Alternate Past: Uncertain Future Mk II

Chapter 30

Civil War: First Twilight

"By the Pillars, just how did this all go so wrong?" Datak Korra asked himself as he watched a live satellite feed of assault on the Presidential Palace. The Rebels had since breached the grounds and the inner walls. The Palace had been deemed to be nigh unbreachable

If the rebels fought like a regular military force, sweeping a clean path through their enemies as they advanced, Korra had no doubt that the combined Hegemony and turian forces rapidly heading towards their position could wipe the insurgents out (albeit with heavy losses thanks to the Spartan presence). But the rebels refused to fight that way. Instead they ran, blowing past most except those directly in their way, outracing most of the Palace defenders reinforcements as they made their way to their target at breakneck speed.

The High Admiral knew that if and when the rebels entered the Presidential Palace in force, it was all but assured that President Kol would be dead before the day's end. As would everyone else inside. And Korra could not allow that. He was not particularly attached to Kol himself, in truth, he despised the batarian, but as a loyal servant of the Hegemony allowing TRAITORS to kill the batarian head of state was utterly intolerable.

Even Korra admitted that the President deserved a far more dignified and respectable death than anything the Rebels would give him. They would almost assuredly broadcast images of their president, which would turn this battle, no matter how many losses the Rebels suffered, into their political victory. If that happened, the Rebels would be able to claim that no one in the Hegemony was safe from their reach, and the President's body would be irrefutable proof of that. Fear and panic would permeate the people of the Hegemony even more than it already had, as all began to wonder if they would be the next to be targeted next.

And almost any alternative was preferable to that. Even this, no matter what it may cost him in the long run.

He turned on his comm. and asked. "Frigate Unyielding Resolve, commander, are you in position?"

"Yes sir, we are finalizing our position in geosync orbit directly above the Presidential Palace and ready to provide fire-support."

"Belay that order, charge up your main gun and target the Palace itself. I repeat, ready the main cannon and target the palace."

"But-but sir!" The voice at the other end balked, "The main guns they're dedicated for ship-to-ship warfare. To use against a planetary target…And that's our people down there! And the President! We can't-"

"I am very well of that commander, and what the fallout will be. But I also know this: the moment the Rebels breach the Palace itself. If the President or anyone else is still inside, then they are dead already. Now, ready your cannon, fire on my command."

The young navy commander on the frigate was silent for a moment, then he affirmed, "Understood, Admiral. Spooling up the main cannon now."

Korra leaned back in his chair as waited. He knew that an orbital strike by the Unyielding Resolve would wipe out all the Rebel forces in proximity to the Palace, but so too would the Hegemony forces currently battling the rebels, and perhaps damage the Presidential Palace as well. But for Korra, such as it was a necessary sacrifice to save the head of the Hegemony, and all too likely the regime itself.

**APUFMKII**

Jella Korragan had finally reached the Presidential Palace itself. Taking a moment to gaze in wonder at the marble floors, fine furnishings, and bright lighting. Reveling in her accomplishment for briefest of seconds (in her heart of hearts, she had always doubted that they would come this far).

Only for her attention to be snatched as a voice shouted, 'Dozer coming through!", as she turned, a heavily armored member of the Presidential Guard, far larger than the ones from before, shot at her. She hugged the floor as the rounds coming just too close for comfort. The self-proclaimed Dozer stepping over his own fallen comrades (who had died in a futile effort to bar the front door) as he advanced on the rebel leader, his machine gun still spitting out bullets at a frantic rate. Even as a dozen more Presidential Guards were rushing into the room as he fired on Jella.

Jella and her fastest followers had raced ahead of virtually everybody else to reach the palace. Unfortunately that meant that they had run straight into an ambush; the Guards opening fire as they entered the foyer. The Rebels had punched a hole into a less open area, but now only two members of the advance party were left.

Fortunately for Jella, the other survivor was a Spartan.

John got in front of Jella just as the guards all switched their focus to the rebel leader. Figuring that she would be easier to eliminate than the Spartan, and then they could focus all their attention on the super soldier. Moreover, all of them wanted to be able to claim credit for killing the leader of the Rebellion.

But the Commander of the Spartans was not such an easy target. Shooting down the guard trying to run at Jella with his Spartan Revolver, the twin .50 caliber slugs punching right through the guard's armor, ripping out the opposite end with explosive force, drenching the unfortunate guard's comrades in blood and gore. Even as first guard fell, the Spartan lobbed a grenade at the feet of the others. Shielding Jella with his own body as the resulting explosion reduced six of them to little more than bloody gore, the walls splattered in their remains and perforated by hundreds of flechette barbs, and severely wounding two more guards. Neither of the two bothered killing them, their deaths was all but certain.

The other survivors, protected by the bodies of their comrades, were dazed by the explosion. John wasted no time, instead of shooting them, simply grabbing both by the head and slamming them into the each other, their helmets shattering to pieces. The cacophony of fire stopped for a moment, the only sound was Jella's hard breathing.

John glanced over the Rebel Leader, seeing her exhaustion ordered, "Jella, take five. You need to rest for a moment." Before she could protest, John firmly pushed her down to the floor, "Rest, you're no good exhausted like this. We have that much time." It wasn't the truth, but John didn't want to risk her death simply because she was inattentive due to her tired state. The batarian leader mildly glared at the Spartan before submitting and leaning against a wall.

Satisfied, John ordered for any all units to have breached the Palace to sound off. Slowly, they began to respond, John counting just how many were actually inside. By the time Adriana had responded, who was the last to do so, John frowned at the number. Nineteen. Not including himself or Adriana, the only Spartans inside the Palace, only nineteen Rebels had made it inside. That was nowhere near what they needed, but they would have to make do. He ordered everyone to rendezvous at his position if they could. But before that, he needed to know.

He switched to another channel, one he hadn't used it. "Spartan Lasky, I need a status report." Thomas Lasky, the one Spartan-IV still on Khar'Shan, was playing the radioman, relaying information as he got it from safety. "What are the status of enemy reinforcements?"

"Sir, there's still a battalion on the way, but it seems thats all." He reported. "The battle outside the walls is, hold on sir, something's up." John waited patiently, even as he watched his motion tracker for any incoming hostiles. "SIR! We've got a problem! We just intercepted a communication, Hegemony frigate is about to fire on the palace grounds, I repeat, they are about to fire on the Palace grounds!"

John didn't hesitate as he opened his comm. "All forces, pull back! Pull back now! Ignore the enemy, just get out!" The tone in John's voice alone was more than enough for everyone who heard it, even some Hegemony forces, to start fleeing for their lives. Some ran for the palace, trying to get inside, but the rest ran for the walls. John heard them over the radio though, the Rebels shouts and screams as they tried fighting their way out, their panic, and some cheers of relief.

Though most of the Hegemony ground forces had no idea what was going on and continued to fight. The rebels panic making them relatively easy targets for the soldiers. Many of the Presidential Guard wondering what had happened to rebel morale. Many of the more arrogant and/or stupid soldiers assuming that the rebels had simply lost heart in the face of superior and overwhelming firepower, thinking that they had won. Right up until the first of the supersonic shells came crashing down. Earth and stone cracked and broke as they rose like the petals of a flower, creating a macabre work of 'art'. Up and down the grounds, the grounds were broken and shattered, bodies and wreckage flying into the air, both Rebel and Hegemony forces alike. The supersonic shells heedless of rank or loyalties, only the laws of physics held any sway over them.

The Hegemony forces that had arrived had no chance, death claiming them in droves even as they tried to understand what was happening. The Rebels fared little better, even those who managed to the clear the grounds were not safe as bodies, wrecks and rock rained from the skies, tossed into the air by shockwaves, crushing any unfortunate enough to be in their way. Only a handful escaping the 'rain' as they did not stop running until their legs gave out from under them.

But the ordeal was not over for these few survivors. In their mad headlong flight away from the devastated battlefield, they ran straight into the arriving turian reinforcements. Who all but annihilated these unfortunates with a massive barrage of bullets, rockets, and missiles. Eager to avenge all their many comrades killed in rebel ambushes since the Hierarchy had sent them to Kar'Shan.

All told, when all was said and done, the lives counted, less than twenty rebels out of a force numbering in the hundreds had survived to reach the Presidential Palace. Now only Jella herself, her Spartan allies, and nineteen of her fellow former slaves were left to finish the mission. Trying to reach the President Kol before the full might of the Hegemony and its allies fell on their heads.

**APUFMKII**

President Zolak Kol watched in horror as his Presidential Guard was all but annihilated by the weapons fire from the frigate Unyielding Resolve. While it succeeded in eliminating most of the rebel force, Zolak cursed at how his own forces were caught as well. Making matters worse was how the rebel leader Jella Korragan and her Spartan allies had survived and managed to infiltrate the Presidential Palace.

On the video screens, Kol watched as a Heavy weapons specialist was taken down so quickly and easily that it shocked all of his staff present with him. But Kol himself was impassive. He remembered what the Spartans had done at the CASTLE facility. How they had easily mowed through everything and everyone stationed there. And all considered, if they were inside the palace, it was just a matter of time until they reached the underground bunker he and his staff were currently taking shelter in.

The Presidential Bunker was kilometers underground, meant to protect the President and his people in the event that the Presidential Palace itself was ever threatened. In theory, the bunker was designed so that even if the palace above was utterly destroyed, the bunker itself and those inside would be protected and unharmed.

But the Presidential Palace's formidable defenses were built to endure an assault by something along the lines of an attacking army or orbiting warship. Not against a small team of highly armed rebels. And most especially not a Spartan. Moreover, most of the Presidential Guard had already been wiped out by rebels or the Unyielding Resolve's indiscriminate attack. The remaining auto-defenses and remaining Presidental Guards inside the palace itself were no match for Spartan attackers.

Of course it was still possible that the rebels could be stopped before they reached him. But President Kol knew that he was probably going to die in the near future. The thought gave him an odd sort of clarity.

"Contact High Admiral Korra now." Kol ordered one of his flunkies.

Datak Korra's weathered face soon appeared on the giant monitor that dominated the main room of the bunker. Surrounded by a vast array of communication equipment intended to allow the President stay in contact with and lead his subordinates during wartime. And Kol had intention of letting such resources fall into rebel hands.

"Hello Datak, the rebels have managed to breach the palace." Kol bluntly told Korra. "They are tearing through most of what is left of my personal guard."

"I know but most their comrades have been slain by the orbital strike. Reinforcements are enroute from nearby bases. And our turian allies have reported they are are on the way as well." Korra said in an effort to reassure his President.

Zolak Kol had a bad tendency to believe what he wanted to believe, but he wasn't a stupid man. He knew that the moment the Rebels and their Spartan allies had breached the palace walls that he was most likely doomed. And he did not intend at dying at their hands.

"Korra, forget the plesantries, we both know those reinforcements probably won't get here in time." Kol said wearily.

As though saying those words gave him strength, the obese leader rose, standing straight as he tells Korra "If, or should I say when, I die here, I want you to leave this place. The palace, bunker, all of it. No matter what happens today, the Rebels can not be allowed to exploit my death for their own ends, or at the very least, be denied any proof to back their claims."

"You want me to destroy the palace!" Shock and surprised clearly etched across the admiral's face.

"Korra, they've already killed the legilslative branch, our executive branch is about to fall as well. Only the military and the judicial branch will be left intact after today." Kol replied calmly, the thought of having accepted his impending doom giving him both a sense of clarity and calm. "Do what you wish to explain your actions. Tell them the truth, blame the Rebels, it'll be your choice. But no matter what, remember my orders."

"Understood sir" Korra replied, clearly unhappy with the orders.

"We both know that with me and the senate gone it will be up to you to pick up the pieces Datak so I want you to promise me that you will do WHATEVER is necessary to crush the rebellion." Kol said fiercely, for once looking and sounding like the kind of man that the scarred old admiral could respect.

"You have my word, sir" Korra replied as he gave Kol the most sincere salute that he had ever given the politician. War, it was the greatest equalizer of all things. Turning men and women who had the least commonalities into brothers and sisters in arms, bringing out both the best and worst in all. And in the case of President Kol, it brought out the best in him.

Kol nods and then gestures to a flunky to end the call. Seeming to deflate as he contemplated what was left to do. Finding the idea of dying at rebel hands unacceptable.

Aside from the fact that the rebels were all too likely to torment and/or humiliate him him first, Kol simply couldn't stomach the idea that a President of the Hegemony would die at the hands of traitors. The could not be permitted to have such a victory.

President Zolak Kol looked at one of the guards in the bunker with him. Seriously considering suicide for the first time in his life. Saying aloud, "Captain, please lend me your sidearm for a moment."

**APUFMKII**

Innovation, it was a concept well known by all races of the galaxy, indeed it was what had allowed them to become the dominant species on their homeworlds after all. But for the Citadel Council, after a time, it had all stagnated. No major changes in design ideology had occurred for hundreds, or even in the case of the long lived krogan and asari thousands, of years. Of course, thanks to humanity, that was all changing.

Because the UNSC had violently demonstrated that the Citadel species NEEDED to change their military technology, designs, and even doctrines. Otherwise they would probably spend the rest of their existences at the mercy of groups like the UNSC and New Covenant. Which as the destruction of Impera had shown, was all too limited.

As a result, the Citadel Council were attempting to reform, modernize, and expand their fleet. With the full backing of the asari, turian, salarian, and krogan governments. Because they were all determined to prevent the UNSC (or anybody else) from brushing aside the Citadel Defense Fleet the way that the human forces had when they had kidnapped the Council from their own capital.

Now the asari, salarian, turian, and krogan Councilors were all listening to a presentation by someone who might be able to help them with that.

Adela Brigh was the CEO of Illium Defense Products, which the closest thing that Elegant Solutions had to a business rival in the asari defense industry. Unlike Elegant Solutions, which was known for its extremely high quality, sophisticated, and streamlined products, those developed by the IDP corporation were more rugged, utilitarian, and more importantly, far less costly than their counterparts. Quantity as a quality all its own, as it were. In comparison, Elegant Solution was the craftsman, while IDP was an entire production line.

As expected, Adela Brigh was trying to convince the Citadel Council to create a contract with her company. But she actually offered some compelling reasons for doing so.

"Thanks to the humans' superior technology and firepower, any future conflict with them will involve significant losses." the asari Matron said reasonably as she looked up at the Citadel Councilors, who standing in their usual positions within the Citadel Tower audience chamber as they listened to her speak.

"It will take at least DECADES, if not centuries, to master the technologies and techniques necessary to build warships that are a match for the UNSC and New Covenant cruisers, let alone their dreadnoughts and flying-fortresses." Adela continued in that same tone. Her words causing Councilors Wrex and Cicero to scowl at her, although Tevos and Valdn showed no visible reaction.

"But that may not be necessary. Time is on our side, Councilors, as surprising as it may be." Brigh said with a confident smile. "From what they have shared of their history, the New Covenant is still recovering from their civil war, and have lost many of their engineers. The UNSC has fared better, but only just. While they do have the engineers, they lack the facilities to build their strength. In the time it will take them to rebuild, we can amass entire armadas of such size, that it will give our enemies pause, however much firepower they may possess. After all, quantity has a quality all of its own."

"And this new...craft of yours, will help us do, what exactly?" Cicero questioned. "While initially they do seem...powerful, if ungainly, they are not what I would call, 'military-standard'." What the turian councilor was referring to, was the turian-triangle of military design. The belief that any warship to be used by the military, when designed, had to balance between three factors: firepower, protection, and practicality. How much damage could the design inflict against what targets, what could it survive, and how costly would it be to produce and train pilots for.

Of course, the purpose of the design was taken into consideration, but keeping a balance between what, ironically, many races considered the 'holy trinity', was a complex affair. A design of unparalleled firepower and protection could be considered far too complex and costly for anything except proof-of-concept at best. Inversely, if made too practical, at the cost of firepower and protection, the design would be rejected outright as being completely ineffective in combat.

IDP's Huntress-class however, seemed to have thrown out the idea of the trinity and focused on only two attributes: firepower, and practicality. In regards to size, it was larger than a standard drop ship, but smaller than a frigate. To use the human-classification, they were corvettes,crewed perhaps a dozen, though in theory, five could do so as well in a pinch. But that was not what made it stand out. The firepower that it could possess rivaled that of many Pre-UNSC contact dreadnoughts. Admittedly, that firepower came from the number of hardpoints where nuclear missiles of all payloads could be loaded and fired. This coupled with its over-sized engine nacelles meant that it was an extremely fast and lethal attack craft. Blazing ahead of its allies, firing its nuclear payload in an 'alpha-strike' before fleeing the battle with their superior speed. But it came at what could be seen as significant cost. In terms of defenses, the craft had virtually none. Aside from a kinetic barrier better suited for a dropship, it had only a single turret for point-defense and anti-fighter duty. The armor-plating was virtually nonexistent, an oddity as in the Post-UNSC contact era, many ships-of-the-line relied on both kinetic barriers and thick armor plating for protection.

All said, it was a 'glass cannon'. Meant to inflict a lot of pain, but unable to take any.

"I don't see the point in paying for something that would be blown apart with your standard AA emplacement." Wrex remarked. "If this thing is to be the start of a permanent Council Fleet/Armada, I want something that will actually be effective."

Technically the Council already had a fleet of warships, but while the Citadel Defense Fleet had been more than adequate when it came to occasionally patrolling the borders of the Citadel Races, protecting vital trade routes, and of course protecting the Citadel itself before encountering humanity, it wasn't big or powerful enough to provide a meaningful defense against groups like the UNSC or New Covenant.

The Council Fleet in question was to be an armada that was directly under the command of the Citadel Council, and only the Citadel Council. Rather than being on loan from the Council races and cycling in and out with the home fleets."

"Quantity is a quality all its own after all." Adela argued. "In terms of cost, in the place of a handful of dreadnoughts, enough of these ships can be built to patrol our borders in FORCE, and still have a fleet left over."

The Councilors mulled it over, as the idea of building an armada, or several armadas worth of ships, at the cost of a handful of dreadnoughts was very enticing. Their nuclear armaments could even give the UNSC pause. Possibly even the New Covenant as well.

It was only fitting one could suppose. Of all three superpowers, the UNSC warships was away and above the other two in terms of power and quality. The New Covenant was just a shade below the UNSC, but more numerous. Now the Council would fit the final niche of quantity.

Unnoticed by the Councilors or their Advisors, Adela was sweating under her dress. While her company was safe and secure from bankruptcy, even if she did not secure this contract. But securing this contract might make her a little safer from the Justicars.

Since Taiba's first target, several other well-known asari had been struck down by the Justiciar Taiba. While they did have a length of crimes and grievances, it was well known that all of them were against asari militarization as well. Adela hoped that with this, the Justicars would recognize her as a political ally. And in truth Brigh did support asari militarization both because that would be good for her business selling weapons, and also because she thought that another war with humanity was inevitable and the asari needed to be prepared this time.

However, Adela Brigh was in reality no ally of the Justicars. She hated them for purely personal (and extremely private) reasons. Moreover, she was also one of the influential asari secretly working with Councilor Tevos and Spectre Tela Vasir to bring down the Justicar Order. If she could keep under the radar, it would allow her, and potentially her fellow conspirators, to carry out their plans unmolested.

"Let's just vote on it." Wrex said impatiently. "We've spent enough time on this already. The others nodded their assent.

"All in favor of purchasing a bulk order of Huntress Class warships to add to the Citadel Fleet?" Tevos asked her fellow Councilors.

As expected, Cicero was in favor of the purchase, because the turian Councilor was virtually always in favor of doing anything to make the Citadel Defense Fleet stronger. While Tevos herself voted in favor of the purchase, to keep her fellow conspirator happy and because she needed to appear strong on defense thanks all the negative press the asari were getting due to the revelation of their common ancestry with humanity.

Valdn and Wrex however, were not so easily swayed. Wrex couldn't see any value in these 'Huntresses', as the asari called them. To him, a solid AA grid and flak-cannons would shred the craft before they would get close. A fact, that Wrex noted, Cicero had either missed or was ignoring entirely in his blind hate of the humans. More to the point, he was of the mind that it was better to stay with what was tried and proven, instead of diving headfirst into an unproven and untested design. Valdn was hesitant for similar reasons, but he also believed that, with enough time, the STG would be able to design something both superior and better made.

"You're voting against it Wrex!" Cicero said in surprise. Because he could usually count on the battlemaster's support when it came to votes to increase defenses for the Citadel.

"We shouldn't waste our money on an unproven design!" Wrex countered. "You want to risk sinking how much of the budget into something that may prove, in its first engagement, to be nothing more than useless cannon fodder! By Kalros, it may not even be that!"

"In war, you sometimes must take risks. Radical ones if need be." Cicero shot back.

While the two veterans were arguing over the value of the design, one of Valdn's aids approached him, and whispered in his ear. Without any fanfare, he dismissed the aid, waiting until the salarian male had stepped aside to he cast his vote.

The asari Councilor looked up in surprise as the electronic system registered Valdn's new vote. However Cicero and Wrex were too busy arguing to notice at first. Only noticing when Tevos said loudly (to get their attention) "the decision has been made Matron Brigh make sure to get the first shipment of Huntresses here in a reasonable timeframe please."

"What in the name of the Pit are you doing, Valdn!" Wrex cursed.

"I need to speak to you all privately." Valdn told the other Councilors grimly. Adela knew a dismissal when she heard one, so giving a quiet farewell and thanks for accepting her plans, she left. The CEO knew that the contract could always be written up and signed later. And whatever was going on, was well above her pay grade.

Valdn refused to explain himself until he had led them all to his private office. Trusting the anti-surveillance equipment there to protect his words. Then blunting informing them "the STG has just informed me that the rebels on Kar'Shan have murdered most of the Grand Senate and is currently waging a battle to fight their way to the President of the Hegemony."

For a moment, none spoke. Then Wrex gathered his wits and demanded, "What do you mean; 'The Grand Senate'? How could that be possible? Even with Spartan Aid, the Rebels don't nearly have the numbers or firepower to take them out."

"Apparently one of the lead senators liked to hold semi-official meetings at his private mansion. The rebels stormed one of these meetings and managed to kill so many senators that the Senate doesn't have enough people left to hold an official session." Valdn explained.

"Again, I don't see how this is possible. The amount of firepower neede…" Wrex intoned.

"That's a simple question to answer: they didn't." Cicero replied, before any could interrupt, he pressed on. "It was the humans. It'd be naive, if not stupid, to believe that the humans have not advanced their own weapons and armor. We saw what they could do with standard human weapons, who is to say they didn't have something special for them and them alone?"

"That matches the data that the STG has gathered, but I am more concerned by the fact that the rebels are assaulting the Presidential Palace as we speak." the salarian explained."From what has happened, we can only assume that the Rebels have a high chance of, or possibly have already, assassinated the Hegemony president. That is why I accepted the proposal. While I have my own...reservations, we need to increase our military power as largely and as quickly as possible. If these untested ships are to be that power, so be it."

Wrex started to say something, but Valdn interrupted him "I know these warships are unproven BUT we need to appear as strong as possible right now and making the Citadel Fleet much bigger will help us do that."

"I think more pressing is how the public will react to this information." Tevos mentioned, "If not the public, than the other heads of state. This could be taken as proof that no matter who we are, no one is out of humanity's reach. And if that is the case, which of them would be next?"

"And in truth their fears are justified. If the humans used their full strength to go after the leaders of the Volus Protectorate, Asari Republics, or even Krogan Empire, we could not stop them." Valdn admitted, his STG connections having made him all too aware of just how outclassed they were by the UNSC.

Wrex sighed, knowing when he was outnumbered. "Alright then, if that's how it is going to be. What's next?"

"Let us hope, and pray, that the their President survives, of course." Cicero suggested. "If he falls, I have a feeling that this 'Rebellion', will evolve, or rather, devolve, into something much uglier."

**APUFMKII**

"Stand your ground! Don't let them advance any further!" A Palace guardsman shouted. "There's only a few of them left! We-urk!" Blood spurted from his throat as bullet tore a hole.

Bodies littered the corridor, mainly Hegemony forces but the occasional Rebel body was scattered among the corpses.

Down the corridor, constantly pressing on the Palace guards, were the remaining Rebels. A simple straight corridor, it was almost devoid of anything to take cover behind. A perfect kill box for any defenders. At least, it would have been, if not for one, or rather two, big reasons.

John and Adriana. The two remaining Spartans were serving as living shields for their allies. Letting their shields and thick armor soak up the incoming fire, while Jella and the surviving Rebels fired from behind them with near impunity.

Although the rebels didn't know it, their task had been made much easier by Admiral Korra. Because while the Unyielding Resolve's attack had wiped out most of the rebel force, it had also eliminated over three/fourths of the Presidential Guard. Leaving only what the commander of the Guard had intended as his reserves to stop them.

The bombardment had also brought them precious time. The orbital strike was more than likely giving any reinforcements some pause as they tried to learn what happened and making sure that they wouldn't fall victim as well. It may not delay them for long, but for the Rebels, every second counted.

Even so, they needed to end this now. John and Adriana's armor was cracked and battered, their HUDs screaming at them to take cover and recharge their shields and minor suit breaches. John looked through his visor, gauging the distance between himself and the guards ahead. "Jella, on my mark, all of you, hit the floor." The Rebel leader signed that she heard him. Taking a few more steps forward, John glanced to Adriana who looked back and nodded.

"Mark!" Without hesitation, Jella and the other survivors immediately went down. Some diving right into a pile of bodies to do so. As they dove, John and Adriana moved, in the eyes of the guardsman, teleporting directly to them.

Bones shattered, necks snapped and organs burst as the two Spartans killed them with their bare hands. Killing fifteen guards before they realized what was going on. But the remaining nine that they were facing were the amongst the elite of the elite in the Presidential Guard. Coolly taking aim at the Spartans as they appeared next to their comrades. Then unleashing their full arsenals at John and Adriana.

Shotguns, rifles and even pistols unleashed a barrage on the Spartans. Supersonic pellets pinging off where they meet solid armor or flattening against the titanium-weave, a scant few penetrating the flesh beneath.

Jella stayed down, bullets flying overhead, putting her faith in the Spartans and John to end this final fight. Suddenly, a feeling of dread unlike anything she felt before rippled through her body when she heard John roar in pain. Daring to look up, what she saw chilled her to the bone. A hand was pressed against a now-shattered visor, shards of the golden visor still falling.

She had seen John's eyes less than a half dozen times, the last time she could recall was in Pride Rock City, before the city was razed to the ground. But all those previous times John had appeared as mechanically calm and composed as a machine. However, this time she saw pain and frustration in his eyes, and perhaps even a hint of fear.

Intellectually Jella had always known that John was mortal, but she had gotten so used to him appearing virtually untouchable that it was a shocking and dreadful sight to see the Spartan so visibly hurt.

While she was not the strongest or powerful of individuals, there was something about her that even John had acknowledged. Jella was, almost without peer, the Fiercest and most determined person John had ever met.

In that instant, seeing John in that state, something snapped in Jella Korragan. A feeling of rage and hate that eclipsed every moment before it, consumed her. And she let it.

The Batarian Guardsman, ecstatic at the fact that he wounded, possibly maimed one of the human's super soldiers, seized up as he heard a scream. An unholy scream to his ears. As Jella charged ahead of her protectors yelling like a lunatic, holding a long knife her in hands like a battering ram. The guards were too shocked by her mad attack to react right away, running her blade through the one who shot John with enough force to go all the way through. Jella's outrage giving her the lunatic strength to push her blade all the way through the male's body. Her charge slowing down only by the slightest, until she rammed both blade and body into a wall, pinning both against it.

The audacity and brutality of the charged froze the Presidential Guards, for all training and experience, slowing down their reactions. Much like a rank amatuer chess player can sometimes surprise a master of the game through his unpredictability (because he doesn't know what he shouldn't do) Jella's reckless charge was so suicidally foolish that they were dumbfounded when she actually did it. Which allowed the still enraged batarian female down another guard with a slice across his throat, and wound one more with a slash over his belly.

But by then the well trained and experienced guards had gotten over their shock. Aiming their weapons at the apparent madwoman amongst them. And if Jella Korragan had been truly alone at that point, she would have simply died before she could do anymore damage.

Fortunately for her, she was not alone. Gunfire swept over her head, the guard's heads exploding in a fountain of gore as bullets found their marks. But the sight of dropping bodies didn't quell her rage, instead she turned and leapt blindly at the shooter, intent of tearing their throat out.

Only to stop in mid-jump, her arms held in an iron grip. Her legs flailed, trying to find something to kick, when she heard a familiar voice. "Jella, stand down! They're all down!" As the bloodlust faded from her eyes, a somewhat familiar face was in front of her. John's.

The visor was partially broken, a great hole over where his left eye would have been. The eye itself closed and weeping blood. She could see flecks of the gold visor embedded in his flesh as well. Jella didn't know that much about human anatomy, but even to her untrained eyes he looked bad. However, he did not appear to be on the verge of dying, and that was the important thing. "Are you injured?" Jella shook her head, no. "Good, we're here now."

"The gateway to the Presidential Bunker is through that door. Kalimaya reported, who had been hacking into Presidential Palace's computer systems since they entered the building. A waypoint appearing on their HUD for those who had them. "Be careful though, I can't open the door, or look inside. They cut off all access inside once we breached this level."

As the rebels began to walk through the doorway, Adriana realized that the guard the that Jella had impaled was still alive. In agony from his wounds, but not quite injured enough to die right away. As the Spartan moved to put him out of his misery Jella shouted "NO!"

"Let him bleed out, he doesn't deserve any mercy." the rebel leader continued coldly.

John shook his head, he made a note to himself to talk to her about this. But for now, they had no time for it. But he did as she wanted and left the 'survivor' alone.

As they left the dying guard behind, Jella was unaware that thanks to video cameras throughout the building Datak Korra was getting live footage of her actions. Which the admiral had already decided to would be useful in Hegemony propaganda to give her a new title. Jella The Impaler.

**APUFMKII**

The High Admiral watched in shock as Zolak Kol, the President of the Hegemony, and Datak Korra's own direct superior, committed suicide to avoid falling into rebel hands. The surveillance equipment in the Presidential bunker sending the image of Kol shooting himself in the head (as the president's own horrified staff and bodyguards watched) to Korra to in real time.

As the heavyset batarian politician's body fell to the floor, the Admiral's opinion of him rose sharply. Quite simply, Datak didn't think that Zolak had the guts to do so. Suicide was often considered the 'coward's way out', fleeing to death rather than fighting. But in this case, it was the more honorable choice. The rebels appeared to be on the verge of breaching the presidential bunker, and Korra had no doubt that the TRAITORS would have tormented and humiliated Kol before killing him. Now it was up to Datak to pick up the pieces.

"In death, you achieved what you could not in life." Datak muttered under his breath, a last show of respect to the batarian before he resumed his duty.

"Open all comm. lines. Wide-range broadcast on all Channels." He ordered. "I am taking command." The troopers and officers with him didn't respond, their eyes still glued to the screen, in total disbelief. Noticing this, Datak couldn't completely blame them. But that didn't mean he was going to allow it. "I gave you an order, so execute it!" He bellowed, shocking them out of their stupor, the proper officers moving to comply with Datak's orders. Shortly, one of them reported that the they were broadcasting.

"Loyal citizens of the Hegemony this is High Admiral Datak Korra and I must regretfully inform you that President Zolak Kol has been assassinated" Korra said solemnly.

He gave the listeners a second to process the shocking news, and then continued in that same somber tone.

"He was murdered by terrorists and their alien allies, treacherous brutal scum that rely on ambushes and deceit to hurt our brave military forces."

Now Korra was becoming visibly angry. Allowing the people watching the broadcast to see his outrage. Bluntly telling them "these traitors also murdered most of the Grand Senate today, all but annihilating this nation's leadership."

Finally Korra got to the heart of the matter as he informed the galaxy "as the highest ranking member of the government left it falls to me to assume command and as my first order I am placing the entire Hegemony under martial law."

"From this moment on the first priority of every loyal servant of this nation is to hunt down every traitor and all their allies and eliminate them."

**APUFMKII**

Unaware of the broadcast that had just occurred, the Rebels were rapidly approaching their goal, following the waypoints as they were provided by Kalimaya. Taking stairs down to the Presidential bunker. Since the bunker was over a mile underground that they had been ambushed by remaining Presidential Guard several times on their way down. But they had finally arrived at their goal.

"It's just around this corner." Another waypoint appeared, "But…" the Rebels turned the corner. "It's a big door."

Big was an understatement. Taller than a Spartan, it was just as wide. Four massive bolts crisscrossed the front, their ends buried in the walls, floor and ceiling.

"Kalmiya, what's the depth and composition? Can we breach it?" John demanded.

"It's a quarter-meter thick, composed of ceramic, carbide and titanium." The AI answered. "We can breach it if we had a Covenant Anti-matter or Plasma breaching charge."

"Understood, Jella you heard her?"

"Yeah, but we got a problem. We don't have any charges." Jella replied morosely. "I spent mine before, and the others who were carrying them died or are outside. I didn't have a chance to grab one of them." She looked back at the other Rebels with her, looking over their gear. "No one else has one either, we're out."

John grimaced. "Kalimaya, do we have any other options?"

"One moment." John checked his armor, seeing what ordinance he had left. He still had the Rapier Cannon, but that wouldn't penetrate this. Not unless he had five hundred shells or so. And he only had two left. He looked at Adriana who shook her head, holding up her sidearm and a single Covenant Plasma Grenade. "I've got it. Your MJOLNIR Armor, I can program it to detonate it like a shaped-charge. That door is rated to hold against a nuclear strike, but a shaped-nuclear blast should breach it."

"Is that our only option?" John didn't want to abandon his armor. It was just equipment, and it could be replaced, but he didn't want to be without it's protection.

"Yes, I'm sorry." Kalmiya replied. "There's nothing else to be done."

John sighed. The mission was what's important, after all. "Understood, Kalmiya start-"

"No." The Spartan Captain-Commander's head snapped towards the sole Gray team survivor. "We'll use my armor." John was about to protest, but the female Spartan didn't let him. "We can't afford to lose you, John. Between the two of us, I'm the more expendable. You're not. You have to survive."

John wanted to refuse, but found that he couldn't. His own sense of self-preservation aside, Adrianna had valid points. She was expendable. He as the leader of the Spartans, was not. Giving a silent nodded, he motioned for her to take off her armor.

Small explosives blew off the bolts holding the chest plate together. Taking the back portion, John planted it against the door and ripped open the back panel. "Kalimaya, talk me through this."

**APUFMKII**

The President's bodyguards screamed as the heavy blast-door exploded inward. Many of them dying outright as they were hit by fiery debris. Even more were injured as tiny metal fragments pierced their flesh. Unfortunately for the batarians, their ordeal was not yet over.

Scarcely was the molten metal starting to cool when bullets and bodies came through the breach. John lead the charge, his captured Hegemony rifle chattering as he dropped the remaining Palace Guards. The others bringing up the rear as the last of the Guards fell, seizing and grabbing ahold of those still standing, Jella clotheslining one of them as they tried to rush past her.

"Where is he!?" Jella screamed, grabbing the one she had clotheslined off the ground. "Where is Kol!?" The aide pointed a shaky hand towards a body, slumped over at the table. Jella threw them back down, going towards the body.

Grabbing the back of the fat male, Jella yanked it back. Growling as his face came into view. "Fuck!" Using the human term she had picked up from the humans among the Rebels. "The gutless bastard killed himself!" The other Rebels cursed at the news.

In frustration, Jella gunned down the aid, and then turned her weapon against the remaining members of the presidential staff. Stopping in surprise when she noticed that the most well dressed of the bunch was laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny, asshole?" Jella asked rudely.

"You stupid whore. You and your human pets are all going to die here." The batarian's laughter coming out in halting breathes

"Explain." Jella demanded, grabbing him by the throat and putting a gun against his temple. "Now."

The head of staff actually grinned at her and replied, "The President himself ordered this palace destroyed, once you got here. The kinetic barrier's already shut down, they're going to hammer this place from orbit. But you're going to die before that!" With surprising speed, a blade appeared in his hand, jamming the blade up to the hilt in Jella's gut.

The Head of Staff didn't have a chance to enjoy his small victory before his head exploded. John had seen the blade as it appeared, his finger on the trigger as he reacted. But for one of the few times in his life, John was too slow.

Jella stumbled backwards, her hand gripping the knife in her. It didn't hurt surprisingly, and there wasn't a lot of blood she noticed. A small voice in her head told her that pulling the knife would be worse than just leaving it inside.

John was the first to reach Jella, ripping apart a med-pack in the small of his back. Ironically, it was the one thing that he scarcely used, as he wasn't sure if the bio-foam and synth-flesh patches would work with another race. Right now, John hoped it did, as it was all he had on hand.

John worked soundlessly as he ripped out the blade, before plugging the wound with bio-foam. Adrianna didn't watch, instead ordering the few survivors to the elevator, she knew what to do herself. She waited as John came, the now out-cold Rebel leader in his arms.

As the elevator rose, John addressed everyone. "We are not getting out of here. Not all of us." No one tried to correct him, they knew it as well.

"I get you sir." One of the Rebels said, a turian. "You and the commander are what's important. So it'll be the Hex Formation then, sir?"

John nodded. Hex Formation was a misnomer actually. The plan was that as a group of Rebels was retreating or falling back, the last man behind would take a defensive position until they fell, buying the others time. After which, the next man would take up the position and so on and so forth. A last-resort, for when someone or something had to get out at all costs.

"I understand sir." The turian continued. "I fully expected that I would die before this war ended. Just glad to have killed a few of these Hegemony bastards. And despite whatever my people may say about you sir." The turian snapped off a quick, if a bit sloppy, salute. "It was a pleasure serving with you, sir."

John was unexpectedly touched by the gesture. If somebody had told him before going on this mission he would one day care what an alien insurgent thought of him, the Spartan wouldn't have believed them. But now he found himself returning the salute as he replied "the pleasure was mine."

The elevator clacked as it reached the top, and without another word, they ran. The turian was the first one to stop and take a stand when they heard enemy reinforcements behind them.

"COME ON IF YOU THINK YOU'RE HARD ENOUGH!" the turian rebel screamed defiantly.

The screaming rebel died almost immediately. But he bought his comrades precious seconds. Giving them more time to evacuate the palace before it was destroyed. As the screaming died down, another Rebel stopped and turned, roaring in defiance as they opened fire until they were cut down. And again it repeated. Their numbers whittling down one by one, but there was no hesitation. There was no attempts to escape their fate.

The handful of Rebels fell down to only three: the Spartans and the Rebel Leader. Adrianna glanced over her shoulder, without having to slow themselves down for the others, the two Spartans had managed to leave their foes behind, but they still had a ways to go. There really was no other way.

The sole survivor of Gray Team stopped and turned. John stopped as well. "111, We need to move."

"John, just go. You can run faster if I'm not slowing you down, maybe even get past the walls, and you know it." She didn't turn back as she said this. "I don't have my shields either, so I probably won't survive anyway."

John was about to protest when Adrianna added, "Korragan needs medical attention now. And if she dies, this will all be for nothing."

The Spartan Commander had to admit to himself that she was probably right. Jella was dying, and he wasn't sure the Rebellion could survive the loss of its leader. Because Korragan was more than simply the leader, the former slave was the symbol and face of the Rebellion now.

"I expect to see you outside, Gray Leader." With those words, John turned and left, maximizing his speed. The Spartan glanced over his shoulder as he left, briefly seeing his fellow Spartan open fire on their pursuers before she disappeared from view as he turned a corner.

No longer having to slow himself down for the sake of others, John pushed both his armor and his body to its limit. John could feel his muscles and tendons straining, his already torn achilles tendon screaming at him in pain, and he knew he would pay for this later, but he ignored it. The Spartan knew he couldn't slow down. Blowing past anything in his path, a small dust cloud in his wake, those who saw him reacted to late or for an unfortunate few, were trampled underfoot.

It almost seemed like an eternity before he reached the grounds outside, not breaking his stride even as he leapt from a balcony. Not until he reached the outer wall and leapt over the wall.

Before the Spartans feet had even touched the ground the first multi-ton shell hit. Crashing through the roof of the Presidential Palace sending debris in all directions. Burying hundreds of batarians under rubble in the process. But there was no time to mourn. Because dozens of missiles struck moments later. The explosions sending wrecks and rubble into the air, some crashing into the structures nearby.

As the bombardment finally ended, and the dust began to settle, the results were plain to see. Where once there had a great palace, a testament to Batarian opulence, there was only a crater.

But John didn't see any of this, not waiting for the barrage to end. instead, the moment his boots hit dirt, he kept running. Trying to outrun any debris that might fall and try to claim him. By the time the dust would began to settle, he was far gone from the ruined battlefield.

As John carried the dying Jella Korragan to safety, he saw no sign of other Spartans, and he was all but certain that the rest of the rebel force had been completely wiped out.

They had caused the death of President Zolak Kol and the destruction of his palace. But John was grimly certain that another 'victory' like this would ruin the Rebellion.

Author's Note (aDarkOne):

So the Hegemony definitely lost this day, but its not clear to what extent the rebels actually won.

Yes, they essentially destroyed (or at least shut down) the national legislature of the entire Hegemony. But in the process they accidentally saved the life of their greatest enemy. Moreover, the senators were somewhat willing to negotiate.

For self-serving reasons of course, but ironically Datak Korra is too patriotic to sell out to humanity. Whereas the senators might have been willing to let the UNSC/ONI essentially 'buy' the freedom of the slaves in the Hegemony.

As for President Kol, killing him (and destroying his capitol building) is a definite blow to the morale of the Hegemony. But now Korra is firmly in command of the entire nation, and has NO restrictions on his power.

Context is everything :)

(Follower38)

As my co-writer declared, this is nothing short of a pyrrhic victory for the Rebels. Already they had dedicated the vast majority of their hard-won and stolen resources to take out the bureaucracy heads, only to have it all be lost in only two engagements. War has more than several moments of irony. However small or large. WWII, Hitler escaped death many times, both by chance and by choice of the assassins.

But such losses and setbacks are to be expected in war. The only question that remains from these two battles is the lives that were lost, were they lives well spent, or lives wasted?

And again, as my cowriter has said, all the Power now rests firmly in the hands of Datak Korra. Things are going to change.