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

15. Chapter 15 - The Reclamation has begun

1-2-2157 1444 hours (Alliance standard calendar)

New Denver

Shanxi

N7 Strike Force

The orange-dyed sunset blazed behind the massive aerial fleet, turning their hard edges into molten fire, flying towards the city. The armada easily surpassed their terrestrial counterparts, an army of over six thousand vehicles and nigh thirty thousand infantry. Their steady tramp, indomitable, unstoppable, could be seen as a visual tremor on still bodies of water. Between the two dealers of death, the city came into view, displaying the silhouettes of destroyed buildings. Xian and Martel bombers danced above the skeletons of past glories, viciously lancing alien infestations with fire. Smoke and dust clouded the air as more buildings crumbled to the ground in their wake. Stingers and Tridents, metallic streaks flashing through the air, fought with an enraged fury, forcing enemy interceptors off of their bombers with mixed success.

In tacit acknowledgement of that fact, batarian AA fire began flying through the air, threading the atmosphere with trails of destruction before the shuttles had even made it within the city limits. Entire squadrons of gunships and shuttles detonated, their metal carcasses plummeting to the ground as missiles and heavy rounds penetrated their barriers. Their eezo readings gave batarian SAMs a target to lock onto with extreme prejudice. Alliance pilots quickly activated their radar and electronic countermeasures to secure a higher chance of surviving, each individual squadron dispersing from each other like a swarm of furious wasps.

One shuttle deviated from the main flock, diverting a tiny portion of the bodies pouring into New Denver … or what was left. A tiny dot, compared to the oncoming horde, but no less important – or deadly. In response to the incoming fire, the forward Mass Accelerators of the Kodiak began to spin up, whining aggressively as ordnance painted the skyline in hues of flame.

Inside the shuttle's cabin, the five members of Alpha squad buckled in for what they knew was going to be an exhilarating ride. Commander Hower made one last inspection of his team, unable to stop it any more than he could hold back the tide of soldiers flooding New Denver. He and his five N7 marines carried high priority orders to either capture or kill the now identified Colonel Garak, commander of the local batarian ground forces. Their combat-readiness would make or break the mission; and of such missions battles were won.

Due to losses suffered during their first missions of the war, N7 squads had either been consolidated or reformed into new squads. Frost and Velasquez were old members of his team and Hower felt nostalgia, watching them secure their gear next to their seats. He then eyed the two new additions to his squad, Sergeant Stenzke and Lieutenant Bellec. Bellec had been an obvious replacement for Anderson, who was still critically injured, while Stenzke … well not many squads were keen on accepting a volatile force such as her. The two acted in a professional manner, though, securing their own gear and performing an ad hoc inventory.

Commander Hower closed his eyes, taking advantage of the last few minutes of relative peace. As the leader of what remained of the N7 Strike Force on Shanxi, the mission was more than just a simple bag and tag. To him, this was retribution for the countless lives lost during the nightmare. Twenty-four N7 operatives, marines one and all, had died under his command with another sixteen critically wounded. Of the original sixty at his command, only a third were still combat capable and taking part in the main assault. His squad was fortunate enough to be selected for yet another suicide mission, this one revolving around a high ranking enemy officer.

Hower checked his dossier, compiled from a source General Williams had only smirked at revealing. Colonel Garak had been instrumental in the war, in charge of the attack and subsequent capture of New Denver. It was noted that he was a highly decorated tactician, and was responsible for leading the batarian elite shock troopers: The Batarian External Forces. Their tactics had been brutally effective, crushing opposition despite a resistance approaching manic fervor; certainly it would not behoove to underestimate the man.

Every skill Hower had learned in his career led up to this point. Like all N7 Marines, he had been taught in the art of war, his body extensively drilled for combat to the point where it was not nearly instinctual, but a form of life. His gear and training augmented his skills, elevating him to near super human levels. Yet for all of his experience, the years spent in the force, he was still human – still vulnerable, and more than capable of making mistakes.

Hower's breathing steadied, his thoughts focused on the mission.

His foes were estimated to number over twenty thousand, with ten thousand vehicles and aircraft, far exceeding the allied forces. The mission was one of desperation, much like the allied invasion of Normandy during WWII. It was one hell of a gamble, but if pulled off, it would mean the liberation of Shanxi – or at the very least a secured status.

On the plus side, there were rumors that Alliance reinforcements were about to arrive, as soon as the next day. Hower didn't know what to think, but at least the tales gave hope. The batarians couldn't hope to match the population for quantity, but their military strength outnumbered the allied armies by a significant margin thanks to their fleet above the planet, holding it hostage to bombardment.

Fortunately, said fleet was intel-dead; multiple pre-emptive strikes had taken out most of their communication arrays outside of the city's limits. Those few sensor stations that remained, heavily fortified by enemy troops, were being constantly jammed by every AI and VI humanity had available. Recon teams had reported batarian movements, shifting large numbers of people captured along the east coast to this very city, the sight of humanity's first and worst loss in the war. The allied forces were ordered, if possible, to rescue as many civilians as they could, to at least salvage something from this abysmal hell.

Another high priority for the main force was the capture of any remaining operational defenses, using them as a shield from batarian orbital retaliation. This was another part of the gamble; with New Denver secured, the batarians on the ground could retreat only to the ocean while their space-born allies would be unable to retaliate into this sector of the colony. Deprived of that advantage, the war would turn in humanity's favor; however success relied heavily upon the successful completion of multiple objectives, including that of one Colonel Garak.

The moment the Kodiak entered the city, it was immediately assaulted by anti-air flak from mobile AAs. The pilot adjusted the shuttle's flight path, maneuvering at angles Hower wouldn't be able to remember, using the remains of skyscrapers as cover. The shuttle's kinetic barriers provided additional protection from the enemy's AA fire, but a straight hit could gut the shuttle like a fish.

Sergeant Stenzke, not one to let a moment of retaliation pass by, opened one of the side-bay doors and began unloading 30mm fire upon any enemy unfortunate enough to stray across her sights. It wasn't easy considering the amount of incoming fire, serving more as minimal suppressing fire on enemy infantry. Regardless, Stenzke's efforts singled out enemy troop positions for allied ground forces.

The shuttle continued to move deeper into the city, gyrating through the maelstrom, fighting just to stay in the air while avoiding AA fire. Hower peered out of the Kodiak and saw burning bodies and vehicles, shattered debris everywhere, and hundreds of armored figures of human soldiers moving alongside the rumbling of their vehicles.

The air suddenly began to vibrate, a consistent rolling thunderclap that shook Hower to his bones. Vapor trails began decorating the horizon, signaling the roaring fire of batarian artillery. It was not shocking the weapons bore the name 'Voice of Kings.' He looked ahead and saw the outlines of batarian vehicles and troops moving towards the Alliance marines. The Kodiak may not have had the best of armaments, but thankfully it still had some.

"Stenzke pick your targets!" Hower yelled.

With a crisp salute, Stenzke realigned the Kodiak's turret to target the approaching batarians, a feral grin growing. The shuttle shook under the force of her fusillade, the turret's dampers barely keeping their motion level.

Gleefully, Hower saw a small stretch of area erupting itself with puffs of flying dirt, concrete shards exploding out of the ground while the contrails of wailing rounds descended upon the batarian advance.

Stenzke wasted some ammunition upon a decaying section of a building, but her efforts caused it to fall upon several batarians. Hower noted a grin on her face, eyes focused on the spectacle. Silently, he resolved to never get on her bad side; the follow-up would be exciting, but surviving her initial wrath would be … challenging.

He glanced back, looking for threats. To his relief, he only saw multiple shuttles hovering over the area, deploying more strike teams before disengaging. Tanks rolled down the street, firing on the enemy targets further down the road. But Hower's shuttle continued to streak past them onto their objective. His helmet began clicking quietly in his ear, updating information as it came in. He concentrated on the data stream.

Nearing the city's destroyed spaceport; Hower stood and faced the warriors under his command. "Weapons ready. We have a target lock on the LZ, but drones picked up signatures of a few teams of batarians," his grip shifted, tightening on his rifle. "Be advised, these are not the measly pirates you've faced before, but highly trained shock troopers, if I had to guess. Be ready for anything."

Acknowledgement came, if not in unison, then in enthusiastic forms. The pleasant rattle of hardware, the dull clack of a long barrel, was like the sound of a string quartet warming up before a concert. Only time would tell if this was their swan song, or the next greatest hit.

Hower took the last few seconds to survey the surroundings. Ruined buildings provided excellent cover for snipers or forward spotters. The debris also made it difficult for aircraft to locate enemy AA guns or armor. If the batarians were intelligent, Hower would have bet that they'd set up anti-tank mines and ambushes along narrow passes to slow a full-scale Alliance's advance. It was clear by the scene before him that a stealth insertion was optimal; a large force would be incapable of getting far without coming under attack from either artillery or aircraft. Not to mention that speed was of the essence.

The Kodiak slowed as it approached its destination, decreasing its altitude in a single gliding motion. Without the slightest hesitation, all five N7 jumped, the small thrusters on their combat boots minimizing the fall. Joining their fall was a five meter tall mechanical monstrosity, one of the few present on Shanxi. All N7 marines easily reached the ground without injuries; unfortunately the shuttle could not say the same. Before it could even clear the spaceport, a missile salvo shot from the port's barely intact tower, smoke trails writing doom in the sky before impacting the shuttle. The magnitude was far more than the shuttle's defenses could withstand; and the missiles tore through its midsection like tinfoil.

"Shit this is, KS-34, We're going down! I repeat we're going down!" The pilot screeched into her radio as the shuttle struggled to remain leveled. The last specks of the Kodiak Hower could see was it having its front section in a vertical alignment, the worst possible situation for any shuttle. A sudden explosion signaling the shuttle's crash landing ended all further transmission.

Within moments, an entire company of batarian soldiers emerged from the ruins, immediately surrounding the N7 squad. Within seconds they opened fire on the N7 squad. Bellec quickly created a barrier around the squad, granting precious moments as they scrambled for cover

"Everyone get back!" Hower bellowed. The squad dispersed, finding cover in the spaceport's ruins. It was easy to see the elite soldiers were a threat, although what methods were used was beyond Hower's ken.

Frost deployed a few smoke grenades to cover them, what good that did. Specific targets were occluded, but these were highly trained combatants, probably with thermal instruments.

"Hey you fuckin four-eyes, still pissed about us destroying your buddies?" Stenzke taunted. Even without a proper translator, the intent came across. The end result had the batarians becoming even more aggressive, particularly towards her position. The fire focused exclusively in her direction increased, pinning the N7 marine.

"You just had to piss them off," Bellec complained. His voice was hoarse, shouting over the sound of gunfire.

"Wouldn't be fun if I didn't," Stenzke shouted back.

Frost joined in from the other side. "So much for our stealth mission,"

"Actually I think this is one of our better stealth missions. We haven't seen any enemy aircraft yet," Velasquez interjected. Her Lancer spat a high-velocity stream at an incautious batarian, forcing him to dodge, right into Stenzke's volley.

"Cut the chatter," Hower snapped. "Check for targets, and keep your heads down. Velasquez, get that mech online. Bellec cover her with a biotic field; Stenzke and Frost, pick your targets and concentrate fire on my go."

"Affirmative." The engineer replied. Her fingers twitched in anticipation, stretching forward as the biotic field shimmered into existence around her.

"Everyone else ready?" Hower questioned; it was like watching a pack of attack dogs, straining at their restraints. He was glad he wasn't the rabbit. "NOW!" His Lancer's barrel threw sparks like a wildfire.

The rest of his squad followed his orders to near perfection, Frost and Stenzke opened fire in earnest while Bellec focused on the blue sphere around Velasquez. The petite engineer under his protection sprinted across the kill zone, the field around her absorbing much of the fire sent in her direction.

Getting back into cover, Hower watched as she reached the mech, its huge frame giving her a generous amount of cover. The enemy, seeming to realize the menace that was the monstrous machine, concentrated all their heavy fire support on it. To Hower's great relief, the range was too great for most of the batarian's fire to reach it, with the sole exception of snipers.

The more conventional fire was focused on the main squad, however. A shower of mass accelerated slugs met the N7 squad; their shields forcing them take tremendous abuse. Yet the Alliance squad moved like a well-oiled machine, smoothly popping over cover, covering their corners and taking up the slack at every point. For his own part, Hower concentrated on short bursts, forcing advancing batarians into cover while Stenzke focused her Valkyrie's devastating shot-clusters upon the closest batarians, her tight groupings penetrating shield and armor alike.

To one side, he could see Frost concentrate sniper fire on the more prominent figures, breaking up the coordinated offensive. Every shot from his Valiant had a significant effect, whether by killing its target or throwing panic in the back ranks.

Bellec by comparison was a veritable demon, throwing biotic attacks to distract and debilitate, causing pain at every opportunity. Unlike the forces that had manned the corvette, these were far better trained, switching fire to target the lieutenant, forcing him back into cover. His mere presence was a game-changer, despite the setback, ensuring the batarians remain cautious.

As her fellow members of Alpha squad took to battle, Velasquez ducked behind the tall mech, using her suit's onboard computer to interface with the metal giant's systems. So far, both she and the inactive machine had been discounted by most of the batarians, their attention occupied by the more active N7s. The heavy fire aimed in her direction felt almost casual, an afterthought. She looked up, distracted as something clicked under her fingers, granting the engineer immediate access to the mech's internal systems. They hummed to life at her touch; if anyone had been able to see, a feral grin spread across her face, beneath her helmet. Once power was granted to the robotic construct, the playing field became a much more level exchange.

The 34-A model YMIR mech, or more commonly known as the Heavy Mech, was a massive killing machine designed for anti-infantry purposes. Heavily armored and shielded, the YMIR possessed twin automatic mass accelerator cannons embedded within its right arm, while the other fielded a rocket launcher. The important thing to note, however, was in how its back housed a 140mm Emperor Artillery cannon courtesy of the NCRA. It was quite possibly the closest thing mankind would ever reach in creating the mythical goal of a Terminator.

Before the batarians could respond to the changing situation, the YMIR's newly activated processors had sequenced the situation, and unleashed its full might upon them. Both arms erupted, letting loose a barrage of rounds and rockets on the batarians. The artillery piece on its back shifted and spat shells, targeting what its limited intelligence decided was the most consistent heavy-scale attacks. A huge crater appeared on the sniper's tower; molten metal and orange flesh mixed with debris splattering everywhere.

The batarians separated, bringing forward missile and grenade launchers while attempting to form a shield wall out of suppressive fire. Missiles soon roared over the area, targeting the heavy mech with extreme prejudice while throwing a constant grenade rain to keep any N7 offensive to a minimum. The armor piercing rounds began punching through the outer-armor of the YMIR while gaping holes began appearing in the N7s cover.

"That mech isn't going to last for much longer!" Frost hollered.

"I'm on it!" Bellec responded, creating another biotic field. The dome encircled the area in front of the N7's, spreading to include the mech as well, if barely.

Hower soon realized what the adept was doing, and immediately keyed the HUD command, sending the entire squad over the rubble. "Everyone up, close in and give 'em hell!" All five members obeyed, exposing themselves completely with only the biotic's barrier to protect them.

"Bellec, I'll hold the field." Stenzke, the stronger biotic shifted her stance, raising one hand. "Take my Valkyrie, but I swear to god if you drop it I will kill you!"

The volatile biotic created another barrier while Bellec dropped his, already somewhat fatigued from the effort. He took Stenzke's weapon, clicking its grenade launcher into position while expertly ignoring her threats. It was far easier to simply line up shots.

"Alright squad, move!" Hower ordered, firing a concussive shot at the enemy. The central tower, ground zero of the batarian defenses, was suddenly abused – a veritable storm of grenades, missiles, and artillery shells pounding it beyond its original design. Both the YMIR and Frost concentrated on countering the snipers while the rest of the squad engaged the infantry. Roaring assault rifles met each other openly, hundreds of deflected rounds littering the ground while the distance between both sides shrank.

The batarians continued to fire missiles and grenades, proving their training; explosions drained barriers much faster than simple small arms fire - albeit at the cost of more expensive munitions. They were right as Stenzke struggled to maintain the field in the face of such offensive firepower. It was somewhat entertaining to Hower, listening to her curses on the manufacture of the YMIR as it trudged at a snail's pace.

He momentarily considered leaving the mechanical contraption behind – along with its slow pace – until another artillery shell ejected from its back-mounted fieldpiece. The shell impacted the center of the tower, the same cratered area that it had struck before. The tall building began to shudder, chunks of it raining down before the immense structure finally toppled. It hung in the air for a brief moment, and as the N7s continued to watch, slowly acquiesced to gravity's call, slamming into ground with a world-shaking roar, fracturing and collapsing under its own weight.

Debris and dust completely covered the area, preventing anyone from seeing a foot in front of them. Thankfully the N7s carried specialized gear that allowed them to see through the brown shroud engulfing the spaceport.

"Let's move people!" Hower ordered, guiding his squad into the morass. The mech had no issues walking through the dust storm, aside from its already-noted slow pace.

"Commander, what about the rest of the enemy?" Velasquez asked.

"If any of them survived, they've already left," Frost answered, goggles glowing red in a typical sign of a heat signature scan. "It seems they're using the slight dust storm as cover to fall back. If they warn the rest of their friends I think we're going to need more firepower."

"That's good then." Stenzke smiled. If one could see under her helmet, they would see she was completely drowned in sweat, not out of worry, but of combat fatigue. "The more we kill today, the less we kill tomorrow."

"Assuming there is one." Frost chided morosely

The N7 squad managed to reach the downed tower in minimal time; it was a substantial feat, considering the vastly changed terrain. A city filled with collapsed buildings tended to do that.

As they rested for a moment, the cloud of dust dispersed into the wind, giving the squad much more visibility. Where once had been a peaceful industrialized city, a technological wonder to behold, was now a horrific urban battlefield where batarians and humans were killing each other as fast as possible. The city itself had long since died like most of its inhabitants, but Hower couldn't mourn, he didn't have time to, they had a mission and he would personally see to its completion.

They entered an alley, hoping to create a short-cut to their destination: city hall. The journey was more hazardous than it would have been during the city's golden years. The abbreviated route cut through a side-street, flanked by the remains of group-residential buildings. Despite the shorter distance, the danger was greater. Enemy surveillance was higher, and patrols were more frequent; hence the necessity for Hower's squad. Even with all the data collected, specifically an extra two dozen expensive drones sacrificed to gain intelligence, it would still be highly challenging.

Like the ancient wars that had once rocked France in previous centuries, the majority of the roads were blocked with debris, and kill-zones abounded in the re-engineered chaos. No ground-based vehicle could pass through, leaving the infantry as the primary unit. Hower suspected Alliance engineers would either have to blow a way through the debris, or construct an artificial bridge using specialized vehicles. The N7 squad had neither, which meant that unless the wall of concrete and stone was scalable, they would have to find another way around.

The side alley contained mundane things; a large dumpster, rubble, and a few bits of trash dropped by passing military. The latter object caught Hower's attention, prompting him to investigate. The VI within his helmet conducted a quick scan, mapping its surfaces as he rotated the object; tiny specks of light appeared then vanished. In seconds information was displayed on his HUD, indicating that the item to be some sort of neural implant.

"Seems the squints are leaving behind some of their toys," Hower commented, studying the alien device. "The techies will love this." Putting the device within a pouch, the commander signaled for his men to follow. The squad advanced slowly, cautious of opposing forces, a contradictory behavior, compared to the main force still charging through the city behind him. Ruined apartments flanked the N7s, displaying what once was, heightening their caution.

"And to think, nearly seventy thousand people used to live in this city," Frost muttered. Sorrow filled his voice.

"We can rebuild buildings, but we can't bring the dead back to life," Velasquez replied, just as solemnly.

Stenzke growled at that. "We can repay the batarians, though, or die trying."

"Everyone quiet!" Hower whispered as the noise of loud booming filled the air. With hand signals, Hower managed to arrange the squad to advance in quick order. Stacking against the wall, they quietly approached the exit of the alley, stopping just short of the end.

The commander brought his team to a halt, slightly pushing his head out of the alley to get a visual of what was causing the noise. He saw multiple batarian artillery vehicles firing their main guns, likely engaging Alliance forces kilometers away. Squads of batarians infested the area, probably either relaying target positions or resupplying before heading out to the front lines. A few IFVs and transports also stood on guard for any head-on assault, a heavy deterrent for when the Alliance main column finally came through.

Hower cursed. His squad didn't have enough firepower to take out the entire position, but he hated the idea of not doing anything. The ground underneath him suddenly began to vibrate and he turned around to see the YMIR approach, its feet clanking against the pavement. Hower cursed the machine in his mind, wondering if the mech had given away their position. A quick glance around the corner set his worries at ease; the batarians remained ignorant of the force hiding under their noses.

He glanced over his people. The squad was risking their lives just as much as he; they deserved a say in their fate. "Okay, we have to choices. Option one, we sneak across, though the mech will be the hard to disguise. Or two, we can fight our way through."

"I vote for bulldozing our way across," Stenzke replied. Hower wasn't exactly surprised; a bit exasperated, but not surprised; Stenzke was consistent if nothing else. He was a bit more curious about the other members, seeing as he didn't know their mindsets.

"Commander, why not do both?" Frost's perplexing statement raised eyebrows across the squad.

"What I mean is, why not blow the artillery pieces and sneak across? I can plant demolition charges and move unseen with my cloak, and it would be a great diversion."

"That could work, but do you have enough to destroy the rest of the vehicles as well?" Bellec asked.

Frost shook his head. "I'm hoping the artillery will cause a chain reaction, catch the rest in a wildcat explosion. If not, then at least the marines will have some breathing room."

Hower frowned; he was less than happy at not eliminating the entire batarian position; but Frost's proposal was probably the wisest course of action. "Right then, we'll run with it. Cover Frost, and wait for the boom."

The N7 infiltrator activated his cloak, fading into the background like a mirage before moving into the morass. Before he'd even gone five steps, Hower lost sight of his form; in ten, he couldn't distinguish the moving debris from where his infiltrator had moved. If it weren't for the marine's signature on the HUD, Hower would have had no way of tracking him.

The commander watched as the infiltrator's signature neared the artillery, the roar of their guns disguising the sound of footsteps. It stayed there for a few minutes before moving onto the next, repeating its actions until each artillery emplacement had been visited. Hower watched as Frost's signature then moved away from the batarian position, heading directly for an area across from him. Once there he could see Frost deactivate his cloak, and motion for the squad to advance.

"Bellec, Velasquez, you two move up. Stenzke and I will cover you," Hower whispered. The two marines gave a nod, cautiously moving towards Frost, exposing themselves in the process. It was a standard maneuver within the military, covering while another advanced. However, it would seem luck was not on their side. A batarian from within one of the mobile-artillery units picked that very moment to disembark from his vehicle, most likely to either stretch his legs or order a resupply. His shocked eyes were focused solely on the two N7s trying to make their way across undetected. He instantaneously began shouting in his alien tongue, warning his fellow soldiers.

"Frost!" Hower shouted.

"I know!"

Before the batarian force could respond, Hower saw Frost's hand twitch. A dull roar erupted next to the mobile-artillery; ceramic armor and molten metal blasting apart in a magnificent pyrotechnic display, incinerating many exposed infantry in a shower of death. A few vehicles with exposed fuel cells, or were in the moment of receiving a refueling, were instantly detonated in the ensuing blast, reducing the batarian's ability to properly counter to nil.

"Engage!" Hower yelled into his pickup. Bellec and Velasquez surged forwards avoiding being caught out in the open. The entire N7 squad opened fire, accelerated slugs filling the smoky air. A batarian died instantly, bullets stabbing through its chest and the blazing of human projectiles drowning out the hiss of incinerated metal. Hower's ears ached under the roar of gunfire as he fired his own rifle at an enemy trooper. The soldier's armor erupted under the force of a concussion shot before his skin was annihilated underneath. He fell to the floor screaming and bleeding, with little chance of survival.

The YMIR then trudged out of the alley, mowing down entire squads with its turrets before switching to its missile launchers for crowd control. The mech's payload shot forth, undisturbed and unrivaled before slamming into the batarians ranks. Two unfortunate troopers fell to the ground with one missing a chunk of its head while the other had its blood pouring out of its body like a water slide. The shockwave alone blew holes throw the batarian ranks, tossing soldiers onto the ground like tumbleweeds.

Hower could hear the aliens communicating in their multiple tongues, rough and incomprehensible, but all seeming to make sense to each other. He assumed that they were going to target the mech since it posed the largest threat, but sadly he was mistaken. Ramming out of the debris was a batarian tank destroyer, its main gun realigning to engage the Alliance N7s.

"Get back!" Hower screeched, throwing himself flat on his belly just as a jet of fire gushed over him. The thunder of the vehicle's gun dominated the air, like a gladiator in an arena. The first shot had impacted near Hower's position, nearly killing him and Stenzke in the process, but oddly not doing any damage. Confused, he looked back, and was both relieved and shocked to see a barrier snuggled protectively around the mech.

If the machine were capable of emotions, Hower would have assumed it to be quite furious; the menacing optics glared madder red, the very image of rage. The YMIR almost casually lowered itself, bringing its artillery piece to bear on the batarian vehicle, firing off a massive shell downrange. The mech bucked heavily as the main gun was brought to life, creating a miniature dust-bowl. The destroyer's main barriers had been depleted by Frost's charges, granting the vehicle minimal chance of surviving the 140mm shell. Amazingly, however the result was much different.

The destroyer had apparently reloaded another slug into its main cannon, impressive speed for such a vehicle; they must have been very eager to destroy the heavy mech. This was made obvious as the moment the mech's shell impacted the destroyer as the tank had just barely managed fired its main cannon. Unfortunately for the destroyer, the impact of the YMIR's shell caused the tank to flip almost in a complete roll, resulting in the destroyer's slug launching off target. With its underbelly exposed, the destroyer proved helpless as the YMIR mercilessly unloaded both turret and missile fire. In seconds the vehicle bursts into flames, tracks and armor crunching into smaller pieces.

Hower gave a sigh of relief, the batarian position was destroyed. The next moment was devoted to running, as he and Stenzke sprinted across the gap dividing the two fire-teams. Their hope to regroup with their comrades was diminished as sudden mass accelerator fire splattered against his shields from the opposite direction.

"Get to cover now!" The commander barked as he and the staff sergeant quickly dashed into cover. The snarling roar of the batarians was easily heard in the firefight, Hower was pleased his escape from their wrath agitated them. The enemy was at most platoon-sized, light infantry mixed with rocket troopers, mostly likely meant to act as support. Hower assumed seeing the N7 squad standing over the piles of their dead did not make them the least bit happy.

Stenzke fired her Valkyrie at a building, causing chucks of concrete to come spilling down. Catching on to what the staff sergeant was thinking, Bellec used his own biotics, diverting the falling debris onto strategic areas. It wasn't deployed on the batarians themselves, since they were too far away for Bellec to carry such a load; however, he was able to give Stenzke and Hower some badly needed cover.

Hower, himself didn't have time to thank the lieutenant, becoming preoccupied with the advancing enemy force. He waited for half a second, and then leaned from behind cover, leveling his Viper at the first enemy he saw. His sniper rifle kicked multiple times, the recoil slamming against his shoulder. He spent a valuable moment watching as the alien's head shattered the moment the rounds collided with flesh.

Stenzke's fire was a lot less accurate, her Typhoon compensating by firing off hundreds of rounds per minute. Thankfully her gun maintained a large stock of heat sinks, giving the weapon its notorious high rate of fire. She was managing to pin an entire squad by herself, an impressive feat. The YMIR took residence near her, sensing some sort of bond over the carnage both were releasing.

To one side, Frost maintained his cool, firing his Valiant in a precision exhibition – attempting to reduce the enemy's number before they closed in. Bellec did the same with his Lancer, firing in longer bursts. Velasquez took a few seconds to activate her attack drone, sending it targets before equipping her assault rifle.

The drone did its job, harassing the enemy infantry with electrical arcs. One batarian got rid of the pest by firing a missile at it, completely destroying it in the process. It was clearly over-kill, though Hower doubted very much the batarian cared.

"Well it looks like they killed your toy," Bellec told the engineer.

"Bastards, just can't help themselves now can they?" Velasquez responded. She continued to mutter under her breath, "Mental note, upgrade shields soon."

"Shit, here comes some more!" A slightly panicked shout came over the roar of battle. The shout had come from, surprisingly, Stenzke; anything that caused her to become anxious was more than enough to unsettle the rest of the squad.

"Well it looks like it's our old friends," Hower declared, squinting to recognize the insignia on the batarian soldiers' armor through his sniper scope. These were the same ones that had been holed up in the city's spaceport and it looked like they wanted a rematch. He grinned. The N7 squad would be happy to oblige them.

Hower rose and quickly sighted the batarian troops, his Viper kicking three times in rapid succession. Two batarians fell while another two dove for cover. An enemy rocket trooper fired off a missile, missing the commander by a dangerously close margin. Hower ducked behind cover again and ejected another heat sink, the sound of the YMIR firing off its main cannon preventing him from thinking clearly.

'These soldiers are obviously trained, so why would they meet us head-on with the mech still in play?' Hower was greatly unsettled by the scenario, but wasn't able to find any solid deductions. Forced to shove those thoughts to the back of his head, he emerged once again out of cover. The moment he did so, white hot pain shot through Hower's left arm as an armor-piercing slug hit home, surging through his bicep. The burning pain froze up every nerve and muscle in his body and Hower realized at that instant that his shields had been depleted and he had recklessly avoided letting them recharge.

"Commander, are you alright?" Stenzke questioned.

"I'm fine. Just a flesh wound," He grunted. Underneath his armor, Hower felt the all too familiar sensation of medi-gel being applied to his injuries, incidentally buying him the time he needed to think. Batarian soldiers were scattered around the street ahead, moving by fire-teams with each covering the other. They'd brought in their own snipers, preventing any of the human marines from exposing themselves for too long. Heavy machine gunners ripped apart Hower's cover, throwing dust and chipped stone into the air. Under the cover of this storm of death the enemy's light infantry advanced, supplemented by biotic and tech specialists.

The only thing keeping them back was the unstoppable war machine that was the YMIR, its weapons purging the enemy from existence. The entire firefight revolved around the mech with batarians trying to take it out and the N7s trying desperately to keep it alive. Anytime its shields would collapse, the Alliance squad's biotics would create a barrier around it until its shields recharged. It greatly annoyed the enemy, but as Hower evaluated the situation he knew sooner or later his squad would make a mistake.

Already the enemy troops were swarming in the streets ahead, avoiding any unnecessary casualties as they maneuvered and set up turrets which only amplified their firepower. Missile fire was cutting past overhead and the storm just kept intensifying.

"Sir, as much as I would enjoy going down fighting, I would prefer to experience another decade of combat," Stenzke hollered, alternating between firing her machine gun and using her biotics. She had even used Arrete multiple times, sending the enemy's rounds back at them. It did a good job of momentarily suppressing them, but like the rest of the squad Stenzke was running out of steam.

"Don't worry sergeant, I don't plan on using dying here." Hower immediately got on his radio, switching the channel's frequency. "Command, this is alpha squad, we are in need of fire support on our position! We're heavily outgunned and our mech can't take much more punishment!"

---

New Denver

Shanxi

MS-32 Lotus Command Vehicle

"Strike elements are within spotting distance of the target," Colonel Matthews reported. After having been absent for most of the fighting, Matthews was unwilling to miss out on the second battle of New Denver. Despite what General Williams would say, Matthews felt as if he had abandoned the general, whether it was to manage logistics or no. When he had heard news of Williams gathering a large force to reclaim New Denver, he had gone through hell trying to contact the general and explain to the man why he would be needed. In the end he had persuaded the general, hence how he'd found himself standing beside the man as history was practically made.

General Williams nodded, eyeing the interface positioned within the center of the vehicle. Before him hovered a dozen holograms, displaying feeds from various units advancing through the outer reaches of the city. An image pulled his attention from within the map, a sullen view of a massive crater, denoting where the enemy corvette had gone down. It was a reminder Williams wished to avoid: one of his greatest failures. The downed vessel had forced both sides to maneuver around since the area was impossible to navigate.

His command center was abuzz with activity, the room filled with technicians and analysts, numerous holo-grams glowing in their faces. Williams took it in with practiced ease, absorbing the pertinent information and calling up casualty reports and confirming logistics. Thus far, the human force had suffered hundreds of losses as they'd moved into the city, but those were nothing compared to the number of civilians that had been slaughtered.

Thousands were murdered, tossed into mass graves and left to rot. The majority of losses were either the elderly or the wounded, while it was presumed those that were healthy were guided further into the city. Williams could see hundreds of enemy shuttles soaring towards space, escaping with untold numbers of innocent people. As much as he wanted to bombard the airfields being used to load the civilians like cattle, the enemy's AA guns were too numerous while the shuttles themselves were routinely escorted by enemy aircraft. He hated not being able to stop the airlift, but he couldn't sacrifice soldier's lives in vain. Instead he committed to rescuing those held in stadiums or large complexes that could still be saved.

It took everything Williams had to focus on the positives, what little there were. He remembered the early phase of the assault and how it had given the Alliance a much needed moral boost. Thanks to the efforts of Lieutenant Commander Yao and several other strike teams, the outskirts had fallen swiftly with minimal casualties. Hundreds of civilians had been rescued from enemy concentration camps, further evidence of the war crimes committed by the batarians – more fuel for the burning rage he knew would become an inferno in Alliance space.

The second phase of the assault had begun shortly thereafter with the entire human force splitting into three sections. The majority of human armor was composed of NCRA Barracudas and Makos, which were tied up to the west in the middle of a metal grinder with the majority of the enemy's armor battalions. The SGB armor columns in the area reigned supreme, even in the one scenario hostile to heavy tank. They were practically unrivaled; showcasing humanity's armor superiority. Their job was simple: keep the enemy's armor from encircling the entire human force.

He pulled the view back, gaining a larger overview. Miniature figures flickered across the projector's surface, showing different units. NCRA, SGB, JSF or E.F; they all had brought the formidable focus of their respective gifts to bear on a single target. It almost made Williams sorry for when the Big Four began their actual war machine, dedicated against the batarians in their own worlds. He shook himself from such thoughts, concentrating back on the screen.

To the east rolled another combined armored and mechanized infantry forces composed mostly of the JSF and Enforcer militaries. The two large forces were lead by Generals Parker and Bando, both effectively coordinating their groups into highly lethal vectors. Their objective was to use their stealth and urban warfare capabilities to destroy as many of the enemy's AA sites so additional troops could be airlifted further into the city.

The Federation's air force was doing an admirable job of keeping their losses to a minimum; but their strike range capabilities were very limited. Gunships had to fly below buildings to avoid getting decimated, but at the same time they were greatly exposed to enemy rocket troopers within skyscrapers. And always, the militia units scattered throughout the chaos were ordered to hit exposed weak-points with everything they had.

His own advanced units were rolling forward, engaging Hegemony armor and infantry amidst the various business districts and apartment complexes while engineering crews established forward strongholds, and routes for the main force. The Alliance had even begun establishing their own artillery positions and defense guns to give aid to his allies both in the air and on the ground.

Already two Hegemony supply outposts and a barracks complex had been taken by the marines, capturing dozens of batarians. They had been rounded up in a prisoner security detail and placed with heavy protection. Williams had given personal orders to not harm the prisoners. Any scrap of data they held was potentially worth entire colonies, ensuring better defenses and attack patterns … but that would come later.

He frowned. With his troops gaining more ground, Williams expected the Hegemony to stiffen their defenses soon enough, and that the easiest parts of the campaign were now quickly passing him by. To bring this conflict to a quick end, he needed his N7 strike teams to capture the enemy's head-quarters.

Despite himself, Williams was interested why Colonel Garak had chosen city hall; was it for practical reasons or to add further insult to the Alliance? He thought back to when his own head-quarters had been razed, becoming nothing more than slabs of metal and concrete. Prior to retreating, Williams had ordered every bit of sensitive data and information scrapped and any technology or weapons that couldn't be taken were either dismantled or rigged to exploded. The batarians had, unfortunately, been cautious, choosing to strike the base with bombers rather than sending in squads to loot the structure. He guessed they had learned their lesson with the spaceport. A pity.

Returning back to the present, Williams finished assessing the battle and after issuing orders to some of his reserve units, began designating landing zones. He would have continued neither relegating the battle if it were nor Colonel Matthews' interruption.

"Sir, we got a transmission coming in from one of our strike teams!"

"Put it on the line," Williams ordered.

The voice came in immediately, loudly blaring over the gunfire present in the background.

"Command, this is Commander Hower we need fire support on our position. Enemy troopers have got us pinned down, we can't maneuver, and our mech is taking a beating."

"Sounds like you stirred up a hornet's nest." Williams interjected.

"Compared to our first mission, this is nothing," Came the marine officer's reply over the roar of explosions. "This is just a stroll in park, but I would prefer if we could even the odds a bit."

"Well that is certainly saying something," Williams replied; the subordinate officer's humor was heartening, especially in the middle of battle. Signaling to a technician to bring up a new display, the general scanned for any units available for support. "Commander, I am redirecting a JSF platoon to your position."

"Affirmative, command. Be aware that the objective may already know we are coming." The commander's warning wasn't lost on Williams, who had already considered the possibility.

"Acknowledged, Strike team. The majority of my troops are still taking care of the main Hegemony presence, but the moment we manage to break through I want you to link up with a mixed battalion of troops to assault city hall. Its well fortified and we'll need every gun we have to take it."

"I copy command, over and out."

---

New Denver

Shanxi

N7 Strike Force

Commander Hower closed the link to command and turned to look down the street. The air overhead was split as a missile lanced past and the shockwave of its passing nearly threw the marine off of his feet. It slammed into the destroyed batarian artillery position behind the N7 squad.

Machine gun fire cut across the street as another batarian squad tried to maneuver across the battlefield. Missiles lanced out of the haze beyond the enemy squad, screaming through the dust and hammering the street. Shrapnel skipped off of Hower's armor, barely scratching the top layer. Rounds ripped through the air, cracking past the marine squad. Hower was thankful the miniscule, sand-sized rounds weren't able to ricochet off of the deflective structures; while formidable in their initial velocity, their tiny mass ended up squashing itself each time it hit something.

He heard a yell from the alley to his right, clearly alien but understandable through his helmets translator. He spun to get eyes on the target, dropping to one knee and raising his Lancer. Hower fired two short bursts before he could get a proper sight alignment on the target. Half a dozen of his rounds grazed the looming figure at the mouth of the alley as it raised its rifle.

The Hegemony soldier recoiled, ducking for cover and Hower's next burst caught the trooper in the hip. The enemy soldier tumbled out of sight just as two more appeared, firing as they came around the corner. Bullets slammed into the wall beside Hower and he crouched to avoid the incoming volley.

The YMIR, with its all seeing red eye, turned its body accordingly. The fast-paced gun blasts were then joined by the mech's own, with a slightly deeper pitch. The fire from the batarian's quickly slackened and Hower poked his head out to see the enemy soldiers firing down the street. It only lasted for a few more seconds before a missile launched from the YMIR engulfed the entire alley, vaporizing anything within it.

"Commander, any idea until our support shows up?" Stenzke asked, ejecting another heat sink form her Typhoon.

"I don't know, but we'll have to hold on until then," Hower replied. Checking his HUD, he was relieved none of his squad's injuries were serious. Each had multiple wounds, but the medi-gel in their armor quickly brought them up to fighting shape.

"Multiple squads advancing toward us," Velasquez called out. "Advancing by fire and maneuver."

"Return fire," Hower ordered, barely uttering out the words before Velasquez squeezed off two quick bursts from her Lancer.

Hower rose from behind cover and sighted down his Lancer's scope, zooming in on the Hegemony troops. Rounds cracked toward him and he fired a quick burst before dropping behind cover.

A few meters down, Frost let a burst loose from his Saber, then a second one followed by the chatter of Bellec's own Lancer. As they opened up, Hower rose again, sighting and firing another pair of bursts.

The sudden, staggered barrage of return fire caught several of the advancing batarian soldiers in the open. Hower killed one by firing at his torso, ripping it open and another dropped to the street as Frost's heavier shots tore through his lungs. The rest ducked, diving for cover as Stenzke's Typhoon sliced through the street, and fire from Velasquez picked targets and sent at least two more enemy's to their afterlife. The YMIR further added to the carnage, its missile launchers blasting apart batarians.

"Cover and advanced," Hower snapped over the radio, stilling his nerves as best he could. They needed to switch cover soon; their current one was almost completely disintegrated. "Velasquez, Stenzke move up."

The two N7 marines broke off their fire and started moving forward, Stenzke cutting straight ahead while Velasquez unleashed an incinerate attack followed by activating another drone. Both women bolted from whatever cover there was with precise fire from their squad mates keeping the batarian force down the street pinned in place.

"Commander, we have a problem," Frost hissed. The marksman fired again, barely missing an enemy sniper.

"What is-" Hower's words stopped in his mouth, becoming silent as he gazed through his augmented optics. "Damn it!"

"What?" Bellec asked, unaware what the two men found so disturbing.

"Special Intervention Unit!" Hower breathed. "SIU platoon, one hundred meters and closing! Stenzke, Velasquez fall back!"

It had become clear within the Alliance military that the Special Intervention Unit of the Hegemony were never to be taken lightly. Forged from a mixture of battlefield reports and first-hand accounts, SIU operatives were nearly on par with the Alliance's own N7. Not only did the SIU currently outnumber Hower's squad but they were bringing yet another one of the drill-like guns. Early reports indicated it to be some sort of portable anti-tank weapon, and Hower didn't feel safer considering they were nothing but infantry. None of the Alliance squad had any anti-tank weapons to take it out, their load-outs suitable only for deep strikes.

"Target the SIUs," Hower ordered over his radio.

He shoved whatever fear he held to the back of his mind and focused on getting his men through this scenario. The two men near him cut loose with their weapons while he unleashed a long, concentrated burst. Stenzke and Velasquez fell back, sprinting across open terrain. Normally this would be considered unprofessional behavior, but Hower had ordered the YMIR to advance. The mech would act as a decoy, giving the two retreating N7 marines some covering fire.

Hower had no idea if he had managed to hit any of the SIUs as they showed impressive intelligence by taking cover, activating cloaks, or acting barriers and portable shields. Within moments Hower's Lancer died out, the last heat sink ejecting with a final-sounding clatter. He switched over to his Locust, glad that the unusual accuracy of such a weapon came with powerful punch as well.

By now, Velasquez and Stenzke were incredibly close to reaching Hower's position. It would seem that they would make it intact, but fate was often a cruel mistress. Out of nowhere a sniper round emerged, the noise of the weapon firing dulled in the raging inferno. The shot collided with Stenzke, hitting her in the upper right shoulder.

"ARRGHH!" She grunted, stumbling to the ground from the force of the round and the pain.

"Stenzke!" Velasquez shouted. The normally composed engineer turned around and sprinted towards the fallen marine. When she reached the vanguard, Velasquez threw overload attacks combined with incinerate bursts.

The rest of the squad was covering them with everything they had, hoping it would be enough to keep them alive. The YMIR continued to fire its blaring guns, by now bypassing the two N7s. Its tall mechanical body shielded them from the batarians fire, its artillery gun firing creating a shroud of smoke in which the N7s could use.

"I'm alright, get yourself to safety," Stenzke argued, clutching her shoulder.

"I've heard that before." Velasquez countered. She quickly checked to make sure the onboard medical systems in Stenzke's armor had activated. When her diagnostic scan came up green, she helped the vanguard up. "Let's get back to cover."

"Agreed."

The two female N7s sprinted towards cover once again, all the strength their legs had propelling them at fast speeds even with the amount of gear they were carrying. Before the two N7s could cover the last sixteen meters, a combined biotic attack was suddenly thrown at them. A heavy warp impacted Velasquez's back, collapsing her shield and tearing the muscle tissue underneath her armor. She screamed in pain before falling towards the ground. With what little strength she had, Velasquez tried crawling towards cover.

Stenzke was suddenly lifted into the air and was a sitting duck to any batarian with a clear line of sight. Rounds impacted her armor and tore through her body, but even suspended in mid-air she was far from helpless. Shouting profanities at the enemy, Stenzke wildly fired her Typhoon determined to take as many of the four-eyed fuckers down with her as humanly possible. Luckily for her, the YMIR mech became the sole focus of the batarians as it was deemed the larger threat. The mech's raging rampage managed to actually save Stenzke as it delayed the enemy long enough for the lift attack to dissipate. The moment it did gravity kicked in, Stenzke plummeted to the ground from the height of six meters. The sound of bone being crushed was audible enough for every member of her squad to hear.

Seeing two of members of his squad on the ground helpless, Hower felt like a stone of bricks had suddenly fallen on him. "Move forward! Diamond formation!" He ordered taking point.

Frost and Bellec flanked him on his side as they quickly covered the distance between them and their first fallen member. Velasquez was dragged into cover and given only a small dose of pain killers before the rest of the squad sprinted towards Stenzke. The squad rapidly close the distance, reaching their fallen biotic in record time. Hoisting her up, Hower urgently led his squad back to cover. His heart was racing with anxiety. Even though he had survived countless ops, he didn't know if he and his men could make it through this one.

"Look out incoming!" Bellec yelped.

Hower's eyes flicked up and he saw an arc fired from the batarian's drill weapon and impacting the YMIR. He figured that shot must've had quite the firepower as it completely annihilated the poor mech, causing a large explosion to engulf the area. Then he saw another arc, this one coming directly at his squad.

Without stopping to think, Hower abused his legs and ignored the pain searing through them. Bellec and Frost did the same, neglecting to return fire and content with only reaching safety. As they ran the arc of energy descended gently and slammed into the ground where they had just exited. Shrapnel and sand was sent flying in a chaotic, wild detonation. Hower's display flashed red as the whipping metal and concussive force batted his armor. He figured Stenzke, still hoisted on his shoulders, had it worse considering her constant death threats.

A couple of seconds more and they'd reached their original cover. Velasquez was already there, managing to drag herself all the way. She was attempting to cover them, but her lone Lancer couldn't stack up to a squad, let alone a platoon of varying weapons. Both Bellec and Frost dove, hurling themselves over the miniaturized defilade. Hower didn't have that opportunity since he was carrying a wounded soldier, instead he had to drop Stenzke gently first and only then was he able to throw himself face first into safety.

They've barely reached cover before Hower spotted contacts on his helmet's HUD. Several missiles lanced towards them, pinning them down behind their cover. He could see infantry contacts on his display, no more than twelve meters ahead.

'Did they really cover that much ground that quickly?' Hower thought, dreading the answer. Missiles, grenades, and small arms fire rained down around them and for a moment all seemed lost.

Then hope erupted over the squad's radio frequency. "Alpha lead, this is Ice-pick. We have a visual on your position, stand by for support."

"Tell them we'd like to have their weapons on our position," Stenzke growled.

Hower ignored her, but shared the same sentiment though a bit less hostile. "Copy Ice-pick. We're pinned down and could use some assistance."

"Acknowledged. Stand by." Within seconds of the link being cut, twenty high-caliber sniper rounds tore through the batarian ranks, one of which hitting a batarian manning their drill weapon. The SIUs professionally took cover, their own counter-snipers trying to pin point where the shot came from. A few of them were quickly dispatched with blinding speeds before they caught on; they were now dealing with the JSF. In the moments that followed the SIUs deployed drones, smoke grenades, and even a few turrets, but none of that helped them in the slightest. Without warning seven large explosions detonated along their positions, vaporizing much of their force. Screams of the wounded were heard, but ignored by the survivors as they retreated.

Breathing heavily with his back against a chunk of stone, Hower felt a wave of relief wash over him. It wasn't long before a radio transmission came through his frequency.

"Alpha lead, we've eliminated the enemy positions. You are clear."

"Copy, Ice-pick. We're grateful for the assist."

"No problem. Take care."

"Likewise." It would be a folly to try to get a visual on the JSF platoon since they were all outfitted with active camouflage, but wherever they were Hower hoped they could see his salute to them. They were their heroes in the shadows, quickly emerging and dissipating at the same speed.

"Alright squad. We still have a mission to complete." Hower said, getting up. He surveyed the carnage before him and gave a low whistle. If the area hadn't been completely ruined before now, then it was surely flattened now. Not one wall standing over fifty centimeters high was left within twenty meters of his position.

"Great all of this is coming out of my paycheck," Stenzke uttered and for once Hower sympathized. If the war for Shanxi was hell, then the reconstruction of it was going to be the devils den.

---

New Denver

Shanxi

3rd Mechanized, 2nd Order

"To all human forces, resist! The slavers that have attacked us are standing on their last limbs. They've suffered countless losses across the continent and are nothing more than cowards and barbaric beasts. Resist the invaders, resist the oppressors, resist the slavers! For humanity will never be slaves!"

Staff Sergeant Ka'hairal Balak of the Batarian External Forces ignored the obvious propaganda spewed by the human public address systems, utterly annoyed that the enemy lacked any honor whatsoever. The Hegemony forces had conquered an entire continent to the east while another to the west was completely destroyed. Countless spoils of war had been collected, including language data and information on the various human forces. It would seem the humans had collected their own bounty, since the propaganda being broadcasted was in both the batarian and multiple human languages.

Frankly, he felt the humans should be honored that the Hegemony had considered them worthy of rescue from their own barbarism and primitive culture. It wasn't everyday a race was selected to join the glorious Hegemony and receive the opportunity to be a part of something greater. To have the mongrels reject their offer of salvation was indeed an enormous insult. They should be made examples of and be forced to apologize for their gross arrogance. Nevertheless, he had a job to ensure that those that had been rescued by the Hegemony wouldn't be kidnapped by the mongrels that desired to continuing living like animals.

In front of him, the street was choked with debris, broken vehicles, and the countless bodies of the dead. Brave warriors of the Hegemony lay sprawled and twisted among the wrecks and ruins alongside the disgusting human mongrels. Some had been killed by shrapnel, others scorched down to the bone by searing flames, and the rest had been murdered by the mongrels' hands with primitive weaponry. The scent of rotting flesh filled the air, mixed pools of blood staining the mirrored road surfaces where oil and other industrial fluids had yet to burn the rest of the deceased.

Clad in his Hegemony-issued Nuclear, Biological, and Chemical (NBC) protective heavy armor, Balak hefted his M-15 Vindicator and led his squad forward. On his back rested the AT-12 Raider shotgun, a common sight within the External Forces. His helmet did a decent enough job of providing him with data feed through the heavy blanket of smoke.

All of his equipment was provided by the Batarian State Arms Corporation. Since the Hegemony disliked private corporations, due to them being a significant source of greed and disparity between classes, the batarian government had instead opted to create a vast nationalized institution for creating their military hardware. Not only did this prevent outsourcing to other races, but it also provided the Hegemony to display its genius to the galaxy. Lethally.

Balak pushed down the street, keeping an eye on his helmet's HUD. Beside him were members of his fire-team. Lance Corporal Gron' Ceboro, the squad's heavy trooper, gracefully swayed his M-76 Revenant in a display of superiority. Private Seroko Keno followed closed behind, wielding the same battle rifle as Balak. Lastly towards the back and bringing up the rear was the squad's sniper Corporal Serva' Dolo, packing an M-29 Incisor. Behind them rolled a medium sized force of a hundred and sixty soldiers all wielding similar gear as Balak's squad. These batarians represented the Hegemony's most brutal fighters, unyielding until the bitter end.

The External forces slid forward, death incarnate, ten soldiers to each squad. In the echoes of the raging battle they could easily hear the grinding of their vehicles advancing, unseen in the chaos and smoke of the battlefield.

A company of Na'Hesit fighters had moved through the area already, but had encountered enemy light armor and infantry short of a main road cutting across the eastern part of the city. Balak didn't know if they were still in heavy combat with the Alliance marines, as the mongrels called themselves, and he didn't really care. If the Na'Hesit fighters had fallen to the enemy, then it was simply due to their inferiority. If they were still alive then perhaps they were worth the air that they breathe. Either way, Balak's force was pushing forward to flank the enemy, circling around the main site of heavy fighting.

As they neared an abandoned clinic shots were suddenly fired, cutting straight into the External forces. "Get to cover," Balak ordered. "Riflemen suppress, heavy troopers destroy that building!" The force quickly came crouched or leaped into cover, minimizing their losses. A few received wounds, but nothing Adreno-depressants couldn't fix.

More shots were fired by the enemy, interchanged by the batarians' own. The metal of the burned-out car before Balak dented under the impacts. A deep scowl appeared on his face.

'Weak transportation vehicles for a weak race. If this was a Hegemony manufactured vehicle it would be able to withstand the pressure,' he thought. Although he was no longer surprised by the weak quality of items in the mongrels' possession, it was still infuriating.

He raised a hand, gesturing towards the target building. Hegemony rifle men fired in three round bursts, less suppressive than the Alliance marines but far more accurate. Batarian snipers took out a few marines, but a few were also claimed by the mongrels. With another hand gesture, the batarian heavy troopers slipped forward. Mass Accelerated rounds impacted ceramic walls and metallic scrap. The batarians took the more losses in the initial fighting, with thirteen dead, but that would soon change. Within moments of getting into range the Hegemony heavy troopers opened fire, conventional rounds being joined by rockets. The incoming fire quickly ended as the mongrels were cowed under the heavy barrage.

Balak guided his squad toward the structure, pausing fifteen meters away. After throwing a few frag grenades to further disarray the humans, he ordered the heavy troopers to ready another salvo. Once he saw their rocket launchers reloaded, Balak gave the order to fire. A few soldiers with flame-throwers also joined in on the massacre, jets of scorching heat erupting from their weapons.

Their work was quick, efficient, and brutal. Streams of blazing fire and explosions engulfed the building and any potential survivors. Glass was violently melted, ceramic was forcefully peeled off, and the entire building wept blistering red tears under the batarians' wrath. Balak thought he heard screaming, but couldn't be sure over the roar of flames. Once satisfied with their work, he ordered his forces to advance, similarly treating every threat in their path.

With the street secured the batarian force moved forward, spreading out and moving across the pavement with speed and efficiency. Balak took the lead, pushing past numerous troops with his squad at his side. After a long trek, his helmet audio scanners began picking up gunfire. He was able to clearly deduce the sound of the M-15 battle rifles firing, but required his HUD display to identify the audio profiles of the other weapons, revealing them to be the M-7 Lancers being used by Alliance marines.

The sound was coming two hundred meters from their right, signaling their destination. Balak ordered a platoon of snipers and rocket troopers to take garrison in a building to their immediate right. Reaching the corner of the intersection, the Batarian External Force was meant with the sight of a massive Alliance assault obliterating the Na'Heisht fighters.

Balak faced the batarians under his command, proud to note they all seemed eager for a fight. "Today is a glorious day for us," he began. "Today we show the mongrels the might of the Hegemony! While they require propaganda to embolden their soldiers, we only need the honor that comes with serving the Hegemony! Now show these lesser insects what it means to be true warriors!"

Balak's speech was met with outstanding approval, mortar crews, riflemen, and even a few of their tanks already lining up targets. However, they required the needed signal before opening fire. A trio of batarians had set up a targeting laser, linked directly to a squad of batarian fighters. Another batarian was relaying the enemy's coordinates to a platoon of Hegemony artillery miles away. Once the signal was locked and the coordinates were relayed, all they needed to do was wait. Balak dropped to one knee, detecting noise coming from the sky.

The air overhead was split as a squadron of batarian fighters closed in, deploying mass altered weaponry and firing their forward cannons. A good portion of the Alliance battalion was decimated, vehicles engulfed in flames while infantry were either vaporized or hideously dismembered. Artillery shells soon rained upon them, slamming into the panicking Alliance marines with great force. The shockwave of the attack not only eliminated all momentum from the Alliance, but also spread across the battlefield, the vibrations barely detected by Balak's boots.

"LET THEM HAVE IT!" He yelled.

Dozens of different weapons opened fire on the horribly exposed Alliance crews. Mortar and tank shells threw them further off balance while rounds lanced out and mercilessly cut down their infantry. For a brief moment, it became a one sided slaughter in favor of the batarians, who managed to massacre nearly a hundred enemy soldiers in the span of less than a minute. Many Alliance marines and structures were destroyed in the opening salvo as they were forced to redirect their fire. In an attempt to minimize the carnage, the Alliance's vehicles activated their countermeasures, deploying smoke screens and jamming nearby radars.

"Enemy armor and gunships incoming!" Ceboro shouted.

Balak cranked his head to the sky as the approaching vehicles were highlighted on his HUD. "Rocket troopers target the gunships, all tanks focus on the enemy armor," he ordered.

A shell from a Reave tank streaked past him, slamming into one of the enemy weaken light vehicles – "Makos" as they were called – and punching through its armor. The entire vehicle skewed around wildly and its missile packs on its canopy detonated, perhaps being incinerated by a gas leak from within, the explosion ripping the remains of the vehicle in half. While the result was favorable, it was just one of the many oncoming IFVs.

Enemy gunships soon opened fire. They were clever in their assault, targeting batarians that were exposed in the street with auto-cannons and vaporizing those within the buildings with missiles. Rocket troopers opened fire with the ML-77s, an impressive volley of guided missiles. However, the Alliance gunships quickly deployed their countermeasures, the thermal decay system onboard making them momentarily invisible to guided munitions.

The batarian rocket troopers were forced to rely on dumb-fire mode, their attacks being less effective as a result. The enemy gunships celebrated by performing impressive evasions and expending much of their onboard ordnance. A few Kharse hover-tanks and Reaves were destroyed, depleting the number of vehicles available to Balak. Quickly the gunships pulled back, concentrating Na'Hesit fighters momentarily before returning to wherever they came from.

Balak was pleased with their departure; the losses they had inflicted had reduced his force to half strength. It was contemptible, how the mongrels believed they were superior to the Hegemony's elite shock troopers.

He didn't have much time to dwell on the irritation however; he could feel the rumble emanating through the street and shattering a storefront where some of his men were setting up a defensive positions. Balak was nearly thrown off balance, quickly rising and checking the status of the company he led. A mixed force of tanks, IFVs, and infantry were advancing towards them. Looking behind the incoming Alliance force, Balak could see the figures of vehicles and infantry breaking through the Na'Hesit lines and continuing to advance.

He let out a curse in his native tongue; the enemy had enough numbers to spilt off into two columns, one pushing forward ahead while the other broke off and engaged his own men. The incompetence Na'Hesit slavers had failed to reduce the Alliance numbers enough for his ambush to work. In his mind, the slavers got what they deserved, the treads, tires, and boots of the Alliance army crushing their lifeless bodies. With their mission a failure, Balak activated his transponder beacon, silently ordering for an evacuation to any nearby shuttles.

"Second, third platoon, garrison those buildings there," Balak ordered, highlighting two multi-story businesses on the side of the street. "Fourth, move up to our right side. Relieve some pressure on the main force. First and fifth, stick with me and engage the enemy. Mortars concentrate solely on infantry and rocket troopers' switch to unguided munitions. All armor, fire everything you have!"

Rounds, missiles, and shells were traded between both sides, pouring into each other through the gathering dust. Both sides were trying to outdo each other, the screams of the weapons hammering the street. Shrapnel skipped off Balak's armor, the pressure from one of the detonations sending a pair of his men flying. He ignored them; they should have been more alert.

He quickly gathered a target, firing his battle rifle and bisecting an enemy soldier as he came into range. Frag grenades soon began flying through the air as the distance grew steadily smaller, cutting into the troops from both sides. The metal frames from IFVs and tanks were soon heavily gashed, eezo fuel cells being engulfed in a combination of incinerated metal and ignited gases. More blood was spilled between both sides as the External forces engaged their foes, intermixed with the occasional rush of scathing heat and fire.

"Ha! I've never had this much fun!" Ceboro shouted, spraying his Revenant across the enemy's infantry. He was by far the most joyful batarian on the battlefield, all others considering him insane.

"Just remember to keep your head down!" Dolo scowled, her Incisor sniper rifle claiming the lives of another enemy trooper.

"Why would I need to?" Ceboro asks. "The humans rifles lack accuracy, needing rate of fire to compensate."

"True, but if they get within close range their higher rate of fire will handicap our long range superiority." Keno argued.

"Well thank goodness their rifles only have a single shot." Dolo countered.

"It matters not; these mongrels weaponry is and always will be inferior to ours just like their race!" Balak shouted. "Now do your jobs and purge the galaxy of these blights!"

Balak's strong words fueled his squad into fighting harder, reinforcing their belief in their superiority. The pathetic screams and groans of the dying mongrels consumed Balak's ears. Though they outnumbered them, the humans failed to make adequate progress against his force. He smiled as he believed that their assault would be repulsed with laughable ease. Mortar shells continued to fly over their collective heads, wreaking terrible damage against their infantry in a steady barrage. Already, their casualties were mounting and he thought it wouldn't be long until they surrendered.

BOOM!

Then, the world exploded. The lenses in his helmet darkened to an opaque level, preventing him from seeing anything. Balak felt weightless, then heavy – heavier than when a narthuk had tackled him from behind on one of the turian sporting worlds. His body impacted a building wall, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He gasped for breath, a burning sensation overriding his senses.

A large crashing sound emanated from his left, like the building was spitting out its own foundation. Before he or any of the External Forces could react, a nightmare from the depths of kalam appeared. Like the kinshra demons, bulldozing through all obstacles to escape from the pits of hell were six large, green tanks. Their inferno-orange eyes stared down the External Forces with unhinged rage.

Even with his hazy vision, Balak was still able to identify the type of monster unleashed upon his men. Fear and dread crawled up through his spine as he felt death herself cradling him from behind. He'd heard stories of how a few thousand of the demons had bested a force of over a hundred thousand far to the north. Never once had he ever thought he'd have to fight these humans.

"All Reave tanks target the new arrivals!" He ordered, barely managing to get back onto his feet. "All heavy weapons! Everything! Hit them now! Now!"

Even from his position he knew the External Forces were greatly outmatched, their arsenal unable to match the brute force of the green giants. What followed was less a battle and more of a merciless slaughter.

The human tanks opened fire with their behemoth cannons, uncaring if their targets were simple infantry or tank destroyers. Like a meteor shower in the night sky, the massive tank shells splashed down across the batarian position, vaporizing everything they touched. Shrieks of tormented metal rent the air as two of the shells scored direct hits on a pair of Reave tanks.

Within the opening salvo, over a dozen heroic Hegemony soldiers lost their lives. One shell burst against the vehicle in front of Balak's own squad. They winced as a deluge of smoldering pebbles showered over them. The vehicle itself flipped end over end, crushing everything in its unexpected path, except for some of the more heavily-armored soldiers.

The braver, or perhaps more suicide of the Hegemony soldier charged forward, attacking the green clad giants with their omni-blades; diamond-edge blades could carve through armor like butter – if it could be reached. Most never got the chance, nearly all dropping dead from blunt trauma, far from their goal as armor piercing bullets tore into their flesh. The few Hegemony soldiers that had actually gotten within arm's reach fared even worse; deprived of a quick and painless death. Before their horrified eyes, they were subjected to inhumane torture. The SGB soldiers appeared to take took sick pleasure in ripping off limbs, caving in skulls, and shattering ribcages with their bare hands.

The Hegemony soldiers' armor and shields were made to handle the rigors of combat against opponents such as the Council's own forces; vast armies that relied on grain sized rounds. Because of this method of thought, the External Forces armor was drastically insufficient to stop the armor-piercing rounds of the Russian weapons.

Balak's translator hissed to life, translating a wide-spectrum broadcast from the human leader. "Kill all of these barbarians; leave none in your wake comrades!" The leader of the human forced bellowed. "Let them repay their debts in blood!"

The rest of the human force bellowed in approval, somehow increasing the firing rate of their primitive weaponry. Their strange rounds, both penetrating their armor and shredding the flesh beneath tore into batarian heads and torsos, typically heavily armored points. Nothing stopped the juggernauts as the rolled through the batarian ranks, hard as they tried. Then, there were the tanks, looking almost as if they were laughing at the incredible volume of concentrated fire. Some of the barbaric humans were laughing as they killed, a terrifying sound emanating from masks of fury.

"I want heavy machine guns firing nonstop on their infantry!" Balak barked at his men. Despite their divided with threats on both their left and flank and forward, the External forces managed to readjust enough to pour a wall of rounds on their left.

"I'm tossing a grenade!" one voice shouted from that direction.

Balak heard the grenade detonating, and took a moment to check its effectiveness. The explosion caused the fuel canisters on some of the human backs to burst, engulfing the nearby infantry in flames.

Before he could celebrate however, several of his own Reave tanks to the rear detonated in huge, fiery explosions. Missiles streaked in from the human heavy infantry, like terrors from the night sky, slamming into several of the anti-tank platforms. "Fall back, all units fall back!" Balak screamed as he fired into the human giants.

But then Balak saw a rather large human soldier had laid eyes on him, aiming a missile launcher directly at him. For a moment he became paralyzed, knowing the inevitable was about to occur. The missile fired and Balak did the only thing he could think of: dropping onto the ground belly first. With insane luck he managed to dodge the missile as it soared past him and hit a wall. Quickly he hefted his Vindicator, in hopes of killing the enemy soldier, who was busy reloading, then the sound of metal twisting and bending filled Balak's ears. He looked up only to see piles of debris falling directly at him. He didn't have a chance to scream as his vision went black.

---

New Denver

Shanxi

N7 Strike Force

"Contact, four hundred meters!" The driver yelled.

A moment later Hower could hear the Mako's main cannon being fired, the recoil vibrating through the compartment. Despite being inside two meters of reactive armor and ablative plating, he could still hear the sudden storm of noise as the forward Alliance vehicles cut loose. Thunder cracks of outgoing tank shells, the whoosh of launching missiles, and the thump of firing mortars punched through the armor plating, surrounding the squad with an ocean of deep, pounding noise.

Commander Hower hefted his Lancer, silently thankful he was able to replenish it with heat sinks. The rest of Alpha squad was sitting in the Mako's troop compartment, peering out the firing slits with weapons ready.

"Standby to dismount!" Hower ordered. The Mako's cannon roared again. Something detonated nearby, sending shivers through the vehicle.

"Stopping!" Hower yelled. "Dismount!"

The Mako came to a halt and the ramp dropped. Alpha squad rose as one and rushed down the ramp. Thirty six other Makos and Badgers had stopped, each ten meters apart and were disgorging squads of infantry. They came to a halt at the crest of a pile of debris, positioned just behind it where the IFVs could fire from a covered position. The squads of infantrymen quickly spread out along the top of the debris pile, going prone. Others got to work setting up mortars. The tanks got into position to supplement the IFVs while artillery platforms began preparing to fire their main cannons.

Hower picked up targets three hundred meters away. No specific numbers were highlighted on his HUD so instead he picked out the range of the hostiles. He spotted several platoons of vehicles and infantry firing their weapons as they continued to hold position.

The wailing siren of enemy artillery flying cracked through the air, engulfing Hower's ears before the shells began pounding the ground and sending tremors across each location. Through his weapons scope he analyzed the enemy's headquarters.

After capturing the city, the batarians seemed to have fortified the building with mines, barricades, and heavy gun emplacements. The former civil structure turned enemy base was average by military standards, but in a fashion indicating haste. The once pristine gardens that had decorated vast swaths of the rear entrance had been converted into cramped airfields, confusing pilots while tanks and infantry fumbled through the remaining space with awkward haste. Making matters worse, for both themselves and future gardeners, heavy tanks and infantry were sprawled across the flat expanse.

The Alliance was already aware of these changes, but looking at the damage with his own eyes, seeing the changes personally, gave a new sense of appreciation – and not a little feeling of inadequacy. Hower cursed all the same; municipal colonial government structures were required by law to be places of refuge during disaster-relief. A tornado-proof wall was equally resistant to gunfire, unlike the common apartment complexes he'd seen earlier. Hower had to hand it to the batarians; they knew how to construct fortifications nearly as well as the Alliance.

Despite the many advantages the structure provided, it was clear it came at a cost. He nodded to himself. It was imperfect, therefore it had weaknesses.

Returning, he soon found himself in the company of multiple other squads. The day had been so long, he found himself nodding respectfully with an NCRA Dragons squad leader without blinking, despite the other man's giant size. He didn't even blink at the female composition of the man's squad.

'He got himself into that mess, he can get himself out.' The commander thought.

Hower gathered his squad behind the cover of a still-standing wall. The other squads began grouping closer to his; apparently viewing his status as an Alliance officer. Well, that and his communication links were still viable, which did give him a certain command advantage.

"We don't have much time, but I'll make it brief," he began. "Everyone here has suffered a loss, yet done everything asked of them. I am not one for speeches, but I can think of no better inspiration to fight our best today than the fact that one of the sons of bitches responsible for this attack is hiding in that building over there." He pointed to the horizon where New Denver's city hall stood, beaten and battered beyond recognition. "Now, our brothers are busy retaking other parts of the city and it falls to us to secure the HVT. Expect fierce resistance from the enemy." He caught the eyes of the leaders of other companies. "If the company leaders could come see me, let's make the strategy."

Walking over to the still arriving force, Hower met with the respective company leaders. Each one was unique and different as the uniform they wore. "Here is the plan: Sergeant Foley, take four squads of Ghosts and circle around the enemy's flank. The majority of the enemy forces will be focusing on the main assault, giving your men the perfect cover to provide long-range sniper support. In case things get too thick, you'll have a platoon of Raptors on standby."

"Understood, commander." The JSF sergeant whistled sharply, circling his hand over his head. Instantly, pieces of rubble moved from strategic points on the perimeter, reforming into human-shaped blurs that faded away once more. Foley grinned at Hower's discomfiture. "They won't see us coming. Let us know when we need to save your asses again.

Hower chuckled. Ice Pick had earned the right to rib his squad. "Feel free to get close and personal too. Nobody likes a party pooper." Returning to the business at hand, he looked over at the Raloi commander that had materialized by the red-armored commander. "Commander Yao; do you still have that tin backpack?"

The red-armored giant nodded once, silently. He shifted slightly, exposing a backpack as large as two of Hower's own supply packs.

"Good. Get in as soon as you can. Jam their signals, send fake orders, and take out everything you can. Distract, debilitated, destroy. Got it?"

"Understood." Yao's deep voice boomed back, neutral yet reassuring. The massive form turned, gracefully "Yàmǎxùn, lock and load. This one is for us."

The squad at the china man's back turned with him, moving with parade efficiency.

"Alliance-Williams-man," the Raloi spoke up.

Hower cocked his head, "Yes?"

"The Shadows will go with Commander Yao. We work well together. Besides, we are not prepared for … armor." The alien's teeth smiled at him.

"Sure, just make sure he knows." Hower waved the Raloi off. It was a little disappointing; he'd been hoping to gain the almost legendary stealth of the aliens for his own task. Still, better to let each commander play to their strengths. Speaking of which ….

"If you think my men are just going to shuffle to one side, you got another think coming." Captain Iztov growled at him.

Hower sighed. The Russian's heavily armored company had been exceedingly aggressive in their opinion; suggesting a nuclear strike instead of an invasion. Only the combined arguments of the EF, JSF and Alliance had been sufficient to deter them from the rather … drastic path.

"No, I am assigning you the second-most task, right next to my own squad's." Hower hoped the cynical gleam in the other man's eye wasn't just due to broken promises. "My squad is going in hard, getting to the objective as fast as possible. You and your company are being tasked with the same goal; if we fail, you won't."

The Russian jerked back slightly. "You would give us this?"

Hower shrugged. "I think we can get in with a bit of finesse. If we fail, it's because we didn't have the firepower. Your company will then go in and stop for nothing; if we fail, it's because we're dead."

Iztov straightened. "I understand. Be successful; if you are not, you will be avenged." Behind him, the bearlike men grunted approval, weapons clanking with metallic noises. He exposed his teeth, "I have a few Ogres with me. Give the word, and death will fall."

Hower gave a nod before turning to the last of the company leaders. Of all of the forces present, this one was perhaps the most battered; clear signs of barely healed wounds and dented armor – yet a dangerous gleam that hinted at what he would receive if he tried to stop them. The commanding officer had the E.F's insignia in a necklace, an odd place, but entirely understandable considering the situation. "Lieutenant Bankole, I'll need your Enforcers to move up with my group. Your force's skill in urban warfare and technological edge will be critical."

"I understand. Rest assured that my men and I are more than motivated to drive the enemy from our soil."

It took only a few minutes before the squads achieved their positions. On his HUD, Hower could see the JSF's famed snipers slowly changing position. The red dots vanishing from the targeted building with what he once would have considered disturbing regularity had the enemy been human.

Deeper in the digital map, hidden within the enemy flanks, the NCRA Amazon's were rampaging through the batarian ranks. From his somewhat limited perspective, Hower could only see the movements, like wild dog packs cutting down the weakest, least coordinated victims.

He waited just a moment more, watching the enemy blips react. When the time arrived, he waved to his people. "Let's give 'em hell!"

Contrary to his rather exuberant speech, they moved quietly. Stealthily. It was easy, when an entire column of Alliance heavy armor was approaching and the elite forces of the Big Four were treating the area like a massive playground.

As they approached, Hower could have sworn the Icepick sharpshooters were making a game out of how many kills each could make. Even the moderately thick walls failed to prevent the extreme power of the sniper rifles from punching through, like a hot knife through gelatin.

He grinned as they reached the front portico; enormously proportioned by most standards. His squad on the other hand, had been moving through whole city blocks of enemy territory all day. A measly hundred yards would prove no challenge.

"One more push lads, and we can all go home!" He called to his squad. The one word, more than any long speech by politicians or generals, did more to encourage people. Home.

Their luck held, for the first time in forever it seemed. Their lateral approach to the main building had performed admirably.

They were just in time. Seconds after they reached the safety of a recessed corner, Hower witnessed the enemy armor moving in, cutting them off from retreat. At the same time, the monstrous Ogres came into place, lining their impenetrable bulk across the entire width of the far end. Titans, at ten paces, as it were. Beyond the metal behemoths, Hower could see the mobile artillery lock into place, engineers running into place. The colors on the hardware indicated a more disciplined approach, precision rivaling that of the … Yàmǎxùn … as their commander had called.

"Good." He heard Stenzke mutter. "More targets."

He smirked in response. "Don't ever change, soldier. Don't ever change."

They grew silent, just as the final batarian armor pulled forwards. Hower knew why the human vehicles weren't firing: targeting solutions were being triple-checked against the best minds available. Geography, the latest scans from sub-orbit – even the Oracle of Delphi for all he knew; this was one attack that could not fail.

For one, long, frozen point in time, nothing moved. The very vultures hovering on thermals above the carnage were still, waiting to feed.

The lead Panthers and Schwarzkopfs launched a single barrage of network-directed fire, sending BLOS and VICRATOR rounds arcing alongside Fastback HE rockets and Badger FORGAT missiles at the batarians. The barrage stunned the defending forces long enough for the additional Makos and Barracudas to reach optimal firing range, resulting in a cataclysmic amount of firepower raking the enemy ranks.

Although typically an SGB tactic, it was simple enough so that the combined armies were able to perform it with aplomb. The intent was to hit an enemy with a heavy first blow, bringing down the hammer as hard as possible to disorient, shock, and demoralize. While not solely limited to the SGB faction, it had become a hallmark trait of the ruthless juggernaut.

A heartbeat later, the long line of defenses erupted in response, sending up a shimmering heat wave as the weapons exploded into action. A furious fusillade so great that it made the planet shake, was unleashed upon the attackers. Whatever shock had occurred, was over in seconds; surprise having lasted for only a minimal time. It had been just enough to allow a great deal of damage, balancing the forces disparity to be slightly more even.

They would need it.

Missiles screamed through the air, tank shells erupted in hellfire blooms across the urban sprawl, and thousands of projectiles were ejected from hundreds of weapons. The artillery platforms fire cascaded across the battlefield moments later, hammering distance targets with precise, powerful firepower. The somewhat untouched no-man's land between both forces erupted into a blossom of fire and chaos.

Safely ensconced, relatively speaking, Hower raised his HUD display and began barking out movement and fire orders, watching as the first few companies of infantry moved alongside tank platoons across hell's own park. He heard the chattering of Mako's .50 caliber machine guns and the roar of missiles being fired as NCRA Serpents teams dismounted from their IFVs.

Return fire came in almost as quickly, a coordinated assault of shells and mortars followed by thousands of mass accelerated rounds from every weapon type. Hower herded a quarter of the FAVs available to make their move with Ice-pick and the other JSF Ghost platoons, just in case the heavy firepower was needed during their flanking.

The rest of the fast-attack vehicles were held in reserve, their light armor and weapons nearly useless in this type of assault. Once the allied forces covered enough ground, he would deploy them just behind the heavier tanks. They wouldn't be fast enough to dodge incoming fire, but moving behind heavy armored vehicles would minimize their chances of being hit. In addition, he hoped the sight of an incoming charge from the FAVs would throw the enemy off guard.

Standard tactics in this type of battlefield decreed another possible tactic, given the constraints he was facing. FAVs could be utilized peppering the frontline with their weapons before circling around the flanks and hitting the main enemy armored line from both the sides and rear. There, they could also serve as mobile fire support while the main force continued their advance.

Hower sent a new recommendation, then watched the fruit of his labors follow suit.

Under his gaze, a platoon of FAVs quickly followed his suggestion, maneuvering behind the vehicles as they advanced. The Raptors began their ever-present rumble, moving past the heavy infantry as they turned behind the heavier armor, keeping the heavy vehicles between themselves and incoming batarian fire.

The tactic wasn't perfect. One Raptor experienced a missile slamming into its side, blowing the rear half of the vehicle – the rest toppling forward.

"Shit!" One of the Ghosts snapped. "Grasshopper-3 is down, requesting medical assist, over!"

"Solid copy Grasshooper-3," Hower checked the signal board function, seeing what was available. One would think it to be the job of a general to shuffle resources in a fight, but truth was stranger than fiction. "Continue the advance; I am requesting a medical team ASAP."

"Understood. Providing fire support."

Hower switched frequencies. "I want a squad of marines to push ahead, search-and-rescue. You'll be moving with the second wave, targeting fire should be reduced."

Removing soldiers from the first wave would leave the lines vulnerable, and the likelihood of anyone surviving was very limited. Still, it was always best to confirm fatalities before writing them off. Shrugging, Hower returned to targeting and tracking threats on his display. He could see hundreds of enemy vehicles engaging the human company, along with what looked like hundreds even thousands of elite infantry scattered across the building.

It still wasn't enough. There was still too much interference between Hower's N7 team and the final redoubt; approaching would require yet more distractions … something the main force would be more than happy to oblige he knew.

He saw the autoloaders finish prepping the next set of missiles, and designated a target for each IFV. A couple of seconds later, they shuddered as the launchers fired four more rockets each at the line of batarian troops.

'That did it.' Hower saw the batarian lines fold on the eastern flank, pulling back under the heavy pressure. He caught his squad's attention, and clenched one fist. Stenzke snarled in response, twisting over and out of cover, already charging to the attack.

Frost, on the other hand merely tapped his sights and rolled behind Stenzke, already using his beyond-keen eyesight to spot threats to his squad.

Hower slapped the remaining squad-mates pauldrons, and launched himself into the fray. His squad followed him, confident enough to follow into hell itself. It appeared as if the area was just that, the scene displaying the devil's lair with enthusiasm.

Choking smoke and debris rose from the combusting craters. The treads and wheels from multi-ton engines of death combined efforts with explosives and small arms fire to throw enough grit into the air to completely obscure everything, forcing both sides to rely on alternative scanning methods. Hower gave a brief thanks to the manufactures of his helmet for providing an air filter, what a godsend that was.

He kept up a steady stream of bursts from his Lancer, relying on his HUD to give him targeting data. The heavy roar of the nearby Makos' rebounded through the air, only to be engulfed by the cracking explosions of artillery shells impacting the ground.

A sniper round slashed through the air a few meters to his left and then he heard screaming. Hower glanced over; noting one of the riflemen rolling over, part of his shoulder armor plating compressed inwards. The armor had protected him, but the round had caused significant damage all the same. He ordered a combat medic to check up on him before returning his attention to the battle.

He caught movement on his display, blobs of white moving through the defenses. Shouldering his rifle, he sharpened the resolution on his scope, seeing a few sniper rounds crisscrossing between fortifications with the heightened visuals.

Hower sighted, tracking a target, and fired off a concussive shot; sending the single high-powered round arcing through the air. Three batarians were instantly thrown back, but all of them had survived the lethal attack. Just behind Hower and to his left, Bellec quickly utilized the Pressure biotic technique, rapidly increasing their mass to hazardous levels. It required a great deal of concentration, focusing the entire attention of the user on a target. Some biotics were more gifted than others at the technique, no one was sure why. Bellec, however, was one of the best.

Through his scope, Hower could see the enemies armor flatten, finally expelling a dark fluid. Enemy down, he shifted aim and quickly threw a grenade in the general direction of an enemy squad. Two were instantly killed, blood white-hot in the thermal vision spilling across the battlefield, while a third was either wounded or escaped unscathed. Return fire whipped past Hower's squad. They followed his lead and simply went prone, ignoring the incoming fire while a nearby Barracuda adjusted its aim. A thunder blast later, and the few enemy troopers were no more.

He continued to hear screaming, but ignored it, fixating on quickly dispatching the rest of the batarian soldiers from his position.

It was a storm of mass accelerated rounds rushing back and forth between the forces while vehicles exchanged heavy fire. The screams continued to rise, becoming higher and higher in volume. Hower gritted his teeth and held his position, finding another group of batarian soldiers. His hands slid off his Lancer, extracting an expended heat sink before cycling a fresh one into the weapon.

The weapon beat a rhythm on his shoulder-plates faster than his heart beat, but only just barely. He wondered if the weapon's designer had ever dreamed of the rifle being so abused as it was now. Still Hower gave thanks to the assault rifle's reliability. It might not be on the same level as the SGB's AK-200, but it certainly was top tier in the category.

"Commander, I think we should get down!" Bellec yelled.

Hower's HUD displayed new data information and realized what the lieutenant had found appalling. The planet shivered violently and noise pounded his ears, the batarians hammering the attackers with effective artillery fire.

Masonry was pounded in powdered vapor and dirt was sent careening to the sky, forming a rising swirling sheet of dust. The N7 squad was grateful that each of their helmets assisted in deadening the noise. Another artillery shell exploded about sixty meters away, dead center in the middle of a Mako column. The detonation sent shockwaves through the ground, staggering nearby infantry and sending chunks of metal flying. Multiple IFVs were knocked out of commission by the blasts.

The batarian artillery was targeting Alliance armor with sonic artillery shells, Hower realized. This was an anti-material bombardment designed to destroy vehicles and structures. Whereas anti-personnel shells would detonate in mid-air bursts, hurling shrapnel up to three hundred meters, sonic shells would be far more effective on vehicles and structures. If the shells hit while his squad was in the transports, they'd be dead before they'd heard it.

"We need air cover!" Hower bellowed into his pickup. "Where's the – !"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist old chap."A voice overrode his transmission. "His Majesty's 101st, at your service. Sit back and watch the fun."

Mantis gunships pulled in low over his forces. Shells rained down around the enemy, showering them with fire and smoke. Their detonating Hellfire missiles turned into an ear-shattering drumbeat of explosions. Intermixed with the Mantis' fire were the enemy missiles, launched by rocket troopers below, arcing into scintillating explosions in the sky.

Hower saw a few Mantises break of while the enemy rocket troopers continued to burn through their missile ordnance. One of the Mantises wheeled back towards the rear lines, spewing smoke before the rear half of the aircraft suddenly tore free. The gunship tumbled out of the sky, the separated half disintegrating into raining chunks of metal while the forward half slammed into a third story office building, tumbling sideways in a shower of metal, glass, and stone.

"Well there goes our air cover," Stenzke deadpanned, not all fazed by the firefight. If anything this probably fitted her standards for normal.

"Air cover or not we need to get in there," Hower stated. "Continue advancing, move from cover to cover. Do NOT take any unnecessary risks. MOVE!"

Like a great venomous serpent, the N7s weaved through the enemy's fire, dancing in and out of range. Each step-no matter how tortuously slow- brought them closer to their destination. The defenders were deeply dung in, well-equipped, and battle hardened. The casualties sustained this far by the Alliance provided sufficient evidence of that fact.

The rest of the force stretched out behind the N7 advance followed their example, taking advantage of the terrain in any way they could, unique to their factions. Enforcers maneuvered rapidly, thanks to their lighter equipment and expertise in urban combat. The JSF ghosted through the battlefield unseen, almost impossible to target and even harder to pin down. In contrast, the NCRA bulled their way forwards, using their vast numbers to suppress the enemy, allowing their infantry and vehicles to push forward. Taking that example and pushing it even further, the SGB behaved like brutes, their heavy armor requiring nigh infinite amounts of ammunition to get them put down for good.

Despite the attack, the enemy's resolve proved unbroken, the fortified walls hemorrhaging almost every ordnance imaginable. However, it wouldn't last forever. The aggressive defense was tiring out the batarian troops, and casualties had to be mounting. Hower knew it wouldn't be long before the Alliance's steady advance would force them to engage in a direct attack, at which point the defense forces would be spread far too thin to deal with the combined forces.

"Lay down fire with the 50 cals!" An Alliance marine barked out. The marines complied and set up machine guns and small turrets to fire at the building. As they crossed the rise, even closer, the sparks marched up the barriers in an unstopping barrage. When one turret ran low, another would shift fire to cover the missing sector while the previous turret would reload and resume its deadly assault.

Hower could smell victory. The entire might of the Big Four: NCRA, EF, JSF and SGB had been brought to a single, superbly focused point. The ear-splitting sound of the Chinese amazons seemed to strike terror wherever they went, while the unrelenting brutality of the 68th SGB Spetsnaz was crushing everything in its path. The JSF and EF were here, there and everywhere, creating holes in the batarian defenses and penetrating them with a precision he'd never seen before.

The sight made him swallow, suddenly grateful the two superpowers hadn't been united as closely in the past as they were now. One of the EF long-range specialists he was watching had proven himself well, periodically launching a tightly concentrated microwave burst. Almost a fraction of a second later, a waiting JSF unit would take advantage of the temporary hole, sending a dozen pinpricks of light into the enemy bastion. Wherever the two went, it seemed the Angel of Death walked with them.

Hower shifted position, seeking a view of the enemy position. Batarians crawled all over the massive, broken walls, disoriented yet unleashing enough coordinated fire to destroy the unwary. Pillars had fallen, windows were shattered, and the entire building appeared ready to collapse, but still protected its infestation. Hower could barely believe it; despite the mayhem and chaos, the fact that the building still stood was a testament to colonial engineering.

He checked higher, watching and waiting for the perfect moment. Snipers had been placed on the roof, as well as what appeared to be large automated turrets, used to seek and suppress infantry. Machine guns had been placed at the windows, rocket troopers popping over their edges for the frequent volley while basic infantry and mortar teams waited at points in and around the foundations.

As a welcome sight, the Allied forces slowly advanced towards the left, flanking the batarians from the inside. Burning cars, two gunships, and the remains of a F-61 Tridents squadron lay sprawled about the battlefield, offering splendid cover, at least for the interim.

"Let's move it people!" Hower pushed himself, not bothering to check if his squad followed. They would fight into the gates of hell itself, he knew now. A mere battlefield was a worthless comparison.

Sniper and machine gun fire tore through the infantry behind and beside them. Mortar shells plummeted down from the building, smashing into platoons of marines and tearing them to shreds. Luckily the enemy's small arms fire couldn't penetrate through the wreckages of vehicles lying about, a fortunate occurrence. The batarians entrenched inside the building and on the rooftops began to unleash fire down on them, forcing the survivors to take cover.

Hower aimed his Lancer at a nearby turret, lifting his rifle's muzzle to the trajectory and firing off a concussive shot. The force of the blast hit a nearby generator, shorting an apparently important circuit, causing a massive chain reaction that annihilated all the batarians nearby in an incredible display of chain lightning.

"Kill them all!" A voice broke through Hower's concentration, strangely enough accompanied by the wailing sound of strange music. At the same time, the batarians near his position began scrambling for cover, exposing them to his N7 squad in a desperate move to avoid … something.

The NCRA squad came into view, eye-lenses glowing in the darkness. Yao's voice rose over the cacophony in what had to be a boosted helmet. "Cowards! Where is your courage now?"

Their appearance was as awe-inspiring as it was devastating to the batarians. For some reason, Yao was brandishing a massive sword, killing with every move. His squad rotated about him like a pinwheel, intercepting incoming rounds with their own shields before moving out of range to recharge whilst another body positioned itself in harm's way.

The red-clad giant waved an arm at Hower while the other cut down yet another trooper. "Hower! Go! We have these worthless yellow-bellied sons of whores!" One of the Chinese soldiers whooped a war cry, firing a snap-shot with a side arm to take down an unwise sniper from long-range.

For a moment, the circle of death paused, then vapor trails appeared from their petal-like formation. They resumed their march, straight into the mass of infantry.

For once, Hower was speechless. It was insane, it shouldn't have worked, but it was. Intellectually, he knew why; rocket fire was incredibly disorienting as well as damaging. A melee combatant could wreak a ton of damage at close range, and the ranged fighters could spill blood at a distance. Combining the two with an AI that could aim rockets on the fly while giving a path that provided the most cover made a – Hower's analysis was interrupted by a crazed batarian ramming into his side, fighting to get away.

"Demons! DEMONS!" the translator activated as the alien's gravelly voice did its best to pummel eardrums. Hower planted a round into the alien's head. Looking around, he could see similar actions being performed around the NCRA perimeter, those closest to the deadly circle were struggling to get away while those further away did their best to fire erratically malfunctioning weaponry at the center.

Falling batarians told him the JSF snipers were more than aware of the distraction, and clearing a path for his own squad.

Just before he gave the order, he noticed Stenzke staring after the NCRA with a strange look. She looked at him, then back. "Do you think he's single?" she asked.

Hower chuckled. "Let's figure that out afterwards, eh?" She nodded once, in an embarrassed fashion and the N7 marines sprinted across the building's now clear entrance, searching for their target.

The once mighty and enormous structure had fallen to acts of war by both militaries. Hundreds upon hundreds of batarian corpses littered the battlefield. The marine could see a massive forward operating base that had been set up in haste.

This would be a long fight.

Hower and his marines dominated the arena like the gladiators of ancient Rome. Elegant long-range shots were memories of the past; brutal point-blank rounds and biotic rendering became the rule. It was an odd dichotomy; it always surprised him how animalistic a human could get, but at the same time he counted on that ferocity.

Any batarian left standing was quickly extinguished from existence as the marines fought their way to the entrance steps, climbing them as if possessed. Stenzke's penchant quickly became apparent; the exposed batarians became airborne, and then subject to Frost's accurate fire. Together, they became nearly a squad in and of themselves, charging through enemy ranks like a bloody snowplow.

The view wasn't any less pleasant for the less biotically-gifted. Melee combat was the norm, toppling batarians onto the steps like meat on a butcher's floor; tripped, pushed or just plain stabbed and left to bleed out.

He paused, taking advantage of the momentary respite to just look at the inside of the entrance hall. The ceiling was still high, towering over ten meters above his head, faded panels hanging in shreds from their original positions. Smoke stains, new and old, smudged once-white surfaces with dark irregular curves, mirroring the brownish stains on the floor. Hower shook his head; batarian blood was yellow-tinged; this was where humans had died.

A faint click registered in the back of his mind, a split-second ahead of the danger.

"Get down!" Hower tackled both soldiers as the doors leading outside the bunker had been blasted open with enough explosives to level a mountain, which was more credit to the original engineers who had designed the building considering it hadn't caved in.

Dozens of batarian soldiers poured in laying suppressive fire. Hower recognized them immediately. They were SIU operatives, the batarian's high trained special forces unit. They'd be in for another damn long fight. Quickly throwing a flash bang, Hower ordered his soldiers to stack up.

Batarians fell, failing to stop his N7's. Unlike the outside, the batarians outnumbered and outgunned his group by a vast margin, but fought hard for every square meter. Straining, the N7's managed to reach a protective defilade, protected by statues in a short hallway, then push further until the actual room proper.

Bullets rained down at them from every direction. They were pinned down at the door way, peaking out for just a brief moment to try and spot the aliens before they were forced back into cover. They'd been stuck there for too long. They had to move or risk being flanked by more batarians.

Hower looked around desperately for an answer to their problems; "Do we have any grenades left?"

Shaking heads met his gaze. Stenzke tried forming yet another biotic effect, but nearly collapsed from the effort. "Sorry, commander, don't have enough power left in the tank."

His comm crackled. "Did someone mention power?"

The accent was unmistakable. "Iztov, is that you?"

"Da. Sit tight, we'll dig you out."

Hower looked down the hall, "How? We're over three stories up and – "

The floor shook, shuddering violently under their feet. Curses flew almost as fast as bullets, while the squad took advantage of the chaos.

"Brace yourselves," Iztov commented belatedly. "We're making a good Motherland Charge. Third story you say?"

"Yes." Hower growled into the microphone. "A little warning next time, alright?"

"Consider yourself warned."

What did he mean by – "COVER!" Hower shouted desperately.

The floor shook again, but this time the shaking came from the walls. Holes punched through their breadth as shells detonated inside the building. One made a near miss of his squad, passing over their heads before punching through the next wall and exploding in the stairwell they'd exited minutes before.

"I think the way is open, yes?" Iztov's rumble came back over the communicator. "You have trouble, you call me."

"Thanks, captain." Hower managed to hold his temper; it had been a risky maneuver, unnecessary in his view. "I'll suggest punishment and reward at the same time: hammer medals to your skull." He cut it off, waving his squad forwards to the gaps in the wall. "Follow me, one more push!"

The rest, as it is said, was history.

The N7 squad moved through the building, coming to the most fundamental part of the structure: the mayor's office. Instead of charging in blindly, Hower ordered Velasquez to slip in a snake camera to gain a visual on the other side. The engineer took out a data-pad attached to a snake-lens, optical sensor connected by a flexible length of stiff cable.

By inserting the far end through a crack in the floor, the squad was able to see the last of the enemy's resistance. A squad of enemy soldiers was all that were left, each soldier taking up a barricade behind tables, furniture, and – amusingly enough – even a luxury couch.

"Looks like this is all they have," Velasquez whispered.

"All right, every one stack up and prepare to breach and clear. Set up C4." Hower ordered.

Like a game of chess, this bout was coming to a quick resolution. The batarians had captured many, many pieces, but had left their power structure vulnerable. All it took was a pawn, shifted to the back of the board, and a new queen would arise, like a phoenix emerging from the ashes of its own death. As the last of the explosives were attached to the door, Hower gave the signal.

'Checkmate you motherfucker', Hower thought, and then the attached C4 blowing the door to pieces, sending wooden splinters inwards. The purpose was to shock those inside, and provide enough time for the aggressors to gain entrance safely. Relatively safely.

As the explosion ripped through what had to have been expensive wood, well above his pay grade, Hower spun his hand forwards. "Take, take, take!"

The moment the squad had set foot within the office, they were met with a wall of gunfire. Unfortunately for the enemy, given the close quarters, it wouldn't be too hard for any biotic to maintain a barrier while his teammates bulldozed through the defenders.

The N7 squad leapt forward, their weapons returning equal retribution to the enemy. Hower utilized his Katana shotgun to great effect, pumping two shells in the nearest batarian's ribcage. Stenzke spun a grenade behind the couch, laughing at the surprised yelp that emanated just before it detonated.

Armor piercing rounds ripped through exposed enemy troopers from Frost's sniper rifle, snuffing the life out of them. The batarians were completely caught by surprised. Taking advantage of the lull, a maelstrom of mass accelerated slugs broke through the batarians as they were completely gutted in seconds.

With the combatants dead, Hower took in the decorations of the room. It was a deceptively small room, with a wide floor and long walls, but maintained a low ceiling height. There were multitudes of tools spread about the countertops, tables, and shelves lining the walls. Hower found himself nodding lightly as he inspected the room. While it was no longer sterile, evident by the blood smears that now covered the office, there was enough indication to conclude it had once been in such a state. Despite the dim lighting, he was able to catch a visual of his desires, seated center in the office with the back of the seat facing Hower. The expert skill of the N7 had made sure not to have a shot fired anywhere near the man.

"Colonel Garak, I hereby place you under military arrest for war crimes." Hower stated, cautiously approaching the man.

He received no answer, merely silence. Yet, he clearly saw movement emitting from the seat. It was enough to make Hower believe the colonel was still alive, but using silence as an act of defiance.

"I'd say we just smoke the bastard and be done with it!" Stenzke growled. She was already in the process of lining up a shot before Bellec stopped her by grapping her gun.

"Don't; I want to play with him before he goes on the Long Patrol." His tone was cold, almost a match for her own.

The volatile biotic gave a grunt, slightly lowering her machine gun. "Fine, but if he makes the slightest of movements, I'm popping him."

"Commander, I have a bad feeling about this," Frost said, moving on the lone figure from the left.

Hower gave a hand signal for Frost to hold position, after all the dangers his squad had undergone, he alone would take the risk. He walked at a sluggish pace, the dull throbbing hum of his boots echoing in the room. His HUD indicated his heartbeat was over 187, a clear sign of continuous exertion on the body.

Reaching the batarian, Hower quickly turned the seat around, only to be met with a horrifying image. The figure was indeed a batarian, but not Colonel Garak himself, and to make matters worse the unlucky bastard had a motioned triggered bomb strapped to his chest, one that Hower had just activated – and had clearly left for a human to observe given the Arabic numerals scrolling downwards … 5 … 4 …

"GET DOWN!" He shouted, kicking the seat with full force away from him and his squad. He ran to the nearest possible cover, yet knowing he wouldn't have enough time to outrun the blast.

A mere three seconds later the bomb detonated. The shockwave slapped Hower in the small of his back, as if he were hit by the palm of a giant. Its booming repercussion nearly blew his eardrums; the sound-absorbent pads in his helmet quickly grew warm at the intensity.

A second of flight, and Hower was thrown against a wall, his impact leaving a noticeable dent. "Fuck my luck," he grunted. His HUD indicated an incoming call; one that he hoped carried good news.

"Alliance Command here: all Alliance forces within New Denver, be advised we have a flight of incoming friendly fighters preparing to target enemy command structures. Deploy green flares to highlight your positions!"

Now he truly hated lady luck. Getting to his feet, Hower activated his radio, hoping to avoid becoming a result of friendly fire – only to realize why the transmission neglected to inform the human forces to not use radios. They simply didn't have the pilot frequencies, or the encryptions for free communication; whomever was providing the air cover hadn't likely been able to share such things at last moment. Oh how he sometimes hated humanities division, each with their own radio codes.

"Shit radios are useless! We have to get to the roof now!" Hower shouted, following his example, the squad all began running once more, making a mad dash for the office's exit.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Stenzke bellowed, frustrated beyond belief.

The rest of the squad followed him, running as fast as their legs could carry them. They rushed through the halls, moving as their trained legs could take them. Had they still been at boot camp, the N7 squad would have set a new record for the 100 meter dash, astonishing considering the conditions they'd been undergoing.

Bellec was perhaps the fastest, surprisingly enough. He cornered the hallways the fastest, twisting low to avoid losing his balance. But it was in the stairwells that Frost proved himself to be a better climber; instead of racing up the length, he hopped upon the bannister and began jumping to the next level's rail, climbing and repeating.

"Where do you get that kind of energy?" Hower complained, taking the somewhat longer but less stressful route.

The sniper didn't pause as he pulled his height advantage to a full story higher. "I didn't come this far just to die to some jarhead!" A moment later, his joyful voice called down to them, "We're almost there! I can see the exit!"

The squad smashed through the door, becoming exposed to the fresh air. Even miles away, Hower could still hear the roaring engines of the incoming fighters. He ignited the green flares and banged them together, scattering the green artificial flames around the area. He raised his arms higher, brandishing the flares to the fighters.

It was a tantalizing, heart stopping moment where he could live or die. He dropped the flares to the ground and stood there, looking out across the miles of burning land that had once been home to millions. Fire and smoke drifted into the sky, leaving only sparks and ashes to fall to the ground.

Frost and Stenzke walked up behind him, joining him on the ledge to look out over the ruined city. For the moment they had won. Against impossible odds, they had reclaimed their capital. They didn't know if it could ever possibly be restored to its former glory, but knew that even if they ever did rebuild, Shanxi would never be the same again.

"So," Stenzke breathed. "When do you think we're going to hit their worlds? I'm ready for some payback."

"Not soon enough," Frost muttered. "But I know that we're going to burn their cities when we get there. I don't like an eye for an eye, but blood demands retribution."

"When the time is right," Hower said. "When the time is right."

---

New Denver

Shanxi

3rd Mechanized, 2nd Order

Balak slowly opened his eyes, vaguely perceiving the outlines of concrete. Blindly, he fumbled for his comm switch; pausing as he noted a difference; the world sounded slightly different. Wind hummed past his helmet, somehow inside now, its cool touch caressing his face. 'What happened?'

Acrid smoke filtered in through the cracks of his helmet of his shattered visor. Bits of it were embedded into the flesh of his skin, creating deep searing wounds that oozed blood. Opening his eyes he took in the scene before him, crushing his very soul. His entire force wiped out by the mongrels.

Balak sat up, howling out a cry as his entire left side lit up with pain. A raging fire burned beneath his skin, feeling every sign of broken bones. His armor was burnt and warped, chunks dented or missing with bits of shrapnel were lodged deep within it. His entire body was filled with pain, smoke filling his lungs and causing him to cough. He had to get off this planet by whatever means.

'The shuttles. They're still waiting for evac. If they survived.' He had to get off this planet by whatever means.

Balak struggled to stand up, eventually managing to despite the immense pain. The last few moments of his memories played in his head, the images of sudden explosions followed by small arms fire. His shield had been quickly depleted, armor becoming shredded under the impact of armor-piercing rounds. How long he had been out, he wasn't sure but from the signs of battle continuing it couldn't have been too long.

Stumbling as he went, Balak offered a quick prayer to the Pillars, that he would make it to an extraction point before the humans managed to catch him. He would not join the dead today, he would survive.

---

A/N: So this is the longest chapter my partners and I have worked on, reaching over 21k in total! Now the reason for this is due to us bringing all the past perspectives and events from previous chapters and including them here. This chapter was meant to serve as a knot, bringing all the stories of Shanxi to a final and epic conclusion. Now because of this, not only are the next chapters going to be posted much sooner than the 2 weeks, but you will be receiving the final two chapters together so you guys are welcome for the gift. Think of it as a late Christmas present from us.

That being said, I expect at least ten reviews for each. I mean we are giving you guys a bonus and it would be nice if you could give back a little of your time to post a review that we enjoy reading. Yes it is sad, but I personally have little else to do aside from work, college, and socializing. After all that I still have 2 hours to kill and you guys help me knock that out.

Also I noticed a huge disparity between favs and followers, for those of you who have only faved the story, it would do me a solid if you could follow as well in order to reduce the number down to 20 or something like that.

Trivia:

1. The title is another reference to Halo, particularly one of the Didact's last words during his final end speech in Halo 4. For a guy hell bent on humanity's extinction, that guy knows to how to give an inspirational speech I must give him that.

2. For those unaware, the biotic attack used by Bellec dubbed Pressure, is an O.C biotic trick developed by one of our own reviewers. I am sorry to say, but I forgot his pen name, but he knows who he is and I thank him. This is why you should all be involved; you don't know when your ideas will be implemented in the story.

3. Arrete is now the official name of Stenzke's unique ability to suspend rounds before delivering them back to their former owners. V-cringetorix is the patent holder on the name.

4. The squad's quips about the mission no longer being a stealth one and mention of lack of gunships is a reference to Army of Two The Devils Cartel where Salem and Rios say something similar to each during the first level.

5. As you already know…longest chapter ever!

6. We all get to see our favorite batarian, Balak and his huge ego. Not to mention the cringe-worthy irony. I mean I think I made him far better than the canon version to the point I almost wanted to punch myself for writing someone so arrogant. I am sure all of you are glad he got what he deserved…and then immediately got pissed he survived. Well at least he is traumatized.

7. We see an example where humanity's division is a weakness in the form of radio frequencies. Good thing Hower was able to ignite the flares, and also yes it is a tribute to MW2's last scene of the Rangers!

8. The Yao with a sword scene near the end was inspired by the 'stick-and-bucket-dance' written by Terry Pratchett (Lords and Ladies, I believe)

9. Yao's armor color changed a few times in this writing.

10. Raloi aren't seen outside of a single cameo ... their stealth is just that good.

11. This chapter took over 6 weeks to get right, partially because one beta is slow at his own admission, but also due to the length.