October 28th 2183 C.E.

Ferris Fields

"Please tell me you're kidding." Major Henry Rodriguez uttered in disbelief, his hand still in his forehead, unable to take the news he'd just received.

"I'm sorry, sir," the mechanic right in front of him replied. "the gyroscopic stabilizers in this here Mako's completely broke, no way to fix it." They were at the militia HQ's garage, where in front of both of them was one of the colony's M35 Mako infantry fighting vehicles, with its turret removed from the main hull, which was suspended a few meters above with a couple of chains and a winch, where they were trying in vain to repair it. "Whoever used to own this piece of crap didn't really care to fix the damn thing."

"So," the young man began. "what about the other systems? Eezo core, fuel cell, suspension?" inquiring further into the vehicle's fate. If its offensive systems were a no go, he had an idea that was just right on top of his head on how to further make use of the vehicle's potential, even without its weapons.

"Yeah, all of the other essentials are still in order." The mechanic said to him in a heavy Southern accent. "But what the hell do you have in mind for this damn thing? Without a turret, it might as well be a damn taxi for all we can make of it." And that was what Rodriguez was counting on.

"Can you remove all of its armament systems? And I mean all of it: the heat sink, the power cell for its one-fifty-five and coax, everything?"

"Sure, but what the hell are you gonna plan on doing with this piece of junk, anyway?" the older man asked him again, preparing the tools necessary for his next task which he was sure to follow.

"I'm turning this baby into a mobile command center," the young told him. "I want you to put on additional radios, more seats for the command crew, and a couple of portable holo-projectors for me to conduct my operations." The mechanic in front of him just laughed.

"You sure are full of ideas, kid. Fine, I'll do it, should be done in about a few hours or so." And with that, he went inside of the now turret-less vehicle and started removing the necessary components for him to allow placing the major's new modifications for it. With that out of the way, Rodriguez exited the garage, barely walking for about a few meters when he was quickly approached by his executive officer clutching a datapad. Great, never a dull moment around here. He thought to himself bitterly. After the thing with the Mako earlier, he was hoping to get a few moments for himself, maybe even visit Therese at the clinic. He mentally swore, for now, he still had his duties to attend to.

"Sir," Captain Adrian Walters snapped a quick salute before proceeding with his latest report. "the battalion quartermaster told me he wants to see you in his office, says he got something that might interest you." The captain quickly handed out his datapad for him to see. Grabbing it, he eyed the details on what was in it. Interesting. It showed him the specs of a certain type of equipment, and the young officer was right, this really did get his attention after all.

"Lead the way, Walters." The younger man nodded quickly then walked away, with Rodriguez following along. When he first trained the militia all those months ago, he remembered seeing Walters, who was still this skinny nineteen-year old teenager that could barely even hold a gun, let alone shoot it. As they proceeded with the training and its various exercises, the young kid exceeded everybody's scores by a huge margin. He showed great tactical understanding and initiative during their time at the militia's conference rooms, swiftly learning everything there is to know about the military and all its strategies and tactics. At the firing range, he also learned quickly on how to shoot a rifle, nearly surpassing him at his own game. Fast forward a couple of months later, the once skinny teen now became a one of this place's finest colonial militiamen, who would someday succeed the major as head of the Ferris Fields Colonial Militia. And for that, he was proud.

After walking for a few minutes, they entered the militia command post quickly, where the two guards stationed there offered the officers a quick, crisp salute to which they returned in kind. As they made their way inside, they found the door which led to the quartermaster's office and opened it. Sitting there behind a desk was an older man in his mid-fifties, with a balding head, a cigar firmly placed on his mouth, and a lone datapad being held in front of him. When he saw the officers enter, he gave a grievous smile and stood to accommodate them. "Ah, Major, good to see you," Specialist George Sutherland greeted him, shaking Rodriguez's hand with a firm grip.

"Likewise, George." The major shook his hand back with equal fervor. After that, Sutherland gestured both of them to sit, to which they quickly complied. The older man took a seat himself and went straight to business.

"So, what do you think, major?" the battalion quartermaster asked him.

"It's impressive, I can tell you that much, what is it exactly?" Rodriguez inquired further on the new equipment he was informed earlier.

"It's called the M143 Rapid Fire Support System, sir." Sutherland told him. "the boys at Alliance R&D call it the Devastator. It's like a slightly large footlocker with a dimension of about four by two meters. When deployed, it's armed with six, meter-long missiles that are each armed with about a dozen egg-sized proprietary Hahne-Kedar sub-munitions, which have the explosive power of a slightly juiced-up grenade or biotic blast. Now, a single missile has about an effective radius of about, say, thirty meters, completely saturating that area with a high-explosive yield, which I can assure, will ruin somebody's day." With that, the specialist gave them a rather devious grin.

"What's its effective range, then?" the major asked Sutherland.

"It depends on the ordnance, really. Since we're gonna use the standard CGM-12's, I'd say about twenty kilometers." The older man told him matter-of-factly.

"Sounds like the exact, fire support I desperately need." Rodriguez said to the older man, then pondered for a few seconds. All this really is impressive, but with that, it must be expensive as hell to acquire this piece of heaven. "How much do you think this'll cost?"

"Well, the budget can cover around three launchers, I think," the specialist replied with a finger tapping his chin, "then we can also acquire about...twenty-seven missiles for them. If we run out, we can always order more, I'm sure Knowles wouldn't mind the price cost if it means protecting this colony."

"How long will it take for those launchers to get here?" Captain Walters asked the older man.

"If we contact the suppliers now, we can get them delivered here at about nineteen hundred hours," Sutherland responded to the battalion XO, and then faced the major. "Should I make the call, sir?"

"Do it." The head of the militia stood up from his chair, shook hands with the battalion quartermaster once more, and left his office, with the captain in tow. "There anything more for this day, captain?" he asked his executive officer.

"Well, everything's pretty much in order, sir." The younger man told him as they started heading towards straight into the major's office. "Patrols are out and scouting, they haven't found anything of importance. Other than that, it's green across the board, sir." They arrived into the office, with Rodriguez quickly taking a seat behind his desk, while Walters stood in front of him, still at parade rest, with his feet spread a foot apart and his hands behind his back.

"That'll be all, captain. Dismissed." Walters snapped a quick salute, did an about face, then left. With that completely settled with, Rodriguez exhaled loudly. All in all, it was just another normal day at work here in the peaceful colony of Ferris Fields. Not that he was complaining though, he already saw what war was like first-hand, and that wasn't something he wished to relive again if had anything to say about it. In here, it was practically paradise. And he was his own boss, with no one screaming at him for something to do. This is the life. He thought happily. Stable job, a nice workplace, and something to go home to; he smiled at that thought. The major and Therese had it off the moment they started dating, and now they were living together. It all seemed awfully fast, but he didn't care. At the moment, he was happy, and he was quite contented with everything he had in this place. He checked his chrono and saw that it was already fifteen minutes past 1800. The Devastators would arrive in about less than an hour, but the quartermaster had it covered. Right now, he decided he was going home early, surprise Therese, eat some of the delicious home-cooked meal she had been known to make, and get a good nights' rest. He'd earned it.

The alarm next to him sprang to life, it's constant beeping sounds quickly making Rodriguez wake up from his deep slumber. He outstretched his arm and shut down the interface. Next to him, Therese stretched her arms while giving out a long, steady yawn. "What time is it?" she asked him groggily.

"Five in the morning," he replied instantly, then added happily: "Got someplace you need to be?" The woman just swatted him in the arm playfully.

"No, today's my day off, and I plan on sleeping the whole day, thank you very much." She told him, then took hold of the bed's blanket to cover most of her body.

"You're no fun, babe." The major said, leaning towards her to give her a quick kiss on her lips before getting out of bed. Last night was certainly as enjoyable as he had expected. They had dinner, where they had synthesized pork that was drenched in barbecue sauce, basil leaves, and paprika. Damn thing tasted good, too. He expected that, of course. After that, they watched this movie Therese just got off the extranet called, "Vaenia", which was basically an asari chick flick that looked a lot like softcore pornography disguised as a feature film. Afterwards, they opened up a bottle of locally made Ferris Fields wine and drank the entire bottle. All in all, it was a fun night for him and the doctor. One of many to which he was hoping he'd have to do for the rest of their lives.

As he approached the bathroom, he stripped out of his clothes and turned on the shower, letting the cold water from the nozzles wash away the slight hangover and stress he had endured the previous night. A few moments later, he was finished and dressed in his usual olive-green militia fatigues, his name and rank displayed proudly on the clothing. After that, he said his farewell to Therese and went outside to take the rover to work.

Just another day at the office.

"The Devastators have already been prepped and issued to the engineer platoons," Captain Walters explained to him. They were both at the major's office, inquiring on today's events, unit dispositions and its activities. "They've already been briefed about its operation and maintenance. For reasons of mobility, we managed to set the launchers on some modified rovers to maximize operational flexibility." Rodriguez looked away from his computer terminal for a moment and looked at Walters, confusion spread on his facial features.

"I don't remember issuing that order, captain." He told the young officer with a questioning look. The captain regarded the major's look as if he'd insulted his superior officer and took on an apologetic tone.

"I'm sorry, sir. I thought that it'd be okay to modify them in my position as your executive officer and thought you'd share the same idea as I have." Walters continued fidgeting, nervous energy apparent on his body language. It took Rodriguez all his willpower not to laugh on his XO's apparent discomfort. Taking a neutral tone, the major explained in further.

"It's okay, captain. I'm not pissed about it, just surprised, that's all." He calmly told him. "Though, you should've informed me earlier about it. Still, it's actually a good idea, Walters, for that, you should be commended for your initiative and creativity." The captain looked surprised for a bit, his mouth hung open. He expected that he was to be reprimanded. Recovering quickly, he thanked his superior officer for his thoughts, then continued with his reports.

"The mobile command center you asked is ready for deployment, sir. You can take a look later on the garage if you wish."

"Great, is that all?" The captain nodded. "Alright then, I want you to head towards Charlie Company and give them a quick inspection, make sure to keep 'em in their toes. Dismissed." Walters snapped a quick salute and quickly left his office.

Suddenly alone with his thoughts, Rodriguez quickly wondered about the militia's overall readiness. Each of the soldiers here in the battalion was properly issued a Lancer pattern assault, a Karpov semi-automatic pistol, and a general-purpose medium-grade hard suit that both optimized mobility and protection. That takes care of his thoughts for general infantry engagements. What worried the major most was the lack of individual anti-armor and anti-vehicle weapons. Sure, they had the Makos, but there were only four of them, three of which are the only ones with operational turrets. They had decent fire support in the form of the Devastators, but other than that, there still weren't any deterrence against armored vehicles. I maybe overthinking a bit too much. He thought to himself.

Willing his body to relax, he let out a sigh and went back to typing away on his computer terminal, taking care of the militia's daily reports, scouting reports, fuel and food consumption, just pretty much everything in between. It felt like he was typing for hours, and with no end in sight.

Suddenly, his omni-tool winked into existence, his entire left arm once again immersed

in an orange holographic interface. It told him he was receiving an incoming call from someone inside the militia building. Without further ado, he accepted the call and was rewarded with a tired voice on his communicator.

"Sir, this is Overwatch," the voice told him. "we've got an incoming transmission from one of our perimeter scouts, said it was urgent." Overwatch? The major deliberated for a second what the callsign meant and who it was that was calling him, then remembered it was from the militia's communication department.

"Patch it through, Overwatch." He ordered with a curt, professional tone.

"Roger, patching them now…" the voice said, then it was replaced with another, this one patting heavily and whispering softly. "Homebase, this is Bodark Two-Three, we're seeing some activity ahead, over." Bodark 2-3 was a nine-man squad on Bravo Company's 2nd Platoon, which he remembered was under the command of Staff Sergeant Ivanoff Litovski.

"Solid copy, Two-Three," he told the voice on the other hand. "Send traffic, over."

"Roger, report as follows: we're seeing a couple of dropships landing about a few klicks ahead of us, dismounting batarian infantry, and lots of them, over." Rodriguez thought if he heard it wrong for a second. Batarians? Here? What the hell are they planning on doing here? His mind was in overdrive now, quickly focusing on keeping this threat contained and neutralized. Once again, he spoke on his communicator.

"Bodark Two-Three, give me a quick headcount on unknown batarian presence, over." He quickly ordered as he stood from his chair and made his way towards the command post's communications room.

"Solid copy, Homebase. We're seeing about…let's see…" the voice on the other end was silent for a few seconds, and the major could hear someone counting softly on the radio. "Homebase, we estimate about five-zero plus hostile infantry armed with assault rifles, pistols, grenade launchers and…is that a net?" the voice seemed to ask, but not directing the question towards Rodriguez, and he waited patiently, hearing someone say "looks like it" on the other end, then the other voice continued: "Sir, we're seeing what looks like a batarian slaver operation in progress. Please advise, over."

"Roger Two-Three, standby." He quickly told the voice. As he arrived inside the comm room, he could see two men operating a bank of monitors, their eyes just glued to the screen in front of them. Seeing him enter, both men turn around with confused looks on their faces as they see him approach. He quickly ordered them to action. "I want the entire battalion on standby and tell the CO's of Alpha and Bravo companies to prep for deployment, now!" Both men swiftly worked on their orders, barking out on their own comm units and informing the entire militia to be on high alert. As his task on alerting the battalion was concluded, he returned to his conversation with the recon element: "Bodark Two-Three, this is Homebase. You still there?"

"Roger, sir. We read you five-by-five, over." The voice replied to him immediately.

"Be advised Bodark, stay in place, avoid enemy contact and continue reporting on enemy dispositions. Acknowledge." He said the last word with a commanding tone.

"Solid copy on all, Homebase. Out." And with that, the conversation was terminated. In front of him, the com operators were frantically trying their best in quickly whipping the battalion's platoon leaders into combat readiness.

"Sir," one of the operators said to him. "battalion reports it's ready for deployment."

"Good," Rodriguez said to man, "inform Charlie Company to set up defensive positions around Ferris Fields. And tell the CO's of Alpha and Bravo to meet up with me at the colony's northern outskirts with their respective units," both of the comm operators barked in the affirmative and went to do their respective tasks. A few seconds later, they reported that all of units received their corresponding orders. "Good, now both of you, come with me."

The two comm operators looked at each other for a few seconds or so then followed their commander as he went outside and exited the militia headquarters, heading towards the garage. All around him, he could see his entire battalion prepping for action. Men were running towards their respective posts, putting on their hard suits, prepping their weapons and making last-minute checks on all sorts of various equipment. He arrived on the garage, saw the mechanic, and quickly approached him. "Is the Command Mako ready?" he asked the older man simply.

"Yeah, radios are there sir, along with the holo-projectors." Rodriguez just nodded to him and motioned for both comm operators to get inside the now turret-less vehicle. Before he went inside, he reached for his communicator and contacted Charlie Company's CO.

"Crimson Six, here." The voice on the other end quickly responded.

"Lieutenant, this is Ferris Six. Send me four men here on the double, and make sure one of them knows how to drive a Mako."

"Yes, sir!" the officer of Charlie responded before cutting off the line. Two minutes later, four men arrived at the garage after running their way towards their way there and saluted the major. He quickly shouted for them to get in, which they quickly obliged. Once all of them were inside, Rodriguez ordered one of the men from Charlie Company to take the wheel and drive them towards the northern outskirts.

The two comm operators were quickly activating the holo-projectors and were setting up the necessary connections to effectively run the entire militia on the move. As the armored vehicle rumbled to life and made its way towards their destination, the major wondered if all the training he had implemented on the men would be enough. It has to be, damn it. He quickly put aside all hesitant thoughts and went back to commanding the battalion.

"You," he pointed to the first com operator, "what's Bodark Two-Three's current position?" The man played around with the holo-projector for a few seconds before answering him.

"Nine kilometers north of Ferris Fields, sir," he told Rodriguez. "They're located at grid zero-six-four-niner." The major nodded with the intel and pointed to the second comm operator.

"Alert Buffalo Troop and tell them to prep for possible engagement at grid zero-six-four-niner," the second man nodded and went on with his task. Buffalo Troop was the militia's armored platoon of three M35 Makos. He had to use them carefully. If the enemy managed to take them out, they would tip the scales of the coming battle in their favor. And the major couldn't allow that.

"Sir," the first comm operator called out. "Patrick Knowles is on the line, he's asking what the hell's going on."

"Patch him though," the man did as he was asked and set up the connection.

"Henry, what's going on?" he could hear the older man's voice laced with concern and outrage. "I'm seeing the militia all around here running setting up sandbags and machine guns all over the colony."

"Pat, listen to me," he calmly explained to the colony's leader on the communicator. "we have batarian slavers en route to the colony even as we speak. I'm trying to launch a pre-emptive strike and hit 'em first."

"Jesus H. Christ," he heard Knowles swear on the line. "what's your plan here, Henry?"

"I'm gonna hit them with everything we've got, Pat. For now, I want you to make sure the colony won't panic. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, I can. This is unbelievable. Anyway, I won't keep you any longer. Good luck out there, kid." After that, Knowles severed the connection. All around the major, everything was bathed in red light. The com operators were busy trying to coordinate everyone in the battalion to do their assigned tasks, and the three men he brought with him from Charlie Company were sitting in their seats, gripping their rifles tightly as the anticipation of combat made them uneasy and nervous. He couldn't blame them, he was like that himself when he faced off against the Chinese once upon a time. As the vehicle they rode in continued buckling with movement, it was made even worse as it went off-road, the driver up ahead shouted that they would arrive at the outskirts momentarily.

Once again, Rodriguez thought to himself if he had done everything right in training the three hundred and fifty-two souls that composed the colonial militia, because if he somehow messed this up, he would have the blood of the entire militia in his hands. And that was something he didn't want to experience.

God help us.

"What's the plan here, major?" the captain in charge of Alpha Company asked Rodriguez. They were on the outskirts of Ferris Fields, where the commanders and platoon leaders of Alpha and Bravo gathered around him near the mobile command Mako. The enemy was just up north, prepping their forces for their eventual assault towards the colony. The major motioned for all the officers and senior NCOs to come closer so they all could hear his impromptu briefing.

"Alright, we don't have much time so listen up," Rodriguez told them with a slightly loud voice so everyone could hear. "Bodark Two-Three reported that the batarian presence is somewhere near grid zero-six-four-niner, which is just that way, nine klicks." he pointed north and resumed talking. "For now, they still don't know we're mobilized and I want to keep it that way until the moment we hit 'em with a barrage from the Devastators. By the way," he turned to face the overall commander of the engineer platoon that had their fire support. "are your men ready with the big guns?"

"We were briefed on how to set them up and operate them, sir," the man told him quickly. "but I just wish we had more time to familiarize ourselves with the equipment and everything."

"Time is a luxury we don't have, lieutenant," Rodriguez told the man sternly. "You have until four minutes to ready yourselves, then I give the order to unleash hell on those four-eyed freaks." The man just nodded understandingly. He couldn't exactly blame the man for not being ready, they just received their equipment yesterday and were still not used to their new toys. "Okay," he addressed the entire command group once again. "Here's the plan: Alpha, I want you spearheading this attack. Set up around grid zero-four-six-niner and wait for my order to hit them with everything you've got once the barrage is over. Bravo, I want you to guard Alpha's flanks. If they somehow managed to break the encirclement, overwhelm them and prevent their penetration. If they break through, we're done. Set up a platoon in reserve just in case they somehow exceeded in breaking out. Are there any questions?" he asked all of them one more time and looked around. One officer raised his hand.

"Sir, what about their numbers?" the younger man asked him. "How many of them are they?"

"Bodark Two-Three estimated about fifty plus hostiles armed with basically everything from rifles to grenade launchers," he answered the officer's question quickly. "but if they somehow managed to get in reinforcements, I'll let Buffalo Troop roll in and finish them off." That seemed to satisfy the officer's question and he gave a sharp nod. "Any more questions?" he looked around once more. Seeing that there weren't any, he quickly dismissed them and went back inside his command Mako and closed the hatch, once again bathing everything in an ominous red light, signifying their high-alert status. The com operators were still busy with their tasks and the armed escort they got from Charlie Company was still fidgeting with nervousness and eagerness at the same time. Ahead, the driver turned around from his seat.

"Where to, sir?" the younger man asked him.

"Just follow Alpha's troop transports and set up behind them once they're dug in." Rodriguez told him. The driver nodded and started the Mako's engine, the vehicle reverberating to life as it proceeded to head towards its destination.

"Sir," the first comm operator—Specialist Higgins he said his name was—said. "Bodark Two-Three reports that the batarians overall strength has increased to about a hundred plus hostiles accompanied by several varren attack teams." Damn it! He mentally swore to himself. He was hoping that the enemy's force would just be a reinforced platoon and nothing more. But, this changed everything. Alpha Company wasn't encircling an understrength opponent anymore, it was on its way to engage an enemy who had the same strength as they have. Which derailed his plans altogether. "Higgins! Get me a link to Alpha and Bravo's commanders, now!" The operator and complied and quickly set up the link, giving him a thumbs up as he finished his task.

"All units, this is Ferris Six. Be advised enemy strength now a hundred plus batarians supported with attack varren. Discontinue previous orders. I repeat, stand down from previous orders." He told them frantically. Both of the company CO's acknowledged immediately, which let Rodriguez exhale a sigh of relief. "New orders, Alpha Six when the barrage distracts them, I want you to hit them with a frontal assault. Bodark Six, flank them from both sides and their rear while Alpha keeps them occupied. Understood?"

"Alpha Six, copies."

"Bodark Six, copies all."

"Get to it, boys. The fireworks will start at approximately—" he checked on his chrono. "—two mikes. Ferris Six, out." He cut the connection instantly and asked the second comm operator—whose name was Irving—to open up a channel to the engineer platoons, which the man did almost instantly.

"Archer Six-Four," he contacted them. "Ferris Six here, you all set up?"

"Affirmative, sir," the officer in charge of the detail reported. "We're just inputting coordinates for the targeting computer now." There was a slight pause, then the man went on: "There, we're ready now, sir. Say the word and we'll unleash hell."

"Roger, standby." He told them straightaway. He looked at his watch as the timer on his chrono slowly counted down the remaining minutes till the barrage would open up. Minutes turned into seconds, and Rodriguez watched as his chrono said they had about thirty seconds left. Twenty. Ten. The battle was gonna start momentarily now, and he'd already laid out his plan of action, hoping to God it'll work. But, as they always said, no battle plan survives without first contact with the enemy. Five seconds left.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Archer Six-Four, deploy the Devastators!" he rapidly ordered over at the comm.

"Roger that, Ferris Six, standby." The voice paused, then the sounds of missiles screaming as they leaped from their launchers were heard audibly on the communicator, echoing inside the Mako. The voice returned again and said, "Ferris Six, twelve missiles deployed, TOT ten seconds. Rerouting now towards RP Bravo, ETA at about thirty seconds. Will report back once we're set up and ready to provide additional fire support. Six-Four out."

The sounds of multiple of explosions were heard reverberating outside the Mako's hull. More and more of them followed as the assault's preparatory bombardment enveloped the batarians staging area with hundreds of sub-munitions, each with the explosive yield of a powerful grenade. The men inside the armored vehicle just looked up, straining their ears to hear the sounds of battle raging heavily outside.

The holo-projectors suddenly burst forth with activity as the militia's companies and its multiple platoons engaged the enemy forces, trying desperately to overwhelm the batarian defenses. Reports were quickly flooding both of the comm operators' holo-projectors, stretching their abilities to the breaking point.

The sound of rapid gunfire was prevalent in the forward edge of the battle area, interlaced with explosions and screams of men as they were mercilessly cut down by hyper-accelerated slugs. Even though they were enclosed in the vehicle's hull, they still couldn't avoid the sounds. And they probably never will.

"Sir!" Irving called out to him loudly. "Alpha Six reports that one of its platoons is in danger of being overrun."

"Patch 'em through, now!" The comm operator immediately complied and set-up the required connections for Rodriguez to make contact with the battered platoon. Moments later, he was rewarded with the sound of someone panicking over on his comm.

"I say again, Alpha Two is being hammered relentlessly by batarian infantry! We can't hold on much longer without support, over!"

"Alpha Two, this is Ferris Six," Rodriguez calmly said to his comm. "I want you to call out targets for me to relay to the heavy guns. How copy, over?"

"Solid copy, Ferris Six, standby for fire mission," the man replied, his voice less frantic now that he knew support was coming. "infantry, seventy-five meters north of our IFF tags, over."

"Acknowledged, Alpha Two, standby," Rodriguez switched his comm frequencies and contacted the heavy guns. "Archer Six-Four, this is Ferris Six, standby for fire mission coordinates, over."

"Ferris Six, standby, we're still setting up," the major could hear the sounds of men grunting and cursing as they quickly set up the M143's in place on the other end of the line, loading the missiles into their launchers. The voice quickly returned. "Ferris Six, Archer Six-Four, standing by for fire mission, over."

"Roger, coordinates are as follows," Rodriguez opened up his omni-tool, which showed him the grid references for Alpha Two's position. "Grid square papa-bravo-four-two, seventy-five meters north of IFF tag. Acknowledge, over."

"Affirmative, grid square papa-bravo-four-two, seventy-five north. Standby, shot over," the screams of missiles flying in the air were heard again, then followed by: "Two missiles, TOT five seconds." Once more, a couple of rather loud explosions were heard when they made landfall towards its intended target, clearly noticeable as its roars were resonating across the battlefield. The comm line to Alpha Two lit up.

"Ferris Six, good effect on target, most of them are gone and the rest are falling back, en route to pursue. Thanks for the assist, Alpha Two out." And the line clicked off.

So far, they were making progress on their attack. Which was surprisingly fast enough. Maybe the batarians were really caught off-guard by the sudden attack, but then again, who knows. Somehow they've gotten lucky, and the major was gonna take all the luck he can get if he could manage it.

"Major!" Higgins cried out, his eyes still glued to the holo-projector right in front of him. "I got Bodark Six on the line. Patching you though." He further reported, connecting him towards Bravo Company.

"This is Ferris Six, send traffic over." Rodriguez said over the comm.

"Ferris Six, Bodark Six here. We've managed to sneak up on their rear, not much resistance here, sir. Just a couple of stragglers from Alpha's lines but that's about it, no sign of 'em at all."

Where the hell are those bastards hiding?! He thought to himself. There was supposed to be platoon there at Bravo's position, but they were nowhere to be found. Alpha Company managed to get about half of the enemy's force occupied and thoroughly annihilated, but the other half was missing. Where the hell are they, damn it! He checked his chrono. It had been about already fifteen minutes since their attack on the batarians had begun, and he got about half of them at this point. Something in the back of Rodriguez's mind told him he had a bad feeling that something really bad was going to happen. He just didn't know where and when…

"Sir!" the driver in front of them called out, panic clearly obvious in his voice. "I got a shitload of batarians on us, and they're firing rockets! Hold on!" The Mako swerved heavily to the right, with all its occupants being thrown about as the armored command vehicle tries urgently to avoid the inevitable impact. Which happened three later. Two missiles slammed on the vehicle's starboard side hull, kinetic barriers flashing to existence as it absorbs the impact, draining the vehicle's shields. The driver called out that more of the rockets were on its way, and there wasn't enough time for the shields to recharge and recover.

The driver swerved the vehicle to the left at the last second, three out of the four rockets missing completely as they passed overhead to just within eleven inches, but the last one found its mark, hitting the vehicle's port side hull. An ear-splitting explosion was heard, followed by a lot of smoke and noise as the metal groans terribly at the sudden stress it had received.

In his haste to quickly coordinate the militia's pre-emptive strike, Rodriguez forgot to put on his own armor, where he was still just wearing his standard fatigues as the lone missile struck decisively on the vehicle's metallic hull. Having been thrown around inside the tank like a ragdoll after the missile impact, his head hits something hard, and the world around him just went completely black.