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

10. Chapter 10 - Para Bellum

12-26-2156, 1409 hours (Alliance standard time)

New Denver

Shanxi

12th Armored Company, 4th Marine Battalion

"Hover-tank, two hundred meters ahead!"

"Target acquired!"

"Fire!"

The Barracuda shuddered under the recoil of a solid half ton of force; just the sound of the mass accelerator cannon alone could be heard from twenty kilometers away, should anyone have been paying attention. The windows of a few abandoned vehicles nearby shattered as the slug accelerated pass them, caving under the changing air pressure. Two hundred meters ahead, trying to maneuver between apartment buildings, the lead enemy hover-tank was hit dead center along its left hull. Chunks of armor plating deformed like molten plastic and flew through the air, causing the batarian tank to grind to a halt. Fire belched from the hole a moment later, confirming the hit.

"That's a kill," muttered Gunnery Chief Jil Dah. She smiled at yet another dead enemy crew.

"Moving forward," Sergeant First Class Oleg Petrovsky stated.

Lieutenant Commander Tadius Ahern nodded. In his late twenties, Ahern had the body frame of an average marine with light caramel hair and a beard to match. He was already on the fast track to become a major, and well on his way to leading his own regiment. Now, however, he was neck deep in batarian armor.

His tank platoon, given the call sign 'Heavy Metal,' bumped along the pavement as they rolled down the street with two other tank platoons, 'Thick Steel' and 'Caretaker,' close behind. The 12th Armored Armored Company was part of a spearhead rescue and supply mission heading straight for Dubar command. Twenty-five Barracudas, followed by forty Makos, rolled onwards at full speed into twice their number of batarian hover-tanks and their heavier tank destroyers, nicknamed Hard Shells by those of whom had encountered them earlier, titled so for their superior armor.

They were a hundred kilometers from their destination – and the Alliance armored Armored Company had been expected to reach the base in five hours. Ahern frowned, wondering what strategic genius had come up with that timetable. The human factor hadn't been taken into considering; the morale of Alliance marines had plummeted following the enemy Corvette's crash into the city killing over thirty percent of the city's defenders. The abysmal fighting conditions only made matters worse, the mass downpour of water colliding against his tank's optics and sensors limiting visibility and the flood of water on the streets trapping trash along the treads, clogging them, and slowing the Armored Company that much more.

The mission was daring and very risky, but Ahern knew the importance of Dubar and more importantly, the intelligence stored there. He was all too aware of the dangers of the mission, especially the psychological effect of fast-moving, highly maneuverable, and ambush-capable enemy armor, combined with the low survival odds. The good news was that, despite their superior numbers, the batarians tanks were highly inferior to even the Barracudas in a straight-out brawl. Anything packing a cannon over a 100mm could gut the hover-tanks in one shot, ignoring their kinetic barriers completely.

It wasn't that the hover-tanks were necessarily bad tanks; in fact, they actually worked well as light armor and reconnaissance vehicles and in the current terrain were far better equipped in avoiding the many debris floating along the pseudo-rivers created by the massive storm. They also had faster autoloaders, allowing them to fire barrages non-stop. With their guided missile system that was apparently impervious to the Barracudas' jammers, the hover-tanks had a high degree of accuracy, even during aggressive maneuvering and with their highly sophisticated repair system it made them highly dangerous opponents in opened areas. A few allied platoons had learned this the hard way; however, the hover-tanks' 60mm guns were no match for the much larger 125mm cannons on the Barracudas and were firecrackers compared to the NCRA manufactured tanks' dual layers of both armor and kinetic barriers. The hover-tanks sacrificed durability for speed, but the urban terrain favored tanks with superior armor and guns, at least on the offensive.

Still, Ahern couldn't stop himself from thinking darker thoughts. The enemy's zeal was relentless, appearing near fanatical at times. The batarians contested every lump of dirt in any captured territory like wolves defending their cubs, retreating only when forced to and counter-attacking at every opportunity, siphoning the blood from the advancing Alliance units as they brought every weapon they had to bear. He figured there would be heavy losses with the battle of movement achieved only through a decisive frontal assault to blast a hole in the enemy's line – but the batarians continued denying that hole to the Alliance marines. Their peer-level weapons, fired from safe, prepared positions had ripped through sections in the Armored Company. Though their aircraft attacks on the Alliance rear had sapped the strength of units before they could be committed and their artillery support hammering their advance from time to time, the armored column continued advancing forward while picking up stragglers along the way. Indeed, what had once began as an Armored Armored Company now amassed at nearly brigade strength with an additional thirty-three tanks and twenty-two IFVs, with a full-armed Company of light and heavy infantry. Some Enforcers had been picked up as well, further bolstering their numbers. A total of a hundred twenty vehicles were headed straight for Dubar alongside transport trucks and converted civilian vehicles.

"Another hover-tank, no three, about ten meters on our left," Petrovsky called.

"Moving turret … target acquired!" Dah shouted.

"Fire!" Ahern ordered.

All four of Heavy Metal's tanks opened fire in unison. Four 125mm slugs flashed through the air, but only one managed to hit. The two other hover-tanks had apparently anticipated the incoming tanks and had used their superior maneuverability to literally fly over Heavy Metal's salvo. With the added height advantage, the hover-tanks responded in kind, firing a withering barrage while continuously maneuvering around the Barracudas.

"Caretaker, this is Heavy Metal-lead. We got two enemy hover-tanks dancing here, and could use some wing-clippers," Ahern barked into his radio. It squealed for a moment, straining to receive through the alien jammers.

"Sit tight Heavy Metal, we'll bring them back to ground level," a feminine voice responded a moment later.

Soon four Makos, the rolling armored fighting vehicles of the Alliance, joined the Barracudas' ranks. Within seconds they added their considerable firepower to the attack, firing Ground to Air missiles with abandon. While originally meant for gunships or low flying attack aircraft, the GTA missiles had been found to be highly effective against enemy tanks. Exemplifying that fact, one of the hover-tanks was destroyed while the third barely managed to dodge the attack and fired a continuous return volley against one of Caretaker's Makos. It did more damage against the Mako's weaker armor, but once forced to the ground, a shot from one of Heavy Metal's tanks obliterated it.

"Sir, through or over 'em?" Petrovsky asked. It was a fair question; the burning wrecks blocking the road ahead presented a minor setback. The Makos, with their resilient suspension system, would be able to go over the artificial roadblock; however, the Barracudas' treads were not geared for such agility.

"Through them," Ahern said, looking at the wreckage. "Time is of the essence. Make a hole, Heavy Metal."

The tank platoon gunner obeyed, firing her main cannon directly into the mass of scrap metal. The hover-tanks further disintegrated under combined fire, leaving only specks of ash and shrapnel. Ordinarily one would want to keep the road-block to prevent other enemy armor passing through, but the enemy's hover-tanks could simply fly over it, negating such efforts.

"Hm," Ahern took the time to check his UAV feed. The results were encouraging; the rest of the armored regiment was progressing well thus far under the conditions, four companies of fourteen tanks each rolling up the streets and obliterating batarian armor. The Barracudas were reaping a horrible tally among the enemy with minimal losses.

However, his spirits sank a little as the flying device panned a wider view. Almost eighty hover-tanks were inbound, nearly rivaling his own regiment, excluding the batarian's, IFVs, artillery platforms, and troop transports. From the appearance, he had to guess multiple enemy battalions were diverting to Dubar, making the enemy force just under division-size.

On the recon video, more shapes began appearing through the debris and smoke. The ominous shapes numbered in the dozens, and once the drone managed to catch a quality image of one of them, Tahern's heart dropped.

Batarian tank destroyers.

"Shit, everyone ready weapons! We have Hard Shells inbound!" A series of crisp acknowledgments rang through the radios, before the dull thumping sounds of reloading weapons repeated itself a dozen times. The ones with the most munitions took point, leading the rest towards a very large enemy force.

"This is going to get ugly," Ahern murmured, grimacing at the prospect of fighting tank destroyers in the urban terrain.

Suddenly a Barracuda was hit by two tank destroyers hiding in an ambush to one side and erupted into a ball of shrapnel and black smoke. Two more shells slammed into the building behind them as another pair of tank destroyers opened fire from another angle.

Then a third shell whipped toward them from a cross-alley, striking Ahern's tank right in the middle of the track-lane. The treads shattered, ceramic plating and track sections exploding from the impact and the Barracuda slewed to a grinding halt. The turret spun, firing up the alley, but the ambushing tank destroyer was already backing up, and the heavy shell missed cleanly.

"Petrovsky!" Ahern yelled as he heard the autoloader clack a new shell into place beside his head.

"Tracks jammed," Petrovsky reported. "We're stuck."

"Shit, tank destroyer! Right, forty meters," Dah snarled from one side. "Target acquired!"

"Fire!" The Barracuda recoiled from the force three shots fired in quick succession and the tank destroyer down the street stopped dead in its tracks, a gout of fire and smoke emanating from a crater in its main body.

Two Barracudas arrived, advancing to put pressure on the remaining tank destroyers while covering one of their own. They fired simultaneously, pairing a blue beam of light and two solid high explosive, armor piercing shells. The payload lanced past one another, reaching its target with full force. The former burned clean through the right track section of one tank destroyer, while the latter blasted a path straight through the front windshield of the rectangular six-wheeled vehicle, pulping its crew and detonating inside the selection of fuel cells powering the main gun. The mass accelerator cannon exploded in a ball of fire and spiraling shrapnel that dug furrows into brick walls on all sides.

Ahern grinned, despite the condition his tank was in. He could see a repair crew already disembarking from a Mako, while the rest of the force continued onwards.

"Heavy Metal-lead, seems you're in a tight spot," a tank crew member mocked.

"Heavy Metal-two, worry about yourself." Ahern jokingly scowled. It was good to see high morale, especially in the middle of a war zone. Good morale meant good fighting.

"Ohh watch it Metal-two, the commander seems agitated," the crewman seemed to be attempting to ensure the entire city was hearing their conversation, switching to a public channel.

Another crewman responded in kind. "Probably because we just saved his ass, Heavy Metal-four,"

Ahern ignored their banter, focusing his concentration on bringing his tank back to full operational capacity. Despite the delay, progress was excellent. He just hoped it remained so.

---

New Denver

Shanxi

Battlegroup 753 (Assault), 83rd Enforcers

Dubar was a fortress, made of steel and concrete, designed to deflect incoming artillery with contemptuous ease. Towers lined its edges, standing sentinel over the vast courtyard like watching giants. Each tower protected gun emplacements, commanding a wide view of the outside walls, both interior and exterior fields.

Inside, there was enough room for the full Federation contingent to maneuver with care. The walls were high enough to protect even the vehicles, except for the regular depressions gave room for the tanks to fire. Trenches running through the center were oddly placed, but enough to grant minimal cover … no one had expected an all-out siege against a colony backed by the Big Four after all.

The sound of thunder and lightning cracked the sky as Enforcer and batarian forces clashed with one another. The combat-based explosives combined with the elements of nature blended together to create a truly hellish battlefield. The storm seemed like a massive monsoon, flooding the battle zone and creating a dense fog, interfering with optics and instruments alike. All of the former street lights were either already blown apart, or twisted away by the terrible winds.

A watchtower near Bankole exploded under the combined force of extreme wind and a near-miss of a missile, showering the area with concrete, chunks of plaster, and gobs of metal. The more solid bits pinged off of his personal shield, hissing angrily as he fired his assault rifle. The beret Bankole was currently wearing offered no head protection, but he couldn't worry about that now. Enemy rounds bounced off of his armor as missiles were deflected by the cover he was crouching behind. Thankfully, they were capable of weathering the attack.

The E3000's bolt cracked open, and Bankole reached for another magazine, inserting it into the weapon's receiver. The E3000 was the Enforcer Corp's newest weapon; an experimental bulb-up assault rifle capable of firing 7mm microwave enhanced rounds. In essence, it was a railgun far lighter and faster-firing than their JSF counterpart, but it was less accurate at long range as a result. However; there was a reason why the Enforcers were unrivaled in urban warfare. Bankole momentarily glanced at his E3000's under-barrel attachment; debating if now was the appropriate time for its use. Unlike the other factions, Enforcers didn't carry grenade launchers underneath their rifles, instead wielding a miniaturized laser capacitor that could easily bypass shields. Eezo nodes, placed around a rotary carbine produced enough energy to create a focused beam, more than capable of being emitted from the rifle's capacitor, and giving the Enforcers a strong – if momentary – advantage in close quarters. This had the twin blessings of both lowering collateral damage and allowing members of the Enforcers carry lightweight batteries instead of the heavier grenades. The only setback, admittedly a large one, was that while THELs were incredibly accurate, they were only useful in close range. So far, the enemy was still at least six hundred meters out.

Deciding to hold off until the enemy got closer; Bankole continued firing with the main mode. Out of habit, he checked, ensuring his side-arm was present. The hard-composite material met his fingertips, bringing a tiny smile to his face. The E60 was a thing of beauty, a lightweight, semi-automatic pistol equipped with an integral suppressor, though in this situation silence wasn't much of an advantage. It's electromagnetic and laser sights helped detect camouflaged enemy sentinels and other hidden tech specialists, a symptom of paranoia from the old days. But the true reason for why the E60 was so beloved by the Enforcers was the reason for its kinship with the E3000; it packed a nasty little surprise. The pistol was capable of firing a small electromagnetic pulse from a special attachment, within a very small radius. It had no effect on Federation technology due to deliberate shielding from such attacks.

He ducked, just as an enemy rocket trooper fired another missile at the barricade, apparently hoping to destroy it. A loud thunder erupting from Matz's JO-2 long rifle quickly ended that dream. Bankole gave a nod to the sniper before continuing to fire at the approaching enemy, careful to stay behind cover. While the Federation-issued armor was more than capable of providing excellent protection, it wasn't made with the intention of lasting through a long siege. Still, it was more than enough to match the enemy's small arms fire. It was incredibly light, barely weighing just near four kilograms, flexible yet strong. The secret was Dragon Skin, Graphene weaves, and Ceramic plating layered upon each other to provide immense protection without sacrificing mobility. The embedded Gore-Tex and light nano-fibers allowed the Enforcers the flexibility to both fight in extreme temperatures, and move rapidly in buildings if necessary. Its tactical hard knuckle gloves and reinforced gauntlets gave them an advantage in hand to hand combat, especially when storming buildings. The specialized goggles placed over his eyes were equipped with a holographic interface that displayed a HUD, map, and comm. link to the rest of the battlegroup.

Bankole shifted his aim, squinting through the protective frames. Humanoid silhouettes were visible against the intense flames and destroyed buildings, their black and red armor in eerie synchronous with the background. The figures screamed and chanted orders in a native tongue, spraying small arms fire into the barriers from a fair distance, blasting more chunks of steel and masonry to fill the air. The batarian advance was slow but suffered low casualties. The streams of water falling from the sky affected mobility to a significant extent, though not enough to stop the enemy. Like giants trading blows above mere men, Federation and Hegemony vehicles traded fire across the gap, supplemented by heavy infantry.

In three rapid bursts, Bankole sprayed over the top of the barrier, cutting down many batarian troopers as they tried to advance. Federation snipers fired in rapid succession from an elevated position, pouring semi-automatic high-caliber fire at the enemy while at the same time marking targets for their Marksman artillery. The twenty members of Saber platoon cut down as many batarian troops as they could before being forced back into cover by enemy rocket troopers and hover-tanks. In the midst of the screaming, gunfire, and explosions, Bankole heard a thoomp sound before witnessing a half-dozen enemy soldiers engulfed in a large explosion. He looked over his shoulder to see a platoon of four Panthers firing in rapid succession, each blast rocking their frames backward. A brief smile appeared on his face as the Federation tanks continued firing nonstop.

While the smallest among the four faction's tanks, the Panther made up for such a disadvantage by having a superior firing rate, better fuel-efficiency, a smaller profile, and some of the most advanced hardware ever seen by man. The main 120mm was a boon as well. While the blast radius of such a cannon was lesser than that of other armored units, each shot was made using highly advanced shells. Its three layers of electronic defenses and high-speed made the Panther a perfect mobile armored vehicle and was more than capable of holding its own in armored warfare.

"Lieutenant Bankole, this is Matterhorn. We're readying VIRCATOR rounds, so I suggest you keep your heads down," The tank leader said.

"Copy Matterhorn," Bankole barked in response. VIRCATOR rounds were high-powered microwave enhanced shells; highly effective against shields and notorious for causing horrific damage to enemy infantry. "First Company, take cover!" He shouted over the radio. Even over the chaos spilling in the area, every Federation soldier he could see immediately ducked behind base's barriers.

Matterhorn's tanks unleashed their special attack moments later, causing two whole squads of batarian soldiers to spontaneously combust. The sight was as gruesome as it was disgusting. Normally, the microwave ordnance within the Corp was set to a non-lethal setting but it was not so in this case. Very few members appeared to hold sympathy for the four-eyed invaders.

The battleground following the barrage was filled with the screams of the dying, barely audible over the roar of blazing rifles and exploding rounds. Lacking a helmet, or at the very least an air filter, Bankole was inundated with the smell of cordite, ash, sweat and blood, and the undeniable odor of pulverized flesh.

The northern wall of Dubar erupted with a volley of gunfire, Kommados, and Grenadiers reloading their weapons almost as fast as they fired them. The blue tracers of the Enforcer's weapons created small orbs of lighting in the stormy afternoon, flickering throughout the field. Several batarian troops were stopped dead in their tracks, machine gun and assault rifle fire scything through them, dropping them into the flooded streets. Piles of bodies were washed away by strong currents, the salty water becoming a sea of blood.

Bankole watched as a new platoon-sized force rolled behind a batarian tank destroyer, taking cover behind the vehicle. Its main gun glowed before a slug accelerated from its barrel. "Get down!" he shouted.

For a moment all Kommados and Grenadiers near him halted their fire, once again ducking behind cover. Lucky for them, they weren't the destroyer's target. The round accelerated past the Enforcers, connecting with one of Matterhorn's Panthers. The tank took the bulk of the damage to its left tread but was thankfully still operational.

"This is Matterhorn-3, we're banged up, but still operational!" The radio squawked.

"Fall back Matterhorn-3, we'll give you covering fire," Bankole heard Matterhorn-lead ordered. "The rest of you, target the destroyer."

"We copy," It was obvious that Matterhorn-3's crew was doing its best to retreat with a damaged tread while the rest of the Panthers formed a protective barrier around them.

Bankole felt a surge of pride, accompanied by a thirst for blood. "Arnavisca, take out that destroyer!"

Arnavisca gave a nod before switching his E3000C for his MILANA-2 missile launcher. Once equipped, the Spanish Grenadier aimed at the enemy tank, letting the MILANA's advanced auto-targeting computer system do most of the work. It wasn't as advanced as the Exacto ammo, but it still gave Grenadiers a massive edge when battling enemy armor. Once locked, Arnavisca fired, causing a slight buzzing noise as the magnetic coils inside the weapon accelerated the missile to high speeds. It soared across the battlefield before hitting the destroyer, striking it right in the canopy of its main gun. Since a MILANA's missile was electrified before exiting the barrel, they were notorious on the battlefield for fragmenting. The electric arc within the missile would then flash-convert the air inside the blast radius, causing a chain reaction that resulted in the creation of a conductive plasma in addition to the missile's initial explosion. The total sum of damage: impact, heat, and electrical discharge, instantly overloaded the destroyer's shields while at the same time causing its armor to peel off. If one could listen carefully, they would hear a hissing noise coming from that section of the destroyer's armor.

Still, even with MILANA's highly advanced missile, the destroyer returned fire defiantly, switching targets and blowing a sizable chunk in the base's protective barriers. Thankfully the blast caused no casualties but did disorient the infantry. Before Arnavisca could reload his MILANA, one of Matterhorn's tanks rolled forward, aiming at the destroyer, and fired. In its battered state, the destroyer was no matched for the 120mm round that soon impacted against its hull, cutting a hole straight through before going up in flames.

"Lieutenant, destroyer is down!" Arnavisca yelled, re-equipping his carbine.

"Excellent, all units concentrate on the infantry," Bankole suited action to words, barely noticing the similarly shifting small arms at his side. Rifle rounds deflected off of his armor, hammering against him with the force of repeated heavy punches. Dropping back down, he let his shields recharge for a moment. Crouching, he slithered forward along the high walls of the base before getting back up. As expected, the enemy had presumed he would have returned fire from the same location, a mistake that would prove their downfall. Sighting his weapon, Bankole hunted for a target before pulling a trigger. Over four hundred meters ahead, a batarian who thought himself invisible soon went down after multiple 7mm rounds punched through his armor.

Despite the recent setback, batarian soldiers were soon advancing, intermixed with the armored forms of rocket troopers. The light infantry was easily cut down, taking the brunt of interlocked fire lanes from multiple machines guns. The Panthers' and Marksmen's fire added to the carnage, taking out entire groups while creating dozens of craters upon the road at the same time. Enforcer mortar teams also joined in, causing significant damage, slowing the enemy's progress.

"Lieutenant, enemy gunships!"

Bankole turned towards the noise, seeing Maldini holding an entire section of the wall by himself, firing his HAR nonstop. With his finger, Maldini pointed to the horizon and true enough, Bankole saw multiple gunships flying just above the city's skyscrapers.

"General Bando this is Saber-lead, we have a large concentration of gunships approaching our location. I am requesting a Badger and Wolverine platoon to provide anti-air fire." Even though the transmission was clear, he kept his voice loud, attempting to prevent the background noise of death and fire from consuming everything.

"I copy, Saber-lead. Sending a platoon of Badgers and Wolverines to your location. Keep me posted," The general cut the link abruptly. It was surprising that he had responded personally, given the chaos from just one battle.

Without warning, Bankole felt someone tug on his arm, pulling him down behind the barriers as a nearby explosion caused rubble to fly, a sizeable chunk of debris hitting his head. The impact nearly knocked him unconscious, causing him to stagger to one knee while his rifle slipped through his grip. He rubbed his hand over his head, feeling a large bump and the cooling sensation of blood running down the left side of his face. He wiped the blood off as the ringing in his ears quickly went away. Bankole reached for his rifle, wondering what just happened.

"Here this should help," he heard a voice say. He looked up to see Matz crouching over him and giving some medi-gel in one gloved hand. The miracle fluid flowed over the head injury, reducing the swelling in a matter of moments; the substance was a boon to the battlefield soldier. Sometimes, every second was more valuable than a Prothean cache.

"Thank you," Bankole said, reloading another magazine into his rifle.

"Don't mention it." Matz soon returned to firing his JO-2 once more.

Bankole looked over the wall again, shaking off the last effects of the mild concussion. There was too much dust in the air, a maddening mixture of drifting black smoke that seemed loom over him with demonic energy. Enemy gunships punched through the cloud, their arsenal already trained upon the Enforcers.

"EVERYONE GET BACK!" Bankole cried before the gunships mercilessly opened fire. Missile and turret fire collided with the Enforcers, reducing the Federation's best to mutilated slabs of meat. Matterhorn deployed their ECM and laser countermeasures in vain hope that they might intercept some of the missiles; they even rolled forward to give the gunships a more vulnerable target to fire upon. Their VIRCATOR rounds and Tactical High Energy Lasers did some damage, but not nearly enough.

Nearby Pumas redirected their EMA railguns to the threat in the air while surviving Grenadiers fired dozens of missiles. The enemy pilots seemed better trained than most, deploying their countermeasures while continuously firing their death machines with ease. The assault was only stopped by the easily recognizable effects of EMPs finally taking effect, disrupting their flight controls. Several crashed into the ground below, while the rest fought to regain balance. What few remained airborne were annihilated, as dozens upon dozens of FORGAT and Argent V missiles soared to the air, colliding against their armor before being incinerating by the blasts.

"This is Ural, we got your back," The unexpected voice of a Badger's commanding officer crackled over the airwaves.

"Rotterdam here, we'll keep those mosquitoes off your back," Chirped the AMZ-9 Wolverine's tech officer. The Wolverines stood out amongst the other European vehicles, disregarding the usual Enforcer design. It was a half-track anti-air vehicle, resembling much of the vehicles that saw extensive use during the Second World War.

Their fire managed to drive the batarian gunships back while at the same time causing the approaching enemy infantry to drop prone in fear of the sirens of missiles being fired.

"Ural, Rotterdam, Saber-lead, thank you for the support," Bankole graciously said.

"Anytime Saber," Rotterdam replied, Ural's crew unable to reply as they exchanged fire with the batarians.

The batarian's heavy troopers soon responded a series of rockets screamed through the air, slamming into the flank of the closest Badger a dozen meters away, exploding in a deafening spray of shrapnel. The Badger was shoved aside roughly tipping it on its side. The smoke trails of the missiles could still be seen, clearly highlighting their origin point. All three of Matterhorn's remaining tanks responded in kind, hosing the building with vindictive fire.

"Ural-four come in! Ural-four respond!" The cries of the Badger platoon's leader were met only with silence, the destroyed APC now being the grave site of its crew. "Damn it! Sorry, Saber but we've got to pull back."

"Understood, Ural-lead. Maintain your distance." Bankole replied. The Wolverines, already low in number and a precious asset to have, also retreated until needed.

"Goddamn, these four-eyes are persistent," Maldini swore coming to a stop by the low section of crumbled wall. "How long until reinforcements arrive!?"

"Unknown. But we'll hold out for as long as we need to and – ah – sergeant …" Bankole didn't bother explaining, miming tapping his helmet with one finger.

Maldini did so, becoming aware of a seven-centimeter-long shard of shrapnel embedded on the side of his helmet. An expression of deep annoyance crossed his face. Ripping the shard from his helmet, he started cursing in multiple languages.

Bankole listened attentively. The bit in Swedish about the lack of intestinal fortitude in their 'armor-defacing' opponents was quite poetic. Well worth remembering for another situation, should it come up.

"To all units, this is Dagger, be advised we now have contact with the enemy to our direct west. Enemy infantry is using the buildings for cover and appear to be setting up spotters and mortar teams. All Marksmen are recommended to redirect fire on that location, over and out."

Bankole gritted his teeth. The battle was beginning to resemble that of the trenches notorious in World War One, where neither side was able to gain the advantage. However, he knew that was far from the truth. In reality, the batarian's massive push that was expected hadn't come yet, meaning the forces they were fighting now were merely recon units. The enemy wasn't committing to one massive push, guaranteeing considerable casualties for both sides, instead testing the defenders while at the same time sapping them of their strengths. Whoever was in command of the enemy was not only smart but efficient as well. That greatly worried Bankole.

Then it got worse…

"All units stationed to the north fall back! I repeat fall back, enemy bombers incoming!" Bando's gravelly voice boomed over the headsets.

It was too late, however as a flight of batarians bombers swept overhead, discharging their payloads. Multiple bombs fell among the massed soldiers, huddling between the buildings. The explosive devices shattered parts of the base's walls and power plants, heaving watchtowers into the air like a caber toss. Kommandos and Grenadiers positioned in the watchtowers were either killed by the blasts or had to make the hard decision to jump in one last ditch effort to survive. Many were injured as a result but were carried to safety by their brothers-in-arms.

Bankole could feel the ground rumbling beneath him as he shook his head. Looking up, he could see his HUD blinking, heavily layered in warnings. Smoke and dust stung his eyes as the open air hit his face. The goggles covering his eyes had been pushed off in the blasts, leaving him nearly blinded by the airborne debris. Swiping the toxic air with one hand, he found and replaced the goggles, rubbing the eyepieces to get rid of the grime that had accumulated. The gray air soon dissipated to reveal some sense of visibility.

"You alright, Lieutenant?" He heard Cimino's familiar voice ask. Kneeling beside him, she began a quick scan over his body, looking for any serious injuries or wounds. Satisfied when her search came up empty, she began checking over the Kommandos and Grenadiers nearby.

Rising, Bankole saw the lights on his HUD blink yellow before returning to green, giving the condition of his status. "Hold the line!" he yelled, sidestepping behind cover as a rocket-propelled grenade exploded meters away. Brick and ceramic plating shattered, slicing through the air, throwing up even more dust. Bankole spun back around, his suit's onboard computers highlighting the nearest target.

Through the smoke, dust, and flames, he got a targeting solution and fired. Rounds tainted with a blue radiance exited from his E3000 in rapid succession, easily destroying his target's shields and armor.

On either side of him, Federation soldiers dug in, fighting a desperate battle to hold off the batarian advance. Missiles screamed from the Grenadiers' MILANA's while Kommando rifles and machine guns filled the air with tracer fire, raining grenades upon the enemy. Artillery and mortars only seemed to stall the hover-tanks in place as they approached, only a few dozens of meters away from colliding with the Enforcer line. Panthers and Pumas focused fire on them, obliterating many before they had a chance to fire. A few companies of the batarian infantry were now daring to traverse open ground, dying in the dozens as they tried to narrow the gap.

---

New Denver

Shanxi

Battlegroup 753 (Assault), 83rd Enforcers

"Olympe, redeploy tank platoon to the north. Scorpio and Crossbow, direct artillery fire to phase-line alpha. MLRS are authorized." General Bando was in the thick of command now. His eyes were glued to the base's holo-display of the map, giving specific orders down to platoon and squad commanders. It was a difficult balancing act as Bando tried to maximize the efficiency of his troops without micromanaging the entire battle.

"General, Olympe-lead," a voice came over the radio. "Olympe-three and two have been disabled, we are at half strength, but holding."

"Copy, Olympe-lead," Bando said, closing his eyes for a second. When he reopened them, the projector took a second to re-adjust the image to display the tank's platoon disabled status. Luckily, they weren't destroyed, the crew being forced to continue the fight on foot.

Bando had sent the remaining Olympes new orders to reinforce the fracturing frontline. Of the original eight hundred seventy-two troops, only three hundred and sixty were combat effective. Less severe casualties were being reported from the west, while the eastern flank was receiving minimal enemy contact. Still thinking, Bando redirected two platoons of Pumas northward, watching as they carried supplies and ammunition to the besieged Enforcers. He briefly entertained the idea of activating all of his Cheetah gunship squadrons, who were no doubt itching to get into the fight, but ultimately decided against it. He needed them fully functional in case of any other enemy artillery or tank companies arrived on the battlefield.

A flashing icon appeared on the screen of his omni-tool as he was giving orders. A moment later he could hear the voice of none other than General Williams.

"General Bando, it's good to see you are still alive."

"Likewise, General Williams," Bando replied, managing a smile. "But for how long, I cannot say."

"Agreed." Williams gave an audible sigh. "Which is why I've been making preparations for a tactical retreat."

Bando tensed with deep scowl appearing on his face. "Sir? You cannot be serious, abandoning the city means –"

"I am well aware of what it means," Williams said sadly. "The men that have died defending this place, the civilians that would be left behind, the ground the enemy will capture … I know what it all means."

Bando became silent, the kind that came from abject failure. "How bad is it?"

"Horrific," Williams replied. "The enemy has established a semicircle of artillery and defensive positions wrapping around the entire southern perimeter of New Denver and are pounding what little fall back positions we have. To make matters worse you have a massive combined ariel and armor attack heading directly to your position. With these facts in mind any attempt to hold the city would only delay the inevitable."

"And what of my men? The ones dying and fighting out there?" Bando's knew he was losing his temper; it was a disgrace to his rank, but the cost his men were being asked to absorb … "Or the civilians they are trying to protect? Are you telling me all of this is in vain?"

"No, far from it. I've gotten into contact with the Alliance armor company, now at increased strength, they're experiencing heavy resistance, but are headed your way. I've also deployed our reserves of Hailstorms and Martels to give your men some breathing room. As for me, I've got the enemy breathing down my neck so there'll be a blackout with command for a few minutes until I can relocate. I hope to see you alive after this general."

"Likewise and thank you, General," Bando said, mind racing as he tried to factor the information into his defensive plans.

"Thank me once this is all over, good luck."

---

New Denver

Shanxi

Battlegroup 753 (Assault), 83rd Enforcers

"Six hover-tanks! three hundred meters!"

The call was unnecessary. Bankole could see the massive shapes lumber down the street about a third of a kilometer away, constantly swaying back and forth in impressive swiftness. He saw them fire sunburst-bright barrages, causing a section of the wall to his left to crumple inward. Granite flew outward, crushing a few unlucky soldiers and causing their insides to spill out. The sight was more than nauseating, but Bankole had more important matters to attend to.

"Saber! Target those tanks!" He shouted over the radio. As one, four Grenadiers aimed their MILANA's and fired electrified missiles.

The effect was immediate and satisfying. The missiles from Saber managed to wound roughly half the tanks, twisting and crumpling their armor, deforming under the heat and impact of the superconductive munitions. The enemy tanks shuddered to a halt, pausing dramatically before fire blossomed from their fuel compartment. A second later, all three tanks were immolated in their own fires as the fuel set them ablaze. The sight was short-lived, as the heavy monsoon subdued the fires, leaving sullen isotope-fueled flames to flicker on the charred metal in its wake.

"Incoming!" Arnavisca yelled as the three-remaining hover-tanks fired on the platoon. An instant after the hover-tanks opened up, missiles whipped down the street at the entrenched Enforcers.

Four meters to Bankole's left, a Kommando came apart as a shell punched right through his torso, sending armored limbs flying through the air. Machinegun fire raked across their positions, punching through one side of Bankole's armor and sending him flopping to the ground. Cimino quickly addressed his wounds with another dose of medi-gel.

"Keep down Lieutenant or else you'll drain all of our medi-gel," she chided.

"I'll stay down when I am dead, Staff Sergeant," Bankole growled, cringing as a missile rocketed past his position. It detonated thirty meters away, sending a shockwave through the ground. He reloaded his E3000 frantically as batarians troops scissored up the street, advancing on either side and laying down covering fire for each other. The hover-tanks and destroyers pumped death indiscriminately, pouring incoming missile, cannon, and machinegun fire into Enforcer positions. The batarians were beginning to obtain fire superiority and were moving in for the kill.

Rounds skipped and shattered against the masonry in front of him and Bankole felt a chunk of shrapnel slash into the side of his exposed face. He simply ignored the pain, keeping his stoic expression as he hunted for targets.

His demeanor was a sharp contrast to Maldini's, which was aggressive by Enforcer standards. Continuing to snarl savage curses while firing his HAR, Maldini hammered his shoulder with the machine gun, visibly shaking even through the plated armor while a pile of hot tungsten casing was gathering at his feet, sizzling into the ground.

Cimino appeared far more stressed than angry or calm. Bankole, when he wasn't shooting, could see her hands move like lightning, constantly patching up the wounded while simultaneously calling out targets, providing covering fire, or simply updating the platoon with new information. Her role in the battle could not be discounted; juggling four different tasks was no easy feat, but it kept Saber in the fight longer.

On the far side of the line, Matz was by far the calmest in the squad, never once flinching since the battle began, even as shots soared by his head and grenades detonated nearby. He simply took cover or avoided the enemy's fire in a coldly efficient manner before returning fire of his own. The constant booming of his JO-2 seemed to become a fearful sound amongst the batarians, as they ducked every time they heard it fire. Bankole would hesitate to tell him, but Matz was depicting the epitome of Enforcer discipline: never giving in to his fear. As a result, he was having the unintended effect of motivating every Kommando and Grenadier within sight to stand their ground in pride.

On the other hand, Arnavisca appeared to be the most nervous, running low on missiles and having already switched to his MP12 submachine gun. It was clear by the look on his face that he questioned his usefulness to the squad. From witnessing his leadership, Maldini's bravery, and Matz's discipline, Bankole could see Arnavisca wonder if his contributions counted for anything. Regardless of his fear, he stood his ground fighting alongside what he obviously considered true heroes and hoped to be counted as one of them.

These were the men and woman of Saber-1, all with their own personalities and quirks. A group of soldiers born from different nations into the same super-power watched and protected each other's backs like a family. It was this bond between them that kept them from breaking and it was the same bond that allowed them to fight like true Enforcers of humanity.

And like true Enforcers they would only stop once they were dead.

"Divide into fire sectors!" Bankole barked, single-handily creating new formations in his mind. "Gladius, Broadsword, and Stiletto form up on the Pumas and focus on enemy snipers and rocket troopers! Toolkit, Hacker, Firewall, and Cyber-security, I want all of you to cover and assist Matterhorn and Olympe in taking out the enemy's armor and ready the Archer drones! Ural and Segura: suppress any infantry dumb enough to attack you!"

Despite any differences in rank, Kommando and Grenadier platoons followed Bankole's orders without complaint. The hybrid combinations swirled into place, reforming with the speed of professional soldiers; the action appearing to confuse whoever was in charge of the batarian forces, throwing their ranks into disorder. Pumas and Kommandos rearranged themselves into a new assault pattern, while Grenadiers, Panthers, and even Badgers suppressed the enemy with everything they had. Within minutes the Enforcers had managed to regroup, bringing the majority of Kommandos to unify with the remaining Pumas on the flanks while the Grenadiers, Panthers, and Badgers were re-positioned in the center with Saber at the helm.

Even with the freezing water drenching Bankole's boots, data spread across his HUD in a migraine-inducing fashion, Explosions hammered him, shaking his teeth. Sweat poured down his brow. Incoherent yells filled his radio. Metal and granite sparked, chipping as wave upon wave of bullets raked over him; yet not once did Bankole ever complain. He rose out of cover, sighting other batarians, and fired again. The air screamed in protest around his ears, as hundreds of rounds hammering the charging batarians infantry and vehicles.

He heard a truncated scream and another Grenadier vanished. Bankole quickly led his squad to a new section of the wall as their previous cover shattered.

"Hold your line!" Bankole screamed, raising his rifle once again. The whole line of Enforcer infantry and vehicles opened fire in a devastating fusillade. A river of tracers, glittering like a blizzard, raced towards the batarians. Tank shells and IFV missiles obliterated hover-tanks and destroyers as they neared ever closer the wall, blown apart but still charging.

"Bring it you alien bastards!" Maldini's HAR ran empty and he started to reload as batarian soldiers began targeting him, forcing entire squads to take cover under the assault. Bankole ignored their attempts to kill them, covering Maldini as he opened the HAR's chamber and placed a fresh belt. Once set, he raised his machine gun and opened anew.

Task complete, Bankole shifted over so he could watch the cold professional. Matz had a good angle, as always; it was an instinct for him. Like the flooding water rushing through the street, hundreds of light infantry troops were pushing through the opened ground while ignoring the river of fire pouring down on them. He didn't hesitate to put another enemy down, adding to his massive kill count. It was already recorded in the squad records how Matz had surpassed the hundred hit mark an hour ago, and he seemed far from being done. It did Bankole's soul good, to see the man load another magazine into the J0-2, continuing the tedious task of cutting down the enemy's number.

He saw Arnavisca fumbled for a magazine, loading it into his MP12 before settling into a firing stance and set its sights on the approaching batarians. Bankole covered the Grenadier, pouring suppressive fire into batarian squads to throw them off target. Arnavisca silently thanked the Lieutenant, his weapon shaking in his hands as he fired a protracted burst. He was able to stay reasonably on target, downing two batarians as they tried to change cover.

Behind another crumbling wall segment slightly behind Saber's leader, Cimino quickly slung her OBR-5 grenade launcher into place and pumped four EMP grenades into the batarians ranks. Their weaponry and barriers were easily short-circuited by the electromagnetic pulses reducing their effectiveness to scraps of metal and ceramics. Entire squads of batarian soldiers suddenly found themselves unarmed and unarmored; not a good discovery in the middle of a battle. They were easily cut down by nearby Kommandos. She seemed to be trying her best to keep the batarians at a distance, but they seemed driven to take the base at all costs.

Just as it seemed as if the batarians and Enforcers were about to collide, Bankole gave the order.

"Detonate the mines! Grenadiers, shields, and Archers! Kommados fire lasers, Badgers and Panthers go hot!"

The batarians then received a first-hand experience in Enforcer war doctrine. Anti-personal mines detonated in a bone-searing rumble, sending batarian limbs and body parts flying everywhere. The shockwave forced the charge to lose momentum, throwing it off step. But the explosions were followed up with Thermal High Energy Lasers, fired from Archers and Kommandos, completely eradicating the front-line of batarians soldiers, easily bypassing shields, melting armor, and charring the flesh underneath. The Grenadiers were protected from small arms fire, thanks in part to their shields; but their active denial system soon scattered the batarian soldiers, making them easy prey for Kommando snipers. Others were completely driven mad by the power emitters from Badgers and Panthers.

The hover-tanks and destroyers weren't fazed in the slightest, closing the distance to Dubar to a hair's length. A few even managed to break through the walls like glass, utterly crushing any soldiers behind it. They paid for their arrogance, eliminated by Grenadiers firing missiles at near point-blank range, giving the rest of the Enforcer vehicles a chance to focus on the remaining enemy mechanized attack. EMP bursts, heavy and light machine gun fire, and THELs completely wiped out the barriers of many batarian hover-tanks and destroyers, leaving them exposed to the massive retribution they were about to receive.

Deprived of the chance to use their greatest advantage, and forced into a stagnate frontline engagement, the Federation vehicles managed to turn the tables by using another trick up their sleeve: rate of fire. Microwave enhanced shells, auto-targeting FORGAT missiles, and Electromagnetic slugs bombarded the advancing enemy vehicles with impunity. The batarians tanks were like deer caught in the headlights, unable to counter the onslaught. Tons of metal cried out in pain, their screeching audible even over the raging storm.

"Saber, be advised. Hailstorms are on their away for danger close support." Bando warned across the airwaves.

"Affirmative, General," Bankole replied, taking out a laser designator. He activated its keening power supply and trained it on the advancing batarians. "You heard the General. Saber hold out for a few more minutes!"

---

New Denver

Shanxi Airspace

Enforcer Wing 74, 32nd Aviation Division

"Guardian flight, you are cleared for liftoff," came the strained voice of the local air traffic controller. "Feeding strike mission to you now, over."

"Guardian-lead acknowledged and receiving," Commander Dennis Gates replied as his engines whined, the sound dampeners in his helmet failing to block all of the noise. Telemetry data, flight plans, and targets spilled over his Heads-Up Display, a river of information flowing past his eyes. He picked out the necessary data with practiced ease, re-organizing it with a few blinks and eye movements. This was his squadron's first strike mission against the batarians forces swarming the city; the majority of the air defense had been carried out by the Russians, Chinese, and Alliance pilots. Now it was time to show what Federation pilots could do.

"Guardian, sound off," Gates snapped over his radio. A series of all-green checks from the rest of his flight responded, preceding all-clear signals from the rest of the Enforcer air wing.

"Lead, this is Guardian-two," Called Captain Colin Munro, Gate's second in command. "There's some serious action going on at Dubar, I assume that is where we are headed?"

"Tower, Guardian-lead, is everything under control out there?" Gates asked. The spaceport's central control tower was silent for a moment, before responding.

"Batarian forces are attacking Dubar in force," came the controller's reply. "General Bando reports that they are seriously outnumbered and General Williams has ordered danger close fire mission against batarian aircraft, armor, and infantry."

"So basically everything," said Lieutenant Edward Hans, Guardian's third pilot, and the squadron's ace.

"Are you complaining?" Captain Emily Striker, Guardian Four, teased.

"No, it just means I get to show the enemy my skills."

"Uh-uh."

"Cut the chatter," Gates ordered, before addressing the controller. "I copy on the situation, anything else?"

"No."

"Understood," Gates replied grimly. "Guardians, lift and follow heading," The Hailstorm's engines roared louder as he flicked a switch, setting them to full power. The sound increased exponentially as the remaining aircraft joined him. Gates engaged his thrusters and the EF-1 Hailstorm leaped into the gray sky, transponder flashing 'Guardian-lead' to the rest of his wing. Vaguely, he could feel the gee force pushing him back into his seat, but he had enough experience to where it was only a distant sensation at these speeds. The board under his fingertips lit up, flashing blue dots across its breadth. If what it indicated was true, fifty Hailstorms and sixty-five Martels had been deployed into the battle, Enforcer pilots more than ready to lay waste to the batarian's air and ground forces.

Gates climbed fast nearly vertically, gaining altitude with his eyes trained on the stormy heavens, watching the rest of the wing falling into formation. The heavy storm spilled rain on his canopy's cockpit, slightly reducing visibility. He shrugged. That's why the instruments were installed.

The modest spaceport dropped away beneath them as the wing cut east, towards the defensive engagement raging less than a hundred kilometers from the well-hidden and disguised airbase. Green hills and forests began to flash past below, with clusters of buildings adding bits of brown and black to the blur. It was difficult to tell where urban areas ended and countryside began; the forests and the cities had been tightly integrated, crammed together, in the relatively limited amounts of space. From his position, Gates had a perfect of the massive impact crater left behind by the enemy corvette after it crashed into the city. It resembled a black abyss in which everything human was sucked in.

Gates checked the overlay of the local battlefield as he closed in. With all major comm buoys and relays knocked offline, or destroyed by enemy forces, the Enforcer wing was only able to perceive a narrow window of what was going on. Allied army units were spread out in the city beneath them, fighting a retreating battle, and on the overlay, He could see Alliance units outnumbered at least three to one by batarian signatures.

"Golf-Hotel three, this is Guardian-lead, standing by for targets, over."

"Copy Guardian-lead," came a reply, and in the background of the transmission Gates could hear the roar of gunfire and explosions. "Feeding targeting data to you now. Be advised, enemy bogeys are heading through your flight path, over."

"Understood, three and thanks," Gates replied, checking his monitor as dots appeared. Telemetry data spilled across his display, highlighting the first targets he received as cerulean squares. A squadron of enemy bombers were about to drop their payload on friendly forces; a small battlegroup that was currently performing a long-range duel with enemy artillery.

Gates had other plans in mind, his sensors onboard confirming a good target lock. He hit the fire button on his flight stick and watched as four lighting blue rays of pure energy split the sky, colliding with the first bomber. The four-fire linked energy lasers were designed through punched through titanium grade armor. The lightly-armored bomber was less durable by an order of magnitude, letting the lasers turn it into a rather expensive cheese grater.

The rest of Guardian squadron opened fire with similar results. The enemy bomber flight was completely shot out of the sky, leaving no trace of their existence but lagging smoke trails and wreckage of scrap metal on the ground.

"Confirm kills," Hans reported.

The ominous red flashing letters of radar lock warning soon appeared on Gate's HUD and he whipped his flight stick around while cutting the thrusters power, performing a sharp maneuver. Cursing under his breath, he deployed his fighter's ECM decoy while making sure his E-warfare suites was fully powered. The radar warning alarm ceased, indicating the successful evasion.

"All units be advised; enemy AA radar is active and scanning!" he shouted. He heard acknowledgments as he scanned the ground and air for targets. While primarily made for engaging enemy aircraft, the Hailstorm's Cadogan missiles were more than a match for enemy armor.

"Guardian-lead, enemy air and ground forces identified," Collins reported. She sounded a bit gleeful, not that Gates could blame her.

A flow of data spilled across Gate's monitor, more information than a human could reasonably to process. He had a solid view of more than five hundred aerial contacts across the area but filtered through them with practiced ease. The odds were dramatically against them; even with the other national forces helping, they barely had a fifth of the enemy's number.

"Got them on radar," Gates said, nodding to himself. "All squadrons disperse and engage enemy air forces. Do not, I repeat do not get separated from your partners. I want this done right." With near parade ground efficiency, all ten squadrons separated, peeling off from each other to gain enough space to use their speed and advantages to maximum effect. The Martels avoided contact entirely, outmatched by the enemy fighters.

Once in proper formation, Guardian squadron gunned their engines on their Hailstorms, all ten sleek exoatmospheric fighters moving out ahead of the formation to engage the contacts. They lanced over the landscape, screaming forth and hunting for their prey.

The moment his radar signaled a firing solution, Gates activated his heavy ultra-violet laser cannon. Even in the gray conditions, the bright purple laser illuminated the heavens as the entire wing followed Gates example. Over twenty enemy contacts were destroyed in the blink of an eye before they even knew what had hit them. The rest of the enemy fighters scattered, turning to engage the newly arrived Hailstorms. While it was incredibly accurate and had more energy and range than almost any other type of ordnance, the ultra-violet laser required more time to recharge. Its firing rate was limited to two shots per minute. However, the lone heavy laser wasn't their only offensive weapon.

"Confirmed contact," Striker reported. "Engaging now."

The Hailstorms split up just as the lasers streaked towards their targets. The first salvo lanced into the batarian fighters, claiming over thirty of them, burning through vulnerable engine pods with inhuman precision and easily melting through the light armor. The rest of the enemy fighters and bombers dodged the attack, already starting their maneuvers as the Hailstorms opened fire.

Gates slide aside, gunning his engines to full power to close in on the enemy rapidly. They were moving into range now, even with only a kilometer apart. The only weapons the lighter batarian bombers carried were mass accelerator turrets and disruptor torpedoes, but they had an astonishing rate of fire for their guns.

A second volley of lasers erupted from the Hailstorms. They evaporated the falling rain into steam, literally sizzling towards the batarian fighters as Guardian squadron performed a split attack, closing off escape routes, firing a volley of Cadogan missiles to strike down six fighters. The volley was over in a moment, leaving the squadron to spread apart once more to engage other targets. The smoking husks of shattered enemy aircraft scattered across the landscape below, inky smoke tracing their fuel sections. Gates off-handedly wished they had been engaging over non-urbanized terrain, the city had already suffered enough damage.

Then, crystal blue rounds lanced through the air, dancing and tracing straight corridors of sheer heat all around him. Gates immediately hauled back on the stick, choking back his speed for half a second and then slamming the engines at full power. He screamed up above the fighters firing on him, throwing off their targeting and started to descend even as they began to ascend to engage.

Then all batarians fighters spontaneously erupted in a huge ball of flame.

"Guardian-lead, this is Guardian-three. I got your back."

Gates let a small smirk appear on his face. He had to hand to Hans, the guy had timing. But now the tactical situation had changed. At this close range, Gates had to save his missiles for ground contacts.

"Guardian squadron, disengage. Switch to laser emitters and descend altitude. We're here to help our men on the ground and that is what we are going to do." He didn't like being exposed, but the help was needed below.

"Copy, lead," Collins replied. "Let's take some pressure off of our men. Guardian squadron, fall in line." Eight other voices ringed in agreement, each one pulling off from the air battle and heading to the ground to begin their hunt. Living up their name, the squadron regrouped on the Martel air group to serve as protection from enemy fighters.

Smoke choked the sky beneath them, fires blazed throughout the city as they shot south. Under such conditions and at the rate he was going, Gates couldn't hope to pick out individual soldiers or small vehicles. But he did see the obvious signs of an armored assault in his flight path, a steady stream of explosions and rising dust clouds, spread along a long ribbon of urban terrain.

Gates looked back to the north, where the majority of the Enforcer wing was doing their best to destroy or delay the enemy aircraft and knew they would be engaging in seconds. Within moments, the insistent warning of a pending radar lock began to sound in his ears.

"Targets are sorted, commander," Collins reported in his ear.

"Copy Guardian-two," Gates replied, and his fingers tightened around the thumb trigger.

The sixty Cadogan missiles each fighter carried were designed to generate intense, area-of-effect explosive destruction that could tear apart enemy space vessels. They were built to punch through thick armor in space, where collateral damage wasn't an issue, so the idea of using them on the ground – in an urban center no less – and so close to their own troops was something the designers had never thought off. But he didn't have a choice.

The Martels mimicked the action, sorting out targets while at the same time preparing a salvo of Meteor missiles. Much like their Cadogan counter-parts, Meteor missiles were intended to destroy thick armor in a wide blast area, but unlike the Cadogan-series the Meteors housed clusters of explosives meant to burrow deep into enemy naval ship armor then detonate. This resulted in critical systems housed in ships to be crippled or outright destroyed. When deployed against ground targets the Meteors lived up to their name, extinguishing out all life within the fifty-meter blast radius.

Gates selected his targets and then depressed the thumb trigger. Immediately, the thousand-kilogram missiles leaped away. Each missile diverted on a slightly different course targets downloaded into their hardware. Once the missiles were away, no amount of electronic interference could stop them, by virtue of the simple reason that once they were away, they didn't need jam-able electronic input to correct their aim.

Guardian squadron, along with the Martels, peeled away, deploying their countermeasures even as they deployed their ordnance as well. They dropped low over the city, the Hailstorm's electronic warfare suite catching any enemy AA fire and either detonating them pre-maturely or out-right diverting them. Moments later, the released ordnance hit the massive swarm of enemies below, blowing them apart in a mixture of burning debris and vaporized flesh. The intensity of the Enforcer's light became so great, entire groups of enemy infantry were rendered into black ash swept away by powerful water currents.

"We're clear Guardian squadron, disengage." Gates ordered. The rest of Guardian squadron obeyed, gaining altitude and returning north, heading into the rest of the batarians fighters with deadly intent.

---

New Denver

Shanxi

Battlegroup 753 (Assault), 83rd Enforcers

Bankole kept his laser unnecessarily focused on the center of the enemy formation all through the bombardment, and found himself watching with fascination as the Hailstorms and Martels screamed overhead, deploying their munitions. It was a beautiful spectacle to behold.

The explosives rained down, each pre-programmed by the data provided by his designator, which he belatedly put down. It was an example of networked, coordinated warfare at its finest. Each missile found a target and accelerated toward the batarians soldiers even as they heard screaming sonic passage of the Hailstorms and Martels. The smarter, more experienced ones were already yelling for cover, or that's what Bankole presumed as he saw them diving behind whatever safety they could find.

Six dozen individually-guided missiles detonated a heartbeat later. They were loaded with high-explosive warheads, the complex devices within each detonating with three thousand kilograms of TNT. It preceded a greater fire of nearly eleven dozen, ten thousand kilograms, of Meteor missiles intent on purging the enemy from existence.

It was like a sword of righteous fury cutting through the enemy ranks.

At least that was what Bankole thought as he saw sheets of silvery fire rain down upon the batarians troops, the ground actively rippling with a staccato of immense, earth-shivering explosions. The Hailstorms' and Martels' payloads scattered, spreading among the batarians attackers, tearing them apart and setting whatever else was still alive ablaze.

Cheers broke through the Enforcer ranks at the sight. They were saved. They had won. Or so they thought before the loud chatter of alien tongue and the sound rumbling of tires enveloped the atmosphere. While the Enforcers had been busy dealing with the threat to the north, they had ignored their western flank were an enemy Armored Company had slowly been building up strength. A large enemy battalion had also arrived from the northeast. The majority wore a different set of uniform than the previous ones the Enforcers had fought.

"Command, the enemy is committing the rest of his forces we need another airstrike now!" Bankole cried into his earpiece.

A harried voice responded with gratifying swiftness. "I'll see what I can do, but the majority of Wing 74 is bogged down trying to keep the enemy's aircraft from demolishing this base. EMP missiles are ready and deploying; they should give you an edge."

"Understood," Bankole replied grimly. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was more than expected. He gazed at his brother and sisters, noticing their fatigued postures.

Two hundred and seventeen Enforcers stood guard at the walls, supplemented by fifty Rainbow Six operatives. Six Pumas, eight Panthers, five Badgers, and even Bando's personal Charlemagne were all that remained on the frontlines. The Marksmen artillery and Cheetah gunships had remained untouched throughout the entire battle. This was all that was left of two entire battlegroups of the Federation's best.

Many were wounded; all were exhausted, and ammunition was nearly gone. Alliance reinforcements had yet to arrive, their air cover had fallen back to re-engage, and the majority of Dubar's defensive walls had been destroyed. All that was left was the rubble, and the remaining defenders digging in, prepared to deny the enemy his prize.

For on the other side of the field came over three thousand batarians soldiers, supplemented by ninety hover-tanks and seventy tank destroyers, all charging directly at them. It could have been considered insanity to stand against such a large force, but for the men and women of Europe's mightiest Enforcers, they had long since abandoned sanity to the wind.

Lieutenant Bankole was exhausted. He was bleeding from multiple wounds, the majority of his armor embedded with the rounds of enemy fire, and his hands had long gone numb. Even for weapons, he was down to his E60 pistol, but if there were notches involved, the butt would no longer support the barrel. As it was, Bankole proudly stood, facing the men and women defending Dubar, even as death rapidly approached him from behind.

"Let no one here question our place in history," he growled, eyeing every soul standing bravely in defiance. "That we are here right now is no coincidence or accident, it is our fate; and this war, our birthright, our legacy … our generation was born to fight the batarians, and you, my fellow soldiers were born for this very day!" He saw as energy flowed from his words onto them, suddenly becoming revitalized in the horrible situation. Turning around, he pointed at the advancing batarians, his eyes bright with an almost holy fervor. "Today they will hear the roar of humanity and they will fear us! Today we stand united! Today we stand as free men, and though they may take our lives, they can never … take … our … FREEDOM! FOR EUROPA …!

"VICTORY ALWAYS!" The Enforcers shouted back, fighting spirit surging back into their veins.

The sounds of weapons reloading filled the atmosphere drowned out by the raging sky. Water poured down upon the Enforcers, seemingly baptizing them in the middle of the battle. And then all hell broke loose.

Screaming missiles, booming cannon fire, roaring engines, and cries of batarians soldiers dominated the battlefield as the enemy made one last desperate push. The sounds of human and alien alike howling in agony as their bodies were torn to bloody shreds filled Bankole's ears. He saw the concrete and steel constructs of the city, once proud and majestic, now lying crumbled and shattered under the relentless onslaught of heavy weapons fire.

The Enforcers were not left idled either, firing everything they had at their disposal. Lasers cut through batarians flesh, electromagnetic slugs impacted shields, and Microwave emitters and shells burned through metal. Forced to abandon their own code - to protect and deny - the Enforcers switched their sonic emitters setting to lethal, causing many charging batarians to literally be steamed alive.

Shrapnel rained around Bankole. A man screamed nearby, a commonplace sound by now. Corpsmen ran from body to body up and down the line, dodging between intact sections of the blasted three-meter wide concrete barrier, under constant fire. The base's watchtowers roared and chattered, streams of death falling from their heights.

The batarians infantry came charging across the hundreds of meters of open space between Dubar and the civilian structures, hover-tanks, hard shells, light and heavy infantry groups boiling between them like a dark tide of pure death and savagery. Torrents of mass accelerator fire flew from the civilian structures as enemy riflemen, snipers, and machine gunners poured fire into the defenders' lines. It was only momentary as the Enforcer Grenadiers detonated their explosives, bringing the human-made structures the batarians hoped to be sheltered by crashing down.

The field between the buildings and Dubar was already gouged and cratered. Now it was becoming littered with burning corpses and metal husks. Dozens of hover-tanks had been destroyed by rocket and grenade fire, yet more continued to come, maneuvering around the bodies of the ruined vehicles. Batarian infantry bounded from cover to cover, using the ruined hulks of transports and tanks as barricades and shelter.

Unknown to the batarians, they had walked into a major trap.

"Command, this is Bankole. The batarians are advancing; we need the EMP missiles now!"

"Solid copy, Lieutenant. Deploying electronic warfare attacks. Stand strong and beat these savages back!"

"With pleasure," Bankole replied.

Soaring overhead, descending upon the batarians were three EMP missiles strikes cutting a swathe in the ocean of gray sky. Once they reached their destination, they each erupted, sending static bursts across the battlefield. At first, the batarians were expecting another airstrike, apparently terrified that such an attack might swing the tide of the battle. However, they were relieved to find that the missiles didn't carry a payload, ignorant that the Enforcers had momentarily left them defenseless.

The onslaught came when the nearest batarians near the wall fired, or tried to. The look of shock at their weapons' unresponsiveness was visible from the middle of Dubar's courtyard. Little by little, understanding fell upon the batarians, each tensing as they realized they were incapable of returning fire, a disadvantage the Enforcers lacked.

Unspoken orders flew through the remaining Enforcers, opening fire as one. Kommandos utilized their lasers and rifles to wreak havoc on the beast that dared to tread upon their holy gates. Grenadiers threw their own EMP grenades, prolonging the effects on the enemy infantry, stripping their defenses beyond repair. The Federation engineers contributed greatly to the defense, firing SMGs and MILANAs in the hopes that the light infantry and vehicles would be able to finish the job. Pumas and Badgers targeted the hover-tanks with immense prejudice, desiring to eliminate as many as possible before the EMPs effects wore off. As for the Panthers, they displayed their superiority by destroying each of the batarian hard shells one-by-one, eliminating over twenty-five in the small window of opportunity. Artillery shells rained down upon them from above, the Marksmen firing their MLRS' to maximize the carnage.

Then the sky screamed in protest and eyes turned upward just as explosions rippled across the ground, spreading over the killing field north of Dubar like rivers of hell spilling over the land. Chaingun, rockets, and precision-guided missiles set anything flammable ablaze in an equal frenzy and those who could still see into the air spotted the forward-swept rotors of the Cheetah gunships as they roared past.

The attack gunships weaved back and forth, losing their ordnance in a continuous attack, three dozen lithe angels slicing apart the sky like whirling scimitars. Tanks exploded, light vehicles burned, and batarians soldiers scattered when their positions were pounded by explosions of shrapnel and ribbons of rapacious flame. Shell casings rained by the thousands as the Cheetahs purged the line of batarians, emptying their autocannons in a frenzy of airborne wrath.

In the span of a minute, the Cheetahs had cut a swath through twenty hard-shells, thirty-five hover-tanks, and several hundred enemy soldiers, leaving a wilderness of fire and twisted metal in their wake. Then, they peeled off, their munitions expended.

In the wake of the steel rain, the ground began to quake. It began slowly, ever-increasing like the tempo of an orchestra being performed by Beethoven himself.

From the west they loomed, striding forward with arms outstretched to every human in the area and sent forth shards of ionized blue destruction that seared the eyes of the men watching from the walls. Smoke, dust, and flames rose from a field of broken corpses and twisted metal, wrapping about them and billowing off blackened carapace. They pushed through the hellish cloaks of dust, choking black stink, their eyes shining in the gloom, spears piercing into the defenders.

"Friendly armor!" Screamed a Kommando, both hands shooting up in the air in wild joy as another deafening explosion echoed across the grounds of Dubar, and more massive forms rumbled through the dust and smoke. They were a storm of steel, ablative, and hypervelocity of mass accelerator shells, a slow-moving hurricane of fury, blood, and death.

Bankole pumped his fist. The Barracudas and Makos of the 12th Armored Company, or more accurately regiment given their apparent numbers, were on the field. The ecstatic cheers of the men and women who had been manning the first and last line of defense filled the air as their saviors arrived.

By then, however, the EMPs effects had worn off, but it was too late. Down half their strength, the batarians threw caution to the wind and continued to fight in desperation like rabid savages. The remains of the battalion split off to engage both targets, heavy and light infantry charging at the walls assisted by the majority of hover-tanks. The rest of their force met the new arrivals in the open field, and the battle was joined.

The dust, fire, and smoke around the chaotic haze rose up, clouding the battlefield as mass accelerator slugs filled the air. The entire world shuddered, and every crack of a coil-gun firing was like a fist to the ears. The thundering roll of the destroyers, the deadly deep boom of their mass accelerator cannons firing, the grinding treads of the Alliance Calvary resounding like distorted battle cries and the bone-cracking detonations of their blasting cannons.

It was without a doubt the Rapture itself as angels fought demons for dominance of the planet.

Crushing debris under treads, hurling slabs of concrete like pieces of paper, and smashing through steel, the Alliance armored regiment met the batarians armor head on in a colliding wave of noise and fury. The air was filled with explosions and gore, staining the very ground the Enforcers swore to protect.

Then dark shapes swarmed across the gaps between burning corpses and broken metal. Rockets flew back and forth, detonating among the advancing batarians troops and blowing chunks out of the wall. Screaming mortar shells exploded on all sides, pelting the defenders with shrapnel. Burnt flesh and corpse-stink choked through re-breathers. Over the din of war, the alien chants of the batarians could be heard, led by several carrying what could only be described as the enemy's flag, then the batarians rushed through enough gunfire that would drop sane men. The sight of an enemy charge sent shivers down the Enforcer's spine, but one Kommando, in particular, would meet the fear head-on.

Bankole fired his pistol rapidly with excellent precision. He ducked behind the wall as another bullet sizzled past and slammed into a building behind him. Popping his head out over the wall to gain a better view, he sighted his target and pulled the trigger. It took multiple hits, but the batarian went down. He swept his E60 toward another incoming enemy, even as a hover-tank exploded less than two dozen meters ahead. Shrapnel deflected off of the plating covering his body, forcing him to duck behind cover. As soon as the debris stopped raining, he rose.

Getting on the radio, Bankole transmitted to any remnants of his squad. "To all Saber fireteams, this is Saber-lead fallback! I repeat fall back to the inner barricades!" As he radioed his orders, Saber-one was already on their way towards the rendezvous point alongside other infantry squads.

"Saber-lead, this is Saber-four we are down to two men, regrouping with Saber-two! We'll see you at the rendezvous point over and out."

"This is Saber-three, we're currently in a bad position with Gladius and Surgeon! We have no cover and zero chance of making it to the fallback point. We'll buy you guys and the rest of the battlegroup …" The radio operator was unable to finish, the loud sound of a mortar detonating was easily heard over the gunfire.

A batarian soldier, not even five meters away, face twisted in euphoric barbarism, charged at Bankole erratically firing his pistol from the hip. Brass rained through the air, bullets shattered concrete and bounced off of the soldier's shields.

Bankole rapidly pressed the trigger on his E60, microwave rounds lancing straight into the soldier's chest. The effects then burst from the embedded wounds a heartbeat later; creating a sensation inside the batarian's body as if it was being set ablaze from within. The batarian howled in agony, twisting and thrashing as he slowly bled off from his wounds, but Bankole paid him no mind.

More batarians troops were charging around the corpse of the hover-tank, scrambling toward the wall. They ran over debris, firing rifles, tossing grenades, yelling battle cries and fervent chants. Bankole spun toward a pair running toward him, their rifles blazing and fired.

He had barely enough time to react, holding down the trigger on fully automatic. The two batarians cried out in pain as they were taken down by a superior foe. Bankole cursed as another wave of bullets impacted his shields, nearly causing them to collapse. He was forced back into cover, patiently waiting for them to regenerate and waiting for another opportunity to strike.

Grabbing an EMP grenade strapped to his armor, Bankole pulled the pin and the electrical fuse inside began to immediately countdown. He chucked the grenade towards the enemy as they swarmed toward him. The grenade detonated, the resulting electromagnetic pulse frying the gear of three unlucky batarians before being easily cut down in the massacre. He then threw another grenade, and then another as more and more batarians came over the wall.

The batarians were too close now, almost within arm's reach. Bankole raised his weapon before feeling a vicious punch to one of his legs. He then tumbled backward behind the wall. A squad of batarians climbed over it a moment later. Bankole's sidearm cracked twice, blowing one soldier's neck apart and cutting through the mouth of the other. They toppled off the wall, one of them landing beside him.

Before the third had the chance to fire, Bankole rolled over the dead batarian, pulling the batarians body over his as a human shield. As he'd anticipated the batarians fired upon the Kommando, but the majority of the shots were blocked by the dead body. First Bankole fired the E60's secondary ordnance, the EMP burst draining any shields the batarians may have had before killing them with conventional rounds.

The fourth appeared smarter than the rest, firing of a concussive shot from the left that literally blew Bankole's organic shield to smithereens. The remaining batarian then fired his rifle as he moved in for the kill, entirely collapsing Bankole's shield. With his pistol's magazine being emptied and no time to reload, Bankole squabbled for the nearest weapon, which happened to be an enemy's rifle on the ground nearby. However, the remaining batarian saw what the Kommando was trying to do and before Bankole could raise the rifle, he was knocked back by a kick from the batarian. The alien then activated his own omni-blade and swung at Bankole. Before the blade could connect, Bankole raised his forearm, the omni-blade becoming embedded in his flesh. Luckily the reinforced gauntlets prevented it from going any deeper, otherwise, it would have completely sliced his entire arm off before impacting his skull.

Bankole cried out in pain, forced to his knee, as the four-eyed alien stood above him in an air of arrogance. With defiance in his eyes, Bankole activated his own omni-blade, optimized for electronic and cyber-warfare, its crystal blue light shining brightly in the darkness enveloping the battlefield, and swung. The batarian was unable to react fast enough as the blade sliced its way through its neck, completely decapitating him. Blood sprayed from the disgorged neck, soaking Bankole in red liquid.

Bankole tried to stand, but pain flared up his leg as he rose. He gasped, rising to one knee and could see another batarian trooper clambering up over the wall. The enemy soldier raised its rifle at Bankole, who was now at this point defenseless.

Before the batarian could fire however, two familiar thundering sounds echoed through the air. The enemy trooper was soon knocked backward by heavy firepower as two rounds impacted the neck and chest. Bankole barely managed to see the curving smoke trails left behind, which meant the rounds had auto-corrected in mid-flight, which in turn signaled only one thing…

Cranking his head around, Bankole saw Matz leading the rest of Saber-one.

"Lieutenant, are you alright?" Cimino asked.

"I'm fine," he replied dryly. Based on her facial expression, it was clear Cimino didn't believe him, but didn't press the issue.

"Sir, with all due respect I suggest we fall back!" Maldini shouted, firing alongside Arnavisca.

"Agreed, Sergeant. Get to cover, Saber!" The remnants of the squad didn't have to be told twice, retreating in an orderly fashion while also maintaining covering fire for the rest of the fleeing Enforcers.

Up and down the line, the batarians were coming up and over the wall. Carried forward by numbers, and if the looks on their faces were any indication –pain-suppressive substances – and raw hatred, they hurled themselves at the cracking Enforcer line, dying by the dozens and seeming to not care.

Fire sprayed across the fields as hover-tanks pushed forward, bulling through missile fire and grenades. Hard-shells threaded between them, while suicide buggies zipped through the gaps. Emerging through the smoke-streaked afternoon air came swooping enemy bombers, disgorging payloads across the line, vaporizing both human infantry and light vehicles with equal fury.

Even with the Alliance reinforcements in play, it seemed victory was in the batarians' grasp.

"All units, be advised we have Martels making another attack run, but they need target acquisition on enemy targets. Recommend designators or flares, the battle lines are a mess right now. Use of civilian militia has been authorized and are en route to relief the frontlines." Bando's transmission had a clear effect on the Enforcers. If civilians were being used, then it meant the situation had become all, but hopeless.

"Sir, did I hear the General correctly? We're going to use civilians!?" Arnavisca asked, conflicting emotions etched in his face.

"We have no choice," Bankole replied. Grabbing a MP12 SMG from a fallen grenadier, he led his squad forward against suicidal odds in the hopes that their sacrifice would mean something. "All Enforcers deploy flares on enemy positions and prepare for danger close air support. Anyone still remaining on the wall fall back now!"

Taking cover behind a destroyed Panther, Saber attempted to hold a gap in the line. Grenadiers and Kommandos lay dead throughout the battlefield, with the innumerable bodies of more batarians surrounding them. Yet even more of the aliens continued advancing undisturbed, moving faster with the last of the Federation's best, dead under their feet.

A pair of tank destroyers suddenly crashed through the wall, running over a pair of Grenadiers who attempted to halt the bulldozing juggernaut. A Badger appeared on its left, firing off its FORGAT missiles and EMP disruptor. The disruptor managed to collapse one of the destroyer's shields and the FORGAT missiles severely wounded the beast, but it was not enough to kill it while its twin suffered no damages. Rotating their main guns, they lined up their target. The Badger attempted to retreat, only for a pair of mass accelerator slugs to halt any movement. The Badger erupted in flames, thrown completely on its side.

Again, the destroyers spun their cannons around, finding another target. Saber held its breath: the destroyers' target was the main command center. Archer and Eaglefly drones did their best to draw its fire away, buzzing through its line of sight like swallows after a tasty insect. Then a detonation rocked the vehicle. All eyes turned to the right to see who or what had fired the ordnance.

Charging directly toward the tank, armed with only rifles and a few grenades, was a squad of Rainbow Six operators, escorting civilians away from the overrun facility.

The brave men managed to avoid the destroyers' main cannons as they were unable to rotate their cannons fast enough and with one of the destroyer's turret knocked offline. The operators took advantage, closing the gap as the civilians tried to flee towards a new center. Upon reaching the destroyers, the men climbed on top of each one, spraying the few crew men that attempted to climb out of the destroyers with rifle fire. With disciplined, one of the operators unloaded an entire magazine into the batarians from the hip. The man was prepared to handle the rifle's recoil, almost wasting no rounds, each one connecting with the body of a batarian and killing them.

Climbing to the canopy, another pair of operators pulled open the entrance tank, suppressing anyone inside with more erratic fire before pulling a grenade and throwing it inside. The men then ran over to the destroyer's edge, jumping from it just as the grenade claimed everyone inside. Still, the operators landed hard on the dirt feet first, with proper training and conditioning for combat pointing to their success.

"Holy shit," Maldini whispered in disbelief.

The Rainbow Six operators caught sight of the Enforcers and one of them, most likely the leader, yelled, "Cover those civilians, we'll cover your retreat!"

Despite the break in command hierarchy, Bankole accepted the operators' transfer of responsibility. Running over to escort the civilians, a distant shriek could be heard. It grew in intensity, like a banshee screeching in the night.

"What was that?" Arnavisca asked.

"It does not matter, civilians are top priority," Bankole replied. Sprinting ever closer to the civilians, a face popped out amongst the crowd, and immediately his heart dropped.

Among the fleeing crowd of innocent souls attempting to flee the barbarians grasp was none other than Eric. As Bankole etched nearer, he could hear the rising of another shriek off in the distance. It soon grew into a wail and a moment later the ground shook again. Then before his mind could process, the sea of people exploded into a gory, red mist as a mortar fell directly upon their position. A few of the kids thrashed in agony while others laid still in their parent's severed arms.

"Eric! Eric! ERIC!" Bankole bellowed, running as fast as he could towards the boy. Eric glanced up and saw Bankole. He tried his best to make his way over.

"Lieutenant, wait!" Cimino shouted. Bankole ignored her protests, stubbornly continuing to run towards the boy.

Eric attempted his best to avoid crying, to no avail. His face held a mixed expression of fear and excitement. Bankole paid no attention to the boy's attempt at courage, only occupied with reaching him and ensuring his safety. Tendrils of torn, burnt flesh tapered blew a knee while the other was but a mere squirting stump of ruined skin and muscle.

They were just under two hundred meters from each other when a squad of batarians appeared in front of Eric, training their sights on the still alive civilians, some of them raising up seized pistols and rifles. Without warning, they fired their weapons, the rounds cutting through the untrained souls with many striking the boy's flesh. Unsurprisingly, the boy began convulsing on the ground, blood draining from his wounds.

"NO!" Bankole roared, wide eyed and finally reaching his limit. For the first time in his life, he felt anger, true unbridled rage and hatred, and what was once a highly trained Enforcer was momentarily a bloodlusted avenger. In their moment of arrogance, the batarians turned in the direction of the noise and did not consider their actions nor held the wisdom to retreat. Instead, believing themselves equal to the raging, charging Kommando, they made the terrible choice to advance.

Mass accelerator rounds bounced off of his shields as Bankole closed the distance, roaring the war cries of his native land and terrible oaths against the aliens. Firing from his hip as he closed the distance, Bankole collapsed the shield of a single batarian before the empty click sound of was heard. Luckily for him, he was already in arms reach of the batarians and activated his omni-blade, an electric blue light that demanded justice.

He cut through the first batarian's midsection with a vicious horizontal slash before bringing the blade up, swinging it diagonally downward, decapitating the first batarian trooper. It was a mere stutter-step forward to his next target, a batarian who was attempting to bring up his sidearm. Unfortunately for him, Bankole's blade collided with his flesh first, completely severing the arm. Before the batarian could cry in agony, Bankole grabbed him behind the head and swung him around, impaling the alien's face on a protruding piece of debris. The last two batarians managed to eject their overheated thermal clips before the insane Kommando could reach any closer. They each managed to fire a few shots, the rounds cutting through Bankole's armor and right into his body but, in his enraged state, he didn't notice.

Stabbing another batarian right through the gut, Bankole lunged forward in a roll, using the batarian's body as a human shield as he did before, managing to avoid the oncoming barrage of rounds from the last batarian. In mid-lunge, Bankole managed to grabbed the batarian's weapon and by the time he came to his knees he had a weapon at the ready while the last batarian was forced to eject his clip. Shouting at the top of the lungs, Bankole riddled the alien before him with dozens of holes, continuing to fire even after the threat was eliminated.

With his act of vengeance complete, Bankole collapsed to his knees, his body completely exhausted and badly wounded, but even in that state, he continued to crawl. His visor was cracked, HUD flickering, and while his hands were stained with batarian blood, multiple gashed on his armor were trimmed with the blood of his own. His reserve capacitor whined, boosting his shields back to optimal levels just as he reached Eric's body.

Tenderly lifting the boys head up, Bankole used the last of his medi-gel to treat Eric's injuries. He knew it was too late as the boy had already lost too much blood, but he continued to hold out hope.

"Did I do good?" Eric managed to say, coughing up blood. "In the end … was I brave like you?"

"The bravest of us all," Bankole replied, his voice hoarse and cracking. Tears were already forming on the edge of his eyes. "I am proud of you." A smile formed on the edge of Eric's face, content with the simple complement.

'Why do the innocent have to suffer? Why did this boy have to meet an unjust end while the wicked continued to live? Why wasn't I strong enough to save the boy dying on my very knees? Why is the universe so cruel?'

"You said to give this you to you once I became an Enforcer," Eric said, crying as he did so he reached into his pocket and held the insignia that Bankole had given him. "I want you to have it, sir, to remember me. It hurts, sir. It hurts a lot."

Bankole didn't know what to say, letting the tears fall from his face as he watched the boy's spark slowly fade away.

"I just wanted to be with my family …"

Eric's body went still as he was claimed by the afterlife. Bankole continued to clutch the body in agony even as Saber reached him. Cimino placed a comforting hand on Bankole's shoulder, despite his unmoving features. Matz stood to the side, head down unable to watch the sight. Arnavisca kneeled in a sign of respect while Maldini's anger only grew.

Red smoke soon began to envelope the area to the north and west, signaling that the airstrike was underway. "Guardian-lead here, all ground units prepare for danger close fire."

The transmission did little to lift Saber's spirit, after witnessing the reward for such courage. Eric hadn't been a trained Enforcer … or a grown man. He wasn't even a teenager … just a child that was unfortunate to be claimed by the darkness that had engulfed his home.

"Holy shit, enemy destroyer!" Maldini yelled. The infamous sound of the death machine's wheels grinding against the ground was clearly audible given the short distance.

A sense of dread suddenly welled up inside Bankole as he glanced up … to see a hard-shell, its twin projections of death trained right at Saber, coming through of the smoke …

"GET DOWN!" Bankole wasn't sure what happened but as soon as he gave out the call he was tackled to the side, landing on the asphalt road hard as his head rang from the sudden impact. But soon after, he was deafened by a resounding boom that exploded from the cannon of the armored destroyer, just seconds before another rang out from its second gun.

It was the worst sensation that Bankole ever felt in his life…

The twin explosions created a wave of superheated air and debris that flung him like a ragdoll in a tornado. Shrapnel bit into his skin as Bankole tried to regain his bearings and fight off the pain that was coursing through him. He hit the ground hard, hitting his head and his back against the road.

As he lay there, bleeding out from his wounds, Bankole stared at the depressing sky with a deep sense of loss and sadness. Clutching the Enforcer emblem, the symbol he'd given to – and ultimately taken from Eric, the gentlest soul he had ever met. He closed his eyes, waiting for the afterlife to take him. In the distance, he continued to hear the calls of his men but was too tired from the loss to answer. Bankole just lay there and simply waited for his fate.

Fate interrupted in the form of a corpsman, suddenly in his peripheral vision. "Easy sir, it's an easy through-and-through," his hands felt rough, prodding at the plates on Bankole's side.

"I'm sorry Eric, I failed you," he muttered as his world finally went black.

---

Trivia:

1. The title is once again a tribute to the Enforcer motto, specifically the second part

2. The Active Wave Emitters used by the Enforcers are already being used by modern militaries around the world.

3. Other weaponry such as lasers are already in existence or are being currently developed as you are reading this sentence. Spooky huh?

4. Dubar was inspired by many of Endwar's bases that are well fortified, despite some locations looking nothing like their real-life counterparts.

5. Originally GSG-9 was supposed to take the cameo appearance of Rainbow Six, however, the latter was chosen in order to tie in other parts of the Tom Clancy universe.

6. Shanxi's codex and wiki entries are surprisingly vague on meteorological conditions, so a roughly Earth-like model was used. Snow, jungle, deciduous forest and temperature urban settings are all used.

7. Armored vehicle warfare was modeled after WWII examples and the Yom Kippur War. Errors in the description are the fault of the authors, not of physics or reality.

8. Some scenes with streets come from cities around the USA. One of the authors, V-rcingetorix included descriptions of roads found Minot, North Dakota and Chicago, Illinois.

9. Eric and his subsequent sacrifice were inspired by one boy from the movie Warriors of the Rainbow: Seediq Bale, available on Netflix. It is based on a true story and captures the beauty and tragedy that comes with the pursuit of independence and freedom. We attempted to do the same. After all, how many fics have made you either cry or have an emotional response?

10. As of this moment, yours truly is celebrating his 19th birthday! December 24th is the day of my birth and I appreciate all the support. For a Christmas/Birthday present let's have our follows reach over 300! We can do it!

11. Bankole's speech is inspired by many different sources, most notably from Braveheart and Halo.

12. Maldini's light machine gun was inspired by the Heavy Automatic Rifle on devianart as Endwar has almost no info on the factions other types of weaponry.