Chapter 13

"Nothing is scarier than a 12-year-old with a Kalashnikov."

— Nightcrawler, X-Men

April 3rd, 2216

John 'Shatner' S2-15, and Miranda Lawson, were running. They ran as fast as they could, John had told Miranda - just before alarms began blaring - that they had to distance themselves from the corpse as fast as they could, and on his instructions, they sprinted off, moving as quickly and quietly. John had no time and no desire to focus on his growing list of Human kills, he simply moved on, determined to complete the mission and get Miranda and her 'sister' out safely. According to Miranda, they were nearing the main lab, in which her biological twin sister, 'Oriana', lay.

The SIGMA Teen and the Human Girl had met little resistance on their way to the lab, a fact of which Miranda reveled in, but John feared. To him, that meant that the enemies were either as dumb as they seemed to be, which was a fact that Commander Ducard had told every SIGMA to never even consider as an option, or they were setting something up, which in and of itself was an almost unspeakably bad omen. Zaeed had told him there were around eighty mercenaries in this facility, and John had only killed six. There was every possibility that Zaeed had been lying to him, but John knew how to read Human faces, and Zaeed hadn't been lying. That meant that, unless there were dozens of mercenaries in the lab, their flight from the facility would be utterly packed with resistance. John quickly surmised he would need a better weapon and soon. The SIGMA Teen was jarred from his thoughts when they finally arrived at their destination, and before John could stop her, Miranda slammed through the door and into the lab, and inside were a dozen mercenaries, all armed, and a half dozen scientists, all surrounding a large series of complex machinery. One scientist in particular looked up when the two armed Teenagers, and was the first to shout.

"Stop them! They'll ruin the experiment!" He roared, before the twelve mercenaries' heads shot up, looked at John and Miranda, and raised their rifles.

John didn't hesitate. He didn't focus on how he would have handled this differently had he had his way, he didn't curse Miranda for not thinking her actions through, he focused instead on the immediate threat to life and limb, deigning to adapt to the situation at hand; as his instincts went into overdrive he had a split-second to survey the room, and look for cover that he and the other teen could hide behind, instantly he discovered a small, stainless steel table, filled with lab reports, tablets, and data-pads. Time sped back up just after he grabbed Miranda by the back of her shirt and hurled her towards towards the table; not a second after her momentum would ensure she would cover the distance, John leapt forward, unleashing a torrent of biotics as he did, the first volley was to flip the table, the second to stun the mercenaries. John slammed into the ground and slid a few inches, his shoulder hitting the table just as his legs scrambled to bring him into a crouching position. Miranda was in cover, and the look of barely contained panic on her face conveyed to the child soldier everything he needed to know: She wasn't ready for this kind of situation. Paralyzing paint matches against super soldiers were one thing, she knew she wouldn't be killing them, she knew she wouldn't be dying, what's more: she knew she wouldn't even win against them, but here? One well-placed bullet from her gun would utterly end a man's life, and one well placed bullet from their guns would end hers, and the look on her face told John - who had been prepared his entire life for a situation like this - that she simply wasn't ready. She was teetering on the breaking point, and John knew he had scant seconds before she did break.

John had to take her mind off panic, he had to give her something to do, quickly. He needed to give her a job that he himself could siphon away so he could focus on ending more lives, on pulling the trigger and waiting for the nearly inaudible smacking noise that came with a bullet hitting a body and tearing through it. He went over his skills, considering the ones he couldn't at all give off to her and the ones he could afford to. He was the better marksman, he could take the cap off of a glass bottle, with a pistol held in his weaker hand, at fifty meters. He was the better biotic, he could - and did - overwhelm their ex-Commando trainer in a biotic match-up. He was the better tactician, he could make out his enemies weaknesses and his friends strengths only moments after meeting them. These enemies were firing at the table and over it, trying to suppress them, but they were slow, bulky in their movements, like a car that hadn't even been turned on in months, weeks - perhaps even months, though he cared not - of guarding a quiet lab in which nothing happened forced this upon them. Miranda, on the other hand, she had tactical skills, a month of SIGMA Training, and biotics on her side, though she had never taken a man's life before, so what could John make her do?

Barrier support. John settled upon, she'd displayed during their tennis match that she had a level of biotic control unseen for a girl her age, so that was what she would do.

"Miranda! Look at me!" John shouted, ducking his head as a bullet ricocheted off of the top of the table they were hiding behind. He responded by blindly firing two bullets over the table, discouraging the mercenaries from advancing and buying him precious seconds to speak to the girl. Miranda, fear in her eyes, obeyed, staring at John, whose own eyes practically leaked confidence. "I need a barrier! A big one, you make me a barrier that I can shoot out of, but they can't shoot into!" He demanded, shouting only loud enough so the girl could hear him, but not so loud that the men in the cramped room could do the same.

A second of hesitation was all the girl gave, before determination filled her features, she gave a nod.

Alright, she's focused. John scowled in determination, "On my mark! Three…" John began the countdown, he inhaled deeply.

He had counted a dozen men, he'd seen three in armor, they would be his first targets, but if he could execute the unshielded men quicker, he would do so, it would remove a lot of suppressive and dangerous fire from the battlefield.

"Two!" He had to act quickly and decisively, with no room for hesitation, no doubt the men had already radioed in and the dozens of mercs left in the base were moving to their position, time was not a luxury he could afford to waste.

"One!…" He inhaled deeply and exhaled just as deeply, his grip on the Special Forces Pistol tightened, the safety was off, a round was triggered. His mind automatically, instinctually ran over everything about the weapon that had been hammered into his mind. The Mk. 21 Special Forces Pistol held a sixteen round magazine, with room for an extra round in the chamber, giving John seventeen rounds to fire from. It fired as fast as he could pull the trigger, though John couldn't risk losing control of the weapon. It could shatter the shields of an Alliance Marine with three shots, an OD3 and an N7 in four, and a SIGMA Operative in five. It fired magnum rounds, so even if John missed his target - either the mercs' head or their center of mass - it would still do a lot of damage to whatever it did hit.

"MARK!" Miranda flared brightly with biotic energy, as her arms flew outwards. The barrier came to life in front of the table, and John raised himself.

Time seemed to slow down; in front of him, all in some semblance of cover, be it an enormous test-tube filled with a green, viscous liquid, behind an overturned table, or simply crouched below eye level, were twelve mercenaries. They were the threats, John had completely filtered out the scientists also in the room. John aimed at the left-most side of the room, three shots soared from his pistol and destroyed the face of a Blue Suns. He shifted his aim to the right, two more shots, one to the chest and then one to the head, to a suit-merc. Another shift and two more shots took down another suit-merc, as the barriers began to glare brightly, signaling more fire and a weakened base. He could hear Miranda grunting under the pressure, and groaning under the pain, but she braved it and poured as much as she could into the barrier. John took down another suit with two more shots, and he got three more into the face of a Blue Suns before he went back to cover and tapped Miranda on the shoulder. She let the barrier fall. The room was five mercs lighter, but there were still seven firing upon them, thankfully only one of those was an armored Blue Suns, meaning he only had one more mercenary with energy shields to deal with.

"John I can't do that again!" Miranda shouted, holding one of her limp limbs, she looked up to the SIGMA Teen pleadingly, but then her face turned to a look of horror. "John, your arm!"

John looked to his left arm, it had been tagged and was bleeding. John shook his head, "it's a flesh wound!" John shouted, checking the magazine in his pistol. He had two bullets left, one in the magazine, one in the chamber. If he hit them twice, he'd only take out one target before he had to change magazines, but if he hit two mercs both in the head, he could thin the numbers even more. "You did good, Miranda! Stay down, I've got this!" He shouted, he waited a few moments for a lull in the fire before he popped up out of cover.

He was greeted by the snarling face of a helmet less Blue Suns. The Blue Suns was greeted with the universal biotic SIGMA II greeting: A biotically assisted punch to the throat. The choking merc's shields were overloaded by the biotic energy from the SIGMA Teen, he backed up, rifle dropped, and hands going to his throat. John seized his chance, he leaped over his cover - ignoring Miranda's shriek - and grabbed the Suns. He shot the man once in the face, but caught the body. John's pistol went into its holster and in his hands now was the Merc's pistol - it was a flashy thing, if he had to guess it was some kind of magnum, it looked like an N7 Eagle, the pistol the N7 tended to use, that was a vastly superior upgrade to the ancient Desert Eagle. John didn't care, he grabbed the pistol off of the merc and placed his right hand on the merc's chest. Biotic energy kept the Merc afloat and his weight off of the SIGMA Teen, as latter surged forward, resisting an asinine urge to shout loudly. Most Human biotics had nowhere near the amp-less strength required to do what the SIGMA found himself doing, not just in this battle but in previous ones and in training, but most Human biotics hadn't been drilled like Spartans since childhood and hadn't been hammered by Asari Commandoes to get it right, so while John felt biotic fatigue pull at him, he ignored the feeling and took aim. John's Eagle barked loudly as its bullets surged forth, each pair hitting a target. Ten bullets of the pistol's ten round magazine, left the weapon, as dozens of bullets slammed into the Merc's corpse, the man's shields, his armor, and his body did wonders to protect the SIGMA Teen as he worked. Each of the ten bullets slammed into their targets, just as John sprinted across the room. John threw the body to the left, his Eagle to the right, and withdrew his SFP, the final suit-merc shouted in fear as it saw the fourteen year old demon leap forward, tackle him to the ground, and execute him with a bullet to the throat, blood and small bits of loose gore covered the teen's face.

A few of the scientists in the room tried to rush John, deciding they would be better off dying while fighting instead of simply dying because the demon child looked at them funny; but one bullet from Miranda tore through the shoulders of one of them, freezing the others in shock. John didn't wait, he jumped to his feet, and in one fluent motion clicked open the pouches on his belt that held the magazines to his SFP, he grabbed a magazine, smacked it into his pistol and chambered a round, he pointed it at each of the scientists. The one in the center of the group looked important, so John singled him out. With such speed that the scientists were shocked that the child was Human, he dashed forward and slammed his boot into the kneecap of the scientist, shattering it and bringing him down to eye level, John grabbed the man's weaker arm and twisted it behind his back at a horrifying angle, he heard it snap but ignored the screams that came from it. The scientists almost instinctually expected John to hold the gun to the man's head, but instead John aimed the gun forward, keeping the man at arm's length and the barrel of the gun next to his ear. If looks could kill, the determined, yet emotionless scowl on John's face would have ended the men in the room.

"Freeze! Do not move!" The Child Soldier roared, his pubescent voice coming through for him as it failed to crack. The scientists obeyed, though one was clutching his shoulder in obvious pain. "Where is she?!" John demanded, spit flying from his mouth at his roars.

"Kid, you don't know what you're doing here!" The scientist in his grip protested, as Miranda vaulted over her cover and sprinted around them, she ran to the back of the room, where the scientists had come from. "You're not doing what's best for Ori-" John slammed the butt of the gun on the man's head, sending stars shooting through the man's eyes as he clung desperately to consciousness, though John refused to drop him, he kept the man in between him and the other scientists at all costs.

"I'll decide what's best for my Sister!" Shouted Miranda, turning around to glare at the scientist who spoke.

"On your knees! All of you!" John ordered, the scientists all obeyed. "Faces on the ground, hands on the backs of your heads!" He shouted, as he heard Miranda continue moving. The scientists did so just as one single, piercing noise suddenly filled the room.

A baby's cries.

"Holy shit it worked!" A scientist shouted, forgetting to lie down, as he craned his neck, only to be met by a magnum round from John's gun. The scientist fell dead as the man John was holding shouted in obvious pain, his ear already beginning to bleed.

"I said faces on the ground!" The SIGMA Teen shouted, knowing full and well he just killed the man. "All of you! I will not hesitate!" He roared, before he finally slammed the gun into the lead scientist's head and knocked him out; John felt his skull crack just before he dropped him like a sack of potatoes and focused his pistol on the scientists, as he set to work. He could hear Miranda cooing and shushing what he assumed to be her sister, but that wasn't his concern at the moment. He crouched down next to the Blue Suns corpse, the man had been armed with a Special Forces Rifle, so John - ignoring the fact that he'd just killed an ex-Spec Ops - relieved him of his tactical vest, which was still loaded down with ammunition and grenades aplenty. A quick scan of the room and he located the SFR, he ripped it from the ground with biotics, and it landed in his hands, he holstered the pistol, and checked the rifle's magazine, it was half-full, with one in the chamber, so that equaled eighteen rounds.

"John, we need to go." He heard Miranda call as calmly as she could.

"Do you have the target?" John asked, not removing his unblinking eyes from the scientists.

"Yes."

"Then cover her ears." He stated, as he removed a flash-bang grenade from the light blue vest. The scientists flinched as he stepped over him, John stacked up next to the door, and tossed out a flash-bang; he had no idea if there were mercenaries outside, but he had to be sure. The grenade exploded, and he - rifle raised - surged outward, the hallway was empty, but he heard boots coming from the east.

"Come on!" He shouted urgently, looking back into the battle-scarred room.

Miranda had the child in her arms, it was a small thing, it reminded John that he had been like that once. Small, weak, unable to defend himself. He couldn't believe that had been a reality once, it didn't seem possible. Miranda had a very concerned look in her eyes, as she cradled the baby in her right arm, her left hand pushing the hair out of her own face. John couldn't tell if the concern was over the child or over the fact that she'd shot a man not two minutes ago, but as she exited the room, he wiped those thoughts from mind with the slam of the door, and the biotic crush of its bolt-lock. He felt his stomach grumble, he ignored it.

"Where do we go now?" John demanded, the sounds of the boots were getting louder.

"There's an emergency exit on the western side, follow me." Miranda said, but John stopped her.

"I go first. You keep her and yourself wrapped in a barrier." He ordered with a solemn nod, as his own barriers flickered to life.

Miranda looked at John with a look of protest in her eyes, but then she actually looked at him. She'd seen him all day, she'd been putting him through things a normal teenage boy would do, playing video games, eating unhealthy foods, sports, and even watching ancient movies that friends of their family thought were amazing. He'd had the air and the look of simply being uncomfortable, the entire day. But here, with the tactical vest on his chest, the rifle cradled in his arms, and the determined scowl on his face, he looked at home, he looked comfortable, like this was where he belonged. She couldn't argue with him, not when he looked like a veteran Marine, not when he had the look and feel of a man who could take on a thousand soldiers and live to tell the tale.

So she nodded, and John led the way. Miranda gave him auditory directions as the two moved through the facility. She had Oriana in her arms, the baby having calmed down now in the presence of Human contact, and He had his rifle in his arms, the machine of death silently waiting to sing his enemies the rat-a-tat-tat song of its kind. Twice did they run into mercenaries, twice did John put them down with horrifying efficiency, the bullet casings cascaded to the ground in waves as he pressed the trigger for small bursts at a time. After several minutes passed - during which Henry Lawson himself got on the intercom and told the mercenaries to find the three - the three got to the escape exit. It was an escape pod, not at all dissimilar to the Orbital Dropping Death Dealers' Orbital Insertion Vehicle.

"They'll shoot us to the surface." Miranda stated.

"This is overt." John stated, as he began programming the pods. They hadn't gone through OD3 training yet, but he knew the basics of programming an escape pod, and unless this was a model dating before 2179, he was more than certain he wouldn't have a problem getting it to shoot them to the surface.

"I know."

"Have a plan?"

"Not one you'll like…"

"Try me."

"We run as fast as we can… My transport's waiting a few kilometers out, in a clearing in a forest."

John paused, he looked at Miranda, his rifle held by the grip in his left hand, as his right hand hovered over the touch-screen interface. "You've exhausted yourself with biotics, and you're carrying a baby. You think you can run a few kilometers?"

"I'll have to." Was what Miranda responded with, her jaw set in determination, as she ambled into the reverse drop-pod. She carefully maneuvered the infant so it would be comfortable in her arms, and safe, before she nodded to John. John nodded back and launched her escape pod, before he programmed his own, stepped in, and launched it as well.

It was nearing midnight, Alliance Standard Time, and Joseph Ducard S1-99 was getting antsy. For the entire day he'd been scanning Australia with drones, their Rug Protocol test run was running out, and that would mean 2-15 would be able to leave, very soon. Ducard still found it difficult to believe that John - the very same young man that was being considered for SIGMA II Alpha Squad - would have run off like this. The Earth Defense Fleet was on standby at this moment, ready to deploy entire battalions of Orbital Dropping Death Dealers if they found the SIGMA Teen. They hadn't been on a readiness level like this since Mindoir.

At least three hits had come up in the last hour, of young men who fit John's description, but each time Police Forces had gone in to check out the situation, before calling in the cavalry, their results had come up negative, coincidental look-alikes. Though John was good, he couldn't hide forever; not from the most advanced military in Human history pulling out almost all of the stops to find him.

"Ducard!" He heard a voice shout, "Commander Ducard! We have him!" The SIGMA in question rounded the corner and sprinted into the room, his smart-watch activated and showing a live-video feed from a sub-orbital unmanned aerial vehicle.

Ducard whipped around was next to the unarmored SIGMA in an instant, he dragged the video to his own smart-watch and looked at it. The SOUAV was showing not a fleeing teenager, or a teen trying to look casual in a city, but a battle. Mercenaries were fighting the SIGMA Teen, who was - by the look of it - desperately trying to defend a girl. A quick command had the SOUAV zoom in and focus, and Ducard didn't even have to run facial recognition, all the pieces fell into place when he saw the girl's face. Every question he'd asked was answered the second he placed her next to John, and vice-versa.

It was Miranda. Miranda S2-106, Delta Company's unofficial 'SIGMA Sister'.

John hadn't run, he hadn't deserted, he'd gone off to help a fellow SIGMA. She had contacted him - somehow - and had convinced him to skip his Earth Trip to help her. Now he was armed with a rifle and his pistol, and he was rapidly shifting from fleeing from the advancing horde of mercenaries, to digging in with his biotics and buying Miranda time to flee herself. Ignoring the stupidity of John's decision and the anger that Ducard felt at the teen's presumption, he felt a small flicker of pride, apparently he had done something right when he'd taught these kids that family meant more than personal needs. This wouldn't rescue John from the hell that was sure to follow, but it validated a lot of what he'd done.

"Do you want me to get the SSV Kosciuszko and -"

"Belay that, for now." Ducard ordered straightly.

"Sir?!" The SIGMA was dumbfounded.

"Look at him." Ducard requested, indicating the live-feed. "that's got to be… Sixty mercenaries he's fighting. And it's only him fighting them, Miranda's… protecting something, she's not using her gun." He grinned, despite himself. "I'll make the call… But I want to see this first. Prep the OD3's." He had been debriefed by McGraw personally regarding John's 'circumstances', this was as good a time as any to see if McGraw's theories held water.

"O… Okay… Sir." The SIGMA saluted, and left the room.

John 'Shatner' S2-15 dived into cover. His 'cover' was, in fact, a large boulder sitting in a grassy field, in the distance, he could see a forest, he hoped the forest was what Miranda was after, because this was the last place he could make a stand, there was no cover anywhere else, not until the trees in the distant forest, but they were far too far away.

"Miranda, you need to run!" John shouted, over the hail of gunfire and the roar of engines. Henry's mercenaries had brought jeeps and other such vehicles, but hadn't tried to run John and Miranda over, after John had killed the three drivers who had tried to, and disabled the engines of their vehicles with several well-placed shots. Unfortunately for him, they couldn't run any longer either, Miranda was tiring and he wouldn't leave her behind.

"John, I can't leave you! You'll die!" Miranda shouted, her accent thick and helping her voice carry itself over the gunfire.

John broke cover and shot at the mercenaries, his rifle spat hot lead as it tore apart the chests of three men, before he got back behind the boulder.

"You can, and you will!" John argued as he ripped off a small black sphere from his tactical vest. It was the only one he had, and this was the very reason he'd kept it.

Alliance Cover-Spheres were designed to be portable cover, if a soldier was without the life-preserving, all-important cover, he could deploy one of these and hide behind it. They were made with a cocktail of precious metals, and their cybernetics had three settings: Grenade, Cover, and Portable shield. John set the machine to portable shield and tossed it into the ground in front of them. In the span of seven seconds it went from a small sphere to a ovular object with a belt, waiting to be clicked onto its wearer.

"No! You'll -"

"Miranda!" John heard the explosion of a grenade, the mercenaries had horrible throwing arms. "You yourself said you're the mission! You and her! You will get out of here and I will make sure you do!" He bellowed, ejecting his SFR's magazine, which he threw off into the darkness, it disappeared long before he slapped in a new one. "Put that thing on and click the belt, it'll cover your back! Run fast and you'll make it!"

"But -" Miranda protested.

"NO BUTS! GO!" John screamed angrily, his eyes conveyed that he was deadly serious.

Miranda considered arguing, but John broke cover again and fired. She knew he wouldn't take no for an answer, and the crying baby in her arms demanded all her attention. She clenched her sister tight against her chest with one arm, as she picked up the heavy back-pack like slab of metal with her other. She clicked the belt onto her waist, and it constricted around her, so it wouldn't fall.

"You run when I say so!" John shouted, falling back to cover. The Mercenaries knew that this was his last stand, so they were setting up around them, intent on providing them with no escape, but John made their flanking attempts hell. "GO!" He screamed.

Miranda tore off running, she sprinted faster than she ever had before. She could hear John behind her, his rifle barking as it tore into the mercenaries, its wielder as silent as death. Every instinct she had told her to turn her head and look one last time, but she ignored them, she did not want to see him die. The wind ripped at her face, and the slab of metal dragged in it, but she ignored the uncomfortable feeling and continued running, full-tilt. Oriana began shrieking in her arms, Miranda blinked back tears as she continued sprinting. The baby had only been alive for a few hours, now, and already it had seen a battle, Miranda couldn't help a smile at the thought.

Welcome to Humanity, Oriana. She thought, as she continued tearing across the ground. It only took her a moment for realization to dawn on her, oh god... I sound like McGraw.

Two minutes passed and she broke the tree-barrier, the sounds of battle were muffled by the distance, but still present. The only light she had to guide herself with was the light of Earth's only satellite, Luna, it cast a pale white glow through the canopy of trees, giving her some semblance of a heading. She unclicked the cover-sphere and quickly - but carefully - made her way through the forest. Oriana was tightly held against her chest with her left arm - but not so tightly that she couldn't breathe - and in her right hand was her pistol. Her pistol was extended, but her arm wasn't locked, she knew that would make the gun jump, her SIGMA Month had taught her that. She desperately wanted to lock her arm, though, some sort of instinctual desire to tighten every possible part of her body against the situation, she didn't know how to put the feeling into words.

The trek through the forest seemed to take forever, the sounds of battle behind her told her that John was still alive, but she had no honest idea how long he would continue to be so. She eventually broke the tree-barrier, and was greeted by a sight that nearly made her cry with joy. It was a ship, long, sleek, with a black paint job, powerful in appearance. Its owner stood at its open cargo-bay door, cane in his left hand, pistol in his right. Three mechs, all armed with rifles, surrounded him.

"Who's there?!" Bright lights switched on, shrouded the man in shadows, and blinded the teen.

Instinctively Miranda turned her back to the lights and covered her sister with her body. "It's me, Sir!" She shouted loudly.

She'd had no choice but to contact Cerberus. They were the only ones could contact, that had access to a private fleet. McGraw and her father's data had recommended them to her, in their own mysterious ways, she hoped and prayed that her plea wouldn't turn into a mistake.

"Lawson?" The familiar voice shouted, "what's the pass-phrase?!"

It took her only a second to remember it, "one giant leap!" She called out.

The moment that passed seemed to stretch on for eternity, but then the spotlights switched off, and after Miranda's eyes adjusted, she couldn't believe what they showed her.

It was McGraw. Christopher McGraw. Was he seriously the Cerberus Contact she'd been promised? He'd been the mastermind behind this entire thing, he'd known everything she'd needed, and yet he didn't come out with it? She shook the thoughts from her head as she approached the man.

"Where's John?" McGraw called, his voice holding a serious edge that she had never heard in it before, as he scanned the treeline.

"He told me we had to go, now!"

"Miranda, I've got an Australian Hand of God and an Alliance Destroyer angling to shoot my ship down because I've been playing the 'too ignorant to get a translator' angle. They think I'm a Russian businessman who doesn't know what the Summer Contingency is. I'm not leaving until I know my SIGMA is safe!"

"He told me he'd be alright!" Miranda shrieked, "but we have to go now!"

McGraw paused for a moment, before he groaned, "alright, get aboard!" He shouted, as the ships' engines' whines increased. "Gladys, prepare for an in-atmosphere jump! We can't risk hitting orbit with the Alliance Dogs sniffing our ass." He shouted.

John saw the private ship rocket into the air. It hovered in mid-air for a moment as it re-angled, John realized just as it rocketed forward that it had angled towards him. He crouched low and raised his rifle as the ship bolted past him, he could see the tell-tale glow that told him its primary weapon had collected enough of a charge to fire. When it passed him he heard the thunderclap that came from a railgun blast, and just a second later saw a bright blue flash as the blue-gray Entry Point opened in-atmosphere, and the ship soared into it, leaving the Earth at several light years per second. He waited only a moment for the dust, dirt and debris to settle from the rail-gun blast before he broke cover and fired again. The Mercenaries were stunned and distracted, but they still knew where their target was, and in a few moments they focused fire on him again. He'd taken out fifteen men during the time between Miranda's flee and the ship's departure, though he didn't know how many it had taken down, and he had taken a bullet in his other arm and in his thigh for his troubles. He was running low on ammunition for his rifle, and had only one grenade left. He was breathing deeply and heavily, Mindoir had been one thing, there he'd had back-up in the form of Soldiers, Marines, and eventually SIGMAs and OD3's. Here, he was by himself, and he had all of Henry Lawson's mercenaries baring down on his neck.

Was this his time? Was he supposed to just bite the bullet and say he went down protecting his own? The odds were stacked against him, he was running low on ammunition, and his enemies were baring down upon him harder and harder with every passing moment.

No, even if he was still a teenager, he was a SIGMA, and that meant he couldn't give up. Stacked odds were a norm for SIGMA Operatives, low ammunition was expected, tough enemies were always. He couldn't give up, he'd be letting down everyone he'd ever known, his mother included.

With a deep inhale, and a deeper exhale, John broke cover and took targets. Three more fell to his rifle, and another was soon to do the same when he noticed something. It was a slight light in the clouds above him. Odd, given that they weren't dark enough to be storm clouds. John got back to cover and looked up, a second passed, and his eyes widened, as he saw meteors falling through the clouds, their flaming trails lit up the sky around them, turned the clouds bright orange and the sky in their immediate vicinity turned sky-blue as the light radiated off of them, as they themselves closed the distance from orbit to the ground.

Orbital Insertion Vehicles.

Orbital Dropping Death Dealers.

John felt elated and terrified at the same time. They were either here to capture and kill him, or assist and then capture him. Whatever their goals, he couldn't help but stare in awe at the beauty of a night-deployment. OD3's very rarely were deployed during the night, the night was the N7's domain, they used stealth and espionage, where the OD3's used bombs and bigger bombs. So seeing the Orbital Insertion Vehicles hurtle towards the ground, in the dead of night, was a sight to behold. The only problem was, John realized, that the OIV's didn't stop.

Where first there was one, one turned to three, turned to five, turned to ten, and they still kept coming. John's jaw fell as more and more broke the cloud barrier, they weren't simply sending a squad, they were sending a whole damn company! So many OIV's filled the sky that the Mercenaries couldn't have possibly missed it, and they didn't. Eventually the gunfire stopped as everyone stared in awe at the sight. Five seconds passed before the OIV's hit the Earth, and soon all eighty Orbital Insertion Vehicles slammed home, their thrusters flaring for just a second, long enough to make certain that the OD3's didn't dig their own graves, and in seconds the Alliance's own Suicide Leapers streamed out, calling out enemies and picking targets. Immediately the bullets started flying again, but, John realized, they weren't flying towards him. The OD3's were shooting at the mercenaries, who were shooting at the OD3's.

To John's horror, though, one more OIV slammed home, this one mere yards from him; and out from it, came a SIGMA Operative. Two more OIV's, two more SIGMAs, and the Augmented Elite sprung into action. Their rifles spat lead and targets fell to their guns as they killed with superhuman efficiency. In mere minutes, the battle was over. The mercenaries were overwhelmed with firepower, numbers, technology, and raw skill. The three SIGMAs, John knew, would have been more than enough, but no, John was essentially a deserter, and a SIGMA deserter at that, the Alliance would stop at nothing to get him.

To prove John's thoughts, the second the last mercenary fell, every gun in the immediate area was trained upon him. John acted on instinct and raised his as well, anyone else would drop their weapon, but a SIGMA never gave up his.

"Dealers! Lower your weapons!" John's heart sank, he knew this voice. "John, put the rifle on the ground!" Ducard knew to specify which weapon John had to drop. "That's an order!" John obeyed, and in a moment, the fully armed and fully armored SIGMA I Operative was staring him down.

The SCBA-like gas-mask, with the frosted, reflective golden visor bore deep into John's dark blue eyes. John matched the stare and returned it, and he and his Commanding Officer stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

Ducard finally broke the silence, "what do you have to say for yourself?" He asked, what terrified John was the fact that the man wasn't shouting. His voice was calm, as calm as it would be if the man were speaking to the Alliance Director for Affairs himself. John's silence beckoned further words from the Augmented Veteran, "you ran away. You deserted. You made a body count. You made us deploy a battalion of Orbital Dropping Death Dealers to deal with a private security force. You forced us to initiate the Rug Protocol to freeze the system. The Sol-System! This wasn't a scheduled test, despite what we've had to say to the United Nations. Do you know how many Alliance Navy ships had to change their deployment plans? Do you know how many Quick Reaction Fleets are flying through the Warp, as fast as they can, to get to Earth? To confirm with Arcturus that we haven't been hit?! Do you know how many people on Earth you've terrified with your actions? Do you know what political tension you've caused on the Human/Council borders because of the silence from Earth? Do you know how that looks!? Do you know how much tension you have caused and will cause between Arcturus and the UN? We unlawfully deployed Alliance Resources to deal with an issue outside of our jurisdiction! If they pushed it they could very well start a damned war! A civil war between Earth and the Human Systems Alliance!" The man demanded, still calmly, "what do you have to say... For yourself?"

John held Ducard's gaze for the briefest of moments, "I submit myself to the authority of the Alliance and am ready for punishment."