---

Private Warder had never been into orbit before. Hell, he had never been offworld. As a kid he had always heard stories about the war on Anuria through media outlets, through brave journalists telling their stories to crowds of awestruck onlookers; but he never necessarily believed them to be true. To him, the conflict was always a superstition, inflamed with the purpose of scaring residents of Alpha-Venus-Six into line. So he lived a relatively contented life amongst the temperate forests of his homeworld, uncaring of the battle many lightyears from where he had spent his entire life.
His delusion, however, was shattered when the Nation States had begun to conscript into the armed forces. He had never wanted to join the army, never once wanted to do battle; he never felt the need. The world had it's fair share of patriots, he only now assumed that all of the patriots now had been changed into martyrs. And so he was forced to walk away from a job, a family, loving children, a small fortune that he had spent many years to build up, thrust onto a spaceship the likes of which he never even knew existed, and jettisoned into something far greater than he could have imagined.

It was then that the conflict had become real for him, where he and a thousand others were crammed into a military interstellar transport ship and blasted into warpspace. He had never seen Alpha-Venus-Six from orbit, and it had struck him as somewhat beautiful: like a hanging marble of green amidst the vastness of black space, dotted with the occasional twinkle of distant stars. it was a final moment of serenity as his tranquility was shattered by the deafening thunder of the ship's engines. And then he was gone, as fast as that, never to see his world again. Within days he had gone from there... to now.

"Wake up, rookie!" shouted a voice from the other side of the entrenched outpost - which was nothing more than a dig-in trench with some plastisteel reinforcements, with a small flat-packed control centre jutting from the centre - which roused Aref from his thoughts. He opened his eyes, and pushed up the helmet which had fallen just low enough to cover his brow. The voice, somewhat more agitated, called again. "Damn it, rookie! Get your ass up!"
He shot his head up just in time to catch a glimpse of a rifle being tossed over to him, which he just managed to catch awkwardly. He moaned as he began to move tired muscles and creaky joints to try to stand. The trench was disgusting and sloppy, filled with water in some places, as the basin rainfall beat down heavily, breaching the canopy. He was soaked to the core, which made moving even harder despite the humidity, and he pushed himself to his feet, staining his already dirty uniform with streaks of Anuriite mud. He hated this - and not just the conflict - but this moment where the sergeant would call his squad to arms, because it meant that they were going out to the jungle again. Somebody always died. Always. Last time they lost Tomas, and the time before that they lost Jax. They were good guys, too. Tomas was an Engineering Contractor back at home: he commissioned building projects for solar panels because he hated what pollution did to his home planet. Jax was a volunteer aid worker because he hated seeing people suffer and die. It was more than simple irony how he died, but the way he screamed as both of his legs were blown off by some fucking Jalaryiasan rocket launcher was testament to the tragic irony of it. Aref could not stop vomiting the whole night. Didn't stop crying for a week. They didn't even try to help him, they didn't even go back. They just left him. They ran.

Aref was there when the sergeant had to radio in the kill. He couldn't imagine what his family did when they heard. He didn't want to think. But he could not forget, no matter how hard he tried.

Aref was at his feet now, assembled in a rudimentary circle with the nine other men around the weapon rack. It was stood next to a basic table with a crackling comms device resting on top. The sergeant had just been listening in to some incomprehensible mumbling from the other end before he assembled the men.

"Listen, we've got orders from up top," he started. "We're goin' over. There's a broken down anti-personnel a few clicks south of here, and we've gotta get down there and secure the position so command can fly in a couple o' engineers." There was a deep sadness in his voice, regardless of how stern he normally was. "It's swimmin' with hostiles. I don't like it, but it's what we've gotta do."

Silence. Save for maybe a cough or two from the assorted men who had since come down with trench-lung. In the distance, some way into the jungle depths, a launcher could be heard, detonating with a faint rumble. Then aircraft, spiralling through the sky, screeching softly some ways away.

"What's our support?" One man asked.

The sergeant shook his head.

"We got nothin'" he replied. A collective silent lamentation erupted in the minds of the men. The sergeant could see it in their eyes. "Command can't afford it. Forces are stretched thin. We're goin' it alone. Fords, you're on point."

And just like that, they were roused from almost sleepy inaction to another terrifying trek through the jungle. It was eerily quiet at times, especially when he knew that such carnage was taking place. There had once even been the sounds of wildlife in this sector of the jungle, but now... nothing. Even the animals had the common sense to make haste from the battlefield. Aref had no idea why they did not do the same. The nine of them tiptoed through the brush, being careful not to snap any branches despite the heavy gear they carried, and being even more careful not to step on any planted mines. That was the worst way to die.
They maintained a relative distance from each other, at least ten to twenty feet, each man weaving his way through the strange trees, between beams of dusty mid-morning light, rifles pointed ever forwards, hairtriggers ready to fire at a moment's disturbance. Aref was convinced that such military manoeuvres and tactics existed simply to make the men feel more safe when they forayed through the battlefield. If something was to come at them from the trees, there would be little they could really do. They would be caught off guard and likely all shot to death. Except the sergeant, they were poorly trained and poorly motivated.

It had been an hour of tension, and still nothing had emerged to combat them. Something must have been watching. Surely it would not be a free-ride to the objective. That had never happened. Not once in the history of the conflict. But then, they would not really know until it was too late: their scanners only had an effective range of a hundred or so metres, and then it would only detect movement.

Cheap Venusian technology Aref scolded in his head. Cheap ass fucking Venusian technology.

The turret emplacement grew in the distance, its shadow being cast across the trees like a massive iron boulder. Its machine gun nozzles were all faced to the ground, as if they were sleeping. All four of them. They smoked ever so lightly, and sparks would occasionally jump from exposed wiring beneath the pocked, scarred plating that was once polished and new. This mighty piece of equipment was once an imposing, deadly weapon that would eviscerate intruding forces with incredible force. It was once safe for Venusians to be there, but now it simply felt... desolate. Exposed. Nonetheless, as they approached, the squadron split and assumed a defensive perimeter around the broken equipment, each man scanning his surroundings intently and praying to some long-forgotten gods that this was all that it would be. For a time, it seemed that way as the sergeant called in to command to log the area as secure...

Before Aref's motion scanner beeped.

Kavaye, Isotopes finest.



The sound of marching boots, loud motors and tank treads rang out in the southern part of the once grand city of Kol'Kora. Trapped civilians, or perhaps just stubborn ones could be seen peering out of the windows. They could see the soldiers marching in perfect formation below. Towards the middle of the formation was six Jakhs main battle tanks, the most bad ass weapon of war that the Unguon has deployed to date. Well, at least to the ones driving them. One Unguon stood a little taller and was built a little bigger than the others huddled around the lead tank. He was Yogeh Dakpung, Commander of the Tank group.

"Alright, we have our mission. The humans up ahead have heavy weapon emplacements and armored vehicles. Colonel Deorey believes we have them outnumbered five to one but they know the streets here.."

A gruff Unguon standing next to Yogeh pointed at a spot on a map laid out on the front of the tank. "I believe they will have their heaviest weapons here, I can imag-" His voice was drowned out by a group of Giki armored personnel carriers driving past. Once they had passed, the gruff one began speaking again. "They'll likely have their heaviest weapons covering this road. The only road wide enough for three tanks to fit side by side."

Yogeh rubbed his chin and then looked at the point on the map. "I think you're right and that's exactly where Deorey is planning to march his troops." He looked up at the gruff Unguon, "Tyok, I want you to take your tank.. well, Get Ubgi and Gakok... Flank them through these side streets. I'll take Habop and Kopko down the middle. Try to draw their attention."

Tyok, the gruff Unguon snapped a salute, "Aye sir, These humans have no idea what is about to hit them."

Yogeh returned the salute, "They have no idea but Humans are quick to adapt. Do not take them for granted, especially in a closed in city like this place-" His words were cut short by the distinct sound of Kilis guns opening up. Yogeh pointed to Tyoks tank, "Go!"

As Yogeh took his place in the lead tank, Unguon foot soldiers began rushing past them. The tanks radio began to crackle to life. "This is Colonel Deorey, Brave soldiers of the Kavaye, Today we continue to prove our worth, to prove that we are the true and strongest warriors in this universe. Draw strength from each other and you will scour your enemy's morale. Begin your assault, Victory to Kavaye!" Yogeh smirked a bit, "Victory to Kavaye."
-

---Two hours later---

-
Heavy gunfire had lit up the streets, cannon fire and rifles muffled out the civilians cries for mercy. There was no mercy here, only war. Explosions blasted huge holes through walls and as bricks collapsed in, soldiers could be heard screaming right before being buried. Tracer rounds clanked against the hulls of the tanks while small unguided rockets exploded against the sturdy armor of the tanks. Inside, the crew braced themselves for the impacts but showed no fear. There was no panic in this place as they all knew that if there were hesitation for even a moment, that powerful weapon of war would be a cold metal tomb.

"Target, six hundred meters, HE loaded. Fire!"

"Target hit, new target, infantry squad at five-o'clock."

"Firing.... Targets down, Call artillery on grid four-five. Seven shells."

"Copy."

Within seconds, shells were coming down with deadly accuracy, forcing huge plumes of smoke and a barrage of shrapnel in all directions. Screams of humans could be heard as the tanks rolled past the bombed out positions. Yogeh had peered through the gun-sights to see a young human soldier, no older than twenty, laying on his back holding on to his upper thighs.. which is all he had left of his legs. Yogeh closed his eyes hard and then shook his head.

As gunfire began to wane and the impending victory secured, Yogeh ordered his tanks to halt. Unguon soldiers were storming the buildings and on occasion, pulled surrendering humans from the rubble. Yogeh popped the commanders hatch on the tank and began looking around, only to see a surrendering human set off his grenades, taking two Unguon with him.

It seemed that as quickly as this battle started, it was over.
-

---The next day, early morning---

-
Yogeh was staring at himself in a mirror. He wasn't quite sure what he saw anymore, a warrior? a killer? After every battle, he would reflect on the battle.. He could see their faces, the men and women that lay dead because of his actions. He always justified it as if he didn't shoot first, his enemies would. Yeah, that was it. Kill them first.

A knock came from behind Yogeh, a young officer began walking in, "Sir, have you heard? we have lost all contact with command. Can't even get artillery on the line."

"What about short range?" Yogeh asked.

"Short range is still active." the officer said before snapping a salute. "Sir, the Colonel should be here soon."

Yogeh returned the salute then began brushing off his uniform and grabbing his sidearm. Outside, the Colonel arrived with a motorcade of three Giki APC's. The area was quiet as Unguon soldiers looked to the sky. Something was amiss but no one could quite place it. Yogeh walked out from a blown out building to meet the colonel. "Sir, what is going on here."

Colonel Deorey walked past Yogeh and began peering down a main street. Small gun fire could be heard sporadically in the distance. "Do you recognize that gunfire?" Yogeh walked to the Colonel and looked down the same street only to see an empty path littered with destroyed vehicles. "I hear human weapons but I cant make out the other."

Every minute seemed to get even more silent than the next. Soldiers had taken up defense positions in the debris with captured human field guns trained on every approach while hastily built barricades helped to funnel any enemy soldiers in to designated kill zones. Heavy machineguns and anti personnel mines were thrown down alleyways. Near the middle of the new make-shift fortress, Yogeh made his way to his tanks which were covered with camouflage nets. It was eerily quiet with only the sound of fires and light conversations between soldiers. Yogeh climbed atop the lead tank and sat down near the drivers hatch. The sky above was a mix of grey colors, some from darkened storm clouds and some from billowing smoke.

Yogeh just sat back and stared in to the sky for a few moments before the other tank commanders walked up. Yogeh then took a deep breath and addressed his men, "Men, get these tanks ready for combat so make sure your ammunition stores are secured. I know we are low on ammunition and are cut off from-" Yogeh looked up to the sky as a small droplet of water hit his nose.

"And of course it has to rain."

For the last half of the war, the Divine State has struggled, millions of souls lost to a war that seems to go on without end, and no clear end in sight. And once against, more will be sent to their inevitable deaths to the Graveyard that is Anuria.

------------------------

Elysium, Paradise System
Capital City of Tanis, Starport
Two Years ago
Today was quite a busy day then normal for the Tanis Starport, for today was the deployment of a new wave of reinforcements for the forces fighting on Anuria, a dark and saddened day for many. All the men and women were very much aware of the reputation of the planet, to be sent there is guaranteed death, never to see their loved ones ever again, this was particularly heart-breaking for one man.

At the very back of the masses of soldiers and other personnel lining up to board the transport ships, was a man in his early thirties bending down to a young boy, around the age of seven, behind him was a another boy, much older then the younger one by five years and a woman around the same age as the man. "Don't worry, It's only for a little while." He lied to the boys, holding back the tears. "Your Dad's gonna go save a whole planet from horrible heretics! So cheer me on, ok?"

The younger child unfortunately couldn't hold in his tears, sniffling and tears running down his face, the same happened with the older boy and the mother, she too was aware that he may no ever come back. "Ok..." the child responded."

"I'll be fine! Jarus will watch over me and keep me safe!" He assured his family, wiping away a tear from his son's cheek. "Come on, give your old dad a goodbye huge!" He widened his arms as his sons, without hesitation, rushed into his arms as they embraced him hard, and him back. After they were done, he rose up and gave his wife a long huge, and shared an intimate kiss. "I love you." he whispered into her ear. He grabbed his bag and turned to the quickly dwindling masses as they herded into the transports, quickly hopping aboard one.

The man turned and took one finally glance towards his family, waving each other goodbye as the doors slide close, the ship lifting off to orbit, shipping him to and his comrades to certain death.

-----------------------

Anuria, High Orbit
Hanger Bay of the Zealot Cruiser Sacred Promise
Two Years later
Two years pass, an almost amazing record for a soldier such as Adam Morrison, he and his batch of recruits were noting more then untrained cannon fodder to hold the line, and die, but he was damn stubborn, or lucky, or even blessed as some say. But in the end, he's just a determined family man desperate to return home, to Elysium.

Adam and seventy-one others lined up in an orderly fashion, standing at attention as a tall imposing Argoshan paced back and forth. "Alright you small worms." He said in intimating, gruff gravelly voice. "Our Company just received a new assignment from the Temple. We're to leave for the surface again, and set up a beachhead for the Basin." The word "Basin", oh that dreaded jarus-damned word. The Anuriite Basin is a living death trap for all who enter, all sorts of dangerous predators lurk underneath that sea of green. "I'd rather go the Sand Straits.." Adam muttered to himself.

"Command has set a rather small timetable, we head out now." The Captain said as three doors behind him lowered down, behind him were three pilgrim dropships, all stocked up with weapons and other equipment. "Martyr Company, move it!"

"Sir, yes sir!" they replied as they rushed to their seats within the ships, buckling up. Once all had boarded, the Pilgrims had begun to hover as they prepared to jet out of the Hanger Bay, and into the fray.

Another space battle waged as The Crusader fleet were engaged with two opposing fleets, dozens of ships exchanging fire, hundreds of fighters zooming around, it was chaos. The Dropships stayed as close as possible to each other as they dodged incoming fire and wreckage from previous battles, it wasn't long before a wing of Archangel Fighters flew in formation with them, escorting to the planet.

From within, in Adam's ship. Everyone, bowed their heads and preyed, Adam in particular was shaking in fear as the ship tremors become more frequent, it was terrifying for all aboard. "Oh Holy Jarus, Everliving Father of the People...look upon us with fortune as we caste down the heretics and guide us to safety...amen."

From outside, the dropships were fast approaching the planet below and onwards to the Basin, it's fighter escort breaking off to return to the fighting above. They seemed safe for the moment until one of the thrusters of Adam's ships was blown off, the ships spiraling down towards the basin. "Shit! Everybody hold on!" Shouted the Captain. The other pilgrims followed the stray closely as it made it's rough descent. Crashing into the trees, not too far from the Venusians.

The pilgrim was caught in one tree, above the ground, the door hanging way out, some weapons even had fallen out. An outcold Adam quickly opened his eyes to see frantic soldiers leaving their seats, and jumping out of the dropship, He followed them without delay as he raised the bar, grabbed the closet weapon he could get his hands on, and jumped out afterwards. He looked up as the other two pilgrims hovered over their position, blasting away the trees to make a clearer landing zone, crushing those that stood.

"Rough landing, but by Jarus, we made it." The Argoshan Captain said, turning to his men. "Anyone de-" The Captain was suddenly interrupted by a horrific screech. "Ah shit..." one soldiers muttered. From the now cleared trees, a large six-legged creature came rushing out to one of the landed dropships, jumping on top of it, and then proceeded to smash the roof with its blade-like nails, breaking through in mere moments as the screams of the men and women inside were being crushed by the beast.

The others can only look in sheer terror as the monster's legs were covered in blood, even the innards. "Oh god..." Adam thought. The beast climbed off the wreaked ship as it lowered it's head to feast upon the tattered remains of the soldiers, it's sinister maw covered in blood. "My sister was in that ship..." A young light plum-colored naasi said, his voice trembling from the sudden grief and anger. "Dammit....I promised to look after her...YOU MONSTER!" He shouted in rage, grabbing a LMG, pushing pass his squadmates and unleashed a hail of lead on the beast. "DIEEE!!!"

"Shit, everyone, open fire!" The Captain ordered. "Take that thing down!" Adam and the others didn't hesitate as they all aimed at the monster, a rain of bullets and plasma bolts crashing against it until it finally collapsed. The Naasi dropped the LMG, falling to his knees, tears flowing from his eyes. "Nasha...I'm sorry..." Adam placed his hand over his shoulder. "It's ok Naska....let it out.." they turned their heads to the others, and although some were obscured by the faceplates, they could clearly see their sympathies towards the young soldier and nodded in approval to let his pain out.

The Naasi let out a loud scream of sheer agony from the shock, followed by whimpers. The Captain slowly approached. "I'm sorry for the loss, but...we have a mission to do."

"Right.." Adam said, helping the grieving Naska up. "Let's head out."

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Sovereign Station
Malthecien Space, outside of Anurian System


Remon blearily opened his eyes, groaning. He glanced around his small berth, wondering what had awoken him, when with a jolt he became aware of the alarm blaring from across the room. Remon rose from his bunk and quickly moved towards the source of the noise, the electric control panel on his desk. As soon as he accessed it, the noise stopped, and the face of his Primate appeared on the screen.

"Archon Remon, please report to the bridge immediately."

"Aye, sir. On my way."

Remon turned saluted fist-over-heart, then turned off the control panel and scrambled to dress himself. He put on his fleet blues, smoothed his uniform, and quickly inspected himself before accessing his wrist console and unlocking his door. It opened with a quiet hsss, and he briskly walked out and into the narrow corridors beyond. He took an immediate right, nodding to the enlisted he passed on his way to the bridge, his thoughts racing all the while.

The adepts guarding the entrance to the bridge stood at attention once they saw him. He murmured an "at ease" and continued inside. Arrayed in a crescent, theurgists worked solemnly at various stations. One noticed his arrival and called out "Archon on deck!" and saluted him, an action which was quickly imitated by his peers.

"At ease." He said, schooling his features and donning a stoic expression. He turned his attention to the two command chairs, one of which was occupied by his superior. Remon greeted the Primate formally, then sat down in his respective chair and waited. The Primate turned and nodded to him.

"Archon Remon, my apologies for waking you early. We have recieved orders from the First." The Primate gestured to the holo-console but did not look at it.

Remon widened his eyes slightly. "So soon? We have just finished conducting refittings." He had expected to be stationed at Sovereign for another week at least before being shipped out again.

"Yes, I know it seems sudden." The Primate paused, as if considering something. "Order the assemblage of the fleet. We are beginning another offensive on Anuria."

Remon swallowed, and mutely nodded. The last offensive had failed miserably, barely managing to expand their territory and resulting in the near-destruction of the entire Malthecien fleet. Of course, that fleet had been less than half the size of the one now gathered at Sovereign Station. This would certainly be the largest operation undertaken by the Theocracy in the last decade. Roughly thirty ships -- five inquisitors, ten patriarchs, and around twenty missionaries -- was a large force by any standard.

"I shall dispatch orders immediately."

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Patrol near Camp Frostbite
Arctic Northlands, Malthecien-Kavaye border


"Suppressing fire!" Elthian screamed.

He rose to his knees and let out a rain of plasma at the enemy Unguon fifty meters away. Surprisingly, he clipped one, who fell with an alien shriek, while the others ducked behind the snowdrift they were using as cover. His squad rose from their positions and began selectively firing at the Unguon, felling another three. One of the Unguon returned fire, and Elthian's squadmate took a shot to the neck and collapsed with a strangled gurgle.

"Keep up the pressure!" Invoker Theuron bellowed as he emptied his battery on two Unguon who had unwisely rose from the snowdrift, emboldened by their ally's success.

"Yes, sir!" Elthian answered, bringing his rifle to bear again. He fired in bursts, his battery low, and managed to take down another enemy before the rest of his squad mopped up the remaining Unguon. He breathed heavily, then reloaded his weapon.

"Good shooting, Acolyte." Invoker Theuron said to him, then addressed the entire squad. "Alright, we're done here. Grab the casualties and let's move it!"

The squad quickly moved to follow Theuron's orders and Elthian followed suit. Ambushes against the Unguon patrols were swiftly becoming second nature; though incursions into Kavaye territory as audacious as this one were rare. Although, Elthian considered, those were becoming more common as well. Headquarters had been organizing more raids such as this recently. Indeed, in the past month or so, he had participated in such attacks four times as many than he had in the previous three months combined. The veterans said that this could only mean the beginning of a new offensive, and Elthian was inclined to agree.

He was broken from his reverie by the Invoker barking at him for falling behind, and he picked up his pace. Briefly, he wondered if this new offensive would be as successful as the last.

Best not to think too long on that, He thought grimly, glancing at the ground. I don't want to become another cooling body on this forsaken planet.

The City of Gods hadn't been treated like a sacred site for the better part of a hundred years. Raj'Avail, a field leader for the Dynamo Squad, well understood the value of symbolism, as well as the need to overrule any thoughts of holy resistance among the native people. The city's golden horizon was blocked by magnificent towers that stood in front of the sun, as though to deny the people any light during the day.

"Commander Wells, Dynamo is on course to the shrine," Raj notified his distant overseer via an encrypted frequency. The subtlety was made better by the fact that he never had to say it aloud. Somewhere before the third or fourth generation, silent conversation became a standard feature for all Imperial forces.

"Very well, Raj," he heard back quickly. "Change of orders. You are not just to secure and oust the locals. You are also to replace the figure of Vanericko," a local deity, "with the likeness of Resolv."

Dynamo was a tight-nit group, bonded through hard fought battles. Under the cover of shadow from the very towers they'd erected at the city's edge, they were able to move without gaining detection, or so they believed. But Dynamo was not alone in their endeavor, at least a dozen other squads were reaching toward the same objective. Raj wasn't fond of fighting, but he was fond of the only family he'd ever known: Dynamo Squad. He'd been manufactured in Generation Six, a wave dedicated solely to Imperial conquest. While others saw him as a hero of sorts, Raj viewed combat as no more dangerous than hiking through the woods of Earth. Based on what he'd heard fleshly life served only to destroy each other and to survive at the expense of their own. But digital life, they were more civilized. Despite occasional spats with the Eym deemed necessary by The Emperor, they got along more peacefully. And between the two species, they had thus far proven that biological life was simply outdated.

"Raj, the shrine is guarded by natives, no one armed though. Do you think Capitol should clear them out?" Capitol Squad leader Atalaya asked.

"That would be too swift," he answered. While Dynamo wasn't alone, Raj'Avail had been given authority over all accompanying squads, including Capitol. "Instead let's give them something to remember. Send in the Gremlins."

At once, roughly a dozen knife-racks jumped into the air and left behind vertical columns of smoke. They shifted directions before crashing down near the locals. Their edges pierced some of the natives bodies, but the others ran away in a panic, hands in the air and feet going so fast it looked like they'd cartoonishly turn into wheels. The gremlins pursued a bit, one grabbed hold of a squirrelly local, dragging him skyward by his arms before tossing him onto one of the other runaways.

"Very well, Capitol," Raj addressed the crew of hovering nightmares. "Scout for any sentries. If they're here, they must realize that we are too."

"Yes sir," one of his subordinates chattered before blasting through the doors to the local temple. Smoke lingered in the doorway, creeping heavenward after he, and others outfitted like him entered. Radio silence highlighted their attentiveness as preparations were made for a confrontation. "Area secure. The coast is completely secure."

"Excellent," Raj responded, promptly forwarding the orders, "send in the Crocs to level the statue."

At once, a series of heavily armored units sauntered into the religious center, tossing their weight about in a way that managed to casually lead them at a panthers' pace. In moments, the statue turned into a torch, with metal scraps falling off so thin they'd be best used as a bird's nest. Raj walked inside the area in time to see the ankles uprooted from the pedestal they'd proudly stood on for generations.

"Excellent," he commented with a mad grin, a grin no one could see because his 'face' had no capacity for facial expression, unlike later models. Radioing his closest associates, Dynamo, he ordered, "Begin work on constructing an image of Resolv."

"Sir, we have a problem.."

"And what is that?"

"We're under attack." Whether it were natives or conquerors like themselves went unspecified. "Please send reinforcements."

---

Shit. Shit! Was the first thought that came to Aref's mind. It had all seemed too easy, too quiet. Why would he lull himself into a false sense of security? Stupid. Stupid. But maybe it was just a technological malfunction. Maybe it was just the scanner picking up the motion of some solitary bird rustling though the canopy. Yes. That seemed plausible, and it wouldn't even be the first time it had happened. His mind raced with possibilities, denying the very real possibility of hostile contact in hopes that if he believed it hard enough, it would not come to be.
The others had heard the piercing beep, too. Fords almost shit himself, and the rest of the team lowered themselves into the undergrowth to conceal as much of themselves as possible. All but the sergeant, who calmly severed radio contact with high command and slowly but steadily made his way to the wrecked turret as a means of cover.

And then there was silence. Just for a moment. Where the empty wind funnelled through the winding verdancy with bellowing cries to emphasise the eeriness of the alien world, and where the gently wafting of unusual leaves above made Aref a little calmer than he had been. He lowered his rifle and took a moment to stare at them; dancing, swinging, twirling to the rhythm of the wind. Hypnotic. Mesmerising. The wind was growing stronger, stronger still, and they seemed to lean away from each other, as though in fear of some greater event.
Aref had seen this before. He had never wanted to be a soldier but he knew the signs when he saw them.

"Incoming orbital insertion!" he screamed to the squad who were content to not stare longingly at the leaves, the only telltale sign of the drop.


And then, just as quicly as he had noticed the first indicator, the sound erupted through the jungle. A screaming, wailing screech like no other, the sound of steel repelling the force of the entire atmosphere opposing it, the terrible howl of some godforsaken skyborn demon crashing and tumbling to the ground. The leaves shook and the trees rumbled, the men could feel it in the ground, Aref lost his footing for a brief moment as the rest scrambled to lay prone to avoid such a thing. And then came a dirty streak of fire, scarring the air with black smoke that lingered for far longer than its creator had.
After that - a crashing sound. The sound of crushed branches in the distance. Then the rumbling stopped, the sound stopped. Just as abruptly as it had begun.

The sergeant poked his head around the frame of the turret, demanding a role-call to see who was hurt. Fortunately nobody was, despite the wounded ego of Aref for falling flat on his behind during the shake. He didn't think that anybody had seen him, thankfully.

"Sounds like a crash landing, sarge," Beric piped up. The sergeant nodded his head.

"Probably come to secure the area themselves. Fuck," he muttered to himself.

"What if they have support?" Fords asked, somewhat erratically. He was scared. Probably for the best, Aref had thought.

"Preemptive strike, lads," the sergeant replied. "We've got no choice. Those drops don't come in alone, so I reckon they'll be packing some-"

He was interrupted by the muffled, shrill screeching of one of the native beasts. And then of gunfire crackling. A scream. A dying scream, perhaps. And then the dying scream of whatever warlike creature had come across the crash-landed party.

The men looked to each other uneasily. Aref felt that familiar nausea in his belly. He keeled over, clutching to his gut as it provided him some mild relief from the discomfort.

Fords looked down at him, and then back at the sergeant. "Don't say it, Sarge-" he protested.

"This is not a fuckin' democracy, Fords," he reproached, turning to face the soldier aggressively. "We're going in, and we're killing every last one of them before they kill us,"

Aref couldn't hold it in any longer, and vomited across the forest floor.

---

Once more they weaved through the forest after Aref cleaned himself up. This time, however, they moved with purpose and intent. They were the hunters, not rightened animals waiting to be hunted. They had the drop on the enemy this time, the sergeant had said. He would not listen to any other plans. He was determined to eliminate the hostiles before they had a chance to react. Aref hated days like this. Hell, he hated this. He hated being on this godforsaken planet with these godforsaken people, killing people that he didn't even know. He had no gripe with them, no real reason for doing what he was doing other than he was told to - forced to.

He thumbed the barrel of his rifle. It was loaded. Primed. Ready. A tool built for killing. Made by the lowest bidder, and for what reason? To secure an area of alien jungle that a hundred years prior, every nation was happy to go without knowing it even existed.

"Fuck," Fords whispered, holding his hand flat to signal that the squad should hold tight. "Fuck fuck fuck," he whispered again through the comms.

For a moment, Aref was confused. Why were they stopping? But when he mustered the courage to lift his head to look forwards rather than down, it became clear. They were right there. 'Hostiles'. Hostiles who were on their knees in grief. One of them was crying, and another was consoling the affected. 'Hostiles'.

"Jesus..." Aref mouthed to himself.

The rest of the men scattered into the trees as to not provide the enemy with a direct line of sight, instead concealing themselves in bushes and leaves, the barrels of their guns all aimed on the grieving 'targets' ahead. He dropped to his belly, doing the same but with no intention of firing off a single shot. Evidently the others did not feel the same, as when the very quiet voice of the sergeant through the intercom requested that they were to fire weapons free, the jungle came alive with flashes of light from their rifles.

Aref just lay there, though, sobbing through his helmet, his weapon staying cold and passive. He wasn't sure he could watch as bullets whizzed through the air. He didn't want to guess how many people were about to die.

---

Aiden Reson had not necessarily always wanted to be a soldier, like a great many of the Venusian forces on Anuria, but unlike some he had grown to love the life. He joined before conscription was implemented, doing it mostly for the money and the glory at first; never really believing in all that quasi-political crap that the government spewed in their propaganda campaign, but if anything were to reel in the girls, being a veteran of a great interstellar war seemed like a solid way forward for him. He had always been a bit of a meat-head, a grunt, a patriot. His family could trace lineage back to the original Venusian settlers and back to those who took initiative in fighting for their freedom from Earth. And hell, Aiden was not about to let long-dead 'wrinklies' have all the glory.

When he actually spent time on Anuria, however, things changed for him. It became less about patriotism, and he cultivated a real and very true desire to help the native population who were unable to defend themselves. It became not about him, but about them. About protection and aid. This realisation led him to request a transfer to Ceres Company several years into his tour; the company that existed to defend native interests and, primarily, the defend the sacred site of Kol'Khen from other, more aggressive initiatives from other, more aggressive nations.

And today was his lucky day. He hadn't lost his desire to fight, he merely complemented it with a strong moral code and virtuous intent. Apparently the EFS, the so-called 'Omegas' had come out to play. Command wasn't sure of their intentions, but if their actions within the last few moments had been indicative of it, then Aiden was fairly certain they were going to do their best to present themselves as gods to the natives.

"Damn, that's shit is fuuuuuucked" he cried to Lt. Teron, standing on the opposite gunnery-point to him. He had to scream his lungs out, as the wind lashed past with astonishing ferocity. "Still!" he shouted once more "Gotta love riding shotgun on Dropships!"
Lt. Teron smiled at Aiden, personally unable to gather the strength to call across the thundering hull of the vehicle. The two often leaned out of Io class Dropships, finding freedom in the wind through their hair, and adrenaline in seeing the battlefield below.

The ship was accompanied by a Callisto Class gunship, some of the best support High Command could offer at the time; brimming with guns and missiles, energy weapons and shields, that thing was not going to go down easily, and Aiden felt a whole lot better with one of them flying by his side. Their objective was not far, perhaps a minutes flight further: one of the temples housing a wealth of sacred native artefacts and, importantly, a statue of the God Vanericko. They had received anonymous intel that that was where the EFS planned to strike - the information was like a godsend, with exact coordinates and all. Back at camp the men had joked about having a guardian angel. Fitting for the Holy City of the natives.

The plan was to shock-and awe the intruders from above, forcing them out of the temple before gunning them down and dropping soldiers to re-secure the temple for the natives. It didn't seem hard to pull off, and Command was even willing to donate a Callisto Gunship to the cause.

Aiden smiled at his partner as the dropship began to slow, as the wracking wind began to die. They were slowing, and they were slowing fast. Aiden didn't have a single moment to make a snarky comment before the Callisto gunship, in all its armed glory, sped ahead of them, unleashing a torrent of what could have only been hellfire upon the temple below.

Anuriite Basin
Without warning, Adam felt an intense stinging pain, the source coming from his shoulder, blood splatting on the back of the grieving Naska. He was no stranger to such pain and knew full well he had just been shot, and fell against the naasi onto the ground. already ten others collapsed, unfortunately, their wounds were more fatal, pools of blood forming in the grass and dirt.

"Fuck! take cover!" The Captain cried out as he rushed towards a tall tree, returning fire. What remained of the Company scattered in complete disarray like frightened hens, some fled to the last intact dropship for cover, as well as for weapons and ammo. The injured Adam slowly crawled towards the dropship for safety, while Naska had just remained where he was, unable to go on. "Shitshitshitshit!" He frantically thought to himself, trying his best to remain calm despite the bullets and plasma bolts raining over him as both side exchanged fire. "Medic!" he screamed with all his strength. From the dropship, his Sergent, a human who was a few years older then him, had noticed a distressed Adam as he continued to crawl. "Taki, get the Corporal! We'll give you cover!".
A young woman emerged from the Operations Room of the dropship. "Sir, yes sir!" She responded as she ran out from the back, rushing head on for Adam.

"Razor Squad! Suppressive fire!" The sergeant gave the order, running out with a LMG. "Die you heathen shits!" he shouted, spraying bullets blindingly towards the trees, several others had joined him in formation, firing their weapons.

Taki lifted Adam till he sat up, dragging him towards the transport. "The kid's still there..." he said, regarding Naska, pointing towards him. "We'll get him, don't worry." She assured Adam.

As she pass the fireteam, they slowly retreated to the ship, the two members of Razor Squad fell to the hail of enemy bullets. As they returned inside, taki, for a moment, handed over the injured Adam to the ship's pilot to speak with the sergeant. "Sarge!" She shouted over the deafening sounds of gunfire. "Private Auru is still out there and alive!"

"It's too hot out there!" He replied. "We can't risk it!" She couldn't argue, he was indeed correct, the unknown attackers were well hidden amongst the alien trees and vegetation, she was lucky to leave without a bullet punching through her. "Yes sir.."

Elsewhere, the Captain was pinned down, what seemed like a few riflemen had turned their gaze upon him, showering the tree with more bullets. He returned fire blindly with a carbine until he heard several clicks. "Damn!" He said to himself, reaching down his waste for another ammo clip, to then realize, he had none. "Well...I'll be damned." He said, followed by a sinister grin, tossing aside his gun. "Well, looks like it's time for the good ole' Agrocharge." He rushed out from cover, taking in the bullets like a sponge, hurt like hell though. "HERE COMES THE WRECKER!" He cried out as he charged towards the trees, where the firing originated from.

"Look at all of this, Wiktor. Bodies, that's all they see. Why build a stone wall when you could make a human wall that fires back?"

Wiktor almost giggled at that as he pulled his coat and mask taught over his body and face. It was freezing here- a lot like home, to be honest. Wiktor couldn't really complain about that- at home, he'd likely be in a tight alley, trying to find standing space, wondering how he's going to eat the next day. Here, in the trenches, he was wandering a tight space, trying to find sleeping room, being served meals each day. Sure, it was mostly artificial shit that he was sure they wouldn't even dare feed cattle with, but it was food in his belly. Wiktor hadn't had a real home, both in a literal sense and a social sense. Out here, on Anuria, he could have no home and still do something. Sure, he'd inevitably get torn up in a battle some day, but it was better than finding himself at the end of his own gun back home. Here in Entrenchment Sector 5, nicknamed the Killing Fields, for it would be the first defensive encampment any foe coming from the east would meet, that time may come sooner than Wiktor may think.

"You're a real motivator, Rad." Wiktor replied. Radoslaw, Wiktor- and most others that knew the man- just called him Rad, walked the slow saunter alongside him. Radoslaw was nearly ten years Wiktor's superior and had been here on Anuria nearly two years, a mountainous achievement for a Konscript, and unlike Wiktor, Radoslaw did not wear his mask, his curly and bushy gray-flecked black beard sufficing in keeping his face warm.

"Yeah, yeah- A real fucking Corpsekeeper, eh?"

Wiktor never really liked it when others referred to the Corekeepers as that. He understood why they treated their troops so harsh- especially the one attatched to Wiktor's Blok, whom he had heard had put a bullet in a man's head for taking more than a step backwards- but they were all as terrified as their Konscripts were, no matter how loud they shouted. Nevertheless, Wiktor laughed, if only to humor Radoslaw.

For a while the two merely slumped along in the foggy, snowy haze pertinent of the Northlands, mesmerized by the view of their own breath and the satisfying crunch of the snow beneath their boots. Wiktor originally been trying to find suitable sleeping space, but after Radoslaw found him he gave up on that endeavor. He loved the man, many did for his stories, but he would never try to sleep near the veteran. Snored like a bear.

"Hey, Wiktor, look!" Radoslaw was shaking Wiktor out of his fatigued stupor. Next to him, painted on the wall of the trench in a luminous orange paint, was a symbol; a gauntlet grasping a sword . Wiktor had nearly walked past it, but he knew well what it meant - the Eidolon himself had been here. Wherever that symbol was, someone was usually nearby who knew the tale of this location.

"Eidolon was here, yeah." Came a quiet and beautiful voice from behind Wiktor. Turning, he faced a pale skinned, young blonde woman with a beard as long as Radoslaw's.

"Took out a whole slew of Unguon here a few years back."

"Yeah? Them's is as much fodder as we are," replied Radoslaw, a bit gruffly. Perhaps he was jealous that he was being out-bearded.

"Did it with a bootknife. 'Parently also had ripped a tube off'a Quickmortar for a few good shots, too." Quipped the bearded woman. Radoslaw did not reply.

Wiktor had always been curious of the Eidolon. Thinking about him certainly made the Konscript feel more safe, and this certainly wasn't the first Eidolon symbol Wiktor had encountered. His favorite tale came from further within the Northlands, near a Halfbore placement where he traveled by himself for days to assure that the shell he fired had annihilated his target. After finishing off a few stragglers, he came back.

"Is there more to it? I'd love to hear the full story."

----



"Here, Yuri, stop." Ordered Piotr, halting suddenly, adjusting a dial on his goggles to better account for the snow-filled fog. He had to hand it to the offworld engineers, the Hussard Deathmasks were well made, though he wish they offered more protection. Then again, a shot to the face is a shot to the face, no matter what's covering it.

This section of the trench had only been completed the night prior, and as a result was eerily quiet and completely empty, save for Piotr, garbed in common Hussard accouterments, and a similarly dressed Yuri who hustled to stand next to him, adjusting the same dial on his goggles that Piotr had just done.

"You think here is far enough down? Trucks still have a few miles to go."

"I'm sure, Yuri. Do not question me."

In the distance he could hear the Trucks working hard to dig the trench out from under the ice and snow. Loud machines.

"Right, sorry sir."

Yuri offered a slight apologetic bow to Piotr and began his task as an Enigma- withdrawing a small vial and inserting it into a barrel protruding from the armor on his forearm. There was a satisfying click, Yuri pointed the barrel at the wall, and began to paint. The luminous orange paint was resistant to nearly everything, but the smell was so potent that it even surpassed the Deathmask's inherent filters. Piotr watched as Yuri worked until the art was finished- drawing back, Yuri admired his work. A gauntlet wielding a sword- the symbol of the Eidolon. Piotr gave a nod of approval as Yuri glanced at him.

The two both flinched as gunshots were heard. Piotr cussed, but remembered where they came from. A separate Enigma squad was following behind, coating the trench in scuff marks, bullet holes, fake blood, and footprints. They had to make the trench look lived-in; Konscripts weren't as stupid as some others thought, and more than one would make the connection behind a brand new looking trench and the Eidolon's symbol's presence.

"We're done here, Yuri, let's move on." Piotr told his apprentice, "Next, we're finding a loyal Jackboot from the Blok that will be stationed here, and tell him or her the story that shall be told about the Eidolon here. Make sure they know there are consequences if they do not comply. While you're doing that, I'll talk to the same Blok's Corekeeper, make sure they understand to watch that one and shoot em' if they don't follow our "guidelines". You understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Excellent."

----



Nikodem, or "Niko" to many, was a traitor.

Sure, no one knew, not yet anyway, but his reluctance would certainly grant him the illustrious title of 'traitor' some day. Some day he would crack and not be able to handle it anymore- he was still getting nightmares about those on the other end of his cannon. Every thud of his Halfbore brought images in his that he wished not to think about. A shame, considering his numerous years in artillery service made him one of the foremost elite and gave him his beloved Halfbore. He had given it a nickname once, but nowadays he had to force himself to remember his own. He wished he could discard his Grenadier armor and throw on a coat and fight in the frontlines- a quick and honorable death, at least, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with those who believed in some vague "cause". No- Niko cared not to die for the cause, but for his fallen friends. The countless names he saw extinguished. He wondered how many names he, himself, had delivered to what gods may be...

"Niko!" Came a voice from behind. In the sand it was hard to hear footsteps, and Niko jumped a bit.

"Gods, that what all the Halfbore firing do to ya'? Be surprised if you could hear me standin' right next to you."

Niko did not reply but scowled at the young man that approached him as he overlooked the dunes beneath. They had long been shelled, but there was still an odd beauty to them.

The young man next to him was a recent addition to the Battery. Niko didn't care to remember his name.

"Gotta' get goin', Niko. Got orders to fire a salvo."

Today? Thought Niko. Just a few weeks ago they had nearly emptied their ready supply of shells at some target Niko would probably never get to see. And now they were needed again? Already?

"Guess we got some Jalaryian targets."

Ah. The Divine State. He had heard of it, sure, who could possibly be stationed on Anuria and not know who they were fighting, but he had never seen them operate up close. Being a part of the Battery afforded him that layer of safety; he would often see or hear battles in the distance, but being a Battery, especially a Battery with three Halfbores, meant he was never supposed to see direct combat.

Without a word Niko turned and brushed past the newcomer back towards his Halfbore- sure enough, he found his ammo supply restocked, a few Volptruks on standby to help him and his crew load the massive shells.

With a sigh, Niko began to bark orders to his veteran crew to ready the Halfbore and soon the whole Battery- mostly Armatas and Paladins aside from the few Halfbores- was a flurry of motion and sound.

Niko stood back and closed his eyes in preparation for the first shell to be fired. The first one was always the worst.

Kavaye, Isotopes finest.

Kol'Kora- Yogeh's Story, The Hunt

The rain had been coming down for hours it seemed. All Unguon at this point had hunkered down for the evening as everyone was confident by now that they Humans weren't going to assault their make shift fort. Still though, the gunfire that had drew their attention hours ago was still haunting the officers. They knew something was up going on and the last orders they had was to push further in to the city, closer to where this unknown battle had taken place.

Yogeh had finally gotten comfortable. Tyok was across from him, eating some native food. Furthermore, Tyok did something that Yogeh despised more than anything in this universe, Talk with a mouth full of food...

"Sir." He said. The next was garbled but Yogeh tried to make it out, "Yogghhh" -Yogeh- "Weig Myak jggds spayshyp" -We make just space ship- "Busdh feuutiertg nmsdor Nois wa?" -??? ???? ???? Noise was?- Yogeh sat there, cupping his mouth in disgust. "Yog ou boughrggle the bes armogglg grghrheg mou fott kerreg" -Yogeh, you boggle the bus arm...??? ???- Yogeh was paralyzed by now and finally spoke up, "Tyok." He took a deep breath, "Please chew your food with your mouth closed before you talk to me."

Tyok nodded and closed his mouth. Yogeh shot a sarcastic smirk before reaching for a cup of water. Tyok, finally speaking clearly, "Sorry sir. As I was saying, I believe with our armored superiority, we can easily crush the enemy ahead. Drive them out of the city for good." Yogeh just stared blankly. -That was nothing like I had imagined.- He snapped back in to reality, "Oh, yeah. We should have this... We must remain cautious though." Tyok nodded in approval before attacking that gross looking native food. Yogeh pulled out his ration pack and began picking at it. He stared at it, "This shits nasty."

Before long, a ray of light brought Yogeh from his slumber. Beside his head was an half eaten Unguon field ration kit, a spilled cup of water and a passed out Tyok and behind him, his tank crew. What a night.. And there wasn't even a party. It had been weeks since Yogeh had gotten any meaningful sleep. Honestly, it'd been weeks since any one in his armored group gotten any sleep. Yogeh stood up and stretched before walking to a window. Outside he could barely see the treads from his tank as it was very well camouflaged. Nearby he could see the other five and numerous uncovered armored vehicles. It was to be an easy endeavor, move forward and secure an enemy command post.

"Alright men, Up! its time to get to it. This may be the last battle for this part of the city, last battle we might have to be in for a while." Yogeh moved to his men, kicking one and nudging another. "Up!!"

His crew began to wake and yet another day of preparation was to begin. As Yogeh walked out from the building, he tugged on his uniform to allow a gentle breeze to cool his body. Before him, two of his tanks were uncovered with the crews examining the treads and main guns. It was gonna be a long day, a long.. uneventful day.

Before Yogeh could even react, the shock from an explosion sent him to the ground. He brought his arms over his head to protect against falling debris before looking around. Unguon troops were rushing to cover as another explosion sent an APC ten feet in to the air before landing on its side and then rolling over on its top. Yogeh stood up and started to run for the APC to check for survivors, another explosion sent him to the ground again.. "Whats going on!" he yelled but before he could hear a reply from any soldiers, his answer showed up over his head. Four Eym gunships zipped overhead, making strange deep horn sounds. "What the hell are they doing here!" he yelled. Tyok had rushed out by now and grabbed Yogeh by the shoulders. "Get up!" he said, tugging hard.

Another explosion sent Tyok to the ground but not before shrapnel had sliced in to his face. He moaned in pain, giving Yogeh a burst of adrenaline. With it, he rushed to Tyok and dragged him behind some rubble. "Just sit still." Yogeh said, trying to calm him down at the least. The sound of gunfire and explosions nearly drowned it out though as the Gunships had began their relentless assault. Unguon fired missiles to no avail as the Gunships would simply dodge them or lure the missiles in to buildings. Nearby, Yogeh watched a young soldier fire in to the air at a Gunship.. He must have hit a soft spot because it sure did piss that Gunship off. It turned and fired at the man. His torso quite literally exploded, leaving two legs and covering Yogeh with bits of... Unguon.

"Strange, they haven't noticed the tanks."

Yogeh was trying to remain calm but watched as one of his tank crews got inside and started it up. The heat and noise from the engine alerted the Beasts above and without a thought, they fired their weapons on to the soft spots of the tank, piercing its hull with ease. After a few shots, a ball of fire shot out from the top of the turret. Yogeh thought he heard screams from inside, or maybe the sound of crackling metal. Regardless, he closed his eyes hard before turning to Tyok who was finally starting to get over the pain. All around, Explosions, Gunfire.. Screams.

A mere half hour had passed before the Gunships moved on but it seemed to be an eternity...

Yogeh stood up and looked around, "Anyone still alive?!" At first there was no answer, "Anyone?!" A few minutes passed before some soldiers began crying out in pain. Others stood up and began looking around. "Sir, Commanders dead!" one yelled. Yogeh just shook his head before looking to the men, "Alright, lets get our wounded to the tanks. We'll drive them back to our lines." The men nodded in approval before rushing off. Some of the injured would never survive the trip so the able soldiers, with a heavy heart, abandoned them. This miniature operation went smoothly as with some luck, the other five tank crews had mostly survived.

Before long, their engines started up and they were on their way. Tyok got over the comms, "Yogeh, I thought the Eym were pulling out.." Yogeh replied, "They are, We must be close to their last bastion in this city, maybe even the region."

The group was moving without any issues now but once again, the Eym were going to ruin Yogehs day. Ahead, the lead tank suddenly exploded in a bright flash. Yogeh popped the hatch and looked around, "Land mi-" he was cut off by a sharp but short lived purple-ish red beam of light going right through the back of another of his tanks. Where it had struck, the metal was burning red.

"Shit!"

The four remaining tanks split up, two of which had injured aboard. Yogehs tank turned a corner only to catch a quick view of the Eym apex predator, a 'Heavy attack platform' or more simply, the 'Hap'. Yogehs eyes shot wide open. He heard the stories of these beasts hunting tanks and mechs from all armies. They aren't invincible but they definitely had a vicious reputation. One of his tank commanders came over the comms "Yogeh! enemy spotted, I'm going to move in on it."

Yogehs tank moved forward with the intent of flanking the Hap, only to arrive just in time to watch it fire its main gun right through the front of its third victim. "Head on, right through our frontal plate, Fuck! seriously fuck!". His tanks driver chimed in, "I heard that its weak towards the back, some sort of slanted plate that is easily pierced."

Yogeh smirked as he realized his tank could hit that spot from where he was. "Gunner, Target that spot, Fire when ready!" And within a couple seconds, the ground shook and dust kicked up as the tank sent its payload in to that spot the driver had mentioned. The Hap however, deflected the rounds with its powerful shielding. "You have to be fucking kidding me, Fire again! keep firing!" The Hap darted off before Yogeh could fire again. Tyoks tank had circled the block, coming in from the opposite side. Had the Hap remained in place, it'd have been pincered. "Tyok! that thing is fast, Get behind some cover now!" Before he could even finish speaking, Tyoks tank began reversing. It was a lucky move as that purple-red death ray missed Tyoks tank by mere inches.

The sound of the fourth Unguon tank firing its guns rang out through the buildings. Yogehs tank turned around and moved down a long street before making a left down another side street. The Fourth Tank was sitting behind some rubble with only its turret exposed. That Hap didn't care though and with a sharp, bright flash, the turret of the Tank was flying in to the sky, followed by a perfect fireball. "Fuck!" Yogeh shouted. This was starting to piss him off at this point. These were main battle tanks and were a threat on the field. This Hap was beyond them though. Little did they know, Their opponent was one of the most veteran crews the Eym had on the planet. An ace with over one hundred-fifty confirmed kills, Four of which were Yogehs comrades.

Yogeh ordered his tank to reverse, back the way they had just came. Yogeh noticed that the Hap didn't show up on thermals or EM scans. A perfect predator, it was going to be visual gun-sights now.. Something Yogeh had always dreamed of in his youth. "Alright, bring us around that building.. wait, Push through it!" The tanks turret swiveled around to protect its gun from the impact of the wall. It would be an imposing sight, The Unguon monster bursting through the walls, sending bricks in all directions. It didn't tank long for the tank to break through the walls and corridors that were once filled with native workers.

As it reached the last wall, he could see the Hap slowly moving down a street.. its gun mount moving left and right, always scanning for targets. He knew it was hunting them now andin his position, he couldn't bring his gun around without the Hap seeing it. "Shit.. Shit.. Shit.." he said but with some luck, the Hap turned its rear towards Yogeh once more. Tyoks tank had been spotted and within seconds, Two explosions hit the Haps shields, drawing its attention away from Yogeh. He jumped in to action, bursting through the last wall and bringing his gun to bear. "Fire at will!! kill that bastard!"

-Click-

"What was that?!" Yogeh shouted. "Sir! Guns jammed, I'll have to get out and flush the barrel from the outside!" the gunner said. Yogeh pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fucking figures, Fuck!!" The Hap turned its attention back to Yogehs tank but before it could fire, the fourth tank, turret free, had burst through towards the Hap. It turned and fired its gun, Grazing the top of the tank. It didn't matter though as the only one left was its driver who was already going to die.

The tank hit the Hap hard, damaging its focusing lens on its main weapon. At close range though it was still dangerous and proved it when it fired right through the Unguons tank, burning it in two. The Hap began falling back at this point and only Tyok had the chance to fight it. Sadly, Tyok had taken a longer route to flank and by the time he could arrive, that Hap was long gone.. Two Eym gnships quickly zipped over head and before long, Yogeh could see one carrying an Eym tank. It was too far to get any details but it was likely that Hap. Tyoks tank pulled up next to Yogehs and Tyok popped his hatch. His face was covered in scars at this point. "Sir, they are falling back?"

Yogeh just smiled as in the distance an Eym warship was lifting off. "I guess they really are pulling out."

Tyok smiled, "Maybe our fleet arrived! give those bastards a reason to run."

Yogeh knew it wasn't the reason but it didn't matter anyway.. The city was now fair game and with their hunter departed, he smiled too. "Alright, get that gun cleaned up."

A few hours later, the Two tanks were well on their way back to friendly lines but not before their bright sunny day was once again eclipsed.. Yogeh popped his commanders hatch and looked up to witness what he had only seen in combat footage, a Höllefeuer 'Kapitol Class' bearing down on the city. Its shadow was cast directly over the tanks it seemed. Before long, the Sky lit up with anti-air tracer rounds. There were definitely human and unguon guns firing upward but Yogeh was too far away to see if it was having any effect. The Eym were nowhere to be found at this point and were likely out of the system so unless there were any other races or Unguon forces in the immediate area, The Höllefeuer held dominance over this seemingly doomed city.

Yogeh gave a worried look but then gave a half crazed smile before saying aloud, "I wonder if our cannon can pierce its hull."

The Gunner chuckled and then replied, "Well, At least our gun works now."

---

They fired back.

They fired back.

He did not expect them to fire back. But they always did. His squad would have fired back, too. Perhaps Aref was just not expecting them to live long enough. Perhaps he was expecting them to all just drop dead, and then he wouldn't have to feel guilty for long. But they fought back like caged animals - that is what everybody on Anuria was, anyway - and cornering them in a jungle after a had landing? After evidently losing one of their own? Fighting them whilst grief overtook them?

Stupid. Stupid!

He didn't even realise they had fought back to start with. He assumed that all the gunfire came from them, and that the enemy was being torn apart. He didn't dare to look for the first few moments. He didn't want to see the killing. He finally looked through tear-flooded eyes and saw that the Venusians were not the only ones shooting; he only realised after Fords took a bullet to the head, blood splashing out on the tree behind him and his body falling limp to the ground. It was strange to see such a strong man suddenly become so... lifeless. Aref had screamed his name after his death, but he could barely hear his own voice over the ambience of the combat. Beric was next. Took a shot to the leg and screamed bloody murder as he fell to his other leg, gripping the wound tight; but he couldn't stop the bleeding. He tried to get into cover but was just shot to ribbons by the enemy when they saw he was limping through the undergrowth. There was zero fucking remorse. Aref could see the bullets going right through him, each one siphoning his life further and further. Eventually he just slumped to the floor and lay there. He never got back up.

Aref darted behind a tree, not wishing to succumb to the same fate. He was a coward and he knew it. Couldn't even muster the courage to fire his own weapon even after seeing two of his close friends die in the dirt. He was shaking too hard anyway. Shaking from fear, shaking from tears. He could barely stand; his knees knocked too hard. He just wanted to fall to the ground too, to die, to be free from this life. What would it take to get sent back hom? A serious battlefield injury? No. The medics would patch him up and he'd be back out there in a week. Promotion? No. Just meant he would be out there more than he already was.
He had to face the fact that the only way he was getting back to everything he loved was in a box. Draped in a Venusian flag.

"Incoming!" he could hear behind the cacophony. "Fuck!" he heard from another of his own. "Why won't he die?" he heard another call.

Aref poked his head from the tree, and immediately shot it back behind cover. He kept it there long enough to see the cause of distress: an enemy soldier charging through the killing field, soaking up bullets like a tank. He was heading right for them. For him.

Fuck.

Fuck!

His mind raced, his eyes filling up with tears once more. His entire body fell into a blind panic. He was heading right for him. He was going to kill him. How could he contend with that? he poked his head out again. The soldier was close, so fucking close. Too close. Aref tried to duck to avoid being seen by the charging man, but before he could he felt a strong hand grip tight around his neck, slamming his head into the tree, concussing Aref badly. He could barely see as his assailant as he swerved around him, beating him senseless with nothing but his hands. Aref would try to fight back but was far too weak, outclassed by his opponent in every way. His rifle had been knocked from his hands long ago, and his knife had been batted away almost immediately. This was it. The end. he thought to himself as he was body-slammed against the dirt. This is where it ends. He closed his eyes.

But he did not die. There was no finishing move. No painful stomp. Instead the face of his Sergeant peering over the shoulder of his attacker, knife protruding from his chest, blood pouring from the wound. Aref could have sworn he heard the Sergeant whisper to the charging soldier.

"Don't lay your fucking hands on my men..."

But he couldn't be sure.

Then was a call for retreat by his saviour, calling from all of the remaining squad members to fall back. This was not their battle to win. They were outnumbered and outgunned, and there were surely more hostiles lurking in the forest. So they left the bodies of their own, they left the body of the charging soldier and they sprinted back into the forest depths. Their next move would have to be decided quickly, for nobody was sure if they would be pursued or not...

---

Gas.

Gas?



He could not believe it. Why would they gas the outskirts of the city? What possible reason could they have for doing that? The Höllefeuer Empire truly were some venegeful bastards. At least that is the way that Toeny Keegan saw it. Especially now. Now that they had dropped gas on him and his squad. All they were doing was holding a recon post as to keep tabs on what was happening in Kol'Kora. They weren't attacking anybody. Sure, they were spying but they were doing it for the saftey of others. And now they were being gassed for it. He didn't even realise until one of his superiors had shouted bloody murder about it. And this superior had been fighting the Höllefeuer Empire for longer than some soldiers had been alive. He sure as hell didn't expect to be hit with chemical weapons this far from the battlefield, so if he didn't expect it, who would have?

Oh. And they didn't have any protective gear for chemical attacks. That stuff was expensive, and the way command saw it, he and his squad were expendable. Wasn't worth the money to protect them from chemicals in such a low-risk zone. And now they were fucked. The stuff began to seep in through the cracks in the walls, first. The small boarded room in an abandoned building on the outskirts wasn't built to be gas-proof. It started coming through the windows and the stairwell next. Floating in like some ominous green ghost, silent and seething with murderous rage. At first it just made its way into the room, moving at a crawl across the floor, and he and the others thought that maybe they could get out of this one alive. One man ripped the boards off of the window so that he could jump out and live to fight another day, but outside was saturated with the chemical agent and nobody had even seen it coming. It was then that they started to panic. It was an uproar, a writhing room of chaos as they realised they were going to die, backing into a corner away from the encroaching chemical.

God that stuff smelled bad.

Looking around him, Keegan could see the horror of the Höllefeuer's Agent 437. He could have sworn one man's eyes had melted out. Another vomited something the colour of blood and shit without end, barfing up his literal guts before flopping down into the pool of his own refuse. Others went crazy with the pain it caused them, tearing out hair which fell to ashes as it was removed. The gas enveloped them completely. Skin flaked and burned away, bubbling and melting from the gaseous flames all around.

He had never felt a pain like this one. but Keegan ddi not move. He just stood there, unwilling and unable to accept such a fate. He lifted a hand to his face to scratch the itch that had covered his body. Swathes of rotting flesh were pulled away under his fingernails as he went. Looking around now yielded not the lively, unruly soldiers he had sat with only minutes ago, but mangled, deformed, burned, dead effigies of those he used to know. They had choked in the sea of green gas, burned and melted.

"Chhh---" he tried to choke out a word. But instead his tongue had shrivelled from too much exposure to the gas. His throat had all but melted away. He couldn't even breathe. Next he felt the pain in his eyes, the burning, itching pain as his vision faded. His eyes swiftly turned to sludge and he too fell to the floor with a creaky thud, never to awaken again.

Sand Straits of Ak'Aria
To be assigned to the Sand Straits is considered the worst among the ranks of the Jalaryian Crusaders. The long, unbearable hot days, the daily bombardments from the Hegemony or worse, Höllefeuer raiding parties, and this group in particular were quite infamous among the Jalaryians stationed in the Sand Straits, striking at supply convoys and crippling the garrisons for days on end. The Commander, the infamously named "Desert Fox", is both brilliant and brutal. Heavy causalities from both foes, outstretching of forces to defend the convoys, and artillery strikes have taken a great toll on morale, but they struggle on, lest they lose another foothold on Anuria.

Entrenchment Third Defensive Line
Ualis Issar, an Naasi member of the Order of the Knights Templar, looking through a specially designed visor made for his species and the Argoshans. It seemed more like a helmet of sorts. He was watching and observing for any sings of hostile activity.

From behind, another member of the Order, a human in his late fifties by the name of Sionis, the one in command of this encampment. "Nothing yet?" He asked. Ualis raised the helmet, placing it onto a crate, and shook his head to the Knight-Commander. "Afraid not, Sir." he replied, followed by several loud booms, no doubt it was Hegemony Artillery strikes. Sionis then placed his fingers over his right ear. "Recon Team One, report!"

"Knight-Commander! We've been spotted! We're underfire and have taken casualties!"

"Remain where you are, we'll-"

Sionis however, was put to a brief pause as he heard a loud roar from above, one of the Hegemony's Guns may have misfired as the roaring of a artillery round making its descent became louder and louder until, not too far from the Knights, the round hit their rear positions, a cloud of smoke and sand rising. "By the Everliving!" Sionis cried out, they both and many others within the vicinity rushed thorough the labyrinth of trenches and tunnels to arrive to the blast zone, and it was absolutely horrific.

What was a small lodging area for soldiers of this sub-sector, was a bloody mess, men and women who were simply resting after long hours, now were blown to bits among twisted metal, burning wood and sand. "By the father.." Ualis said, looking to the Knight-Commander who had immediately knelt down, praying for these unfortunate souls, and without hesitation, knelt down as well. For but a brief moment, there was silence.

Sionis raised up, his expressions filled with anger. "Recon Team, find a safe place, reinforcements are on their way."

"Roger that, sir, over and out." He turned to Ualis. "Have your team ready, I want the 477th Vanguard to relief the Recon Team and assault enemy positions. We put an end to this now..."

The Captain, Xannis Kroi, was in sheer shock of what had transpired, in but a mere moment he was a charging best, now brought down by an attack from the rear. His eyes looking downward to his chest, a blood-stained knife protruding from it, for his final moments consciousness, he grinned once more. "Well played...human.." he said weakly before collapsing to the ground. As the Venusians fled in retreat, the surviving members of Martyr Company ceased fire, several men rushing to the Captain's aide, carrying him to the dropship. Medic Taki quickly dashing out to carrying Naska as well, although perfectly fine on the exterior, deep down emotionally, he still was not well.

One Hour Later...
Adam and two other soldiers were outside leaning against the dropship, snacking on rations. "Ugh...this tastes terrible." One said, a human around Adam's age, with light brown skin.

"Deal with it, it's all we got." Another spoke, a Dark-skinned female Naasi. "Or you wanna take your chances and take a bit out of that thing?" She pointed at the bullet-ridden corpse of the beast that ravaged their company, the strong smell of its decay filing the air.

"Uhhh...I'd rather the rations." Taking another bite out of the rectangular food. He noticed a rather down Adam. "Got something to add?"

"This is fucked up.." Adam protested, his arm bandaged and the wound in his shoulder patched up. "Not even a goddamned hour! And we lost a huge chunk of the company! The kid won't snap out of it, and Captain Kroi is dead! We're in no shape to go on."

Within moments, the Sergeant of Razor Squad stepped out after his report to his superiors, the three turning their gazes on him. "I got a reply from the Temple, both good and bad news." He paused a moment before continuing. "Good News is, we apparently picked a good spot for the main strike force to land, so we did our part for that mission and reinforcements will arrive within a few hours."

"And the bad news...?" Adam asked with great dread."

"Bad News is...the wounded won't be evaced out of here, sorry Adam, you're stuck here with us."

"Can't be helped sarge, I'll do my best."

"Well....best get some rest, the real fighting starts real soon."

Jalaryias, Sigmas holy warriors





Papa, when will the bad people stop fighting?

My son, bad people will always fight. That's why you send good people to stop them.

Like you daddy?

My son, I will always try.

It had been a long time since that day.. Two hundred seventy-one days, four hours. He was always wondering when this war would end, when he would see his family.

His nation had called on him, a newly retired soldier whom had led many to their deaths. This was a fact that haunted this supposed war hero. No amount of honors, medals and commendations would ever erase the image of teary eyed widows watching from afar. Those memories would always come to mind at military related events, now more than ever. He had seen his fair share of war, even led one of the most successful missions of the past decade, one that set a standard on attacking a fixed position. As celebrated as his acheivements may have been, no one ever seemed to understand how many lives had been lost to reach victory.

All anyone ever wanted was a product, something they could flash around. No one cared about the lives that made that happen. Such is the way of war.



Men and women, young and old, walked throughout the base on various tasks. Vtols sat parked down a long runway.. well most likely a runway that had been nearly covered with sand. Artillery was being dug in as well as many fixed defenses. Nearby, the sound of the Jalaryias 'holy' armor was present. This forward position is where it all started, the so called "beginning of the end for the devious desert fox". For the Jalaryias had brought one of their most feared commanders in to the fold. And they all knew it. Men and women alike seemed to stare in awe before the Colonel as he walked by. Not at his impressive stature and rank but rather his relaxed yet stern demeanor and the lack of a uniform full of medals. He was never one to furnish his medals or flashy patches. He knew killing commanders was a easy way to break a combat unit down so he always wore the bare minimum. He always made sure his soldiers knew his face rather than his command insignia. Some say this is part of his issue, that he always gets a somewhat personal attachment to his soldiers, he learns their face and their roles rather than just a statistic or counter on a board.

The Colonel made his way through the crowded tents towards a trailer that was covered in a thick sand colored tarp. Around were various weapon emplacements with the casual gunship flying over head. He walked in to the trailer where a number of officers had been waiting for him. As his face became visible, the entire group of officers stood up and gave a sharp salute. Before him, as the hands went down, was a young general sitting in a chair. Before him was a physical map of the local terrain. "Ah." he said before standing up. "Colonel Karl Winters. Such an ironic place for a winter warrior." He chuckled a bit. The rest chuckled too but Karl wasn't sure if they were that dense or it was a mercy laugh for their commanders. Karl didn't quite care though, he knew they didn't.

Karl cleared his throat and then spoke plainly, "Hello gentlemen, I am happy to be so well received. But aside from the formalities, may I ask why we are attacking this valley with such a meager force?" He was clearly referencing the prior exploits of the various opponent desert generals. "I believe attacking this ridge that overlooks the entire valley would be a more prudent action."

The general walked to the map and pointed at three locations. "These are why. One full battery of the 'Half Bore' artillery units and two small depots that are likely ammunition storage for their troops." Karl walked towards the map. "And your plan for this is a full on assault?" The general gave an aggressive smirk, "Yes, our orders are to crush them entirely and with this decisive blow, we will send them running and claim this forsaken land for ourselves. Unless you have a better idea."

Karl pointed at a plateau not far from the valley, "I believe hitting here would be most prudent and strike with a smaller force before hitting them with our heavy forces." He drew his finger across the map towards the fire base they were at. "We take this route, flying low and fast with air support at the ready. We wont need heavy armor right away if our gunships can get in close. We will have counter fire from the Armatas but I believe they will wait for a second wave before revealing their positions. If they fire too early, they'll risk getting spotted before any troops can get close for them to engage. Their artillery is what they rely on. We have to get in close so it will not be as effective."

The general rubbed his chin a bit before examining the map. "From this point we can position our own artillery and spotters." Karl nodded, "Yes, and our spotters could see for miles." The general turned towards Karl. "Alright, you lead the charge. Take what you need but they do have air support."

Karl stared at the map, "They wont be an issue early on."



The unique sound of the Templar gunships gave Karl some semblance of sanity in this forsaken wasteland. He had flashbacks of the ice and snow of a campaign a few years back. He had great success then that earned him the notoriety and fame he had today. He was praying that he would be victorious today as that meant his men stayed alive. As his prayer ended, the side doors opened of the Templar and Karl took note of various terrain features that he would plan a potential retreat around. He could see four dropships nearby in a line formation to hide their numbers, behind his dropship was four more and another four on the opposite side. Leading the group were a number of witch hunter gunships and above there were contrails from various types of fighter support and below were collomns of Purity tanks and Exodus APC's. This force would help to secure the area and be used for another attack later on. His unit was flying low and fast which would mislead any ground soldiers and by the time aircraft would get an idea of the situation, it'd be too late.

Karl began addressing his squads on each of the Templar drop ships. "Men, this will be a true test of your resolve and skills as a warrior. When we land it will be a full twenty minutes before the next wave arrives. A lot can happen in twenty minutes so stay sharp and call out anything odd you see. Our support will be reliant on these calls as short range sensors are being actively jammed by our foe. Stay aware, watch the soldiers to your sides and we will make it through." He took a deep breath and spoke one last time, "Know that not all of you may survive this but I promise that I will not leave a single one of you behind... Alive or Dead."

Each and every drop ship was silent as the troops aboard readied themselves. Many began to pray with the rest checking their guns. One had checked his gun at least fifteen times by now, his nails chewed down and scratch marks across his face while others did various nervous habits. Karl had none, just the uneasy feeling that he would get before every battle.

"Pyre one, Missiles away!"

Karl leaned out of the transport to see the Witch-hunters releasing their payloads. Above him, shells whistled by only to explode near their landing spot. Within moments, the shelling had ceased and the dropships began their descent. "Alright men, off as fast as possible!" With that, the men moved to the doors and like clockwork, the Transports dropped to two feet above ground, just long enough for the men to hurry out within seconds before rushing off. For the first few minutes it was an eerie silence.. "Alright, blue, red, and yellow, move up. Green, take up defensive positions." Before he could say anything else, the ridge lit up with gunfire. His force was now surrounded and there was no going back now. "Men! engage the enemy!" And with a hail of rifle fire, the entire area erupted in to a massive fire fight.



The fire fight wasn't letting up, even with the constant strikes by witch-hunter gunships. Karl looked around as the Gunships fired their salvos and hurried off. A soldier turned to him, one of his junior officers. "Sir! they must not have any anti air." Karl shook his head and pointed to a large dune. "Those guns are there, ready to hit our next wave." He turned around and spotted small black specks in the distance, his next wave coming in fast. "Sir, how do you know?" Karl turned his attention to the dune, "Because it is what I would do." He tapped the young mans helmet before running towards the front line, "Blue and yellow, Move up! push hard!" Karl watched as Quick mortar rounds landed along the front line. "Damn it, get some counter fire on those. Mortar squads, counter battery now!"

The Jaralyian soldiers were now without mortar cover but it was that or constantly moving to avoid the rapid firing Quick mortars. They were deadly when fired en-masse' but these soldiers knew staying down and moving often was their best chance of survival. As Karl moved up, he could see his counter fire working as the shelling of his men had stopped. "Attack!" he yelled, "Move up!! go go go!" The soldiers were inspired now and began pushing forward. Within a few minutes, they had overran the first Konscript line and were pushing further in. "There they are." Karl said, pointing towards camouflaged Armata guns. "Mortars! focus on coordinates 244 by 120. Fire at will." The mortar rounds were quick to arrive but didn't do much against the Armatas but it did exactly what Karl wanted. Got their attention.

The Armatas began moving to avoid the oncoming ordinance and gave away their positions. "Pyre, Engage coordinates 244 by 120!" Within seconds, gunships that had been hiding behind a large dune far behind the battle rose up. The Armatas didn't stand a chance as the Witch-hunters began firing their missiles and cannons in to the vulnerable Walking cannons. A few got shots off and managed to down two of the witch hunters but it didn't matter at this point, Karl's drop ships had arrived without a scratch and unloaded their precious cargo.
Karl smirked and sharpened his gaze at the now visible edge of the plateau. "Alright, expect enemy armor soon, Gunships head off to re-arm. Our anti-tank weaponry should be good at this range. Karl had planned it flawlessly, His forces facing an uphill ridge. The enemy tanks would be extremely vulnerable at this range and angle. And it proved correct as the enemy commander had deployed his Valkyrie tanks. The first tank had just reached the peak of the dune, exposing its underside to everyone. This worked to the soldiers advantage as they fired anti-tank rockets right in to the thin underbelly. Massive plumes of fire and smoke burst our from the turrets of these once formidable tanks. Karl knew these weren't to be trifled with but the crews inside were used lazily. His enemy was too easy to read at this point.



It was starting to die down by now. Various pockets of Konscripts were still fighting but they were now cut off from any support. Karl had expected enemy aircraft soon so he signaled for friendly air support to begin moving in. Within fifteen minuets, enemy aircraft had fired missiles in to the combat zone. Before they could get too close, Allied fighters had arrived and began close range combat. To further the enemy "Niks" problems, Captured Armata guns began firing wildly at the Niks. Before long, four of those fighters had crashed in to the ground with another two limping away. Karl ordered his air support to break off pursuit. He knew if they traveled too far, they'd be tore apart by waves of enemy Niks and Armatas that were likely massing in the distance. Karl knew all too well not to push his luck.



The last shot had been fired more than five minutes ago. Karl looked over the droves of new prisoners, "Check them for any intel." But he knew there likely wasn't any. These were fodder, and he truly did pity them. His feelings aside, this was a victory and his troops had begun to look over the battlefield. Karl watched as body bags were loaded aboard Templar transports by the dozens. It hurt him to see it, knowing that his actions, his orders led those warriors to their death. He gained a sort of sick satisfaction though as he looked to the ever growing pile of deceased Voloss soldiers. His actions led to their deaths too.

"Sir, we have an officer. His legs are blown off and missing part of his arm but he is still alive!" Karl piqued a brow and walked towards the survivor. He looked over the Hegemony officer, almost impressed by his survival. "Check him for intelligence. If he can talk, see if he can help us out at all."

In the distance, two explosions sent all the nearby soldiers back in to a combat mindset as hey rose their rifles and hit the ground. "At ease men, it's friendly gunships harassing retreating soldiers."



Karl was watching as his men began digging trenches and a few heavy machines were digging a large bunker. Tents were being rose and tarps were being thrown over gunships. Karl kept his Templar transports back at the fire base. Indeed it would be a while before they could arrive to evacuate them but with his elevated position, he would have plenty of forewarning. Karl dropped down into a trench and then walked towards a small redoubt. As he arrived, he withdrew a small silver disk and dropped it to the center. Within seconds an interactive holographic view of the immediate area formed. He used it to update trench and fixed gun positions. He had began construction of pill boxes and gun-bunkers along the access points of the plateau. Karl knew that from his position, enemy artillery was just a little too far out and with his captured Quick mortars, Armata and Paladin guns, he had plenty of deterrents from Hegemony retaliation.

As he deactivated the silver disk and picked it up, a corporal ran to him, "Sir! urgent message from advance fire teams. They found the scouts." Karl made his way to the communications tent, a temporary fixture until the under ground bunker was completed. "Soldier, what have you found." The man on the other end activated a camera. "Sir, I'm not sure if this is all of the scouts but the ones we found are dead. There's too few here to be a full unit though." Karl wasn't even sure if this was the unit he was hoping to find. "Alright, good work, gather our dead and return to the fire-base." The soldier nodded and as the camera cut off, another came on. "Sir.. we found one of the half-bores. Looks like one of our fighters put a missile right through its front end. This crater is pretty big." Karl leaned in as the soldier holding the camera panned it over the wreck. "Is the gun still operational?" The soldier turned the camera to his face and smiled, "No sir, this thing is history."

"Alright, good work. Head back to the plateau." The soldier was quick to reply and spoke with some relief, "Yes sir!" and cut off. The other two squads gave simple reports, that they failed to locate the two remaining Half-bores. Karl wasn't happy about it but he knew his men did their best.



Karl stood at the edge of a trench near one of the cliffs of the plateau. He gazed out upon the open sands and then turned to a sniper and spotter operating near by. Karl had a strange hunch and asked to borrow the spotters scope. "Hey, look to your left, about two marks below that small dune directly below the sun. What do you see there?"

"Sir, I see what looks like tracks from a tank." He said, "Actually, sir.. it looks like tracks from something much bigger." Karl gave a toothy grin, "Then our last two friends made a get away. Guess we are gonna be hunting now." He knew that the plateau was a pretty safe location but sending forces in to the valley below would not be the case. There wasn't a lot of cover and the enemy likely had every bit of that valley pre-sighted. A potential slaughter, especially now that two of the half-bores had escaped.

Karl returned to the command tent which was in the process of being emptied as the new command bunker was nearing completion."Get a hold of the Knight commander, let him know that we have a superior position and captured Hegemony soldiers. Let him know we found a few scouts but do not believe they are all accounted for. Also, that there are two Half-bores missing and potentially more the further in to the desert we go." He then headed to the command bunker. It wasn't anything special, just a big underground cave at this point with metal poles bolstering the ceiling. Towards the back of the bunker was a single Cot which Karl sat down on. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

At this point, the theater of war was growing quickly, far too big for he alone to take command of. The Knight commander would have his work cut out for him at this point but he now had a battalion of veteran soldiers. Even with the experience from this victory, they knew it was only going to get more difficult from here.

Entrenchment Third Defensive Line
Command Bunker
The Knight-Commander glued his eyes upon a large holographic map of the Combat Theater, watching the progress the 477th have made thus far, and he was very pleased with the results and the reports. His trance was disrupted from is comm device buzzing in. "Knight-Commander Sionis." Ualis had reported in. "My squadron is prep and and ready for deployment on your orders."

"Excellent, Captain." he replied back. "Reinforce the 477th's positions and prepare for the second phase of the Op."

------------------

Elsewhere, on the very end of the Jalaryian trenches was a line of twelve Justicar Mobile Platforms with an lone A Model at the center. Within the lead Machine was Captain Ualis. "Heavens Swords, move out!" The machines powered up, sparking to life as their optical visor lit brightly, their maneuvering wheels slamming into the sand, splashing it into the air. Within mere moments, the machines dashed across the sands straits, leaving behind large trails of sand clouds. From inside his Justicar, Ualis pressed down a few keys as he contacted Colonel Winters. "Colonel, this is Captain Ualis of the Heavens Swords, we will be accompanying the 477th for your next advance, we shall arrive to your location momentarily.

Anya forgot how to fire a rifle.

She learned this as her death bore down on her in the form of Jalaryian infantry; the previous hour or so had been the most high-intensity moments Anya had experienced in her life, and from her position she could act as little more than fodder to stand in front of enemy gunships. She had watched in horror as those in front of her were horrifically cut down and the lines re-shifted to fill the hole the corpse left. Her unwillingness to move had been the only thing keeping her alive, and now there was little she could do to prevent her death as the emotionless husk of a Volossian raised her rifle weakly. The stand-in that served as her new Corekeeper barked some order, but Anya only understood one.

The boom of the powerful rifle made her ears ring and there was a satisfying reverb as the shots continued down the line. They did little to make her feel any better, however. She'd see her whole Blok fire and only make one or two enemy corpses per volley. Why must they fire in this way? Wouldn't it make more sense to fire as they willed? But Anya knew they could not. To fire out of order would require swift and lethal punishment from the Corekeeper, who "thought of the grand scheme of strategy." Sometimes Anya thought of firing out of order, at least only to be killed by someone from the Hegemony, rather than by its enemies.

They were close, now, and Anya knew her dwindling Blok wouldn't last long against their opposition without their trench, which they had apparently been ordered to move out of. She wasn't allowed to question orders, but she had security in her own thoughts, and right now she was thinking the Corekeeper was a traitor.

But then she heard them- the Halfbores. The great Volossian guns. The loud thud made the ground quake and loose sand around her feet jumped to her knees. She didn't see or hear the shell land, but just hearing the terrifying machines made her soon-to-be-death feel meaningful. Form a wall to prevent the enemy from getting to the guns, that was her duty. And she had done her part in full. But why did only one go off? Weren't there more?

She was shoved to the front of the Blok as the man before her crumpled from subsequent shots to the chest. She was ordered to fire her rifle again.

She never heard the other Halfbores.

---



Niko was a traitor. One confirmed kill, and it was one of his brothers of the Hegemony. Though to Niko, he no longer belonged to the Hegemony. They would hunt him, but he did not care. He was as good as dead here on Anuria, anyway.

It wasn't his plan to enact any sort of heresy today, but an opportunity presented itself that he knew wouldn't happen again. Earlier in the morning his position had been attacked- when ordered to fire, Niko called the retreat for him and his crew. It took some lying and "explaining"- they were needed elsewhere on a less fortified front, and this attacked seemed such a sure-fire win for the Hegemony that they weren't going to be needed- but they eventually came around. A shame, that they were going to be labelled as traitors as well on Niko's behalf. One of them started to catch on, Niko had to make sure he "accidentally" stumbled under the barrel of the Halfbore as the barrel lowered. The sound and screams still echoed in Niko's mind.

But it was too late to turn back or feel remorse. He was already far away from the battle, travelling with his Halfbore and crew to who knows where. He'd eventually have to explain to his crew- they were the only thing Niko almost cared about anymore, but for now he was more concerned with distancing himself to someplace hidden. He knew there were some canyons off in his current path, and he had deemed that there they could find a nice crevasse or something to park themselves in. From there, he wasn't sure. Maybe he'd take his own life. There's no getting off Anuria, not until you die.

"Ay' Niko, where'd you say we was goin' again?" Asked the new one- the young man that had approached Niko earlier. He was young for a Grenadier, must be strong.

"We're heading back into the canyons some miles away, there'll be a contingent of guards there to escort us the rest of the way."

"And where's the 'rest of the way'."

Niko was quiet for a few moments. No prolific fronts came to mind.

"Didn't say."

The young Grenadier butted the bottom of his shield against the roof of the cabin to the truck he sat atop of. The driver- Hector- cursed at him, but the Grenadier laughed it off. Normally Niko didn't like his crew to ride on top of the Halfbore, even with the cannon down, but he didn't really care now. Didn't care about much anymore.

"Shame about Juri. Of all the ways to die on Anuria."

Juri was the man Niko had shoved under the barrel. Niko gave no reply.

Everyone on the crew was delightfully silent, and remained that way until the sun began to hide behind the dunes. This was the only place Niko was worried about, these dunes that separated his crew from the canyon beyond. Their height and number made it difficult to see one's surroundings, not to mention the hassle of moving a massive Halfbore over them.

With his crew in tow, Niko was nearly out of the dunes after a few hours. The light was waning now and the temperature was steadily dropping. Niko felt the ground shift beneath his feet, and at first he thought he had mindlessly stepped into a sinkhole of some sorts- those were fairly common in Ak'Aria. Hegemony Artillery were probably responsible for making many of them.

Niko leaped back when he realized something was shaping in front of him- coming out of the sands. He hadn't stepped in something, but rather on something. Hector hit the bright headlights on the Halfbore and a round of gasps were had as a fatigued artillery contingent tried to become alert. Before them stood some foul fusion of man and machine- a black metal beast of somewhat human form. A voice called out from behind Niko.

"That's the Butcher of Ak'Aria! We're screwed! We are all screwed!"

Niko had walked into an ambush, and he knew it. Within seconds the crew found themselves all at gunpoint, the uniforms baring resemblance to the Höllefeuer Empire, as if the Butcher hadn't given their identity away. Niko felt chills go down his spine just contemplating how silent they had been. This was no common troop- these men were elite.

One of the Ambushers called out, but the artillery commander was admittedly less-than-fluent in their language. Not that it was difficult to discern what they wanted. Niko linked his hands and placed them over his cap, and getting down on his knees, told his crew to do the same.

With a motion from the Butcher, they all complied.

---



"Inquisitor? Since when did Enigma squads get dished Inquisitor work?" Piotr's voiced was firm but not harsh as it echoed in the cold and windowless concrete room. There was but a single table with two chairs- one occupied by Piotr himself, the other by Benji, his "boss", one could say. Enigma squads didn't technically have leaders, but there was a rough hierarchy most ended up drifting to, and that meant one man or woman often was the one the Hegemony went to to issue orders.

"Since this morning, apparently. What's it matter, Piotr? You're one of the best agents our squad's got, if not the the best. Besides, there's no debate here. You have your orders, follow through with them."

"And what of Yuri?"

"He's staying here, up North. I've decided to take him into our squad, he makes a good fit. Nice find, by the way."

Piotr nodded in appreciation.

"Anyway, Yuri will have his own assignments but keep in close contact with him. I wanna know how things are going while you're down there. You seem to be more pliable with information towards him, and he seems to trust you. Now, away with you, Piotr. You've a job to do."

--

Inquisitorial work never sit well with Piotr. It was one thing to paint symbols or make elaborate staged battle sites and trenches to go with a propaganda story, but it was another thing entirely to hunt down the unloyal to the Hegemony. He understood well that they could divulge information to the enemy, but weren't they just as likely to be killed anyway? Piotr's orders were to bring the traitor back alive, if possible, but everyone knew that Inquisitors were just glorified assassins. They were told to bring back queries alive, but it wasn't expected they come back alive.

Piotr shook the thoughts away and ran a hand through his hair; white, though Piotr is young. He needn't dwell too much on these things, Benji was right, he had his orders and he had to follow through with them. However, that meant it was going to be a long, quiet flight.

Ak'Aria. Never thought I'd walk on those bloodied sands.

Even since early childhood, Ian Griffin had always dreamt of venturing out into the vastness of space, leaving the constraints of his homeworld, along with serving his People and God. Both services would very soon be met as he finally had the courage to enlist as a Fighter Pilot for the Navy. Unlike the Army, who had to ship untrained soldiers to the warzone, Navy personnel were fortunate enough to go through training before being sent to Anuira. For his few years in the Academy, Ian proved to be among the several best in his class, but the true test would soon.

----------------------------------------

Aboard the Carrier Exalted Wrath
Hanger Bay
"Alright ladies and gents." An Older woman by the name of Grace Jefferson spoke, passing back and forth in front of a line of eleven men and women in Fighter Pilot suit, Ian being among them. "In an hour's time we'll be arriving to the most hazardous warzone this Sector's ever saw, Anuira." She paused as she stopped in front of Ian and two other young pilots in between him, Alisa and Kyle Anderson, a pair of siblings who were also close friends with Ian. "I bet some of you just can't contain your excitement to get out there, well don't. I didn't train your miserable asses to just see ya killed in the first five minutes, so listen up!" She backed away from the group.

"This will be nothing like the Sims back home, the enemy will not give you quarter and will be unpredictable, and I don't plan on loosing anybody because of reckless heroics, I promise you that much. Do you get me?"

"Ma'am, yes Ma'am!" They all replied in unison. She grinned and nodded back to them in approval, just after, the ship begun to tremor violently, followed by alarms and red flashing lights. "Alert! Alert! Enemy vessel on attack course and launching strike craft! All pilots to your stations!"

Grace grinned once more and looked to her team. "You heard the man! Specter Squadron, move out!"