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

36. Chapter 36 - The Crew

11-24-2176, 1347 hours (Alliance standard time)

Forge

Mars

Tyse Shipyard

Anderson double-checked his orders, just as he'd verified their instructions an average twice an hour, for the past six hours. As before, they blinked back at him, uncaring in the extreme, dark letters on a light background.

"Captain Anderson, sir?" a freckled, tousle-headed young man ambled down the hall, peering at the military man with awed features.

"That's me."

The young man's eyes widened. "Com – I mean yessir! Admiral Hackett is ready to see you Captain Sir!"

Anderson raised an eyebrow. "Very … well?"

Oblivious to the impression he was making, the unnamed youth twisted gangly limbs around to lead the veteran N7 commander up the hall. It was a working hall, not given to excessive decoration or ostentatious presentations. Skid marks on the floor evinced heavy weights and actual labor being performed, honest work rather than the gleaming showrooms other organizations displayed. In fact, he hadn't seen any actual display centers, just quiet plaques commemorating terms and people he knew only through access to Alliance archives.

Passing one such emblem now, he caught the confirming name, Atlas Project. A small project heading suggested a prototype breakthrough, which in turn suggested the beginning of major production of recent vintage.

Interest piqued, Anderson checked another. This one marked the success of one Doctor Sirta, which any student of the medical field could recognize. His contributions to medigel development were hailed as a groundbreaking tool on par with the discovery of penicillin, with good reason.

The boy hadn't checked his follower however, and Anderson had to take quick steps. For such an awkward figure their pace was remarkable. Perhaps he hailed from one of the higher gravity colonies? They often felt themselves uncomfortable in lower gravity stations. Old habits died hard.

Pacing down the hall brought memories flooding through his mind. The years spent training after Shanxi, endless training missions rotating through goodwill missions. Dark times in the Traverse, spent in the companionship of good soldiers and hard times. Even now Anderson could envision the Russian training grounds on a colony whose name he wasn't supposed to remember.

He did, of course. Amnesiatic drugs worked on most humans, not all. By the same token, not all humans were capable of rising to the rank of N7.

An open door interrupted memories, beckoning its brighter warmth into the dark hall. He could see hardwood floors, the first sign of decadence he'd seen; wood was a high-priced commodity on stations more than a single Relay away from Earth proper. Of course, it could be timber from Eden Prime, a populous colony settled by adventurers and staid businessmen alike. The incredible prices of a few decades before no longer existed thanks to Element Zero shipping, prohibitive to be certain, but no longer a king's ransom.

The young man stopped at the doorway's edge, leaning inside a bare hand-span. "Admiral sir, Captain Anderson sir is here to see you, sir."

"Send him in then," a confident baritone boomed.

The boy rotated. "He says to –"

"Thank you." Anderson politely but firmly, stepped past, entering the room. "Sir."

"Captain," the lean man inside stood to greet him, a handshake granting assurance through contact. "Congratulations on your new command."

"Thank you, sir." Anderson took in the room without doing anything so crass as look around. It was a quiet place, artwork from a dozen campaigns decorating the walls, bookshelves holding a few artifacts one would expect from an experienced military man. Even the customary scrimshaw whale's tooth had a place, embellished in its entirety with ornate depictions of the mighty Everest, a dreadnought for which the class was named. "Nice place."

A faint smile touched the older man's lips. "It'll do. A place to hang my hat between deployments. Welcome to my personal holdings, Anderson. Have you ever been to the Forge before?"

Anderson shook his head. "Always wanted to see the place. Didn't know your office was actually here though."

This time the pleased smile expanded into full visibility. "Good. If the infamous graduates of the Combative Initiative must resort to guesswork, I am doing my job right. Are you ready for your new command?"

"Sir, yes sir."

At a gesture the two left by a separate doorway, travelling deeper into the space station's depths. This path bore fewer decorations, pure functionality over aesthetics. Now and then a window opened into the vast expanse of nothingness, space between the stars. No one knew where the fabled birthplace of Alliance elite hardware dwelt; the designers and experts consolidated their efforts on the Mars Construction Yards, but once a plan was complete it was a physical copy carried by courier. Even Anderson had been escorted to a shuttle lacking an AI, piloted by a man who had worn full body armor for the entire duration.

"You have quite the view," Anderson opined, glancing out the nearest panel. Without atmosphere, the stars gleamed a steady light, a myriad of colors invisible through planetary atmosphere. "A little bleak."

"You think so?" a questioning tone entered Hackett's voice. He cast his own gaze at the external view. "I find it soothing. From here I am able to visualize the entire galaxy. Here I can think. Every time I stay at Arcturus there is a constant cacophony, no scope for the imagination. Ah, but we are almost there."

Anderson followed his superior to an observation lounge, tasteful carpets providing a visual relief from stark plating. Sweeping visual displays encircled the half-oval, providing a panoramic view of the entire shipyard. Nearby, less than a pistol shot away, hung an angular vessel, incomplete but exuding the same grim aura large carnivorous fish radiated on water-filled planets.

He took in the view. Blueprints were one thing, three-dimensional constructs projected in monochromatic hologram technology. Even models failed to present the true presence of an actual ship.

"I saw your list of personnel," Hackett shared his posture, watching over the vessel almost like a father gauging the efforts of a precocious offspring. "Lieutenant Alenko is a good choice, I believe. A grenadier with the Enforcers would add another dimension to your ground crew."

"Thank you, sir." Anderson didn't move, examining the sleek curvature that made up the ship's spine.

"Sergeant Major Ramirez on the other hand. I understand his stealth capacity with the Ghosts is an attractive skillset. But young Major Yao 's ability to speak a variety of alien languages will no doubt be of greater use."

"Yao is on the list," he responded evenly. "But all of my choices offer a solid benefit. I'm still looking for a squad leader – you know who I want."

Hackett scoffed. "Yes, I know. But he's a political landmine. Are you certain you wish to entrust this ship to the hands of a man such as he?"

"He handled himself well before," he responded. "Yao is … attached to his Amazons. If he accepts it would be well, but I have my doubts."

"That or they're attached to him," Hackett grumbled. "I remember the stories form Shanxi. Boy took it hard."

"Now Major Izotov is another story entirely. Are you sure it's a good idea to include him?"

"The man may be … hard to work with, but his reputation as a hard fighter precedes him," Anderson replied, a little too quickly for Hackett's tastes.

The Admiral narrowed his eyes. "Yes, among many other things. You do realize having him following orders is going to be far more difficult than engaging the enemy?"

"Perhaps." Anderson nodded. "But he'll plow through any enemy we can think of. I'd rather have him on our team in case we end up being outnumbered four to one."

"He certainly is decorated," Hackett conceded. "Shanxi and then Torfan … you do realize we cannot bring all of them aboard? We can convince perhaps one or two, but the Big Four will never agree to send all of them on an Alliance vessel."

The two men stood in silence, shared memories stark against the void.

Coming out of his reverie, Hackett stretched his shoulders. "I have been in an office too long. What say you I show you around your new ship? The best ship I believe this shipyard has ever turned out."

"As you say, sir." Anderson matched his stride.

"Excellent!" Hackett chuckled. "To the Normandy then. May she serve you well."

---

New Thebes

Anhur

3rd Company, Battlegroup 8 Mechanized

Once the last squad had filled the compartment, the door hissed shut on the EC 220 Gadfly. The infantry transport shuttle was the newest class of its kind, incorporating ultra-violet lasers for armament and a hybrid quantum sensor. The transport was built by NH-Industries, the same company responsible for creating the famous PAH-6 Cheetah gunship. Though it is not as versatile as the JSF's newest transport, its engine makes it a faster and more reliable platform for transporting troops across the battlefields. The Gadfly had an FCL (Fire-Control-Lidar) that incorporated a Laser Frequency Interferometern LFI (laser frequency interferometer). This allows, allowing for a passive location/ and identification of radar-emitting threats.

Junior lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, only recently promoted, conducted a last-minute tally mark to account for the men in his platoon, the. They were Firewall, 2nd Grenadier Platoon, 3rd Company. All fifty-six men sat in the compartment facing their fellows, trading jokes and nervous banter across the hold's narrow length.

This drop was different from previous missions, not just in terms of the nature of the mission, but also in scope, too. Such a the cooperative effort by of the Big Four hadn't been done since the attack on Shanxi. Interfering in the affairs of independent colonies usually contradicted the principles of the Federation, however given how Anhur's leaders had legalized the abominable practice of slavery, there was no other option than to step in. A total of three Alliance marine divisions had been deployed to the planet and were handling the bulk of the fighting, however the Systems Alliance had requested additional assistance for specialized tasks.

A crackling voice sounded from speakers set in the ceiling. "Bay doors closed. Locks released. Engines engaged. Activating onboard gravitational systems in three, two, one …"

Kaidan felt his stomach lurch, a brief moment in which his body weight doubled as the grav-field of the Hetman Sahaydachniy II and the drop-ship's field overlapped. Just as quickly, the feeling was gone, and the dropship's onboard gravity became the only force keeping him in his seat.

"Bay doors cleared," reported the pilot's voice a few seconds later. "Firing thrusters. Beginning descent. Breaching thermosphere in five, four …"

Kaidan tuned out the rest of the count.

"What's the conditions of the thermosphere, sarge?" piped a nervous-sounding Grenadier a few seats to the right.

"Stifle it," barked his sergeant. "You should've read the data slate if you wanted to know."

Despite himself, Kaidan let a smile show on his face. 'New recruits,' he thought. This was the first drop for a good number of the men. The senior cadets from the Federation's many training camps had graduated to be assigned to Battlegroup 8. Kaidan had expressed grave concerns in private, citing the Grenadiers lacking experience compared to what the Kommandoes held. He knew that their first taste of front-line combat would test the skills the recruits had learn, applying their combat training in real life. Thinking about who made the grade and who didn't, Kaidan cast an involuntary glance along his platoon and hoped the majority would survive.

The speakers crackled to life again. "Entering mesospheric zone now."

"If any of you ask what the mesospheric zone is, I swear to god you'll be pulling double training," Kaidan barked. It wasn't bullying, not really. Fresh blood needed to know the Enforcers didn't just hold combat prowess as important, but academics as well. It also helped alleviate concerns and distract from the cruel truth that good men always died in combat. He just hoped it wouldn't be a great many.

Nervous laughter rippled along the troops, momentarily diverted from the violent battle ahead.

"Shuttle shields holding at ninety percent. Entering stratosphere," came through the speakers.

Any jokes or remarks to be made following this announcement died as the shuttle started shaking and juddering violently. Most of the recruits grimaced, their faces undergoing changes in color as they fought back nausea. The experienced soldiers like Kaidan were used to it, the more susceptible among them only eating small morsels of nutrient bars beforehand, knowing full well the dangers of indulging in excess.

"Time to put them in, Grenadiers," Kaidan reached into his armor pouch and withdrew a small transparent mouthguard. They were normally unnecessary, however in crucial deployments as this one with the shuttle essentially diving down into the planet instead of entering a gentle horizontal approach; they were sometimes the only thing to keep a soldier from losing teeth.

Veteran Grenadiers drew similar items from their armor, inserting them into their mouths and fitting them securely into their mouths. Expressions of abject horror were pasted on every recruit face as realization settled in.

"Bloody hell! Why didn't anyone tell us to bring gumshields?" cried one of the Grenadiers in front of Kaidan.

"First rule of combat," Kaidan began, "Is to be prepared for anything. War does not bend to your preferences so you need to make sure to bend along with it."

The soldier gaped in disbelief for a moment before fishing in his pocket for something, anything that might be of use. The trooper pulled out a wadded piece of rag, the type used to clean off oil from a weapon. Even though there were stains of oil, the trooper nonetheless stuffed it into his mouth, a miserable expression painted on his face that Kaidan no doubt guessed tasted strongly of Benzene and other types of metallic chemicals.

"Good thinking, son. We'll make something out of you yet," Captain Santiago Arnavisca laughed.

"Exiting stratosphere in three, two, one," buzzed the voice from the speakers. "Troposphere entry achieved. Eight hundred thousand meters above New Thebes. All personal brace for atmospheric buffeting. Touchdown in approximately twelve minutes with a guaranteed chance of AA fire. Disengaging onboard gravitational systems and switching to local gravity."

For the second time since Kaidan had come aboard, there was an instant of gravitational overlap that made him feel nearly twice as heavy, the laws of physics snapping in paradoxical fashion. Some of the men grunted as their bodies protested against the sudden strain but, once the gravitational plates on the shuttle's floor deactivated, they hardly noticed the difference

According to the mission briefing everyone had attended, Anhur's surface gravity was a staggering 1.7Gs. Kaidan, who typically weighed around seventy-five kilograms, now weighed seventy percent more at one hundred twenty-eight. The Enforcers had accounted for this, ensuring the Battlegroup trained at twice the normal gravity as Earth for two months, subtly preparing the troops for their eventual ground deployment.

Over the course of the training, Kaidan had felt his appetite increased greatly, more than his biotics demanded, to such extent that he needed to exchange his armor size prior to deployment. His body had adapted. Now, with the planet's local gravity acting on him directly, he didn't feel any heavier than normal. The big difference would be felt on the vehicles; fuel efficiency, firing distance, trajectory speed, any number of variables. All of these matters were of serious concern for the crew manning the Battlegroup's small complement of vehicles.

It wasn't long before the shuttle was really bouncing around. Anhur's atmosphere was thicker than most populated worlds, and the pressure differentials between the planet's stratosphere and other atmospheric zones reportedly made for something truly ferocious. Some of the rookies looked set to vomit as the craft was tossed side to side, swinging in one direction one moment before reeling another at the next.

Kaidan guessed the enemy anti-air craft had begun firing on the Battlegroup's shuttles by now. He fought the urge to tense his muscles, realizing it was far smarter to relax if he didn't want to suffer torn tendons and tissue. These types of injuries were unfortunately all too common during deployments onto higher gravity worlds and having a 'forcer suffer this prior to combat was sometimes fatal.

"All of you relax," Arnavisca growled around his mouthpiece. "I don't want you lot to be wounded before we get into the fight."

"Easier said the done, Captain," one of the soldiers said.

"Just close your eyes and lay back," he advised.

Before the soldier could reply, the shuttle's speakers sparked back to life. "Altitude, five thousand–"

Suddenly, static replaced the pilot's voice, drowning out all noise in an awful ringing screech. Kaidan pressed his helmet deeper into his ears, hoping to protect them. He knew what caused those sounds, knew it never heralded good news. It was the sound of tearing metal, armor plating being stripped off the shuttle.

The drop-ship suddenly rolled hard to the right. Kaidan's head was flung backwards into his chair, striking the padded surface of the seat. His stomach felt it was doing acrobatics inside his body, his small meal now threatening escape his body. His vision dimmed slightly, seeing stars replace the interior of the shuttle. Some of the soldiers were thrown so hard against their restrains, their mouth-guards flew free.

Yelled curses filled the air. "Bloody hell, we're hit!" shouted a young trooper in panic.

"We're not hit," Arnavisca barked. "If we were, we'd be nothing but scrap metal."

"What the hell was that then?" demanded someone else.

"A glancing shot!" Kaidan yelled at them with excruciating effort. "Settle down!"

The shuttle rolled hard in the other direction before banking vertically. It took moments before the shuttle righted itself, though the juddering remained so severe the men gripped their impact frames with white-knuckled hands.

"This is shuttle 1-4, we've been hit … heavy anti-aircraft … storm … below. All personnel … for immediate … crash landing. Need reinforcements …"

Suddenly, a great wave of nerve numbing feeling blossomed in Kaidan's head. The entire interior of the shuttle seemed to roll over on its axis. Up, down, left, and right lost all meaning as they seemed to replace one another. Then everything shifted again with frightening speed. He shut his eyes to avoid feeling nauseous, still managing to see sparks of light bursting behind his eyelids. He felt his muscles cry out in protest as the limits of his body were brutally tested, and then, with his heart ramming his chest with adrenaline fueled intensity, darkness enveloped him.

Silence. Enteral emptiness. No feeling, no pain, just darkness.

He remained so for an untold amount of time before something stung Kaidan's cheek. The pain was sharp and rapid, soon followed by even more. Slowly, despite his struggles, it dragged him back from the color-less comfort. Half-awake, he probed the inside of his cheek with his tongue. The flesh was ragged, tasting blood. Next came a shooting pain in his eyes, despite his desire to shut them tighter, before a shadow fell across him. The pain slowly dissipated while slowly, carefully, he opened his eyes.

"Lieutenant, wake up!"

Kaidan let the world back into his mind.

"Captain Arnavisca? What–" Waves of fire surged through his muscles as Kaidan tried to rise. He grunted in pain and nearly sank back but the sound of chaos and intensity of rounds and slugs being exchanged prevented him from doing so.

"Come on, Lieutenant," Arnavisca said, holding out a hand.

Kaidan took it, rising to his feet. All round him, Kaidan could see the signs of battle already in progress.

"Damn bastards hit us hard," Arnavisca continued. "Third Company took some losses. We've got twenty-five dead and thirty wounded. Lieutenant, I need you to get the fleet of Archers up and moving, we've got some cover but the enemy is already coming."

There came a whirring whoosh of wind, a trail of smoke following the launch of a missile landing a few meters off the side. From afar came the forces of the Eclipse, asari, salarian, and human augmented by hordes of Loki and Ymir mechs. The automatons marched in perfect synchronicity, firing as they walked.

"Hold them back," bellowed Captain Arnavisca. "Don't let them pass or they'll slaughter the wounded!" He fired his assault rifle into the advancing mass of the Eclipse forces.

Rising to his feet, Kaidan activated the fleet of Archers at their disposal. With breath held, he watched as the Archers sprang to life. The question in how effective they were was soon answered. Armed with a Tactical High Energy Laser, the swarm of drones fired a luminescent glow from their robotic frames. The first few Eclipse mercenaries wielded no protection, high intensity lasers cutting through in multiple places.

As they went down, the Enforcer Grenadiers and, much more experienced, Kommandoes opened fire. No more than twenty enemy troopers were impacted with a mixture of weaponry from all across Europe's colonies, falling sluggishly to the earth.

Yet for all the superior firepower the Archers held with their lasers, there were disadvantages. As a result of particles in the air distorting the beams, the lasers maintained a shorter range than an autocannon would. Anhur's immense gravity further exacerbated the problem. The other issue was the fact any wounds inflicted by the lasersalso cauterized any wound, doing little to dissuade the enemy wounded from fighting.

The air danced with immense fire as the Eclipse pushed further, mass accelerator weapons blazing with such precision and accuracy as to rival the Enforcers themselves. The Enforcers fired back with deadly intensity, occasional bright blue lasers erupting from their lines among the tide of rounds.

Spotting an advancing squad of Eclipse engineers, Kaidan aimed his MP21 sub-machine gun and fired off a precise burst of 4.6mm rounds in a tight pattern. Catching sight of a flicker of light with his peripheral vision, he equipped his ballistic shield and it was not a moment too soon as an omni-blade stabbed the protective plate. He fired off another burst from his sub-machine gun, the cloak of air dissipating to reveal a shocked salarian.

"Nice try buddy," Kaidan said with a smile. He activated his shield, delivering an intense, high energy beam at point black range. The bright light energy was so intense, it outright disintegrated the salarian's face.

Kaidan returned his attention to the main Eclipse force, shoving his near-death experience to the back of his mind.

Torrents of fire blazed out from each of the heavy weapon nests, chewing apart scores of Eclipse forces. Turret-mounted lasers hissed and cracked at the closest targets for maximum effect, scorching the air with blinding actinic flares. Thicker spears of lasers blazed from the Enforcer drop-ship above, manned by the wounded. They poured blistering fire upon the mercenaries, forcing the enemy to be cautious rather than daring.

Yet the Eclipse brought forth their own secrets, experienced biotics launching death in reality-shifting blasts of cyan energy emitting sounds that set teeth on edge, and allowing their main force to advance. But the Enforcers were also surprised by the Eclipse mechs.

First were the Loki mechs, dozens of them fanning out as they swept the flanks of the Enforcers position, almost forming a connected semi-sphere. Here they took cover with the agility reminiscent of an organic being, instantly creating a cordon wall that bisected the Enforcers and succeeding in pinning them down with sheer numbers. Down the center came the heavier Ymir mechs, moving in clusters while firing heavy mass accelerator turrets and missiles. An over-eager Grenadier attempted to fire off a missile, only to be cut down.

"Damn it!" Arnavisca shouted. "Everyone wait until the Ymirs overheat then respond! EMP's first, then give 'em a volley of Milanas. Kommandoes, use your rifles to wear down the mechs and keep the mercenaries back."

Recognizing the true threat, the Enforcers took cover. Sensing an opportunity, Eclipse mercenaries advanced forward under the cover of their mechs. The moment the Ymir mechs began a cool down cycle – apparently not advanced enough to stagger the cycles – the Enforcers rose to fire back. EMP grenades launched from under-barrel attachments or thrown by hand detonated among the Eclipse lines. With shields weakened or depleted altogether, cracks from sniper rifle fire and booms of missiles detonating punched holes in the Eclipse infantry. But the destruction of a few Ymir mechs caused the worst damage as their detonating frames injured nearby mechs and mercenaries.

"Butcher-two to nearby Enforcer units, we're receiving your transmission and approaching from your left flank, over."

"This is Tulwar-lead, we're reading you Butcher-two, over," Arnavisca said. "How far out are you?"

No response came for it was not needed. A pile of debris shattered apart as the noticeable forty-seven-ton tank emerged from the cloud of dust. Without pause the Schwarzkopf fell to crushing the line of Loki mechs on the left flank with its treads while a well-placed two tank shell eliminated the ones on the right flank, leaving the Enforcers free to concentrate on the Eclipse in the middle. A mixture of small-arms fire and missiles were enough to draw off the Eclipse, leaving behind the mechs to cover their retreat.

The Enforcers had once again prevailed.

"Tulwar-lead to command: Be advised, we have suffered casualties and require med-evac, over."

"We read you, Tulwar. Be advised we have intercepted transmission of Eclipse armored units moving towards your position. We've diverted a Spetsnaz tank company to intercept, over."

Arnavisca cursed at his misfortune. "Understood. And our med-evac?"

"We've sent a transport, but we can only spare a single run, over."

"Understood, over and out."

---

New Thebes

Anhur

2nd Tank Platoon, 67th Mechanized Battalion

47 Minutes Earlier

Inside the fully upgraded M5A3 Schwarzkopf tank, the crew was dead quiet. The lone tank stood idle, camouflaged by debris, awaiting to spring the trap upon the approaching enemy tank company and heavy infantry. As the sole survivor of Butcher platoon, the tank crew were … motivated … to exact revenge. The small infantry support was all that was left to hold this sector of the city. Invisibility was their best asset, all troops and even the tank itself completely cloaked from both sensors and the naked eye.

From his station, Staff Sergeant Joe Ramirez maintained only a small glimpse of the overall battlefield. "Oh, they're crawling out like rats from a sewage tank," said Joe. A miniature tac-pad on his helmet clicked over, marking the enemy targets as thin, red rhomboids. As the tank's driver, his skills and timing would be critical for maneuvering the Schwarzkopf to each pre-designated cover once the shooting started.

At his station, Lieutenant Mitchell maintained even better view of the battlefield with his larger and more advanced command pad. He could easily count fourteen Barracuda tanks and seven Mako troop transports. The irony his tank was facing human made war machines manned by the enemy did not escape him.

"Alright, ready to rumble?" Mitchell asked. "Crew, prepare for action."

The gunner, Marcus Brown did not need to be told twice. "Aye, commander."

"Sir, yes sir," Salvatore said. While the Schwarzkopf model had an autoloader taking care of a task that once needed a dedicated crewman, the tank did require a dedicated communication specialist in order to allow the tank commander better coordination external support.

"Brown, anti-armor, high kinetic," Mitchell ordered.

From his screen, Brown selected a high kinetic round, the tank's auto systems automatically loading the selected type of round. "Anti-armor, high kinetic round loaded and ready to fire."

The enemy tank company continued advancing blissfully unaware of the trap it was coming upon.

"Is it time commander? What if the engine fails?" Joe asked. While the Schwarzkopf was a battle-hardened and reliable tank. It had suffered a beating in its previous encounter with the enemy.

"It will. There are no ifs," Mitchell said, reciting Murphey's law. "Just keep it cool and we'll all be alright." He switched frequencies to radio the status update. "But –," Mitchell began before remembering the tank commander's tank had been destroyed, with its crew managing to survive. He rectified his mistake. "Captain Foley, the enemy is approaching as planned."

"Understood, Butcher-two," The captain replied. "We're in position and are waiting your signal."

"Understood, Captain." Mitchell looked through his periscope, receiving a similar image as his gunner. The lead tank approaching the first range marker. "Come on, mercs. Show us your flanks."

The enemy tanks were only a few meters short of the mark when they suddenly halted. Mitchell nearly cursed. "Damn it. Captain Foley, be advised the tank company has halted. Requesting order to engage."

"Negative, Butcher-two. We can't lose the element of surprise. We only have one shot. Any indication of why they stopped?"

"Must've sensed something," Joe said, not believing his own words as he said it. If nothing else, the JSF were renowned for their stealth; the more chaotic an environment, the darker their shadow became.

Mitchell searched his brain for any potential reason. It ran though the lists faster than a VI could potentially hope to imagine, before wincing when he found the answer. "Captain, it's possible the quietness of the area could have tipped the enemy off."

"Damn," Foley cursed. There was a certain irony in being so good at hiding that the enemy stopped because they didn't sense a threat. "Understood, we're planting the decoy. The moment the enemy presents an opportunity, you are free to engage."

"Understood, Captain."

The sudden altering of the enemy tanks' positioning tipped Mitchell off that the enemy had indeed taken the bait, a fake, anti-tank cannon placed at a corner a dozen meters off. As one, the human-made tanks with alien crew shifted to the left and exposing their flanks as they did so.

"Yes. Smart play, Captain. They bit."

The twin firing of two Barracudas main cannons and subsequent destruction of the anti-tank cannon eliminated any doubts.

"Well they took the bait," Joe said, stating the obvious. "Are they in position?"

"Not, yet, Joe." The commander replied. "Yeah that's it, take the bait." Seeing two Barracudas moving a slow advance to line up perfectly, he saw no better opportunity. "Fire!"

Brown stroked the 130 mm cannon's trigger and was treated to the destruction of two enemy tanks. The shell soared forwards with fury, striking the canopy of the first tank, over-penetrating and striking the rear engines of the second. A bright spark of shredded metal trailed the destruction of the shell itself.

"Mother of god!" Joe said, laughing at the good fortunate. "That was one hell of a shot."

"Two birds with one stone," Salvatore said. "Brown, you have an insane amount of luck."

Brown remained silent, already selecting another round, and the cannon aimed at another target. With the press of his thumb, he unleashed another round, adding yet another tank kill.

"More like lucky for us the Eclipse decided to strip the 'Cuda's armor." he said. "Guess they really love those sensors of theirs."

"Not that it's helping them," Salvatore replied.

"No, but they have numbers to compensate," Joe warned.

"Ramirez, move to the next nav-point!" Mitchell ordered.

Joe complied, the twin response shots of two Barracudas detonating short of the Schwarzkopf's position. The Eclipse must've have triangulated the vector of the tank shell as any visibility of the tank they were treated to was nothing but translucent air. He reversed the tank with excellent precision, the tank seeming like an extension of his body and mind. As he reversed, Salvatore manned the secondary weapons in hopes of creating some form of cover as they fell back.

The enemy tanks fired off two more shots, landing off target as well. A third tank, however, was far closer. The tank gave a shudder on the left side, a round shearing a single plate of armor as it slipped a few milli-meters off the tank. It still caused the tank to give a metal clang to vibrate inside however, being unnoticeable through the JSF's protective gear. A display pointing to the damage caused still appeared on everyone's cross-cam, notifying the crew.

"Hot damn, rookie that was a close call," Brown said in an admiring tone.

"Let's avoid pressing our luck with that," Salvatore warned.

"Just remember it's my first day on the job," Joe said, a quiet smile appearing nonetheless. He drove the tank to park it behind a partially destroyed house.

The crew laughed despite the grave situation. The crew of Butcher-Two, and by extension Butcher platoon seemed to possess near prodigy-like skill in tank combat. Of course, that didn't stop the enemy from disabling the rest of the platoon's tanks and causing the JSF troopers to destroy the M5A3s, but retribution was being inflicted to everyone's pleasure, minus the enemy.

"In position, Commander," Joe reported.

Detonations all around was all that was needed for the crew to realize the enemy had deployed mortars. While pitiful in small quantities, the number of booms were in the magnitudes of artillery. Of course, the lack of visual on the M5A3 quickly caused the enemy to cease fire, tempting the enemy infantry to advance deeper into the JSF's hands. With grace and tactical-prowess the combined asari and salarian infantry proceeded in covering platoons, keeping low and clearing ruined buildings. Some of their infiltrators activated their own cloaks in hopes of sneaking on the JSF. It was in vain, considering they were facing the masters of stealth. Their own supporting vehicles bulldozing through the debris didn't help their cause.

"The gun is yours," Mitchell said, no doubt aware Brown had the target in his sights.

The cannon roared twice. The first shot disabled the tracks of a Barracuda with a High Explosive Squash Head shell and the second launched an airburst shell, maiming surrounding infantry.

"Another one down!" Salvatore cheered, using the coaxial heavy machine gun to inflict more losses on the infantry. The auto-firing grenade launcher latched onto the roof of the Schwarzkopf's roof quickly shredded clusters of enemy soldiers. The groups of humans attached to the alien mercenary outfit were the first to suffer the brunt of the attack, their mastery of human dialect as well as potential exposure to any form of human tactics or mindset making them primary targets – for the moment.

With the exposure of the galaxy at large, any human previously enlisted in the armed forces were always ensured to swear loyalty to their perspective nations or turned away entirely. Those that refused to do so were either imprisoned if caught violating these rules or disappeared, never to be seen again.

"That's four down already," Salvatore said, seeming in disbelief.

With clear line of sight and from well concealed positions, Pioneers let loose torrents of fire from their SAWs while cloaked JSF Ghosts targeted Eclipse Infiltrators, employing the extensive use of concealed motion sensors and trackers highlighting the enemy's positions. It was at that moment the JSF's little surprise for the Eclipse tank company was sprung. A massive explosion erupted from beneath the path the Eclipse's tank traveled. Seven anti-tank mines knocked out the shields of three Barracudas while another eight destroyed them immediately.

Now the little secret was out; the area had been mined. However this was no ordinary minefield. This was a field of Netfires, a JSF creation. The next two alien Makos started to swing a wide arc, believing they would avoid the field. What they didn't realize was that the mines were communicating with each other and literally hopping into alternate positions to refill the first two breaches and keep the enemy within the kill-zone. Each mine was capable of two-sided mobility and able to maneuver up to ten meters with each hop. All were carefully monitored by one of the JSF Pioneers, who Joe assumed was sitting on his ass and reading the data on a data slate.

Even if the Eclipse mercenaries managed to jam the signals between each mine, the system would enter autonomous response mode and maintain minefield integrity for several more hours. Either way, the Eclipse had stumbled upon an armored convoy's worst nightmare: a self-healing minefield that could only be breached by a continuous number of suicide runs or the unloading of a significant cache of ordnance. In fact, if the situation required it, the minefield could also target gunships.

Eight missiles fired from Pioneers collided with the enemy Makos, eliminating only four. It bought sufficient time for the remaining four Pioneers wielding their rifles and SAWs to seek cover elsewhere while throwing smoke and flashbangs. If nothing else it served to distract and draw attention away from the maneuvering JSF soldiers and lone tank. Another missile was fired upon an exposed Mako, its rear detonating in a spectacular display of metal sparks as its engines was burst like a bubble. Its crew seemed to be cooked alive. The JSF Pioneers redirected their attentions to two Barracuda tanks, firing all their Fire Spitters in one massive volley, managing to destroy both while disabling a third.

The Schwarzkopf, now hiding in a ruined school room with its main cannon a few meters from the window began reorienting its turret to target one of the retreating Makos. It fired twice, unfortunately this time missing both its shots. With explosions booming the victor would emerge from the chaos by discipline and commitment, the mercenaries momentary retreat displaying an initial lack of it.

This proved to be a ploy however, the enemy commander consolidating his forces by having his Barracudas and Makos firing on infantry positions, allowing his own infantry easier access to the hellish battlegrounds. The vibration of the tank, alerted the tank crew that enemy infantry was now nearby. Their explosives, which practically ineffective caused concern at how close they were now.

"Ramirez, move us out," Mitchell ordered.

"The frogs and crests are out there!" Joe complained.

"I figured," Mitchell snapped back. "Brown, load anti-armor and stop at the right gate."

"Aye, sir."

Understanding his concerns were of no use, Joe began driving the tank towards its new destination. All the while, the Eclipse infantry were beginning to hose down the tank with grenades and rifle slugs.

With the tank aimed towards the destination given, Salvatore was unable to aim the coaxial machinegun towards the enemy. So, he did the next best thing and opened the hatch on the tanks roof and manned the M4 .50 caliber heavy machine gun. Normally the M5A3s were equipped with auto-targeting M4s, but a stray missile had disabled the weapons VI. With a roar from both the Pioneer and the M4, Salvatore unleashed a steady staccato of heavy caliber rounds. Enemy slugs pinged off his shields and the tank's hull and canopy, but did next do no damage compared to the hammer blows he handed out. One burst from the M4 caused the left side of a salarian's face to be ripped off while another hit an asari in the chest, ricocheting inside her body against the armor until it erupted from her larynx.

An Eclipse biotic had him in her sights however, letting loose a powerful kinetic strike followed by a burst from her sniper rifle. It quickly drained Salvatore's shields and the slug detonated inside his shoulder blade. As the enemy biotic began lifting him into the air, Mitchell emerged from inside the tank firing off a grenade from his under-barrel attachment. The attack distracted the biotic enough for her to lose concentration and gravity made its presence felt as both Salvatore and Mitchell fell inside the tank. They landed ungracefully in a tangle of limbs, taking precious seconds for them to untangle themselves and close the roof hatch.

By this time the tank had reached its destination and fired another round, this one draining the shields of an enemy tank before a shot punished the M5A3 further. Brown didn't waste a second before adding a fifth tank kill to his career. "Fifth tank down!"

"Nick, minimize risks," Mitchell said.

"Nearly impossible with our targeting VIs damaged," Salvatore replied. "Unless you can get us to a FOB for repairs, risk is all we are running off of."

"We'll deal with that later," Mitchell said, bringing returning his focus to the battle. "But since you're so concerned, you'll have the honor of conducting repairs."

Salvatore could do nothing else than to man his position and hope his superior had mercy after the battle.

"Ramirez, take us to point Charlie, behind the ruined chapel." Mitchell mentally counted the number of enemy tanks still operational. As if to remind him of the fact a heavy shell collided with the side armor of the Schwarzkopf, punching it with vengeance.

The crew felt the shot as the vibration managed to filter through their protective ear piece. Shouts of agony erupted from the crew; the tank continuing to rattle.

"Report," Mitchell demanded, searching for the origin of the shell. The tank's AI created a multitude of flight paths and eliminating ones with less than ninety-five percent chance of probability.

"It didn't go through!" Joe reported.

"Ramirez, sharp right!"

"Shit! Come on, old girl!"

"Sharp right," Mitchell repeated.

"You know this isn't like driving a sports car!" Ramirez continued to reorient the tank.

"You're right. It's easier," Mitchell bit back.

"Come on!" Salvatore pressed in and assisted Ramirez in trying to get the tank tread moving again. This time it began to move, circling around in a loop as it continued to be hammered by another shot.

Brown fired another shot in response, again missing, but it didn't matter. The shell he fired was a smoke shell, perfect for creating cover for such a large predator.

"Move out behind the chapel!" Mitchell ordered again.

The tank responded, taking cover behind the chapel with only the edge of the cannon exposed.

"Brown, anti-armor," Mitchell ordered.

Before confirmation could be heard, the hull of the tank was ruptured open, razor sharp shrapnel flung in all directions. The tank came to a halt, seemingly dead. The Reaper was denied this day however as its crew began to stir assessing the damage. Joe was the first to take aware of the situation, unable to hold back a scream. Brown seemed to be the second to regain his bearings, his attention drawn to the status of the main cannon.

"Are you alive?" Mitchell asked.

"Salvatore? Salvatore!" The cries of Joe drew everyone's attention. "Lieutenant, Salvatore is in critical attention! Profuse bleeding from his back and embedded shrapnel near the spine!"

"Calm down, Ramirez. Apply medi-gel to halt the bleeding. We'll stabilize him the best we can and head towards the nearest medical facility," Mitchell ordered. He immediately got on the radio. "Captain Foley, be advised we have a casualty critically wounded, over."

His only response was static. "Captain Foley, are you receiving, over?"

"Cap –"

"Lieutenant Mitchell, this is Lieutenant Dunn. The Captain is KIA, I repeat Captain Foley is KIA. We only have three Pioneers and eight Ghosts remaining."

"Your orders, Lieutenant Dunn?" While both he and Mitchell were of similar rank, Dunn was Lieutenant First Class to Mitchell's Second Class, thus giving Dunn seniority and command of the remaining JSF force.

"Elimination of the enemy tank company is first priority. We manage to cut them all down and there is only a few remaining. Be advised there is enemy tank behind you and your five'o clock with approaching infantry. Only three Barracudas and two Makos remain operational. We can win this!"

Knowing completing the mission came first, Mitchell obeyed despite realizing it would cost everyone their lives, but it was what everyone signed up for and if they were going to do they may as well take the entire enemy tank company down with them.

"Understood Lieutenant, Butcher-Two is continuing on mission. And Dunn?"

"Yeah?"

"It's been an honor."

"Likewise. From Shanxi to Anhur, it's been quite a journey hasn't it?"

"The best."

"Then let's meet our destination with all the dignity and pride the JSF expects."

"Agreed." Mitchell turned to his crew. "You guys heard. Ramirez, take us out. Brown, I want that cannon to keep on firing and never stop understand?"

"Yes, sir!" The driver and gunner responded with pride.

To the enemy's great surprise, the Schwarzkopf roared to life once again, reversing course and turning with its cannon blaring continuously in all directions. With its shields beginning to be restored, the tank became an even more formidable adversary to the Eclipse vehicles, only to be decreased by the small amount of shells impacting the M5A3.

"Brown, target the one over at the school by the gates," Mitchell ordered.

"Yes, sir!"

When the turret met its target, a shell was fired. The Barracuda's shields faltered, leaving the tank itself undamaged, only to be met with the arrival of another Barracuda and the sole remaining pair of Makos.

"Ramirez, move out, move out immediately!" Mitchell couldn't fathom how the Schwarzkopf could fend off the remaining vehicles.

"Lieutenant Mitchell, we see your position. Don't worry, back up has arrived." Dunn's voice was followed by a trio of missiles destroying the Barracuda on the outer left before the enemy could respond. The Makos reversed either to avoid the same fate or to eliminate the surviving JSF infantry. It was a fatal mistake as a pair of Ghost-planted mines erupted behind them. The mines failed to destroy the Makos, but the mistake was rectified by the firing of two missiles destroying one of the Makos, however the JSF's luck finally ran out. The remaining Mako had the infantry's locations and fired its cannon without mercy, balls of flames and debris blasting humans into pieces. Mitchell could see a lone figure climbing on-top of the Mako, opening the hatch and throw a generous quantity of explosives. The blasts erupted inside, shredding the crew in the confines of space. The lone figure, now identified as Dunn, was cut down by the turret of the Barracuda. Dunn's sacrifice was avenged a second later with the firing of Butcher-two's cannon.

Despite the destruction of the tanks, there was no cheers or praise. The majority of Butcher Platoon essentially wiped out along with the stray squads of Ghosts the tank platoon had gathered.

"Alright then, you son of a bitch," Mitchell said, directed to the enemy tank commander. "It's just you and us. You wanna take this outside, then let's do this right now. Ramirez, bring us about!"

"Your wish is my command, sir."

Both tanks resided on opposites of a line of buildings, each careful of exposing themselves. When they did, each fired, attempting to finish the battle. As they moved from and to each building, nothing but metal casings and slugs filled the space in now empty infrastructure. In one instance the shell and slug of each were mere centimeters apart as each stuck their targets.

"Turn a three-twenty," Mitchell ordered. "Full-stop."

The cannon of the Schwarzkopf tank was aimed at the only logical route the Barracuda took take and Mitchell's prediction turned out to be correct as the exposed flank of the Barracuda could be seen. The moment it appeared; Brown unleashed two rounds of high kinetic anti-armor rounds. A moment later the tank halted, appearing dead. The crew relaxed finally having ended the fight.

Until a tank slug erupted from behind the seemingly dead Barracuda.

It was then that Mitchell realized he had been fooled. Emerging from behind the ruined Barracuda was the enemy's own main battle tank, having used the one in front as bait and firing another slug. The front shields of the M5A3 finally faltered, but Joe had already been pushed the tank's engine into overdrive. He guided the tank forward, the enemy's turret following until it impacted a support column.

Capitalizing on the enemy's mistake, Brown fired not one, not two, but four HESH shells. The enemy tank erupted in flames, but Joe continued in a clockwise direction bringing the M5A3 behind the Barracuda. The enemy commander seemed wounded, but somewhat stable trying to limp away from the carnage.

"Hold fire," Mitchell ordered, ice running through his veins. He opened the hatch and stared into the eyes of the enemy commander.

The asari stared back, a blue aura engulfing her in a desperate last attack.

"This is for Foley, Dunn, and the rest of Butcher," Mitchell said, before firing the M4 Browning with intensity. He did not stop until all seven hundred rounds were expended. The enemy had been dead after the first dozen rounds, but Mitchell did not take any second chances.

It was only a few seconds later that a cry for help came over the radio from an Enforcer Corp platoon. Mitchell looked at his crew, everyone knowing what had to be done.

"Ramirez, take us to the nav-point."

"With pleasure, sir."

With all haste the tank could muster, the M5A3 Schwarzkopf tank headed towards the downed Enforcer transport shuttle. Perhaps vengeance could be taken for the lives lost, but saving more from the aliens seemed to be an even better form of revenge.

---

New Thebes

Anhur

Vengeance 1

Long, purposeful strides carried Yao from one side of the room to the other. Massive armor, larger than what the rest of his soldiers could wield, covered him like a mobile tank. He knew strength was required, true, but took greater confidence in the miniaturized eezo transmitters. By virtue of strength and intelligence, the armor's mass was light enough to prove mobile, even in high-gravity situations.

He came to a stop, staring at an array of screens. "Report."

"Operations are proceeding apace, sir." Ki-Yun, one of the original members of the Vengeance Amazons responded. Like him, her armor held the signature markings of the Dragons and her personal attachment to his squad denoted by both crimson and sable. Unlike him, the woman bore no sword. Her beloved Typhon, heavily modified, rested in a corner. "Captain Lin reports readiness in two minutes."

"Very good." He studied the borrowed screens another moment. It was well-equipped for a more distant outpost; their allies had fed them good intel for a change. Each digital viewer changed scenes every five seconds, providing a different image for his perusal. Nothing had changed in his overall plans, which surprised him.

Another member of his squad spoke up. "All quiet west."

"All quiet north." Another responded, followed by the other lookouts reporting minimal activity in their respective zones.

The electronics quiet hum continued unabated, uncaring. They seemed well-maintained, if archaic when compared to colonies closer to the center of civilization. Anhur lacked resources in some regards, compensating for overwhelming advantages in other ways. The Blood Pack had a hard time dealing with human technology; it was of little surprise they'd installed their own Anti-Aircraft batteries before war had broken out.

"Captain Lin reports contact," Ki Yun's hand touched the side of her head, old listening protocols ingrained despite years of active service. "Enemies down, no report. Comms are clear."

A frown crossed Yao's face. His fingers longed to tap an uneasy rhythm on the hilt of his blade, but the memory of a certain elder General stilled the impulse. "Steady."

The room's nervous tension eased. Yao felt a moment of surprise; he'd not recognized the value of simple words, although he should have. Making a mental note of the lesson, he stepped back to the center of the room. At this stage there was nothing he could do but wait, a curse all soldiers felt at some points of their careers.

"Hard contact in three-two-one … contact." Ki-Yun touched a screen, flipping the view. Women in ornate armor fell into sight, vanishing into clouds of concealing smoke. Glowing red eyes appeared, a strategic hazard in Yao's opinion, but he'd been overruled by the squad itself. "Squads One through Ten reporting hard contact."

He could see that.

Digital maps on the captured room's display showed red dots at two dozen locations. There were over two thousand soldiers in his Company but over half were waiting in orbit. Comforting, but not a close comfort. That would come later, when the AA towers were down.

"Sir, the Allies are attacking." Ki-Yun's attractive features soured. "They're going for the prison camps."

Yao did not move. "To be expected."

"Sir," she had an angered expression, if one knew her well enough to see past the disciplined mien. "They were to attack the towers by the prison camp, not the camp itself."

He raised an eyebrow. "You expect the locals to run past their own family, leaving them to the tender mercies of the Blood Pack? I am surprised Major. I can recall a young hellion a few years back, willing to do anything to fight back."

Discipline or not, the woman's teeth bit her lip for a moment as her cheeks heated. "Sir."

His eyes rolled. This was not a time for personal emotions, no matter how pleasant the interlude. "Focus, Major."

"Yes, sir." this time her voice was in a low purr.

Irritated, yet not, Yao turned back to his own duties, and caught the rest of the present squad giving him the same look. They turned back too fast for a reprimand to apply, but it was obvious they'd been watching.

Amazons. They'd be the death of him yet.

Yao marched onto the battlefield once again, leading from the front.

Constant fire ricocheted against his cover. Whatever the locals used in their buildings; it was more than durable. A two-inch wall deflected standard armor penetrating ammunition, and a four-inch barrier could mitigate heavier ordnance. Yao made another note, the manufacturer would stand to make a significant profit once the fighting was over.

Then came the Bloodpack. Vorcha led by packs of krogan, coming straight at him. It seemed they took his enlarged figure as a sign of authority or power, nonetheless they charged. Yao lurched forwards away from the sheltering wall. The advancing vorcha saw him in the moment he stepped clear and squealed in alarm, but they didn't break stride.

Missile volleys blitzed the first row of the vorcha, splattering across them. The tearing blasts from Yao's armor ripped into them, washing them in flames and impacts. Yao was aware of the Bloodpack's nature, of their desire for rage and chaos and he would use it to his advantage.

Like them, Yao knew fury. It had become his name, his reputation, but his rage was not mindless. It was clinical, controlled, precise like a drop of rain impact the center of a spring. Chaos met chaos as the Red Fury and Bloodpack clashed.

Yao blazed away with is Typhoon in his left hand while wielding an omni-blade replica of his family sword. Though blanketed with heavy fire, Yao returned it with increasing ferocity draining shields and barriers with his Typhoon and slicing foes with his blade. In one masterful stroke, he sliced two krogans at their torsos in a downward slash before angling his arm upward to decapitate a vorcha. A squad of them hurled grenades, draining Yao's shields before his Typhoon drew them back.

They had served their purpose as a duo of krogans had emerged from Yao's blind spot, one firing his shotgun at point blank range and the other stabbing the dragon in the torso repeatedly. They forced Yao to one knee as they began clip the dragon of his wings with sheer brutality. Yet the dragon, the Red Fury unleashed a wave of hell fire from his gauntlets catching the krogans off-guard, blinding them while draining their shields.

The Red Fury rose from his knees, forcing the krogan on the right to his knees with a storm of fire from his Typhoon. Satisfied with his kill, Yao dropped his light machine gun and grabbed hold of the standing krogan's armor guard and thrusted his omni-sword straight through the krogan. Yellow blood spilled from the krogan, staring to the eyes of ancient beast. Yet the fury did not receded, Yao grabbing hold of the holographic tilt of his sword before lifting the krogan straight into the air, omni-blood pointed towards to the corrupted heavens.

"AAAARRRRGGGHHHH," Yao roared, the servos of his armor straining as they fought against the full four hundred kilograms of krogan and armor and the planet's own gravity before the dragon dropped the enemy. "Forwards!" The dragon pointed with his blade.

One of the Amazons pushed past, taking her turn to move forward. Bursts of enemy fire rattled against his wall, then seceded seconds before the debilitating whoomph of a grenade went off. The next soldier-pair rushed past, adding their collective efforts.

The Red Fury tried to run, but instead found he could only limp. Blackened and wounded, yet somehow regal managed to only advanced a few meters before the servos of his legs finally gave in, coming to a halt facing the main gates of the enemy's stronghold.

"Sir." Ki-Yun was beside him, directing the squad personally. He was stuck in the commanding officer position – armed and trained, but considered too valuable to risk. "Are you well?"

Yao's eyes traced four more soldiers as they leapfrogged into a neighboring building, entrance synchronized to other squads forcing entry in other entrances. Whatever was used in the walls was apparently not utilized in door manufacture. He traced points of weakness, finding few. Of course, there was a certain bias in regards to melee weaponry – his biological father had seen to that. General Chu had agreed, but average soldiers resisted training in sharpened sticks, when long-range bullets could keep the enemy further away.

"I'm fine."

Her concerned look betrayed lacking conviction. Likely she and Lin would be visiting his quarters that evening. Against regulation, but much allowance was given to the best squad in the Republic. "Major, I am fine."

"Of course." Her LMG rose, tracking movement through a smoke cloud before it resolved itself into another Dragon. The Amazons were a Patrol, bordering on platoon numbers. But the Company as a whole was designed for female volunteers – politics, in Yao's opinion. It made for better discipline, however. Mixed gender squads could be handled, but mixing genders in larger groups lead to nothing but trouble, in his experience.

Another burst of chatter occurred, leading to his second-in-command rising. "Targets One and Two are down. We have partial access to the network. Siegfried?"

The AI sent an acknowledgment, a chiming sound across their receivers. 'Entering system. Dear dear, is this a Hello World arrangement? Pitiful.'

"Can you break it?" Yao appreciated the AI volunteering to help, but the synthetic being's intellect could be eccentric. Even without a re-broadcaster unit weighing heavy on his back.

'Of a certainty. It is the primitive state which is proving an obstruction, not the depth of defenses. Think of it as a room filled with trapdoors over spike pits – there are no sensors or electric fences, just simple wood and gravity. Now imagine you must run over only the safe places, before the entire location vanishes.'

"Good." Yao responded. "You are finished?"

'Oh, you are good. Access to the external sensors is now mine. Transmitting handshake – outer defenses are now offline. Beginning internal firewall assault.'

More gunfire resounded close by, the static pop-pop of gunpowder rather than the whining dirge of alien weaponry. Even when facing it in battle, it gave a sense of assurance. No matter what the enemy, at least they were human. In part, at least.

"'Ware left," the Amazon's sidearm was up and spitting fire before Yao could blink. He chose to let his people do their job, and managed a mild look of interest when a pained scream emanated from the far side.

Ki-Yun checked her piece, reloading. "Well aren't you all calm and collected today."

One lifted shoulder spoke more than a dozen pithy statements. "You had them."

"Indeed, I did," she shot a smirk in his direction, the kind reserved away from prying eyes. "What is our next objective?"

His stoic expression remained intact – both for discipline, and to annoy the flirtatious soldier. Stating the obvious performed the same function. "We take the first tower."

A slight pause registered, on any neutral observer's part giving the impression of a superior officer waiting confirmation, but on her part signifying a moment of irritation. "Yes sir."

Turning away, Yao checked his map once more with a faint sense of satisfaction. He frowned, realigning his earpiece's frequency. "Team Three, stand by for an attack, heading ninety-five degrees. Repeat: ninety-five degrees."

Crackling acknowledge his command, just as his eyes spotted another discrepancy. "Team Seven, hold position; Team Five, assist Team Seven. Watch for mines."

Motioning, he started walking again, accompanied by his personal squad. "Major, I suspect we will be under attack soon. Watch the western flank, roughly two-hundred and seventy degrees. They won't have snipers, so be alert for rocketry."

The soldier shifted sides. "You've never been wrong before, but how do you know?"

Yao sent a courier message through the digital system embedded on his omni-tool. "I have been wrong several times before. And it is simple: this rebellion is funded by the Hegemony. Contrary to their boasts of eyesight, they are lacking in practice. Ceramic harpoons at best, and those are what I would deem medium range, under optimal conditions. Distractions, an attempt to bleed resources. A test, perhaps? If we do not fill this quagmire soon, they may begin similar efforts on other worlds."

"Batarians are behind this?" One of the newcomers to his Amazons spoke up. She flushed, "I mean, sir. If I may ask, sir."

Yao stepped behind another of his guards, narrowing his eyes at the distance until rapid-fire shots rang out. "I do not punish questions, Officer. In battle I do not hold with formal etiquette, but I would suggest minding yourself once we return to civilization."

"Sorry sir, thank you sir." Her head ducked, likely anticipating the dressing down inevitable later.

"It is an excellent question. I appreciate intelligent questions." Yao paused again, watching in infinite patience as two soldiers, including Ki-Yun, took down an oblivious fire team. "The power standing to gain the most from this insurrection is the Hegemony. I have been watching their resources. The hanar on Relic have reported increased hazards; the Blood Pack on Malgus are charging significantly higher rates. Piracy in Imir has gone down exponentially, and yet local mercenary groups are increasing their prices. Why?"

The soldier looked afraid; no doubt regretting having involved herself in the conversation.

"Hegemony raiders account for over fifty percent of Korlus's shipyard raids, and always hire mercenaries before an attack." Yao frowned. "Inefficient. Rome never learned that lesson. It was the downfall of the Han Dynasty as well, depending on how you interpret the records. Armies are expensive to begin with, paying mercenaries only adds to the cost, which reduces overall combat readiness."

He paused, reading another report. "Team Seven, excellent work. Team Five, hold position. I will be joining you soon."

"So," the soldier picked her way across rubble. "It's Batarians, because of money?"

"Among other things," Yao smiled back at her. "Those are the most obvious clues. If you have an interest in intergalactic strategy, I suggest first taking a course in economics."

"Economics, sir?" her rifle lowered out of surprise.

He smiled again, this time sharing the look with Ki-Yun. It was an old saying, one they'd shared with the original General Chu. "Indeed. Strategy wins battles. Logistics wins wars."

---

New Thebes

Anhur

4th Heavy Tank Company, 68th Armored Battalion

Izotov's massive T-200 Juggernaut had so far enjoyed their relative immunity through the tank's thick armor as it rolled forward, moving into position to attack point alpha. Rhino platoon, leading the Russian convoy of 4th Company, emerged from the shadow of the planet's destruction. They were on course to intercept a large Eclipse tank battalion, approaching from an oblique angle.

'One shot is all that will be needed,' Izotov thought.

The black sky churned with torpedo strikes and atmospheric disturbances brought on by the massed landing of the Russian tanks, the planet itself seemed to cower in the face of Spetsnaz armor superiority. The ground mounted a pitiful resistance, having been mined by Eclipse engineers, but it was in vain. The armor and minesweepers of the tanks outright eliminated such a paltry obstacle before them. The cracked metal structures of the city stuck out of a sea of debris mixed with the corpse flesh of the enemy. Many men had died here during the first attempt to hold and capture the world, but none had been Russian, and thus were deserving of little thought.

The city's spaceport lay ahead, the objective of the Enforcers. The plan had originally been to capture it intact, but the Eclipse proved to wield enough significant resources to repel the first wave of landings. Izotov no doubt suspected they were aided by the corrupt leaders of Anhur, fearing the deserved consequences of their despicable actions. This had caused an alternate plan to come into effect, the fires burning everywhere despite the pouring rain proving its effectiveness.

Once, the entire cauldron of the city had boasted defensive bastions linked by minimal trench systems, now reduced to islands of rubble. The intention of the enemy seemed to be defense in depth, isolated forts and towers ranging in size from fortified gun nests to heavy cannon emplacements aided by armies of mechs. Formidable indeed. Awe-inspiring as well, to some.

But not very impressive against a company of Russia's best.

Izotov quickly scanned his holographic command pad, smaller in size to the command board found on the King Spider command vehicles. Zooming out to view the entire battle, he took stock of the situation. To the east, Federation and North American forces were abandoning their former siege lines and advancing into the suburbs. To the north-west, New Chinese forces were landing in mass to snatch the northern space ports. They were substantially smaller in size, but could prove to be a useful asset. The bulk of the city's assault fell to the Spetsnaz Guard Brigade, General Morgunov dedicating a few companies of Russian armored elite units to assist the main push towards the main spaceport.

The role of the Fourth company was to help neutralize the remaining defenses blocking access to the city in the east, before advancing to help push the frontlines. The pillared lighting of sustained, accurate orbital fire stabbed downwards ahead, obliterating a fortified tower and sending alien bodies flying out in all directions. Artificial thunder boomed, vying for power against the relentless detonations of artillery fire. Electrical discharges flickered through the clouds. The sky was filled with water and fire, torpedoes, rain, and fury streaking from the surface and atmosphere. The trails of burning landing craft and dueling air superiority fighters could scarcely be seen. For all the devastation being wrought and the length of the siege being waged, Eclipse and the Blood pack refused to go down without a fight.

Yet, for all the destruction being brought to bear, Izotov remained impassive, for he had seen worse. The Siege of Shanxi and the loss of so many Spetsnaz had been far greater than the minor love taps being brought down on Anhur. He looked back to the pad, noting they were close to the enemy's battalion.

"Tatarev, load a heavy round. Time to save our 'allies'," Izotov said off-handily, not too concerned with the trapped UNAS and Enforcer units.

"Just a second, sir," Tatarev replied. The gunner reported the shell loaded over the intercom. A moment later he confirmed line of sight. "Ready to fire."

"Once we fire, we're going to become a target," Milea Chencko warned, ordering all other T100 Ogre and T200 Juggernaut tanks into position.

Tatarev snorted. "Why be a target when you can be the target?"

Tankayev let out a laugh. "Exactly my thoughts, Alexei. Ready on your word, Major."

"Tankayev," Izotov said, addressing his gunner. "Full blast, full rate of fire. Let's turn that tank column into vapor."

"No worries, sir. All weapons fully armed and loaded."

"Fire!"

"Brace for firing!" Tankayev shouted.

The crack of a god's hammer filled the air inside the tank, foreshadowing a massive storm as it continued to rise until all other sound was drowned. A charge passed through Izotov's body as he felt the space around him vibrate. Then, suddenly, the whole bulk of the ninety-ton mechanical horror shook as if kicked by a titan. Blazing white light burst from its cannon, lancing straight across the battlefield, striking the massive enemy tank column dead center.

Their view showed the enemy tank column glowing blindingly bright for an instant, and then seeming to vanish completely as if it had never existed. Remnants of debris from the tanks spared from the Spetsnaz's warpath glowed white, then orange, and finally red. Globs of molten metal began to rain down on the ground. Seconds later, the armor plating had cooled again and solidified. The enemy tank column looked like melted wax. Entire buildings had collapsed, spreading clouds of dust and debris.

Through his commander's periscope, Izotov could see surviving enemy troops scattering like frightened ants. Beyond the gap the Spetsnaz tank platoon had created, the enemy made vain attempts to regroup. Even from this distance, Izotov could see the signs of shell-shock as panic spread across the enemy's formations, causing entire platoons to scatter or making them incapable of responding as troops wandered aimlessly, only to be cut down by the formerly pinned human group or blasted apart by the accompanying T-100 Ogre tanks. The UNAS tank and the platoon of Enforcers had its reprieve, but now that the T-200 Juggernaut had made its debut. It was now the enemy's main objective to destroy.

From the maw of the massive tanks piercing the mangled battlefield, heavy cannons sang a melody of death. The bark of their discharge impacting enemy armor echoed a second later, if audible at all from that distance. Pillars of earth roared upwards, sending alien creatures wheeling high, scattering their limbs to join the human corpses. Despite the savagery they brought forth, everything was calm inside the tank. The crew were aboard a strong ship sailing through a hurricane-infested ocean with ravaging tides and had nothing to fear.

Izotov surveyed the results of his crew's efforts, seeing structures just over a hundred meters away from the blasts burning in a mass spectacle. He changed frequencies on the radio to the allied troops, no doubt awe-struck from the destructive power of their saviors.

"This is Major Izotov. Enemy's vanguard has been largely destroyed or scattered. I suggest moving to a more defensible position."

"This is Captain Arnavisca, we read. You have our thanks. Over."

"Your survival is enough satisfactory, over."

"Well Major, looks like you've captured their attention. Over."

Izotov looked to see the bulk of the enemy's tank now charging them in a suicidal run. "Do not concern yourself with them. They simply have lost the courage to live. Over and out."

From the nearest enemy tank formation, heavy mass accelerator turrets clattered off the tank's glacis, no more harm to the Juggernaut than gravel tossed at a wall of metal. The kinetic barriers did not even register their presence, continuing to hold at full strength.

"Tankayev, twenty degrees right. Chenko, fire tertiary weapons." Izotov activated his radio. "All units: fire at will."

All at once the Juggernauts, aided by their smaller kin, opened fire. The thundering booms of their cannons firing all at once combined to resonate like a titan from the dawn of time, roaring a war cry. The noise of the discharge outside would have deafened the Spetsnaz had they not been wearing their ear protection and sat behind a few meters of thick armor. Hundreds of explosions obliterated dozens of Eclipse tanks at a time. Of the enemy vehicles, nothing could be seen, but the Russian tanks continued to fire, hurling ordnance into the mass of enemy troops and machinery.

A duo of enemy RA1 Enchanted Gunships arrived in an attempt to relieve their armored battalion, or more accurately what was left of it. They came from the horizon, firing off all thirty-two 30mm Follower missiles against the paralyzing Russian company. Unfortunately for the Gunships, they failed to even drop a quarter of a single Juggernaut's kinetic barriers. The Ogre and Juggernauts replied in kind, a combined total of twenty 12.7mm heavy machine gun turrets and fifteen 27mm anti-aircraft guns shredding through the asari gunships and obliterating where they once stood. The Spetsnaz, instead of cheering as other tank crews would have, remained in position stoically, waiting for further orders.

Izotov changed frequencies once again, this time to a channel heavily encrypted. "Captain Noskov, have you reached the parliament building?"

"Da," Noskov replied. "The politicians have hidden themselves behind heavily armed mercenaries, but we are making progress. Eclipse are no match for Voron specialists and Bodark."

Izotov didn't doubt the captain's words. Voron was a Russian special operation group dedicated to high-risk infiltration and information gathering while training in assault tactics. To say nothing of the fact they were being aided by the greatest soldiers Russia could produce.

Officially known as Special Training Unit 500, Bodark was the Spetsnaz Guard Brigade's elite. Highly trained and disciplined, their name came from the myth of men who chose to become wolves. There existed various units, each with its own designation, and mission responsibility. Izotov only had the privilege of working with the 1st Operational Unit, designated as SWORD. They were tasked with foreign intervention, or military operations outside the Russian Federation. Personnel serving in Bodark were often senior Russian Spetsnaz troops with extensive combat experience and had even more superior training than the majority of the Guard Brigade.

Their operational doctrine included the use of advanced war-fighting technologies, such as Cross-Com data systems, UAV and UGV support, and current generation Optical camouflage gear for combat squads. Bodark were given access to any and every dedicated air transport and long-range air support available at their disposal. If necessary, Bodark had authority to commandeer whatever resources they deemed necessary to complete their assigned mission, luckily, they were smart and courteous enough to only do such a thing rarely. Such vital importance were they to Russia that Bodark required presidential authority in order to be deployed. However given the unit's secrecy and autonomy, Izotov wasn't entirely sure. He had only been made aware of their existence due to his rank, prestigious service record, and the possible need for his cooperation by General Morgunov only a few hours prior.

The Eclipse may have experienced biotics and excellent engineers, but against the combined force of Voron and Bodark, Izotov was certain victory would be achieved.

"The Spetsnaz will be greeted as liberators once the colony's corrupt leaders are removed from their esteemed positions," Izotov said.

"Indeed, the righteous will be greeted with praise and earn control of the colony for saving the fine people of Anhur."

Izotov smiled, the real reason for Russia sending assets to reclaim the colony evident. Once the parliament building was seized and the political leaders persuaded to be annexed by Russia, the Motherland would gain yet another colony under her glorious banner with North American and European Federation unable to intervene.

"Tatarev," Izotov called over his intercom, "get the tank running. We need to move."

Already Bloodpack artillery had started cutting a deadly path of dirt and fire towards the Juggernaut. More and more of the krogan guns were swiveling to focus on her. Grudging respect had to be paid to the over-sized aliens. There was at least one species that understood how to truly wage war.

From the horizon came near a hundred Bloodpack and Eclipse vehicles, ranging from Skybreaker hoverbikes to the almighty krogan Tomkah. Their bulk charge lifted curtains of dust, smoke, and debris in their wake as their drivers steered the vehicles forward while the vehicles gunners opened fire. Jets of rockets and slugs corkscrewed through the air, colliding against an iron fortress.

The fortress was battered, bruised, and abused, but not broken. And then the fortress of iron answered back.

"Fire." It was the only word Izotov spoke. A single word, which created a reminder for the galaxy as to why the Spetsnaz should be feared even more than the krogan.

For the small detachment of vehicles unleashed a blazing storm a second later. The air became filled with the whistling hiss of tank shells and casings larger than a man's forearm. Light vehicles such as the Skybreakers were upended as high explosives struck, swatting them away like mere insects. Heavier vehicles such as Preachers and the few Tyruses were capable of surviving mere seconds longer, the combined firepower from the notorious T-100 Ogres erasing them in balls of fragmented detonations. The only vehicles left standing were those manned by the Bloodpack.

Had this confrontation occurred just mere months earlier, the Spetsnaz might have been concerned with taking losses, however the presence of the colossal T-200 Juggernaut eliminated such a thing. Having fired as one, the twelve Juggernauts sowed red ruin through the charging Tomkahs. Clouds of blood and smoke filled the path of the cannons. The first few krogan vehicles were blown apart, their crews shredded.

Satisfied with the destruction wrought, Izotov gave the order to move out. "Tatarev," he began before a titan fist punched his tank. The tank vibrated violently, the source remaining invisible before the small remnants of the mercenary force were revealed.

"Looks like they still have some fight in them," Chenko said.

"Tankayev," Izotov began.

"Already on it sir," Tankayev said, a moment before he firing a round.

The Juggernaut buckled with intense force as a shell exited from its maw. The shell struck a Skybreaker, pulverizing it and its drivers completely into liquid mush, before continuing on to hit dead center into a Tomkah's massive canopy. The massive vehicle coming to a halt.

"Tankayev, a fine shot," Izotov complimented his gunner. "Chenko, activate the electronic defense systems, we're now the target."

This caused the tank's driver and gunner to let out a laugh. A smirk of mischief appeared on the beautiful Wolf's face, a sparkle in her eyes as she looked at her commander.

"Understood, Major," Chenko said, activating the tank's current generation Shtora Jammer and ARENA active defense. The Juggernaut's thick Kontakt armor and heavy kinetic barriers currently could take a massive beating, but even the glorious machine crafted by the greatest of Russia's mechanics was not impervious to the onslaught being unleashed upon them.

A quartet of heavy, high explosive shells struck the ground just in front of the Juggernaut's hull, making a tight triple-beat of explosions with the fourth failing to detonate. Even so, the blast waves rocked her on her suspension, Izotov hearing pieces of rock raining down on the roof of her turret.

"Seems their accuracy is improving," Izotov observed, with no more concern as if ordering an aide for a recent update on the battle.

"Obviously the work of a spotter," Chenko said. "The question is from where?"

"If they had any sense, they would be using salarian saboteurs," Tatarev stated, directing the tank platoon through the various size debris. "Their small stature and active camouflage would make them increasingly difficult to spot." The mighty juggernaut rumbled and shuddered as her mighty engines accelerated the tracks to an impressive ninety kilometers per hour

"So, you presume they're making use of more than one?" Tankayev asked, having another shell loaded and ready to rotate the turret the instant Izotov noticed another target.

"Wouldn't you?" The driver asked.

Tankayev shrugged. "A fair point."

"Major, I've received word that a duo of Mantises are being directed towards us. Seems Tatarev is correct and is sending fighters and gunships to take us out," Chenko said with more amusement than worry.

"Ha! I like to seem try." Tankayev slapped a section of armor in admiration. "They're going to need more firepower than that to knock out this piece of fine workmanship."

Given the prestige the Spetsnaz held, it was no surprise to anyone when the enemy's air support arrived. A pair of SU-3 Pinger Interceptors and a RA1 Enchanted Gunship to test the might of the newest vehicle to dominate the battlefield. It was in vain because by the time they had arrived to kill the Spetsnaz, they were already gone.

---

A/N: So, it ends the prelude arc. From here on we enter the main storyline of the first game's events. You'll see some canon events and some new ones. Of course, you will have our beloved Normandy crew along with some new members. Unfortunately, here comes the bad news. Do not assume all the characters featured in this chapter will be part of the crew, outside the obvious ones such as Kaidan, who is now an Enforcer. Here is some good news, unlike Bioware who made Kaidan and Ashley carbon copies of each other, in this story they will have their own unique characters, interactions, and reactions to events instead of the jealous, boring ones they had in the main games.

1. Among many other introductions, this chapter features the Gadfly troop transport of the Enforcers froom Endwar.

2. Like mentioned in the A/N, Kaidan has his own character as an Enforcer Grenadier Biotic. New character with new gear.

3. Anhur's events, background in canon, is featured prominently in the story with subtle hints for the main story moving forward.

4. The name Hetman Sahaydachniy is the name of a real lifereal-life Ukrainian frigate and is a nod to the nation as it is the name of the E.F's frigate and Kaidan's birthplace/nationality. It serves to explain how and why he became an Enforcer. (Hint this will factor in if he can be persuaded to join the SR-2 crew depending on if he or Ashley are saved.)

5. The section of troops becoming nauseous and the smart ones, deciding to eat only protein bars, is a reference to the D-Day landings of Normandy where troops who only ate small meals prior were able to retain focus while those who ate a full meal became either nauseous on the troop transports or vomited outright.

6. Among many other returning faces, we get to see Santiago Arnavisca, now a Captain. Others include Mitchell and his crew, now tankers. Speaking of tankers, we also get to see Izotov and his men and their glorious new T-200 Juggernaut.

7. On the topic of tanks, the JSF's new M5A3 is fully cloaked from both eyes and sensors as seen in their epic tank battle. The Endwar canon Netfires are also seen in action as written in the Endwar novels.

8. An old Call of Duty meme is shown with Mitchell telling Joe Ramirez to do everything. Different boss, same old shit.

9. After two centuries, the Browning .50 caliber machine gun is still alive and kicking or rather working and killing.

10. Yao's title of Red Fury is a reference to Dan Abnett's Titanicus. Truly Abnett has earned the name master of war.

11. Speaking of Yao, we see a reference to both an earlier arc and a fallen hero from Shanxi, General Chu.

12. "Strategy wins battles. Logistics wins wars," is a motto any decent military commander will bear in mind. No logistics, no victories is what I say.

13. I hope you Endwar online fans are jumping in joy with the debut of the T-200 Juggernaut tank, the first Endwar online vehicle featured in the story.

14. This chapter also features Voron in action along with the Russian version of Ghost Recon, Special Training Unit 500 a.k.a Bodark.

15. The Forge is a name respected in SciFi lore, going back to before even the Knights of the Old Republic Star Forge. Vercingetorix uses the name for construction space stations used to process raw materials over colony worlds. Here, it's a fitting name for the secret birthplace of the Normandy.

16. Yao's presence was a welcome section to write, a tactical genius with a flair for dramatic statements. It's fun to write a genius, even if you're not (Vrcingetorix here)

17. Not all the personnel listed will be on the Normandy. But a good scene showing the potential of each seemed appropriate, and were fun to write!