"Corr, stop fussing with your uniform," Vult spoke as the two walked, bearing their Spec Ops dress uniforms, boots polished into gleaming perfection, and the adornments with near-mirror like reflection. "It's not going to get any straighter."
"Forgive me, Commander, I just want to make a good impression with Commander Grimm…especially if even some of these rumors hold true." He admitted with a sigh. Even he was surprised at how much he was getting worked up over his appearance. The Almighty Tallest didn't seem to care all too much, just as long as they were in uniform, but the stories alone proved quite different with Grimm.
The pair, SIR unit included, walked briskly over the trampled ground, the prinstene lawns of the park had been decimated into churned-up soil and mud from the traffic that had come through. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers marching over the terrain tended to do that, not to mention the battlemechs and vehicles that accompanied them. To their left was in fact the mentioned battlemechs, lined up and ready to be sent out, ranging from the smallest scout and recon mech to the dreaded Maimbot. It had to be the vehicle depot, the perfect line of plasma battle tanks were placed in front of them
The elevated position across the open vast expanse was prime location for the Deathwave Cannon batteries as he could see, ready to deliver fearsome volleys of artillery support upon request. It was frustrating to say the least to see such an impressive display of military might, yet it was unable to help them in the first attempt of Praxxus 7. The past was the past, though, now was the time to make a difference.
A communications array and command post stood out above all the other prefabricated structures present by its large dish and antenna that jutted from it. Other than the armory, the sea of soldier's quarters were uniform, stretching from one end of the makeshift base to the other, able to placate the vast numbers present.
Their destination, however, was Commander Grimm's personal quarters, a somewhat more stately and comfortable option compared to the standard issue. Just from the exterior, it was nearly twice the size of a normal soldier's quarters, and with Imperial Troopers and Irken Elite, they more often than not had up to 4 sharing the same space. A soldier's life wasn't one of luxury, so it would seem.
"Just remain calm and collected, like you always are…just like when we are in the Tallests' presence," Vult came to the conclusion to hopefully help his second-in-command be a little more at ease. "He's an officer and a soldier, just like you and myself, show him respect, and we'll get it in return."
Corr nodded, finding the words someone easing.
"I truly hope so, Commander."
There were numerous Irken Elite, belonging to the lower rungs of the command hierarchy by it seemed, just a tad taller than Vard at best, but all dressed in the uniform that both Vult and Corr once dawned. From what they could gather, the soldiers were moving boxes and other various items into Grimm's quarters. Vult stopped a shorter Irken Elite with a gentle grab of the arm.
"Excuse me, Soldier, but is this Supreme Commander Grimm's quarters, correct?" He politely asked, making sure their destination was correct.
"Yes, Sir, Commander," the soldier saluted, "he's right inside if you need to speak with him."
The Irken Commander nodded, allowing the Elite to go about his duty once more. Politely waiting for the next pair of soldiers to emerge from the entry way, Vult and Corr entered.
It was immediately clear who Grimm was.
Next to the Tallest, Vult had never seen an Irken that tall before, even so, if the need even arose, he had the possibility of being a candidate for selection of a new Tallest. His uniform was rather peculiar as well. It contrasted the usual Elite garb greatly, lacking a single piece of armor.
Instead, it was all some type of fabric, the same shade of violet that most of the Elite Guard wore, with vibrant gold edging sewn extravagantly into it. Atop his head was an officer's cap of similar design, the Empire's insignia adorning the center of it, just above the black, polished bill. His uniform was decorated with numerous medals of accomplishment upon the left side of his chest, his specialty rank of "Supreme Commander" displayed on the other side. An old-fashioned holster held his plasma pistol as opposed to the usual magnetic clip, and at his left hip was a sheath, an elegant and decorated hilt of a sword visible. His pants matched as well, a single, thin gold strip running down either side, the cuffs tucked neatly into black, knee-high boots with metal toecaps. Anything that wasn't fabric or sewn into the uniform was polished to gleaming perfection, down to every last button.
If the uniform wasn't intimidating enough, his lithe, narrow build that accented his height added a new perspective all in its own. His face was gaunt and features stood out prominently, primarily his eyes. At least that much of the stories was true, a single look, hardened or otherwise, seemed to send chills down the spine…especially since that was what Vult felt as soon as his placid gaze locked with his own.
Just as Grimm seemed to begin to address Vult and Corr, a loud crash and skittering of glass promptly followed. All eyes darted to the source, a shorter Irken Elite was on his behind, the remnants of a mirror scattered about in broken shards, as well as a face of sheer terror written all over him. Grimm slowly approached without a word as the soldier panicked, attempting to gather the pieces, only to watch them further break in his hands and fall to the ground once more.
"On your feet, soldier," Grimm politely requested without moving, his eyes locked on him into narrow slits.
"Forgive me, Sir, it was an accident, I-"He attempted to defend as he stood up, visibly trembling with fear.
"An accident? Soldier, you are more than aware that accidents cost lives in the field, aren't you?" Grimm questioned, the volume of his voice remaining within reason, as if he was simply conversing as opposed to scolding him for his mistake. Vult noticed that the Supreme Commander's left hand took hold of the sheath of his officer's sword that hung from his belt, other in the room shifted in posture. The tension was heavy in the air.
"Commander, please for-"
Vult hadn't ever seen a traditional metal blade such as what was at Grimm's hip, but it was drawn in the blink of an eye and the deed was done. He hadn't a clue what had happened until he felt something thick and wet hit him in the face. A quick check with his hand found it to be dark emerald blood spattered on his face and uniform. Putting two and two together, he noticed the fresh drawn lifeforce dripping from the honed edge.
The soldier's body slacked slightly, the head slowly rolling backwards to reveal a clean slice all the way through, then finally falling to the ground, the body collapsing into a heap as blood pooled from the wound. Grimm's expression didn't change as he pulled a small swatch of cloth from a pouch in his belt, quickly slinging the blade to remove the excess before placing it around blade, wiping it clean. It was then he looked up with a sigh at Vult once more.
"I'm terribly sorry," he spoke nonchalantly, his tone didn't warrant any regard for the life he just took "…it's just difficult to find good help these days. Please excuse the mess, I just made the trip from handling Praxxus 7."
Grimm took notice to Vult and Corr's uniforms finally, looking past the "mess" that he had managed to create on the Spec Ops Commander's once pristine dressing.
"Are you sure you're in the right place, Commander?" Grimm politely questioned…looking at Corr as he addressed him. "I am the Supreme Commander of Irken Elite Guard for the Armada, not Special Operations."
"Sir…he's the commanding officer, I'm Captain Corr," he respectfully pointed out with a nervous clearing of his throat.
The Supreme Commander retracted slightly with a perplexed shift in his visage.
"Hmm…that's odd to say the least…you're a bit short to be a Commander."
"Yes, Sir, I'm aware of that fact," Vult smirked slightly in good spirits, acting as normal as possible despite being around such a prestigious soldier. "I received a message, Priority Three directive to my unit for you, one Supreme Commander Grimm, to act as liaison between us and the Almighty Tallest for our mission parameters."
"Liaison, you say?" He stroked his chin in thought, coming to the conclusion. He did have to commend the shorter Commander for his urgency and focus on business, "Oh, yes, now I remember…you're Commander Vult, aren't you?"
"Yes, Sir, that is correct," He nodded, continuing respectfully, "I was instructed to come to you for our assignments instead of shuttling back and forth from Vort to the Massive to promote efficiency and instill glory for the Empire…so the message stated."
"Of course, for the glory of the Empire…" Grimm chuckled, Vult immediately taking notice to his change in posture. Minute or not, you tended to pick up on subtle changes and could read people as a leader.
Grimm leaned back in his chair slightly, placing his hands before him in a contemplative manner, slowly drumming his fingers as he peered over them through hazel eyes. It seemed his tantalizing stare attributed much to his rare eye color. The manner his antenna laid down the back of his head and bent up at the ends was strange as well. It flowed well with his look, staying in place as he removed his cap, placing it on the desk, then folding his arms as he leaned forward.
"Tell me…do I look like a fool to you, Commander?"
"…N-No, Sir, of course not," Vult assured, not wanting to upset him.
"Then please, don't insult my intelligence," Grimm made clear, his brow only furrowing slightly. He was yet to see the Supreme Commander get truly angry, even after the flaying of his own soldier. "I remember you and Captain Corr quite well, your transfers anyway, along with 6 others to Special Operations, then pronounced KIA right there after. I may not be in the loop, but I'm knowledgeable enough to put the elements together to see the big picture. Do not allow yourselves to be intimidated by me, I assure you I am as docile as possible…until you show incompetence and a complete lack of regard for regulations, and by far the most infuriating…directly disrespecting me. So…let's try this again, Commander Vult, shall we?"
Vult swallowed nervously, feeling Grimm's stare pierce through his very person.
"…With all due respect, Sir," he began, remaining firm, "our assignments and affairs are highly classified, and without…proper…clearance, I'm not at liberty to discuss them."
Silence engulfed them as Grimm simply remained fixated on the Spec Ops Commander. After what seemed like hours, the Supreme Commander lightened his stare slightly and leaned back a little.
"You're a Commander for a reason, I see," he commended with a slight smirk, "very becoming of an officer to say the least. Mild-mannered, strong-willed, things necessary for a soldier to lead and command others in the heat of battle without incident. I will say this much on the matter, Commander, in order for me to provide assistance when necessary or should the need arise…I need to have a little light shed on the subject."
"Thank you for the compliment, Sir," Vult nodded respectfully, compromising, "but I'll give you as much information necessary without subjugating my integrity and orders."
The taller Irken understood what he was getting at, motioning for the Irken Elite Guard that were still present to leave them for the moment. A simple wave of the hand towards the door was all that the precision-drilled soldiers needed to understand classified information was going to be discussed…more or less to placate the Supreme Commander or suffer his wrath. Even Vult respected the amount of control that he held in his power.
"That will do just fine, Commander," Grimm nodded, reaching into a drawer of his desk, placing a holodisc, identical to the very same the Tallest had bestowed upon him prior. "I received this early yesterday directly from the Almighty Tallest, I'm assuming it's your mission briefing, I haven't looked at it."
"I'll say this much, Supreme Commander," Vult began as he reached for the holodisc, "my unit consists of those 8 soldiers that were listed as KIA, as well as two Imperial Troopers. We are a highly-specialized unit that is…employed by the Almighty Tallest with direct contact and receive our orders from as such. As for actual deployment…I'm afraid I've already said too much, Sir." He respectfully finished, pocketing the holodisc.
"Fair enough, Commander," Grimm waved with his hand lazily, his eyes remaining transfixed on the pair of Spec Ops soldiers. "Excellent work on softening up Praxxus 7," he complimented. "It doesn't take a genius to figure it out, sadly, everyone seems to turn a blind eye to the truth right in front of them."
"Our motto holds true then, I suppose, Sir," Corr commented, his attention still focused on the Supreme Commander's uniform and sword. "…even in plain sight, we stick to the shadows."
"How fitting…"
"If I may, Sir," Corr continued, finally getting the courage up, "but that uniform…it is from Xen-Era, correct? Your sword is a cavalry blade issued to officers of Lieutenant rank or higher during the same time period, just as our people became space-faring, is it not?"
"My, my, aren't you the astute one, Captain," Grimm smirked contently at Corr's historical knowledge, "you're correct. I favored the design over the current since I have a taste for it, very fitting and becoming of an official such as myself after all. As for the blade…you are indeed correct, but I've had a few…modifications made to it to keep it up to date and within contention of the current standard of warfare."
Corr nodded, enthralled by Grimm's divulgence. The Supreme Commander glanced to the time display on his desk.
"Well, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me," He began, placing his cap back atop his head, straightening it out. "I have to deliver an all-broadcast address to the troops before operations officially begin…for the regulars that is. Once you're done with your assignments, return with the after-action report, and I'll inform the Tallest."
"I completely understand, Sir," Vult nodded, standing at attention with Corr following suit, saluting. "I'm more than certain our mission is to kick things off, so we'll get to work."
After returning the salute to the Spec Ops soldiers, Grimm offered his hand.
"You're exactly the type of soldier this Armada needs, Commander," he commended, Vult grasping Grimm's much larger hand to shake it. "Good luck out there."
"Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir," Vult humbly accepted, finally doing an about face, Corr and the SIR unit following suit as the exited Grimm's quarters.
"Well…that was quite the experience, Commander," Corr commented as the two of them marched steadily side-by-side, Vult fishing the holodisc out to load into the SIR unit for decryption procedures. "He is a tad…brash, but a competent officer of the Empire."
"Some of the rumors confirmed, others dismissed," Vult added in response, looking at the bloodstains on his uniform. "It's going to be a pain to get that out…I'd rather deal with him than put up with the sheer lack of regard and dismissal that the Tallest present when we go before them though. Leaders or not, Corr, they're lack of respect for what we do is…most disturbing to say the least."
"My faith is as unwavering as much as yours is, Sir…but regretfully…I must agree with you," Corr added, his gaze following the hulls of the plasma battle tanks they had passed on the way there. The Vortian suns' rays glistened off the polished, sleek metal of their hulls, a parade of destruction at the ready, much like all the Irken forces present, all waiting for the signal. That signal…was the "inspirational" speech that Grimm was to give to his troops, as well as boost the morale farther of the entire Empire as they prepared to embark on what was going to be the most difficult campaign yet and ever faced in the Empire's recent history.
His uniform impeccable as always, the adornments glistening in the sunlight from the podium he stood at on stage, looking out across the sea of rank and file Irken Elite Guard, nearly a million strong, stretching as far as the eye could see. Pristine violet armor and emerald heads of varying height watched on in awe, a plethora of colors of the spectrum of eyes all on one man…Irken Elite Guard Supreme Commander Grimm.
"Soldiers of the Empire, young and old, veterans of conflict and new recruits alike…lend me your antenna," Grimm began, peering out across the immense crowd before him. His voice echoed through the silence even without the help of sound equipment. Grimm was known for commanding great respect amongst his troops, but even this level was unprecedented.
"You all stand before me today over a million strong, a force unparalleled in operation during Impending Doom II, and quite possibly the largest army assembled yet under the current Tallest' regime. This is the result of the finest military training possible by the universe's most powerful race, a culmination of those years spent sacrificing blood, sweat, and tears…all for that begins today. Though numerous, all share a common goal, as does the mighty Irken Empire…the conquest of Vort.
Regardless of past alliance, their treachery in the plotted assassination of Tallest Miyuki was exposed, and is now shattered. It was a grave mistake on their behalf to provide the Irken, a race known for its cunning, for its military might, with the necessary tools of destruction to begin the righteous conquest of the universe we rightfully deserve.
Precaution must be taken, however, as this is their homeworld, and they will defend it down to every last man, woman, and child if need be. They will fight tooth and claw for every last square inch of ground, anything to turn us away from our goal. Defeat is all that awaits them, but the Vort will see to it that we pay the toll of our conquest in blood spilled on our newly-acquired world. The only blood that will be let will be that of the Vort to stain the landscape a deep shade of violet. Their bodies will break, their minds will shatter, and their defiant wills will be crushed!
It matters not, for their fall and our rise is destiny. Even now, this planet's people quakes and cowers with fear at your prowess, at your might. The Vort are strong, but even so, are no match for the Empire."
Grimm slammed his fist into the podium with vigor, emphasizing on his words, increasing in volume.
"They will be crushed beneath the boots of the Irken Elite! The fall of the planet is inevitable and its pathetic resistance is a nuisance at best! Those who stand to oppose us will be cut down without remorse…without mercy! No army, no matter how numerous or skilled, can withstand the Irken Elite! The Almighty Tallest want this planet added to the Empire's collective of conquered worlds so we as a people may benefit and continue our destiny of universal conquest, then so be it! Their word is law!"
By now, the soldiers whom had given Grimm utter silence were cheering vigorously, a million voices of the collective all screaming out patriotically in a low hum that shook the very ground. That rumble reached even Grimm's feet upon that platform at his podium. Their dedication was enough to bring even a minute, yet proud smile to curl about the Supreme Commander's lips.
"Go forth in the name of the Irken Elite Guard! Go forth for glory! Go forth and conquer this wretched planet, decimate those who are foolish enough to make a stand against you! It is only a matter of time before the Vortians and this world will take a knee and bow to the incorruptible might of the Irken!"
The cheering was uncontainable, despite being in rank and file, it was still chaotic and a sight to behold. Grimm thrusted his fist into the air, many in the crowd following suit as a show of respect for him as hundreds of thousands of armored fists in the air. He then pointed out across the sea of soldiers, panning.
"Now… Elite Guard soldiers of the mighty Irken Empire! Go forth and wrought destruction unlike what this world has ever seen! Make it known that the Irken Empire will not be trifled with and you truly are the most feared military entity in existence!"
Grimm slammed his fist once more, not raising it as he let on the podium.
"DEATH TO THE VORTIANS!!! THIS WORLD IS OURS!!!"
"…and that was the conclusion of Supreme Commander Grimm's broadcast to Armada ground forces planetside on Vort earlier today," the camera cut to the female Irken news anchor, pressing a headset to her head with a single finger, speaking into the microphone that was attached to it. In the background were Irken forces moving about, preparing to officially set out. "The Supreme Commander of Irken Elite Guard made it explicitly clear that it will only be a matter of time before planet Vort will be conquered and added to the Empire's collection beneath the successful drive of Operation Impending Doom II thus far. Enemy combatant strength pales in comparison, and will be, in the words of Supreme Commander Grimm, "be crushed beneath the Empire's might" To those valiantly fighting in the name of the Empire on Vort and across the universe, I wish you luck and bring glory to the mighty Irken race.
Coming up in our next segment, a recap of worlds already conquered, current affairs on Irk, and the weather, this has been Correspondent Nezz of the Irken Military News Network, reporting to you live from planet Vort, signing off." She concluded with a bright and cheery smile that rivaled even that of Aero in a good mood.
"Haxx, turn that garbage off," Rha shoved him in the back, "if you're going to watch it on your visor, at least turn your comm. link off to the rest of us."
He stumbled forward, trying to regain his balance, but that proved difficult enough in their current…situation. That "situation" was wading the subterranean sewers beneath the city streets of Vort in waist-high…flow. Irken blood had a pungent odor, but this was easily the most horrible thing every conceived by smell. The viscous, brackish sewage flowed past them to whatever destination the system had designated.
"Garbage?" He finally retorted, gagging from the smell. Even with the combat mask that filtered out many dangerous substances, it was useless against the smell. It wasn't exactly comfortable to begin with, so if he had a choice in the matter, he'd rather not wear it. It was good against shrapnel however. "He is an excellent orator, Rha, educate yourself to enjoy a masterpiece in motion."
"Don't strain all your brain cells at once now, you need a few to breathe and talk at the same time."
Haxx responded with a shove of his own.
"I felt inspired after hearing his speech to…I don't know, kill anything that's not Irken on this planet and bring it to its knees, that's all…all in a day's work."
"Then you didn't listen close enough, Sergeant," Vult commented from point as they trudged through in a patrol line. Haxx craned his neck to look at him in the front, holding his rifle above his head much like the rest of them where to avoid getting dookie all over it. Last thing they needed was a weapons malfunction due to clogging.
"What do you mean, Commander?" Haxx scratched his face in confusion, quickly retracting in pain as he remembered his fresh wound from Tak.
"You did exactly what he and the Empire wanted you to do and feel," Vult continued, keeping a sharp eye out. This may have been the last place any sane individual would want to be, but he had already been surprised once before.
"You're telling me you don't feel one bit motivated by his words…Sir?"
"He knows how to deliver an address quite well, I'll give him that much," Vult nodded, "but there was a complete lack of hard facts, only estimates and powerful, emotion-stirring references."
Haxx was still dumbfounded at precisely what the Commander was trying to explain.
"How long did he say it was going to take before we conquer this rock?"
"Well…the newscaster lady recapped and said it was only a matter of time."
"…I say a year if we're lucky," Vult calculated, "which means I'm more than certain that Grimm delivered a plan of action to the Tallest with an estimate around 6 months. What about enemy combatants?"
"Again, just another reference of us outnumbering them, Sir," Haxx began, starting to see what he was getting at.
"Captain, about how many Irken soldiers are there in the Armada currently?"
"Approximately 875 million, Sir," he promptly responded, "every single Irken alive is a member of the Armada."
"What were the actual figures for Vortian forces that Vard dug up?"
"…just under 50 million."
"Ha! See, we do outnumber them," Haxx pointed out, hoping to prove Vult wrong.
"There are only about a million Irken planetside, Haxx," Rha answered before anyone else could.
"Exactly, and those 50 million soldiers the Vortians have? Where do you think they're all at? Unlike the Empire, they don't have any intentions of expanding through militaristic means, so they're more centered around their own world and system."
"Uh-huh…I'm still not seeing the connection there though."
"For Irk's sake, Haxx," Rha sighed, annoyed, "he's saying that all 50 million of their soldiers are on Vort, most of them anyway, we have about a million, that's 50-to-1 odds, which are terrible. I swear, you're the du-"
"50-to-1?! Why doesn't the Armada send more soldiers then?"
"After what happened on Praxxus 7 last time, they're more than cautious at throwing waves of soldiers into a meat grinder," Vult commented unenthusiastically, looking over his shoulder at his unit in tow, "I'm telling each and every one of you now, this is only the tip of the iceberg. Days are only going to get longer and darker from here on in. The Vortians are equal to us in technology, what they lack in sheer numbers, they make up for in strategy and tactics. This is the last place I'd full-on assault in the entire universe with the conditions."
"What do you mean, Sir?" Haxx questioned cautiously, the ominous nature of the Commander's words didn't help matters any.
"What I mean is when Grimm mentioned that Vortian blood will stain their surface…it's going to be matched if not surpassed by the blood spilt by the Irken forces taking it. A healthy estimate of casualties by the time we take this planet would be upwards of around…15 million, don't you think, Medical Officer?"
"Sounds about right, Commander," she commented without hesitation, having witnessed the aftermath of battle and knowledge of the Irken body coming into mind. "I wouldn't be surprised if it were to go to an even 20 million."
"20 million? There's no way!" Haxx unbelievably questioned, shaking his head at the idea, "that's a lot of Irken-"
"-Of which will not be missed because they are immediately replaced with fresh soldiers from Devastis, and those are in turn replaced by freshly-hatched smeets off the facilities of Irk." Commander Vult interrupted, "A vicious cycle that proves anyone and everyone is expendable beneath such a regime…"he laughed to himself, surprising everyone, "…I'd like to see them try to replace any of us with some fresh-faced smeet, isn't that right, Shadow Strikers?"
Haxx's foot caught on something below in the quagmire of feces and fell face-first into the disgusting flow with a wet sloshing. Vult had stopped to see what the commotion was all about to see Haxx had disappeared beneath the surface of the sewage and Rha was laughing uncontrollably.
A moment later, the Heavy Weapons Sergeant's head exploded to the surface, rubbing at his eyes as he was covered head-to-toe in Vortian excrement, coloring his exterior a black streaked with whitish-yellow fluid. He coughed and gagged with gusto.
"You alright, Sergeant?" Vult asked him, trying not to chuckle.
"IT'S IN MY BITE WOUND!!! IT BURNS!!!" He exclaimed, still retching from the apparent taste as he clawed at the open wound now festering with Vortian sewage, or would be if nothing was done about it.
"Sula, help him out, would you?" Vult asked of the Medical Officer.
"…on it, Sir," she huffed, finding it annoying that it was nearly routine to keep fixing Haxx's problems that he was usually responsible for the cause of. First having Tak nearly biting part of his face off and now this…what could possibly top it?
"Maybe you'll learn to watch where you're going and button that mask up," Rha sniggered, still fighting off fits of laughter. Maybe it was best that he took his own advice regarding his mask. Haxx's hand latched onto his ankle beneath the surface.
"See how you like it…" he commented under his breath, jerking Rha off his feet as he held his foot above the surface, watching him fall down into the flow much like he just did. He flailed in similar fashion, fighting his way back to the surface as Haxx seemed to forget about his own situation and laughed at Rha's plight. Apparently he didn't think it was as funny anymore and attempted to take a swing at Haxx, only to stumble into him and both of them to fall down in it once more, splashing Sula as she approached.
"Both of you knock it off!" She demanded, wiping away globs of excrement from her uniform. "I need to clean his wound or it's going to get infected."
"Let it, maybe he'll learn to listen for once," Volx chided, only to be the next victim of their antics as their splashing about spattered her in the face. Already nearly up to her chest due to her short stature, her face was within uncomfortable contention of the surface.
"Uhh…Commander? You think someone should break them up?" Corr motioned, Haxx was back on his feet, but Volx was strangling him from behind as Rha seemed to be punching him in the spooch. Sula stood idle, waiting to deliver the necessary first aid to Haxx, and by the way things appeared, he might need more medical attention than initially. Everyone else seemed to be just standing idle, watching…except for Rem.
"Come on, Haxx, you smeet! Hit him back!" She cheered, throwing her fists about in the air as she said so, trying to entice him.
"…give them a few minutes, they'll tire out," Commander Vult smirked, despite having such a serious job, they managed to find time to goof around. "It's going to be awhile before any of us can rest, both mind and body."
"What do you mean, Sir?" Corr questioned, perplexed.
"What I mean, Corr…is that with the frequency and kind of action we're going to see here…it's going to make us wish we were back on Praxxus 7 during Impending Doom I."
Corr simply nodded as he swallowed nervously at the idea. Vult's sheer calmness and uttering of such a serious statement only further hit it home for him. Praxxus 7 was a nearly never-ending nightmare that continued to plague him in his dreams, and more than likely his friends and squadmates' as well. To even contemplate such a notion was possible was disturbing to say the least.
Sad truth of it was Vult couldn't have been any more correct than he was. He, the Shadow Strikers, and the entire Armada for that matter hadn't a clue to what awaited them. They were going to find out quickly that Vort belonged to the Vortian…and were going to give everything if need be to keep it so.