"No good plan survives first contact with the enemy." - Helmuth Von Moltke, mid-19th century

"You can never know how hard a job is gonna be; you can only hope you're still alive to get paid." - former Sigma Intervention security contractor, 2952

Chapter 4: Hammer of the Righteous Part One

June 2nd, 2955

3:30 A.M.

Sigma Intervention Underground Armory

The sounds of war echoed within the walls of the room. The loading of ammunition, power packs for armor, and final adjustments to weapon systems filled the armory with various clicking noises, akin to the sound of several thousand angry insects. Each hired soldier had equipped themselves with best weaponry money could buy, and the Corporal's squad-mates were no exception.

Sergeant Zidek took the liberty of upgrading the mobility of his power armor, Ryker and Dregs added an under-slung grenade launcher and an EMP-shock emitter to their respective gauss rifles, and the Corporal installed shoulder-mounted missiles and wrist-mounted acid sprayers into his suit. Despite the firepower and technology each of them wielded, many of the corporate soldiers still retained a feeling of apprehension.

This was no ordinary contract, and each of the mercenaries knew that. They weren't oblivious to the fact that they had been hired to be the spearhead of the Lander operation. Many of the newly inducted mercenaries, still strangers to the wrath of battle, could feel the grip of fear tightening as they inched closer and closer to deployment readiness. Others, mostly combat-hardened veterans, felt adrenaline course through their veins, and the eagerness for the coming battle swell within their hearts. Some of them even felt a rekindled sense of patriotism, for they had been former Landers who had some degree of respect for the recently promoted Captain Michaelson.

All of these emotions were only heightened when the time to deploy came. Even the Corporal could feel his knees shaking when he took the elevator up to the landing pad. Most of the uneasiness came from the fact that they were riding Lander dropships, which were derogatorily known among Sigma Intervention contractors as 'flying coffins'. Despite this, all of them embarked on the Lander-provided vehicles; they didn't have much of a choice anyway. Lander regulations saw to that.

The Corporal saw the side doors of his dropship close with a dull thud, and the interior become shrouded in darkness, save for the glowing emergency lights inside. Suddenly, the mercenaries could feel their vehicle rise from ground, and heard a chime signal an incoming message from the pilot.

"Attention passengers, please fasten your restraints! Thank you, and enjoy your flight!", said an unusually bright female voice over the intercom.

"Damn autopilot. Why do the Landers always have to use robots for everything?"

"Calm yourself, Private Ryker. Machines are roughly seventy-percent more efficient at piloting than humans; they do not need to worry about the physical limitations of their body, and are able to detect incoming plasma and ballistic projectiles fifty times faster than a human can."

"Shut up, Dregs!", Ryker said before checking his rifle.

"Don't worry about him, Dregs. Ryker's just pissed 'cause he lost twenty credits!", Sánchez, one of the squad's marksmen, smirked before receiving an offensive gesture from his fellow mercenary.

While his teammates were halfheartedly arguing among themselves, the Corporal pulled out a small box from his utility belt. After plugging the needle protruding from the box into a small socket in his armor, he pulled a trigger on the device's side. A steady flow of stimulants began to flow throughout his bloodstream, and the Corporal could feel his senses becoming heightened. Unfortunately, this enhanced combat capability came at the cost of accelerating his aging process and increasing the chance of organ failure. If it wasn't for the wide availability of bio-implants, the Corporal would've retired (and likely passed away) decades ago.

"Geez, Old Man! You need to cut back on the stims; you might wear your implants out!"

"Are you sure? I've felt fine since I got that heart implant months ago...at least, I think.", the Corporal replied, unable to actually remember when he had last visited the medical station back at the base.

"Private Sánchez does have a point Corporal; your usage of combat stimulants has increased over the past month. At this rate, the chemicals in your system will cause an overload of adrenaline, which will subsequently drive your heart to grow tired from pumping your blood at an increased rhythm. You may reach the limits of your new implants sooner than you believe." Dregs lectured the Corporal in his usual emotionless tone of voice.

"They have a point Old Man. After we capture this city, I'm sending you back to base for three days of sick leave; I'll have the doctors run a couple of tests to make sure you don't collapse in the middle of a mission. Since your vital signs look fine now, I'll let you go, but I want you in a vehicle headed for home ASAP once we get paid. Understood?", Sergeant Zidek ordered.

"Yes sir...", the Corporal responded, somewhat disheartened by the fact that his age was finally taking a toll.

"Good.", the sergeant replied before taking the time to bring up a holo-map, "ETA to the Aegis supply route is fifty minutes; be ready to drop in twenty-five. After we hit dirt, our platoon's goal is to capture the communication outpost northwest of the city; once that's secure, we'll take control of the enemy's supply routes so we can clear a path for a full company of Lander troops and heavy armor.

Then, we can push forward into the city, provided our gracious benefactor Captain Michaelson gives us the air and artillery support they promised the higher ups.", Zidek said, while looking at each mercenary to make certain they were paying attention. After deciding that the squad understood, Zidek merely nodded his head and allowed the squad to chat, sleep, or find some other way to kill time.

Twenty-five minutes passed, and again the chime sounded. "Attention passengers, we have arrived at your destination. Please exit the vehicle in an orderly fashion, and enjoy your day!", repeated the female voice.

"Time to earn your paychecks men! Move it!", yelled Sergeant Zidek over the intercom.

Each mercenary activated their flight packs and leaped from the side doors of the dropship one by one. The sound of rushing air all but deafened the comm units in their helmets, and each of the squad members could see the rest of the platoon hurtling towards the earth in the distance. Almost simultaneously, the squad shifted their position and landed feet first on the ground. Since the cover of darkness was still available, the mercenaries activated their night-vision. In complete silence, the squad spread out, arranged themselves in wedge formation, and moved towards the nearest marked outpost on their heads-up display.

If the squad of mercenaries had been on the Axiom during its famed return to Earth, they might have actually taken the time to admire the amount of plant life that had grown since then. However, the large forest and thick undergrowth that loomed before them only seemed to inspire annoyance, frustration, and even fear in the minds of the team, especially Ryker. Trees that seemed magnificent to the average Lander citizen were possible hiding places for snipers. A falling leaf in the wind could actually be the trigger for a booby trap. One wrong step towards a patch of flowers could send a soldier plummeting to his death.

Ironically, the very plants WALL-E, EVE, and the first Landers had grown and nurtured were now objects of fear and intimidation. The HDC had used the terrain against the Landers with deadly efficiency, keeping them from taking the offensive into their territory, until now. Captain Michaelson had no qualms about hiring experienced mercenaries to do his dirty work. Fortunately, the merc squad was able to reach their rendezvous with the rest of the platoon in one piece. They would need every man for the assault on the city.

The platoon leader motioned for the marksmen of each squad to scan the area. Strangely, the outpost garrison consisted of only a few fire-teams of Dominance soldiers; intelligence gathered by Lander reconnaissance probes said otherwise. The platoon leader merely brushed off this discrepancy with a shrug, and gave the go-ahead for the snipers to engage.

Sixteen decapitated soldiers fell to the ground, and the mercenary platoon advanced. It wasn't long until the communications outpost was fully under their control. The Corporal heard several other transmissions over his helmet comm confirming that the other comm outposts had been captured by other mercenary platoons. Everything was going according to plan, for now. The mercenary platoon leader relayed their progress to their current acting commander.

"Captain Michaelson, Stage One is complete. Holding position for reinforcements."

Michaelson sat in the Axiom's bridge, which now served as an improvised command center. The windows that once offered a view of the stars were now covered by multiple holo-screens showing the status of his troops. Dozens upon dozens of lists covered several other holo-screens; weapon and supply shipments, contract terms with Sigma Intervention, EVE production rates, and casualties were only some of the lists that were displayed.

Logistics officers paced nonstop across the bride, muttering curses underneath their breath. The Captain shared their concerns; as the statistics demonstrated, the Lander military was becoming increasingly reliant on private military corporations to do its job as the war dragged on. Reliance on mercenary armies was taking a toll on the defense budget, as well as the public's morale.

That's all going to change, Michaelson thought, starting today.

"Sir!", a communications officer exclaimed, "Incoming transmission from Platoon Sergeant Fel!"

"That's mercenary Fel, Senior Officer Barkely,", the Captain reminded in a patient yet scolding tone, "These hired guns aren't our own men."

"Understood Captain,", Barkely replied, somewhat embarrassed by his mistake.

"Thank you. Bring the mercenary on speaker."

Shortly after the quick press of a communications keypad, a gruff voice came from the transmitting end of the intercom.

"Captain Michaelson, Stage One is complete. Holding position for reinforcements.", First Lieutenant Fel relayed.

"Understood. Remain at the outpost and await forces to relieve you; then proceed with Stage Two. I want Aegis City under Lander control by the end of today."

"Affirmative.", the platoon leader replied before the comm unit fell silent once more.

Turning to his second in command, he proceeded to carry out the next phase of the operation.

"Patch me through to Epsilon Pod, Officer Barkely."

"Patching you through now sir."

Another holo-screen emerged in the center of the bridge, only instead of more statistics, the stern face of an EVE commando was displayed. Its LED eyes glowed a dark shade of red, and its black chassis was barely visible in the dimly lit passenger compartment of the hovercraft she and her unit were traveling in. Behind this probe floated four others, each distinguished by their respective eye colors. These EVEs formed Epsilon Pod, one of the most elite units of the EVE special forces; Michaelson had planned to put EVE herself in charge, but decided against it after considering the possible morale drop if she was somehow damaged beyond repair. Instead, Probe Two from the defense cruiser, Precept, was put into command.

"Stage One is complete, Epsilon Leader. Commence the second stage of Operation: Ultimatum.", Captain Michaelson ordered. Precept probes, unlike the probes of the Axiom, specifically chose to be referred to by either their designated number or command title, and refused to be called by their informal, 'human' names.

The crisp yet cold salute the Captain received in response only deepened Michaelson's concerns; Epsilon Leader had earned a notorious reputation among other EVEs for following her directive to the letter, and was even close to having an altercation with mercenaries from Defense Systems Global, a PMC that had its contract with the Lander military revoked shortly before Sigma Intervention stepped in to fill the void.

Let's just hope things go smoothly, the Captain thought to himself while looking at the once automated steering wheel that lay deactivated in the center of the room, because the last thing we need is another AUTO.

4:30 A.M.

Custos Forest, 70 miles outside of Aegis City, Human Dominance Coalition territory

"Hey Ryker, wake up; it's your shift.", the Corporal whispered as he shook his squad-mate awake.

"Already?! I was in the middle of my retirement dream again! You know, the one with the scantily clad ladies and-hey! Where's the cavalry?", the hired soldier groggily replied before checking his surroundings.

The Corporal tiredly shook his head. "Not here yet. Come on, it's my turn to get some sleep."

After helping his squad-mate to his feet, the Corporal slowly sat down and rested his head against one of the steel walls that formed the interior of the communications tower in the center of the outpost. Thankfully, the combat stimulants inside his system did not prevent him from falling asleep; the biological implants he received helped his body regulate the flow of nanite-infused chemicals, and would automatically stop the flow of stimulants if a command code was input.

"Sweet dreams, Old Man. Dream of floating houses and retirement benefits. " Ryker muttered just before the Corporal dozed off.

While the mercenary private checked his armor diagnostics and weapon systems, he heard a soft tapping noise coming from the upper level of the communications tower. Cautiously venturing upstairs, he found Dregs typing incessantly on a keypad. Ryker shook his head in disbelief before slowly approaching his friend. Stopping only a few feet from Dregs, he clapped his hands together as hard he could in an effort to startle the normally unemotional tech specialist.

"Greetings Private Ryker. Your attempts to elicit a humorous reaction from me have failed for the thirty-fifth time. Would you like to try again?"

"Do you always have to talk like that? You sound like a frickin' computer!", Ryker frustratingly exclaimed before slapping Dregs' shoulder.

"My apologies. My speech pattern appears to be a side effect of the logi-tech chip implanted inside my cortex; apparently I have traded a sense of humor for increased hacking and programming skills.", the tech specialist replied in his monotone voice while simultaneously typing on the keypad.

Ryker, after giving up all hope to change his friends' personality, tried to change the subject. "What're you looking up anyway?"

Dregs paused. "EVE probe specifications, as well as the terms of Sigma Intervention's contract with the current Lander Captain."

"What, are you going to ask one of those floating eggs out? Maybe take one to a dance or somethin'?"

The other mercenary completely stopped typing and turned around to face Ryker before replying. "Do you know what a microfusion reactor is, Private Ryker?"

"Microfusion? You mean like, nuclear fusion?"

"Affirmative. Do you know what happens when a system containing a nuclear reactor is breached by high-explosives?"

"A big boom. What are you getting at, Dregs?", Ryker replied, impatient at the tech's cryptic questions.

"EVE probes utilize microfusion as their primary power source, Private Ryker.", Dregs replied, before bringing up a blueprint of EVE schematics as proof. The full force of this realization hit Ryker like a fully-loaded cargo tram.

"You mean those things are floating bombs?! Does the Sarge know about this?", Ryker said in a harsh whisper so as not to accidentally awake the Corporal downstairs.

"Indeed. Frankly, I'm surprised you don't. Refraining from targeting an EVE's containment system was part of the neural flash-training process we received when we were recruited. Can you recall an instance in which you did not target a probe's weapon or head?"

"No, actually. I thought that was sheer instinct rather than subliminal training; guess I was wrong. That still doesn't explain why you're reading our terms of contract though."

Dregs brought up a very large document in a new window and casually began to scroll through it. "I am searching for any clause that allows us to terminate an EVE probe in self-defense."

"In case one of them goes rogue?"

"Yes, but also if we discover a trigger device inside an EVE probe."

Again Ryker was caught speechless for a few moments. "Trigger device? You think the Landers are gonna turn their probes into suicide bombs if they think we're up to something?"

Again Dregs spoke his logic. "Do not think Captain Michaelson is incapable of such an act. He was willing to hire mercenaries, after all; an option Captain McCrea would not even consider."

The mercenary private took a moment to consider Dregs' words. In truth, he was right. Neither Captain Brian McCrea, nor his son and successor Gregory McCrea would ever think of paying soldiers to kill, no matter how professional or effective they were at their job. Then again, both never had experienced true desperation before, unlike Captain Michaelson.

"Well, I can't argue with you on that. Thanks for the heads-up. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a patrol to get back to."

"Understood Private Ryker, carry on.", Dregs responded before turning back to the screen.

As Ryker walked out of the communications tower, he fought hard to suppress the multitude of questions that floated around in his head. Would the Captain really consider sacrificing thousands of his soldiers' lives to destroy them? Before the relatively new mercenary had labeled Michaelson as nothing more than a 'McCrea wannabe'.

Now that his friend had told him the truth, this new Captain seemed to be more dangerous than he ever imagined. Despite his friend's seemingly wild accusations, Ryker never doubted him; with everything Dregs said, there was always evidence to back it up. Michaelson was essentially the de facto ruler of the Lander people like the Captains before him; in Ryker's eyes, this fact made him seem like a benevolent dictator. The extension of Michaelson's term only deepened his suspicions.

The professional soldier's vision blurred as he violently shook his head to clear his mind. Mercenaries could not afford to be burdened by thoughts of betrayal; after all, they were deceiving the Captain himself. The thought of pretending to fight for the Lander cause while embarking on a manhunt for the two beloved robot saviors never ceased to give Ryker something to chuckle at. Still, the fact that an EVE probe carried a miniature nuclear reactor was disconcerting; the realization that he would be fighting alongside one was almost horrifying. Almost.

The distinctive hum of an artificial gravity engine snapped Ryker back to his senses. Acting out of instinct, he ducked behind a tree and waited for the sound to reach its peak. Once a few tense minutes passed, the mercenary noticed a slight distortion in his vision. Normally he would've decided that his helmet wasn't working properly, but there was something off about the irregular shape of the trees. It was uniform, and seemed to form a spherical outline. At that moment, Ryker knew exactly what it was. He could feel a smile creeping in on his lips and a very bad idea enter his mind. Cupping his hands over where his mouth was covered by his helmet, Ryker took a deep breath and filled his lungs with air.

"BOO!"

What happened next made Ryker nearly die of laughter. As he suspected, a startled EVE probe deactivated its cloaking field by accident, and nearly fired off a shot from her ion cannon. Even after he had yelled at the top of his lungs, the supposedly elite probe still hadn't bothered to look down at the crouched Ryker. This upset earned the offending probe a smack on the back of the head by an invisible force, who Ryker assumed to be another cloaked probe.

As much as he wanted to see the EVE units bicker amongst each other like dysfunctional sisters, Ryker knew he had a contract to complete. He carefully stood up and revealed his position while leaving his rifle on the ground and his hands raised into the air; the last thing he wanted was to get blown to pieces by a trigger-happy robot who thought he was a threat.

"Hi.", he called out.

What he received in response was an ion cannon pointed directly at his face and a very angry look from the EVE probe he startled earlier. Despite this, Ryker was only slightly intimidated; the probe's bright yellow eyes added a sort of comical relief. It was almost like a delicate sunflower was trying to boss him around.

"Name?", it asked, clearly not enjoying the mercenary's earlier antics.

"Private Ryker. Sigma Intervention contractor."

At the mention of his employer, the EVE probe (who Ryker had mentally named 'Sunny' due to the color of her optics) signaled to the empty space behind her while keeping her weapon trained on the mercenary. Four other probes similar in appearance to Sunny immediately uncloaked, and the yellow-eyed probe cautiously lowered her weapon.

"I assume you guys are the relief force?"

A probe with red eyes, who Ryker assumed to be the leader, simply nodded her head.

"It's about time you guys showed up."

The Corporal awoke with a sudden jolt, with his gauss rifle pointed at the door. In the entryway stood Ryker, with his hands raised in a gesture of mock surrender.

"Oh please, please don't shoot! I give up!", the private said in his best imitation of a pleading, high-pitched voice.

The veteran mercenary let out a groan and slowly lowered his gauss rifle. It was times like these that made him wonder how he put up with Ryker ever since the private joined the squad. A never-ending stream of 'witty' remarks and comments seemed to spew from the brash merc's mouth, and bad ideas were always growing inside his brain. Still, he was the best grenadier the squad had so far.

"My shift already?", the Corporal muttered while getting back on his feet.

"Whaddya mean 'already'? It's been an hour already! And no, it isn't your shift."

When the Corporal heard the words 'isn't your shift' he was seriously pondering whether or not to punch Ryker in the groin plate. However, his face adopted a puzzled expression beneath his helmet. If it wasn't his shift, that could only mean one thing...

"Time to move out?"

"Yup. Get your act together and follow me."

Both mercenaries quickly exited the building in an effort to not stall the briefing. Before they entered the makeshift command bunker, the Corporal noticed that the guards outside the building consisted of EVE probes as well as the usual mercenaries. As a result of their shared local communications feed, the Corporal could barely make out Ryker stifling a laugh as they passed the two machines. The aging mercenary also caught one of the probes, one with bright yellow LED eyes instead of the usual blue, cast a baleful look towards Ryker's direction. The Corporal made a mental note to ask his fellow contractor about the details later. Fortunately for both mercenaries, they were able to enter the room before the briefing began.

The briefing room, once occupied by volunteers loyal to the HDC cause, was now crowded with hired soldiers who mostly cared about little else besides getting their paychecks. The platoon of mercenaries circled around First Lieutenant Fel, a man who had seen combat across dozens of battlefields. In his hand rested a small sphere, which displayed the layout of the terrain surrounding Aegis City on a holographic map. Several lines could be seen connecting the city to the outposts they had just captured. Aegis's supply lines no doubt.

"Listen up, mercs. The HDC garrison guarding Aegis still thinks their outposts are online. Thanks to codes supplied by Epsilon Pod, we've been able to transmit manufactured and encrypted messages to the garrison's commander, telling him everything's fine. We should be expecting a full company of troops to arrive here in three hours, and they'll be coming along the usual supply lines. Poor bastards are gonna be in for the surprise of their lives.

We set up an ambush before they reach our outpost, and get them in crossfire. Once the supply lines are clear, they'll know something is off. That's when the Lander heavy armor comes rolling in, and we storm the city. Remember, the other platoons have completed their objectives and are waiting to strike just like us, so we won't be alone once we reach Aegis. Move out!"

"Sir, yes sir!", the assembled platoon shouted, adrenaline flowing through their veins. The mercenaries made their way towards their new objective, regrouping with their assigned squad-mates as they went. Eventually, only the EVE team was left. The Corporal took one last look at the probes they had left behind to secure the outpost. If it wasn't for the zoom-in feature built into his helmet, he would've assumed that the EVEs were planning to shoot them in the back. Casting his troublesome thoughts aside, he caught up with his squad.

Once the platoon reached the concrete path that served as one of the city's main highway, the mercenaries split into two groups and positioned themselves on opposite sides. Here they would wait until the supposed HDC reinforcements came their way, right into their line of fire. Thankfully, the dark forest provided just enough camouflage to conceal the entire platoon. If everything went as planned, this part of the operation would be the easiest...

6:30 A.M.

Pax Highway, 50 miles outside of Aegis City, Human Dominance Coalition territory

Trent Ado drove the armored transport along the planned route, taking care to keep his eyes on the road. In the past few weeks, multiple roadblocks and security systems had been established to prevent any unwanted guests from entering Aegis. Captain Michaelson, who was looked upon as a monarchistic tyrant in Trent's homeland, had apparently denounced this act as a threat to peaceful immigration for refugees and trade.

In response, the Coalition government issued a report to Lander citizens detailing the multiple ways Michaelson had seized political power over the last year. Unsurprisingly, not even a single Lander citizen believed them. Now, the HDC was preparing to stand its ground and fight for their very survival in response to the Captain's ultimatum. It seemed the two nations were caught in a never-ending spiral of military escalation.

Even before Trent's childhood, relations between the HDC and Landers were tense. After they had declared their secession from the Lander government (then led by Captain B. McCrea) the Coalition devoted their efforts to building up a sizable military. Citizens who had known each other for years drifted farther and farther apart from each other as the political ideals of their nations set in. Trent was subjected to heated debates in class while growing up, and learned that support for a peaceful end to the ongoing war was a trademark of cowardice. Thus, his enlistment into the military was an inevitability.

Surprisingly, he had been assigned to driving troop transports instead of fighting on the front lines like he had hoped. Although he was told it was a matter of convenience, and not any lack of patriotism or physical effort on Trent's part, he still felt discouraged. Many of his friends were assigned to the fiercest battles of the war, and the young man planned to fight side by side with them. Under normal circumstances, Trent would've made new companions during his time as a driver. However, as the war's front grew larger and larger, Ado had less and less time to learn the stories of his passengers.

"All things considered though,", murmured Trent as he slowed the transport to a stop, "at least I get to see new faces every other week! And my mom said I was antisocial! What about you guys?"

Before the squad of troopers in Trent's transport could reply, they were ripped to pieces. Instantly, the HDC driver felt a sharp pain in his right thigh, and he soon discovered that he had been struck with a high-velocity round. Thankfully, both the transport and his personal shield had absorbed most of the impact, but the round was still able to leave a large gash (instead of completely blowing his leg off had he been unprotected). As his armor began to distribute painkillers into his bloodstream, Trent forced himself to crawl out of the driver's seat while taking his sidearm with him. The armored transport exploded only a few minutes later.

Although his vision was blurry from blood loss and obscured by the smoke and fire from his destroyed vehicle, the young driver still managed to fire a few shots from his laser pistol before it was torn from his hands by another high-velocity bullet. Once the chaos raging around him had ceased, a lone, shadowy figure emerged from the other side of the smoke. Trent was able to make out the figure's face: a pale white skull.

"The Reaper...but..it's just a myth!", whispered the young driver, who was now consumed by complete terror. He tried to crawl away, but found himself unable to move with the massive amount of painkillers flowing through his bloodstream. In desperation, he turned his eyes skyward in the hope that someone or something would spare him this untimely fate. When no-one came to his aid, he decided to lay on his back and await the inevitable. Soon, Death itself stood over him.

"Are you here to take my soul?", choked Trent.

The answer he received was a swift boot to the face.

"Clear." The Corporal affirmed, after checking the unconscious HDC soldier for grenades. Most military personnel of the Human Dominance Coalition usually activated their spare grenades in a last-ditch effort to take as many enemies with them to the grave. The old gun for hire had learned this fact the hard way.

"Jeez, Old Man! You shoulda went easy on that kid; I mean, we could be arrested for abuse or something!"

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Of course I'm freakin' kidding you, man; who in the right mind tells a merc he's treating someone too rough in this age?!", Ryker teased, and slapped his friend on the back.

"Captain Michaelson apparently; 'boss' wants us to take some prisoners.", the Corporal replied, gesturing towards the motionless soldier before injecting him with a syringe full of silver-colored fluid.

"What the heck was that?"

"Nanites; it'll keep this guy from bleedin' out. Lieutenant says we need to limit 'unnecessary casualties' or whatever."

The Corporal then dragged the unconscious driver to the side of the road where they had waited in ambush only a few minutes earlier. Once the Lieutenant reported that the supply route was secure, a Lander armored battalion would come rolling through; the last thing the Corporal wanted was his would-be POW getting crushed. Formerly a citizen of the Human Dominance Coalition himself, the soldier of fortune felt a twinge of sympathy for the man he had just knocked out moments ago.

Wrong place, wrong time I guess..., the Corporal assumed. Empathy and compassion had no place on the battlefield.

"Hey Oldie!", Ryker shouted over the comm line, subsequently snapping his squad-mate out of his thoughts, "You done being a philosopher yet? Come check this out!"

Despite wondering how he hadn't noticed Ryker move over to one of the destroyed vehicles, the Corporal kept quiet and casually walked over pieces of burnt wreckage to where his friend stood. At his feet laid a Coalition soldier that had been riddled with multiple projectiles.

"Look closely at this guy.", Ryker instructed.

The Corporal did as he was told, and noticed something very unusual. Despite the human-like appearance of the fallen soldier, his wounds appeared to lack the signature red shade of blood. In its place was a thick, black fluid that had a distinct texture to it. Immediately, everything became clear to the mercenary.

"He's a freakin' bot!"

"Congratulations, detective; you just solved the mystery!", Ryker replied, simultaneously giving a less-than-enthusiastic applause.

"What, you're not suspicious about this whole thing?"

The private slapped his forehead. "Of course I'm suspicious! Sarge and Lieutenant are suspicious! What, did you have a tumor and tried to get rid of it by overdosing on stims or something?! Every single one of the bastards in those transports, minus the drivers, was a goddamn bona-fide tin soldier!"

While Ryker continued another one of his obscene ramblings, the Corporal took a moment to consider this new information.

This is bad, really bad, he thought as he studied the Coalition warbot. The HDC only uses these things when they can't spare any volunteers...or when they're trying to spring a trap...

The Corporal felt a sudden tap on the shoulder. "Hey, Sarge says we need to get off the road; calvary's coming soon.", said Ryker, who was still noticeably agitated by the recent turn of events.

"Roger."

"Can't believe you were still alive after New Chicago. I heard we got pretty banged up there.", the Lander soldier told his squad-mate in an effort to distract himself from his aching feet.

The other soldier gave a nonchalant shrug in response."I wouldn't know about it. I was knocked out for most of the battle after my dropship crashed."

"Well, shoot; at least you weren't there when the fighting was the worst. What was your name again?"

"Stephen. The rookie, remember?"

"Oh, right! You're the new guy...sorry about your last squad."

"It's alright...things happen for a reason I guess."

"Well, at least you got us now! Welcome to the squad; Name's Adam; I'm a Lance Corporal.", the Lander soldier replied before placing a friendly hand on Stephen's shoulder.

"Thanks."

A few minutes of silence ensued, before Stephen noticed something odd about their orders. They were marching straight into HDC territory, and although they had more enough firepower in their division to level an entire city, they were sitting ducks while they were marching in single file formation. Someone, or something had likely cleared the area ahead of them, without command telling them about it. Even stranger was the odd-looking transport in the center of the convoy; it bore a strange symbol on its side (most likely one from ancient Earth history) and the letters S and I.

"Hey, Adam; I got a question for you.", said the concerned private in a hushed tone of voice, quiet enough so that no one else could hear him through his helmet.

"Go ahead."

Stephen switched his communications line to a private channel before speaking."Do you think command's not telling us everything? I mean, think about it: we've been marching for hours, escorting that thing, and haven't come under attack by a Coalition welcoming committee. You gotta admit that sounds a little bit suspicious."

The private's fellow squad-mate took the time to ponder this. Under most circumstances command told them everything they needed to know, and never withheld information that could possibly endanger their lives. Adam took a good look at the transport they were escorting, and finally the realization clicked.

"Mercs.", he murmured beneath his breath.

Stephen mentally slapped himself after hearing his squad-mate's explanation. The letters on the transport they were escorting were the initials of the PMC they had fought alongside during the retaking of the New Chicago city outpost. It was no wonder they'd be helping them in the largest offensive he would likely see in his lifetime.

Let's hope I get out of this war in one piece, the still fresh recruit thought to himself, and maybe then...

"Hey Stephen, you think those hired goons are the ones who made WALL-E and EVE disappear?", Adam whispered.

The still fresh recruit took a moment to consider this. It had been years since he had seen the two proclaimed 'saviors of humanity'; by the time they vanished he had only turned eight. Michaelson, one of his friends since elementary school, told him he had never found out exactly how or why they disappeared; Stephen was willing to trust him despite his doubts. Kidnapping was certainly a plausible explanation for their disappearance, though the private had a hard time figuring out exactly why mercenaries would want to get rid of the couple. If they were the ones responsible, someone had to be paying them, pulling their strings from the sidelines...

"I'm not sure." was all Stephen could say.

"Speaking of mercs...", Adam said while tapping a finger on his friend's shoulder. When Stephen looked him in the face, Adam pointed to his left. There stood roughly a platoon of hired men in brutish-looking armor, each of them bearing the same symbol as the escorted transport's on their shoulder pads. Some of them were completely motionless save for the occasional shift in foot position. While both Lander soldiers noticed that some of their comrades wore older helmets that did not cover their faces, all of the mercenaries' emotions were hid behind a death mask. Neither relief nor despair crossed Stephen's mind; only one thought repeated inside his head as he passed their hired 'friends'.

What goes on inside the head of a man who only fights for money?

The Corporal watched as the Lander heavy armor came down the captured supply route. The mercenary platoon had checked for anti-tank mines along the road only a few minutes earlier, and had found none. Even though the tanks used propulsion technology to float, the Corporal's platoon leader didn't want to take the risk. While the technology level of the HDC wasn't as advanced as the Landers, the mercenaries weren't willing to underestimate the enemy. To do so, of course, was the route to an early grave.

Several teams of EVE probes and Lander soldiers followed behind the armored convoy. Many of the them took a glance at the guns-for-hire that stood by the side of the road; the Corporal even caught a few glares of contempt from some of the EVE probes. Judging from Ryker's frequent yet subtle movements, the Corporal could tell his friend was just about ready to beat one of them to a pulp.

Despite the mutual hatred private military contractors had for the EVE probes, the Corporal couldn't find it in himself to blame them. To him, they had every right not to trust men who would likely kill them in their sleep if paid to do so. Despite the wealth they acquired from contracts, mercenaries quickly learned that trust was a commodity they could only afford among each other. People who hired soldiers of fortune were just as likely to stab them in the back.

Surprisingly, a few of the Lander troops seemed genuinely happy to see them; some even waved to the mercenary platoon and shouted words of encouragement. New and old members of the platoon waved back, and grinned underneath their skull-faced helmets. They knew all too well that appreciation for them was hard to come by. It would make capturing the city that much easier.

Both contractors and soldiers awkwardly merged together, with the platoon of mercenaries circling the large transport bearing their logo. Ryker and the Corporal took their marching places between a squad of EVE probes, much to their chagrin. The veteran mercenary stared straight ahead, not wanting to start a confrontation that would jeopardize the mission, and his paycheck. He had enough experiences with angry probes over the last few days. His prone to violence squad-mate on the other hand...

"Hey old timer, wanna take a bet?", Ryker asked in a hushed tone, while keeping his comm frequency private.

The Corporal allowed himself a small glance to his sides to make sure no one else had tuned into their conversation. "A bet on what exactly?", he responded.

"Which of these bots do you think is gonna die first? I got thirty credits riding on the one to my left, cause it looks like a freakin' pansy. It's probably still fresh outta the factory too; I bet it's not gonna last three minutes before it hits the ground."

Though Ryker's facial expressions were hidden, his squad-mate was certain he could see a smirk forming underneath his helmet. He really hates those robots, the Corporal thought to himself. Just enough that he might get himself killed by one...

"Never underestimate someone Ryker, especially if that someone has enough firepower to level an entire shipyard.", the older mercenary warned.

Unsurprisingly, the less experienced hired gun had another witty retort ready. "And you never really do stop spouting nonsense, right old man?"

"This is going to be a really long walk.", the Corporal murmured under his breath.

Ryker allowed himself a small chuckle before replying. "Damn straight it is."

8:30 AM

20 miles from Aegis City perimeter

When both mercenary and Lander forces finally amassed within sight of the city, they were shocked to the core.

Again contradictory to the intelligence Lander command had provided them, the HDC military was well fortified around the city border. Miles upon miles of concrete trenches, pill boxes, and miniature fortresses greeted them in an almost hellish embrace. The city itself was encircled by a towering steel wall, which bristled with firing ports for artillery and small arms.

Trying to find a route around the massive defense network was virtually impossible; the only way to get to Aegis City was to go through and hope not to get slaughtered. If they were going to take this city, the Corporal figured, then they were going to need to pray for a miracle.

The Corporal could hear shocked murmurs among the Lander company; many of them were exchanging terrified looks, as if their first battle were to be their last. The fact that Ryker was absent of any remarks made him slightly unsettled. However, like some of the mercenaries assembled, the Corporal could feel a sense of recollection the longer he looked at the city.

Threatening appearance aside, the sight of Aegis had stirred previously lost thoughts within the Corporal's memory. He had visited the city on occasion during his childhood, mostly to visit the local pastry store. It would be no surprise to the soldier of fortune if he could recognize the very same block he used to explore as a kid.

"It's strange how a little perspective can change everything.", he said to no one in particular.

Sergeant Zidek's voice in the Corporal's helmet comm refocused his attention. "All squads, assemble for briefing! Double-time!"

The mercenaries filed out of the Lander formation discretely, leaving them to their own devices. Although they were technically under the command of Captain Michaelson, that didn't necessarily mean they had to follow the commanders under him. As far as the private contractors understood, the real person in charge was their sergeants and Lieutenant Fel.

The Lieutenant and respective squad leaders stood in front of a large transport; the ancient Earth symbol and letters immediately identified it as one of theirs. Before any of the platoon could ask what was inside it, the briefing began.

Fel was the first to speak. "As you all know by now, our intel was completely unreliable. No surprise there. However, our situation is not completely FUBAR; the guys at RRD saw to that."

The senior officer gestured to Sergeant Zidek to open the transport. With a few taps on the keypad near the transport's rear door, the armored car's mysterious contents were revealed.

Inside floated several grey cylindrical shapes, not unlike in appearance to the body of an EVE probe.

The Corporal overheard Ryker whispering, "What the hell are those things?!" to another mercenary. As if to answer his question, Lieutenant Fel spoke.

"Gentlemen, say hello to the Mark One microfusion bomb."

Author's Note: *takes deep breath*. Whew. First and foremost, I want to apologize for taking this long to update; school's starting to get bit busier even though the year's almost over.

This chapter turned out to be MUCH longer than anticipated, so I'm splitting it up into two parts to reduce publishing time. If time allows, the next chapter will be done much quicker, since it mostly consists of action sequences.

Since this fanfic is significantly lacking a presence of canon characters, expect to see them appear in the next chapter as well.

Do you guys feel like I should be working on character development more? Are any of the characters starting to seem a bit Mary-Sueish?

As always, any suggestions and constructive criticism is very much appreciated!