Chapter 30 - Making the Plunge

Authors note: I do not know anything about the procedures of the air force. I have a friend who knows a little about them. As such, this chapter may include, at times, inaccuracies on the exact minutia of these sorts of things. I apologize, and ask you to suspend your disbelief if anything seems inaccurate.

JULIO SOUZA - BRAZIL

Julio Souza was a proud member of the FAB - the Força Aérea Brasileira. He had served for several years already, and had an intimate understanding of his aircraft. His AMX A-1 Ground Attack Aircraft responded to his touch and his controls in a way that only years of training could create. And right now, both Julio and his plane were restless.

Julio and the entirety of the 4th Wing's 1st "Poker" Squadron remained grounded on the tarmac of the Boa Vista airbase. As the closest to the borders of Venezuela and Guyana, it was also the closest to the encroaching enemy forces. For days, wings had been scrambled and made repeated air assaults on the enemy column, but it continued to advance, hungrily chasing the retreating Colombian, Chilean, and Venezuelan armies. Julio had heard stories from his fellow pilots, and he had heard briefings from his superiors, but his mind was on the here and now. He was ready to pay back the aliens for every death they had caused.

As he waited for clearance, Julio made his way through the pre-flight checklist as he was trained to do, and listened to the communications chatter to ensure that the rest of his squadron did the same.

"Altimeter?" asked the pre-flight safety observer. Julio glanced at his - and it was in perfect order, as he expected.

"Set, negative three."

"Radar altimeter?"

"Set, negative three."

The ground crew around him scattered as they finished their final checks. Meanwhile, Julio finalized his internal check.

"IFF, circuit breakers, landing light… green across the board," murmured Julio under his breath.

"Poker 1, this is Tower, climb to one-zero-thousand approved, runway one-three, wind one-zero-seven at five, clear for takeoff."

"Climb to one-zero-thousand approved, runway one-three, wind one-zero-seven at five, clear for takeoff Poker 1," replied Julio as he gunned the throttle of his jet. Rocketing forward at incredible speed, it took him less than a minute to clear the end of the runway, already a distant spot in the sky by that point.

Already in the air was the second Fighter Wing's 1st Squadron - "Jaguars". Their F-5EM's were the de-facto air-to-air fighters of the Brazilian air force, and would be protecting Julio's "Pokers" from enemy interceptors. Meanwhile, Julio's mission was simple. His AMX A-1 was loaded with as much air-to-ground ordnance as it could possibly take, and it was his intention that he would use all of it before returning to ground.

Julio settled into his planned altitude of ten-thousand feet. A minute later, Poker 2 joined him, and subsequently Poker 3.

"Poker 1 to Jaguar 1, I have visual confirmation of you on my left wing, over."

"Copy that, Poker 1. Glad to have you with us, over."

"Likewise. Let's do this right and let's all of us make it home, over."

"Maybe we can do this again tomorrow if it goes well, over" replied Jaguar 1, ribbing Julio. The Brazilian pilot smiled.

"Now you're speaking my language. Over and out."

CHRISTINE WEATHERS - WASHINGTON DC

"It worked?" asked Christine, dumbfounded. Major General Reese, on the other end of the phone, audibly hid his excitement behind a professional stoicism.

"Yes, ma'am. The enemy column is cut off at both ends, and has begun attempts to entrench itself."

Christine's plan had worked perfectly. The terrain of South America seemed tailor-made for the exact sort of trap she had set up. As the nations withdrew beyond the borders of the Andes mountains, the enemy greedily followed them inland. However, they had not been counting on the misdirection, and very quickly the Human forces had closed the mountain gap behind them, encircling them within the confines of the Magdalena river valley. The pass was, at its widest, ninety kilometers wide - more than narrow enough to mount a defense with. Additionally, with the weeks of preparation they had had, the mountains on both sides of the valley were bedecked with scores of artillery pieces, pre-sighted and prepared to rain a consistent stream of death upon the enemy. There would be nowhere for them to hide now.

Additionally, now that the enemy was in the unenviable position of having its main spearhead on the wrong side of the continent, any attempts at reinforcement would need to sail around the full length of South America, or would need to go through the heavily-monitored Panama Canal. That would be a suicidal proposition even as the enemy continued to capture more of the region, considering the bulk of the American Atlantic naval fleets - along with their South American allies - patrolled the Atlantic end of the canal, with guns trained and sighted on its mouth.

It was not a permanent solution; the enemy was no easy thing to kill in a land battle, and on sea Christine could only hope to win through numbers alone. Neither she nor any other member of her alliance could spare the ships to prevent the enemy from traveling around the horn of South America - but if she was lucky, they would do it just slowly enough to buy her ground forces the time they needed to squeeze the enemy.

"And the theory about explosives?" she asked.

"Relatively effective so far. It would appear like we said: the shrapnel does what bullets can't."

"Good. I leave it in your hands then, Major General. Maintain aerial strafing runs, don't let them out of the noose."

"Roger that, ma'am."

Christine hung up the phone, and leaned back in her chair with a smile. It was not the first victory they had won against the alien threat - that honor went to the bombing of Australia. But it was the first to come without such a heavy cost, and it came not from might, but from guile. The enemy did not fight intelligently; that much she knew. They relied on their weapons and their numbers to win battles, and while they weren't brain-dead, they were very sloppy with their mistakes. It was as if their leaders knew less about war than their field agents.

Then again, that had always been considered true for as long as wars existed. Not a battle went by without the men in the field complaining about their superior's tactics, or proposing asinine improvements.

Christine looked out the windows of the Oval Office toward the street. It was approaching sunset. Her stomach rumbled, and she suddenly realized she had not had dinner yet. A look at her day-planner revealed she had skipped it by over two hours.

"Ah," she said, grimacing. By now, her staff knew that if she did not come to get dinner, she did not want to be disturbed by them bringing it to her. "Better late than never," she said, rubbing her neck, and getting out of her chair.

As she did, however, she was suddenly distracted by the sound of running footsteps from just outside the door. Furrowing her brow in concern, she stopped in her tracks - and heard the sound of a gunshot echo from elsewhere in the building. Christine's eyes widened. A second later, the door was thrown open. Rushing inside was Martin Winfield, Secret Service agent and head of White House security. Behind him were several additional Secret Service agents, all with their weapons drawn.

"Mrs. President - the car is standing by, we need to move now."

Christine was not a stranger to the possibility that the White House could come under attack. It may not have been something that she considered likely, and she briefly paused to wonder how the enemy had even managed to perform such a maneuver, but she was not going to waste time asking pointless questions.

"Alright," she said calmly, adjusting her glasses and gesturing for Martin to lead the way.

KULRAHK - WASHINGTON DC

Kulrahk felt the vehicle come to a stop. The Shadow Toa lurking in the cargo bay along with the pack of the Rahkshi finally stood from their meditation. They stretched their shoulders and their necks before walking to the doors of the container and turning to face the sons of the Makuta. Kulrahk stood with rapt attention, as did its siblings.

"Once the doors open, you will teleport across the grass into the large white building. There is a Primitive inside that our masters want killed. Once inside, you will split up and cause as much damage as you are capable. Whichever of you finds the target must eliminate it immediately. According to Vamprah, it will have long white fur, and likely be protected by others of its kind. Once your task is done, meet at our rendezvous point."

The Operator finished their speech, and the vehicle filled with the shrieks of the six Kulrahk within. Throwing the doors open, Kulrahk sprang into action. It was what the creature was made for - this was its purpose, and it did not merely feel the predatory instinct natural in its species. It felt eager.

The air around Kulrahk went dark, devoid of any light, as it blinked through space, emerging in a flash of pure blackness just outside the building's door. Two beings stood guard outside the door - but they were not a challenge to Kulrahk. It stood almost half a bio taller than them, and they were caught unaware. Swinging its staff, the first being went flying, while the second pulled free some sort of weapon from its hip. Kulrahk had never seen the sort before, but it did not care, for a second later one of its brethren had arrived beside it and plunged its weapon into the enemy's gut.

The being struggled to raise its weapon towards the Rahkshi, and a loud crack rang out from the weapon. Kulrahk watched its sibling take the shot squarely in the shoulder, and with a shriek, it dislodged its staff from the Primitive's gut and whirled it around, striking them across the face and dropping them to the ground.

Kulrahk examined its sibling's shoulder briefly - there was a small dent in its armor. Hardly sufficient to cause alarm, but it bore in mind the capabilities of the enemy's weapons all the same. As a Rahkshi, it and its siblings had only one weakness: the Kraata within their spines and heads. But it would take only one lucky blow to disrupt a Kraata's control over its Rahkshi body - or worse, kill it.

Kulrahk blinked out of existence once more, passing through stone and plaster and metal, and arriving in an oval room not far from where it had previously stood. More guards stood within, this time with their weapons already drawn, and quickly began to fire on the Rahkshi. One shouted into a device on its neck.

"Multiple contacts, moving fast, main entrance," they barked. But Kulrahk did not understand their words, nor would it have cared if it could. It was a force of nature, whether or not the enemy knew it was coming.

Shots crashed into its armor, and it instinctively used its arms and the heads of its staff to block its head and torso. Leaping through the air, Kulrahk whirled its staff like a spiraling shield, before bringing it crashing down on top of the first Primitive. In the time it took to regain its balance, and swing at the second one, it had dodged to the floor and appeared to be reloading its weapon. Kulrahk shrieked and swung again, but the creature was using its small size to its advantage, and again ducked out of the way. Leveling their weapon on Kulrahk, the creature showed a flair of pride as the enemy fired their weapon. Before the shot could even leave the pistol, Kulrahk blinked out of existence and reemerged behind the Primitive, skewering the enemy on its staff.

Kulrahk withdrew its weapon before teleporting once again. From all around, Kulrahk could hear the sounds of mayhem - of carnage and slaughter. It meant that its brethren were finding similar success. It also heard the sound of approaching footsteps from beyond the door. Charging towards it, Kulrahk crashed into the door with the full weight of its body, sending the slab of wood crashing to the ground. The stunned Primitives behind it raised their weapons - these ones being much larger than the ones Kulrahk had seen thus far. Kulrahk felt some concern as all three took aim, and began to fire.

Kulrahk felt an overwhelming barrage of impacts against its armor. It had no capacity to register pain, but it did feel alarm at the sensation nonetheless. It shrieked and whirled its staff, sweeping it across the enemy. It did not intend to hit any of them, but knock off their aim, or perhaps free their weapons from their hands if possible. For two of the three, it achieved the first, while for the last, it was lucky enough to send the enemy's rifle flying across the room. The first to be hit quickly recovered, recentering their aim, but Kulrahk was prepared for this. Its staff flew through the air, this time flying between the creature's arm and torso. With a quick jerk of the wrist, the being was pulled in close to the Rahkshi, who used its other arm to lift the creature into the air, forming a shield in front of the creature. The second Primitive, still recovering their aim and unaware of what had just happened, opened fire once more. Instead of protodermis, however, the shots landed in flesh, sending shudders throughout the body Kulrahk was shielding itself with.

By the time the being had recognized their mistake, it was too late for the Kulrahk's hostage, and with no further need of it, Kulrahk discarded the body with great force, throwing it towards the enemy. It landed at center mass, sending the Primitive spilling to the ground with the bleeding corpse on top of them.

Kulrahk looked around for the third being who had lost their weapon, only to find them missing. Wheeling about in confusion, Kulrahk came face to face with the being, who was leaping through the air. In their hand was a collapsible metal baton, extended to its full length. Kulrahk tried to dodge the attack, but the distance was too little, and the baton crashed directly against the side of its head. The optical feedback to its right eye immediately shorted as the lens cracked, and Kulrahk was half-blind for a moment. As it attempted to reboot the system, it approximated the enemy's position with its remaining sight, and attempted to pull it to the ground with its staff. However, the enemy seemed to be prepared for such a maneuver, as instead of the staff crashing into them, the Primitive deftly closed the gap inwards towards Kulrahk, and hanging from the Rahkshi's shoulder, swung into the space between Kulrahk's torso and its weapon. Kulrahk's weapon stroke fell only through air, while the Primitive hugged closely against them. Just as quickly as the Rahkshi's right eye came back online, it saw the baton approaching its face once more. This time, the damage did not disable the eye, though it sent a massive crack across its lens. Kulrahk, at the same time now able to see the enemy, yanked its staff inwards, pulling it towards the creature's neck.

The Primitive was unprepared for this, and suddenly found Kulrahk's staff pinning them by the neck against the Rahkshi's torso. Flailing, they attempted to continue striking the Rahkshi's face, but Kulrahk had wizened to their strategy, and was not interested in receiving yet another blow to the eyes. The Primitive thrashed, attempting to break free of the chokehold, now being lifted off of the ground by the Rahkshi. Kulrahk felt a cruel pride fill its body as the enemy's struggle weakened - it would all be over soon.

A second later, however, Kulrahk felt itself begin to lean backwards. The Primitive found footing against the wall, and pushed against it with all of their might. Kulrahk, unprepared, began to fall, shrieking as it did so.

Attempting to find balance, Kulrahk's grip on the Primitive slipped for a moment, and immediately the creature pulled its head free of the grip, and leapt away from the Rahkshi. The cyborg rolled on the floor, attempting to right itself while the Primitive slipped away. By the time Kulrahk was back on its feet, it had completely lost sight of the enemy, until once again it felt the sensation of repeated impacts against its armor - this time its back.

With stark concern, Kulrahk immediately whirled around, attempting to protect its Kraata. It could see the Primitive firing its weapon, but this did not last long. As Kulrahk winced, covering its joints and its face, there was a sudden flash of darkness from behind the enemy. A pained cry filled the air as another of Kulrahk's brethren appeared behind the being, piercing them through the chest with their staff.

Kulrahk relaxed a bit as it saw the enemy drop to the ground, dead. The Rahkshi that had joined Kulrahk shrieked into the air, triumphantly, as it stood over the corpse of its prey. As its faceplate opened, its shrieking tentacle-like mouth flailed in the air.

Kulrahk did not have the time to caution its sibling into keeping its Kraata safe within its armor, as a second later, the emergence of a half-dozen new enemies made that reminder painfully clear. The sound of their shots filled the air, and Kulrahk watched its sibling's Kraata tear apart, ripped to pieces by the attack. In an instant, the entire Rahkshi suit depowered and collapsed to the ground, devoid of its controller. Kulrahk glanced towards the squad of enemies in anger, but knew that it was being stalled by waves upon waves of fodder. It had a mission, and this group did not have the priority target among its number. Rather than waste time killing them, Kulrahk simply let darkness envelop it before teleporting upwards. One of its siblings would have to finish the job.

As the darkness dissipated, Kulrahk emerged onto the second floor in a similar hall, if perhaps slightly narrower. Gaining its bearings, the creature was surprised to see yet another pack of Primitives - but this time, something was different. The group of them stood in a cluster around one, who lacked any weapon. Kulrahk inspected them over the span of a moment. From them emanated an aura of icy coolness, despite the chaos around them - a mountain unmoved by a howling gale. The Rahkshi's eyes were drawn to the long white fur atop its head.

Kulrahk had found the target.

Screeching into the air, it summoned its siblings from all across the building, demanding that they join it. The Primitives sprung into action, retreating while laying down suppressive fire against the Rahkshi. It dodged and weaved, leaping and teleporting through space. There were enough shots heading in its direction that it registered that it had been hit once or twice, but never enough to stop it. The moment the enemy lined up their sights on the Rahkshi, it had blinked out of existence and reemerged elsewhere.

The Primitives attempted to shuffle into a small offshoot hallway nearby, and Kulrahk followed them closely. Closing the distance between it and the group, it drew back its spear and, screaming wildly, plunged it into the first enemy it could find.

The offshoot of the hallway revealed itself to be the top of a staircase landing, with a set of doors nearby. Kulrahk was forced into an awkward situation, as the hallway was far too small to maneuver in or swing its staff wildly. The architecture had forced both it and its opponents into a choke point, where it could only engage a single enemy at a time. At the same time, the enemy could scarcely fire a single shot towards it without striking one of their own. The two were at a stalemate, as the Primitives attempted to retreat down the hall and towards the staircase.

Their plan proved futile, however, as Kulrahk's calls for support were answered. One of its siblings emerged on the staircase, crawling up the steps. Kulrahk could see through the tangle of legs and arms that it was badly wounded, lacking one of its legs, and with multiple holes puncturing its armor. Nonetheless, it pushed forward, slashing at the Primitives. Kulrahk felt smug satisfaction that the enemy was trapped. It rushed forward, closing the gap, and preparing to strike.

A quiet ding filled the air, and suddenly the pressure in the hallway seemed to alleviate.

"Elevator, now!" cried the rearmost enemy. The Primitives fell back towards the door, which had suddenly opened, as the closest to each Rahkshi continued to spray automatic fire at the creatures. Kulrahk shrieked in anger as it saw the doors begin to close with its quarry on the other side, while the two Primitives attempted to stall the Rahkshi duo. It could feel that its prey was escaping.

On the staircase, the approaching Rahkshi collapsed as a hail of fire took out its remaining leg, and it was forced to crawl on its arms. Meanwhile, Kulrahk rammed into the closest Primitive, pinning their neck with its staff. The being collapsed to the floor, Kulrahk on top of it, and it knelt on the being's chest. Stepping forward, it placed pressure on one end of its staff, pinning the Primitive to the ground, as it reached for the remaining enemy. It understood the basics of their biology - their neck and torso was their weak point, not entirely unlike Kulrahk's. As it placed all of its weight onto the staff it stood on, there came a mighty crack from the neck of the Primitive underneath the Rahkshi, and the being's flailing ceased. At the same time, it grabbed hold of the remaining enemy's neck and lifted it into the air. Shrieking against the back of the being's head, Kulrahk felt sadistic glee as it began to tighten its grip. Much like the being under the Rahkshi's feet, the thrashing soon ceased with a disgusting crunching sound.

The elevator shaft was suddenly pierced by a ray of light as the doors were pulled apart. The Kulrahk stood in the elevator doorway, claws dug into the metal frame, as it glared. The elevator was shrinking further and further downward. Kulrahk would not allow its prey to escape.

Leaping into the air, it sailed down two stories, before landing with a crash onto the roof of the elevator carriage. The entire assembly rattled, and for a second, Kulrahk hoped it would simply break free and plummet to the bottom of the shaft, but it was unfortunately more durable than it had hoped.

Raising its staff into the air, Kulrahk plunged it through the roof. It pierced through the elevator ceiling like an Ursare's talons through airweed. Kulrahk felt it strike something - at least one of the beings, though there was no way of telling whether or not the blow was lethal or not.

Voices cried out from within the elevator - the sound of screaming.

"Get down, Ms. President!" shouted one of the voices - again, beyond the capacity of Kulrahk's understanding of language. A series of shots came from within the elevator, as Kulrahk again attempted to shield itself. It was beginning to become attuned to the patterns with which the enemy attacked. However, as it prepared to protect its face and neck, it felt something different. A much louder shot rang out, and a hole the size of a fist was punched clean through the ceiling. With it came a swarm of small pellets that clattered against Kulrahk's armor. It shrieked out in surprise as it felt the pellets clatter against its arm. Unlike the previous shots, these smaller projectiles found their way into nooks and crannies, and Kulrahk registered shock as its arm shuddered with the impact.

Kulrahk wasted no time, continuing to pierce the elevator roof with its staff, though it did so without looking. Instead, it tensed and unclenched its fist. Its arm was not working right - it still worked, but the actuators in the elbow had been damaged. It staggered and sagged, and the Rahkshi could visibly see scratching all along the inside of its forearm.

It would make them pay. There came a racking sound, as if something was sliding, before another shot filled the air. This time, Kulrahk was lucky enough to be nowhere near where the shot came from, and so the projectiles sailed upwards into the shaft's ceiling, far above them. Kulrahk looked down, and its eyes narrowed in annoyance. Another large hole was cut through the roof of the elevator. With each shot and stab, the roof provided less and less cover. The enemy was unfortunate enough to miss their latest shot, but the increased visibility from each attack meant that Kulrahk's time was running out.

Another shot came, this time scraping against Kulrahk's shin. Luckily, the shot was relatively parallel to the limb, and so the damage was superficial. Nonetheless, whatever this weapon was, Kulrahk found it incredibly alarming compared to their previous tools. It looked through the hole in the roof, and this time its eyes met those of one of the lift's occupants. The being within could see the Rahkshi. Shrieking, the Rahkshi speared its staff through the roof, trying to eliminate the enemy once and for all, but they ducked low, beyond the reach of the weapon.

As they aimed upwards, Kulrahk looked around for an avenue of escape. However, it soon realized that it had made a grave tactical error. The elevator shaft was solid stone on all sides. It was a perfectly straight tube. Even if Kulrahk teleported upwards and tried to claw its way through the doors, the shot would still strike the Rahkshi well before it could escape.

Shrieking in anger, the Rahkshi attempted once more to cover its most vulnerable areas. This time, the shot landed dangerously close to the Kraata. The Rahkshi's arm flew backwards away from its face as it recoiled in shock. Its left shoulder had been completely obliterated by the attack, with the shot landing directly against the joint. Although the area was well-armored against most conventional attacks, the underside of the joint was exposed to assault. The pellets found their way into the connection and lodged themselves within, carving a path of destruction inside the mechanical system.

Kulrahk was angry. More angry than it had ever been in its entire life, it felt its instincts hone, like a razor sharp knife in its mind. It had to kill, and it had to kill fast. Raising its foot into the air, Kulrahk stomped onto the ceiling as hard as it could. The entire construction shuddered. Kulrahk watched for the weakest points - where the metal buckled and strained. Repeatedly slamming its foot down onto the metal, a widening hole began to form as the roof's corner caved inwards.

With an opening exposing the occupants, Kulrahk gripped its staff in its remaining functional arm, and thrust it downwards. This was not the same blind spear-fishing it had been doing earlier. It could see its prey, and it was aiming to kill. Kulrahk did not care about the guards, only the primary target, who huddled against the floor, avoiding the weapon.

Kulrahk suddenly felt resistance as it tried to pull the staff back. Squinting down, Kulrahk realized that one of the enemy had grabbed ahold of the weapon, and was pulling on it with all of their might.

"Help me!" they shouted, as another rushed to join them, grabbing ahold of the haft of the spear. Kulrahk shrieked in anger, pulling against them. It was perhaps stronger than them - but it had only one functional arm, and they had four.

Kulrahk would not secede the weapon. The staff was a part of it, like the Rahkshi suit it piloted, and so even as the enemy's strength began to overwhelm its own, Kulrahk did not let go. It was, however, becoming rapidly aware that the enemy were going to pull the staff free from its grasp if it did not do something. So, left with no other option, Kulrahk made a difficult decision.

Leaning downwards, it threw itself headfirst through the hole it had created into the elevator cabin. The space was far too cramped for a being of its size - let alone for it and the four Primitives occupying the space. The Primitives holding on to the staff were thrown off balance, and immediately fell to the floor. Kulrahk felt one crunch as it landed on top of them, and mentally ticked down that there were three left. However, Kulrahk was upside-down and thrashing about wildly, with only one arm to support itself.

The cabin was filled with screaming once more, both of a terrified sort from the target, a chaotic sort from the guards, and of an animalistic sort from Kulrahk itself. One of the beings trapped underneath Kulrahk attempted to push itself upright, but Kulrahk would not allow them. It flailed on its back, attempting to pierce the enemy with the spikes on its back. At the same time, the still-standing enemy pointed their weapon at the Rahkshi.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" cried the primitive trapped under Kulrahk.

"What do you want me to -" responded the enemy with the weapon, before Kulrahk's foot landed squarely on their chest, pinning them against the wall. The breath was knocked out of them, and Kulrahk pushed into them as hard as they could while they pushed back.

As the battle of strength raged against one wall, and the being under Kulrahk attempted to avoid the spikes crashing on top of it, Kulrahk felt the entire assembly stop. There came another quiet ding, and the doors began to slide open. The Rahkshi watched the being on the floor - the target - begin to scramble towards the exit. Outside was a stone hallway, and what appeared to be a massive metal door - likely some sort of bunker for the target to hide in. Perhaps even one where they had stockpiled weapons and armor with which to defend themselves. Kulrahk would not allow it.

It could not waste any more time with the guards. Kulrahk pulled its foot inwards once more, freeing the being pinned against the wall, who collapsed onto the ground. Attempting to aim its weapon once more, Kulrahk kicked with all of its might, and the Primitive weapon suddenly went flying through the air, sailing through the doors and clattering onto the ground of the stone hallway. The being underneath it clung to Kulrahk's staff, even despite the thrashing of the creature on top of it.

Kulrahk summoned its dark energy once more, and folded space around it. In a flash of black, it emerged in the doorway of the elevator, now righted and standing. Dragging its damaged arm, it realized that its staff had not come with it. It likely lay on the floor of the elevator still.

The white-furred target staggered backwards, falling to the ground. They babbled and cried, one shoulder deeply scarred by one of the Rahkshi's earlier attacks. Reaching towards it with its remaining hand, Kulrahk prepared to crush their neck once and for all and end their life.

A second later, Kulrahk registered a critical failure. It lurched forward in shock, confused as to what the problem was. Lubricant spilled from its joints and actuators, and as Kulrahk looked down, it realized that something had pierced it directly through the torso. The object looked so familiar.

Kulrahk's eyes grew wide with anger as it recognized the head of its own staff. Looking backwards over its shoulder, it could see one of the surviving Primitives from the elevator, their hands wrapped around the shaft of the weapon. Their face was twisted into an expression of pure hatred.

Kulrahk attempted to reach backwards and strike them, but its body would not twist properly. Its legs failed, no longer properly connected to the intricate array of sensors and artificial nerves that connected the Kraata to the subsystems of the Rahkshi suit. Kulrahk felt rage, as it cried out in anger. Looking forward, it could see the target, reaching for something on the floor. It was so close - Kulrahk could kill it. The Rahkshi stretched its arm out as far as it could reach, grabbing at the being.

Then Kulrahk saw what they were reaching for. The weapon that it had kicked out of the elevator earlier. It lay on the floor nearby - until now. Now it sat in the target's hands. Kulrahk shrieked in anger once more, stumbling to the ground in front of the enemy.

A second later, there was a tremendous crash of noise, and the Rahkshi's neck was severed. The shotgun's blast ripped through the Rahkshi's back entirely, decapitating the creature. Inside, the Kraata's body was forcibly torn in half, shredded and perforated, leaking oily black fluid onto the ground. Kulrahk did not have time to feel pain as its life was quickly and violently ended.

UZOK - COLUMBIA

Uzok saw the pillars of smoke as a sign of home. They marked the Brotherhood's territory for all to see. The journey back across the country had taken him and his crew several days - but the sea was almost in sight. Another hour and they would be back within the arms of the Brotherhood, and hopefully whisked somewhere not behind enemy lines. Or perhaps rewarded with some rest and recuperation. Or if they were unlucky, sent back into some proto-grinder somewhere.

Stopping to rest on a fallen log, the 65th Warbirds came to a halt behind Uzok.

"Break time," he said coarsely, swigging water from his canteen. The group all collapsed, dead tired after so many days and nights of cross-country travel.

"As soon as I get my hands on Koltari's ugly face, I'm gonna wring his neck," grumbled Korenn, who slumped against a tree. Akres, lying on the ground at her side, nodded in agreement.

"Kick his teeth in for me, will you?"

"Hmph."

Uzok raised a brow at the notion of such insubordination, but in truth he felt somewhat similarly. Koltari was not a bad Marshall for the 65th Lance, but Uzok suspected that the Ba-Skakdi gambled with the lives of his troops too eagerly, and the mission they had just been on was quite a raw deal.

As the group rested, Uzok's gaze drifted towards the sky. He watched the gray clouds gathering in the air. He suspected it might rain soon, and shivered preemptively.

From the crest of the hill, Uzok and his team could see the distant flares of weapons and elemental bolts of energy. Streaks of fire and plasma, Cordak missiles, and explosions of elemental earth and stone painted the city streets, too far to even be heard.

Moke crashed to the ground, sitting beside Uzok, and looking outwards at the conflict.

"We're winning," said Moke idly. Uzok shrugged.

"Aye, we are. Not like that was ever in question."

From nearby, Hakis spoke up.

"Not if the Primitives we fought were any indication."

"Indeed," said Moke, tinkering with his gauntlets. Hakis began to walk over, taking a seat next to Moke.

"They're easier to fight than Oropi, that's for sure."

Moke scoffed.

"Yes. Remember our first mission together? Enemy was dug in. Deeply unpleasant."

"Aye, we must have spent a month on that beach. Zahking Steltians…"

"Mostly dangerous in CQC. Especially the big ones."

"You say that like you weren't buried under a Kumopak's corpse half of the battle."

"He was heavy."

It was Hakis' turn to scoff.

"But you're so big," he said mockingly, clapping Moke on the shoulder. The Po-Skakdi sneered in a way that only their shared experience of warfare could create.

Uzok kept his eyes towards the devastation in the distance, and the clouds above.

"Alright team, keep moving. I want us back home before it rains."

Uzok and company were stopped by the sound of voices in a language they didn't know how much they missed hearing.

"Halt! Hands raised, approach and identify!"

The gruff voice and Steltian twang could only come from a Kumopak. It was the perimeter guard of the Brotherhood's territory, maintaining an eye on the road. They carried a massive weapon - an automatic Microkanoka launcher, of the sort typically mounted on vehicles, and its barrel was leveled towards Uzok. The Le-Skakdi stepped forward calmly but slowly.

"Undermarshall Uzok, 65th Warbirds, under Marshall Koltari. Is he here?"

The Kumopak squinted before lowering his weapon.

"Aye. He's here. Welcome back, sir."

Uzok nodded as the Kumopak stood at attention, allowing the team to pass through the checkpoint without any further trouble. The sight ahead was one that Uzok liked to see - the aftermath of a battle that had gone in the Brotherhood's favor. There were several large piles of enemy corpses being burned, while their weapons and equipment were being looted. Most were being taken as trophies or as supplies by the members of the Brotherhood, but some were being sent back to the Makuta for study. Based on what they had experienced so far, Uzok doubted the Brotherhood had much to learn about weapons or armor from the Primitives - or much to learn at all. A near fleet of loader-lifters, piloted by Matoran, marched through the site, either clearing rubble or erecting a site perimeter. In less than a week, the site would become a near-impenetrable bastion of stone and iron walls, while the command and crew tents would grow into stone buildings, while the harbor would be converted to take on the Brotherhood's military vessels rather than civilian cargo ships. The location would, in time, become a fortress from which troops and personnel would land on the enemy continent and stage their invasion. For now, however, it was mostly wreckage and a haphazard construction of trenches and tents, tainted with the smells of smoke and other, much more awful things, rising towards the gray and cloudy sky.

A shop of some kind that had been entirely gutted and emptied out had become the Marshall's personal quarters. The orange-and-green wraparound sign above the door was cracked and stained, but still colorfully advertised the building in letters the Skakdi could not read. A flag hung over the edge of the roof - the flag of the Kraahkan. Inside, a map table had been constructed, and Uzok could see a glimpse of purple and gold standing by it. Koltari.

Uzok marched past the two guards stationed at either side of the door, ignoring them entirely.

"Marshall!" called Uzok, gruffly. "Wait here," he said to the 65th Warbirds, who stopped outside the building.

Koltari looked up, and cracked a smile.

"Uzok! Good to see you again. Always a pleasure."

"Yeah, yeah. My team and I made it back alive, no thanks to your intel."

"Indeed. I heard you had to go…shall we say off-grid. That was some very clever thinking on your part," he clapped Uzok's shoulder. "I respect the imagination. You'll make Marshall one day with that sort of -"

"I'd like permission to make camp, sir. My team and I are tired," Uzok said, interrupting Koltari. He was in no mood for pleasantries.

"And I would like very much to oblige you on that request -"

Koltari uncorked a bottle of Primitive alcohol that remained on a nearby shelf, and passed it over to Uzok.

"- there you are, have yourself a drink - but I'm afraid the war isn't over yet."

Uzok side-eyed Koltari as he drank some of the liquor. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he spoke again.

"Well it's been going fine without us for the past week, it can survive another few days."

Koltari sighed, and visibly sank.

"No, it hasn't. The Primitives are…very clever, we'll say. That or Bitil is very stupid. But it's put us in an unfavorable position. Unfavorable positions prompt me to send my most talented soldiers where they are urgently needed."

"Sir, when I tell you that my men are taking a break, I don't mean that we'd like your permission to take a break. I mean that you should factor into your plans that we're going to be on break."

Koltari cocked a brow.

"My, my, Uzok, you have gotten very brazen over the past week. I think being in charge of a team went to your head too quickly."

Koltari poked Uzok in the chest, punctuating his words.

"Brass. I'm not interested in fighting you - you'll get your chance to rest, but you'd do better avoiding insubordination -"

"Insubordination?" Uzok questioned, before breaking into a laugh. "You think this is insubordination? Try being dragged out onto the road with a blade to your throat by your own men, that's real insubordination. And I'll be experiencing it a second time if you keep sending my team on impossible suicide missions -"

Uzok was interrupted by Koltari raising a finger to shush him, and looking towards the ceiling.

"What?" Uzok asked, confused. Koltari looked around, eyes narrowed with suspicion. As if Uzok did not exist, he walked past the Le-Skakdi and out of the building.

"Sir?" Uzok asked, trying to get the Ba-Skakdi's attention, but failing. Koltari looked around as if disoriented - like a sailor looking for land.

A second later, he drew a deep breath.

"Take cover!" he hollered, loud enough to make Uzok wince and cover his ears. Nearby, dozens of beings dropped to the ground, leaping behind rocks and rubble. Uzok had already been blindsided by a mystery explosion once in the past few weeks, and he did not want to let it happen a second time. Without a second thought, he threw himself onto the dirt and covered his ears. A second later, a series of explosions rang out, filling the air with thundering crashes - but Uzok felt no impacts. Squinting through his fingers, he looked up towards the sky, to see the air filled with oily rainbow streaks that danced waveringly. Behind them were columns of smoke and fire.

"Haha! Kept you all at bay, didn't it!" shouted Koltari triumphantly, pointing into the sky. The enemy's artillery landed consistently on the forcefield protecting the area, sending streaks of color across the sky.

"They finished hooking up a shield wall, then," said Uzok to himself.

"Damn right! It's not a very strong one, Bitil says a better one will be arriving in a few -"

As if by fate, Koltari's bragging about the forcefield came at the worst time. A moment later, a cracking sound filled the air, and Uzok saw lightning crash across the sky. The shield began to glow as pinpricks of light filled the air. Uzok could hear the sound of rain as the weather turned for the immediate worse, and the shield began to disintegrate. With each raindrop, the shield reacted as if it were repelling a bullet - and it was suddenly repelling hundreds upon hundreds of bullets at a time. The shield, now overburdened by the weather, began to splinter and crack. Another shell came soaring downwards, and this time was not stopped. Uzok could see the shell descend in slow motion, and he watched Koltari's face drop from an expression of pride to one of fear.

A moment later, the explosion went off, and Koltari was sent flying. A column of dust and debris shot into the air, and shattered stone and asphalt peppered Uzok, who remained facedown on the ground. He waited for another shell to land, but it did not. It seemed that with their very last shot they had cracked the shield. A humming noise filled the air as the massive forcefield began to repair itself, with the glowing crack in its facade slowly sealing shut as rain continued to pour down onto the site.

Uzok slowly stood and looked around for Koltari.

"Marshall? Marshall!" he called out, hoping to identify the Ba-Skakdi. A faint flash of gold caught his eye, and he rushed towards its source. Lying in a pile of debris was the Skakdi Marshall, a large beam of rebar skewered through his chest. He coughed weakly as Uzok approached.

"Well… My fault," said Koltari, weakly, with a grim smile on his face. "I should have seen that coming."

Uzok's eyes widened as he saw the extent of the damage.

"I'll get you some Amana salve," Uzok said. Turning, he shouted for anyone listening.

"Medic! I need a medic! Akres, where are you!?"

In the chaos of the aftermath of the explosion, however, there was no help to be seen. Uzok made to leave and find a healer, but he felt a hand grab his wrist and pull him back. Even so wounded, Koltari was still stronger than he looked.

"Uzok - Uzok, listen to me. You -" Koltari tried to speak, before coughing up blood, and spitting out one of his teeth. "You were right," he said, finally. "You were right about Sokul."

Uzok's brows shot upwards, and all of the suspicions he had been trying not to consider came flooding back to him. Koltari winced in pain and continued.

"There's no such person. I looked. He doesn't exist. Whoever is in your team…isn't him."

A pallor came across Koltari's face as he and Uzok shared in their conspiracy. But worse than that - Uzok suddenly came to the realization that this would likely be the last conversation the two would ever have. Koltari seemed to realize it too, as he gave another grim smile.

"You did well. On your mission."

"I did my duty, sir," said Uzok, stoically.

Koltari smirked, as if in on a joke that Uzok wasn't.

"Colombia. You'll need to…go to Colombia," said Koltari, weakly.

"Colombia?" asked Uzok.

"It's to the south. You'll be needed there. You and your men. And don't be too hard on them… The 65th isn't what it used to be. Especially without me." He barked a wet sounding laugh. "You're all that's left. Take care of them."

Uzok felt a twinge of some unknown within him. He had always treated the beings under his command with authority and discipline, as befitting an officer. But the 65th was being whittled down from what it was months ago. Until a new Marshall would be promoted, he would be the highest-ranking member of the unit. The thought terrified him.

"Aye, sir," said Uzok, quietly.

Koltari looked around suddenly, as if searching for something, before his eyes settled on his baton, lodged in some nearby rubble. Lifting it from the stone and concrete, he handed it over to Uzok.

"I want you to take this," said Koltari. "Maybe if they see you carry it…"

"They'll think better of me?"

"No," Koltari said, with a smile. "They'll think I liked you."

Uzok's gaze turned downwards. It was a bad time for Koltari to try and be funny - at least he hoped it was an attempt at humor. He wasn't quite sure what to say in response.

Koltari's eyelights began to flicker as he clutched the baton tightly against his chest. Streaks of water ran down his face, mingling with the blood. There was a sudden and profound sadness in his voice, as he spoke.

"It's such a silly way to die…"

The shuddering rise and fall of his chest stopped, and his raspy breathing went quiet. Koltari's eyelights dimmed, and it was all over. Uzok remained on his knees by the Marshall's body, alone in the rain.