Traditional Disclaimer:

I do not own either the Harry Potter or Mass Effect franchises. This piece of fiction is being written merely for my own pleasure, and no monetary profit is intended.

AN: As I said last time, this chapter is almost completely about the first battle for Shanxi's orbit. It just would not be a Mass Effect fic without at least one space brawl.

Chapter 4

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Shattered Skies

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"So, it seems they're going to just park up there and drop rocks on us."

"Seems like it. Unless they were lying."

"Well, if they just decide to drop a couple of nukes on our heads, we are screwed anyway, right?"

"There is that, yes. *sigh* All right, let's suppose it's true. Good thing I brought the orbs with me, then."

"Good thing you found them, in the first place. So, you are going to activate the Shroud now?"

"Not yet. Let's see how the battle goes first."

"There's no way the Alliance can defeat that many ships, Harry."

"I know, girl. Is the Command Center tracking the ships?"

"The satellite network is keeping a close eye on them. It most likely won't survive once the battle is over, but it is there for now."

"Warn me if any comes too close to the colony."

If they were too far outnumbered, should they fight or should they flee?

That had been the one million question at the officer's meeting. Captain Drugov remembered that opinions had been divided almost at the middle.

Those who voted for a tactical retreat argued that the defense fleet could better serve the colony by making threat runs against the alien forces, to keep them from focusing their attention completely at Shanxi. They could prowl the system, hide in the proximity of the lone gas giant, or behind the F-type main-sequence star. Look for targets of opportunity, ships bringing supplies or couriers. Above all, they argued that trying to match a superior force head on could result in their destruction without any significant damage to the enemy. They would be just throwing their lives away.

The officers proposing a battle countered by pointing out the inherent problems of hit-and-run tactics against ships equipped with kinetic barriers. They reminded everyone that they could only communicate and detect at FTL, which limited them tremendously as prowlers. They argued that their fuel, at battle stance, would not last the expected time it would take for the Alliance reinforcements to arrive, as the only refueling station on the entire cluster was right above Shanxi. Most importantly, they did not knew the enemy's intention, and if they only wanted to get close enough to drop some powerful WMD on the planet, they would do so unimpeded.

Drugov himself had been arguing for a battle, soften the bastards as much as possible. But both sides had valid points and everything could change with the circumstances. The discussion went on for more than an hour, until Carlos, who had remained mostly quiet for the whole thing, took the floor. The Rear Admiral acknowledged both groups' arguments, praised them for their dedication, and proposed a compromise.

A very daring compromise.

Before the first new generation spaceships had even left the shipyards above Earth and Mars, the Alliance Navy had run thousands of simulations and exercises on their new Headquarters at Vancouver, Canada. One thing had become clear from the beginning: in a space battle, you had to be either stronger, tougher, faster or have greater numbers than your enemy. If not, then victory was only possible at extreme risk. And even then, only if you got… creative.

Carlos pointed out a very interesting fact about the aliens' first attack on the SSV Aldenhoven that they had only seen as another strange similarity their technologies had. Based upon that observation, he proposed they give the enemy a juicy enough target, and make them pay dearly for trying to take it.

Thus, Plan B was born. It was actually one of a number of variations. Now that they knew the enemy's forces and intentions, they would implement the admiral's original 'Hook, Line and Sinker'.

The captain watched the SSV Nairobi through his screen, the gleaming white and blue vessel an imposing sight illuminated by the background light from the star. It was a beautiful ship, had been their bulwark for the last two years, and it would now become their dangling bait. Drugov had argued fiercely with D'Amico for the admiral to allow him to take command of the cruiser for this operation. He was motivated both by concern for his superior officer and by the burning need to try and exact some retribution for Leandra's death. But the old man could be stubborn as a mule when he wanted to.

He sighed, nothing to do about it now. The plan still had a high chance of being called off, especially now that they had a somewhat credible indication that the aliens would not just burn the planet away. If at any time the specific circumstances required for the operation to work were not met, D'Amico had already stated they would retreat and rethink their strategy.

Time to get the ball moving. "All ships, this is Captain Drugov. Retreat to designated point Sigma. Keep a spread formation." as he received acknowledgments from the other commanding officers, he turned his attention to the distant enemy ships.

"First, we cast the Hook."

"General, all the enemy frigates are fleeing! They seem to be making for the planet!"

Desolas was back at his platform, hands on the grips. The holo-projection in front of him now expanded to a much larger area, with all the ships in the battle space accurately depicted with their own models. The nine smaller human vessels were making a hard run, away from the moon and to their colony. Now there was only the cruiser and the mysterious satellites.

"Interesting, what is our friend's plan?"

"Perhaps they will try to use the colony as a shield?" suggested his First Officer, Commander Felix.

"We already stated that we would not hold from bombarding the planet, Commander. Besides, I think these humans have enough honor not to resort to such base strategies. No, what makes me wonder is why they would leave their most important military asset unprotected."

"They must have noted we left Vakarian's ships behind, so perhaps they think we are splitting up to go straight to the colony?"

Their three cruiser groups were approaching the now solitary human ship in the standard formation, with two ships side-by-side at the front, and another covering their sterns. All had their frigates, four each, making a defensive screen in front of them. Desolas had left the 53rd behind to serve as a backup and rapid response force, just in case their adversaries had assets away from this planet that somehow escaped their scans.

To be honest, Desolas briefly considered making the Patrol Group take point. He had a small fantasy about the humans making his life much easier by taking out the Ascendant Shadow and its meddlesome commander. Not one day had been past and that woman was already making his plates itch.

But he dismissed the thought quickly enough. Besides it being a terrible waste, the 53rd was under his temporary command, and tradition demanded that, in any combat situation, he would always put his own forces at risk before any auxiliary ones. Just as it demanded that he face his enemy up front, if viable. In truth, the general would have preferred to take his ships to the planet and start shooting at their precious settlements, let the humans scramble to their defense. But that would not be an honorable thing to do.

Desolas sighed. His people had put so many petty chains around themselves, it was a wonder they could still fight at all.

"Should we have our frigates chase them down, General?"

"Humm… I do not think so, Commander. I do not believe this is simply a matter of covering two fronts. They cannot effectively cover even one, and they know it." the general scratched his mandible in thought. "One of these two groups is a distraction, a trap. The question is, which one? And of what kind?"

"Sir, there's movement from that satellite field!"

In low orbit over Zhou, twenty-four spacecrafts came to life, as their systems were turned back on. The white hulls were marked by sweeping lines of bright red, and at the sides of every one was a stylized image of a mythical Chinese serpent.

"All right, boys and girls, wake up and let's show our visiting friends how we do things back on Earth." said Wing Commander Giles Mercier, leader of the Shanxi Hua Dragons fighter squadron, in his radio.

In perfect synchrony, the fighters that had been floating around the moon for over two days shot out from orbit and went straight to meet the human cruiser.

Mercier looked at his long-range instruments. He was eager to see what kind of small combat spacecrafts these turians would have, if any, and how they would measure up against them. He knew they were in a terrible situation and would probably all die very soon, but he could not help but feel excited about the prospect of some good old dogfighting. He knew it was just his overconfidence speaking (and damn if he was not a confident man), but he would bet his left arm these people were in for a surprise.

Ten years ago, people like Giles were confined to Earth. It was simply not practical to deploy fighters in space. They were too small to have a nuclear plant and thus, enough energy or speed. They were slow, clumsy, fragile, and could not carry any effective payload, as small missiles suffered from the same problem.

The Prothean Archives changed that. Mass Effect technology allowed the manufacturing of extraordinarily small and powerful fusion engines. It allowed the creation of viable, high endurance railguns, and self-propelled projectiles. It made the old sci-fi 'energy shield' possible. Above all, Mass Effect cores turned the equation backwards, and now the smaller a vessels was, the faster it could go.

It reawakened human passion for small, agile, and armed to the teeth combat crafts. And if there was one thing to be known about them, it was that humanity loved their fighters. The state-of-the-art F-57 'Foe Hammer' was proof of that.

Hell, they had built whole dreadnoughts just to carry the things.

Sure, kilometer-long flying fortresses with a gun that shot pseudo-nukes at five seconds intervals were never something anyone wanted to be on the wrong end off. But when you got your ass handed out to you by a small group of little ships, that's when you tasted true humiliation. Personally, he would take the nuke-shot any day, if only to save face.

And the best thing was, this show was all about them.

"This should be fun." though Mercier, with a malicious smirk.

"They are all converging on the cruiser, but they are too fast! I think those are fighter-analogues."

"So, not completely unprotected, then. Still, what they expect fighters alone to do against fifteen ships?" wandered Desolas.

"That aside, more than twenty of them, sir? That's one hefty number for just one cruiser to carry. It is double what we carry ourselves."

"Unusual, yes. But do not forget their colony, most could be housed there. Regardless, it would be a disservice to let them think fighters are an exclusive human invention, would it not? Launch our own complement."

"Yes, sir."

Sections of the cruiser's outer armor opened to allow the exit of the small vessels holed up within. A minute later, thirty tiny figures joined the bigger ones on the battle map. Two-thirds stayed ahead, while the rest flew around the main formation.

"Striker flights Blue and Orange ready to attack at your order, General. Interceptor flight Purple is holding position around us."

"Excellent."

"Enemy frigates have stopped half-way to the planet. They are positioning themselves above the polar line." certainly to prevent any stray rounds from hitting their colony.

"I see." then, Desolas went quiet.

The next few minutes were passed in tense silence, as every turian on the Penitent Justice's CIC waited for his orders to attack. It should be a simple matter: go and test the enemy's mettle. Then, when they had acquired enough information, hunt down and destroy them, or run them off. They had more than enough numbers and the technological edge to do so. And yet, the human's strange decision had left Desolas troubled.

These people interested him. Everything he saw from them until now spoke of cunning minds. The display during their first encounter with the four frigates of the 53rd had been pitiful, but their response certainly was not. The humans maneuver to isolate the frigate Occram at Relay 314 had been ingenious and daring. Retreating when the rest of the Patrol Group arrived had been the smart move. They were clearly able to adapt fast, a skill most of his fellow turians could use a little more off.

All in all, he knew there was something here he was not seeing.

"Orders, General?" asked Felix.

Desolas' eyes were focused on the human cruiser. "What are you hiding from me, Rear Admiral?" he asked softly to himself.

"General?"

"All groups, advance against the enemy cruiser at half-speed, the Merit and the Lance will spearhead the attack. The Justice will simply observe, for now. I want four light frigates to circle that cruiser. Keep your distance and be ready to move once the barriers are down." answered Desolas. "Have the 53rd engage the frigates, Vakarian can chose whatever strategy she wants. Everyone keep their formations and pay close attention to your surroundings. Let us see what they do."

They already knew the measure of the human frigates, they shouldn't be a problem. The cruiser and the fighters were the unknown elements here, and should be given priority.

"High Commander Vakarian acknowledges the orders, sir."

As they began moving, the eight ships of the 53rd Patrol Group advanced at full speed towards the cluster of frigates. They followed a circling route around the battle space of the turian groups and the human cruiser. At the same time two frigates from the Justice's group, and one from each of the others, went to keep a flanking run around the cruiser. He waited to see if the enemy ship would make any move against them, but instead… "General, the enemy cruiser is advancing toward us as well. It looks like they want to meet us half-way."

"Seems like our friends will not run away. Their courage is worthy of praise, though I wonder if it is driven by desperation."

"Or if there is something else behind this." although they both outnumbered and outmatched their adversaries already, the turian officer would still have preferred the additional support from the three remaining frigates of the 16th Fleet. But he could not have sent the Serarth to scout alone, it would have made no sense. So he sent the vessels to patrol duties at different points of the system. It was probably something he would have done in any case.

"Sir, enemy fighters are advancing!"

"Will not run, indeed. In this case…"

The general trailed off, because the information displayed by the battle map was very unfamiliar. Fighters were separated into two kinds: Strikers and Interceptors. The former had better armor and shields, and carried extremely close-range disruptor torpedoes that could bypass kinetic barriers and strike directly against hulls. The torpedoes function was not to destroy the target, but to damage enough of their emitter assemblies as to make their barriers collapse. A ship without barriers was easy prey to frigate packs.

The latter were faster and more agile, equipped with multiple mass accelerators too small to endanger even frigates, but just ideal to take out other fighters. A fleet carried both; Strikers would advance to weaken the enemy ships, while Interceptors remained behind to assist friendly vessels point-defenses in taking down incoming hostiles.

Humans, however, seemed to do things differently.

"Did they just send all of their fighters?" asked the First Officer incredulously, for every one of the twenty-four small figures on the battle map were moving towards them. "Are they all Strikers?"

"Perhaps." answered Desolas, but he felt uneasy. His instincts told him something was not right, just as they had screamed about the retreating frigates, earlier.

"All Strikers, advance. Interceptors, go ahead of them. Try to bypass the enemy squadron and go for their ship. If they don't change their course when you are half-way there, intercept them." their thirty fighters shot forward on a side trajectory. He did not knew what kind of danger the human's fighters represented. Turian Strikers had a couple of mass accelerators for self-defense, their superior numbers should give them enough of an edge. He wanted to see what the human's intentions were.

"They are sending their little kids to play with us. Let's show them who are the real Aces in these skies." although not unexpected, the presence of enemy fighters complicated matters greatly for Plan B. If the Dragons could not overcome them, the plan would die right there. But they could do nothing about that now except to take the challenge head on. Besides, the commander had been kind-of hoping for this.

"What are we?!" shouted Mercier.

"WE ARE THE DRAGONS!" came back twenty-three voices in unison.

"And what will we do?!"

"WE WILL BRING THE FIRE!"

"Enemy fighters are now on an intercept course against our own!" it seemed Desolas instincts were correct. The two dozen hostiles were deliberately advancing on his pilots. But the strategy confused him. Unless they were all Interceptors, why risk losing fighters before even trying for the ships? But of course, the rear admiral could simply be as wary of the turian fighters as the general was of human ones.

While both swarms of small spacecrafts rapidly converged at the middle of the battle space, every turian on the CIC watched as the larger ships came ever closer to one another. At 10.000 kilometers, they entered effective range of the cruiser's main guns. They were now close enough that powerful cameras and sensor imaging could render precise, real-time visual of the enemy on the main screen.

"Initiating evasive movement. Merit and Lance ready to fire."

A sharp inertial shift was felt as all their ships began a rapid lateral movement, varying their speed and angle randomly to prevent easy calculation of firing solutions.

"Enemy ship has begun its own evasion, General. Judging by its positioning, the enemy cruiser will target the Merit."

He nodded in acknowledgement. "Open fire whenever ready."

A few seconds later, the cruiser Valorous Merit fired the first round of the battle, its 398m long main gun using Mass Effect fields to accelerate a 10-kilo ferromagnetic slug to almost 0.5% the speed of light. It was immediately followed by the equal power of the cruiser Exalted Lance.

While there was a visible flash from the main guns' muzzles at each shot, caused by the dispersal of the Mass Effect field around the projectile, the common imaginary of bright streaks of light travelling through the void to impact with their targets was a product of fiction. The small slugs were non-luminous objects with negligible heat that traveled too fast to be seen. Without precision instruments, there was only one way to find them after they had left the gun's barrel.

The starboard of the human cruiser lit up in a rippling wave of blue light. On the battle map, the cruiser's model shone red for a second. "Confirmed glancing impact with the enemy cruiser's barrier. No visible damage."

"As expected." acknowledged Desolas.

"Enemy is returning fire."

Thanks to kinetic barriers, confrontations between ships of similar tonnage were slugging matches that could go on for a long time. If the human's barriers had anywhere near the strength of the turian's, which seemed to be the case, it would take many direct hits to overload their emitters. Once they were disabled, though, the armor would not last nearly as long.

Like deadly dancers, the massive ships circled each other over an expanse wider than most terrestrial planets, doing their best to avoid exposing their broadsides, which would give the enemy a far greater target, while keeping their bows aimed at each other. The human cruiser was in the unenviable position of having to try and dodge two different attackers. Desolas could easily use his superior numbers to flank the cruiser on three sides and deny it any chance of evasion, but he was still curious to see if this was all the humans could do. It had some risk, but the longer the battle lasted, the more data they would gain for any future encounters.

One more glancing strike against the human's barrier. Then…

"Direct hit on the Merit!" shouted an officer. One of the screens showed the cruiser's own blue barrier shining bright for a moment. "Barrier threshold at 92%."

"Your assessment, soldier?" asked the general.

"The difference is less than what we observed with the frigates, sir. That impact was only 14% weaker compared to one of our own. If they have any dreadnoughts, I wonder how they will..."

"General! We just lost an Interceptor!"

"What?" on the battle map, one of the little figures way ahead of them went black for a few seconds, then disappeared.

"How is that possible?! They are still outside of range!" exclaimed Felix.

"Outside of our range, obviously." muttered Desolas.

One more fighter went black, followed by yet another. The turians arrived at range and started to fight back. They tried to stay together, but the humans broke formation, and what were once precise wings were now an angry cloud of fast moving little ships.

"What is happening there?! What kind of weapons are on those things?!" demanded his First Officer.

"Commander Felix, our pilots report they are being taken down by single shots from twin, very powerful mass accelerators cannons."

"We just lost three Strikers! The enemy is faster than us, too!"

"One enemy fighter destroyed!" one of the hostile figures vanished on the battle map.

"Finally!"

"Kwame is down!" shouted one of his wing mates.

"We will avenge him!" Mercier shouted back. "Don't let any of them get past us!"

"Not so tough now, are you?" thought the commander viciously as yet another of the strange, curved, vertically aligned fighters tried desperately to flee from his sights. All around him, streaks of light flew in all directions, the lack of gravity making 'up' and 'down' a simple matter of perspective. A part of Giles mind noted these were the first ships they saw from the aliens that were not made entirely of straight lines.

Targeting computers provided minute adjustments to his aiming, compensating for the enemy's evasive maneuvers. The system was automatic: when the target was locked on, his two Lasier-Kedar Mark 10 Railguns would shoot without any need for his input. Like larger mass drivers, Mass Effect fields allowed the guns to have an unprecedented destructive power. Some of the alien fighters seemed to use eight smaller guns to maximize the chance of landing a hit. It worked, as poor Kwame could attest to, but it was proving a disadvantage against the human crafts.

"Hard luck, friend!" said Giles when his digital crosshairs went red. Two flashes of light shone from either side of his craft, and the hull trembled. The enemy's shield flashed for an instant, before the fighter was literally cut in half. Giles deftly avoided the debris.

The enemy frigates and cruisers could be better than humanity's. But when it came down to fighters, they had the aliens beat, hands down. They were almost half a time faster and had superior handling. Their shields were stronger, and he would bet their armor was tougher too. Their guns were slower, but far more deadly when they hit. It even looked as if most of the enemies could barely fight, their superior numbers were useless.

"Most of these aliens are a joke!" laughed his other companion.

"Look at them, trying to keep their little formations. They are making this too easy." that was another thing. The aliens were competent, but they were simply... not daring enough. His boys and girls were running circles around them while they tried to stay together and cover each other.

"That's what happens when you send a bird to fight a Dragon!"

Giles shields went up. "You've got one on your ass, boss. I'm on it."

"Don't bother. Focus on your own boogies."

Giles threw himself in a series of corkscrews, turns and rolls that would have been absolutely impossible inside an atmosphere. No air resistance and a small size meant that a fighter being pursued could even turn 180° to shoot his at his hunter, and still keep his original vector and speed by inertia alone. Soon, he had the top of his would-be killer on sight. Another double-shot, another flash of shields, and another alien mark to his belt. He laughed, it really was too easy.

"Damn, we lost Gabby, too."

"We expected much worse." said the commander. "Stay focused! We have to mop up these guys fast, the Nairobi is getting pounded."

"Aye, aye!"

A couple more marks, and the alien's numbers had been cut down by more than half. That's when they attempted to retreat.

"Admiral?" asked Mercier on his radio.

"Chase them down, son." the old man's voice was a little strained. Clearly things were not going nearly as good on the cruiser's end. "It will be one less worry for the colony."

"Yes, sir." responded the commander. "You heard the man! Not a single bird gets away from us today."

With a dull and heavy sound that could be heard by every human aboard, the entire ship vibrated as they fired yet again. Each shot was like a giant hammer striking against the hull, the immense recoil force of their main gun rattling equipment, furniture and people.

Surprisingly, that was the only source of disturbance on the Nairobi. Even as their kinetic barriers flashed again, the impact energy was completely repulsed. In an apparent violation of Newton's third law, the cruiser did not move an inch while being hit by yet another shot from the enemy.

Even so, that could change very soon.

"Shields down to 55%!" informed one of his operators.

"For the last time, cut it out with the 'shields down', will you? This isn't Star Trek." muttered another sailor to herself. D'Amico heard her, though.

Despite their current predicament, or perhaps because of it, the admiral chuckled; it was true. Every time the kinetic barrier was struck, the emitter array generating the Mass Effect repulsion field had to force an overcharge of energy to deflect the hit. After enough hits, or a single very powerful one, the emitters would overheat due to the amount of excess energy, and the field would collapse. All shields worked like that.

The time it took for the emitters to cool down enough so they could work again was popularly called the 'recharge delay'. So the famous 'shields down by X%' was a misnomer, because the kinetic barrier itself never got any weaker.

"Admiral, we have another hit to the enemy cruiser. They don't seem exactly worried about it, sir." said Guns.

"Understood Lieutenant, just keep at it. Taking them down isn't the purpose here."

"I know. But I still wish we could put one good round in them, sir. Make the hawksaurs bleed."

"Oh, they are bleeding, all right." said an ensign. "Have you seen the massacre that went out there?"

"Hell yeah! Can't beat our Aces. Glad to know we have at least one thing up on these goddamned freaks. Besides good-looks, I mean."

"Regardless," said his XO, "the delay has cost us."

"We can take it." told the admiral, firmly. "Like I told the Commander, it is best to deny them yet another method to attack Shanxi."

"Yes, sir."

"What about those frigates?" asked D'Amico, watching one of the circling vessels on an auxiliary screen.

"Still keeping their distance, sir. Just waiting for us to lose our shields."

"Of course. And how are Jun's people?"

"She tells me they can't sleep with all the noise, Admiral."

D'Amico chuckled again. No wonder Jun and Mercier had gotten along so well, they were both daredevils at the heart.

"As long as our shields hold, they will be fine, sir."

"Understood, Ensign."

"Another glancing hit! Shields down to 49%."

Yes, they could take it, but not for long. The enemy had three cruisers, and the only reason why they were still standing and not being shot from all sides, neck-deep in frigates was because they were being tested, evaluated. It was another thing they had gambled on. D'Amico could understand the turian general's reasoning; Desolas was taking his time to analyze the power of the cruiser's main gun, its maneuvering speed, its shield's strength, its combat endurance. The admiral knew that the moment the general thought they had enough information, every single one of those ships would crash down on the Nairobi like a furious tide.

But that was all right. They were counting on it.

On the other side of Zhou, the nine Alliance frigates were having their own pitched fight against their turian counterparts. Unlike the circling artillery exchange between the cruisers, the smaller vessels fought much more like fighters themselves, rocketing up and down on the battle space. Swift rises, dives and spins in the void, each one taking a ship tens of kilometers away from their starting position, so fast they moved. The pilots operated entirely by instrumentation and augmented reality projections; it was impossible to track a target by sight.

Contrasting the cautious approach of the main enemy force, this detachment had advanced upon the human vessels without any hesitation. Every one of the seven alien frigates went for a different target. Captain Drugov had his ships engage, with his extra pair double teaming enemies as needed, mostly the heavy frigates. He knew his frigates were no match for the turian's ship-for-ship, but the goal here was just to hold on until the Nairobi could finish its game.

And so they flew, dodged, and traded fast mass accelerator fire.

"The Agnadello is down the 34% shields!" informed one of his operators.

"Agnadello, get yourself some space. Give those shields time to recover a little." ordered the captain in his comms.

"Understood." was the simple response from the frigate's commander. On his tactical screen, Drugov supervised the whole battle. His eyes struggled to keep track of all the moving dots, as heaps of information poured on auxiliary screens. He let the actual commanding of the Kings Mountain in the hands of his XO.

It was like a game of cat and mouse, except that the mice also had teeth and struck back. Close in, shoot, retreat. Over and over again. There was one strange thing, though.

"Enemy cruiser is still keep its distance, sir."

And there it was, keeping a menacing circle around the frigate's battle space. Despite the smaller ships aggressiveness, the turian cruiser had yet to fire a single round from its main gun. Which was a damned blessing, in truth. Based on the data sent by the Nairobi about the enemy cruiser's strength, he knew their frigates would not go down to a single shot from the much larger vessel, but it would still take out more than half of their shields. And even if the spinal gun could not be used, the ship also had a dozen secondary mass accelerators on each flank that could cause some serious damage.

But for all that power, it kept holding back, though not completely. A couple times, things got a little too hot for the double-teamed alien frigates. When that happened, the cruiser would suddenly be there, shooting the human frigates and forcing them to retreat. But as soon as the situation was under control, it would leave once more.

Honestly, Drugov got the impression of a parent watching their kids fight. It would step in if things got out of control, but was otherwise content to let the young ones match it out.

He spared a glance to his left. Four highly specialized sailors operated a line of stations, all wearing full headsets. "Cyber, anything?"

His senior cyberwarfare officer, who was also coordinating the whole fleet's effort, gave her report. "Nothing, sir, on either end. Our primary firewalls are taking a beating, but they aren't in any danger yet. As for our own efforts, I'm afraid we have little to show. Their communication lines are much more refined, their tightbeams give 'tight' a whole different level. We can barely establish connections, Captain."

He nodded. "Just make sure they don't get to us, Anna."

"Over my dead body, sir."

"Flaming aliens got out again!" came the exasperated voice of his XO. It seemed their charge had been thwarted once more.

Drugov did not know why the invaders remained happy to simply trade shots with his ships, but he was not so idle. Every few minutes, he would have a group of ships rally together and gang up on a single target, a fast maneuver that almost always took an enemy by surprise. If done correctly, the ships could quickly incapacitate a hostile before their own ignored foes capitalized on their distraction.

And yet, every time he tried, the enemy would respond so ridiculously fast, it was almost unnatural. They would close ranks or retreat almost the instant he gave the order. It was as if whoever was coordinating the battle on the turian's side could read his mind.

In all honesty, the Mountain's captain was disturbed. This enemy's moves spoke of absolute confidence; it knew what it could do, and it knew what the humans could do. It did not meant to destroy, but to exhaust them. Technological edge aside, Drugov had a gut feeling that Plan A would not have succeeded against this particular group.

"Whoever their commander is," thought the man. "he is frighteningly good."

"Fighters closing in, General. They are going for the Lance's group."

"Send our frigates to help them."

On his platform, Desolas' face was an unreadable mask. He was impressed, not an easy thing to do for a man like him. Thirty turian fighters were gone in minutes, most of them outright destroyed. Only four human crafts had been shot down.

He could not remember the last time he had seen such a one-sided battle between similar numbers.

Desolas looked at the battle map. The cruisers still circled each other. The Valorous Merit had taken a few good hits, but was still far above half threshold. The enemy frigates were still giving their all, 140.000 kilometers from the planet, the 53rd matching their every move.

"Spirits, how can those things be so powerful?" his First Officer was still stunned by how easily they had been overwhelmed. But he knew the man had served as a pilot himself, for a time.

"Effort and money." said a young specialist.

"Indeed." whispered Desolas.

That the human's fighters were so superior when their mastery of technology was lower than the turian's meant that a ridiculous amount of research and development had been throw into their project. Amongst galactic militaries, fighters were seen merely as support units. One other mean to soften down larger ships to make them easier to destroy. Even the salarians, the ones who invented the disruptor torpedo and used fighters in large scale battles for the first time, were not so obsessed with the concept.

It had been a mistake to send his own fighters out in the open, he knew it now. If they had remained close, the frigate's GARDIANs would have helped them tremendously. But Desolas had been wary of letting such high numbers approach when they had no idea what kind of anti-ship weaponry they carried.

But now, they would find out.

"Lance's frigates forming up in front of the cruiser. They are shooting their main guns." a useless maneuver, the general thought. Fighters were too nimble to be hit by a large ship's central mass accelerator.

He watched on the screens as the swarm came in groups of twos and threes. Predictably, they dodged every round shot at them. Seconds later, they were upon the frigates.

"Break off!" ordered Mercier. "Watch out for those heavy frigates, and stay the hell away from that cruiser!"

The twenty human crafts all went to their designated frigates. The one-hundred to one-hundred-and-a-half meters long spaceships resembling more than ever giant birds of prey. They were still trying to shoot their spinal mass drivers, but even from this distance, the fighters maneuvered too swiftly to be locked on. Soon, it was no longer possible to align their bows with the little speeding devils.

When they came in range, the Foe Hammers began shooting their railguns at the frigates. The ships lit up in blue as dozens of tiny rounds peppered their shields. While the alien fighters had gone down to a single pair of shots, a frigate's kinetic barrier was a hundred times stronger.

Suddenly, a red light shone from his target's port side, and Mercier's F-57 trembled. He hastily broke off his approach, circling over the frigate. Looking at his side, he could see a long gash on his left stabilizer, still glowing hot.

"Look out, Dragons! Laser point-defense systems! At least 7 kilometers of range!"

"We know, boss! We are feeling them!"

And surely enough, every one of them was being targeted by the burning invisible beams of radiant energy. Lasers crossed space at the speed of light, none of that slow moving crap some sci-fi flicks liked to show, and were absolutely impossible to dodge if aimed right. They also completely bypassed kinetic barriers. But it seemed that the aliens had at least found the same limitation to them that humans had: effective range.

"Press on! Stagger your approach! We have to get close enough to launch torpedoes!"

"The fighters are still only using their guns, sir."

"How is that working out for them, Specialist?"

"Reasonably, sir. An average of 3% to 4% of threshold per double shot. It could be very dangerous if they are allowed to swarm the ships. Without the barriers, it might be strong enough to pierce straight through the armor at some points."

"The frigates' GARDIANs are working… somewhat." the small crafts were being heavily hit, but pressed on. It seemed they also had exceptional ablative armor for their size.

While the three cruisers continued to exchange artillery strikes with each other over thousands of kilometers, the area around the Exalted Lance had descended into what could only be called a generalized brawl.

For a time, the swarms circled around the ships, going back and forth and alternating their advances. Each time they suffered damage, but came ever closer. Once again they proved their superior build, as an ordinary fighter swarm would already have lost at least a handful of its numbers. But the defenses were also not giving all they could, as they had to reserve the laser batteries to intercept possible missiles. As they fired in quick succession, the laser arrays would start to lose power and precision, accumulated heat taking its toll.

"Two hostiles have become immobile, they are too damaged to move."

"Frigate Steelix has barrier threshold at 49%. Frigate Loxan is at 53%."

"Hostiles are launching self-propelled projectiles. Energy readings confirm they are disruptor torpedoes!"

And the moment of truth. Some of the small vessels let loose volleys of bright blue missiles, over twenty apiece. The GARDIANs went into full power, intercepting the slow moving warheads. But they could not take every one, and at every frigate at least a couple escaped destruction and came within range.

All targeted frigates went up in blue, as their barriers activated.

That should not have happened.

"Enemy torpedoes have exploded against the barriers, sir!"

"Specialist?" asked Desolas, sharply.

"It's that simple, General." the man looked baffled. "Sensors confirm those are disruptor torpedoes, very similar in principle to our own. It's curious how they also have them. But they just can't increase their mass to a high enough level as to bypass our barriers."

Barriers could only repulse objects up to a certain mass. Disruptor torpedoes bypassed kinetic barriers by using Mass Effect fields to drastically increase their mass for a split second. If they could not increase the mass enough to overcome the repulsion field, though, they would be repelled just like a common round. Worse, the warheads were designed specifically to rip apart matter, they had almost no effect on barriers.

"Is that possible?"

"Very possible, sir." confirmed the younger turian. "It has nothing to do with the barrier's strength; it's all in the refinement of the emitters. The human ones are obviously inferior to ours. If the torpedoes are tailored to bypass human barriers, it's very reasonable to discover they fall just short of overcoming our own."

A fortunate turn of events, indeed.

"More torpedoes released, General… all surviving ones ineffective against the barriers."

"Steelix is at 31%! Their guns are working just fine!"

"Sir, they are still launching torpedoes. I think they are just using them as distraction for the lasers, now."

"Tell the frigates to retarget their GARDIANs. Ignore the torpedoes, focus only on the crafts themselves." came Desolas' voice. It was obvious what the true threat was.

With the frigate's lasers now ignoring the ineffective projectiles and concentrating on their launchers, it did not take long for a bright blue flash to explode above one of them.

"One enemy down! Two more incapacitated!"

"There's desperation there, General. They are pressing on even when damage should make them retreat."

"They are willing to throw their lives away for a couple of frigates, Commander. They are obviously beyond self-preservation."

"They are tearing us apart, boss!" shouted his remaining wing mate. Rafaela had been shot down.

Mercier grunted in acknowledgment. His Foe Hammer sported multiple gashes, entire sections of his ablative armor were missing. He only had one functioning railgun and his right stabilizer was a melted glob. Luckily, he only needed it for atmospheric flight.

"Boss, every damn ship is firing just on us now!"

"I can see that perfectly well, Mika! Has everyone tried to use their torpedoes?"

"Almost everyone, sir. Not a single one has made it past their barriers."

"Then there's nothing else we can do here. Dragons, retreat! Admiral, we are going back."

"Understood, we have the data. Thank you for the effort Giles."

The eleven surviving fighters disengaged and started making their way back to the Nairobi. The Dragons had lost half of their pilots on that attack, every single one a good friend.

"Just make it count, sir."

"We will, son."

They watched as the human fighters ran in disarray to their ship, so different from a precise turian retreat. The frigates did not even try to shoot their backs.

"To spend so much on the ships and guns, only to skimp on the torpedoes." the young turian specialist shook his head.

Desolas agreed. Still, he expected that his report to Palaven Command would get many people rethinking their visions on fighters and their roles. He certainly was. Building multirole fighters like the human's would be much more expensive, but perhaps worth it. They might still not be capable of taking down a cruiser by themselves, as the larger ships had armor and barriers an order of magnitude stronger and possessed a more extensive and powerful GARDIAN. But as frigate hunters? That was a thought.

He turned his attention back to the human cruiser. Thermal reading showed the entirety of the hull was many times hotter than it had been at the beginning of the battle. In fact, some of it was even in the visible spectrum, as multiple strips along the ship shone a bright red. The turian cruisers were much better, not having to evade multiple foes for the last minutes. The Penitent Justice, still not having shot a single round, was barely warmer.

"What of their frigates?" asked Desolas to his Comms operator.

"Commander Vakarian says they are giving a good fight, but that everything is under control."

"I see. Thank you, soldier." the general narrowed his eyes on the battle map. "You tried and failed, Rear Admiral. Now, what will you do?"

On the SSV Nairobi, things were becoming desperate. Everyone was sweating profusely now. The inside temperature had risen by almost nine degrees Celsius, as enormous heat generated by the constant use of the main gun, the non-stop maneuvering, and all the energy being directed to the barriers could not be dissipated quickly enough. Their close proximity to a star did not help matters. The shield emitters were just two good hits away from overloading. When that happened, every round would impact the hull with the force of a small nuclear detonation focused on a very small area. Their armor was tough, but nothing they knew could stop such concentrated power for more than a few hits.

If a lucky mass accelerator slug did not finish them off, they would be cooked alive before long.

"So, that's it for the Hook." his XO just shook his head. "Shall we give them some Line, Carlos?"

"We shall. Helm, get us out of here! Attention all sailors, this is D'Amico. After the turn, I want everyone on this ship inside an escape pod ASAP!" the bridge crew would not follow, he knew. They were needed to fly the cruiser.

Every meter of the half-kilometer long ship trembled ominously as the Nairobi made the tightest turn that was possible to make without tearing the hull apart. It was fortunate that they had been advancing very slowly. Two last shots hit them right as their starboard side was exposed, and every sailor onboard thought that would be the end of their shield, but the kinetic barrier still held at 08%. One of the shots had been another glancing hit.

Then, with another mighty shudder, the exhausted cruiser shot forward to the location of their frigates, at its full subluminal speed. The inertial dampeners struggled to keep pace and the admiral cursed his old age as he was almost throw off his chair. He belatedly realized he forgot to secure his harnesses in all the confusion of battle.

"Come on, General." though Carlos D'Amico. "You have enough information about our long range capabilities. Now there is only short range to know. Your prey is running away with its tail between its legs. Time to hunt it down and finish this."

"General, enemy cruiser is retreating. It is making for the planet."

"The human frigates are moving. It seems they want to regroup."

Desolas immediately ordered. "Tell Vakarian to intercept them. Do not let those frigates approach."

"The 53rd is moving to block them, sir."

"Circling frigates, block their path! Do not let their barrier recharge! Remaining frigates move to engage." the time for evaluations was over. The larger a kinetic barrier was, the longer it took for the emitter array to reset. A soldier's barrier took a few seconds; a cruiser's could take minutes. But in all cases, a sufficiently strong hit could interrupt the process and keep the defenses down.

The humans knew their little fighters, no matter how advanced, could not win the day for them. They knew their frigates could not match the turian's and now they also knew even their cruiser could not survive. The only tactically logical thing to do now was to retreat to FTL and come up with a new plan. Or they might just leave the system entirely and only come back when they had reinforcements from their homeworld. If Desolas wanted to obtain any more information, he had to incapacitate that cruiser, and he had to do it right now.

All of their frigates shot in pursuit of the cruiser. Their smaller size made them have more than double the acceleration.

Their own cruisers would never catch up to them in time, but their frigates just might. That barrier should only be a claw tip away from overloading. Only a handful of shots from the heavy frigates could take it out, and a couple of well-placed rounds to the thrusters would finish the job.

"Forward frigates have engaged. They are being targeted by broadside mass accelerators."

"That could hurt." said Felix.

"Even a light frigate's barrier will survive a few shots from secondary guns, Commander. And they should be well away from any kind of point-defense systems."

"Sir, the remaining human fighters are moving to pursue our frigates."

"Ignore them. They can't hurt us now in such small numbers and without good enough torpedoes."

The fighters met with the frigates half-way and started to once again attack with their mass accelerators. But with such small numbers, the effect on the ship's barriers was easily shrugged off. They did not even bothered using their GARDIANs on the small crafts, reserving all energy to pursue the fleeing cruiser.

"The connards aren't even trying anymore, are they?" shouted Mercier as he shot his single railgun at one of the heavy frigates. It was extremely hot inside the Foe Hammer, heat being a problem for ships of every size. Thankfully, his flight suit offered him some degree of protection.

"Well, that's a good thing, isn't it boss?"

"Oh, my mind knows that. My ego, however, is screaming in indignation."

"So sorry for your ego, boss."

"You don't sound sorry, Lieutenant."

"I am, boss. I'm crying inside."

"Well, take your mental tears and shove them inside your…"

"Boss?" the voice of another Dragon interrupted them. It sounded a little tense.

"What is it, Natasha?"

"I did not want to tell you this earlier, boss, but I have some… troubles."

"What kind of troubles, Nat?

"The kind that involves a busted FTL drive and a broken oxygen recycler that gives me about two minutes of remaining air supply."

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Eventually, Mercier spoke.

"Just how did you manage to fuck up your suit's recycler, Nat?"

"One of the lasers actually pierced my windows and hit the inside of my cockpit, that's how I lost my drive. I escaped having my head melted off, but a piece of slag nicked my helmet's air pipe."

Another moment of silence.

"Tough luck, yeah?"

"Can you try and make it to the Nairobi's hangar?" he could understand why she kept quiet during the fight. She still had her guns, and without FTL she would never have reached Shanxi in time.

"Perhaps. But they are keeping it depressurized, aren't they? Frankly, I can think of better ways to die then crawling my way to an airlock. For example, I can make sure the birds fear us."

Mercier knew what she meant. He also knew, judging by the stubborn tone of her voice, that she would probably do it whether he approved or not. And Giles Mercier would not let the last memory this Dragoness had of him be one of disapproval.

"Nat, it was an absolute honor." he tried his best to make his pride evident in his voice.

"The honor was all mine, boss."

With a last goodbye to her fellow Dragons, the pilot accelerated until she was flying high above a frigate, which still would not use its point-defenses on the fighter. But that should change soon. With a sudden turn, she aligned her Foe Hammer with the target and shot her pod of torpedoes, as she could not do it before. The frigate's point-defenses came back online and started shooting the projectiles. But the pilot did not stop her maneuver, and accelerated at full power against the enemy ship.

"BRING THE FIRE!"

While the frigate's lasers were busy swatting away torpedoes, the fighter plowed through and hit the ship right above where would have been the bridge on a human vessel.

"General, one of the human fighters just rammed itself against the Loxen!"

"What!" Commander Felix was in shock. Desolas himself was very much surprised. "What about the others?"

"They have put some distance between themselves and the frigates, now they are circling them."

"What are the Loxen's damages, soldier?"

"A section of the exterior layer on the superior hull at the bow was completely stripped, sir. The fighter could not build enough momentum and generate enough kinetic energy to really pierce the armor. But it could be much more dangerous if it was hit at greater speeds."

"What about its GARDIAN? I know they were not actively targeting the fighters, but the system should have responded automatically." asked Felix.

"That's just it, Commander, it did. Right before the fighter went against the Loxen it shot another salvo of torpedoes. The GARDIAN went to shoot them out and ended up missing the fighter."

"I thought I ordered those frigates to target only the fighters with their GARDIANs, soldier?" Desolas asked with a fierce expression, mandibles tight against his jaw.

"Sir, you did. But when the system suddenly detected so many objects coming at once after a period of inactivity, it defaulted to its base configuration. It's a safety measure that the Gunnery Officers did not bother disabling."

Desolas made an impatient growl in the back of his throat. "Well, tell the commanders be on the lookout for any more approaching fighters. And to have their Gunnery Officers configure the GARDIANs to target only objects without torpedo signatures, we cannot afford another suicide maneuver like this."

"Yes, sir."

The First Officer nodded his head. "That was brave."

The general just crossed his arms and made a derisive sound. "Desperation, my friend, can make 'heroes' of us all."

They watched as their forward frigates harassed the cruiser, while the rest got ever closer. They were now almost back to the moon. Much further beyond them, the 53rd engaged the human frigates in battle. The humans actually had more numbers there, but the turian's better ships more than made up for it.

Comms spoke. "Sir, High Commander Vakarian wants to speak to you, she says the human frigates are too timid in their efforts to bypass them. She thinks there's something wrong with the whole scenario."

"Tell her we don't have time for doubts now, Specialist. Whatever happens, we will deal with it." even if this was still a trap, he was sure they could overcome it. They could not lose this chance.

"Yes, sir."

"Pursuing frigates are in range. They are opening fire and moving to surround the ship. Enemy fighters are still keeping their distance."

"Once the barriers are down, have all ships concentrate fire on the engines. I want that cruiser unable to move."

"Yes, General."

"Damn it, we can't dodge these things! Shields at 04%!"

All around them, the four frigates formed a loose circle. Mass accelerator rounds came by the bucketful. The cruiser's broadside mass drivers, weaker than even a standard frigate's main gun due to their small length, fired continuously against the hostiles. It at least forced them to waste time dodging and not concentrate full fire on the larger vessel.

"Carlos, if we wait for the other frigates, we might not survive this. And you saw what happened to our torpedoes. Will this even work anymore?"

D'Amico took a last moment to think. It was time make the call: stick to the plan, or retreat. This was the point of no return. If he went ahead with it, then no matter what happened, the Nairobi was going to bleed, hard. That had been the problem with the plan, and the reason it had caused so much controversy among the officers. It was the reason they had left half of the crew on Shanxi or the other ships in the Flotilla; they would have left more, but there had still been the possibility of a straight space battle. It was the reason Drugov had protested so vehemently to D'Amico staying onboard. It was ironic, really, because in the grand scale of things, Plan A had a much greater chance of ending in all of their deaths.

"We worked hard for this chance. The Dragons worked deadly hard for this chance. It may not come again." said the old officer. They would cast the die and see where it landed.

The other man just nodded. The next fifteen seconds were some of the longest in all of their lives. Shots were traded back and forth between the cruiser and the frigates. And ever their shields came closer to overloading, until…

"Admiral, the rest of the frigates have arrived!"

Suddenly, there was a pressure, like the feeling of a loud sound thumping inside the chest. Every sailor had learned to fear that feeling. It was the sign that their kinetic barriers had just failed.

"SHIELDS ARE DOWN!"

Finally, the Nairobi started to shake from the strikes against it, after standing unaffected for the whole battle. Even at only a fraction of a cruiser's power, each shot still seemed to vibrate straight into D'Amico's bones.

All he did, however, was to press a single button on his console, opening a communication line. "Sinker, it's your show."

The deceptively delicate voice of Lieutenant Commander Zhueng came to him. "Roger, Admiral. Don't worry, sir, we will make it work." she cut the call.

"I know you will, Commander."

Squadron Leader Zhueng Jun detached the improvised clamps that had been holding her ship on the underside of the SSV Nairobi's side-sections. It was much faster than leaving the usual fighter docks inside the hull. All around the ship, her squadron did the same. "Time to join this party, Lions! The Dragons bled for us, now we will make the aliens bleed for them!"

Like the Dragons before them, she called the traditional battle cry of the Alliance fighter units. "Who are we?!"

"WE ARE THE LIONS!"

"And what will we do?!"

"WE WILL ROAR INTO THE VOID!"

In seconds, twelve new spacecrafts exploded from beneath the cruiser and shot at full speed to each one of the frigates. Bold gold on white gleamed in the black of space.

"Keep yourselves in sync, we have to attack all at the same time!"

"Finally decided to show up, ma chère?" came Giles voice on her radio.

"Could not let you Dragons have all the fun."

"Well, join in them. There's plenty for everyone."

"The Great Rift Lions have a big appetite, Giles."

"In that case, we will let you have them. We are kind of full, anyway."

A great spike of dark energy registered in her instruments. Jun brought up a rear image on her visor and spared a glance at the Nairobi. The great ship was making a vertical spin, something that looked acutely bizarre for a vessel of that size, but it was making their thrusters difficult to target, and less likely for a shot to hit the same place twice. The increase in energy was the ship's Mass Effect envelope expanding as it prepared to enter FTL.

"We need to do this NOW, people!"

"Dragons, cover them! Give the birds another target!"

In just a few seconds, every one of the Lions was upon a different frigate, followed closely by a Dragon. Jun herself got one of the bigger ships. The target immediately went into an evasive maneuver, but the agile fighter kept up. She knew the move had been to mitigate her speed, and not to lose her. They though the new hostiles wanted to ram them, too. That worked for the pilot just fine.

"I got you covered, babe."

The badly damaged spacecraft of Shanxi's wing commander got just ahead of her.

"You are all fucked up, Giles."

"I know, but a man can't let a lady get hurt."

"That's so twentieth century, Mercier."

"But it's true. Just like it's true that while I am the figurehead, you are the one with real power in this relationship."

She smiled. "That I am."

She got within range and let her torpedoes go, at almost twice the traditional distance for a volley. At the same time, the side of the frigate she was hunting lit up in red dots. Giles was pierced by three different beams, while she got just one. A similar scene was repeated at every other frigate.

None of her torpedoes were hit.

"Hook." whispered Giles, as fire burned inside his cockpit and another bright red light was the last thing he saw.

"Line." said D'Amico, a few white rays of the system's star illuminating his face through the cracks in the armor, as a shot went through all the bridge's layers to stop miraculously on the last one.

"Sinker!" shouted Zhueng, as she broke off her approach and flew away; wounded, but alive.

Twenty-two disruptor torpedoes targeted almost every single one of the turian frigate's stern sections. Twenty-two torpedoes that passed straight through their kinetic barriers. Twenty-two torpedoes that exploded right on top of the vessel's hulls, tearing large chunks of armor, busting shield emitters, and completely destroying thrusters. In two cases, a couple of projectiles passed through the damaged armor and detonated inside the ships. One of them had the Mass Effect core breached, and became a ball of blue fire and electromagnetic radiation.

The SSV Nairobi was no longer being shot at. Most of her enemies could not move anymore.

"Jump to FTL!" shouted D'Amico, frantically. They could still escape! They could still win this!

The distant hum of the ship's engines became larger. The cruiser started to gain speed.

"Admiral, it's…!"

On the screen was the image of the last alien cruiser, the one that had been engaging the human frigates. It had been closing in at full speed since before the Nairobi's fighter squadron had left the ship, and now it was right on top of them.

The giant gun's muzzle flashed just once. The shot struck exactly at the section around engineering that had been targeted most heavily by the enemy frigates. The slug hit the metal and shattered in dozens of fragments, piercing the flimsy remaining armor and tearing through their insides to cause horrendous damage to their engines. It sent the great vessel spinning, without control this time, and completely shattered any hope of entering FTL.

It did not fire again.

The admiral watched as the distant specks of light flew around them. The bright system's star, the pale glow of Zhou, the red and blue of distant Shanxi; all came and went. He also saw the grey metallic hulls of incapacitated or destroyed enemy frigates.

Well, tit for tat, as the saying went.

"Launch escape pods." said the old man, resignedly. Along the cruiser's hull, many small cylindrical pods shot out into space, their very limited moving capacity directing them to the Eldfell-Ashland mining facility on Zhou, as they could not risk the long trip to Shanxi. The place had been prepared with some supplies. It had deep excavated tunnels where the crew of the Nairobi could hole up and hopefully try to survive long enough for the Fleets to arrive. The escape pods had been filled with weapons, supplies and other equipment, including personal hardsuits that would allow his people to cross the almost complete vacuum of the satellite's surface.

He looked at his sailors. "All of you, get yourselves into a pod."

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at his XO. "I know you are a traditionalist, Carlos, but captains stopped going down with their ships way before we first got into space."

At that, D'Amico let out a little laugh. "Indeed. I suppose I should get my old ass moving, then."

"You should."

"Have we sent all data to the Runner? Has the sequence been activated?" the man just nodded. "Then we are done here."

He got out of his chair and went to the pod located just behind the bridge. He was the last to enter. Before doing so, he sent one last sweeping gaze around his old home.

"Farewell." he saluted the empty room, then got inside the capsule. He had barely strapped himself when the pod gave a violent lurch as it was shot out from its tube. He hit his head hard on a metal support and had to blink the stars from his sight. Then it came, as the adrenaline began leaving his system. He knew the rest of the occupants were probably looking at him as if he was crazy, but he just found it terribly funny that his first injury in this battle had not been by any kind of enemy action, just his own clumsiness.

He could not stop laughing.

Deep inside a cave on Shanxi, a wizard sat in front of his assigned tent. A mild masking spell, which had once been popularly known as the 'Notice-Me-Not' charm, made sure no one would give him grief for violating curfew. He had just watched the battle data sent to Shanxi ground command.

Astrid had already told him about the plan, but knowing about and watching it were two different things. That had been bloody impressive.

However, it still did not change the fact the planet would now be defenseless.

Harry looked at the small orb on his hand. Unlike those it connected to, this one was made of gold and composed of many sliding sections, like a round Rubiks's cube. It was an extraordinary piece of enchantment, the whole set; made by his people on their waning years to help protect themselves from a society that threatened to hunt them down with weapons they had never faced before.

And now, he would use it to protect that very same society from a new enemy.

This kind of enchantment work was beyond anything he could do at his present level. Merlin, he did not know if he would ever be able to make something similar. It was ironic, how some of the wizarding world's greatest feats of arcane engineering were performed in their final, hopeless moments. He rotated the moving parts until the many symbols on the orb were arranged in a very specific order. Then, he took out his wand and put it against the artefact.

"Occultum, Silentium, Vigilans."

At each word, he felt a different pulse of power flow from the orb and travel eastward. Unfelt by all but him, the magical field of Shanxi over an area of many kilometers was being reshaped, an absurdly complex web of arcane lines forming a dome around the entire region. At twenty-one points in and around Central Settlement, a hidden orb of iron and rock glowed in a pale golden light.

Thanks to the invisible guardian angel watching over their systems, the Alliance Marines never felt the effects of the Shroud. But he would wager the newcomers would notice it soon enough.

Desolas was quiet. He watched as the defunct hulls of his frigates floated around the slashed and torn human cruiser. Only the occasional detaching piece of armor broke the tranquility of the battle space. The human frigates had disengaged and retreated to a point above the planet's northern pole. Without him needing to give any orders, the 53rd had already moved to stand guard over the extremely vulnerable turian ships. The surviving enemy fighters had all fled to FTL.

Casualty reports were coming in, but they were surprisingly bright, giving the veritable carnage before his eyes. Aside from the light frigate whose Mass Effect drive went into critical failure, and the one whose crew quarter's section was almost pulverized, there were very few casualties on the ships. Disruptor torpedoes were designed to damage large areas, the better to take out emitter assemblies, but that gave them low penetrating power. It was only when they hit in very large numbers, like here, that they managed to truly gut a ship. If anything, the humans had been too cautious, targeting the ship's thrusters to guarantee incapacitation, rather than try to destroy them completely.

Only a single vessel had escaped the surprise attack unscathed, the GARDIAN managing to take down its attacker before the fighter could launch any torpedoes. All ten others, including every single one of the heavy frigates, were now immobilized. Five lost their barriers completely, their emitter arrays too damaged. Three could no longer use their main guns, as the stern sections of the barrels had been breached.

"That was an incredibly bold strategy. These people are worthy of respect."

Commander Felix's voice was filled with an unmistakable tone of admiration. All around the CIC, many legionnaires seemed to share in that sentiment. The humans might have just caused them an unbelievable blow, but if there was one thing a turian soldier could respect, it was a plan with results. Of course, it only made them even more determined to beat this new adversary.

Unlike his subordinates, General Desolas was not feeling very admiring at the moment. No, the most prominent thing he felt right then was another one entirely.

Rage.

Not the explosive, screaming, blue-vision inducing kind of rage. Instead, it was a cold one, which burned like acid in his veins. He had been fooled, utterly and completely fooled. He knew there was a Titan's cursed trap in there somewhere, and he still walked right into it like a blind rhathakk's cub.

He had been arrogant. He thought whatever strategy the Rear Admiral had concocted was centered on his cruiser. He saw the ineffective torpedoes of the alien fighters as just another sign of their technological inferiority, and never bothered to look deeper. Such a simple ploy, pretending their weapons could not hurt them, but it worked.

Titans, if it had not been for damned Mavis Vakarian violating his instructions and bringing the Ascendant Shadow to the battle, the humans might have got out of this with just a dozen lost fighters.

"General, all the human escape pods have reached the moon. They all landed very close to that mining facility." said Sensors.

Desolas pushed his anger down, that was for later. First things first. "We will deal with them later. I want a flock of drones on that cruiser right now. Make sure there are no working security systems inside it, then give me a full mapping of the interior structure."

"Yes, General." answered Felix.

"If any of those frigates come within 100.000 kilometers of this place, I want them hunted down and destroyed, no half measures."

"High Commander Vakarian acknowledges, sir."

"This makes us very vulnerable, General." observed Felix. Entirely without need, in the commanding officer's opinion.

Some might think a cruiser was not worth eleven frigates, but Desolas knew better. Every one of those incapacitated frigates was another vessel he could not use to screen their fleet. It was another vessel he could not employ to scout duties. It was another vessel he could not use to conduct deep scans of the planet or raids on the surface. Without frigates, they were much less capable of responding rapidly to a surprise attack, or blocking incoming or leaving ships. And last, but not least, it was another crippled ship they would have to protect.

No, the humans had definitely won this round.

A specialist called his attention. "Drones are away, sir."

Desolas nodded. "Good." He watched as the little pinpricks of light flowed out of their exit tubes on the underside of the cruiser's wings.

The drones had not made it five kilometers from the Justice, though, when Sensors gave a frantic warning.

"Attention, all ships! Massive energy spike on…"

For a few seconds, a sphere of light shined brighter than the system's star where the human cruiser's carcass once floated. Every turian on the CIC had to turn their gaze for a moment, until the optical sensors could compensate for the sudden onslaught of electromagnetic radiation.

Above Shanxi, on the Kings Mountain's bridge, every sailor joined Andrei Drugov as he saluted the SSV Nairobi's last breath. The ship and her crew had gone above and beyond what could be expected of them. It would be remembered. As would be the many brave souls of the Hua Dragons and Great Rift Lions' fighter pilots.

Their moment of respect done, the captain went back to his chair and opened a line to ground command. "General Williams."

"I'm here, son."

"This is all we can give you, General."

"And a mighty fine job that was, Captain. I will be honest and say I didn't expect that to work. At least not so well."

He sighed. "Me neither, sir, but they pulled it off. All thanks to your pilots."

Williams asked in a softer voice. "How many made it?"

"Only seven Dragons made it into FTL, sir. We also lost three Lions. Some were simply immobilized, not destroyed." He took a second to continue. "But I don't think many intend to let themselves be captured, General."

The flag officer was quiet for a few seconds. "No, I don't think they do."

The implications of that fact weighted heavily on them both for a minute. Eventually, Drugov turned his attention to the distant image of Zhou. "I hope the admiral and those sailors can hold it out on that moon."

"Those tunnels are a death trap to any invading force, son. And D'Amico is a tough old bastard. If anyone can keep those sailors alive until our people get here, he can."

"I really hope so. We will have to leave soon, General. We will do our best to give some trouble to these people, but from now on, this is your show, sir."

"We know, Captain. We will give them hell. Good luck, son."

"Good luck to you, sir. Drugov out."

The turians watched as hundreds of thousands tons of spaceship had just been turned in a large cloud of scorched fragments. The ship was gone, and with it any substantial information Desolas could have salvaged.

"High count of helium particles confirm that was a fusion detonation, General." Came the Sensors officer's voice. "They obviously rigged the cruiser's fusion plant for self-destruction."

Another specialist added. "Fortunately, all of our ships were outside of range from the heat and radiation waves. Commander Vakarian also sent her ships to shield the frigates without kinetic barriers from any fragments."

"I see…" was the general's only answer. He stood ramrod straight on his command platform. Not a plate moved, not a mandible twitched. For a minute, he looked like a statue.

Until his entire body seemed to relax. He turned to the Sensors operator and spoke in his usual pleasant voice. "Legionnaire? About that mining facility, have the humans entered it?"

The soldier in question sounded confused. "W-we don't know, sir. We will have to come much closer to detect personnel, but I believe that they are in the process of doing so."

"Thank you, legionnaire." he then turned to the Comms officer. "Specialist Neandra? Please, tell the Merit to destroy the complex, if you would." it was the closest cruiser to the moon.

Every soldier in hearing range turned to stare at their General. There were more than a few slacked mandibles around. Specialist Neandra was one of those, but she dutifully relayed Desolas' orders. The man himself just waited with a stoic expression.

"Huh, sir? Commander Tulius wants to speak with you."

"Of course, Specialist. Patch him through."

A second later, the raspy voice of the Valorous Merit's commanding officer came over the radio. "General Arterius, did I understood your instructions correctly? You want us to open fire on those buildings, sir?"

"That is exactly right, my friend."

One could almost fell the incredulity in the other turian's momentary silence. When he again spoke, his voice was not much better. "Sir, I do not mean to overstep my bounds, but those people down there don't have anywhere to run. I'm sure they are preparing for a ground attack, but there are various methods we could use to flush them out where they could be incapacitated and captured."

Desolas patiently explained his order, voice a little more grave. "We all saw the deviousness and commitment of these humans, Commander. They are dangerous foes that we must respect. What if this plan has not ended? What if we send legionnaires into that place and they just detonate themselves to take us out? Even just the loss of unmanned equipment is something we can hardly afford, not now. I, for one, am not prepared to risk lives, your lives, on that chance." he projected all the concern he could on his last words.

The other man tried another approach. "What about information, sir? There are some high-ranking officials in there, including the human general."

"A terrible loss, indeed." he recognized. "But again, it is a risk I will not take. I am sure there are plenty more officers on the colony, and the presence of their civilians will make it much less likely for reckless actions. We also cannot let hundreds of enemy personnel behind to do as they please, hidden from our eyes. No Commander, I understand your concern and take no pleasure in this, but I am afraid they left us little choice. Naturally, I take full responsibility."

The commander still took a time to answer. "Very well, General." the hesitation was evident, though.

"Thank you for this, Tulius."

Nobody spoke as the Valorous Merit went to hover over the moon's southern pole. It stopped for a moment, before aligning its bow with the human facility.

One, two, three… ten times the main gun of the cruiser flashed. Ten times, hypervelocity slugs struck the area over and around the complex. There was no barrier to protect it, no atmosphere to soften the impacts. When it was over, there was nothing left but molten red craters on the cracked ground, and floating fragments of metal and rock. Some would fall down to the moon's surface, while many would overcome the satellite's weak gravity to circle in orbit.

"A masterful game, Rear Admiral Carlos Lucio D'Amico. I shall not underestimate your people again. Farewell."

"It is all over, Harry."

The wizard gave a deep sigh. He watched as the small groups of Marines and other colony officials conversed quietly amongst themselves. They had been wandering aimlessly around the cave for the last hour. Many of the soldiers had moved to the first chamber and the entrance tunnel. Most of the civilians were asleep, but enough were up and about outside their tents that Harry felt comfortable letting his masking charm go.

Even in the half-light light of the cave's 'night cycle', one could feel the restlessness in the air, a feeling of deep impotency. While there was no shortage of scared people, many of the soldiers inside the shelter were whishing with all their hearts that they could have done something, anything, to help their brothers and sisters on orbit. But they were stuck here, and now all they could do was to wait for the enemy to come.

Harry understood the sentiment very well.

He closed his eyes and asked his companion. "How many?"

She took a moment to answer. Not because she was making any calculations, of course, but because she knew how much these things affected him.

"Between the remaining crew of the cruiser and the fighter pilots…. I believe about two hundred and fifty soldiers."

It was like being punched. That childhood feeling of inadequacy that he knew would always lie within him rose like bile from his stomach. He beat it back quickly, many years of experience, maturity and friendship reminding him that it was not his fault, that he was not a god and could not be expected to save everyone, even with all his powers. Especially in outer space, away from all the magical energy of Shanxi.

He could still taste the acid burning in his throat, though.

"Harry?" came a small voice.

He opened his eyes and turned to the entrance flap of the tent. Samesh was there, blinking owlishly at him.

"Hullo, Sam." he said softly.

The sleep was rapidly leaving the boy's eyes, and he was now looking in confusion at all the people moving about. "What's happening?"

Harry did not answer his question. "Are your mother and sister awake?"

He shook his head. "No, I just got up because I need to use the bathroom."

"Well, then you should go." he pointed to the facilities some distance away. He knew better than to offer to accompany the boy like some fretting parent. He had been eleven-years-old.

It seemed Samesh would not be dissuaded, though. "Why are all the soldiers awake? They seem real stiff, too."

"It's nothing, Sam. They are just making some rounds."

The boy narrowed his eyes at him. He came out completely from the tent, the flap closing behind him. He again took in all the whispering men and women around them, noticed how some even had their weapons resting in their in hands. He looked up at Harry and crossed his arms, little face defiant.

"It's the E.T.s, isn't it? They have come, and that's why everyone is being so spooked."

The wizard had to keep himself from smiling. All of the Bhatias were bright people. Sam, despite his age, was no different. He kneeled so that he could be at the same height as the lad.

"Yes, Sam, they have arrived. There was a battle in orbit and the Alliance tried very hard to keep them from making it to us, but they were outnumbered and had to retreat for a while. But don't worry, mate, the Marines won't let them come in here."

He lifted his chin even higher. "You don't have to hide the grown up stuff from me, Harry. I am not afraid of the E.T.s."

It was obvious that statement was not true. The boy's eyes were visibly scared behind the 'tough guy' act. But Harry Potter, of all people, knew the difference between fearlessness and bravery. He gave the boy a small smile.

"Sorry, mate. I know you aren't."

They were both silent for a minute. His point made, Samesh was now looking down at his feet, left one kicking lightly at the stone floor. Harry just waited.

Finally the boy spoke, still looking to the ground. "You are going to fight them, won't you?"

"Most likely, yes." he said simply. There was no point in denying it.

"You will beat the shit out of them."

Harry let out a small laugh. "Don't let your mother hear you talking like that. And how can you be sure I will beat them? They could be all three meters tall and made of pure muscle."

"It doesn't matter." he shook his head furiously. "You are the toughest guy on the planet, tougher than any of the Marines." then he raised his head and looked at Harry straight in the eyes. "I know you won't let them hurt mother or Lucretia."

The fierceness in that young gaze took the wizard by surprise. It was not just the innocent conviction in his dark eyes, there was something else. What the eleven-years-old said was not just an affirmation, or a plea, it was a declaration. Samesh was telling him that he could beat the invaders, that he could keep them safe. He believed it, and he wanted Harry to believe it, too.

It was childishly selfish of the kid. But Harry felt humbled, all the same.

"I will." he said. There was really nothing else to it. He put a hand on Sam's shoulder and felt the boy relax a little. "And when I'm away, you will have to protect your family in my stead, all right?"

"I will." he echoed the wizard. "If any ugly alien comes in here, I will bite them to death. No wait, that would be gross. I will kick them to death."

Harry patted his shoulder and got up. "I know you will, mate. But first, you will listen to your mother and sister, and do everything they tell you to do. Understood, lad?" He made sure to give the boy a proper stern look.

"All right."

"No, nothing of that. Give me your man's word." he took out his hand for the boy. Sam hesitated for just a moment before shaking it, solemn look on his face.

"I promise."

"That's a good lad. Now go on, you must be close to bursting."

His eyes widened, as if Harry's words had suddenly reactivated his urge. "I am!" then the kid hurried off to the communal privies.

"Good kid." said Astrid.

"Very good."

"So, what will you do?"

Harry was in the same situation as the Marines. He had laid down his ground work, and now had to wait and see what the enemy would do. Unlike the soldiers, though, he had his own ideas about how to end this conflict. It was the reason why most of the spellwork he put around the colony was defensive in nature. Despite everything, the unprovoked attacks and all the deaths, the cowardly display after the battle, he was not ready to write the new species as some faceless, emotionless murderers.

That bloke Desolas was a sanctimonious little wanker. All that smooth and logical talk might fool others, but Harry had listened to enough of Voldemort's speeches to recognize a closet tyrant when he heard one. But these turians were an entire culture, an entire civilization, and if there was anything he learned in the magical world, it was that rarely a species, or even a single group, was made up only of good or bad people.

If they insisted on 'pacifying' the humans by force, the Alliance would have no choice but to fight back. And he would help protect them to the best of his ability. But he had access to other resources, and there was more than one way to win a war. It would all depend on what he learned in the coming days.

"We still have to see if these people have magic, girl. If they do, I guess we will see who the best spellcaster in town is."

"And if they don't?"

He let out a cold smirk. "In that case, you know what they say: 'don't meddle in the affairs of wizards…'"

His companion let out a snort. "Well, normally I would warn you about getting a big head, Gandalf. But in this case, I will let it slide. So, time to gear up?"

"Time to gear up." he agreed.

ANs:

I think it's better that I stop giving you guys predictions on dates for the next chapter. I never seem able to keep them.

Anyway, here it is. The first battle for Shanxi is over. I honestly don't know if it came out all right and not a complete fallacy. You will be the judge of that.

If anyone wonders, the title of this chapter, as well as the battle itself, was inspired by the fourth installment of the Ace Combat series, in which case all due credit goes to Namco.

As a curiosity, most of the battle was written while listening to the Tron: Legacy soundtrack. While I found the movie a little half-hearted, the OST is fantastic, and I think some of the tracks make for awesome space battle music. The last third of the chapter was written under the repeated loop of David Bowie's Space Oddity. Yeah, I know.

Folk are wishing for more Harry time. It is coming now. There is nothing between the turians and Shanxi, the fighting will move to the ground, and we will finally focus more on our hero. Not completely, of course.

*Some people made suggestions about ways Harry or Astrid could have helped the Navy's fight. Keep calm, folks, you don't have all the facts. In this fic, magic is one hell of a game breaker, but it has some limitations. Though perhaps not what you may be imagining.

*An anonymous user complained about the turians being mere puppets for the Reapers. All I can say to that is: they aren't? Regardless of what happened in the distant past, modern turians are no more puppets of the Reapers because of Desolas, than humanity is because of the Illusive Man in ME 1, 2 and 3.

Hope to see you next time. All I will say about timelines is that it will be out as soon as possible, and that I just can't write on weekdays. So, if I miss a weekend, it will probably only come on the next one.

In the next chapter, the turians get their first taste of magic.