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

8. Chapter 8 - Heroes Onboard

12-25-2156, 2240 hours (Alliance standard time)

HSS Superiority

Dreadnought

Command Deck

Ban evaluated the initial progress of the fleet, pondering its subtleties. Despite the vast distance between the massive dreadnought and the natives' planet, it was easy to see the situation. He had to admit it was going smoothly; already a few thousand slaves had been captured and were awaiting transport; countering Toren's debauched priorities had taken little to no effort. His SIUs had already been deployed and were capturing or destroying the planet's numerous planetary cannons at a growing rate, allowing him to pour in additional support at an equally growing proportion. Of course, such progress was to be expected from his troops, though he couldn't say the same for Toren's.

A deep grin appeared on the Admiral's face as he stared at a list of Lieutenant Commander Toren's losses thus far. The incompetent buffoon had arrogantly failed to send in recon teams first, committing an entire battalion in the first wave. Not surprisingly, with no advance intelligence on the terrain, enemy opposition, or even maps of the battleground, Toren's forces had not only suffered significant casualties but had also wasted time using large forces to gather intelligence. Time and manpower which could've been better spent capturing key military assets.

'An idiot's move, especially at this level of conquest.' The Admiral thought.

After such monumental displays of stupidity, how anyone could continue to follow Toren was beyond him. Still, despite the slavers' incompetence, Ban had grudgingly deployed some of his own forces alongside the fool's, both to keep an eye on the slavers and to succeed in areas where Toren's forces would no doubt fail.

'It's only a matter of time until your arrogance undoes you.' Ban thought.

Taking pleasure in Toren's misery, Ban slid the holo-image aside. The projector morphed slightly, showing a series of new interfaces. Unlike the Lieutenant Commander, Ban used whatever resources possible to learn more on the native race. What he had found astonished him. Apparently, the bi-pedal mammalian race called humans were a very diverse group, having almost as many clans as the krogan. Usually, it would have been a trivial matter to conquer an already divided species, yet this was proving to not be the case. Information like this troubled Ban greatly; despite their differences, the humans were persistent, cooperating to drive the batarians out of their planet. However, while their determination was infuriating, for the time being, it would prove worthwhile in the long run, once the same trait had been harnessed by the Hegemony and unleashed on the salarians and asari.

Suddenly a blinking warning, nothing major as to be accompanied by a buzzing alarm but enough to warrant the Admiral's attention, replaced the data on the humans. "What is going on?" Ban asked, getting up from his chair.

"Ship's scanners have detected a power increase in the system's Relay," Ib-ba replied, his hands dancing across the consoles. "Sensors haven't detected any silhouettes or ship signatures. Could be a minor system glitch."

"Order a crew of technicians to review the ship's electronic algorithms and troubleshoot the Superiority's systems," Ban ordered, deciding to play it safe. "Are we sure the idiot hasn't sent a ship or a probe through the Relay?" Based on just the Admiral's disdainful tone, everyone realized who he was referring to.

"Negative," Ib-ba replied. "All of Toren's ships have been accounted for, either destroyed or assisting in ground operations."

"Order a few of our ships to monitor the Relay's signatures."

Anxiety flowing through his veins, Ban watched from the screen in front of him as a duo of his ships broke from his fleet's formation and headed towards the Relay. It took merely a short period of time before his ships reached the massive Prothean artifact and began conducting scans and investigations into a possible malfunction. If the Relay was indeed experiencing a malfunction, Ban would want to know right away to prevent losses to his fleet. Early preliminary results were displayed on his interface, showing the Relay was operating at optimal conditions.

"Hmm," Ban grunted, lightly tapping fist on the railing. His crew stood in silence, waiting for further orders. "Ib-ba, are all ships accounted for, both mine and Toren's?"

"Of course, Admiral," the Lieutenant replied. "Such inability to properly serve the fleet would be a dishonor to it and to you as well."

Ban tilted his head in appreciation and acknowledgement, but the report did little to alleviate his suspicions. Suspicions born from his countless experience in naval warfare and developed instincts. While true the world did seem to have both the population and infrastructure to sustain the beginnings of an unusually large naval branch, it would be impossible and impractical for a species to have two distinct designs in their ships. Then there was the pressing matter of how one design had given off unusually low eezo readings while the other gave the amount of emissions he would have expected from such vessels.

'Did the idiot even bother to confirm this planet was indeed the species' homeworld?' It would not surprise the Admiral to learn if the bottom feeder had in fact failed to conduct the most minimal of naval practices and gather intelligence. The losses sustained to his naval fleet were the direct result of Toren's incompetence.

'If this does turn out to be colony world …'

Suddenly, a deep smile replaced the Admiral's scowl, the change bringing curiosity from the crew. "Ib-ba, patch me into Toren."

Ib-ba was visibly surprised by Ban's request but responded nonetheless. "As you wish, sir."

Ban turned on every single recording device within his reach. The situation had been a long time coming, preparing him to use this setback to his advantage. Within seconds, Toren's voice rang throughout the deck.

"Well, Admiral Ban this certainly is the surprise. Is there a reason that you've interrupted my conquest?"

Even Toren's arrogance wasn't enough to deter Ban's sudden good mood. "Lieutenant Commander, we appear to have a problem. Our ship detected a power surge originating from the system's Relay. While our investigations have revealed no issues with the Relay itself, I am wondering if any possible error with our sensors could be attributed to electronic interference from the indigenous race that we are lacking critical information on?"

"What!? Why are you asking me? I am in charge of the ground assault, nothing more." From Toren's panicked voice, it was clear to Ban that his supposed ally was clever enough to detect a trap, and distance himself from such a minor error in failing to conduct reconnaissance.

'If only you had enough intelligence to have gathered it in the first place, we wouldn't be experiencing this issue.' Despite his inner desire to abuse the slaver both verbally and physically, the Admiral's mask failed to break to the pettiest of desires.

"On the contraire, the Hegemony made it clear who was in sole command of the operation, and therefore whose orders we are to follow," Ban said. A little more prodding and Toren's ego would get the better of him. "As such, I found it obvious to confer with you on the issue."

There was a momentary pause on the online. "And you were correct in doing so. However, this is only a trivial matter. A single ship experiencing electronic failure is not impeding the progress of this operation and is merely a display of what my reputation itself is capable of despite the setbacks. Do not interrupt me further with such small matters again." The batarian rudely cut the link, apparently confident in his assessment. The action made Ban smile again; only fools refused to plan for the future.

"Ib-ba, it would seem Toren is not taking this matter seriously. As such I am forced to take matters into my own hands. If this planet turns out to be a colony world, as intel from the ground troops is currently starting to indicate, then it is most likely reinforcements from the native race will arrive." He settled back comfortably. "If that is the case then we must act with or without Toren's support. Have some of our ships begin mining the Relay and send a scout flotilla to investigate for possible enemy vessels."

"Aye, sir," Ib-ba said.

With his future secured, and thereby the glory, Ban turned off the recordings. "Ib-ba, a minor change of plan. Have Toren's naval ships mine the Relay. Ours have more pressing matters to attend to."

"Yes, sir."

"Contact Khar'shan and request for reinforcements in the form of a full slaver raiding fleet and instruct them to begin having whatever slavers are in our debt to begin conducting probing attacks into the Attican Traverse," Ban ordered.

"Understood, but is there a reason for slavers in particular?" Ib-ba asked. It was obvious he did not want to question the Admiral's reasoning, but he was more than tired of the slavers they'd already been forced to deal with.

"The Council keeps tabs on all other Hegemony fleets. Slavers, on the other hand, are always moving in independent groups across the Terminus and Traverse." Ban explained. It was true, that despite the lack of loyalty, the slavers would prove to be excellent cannon fodder in case of a naval engagement.

"Understood, sir."

"Good. Now relay my orders," Ban said before returning to his fleet. He steepled his hands, gazing over them at the star-scape. 'Everything is in position. All that is left now is for the pieces to fall into place.'

---

Alliance Military Headquarters

New Denver

Shanxi

"Sir, Echo 425 is reporting that the enemy has finished setting up a forward operating base at the edge of the city. We also have intel coming in from militias claiming the enemy is capturing vast amounts of civilians, mostly women and children. They are requesting further orders." Hackshaw informed.

"Tell the militias to begin engaging the enemy but to withdraw if they meet heavy resistance. We need them to secure our civilians in case we lose the city." Williams said.

"Aye, sir."

There wasn't much that could be done. Not to say that there was nothing that could be done, far from it. But there wasn't much else that could be done to prepare New Denver for what was to come, beyond setting up defensive positions, evacuating civilians as fast as possible, and stockpiling every round of ammunition, every bit of food, and drop of water to prepare for the siege. Those preparations had been completed three hours ago.

General Williams knew what to expect when the enemy began landing five full divisions of troops and armor in the outskirts of the city. Deep down, Williams knew he'd done everything he could. After ordering Colonel Matthews to evacuate to the top-secret bunker, along with other high-ranking officials, Williams had deployed his men and remained behind to lead them. His Marines were entrenched in the capital city, along with three Enforcer battlegroups. Other units were scattered across the colony, guarding, fighting, bleeding, and dying for every inch of land.

In total, the Alliance defenders numbered at around 40,000 soldiers with an additional 15,000 Enforcers all dug in throughout the city. The majority of the Alliance marines were positioned around power plants, hospitals, and other similarly important structures. With their renowned fire support, the marines to shape the battle in their favor while their flexibility and speed would allow Williams to deploy and re-deploy them as the situation changed, though of course they couldn't match the Enforcer's unparalleled precision. The General then turned his attention the forces of his allies and inspected them with the same critical eye.

The Enforcers were placed with their specialty in mind. Battlegroup 387, a highly versatile group of airmobile units specializing in combat against high-value targets, was currently defending Dubar Command, a nerve center for the city's uplinks. Unfortunately, hundreds of civilians had made their way there, believing it to be safe from the invaders. Their arrival had complicated matters, forcing Williams to send an armored marine company to evacuate them. Another resource, Battlegroup 90, was a tactical command battlegroup, supported by exceptional artillery. Williams decided to place them in the rear of the battle, having them relay any intel gathered on the enemy to other forces and to provide fire support for scouts as well. Battlegroup 103, was an armored battalion, and as a result, was stationed near a nexus of streets and roads that allowed them to engage the enemy in numerous locations. They would be vital in keeping the enemy's armor off of the rest of his forces.

Above the city, human and alien pilots clashed for dominance of the sky. With the city's anti-air batteries, the Alliance retained control, but only just. The enemy's inexhaustible numbers and their own AA systems were beginning to wear down the Slamhounds and Tridents, struggling just to keep the aliens at bay. Already there were gaps in William's air cover that the enemy had taken advantage of, deploying advanced vanguard teams. He countered with artillery strikes, rendering the enemy's vanguard combat ineffective. It was a canny move, depriving the aliens of the opportunity to gather intelligence on the city; the Alliance general had essentially forced the enemy to advance blind.

The weather did nothing to help Williams, a massive hurricane, which had initially been downgraded and should have been a tropical storm but instead had gained windspeed after mixing with warm-water, was plaguing the city. Electronics were experiencing interference as a result and any communications he had with his forces was patchy at best.

'Of all the times for weather forecasters to have been wrong …' The General was flabbergasted by how inaccurate the prediction had been, busy dealing with the swarm of communication issues now inflicting his forces.

He wished the Alliance had the capacity to deploy a QEC with every soldier, but understood the point to point nature of such technology would mean he would either need to have a massive server to communicate with his troops or have a receive for each soldier. Only then would Mother Nature be prevented from affecting human decisions. The only positives the storm had was its double-edged nature, affecting enemy communication as well. It prevented the enemy from outright decimating the city from orbit with precise targeting. The initial wave of enemy soldiers was also experiencing trouble mobilizing their troops; the heavy rain and storm creating a nightmare for their logistics and mobility.

Williams reduced the magnification of the map until it returned to an overall view of the theater of operations. The room was mostly lit by the white lights emanating from the table, causing the general's face to appear ghost-like. Within the command center, Williams had the power in his fingertips to be linked with not just his forces, but as well as every other unit on the planet, provided the information could be relayed. Minor static hampered connection over long distances, but Williams didn't worry about that. While he could give orders to any and every unit, it didn't mean he would.

He trusted the other faction's commanders, who were conducting their duties with immense honor and valor. Williams had already come up with an overall strategy to hold the city and allowed unit commanders to … adapt to the situation as they saw fit. He'd given engagement orders, but now the fate of the city was in the hands of his commanders, both Alliance and sovereign. With the knowledge that his troops deployed as best as they could be, Williams gritted his teeth and forced himself to relax while readying himself for the most grueling moment in his career.

He idly altered the focus, staring at the holographic image of New Denver, a sprawling city with surrounding skyscrapers with suburban developments. A true diamond in a sea of silver. But its majestic beauty appeared to be corroding, the enemy slowly weathering and tainting the diamond's attractiveness as they began infesting the city with their presence.

There was an old army saying constructed in the 20th century, 'In the field, armies are commanded by their generals, in cities, they are commanded by their sergeants.' It seemed the saying was not just a rule, but a proven law in the battlegrounds of New Denver. Aside from the brief firefights that had already begun, the main bloodbath would occur once the aliens reached the spaceport. It would be the signal for every soldier within the city to attack.

Currently, Williams didn't have reliable intel on the enemy's effectiveness in urban warfare but based upon preliminary reports, they were inexperienced. The enemy had brought an army into the city, deploying them in the outskirts and beginning to move inward. Armies died in cities though, something at which mankind became an expert in. Monterrey, Stalingrad, Hue, Poipet, Mogadishu … the list of infamous and bloody battles in human history was a long one. Williams frown became a bloody grimace. Humanity had learned how ruthless and bloody urban warfare could be where only the most tenacious warrior survived. The enemy was about to learn the same lesson the hard way.

Tapping commands, he brought an image of a new display. It was a projection of an enemy corvette that had taken residence near the battlefield. Williams had been receiving reports the enemy had been deploying them to great effect over heavily populated areas. However, he had a plan to neutralize the threat. One so daring, so bold the enemy wouldn't even see it coming. Or so he hoped.

"Commander Hower, this is General Williams, do you copy?"

"Aye, sir. ETA on target is six minutes. We'll get it done."

"Good. Just make sure you get your asses out of there when the operation is completed."

"Affirmative."

A brief moment later, after the link had been cut, Williams struggled to hold back the raging emotions eating at his core. Who was he kidding? He'd just sent all those N7 Marines on a suicide mission. Hopefully, their sacrifice would not be in vain.

In an attempt to avoid having second-guessing himself, a dire situation for any military commander, Williams forced his mind to focus on incoming reports and intelligence. One such piece of intel were the reports of morale among the various human forces. Much like humanity's military composition, the reports from units in the field were incredibly mixed and diverse, some held grim acceptance, others were eager and bloodthirsty, but the majority were still shocked at the events transpiring. Who could blame them? Mankind invaded by an extraterrestrial species? It was something one would think to be purely science fiction, but now it was reality.

"General? Sensors indicate enemy troops have begun moving into the city," Hackshaw reported softly.

Williams looked down at the map table and its holographic representation of the capital and the surrounding urban sprawl. As predicted, the enemy forces were moving in masse, under heavy guard by their gunships and tanks towards the spaceport. The General allowed a grim smile to appear on his face. His combat engineers had prepped the facility with a few surprises with platoons of Alliance marines placed in superior positions.

"Good, let's give these aliens their first big surprise," Williams said, resting his hands on the map table and watching the red colored dots descend upon the spaceport like ants.

---

Batarian Military Headquarters

New Denver

Shanxi

Across the city, Colonel Garak was watching a similar display, one with the same information in the but with a specialized VI installed allowing for trialed simulations of troop movement and engagements. He commanded the Batarian External Forces, elite shock troopers of the Hegemony military. They were fierce and dedicated; their track record for successful missions combined with a fearsome reputation for brutal efficiency making them obvious candidates for taking what appeared to be the capital city.

The planet's storm did affect sensors and communications somewhat, but Garak still had a rough estimate of what was going on. Unfortunately, the storm prevented him from landing additional troops to assist the first few companies of slavers he'd sent to capture the spaceport. If they needed additional support, the slaver Corvette would be happy to assist though. His face developed a deep scowl. Garak didn't trust the slavers one bit, which was why he'd sent them in first. His own forces weren't far behind the slavers, but enough to avoid any clashes between the two groups.

Bringing up a hologram of the slaver ship's position, the Colonel allowed his scowl to warp into a smile. To any oblivious idiot, the ship appeared to be perfectly placed to assist ground operations and allied troops that would inevitably drive deeper into the city, but Garak knew better. He had placed the ship in its location for one simple reason: bait. He did not underestimate his foe and realized any competent or desperate enough commander would prioritize the capture or destruction of the ship. The Colonel made sure to hold back a significant portion of his aircraft in hopes of alluring the enemy commander further. Once he gave the signal, his Sharad Interceptors and Raze fighters would conduct attack runs on the slaver ship in hopes of destroying the 'allied' vessel right on-top of the enemy's well-fortified forces.

Garak was no idiot, upon gaining intel of the enemy's excellent placement of troops, he made sure to create a false mirage of incompetence in urban warfare among his forces by moving them in masse. If he had decided to move on the city per his usual tactics, the enemy would have reorganized and caused him greater struggle and losses. While true his initial forces would take minor losses, he realized the vast majority would be spared the onslaught.

'An unwanted, but necessary calculation,' He thought, desiring to rescue all his troops but realizing it would be impossible.

As Garak returned his attention to the screen, he stared intently at one location in particular: the capital's spaceport. Once his forces seized the critical location, he would have the perfect staging area for his troops. Aside from the strange energy plants the natives constructed to power their infrastructure, the world's spaceport was single-handily the most critical asset in the battle. Thus, it was to the colonel's confusion when recon teams reported the structure to be unguarded. His instincts immediately signaled something was clearly wrong, but couldn't quite tell what it was. Garak foresaw an omen that this battle was not going to be one-sided.

"Colonel, the first wave of slavers is securing the spaceport and any vital assets nearby," Gonu said.

"Good. Ready the artillery. We may have to use it." Garak ordered.

"Yes, sir."

'Just what is this race doing?' He questioned, eyeing the abandoned infrastructure with suspicion.

---

New Denver

Shanxi

7th Group, 4th Order

Sergeant Jordal stood behind a pile of shipping crates with some strange markings on them. He regarded the human language passively, scanning it with his omni-tool. He believed in gathering as much intelligence as possible, even if it seemed worthless. One could never know when a small piece of information such as simple markings conveyed could come in handy. Once he finished scanning all the crates, Jordal turned back to look out across the world's Spaceport's perimeter barriers. He had a good position with his squad, elevated with good cover on top of an abandoned watchtower, but he didn't let his guard waver.

Jordal was a veteran and knew what combat was like, having fought with the unit for over five years. Not much fazed the sergeant, but he was still young … and the young were more concerned with doing their duty than dying. He held up his weapon, aiming it idly as he knelt behind the wall of crates. Even after all this time, Jordal still couldn't help but be bored while the rest of the unit secured the area. For him, it was better to be moving and fighting rather than waiting around all day.

'It's a shame Yermon isn't here,' he thought.

Jordal sighed, looking back over his shoulder as he heard the sound of thunder and lightning echoing through the sky. He had to admit, his job was preferable than having to freeze out in the horrific storm. Overhead, droplets of rain cut across the horizon, creating a visibility nightmare. He couldn't see more than a few meters ahead of them and therefore the unit had to rely heavily on radios, though they weren't much of an improvement.

"Thi ... s … Capt … oa, we're … sec … ing … the … spa … port. No … sign ... hos … iles." Came a call through the radio.

Jordal looked over towards the squad's radio operator as he tired relentlessly to patch up the signal. He shook his head knowing it was a lost cause. In the current conditions they were in, Jordal was amazed the radio could even get a transmission.

"Can you repeat? This is Sergeant Jordal, I'm reading you, but the signal is patchy."

"I … eat … we're … se … ing … spa … ort. I … eat … we're-"

Suddenly the entire world seemed to explode. The bright light that erupted from behind him coincided with a sense of immense heat that seemed to flash burn his skin. The tower he and his squad were on was flung sideways without resistance. Jordal felt his body flying through the air like a rag. He impacted the ground six meters away, the remains of the tower crashing down around him. As quickly as it began, the phenomenon ended. The pouring rain on his face was the only indication he was alive.

"Sergeant, are you alright!" Shouted a private.

Jordal stirred, regaining consciousness. Opening his eyes, he rejoined the world of the living. Getting up, He looked around and was relieved that his squad had survived with only minimal injuries.

"Sarge, are you alright?" Asked a private, a bit younger than himself.

"I'm fine, Ursen. Check on Oris and Defin," he ordered.

"They're fine, sir. A few scratches and bruises, but nothing a few medi-packs can't fix." Ursen replied.

Jordal gave a nod; hefting his AT-20 Castigator assault rifle and took a look around the spaceport. As he watched the control tower, he stared at the multiple batarian bodies around him. In an instant the city seemed to come alive, the defenders barely showing themselves yet unleashing barrages of fire. Deep down … he wished he was bored again.

"Rocket incoming!" Oris cried. A massive concussive blast soon followed, drowning out nearby vocal orders.

Within minutes, Jordal's squad began taking fire from their flanks. In response, the sergeant began issuing orders to begin stemming the tide. "Ursen, order our armored vehicles to target those positions! Oris, coordinate our mortars!"

Oris complied, gathering nearby mortar crews while Ursen gave a nod before getting on the radio. Soon four Hunter IFVs and two Reave main battle tanks lined up before thunder struck the enemy lines. Entire enemy positions were annihilated as Jordal rallied his men.

Rounds snapped at the ground and through the air as Jordal and his squad buried themselves behind their armored columns. The screeching sound of enemy rockets roared over their position and detonated meters away, the constant cries of soldiers and gunfire lingering in the dark evening.

"Damn those primitives," Ursen shouted as a nearby explosion from a rocket sent him to his back, showering his body with dirt. "I just had this armor properly cleaned!"

Being in the forefront of a massive clash, Jordal could only gape at Ursen's misaligned priorities. "This is not the time to focus on the state of your armor," he snapped between two bursts from his Castigator. "Be grateful it did its job in protecting you! And where the hell is Defin!" Jordal searched for his squad's heavy gunner, hoping he could provide suppressing fire.

Defin deciding to take the initiative, waving to entire crews wielding Scisor machine guns, charged forward, and slammed as many of the AT-70s light machine guns down into firing positions as he could, aimed just above the enemy positions and had the crews open fire. The steady, deep-throated bursts of machine-gun fire began to emerge from the chaos. Soon grenades, mortar, and rockets began to join the Hegemony's onslaught. Soon more and more of the Hegemony leaders began consolidating their men and minutes later the human soldiers were pushed back.

With the tide on their side Hegemony Hunters rolled forward, the heavy forty-two-ton wheeled machines firing their 30mm Mass Accelerator cannons at full power. The will of the defenders first dwindled then disappeared once the Hegemony troops joined forces and fired every weapon at their disposal into the defenders as they raced forward, in hopes of taking those very same positions.

As they overran the defender's position, many of them were found to remain in the land of the living. Nearly a hundred were suffering from various forms of wounds. One unlucky soldier had his left leg blown apart by exploding grenades, leaving only a squirting stump. Blood was splattered around the area, beginning to pool and mixed together.

Jordal then received his first glimpses of the defenders and it gravely shocked him. 'They look practically like the asari, only more masculine … and their blood is the same color as ours!'

"Ursen, begin triaging the enemy wounded and see to our own. If possible, scan them for any possible mutations, hopefully we can learn more about these creatures," he ordered.

"Understood, Sergeant."

"Seems like a waste of resources if you ask me," Defin replied, eyeing the creatures with venom.

"Then its good I didn't, Lance Corporal," Jordal snapped back. "The stunt you pulled was reckless and you put your squad and others at risk."

"Yet it sought us to victory," Defin countered.

"Luckily at no one's expense," The Sergeant replied, establishing his authority over his subordinate. "Look around Defin, these creatures are not to be underestimated least you desire to forfeit your life!"

"Of course, Sergeant. Anything else?"

"Begin salvaging equipment and access any terminals you can, but be cautious of anymore traps."

The Lance Corporal tilted his head, acknowledging his superior before departing to carry out his orders. With his orders given, Jordal turned his head to the now burning space-port, many of its ideal uses being rendered inert. Still it wasn't a total loss as already Hegemony technicians were attempting to salvage as much of the infrastructure as they could in hopes of establishing a staging area.

'It has merely begun,' Jordal thought, walking towards the nearest high-ranking officer to receive his new set of orders.

---

Alliance Military Headquarters

New Denver

Shanxi

General Williams held mixed emotions. True, the enemy had walked right into his trap and caused the enemy forces losses, but it had come with a cost. The Spaceport had been packed with explosives in service passages and the reactor had been rigged to detonate. It had been both a spectacular ambush and an expensive sacrifice, but it deprived the enemy a vital staging area as well as refueling source. Dozens of enemy squads had also been lost in the explosion, and those that remained were disoriented, at least initially.

The enemy force had reorganized and consolidated quicker than he had expected. From his projector, he could easily see enemy technicians already salvaging pieces of the Spaceport and, much to his dismay, had captured nearly a third of an Alliance marine company.

'All those lives and their fate now held at the enemy's grasp.' While, the General had accepted there would be a loss of life, he held a particular dissatisfaction of those lost as a result of his decisions.

Still Williams nodded at the marines' courage and sacrifice, hoping it would not be in vain. The sole positive in the situation was that the first move had been his and the enemy had received a potent message: Humanity would not surrender! He checked the dispositions of his forces currently at the mercy of the enemy corvette and knew his second blow would have to come soon or else everything would be for naught.

Suddenly, Vianna appeared over the tac-screen. "Sir, I have received a high-priority message you will want to see."

"What is it, Vianna?"

The AI brought up a message. Williams couldn't understand it well underneath the static and encryption, but the sender ID was enough to shock him into silence. The sender's ID was marked as … the SSV Tampa.

"This … this is-" Williams tried to say, but couldn't get out.

"Interesting? Yes, I am aware. The message was sent merely twenty minutes ago. I've only managed to decode the ID, but I'm more concerned with the larger implications …"

"Why would they send the message … and are remnants of the allied fleet still in the area?"

"Precisely," Vianna said with a hint of excitement before her face developed a frown. "Unfortunately, with all the radio traffic, servers tasked to capacity, and connection interference it will take time for me to decode the message."

"Right now, top priority is cleaning that message up. Whatever its contents, it must be vital for anyone to risk sending it."

"Aye, sir."

'Just what the hell is going on?' Williams thought as he tried unraveling the mystery currently unfolding.

---

Batarian Military Headquarters

New Denver

Shanxi

Colonel Garak was both shocked and pleased. He realized the massive setback losing the city's Spaceport posed and chastised himself for not properly checking it thoroughly. However, the loss of a few slavers was not a large concern for him, the majority of his External Forces suffering nearly zero losses. Still, the enemy had struck first with incredible ingenuity. His respect for his opponent grew; realizing he had enough troops to secure it, the enemy had decided to destroy the asset along with as many combatants as possible. It was a risky tactic, yet it had paid off.

'This will prove beneficial later on,' Garak thought, saving the results of the encounter in an attempt to adopt them for a later confrontation. But now it was time for a counter-move.

"Colonel … orders?

Garak eyed in the general direction of the question before returning his attention to the screen. He soaked in the layout of the battlefield, deciding the next appropriate move to take. Finally making his decision, he addressed his subordinate.

"Have the corvette approach the city as close as it can and deploy probes followed by a salvo on enemy positions. As for the infantry, order our troops to capture power-plants, communication hubs, and engage in a defensive manner."

"Sir?" Clearly, Gonu did not understand Garak's intentions.

"The slavers will engage the bulk of the enemy. In doing so they'll be wasting the enemy's supplies and ammunition. Once they are worn down, we'll attack with our full might and capture the city with only minimal losses."

"Yes, sir." The officer stated, saluting with immense respect. "I assume you'll want our artillery to target the city's transportation system?"

"Of course. Once we corral our prey it will be easy to subdue them," Garak said. His attention was drawn to a particular piece of human infrastructure with an unusual number of human defenders.

"Gonu, do we have spare communication systems?"

"Of course, sir. Why do you ask?"

"I believe I have the perfect place to set our own trap," Garak answered, bringing up schematics of the structure while also eyeing the footage of the city's spaceport destruction. His smile was not the most terrifying, but it was one of a dangerous man.

---

HSS Superiority

Dreadnought

Command Deck

The batarian Admiral looked to the void, where the wreckage of satellites and enemy ships lay undisturbed. The salvage teams were unable to gather anything useful, the defender's ships relying on the same technology as the batarian's and the weaponized satellites destroyed beyond repair. He growled at the mere thought of such contraptions, costing him valuable ships and manpower. The Admiral had lost over a quarter of his fleet, the indigenous forces showing impressive capabilities in warfare. Even outgunned and with their homeworld's annihilation, all but certain, the indigenous race continued to fight.

Ban marveled at the species' determination. It would be a great asset as either slaves or fighters. Of course, they would have to be properly trained and swear loyalty to the Hegemony, however, Ban believed that could be easily implemented with the right measures. But the Admiral was no fool; he easily realized that this race was far beyond primitive, wielding technology that would make a salarian salivate. Once this race integrated into the Hegemony they would have to be closely monitored or risk an open revolt.

"How well is the invasion coming along?" Ban questioned. He could look at the reports himself but having an extra mind condense the information eased an overall summary.

"Overall progression is steady, and our forces are continuing to advance on all fronts," Ib-ba responded. "Lieutenant Commander Toren's men have rapidly gained ground on the colony's smallest continent and have rounded up a measurable sum of slaves. They'll begin sending these slaves once their battlespace is cleared."

Ban huffed at the mention of the Lieutenant Commander's name. Overly arrogant, the idiot had suffered significant losses to the enemy's fleet. Still, at the very least the slaver leader's forces helped bolstered his's own.

"Anything else?"

"Sir, a few of our Generals are requesting a few ships to assist them in capturing highly contested cities." The flight lieutenant answered.

"Very well. However, send only a few Frigates and a couple of Corvettes. I don't want to risk losing any more ships." Ban ordered.

Having achieved orbital supremacy, the batarian Admiral could easily fire down on the planet at will. It was an age-old battle tactic of controlling the high ground. But Ban wasn't here to eradicate the native race, no his goal was to enslave them. That meant he had to limit orbital support to a few missiles at a time, or a single shot from a Mass Accelerator cannon if the situation warrants it. Plus, there was another reason why Ban wanted the majority of the ships in defensive positions around the planet. Despite the reports from sensors, Ban suspected the remnants of the defensive fleet was still in the system, watching and waiting. For what, he didn't know. Still, what bothered the Admiral the most was the sight of two completely different styles of ships, clearly presenting two sovereign nations or even species. If that was the case, then Ban only had a narrow window of opportunity before possible enemy reinforcements arrived.

As Ban returned his attention to the screen, he stared intently at one location in particular: the capital's spaceport. Once his forces seized the critical location, Ban would have the perfect staging area for his troops. Aside from the strange technology the natives used to power their infrastructure, any world's spaceport was single-handedly the most critical asset in the battle. Thus, it was to the Admiral's confusion when recon teams reported the structure to be unguarded. His instincts were signaling something was clearly wrong, but couldn't quite tell what it was. He refrained from giving extra orders, however; confusion from higher levels of interference could cost him the battle.

"Admiral, the first wave of General's Garak's forces are securing the spaceport and any vital assets nearby," Ib-ba relayed the information he was receiving from the ground.

"Good. Order General Garak to ready his artillery. He may have to use it." Ban ordered.

"Yes, sir."

'Just what is this race doing?' Ban questioned as every report stated the same thing: No enemy contact.

---

New Denver

Shanxi

Alpha Team

The six Kodiak shuttles, accompanied by a Stinger escort, soared in a tight, V formation as they neared their target. The timing of their attack was essential, a moment too soon and the soldiers would miss their target. A moment too late and there wouldn't be a city left to safe. While the enemy vessel hovered at barely skyscraper height, it was vulnerable to a boarding party ... theoretically. Under the dense cloud cover and the raging storm, the Kodiaks and Stingers were able to approach the Corvette with disguised heat. As an additional precaution, the flight soared at extremely high altitudes in between the atmosphere and stratosphere, a vehicular version of the time-honored HALO drop.

Inside the lead shuttle, the N7 complement readied their gear, preparing for the assault. The basic variant of the N7 armor fit Anderson like a second skin. In fact, he would have felt naked without it. Composed of three layers of protection to maximize a soldier's survivability, the N7 armor did its job well, providing the best protection for the Alliance's best troopers. The outermost-layer contained shield emitters that served as the first line of defense. Objects traveling above a certain speed would be continuously repelled by the shield until the armor's power cells lost too much energy, causing the shield to collapse.

The armor's middle layer was composed of non-porous ballistic cloth with lightweight composite ceramic plating, serving as the 'traditional' body armor. Aside from the joints, every body part was covered with this material, leaving only narrow openings in the suit. The last line of defense in the armor was a micro-frame computer in the combat hard suit, responsible for dispensing medi-gel. While most soldiers complained about the oozy-liquid running over their bodies, Anderson was rather grateful for it, since such safety measures could make the difference between life and death. In fact, since its implementation, the micro-computers alone had dropped fatalities by a significant margin. This hardware, combined with the newly created N7 Breather Helmet, turned an already dangerous soldier into something deadly.

Anderson had made a habit out of examining every component in his gear, making sure each facet was operating at peak capacity. His fully-loaded M-7 Lancer was expanded to full length, while his M-3 Predator and M-25 Katana were secured via magnetic locks in the back of his armor. He nodded in satisfaction. The mindset behind his load-out was flexibility. Anderson believed in being ready for any situation and he just might have to on the upcoming mission.

He glanced at his team members, who were equipped in a much different fashion. Commander Hower's load-out was similar to his, substituting an M-97 Viper and M-12 Locust for the shotgun and heavy pistol. Frost, being an Infiltrator, was equipped with an M-99 Saber marksman rifle and an N7 Valiant sniper rifle, set with the holdout Predator pistol in his holster. His selection of armor differed from Hower's and Anderson's, choosing to take the Hahne-Kedar N7 armor variant with a Delumcore Overlay headpiece. Anderson acknowledged the advantage of having a weapon's damaged increased but found it foolish to willingly sacrifice spare heatsinks for it.

By comparison, Velasquez, the squad's engineer, had packed a Capacitor helmet with the Kassa Fabrication armor in order to increase her shield's strength and recharge speed. She held a Lancer with pride, lodging a Katana shotgun to her back and the infamous N7 Hurricane sub-machine gun magnetically locked to her thigh. Although he puzzled over the selection from time to time, Anderson was still unaware if her choice in weapons was symbolic or made with practicality in mind.

Anderson's eyes wandered to the second N7 team onboard the Kodiak shuttle with them. Their vanguard was a nasty woman by the name of Stenzke. The sergeant took pride in psychologically scarring the enemy and her load-out mirrored her state of mind. She packed a Typhon light machine gun, M-100 grenade launcher, and a Hurricane sub-machine gun. Her bulkier Defender-class armor allowed her to both absorb and dish out additional carnage. Anderson made a mental note to maintain a more withdrawn position from her during a firefight.

Sitting next to her was a rather quiet individual, an Asian with a Slavic accent. Sergeant Cho, as his squad called him, was an excellent sniper. His weapon of choice intrigued Anderson as the sniper carried an M-96 Mattock heavy rifle and a M-92 Mantis sniper rifle. The standard Predator was holstered at his side, yet Anderson was dumbfounded at the combination of aged and modern weaponry. Adding to the unusual structure of the squad, their adept, Lieutenant Bellec was very chatty. Compared to the two quiet members, it seemed as if Bellec didn't belong in the squad. The adept had the Rosenkov Material's armor with Umbra visor. He carried the basic load-out with the exception of carrying a Locust rather than a Predator.

"A unique team isn't it," the squad's leader said.

Anderson turned his head to the right to face an old friend, a man slightly older by a couple of years. He carried the same armor as Anderson with an identical selection in firearms; a Katana and Predator locked to the man's back and thigh while a Lancer rested on his legs. "Shepard, you are probably the only one crazy enough to command such a squad."

"Well you know me, I always like to spice things up a bit."

"Uh-huh. Just remember who the enemy is." Anderson responded.

"Let's see, uh aliens with four eyes that are extremely ugly. Don't worry even I won't mistake them for you. And when did you start calling me by my last name? I may be a lieutenant commander, but that doesn't give you an excuse to go all formal on me."

"Well then, I am glad to see you are still alive, Alex."

"You too David. Say, after we save the planet, how about we grab a beer if there's a bar still left standing?"

"I'd say hell yes."

The two friends enjoyed the banter, a comforting coping method after having gone through thick and thin in numerous ops. Of course, that had been before they had been assigned to different units. It pained Anderson that he only got to see his friend during a war and wished the circumstances were better … much, much better.

"Alright people, we're approaching the target. ETA ninety seconds. Get ready!" Hower barked, getting up from his seat. The shuttle's lights turned yellow, verifying Hower's statement.

All eight N7 Marines stood up straight, the wings in their suits dragging slightly. Courtesy of the Alliance Airborne division, these wings were normally reserved for massive Aerial deployments. Given the circumstances, Williams believed they would still be put to good use. The squad-members made sure to keep the respectable distance from each other to avoid any mishaps.

Anderson saw Shepard holding onto a picture, levity gone from his face. Stepping closer, Anderson saw the two Shepard's in it, Alex and his son, John. He stepped closer, resting a comforting palm on his friend's shoulder. "Hey, don't worry about it. You'll be back by his first birthday. Just concentrate on the job and you'll be fine. Next thing you know you'll be carrying him in your arms."

The reassurance did little to improve Shepard's mood as he stared at the only piece of family he had left. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Before Anderson could turn his attention back to the shuttle's doors, he felt a responding hand on his own shoulder. "Anderson, if anything happens to me - make sure my son is taken care of, all right?"

"If anything does happen to you, I'll take care of John as if he was my own boy," Anderson replied, then stared deeply into his friend's eyes. "But you and I both know you're not going to escape parenthood so easily."

The tactic worked, bringing a grin to the older man's face. "Ha! With that I can agree."

The conversation between the two friends quickly ended once they received an update on the mission. "Commander, receiving data update from VI." The pilot yelled. "Small squadron of enemy fighters is exiting the corvette's bays."

"Have they detected us?" Hower asked.

"Unlikely." The pilot squinted at his screens. "It looks like the ship is reorienting itself to target positions on the ground; its engines appear to be vulnerable. Stinger escort is requesting permission to engage."

"Send them in. If it can't move, it'll make everyone's job easier."

"Affirmative."

Off to one side, Hower snapped his helmet in place as the cockpit was sealed and the passenger hull decompressed. "This is it, folks. Get ready!" Diving to a distance of a few hundred meters, the Kodiaks' thrusters ignited to full power. The N7 troopers readied their weapons as the side hatches descended, giving the occupants a good view of the battle and their target.

'There it is.' Anderson thought at he gazed upon the ship. The enemy corvette seemed to stand in place as it showed the characteristically harsh lines of the alien ships. It was around two hundred meters in length, slightly smaller than Alliance variants, but its size was nothing to laugh at.

The ship itself seemed to be reacting slowly to the attack. Anderson assumed the ship's officers didn't believe that the Alliance would assault it with such a small force.

'How wrong they were.'

Behind it, the Stingers surged forward making strafing runs on the ship's engines. Their electronic countermeasures prevented the ship from calling additional reinforcements, filling the air with garbage signals. With their communications momentarily offline, the once overpowering enemy corvette suddenly became vulnerable prey. With haste, its fighters scrambled out of the corvette's hangars and engaged the human aircraft.

The fierce cracks of thunder and lightning drowned out almost every noise. It provided an ominous feeling in the shuttles as they poised themselves for the jump into the belly of the beast.

"Greenlight! Greenlight! Greenlight! Hit them hard N7!" Hower bellowed, his voice sounding louder than the raging storm.

The N7 troopers leaped off the Kodiak, jumping into the jaws of death. Other Kodiaks began to drop their complement as well, saturating the airspace around the ship with N7 marines. The area was chaotic as allied and enemy aircraft dueled for dominance. Anderson saw two Stingers surged forward making strafing runs on the ship, blasting a hole big enough for the N7s to glide through.

"There's our opening! All units descend upon the breach!" Hower yelled over the com. The N7s complied, closing ranks as they neared their target.

The aliens, however, weren't about to simply allow the N7s to board. The Corvette's defense turrets began firing upon the strike force, but it was too little too late. A Stinger pilot turned her aircraft around, opening fire on the turrets. A small barrage of 30mm cannon fire and Interceptor missiles blew apart the few turrets located on top of the ship. Nothing was going to stop their boarding action. After nearly ten seconds, the N7 strike force soared through the Corvette and soon landed on what appeared to be a top hangar filled with many … many … angry … enemy soldiers.

Immediately, mass accelerator slugs erupted from both sides, infesting the hanger with rifle rounds and concussion shots. "Hard contact! Weapons free!" Hower shouted. The N7 strike force took cover behind whatever they could as they engaged the enemy.

Anderson fired a few shots from his Lancer, each round landing in a tight cluster on his target's body. A flow of blood squirted from the enemy soldier as he writhed in pain, clutching the wound. He repeated the process on other targets, each one of them meeting the same end. No enemy reinforcements came as if they were still too stunned at the insane action occurring on their ship; however, Anderson knew that couldn't last for much longer.

The hangar shook violently as another massive explosion tore through the outside of the ship, peeling off even more armor as debris fell everywhere. Giant holes, caused by Stingers in their strafing runs, provided a window to the outside world, letting bursts of white light shine through as lightning flashed in the storm. Everything inside just screamed of chaos and destruction. It was appropriate, all things considered.

"Stinger escort to strike team. We're suffering major losses. Additional enemy aircraft is approaching and we're heavily outnumbered as it is."

"Roger that. Disengage and fall back." Hower ordered amidst the firefight.

"Copy. Disengaging and pulling out. Good luck strike team."

"We're N7, we don't need luck," Hower growled in reply. He turned to address his strike force even as mass accelerator slugs whizzed by his head. "You all heard the transmission so I don't have to repeat myself, but now we're in deep with no cover. This is what we signed up for, so let's make sure we give these aliens an Alliance welcome!" The short speech had a great effect in improving the gusto in the marines even as they were left to fend from themselves. The N7's, with nowhere to go and everything to gain, had become exponentially more dangerous.

Anderson took cover behind a destroyed enemy fighter as he engaged the hostiles with his Lancer. A sudden explosion from a frag grenade snuffed out two enemy biotics as a sniper round killed a third. He cranked his head to the right to see Frost reloading his Valiant.

"They're far too close for my comfort!" Frost said as he threw an Incinerate attack. It managed to keep a couple of troopers back. The Disruptor setting on his sniper rifle was helping collapse a few shields, aiding the N7 squads greatly.

Still, the enemy snipers placed on the catwalks above were detrimental to the strike force's advance, managing to kill one unlucky soldier. The N7 countered with a salvo of Cobra missiles, bringing the whole structure tumbling down. An unfortunate enemy sniper managed to impale himself on a protruding metal beam.

In the center of the maelstrom, the assault element Alpha moved forward in complete defiance of the enemy's firepower. They weaved through the shattered wreckages like great cats on the prowl. Behind Alpha, Charlie and Delta squads rolled out, adding suppressive fire with their Typhons and Lancers. The steady stream of heavy fire raged over the N7's assault as the strike force charged forward. Down by over twelve men, the remaining fifty enemy soldiers retreated using biotic and tech attacks to cover their withdrawal.

"Push forward! Move!" Hower shouted. Concentrating fire, the N7s urgently advanced. They were quick, methodical, and efficient, but they were far from reckless. The N7's carved a path of righteous fury like a steel knife, bulldozing through the defenders, quickly obliterating the opposition.

Anderson knew they had to capture the bridge and engineering, the heart and mind of any ship. The first few platforms in their vicinity fell quickly and soon the boarders began consolidating their positions. Now fully aware of the boarding party, the enemy would no doubt send a response team numbering in the hundreds … and that would be problematic.

Hastily, defense turrets were placed, directing lines of fire down the closest corridors already secured; a time delay of a few scant seconds was set up, and preparations were done. Just in time as well. As soon as the enemy response team arrived, they were met with over a thousand rounds per minute from multiple turrets. Whole squads were wiped out in seconds with some of the smarter ones advancing behind strong barriers, but they too were quickly dispatched.

"Let's fry these four eyes!" Stenzke hollered, unleashing another shockwave. The attack proved deadly in the narrow corridor. Just as she was about to charge through the enemy ranks, Shepard intervened.

"Keep your skirt on! Let them come. We'll cut the enemy's numbers here and advanced when their weakened."

"Killjoy!" Stenzke retorted, spraying the enemy with fire from her Typhoon.

The higher rate of fire from the N7s' weapons and turrets allowed them to engage larger waves of enemies, whose slower firing rifles were horrible at suppression, even when used in large quantities. The defense turrets, however, could not sustain the constant rate of fire as they began to overheat. One of them fell to a newly arrived enemy rocket squad pair as the N7 engineers tried desperately to keep the others online. With the small amount of breathing room and under the cover of their rockets, the enemy took the opportunity to push several mobile shield generators in place to make their advance easier. As they neared, the enemy began to toss grenades, allowing frag and inferno explosions to take a toll on the N7s.

Their advance quickly ended as Stenzke turned to her M-100. With every clip, ten 30mm grenades, each with the equivalent kinetic energy of a 60mm sniper round tore through shields with the first few hitting and splattering chunks against the bulkheads. Soon, the battle became a tug-a-war between the enemy rocket troopers and N7's heavy troopers. The storm of exploding tungsten quickly forced rifleman from both sides to take cover, courtesy of consoles and railings to avoid being chewed away. With the heavy soldiers in a deadlock, pinning down the lighter units, the fate of the battle switched into the hands of the snipers. The slower firing, higher damage N7 Valiant's went toe to toe with the enemy's unconventional Harpoon sniper and fully automatic sniper rifle, nicknamed the Incisor by the N7s for the weapon's serrated rounds. Infantry from both sides fell before the onslaught.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Thundered through the ship as it rocked violently throwing everyone on the top hanger off their feet.

"What the hell was that!?" Cho shouted as he got back to his feet. Others attempted to do the same with biotics and tech specialists on both sides trying to keep their opposing foes suppressed.

"Commander Hower, this is Williams. That corvette just opened fire with a salvo of torpedoes and took out an entire block! We cannot let that ship fire on evac convoys. Stop them at any cost!" Williams' voice echoed over the comm channel.

"Yes, sir!" Hower turned to the rest of the N7. Even behind the mask, one could tell that the commander's facial expression was grim. "We don't have much time until this ship decides to fry the entire city. So, we need to double time it." Leaning out of cover, Hower fired a concussive shot at the remaining enemy troopers, knocking them back with the blast. "Stenzke hit them with a shockwave, Bellec incinerate!"

The two N7s followed the command, creating a deadly combination of biotic and tech powers. The shockwave blew the enemy back again, just as they were beginning to get up, only for an incinerate attack to melt through two unlucky soldier's armor. "Frost, finish them off!" What few soldiers managed to survive were immediately cut down by the Infiltrator's sniper rifle.

"Hallway clear!" Shepard shouted, ejecting a thermal clip from his rifle.

"Move up, one squad at a time!" Hower ordered. The strike force proceeded down the hallway, only to come to two separate paths; a corridor that led deeper into the ship and a set of stairs leading downwards.

"Sir, if we split up, we can cover more ground," Shepard suggested.

Given the urgency of the mission, Hower was inclined to agree. "That sounds good. Squads Charlie, Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot advance up, while Alpha and Beta head down." A series of affirmatives were heard as thirty-four N7 marines continued down the corridor while Hower led another sixteen down the set of stairs. "It's a tight fit people; give your selves some elbow room." He said.

Hower took point with his Locust, guiding the rest of the men into the unknown. As he reached the final steps, which appeared connected to a medium sized hallway, the environment became strangely quiet. At the end of the hallway, he could see a door, while the sides of the hallway were littered with discarded power tools and maintenance equipment. One of the sides held a series of escape pods, something of which Anderson made a mental note, in case they needed a quick exfil. The team cautiously advanced to the door, one squad stacked on the sides while the other provided over-watch.

"Squad one ready."

Anderson slid closer to the door, ready to kill anything that was on the other side. He placed a charge on the door before retaking his previous position. He could hear his own heart racing in the quiet environment, a reminder of the anxiety he felt. Even for a high-skilled soldier, breaching a door was still considered one of the most nerve-wracking maneuvers.

"Squad two ready."

"Blow it." Hower gave the command and Anderson followed.

A heavy load of ordnance came whizzing out of the room the moment Anderson detonated the charge. He threw a smoke grenade to give the breaching team some cover, but vapor gas did little to slow incoming bullets.

"Stenzke, repulse field now!" Shepard shouted.

The N7 Vanguard ran out into the oncoming fire, surprising not just her teammates but the hostiles as well. Anderson believed she had completely lost her mind. In a stunning move, Stenzke conjured up a strange silver-colored field in the shape of an octagon. Anderson was shocked to find that not only did the field stop the enemy's incoming fire, but actually managed to halt it in mid-air. He didn't want to even guess how much time and credits had been spent researching the magnetic properties for that particular trick.

The strange event didn't stop the enemy from firing on the N7s, futile though it was. Anderson could see that maintaining the field was putting immense stress on Stenzke. He briefly wondered if she had any L2 implants, but quickly dismissed the idea. L2 implants were never able to get out of the prototype phase as they were too unpredictable. While they allowed biotics to use their abilities to a greater degree, the multiple horrific side-effects had relegated them as too dangerous for field usage. Still, Stenzke's biotic prowess was far stronger than any he'd seen before.

"Sergeant, give them hell," Shepard ordered. Already Stenzke's field had hundreds of rounds suspended in mid-air and Anderson could only guess what would come next. Stenzke pulled her arms pack and placed her right leg forward for support. In an instant a grimace telling how much strength was needed for the maneuver, Stenzke pushed her arms forward, sending the mass of ordnance her field had gathered back to their former owners.

The enemy seemed unaware of Stenzke's strange ability, hell Anderson himself couldn't comprehend it, and were inadequately prepared for the incoming storm. The barrage killed dozens of enemy soldiers, wounding many more, and shattering any chance of a proper retaliation. The rest of the N7s joined fire more conventionally, using their own weapons. With twenty-five troopers remaining, the enemy retained numerical advantage ... but matched against the twelve N7s' superior skill, the enemy's advantage was not enough to win the firefight.

With little left to lose, the enemy soldiers fired and threw whatever weapons they could. They were easily cut down with little effort. One N7 near Anderson was shot through the neck. He tried to pull the marine into cover, firing his Lancer with one hand inaccurately to at least dissuade the enemy from firing on him. The enemy perceived Anderson too good a target to pass up as two support gunners trained their sights on him. Anderson, already greatly burdened, was unprepared as incoming fire from light machine guns slammed into him. His shield immediately collapsed under the strain with fragments of his armor being torn apart. A few of the rounds managed to hit the wounded marine in the neck, killing him instantly.

"Covering fire!" Shepard yelled, seeing his friend in a vulnerable position. He fired a concussive shot at the support gunners while Bellec created a barrier around Anderson. Stenzke was still recovering from her previous attack, switching to her M-100 for suppressive fire. Velasquez assisted the Vanguard with more accurate fire from her Lancer. This had the immediate effect of driving the enemy soldiers back into cover. As this was going on, Cho and Frost advanced, flanking the enemy. Once they were in a better position they attacked in succession with deadly results. In less than a minute, the opposition was either killed or too wounded to fight.

The cries of the wounded aliens were ignored as the N7 team took into account their losses. Three killed in action with another three wounded, but with some medi-gel they were back in fighting shape. Overall, casualties were extremely light numerically, proportionally a quarter of their men had been taken out.

"Team one, this is team two. We've secured what appears to be the maintenance deck, what is your status over?" Hower asked.

"This is team two," A voice said over the comm. Gunfire, explosions, and the barking of orders could be easily heard over the radio. "We're experiencing heavy resistance in the communications deck. A good portion of terminals have been destroyed, but we'll salvage what we can. Shit … nearly caught a bullet on that one. Team two over and out."

"Well it seems team two is having fun," Stenzke commented, already beginning to get her energy back. "Where to now?"

"Well if this is maintenance, then the engineering deck should be below us," Shepard stated. As a marine, he had sufficient knowledge on the overall design model for any naval vessel.

"That is assuming these four eyes have the same model layout as our ships," Anderson grunted, bringing to light a massive caveat. "For all we know their engineering deck could be placed at the rear of the ship." There was some agreement with Anderson's words. With a lack of proper knowledge on the enemy ship's layout, the N7 team was moving blind. Its exterior was completely alien to those of the Alliance so it wasn't wrong to assume the interior of the ship would also differ drastically from a human vessel.

"We don't have a choice," Hower interjected. "This is all we have to go on. I agree with you Lieutenant, but right now an entire city is counting on us and we can't fail them. Alpha and beta squads, prepare a charge and-" Before he could finish, the entire ship shook again this time with much greater force. That wasn't all as the ship appeared to go into a dive, knocking everyone off of their feet. "Shit! Everyone get back up!" The Commander had much reason to fear.

"Commander Hower!" General Williams sounded hysterical, which only furthered worried the Commander. "The Corvette just fired its main gun and is on a collision course with the city! The mission is aborted, get the hell out of there! Enemy aircraft is heading your way and they don't appear to be interested in a refueling run!"

Hower cursed. He quickly got on the radio and issued an emergency transmission "Everyone get topside now!" No one opposed him as the team tried to quickly leave the room. Suddenly, the side of the ship exploded, causing the ship to become even more unstable. A sudden hole was blasted wide open, rimmed with the glowing melted edges of the ship's hull. The team was thrown off their feet.

A tortured scream of bending metal overloaded Anderson's senses, the world around him lurching with such force that he nearly lost consciousness. His vision nearly went white and was about to lose consciousness before a hand grabbed his arm and hoisted him up to his feet. Groggy, Anderson tried to see who it was before his vision cleared enough to give him a clear picture of Shepard's breather helmet staring at him. "On your feet Anderson! WE ARE LEAVING!"

Brought back to reality, Anderson quickly followed the team as they tried to make a run for it. They desperately dashed through the room, avoiding falling debris.

"Fucking four eyes!" Stenzke cursed, feeling deep resentment for the enemy. "So goddamn stupid they'll kill themselves just to get a couple of mother—" her eloquence proved itself in a colorful diatribe, weaving an exquisite verbal tapestry.

"Stow it, Stenzke. Focus on getting out of here alive!" Shepard yelled. The team quickly made their way to the escape pods, the circular opening of the largest container hissing as it was forcibly unlocked by Bellec. The majority of the team quickly filed into the pods, before the command codes were given for launch.

Anderson was about to step into a pod when a sizeable enemy platoon arrived from the set of stairs the N7 team had used earlier. Obviously, they had the same motivation and weren't about to easily let the N7 team take the once chance they had at survival. Before Anderson could aim, an enemy fired a rocket sending it flying towards directly at him.

'This is it.' Anderson thought as he stared directly at his grim reaper, his life flashing before his eyes. Before the rocket connected with its intended target, Anderson felt an immense force pushing him to the right, the rocket missing him by a meter. It exploded nearly blinding his vision. Anderson saw as a barrier field enveloped around him before he was dragged into the pod. He looked upwards to see Bellec holding the barrier with one hand. Anderson turned his attention to his left to see what saved him and the sight … nearly killed him. Lying on the floor was Shepard, bleeding out with his front armor completely melted off. Part of Shepard's rib-cage was exposed as his hand stiltedly moved to his grenade bandolier.

Anderson tried to yell, only to let out a loud gasp and be met with immense hot pain on his left side. He looked to find he was also bleeding with multiple shrapnel wounds from his leg all the way past his vision and presumably his neck. He hopelessly stretched an arm out, desperate to save his friend. The enemy platoon came into view just as the pod sealed shut. They gave no attention to Shepard as they aimed their weapons on the pod. From the glass window, Anderson could see Shepard pull the pin, connecting all the grenades in a fashion once known as the Dead Man's Switch. He, along with the rest of the enemy platoon, vanished in a swirling cloud of burgeoning flame, itself almost instantly obscured by the pod's thruster blast as it activated, propelling the escape pod from the ship. The last thing Anderson saw from the tiny porthole was the Corvette crashing into the city.

---

Batarian Military Headquarters

New Denver

Shanxi

Garak watched silently as the two-hundred-meter long slaver ship, carrying over one-hundred tons of supplies, crashed into the city. As much as he despised the incompetent slavers, sacrificing the Corvette hadn't been an easy choice. Intentionally destroying a key asset in any military campaign was something nearly unheard of, but considering the alternative, Garak believed it to have been a necessary sacrifice.

Indeed, the results of his own gambit had paid off tremendously with upfront interest to his forces. Ordering the corvette to fire everything it had upon the city while his pilots tried to shoot it down as planned, Garak managed to cause tremendous damage to the area. He managed to receive data on a few escape pods launching before the ship managed to crash and presumed them to be the only few survivors. All while he remained the clear, after all how could anyone have guessed the primitives would launch a daring attack on such a well-defended target? The Colonel allowed himself to bask in his brilliance before taking stock of the now altered battlefield.

The unconventional tactic proved to be a double-edged sword … for the slavers. Over four thousand Na'hesit soldiers were within the kill zone and none have responded since the attack. The Corvette had proved itself to as a refuel and repair station for his air forces, allowing them to provide quick support, however with sections of the captured space-port now operational its loss would not impede Garak's progress. The losses, as tragic as they were, didn't come near to what he had gained. The enemy had suffered worse losses, weakening them just enough for them to be on level with the slavers. The fatalities suffered by his elite External Forces were enough to be counted with the digits on his left hand.

"Combat engineers are on their way to frontlines," Gonu announced. Garak knew that his XO had been apprehensive about the … controversial action of letting the slavers take the glory, but he had his orders. The Colonel appreciated the loyalty Gonu displayed, even under abnormal conditions.

"Excellent. Ready our interceptors and fighters. I want a massive counter-attack by air. This will force the enemy back." Garak ordered.

"Hopefully it won't be much longer, until these humans are fully subjugated, for their own good."

"Agreed," Garak replied. His cold, calculating eyes returned to the map table, witnessing the events unfolding with what precise details were allowed through the maelstrom of horrible weather.

---

Alliance Military Headquarters

New Denver

Shanxi

Williams stared at the display in horror. He clutched at the edge of the holo-display with one hand while the other made an abortive attempt at shielding his eyes. A stabbing pain exploded behind his eyes as he watched the ship impact the ground, sending debris and shockwaves in every direction. Over ten thousand lives were lost in a blink of eye, the vast majority civilians. Many more were doubtlessly buried under the wreckage with little chance of help arriving.

By bare chance, Commander Hower and a good portion of his men had been able to escape, hijacking the enemy's own escape pods to do so. They had landed relatively close to each other, moving to meet a rescue team already en route

Shifting his view of the conflict on the screen, Williams felt a small amount of relief ease the pain. The defensive forces still stood strong, despite the massive assault. Multiple units were redeploying in response to the tactical shift. Reserves surged to the frontlines, making contact with the enemy, buying time for a now desperate evacuation with a valiant defense.

'But what good would that do?' Williams thought, feeling the massive burden resume its place his shoulders. Civilians could only continue running so long as the Alliance held territory … the unspoken question was for how long? For how long can the Alliance forces hold out?

"General, we're receiving reports of enemy artillery strikes on the city's infrastructure!" Hackshaw reported, bringing Williams back to reality.

"Details, corporal."

"It looks like the bridges and highways leading out of the city are being targeted." Hackshaw stared at the screen before turning back to Williams. "Enemy preparations indicate a massive bombing campaign! Orders, sir?"

Cold dread seeped through Williams' innards as he realized what the enemy commander was doing. All avenues of escape were being cut off, concentrating the combatants in one, easy to bombard area. "Clever bastard," he murmured. The screen flickered under his fingers, as he thought about the next possible move.

"Deploy our Hailstorm reserves; they'll dance around the bombers while the Slamhounds and Tridents engage the rest enemy's spacecraft."

"Yes sir." The younger man barked tapped commands into his own omni-tool. "Anything else?"

"Yes." Williams took a deep breath, using the exercise to calm his nerves. "Once night falls, I want what Spirits we have to target the artillery platforms."

"Yes, sir."

Before Williams could have a moment of peace, Vianna's hologram appeared over the map. He was a bit hesitant to address the AI, not wishing to deal with any more bad news. Knowing he had no choice, he decided to humor it. "What is it, Vianna?"

"Message has been decoded, and the contents are revealing to say the least."

"How so?"

Vianna's hologram keyed certain icons to display packets of information. "Details on our enemy, primarily information on their government, biological information, and military capabilities ... plus a great deal more. It's not specific, but Sun Tzu once said-"

"Know your enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of one hundred battles." Williams finished, skimming through the information.

"Exactly. Hopefully this will be of some help."

"I pray so. Send this info to all commanders on Shanxi. They'll oversee the distribution among their forces."

"Understood." The AI's hologram faded.

"Sir … we have a problem," Hackshaw yelled. The tone, accompanied by his shocked face was enough of an indication for the General to know he would not like the news.

"What is it Corporal?"

"General Bando has just commandeered an Enforcer battlegroup and is leading them to the frontlines!"

"What!?" At this rate Williams was going to suffer a heart attack. "Get me a line to the General, now!" Williams was not at all pleased. 'Just what the hell is he thinking?'

Within a few seconds, a voice came over the line. "This is General Bando."

"General, I have just learned you've commandeered an entire battle group, without my knowledge, and are leading them into a hot zone. Would you care to explain?" Williams did nothing to hide his irritation.

"Apologies General Williams, but the situation has become dire," Bando replied.

"I know which is why it is even more imperative that we communicate with each other before making such decisions."

"I understand, General Williams, but I believe you've yet to receive an update on Dubar."

Williams became suspicious, turning his head to the Corporal. Without uttering a word, the Corporal's hands glided through the terminal in front of him. He brought a focused image on the base itself, the resolution becoming much clearer. There was a large presence of blue dots around the base showing the location of friendly forces, but that wasn't what caught Williams' eyes. Forty kilometers north of Dubar was an enormous sea of red signatures, indicating a prelude to a massive push.

"How the hell did we miss this?" He asked rhetorically.

"Now you understand the reason behind my decision?" Bando questioned.

"I do," Williams replied, exhaling a deep breath. "But, it's still risky for you to personally head there yourself, General Bando."

"We do what we must to secure humanity's future. Anything less and we cannot expect to succeed."

"Understood. Be advised I have sent a company of marines to the base as well. If they get there in time, they'll assist in any way they can … and for whatever it is worth, Godspeed."

"Thank you General. Good luck to you as well." Bando said, preparing to cut the link.

Before he could, Williams cut him off. "General wait," Bando ceased his actions. "Did you get the information on the enemy? My AI just sent it to other forces worldwide."

"I have, General. I'll transmit the information to all Enforcers." Once Bando cut the link, Williams was left alone with his thoughts.

'Let's see what we can learn on the invaders,' Williams' thought, deciding to take a much closer look at the information.

---

Trivia:

1. The idea of morale being a factor of war is an ancient one, explored first by Sun Tzu, but truly expanded upon by General von Clausewitz. The latter, an admirer of Emperor Napoleon, sought to truly understand why multi-national armies failed to stop the French and found an answer in morale. To paraphrase, he stated that, "All things being equal, when two armies of equal training, numbers, equipment and footing meet in battle, the army with greater morale will carry the day."

2. The title is a reference to the Medal of Honor mission of the same name.

3. There is a small reference to Call of Duty 4 Modern Warfare during the N7 escape of the enemy corvette. See if you can find it!

4. Here you can see fruits of both military commanders, batarian and human, and how both have to make calculated decisions.

5. Garak's small bit is actually a bit of foreshadowing. See if any of you can guess it.

6. Jordal actually makes mention of a character that will pop later in the story. See if you remember the name when he makes an appearance.

7. There was a different list of trivia notes, but when I tried to edit and re-upload the chapter the trivia notes inadvertently got deleted.

8. The two missing POVs, specifically that of Williams and Garak were added it a bit later since I had to sort through my files to finally get an earlier draft containing those two pieces.