Once Bitten, Twice Shy

by Varigos D. Vastitas

Unwittingly uplifted beyond expectation by their foes, humanity not only destroyed their aggressors, but surpassed them and made their way to the stars. As Humanity expands from the Earth will they find their place in the galaxy, or will ghosts from the past come back to haunt them? (Co-writer NathanHale2.)

18. Newtons Law

"If anger proceeds from a great cause, it turns to fury; if from a small cause, it is peevishness; and so is always either terrible or ridiculous." ~ Jeremy Taylor

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Wild buzzing noise and the almost deafening drums and bass noise of the disco from below always soothed the woman who sat on her personal throne, cross legged a fine elegant glass containing a blue liquid in her right hand.

Her appearance was the one of a beautiful, seductive blue skinned woman with white and red face paintings on her face. Looking completely detached from everything around her, her gaze lazily focused on a small screen before her.

Delicately the woman wiped a trail of sweat from her brow trailing it down to her fine, slightly freckled cheeks, to her sweet and full lips begging to be kissed.

The comm system from her Omni-tool buzzed into life with a soft yet urgent humming tone. Putting a mask of ice on her face the woman pressed a button and spoke with a voice seductive voice, hinting cold menace.

"Tal Mak. A pleasure as always."

A rumbling voice of a grave, battle hardened man answered "Aria, let us cut to the case and skip this pleasantry farce."

The woman called Aria, chuckled in delight a beautiful yet deceiving sound to any man's ears "Ah Tal Mak the old War Horse, the burner of worlds. Your cooperation is requested." Her entire being had shifted at the last sentence. Gone where the seductive, persuasive, soothing voice and was now replaced with the cold, commanding and utterly deadly tone something everyone in the galaxy knew to fear.

"Requested!" raged the man now known as Tal Mak, when Aria cut him her voice unwavering and leaving no place for arguments "Yes Requesting, or would you like it if I leave pleasantries out-of-the-way completely and call it for what it actually IS, since that is the way you seem to – like – it."

Silence stretched over the connection until Tal Mak growled very grudgingly "I'm listening."

A thin almost unnoticeable, devious smile appeared on Aria's face as she spoke "Multiple elements have been reporting the real state of the Council and it's territory and it seems that we have a window of opportunity that we just can not afford to waste."

An exaggerated huff was heard over the line when Tal Mak replied in an annoyed gruff tone "Looks like you are actually catching on the news Aria. The Rachni outbreaks happening at the eastern corridor, dangerously close to Hegemony space is buzzing around all over here while the STG and Asari Justicar are trying their best to sweep it under the rug and contain it. Now what the fuck do you want?"

"What is rightfully ours!" Aria's hands danced across the small screen before her, her motions elegant and fluid before pressing the send button.

A long stretched silence settled down between the two and Aria slightly raised one of her perfect eyebrows thinking that she might have sent the old War Horse to an early death with the information she just sent when Tal Mak made himself known again.

"Is this true?" He asked breathlessly having lost his composure which was not an easy feat.

"Yes it is. Every weak point at the border of the Traverse and Council space since the 'Great War' of the Turians against a very new race and the locations and fleet movements of all remaining Citadel fleets in Council space for a month. This month. I have brought most of the Merc groups on board already and united and equipped the many 'lawless planets' in the Terminus systems. Krogans so easily jump to your side if you give them a chance to beat down a few Salarians or Turians. The Pirates and criminal groups are being worked on and will be ready in two solar cycles. I know your standing within the Hegemony and in the Slaver groups many are already on my side but I want to make sure that there is not a stench of weakness in our midst, before we even start this. You understand what that means?"

A grunt was the only response Aria received but it was enough. She knew she had him on her side before conversation had even started.

No one in the Terminus systems would let this kind of information just slide into the bin. It was bloody gold mine. It was like giving the robber the floor plan and security standards of every bank right into his hands before he even thought of breaking into any bank to begin with.

"Military control for the upcoming operations will be in your hands. I put a lot of faith into you Tal. Don't. Disappoint. Me." hissed Aria dangerously, absentmindedly tapping the corner of her seat with her fine, delicate fingers.

"Crystal." was Tal Mak's crisp reply before ending the call.

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Salarians are not known for being skilled fighters. They're bodies are weak, lacking stamina and strength to keep fighting. Their bones are brittle, barely able to hold double their weight before cracking under the strain. Their skin was thin, harsh heat and freezing wind could quickly be the end of any of their kind. These flaws only added to the awe and legend STG Spectre Kirrahe inspired as he fought with an Alliance war machine.

The Pilot of the Subjuator-class death machine was impressed with the amount of resistance a single Salarian could create. The King Joffrey was the biggest of the three assigned to the Altakiril invasion, and was armed and armored to match. The two-thousand ton walking death dealer was equipped with the same weapons a heavy MEC drone would have: Dual Gatling plasma, two Elerium flamethrowers, rapid fire capable Plasma grenade launcher, and the one extra piece of equipment - a shoulder mounted Fusion lance.

If Turians were ants, the Salarians would be bees. However, the pilot kept his eye on the leader, the snake.

The leader was leaping around, striking from blind spots, keeping out of both line of sight and line of fire. Impressive considering that the King Joffrey had a perfect three-hundred and sixty degree line of sight. The lizard like alien slithered about the battlefield, using the debris of the camp to stay out of sight but not out of the pilot's mind.

When you face an enemy with superior numbers you don't have the luxury of picking priority targets or else you risk being overwhelmed by inferior firepower. You must strike quickly, cutting down the enemy like chaff from the wheat. The weaker foes were cut down easily, waves of explosives destroying their cover and leaving them exposed to the streams of super heated plasma and waves of hellish fire.

The mass accelerator weapons that survived or recovered from the UR-86ED warhead bombardment were easily blocked by King Joffrey's half powered Tempest barrier. The shimmering interweaving barriers used the same mass effect technology used by the guns to block their projectiles. Then the little pests grabbed their stolen plasma guns.

Alliance technology was all made to be impossible to reverse engineer. The Ethereal had taught humanity how important it was to protect what you make. Many had wanted to make the guns more secure, using biological locks or other methods of preventing their use. Thankfully the smarter scientists realized that a priority was to prevent alien hands from unlocking the technology and be able to counter the weapons of the Human Alliance. After all there was only so much free space inside the frame of most hand held weapons and that had to be filled with countermeasures and the actual firing mechanisms.

The stolen plasma guns were more annoying, requiring more energy to be diverted to the barriers. King Joffrey's pilot scowled, the pests were becoming more annoying, keeping the powerful machine from advancing by slamming it with debris or blinding the sensors with fire. Minor annoyances that were incapable of doing damage to the Subjugator's heavy armor, but it became increasingly vexing to the pilot that he had yet to stomp over the camp in a rampage of destruction.

It really was disappointing when a giant war machine couldn't rampage properly. "Lets see how you like this..." the pilot quipped, flipping several switches and activating the fusion lance.

The Alliance MEC model nine Fusion Lance was portable, compact, powerful, and mankind's answer to how to ruin the lives of the enemy at long range. At long range its damage was comparable to a one o' five millimeter howitzer shot.

Firing the lance at close range would be an overpowered shotgun-like blast, wasteful, and lack the proper demoralizing death that the insurgents deserved. The irritating pests were chipping away at one of the buildings in front, one that was hanging over their killer. "Did they really think we wouldn't learn from the last time we kicked their asses?"

The Subjugator fired a single shot, shredding the reinforced supports of the target building. The blast exploded, flinging debris and stone shrapnel into the crowd of Turians and Salarians. Instantly, the building shuddered and screamed with a voice made from twisted metal as it began its terrifying decent upon them. The King Joffrey would have been caught in the fall, doomed to be pinned beneath hundreds of tons of rubble if not for one piece of equipment: The Jet-Boot Module.

Standard equipment for all Alliance war machines, the leg and back mounted rocket packs allowed the Subjugator to leap out of the range of the falling building, bypassing impending doom with the same effort it would take to have moved a step back.

The building fell like the hammer of an angry god, flattening the camp and the stunned survivors who had foolishly remained inside the range of destruction.

Spectres are usually well versed in the languages of multiple species, having trained in them for various reasons. Nnatal Kirrahe knew at least three dialects for every citadel species and, in a completely unprofessional manner, used every foul swear in every language he knew to vent his frustration and disbelief as his own plan was turned against him.

With a furious fervor the Salarian Spectre ran for safety and salvation as his teammates, companions and fellow survivors were crushed to death. The rain of debris created a cloud of rock and smoke as it fell, blocking eyesight and sensors alike. Kirrahe's frantic scramble to escape just barely crossed the threshold between life and death as the fallen behemoth finished its decent.

The Salarian's eyes roamed the rubble, the smoke and dust quickly fading to a scene of nightmares.

The Alliance war machine stood above the remade ruins, scanning the corpses of the fallen, it's damned weapons slaughtering the helpless survivors as they screamed in agony or struggled for one more breath. Covering the ground were dozens of bodies, several magnitudes more than had been in the encampment. It was at that horrifying moment that Kirrahe realized his mistake, he had never considered that the building he had chosen to topple was occupied. The Spectre's only concern at the time had been how to stop the roaming weapon and those who had elected to remain hidden had paid the price for his choice.

The pilot of the King Joffrey stared down his surviving foe from his cockpit. With a cruel thought he launched a more humiliating attack at the Snake-like Salarian: A psi-induced panic. The mental worm dug into the already horrified mind like a tick.

The stream of foul thoughts seared into the Spectre's mind without a physical trace, instantly taking root and playing on the survivor's darkest thoughts. Doubts, fear and hesitation consumed Kirrahe in an instant. His will to fight drained out of him to be replaced with a fear of the human race, a fear he had never felt the equal of before. With his team slaughtered, the camp destroyed, and monster still standing triumphant, Kirrahe had no perceivable option but to flee. He hated himself more and more with every step he took.

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There were many requirements to becoming the Primarch of the Turian Hierarchy. Years of service in the military, Experience as a General, The love of the people, and the love of their people. Primarch Fedorian was the first Turian to not meet that criteria in a thousand years.

Fedorian rose swiftly to power after his wife bought his 'good luck charm' at an artist's auction, a solid sphere of eezo, shaped into a mirror image of Palaven. The simple silver ball would shine with a blue light whenever exposed to biotics, but otherwise remained a nice peace of decor regardless. Often, at his wife's suggestion, the Primarch had been known to give copies of his favorite decoration to his Generals or the more talented officers.

Fedorian had sat in his office for days, dealing with the fallout of the recent events. Invictus was in ruins, the black market it had carefully maintained for decades ruined in under a day. Thanks to that loss alone the flow of income to the Turian worlds had declined nearly seven percent, and that was without taking into account the loss of restricted goods that would now have to be acquired in other ways. Many of the shady traders from the traverse wouldn't dare go near the edges of Council space just to reestablish a market with a species at war. Even worse was the fact that the new Rachni strain had yet to be truly suppressed. Ships near Invictus were discovering pockets of the foul beasts every week, many of the Primarch's commanders believed the damned things were breeding in the Traverse only to try to move into Turian space.

Adding to that colossal headache inducing mess that was the Asari and Salarian councilors. Valern was using her precious Special Task Groups to devastating effect. A war of propaganda had been flooding the Citadel Extranet for months, propaganda that painted the Turians as war mongering and genocidal. The amassed evidence of Shanxi's true story had been plastered everywhere for the public to see. Many special interest groups, concerned citizens and weapons suppliers to the Turian armies were calling for action against the Turians.

It was common knowledge that the Turians were the major military force in Citadel space. It was the people of Palaven who's starships guarded the skies against the threats concealed in the dark of space. While the Asari and Salarians were formidable as well, they lacked the numbers and firepower needed to hold the line against the raiders and criminal trash that hid in the empty void between worlds. It was that knowledge that stopped the Citizens of the Citadel from demanding disarmament. However, it did not stop them from causing other inconveniences. Numerous contracts and trade agreements were declared null and many embargoes into Turian space had formed in the aftermath of the 'Shanxi Invasion.'

The combined loss of profit and wares from both the Citadel and Invictus at once had started to damage the Turian economy, a devastating loss of nearly twenty-nine percent of the credit flow was lost. Many sources of fresh food were now denied or supplied at a much higher fee, construction materials from outside suppliers were lost as their owners no longer wanted to do business with the Turians in such a hostile political climate.

The stress against the Turians was not all financial as Fedorian would openly tell you. Thanks to the loss of a Turian hero, Governor-General Vakarian, morale in the military had hit an all time low. The loss of the Governor's home world had been bad enough, but the confirmed death of the Governor that had been the idol of millions was a tragic loss. Many civilians had held a memorial service on multiple worlds to mourn the loss and cherish the memory of a great warrior.

The Governor's only surviving family, a waif named Garrus, had attended his grandfather's memorial on Palaven. The boy did not speak, he had not spoken a word after learning of his grandfather's death, however many noticed the twin trails of tears that ran down his face during the service. The only sound he had made was a sniffle as his Father's father was placed in an honorary mausoleum, a tribute to an irreplaceable paragon of the Turian people. After the service the boy had somehow managed to gain a private tutor, a mercenary whom had been teaching the waif various training methods to become a black ops style sniper. The boy's marksmanship was already testing at the advanced levels, and many knew what drove him and thus let the obsession continue unhindered.

Councilor Velern was not the only one making plans and annoying the already stressed Primarch. Councilor Tevos had been using her authority to not only block the Turian fleet from salvaging Shanxi, but had also been looking at removing the Turian Councilor Sparatus. Fedorian always sighed when he thought of Sparatus. The biased fool had been a clever commander, an excellent strategist, and even one of the winners of Fedorian's sculpture trophies. Yet somehow after being promoted to the position of councilor the man had become a disappointment. Twice he had put himself, and the Turian's position on the Council at risk by trying to defend an undependable position in a political arena. Sad to say, the fool was a good soldier but was a poor excuse for a politician.

The grand finale out of all the Primarch's woes was the damage to the fleet. The assault on Shanxi had left a gaping hole in the Turian fleet numbers. The twenty-second, seventeenth, and thirteenth assault fleets had been demolished. Many of the ships that made up the Fourth reinforcement fleet had been crippled and needed months of repair before they would be combat active. General Arterius' own Ninth Patrol flotilla was obliterated, including the Dreadnought 'Palaven's Might'. The sheer number of ships lost or damaged was another demoralizing blow to the pride of the Turian military, the fact that they received nothing for their losses only made the pain and humiliation worse. Shanxi would forever be a black mark in the minds of the Turian people.

Like he had for many days, Fedorian found himself trying to relax in his office at the end of the day. Laying back in a lounge style seat next to his good luck charm seemed to relax him more than anything else. The moment he left the office Fedorian knew he would be bombarded by questions, demands, and other annoyances. Relaxing in the office seemed to be the only joy he would find when he needed it. If only that annoying incessant whisper-like noise would stop.

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Sergeant First Class Thomas Mitchell let out a tired sigh as he sat in the Zeus Drop ship over flying the reception camp Delta 0-2 for the Turian hostages on the planet Altakiril, his partner Corporal Hudson sitting opposite to him, gazing at the desolated flooded scenery that played before their very eyes. His face plate slit open and a slim cigar hanging at the edge of his mouth.

With them were ten marines from the 1st Marine Expeditionary Unit armed to the teeth there dark black armor are frightening sight to behold.

"Clock tower this Badger 0-8 Lima, we are reaching LZ pad in five, over." spoke a crisp voice over the com system, making a low flyby of the reception camp or as some liked to call it 'the slums'.

Iron gates and brick Wallenstein of meters high spanning almost four km². The whole area was clouded with gunships and dropships buzzing all around the enormous camp. Tall towers with bright white searchlights shone down upon the tiny cells that held a five hundred thousand Turian captives. Dark smoke and a terrible stench assaulted Mitchell's nostrils his face turning into a nasty grimace.

"Tom look!" Hudson grumbled loudly before pointing to the direction from where the closest pillar of smoke arose. "Turian meat! Burning dead insurgents close to the camps sure as hell gets a message across eh?!"

Tom nodded darkly his face not betraying a single emotion as he replied "Makes you wonder if we make them fear us and prevent further uprisings or just encourage them."

A grunt was the only reply Thomas would get as the drop ship closed in on a large landing pad filled with busy activity. Drop ship loading and unloading their cargo and their troops sprinting to their assignments with precision and stoic professionalism. Tanks and various other combat vehicles being checked over driving across the small military encampment and securing a perimeter. Anyone taking this place would be in for the fight of their lives.

"Copy that 0-8 clearing LZ site Charlie, I repeat LZ Charlie is clear for Landing out." came through the speakers.

Thomas sighed as he leaned his head back against the hull of the troop bay when the mighty drop ship slowed its speed and majestically glided to the ground before hovering to a stop.

" 'Right, Hud that's our stop." Thomas commented over his com system as he nimbly jumped out of the drop ship, hovering mere centimeters above the ground, with Hudson right behind him.

"Show off." Thomas thought wryly as the looked back into the troop bay towards the combat ready Special Division Marines and said "Good hunting boys!" giving them a thumps up before turning towards Hudson and nodding his head towards the exit.

"Top and the others are waiting for us at the end of the Landing bay, lets go."

"Patrol duty, in the slums …. Again?! Does command have a grudge against us or why do we always get those piss poor jobs?" Hudson asked with a sour tone in his voice as the two marched in a steady pace towards the rest of their team following their IFF tags displayed on the heads up displays of their suits.

Huffing seemingly in thought Thomas past various soldiers and dock workers and technicians as he replied "I wouldn't say against us, since it wasn't us who had shagged the general's daughter and published it on the net."

Rick pointed his finger at Tom shamelessly defending himself "Oi! She said she was into stuff like that!" to which Thomas merely shook his head while chuckling before his eyes finally caught a glimpse of their Squad Leader, Master Sergeant Peter Winscott but most importantly Private Amanda Dubios.

Thomas was never more thankful for his helmet enclosing his entire head, hiding a sly grin of joy at the sight of her unharmed and well, as he and Hudson joined their fellow squad mates.

Leaning against a steel fence Fulani was the first to speak up "So Hud' how was the Joint Op with the MEU?"

Dramatically shaking his head Rick Hudson replied with theatrical sigh "Business as usual Kal'. Not even a fucking rat, all we saw was flooded countryside and sunken cities. I'm telling you this whole resistance is bull crap, there ain't no Turians alive to put up any resistance, aside from well... drowning."

Thomas shifted uncomfortably when he saw, from the corner of his eye, their squad leader already an intimidating figure straightening himself even further when he interrupted with his typical attention drawing basso voice "Can it people! Just because we haven't seen any bit of combat yet doesn't mean that we should give up our vigilance. Do I make myself clear?!"

Without even giving his squad the chance to respond Winscott continued in a somewhat calmer, yet still very intimidating voice "Alright now we are on Patrol duty today, which means the regular. Checking the up link stations, watchtowers and suppression fields and making sure the wall doesn't have any leaks and that the tech squads aren't dead of boredom yet. Nice and simple people, McKnight do you have the detector ready?" and turned his head slightly to their newest member of the squad Specialist Yusuf McKnight who was crouching on the ground with a bit of distance to his squad mates operating with rabid attention on his tablet computer striped onto his arm, a so called multi tool, a back up system every soldier has in case the HUD in the helmet with its most important functions, communication, real time transmission of the battlefield and receiving vital orders and information, fail for what ever given reason.

Even though such an event would be highly unlikely, R&D and Alliance Command along with XCOM, did not want to face the unknown with their pants around their knees, so in an effort to keep each soldiers efficiency, survivablity in combat, on a high level at all times for which is the reason why the R&D division has implanted so many safety and back up functions making it nigh improbable to render a Human soldier inoperable without killing said soldier.

Without looking up Yusuf replied "Got it sir, sending it your TACs now." right as he finished his sentence each squad-members TACs on their arms softly blurted up.

Glancing at his TAC on his left arm Thomas quickly saw and checked their newest tool that would make their jobs considerably much easier. The Threat Detection Mod, able to reveal any armed threat to the individual soldier or unit within a hundred meter radius, through any kind of matter.

"Nice." muttered Rick as his face plate slid shut with a hiss completely sealing his helmet. The rest of the squad analyzed their new gadget and adapted it to their individual suits, with Amanda transferring this Mod to their smart grenades, capable of switching between different mods, like Flash for flash bang, HE for high explosive or EMP unleashing a devastating EMP frying any hostile electronic system in a grenade radius.

Winscott nodded approvingly gripping his weapon tighter in his hands when he spoke "Good. Dubios you're on point, Mitchell and Fulani right flank ten meters spread. Hudson and I cover the left, same spread. McKnight you are on the rear, lets move."

In that moment a fleet of VTOLs with searchlights, flew over the slums loud, deafening music played from these crafts tormenting and humiliating humanities captives even more as wails of pain and anguish and torture resounded in their wake. Gunshots, electroshocks soon echoed throughout the slums and seemingly grew ever louder when the VTOLs passed this misery filled place.

Moving as one, the squad began to prepare their patrol when Rick once again broke the silence through TeamCOM "Groundhog Day?" he asked wryly earning a subdued chuckle from the rookie who was immediately silenced by a sharp glare from their Master Sergeant as Thomas silently muttered to himself "Groundhog Day."

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'Expect nothing, prepare for everything.' was the motto of the infantry. 'What cannot kill you will make you stronger' chanted marines. 'Trust in Vigilance' replied the XCOM elites. In short, use everything you could to one up the enemy. Be it man, woman, or unidentified alien organism.

Major Parker had survived basic, survived officers training, survived Shanxi, and as he looked at the synthetic walls of the transport ship he swore he would survive what was coming. The metal skinned bird brains couldn't break him, and now they were hoping some blue women would be able to make him talk.

The Turians had tried to break the major at first, doing the stereotypical methods. Good cop, bad cop. Deals to save himself. Offers and bribes. Then finally the threatening. The torture. The dozens of attempts to drug him till he sang like a canary.

Each time Major Parker gave them an answer. The same answer. A solid and determined 'Go fuck yourselves.' then mind fray them if they had attempted physical torture. If they had made nicer attempts the major would instead break the mind of one of his captors and force the freshly made puppet to aid in his release. It wasn't the major's fault if the Turians would rather shoot their own allies than capture them.

The Turian's only choice to examine their human captive was when he was unconscious from drugs, sadly they never learned that humans with gene mods would adapt to poisons and drugs pretty damn fast after repeated exposure. The Turians were militaristic and prideful, and apparently had not seen a foe play dead on them in a long time. Major Parker had to fake passing out and collapsing every time they gassed his room, but it was worth it to get them into mind reading range.

A cost of keeping secrets for later was that he had to show some sort of weakness. The Turians believed that telekinetic techniques could be stopped by a thick wall. Major Parker could feel their minds, and had to constantly repress the desire to mind fuck the entire crew. The effort would kill him and there was no guarantee that he would even be able to escape much less make his way back to Alliance territory with what he had learned, and he was learning a lot. Mind reading was a basic technique, only creating the giveaway violet glow if it was being done at long range. All Major Parker had to do was lean against a wall and relax and the thoughts would pour in, and what they knew, he knew.

What he learned was interesting. Apparently the meld in his blood ruined whatever methods the intergalactic bastards used to examine blood. Some scientific crap about the little molecular miracles reacting badly to their technology and making the machines break down before ruining the samples as well. Science was never the major's forte but a scientist could take the knowledge from his brain and use it to the Alliance's advantage.

Another scrap of info that was secretly leached from the mind of the Turian scientists was that there was pressure from the Turian heads of state to use him to devise anti-human weaponry, possibly re-create something they called a Genophage. (The major had fondly recalled answering those stupid enough to try for more samples with a direct mindfray). The Turian center for black market trades had gotten thrashed by a thought to be extinct species and thus biological weapons were much harder to come by.

Thus, the Major spent his time in confinement switching mental feeds like other humans would switch channels on a television. "The Citadel is pissed at the Turians for being war loving assholes... No, duh. Some Turian hero got a memorial service recently...Boring. Quarians are being rounded up for suspicion of terrorism... Meh. " That was when the major was lucky enough to touch the mind of the ship's pilot as the metal head went to relieve itself. "They're taking me to the Citadel?" he murmured aloud, surprised.

Johnathan Parker smiled, a space station loaded with galactic maps and ships a plenty? Perfect escape target. The major sat on the floor of his cell, back to the corner of two walls. Psychic attacks weren't a particular favorite of the prisoner, he was more of a weapons specialist. "I fucking hate meditation..." Parker lamented in his head, before clearing his mind and focusing.

Psychic energy requires three things to be properly used in any combat worthy techniques. First is focus. Second is relaxation. Third is belief. Lack any of the three and it becomes a bitch to use any mind powers. If you lacked focus your aim could go to shit harming your team rather than the enemy. If you panic or lash out when using a technique the power put into it could go wild, turning a technique used to knock out a man into a blast of energy that splatters brains on the wall. Finally, if a psi user can't believe they can do it the technique would always fail resulting in a purple glow, but no action behind it.

Parker's problem with psychic techniques usually lay within the first category, his lack of focus usually resulting in missed shots. Ironic, considering he was qualified as an N7 marksman. If it was not close by, his power would usually miss barring the miracle one in a million lucky shot. When a person with psychic talents practiced the art of meditation it gave them a brief time to boost their own mental abilities. By forcing their brain to review what worked and how to perform certain tasks, at the speed of thought and in a repetitive loop, the psychic could boost their own mental agility to a higher level.

XCOM operatives would spend at least an hour a day meditating. Volunteer class operatives would spend all of their free time meditating. Parker, and most grunts like him, would spend maybe an hour a month and only to review or refresh themselves on how to use their mind. Parker's main reason for not utilizing such an easy boost to his own skill set was the sheer boredom that came with it. Thankfully as a prisoner it wasn't as if he anything better to do with his time. His options were meditating or escape attempts.

"I'm already bored..." Parker muttered to himself, trying to clear his head.

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Kirrahe struggled to move, the hormones and chemicals of his species' flight or fight instincts had long since left his blood. The Salarians' body was worn from climbing debris and navigating the ruins of the city. Still, the tenacious bastard pushed onward, each step adding to the symphony of fatigue slipping into his muscles.

Inside his head Kirrahe's thoughts were consumed by a traumatized cycle. "Their deaths were in vain...Can't let them be in vain... Won't let them be in vain. Must do something...Need...Have to fix this! How?"

The guilt of his mistakes and the slaughter of so many had quickly broken the normally stable mind, rushed along by the mental corruption of the psychic attack. Unaware of the root of his growing madness and fear the Spectre could only flee from the sounds and signs of battle, desperate to escape he fled to the only bastion of safety his shattering mind could think of.

His ship.

The Spectre's vessel, Valiant Guard, was a modified Salarian model frigate with power, supplies, and enough fuel to leave the planet. The ship had been unaffected by the Alliance's anti-Eezo weaponry, having landed for fuel after the warheads had unleashed their crippling payload. The remaining fuel wouldn't be enough for a return trip to the citadel, but more than enough for the deserting Kirrahe to flee to the Relay and hopefully the system.

It took the mentally crippled Salarian nearly a half a day to make the journey back to the Valiant Guard, each step a milestone. The screams of the dying, the sounds of collapsing ruins, and the symphony of warfare were clawing at the last grasps of sanity the Salarian Spectre held. Hunger and thirst ate at his strength, making an already perilous journey several magnitudes more deadly. Panic can weaken a strong mind, but combined with fatigue and a broken body it only led to a shattered spirit.

Nnatal Kirrahe's spirit had long past that point. It was only the damaged Spectre's desire to keep his comrades' deaths from being in vain that kept the numb fool from stopping.

The starport that held the Valiant Guard suffered only minimum structural damage compared to most of the city surrounding it. However, it was lacking power and the fuel tanks had ruptured in the initial bombardment, destroying all its lower floors.

The climb to the top pushed the fallen Salarian to the point of exhaustion even with the addition of the gear left behind, upon entering his ship his first action was to inject himself with several drugs including energy boosters and a panic suppressant.

The blind panic was no longer seizing him, but he was still in no condition to return to combat. "Can't control fear? Drug? No, Turians show no signs. Bio-Weapon? Unlikely. Lack method of exposure. No chance of retaking Altakiril without aid. Need to call for aid. " Kirrahe realized what he would have to do, and how fast it would get him killed. He sighed, "Not a good way to die..." he thought morbidly.

The process to reactivate the playing-dead frigate took minutes. The Eezo reactor reawakening was instantaneous. The Valiant's engines roared to life as Kirrahe took the pilot's seat, and pointed the ship directly at the relay.

The activation of Kirrahe's ship did not go unnoticed. The tattletale flair of an element zero engine roaring to life drew the attention of dozens of Alliance forces patrolling the ground and air. The time it took for the Alliance military to converge on the broken starport was all the time the Spectre needed to point his engines directly at the ground and force his ship to its maximum speed.

The force generated by the reckless acceleration launched a defiant defensive wave of debris and smoke into the sky as a perfect cover for the vessel's escape. The Valiant Guard launched itself to the void with the thunderous crack of a god splitting the heavens. For miles around Human and Turian alike were deafened by the noise as the rain of debris added to the already horrifying death toll.

The frigate shuddered and trembled against the harsh treatment by its owner but followed his commands without fail. The Alliance fleet took notice of the renegade as it stupidly charged their blockade. Instantly the sky lit up once again with the combined fire of dozens of converging ships moving to bar Kirrahe's path.

The Salarian paid no mind to offense, keeping the ship on a swaying but direct path to the relay. With fear driven determination he activated the assaulted frigate's Quantum Entanglement Communicator, directing his call to the direct line to the citadel. The moment the line was established he made his announcement. The moment the connection was made dozens of VI programs would record, analyze and redirect the message. What he was about to do was alert everyone.

"Identification: Spectre Kirrahe. Spectre code: Council Priority Event. Record-" he commanded, "My Name is Spectre Nnatal Kirrahe. I am at galactic relay one-seven-three-nine. I am calling for Citadel war reinforcement. I repeat Relay one-seven-three-nine, Citadel War Reinforcement. The Human race has invaded and captured a Turian world! The Turian survivors need immediate aid."

Kirrahe repeated the message with every breath he took, praying to gods he never believed in before that his words were heard. By the time the message was on it's second repetition the ship had been struck nearly a dozen times. Alliance ship's rapid-fire lasers ripping past the mass effect fields and biting into the hull. Still, he forced his ship further and further to the Relay.

The Spectre continued the message even as the cockpit was breached, the last of his precious air venting out into space.

He never felt it as his ship exploded around him.

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When a message is sent to the Citadel from the relay network it works similar to a cross between a Human voice mail and E-mail. The message is uploaded, scanned, relevant data marked and then the transmission is distributed to the appropriate people.

When Spectres send the message, the rules are adjusted. Keywords are noted and the message gets a status based on what is said. Kirrahe's last words triggered every alarm the messanger VI would know to identify.

At once the entire Citadel extranet service faced a brief moment of lag as the message achieved priority until it had been delivered. Dozens of copies of Kirrahe's message were created and sent to the head of CSEC, the Council, the Commander of the Citadel Security Fleet, the diplomats, and the leaders of each Citadel race.

When the treaty of Farixen was made it limited the numbers of certain vessels each of the Citadel races could have in their fleets, in exchange a promise of protection was made. If a single Citadel race was assaulted by an outside force, it was the duty of the members to send aid. When it was made no-one expected that the first to call for aid would be the Turians.

When the message was received it was to an audience that was shocked to silence. Across the galaxy a wave of disbelief formed from the impossible becoming truth. A war had started, and the Turians were already losing.

In the council chambers of the Citadel, Tevos had been the first to recover. "How did this happen?" she asked softly, "Weren't hey were supposed to be on the verge of ruin?"

Valern looked up from a floor she had been staring at blindly for nearly half an hour. "The Turians must have been wrong. Shanxi was not their home world after all. If that is the case, we currently have no idea what we are facing."

Tevos looked at Valern with a growing dread. "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice almost pleading for better news that what she expected.

"Look at the battle of Shanxi. They had the Turians outnumbered, used superior technology and had superior soldiers. Then one of our leaders helped destroy the lives of millions and used nuclear weapons to crush them. In their eyes, we destroyed one of their worlds for nothing." Valern explained as calmly as she could, Tevos could see the elderly Councilor was shaking with emotion, "If they have the numbers and the weapons left, we could be potentially be looking at a galactic war just like with the Rachni. Except unlike the Rachni they will be able to shoot us down from our ships, break past our barriers, and ignore our biotics. We would have no advantage to hold over them. Our armor melts, our shields are ignored, and our people killed. Even if that were not the case we are still looking at the end of the Council as it is."

"What do you mean?"

"The Turians started this war, and now it seems as if we will be called to aid them." Valern looked her friend in the eye, uncertainty plain on her elderly face, "If we obey the treaty and just provide the barest hint of aid we would still be risking ourselves becoming the next target of the Humans. If we refuse the Turians now we will lose the bulk of our defensive forces and once more become threatened by the Terminus systems. After all the media backlash and hostilities after Shanxi there is no way the leaders of the Hierarchy would allow a refusal of aid to pass without repercussions. This is entire situation is a loss no matter what."

Tevos nearly gave into despair herself, yet one glimmer of hope to salvage the situation was still there. "What if we sent aid to reclaim the planet, but also a diplomatic vessel to speak with the Humans? The Vessel would stay out of the conflict, remain away from the war ships and be openly broadcasting a message to talk. We might get lucky and they decide to talk first rather than shoot!"

Valern looked at Tevos like a parent looking at an infant that messed themselves. "Your too used to peace. If you really think its worth risking the lives of some of our diplomats, that is fine. I will not argue, but the chance of your plan working is laughable at best."

Tevos glared, "We have to try something Valern! We can't just choose between slaughtering a new race for defending themselves or letting our allies die for nothing!"

Valern said nothing.

Across the galaxy the word spread as the various member races of the Citadel heard the tale of war being waged on a Turian world and prepared for their own possible encounters with the new race. All the leaders knew that until the Council decided, they could only prepare for the possibilities. Disbelief caused the actions of many to slow or drag out as they still tried to process that a race they believed to be on the edge of extinction, that they had been actively defending, was now destroying a Turian garden world in revenge and they could soon be called upon to fight them.

It was a hard pill to swallow, made worse by the uncertainty of politics and rumor.

On all Turian worlds however, this was not a tale of morbid curiosity. It was a bloody call to arms.

The moment Primarch Fedorian heard the message he wasted no time being stunned, no second to contemplate what he was doing. The relaxed mood he tried to find that day was flooded by rage and hatred. The Turian leader's office QEC was activated reaching out to the commander of one specific fleet. As anger flooded his veins from the loss of innocent Turian lives Fedorian faced General Desolas Arterius.

"General Arterius, I have received word that the Human filth has resurfaced. As we speak they are invading the domain of the Turian Hierarchy " the leader of the Turian race growled out, "You are to lead the forward assault to reclaim Altakiril while I demand support from the Council. From this moment on your mission is to assume command of as many ships as you desire and purge our worlds of any human taint. No prisoners, no rules of engagement. They have invaded us, and you will show them why it was a mistake. Do not fail me General."

Desolas smiled, "Understood, Primarch. I will take the twenty-third, fourth, and fifth assault fleets and the thirtieth orbital siege fleet at once."

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High above Altakiril the mighty Alliance fleet floated in a geostationary orbit like an iron curtain. Thirty ships of the most advanced, the finest ships of the Ninth Fleet the crème de la crème of the Ninth had the great honor and privilege to be the first humans to launch a counter offensive against the alien menace that loomed over humanity.

Within the heart of this powerful fleet was the mighty dreadnought Daedalus. Eight kilometers long and armed to the teeth, the flagship of this invasion fleet. Long range Fusion Rail-gun, Gatling Plasma turrets, short range defensive lasers and the new Elerium / Element Zero Hybrid Charged Particle Cannon. The Daedalus was one of the first to be equipped with this new state-of-the-art weapon. It will also be the first field test for this weapon when the reclamation fleet of the Turians will inevitably arrive. But the most important weapon in its arsenal was the experimental UR-86ED Missile Launchers better known as "Eezo Killer". It was an awe-inspiring and frightening sight to be behold.

Inside the ship on the bridge stood General Williams his gaze firm not betraying any emotion on the holotable displaying all the important information ground side and fleet wise. The assault had started three days ago, and yet resistance still showed up all over the planet as pockets of survivors not taken to the camps banded together to futilely fight back.

On the ground the status of the captives was acceptable. Six reception camps, each holding their quota of five-hundred-thousand Turian captives, bring their combined numbers to a three million hostages. And the rest were to become unfortunate or not so unfortunate casualties of war.

"The less Turians there are in this galaxy, the better we are off." Williams thought ruthlessly as he moved on to check the status of the fleet and couldn't suppress a surge of pride running through his veins.

Eight carriers two and a half kilometers long and capable of carrying thousands upon thousands of soldiers and hundreds of Hellfire fighters varying in different classes.

Two medical ships three kilometers long prepared for the worst hung as silent guardians over the fleet and the ground troops with the best doctors of humanity ready at a moments notice to do everything in their power to keep fatalities to a minimum.

Both ships were hidden at the 'dark side' of the planet so to protect them from enemy fire when the Turians arrive to reclaim their lost world. They were guarded by four ships. Three frigates and one cruiser moving in a tight echelon formation.

Three cruiser were in steady position by the moon of this planet ready to use an emergency slingshot maneuver to engage the enemy by a fast flanking move.

The remaining thirteen ships were separated between frigates and cruisers with only four destroyers in the entire fleet which were lovingly called 'great white sharks' by members of the Alliance fleet for their feared reputation. Striking fast and dirty, like their maritime animal relatives the Destroyers were able to divert enemy missiles with their repulsion fields, acting like a miniature gravity field of a planet, deployable at a moments notice and capable of throwing the enemies attacks right back at them. Fast burn propulsion systems allowed destroyers to surpass the speed of a frigate or even a spy corvette making it one of the fastest non-faster-than-light vessel in humanities possession. Mostly armed with deadly accurate rockets and missiles, the Destroyers were a beast in any fight.

"The Turians won't let this one lie down. They will come back to fight and this time, I will fucking end them!" Williams thought cruelly, interrupted suddenly by alarm bells ringing throughout the ship and soon the bridge, hell the entire ship was in a buzz of activity.

"Situation?" Williams asked calmly as he turned his gaze towards the dark emptiness of space at the approximate direction of the Mass Relay.

"Sir, we picked up a lot of activity coming from the Relay. Approximate numbers are between eighty to one hundred. Distance is too great to get a good fix on them." said an officer from his station only to be met with the burning glare from the feared General who spoke with an ice cold, unwavering voice.

"You are a sailor of the Alliance Navy and not a god damned weather forecaster so you are in no position of making any guesses! You have been taught precision and if you can not fulfill this you will be court martialed for incompetence at this duty and risking your fellow sailors lives! NOW GET ME A DAMNED FIX!"

The operator turned a ghostly shade of white before hastily checking his station in hopes to undo his fatal error.

Not a moment later the Comm Officer barked, "General Williams, Intel has just reported in they have confirmed movements of an allied council fleet of Salarian and Asari ships unknown strength. Estimated arrival twenty hours. Command sent orders is to capture them via Eezo killers. They want them for R&D and more hostages."

Barely suppressing a sigh, Williams straightened himself and focused on the more pressing matter at hand. The incoming Turian fleet. "I want an ETA on the Turians exit through the relay and make the mines ready. Get me the Punisher on the horn now."

As soon as he said that a small blue computer to his right lit up and showed the grizzled face of Captain Jong the commander of the Destroyer Punisher.

"Punisher here, all stations green awaiting orders." Jong answered in a no non-sense tone when Williams relayed the battle plan "Captain, I want you and the frigates Tears of the Sun and Red Hill to move up to the relay for skirmisher duties. Harass them as best as you can then make a fighting retreat back to our location."

"It will be done. Over." On cue three ships began to move at impossibly fast speed towards their destination yet seemed as to peacefully glided through the darkness of space.

Not hesitating a beat Williams already barked out his next orders "COM, tell Task Force Guardian to remain hidden at the dark side of the planet. Task force Dagger, prepare themselves for Pincer movement at a moments notice. All carriers are to go ground side"

That earned him a few questioning glances but no one dared to voice it and set to their work with drilled obedience. In the silence of space the human warships moved into position with unlikely grace like they were pieces of art and not devastating warships capable of razing hell on entire planets.

"So it begins." Williams thought stoically. "The chess pieces are moving."

"Do we have an ETA and an accurate fix on the Turians numbers?" He asked tersely and shot a sharp glance that could burn through a Dreadnought armor at the unfortunate officer on his terminal who had made the earlier mistake of not being accurate enough and being annoying about it to boot.

The man stuttered at first before being able to speak clearly "Sir, we confirmed one hundred and twelve contacts coming through the relay. Should arrive any minute now."

"Are Jong's skirmishers in position?"

"Yes sir, they are within effective firing range hidden inside the asteroid belt."

"More like debris of a ripped apart planet." Williams thought grimly as he zoomed into view the fifth planet in the system, which had half of its entire body seemed to have literally exploded creating a belt of debris spanning hundreds of millions of kilometers into space.

Not wanting to think of what could have been capable of causing such an amount of damage, Williams returned to the matter at hand when the radar sounded an alarm as the Turians came through the Mass Relay only to disappear in small blimps on the screen as they got hit by the mines placed at the Relay.

"Confirmed hit, reading twenty-three impacts at the perimeter." spoke the officer at the COM station and marked the kills when just in that moment one hundred and twelve Turian warships came through the Mass Relay, completely unscathed.

"What?" asked Williams and turned to the now ashen faced officer who stared in sheer disbelief at his console.

Stammering he managed to speak "Si...Sir, I..I...I I don't what happened the sensors on the mines and our spy satellites confirmed twenty-three hostile kills. They are adjusted to a Turian war ship echo. Otherwise, the mines wouldn't have gone off."

"Deception." Williams muttered bitterly nodding to himself before speaking up "Alright tell Jong he is free to engage on his own accord. Give me a rough projection of the Turian's strength."

"At least twenty ships are carriers each capable of carrying two battalions with rest being pure war ships. No destroyers, forty Cruisers, three dreadnoughts and the rest are frigates"

"Get me a visual on Jong's skirmisher force." Williams said not letting a sip of dread that was forming within his stomach out of his mouth. He was troubled and that rightfully so. The enemy had over thrice as many ships as he has and if the debacle with the mines was anything to go by, hung like a bad omen above everyone's heads.

The holotable shimmered and blinked before revealing the blueish ink silhouettes of Jong's small group as they unleashed their terrifying volley of missiles and plasma at a sea of hostile red colored Turian fleet.

A terrifying sight to behold. Ship upon ship in a tight formation slowly, elegantly turned, grinding their teeth as their eager, hungry eyes set gaze upon their prey.

The missiles drew ever closer nimbly dodging or even ricochet against the missile defense bullets and lasers that greeted them half way towards their destination.

Williams narrowed his eyes and noticed a few dozen or so missiles stopped halfway that now hung limply in cold depths of space, positioning themselves in front of the calculated paths the Turian fleet would take in order to reach the planet.

"Clever. Just as the missiles hit home."

The rockets that had raced towards their targets creating a sheer wall of deadly explosives hit the fleet dead on, with a bone-chilling might.

Ships were physically pushed back by the missiles exploding at neighboring ships or right next to them, causing them to smash against other Turian ships creating havoc among the Turian counter attack fleet.

Some disappeared with nothing but a dying breath in unforgiving vacuum of the battlefield leaving only burnt metal and torn bodies in their wake but most importantly managed to take down a carrier.

Retaliation swiftly followed. Anger and rage now dominated within the Turian fleet, the wounded and hurt now more than ever itching for revenge.

Like a swarm of angry hornets the enemy unleashed their worker bees, countless of fighters and bombers burst free from their prisons and raced towards their opponents with deadly intent, accompanied by three cruisers and fifteen frigates.

Williams grimaced and looked with concern at the battle displaying before his very eyes, as Jong's skirmishers moved deeper into the asteroid field surrounding the torn apart planet.

The overeager, bloodthirsty predators literally clawed their towards their fleeing prey like a crazed beast with wild eyes and swollen tongue hanging hungrily out of its hideous, brutal mouth. Fighters racing past each other each trying surpass the other and be the first to draw the addictingly sweet blood of their prey, nimbly dodging various floating rocks and debris.

"They think it's like some sort of sport for them!" Williams Thought as rage boiled within him, as the Alliance frigates took a sharp turn upwards maneuvering past asteroids and unleashed their long range plasma torpedoes not at the enemy but at the rocks beside them forcing them to move, pushing ever onward, until creating the necessary momentum and sent the now loose and dangerously uncontrollable asteroids right into surrounding rocks, debris and asteroids.

Frost and stone imploded as one rock hit its partner which was catapulted into a dozen more sending them to their neighbors with chilling destructive power and deadly intent at anything that stood in their wake.

The next thing anyone knew was chaos.

Like a domino effect countless of natural projectiles of various sizes lurched forward into almost direction and in the middle the overeager Turian hunters.

The uncountable amount of Fighters and bombers smashed, crushed and exploded silently in the soundless darkness of space, crashing straight into the thousands and thousands of rocks that are wildly flying and spinning around on their own accord. Some smashing against each other in a desperate attempt to escape this deadly chaos.

One cruiser with the agility of a fighter jet evaded an impossibly large asteroid, barely missing of being torn to shreds by the debris shooting across space of lethal speed, when another asteroid sails straight through it's left winging tearing the engines off with awe-inspiring ease. Millions of shrapnel like rocks and debris pound against the ships armor, many completely by passing the kinetic barriers and punch through the ship, peppering it with bullet holes like the ship was a victim from a machine gun. With a blinding explosion the ship vanished when another asteroid plowed through the vessel, imploding into dozens of pieces of shrapnel hitting unfortunate Turian fighters and frigates horribly gutting and destroying them in the process of a second increasing the dramatically rising death toll of this single act.

Most of this happened before many could even blink as almost the entire Turian echelon was literally ripped apart in the asteroid field. Two Frigates manically raced through this destruction nimbly evading the deadly rocks, when one of the frigate seemingly in fright or in a moment of frantic confusion clipped its partner at the wing sending him dramatically off course and wildly spinning into a large rock exploding in a bright flash upon impact. The surviving frigate surged forwards desperate to escape this devastation, burst through the asteroid field, sailing straight past its Turian comrades, the engines burning bright red and smoking as the ship ever so slowly began to spin around itself increasing in speed as it took off into the dark, cold unforgiving fringes of space.

The destruction was jaw dropping and caused many among the Human fleet to shout in frantic euphoria of joy seeing their enemies dying by their own arrogance and greed. A sly grin found it's way through General Williams steel like face but he was still weary and cautious

He knew that the battle was far from won. Sure they had just give the Turians a bloody nose and increased their morale to new heights while undoubtedly significantly decreasing their enemies will to fight, however the Turians still held an uncomfortably high numerical superiority over them.

With dread Williams saw the main Turian fleet unwavering moving towards them and even worse they were increasing speed and numerous stations reported huge electrical and radiological build up.

"Great nukes. Seems like they want to play dirty. Well two can play that game." Williams thought angrily, scanning the system looking for anyway possible to exploit the environment as much as he could against such a numerical superior foe. He knew that for his ships while better equipped and much more advanced in areas of weaponry and defense, if you would face a determined, numerical superior enemy with a clear supply line and steady flow of reinforcements it would be all over.

Williams knew he had to make sure that he would always keep the upper hand in this battle, never lose focus and destroy any possible advantage the enemy would or could exploit or the humans would be overwhelmed One small mistake, one slight flaw or error in his plans and execution, and everything could be lost. Williams would not allow this, he would be in control of this battle. Him and not the Turians.

"Come on, come on gimme somethin'." Williams muttered as he scanned the orbiting planets all six of them, their position and movement, gravitational pull.

"Wait a minute." Quickly, Williams pulled out his personal TAC and ran the necessary calculations.

He slotted in the final numbers, made the last equation and paused blinking numbly at the result. Blinking once, twice before exchanging glances between the holotable displaying the blueish colored map of the system in real time and his personal computer with the results for his maneuver he was planning. Going through the calculation over twice to make sure that everything was correct and not faulty Williams was not able to hide a devious, malicious smile from forming on his face.

He turned to a bridge officer when two more Turian ships disappeared in bright flashes utterly destroyed by the earlier deployed 'booby trap' missiles of Jong's skirmishers.

"Weapons, do we have any nukes in our arsenal?" Williams asked the weapons officer who looked taken aback for a short moment before hesitantly answering "Ah... yes Sir. We have a payload of fifteen Armageddon Class Nuclear Warheads."

Williams gave the officer a crisp nod "Good. Get them slotted in for flank speed for three seconds. Coordinates zero-zero-eight, zero-nine-eight, zero-zero-zero."

One officer completely confused spoke up, deciding to voice his opinion "But sir, that would send the missiles straight into the gravitational pull of the first planet of this system!"

"I KNOW that, Lieutenant!" growled General Williams dangerously causing the unfortunate officer to gulp heavily as Williams continued with an aura of authority and one hell of a glare, "Program the missiles to make adjustments three degrees up the y-axis and a degree by x."

Comprehension began to dawn upon the crew as they saw what their commanding officer had planned out. It was a plan that would require a lot of patience for the time until the missiles had reached the gravity assist would be two hours, but if this were to work.

"Once the missiles are on the end of the gravity assist I want the missiles to reengage their thrust to flank speed for two seconds for the coordinates zero-one-one, zero-two-three and zero-two-nine."

The Turians meanwhile had come dangerously close and were only minutes away from effectively using their weapons against the outnumbered humans. The precious carriers at the back of the fleet while the rest of the fleet created a fearsome phalanx and ever single weapons, gun and mind was set upon their hated prey.

Thousands if not hundreds of thousands of fighters launched from their hangars racing towards the enemy in a pincer movement.

Dreadnoughts in the middle, enveloped by the cruisers and flanked by the frigates

Williams narrowed his eyes in distaste at the display before him when the Turians were only a hair width away from using their weapons against them.

Steeling himself for what is to come when the Communication officer suddenly shouted "General incoming transmission from the Turian fleet. Audio only."

"Patch it through."

Almost immediately Williams regretted this decision when a familiar, malicious voice resonated in his mind one that haunted his waking nightmares ever since the catastrophic loss of Shanxi.

"Primitives." hissed the resentful, bitter voice of Desolas Arterius through the speakers of the ship and all across the human fleet, the murderer of Shanxi. "Your filth," The evil voice rasped through the speakers of the ships assaulting the Generals ears who fought his hardest to control his fiery hot temper. "Is at it's last stretches." Arterius continued, Oozing with confidence and arrogance as he very much likely sneered at the disgusting humans while driving iron rods into the humans hearts with his speech fueling their fury even further.

"Your puny assault upon this world was condemned for failure from the beginning. The futile attempt of a dying race. This battle. Is. Mine. By the orders of the Turian Primarch you will stand down. Surrender peacefully and I shall mercifully grant you a swift painless death." Desolas growled the Alliance leader, his words carrying the enormous, unspoken threat of 'or else' straight to the humans minds.

Williams glared defiantly at the speakers as if they were Desolas themselves, "The human race slaughtered your kind at Shanxi, we've massacred you here on your home turf! As we speak sitting below us are over three million Turian prisoners ready for execution!" Williams declared, "Are you going to give me a reason to end that many lives?"

Desolas tone of rage never changed, his rage had already taken too deep a root in his mind, "I am going to enjoy culling your race of parasites a second time." The Turian Commander cut the Transmission before Williams could retort.

Taking a deep, steadying breath Williams, eyed the incoming mighty and frightening Turian phalanx with so much contempt that it almost seemed like he could melt the entire Turian fleet if he just stared at them hard enough.

Straightening his back Williams seethed between his teeth "To all ships of the main group launch your attack NOW! Weapons, launch the Warheads!"

In an instant, the darkness of space seemed to have caught fire as the angry lances of plasma and laser weaponry of the humans surged through the empty, soundless vacuum. Hundreds of rockets and missiles from Humans and Turians alike.

Mass accelerator guns of the Turians unleashed their hate fueled shells speeding towards the human formation. Fighters and Interceptors raced through the vast emptiness guns blazing, clashing against each other with mighty explosions and force like the clashes of medieval military units.

Turian frigates spread their wings and moved across the flanks with their cruisers converging beside them eager to kill and the powerful dreadnoughts providing covering fire, remaining stationary and unmovable against whatever attack the enemy might throw at them.

Ships clashed together and began their long, majestic dance of death shooting plasma, torpedoes, laser lances and mass accelerator rounds among other devastating weaponry at each other.

Fighters and interceptors from both sides streaked across the enormous battlefield dangerously close to the capital ship's gunfire. The hellish spears of the attacks lit up the cold, dead vacuum as they traversed the void in search of their targets.

Humanities cruisers thundered as their long range rail-guns opened fire upon the enemy. Vaporizing and pulverizing pockets of ships most of the time with only one hit, dwindling the Turians numerical superiority ever so steadily.

Williams swayed slightly from left to right as he stood with straighten back upon his bridge as the ship underneath his feet made evasive maneuvers to avoid being hit by enemy fire and his officers reported every ounce of detail of battle to him.

Seeing an opportunity, Williams swiftly ordered the Cruiser Guadalcanal, the Destroyer Reaper and the Frigate Say my Name to change position a hundred kilometers north of them by the y-axis taking battle to a whole new level, positioning them well above the Turian left forward flank.

The battle looked grim on the display. Despite technological advances and better weaponry the human forces were literally enveloped by the Turian fleet, outnumbering the humans three to one.

The formation the Turians had chosen appeared like a net to the General. Overwhelming, fast moving and agile. With frigates at the corner and middle, cruisers at the tongue with the dreadnoughts at the end or rather tip of the formation.

"They are trying to herd us into their trap so that the frigates can swiftly close the gap to allow the fleet to shoot us to shreds." Williams thought with dread building in his mind.

Checking the coordinates and movement of the enemy while calculating the exact time it would take for Task Force Dagger, the three Cruisers positioned behind the moon of Altakiril, to reach effective combat distance.

Satisfied Williams immediately barked "COM's! Tell Task Force Dagger to prepare slingshot maneuvers towards the following coordinates on my mark."

"Damn it! There are too few of us!" he thought in a fury.

Williams quickly organized his fleet into squadrons of three ships for each Destroyer in the fleet because the reason why was the unique and new technology used by the Destroyers, the prototype repulsion fields which only his four Destroyers had. What it did was that it would identify hostile projectiles or missiles and swing them right back at the sender via gravitational assist.

The sphere of effectiveness for this power was a comfortable thirty kilometers from the ship.

His plan was to use the Destroyers as slingshots or shields deflecting enemy fire while doing hit and run tactics against the enemy.

Warily Williams eyed the three Dreadnoughts at the tip of the net formations looming dangerously and oozing with superiority over the human fleet. That could not stand.

"Weapons, prepare six round quick bursts of the ships Long Fusion Rail-gun and load up the Particle Cannon. Target each Dreadnought for two hits via rail gun and strike the ship in the middle next to the flagship with the Particle Cannon. Fire on my mark."

Without hesitation the weapons officer relayed the order and made the necessary adjustments.

Taking a deep breath Williams turned to the engines officer and spoke " Engines prepare for flank speed ahead. Five seconds thrust."

This order caused several officers to raise their eyebrows but no one said anything and dutifully did as they ordered to without hesitation or insubordination.

While many Turian ships have been rendered to molten and smoldering wreckage with the crew's frozen and swollen corpses floating limply beside them in this carnage, there were still too many Turian ships for the human fleet. It would be only a matter of time until they were overwhelmed.

"Flank speed ahead Engines NOW!" roared Williams and lurched forward barely gripping the handles of the holotable in time before falling flat on his face, when the dreadnought Daedalus surged through the vast darkness, it's engines burning a blinding shade of blue as it sped past the battling ships, smashing it's way through the destroyed shells of Turian ships.

Small fighters and Turian frigates not quick enough to react to this rampaging behemoth exploded as they smashed against the hull or the shields of the human dreadnought.

"WEAPONS! FIRE!" commanded Williams, and the ship rumbled before launching six two thousand ton slugs at a speed of ten thousand kilometers per second at the Turian dreadnoughts, who could do nothing more than blink, before these awesome displays of firepower hit home.

The first dreadnought was impaled with the first shot penetrating the bow of the ship, tearing the Mass accelerator Cannon apart and violently ripping the neighboring section apart before bursting out of the aft section with a flaming trail.

The ship tilted ever so slightly to the side before being hit again and tore the ship apart with in a blinding explosion, catapulting debris across the space some even managing to hit the neighboring Dreadnought.

Before any could as much as react two more slugs hit the other Dreadnought in the middle causing the ship to ripple like the surface of the water, as fire and smoke imploded and burst throughout the ship's body as it was flung through space, spinning wildly out of control before it disappeared in the dark depths of space.

The third and last ship barely managed to evade the first round, when the second tore through it's right wing, completely destroying the entire starboard section of the ship.

All of this destruction happened in less than three seconds and Williams was sure that there was a moment of shocked and utter silence among the Turian fleet that had encircled the human ships.

As Williams opened his mouth a transmission coming from the last and heavily wounded Dreadnought of the same creature that is the cause of all this bloodshed and Williams pure and blind hate against Turians.

Desolas Arterius

A rasped, hollow cough was audible when the murderer of Shanxi spoke with an unbelievable amount of maliciousness and hate "You Filth! My death will be mourned among my people as we rally against you, hunt you across the very fringes of this galaxy and spill your children's blood upon the stars. I will become a martyr, you will choke upon our dead before we surrender! We will wipe this galaxy clean from your disgusting, pitiful disease of a species and feed your children to the varrens!"

This time Williams ended the call, cutting off more of Arterius' malice filled drivel. An unreadable expression was set upon Williams face, his lips a thin narrow line as he spoke with mere whisper sending chills down everyone's spine. "Finish him."

"Aye sir." growled the Weapons officer grimly as he slotted in the target and unleashed the power of the Prototype Particle Cannon.

A bright red lance streaked across space, seemingly cleaving it in twain before hitting the flagship.

In the blink of an eye the beam impacted the crippled vessel and melted straight through it as explosions erupted from the ship, the entire deck and the life preserving oxygen within compromised to the vastness of space as the Turian Flagship tore apart and melted away, marking the end of the cruel monster that had brought devastation upon the galaxy the likes of which it had never seen. As the beam finished its cut the Turian dreadnought exploded, flinging the remains of the flagship across the void in a shower of meteor sized shrapnel and eezo dust.

Williams stared open mouthed at the destruction and demise of his nemesis before him, his mind shutting out the frantic radio chatter from humans and Turians alike or the shouts and cries of joy from his crew.

He had done it.

He had killed the murderer, the butcher of Shanxi.

But as soon as the intoxicating feeling of joy swept his senses it disappeared when he saw the damage reports from his ships and ordered the Daedalus encircle the Turian forces to their right while giving Task force Dagger the go for their slingshot maneuver flanking the separated Turian forces on their left flank.

"Weapons, report! Have the nukes completed the slingshot maneuver?" asked Williams as the human dreadnought gave the first encircled Turian fleet full broadside as the pre-launched nukes, propelled forwards with the gravitational swing increasing their momentum even further and raced towards the second Turian fleet battling the nimbly but desperately outnumbered and outgunned human fleet.

"Sir, Task Force Dagger is completing their pincer maneuver and have successfully outflanked the second Turian battle group. Nukes impacting on targets in thirty seconds." reported a bridge officer his uniform drenched in sweat and his eyelids starting to slide close.

Williams allowed himself to grin deviously as he watched battle – no, slaughter – of his dreaded enemies as the nuclear warheads shot past the vessels of Task Force Dagger as they encircled the splintered and desperate Turians, who saw these mighty weapons of mass destruction accelerating towards them.

Numbly Williams shielded his eyes as the devastating missiles hit their targets and exploded in bright fiery radioactive spheres of destruction and death. At Shanxi the power of a nuclear arsenal used in space was displayed by the Turians. Now, the Humans had given the Turians a similar lesson.

Turian ships desperate to escape the shock waves were torn apart by these invisible forces, their wreckage and smoldering parts sent flying through the vast darkness of space with fearsome speed, swiftly followed by the electromagnetic pulse rendering the shields of those who had survived this destruction useless and helpless to the certain barrage of the human vessels.

"That's one of my troubles dealt with." Williams thought greatly relieved, tiredly rubbing his eyes when one of his officers sounded of with a hint of anxiety in his young voice.

"Sir! Twenty Turian carriers just broke through Altakiril orbit and are now engaged by Task Force Guardian!"

A frown wormed it's way into Williams grimace, mentally kicking himself for forgetting the Turian Carriers, opened his mouth when the very same officer with a panicked voice blurted out. "Just coming in VERY HIGH radiological build up at the Relay! Signatures do NOT match Human vessels but Citadel schematics!"

Releasing a heavy sigh Williams glared at the holographic picture of the Mass Relay on his strategic holotable as dozens upon dozens of Citadel ships were catapulted into the system.

"Did twenty hours really pass that quickly?" He thought wearily.

Without hesitating Williams barked "Give me an ETA on the enemy fleet and their strength"

"Counting two-hundred fifty vessels and counting. Unknown strength due to the different mix of designs, it's definitely the Citadel reinforcement fleet. ETA at effective combat range in about two hours."

Williams sighed completely exhausted yet steeled himself for more as he eyed each of his subordinates and spoke softly, "Men and women of the ninth fleet, I am not the greatest man at holding speeches but know that it is the greatest honor of my life to serve alongside you. I cannot guarantee you victory or survival in this battle, but I'll be damned if I don't at least give those xeno bastards a few bloody lips to show them what it MEANS, to mess with HUMANITY!"

A ferocious war cry echoed through the navy com systems and his bridge crew yelled various cries of approval and defiance.

Satisfied at having his crew by his side Williams nodded to the weapons officer and immediately gave out orders.

"Weapons, arm all of our UR-86EDs. Fire at my order. Com's patch me through to Colonel Montag tell him that will be quite busy on the ground."

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#Alliance Military Network of Ninth Fleet and the 301st Siege Division of the Alliance Marines.#

#Please enter verification code.#

#Code accepted please hold.#

#Please hold.#

#Please...# §$%§&&§$ SYS§$&"$&§$TEM ERRRRRORRRRRRR.#

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Col. Montag glared at the malfunctioning Adjutant "Would someone turn off that damned machine."

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#Alliance Military Network disabled.#

#Emergency Local Military Network activated.#

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Col. Montag stood before his troops, tired weary, and with several fresh scars on his armor, "Alright gentlemen what's the situation?"

Adviser Phillips stood stiffly, the chosen bearer of bad news. "Sir at local 2549 hours, twenty Turian carriers have breached Altakiril's orbit and have positioned themselves over Canyon #23. Task Force Guardian is engaging the enemy as we speak, but are unable to completely deny the Turians to deploy their ground forces."

Col. Montag's eyes narrowed, "Show me."

On the Holomap a picture of Human and Turian carriers hanging high above within the atmosphere was shown battling each with unmatched ferocity Fighters, Interceptors and bombers raced through the midst of this chaos making the battle an uncontrollable mess as even Humanities battle AIs struggled greatly to keep up with the surge of information and the ever changing status of the battle. The Turians transport ships sailed down to the ground under heavy fire the ground and from human fighter jets with many transports ripped to shreds and exploding into tiny bits as they were riddled with an uncountable amount of bullets and rockets and grenades. But even so just as many Turian ships managed to land on the ground allowing eager, vengeance seeking troops to disembark their compressed metal prisons and secure a landing site.

"Their primary focus appears to be this plateau." Col. Montag noted.

The pictures of the battle vanished and was replaced by a grayish strategic map of the battlefield that spanned almost five-hundred square kilometers. The Canyon was a labyrinth of hills and rocks through which tiny tunnels and foxholes and trenches went through. Some even burying themselves deep into the hundreds of meters walls of the icy Canyons.

An Intelligence Officer agreed with the idea, "Yes sir. It is believed to be one of the, if not the last stronghold of the resistance forces on the planet. Our belief is that they want to link up with what ever Turian resistance forces there are on this planet and make a push for the reception camps. Or that they plan on creating a long drawn out guerrilla war that could very well turn into a bloodbath for our forces."

Col. Montag wished he had a cigar at this point, the curse of a nervous smoker, "Either way, That can not be allowed. Options people."

The map shifted from various perspectives as the officers searched for an effective way to this engagement when suddenly the map focused on an impressive structure. A wall. Almost a kilometer tall and eight-hundred meters in length and quite possibly just as thick that awe-inspiring mountain of a dam towered over the entire Canyon holding back impossible masses of ice cold water. Lone cracks were visible and small fountains of water sprouted out of the wounds.

Col. Montag stared at the natural dam like a child who spotted the Earth's largest candy bar, "I want that thing gone."

Adviser Phillips checked his data-pad, zooming in on images of the Turian soldiers, "Sir Turian forces have already stationed three whole battalions and established an impressively thick anti-air and anti-missile defense network. They are fully aware of the importance of that structure. Their whole rearguard composing of nine brigades is ready to reinforce the perimeter in less than twenty minutes."

Col. Montag had a simple enough solution. "Enough time for a kinetic strike."

The map changed and showed a simulated encircle movement of the humans creating a deadly prison for the Turians where rogue Turians insurgent forces were forced to retreat to their comrades trapping them in a deadly net. Meanwhile, a human force of division strength broke through the holographic lines of the Turian and fought their deep into enemy territory until they were ten kilometers away from the gigantic dam.

Montag looked over the team and explained, "301st Siege Division will make a push through the rear left flank of the Turian forces, covered by 101s Air Division and the 6th Welsh Fusiliers, until they are ten kilometers away from the dam. They will escort our last remaining ground side UR-86 Eezo killer with effective kill radius forty-five kilometers. More than enough to fry the entire defense network the Turians had built themselves together."

The Intelligence Officer had to double check what he had heard, "Sir you do realize that these soldiers will be sent straight into the meat grinder."

Col. Montag sighed wearily. "Gentlemen, I don't need to remind you how much at stake we have here. If we lose this battle we'll lose what ever edge we have against our enemy and give them a renewed fighting spirit. If we lose this planet, we'll lose any hope of ending this war quickly on our terms. The future of humanity hangs on a very thin thread people and even the slightest mishap could mean that our families or future grandchildren back at our colonies or worse Earth, will have to face alien oppression and humiliation or worse extinction. We need to keep the Turians on the back foot by what ever means necessary"

Intelligence Officer couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Does that justify any cost we make?" he blurted out.

Col. Montag finally lit his cigar, "Always."

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#Link established.#

#Orders relayed.#

#Visual connection established.#

#Sergeant First Class Thomas Mitchell. 301st Siege Division. Grid Sierra-Foxtrot- 35-89.#

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SFC Thomas Mitchell glared at the burning horizon before him as a caravan of quad legged tanks and dozens of varying heavily armored vehicles drove a head of them at neck breaking speed. High above them attack drones and ZEUS VTOL's rode forth into the fray, as countless of fighter jets and attack helicopters provided vital cover for their allies both in the air and on the ground.

Suddenly a little timer just over his mini-map appeared on his helmets HUD showing him a countdown tick ever downwards from three minutes.

"Alright people this is it! In three minutes our company will give the Turians the ass whipping they'll be remembering for a long time. So keep you heads focused on the game and good luck to all of us." spoke Master Sergeant Winscott.

A barrage of missiles rocketed over their heads with a foul, ear shattering screech that vibrated through the air shaking everyone to their very bones.

Mitchell grit his teeth as he stared at the phalanx of tanks rolling a head of them at neck-breaking speeds, when suddenly the timer hit zero and a guttural war cry resounded from within their ranks.

"Charge!" Winscott shouted with his basso voice, and the third company of the first battalion of the 301st Siege Division charged into the lines of their enemy, their designated tank units dutifully beside them giving them an impressive amount of suppressing fire, as their guns roared furiously without pause.
Sending five-hundred kilogram high explosive or armor piercing rounds traveling at 1/3 near light speed towards their targets as they were accelerated by the main Gauss cannons, the standard weapon for any human tank.

Anti personnel rockets and anti tank missiles rocketed through the air and combat drones flew forward their deadly weapons eager to get a kill.

Even the human soldiers were walking at speed of almost 40 kilometers an hour, their exosuits allowing them to keep up the pace with little effort and granting them great maneuverability A bitter lesson learned during the Ethereal War.

Amanda raced loyally beside Mitchell her gaze firmly kept a head to where the enemy would be. A gigantic explosion appeared on the horizon rocking the already shaking earth beneath their feet, when Amanda opened a private channel to Thomas with the blink of her eye and whispered.

"Remember your promise Tom."

Tom's expression grew determined as he nodded firmly to himself and swiftly replied.

"You do to."

It was an unspoken agreement between the two. Both would cover each other backs whether it was to cover one after a prank or a night too long out in a bar or in combat, protecting each other fiercely. Not willing to see the other hurt or worse.

Suddenly in all the cacophony of maddening firepower unleashed upon the estimated Turian positions a shrill, sharp scream filled the air to his left and before any could even so much as react, Mitchell's exosuit blared in alarm as countless of missile locks were identified.

"FUCKING AMBUSH!" Hudson screamed as he raised an enormous psionic wall in front of them. Countless other soldiers followed his example and raised gigantic dark purple shields as an uncountable amount of rockets and missiles smashed against that protective shield. The psychic barriers held, barely holding back against the relentless assault.

One or more unlucky soldiers moved to defend against or evade the bombardment only to explode in a cloud of red mist when an enemy rocket impacted right in his torso sending bits of flesh and burnt metal everywhere.

The Turian rocket assault was intimidating. A seemingly unstoppable barrage of missiles and home made rockets smashed against the protective barrier.

Humanities psionic troops sweated heavily under the pressure as some even wavered in mid air, losing their focus on their power for short yet vital seconds as the oncoming barrage of never ending missiles called its tribute upon these brave soldiers.

"The shields ain't going to hold for much longer!" screamed one soldier in panic when under the barrage of enemy rockets, one managed to slip through a narrow opening, shocking the soldier as he lost focus and tumbled down to the ground with dull thud, creating an impressive crater.

The rocket raced through the air and impacted in the midst of a marine squad sending those who were not able to escape flying through the air, wounding them badly.

Deafening explosions tore the ground right in the middle of the human formation apart.

"MORTARS!" Roared Mitchell as he accelerated drastically, using the superior speed of his assault class exo armor and raced in zigzag across the battlefield, Amanda close behind him.

"It's an ambush! We've got to get the hell out of the kill zone. Move!" ordered Winscott as whole squads of marines were annihilated, disappearing soundly and messily as they were torn apart by random missiles, rockets and mortar shells.

It was pure chaos as the Soldiers desperately raced through the kill zone, and the Turian fire only seemed to intensive the further they got.

Mitchell flinched involuntarily at the high pitched panicked scream of an unfortunate soldier when a mortar round impacted right in front off him, taking off both of his legs as the blast and shock wave liquefied his internal organs and catapulted him backwards almost smashing against another Alliance soldier, who swatted the bloody corpse away like a professional football player.

"Shit." murmured Amanda running beside Mitchell.

One tank slightly in front of them, steadied itself on his four heavily armored legs and fired off a round as it exploded in a great fireball, cooking the human soldiers nearby alive as they disappeared in the great fireball and grotesque, horrifying screams echoed throughout the battlefield.

Dangerously large and sharp metal shrapnel through the lines of the human soldiers, eliciting when more screams of terror and pain and death as one shrapnel messily sinks itself into the left shoulder almost taking it off in an instant, the arm only held to together by a few mere strings of nerve and flesh.

"Squad!" bellowed Winscott gaining the attention of his squad in midst of this chaotic ambush.

"Protect the tanks! Pummel your way through the Turians if you have to! We can't lose any more of our ground support! Hudson, McKnight, we're team one. On me, lets GO!"

Hudson dropped to the ground like a ton brick sending a sphere of dirt flying across the field before linking up with the Master Sergeant and the rookie as they made their way through the ranks to take out those anti tank position.

Mitchell swiftly assumed command of the second team, made out of Amanda, himself and Kahleed Fulani.

"Alright, Dubios, Fulani with me, activate your threat detection mod."

Thomas sprinted past burning corpses and smoldering vehicles as his suit's threat detection mod scanned his field of view and marked all of his enemies as bright red silhouettes on his HUD and on his mini map.

There, two hundred meters away from them was a whole front line of Turian soldiers and hastily improvised defense emplacements.

"Ok two seconds till I pass one hundred meters. A half to get at least up close forty meters. Here goes nothing."

With these thoughts, Mitchell inhaled deeply, mentally stealing himself for the almost suicidal move he was about to pull, also quite certain that Amanda would gut him alive if he were to survive this move and sprinted at full throttle, almost sixty kilometers an hour towards the Turian defensive line.

Breathing heavily Mitchell, in a blur of motions, raced through the battlefield the enemy steadily growing bigger and bigger, until he could make out their alien forms.

The muzzles of their guns and heavy artillery pointing directly at him as he ran towards them.

Sandcorn sized bullets smashed against his protective shields and armor harmlessly, turning into dust as Mitchell closed his eyes and leapt

The boosters on his legs allowed Thomas to fully use and even extended his momentum as he sailed through the air, sandcorn sized bullets whizzing around him or harmlessly impacting against his suit, aimed for the nearest, unlucky Turian soldier, pulled his right leg to his chest and kicked.

The result was devastating and disgusting. Mitchell's heavily armored and mechanically strengthened boot plowed into the Turian's chest, nearly propelling itself through the alien's war harness and pummeled the creature at incredible speeds backwards before smashing into a tree with a wet, sickening splat.

Crashing into the ground Mitchell swiftly steadied himself, reared his left arm backwards and smashed it into the ground unleashing a shock wave of telekinetic fury.

The surprised and shell shocked Turians did not even have time to react to the human soldier in their midst as the ground began to shake and a mighty wall of force lifted them off the ground rendering them helpless for what is to come.

His gun raised, soothingly pressed against his shoulder, Mitchell quickly shot in three round bursts, like an efficient killing machine sweeping through the ranks of the immobile Turians hovering few feet above the ground, flaying helplessly as plasma coated bullets riddled their bodies, violently ending their lives.

A nearby anti tank turret turned around to take the dangerous human out when a two bright green glowing holes, their edges slowly expanding as the protective steel melted away on the turret.

Mitchell caught a glimpse of Amanda sailing through the air from the corner of his eyes. Her sniper rifle dancing in her arms as she unleashed green lances of plasma against anyone unfortunate enough to end up being her target.

Like a goddess of war Amanda glided through the air, zeroing her rifle on a haggard, and ill looking Turian resistance fighter and pulled the trigger.

The plasma burnt through the poor Turians skull who had not even realized that it's life had come to an end as the body slowly started to dissolve in green liquid.

In the blink of an eye Amanda threw her rifle around and shot two more deadly lances of acid looking green plasma hitting one Turian soldier right in its forehead while her second shot managed to penetrate the second Turian hitting a third and a fourth Turian soldier as their squad in sheer panic and shock of what was happening threw themselves in disarray, as the bodies of their comrades began to dissolve in a sickly green fluid

With the elegance of a tiger, Amanda landed in the ankle deep snow, used her momentum to do a combat roll, shot back up on her feet in an instant, stretched her left arm out and unleashed the suits climbing hook.

The carbon metallic hook sailed through the pure white snowed in forest until it stopped with an ear piercing surprised alien yelp of pain and shock, as Amanda with non-lady like grunt pulled sharply at the rope.

Now sailing through the air, helplessly flaying with its arms flew a Turian soldier, it's screams chilling anyone to their very bones as Amanda unattached the hooks rope from her arm, steadied her sniper rifle and fired.

The Turian did not stand a chance as the plasma lance cut through it's upper body, cleanly cutting it in half as the body started to dissolve

All of that happened in under a minute, leaving Thomas was again mentally gaping at the skill of the young, beautiful private, when the rattling sound of heavy machine gun fire turned his attention to Amanda's right.

The Turian troops that had lost three soldiers to Amanda's single shot, that had gone for cover were now ruthlessly cut down by a black drone, hovering four meters above the Turians.

It was sleek and proud, had the diameter of one meter and had two twin turrets of menacing looking machine guns attached to each side of it's body.

Fountains of snow and blue blood shot into the sky under the relentless fire of the drone when not far behind from Mitchell landed Fulani, inject a new magazine into his rifle before letting the blot snap back into place, cambering the first round.

"Orders?" Fulani asked crisply his mind solely focused on the mission as he went into cover behind a tree stump and fired in three round bursts at any target he could see within a distance of fifty or less meters.

Feeling the withering death glare from Amanda, Mitchell swiftly commanded "Into the woods. We need to make a clear path for our tanks, steamrolling behind us. Stay alert for any potential ambushes."

Jogging swiftly over to Fulani, Mitchell tapped on his subordinate's shoulder and spoke.

"Fulani blast shield. We move together. Dubios, your on over watch It's open season for you."

Already imagining the wolfish grin on Amanda's face, Thomas turned to Kahled and witnessed a fabric, see – through glass shooting out of the side of Kahled's under arm. Nearly as tall as him, Kahled held the shield out of in front of him and moved steadily towards the enemy.

Thomas had one hand on Kahled's right unoccupied shoulder, controlling his motions and speed as he steadied his rifle in his right hand and fired.

Human tanks loudly rummaged through the winter forest, leaving a path of destruction in their wake their almost rhythmical firing of the main guns.

"COME ON PEOPLE! COME ON! PUSH FORWARD!" encouraged one Lieutenant to Mitchell's right side as he zigzagged through the melting winter forest as plasma fire and hundreds of rockets and grenades shot through the air.

A deafening explosion rocked in front of Fulani and Mitchell, both instinctively hiding behind the blast shield as wooden splinters and rocks and a large, mammoth sized tree as thick as one of humanities quadruped tanks, cracked soundly in the midst of this heated battle, swayed ever so slightly and fell to the earth with a mighty and bone shaking thud.

Static noise filled Thomas ears as he took cover behind the fallen oak, his suits threat detection mod illuminating the Turian soldiers and resistance fighters through the thicket as he fired in short, controlled and deadly precise bursts.

"If I didn't know better Sergeant, I'd say you would make a fine sniper." murmured the sweet voice of Amanda Dubios as a bright, venomous green plasma lance from her sniper rifle, cleaved the air in half and vaporized a Turian soldier a few hundred meters in front of their location.

Mitchell barely suppressed a smirk at Amanda's comment when Winscott's basso voice spoke through the squad communication lines, his voice firm and unshakable as always.

"SQUAD! X-Ray Company requires assistance taking out an enemy bunker complex, two clicks to Team two's west. Rally with Bravo and Lima squad at the way-point, we have to get to X-Ray, MOVE!"

Mitchell nodded and glared at the holographic way-point marker appearing near instantaneously on his HUD marking a location to his left, at the other end of the Forest. Nodding to himself Mitchell hollered over his shoulder.

"Way-point is two clicks west of here. On double!"

A zip line shot through the air way above Mitchell's head and saw Amanda gracefully gliding through the air as she jumped from tree to tree, as rockets raced past her seconds to late and explosions followed her wake. Turians fell to bright green plasma fire, blue blood coloring the snow white forest as Turian grenades and rockets ripped the Human soldiers apart. The screams of the wounded and dying filled the brilliant blue sky, where jets and even large vessels battled for dominance.

Mitchell shook his head as he dashed through the battlefield swatting away a Turian resistance fighter and raced through the thicket, bright angry red flames burning from the corner of his eyes as he sprinted forward until Mitchell burst through the tree line and was greeted with a sight of utter madness.

The whole ice and snow seemed to melted sticking to his shoes, tainted with crimson red and blue blood. Ripped apart body parts and carcasses lay across the battlefield. Burnt tanks and vehicles were scattered, torn to bits by that terrible fortification that lay before him.

One hundred meters high, with steel and metal coating its outer surface. Shooting slits pierced through the thick unforgiving cover as rockets, heavy machine gun fire, lay waste upon the field below. A series of narrow and twisted set of trenches, zigzagged over the fields before the massive bunker. Sets of AA guns howled as they unleashed their devastating rounds into the sky.

The soft hissing sounds of a boost jump reached Mitchell's ear when not a second later Fulani landed to his left his expression grim and stoic. Mitchell didn't even had to look at Fulani's face to see the shock for the dramatic horrific scene in front of him.

Human soldiers were mowed down like cattle, exploding in a mist of gore and blood as hundreds of thousands of missiles and rockets were shot into every direction of the battlefield. Soldiers missing their arms and legs, shouts and cries pleading for any help or for someone to end their suffering.

Scanning his HUD, Mitchell located the rest of his squad hunkering down beside a smoldering, burnt out quadruped tank, with the company CO beside them.

Winscott was not having a good day, most definitely not. Currently he was in the middle of a kill zone and for the first time felt a wave of overwhelming fear, cursing through his systems. What were the chances that Winscott would be able to keep his squad alive in this literal meat grinder. In just an hour the humans have lost over two-hundred soldiers to this fortification. There was a real chance for his squad to be dwindled drastically.

Peter grit teeth as he gripped his rifle harder."No. I will not fail my purpose. I will not fail." Winscott knew his options were limited, ground troops couldn't move in fast enough for an effective attack. "Fulani, how many of the Predator SHIV are nearby?" A distraction was still viable.

The squad's engineer needed a moment to call up the data. "There are at least fifty-seven combat-ready with twelve damaged. The closest ETA is in ten minutes if they go full throttle."

Winscott looked at Mitchell and his lancer load out. "Mitchell, if we give you a beacon can you get it to the walls of that bunker?"

Fulani looked at the Master Sargent with confusion, "Sir?"

Winscott ignored his squad mate, instead opening a comm line to all members of Bravo, Lima, and the remains of X-ray company. "Lancers rush those walls! Drop any plasma you can and run. Marksmen will provide support on any targets of opportunity. All other units fall back!"

Winscott quickly grabbed Mitchell's arm before he could follow the order. "Mitchell you're going to run the walls too, but drop the beacon instead. I'm calling in a strike from on high. Once the walls are swarmed we will rush them again and cleanup."

Fulani quickly passed off the box, preloaded with a reinforcement signal. The moment the box changed hands it went active, broadcasting an all frequency message for the Predator AI's. The animal like machines abandoned their patrol protocols, activating the search and destroy routines. Humanity called for aid, and they were going to get their answer in the form of dozens of lightning fast war machines.

"This is gonna suck." Mitchell bitched as he ran. Box in hand, he set the engines on his armor to maximum. The Lancer's armor instantly launching him towards the walls of the Turian bunker at intense speeds. The pock marked battlefield before him converted from a field of death to the most challenging obstacle course of his life. Each dip in the soil or upturned tree was a new hazard that marked the difference between life and a death.

As his assault specialist ran across a killing field Sergeant Winscott directed a comm line to the ships in orbit. "Valhalla this is the 301st Siege, we have a beacon lit and need fire for effect, over!"

The message was received instantly, "Seige this is the Valhalla, password confirmation over."

Winscott wanted to groan at the procedure, "The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid." he yelled over the roar of yet another mortar barrage.

Thomas Mitchell twisted, turned, leapt, ducked, slid, and jumped as he recklessly rushed for the walls. Trenches became cracks, wreckage became hills, explosions became empty noise as he pushed his body and suit to the limits. The walls that had moments before been imposing and damning had now become another target as the tunnel vision set in.

The moment he tagged the wall, Mitchel dropped the beacon and kept running up the walls. As he reached the edge he removed the trio of grenades on his hip and pulled the pins. As he passed the edge those same grenades were released, clattering against a mounted turret as their owner launched himself away from the walls.

The return trip was several times as hazardous, lacking the view to see any incoming rockets it was blind faith that carried him back as he continued to weave across the battlefield at bone snapping speed. The luck almost ran out as the tail end of a blast wave caught the assault specialist, flinging him head over heels into the air. "Oh, shit!" he elegantly yelled as he fell, the ground rushing up to end him. Behind him, the bunker erupted into a pyromaniac's wet dream as a precision laser strike hit from orbit, reducing the once indomitable bunker walls into rubble.

Rocks and rubble raced to rip Mitchell to shreds, the high speed he was moving at guaranteeing a painful demise. It was only the last second and well meant tackle of Amanda Dubios that spared him from becoming a decoration piece smeared on the ground.

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Where the Turian ships all had a brick-like design reflecting efficiency over aesthetics, The Citadel ships were more artistic. Eye pleasing and deadly. Fleet General Williams supposed that he would appreciate their look if there was not over two-hundred of them preparing to engage with his own fleet.

"Weapons," he called out, "What is the status on the warheads?"

The officer had an answer waiting, "Sir, all twenty-seven remaining warheads are armed and ready."

Williams returned to the Holographic displays of the enemy, his eyes searching for a weakness. "What is the estimated range of effect in space?"

"Each warhead has a guaranteed coverage of a mile and a half radius, sir." another officer swiftly replied.

Williams looked at the tight formations employed by the Citadel ships, "Captain, How many warheads would it take to saturate the enemy fleet?"

"We could make do with ten. Fifteen if we wanted to ensure that each ship was completely saturated with N-zero particles."

"We have too few missiles available, we have seen Turian defensive lasers shoot down our missiles before they would get near." Williams debated a risky move in his head, "I want all remaining ships to prepare to fire all remaining missiles at once."

"Sir," the captain looked at the general with curiosity, "Do you mean to camouflage the Warheads with a missile barrage? Are you sure that will work?"

"Yes." the general explained, "If we direct the warheads to go wide and detonate in a ring surrounding their formation as the barrage is shot down, we could remove a large amount of risk and force them to defend against the lesser threat. The enemy might be a different species, but if they follow any of the same styles of reasoning we do they will attack the missiles that are the active threat, not ones that seem to be veering off course."

The assembled commanders thought over the plan for a few moments, "General Williams!" interrupted a comm officer, "We have an incoming transmission coming from the flagship of the enemy fleet!"

"Delay it!" Williams commanded, before turning to another officer, "Activate the cyber-warfare programs. The moment we connect with them I want every single ship infected, when we fire on them I want their sensors scrambled!"

The officer nodded, "Understood sir."

Williams took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. Hopefully he could keep his temper long enough for the Alliance's best to compromise the enemy ships. "Bring it up." he commanded.

The video screen opened, displaying the smooth human-like features and blue skin of what the XCOM spies had labeled an Asari. A very upset Asari, if the expressions were the same as the humans that they resembled. "My name is commander Lidanya," the blue skinned woman stated in Turian, "Commander of the fifth Citadel Defensive Fleet. You are assaulting a protected world in violation of Citadel law. By the Authority of the Citadel Council you will cease your assault and leave this world or my forces will use lethal force." The Asari's voice was calm, calculated and forceful. The voice of diplomat who believed they would get their way. General Williams was not about to let the alien harbor such incorrect thoughts.

"I am Fleet General Williams of the Human Systems Alliance." He stated boldly, throwing his charisma into his voice, "The Turian people have declared war and committed an act of genocide against our people and have destroyed one of our worlds with nuclear weapons. By the Authority of the Alliance you will stand aside or I will order the execution of all three million Turian War criminals on the planet's surface."

The Asari leaned forward in her command seat, obviously taken back by the underhanded tactic. "You're bluffing." She accused, eyes narrowing, "Your people lack the resources to have taken, much less secure those numbers. The Planet's defensive forces would have annihilated you!"

"Your information is out of date or just incorrect. The Alliance trumped your Element Zero technology decades ago." Williams used his personal data pad to transmit images of the prisoners and the ruined cities, from the paling look of shock on the Asari commander's face he knew she saw them. "The Alliance holds Altakiril and three million Turian lives in its hands. Bombers are in position to destroy the prisoner camps if you attack. Even if we don't kill them all before you shoot us down the casualties will be in the hundreds of thousands, the wounded in the millions." Williams stared down the opposing commander, "Your forces will turn back and allow the occupation of Turian space or we will open fire."

The Asari looked ready to bite the Alliance General's head off, "General Williams," she spat out, with obvious distaste, "The Alliance is well within its rights to hold a grudge with the Turian forces. They have been punished by the Citadel for their actions and have already lost much over the indecent. There is no reason to continue this pointless bloodshed. Please, stand down."

For a much lesser infraction, the Asari's diplomatic words might have worked. General Williams, nor his crew, nor the Alliance soldiers listening were moved an inch."This world had sixteen million Turians on it. So far, we estimate only half of that was killed. Eight million lives. Do you know how many the Turians slaughtered on Shanxi?"

"That information was not given to me." the Asari stated, slightly confused at the turn in conversation.

"Ninety-six million." Williams spit out with anger, "We lost ninety-six million lives alone for a crime that we did not even know existed!" he roared at the taken back Asari. "Your Citadel's precious law enforcers killed men, women and children over a law that we never broke! Our species don't use the relays! We were studying the damned thing and they shot down the research vessels! Shanxi was wiped out because our people had the gall to resist and survive! The species that you are trying to defend from us are a bunch of murderers!"

The enemy commander obviously knew her position of a moral high ground was non-existent. Another angle was the only hope of avoiding more loss of life. Her orders were clear, if the Humans would not back down they had to be stopped, by force if necessary. "General Williams, your men are tired. They are weary. Most importantly, they are outnumbered and outmatched. My fleet is made of the best that the Citadel races have to offer. Each ship armed with the strongest equipment and thickest armor. If this becomes a battle you will lose. Please General, think of your people under your command. I ask you one last time, stand down."

Williams looked at his crew, looked at the scenes of battles still continuing on the surface of the icy planet. He thought of the restless dead who called from beyond for vengeance, and had his answer. "No." He said defiantly, "Altakiril is now the territory of the Human Systems Alliance. Stand aside or die."

This time, Williams cut the transmission before his opponent could get in the last words.

"Weapons, prepare to fire on my command." the general barked out, "I want all ships able to block any retaliation with the Tempest. All carriers are to prepare to search and destroy. All fighters are to retreat at once."

The officers and crew scrambled to prepare for the second wave, "Sir, the enemy fleet is activating weapon systems. Judging from the energy readouts, they will begin firing in forty seconds."

"Did the cyber-attack manage to infect the enemy?" Williams asked, mind racing.

"Out of the three-hundred detected ships, two-hundred and twenty-five are registering as infected."

"Cut off their communications, and take control of their IFF programs and shut them down. Tell the tech heads to get creative, I want their entire fleet in chaos."

"Yes sir!" the officer stated with a hint of excitement.

Williams took one last look at the tactical map, praying nothing had been overlooked. "All ships fire at will!"

The Remaining Alliance ships launched a barrage of death in the form of hundreds of missiles of various shape, size, and destructive power. The assorted missiles raced towards their targets with lethal intent, the weapons leaving no clue to their true purpose of disguise. The Fifteen warheads, hidden in plain sight reached their destination as the barrage exploded uselessly against eezo powered kinetic barriers or were prematurely detonated by defensive laser turrets.

The Skies over Altakiril exploded in a shock wave of light, as the wave of N-Zero particles saturated the enemy fleet. The energy of the blast quickly sapping the strength of the eezo barriers and reactors, leaving them helpless and adrift in the void of space. For the smaller ships, this was a terrifying but not fatal turn of events. The lighter vessels having their own substitute emergency sources turned out to be their own saving grace, preventing them from dying from lack of air or worse. The other, larger ships were not so fortunate. Fueled entirely by element zero and dark energy reactors the infection of the UR-86ED warheads had a much more devistating effect. Containment fields failed, allowing anti-matter to connect with its counterpart in a blast of terrifying proportions. Many vessels were torn asunder as the mass effect fields that allowed their unstable fuel to stay pacified vanished in an instant. The blast tore frigates to shreds and dreadnoughts in half, only the void of space and flickering shields preventing much more devastating loss. The three-hundred strong fleet died with the loss of power, a terrifying force beaten down with one blow.

Aboard the Daedalus the crew celebrated the victory, men and women cheered as they defied death for the second time in a day. A broadcast reached the still entrenched forces below of the defiant win, boosting the Alliance morale as the threat from the stars was finished. The vigilant general had not yet dropped his guard however, instead he looked at the tactical maps at the wreckage of three hundred ships floating in the dead space between his fleet and the relay from whence they came.

"Captain, " Williams drew attention to the fact the job was far from over. "Have the fleet prepare as many combat teams as they can. Those enemy vessels have high ranking personnel that are stranded. I want our brigs filled within the hour. Understand?"

"Yes sir!"

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The battle in the skies might have been going smoothly, but the battle to remove the Turians from their nest was anything but. The Icy wall still stood, as if to spite the best efforts of the Humans who desired its fall.

The death tolls only climbed higher as the Turian assault rained from the sky, large explosions continuing to pockmark the ground with scorched craters. The Alliance armor could shelter the soldiers within from the sandcorn rounds of the enemy, but a point blank mortar shell would still tear the body to pieces. It was a weakness the Turians were willing to exploit, even at the cost of collateral damage. The Turian's anti-air defenses prevented air support from breaking them, the concealed guns hidden from the enemy infantry that was so eager to destroy them. The burst or battle scarred husks of dozens of the Predator SHIV lay scattered about the battlefield. The combat robots had been used to devastating effect, tearing apart the Turians with ease and outrunning most of the artillery strikes that had been used to destroy their human masters.

With each tactic the Alliance soldiers used, the Turians countered with suicidal methods and crueler tactics. The Turians were killing as many of their own as the Alliance, using trip wire bombs and landmines to bury pathways and injure alike. Many of the routes that could have been used to pursue the enemy had been cut off by the blast of a grenade or collapsed by the cursed shrapnel of a booby-trap. As careful as the Alliance soldiers tried to be, the Turians were proving merciless with their limited selection of weapons.

Whiskey Squad surrounded a tactical map in the makeshift camp, the sounds of dozens of mortars, cannons, and AA guns roaring from the walls of their target thundered around them. SFC Mitchell looked at the carnage before them with a tired eye. The hike had been exhausting, the sight of his comrades in arms being cut down by the dozens was ruining his morale. Glancing at his team, he could see the effect of the Turian reinforcement on them as well. Most of his squad looked much the same. Hudson, Fulani, and McKnight all looked ready to drop. MS Winscott and Dubios were little better. Several shards of metal had scarred Winscott's armor in the effort to take down X-ray's bunker.

As the siege progressed it seemed more and more hopeless. Winscott was on the radio, pointlessly demanding reinforcement. "Command this is Whiskey Commander, I need immediate reinforcement at Seirra-Foxtrot 35-95. The enemy has heavy firepower and we aren't going to take the target without support!"

The chatter was one sided, but it didn't matter those listening in could guess the replies. "Yes I understand they have Anti-air stopping air support!" Winscott continued, severely infuriated, "We could use more armor support, or at least more infantry! We're walking through a goddamned meat grinder out here!"

Winscott stayed silent for a few moments, clearly unsure of what he had just heard. "Can you repeat that?" he asked, relief and pleased surprised paining across his dirt covered features.

"What?" asked specialist McKnight, "Is command finally gonna get off their ass and help us?"

Winscott glared at his subordinate as he listened to the message a second time. With obvious cheer he hopped to his feet. "Rodger that Command!"

Winscott turned to his team, radio now active on the company frequency, "Pack it up and fall back boys and girls! Fleet just won the skies! We have fleet reinforcement coming in five! Bombers are en-route with a UR-86. If your not outta dodge on time your gonna be slag!"

Message transmitted Winscott faced his squad. "Alright, we're gonna rush in for some good old fashioned CQC. Major Montag is coming with a company of MEC drones for distraction. While he keeps the metal-heads attention, we're gonna scale the walls the old fashioned way. "

"Why can't fleet just bomb them?" Fulani asked, impatiently.

"Command thinks that if we all pull back the bird brains will scatter and we will spend weeks hunting them down." Winscott explained bitingly, "If we blow this wall, the birds will drown and the town below where they've been gathering will be flooded under tons of ice-cold water. The battle will be over today if we can drop this wall right here, right now."

The Alliance troops fell back outside the range of enemy fire as the distant howl of an Alliance T-77 Black Arrow descended from on high. The ebony instrument of death held a large missile to its underside, the Turian Anti-air weapons pointed and were ready to fire when the hypersonic airship entered range. What they were not ready for was the missile. With a dread inspiring his the projectile was deployed, outracing its host with a trail of smoke blooming as it rushed the wall at speeds an organic eye could not follow.

The bomb exploded mid-air, scant yards from the mile thick ice. Following the example of its brothers the blast expanded into a wave of kaleidoscopic shades of blue, arcs of lightning streaking across the ice as the payload delivered its terror inducing effect. The Turians on the wall pulled themselves from cover to fight back, only to discover themselves once more disarmed as their rifles, grenades, and other high tech weapons died in their hands.

Without the fear of an explosive caused demise the Alliance soldiers charged the wall again, with whiskey Squad in the lead. The Turians panicked as the grappling hooks were launched, and began to desperately remove the wires before the owners could make the ascent. The Ethereal alloy thread refused to break, and the ice wall was too solid to be broken at the speeds necessary. The Avian Insurgents were quickly outmatched and overwhelmed by their invaders. The march of Alliance soldiers had become an inevitability with the loss of their defensive guns.

As Whiskey Squad crossed the threshold into the Turian trenches they greeted their Turian hosts with sprays of plasma and a quick death. "Mitchell, Dubios, Scout ahead!"Winscott barked out over the weapons' fire, "McKnight cover Fulani, Fulani set up the demo charges! Hudson, your with me!"

The first charge was easy, the retreating Turian forces preventing any real resistance. As they charged the insurgent tunnels, the issue became more complicated. The lack of eezo weapons did not equate a lack of defenders. Desperate Turians armed with combat knives and more IEDs charged the members of Whiskey, using the blind spots and tight corners to their advantage. The Icy tunnels were soon filled with the scorched dead as Whiskey Squad planted the second charge and continued deeper into the cliff side tunnels.

The deeper they went the more resistance they encountered. Tight knit clusters of the metal skinned bastards clogged the tunnels, armed with makeshift shields and rough-cut weapons. Stashes of the alien dextro-amino acid supplies like food and medical gear were found and quickly turned into slag with McKnight's Gatling plasma. Pockets of resistance members were hit with plasma grenades or worse, the small scale explosives only helping the mission.

The third charge was more of a hassle, the enemy finally realizing they had infiltrators among them seemed to bring about their more suicidal urges. Wave after wave of the cannon fodder charged the Squadron's position as they covered Fulani. Improvised Molotov splashed harmlessly against their armor, rocks bounced aside, knives wielded in Turian hands dented and dulled against the unrelenting Alliance troopers.

"Charges planted Sargent!" Fulani called out, "I got them set to the detonator!"

"Fall back! Defensive formations! No Heroics!" Winscott called out.

The move back to the surface was a flurry of death, gunfire, and screaming Turians trying in vein to suicide bomb them. The planted and snow concealed charges were tamper proof, any attempt to disarm them would result in detonation. Thus the only job for Whiskey team was to get out of the blast range and call down the thunder.

"Fucking hell, was there this many coming in?" McKnight complained, taking point and mowing down another wave.

"What's the matter Yusef?" Amanda questioned, burning a hole in another insurgent's head, "Don't tell me your worried?" she teased.

"I enjoy killing these metal skinned shit heads as much as the rest of us, " Yusef complained, "but I am getting sick and tired of all the gawdamned bird brains rushing us!"

"Less yapping and more killing you assholes! There is a hot meal waiting for me at base and I will be damned if I miss it!" Winscott proclaimed.

"You heard the boss," Mitchell yelled over the roar of another grenade, "If we're done before dark I'm buying the first round!"

The promise of a hot meal, a free beer and rest was ambrosia to the tired troopers. With greater vigor Whiskey pushed for the surface, eventually breaking out with a grenade bouquet tossed at a final blockade.

"All troops fall back!" Winscott called into his radio, "Charges are set. Retreat to base!"

Whiskey hauled ass, running for dear life and out of the incoming air strike. The decent from the cliff was easier than the climb, assisted by muscle fiber enhancements they jumped from ledge to ledge. Once on solid ground it became a full on run for the safe zone outside of the impending flood and bombing. A dozen of the Alliance Dropships lay in wait for the evacuating forces, ready to take off at a moments notice.

The Squad reached the evac-point without encountering more of their avian enemy. The moment the team took their seats on a dropship their engineer pressed the detonation switch. Inside the Ice wall, the explosive packs tore a fissure into the natural damn. By itself the blast did little more than make a giant crack in the wall. Not enough on it's own.

"Daedalus, this is 301st Siege commander. Target is marked. Fire for effect, over."

Deadalus comm officer was ready, "I read you Three-oh-one. Fire confirmation requested."

Winscott glared at his team, particularly Mitchell who knew the joke but wouldn't tell him, "The Beacons are lit. Gondor calls for aid." he said in a deadpan tone, unamused.

Mitchell laughed in his seat, obviously cracking up at the phrase. "Password confirmed." the comm officer replied, "Bombardment commencing in fifteen seconds."

As the transports returned to base a Tungsten rod dropped from the skies, guided only by gravity. On its own the strike would make a large crater on the surface of the ice wall, but would never travel the distance nor dig deep enough to release the frozen ocean it contained. With the blast aided by the demolition charges planted beneath the surface and the fissure they created the meteor-like strike turned the invulnerable wall of frozen rock and ice into the gates of a frozen hell.

tens of thousands of tons of below freezing water consumed the Turian resistance like a hellish flood from the Bible. The insurgent fortified ruins below sank beneath the waters trapping the Turians within the dark depths and ending the final resistance in one wave of death and destruction.

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With the Turian insurgency finally pacified and the Alien fleets decimated Williams sent the victory call to a relieved Earth. There would be messages sent, reports signed off on, and losses mourned. Reinforcements would be on the way the moment they received the all clear. Altakiril would be converted to the frontline base and shipyard. The Hostages would prevent any attempts to reclaim the planet, and the Turians would receive much more than a metaphorical black eye.

Williams only had one piece of remaining business before he could relax in his quarters.

The General entered the brig with a sheet of paper and marker. In the cell before him sat a single Asari. The commander of the enemy forces, Lidanya.

Williams entered her cell, and slammed the paper before her. The language on the paper was unknown to her, block like symbols in black. She stared at Williams with weary anger, "What is this?" she questioned in Turian.

"Its a contract of Surrender." Williams tapped a solid line at the bottom, "You make your mark here and willingly stay as our prisoner."

"Why?"

"Part of it is traditional. Another part of it is politics. For me, its a trophy."

"Tradition?"

"It's evidence you lost, when my people take yours to the negotiating table, your mark will be proof that your alive and lost the fight. "

She signed the paper.

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Personal Log of Sergeant First Class Thomas Mitchell

The Battle of Altakiril was over. Countless of Turians and Humans, both on the ground and in space lost their lives. General Williams managed the unthinkable. Capturing the whole relief fleet of the Allied Citadel navy as prisoners of War with the usage of the Eezo Killers, forcing them to the table. On our terms. Hope arose within our hearts, that perhaps all the sacrifices and loses were not in vain and that the war would come to a quick, decisive end on OUR terms. Yet not a day later the word got out that the Turians have abandoned the council, refusing to capitulate and agree on any of the terms and continue with the war even if they have to do it alone. It wasn't politicians who paid the price, who were dismembered, tortured and killed on some frozen rock, at the far side of the galaxy, no one gives a fuck about. It's us, the soldiers, the sailors and pilots who have to pay the price. And yet it's those politicians, who have no clue about the real world, who are calling the shots. Now we have to go back into the fray again. Brave soldiers like Fulani, Hudson, McKnight, Winscott and Amanda. Amanda. I can't stand the vision of her coming back in body bag. However, somethings are just in our power to change. All we can do is to fight against the odds with everything we have. Just like I will for Amanda. And the rest of my squad. By what ever means necessary

We got lucky at Altakiril while many others weren't. The price we had to pay was steep. The 301st alone had suffered 4,479 casualties in this operation, ranking them in the second highest single death toll during the whole campaign of that god forsaken rock. Over 20,000 human soldiers have lost their lives during the fierce ground battle in the freezing hell that was Altakiril.

We thought we had sent the Turian Hierarchy hanging by the rails with that butchery, losing over ten million over your population does give you more than a bloody nose. At least that's we had hoped.

It was soon very clear that we were facing an utterly devoted, fanatical and determined enemy, who would not yield until they were either victorious, or have the last of their people fall to our guns.

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#Link to video file.#

#Access granted.#

A Turian general stood before thousands of Turians soldiers and recruits Their gear polished, and weapons at the ready. Their back, ram rod straight with their attention steely focused upon the Turian General at the podium. The general spoke in the guttural, intimidating native language of the Turians, with ravenous barks and snarls coming from the alien. His eyes wild and burning with righteous fury and a passion that was able to make even the bravest men shiver unconsciously in fear and dread.

#Translating Turian language.#

#Translation to 90 percent complete.#

Now the Turian leaders speech was understandable to us human ears and his vibrant words sent cold chills down to anyone's spine. The Turian wasn't just giving any motivational speech to his soldiers. Hatred seemed to radiate from his very being as every word coming out of his mouth were vibrant and riveting, oozing with disdain, bigotry and malevolence.

" – those savages have pillaged, and plundered and RAPED Altakiril, burning down to nothing more than a smoldering rock of glass and the rotten carcasses of our brethren Our brothers, sisters, CHILDREN are at risk of extinction and yet the council abandoned us. Showed their true colors of cowardice and loathing. As such we must stand firm in these dark times and show the galaxy that the Turian people will endure and prevail and bring eternal honor to the Primarch and All the HIERACHY!"

The soldier before the podium as one, raised their arms over their head and shouted, their voices joining and echoing through the entire field as one firm, fanatical chant.

"SAN PRIMACH RAS 'JUUK KAAHHHRRRRR!" "Ras 'Juuk KAHR!" "RAS 'JUUK KAHR!"

"RAS 'JUUUUUK KAHHRRRRRRR!"

#Video end.#

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#Hierarchy Military Intelligence.#

#Report 564-87 Gamma.#

#EYES ONLY!#

#Topic: Weapon usage against the Humans.#

Chiefs of Staff,

As you all know the Battle of Altakiril had ended, with the total loss of 12.6 million Turian lives. The counter-strike force was utterly annihilated with no survivors causing the casualty number to rise past 13 million. 800.000 Turian soldiers have been killed in the fierce fighting. Causes for this defeat are numerous yet all drift back to one major weak point in our whole military force and even our society. Element Zero. While analyzing combat footage it we come to the terrible realization that standard infantry rifles and weapons do not work and are not able to do any amount of damage against mere human infantry. Their equipment and Armor seems to be on a whole new level than before. (during first contact and the Skirmish of Shanxi.) The sandcorn bullets simply shatter against an unidentified invisible barrier inches away form the soldiers armor, if the barrier is bypassed our ammunition has been seen bursting to dust when it impacts against the armor. High powered sniper rifles and high explosive weaponry were the only useful weapons on the field to counter this threat.

That means, rocket launchers, heavy machine guns, turrets, the main canons of our tanks etc. are currently our only option of fending off this threat partially successfully. We HIGHLY recommend delving into the research of NON ELEMENT ZERO WEAPONARY. Our forces need new weapons on the field fast or this war will be over with the next twelve months.

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Aria stood at the bridge of a dreadnought-class flagship. The twisted Asari's arms folded behind her back as she analyzed the strategic map before her. A buzz of activity was around her which would soon only intensify when her plans were set in motion. The captains of dozens of independent vessels had gathered under her banner, all greedy for a bite at the golden apple she was offering them.

The Queens's hungry gaze fell upon the holographic picture of the citadel as she grasped it and held it upon the palms where she thought it rightfully belonged.

"Soon," Aria whispered to herself as she enclosed her hand on the holographic projection of the citadel "soon it will be all mine!" Commands were issued and the the first parts of the fleet where moving to their staging points for their upcoming ferocious assault upon a weakened Council with last minute equipment, gear and communiques being exchanged all making final preparations for the planned blitzkrieg.

However, unaware to the Terminus Forces two entities watched these movements with wholly different views on the upcoming events. One saw the unimaginable profit and a distinct change of power while the other saw these happenings with tremendous concern. Immediately a secured communication link was established and a young female voice spoke "Yes ... Director? Patch me through to Fort Bragg and get me Harper on the line. Terminus is making their move, trouble is at the horizon."