Mo froze for a nanosecond at the sight of the charging Griks, remembering that faithful day thirteen years ago when one such monstrosity had hacked her Dad in two. To this day her reaction seeing one was always the same. A paralyzing terror for a nanosecond, followed by a cold anger. She gripped her rifle with her bionic arm, her real one taken by that same Grik and his single fatal slash. She didn't feel her new appendage. Could not feel the cold steel of her rifle. She knew there was a teeny-tiny servo-brain implanted in hers, which made the thing work. And, oh, work it did. Beautifully!

	She looked about her and the mass of soldiers. Most were rookies, but some looked like they'd held a gun before boot camp. Most looked terrified, and rightly so. The Bulwark armies were no joke. Some had a determined look about them. Good! They'd need it. If they wanted to survive this. She heard the Captain shouting for them to get ready.

	“AIM!” Captain Faraday instructed.

	Mo touched her cheek to the stock of her rifle and sighted a target calmly. [i]Come on, you bastards. Come, I greet you with open arms![/i]

	“FIRE!” Came the thunderous order of the officer.

	Rifles sang in a beautiful symphony of percussive sound.

	The Grik were a sprinting mass of hit-points. They did not care for wounds, they would keep going on pure rage alone. But still they were massive and a single shot was unlikely to take them down. The best tactic with them was stagger and finish with vital organ shot. Mo kept with her breathing while sighting her shots. Breathe in. Hold. Fire. Exhale. Repeat! Griks began falling down like fell trees. But that did little to falter the Bulwark advance as the other Griks simply ran over their dead.

	From somewhere up top she heard the sound of a high-powered rifle. A sniper! Yeah, that could take a Grik with a single shot Mo observed as pale white heads began exploding one after another. Mo grinned. [i]Want to take what's ours? Like hell we'll give it freely![/i] Mo thought darkly. [i]More like we'll have you return what you've stolen from us, you bastards![/i] She didn't allow her anger to burn hot. She instead sharpened it to a cold blue flame, taking Griks down meticulously with every two-three shots.

	"RELOAD!" She shouted stepping back from the front line to replace her mag. Her place was immediately taken by a giant of a man with a fresh clip in his rifle. He seemed pale as the milk her Nana gave her every night before tucking her in.

	"Give'em hell!" She shouted at the man while switching out her mag.