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

14. Chapter 14 - Enemy at the Gates

1-1-2157 0113 hours (Alliance standard time)

Novaya

Shanxi

78th Order, 3rd Region

General Salim stomped his feet, leaving behind a trail of compressed white snow. He grunted with each step, the thick armored boots came with their own heating systems, but the weather was just so damn cold! If the site hadn't been so important, he would be directing this operation from orbit. He squinted at the distant settlement, faint silvery towers pointing skyward innocently. 'Well, that and the thrice-putrefied sat system they have.'

He whirled, sending the deep white snow flying as he stomped back to the command center. That, fortunately, was better shielded against the bone-chilling temperatures.

'I wouldn't be here if the pathetic slavers had succeeded before,' Salim thought, remembering the previous attempt made to carve a path across the continent's center.

The slaver in charge of the operation, Major Kal'rin, had gone against orders and decided to attack an enemy strong-hold located deep within the forests, depriving Hegemony forces of vital resources to fully secure the west coast. To make matters worse the major had not only failed to accomplish either task, but succeeded in having his entire force be wiped out by a nuclear weapon.

'Why did we have to rely on such idiots?' Salim couldn't believe such a high-ranking officer to be so stupid. Thankfully the Hegemony's forces had managed to capture all major cities located on the other side of the continent even with the lack of assistance from the slavers. Heading for his modest compound, he wondered if the slavers were more of a liability than an asset.

Once inside, he popped the seal, shedding the external plates like a second skin. His under-armor was the equivalent to most infantry, save the Na'Hesit, but his outer armor gave him the strength to withstand a sniper round without shielding. Still, he was in a hurry, so he let the plates hit the floor carelessly for the slaves to pick up.

"Careful, idiots!" Salim aimed a kick at a jumpy turian, one who had been careless enough to trip over the fallen pieces. "That armor is worth more than you. Hang it up properly!" The turian have a curt nod before picking the armor up and getting out of the batarian General's way.

Scowling, Salim made his way to the central chamber, the one lined with enough electronics to jam an entire continent's worth of foes. He eyed the terminals with contempt.

'Useless ferras! Best electronic warfare systems credits can buy, yet the primitives continue to send messages to one another! How is this possible!?' Salim just couldn't figure out how the natives were continuing to send out encrypted, based intercepted transmissions and his officers inability to decipher them, messages to each other and it infuriated him.

"Report," Salim ordered. A slave hurried to him, bringing the General a steaming mug. He inhaled the fragrant fumes, nodding his acceptance. He ruled over his slaves with an iron fist, showing dominance over them whenever he could. The implants installed helped greatly to lower any illusions of defiance, or worse betrayal. He required supreme excellence from all his subordinates and would severally punish those that failed to meet his expectations. The lack of a response had Salim glaring across the projector.

'Well, it looks like someone is bucking for lead assault duty.'

"Report!" he bellowed, this time with rage evident in his voice.

The unaware subordinate suddenly jerked, spilling his mug across the projector. The protective fields crackled, repelling the liquid from essential wires, creating a minor smoke-screen at the same time. The young batarian grabbed a device before nervously looking through the cloud at the General. Salim was steaming, both literally and figuratively, at his subordinate's incompetence.

"Uhh … Fourth Officer Jul reporting, sir," The young batarian squeaked. "We have over ten thousand soldiers with supporting artillery, gunship, and tank units ready to spearhead the attack. Several other divisions have also begun moving through the area in an attempt to secure the outlying towns and districts, but have encountered some resistance from the local populace."

Salim's deep frown lines creased again. All four eyes focused on the unfortunate officer. "That is not nearly good enough. This operation requires more than double that number, triple even!"

"Sir, we already outnumber the largest possible army presence here by nearly fifteen to one!" the officer protested. "In total, we have an immense excess of reserves in both troops and supplies. Surely that's more than enough?"

The General growled, decades of bureaucratic abuse coming to his aid. He tried quelling the desire to shout at the officer's short-sightedness, but was unable to.

"Enough? Enough!?" He forced his voice back down, making his tone even and quiet. "You believe this is sufficient?" Salim covered his lower eye set with one hand, rolling the upper set upwards, begging his ancestors for patience. "The bare minimum for assaulting an entrenched position is a ten to one ratio, yet we lack reliable intelligence on the enemy forces or how far they are spread out. We've lost over three platoons to just the weather alone, and in our entire time here we haven't encountered any resistance aside from pitiful militia and do you know why?"

Jul became frozen at the question, unsure to voice his opinion. Afraid of the consequences should he give a wrong answer, he merely shook his head and hoped the General wouldn't skin him alive.

"Because the enemy knows the territory well and is smart enough to let the weather weaken us while they suffer minimal losses. Our scouts may report there are only a thousand enemy troops in the area, but they also say the planetary cannons are defenseless and abandoned! No, it stands to reason the enemy knows we are coming and will use every advantage they have, because that is warfare! If you combine an extensive knowledge of the terrain with superior localized firepower, you will best a superior foe! Things that lived under rocks when our ancestors began their glorious conquest a thousand years ago knew that!" The General shouted, making his subordinate shrink in his chair.

Regaining his calm, Salim switched his expression to one that all of his subordinates knew demanded complete obedience. "Now. You will go and retrieve another twenty thousand soldiers. File the appropriate claims, wait the requisite time, and then tell that half-blind Toren that if he doesn't give me my soldiers, he will get my boots in his teeth!"

Officer Jul shrank back. "But … sir … not to be out of place, but what about using the new slaves that we've captured? They should know the territory, and it's likely the aliens won't fire on their own kind. Much like Admiral Ban's conquest of the asari colonies."

General Salim's eyebrows rose. "Well, finally. Some wisdom at last, even if it is short-sighted." The eyebrows went down. "Tell me, why are we here on this planet?"

The officer squirmed. "To … to conquer. Sir."

"Good answer," Salim smiled. "Now, if we are so good at conquering, why is the Hegemony still the servant of weaklings like the salarians and asari?"

"Um, because we do not wish to gain so much that we lose control of what we have?" The officer said, clearly unsure of the proper response.

"And you were doing so well. No, little-thing-that-hides-under-rocks. That is not right." The officer winced at the General's verbal abuse. Salim kneaded the skin between his upper eyes, feeling a headache coming on.

"The answer is twofold: money, and bodies. We need money to finance the weapons, and we need bodies to carry them." He trained both lower eyes on Jul. "We have more than enough cash to buy an entire star system, deplete its resources, and give it away. No tell me, what are we missing?"

Jul raised his chin. "Bodies, sir?"

"Yes, exactly. Bodies." Salim began to smile. It wasn't a pleasant expression, a move better suited to things that lived in dark holes and consumed the young of others. "What we have discovered here is a labor pool potentially greater than the asari and turians combined. What we have discovered, is a potential slave army capable of marching straight into the teeth of enemy fire, and conquer everything in its path despite dying by the thousands." His voice began rise, like a story reaching its climax. "What we have discovered, Officer Jul, is a priceless resource, one we must study with every resource of our own. Each alien we capture is worth more than a platoon of our own elite, each breeding pair is potentially more valuable than a fully armed and crewed cruiser, and you want to turn this invaluable resource into cannon fodder?"

Jul leapt to his feet. "I'll get the forms sent through immediately, sir!"

General Salim snorted, tilting his head to the left. "See that you do. If I don't have those men in place within five hours, you will be leading them!" That last threat seemed enough to get the officer running at full speed. Salim smiled at the scene before beginning to plan his attack.

"Now then, let's see what options we have." Salim eyed a hologram of the area, depicting controlled and enemy territory. Of particular interest was a route cutting through several mountains straight towards his target. Placing an icon, representing a division of his own forces, Salim smiled. "This may just be my lucky day.

It was imperative he succeed here, doing so would create a safe passage route for their brothers in the west to regroup, further augmenting the strength of the Hegemony's forces in the area. It would also have the added benefit of eliminating yet another blasted defense site and give him fire support from above. Once the objective had been accomplished Salim would march his forces towards the last few strongholds held by the enemy on this continent.

---

Gozevech District

Shanxi

SGB 90th Regiment, 68th Armored Battalion

Colonel Sasha Drago, commander of the 32nd tactical battalion, had been the first SGB commander to have died in the siege of Shanxi, defending Volosk. The large city had housed thousands of civilians, many of whom were still trapped within it. Others had died before him. The Alliance defense detachment had suffered losses in orbit over the planet to the invading fleet in the initial naval battle, and many more still fell as the aliens pushed further into the colony, swallowing entire countries at a time. Untold numbers of brave men and women had paid the ultimate price in service of humanity.

As the far as the 68th armored battalion was concerned however, Colonel Drago had been the first Russian commander to have perished in the assault. Drago wasn't always well liked, but he had been well respected amongst his men and peers. He had passed up multiple promotions in order to avoid being moved from his post.

"I'm a soldier for life. I've lived as one and I'll die as one," he had often said. To the men and women of the Spetsnaz Guard Brigade, Colonel Drago died a true hero defending Russian citizens from the alien aggressors. His men were wiped out in the heroic defense, serving the Mother Land to their dying breath. Sadly, countless soldiers were still slaughtered and butchered while civilians were captured, or worse. But it was Drago's death that had pained the SGB the most.

When news had reached the 68th that the aliens were bringing the war to the Gian continent, a bitter hatred had spread through the battalion like a virus, hate for the unprovoked attack, for the loss of their comrades, and above all else, for the inhumane slaughter of their own people. If there was one quality for which the Russians were renowned for, it was their primal resilience, withstanding anything to achieve the final blow.

Reports from other fronts just made the SGB even more determined. These batarians had steamrolled over an unknown number of human cities and soldiers, quelling any resistance with unchecked aggression. But the batarians had made the fatal mistake of underestimating the will of the 68th, believing them to be weak. The batarians would soon learn, however, that the claws of the Motherland's Bear were far from dull.

When the batarians had landed en masse on the continent, Colonel Morgunov had volunteered to personally lead the 68th armored, along with the rest of his regiment, straight to where batarian presence was thickest. The 68th armored were amongst the most brutal SGB battalion in the Russian army. Only the legendary Alpha Brigade surpassed the 68th's rumored war crimes. The feared battalion took no prisoners, making sure all enemy combatants were eliminated regardless if they surrendered or not. As the batarians neared ever closer to the battalion, the 68th armored was prepared to show them the true meaning of fear.

All of Morgunov's men were station in the area, a 62 kilometer stretch of frozen tundra turned into an impenetrable fortress. Mines, programed with an IFF transmitter, were buried underneath like a great sea stretching hundreds of kilometers. Autonomous drones, suited for anti-infantry and anti-vehicles roles, bolstered the already heavy firepower his regiment had brought to bear against the enemy. Giant bunkers, disguised to be inconspicuous, sprouted from the ground like ancient pillars and housed a great many number of Wolvers and Bears. They were interspersed along the great trench that cut along the territory. Yet this all paled in comparison to Morgunov's trump card.

To an outsider the area may have resembled an intricate set of defenses that truly earned the name of impenetrable fortress, but to the SGB it was nothing more but a well-crafted grave. Whether it'd be for the Spetsnaz or the batarians would be decided soon enough.

The SGB knew, despite the insanity of their enemy facing them behind this great barrier, that the batarians would come. Aside from being the fastest route to access the Russian district, it was also one of the few areas in the entire northern-eastern sea board with functional anti-ship batteries. It was deemed a highly strategic location and General Williams had reluctantly allowed the SGB to defend their territory.

The Spetsnaz understood the concept of war as well as the futility of attempting to save everyone. It was ruthless calculus of simply allowing the batarians to attack non-vital locations while the SGB reinforced and fortified critical sites. Without performing a single action, the entire region stood as a silent symbol of defiance in the face of the batarians invasion, inspiring fierce resistance across countless towns and settlements nearby.

It had been confirmed through reports that the batarians had been less cautious when met with modest resistance, but were shocked when human forces fought to the last man. This meant only one thing: the enemy was unaccustomed to fighting a war of attrition, even if they were capable of committing unspeakable atrocities.

As such, the Spetsnaz Guard Brigade did their best to create their own atrocity. Nearly a hundred T-100 Ogre tanks laid in wait, arrayed across the frozen plains leading to the densely populated Russian district. Each vehicle was covered with a sheet of camo netting, making their blocky outlines fade into the background. Several of the Ogres' track side skirts were covered in scrawled messages from Spetsnaz throughout the battalion, both commemorating Drago and those lost early in the invasion while others promised vengeance. One tank commander had even gone as far as renaming his tank platoon Fluffy the Terrible in honor of his fallen canine killed in the attack.

Each of the 75-ton mechanical monsters sported a massive 152mm smoothbore, high-velocity cannon with twin 12.7mm anti-aircraft turrets. The death machines added to their formidable defenses with the inclusion of Gen-8 explosive/reactive and Kontakt-4 armor, layered with ARENA-4 active defense, Shtora-3 jammer, and kinetic barriers to top it all off. The current inactive state of the tanks used as little as energy as possible without shutting down completely. As far as high-orbit batarian vessels were concerned, there was nothing to be seen on the plain, but a few hills and a thick layer of snow. The insulating snow too served to mask the tanks' already reduced heat signatures, rendering them as close to invisible as possible. If the ships came into a lower orbit, the ruse would be revealed, but the district's ground based anti-ship batteries made sure to keep that from happening.

Still, the batarians had found a way to dispatch landing craft, evading the batteries' line of fire and offloading their troops and vehicles scant kilometers away. Much like previous invaders who dared to invade Russian soil, the batarians were unprepared for the frozen wasteland. The winter's cold blasted the enemy as if they had incurred a personal insult, the freezing temperatures greatly hampering their advance into the district. After two days of traversing the inhospitable terrain, the advancing batarians had set off the proximity sensors the SGB had placed along all possible routes towards the district. Based on the data gathered, an entire batarian division was heading directly to the awaiting and bloodthirsty jaws of the 68th. The SGB battalion wasn't worried; in fact, every soldier in it was greatly eager, for both war and blood.

Captain Sergei Izotov gazed through the high-amplification lenses of his helmet, lying prone alongside the Ogre tanks. The blizzard screamed just over his head, like voices in his ears, almost as if recognizing the captain as a brother. Izotov, at 36 years old, was the oldest member in his squad. He could best be described as a ruthless and calculating individual; uncaring about casualties, often describing wounded units as useless. Years as a Spetsnaz had taught him to view only the objective and as a result he only cared about success. His callous attitude was balanced by an equal lack of concern for either the welfare or the lives of enemy soldiers. Despite his ruthless attitude, Izotov was a highly decorated veteran of the Spetsnaz brigade, having received numerous medals over his career as a soldier.

He slid under the camo netting and climbed back into the man-made trench, rejoining his many furious and eager Spetsnaz soldiers. The fortifications that coated the battalion's infantry acted as a wind-breaker, while not providing warmth, it at least provided respite from the wind-chill factor, not that any of them needed it. Izotov slid into place, next to the soldiers under his command, each doing their own individual activities. While he may have constantly ridden his squad hard to achieve near-impossible tasks, they'd always delivered.

His lieutenant, Alexi Tatarev was tapping his foot against the snow with such force that Izotov half-expected the snowy wall to collapse on him. Staff Sergeant Yuri Tankayev, the squad's Bear had his omni-tool activated, watching some sort of inspirational speech by an ancient general. The squad's only Kazakhstani, Sergeant Milea Chenko was the most anxious. She was the team's sniper as well as only female. The standards for men and women were the same, but somehow Chenko had managed to keep her glorious curves in the process. Despite her attractive appearance, Tatarev treated her with polite indifference, opting to clean his PKP-210 light machine gun. Tankayev ignored his squad entirely, keeping his Mini Kornet-K RPG trained in the direction the batarians were expected to come through while listening to the speech over his headset.

"Hey, Sergeant," Izotov reached out, placing a hand on Chenko's shoulder. "You alright?"

Chenko's face reddened from the physical contact, creating a stark contrast to the white snow. "Yes, sir," Chenko murmured, her eyes and smile showing an unusual amount of feelings for her superior. Izotov was unaccustomed to considering any emotion, especially with being gentle towards people, but he tried to give her a reassuring smile.

"Relax this is your place, Sergeant. Don't doubt it," Izotov reassured her.

Chenko cracked a smile. It was still tainted by nervousness, but it was an improvement. Izotov glanced at his omni-tool as it began beeping and flashing a green light. He tapped it once, opening the short-range comm.

"Izotov, here."

"Sensors indicate the enemy is three minutes from our position. Everyone get ready," The radio crackled. Izotov stiffened. The voice belonged to Colonel Vasily Morgunov, the acting commander of the battalion. Izotov felt surprise at someone of the Colonel's standing personally issuing a general transmission to all COs in the battalion. His surprise vanished as the blood in his veins turned to fire at the thought of the coming battle. From his viewpoint, he could see the other soldiers bundling together, likely responding to the same message he'd received.

"Comrades, get ready," Izotov said to his men, noting that many platoon leaders had already relayed the same message. The sounds of safeties being disengaged and bulky Spetsnaz soldiers getting into position vibrated throughout the cold, white trenches.

The 68th armored numbered at a meager fifteen hundred soldiers, but additional volunteers from the local villages and towns bolstered their numbers, though they wouldn't be fighting alongside the Spetsnaz for their purpose would be revealed later in the fight.

One hundred and twenty SGB Bears were dedicated to maintaining the battalion's ninety-four Ogre tanks. Another ninety were divided into six fifteen-man platoons, accompanied by hundred-twenty BTR-112 Cockroaches, the primary IFV transport for the SGB. The BTR-112 Cockroaches were positioned behind the Ogres, their twin 57mm auto cannons, 27mm AA guns, and ATGM system providing excellent cover from enemy gunships. These rectangular vehicles struck a perfect balance between transport and AA platform. Despite their boxy appearance, they were swift and maneuverable; their firing ports allowed infantry to fire from within the vehicle, helping the Cockroaches serve as mobile bunkers at times.

Their AA defenses were further supplemented by twenty-four ZSU-30 fleas, cementing no enemy aircraft would pass. The Fleas were far heavily armed and armored than their name would indicate, boasting a quad of 60mm autocannons, a far more extensive ATGM system, and roof mounted Kornet-K pods. The vast majority had been positioned alongside their artillery, but it was still comforting to see all of the SGB's heavy vehicles be positioned alongside their infantry.

Each Spetsnaz was armed with the standard SGB gear. For Wolves they were equipped with the Kon infantry ceramic body armor with titanium plating and integrated kinetic barriers. The armor, worn on the inside of the uniform, gave them their trademark bulky appearance. For headgear they wore titanium alloy helmets with its multiple forms of integrated vision modes. A balaclava, colored white for the occasion, covered their faces. Their layout included the AK-221 assault rifle, MP-32 pistol, and OSV-120 sniper rifle. Several Spetsnaz Wolves however, traded their sniper rifles to their marksmen in exchange for receiving the PKP-210 Light Machine Gun from the stockpile of weapons they had available. Long range superiority could be negated by close-range brutality.

The Bears wore the same type of armor, though a bit thicker, and instead of a balaclava chose gas masks with identically integrated visions. The major difference was in how their mask's eye sockets were colored red, preventing flash blindness while at the same time giving them a menacing look. A good portion of Bears were already readying the multiple AGS-30mm grenade launchers, proving they were ready for a good fight. For weapons they carried the AK-221 or PKP-210, a PP300 sub-machine gun, their standard Mini Kornets, and the fearsome flamethrowers, which was highly ironic given the tundra-like terrain. Each Ogre, Spetsnaz, Cockroach, and Flea platoon reported in without any issues.

Colonel Morgunov's voice echoed over the entire contingent's communication systems. "Fight well, soldiers. Give these alien bastards a Spetsnaz welcome."

Izotov and his men joined in the chorus of acknowledgments and then all fell silent. Hundreds of fingers hovered over weapon triggers. In the distance, the batarian division was moving steadily forward, expanding into a loose column, oblivious to the SGB battle line. They were already well within weapons range of the Ogres' main guns, but Morgunov apparently had another trick up his sleeve. For it to have full effect, it would need a few more seconds …

---

Gozevech District

Shanxi

78th Order, 6th Armored

Sergeant Bo'ro Lereck marched alongside his hover-tank, eyes sharp and looking around for any signs of trouble. Cursed with the twin gifts of a snow storm and a location in the center of the column, Lereck was having a hard time seeing past the mechanical and natural obstacles clouding his vision.

The snow gave everything a hidden depth, the leafless foliage unable to cover anything, yet coating the entire countryside with a thick blanket. While the trees and bushes were bare, the ground itself couldn't be trusted; hidden dips and hills made the walking twice as difficult while giving a patient enemy whole new opportunities to hide. Like most batarians, Lereck grumbled about the nightmarish weather. The freezing temperatures were unforgiving as they were brutal. It had claimed a good number of men through a variety of ways: starvation, hypothermia, even causing some to become lost whenever the division would advance. Other divisions in the area had reported the same problems through the constant failing of communications. It seemed no matter how advanced the batarians were, the unnatural cold continued to be a constant enemy. The armored vehicles made it even worse, kicking up snow with their turbines as they raced through the terrain.

No matter how severe the weather was, Lereck was more concern with who they would be facing. Having fought the humans in the first couple of days, he found that depending on the type of human force the Hegemony faced, their strategies would differ. The humans clad in blue armor were especially skilled in urban warfare while the ones in yellow were experts of stealth, emerging from the shadows to kill any batarians in their path before disappearing into thin air. There were even rumors within the order of other type of forces, one dressed in red suits, another colored green, but thickly armored and even one that was composed of an entirely different species! That would explain the different types of vessels the Hegemony fleet encountered in orbit; but the majority of humans seemed to wear a standardized armor, its properties similar to what the batarian army fielded. Given the circumstances, it was no wonder why Lereck felt nervous.

"Hey, sergeant you alright?"

Lereck turned his head to see a familiar face in the massive crowd, Corporal Yermon. Both a long-time friend and subordinate, Yermon had fought with Lereck through many fierce battles and each had constantly protected each other's backs.

"Yes, just wondering what type of enemy we'll be facing."

"Don't worry, I'm sure they'll be easy to defeat just like the rest," Yermon said, bumping his shoulder against Lereck's elbow in a friendly fashion.

Lereck wished he had the Corporal's confidence, but something didn't feel right to him. They had yet to encounter any major resistance since they landed and were extremely close to their objective. The division had moved out with whatever they could find, under heavy air and armor cover, not wasting the chance to use the firepower they had available. Even if they didn't expect a major enemy presence, Lereck believed the extra precaution was necessary.

Gunships hummed overhead as the bulk of tanks and APCs rumbled through the terrain amidst soldiers in close formation. Most of the batarians on foot had become weary of the advance, their tired legs somewhat delighted that they were close to their destination. A Company of batarian engineers had been assigned to capture any control centers, dubbed 'uplinks' by the humans, if any were found. Further intelligence on the humans and their relationship to the reptilian-like race called the raloi would greatly aid the Hegemony in conquering this planet faster.

Most of the troops were starting to think that the humans were one-shot wonders, making raids, setting up ambushes, and placing traps before running and hiding. A good portion of defenders had deviated from this path, mostly the red and green armor-colored humans. However, aside from local militia, the unit had yet to run into anything thus far. No enemy soldiers, no traps, not even a single sniper round being fired. That made Lereck nervous as well as a few other NCOs. The talent the humans had shown in waging warfare contradicted the lack of any fortifications or troops near the cannons. Based upon past encounters, humans were not ones to abandon their own easily even if they were weak. Thus, it bothered him that there hadn't been any military response from the humans, especially when other divisions had razed settlements and taken slaves in the area.

'Just what are the humans planning?'

"We got something ahead. First Company, check it out." Came the shouted order of Major Yorrow through Lereck's radio. The majority of the division slowed down its pace as the first company, made-up of mostly slaves and conscripts, trotted up-ahead. From his point of view, Lereck couldn't see what the Major had found so suspicious. Still Lereck narrowed his eyes, greatly concerned and on guard. The rest may have called him paranoid, but the Sergeant was still alive, while many of whom that had ridiculed him weren't.

"I got a bad feeling about this …" He muttered.

"Calm down. I'm sure it's nothing." Yermon said dismissively.

Despite his Corporal's refusal to treat this situation seriously, every fiber in Lereck's being told him that something was going to happen … something bad … something very bad. His head tried darting in every direction, failing to see what was up ahead. He cursed the blizzard, hampering his range of visibility. He wished he had heat-detecting helmets, but something told him Lieutenant Commander Toren had some say in the distribution of equipment in the finest tradition. If the slavers hadn't botched their attack on one of the enemy's strongholds in the center jungles just under a week ago, the Hegemony could have set up better supply lines across the northern regions. Regardless, Lereck become tense, his instincts screaming to prepare. But for what?

'The humans are going to do something now.' The Sergeant tightly gripped his assault rifle, his hands coiling around it like the very acceleration mechanism inside his weapon. His combat partner glanced at him curiously and patted him on the shoulder cauldron

"Didn't I tell you to calm down. At this rate you'll die of a heart-attack than from the freezing winter." Yermon teased.

"Just stay sharp and have your rifle ready." Lereck warned.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say." Yermon responded with a wave of his hand, dismissing the Sergeant's warning.

The unit kept its sluggish pace, a sharp contrast to the speedy advance it made just a half an hour earlier. Lereck kept casting glances up-ahead towards the column, his eyes twitching nervously. Despite his anxiety, he maintained discipline and formation, weapon sweeping around in regular intervals. He tried to get a visual of the first company, but found it was practically impossible in the blasted weather. Contrary to the lack of evidence, Lereck knew the humans were somewhere, watching and waiting.

"This is Major Yorrow, First Company has nearly reached the suspicious structure. All units be prepared in case of enemy ambush."

Little did anyone know that Lereck's suspicions were about to be proven correct.

---

Gozevech District

Shanxi

SGB 90th Regiment, 68th Armored Battalion

No one was entirely sure of what they would face when they clashed on the ground. The batarians had been victorious in space, but the Spetsnaz knew from their own history that even civilians or slaves could pose potential threats if not guarded against. Thus, Izotov could tell the batarians had experienced with exactly that sort of thing based on their formation. He could see their troops moved in integrated groups, largely composed of infantry, but with vehicles and air support nearby to ensure they could flexibly respond to multiple threats no matter what form they took.

The group approaching Izotov and his squad numbered at over 25,000 men, if the scanner readings were correct, boasting large number of troopers on foot, hundreds of hover-tanks and tank destroyers, and outnumbering the Spetsnaz battalion by an incredible margin. He knew though, that other battalions Regiment faced similar or worse odds.

Izotov watched as the enemy ordered a Company of soldiers forward while the main force slowed down its advance. He wondered if they had spotted the trenches or something else entirely. Izotov looked over his lines, checking each body he could see for signs of cowardice. He smirked when his search came up empty. The Spetsnaz showed no fear for they held none. They had been trained with such viciousness they longer had need for such a worthless trait.

Still, the Spetsnaz had a few nasty surprises at their disposal, many of which the batarians had probably never seen before. Their Motherland Guard satellites had been one such trick, damaging several dozen ships of the batarian fleet before they had been destroyed. The end result of the SGB satellites had turned many enemy ships into orbital debris. Even now, he knew it was solely because of the nigh-invisible batteries that kept the alien ships from bombarding the continent to oblivion. That is not to say the enemy fleet couldn't bombard the Russians from their current position, but it would be extremely inaccurate and risked hitting their own troops.

"Wait for it," Izotov muttered to his squad, lightly feathering his rifle's trigger. Activating a small IR laser sight attached to his weapon, he saw the horizon light up with figures.

As they advanced, Izotov mentally calculated positions, hoping the unfortunate batarians were unaware of the seven dozen Locust anti-tank mines buried underneath the snow. To make matters worse for the invaders, he knew seventy-five Zhukov mobile artilleries were lying in wait, a kilometer north of the Spetsnaz line. Once they received the order, each would fire their dual 152mm cannons, loaded with chemical and high explosive shells to obliterate the batarians.

Some distance away, Colonel Morgunov counted under his breath, forcing himself to be patient. Reaching zero, he pressed the thumb on the detonator, triggering the Locust mines. Eighty-four anti-tank mines detonated in perfect unison, spread out amongst the batarian force. Sixty transports were effectively torn in half by the heavy explosives, while fifty-nine hover-tanks were destroyed by an engine overload. Not even the batarian's heaviest tank survived the fierce explosives, thirty-four becoming metal coffins for their crews. Unfortunately for the batarians, the detonator also activated the greater sea of mines, infantry and vehicles torn apart at random. Within seconds, the batarian advance became paralyzed unsure if the next step would lead to their deaths.

Before the batarians could even register what had occurred, a great wall of iron soon fell upon them eclipsing what ray of sunlight could be seen through the blizzard. One hundred-fifty 152mm high explosive and chemical shells rained down on the batarian's positions, leaving faint vapor trails in the heat of their passage. The explosives shells incinerated dozens of infantry soldiers while the chemical shells dispersed highly toxic mustard gas, suffocating and sending ranks into terrified screams.

Those hit by the toxic substance began to convulse as they were apparently ill-equipped for chemical weapons. The Zhukov artillery platforms fired a constant stream of fire, the sheer power of their arsenal outclassing even Ogre tanks, sending great geysers of snow, dirt, metal, and even snow-blasted limbs into the air as several craters were punched into the planet's surface. Even the batarian tanks were helpless before the devastating firepower, tossed into the air like toys when the high-explosive rounds impacted in close proximity. Infantry caught in the immediate blast simply ceased to exist as their bodies disintegrated. The Zhukov artillery vehicle wasn't just meant to kill the enemy, it was created to erase them completely. The batarians were learning that the hard way. The carnage was increased even further as the Zhukovs began unleashing their devastating sensor fused bomblets, sweeping entire batarian gunships away from the battle.

The explosions drove the nigh-rabid SGB soldiers into a blood rage.

"Kill them all!" Morgunov shouted, slamming on his portion of the Ogre's ignition sequence. His two other crewmen did the same, filling the interior of the war machine with the roar of the engines and the clatter of weapons priming. The massive vehicles on either side rumbled into action, their crews making similar preparations. Slowly, but with increasing speed, the entire line of armor came to life, swiveling to lock on the oncoming invaders.

The Cockroaches were the first to activate fully, roughly four seconds after Morgunov's order. They rose from their stooped positions leveling their auto-cannons and immediately fired, their crewmen already having picked out targets among the surprised batarians. The anti-tank mines had wreaked havoc among the batarian vehicles, but hundreds more had survived the explosions. While maneuverable, the enemy's vehicles lacked sufficient anti-infantry capabilities. The Cockroaches held no such limitations; their weapons were designed to dispatch infantry and enemy gunships. The entire SGB battle line joined in as they all opened fire as one. The entire Spetsnaz line looked as if sheets of flame rippled along its edges.

A sheet of armor-piercing munitions slammed into the batarians lines, shredding soldiers unfortunate enough to be caught in the open. The Cockroaches' auto-cannons, originally designed to penetrate low-flying fighters, sliced through personal shields effortlessly. Smaller trees were blasted into splinters under the barrage. The batarian troopers threw themselves to the ground or behind their own vehicles, desperate to evade the barrage of death.

A few of the batarian recon vehicles came under fire from multiple Cockroaches. Their kinetic barriers were noticeably stronger than those equipped by the infantry, but the barrage of auto-cannon and artillery shells were more than they could withstand. After a few seconds, accompanied with the sound of shattering glass and exploding fuel cells, the barriers fell, exposing the vehicles to the incoming fire. The hardened armor was pounded, large dents being beaten into their sides and killing the occupants by transferred energy alone. Some managed to survive, but the second half of the barrage pierced though the armor, shredding the occupants.

After the initial barrage, the batarians had begun returning fire, but many were well off target. The 68th's camouflage was still largely intact and the batarians forces were largely disoriented. But it was also at this point that the Ogres were finished coming online and added their own firepower to the attack, ten seconds after the initial order.

The menacing sight of the Ogre tanks were burned into the batarians' memory as the menacing tanks readied their cannons. These monstrous tanks were designed for two things: overwhelming firepower, and intimidation. Many victims that had survived an encounter with the metal beasts had reported a disturbing sensation, akin to realizing a hidden predator was pouncing. Colonel Morgunov's tank had the honor of the first barrage among the heavy tanks. Its enormous cannon fired, easily penetrating the weakened shields of a tank destroyer and sending it up in flames.

Further to one side, Izotov couldn't help but chuckle at how easily the batarians armor fell before the Spetsnaz ordnance. Hover turbines apparently made them significantly more maneuverable, but they couldn't support nearly as much armor and firepower as treads could.

The remaining Ogres joined fire, abandoning their camo sheets to free their turrets and main cannons. The thunder of their main cannons was joined by the thumping of turrets opening fire and beginning their death song. The first row of batarians vehicles had been reduced to a flaming barrier of scrap, ironically providing some degree of protection to the infantry and vehicles that followed. The barrier proved problematic for the Cockroaches and Spetsnaz Wolves, but the Ogres' heavier guns pierced the unshielded debris effortlessly, tearing into what hid behind them. The Zhukov artillery pieces had the same result, still punishing the increasingly disorganized batarians from afar; methodically hitting the middle and rear of the batarian force.

The Russian infantry wasn't idle either. Wave after wave of small arms and heavy machine gun fire met the batarians, a horizontal rain of bullets degrading shields and damaging armor. Grenades detonated by the dozens within the batarian formation, many soldiers becoming eviscerated by the shrapnel. Those that were fortunate enough to have shields or kinetic barriers were just lucky to not be killed within seconds. The Hegemony vehicles fared no better, coming under attack from multiple Kornet missiles and rendering many into impotent piles of metal fragments.

Izotov allowed himself a cold laugh as he killed another batarian with his AK-221. The enemy hadn't known what hit them. Batarians lay dead on the white snow, their blood staining the blanket of snow, giving it a red sheen. Whatever biotics the batarians had were useless from such a distance, especially against the heavy armor and barriers of the SGB. The only somewhat workable tactic that was weakening the SGB line was the numerous overload attacks and concussion shots. It had some effect, but the majority of the Spetsnaz infantry was already waist deep in cover. The batarian's gunships were rapidly becoming useless as the Cockroaches repelled any within range, taking vicious vengeance for their fallen comrades. Even the enemy's heavy infantry seemed to have little effect, their missiles bouncing off Ogre tanks' armor like pitiful firecrackers.

But the volume of fire from the Hegemony increased as did their accuracy. A few Wolves and Bears were picked off from sniper fire. Izotov noted that the enemy's front lines seemed to consist of the lowest ranking troops as more and more batarians that joined the fight had thicker armor and shields. The SGB seemed to hold the upper hand, their superior firepower cutting a heavy swathe through the enemy ranks. However, slowly gaining momentum, the main batarian force was slowly moving towards the trenches at an increasing speed. Their artillery soon began firing upon the Spetsnaz.

"Comrades, get down!" Izotov warned before piles of snow were hoisted into the air. Several Bears and Wolves were caught in the explosion, their heavy armor unable to keep the shrapnel from their flesh.

"Now things are getting interesting," Tankayev said, firing his Mini-Kornet at another hover-tank; his target heeled over, burning from a deep gash in one side. "HAH, got another! Tatarev, do you think we'll get up close and personal?"

"If they do, I'll make sure you're in front of me," his friend replied, firing his PKP in short controlled bursts. A couple of Wolves beside him fell riddled with bullets. Others appeared to be catching on fire due to incendiary rounds used by the enemy, causing the big Russian to laugh. Incendiary rounds were useless in the snowy terrain. The batarians also seemed to be using rounds that would literally freeze a person as a couple of fingers and hands showed, but again the cold was an old friend of the Spetsnaz, and they were in their element.

"I'd much rather keep them at a distance!" Chenko shouted over the raging chaos, rapidly depleting magazines to feed her sniper rifle. The two, larger Spetsnaz merely laughed as they continued their rampage.

As batarian artillery continued to pound the SGB position, their forces advanced within 500 meters of the Ogre tanks. Being a true Spetsnaz commander, Morgunov would be dammed if he let any of those bastards make it past them without suffering heavy casualties.

"Make them pay for every inch of soil, comrades!" He yelled. He himself moved faster than he'd ever remembered, making the cannon fire round after round, its autoloader reloading the Ogre's cannon faster than the record back at camp. He knew the value of continuous fire, and every shell he fired helped, pouring guaranteed pain at the advancing batarians.

Yet the batarians somehow managed to push forward, despite the heavy ordnance raining down on them. They knew they heavily outnumbered the human defenders, an advantage they were beginning to use to great effect. Using their turbines, the hover-tanks pushed forward at top speed, followed closely by numerous infantry.

"Here they come!" Izotov told his men, who kept on fighting fiercely. They responded with blood chilling howls, excitement flowing through their veins. Some even began to climb onto the barricades, eager to close in with the hated enemy. Then he saw something in the sky, several squadrons of enemy aircraft appearing. "Everyone get down! Enemy air support is inbound!"

The Wolves shuddered, while the Bears gave a sinister laugh. In every war since the invention of armored units, enemy air support had been and still was the bane of all armored units. Air support often carried enough ordnance to take out entire vehicle columns and was often too nimble to be struck by tank fire. But humans had engaged in such warfare for decades and as the aircraft neared the SGB line, the Cockroaches and Fleas released their AA guns and missiles in a grandiose volley. The combined fire took out about an even dozen of enemy aircraft before they detected the launch. However, when the bombers dropped their ordnance, seven Cockroaches and three Ogres were destroyed. Several nearby squads of Wolves and Bears died defending their positions, contributing another two gunship kills from small-arms fire and rockets.

Morgunov was initially worried that the bombers would have targeted his artillery rather than the Spetsnaz line, but he was strangely delighted to see the enemy bombers drop their entire ordnance on the battle line. His artillery platforms were safe for the time being.

As the enemy gunships got within range, they fired a strafing burst along the trench line. The murderous fire killed infantry, slicing through their lines and penetrating multiple transports, but the Ogre tanks suffered almost no damage. The gunships quickly fired a salvo of missiles, intent on correcting their mistake. Like giants refusing to die, the Ogres withstood the attack as the missiles managed to only kill even more infantry. Furious, every single Bear with an missile launcher opened up with their Mini-Kornets, downing two entire squadrons of enemy gunships before the enemy pilots understood the threat and fell back.

But as the focus was turned on the gunships, the batarian armor approached within 300 meters of the trench line, closing fast under cover of the distraction. The SGB were fighting hard, but the battle had turned into yet another wasteland of men and arms, the Spetsnaz simply couldn't match the batarian numbers. It seemed both armies were about to clash when suddenly a comet appeared to rain down from the sky and impacted the planet 20 kilometers south of their position, a huge smoke cloud appeared on the horizon. Before the Spetsnaz could even register what had happened, another cloud appeared 17 kilometers north of them.

"My god they're bombarding us from orbit!" A Wolf cried out.

"This is Colonel Morgunov, to any battalion commanders, respond!" He yelled into his comm. set. It took some time before he received any response.

Coughing was heard on the other line before the individual spoke up. "Major Kowalski here … the damn bastards nuked us! We're holding, but we are in danger of being overrun!"

"Captain Petrov of the 93rd Mechanized here, we have over 43% casualties, and we need bombers on our position!"

"Roger that. I'm sending squadrons of UCAAV drones to each of your positions. ETA on the Halals is four minutes,"Morgunov said.

"So long as the four eyes die, I don't care how long it takes!" Kowalski said before hanging up.

"We can hold out until then. But sir, as of now I am the highest-ranking officer left standing!" Petrov exclaimed.

"It matters not, comrade. It's up to you to lead the 93rd Mechanized. Do me proud Captain,"Morgunov replied.

"I will, sir."

As Morgunov saw hundreds of tons of ash and dirt expelled into the atmosphere, he knew it was time to deploy their last trump card. The anti-ship batteries weren't the only reason why the Spetsnaz were holding this territory. Being the commanding officer, Morgunov had been in control of the SGB's ace in the hole. In the case of near defeat or orbital bombardment, it was voted unanimously by all battalion officers before the battle began to unleash their most devastating weapon should the worst occur.

Morgunov made the decision, tapping the necessary commands on his omni-tool. This action caused multiple silos within the heart of the district to open, revealing dozens of 100-ton nuclear missiles. Each stood 11 meters tall with a diameter of 3.1 meters, but the true terror behind these beasts was their 85-megaton yield.

Before the batarians had even invaded the continent, the SGB had pre-program the nukes to target the batarian fleet in geosynchronous orbit above them. These nukes had originally been secretly smuggled into the colony as a possible deterrent in case any power decided to invade them. Centuries of foreign invaders had made the Russians both paranoid and battle hardened. As such they never took any chances when setting up their defenses. Unfortunately for the batarians in space, who had until this point considered themselves safe, these behemoths were unstoppable. While GARDIAN batteries could predict the end-point goals of each missile, all the missiles had to do to be effective was get within a few kilometers of its target. These were arguably the most powerful weapons known to man. In true tradition, the Russians had named it the Tsar bomb, giving it a name to match its sovereign position. Many nations had voiced anger and concern during the development of such a weapon, but the Spetsnaz had simply ignored them and today they seemed justified in its use. To add further insult to injury, proudly scribbled on the center of each missile was one simple yet glorious phrase. It read: 'From Russia, with love.' The ground soon rumbled violently as the behemoth bombs soared to their targets.

Colonel Morgunov silently gave the growing smoke columns a salute. The batarians were no more than a hundred meters from the SGB line, but if he was going to die, he'd cover his own grave with the bodies of his foes.

---

HSS Superiority

Dreadnought

Command Deck

"Sir, we have enemy ordnance coming in at top speed!" Ib-ba yelled, his tone indicating a slight panic. His scanners were showing twelve unusually large projectiles rapidly approaching the fleet.

"How fast?" Ban asked. As if to answer his question, twelve large missiles each slammed into the front guard of the fleet a second later. Massive fireballs engulfed the forward formations, sending shockwaves of incredible magnitude across the emptiness of space. Ban struggled just to remain in his command chair; the ship's shaking from the massive force doing its best to throw him onto the floor.

"What the hell just happened!? Where did those nukes come from!?" He demanded. "I thought we'd cleared the planet of orbital weapons!"

There was a flurry of screens blinking in the front before he received an answer. "Based on the data I've managed to receive prior the detonation, it would seem that the nukes weren't delivered from orbital emplacements, but rather from the planet," Ib-ba informed him. Around him, the ship's crew began returning to their positions, recovering their senses from the nasty surprise.

"What part of the planet?" the Admiral demanded in a death whisper.

"According to my scanners, the nukes came from the northern part of the human-controlled continent. Our forces in the area are taking heavy casualties and have failed to capture the cannons located there. General Salim was put in charge of that task; however, he had previously made requisitions to Lieutenant Commander Toren for more troops."

Satisfied with the answer, Ban turned his attention to his fleet's condition. "Casualty reports," he stated, slightly infuriated with the predicted answer.

Hesitating, Ib-ba thought of the best way to inform the admiral before a death glare from the man persuaded him to just state the facts. "Twelve frigates, seven cruisers, and three battlecruisers have been destroyed. Another twenty ships have damages of varying degrees."

Ban was beyond furious. Not only did he lose twenty-three ships in the blink of an eye, but General Salim's forces have failed to capture one of the planet's sole remaining cannons. However, Ban wasn't a tad furious with the General rather he was suspicious and even that feeling was directed towards Toren.

"Ib-ba, what forces did Toren send to Salim?"

Once again, Ib-ba remained silent, making Ban believe the answer would push him over the edge, driving him to outright murder Toren. The Lieutenant Commander's actions up to this point have been border-line treason, the least of which were sabotaging many of Ban's efforts to secure the planet. He suspected the Na'shiet were also involved in Toren's schemes if their actions were anything to judge.

"Ib-ba, I will not repeat myself." Even though they were like brothers, Ib-ba knew Ban had a limited amount of patience.

Sighing, Ib-ba gave into the inevitable. "Mostly slaves and conscripts. Toren also ordered a ship in orbit over the area to give fire support at danger-close range, nearly hitting Salim's forces. The enemy has suffered severe casualties … but our forces haven't advanced very far at all."

"Were any of those slaves, humans?" Ban asked in a deathly whisper, causing every crewmember to flinch at his wrath. His long history in the fleet had taught them to fear when he grew angry, but to seek refuge when his anger quieted like this.

"Yes, however General Salim had a standing order against their use in the operation." Ib-ba said quickly to calm down the raging admiral. He knew his friend's temper well.

Ban soaked in the information. 'So, Salim was smart enough to see through Toren's trap, eh? I must certainly have to give the General some respect. As for Toren, he has cost me enough of my men and progress as it is. He will not leave this sector, alive.'

Ban gave Ib-ba a slow smile. Around the officer, whatever was on the screens appeared to spontaneously generate great interest, given by the newly intense postures.

"Ib-ba, inform all of our officers we're at Situation Yellow," The crew relaxed, the danger wasn't trouble for them. Situation Yellow was a … special … condition Ban had personally come up with, signifying the total liquidation of non-Hegemony forces. Knowing how slavers put their greed above anything else, Ban had informed every soul he trusted, which were a select few, of the contingency plan.

The essential plan elements placed the mistrusted, traitorous slavers with their allies. Certain orders would be given, sending those so despised into battle with superior positioning … and no actual support. Re-enforcements would arrive a hair too late, air support would discharge their payloads early or not at all, and transports would somehow miss extracting those not on their manifests. If the situation required it, Ban would order his own men to do the job, but he had faith in the enemy. It was ironic that the humans he was facing would be the same ones to relieve him of the traitors within his ranks. They would help him keep his hands clean.

"Aye sir, condition yellow set." Ib-ba nodded to a trusted member of the bridge crew, who in turn began sending out a list of names. "What about General Salim and his forces?"

"Have General Salim salvage whatever remains of his forces and order them to fall back. The area is a lost cause now and we're more concern with capturing slaves than attacking the colony. Issue an encrypted message to all naval officers loyal to the Hegemony, and inform them of the situation." Ban stared at the projector suspiciously. "We have been here for too long. Order our ships planet-side to begin preparations for departure, and instruct those carrying slaves to rendezvous with our battlecruisers, I'm not risking the merchandise being killed in case Toren gets trigger happy. Speaking of that pathetic excuse for a naval officer, have Toren's remaining frigates and cruisers begin offloading their fourth and fifth waves of troops, and order ours to steadily fall back for pick-up. Position his remaining ships near the Relay to serve as our guard."

Ban's top eye pair closed halfway. 'Knowing that idiot, he'll think we're giving him the honor of conquering the planet.'

"Should we allow them to provide orbital support to our troops?"

Exhaling a breath, Ban made his voice cold as ice. "No."

"Sir?"

"Those idiots are not only jeopardizing the mission objective, but they are also costing the lives of many good batarians with their incompetence. Give our troops exclusive access to our fighters and interceptors in case they need cover, but warn them not to call in for orbital support unless it is from one of our ships. Once we've filled our slave quota, we'll leave the system and return to the Hegemony. If the worst befalls us, we'll sacrifice Toren's ships to save our own. What is the status of the slaver fleet I requested?"

"Understood, Admiral," Ib-ba said, bringing forth the latest status reports. "The slaver fleet should arrive within the next few hours. Its heavily composed of battlecruisers with a mix of heavy cruisers and a single dreadnought."

"Hopefully, they'll retain far more discipline than the idiots we've been forced to work with. If nothing else, they'll prove to be an adequate meat shield for our loyal forces." It was true, that despite the lack of loyalty, the slavers would provide excellent cannon fodder in case of a naval engagement.

"Understood, sir."

"Good. Now relay my orders to the rest of the fleet," Ban said before returning to his fleet.

Ib-ba gave a nod before sending the Admiral's orders to the batarian ground forces. Deep down, he felt a strange sense of pity for those slavers who had invoked Ban's wrath. Still they're punishment could have been much worse. Ib-ba mentally shivered at the possible ideas stirring in Ban's head. "Would that be all, sir?"

Ban, shook his head, not yet done with issuing orders. "Have the damaged ships fall back for repairs. The rest move into defensive formation and have the patrols give me an update on their findings."

"Understood," Ib-ba replied. Relaying his superior's orders, he couldn't help but wonder how this war would end.

---

Gozevech District

Shanxi

78th Order, 6th Armored

The frontlines were in complete disarray, deep gaps in the formations showing where explosives had blown apart the First Company of Hegemony troops. The line had since steadied itself and had begun pouring fire ahead of itself, using incendiary mode ammunition blocks. The fierce heat was designed to melt through armor, terrifying people with the threat of being burned alive. But from what Lereck seen, it hadn't deterred the enemy in the slightest, the humans using the terrain like an ally.

Deep down, Lereck wished he hadn't been right. He'd tried warning the men near him, but none had taken him seriously. Now they were all paying the price. He took cover behind the wreckage of hover-tank, hoping the human artillery would spare him their wrath. A red river flew through the snow, the shouts of weapons firing and explosives detonating filled his ears. Lereck clutched his rifle in a death-grip, trying to fight the panic filling his body, while attempting to remember how the situation turned into a nightmare.

Before the First Company could get an accurate visual on the structure Major Yorrow had found so suspicious, belatedly confirmed to be a network of trenches, the majority of the force was vaporized in a combined large explosion. Numerous lead tanks and armored vehicles were destroyed by a series of cleverly hidden mines. While their improved kinetic barriers had done a good job of halting the razor sharp fragments of shrapnel that had been sent flying, the sheer detonation force of the explosives had slammed into the vehicles like a divine hammer. Many had been twisted horribly, as if they were made of tin-foil.

Then came the true horror. Hundreds of weapons opened fire on the horribly exposed batarian infantry. Rifle and turret rounds lanced out from the trenches, draining kinetic barriers before shredding into exposed flesh. Rockets, grenades, and tank cannon rounds pounded on the armor plating of the batarian vehicles, reducing them to metal scrap. To make matters even worse the enemy's artillery seemed to be unrivaled, promising death from above. The first battalion had been completely wiped out, the enemy easily killing through the slaves and regular infantry that made the bulk of the front-guard.

At this rate of death, Lereck's battalion would soon become the vanguard. Already the humans had destroyed sixteen gunships in the initial salvo before Major Yorrow had called them back. The Major had then ordered their artillery to respond, firing upon the human position in a desperate attempt to reduce the seemingly impenetrable wall of enemy soldiers. For better or for worse, both sides' artillery platforms were placed outside of each other's range, letting them fire unchallenged. Yet no matter how gruesome the carnage had been, it had only taken ten minutes. After their ships provided orbital support, despite being danger-close, the enemy had unleashed such powerful missiles they had shaken the very ground Lereck stood on. He couldn't see, but he had assumed that the orbital fleet had suffered some losses.

Their biotics tired in desperate attempts to cover the retreat of the wounded, only to be cut down themselves. By now, the entire unit had opened fire with everything they had, bringing forth as much firepower as possible against the human ambush. Hegemony armor pushed past the ruined vehicles, even crushing dead soldiers as they rolled forward. The troopers had understood they needed to get as much firepower to the frontline as possible, but none enjoyed seeing their dead brethren treated as worthless animals.

Even with the full arsenal of the batarian army firing, it had still been a bloody mess. Torsos and limbs lay sprawled on the snow amid the blood and gore. Hegemony bombers deployed their ordnance right on top of the humans in an attempt to weaken them, yet the humans refused to break. In fact, the violence almost seemed to motivate them as more and more weapons were being brought to bear against the division.

"THIS IS NO AMBUSH!" Lereck screamed over the sounds of combat, his rifle at his shoulder, firing long bursts at the trenches. Ninety meters from his position, Lereck could see the red glare of the mechanical monsters cast right through the shroud of snow. They were like demons demanding batarian blood and seemed far from satisfied. Yermon only nodded, firing his own weapon just as rapidly. A hail of projectiles ripped towards the defenders, yet only a few seemed to kill their targets.

"Fourth and fifth Companies advance. Third battalion, split up and attack the enemy's flank. Sixth and seventh cover their advance." Lereck heard the scream over the radio. He couldn't believe the Major was still fixated on sending batarians to meet those monsters head-on. Regardless, Lereck followed orders and covered the advanced of the soon to be dead.

As vehicles rumbled past them, Lereck's squad tried to move to a better position. Their fire didn't slacken, trying to suppress the humans even as artillery and tank hampered their locations. Looking up, Lereck saw the muzzle flash of a human tank. "Get down!" he shouted.

The entire squad ducked away from the hover-tank. An instant later, it was blasted into shreds by the monster's might.

"Nar'ow's been hit!" Yermon shouted.

Lereck turned and saw his squad-mate lying there, missing a leg and with his armor damaged from the blast. Yermon quickly ran over and began dragging the wounded soldier towards the rear. Springing to his feet, the Sergeant rushed towards the two soldiers. Grabbing one side of Nar'ow, Lereck eased the batarian on his shoulders as the trio tried to find a medic.

Suddenly, Lereck was thrown into the air. He slammed into the ground hard a second later, the event occurring too fast for his body to react. Dazed he looked around, his ears ringing loudly. Looking to his right he saw Nar'ow missing the lower-half of his body. Yermon was nowhere to be found almost as if the Corporal had disappeared.

It wasn't until then that Lereck noticed a growing pain as the adrenaline rush died down. His right arm grabbed his left … or rather tried to. Cranking his head to get a better look at his body, Lereck noticed his left side was completely torn, showing flesh, bone, and even ruptured, bleeding organs. A cool sensation rubbed against the back of his head, a strange liquid substance. The Sergeant put his arm behind his back, trying to see what it was. Then he saw it. His own blood mixed in with that of his dead friends. Strangely, Lereck didn't shout or cry, he just lay there, letting the bright light filling his vision to envelope him. Then … he felt nothing, no pain, no anger, no sorrow … just peace.

---

Gozevech District

Shanxi

SGB 90th Regiment, 68th Armored Battalion

"All Bears, ready flamethrowers! Wolves, give these batarians a drink they seem thirsty!" Izotov yelled. Smiles broke out in the middle of combat; unnerving what invaders were close enough to see. The Spetsnaz were about to unleash their age-old weapon: flames, pure hot flames

As soon as the batarians were close enough, the Bears ignited a wall of fire, burning any unfortunate soul within range. A half-second later, the Wolves uncapped and threw multiple Molotov cocktails at the enemy, incinerating any who were lucky enough to avoid the purity of the flames the first time. Even the Ogre tanks joined in on the wicked fun, activating their bumblebee flamethrowers to further punish the unholy invaders. The result was horrific for the enemy. Armor was instantly peeled off or worse … glued onto the skin of wearer, pools of molten plastic and ceramic spilling onto the battlefield. Flesh was incinerated outright, screams of the batarians echoing in the valley as they threw themselves upon the snow or cried out for a merciful end.

The purpose of the attack wasn't meant to stop the enemy, but rather to demoralize and bleed off their momentum. Only the most dedicated of foes would charge a mountain of fire. The flame attack effectiveness was decreased as numerous batarians used barriers to quell the flames. The enemy tanks were unaffected by the attack, but they didn't need to be as Morgunov unleashed his own squadrons of Howler gunships. The twenty gunships closed in on the enemy division, tearing apart the tanks and infantry alike with their 30mm gun. To further discourage the enemy, the Howlers fired their Buratino fuel air explosive rockets. Over 170 meters of land was consumed with the massive explosions, vaporizing anyone or anything caught in the blast radius. It was then that the batarians realized the Russian artillery had stopped firing.

Soaring overhead, hundreds of UCAAV drones appeared, deploying their payloads and killing even more exposed infantry and armor. At this point, the batarians were as disoriented as they had been during the opening attacks.

This would prove their downfall as the batarians had failed to account for the human factor. The morale and fighting spirit of the Spetsnaz Guard Brigade manifested itself in a form the enemy had ever seen in the armies of other nations. While the batarians had been beaten down, pummeled, devastated, and worse of all, exhausted; the Spetsnaz retained the opposite becoming increasingly eager for the final blow.

"FIX BAYONETS!" Izotov screamed. He knew without looking, that behind every balaclava, every gas mask was a sick twisted smile. Every Spetsnaz soldier knew what this meant. The massive trench line was suddenly illuminated, displaying a vibrant, red color that signaled the beginning of a horrible massacre. With the omni-blades activated on their guns, giving off a harsh, red menacing glare, the Spetsnaz awaited the carnage sure to come.

"Men your Motherland needs your final commitment. Steel yourselves! Today we fight for our land … our people … our blood! Show strength … show courage … BUT SHOW NO MERCY! ORAAAHH!" Morgunov shouted, his tank ripping itself free of the snow's grasp and accelerating towards the enemy at top speed.

"ORAAHH!" The Spetsnaz roared back as they climbed out of their trenches, death and anger visible in their eyes. The heavy armor joined the charge, churning through the snow into the dirt beneath, throwing mixed clods alongside the infantry. The SGB formation was combined into a fog-shielded wall of metal interspersed with sharp, glowing points of holy vengeance, almost too painful to see. The batarians were on the receiving end of the worst possible event in a war: a mad Spetsnaz charge.

At the sight and roar of the Russians, the will of the remaining batarian division broke. Even while they still outnumbered the Russians 9 to 1, the batarians turned tail and began running for their lives. The ruthless Spetsnaz were hot on their heels, killing everything that was within their grasp. The enemy artillery continued firing with desperate frequency, killing several squads of Bears and Wolves as they charged. A few Cockroaches were disabled by the artillery, the surviving occupants exiting the vehicle and continuing the crazed charge on foot.

As the batarians fled they were met head long by the reserve Russian militias over four thousand strong, angry and armed with the same weapons as the Spetsnaz. Morgunov had just used the oldest trick in military history: distract with a hammer and flank with a dagger. Now caught between two charging forces, the batarians had no choice but to fight.

Unfortunately, it was too little too late, they had lost too many officers, and were too disorganized to mount a proper defense. Both armies clashed with the batarian division in the center, spilling blood onto the snow. Ogre tanks lived up to their atrocious name, crushing batarians under their treads, impaling many more on their spiked minesweepers. Cockroaches fired their main guns, dropping entire platoons, shredding armor and riddling their bodies with hundreds of holes.

Wolves and Bears wielded their omni-blades with psychotic glee, taking sick pleasure in ripping the batarian souls away. The Spetsnaz infantry swarmed over their enemies with vengeful savagery, slashing, stabbing, and clubbing with immense ferocity. Many would stab their weapons home, then opened up on full automatic, with their rifles and machineguns embedded in torsos, out of sheer malice. This resulted in batarians being eviscerated, entire sections of their bodies being disemboweled or dismembered. The militia were no less brutal, opting to stab the eye sockets of the invaders.

The event was nothing less than pure horror for the batarians. They tried to desperately climb on top of their retreating tanks and transports, which were refusing to stop for their own men. Multiple ground-shuddering explosions notified both sides that the batarian artillery positions had been destroyed by Howler missiles and turret fire. The missiles also managed to destroy several retreating tanks. Stragglers of the batarian infantry managed to run past the militia, making a desperate dash towards their shuttles. What few that could take off, were soon destroyed by Cockroaches, Bears, and even Howlers. Still, despite their best efforts, over seven thousand batarians managed to evade the grasp of the ruthless Spetsnaz as they retreated, but they were obviously demoralized and their will broken by what they had just experienced. Every Spetsnaz present took grim pride in their work.

The batarians, along with the entire galaxy, would soon learn that the Spetsnaz do not forget and they never forgive. The name Spetsnaz would forever be engrained in batarian history and would become a tale of horror, sending shivers down the spine of even the most confident of batarian generals. Unlike almost all the previous races the batarians had raided against, the Spetsnaz weren't easily intimidated nor were they satisfied until their enemies were completely destroyed. Unknown to them, the batarians had just made an enemy of a force far more brutal than the krogan, deadlier than the turians, and arguably more relentless than the rachni.

As the last few hundred batarians retreated, Morgunov and his men cheered at the sight. Several battalion commanders were reporting similar results, albeit with far more casualties. Once again Russian endurance, brutality, and will had turned the tide of yet another war.

"AHA! They're going to need bigger tanks next time!" A Bear shouted. Many cheered in response, feeling much of the same thoughts.

"Men, take comfort that you have served the Motherland well! But we cannot rest, cannot falter, CAN NOT STOP, UNTIL THESE SAVAGES ARE DRIVEN FROM OUR HOME!" Morgunov bellowed to his men, standing high and proud on his Ogre tank. He smirked at their expressions. The flush of victory, of defeating such a despised foe had driven them to greater heights, making them eager for yet another confrontation with the batarians.

"Our brothers still need us in various parts of the frontlines of this war. We will assist were we are needed." Morgunov was referring to humanity's other forces in many other fronts that were still being waged. "Ready your weapons and prepare to move."

The masses of soldiers soon began mobilizing, gathering munitions and equipment. Before leaving, however he ensured those who died in battle were honorably buried in the exact place they fell. During the short service, far too short for such whom had died with such valor, the Russian battalion knelt and took off their helmets as a gesture of respect. The wounded were loaded up onto Su-T3 transports and flown off to nearby medical hospitals. The rest of the SGB mobilized, their thirst for blood far from quenched.

---

Novaya

Shanxi

78th Order, 3rd Region

General Salim watched grimly over the lines of soldiers slogging their way through knee-deep snow as they frantically retreated. After having received orders to retreat, Salim had commanded his divisions to fall back from the region. Never had he suffered such a major blow to his reputation. Overall, he had lost over fifty thousand soldiers and nearly three thousand armored vehicles. His heavy mechanized infantry had proven useless against the enemy's heavier vehicles and troops. Other fronts had suffered similar results, something Salim thought he'd be free of. Even his elite had suffered serious losses, with the regular forces contributing to the majority dead.

Salim thought back to the 'support' he'd received from the slavers, absolute rage filling his being. 'That fool Toren has cost us nearly three hundred million credits with that orbital strike. I was so close to eliminating the enemy in a pincer move, before that idiot blew thousands of good soldiers to oblivion. At the least the local commanders were able to pull back some of the survivors. Good work there, if a little too late.'

Sliding a hand across the holo-screen, Salim brought up another map of the area, this one showing the overall tactical situation. The center strike had suffered the worst losses, despite being spared from the treacherous orbital strikes. His forces on the right had suffered major casualties alongside the enemy while the commander in charge of the left flank was able to pull back far-enough from the kill-zone. However, over three thousand Hegemony soldiers were sacrificed to cover the division's retreat.

Salim shifted focus, observing the enemy entrenchments. He had to give the planners silent approval at their choice of battlefield. 'As aggressor, I chose the time of attack. The defenders, in turn, chose where and how that attack had to happen.'

The route he'd followed had been the most logical, a level segment that led towards the settlement site that would have also extended the batarian army's forward operation capabilities in the region. Obviously, the aliens weren't as ignorant as he'd hoped. Usually, the shock of losing satellite coverage, in addition to a multi-point invasion, was sufficient to confuse most populaces. A full subjugation fleet was capable of landing over three hundred thousand troops simultaneously. With five landing sites, overwhelming the opposition was almost a foregone conclusion on a local level.

Here …. It was a different story.

'They first countered with mines and artillery with great positioning.' Salim noted the craters seeming to fill the frozen landscape. He'd sent heavy fighters to eliminate the enemy's artillery platforms, but like the troops Toren had given him, the pilots had proven amateurs, deploying their ordnance on the trenches rather than their true target.

He then studied the images and reports on the enemy's weaponry, noting the massive vehicles preferred by these humans. 'Good machines with terrifying close-range destruction. Different from what that the humans in the city had, though. Could this be a sign of culture differences? Perhaps the humans aren't as unified as they like us to believe? We could have used that, turn one against the other … bah. No time for that now. We've lost this battle.'

Salim reviewed the recordings from the battle, studying it from the very beginning. Mines, apparently designed solely for anti-armor purposes, caused a significant fraction of his own armored units to be damaged, but apparently had also served as the catalyst for the true battle to begin. Then, the trenches came alive, hundreds of human soldiers appearing from nowhere across a large swath of land, laying their rigid weapons right on the snow to fire. At that point, white coverings flew off more vehicles, revealing tanks that had been buried to their axles, all in order to disguise the heat signatures. The tank weaponry spat fire, smaller guns below the main guns hammering away with a continuous stream of bullets. What was worse, the explosions caused by the human's artillery peppering his own forces prevented them from reorganizing. Still, he took pride in his forces. Defying the enemy's superior position and firepower, his front-line troops had made a valiant effort, closing in on the trenches with what they could.

Salim's attention was drawn by thermal images of the battle provided by Ban's ships, giving him an excellent viewpoint over the enemy lines. A chill ran down his spine, making his well-armored feet nearly shake with its intensity. He checked again, no change. A third time, on thermal, just to be certain. No change.

'Less than seven thousand of them in total!? Against my twenty-five thousand! I've received poorly trained front liners, this is true, but this is asymmetrical warfare at its height!' Potential tactics clicked through his mind, each utilizing such fearsome fighters. 'The human's level of dedication combines turian discipline with true batarian backbone. If we were to have an army of these, we could conquer Palaven in ten weeks!'

Eagerly, he had directed the bombers in another run, pinpointing what the officers identified as hard-points. Unfortunately, the bombers were unable to complete their fire mission, deterred by the half-blind alien fighter craft. The humans possessed fighters that were extremely well-armed and armored. They were slow and gangly in comparison to his own interceptors, but superior armor and kinetic barriers had won the day.

Everything then went downhill from there. Salim watched gloomily as his new lack of air superiority rendered the enemy armor supreme. As previously shown, the rookie soldiers had no fire discipline, incapable of returning fire.

'Proper offense required three standard infantry units, mixing grenades and small-arms fire, or one heavy infantry with one standard infantry.' He shook his head sorrowfully. 'Toren, your arrogance knows no bounds. Unable to properly train those miserable excuses for soldiers, you've certainly cemented the result of the battle in the enemy's favor.'

Salim switched off the control set after sending a command for an organized retreat; he reflected how the actions made today would impact the future. Still a silver light had shown itself. The battle waged here had separated the strong from the weak, the loyal from the traitorous.

'No sense wasting my time coddling incompetence. The veterans know well enough to get out of there, and leave the weak. If they do not, it's their fault for being weak themselves. War destroys the frail. Only the strong are left.'

"Sir, the HSS Supreme is here," Jul informed him.

Salim signaled Jul to begin packing the necessary materials. The officer instantly obeyed, gratifyingly silent. To Salim's right the turian slave stood, still as a statue. He signaled the slave, who obeyed immediately, fetching the reports from other fields.

'Good. He learns. Now if only I can get soldiers that can do the same thing.'

---

A/N: I know some readers may argue that no possible force can defeat such a large force, however this has been done in history whether it'd be the Greeks at Thermopylae or Alexander the Great conquering the Persian Empire. The reason why the SGB was able to defeat such a large force is due to the fact that their gear and weaponry essentially counters ME tech. ME weapons are not designed to penetrate thick armor, which the SGB excel at having, and the SGB weaponry is designed to penetrate or outright destroy anything in their path as seen in the chapter. The tech imbalance or rather their practical use in the field is what culminated in SGB victory.

Trivia:

1. Major Kal'rin, leader of the batarian forces that attacked General Chu's base, is referenced in this chapter and how his actions have inevitably caused humanity to gain a vital edge in the fight. See how all chapters, or rather their events effect others? Everything is connected!

2. The SGB leader, Colonel Morgunov underwent a few changes. Originally he was a Major and was intended to be named Kamarov before being switched to Petrovsky until finally settling with being a Colonel and named after the Russian general in H.A.W.X 2.

3. If you notice every faction has displayed a bit of their mistrust and/or hidden schemes. Williams had hidden bunkers, it was heavily implied Parker had spies in less than sanctioned places, Chu had a Thermobaric missile under his base, and the SGB had smuggled in a dozen Tzar bombs. Even the Enforcers had their EMP missiles in case anything went wrong.

4. If you've paid attention, all of Endwar game types have been covered: Siege, Conquest, Raid, and Battle have all had their chapters.

5. Morgunov's speech was inspired by the Commissar in Downfall from Call of Duty World at War.

6. If you notice what one SGB soldier commented about the size of batarian tanks, that is a reference to an actual line in Endwar where playing and beating the SGB as the JSF will have you hear your C.O comment about the Russians needing bigger tanks.

7. Ban's Condition Yellow was inspired by Order 66 in Star Wars. Now you all know why he is such a dangerous individual.

8. If you paid close attention each faction has made a reference to their elite counterparts: the JSF and the deadly 15th Special Operations battalion, the Enforcers with their elite Battle Group 1, the NCRA and their dedicated 8th Homeguard division, and finally the SGB and their ruthless Alpha Guard brigade.

9. The phrase on the Russian Tzar bombs was added a few days prior to the release of chapter 13 or Return of the Dragon as it is titled and is a direct reference to the much beloved 1963 James Bond film.

10. The title is a reference to the 2001 Enemy at the Gates film. Glory for the Motherland!