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Chapter 3

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Part 1

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3 AIF (After Imperial Founding)/
14.08.2552 UNSC Military Calendar/

under-rail station Republica 500

Coruscant

Corcusca Galaxy

Mato'Varee wasn't going to get all the reinforcements he wanted. That was a painful realization, with the relics standing in the open, taunting him.

He didn't want to think about what little he had heard from the Fleetmaster. The enemy's small craft had struck the massing Covenant forces outside, despite everything the Seraph squadrons and the Super Carrier herself could throw at them. They had been struck hard. The enemy had inserted troops from orbit, disrupting the mustering warriors outside. The only reason the staging grounds weren't overrun by advanced armor and heavy infantry in powered armor was direct support from a super capital ship.

Considering the casualties Mato'Varee's elite Spec Ops suffered breaching this building and getting this far, he shouldn't have been surprised. It didn't help that the enemy here was cut off and would eventually be surrounded and neutralized. The Fleetmaster was amassing troops to strike at a sizeable pyramid-like temple holding more relics. At least, that was what Rho'Barutamee claimed. Getting enough forces in place to stop cold an enemy counter-attack coming from that direction was as likely an answer considering the enemy's strength on this Gods forsaken world.

In the courtyard below, the heavy enemy infantry had changed direction and moved to the right. It was apparent there was a way out there. Otherwise, the human reinforcements wouldn't have been able to reach the station. That meant the relics were no longer contained, but it didn't seem the Fleetmaster cared. Mato'Varee had to change that. The question was how?

He shouted at the Yanme'e buzzing above and waved to one of their officers to land beside him. The ugly insectoid made a bid and stared at him with those unnerving eyes of theirs.

"I need a map of the building! We must know how to ambush those heretics before they can get away!" He pointed to the right for emphasis.

One of the things that made those insects so useful was their uncanny ability to use their senses and sensors to map up buildings, including rooms they were merely close by. That was invaluable when assaulting specific alien structures. Ideally, in a properly planned operation, when they weren't so pressed for time, Spec Ops would covertly infiltrate, opening the way from a swarm to map up a structure so they would know where they were going. Doing so could save both time and lives and, when necessary, allow the Covenant assault parties to make their doors.

The Yanme'e buzzed and chirped at him. It was only thanks to a translator built into his helmet that Mato'Varee could understand the warrior-drone. It wasn't like you could learn to speak some of the languages of the various Covenant members or even hear the full scope of their speech to understand them properly. The Yanme'e was a prime example of that. The Hunter Brother-pairs was another. Speaking about hunters…

The Commander pulled back from the immediate front heading for a nearby room, where Unggoy were busy setting up a command center while their betters fought and died. The room across was turned into a makeshift field hospital, filled with charred bodies of wounded with a pair of Hugarok doing their best to fix them. After all, there was little difference for them from putting back a damaged piece of equipment or a wounder person.

A command console was unpacked and only waiting to be switched on and the proper codes to boot up its software. Within moments it lit up, displaying hymns to the Gods, before more immediately useful information became available. Soon, Mato'Varee had the power to burn through interference from combat, shields, and the damn odd building material used by the locals. He could fully access the combat net, including data streaming from hundreds of Yanme'e swarming throughout the building. As importantly, he had real-time progress from assault parties fighting through resistance in places stiffening, yet at others crumbling. So far, there was only a partial picture of the sector he needed to secure. The Commander wasted no time in vectoring the heaviest assault parties he could in that direction, with the apparent goal of cutting off the humans and securing the relics once and for all.

Mato'Varee also got a first good look at the situation outside. If anything, the Fleetmaster might have understated how bad it was. On the ground, advance in most directions had halted. Enemy heavy infantry deployed from orbit had to be dislodged first, and that was proving a deadly task that often required support from the Long Night of Solace. That wasn't good. The number of units confirmed lost due to air strikes was disgustingly high. What were the Carrier's gunners doing?!

Warnings sliced through the combat network. The enemy assault was beginning from the direction where the Fleetmaster was massing much of the remaining ground forces. That should be a suicide in the face of a Super Carrier, was the Commander's first thought. Then he paused to think. They were surprised to end up here. It only made sense the enemy was caught off guard. The realization naturally followed – they were fighting standing security forces for the area and what quick reaction units could get there fast as well. Whatever brought the Long Night of Solace here gave the Covenant both tactical and strategic surprise. Yet, the locals were bleeding them like an army of never-sufficiently damned Demons. This realization begged the question of what would happen once the initial shock passed. When would the locals mobilize and strike at them with a properly coordinated and built force?

Considering the opposition they were facing, that idea should have been insane. Perhaps even heresy! Nevertheless, Mato'Varee decided it might be for the best to secure the relics as soon as he could, then move them to the safety of the Carrier. No matter what, it was improbable the locals would be able to hurt it anytime soon.

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Cold fury bubbled within Anakin's veins, and he did his best to keep it that way – focused as a tool, a weapon. He knew if he slipped, it would become a molten river of magma that would cloud his judgment and might get him killed. Worse, it might get Leia killed, and that was not an option. Anakin used everything Veil taught him to shove away the seductive whispers of the Dark Side. It was his weapon, not his ally.

The constant flickering screams of the dying, the agony of millions splashing through the Force like waves in a pond after someone threw a stone in it, didn't help matters. The anger and resentment of the nearby soldiers added another face to the symphony Anakin had to endure in the Force. He used it all to fuel his techniques and lay waste to anyone foolish enough to endanger his charges.

While the situation was less than ideal, they had all faced worse and survived. You needed to be a combat veteran to qualify for the Imperial Guard, after all. While the enemy was ferocious, it lacked the overwhelming numbers and firepower to make a determined successful push. The one all-out assault they tried ended up in a bloodbath, proving they used sub-standard equipment compared to the Imperial Guard. Then again, the protectors of the Imperial family did get their first pick among the best toys Imperial R&D could make.

The weird thing was Anakin couldn't recognize a single species attacking them, and even accounting for his mistakes and spending much of the war grounded, he had fought all over the galaxy. He should know anyone with the military capability to assault Coruscant, much less build that monstrous ship outside!

Anakin squashed that idle thought. Distraction meant death! Instead, he focused on finding a way out. It presented itself almost immediately when Stormtroopers poured from a door on the alcove to the left and opened fire on the enemy. His comm unit cracked with recognition codes, and soon friendly IFFs lit up his HUD.

First Platoon, Besh Company, Thirty First Battalion, Orbital Shock Troops, better known nowadays as Stormtroopers. That was one of the quick reaction forces attached to Coruscant's Defense Fleet.

"Sir, this is Captain Vin," a familiar Clone voice came over the comm. "We've got an extraction point secured. A naval strike should be en route to take care of that abomination above. Five mikes!"

"You heard the man! Shift left!" Anakin ordered. He could feel the Imperial Guard stir, then their CO repeated the order, and they shifted formation moving to the other end of the courtyard.

While the enemy kept taking potshots at them, they didn't attempt another all-out assault. This either meant they lacked the numbers for it and didn't feel like committing suicide today, or they were being sneaky.

"Watch out for an ambush!" Anakin warned while they were halfway to the stairway.

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Part 2

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3 AIF (After Imperial Founding)/
14.08.2552 UNSC Military Calendar/

under-rail station Republica 500

Coruscant

Corcusca Galaxy

The ambush Anakin expected materialized when they were almost halfway up to the surface using emergency stairways. By now, the assault on the vast ship above should be well underway, so that was a piece of good news.

A warning flickered through the Force, giving the Knight a moment to brake himself and shove a wave of energy to the right. The wall there exploded, showering the retreating party with molten metal and burning plasma. A squad holding a junction above them opened fire at unseen figures who shot back with the characteristic blue and green plasma favored by the enemy. More of that damned homing spikes tracked a soldier doing their best to jump out of the way. Many bounced off his armor to detonate in showers of mostly harmless splinters. Others found their way to the flexible undersuit and burrowed into the flesh below before exploding in a bloody mist.

Purple spikes, plasma, and grenades flew through the breach in the wall, only to strike Anakin's barrier. Several burning spheres bounced off his Force barrier, then promptly detonated, bathing everything in scorching plasma. Fortunately, the Imperial Guard acted at the first sign of trouble and interposed their bodies between the onslaught and the children. Still, they had to get to safety before their luck ran out. If those grenades exploded among the soldiers, the power armored troopers might have been reasonably intact in the aftermath. The children, on the other hand?

That very thought nearly shattered Skywalker's control. The Dark Side surged around and through him, and he used it to fuel a Lightning storm just like Palpatine and Veil taught him. He let go of the barrier, and before it could fully disperse, a net of malevolent purple lighting. Plasma bolts lost containment when the shaped Dark Side Energy splashed over the electromagnetic fields containing and shaping them. Purple spines shattered like glass, and grenades detonated mid-air, bathing the breach with heat. A large plasma bolt went off target and lost containment before reaching the ceiling, and molten metal fell like rain. Something large and angry bellowed a challenge. Anakin could barely perceive a strange amalgamation of furious minds moving in his direction moments before a slab of dark blue metal slammed into the breach, deforming heated metal. An enormous bipedal armored figure made its way through and pointed a glowing cannon built around its right arm at the Knight.

The Imperial Guard was already running up the stairs, ignoring the ambush and leaving for the rearguard to deal with it or slow it down. Anakin jumped away, letting the Force guide him to land steadily on the stairs below the breach. A handful of soldiers were moving slowly up, walking backward, and shooting into the breach. Others had run to the junction to help hold it while the rest jogged upwards with the children cocooned between their armored forms.

A second alien behemoth ran through the breach and turned to face Anakin, while the first one bellowed a warcry and shot one of the troopers at point-blank range. The former Jedi sensed a moment of surprised disbelief, followed by a flash of fiery agony before the soldier died.

Whatever those arm cannons were, Anakin made a mental note not to get shot by them. His free hand shot up just as the blue-armored alien was about to shoot him. He shoved the cannon to the side a moment before it discharged. A thick green plasma bolt slammed into the metal wall, boiling it before detonating and showering the stairway with molten metal and rapidly cooling metal vapor. Anakin spared a moment to curse in his mind for forgetting his damned helmet again, and it was all he could do to draw on the Force and use it as a shield against the scorching rain and vapor. That distraction was enough for the alien to charge at him, forcing Anakin to vault backward, trusting in the Force he would land safely. He could see and sense more aliens pouring through the breach, separating him from his daughter and the Imperial Guard, who kept pushing forward. As if that wasn't bad enough, the detachment of Shock Troopers they left behind to hold the entrance from the station side was pulling back, pushed by more enemy reinforcements.

This was already shaping to be a terrible day, and it was getting worse by the moment.

Anakin landed a few dozen steps back and lunged forward to stabilize his new position. The armored behemoth kept running his way like a speeding shuttle. Its cannon glowed brightly, and it shoved it forward like a blade. The distinct cracks of frag and concussion grenades came from above, adding more alien cries of pain and anger to the already deafening din of war.

This time, Anakin shoved the cannon down just as it fired. The resulting explosion obliterated a section of the stairs and sent the alien rolling down. The Knight vaulted over it and slashed down with his lightsaber, aiming for the apparent orange flesh that appeared to be fused to the armor. The thing screeched pure murder when Anakin burned a deep gorge in its midsection. Sadly, instead of being able to finish it off, he had to turn in place and sweep his blade to deflect incoming plasma bolts. Three tall, split-jawed aliens were glowering at him. They had pistols in their off hands, which they used to shoot at him eagerly. Their armor was a distinct golden color, and they all had large, double-edged glowing energy swords at the ready.

If it weren't for their presence in the Force, which felt like those of regular living beings, not Force Adepts, Anakin would have believed that on top of everything else, now he had to deal with Jedi or Sith equivalents as well…. He left the wounded behemoth for the retreating soldier to finish. He jumped over the burning hole in the stairway, deflecting incoming fire.

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Mato'Varee cursed the blond-furred Demon. Part of him screamed to turn around and deal with that thing while he still could. Another, more rational part was more task-focused. The Long Night of Solace was reported to be under heavy attack. That wasn't good. He was out of time. The only thing that mattered now was getting to the relics and evacuating with them. So he left a blocking force behind to slow down, if not kill that impossible Human! The Commander ran after one of the bonded pair while the other Mgalekgolo charged the Demon. A pair of Zealots took point behind the armored colony. At the same time, more Shangheli surrounded him, ready to strike when the opportunity presented itself. As soon as the artifacts reached the junction above, Yanme'e swarmed from multiple directions, followed by a two-pronged attack by Spec Ops veterans.

"Commander! The artifacts are moving towards the surface!" A minor shouted. He had the holy task of carrying a portable luminary.

Mato'Varee could barely see what was happening through the onslaught. Most of the humans had decided to stand their ground in the junction while a handful of them ran up, escorting a female and a pair of their spawn. Did those heretics give holy relics to their young as toys?! The sheer outrage at that realization made the Commander stumble in his march. Fuel-rod cannons and Unggoy running forward wielding live grenades finally cracked the enemy line. Grenades of all types flew in all directions. Explosions flashed, plasma flowed like a river, and a wave of ice froze the Mgalekgolo's feet to the floor just before it could clear up the last stairs to the junction. Heavy firepower shattered the ice-encased armor around its legs, then brought it screaming down. The Zealots vaulted forward, slamming their blades at any Human that still moved. The bastards were dying hard. Too slow. Seven or eight were still on their feet, holding off at least twice their number of elite warriors.

The Commander didn't have time to face what, under almost any other circumstances, would be glorious combat. He shoved his way past the Zealots, who once again failed to deliver clean kills with a single hit, and engaged the enemy in melee combat. That didn't matter. Mato'Varee ran through the mostly destroyed junction and charged up, followed by Yamne'e drones and several Shangheli Spec Ops. His eyes widened, and he instinctively jumped back when he saw grenades rolling down the stairs.

Some of the warrior drones were flying too fast and were unable to try and get back. A bright flash and a wave of heat washed over the Commander. Yamne'es screeched, cooking in their shells. The Commander had to jump back again to avoid the molten metal leaking down the stairs from where a monstrous plasma charge created a large melted crater.

"Fly us through!" Mato'Varee snapped at the remaining drones, who obeyed. They grabbed him below the shoulders and buzzed through the destroyed stairway section.

More Spec Ops arrived across the chasm that way, and they all charged toward the relics. He could see the enemy in the distance. There was a stir among the small group, and a single figure in sleeker armor gave up one of the children they were carrying, only to turn around and face the incoming warriors.

Was that human insane? There was no way even a demon could take him and his cohorts in such a place. With no cover in sight and no space to maneuver, it was a question of firepower and durability. The Human raised a hand, and what had to be tiny missiles, so small as to be useless, launched from their gauntlet. A large round energy shield came to life around their left hand, intercepting incoming fire.

Each micro-missile unerringly struck a Yamne'e in the head. A moment later, there was a crescendo of subdued explosions, followed by twelve warrior drones collapsing. Mato'Varee sidestepped a burst of red energy beams, which struck the Shangheli behind him. His shield spluttered and died, and his armor boiled before the warrior could move away. He gave out a choked scream and went down.

"Demon!" At least a pair of the remaining Spec Ops declared as one.

"It doesn't matter! We kill it and get the relics! The Gods demand it!" Mato'Varee snapped and opened fire. "Overwhelm it!"

Two more Shangheli died before the Human's shield shattered. Instead of going down, the damn Demon dropped a smoke grenade at their feet. The Commander could see its armor shield tank most of the firepower that hit it before the smoke obscured it. He could swear that at the end, the shield burned out, only for plasma to splash over the chest plate mostly harmlessly and the helmet of the Human.

This didn't stop him from charging into the smoke. He still had five Shangheli left, and more reinforcements would be coming once they finished off the Humans behind.