The head-splitting headache was the first indication that he was, in fact, still alive. Ratchet could have done easily without that.

His first instinct was to open his eyelids, only to be rewarded with a stabbing pain. Attempts at moving any other muscle were met with a similar response, so he decided to remain perfectly still, at least for the time being. It still hurt anyway, though he guessed there was some consolation in that. Not feeling anything at all, now that would have been a problem.

He couldn't remember the last time a hungover had hit him that bad. For that matter, he couldn't even remember how he had gotten there to begin with. His mind was a foggy mess, memories flashing seemingly at random, blinking in and out of existence like a malfunctioning holo-vid. Even thinking about it hurt.

"Auxiliary power online. Initializing system scansion."

The feminine mechanical voice sounded distant to his ears, barely above a faint whisper. Yet, there was something very familiar about it.

"Warning. Widespread systems failure detected. Initializing power rerouting … Warning. Reroute failed."

A soft groan escaped him. Couldn't Aphelion just let him sleep for once? He felt so tired right now.

"Pilot's conditions: unresponsive. Initializing nanotech shock therapy."

Hold up a moment. Pilot? Nanotech? What the hell was she blathering on about? The answer to those questions would hit him a few moments later. Hard.

Before his mind could even begin to process what was happening, Ratchet's eyes shot wide open. Every single muscle of his body tensed up as the nanites entered his bloodstream, delivering him the equivalent of an intense adrenaline surge. He found himself gasping and panting for air, then coughing.

As the nanites numbed his headache, the fog that had been residing over his mind dissipated, and he remembered everything. The dogfight; the Blargs; the sudden flash of light before everything went black, just as he and Clank were about to …. wait.

Clank?

"Oh … oh, shit," Ratchet groaned through his parched throat.

"I would have preferred a simpler 'thank you', but it seems I will have to make do," Aphelion cut in.

Rachet ignored her, his eyes darting frantically around. The inside was nearly pitch-black, aside from a soft glow coming from the command console. He could see thick branches and leaves piled all around the airframe, together with earth and mud, plastered across the windshields.

"Clank?" he called out. "Clank, pal, are you there?"

Thankfully, the answer came shortly afterward, as green light coming from a pair of eye-sensors blinked into existence right by his side.

"I am here, Ratchet," the small bot noted. "It appears the crash caused a momentary short circuit of my operative system. However, all my primary functions are now fully restored."

Ratchet let out a breath he hadn't realize he was holding. "Glad to hear it, pal. You had me worried for a second there."

The bot shook his head. "Do not worry. Being reassembled once was more than enough. I have no desire to repeat it." Ratchet let out a weak chuckle in response.

"Fair enough. Now, let's get out of here, shall we?" He turned toward the command console, still somewhat discernible inside the cockpit. "Aphelion, can you open the doors?"

"My apologies, Ratchet. It appears my systems has been damaged in the crash. I can no longer control the doors. That is, I am afraid, the least of our worries at the moment."

The Lombax frowned. "What do you mean?"

"My comm system is no longer functioning. Initial data indicate severe damage to my antenna array, coupled with widespread system failure. Scanners are offline and no readings are available at the moment," Aphelion replied in her usual matter-of-fact tone. "And do not get me started on the conditions of my engines."

"Defensive armaments?"

"None are responding at the moment."

Ratchet said nothing as he sank back into his seat, the full gravity of the situation finally hitting him. He sighed, slowly. "Is there something, anything, that still works?"

Aphelion remained silent, except for the soft beeping as her processors evaluated available data. Then, after a few moments, she announced, "The magnetic tow hook for retrieval is still in perfect working conditions."

"Oh right. How could I forget that? Never mind worrying then, we're saved," Ratchet muttered, his ears down casted.

"Perhaps it would be better if we tried and get out," Clank pointed out. "I fear we are not yet out of danger, and the Blargs might very well return."

"You've got a point. Alright then, let's get to work." Reaching down beneath his seat, Ratchet pulled out his trusty OmniWrench. "You'd better stay away from the windows, pal," he announced, before seizing it in a double-handed grip and delivering a mighty blow against the glass.

The cockpit shook around them, but the glass remained whole. Not even a single crack was visible. Ratchet's eyebrows furrowed at first, then he narrowed his eyes. "Ah, right. Forgot about that one."

"About what?"

"Well," Ratchet said, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment, "I did kinda install some fancy new upgrades for the cockpit a few months ago, before the whole shenanigan with the dimensions. You know, like armoured glass."

"Oh," was all Clank managed to say.

"Yup. Honestly, I wasn't expecting the Raritanium filaments to hold up that well."

"Oh dear."

"I mean, it's not really all that big of a deal. It's just …" He paused before giving him an ackward grin. "Well, it might take a while to break through, actually. Still, could be worse, right?"

"Ratchet, did I mention that the cockpit is hermetically sealed and that the oxygen conducts are no longer functioning as well?" Aphelion piped up. "That would mean, in more practical terms, the current supply of breathable air within the cockpit will last for approximately thirty minutes. According to rough estimates, of course."

"Ratchet …"

"I know, Clank. I know," The Lombax groused. "I should learn to keep my big mouth shut."

"I …" the bot hesitated. "Well, I cannot truly disagree with that statement, but that is not what I was referring to." He jutted a metallic thumb toward the glass panes. "Did you hear that?"

Ratchet shot his best friend a quizzical look but said nothing. Instead, his ears went up as he stood ready to catch any unexpected sound. He didn't have to wait long. From outside came the crunching of leaves, followed by heavy footsteps and snapping twigs. Outlines were moving around them, the outside light glinting off armour and weaponry.

"Seems like we're not alone here after all," Ratchet hissed as he activated his Tele-equipper. His old and trusty Combustor materialized in his hand. His eyes narrowed in determination as he raised his weapon, a soft whine greeting him as the weapon charged up.

If those Blargs thought they were done for, well, Ratchet had still a few tricks up his sleeve. And he had no intention of giving up without a fight.

Something shifted from the side. A shadow stood over them, clambering over the airframe, the sound of boots on metal echoing softly. Ratchet narrowed his eyes, lined up the shot, waiting just one extra moment to get a better look at it.

And then stopped.

The humanoid figure stood over them, his frame tall and lean, young-looking and red-eyed. What really caught Ratchet's attention, however, was his outfit. Military-looking fatigues and body armour, coupled with dark-brown webbing across his chest. And, standing out on his helmet, was the winged shield with the thirty-seven stars arrayed around it; the Polaris Defence Force's official crest.

"Oh. Hi there," the alien said, an awkward smile across his face. "That, uh … One hell of a drop that was, uh? I wasn't expecting to find anything left here, honestly." He shook his head. "Never mind. Hold up for a moment, we'll get you out of here."

Looking over the shoulder, he shouted. "Come here, Cosker! We've found him! We're gonna need the plasma cutter for this one though."

Another PDF trooper climbed as well on Aphelion's metal frame, holding a rather cumbersome-looking energy-powered cutting tool. He gestured to Ratchet to stand back from the glass panes before switching it on and getting to work. The smell of ionized air creeped inside.

"Oh, that's just rude," Aphelion commented. "They could have at least asked before doing that."

"Didn't you just said I have barely half an hour before choking to death?" Ratchet pointed out. "And you want them to ask for permission."

"A good point. But it is still rude."

Ratchet simply shook his head, choosing to remain silent. 'Once this whole adventure is over, I'm gonna check her personality matrix. I swear Clank did something while I wasn't looking, I'm sure.'

It took the operator quite some time, but he finally managed slice a hole through Aphelion reinforced glass, one large enough to allow both of them to exit. There was a soft hiss as he cut the power to the energy tool, and the two PDF troopers heaved the heavy pane out of the way.

Ratchet gave them both a grateful grin before putting away his blaster. "Alright, you go first, pal," he said to Clank.

Before his friend could reply, Rachet quickly scooped him in his arms and passed him to the waiting hands of the two troopers. He had to contain a chuckle as he did so, especially once he noticed the mechanical frown on Clank's face. If there was something his best friend truly hated was being carried around like a child doll. Still, if he had any complaint, Clank did not voice them.

He did however gave him a rather irritated glance, making it clear he would eventually get even.

Ratchet quickly climbed out of the cockpit and back outside. That proved to be a mistake; by then the nanites' effect had already waned and a new wave of numbness smashed into his legs. A grunt escaped Ratchet as his knees hit the metal beneath, threatening to send him tumbling off the airframe and onto the hard ground.

A pair of hands seized him from the shoulders, holding him still until he could reacquire his balance. "Whoa! Watch it there, buddy," the PDF trooper said as he helped the Lombax back on his feet. "You sure you're alright?"

"Kind of," Ratchet replied with a pained breath. "We just survived a spaceship's crash, haven't we? I guess it could have gone worse."

"Yeah, pretty much," he noted. "You two must have the devil's own luck. Not many get to walk off a meeting with Skull Squadron. Not in one piece I mean."

Ratchet snickered. "Well, I wasn't expecting a Blarg welcome committee, that's for sure. Still, me and Clank owe you one, mister … uh …"

"Just call me Finn," the trooper said with a small salute and a grin. "Sergeant Finn Tajev, of the PDF Tillos Lightfoot Voluntary Militia. It's a mouthful, really."

He jutted a thumb toward his colleague. "That one is Cosker. Really outgoing guy, you know." Cosker gave him a brief nod, but remained silent. "As for the rest of the guys, well, this isn't really the time for introductions, is it?"

Ratchet blinked in confusion for a moment, then his eyes wandered off and to his surroundings. They were standing in middle of rather spacious clearing with tall, green trees surrounding them from all sides. A small, freshly-dug trench in the earth led to Aphelion's crash site; still-smouldering tree branches and piles of singed leaves laid in its wake.

The starfighter itself had taken quite the beating, judging by the collection of blackened burn marks and dents covering the once pristine hull from bow to stern. Needless to say, a coat of paint was not going to fix that.

Shadows shifted in the corner of his eye. At first Ratchet thought he was just a trick of the light, but then they resolved into the waiting forms of more PDF troopers, arrayed all around them. The olive-green cloaks and uniforms blended incredibly well with their surroundings, to the point that Ratchet had failed to see them. With some difficulty, he managed to count at least twenty of them surrounding Aphelion, thought he suspected there were more.

He turned the attention back to Finn. "Nice to meet you. I'm Ratchet, and this is-"

"Clank, right?" he said, causing Ratchet to blink in surprise before nodding. "Heard a lot about you two, mostly on the Holo-Net." He chuckled. "Got to admit, when our CO came into the barracks barking that we were going on a SAR mission for the Lombax Hero, I thought for a moment a heatstroke had finally got him."

"Well, we-" Ratchet tried to interject, to no avail.

"And I was like, there's no way he would come all the way on Basilisk III cause, and let's be honest here, there isn't really much to see here, so why in hell would a hero come here of all places."

"I mean, ah … I don't know about that but-"

"But he insisted, you know, said that he got word from command and all that. So, no shit, I had to scramble around and get my guys and gals out of the barracks in just ten minutes, and then …"

"Mister Tajev?" Clank suddenly spoke up. "I am terribly sorry to interrupt you, but I just wanted to thank you, on behalf of both, for coming to our aid in such a perilous situation. However, if I may be so bold to make a suggestion, perhaps it would be better to leave this place as soon as possible."

"Uh? Oh, right. Sorry, I go on a rant sometimes. Isn't that right, Cosker?" The trooper muttered something under his breath in a dialect Ratchet couldn't quite understand, before nodding. Finn shook his head. "Like I said, really outgoing guy. But you're right, we should get a move on."

He reached with a hand up, activating the earpiece integrated with his helmet. "Hummingbird, Cazador Three speaking. Package is secured, I repeat, package is secured. We are moving to the rendezvous point." Glancing at Ratchet, he added, "I hope you two are alright, cause we have quite a lot of ground to cover rig-"

Ratchet never heard the rest. There was a soft, sudden hiss as a plasma beam sliced through the air. Right beside him, Cosker let out a strangled grunt as he collapsed with a burning hole through his polymer chest-plate.

And then hell broke loose.

"All things considered, it could have gone considerably worse."

Talwyn turned her gaze away from the panoramic window, Meridian City's skyline rushing past her as the grav-train flew a few dozen meters above ground and back towards the PDF Citadel. As she laid back in her seat, the Markazian woman scowled.

"I don't think I can share your optimism, Bradford," she began before shaking her head. "Honestly, you'd think at least someone in the entire presidential cabinet would have half a brain and recognize this whole affair as idiotic. But I guess that is too much to ask, isn't it?"

Communication Officer Bradford grimaced, his moustache twitching. "I see you do not share President Koisvech's point of view on the matter."

"And I see you're sharp as always," Talwyn said with a soft grin. It quickly dissipated. "But yes, I don't. At most, I can see this as a waste of time and resources. One that will probably turn into a waste of lives as well, if we keep going."

"Public opinion does seem quite inflamed on the issue," Bradford noted, glancing at his personal data-pad. "According to a few quite popular tabloids, the Blarg migration to Polaris amounts to nothing less than an outright invasion. Those are of course the most sensible rumours flying around. I'll leave you the thrill to discover the rest of their outlandish claims."

Talwyn couldn't keep herself from rolling her eyes. "Ah, yes. The beauty of the free and independent press at work." She shook her head, disappointment and irritation evident in equal measure on her face.

"Honestly, this is well beyond stupid. The Polaris Government gave up any claim on the Zarkov Sector years ago. Blame the Prog Twins and their tricks, or Tachyon ravaging the entirety of Polaris, I don't care. We abandoned it for nearly a decade, and it's not like we can just wander in and get it back as nothing has happened."

Bradford looked up, eyebrows furrowing. "The president seem to have a different opinion on the matter.

"Nothing new there," Talwyn said. Then, her eyes narrowed to slits. "But I have no intention of throwing my boys and gals into a meatgrinder. Not now, not ever."

Her mind returned again to Corson V. There, the PDF's losses alone had been in the hundreds. Seven hundred and forty-five, to be exact. She remembered how many letters she had personally written to each of their families.

"In other news, communications between systems are still a bit shaky after the whole dimensional affair, but repairs are proceeding in full-swing," Bradford noted as he flicked one hand across his data-pad. "A couple more weeks and we should have a restoration of communications at an acceptable level, though bringing it back to full efficiency will take more time."

There was a soft whir as the wagon door slid open and a pair of attendants stepped inside, pushing a cart between them. They proceeded to remove their now empty plates and refill their mugs with steaming black coffee. Talwyn gave them a grateful smile before dismissing them.

"On the other hand," Bradford continued, after taking a sip of his drink, "we're still encountering difficulties in marshalling our available forces in the area. The 3rd Fleet has finally reached their assigned position though, so there's at least that."

"Current strength level?" Talwyn inquired.

"I'll say approximately eighty-five percent, if we want to be optimistic. We do have some void and ground assets unaccounted for."

She nodded, her face a mask of neutrality so to conceal the unease bubbling underneath. 'To think this is just a mere show of force for the Blargs. Zonies, I don't even want to think of the resulting chaos if we were to do it for real.'

"I suppose we should be thankful that our vessels managed to find the assembly point for once." Talwyn realized too late that some of that irritation had managed to slip out of her façade. She was well aware that placing the blame on herself would be pointless; there were a thousand reasons on why the PDF had fallen into hard times, ranging from simple complacency to budget cuts.

Still, she simply couldn't help herself. She was the Captain-General after all, the responsibility of ensuring the safety of hundreds of worlds across Polaris laying squarely on her shoulders. And some days the load was heavier than others.

"Still, it's something. Remind them that they are to remain within their assigned positions. I do not care if they think the Blargs are provoking them. They'll maintain position until I've had the chance to beat some sense in the president's brain." Talwyn said at last, shaking unpleasant thoughts off her mind before they could take hold. "Is there something else I should be informed about?"

Bradford paused, an unusual flicker of uncertainty passing over his face. "There is the matter of the starcruiser Calypso, ma'am."

"I thought we ended the investigation," she said, pursing her lips. The conversation with Ratchet was still fresh in her mind.

"Oh, we did, ma'am," Bradford nodded. "This is just the final report."

"Something noteworthy about the accident?"

Bradford shook his head, before placing the data-pad right in front of her. "There was no accident, ma'am. It was deliberate."

A heavy and tense silence dropped inside the wagon. Talwyn could almost feel her brows furrowing on her forehead. The mug she had been in the process of taking a sip from hung in the air for a few moments, before she finally decided to place it back on the plate.

Was she surprised? Not really. She had always suspected something else was going on with that starcruiser. Unlike many starships on Igliak's orbit, the Rifts had not touched it, and the damage was far too localized. Still, to there was little comfort in having her suspicions confirmed.

"Please elaborate, Bradford." There was an almost tangible edge in her tone.

"Our technical teams have confirmed that a large detonation occurred in one of upper passenger decks. The cause seems to have been not a malfunction of the onboard system as we first believed, but rather an actual explosive device," he explained, his voice neutral and professional.

"By analysing what remained of it, plus a cross-examination on our databases, we've managed to connect it to an ongoing series of similar bombings that have struck mostly PDF outposts and corporate property over the past months. As for the culprit, well …"

"Let me guess," Talwyin sighed, her lips pressed into a thin line. "The Sons of Orxon."

'Just what I needed right now. A psyched up and heavily-armed Blarg paramilitary group obsessed with throwing bombs at my guys.'

"Not exactly, no," Bradford noted, reaching up with a hand to stroke his moustache. "Perhaps it's just an old habit of mine, trying to see patterns in things, but the Sons have been rather consistent with their MO so far. Their targets have always connected with either the PDF or the galactic government in some shape or form. Besides, the revindication usually arrives in the next forty-eight hours."

"And that was some weeks ago," Talwyn pondered aloud. Bradford was right; something weird was going on.

"Unless there's something we're not seeing, or they've simply shifted to general terror bombing, I think we should exonerate them for now. As far as I'm aware, there was no target of interest on the Calypso."

Talwyin Apogee nodded, but slowly this time. As her hand reached once again for the coffee cup, she couldn't help but notice the slight tremble in her fingers. A far more sinister thought began to creep its way inside her mind, though she quickly banished it away before it could take hold. Finally, she shook her head.

'A target of interest? Well, Grim wasn't on that starcruiser, wasn't he? Could it- no. No, that's just ridiculous. I mean, who would go out of his way just to target him specifically? Unless …'

Her eyebrows suddenly shot up, eyes going wide.

'Wait a moment. Where is Ratchet?'

"Get down!" Finn snarled at the top of his lungs. "Everybody get the fuck down! And for Zoni's sake, spread out!"

The warning was mostly unneeded, as the militiamen and women hit the dirt as soon as they reached, panting and heaving, the relative safety of the treeline. Still, it did help making him feel slightly better as red-hot beams hissed through the air, the acrid smell of ionized air assailing his nostrils.

Finn guessed he should have been thankful their withdrawal had been in good order; a fancy way of saying that they had run all the way back as fast as their legs could carry them.

He dived low, nearly crawling on all four before coming to a stop behind a rather stout-looking tree trunk. Corporal Olivia, another member of his platoon, was already crouched behind it. She peaked just long enough to let out a few inaccurate shots with her own blaster before stepping back into cover.

Finn tried to take a peek as well, only to jerk his head back as a laser beam missed his head by mere inches, leaving a black scorch mark along the side of the tree. He let out a curse.

"Anyone got a visual on them?" he spoke through his comm.

"At least two heavy laser repeaters, plus small arms," Olivia said with a ragged breath by his side. "Zonis, there must be at least a whole company of them!"

"How in hell nobody saw them coming?" Olivia simply shrugged in response. The hight-pitch whine of laser weaponry was overwhelming, the searing beams stabbing through the treeline and forcing the militiamen to hug the ground.

Some distance away, PFC Veck was effectively scythed in two as a lucky laser beam punched through the trunk he had been hiding behind and then through his body. He dropped without a sound.

Finn scowled, then tapped on his comm set. "Cazador Three to Hummingbird, we're under fire, I repeat, we're under fire! We've got heavy weapons opening up on our position. We'll attempt to disengage and fall back, over." Then without wasting any time, he switched to his platoon frequency.

"I want a smoke screen on my mark. And stop shooting back, dammit. You're just giving them a target at this point! Somebody grab the Lombax, we're pulling back as soon as the smoke is up!"

"Uhm, sarge?" Olivia piped up. "About that, where's the Lombax?"

It took a moment for it to register in Finn's mind. "What do you mean? I thought he was with us!"

"I mean, I don't see him here."

"Has nobody thought about telling him we were pulling back?!"

Olivia ducked back into cover, just a few more beams flew past. "Honestly, sarge, we were kinda busy at the moment."

Finn spat a curse and looked around frantically, trying to find him. Major Pelesky was going to flail him alive if he lost the fabled Lombax Hero while under his watch.

His platoon was currently scattered across a fifty-meters-wide front through the treeline. So far, their losses had been relatively light. He frowned. Aside from Cosker, of course. His body still laid where he had fallen, unmoving.

Finn spotted movement up ahead, near the other side of the clearing, silhouettes emerging from the treeline as the Blargs finally advanced. Heavily-armoured, rebreather-wearing figures jogged forward at a brisk pace, while designated fireteams kept on laying down indiscriminate suppressive fire.

He grimaced, activating his earpiece once more. "Ready some grenades, boys. The bastards have decided to come at us." Hands tightening on his weapon, he lifted the laser rifle to the shoulder and stood ready.

A sudden, sharp crack echoed through the air. One of the heavy weapons fell silent. It was quickly followed by a second one, and the other laser repeater ceased fire as well. The enemy attack suddenly slackened in intensity, slowing down; no doubt just as shocked as Finn was that their most powerful weapons had just been neutralized in but a few instants.

The Lombax emerged from behind the downed fighter and into view a moment later, seemingly from thin air. His face was set into a fierce yet determined scowl, and he brandished a Plasma Striker in his gloved hands.

He lifted the weapon, took aim through the magnifying scope, and then pressed the trigger. The gun hissed, a green plasma bolt flying through the air and out of sight. The next moment, another enemy gun fell silent.

And with all the heavy weapons silenced, the Lombax got to work, picking the enemy off one by one.

Finn could barely believe what he was witnessing. The Blarg had turned their weapons on him, seemingly forgetting of the other PDF militiamen. Still, even as ruby-red beams blinked through the air, not one touched him. The Lombax simply dropped to one knee and fired his weapon with terrifying calm. Each shot connected with a living target, occasionally followed by a cry of pain.

Finn saw a Blarg Trooper rush forward, a rocket launcher standing ready on his shoulder. The Lombax barely acknowledged him; he silently shifted his weapon in that direction and fired. The Blarg never had the time to react as a plasma bolt burned a hole right through his belly. Two more coming behind joined their comrade in quick succession.

Finn could only watch in awe at such display of pure martial prowess. He was sure his own comrades were doing the same, forgetting entirely to fire back; not that he could really blame them.

How many had the Lombax taken out so far? Finn had lost count at six.

'It doesn't make any sense. They have him outgunned, he should have been hit at least once by now,' a more rational part of his brain pointed out in sheer horror. 'How is he even doing it?'

Another hiss of plasma. A Blarg trooper that had been peeking out of his cover for a moment too long dropped, his head vaporized.

Finn had heard the stories about the Lombax Hero, just like everybody else; most had come in the form of rumours amongst PDF personnel and colonists. For his part, he always had the suspicious that some were a bit overblown.

A muffled, pain-filled scream rented the air as a well-placed shoot severed a Blarg's left leg at the knee. The heat cauterized the wound on impact, leaving only a stump. And as he watched the Lombax remove a spent core from the weapon, toss it away, and then slam a fresh one in, all in one fluid motion, Finn realized those were not rumours.

By that point, all fire directed towards the militiamen had simply stopped, the Blarg attackers focusing all their available weapons solely on the Lombax in one determined effort to bring him down for good. Rocket-propelled grenades made their appearance, sailing above their heads with an ear-piercing whistle before detonating some distance behind. Wooden shrapnel rained down on them.

That seemed to finally have some effect, the sheer volume of beams flying and criss-crossing through the air forcing the Lombax to take cover behind his own fighter's frame. The withering barrage on his position only grew in intensity as the Blargs finally surged forward.

More worrying however were the red-cladded newcomers, growling and spurring the other Blargs onwards. Finn counted at least a dozen of them, rushing at a full-on run in a loose formation across the ground, their senses and fears drowned by Zoni-only-knew how many combat stimulants.

"Cazador Three to Hummingbird, the Sons of Orxon are here, I repeat, the Sons of Orxon are here! The bastards are moving on the Lombax. How copy, over." His request was once again met with silence. "Hummingbird! For Zoni's sake, is somebody there!?" Finn snarled but to no avail, static being the only answer.

'Cutting edge tech my ass,' Finn thought with a sneer. 'How's that the PDF can't even get good communicators these days?'

"Cazador Three, Hummingbird speaking. What's your status, over?" the voice crackled in his ear.

"About time!" he hissed under his breath before opening the channel again. "Hummingbird, we've found the objective, but we've encountered heavy Blarg presence. We require assistance, over."

"Copy that, Cazador Three, armoured support is on its way. ETA in ten minutes."

"We don't have that long!" Finn snarled. "And we can't get to the Lombax, there's too many of the bastards! We require permission to fall back, over."

"Uh, negative, Cazador Three. Direct orders from Lancer are to assure the Lombax is brought to Tillos in one piece, alive. Secure the area and repel the Blargs."

Finn blinked. Lancer was Colonel Dessabre's own callsign. That particular, however, went mostly unnoticed in the heat of the moment. "Repel them? And with what?"

"Use what you have. As I said, support is on its way. Hummingbird, over and out."

Finn didn't even bother replying to it, busy as he was cussing repeatedly under his breath.

"So, what do we do now, sarge?" Olivia asked by his side.

Finn kept on muttering a long stream of curses. His old NCO had taught him that as a method to keep down the growing terror. Surprisingly, it worked.

"We're plunging into that mess, that's what we're doing."

Olivia arched an eyebrow, then simply shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, well. There are worst ways to die anyway."

"Your optimism is bloody contagious, isn't it?" He tapped his earpiece on. "Third Platoon, listen up. HQ are again being assholes, so we're gonna have to untangle this mess on our own, as per usual. Check your ammo, ready the frags, and ready to move up on my signal. I want suppressive fire on my mark."

"Ratchet, you know I hate to say that I had warned you, but-"

"Yes, yes. I know, buddy," Ratchet said. He activated his weapon gauntlet, and soon two more Shatterbombs sailed through the air and toward the advancing Blargs. The sudden shockwaves sent a couple more flying back, and caused some hesitation amongst the attackers, but only briefly. The ground before him was by now pocket-marked by the signs of detonations, the grass singed and blackened here and there.

Laser fire continued to pour from all directions, with rocket-propelled grenades falling around him. One detonated against Aphelion's hull, thankfully without causing much damage, aside the constant ringing in Ratchet's ears.

Nevertheless, he was running out of options. He had managed to take down many of them, but it was clear that the Blargs were boxing him in through continuous fire, slowly closing in. His only saving graces were Aphelion near-impenetrable armour, and the ammunition with him.

Sadly, he was slowly but surely running out of the latter. Rachet peered out of cover just the time to let out another inaccurate burst towards the incoming Blargs, but to no success. Out of options, he summoned a pair of Bombardier drones through his Tele-equipper. The armed drones went immediate into combat mode, buzzing past him and towards the Blargs, opening fire with their miniaturized weapons as they went. They drew both the ire and weapons of their enemy.

"That will give us some time," Rachet wheezed. He only belatedly realized how tired he sounded, breath coming out in ragged gasps.

"But perhaps it would have been wiser to withdrawn with the PDF members," Clank continued from his back, his tone strangely calm despite the situation. "We are quite expose here, after all."

"I'm not leaving Aphelion behind, Clank." He checked again on his Tele-equipper, hoping to find some gadget or weapon powerful enough, but to no avail.

'Dammit, I should have packed a Ryno or two before coming here!'

The Tele-equipper was a handy tool, but it had a pre-determined range. As of now, the only arsenal available to Ratchet was the one he had stored inside Aphelion before departing.

That was, however, not the only reason he refused to abandon his ship behind.

"Ratchet," Aphelion's voice echoed is earpiece. "Clank is right. You should not worry about me. What's important is for you to get to safety."

"This is really not the time for jokes, Aphelion," Ratchet hissed in frustration.

"Blarg, nine o'clock." Clank warned him.

Ratchet whipped his blaster to the side and snapped a quick shot at a Blarg trooper as it came around his ship in an attempt to flank him. The plasma bolt punched straight into through shoulder and sent him tumbling back into the ground. This one had a different look from the rest, with dark-stained, crimson-dyed fatigues rather the black or grey coveralls, though Ratchet paid little attention to it.

"And this is not the time of being stubborn!" Aphelion countered. "My engines are too damaged to function, and you don't possess anything to transport me to appropriate facilities. Leaving me here is the only realistic choice you have to ensure your own survival."

"Listen Aphelion …"

"No, you listen to me this time!" The shift in tone was evident, causing Ratchet to pause. "I've already lost my pilot once. I'm not letting that happen a second time. Not to you. So please, Ratchet, I beg of you, just leave me here."

Ratchet shot a quizzical look at her, eyebrows knitting together. Aphelion had never mentioned her previous owner up to that point. And her voice… was that desperation he was hearing?

Ratchet wanted to believe it was just a side effect of the personality matrix, but he was starting to have some doubt. The emotions behind her words were real, he was sure of that.

For a few moments, Ratchet found himself lost for words. Even the battle raging around him seemed unimportant. "Aphelion, you never …" he began, but he would never get the time to finish it.

"Behind you!" Clanked shouted in alarm from his back. Ratchet whirled around, just in time to catch a glimpse of a Blarg, the same one he had shot down, charging at him. One arm laid limp by his side, while wielding some sort of forearm-mounted energy blade on the other, letting out a hate-filled roar as he rushed him.

Raising his blaster again, Ratchet pulled the trigger. The bolt connected with his chest, but the Blarg did not stop. He fired a second time, then a third, each shot connecting, but much to his astonishments, he simply shrugged them off as he finally came into melee range.

Ratchet stepped back, narrowly dodging the first savage swing, followed by an upward cut that left a singing burn on one of his pauldrons. The OmniWrench made its appearance in his hand, and Ratchet swung that around to intercept a downward slash. Sparks flew as the Raritanium-reinforced head met the energy blade, but his tool prevailed.

Batting the blade to the side, Ratchet brought his blaster up again, one final time. "Why don't you die already?" he hissed in frustration, then pulled the trigger. The blaster barked only once, blowing a crater into what used to be the Blarg's face. Then, he finally dropped.

"More incoming!" Clank warned him for a second time. Another red-cladded Blarg trooper made his appearance from the other side of Aphelion, in an attempt to caught him off-guard. Ratchet was ready though and, more importantly, quick on his feet. He dodged and weaved through the incoming strikes as the Blarg swung his power-maul again and again.

Undaunted, Ratchet waited up until the Blarg was fully committed and overextend before striking back with his Omniwrench. Despite appearances, the head was considerably heavy. A loud crunch was heard as it connected with the assailant's head, causing him to stagger back, a visible dent in his helmet. Ratchet waisted no time and fired at him at point-blank, again aiming for the head.

A gun barked, loudly. Two more assailants; this time they had decided to climb on top of Aphelion's chassis itself to get a good shot at him, and it nearly worked. Ratchet had no time to check if he was injured as pure battle-honed instincts guided him. He activated again his Tele-equipper and, the next moment, the roar of the Enforcer drowned everything else as all barrels were discharged at the same time. The Blargs flew back, their bodies nearly turned into minced meat as the energy pellets ripped into them.

There was no time for celebration though. Stabbing pain exploded in Ratchet's left side as an energy blade finally found its mark. He tried to backpedal away, swinging his Omniwrench against the new assailant; this one however was far quicker, dodging the strike before lunging for a second time. Ratchet tried his best to counter the flurry of blows coming his way, but the pain in his side only grew with each passing moment, blood dripping down onto his armour suit.

The Blarg was unrelenting, each swept of his blade guided by hot yet controlled ferocity, forcing Ratchet on the defensive. All the while, Ratchet was having a hard time keeping his defence up and finding an opening at the same time. The pain did not help; his reaction times were also getting slower with each strike.

Eventually, the Blarg feinted low. Ratchet moved to follow him and, by the time he realized his mistake, fresh pain exploded in his jaw via a powerful left-handed hook. Vision blurring, Ratchet tried to back away, only for a kick to smash squarely into his guts, sending him collapsing to the ground.

Fresh pain flared in his back, and he tasted blood in his mouth. A shadow loomed over him and, as Ratchet glanced up, his eyes widened at the sight of the approaching Blarg, the arm-mounted energy blade raised for the final strike. And just below that, he met hate-filled eyes hidden behind a rasping rebreather mask.

"This is one's for Oxhorn, you bastard," the Blarg growled. He raised his energy blade high.

And then his head exploded.

"Now! Move up your lazy asses! With me!"

Sergeant Finn Tajev was a simple man. He had been brought up in a small farming community near Tillos outskirts, and his pa' had taught him a quite straightforward life philosophy. Amongst those simple teachings, there was one he held always close to his heart; never ask somebody to do anything, if you're not ready to do the same.

Therefore, if he was about to send Third Platoon into a deadly firefight, well, the least he could do was leading his guys and gals from the front. Sometimes having good principles sucked.

Boots thundered across the open ground as the thirty-men-strong PDF platoon charged ahead, opening fire from the hip to cover their advance; Corporal Beltil remained behind in the treeline, providing support with his marksman rifle.

Finn heard a strangled grunt as someone by his side collapsed, struck down by enemy laser. Despite himself, he forced his eyes ahead and kept on running, heart pounding in his ears. Only when he finally spotted one of the Sons about to drive his weapon through Rachet he raised his laser gun, switching to full-auto.

The Blarg's head, together with a good chunk of his upper chest, disappeared into a crimson mist.

'Not on my watch you don't.'

Already shaken by the losses inflicted by the Lombax Hero alone, the sight of a full-on PDF counterattack was the moment most of the Blargs trooper decided they had enough, multiple assault teams opting to a quick and orderly withdrawal deeper into the woods.

Not the Sons of Orxon. They had come there to kill the Lombax, and they had no intention of giving up yet. They stood their ground, together with the remaining Blarg troopers, and fought like possessed.

The PDF militia hunkered down behind any piece of cover available to them; fallen tree trunks, rocks jutting off the ground, the very trench dug up by the crashed fighter, it did not matter what. A few simply laid prone and opened fire from there.

All in all, Third Platoon would acquit itself rather well in the ferocious firefight. Plasma grenades flew out of their underslung launchers and then into the air, visiting devastation on those Blargs unfortunate enough to be in their path.

Taking shelter behind Aphelion's fuselage, Finn directed the men and woman under his command, sustaining even injuries in the effort to drag a couple of injured back to safety. Still, the fight would be costly nevertheless.

Private Yovek, the same one Finn had been playing cards with merely three hours prior, dropped, his body armour failing to protect him. There was a keening whistle as rockets soared thought the air, detonating near the firing line and showering their surroundings in smoke and flying dirt. Private Joseen was thrown back by the blast, landed a few meters back and never got up, her body broken beyond recognition.

Undaunted, Third Platoon bashed back just at hard as they received, doggedly refusing to fall back. Many Blarg troopers fell beneath the withering laser barrage. One of the Sons kept their advance in check through the constant use of a Warmonger rocket launcher; he would later fall victim of Corporal Beltil's marksmanship.

In the end, Finn's heart soared as his comm crackled to life, followed immediately afterward by the groaning of engines and the roar of heavy chainguns. Somewhere behind, three Panther IFVs emerged from the treeline.

"Cazador Three, Amethyst Actual speaking. Heard you boys needed some backup. Keep your heads down, we're about to unleash hell on these assholes."

The following firefight lasted seventeen seconds.

Author's Notes: Guess who's back? It's me. Guess who can't follow his own upload schedule if his life depended on it? Yup, that's also me. Jeez, I really need to sleep right now.