sleep, if not more. Dain knew for a fact that Hackett had spent the previous day organizing his ship and crew for the expedition. He had probably planned on getting some rest after he had completed the assignment, but seeing how the day was progressing, Dain doubted either would get any sleep at fall. "What about combining our com. systems parts to send a message to Arcturus? The repairs are practically done; all we need is the few essential parts." Hackett suggested.

Dain thought over Hackett's proposal. It had its merits, although there was a significant drawback. "That would work, but the system's limited bandwidth will force Arcturs to take hours, or days to properly unpack and search through the data completely." He snorted. "Not to mention the debate they'll have regarding their next course of action."

"Like we're doing now?" Hackett asked.

Dain chuckled lightly at the commander's attempt at humor. "Yeah, just like us." He inhaled deeply, calming his nerves. "What about sending a corvette with the data as well? That way, we can ensure Arcturus gets the data, pronto and is much more likely to reach swift resolution."

"I don't like it, Dain." Hackett said, shaking his head in hesitation. "That'll require an in-system jump, and most likely show the batarians the Relay leading out of the system. Any reinforcements the Alliance sends would lose the element of surprise."

"Perhaps," Dain acknowledged. "But I doubt an intelligent alien race would consider a world without shipyards to be humanity's home-world." He brought up a map of the system, focusing the screen on the orbiting bodies. "Plus, the Relay is obvious as it is, and I don't think the batarians managed to miss it. Like you said, they're slavers so they won't be staying here for long."

Hackett rubbed his chin. "All right, good point. But at the same time, what about the possibility of the batarians mining the Relay or deciding to follow the corvette?"

"Well they haven't moved from the planet and on the off-chance they try to tail the ship, Alliance fleets and defenses will be ready for them in multiple systems. Trust me, I don't take a gamble without accounting for all the risks." Dain stretched his shoulders, relieving the tension built over the course of the last hour. It was no substitute for sleep, but it would do in a pinch.

Hackett furrowed his brow. Dain could see the man working through the problem from multiple angles; that had been his greatest advantage when they'd competed for positions back in the Academy. Hackett looked up. "Say I agree with your idea, what happens if the enemy decides to send a few scouts to investigate our location after the messenger leaves?"

Dain rubbed the back of his neck. Truth be told, he was aware of the risk, but hadn't come up with a viable answer. "Aside from going deeper into the asteroid field, we can plant whatever explosives we have left on the derelict ships, lure the enemy ships in, and blow them to kingdom come. I know it's not the best strategy, but it's all I have."

"That's not enough," Hackett frowned. "We need to stay alive, or …" He looked at the screen showing the system, "At least some of us need to survive."

"I know," Dain responded in defeat. All in all, there just wasn't a clear way out of the shit hole they were in. "I wished something would just go our way for once."

As if to answer his prayers, Selene's avatar appeared. "I may be able to help with that."

"Selene, how long have you been there?" Dain asked. His gaze disapproved of the AI's disregard for privacy.

"Long enough," She replied. "However, I believe you'd be more interested in what the salvage teams have uncovered." Her smile seemed to draw the commanders in like moths to flame.

"Well spit it out already," Dain grunted.

"Aside from confirming what was already on the data packet we received, the teams found a manual of sorts for the enemy's communications systems. Compared to Alliance standards they're very similar in terms of function and tech, but there is a very acute difference. A subpar electronic warfare suite, for one."

"Is she always like this?" Hackett asked.

"Unfortunately," Dain said, feeling another headache coming on. "At least we now know the batarian's are a bit behind us in the communications department. That being said, though, how does this help us?"

Selene rolled her virtual eyes. "Any data sent through an Alliance channels should be untraceable and the enemy should therefore be unable to intercept any of it. Therefore, without a method of detecting our broadcast, the batarians will be unable to send undetectable transmissions to each other unlike us. Of course, I am not sure how long it will take for Arcturus or General Williams to get the data with everything going on."

Hackett sighed. It was a proposal he'd thought it through as much as possible, and had reached a conclusion. "We'll I guess we're going with your plan, Dain."

Dain gave a nod. "Selene, once we finish with repairs, transmit the data to Arcturus and General Williams. Also, notify the appropriate crew to prepare a corvette to leave the system shortly."

"Aye, sir. Would that be all?"

"For now, yes."

"That raises a new problem," Hackett said.

"Which is?" Dain tiredly asked. At this point he just wanted to the day to be over with.

"Who will command the corvette? We'll need a competent commander to make sure the corvette reaches its destination without alerting the enemy."

Inwardly, Dain cursed. 'How can I have forgotten such a vital detail?' he thought. Knowing the risks involved, he couldn't let anyone else die because of his plan. "I'll go."

Hackett didn't seem too surprised. "You realize the chances of survival will be low if your detected, right?"

Dain sighed. "I know, but right now we don't have a choice. We need a commander who isn't a stranger to risks commanding that corvette. Besides you always were the better tactician. You're our best bet right now."

Hackett acknowledge Dain's compliment and sacrifice. "I just hope you know what you're doing commander," Hackett intoned before heading towards the exit.

"So, do I," Dain whispered. Suddenly alone, he felt the massive weight and responsibility resting on his shoulders.

---

A/N: The ground war has begun and I will like to address some issues readers may have. The JSF armor materials is mentioned in the story, but ME armor is basically made of ceramics. So with improved armor and the way ME rounds are used in canon, the JSF have a higher survivability rate. Before anyone starts a debate about which weaponry is superior let me make this comparison.

ME small arms advantages: Portability, versatility, range, and logistics

Human small arms advantages: Superior kinetic energy, durability, , and higher damage threshold.

So each has its advantages its just a matter how effective they are used.

Trivia:

1. The title is a reference to the first JSF prelude to war mission, specifically guarding the Freedom IV Lifter.

2. Shout out to MW2 with Dunn and Foley. (Trust me I know the many issues with Call of Duty, personally I prefer Battlefield, but anyone who has played the game has to love these two characters.)

3. The Ghosts have appeared! Richard Allen and Scott Mitchell, two of the oldest characters in the universe.

4. Halo officially exists in the universe, all hail Halo!

5. The JSF helmet is based off the real life prototype U.S military M50 helmet, which has been referred to as a Halo ODST helmet. (Google it, I am not lying.)

6. For those who are curious, the M268 SAW is a portable mini-gun.

7. We see the fractures within the batarians start to spread. Where will this lead?