An ambush. The unztadtlige made a sound roughly congruent with irritation as it hunkered beneath its shield, rifle fire pinging off of it with little effect. The larger threats to it and its structural integrity were the heavy mag-machine guns and etheric artillery. It picked up the chatter from the rest of the squad- the void hanger was going to flank, while the rest of them established a base of fire. Each time replying through their headsets with a signal that most organics would consider an audible confirmation. Pieces were moving, and even on this battlefield Echo could not afford to stay in the same place for too long.

"Requisition: Grenade. Denied. Reasoning: This unit does not carry infantry explosives. Advise: individual should carry necessary materials in future engagements." The large unztadlige replied as it burst from cover, taking advantage of the haze and sensor disruption to bull itself into a new building to take cover in, closer towards Ilshar so it could provide cover with its shield if necessary. Simultaneously the remaining free Microform skittered over to the tarrhaidim soldier, clambering up onto the back of its armor and settling in. Its arms raised to hover above the shoulders of Ilshar, not blocking his line of sight, but ready to throw its arms forward to block incoming rounds towards his head. Its beam cannon swept lines of energy at the CivSec squad as well, to further keep their heads down.

With its squad in close proximity, and Salvator moving to flank, even with the voidhanger's exact position known to Echo thanks to its Microform, it was no longer comfortable firing its autocannon at the CivSec squad- the Envenomed were too close, and risk of friendly fire from shrapnel or stray explosions from rounds was too great. Instead, the Endoform turned its autocannon to fire into the treeline where the heavy gunners were, while the Warform's remaining autocannon also opened up on the treeline.

As the heavy walker lumbered through the trees, enemy fire pinging off of its hefty armor, it noticed something: a barrier absorbing fire, and inside of it a strange alien creature that was most likely the etherealist that had bombarded the squad a few moments earlier. Etherealists were always priority targets, as their capabilities were varied and always chaotic. As wild and unpredictable as a conventional battlefield was, it still followed laws and order. In a way, there was method to the madness of warfare. Such was not so when etherealists entered the picture: they had a way of shaking up the battlefield in ways that were frankly, unacceptable.

"Alert: Priority target. Hostile etherealist." Echo's voice rumbled into the squad's comms, while simultaneously tagging it on the squad's network. The etherealist's barrier seemed to be holding for the moment, mostly shrugging off small arms fire- most likely, more heavy ordnance would be required. As the warform continued to rumble forward, the large turret on its head shifted towards the glowing shield in the distance.

"Alert: Initiating strike on priority target. Alert: Danger Close." Echo crackled into the squad comm. There was a small, telltale whine that filled the air around them as the Siege Beam Cannon drew in power and prepared to fire, crackling and growing louder in intensity. A few moments later, a deep guttural roar was heard as a massive beam crackled towards its target. The air around them sizzled and ionized, as it was superheated, and smelled of burnt ozone as the beam streaked across the field.

The automata's body jerked and convulsed as light shone through the holes punched into its body. Gouts of sparks spat out of its wounds as systems faltered and its huge machine gun clattered to the ground, targeting devices mounted onto it blinking wildly as their signal to their wielder vanished. The duo of reinforcements had begun sprinting and by the sound of their clanking footsteps, they were of a similarly heavy and roboticized build.



One could almost think them human but their movements were rigid and strict, worse than any drill sergeant and even more deadly in their precision. Better AI than a supposedly independent post-Reckoning state should be able to afford; their eyes swept the rubbles and corners with their reinforced, modified rifles not necessarily following the exact center of their sight. Their central camera-eye might be looking in one direction but the weapon would always sweep around the periphery. A notably lesser calibre than the heavy gunner that Salvator had slain but given their more compact size, they could be swung considerably faster in a CQC situation and likely had a far higher rate of fire.

That is, if they saw the voidhanger. Even as the interference began to diminish, their rapidly cycling vision modules were forced to contend with a residual array of junk data and false positives. Both of them spread out, cautious not to joint their comrades immediately as they attempted to hunt down the now even deadlier, cloaked threat. One of them was near the body, sweeping its functionaly-an-LMG into the house and half crouching to diminish its presence.

The other looked over into the windows opposite of the house, suspecting Salvator had vanished within.

Meawhile, in front of the suspicious home with the partially ajar door (or what remained), the furious gun battle raged on. The submachine gun spat, its rounds slamming into multiple targets with vicious speed as the mag started to lower to near a quarter. One soldier staggered back as he caught a full spray, back pressing to the wall as he slumped forward seeping red into murky brown. The AP grenade fumbled out of his hands as life spilled into the filth, another shouting for cover.

The hostile was answered, just not the way he wanted to be.

Ilshar's ulvath responded and the human's body diminished in volume and mass. More rounds than his auagmented senses and digital systems could comprehend ripped into his body, stripping armor, biomesh, his entire left side, and chunks of flesh. A spurting, twitching mess of augmented cybernetics and reinforced bone emerged from 3/4 of a human body, petrified from shock and agony as another burst vanished the mutilated torso and the midsections of the two nearest CivSec troopers. The four remaining wisely dropped as energy beams seared out, digging into the neck of one, killing him with the shock of forced cauterization.

The other three were falling back, unwilling to commit to a fight against that much firepower after having been reduced to less than half their number. A grenade soared out - cylindrical and yellow-banded - and soon a grey smoke began to spew out as the remaining three shouted and fired a few tentative shots, scrambling away to regroup with the ethereal anomaly. Yet that left the pair of automata now to try and distract the rest of the Envenomed team as they changed their objective from hunting Salvator to spraying on the team. Firing from the same northwest position roughly as the first automata-gunner, a twin-barrel spray of automatic rifle fire ripped along walls and rubble, gouging out more cover as the two machines began to stride backwards, torsos twisting upon their robotic waists.

Back at the treeline, the now outnumbered scielto fired blasts of etheric beams at the approaching ZRF forces - luminiscent spears and blue tracer trails answering flickers of red-yellow bolts and greenish biospine rounds. As the ambush fell apart, the ether-dome field enveloping its user pulsed with anger, a wave of qillatu expelling and washing over the surrounding. Bark darkened as if shone by unseen lights, leaves curling as if in fear, the air itself darkening like burst vessels, and the ether-worm's connection to Ilshar diminishing for a brief but vital few moments. As if a cloud of murk had bustled into the tendril-like connections between the worm and its user, its sight was diminished and its very body would bristle; the radiation-like strain of ethereal byproduct (and etherealist rage) now inflicted onto the surroundings.

Unfortunately, rage is a poor substitute for competence. As in retaliation for the ether-glob fired like a howitzer, a lance of radiant light streaked across the sky in the gap between the treelines. Before the etherealist could even mutter what additional void-power it could, the beam slammed into its shield like a tidal wave concentrated into a horizontal pillar. Etheric colours of psychedelic variancy splashed and swirled outwards, bending to the unknown currents of a realm forced to clash with destructive forces of a more material domain. The blue and white melted the nucleus-like field, energy reacting to energy as an explosion erupted along the trees, sending foliage flying, wildlife scattering in flight, and vaporizing Ilshar's worm from the etheric blast.

As the dust settled, the sparking bodies of two gunner-automata twitching, a few rifle cracks disabled any residual fight left in the automata as a tall and charred body dragged itself across the crater where once stood trees and sloping hillside. A body that like Ilshar had guessed, was a scielto's. Etherically reactive membrane melted onto its rough, wood-like skin, its x-shaped planarian head stretching and convulsing, the tendril-wings turned into desiccated and burned stumps; a blasphemed parody of some divine nobility reduced to all cauterized fours.

Helpless before the sound of approaching footfalls and taunting shouts, angry grunts of pain and uttered curses of hate and defiance. While Ilshar's eye on the action had been practically evaporated, given by the trilling shrieks of pain and loud, vile dialogue it was clear that the leader of the squad was being taken care of with the hospitality of those they once ruled.

More shouts and weapons fire, warning shots as the tall alien was hoisted to its legs and a hot gun barrel pressed against the back of its head, drawing a reverberating, flanging scream as the three surviving humans yelled back. It was difficult to make out what exactly was being said but it was clear that the ambush hadn't just gone south but turned into the worst outcome possible for the security forces. More shouts and a something cracking audibly; human voices diminishing as something repulsive and in a tarrhaidim tongue was spoken out - screams as well, presumably the wounded from the ZRF as they tended to their own injuries, adding to the tension of the situation.

As if on command, the two remaining automata froze in place; systems still running but now inert.

From the bullet-ridden, partially destroyed house that had drawn them to the now ravaged settelement a voice creaked out.

"... I suppose there's no need for the signal now. A little hard to have done after I was separated and huddled up here, but alas, you have my thanks."

A com signal did pop up; the exact specific code, frequency, and phrasing meant for Echo and the others but so did an unarmed figure. A bandaged one, one eye and most of his head wrapped up in white threads (some sort of vrexul-derived biosilk likely). A human figure, male presumably, dressed in some sort of light ballistic kevlar and wearing a camo-patterned helmet, torn pants around the knees and thighs, and an empty holster on his side.

"Well, you don't look like the usual mercs they send. You got the signal and... well, best not to ask what happens when the planetary-national liberation movement gets to mete out poetic justice. So... the low down on the situation yes? Gather round, please? I'd like to be punctual here, the fact I'm still alive is a liability for more than just the Artelesian government. Your friends down in the valley are probably getting very impatient for that matter."

Fantastic. More automata reinforcements. That cut into his plan to flank from the side. With the two AI-driven fighters actively in search-and-destroy mode for him, Salvator couldn't risk firing into the other combatants from the flank without revealing his position to the two backup gunners. For the moment, he decided to simply keep the other soldiers' positions revealed to the rest of the Envenomed, tagging them on his HUD and transmitting it over the squad link to keep them updated.

As the rest of his team scythed through the enemy and the gunner automata abandoned their search for him to try to reinforce their masters, Salvator raised his carbine and prepared to engage. Though before he lined up a proper shot, Salvator felt the oncoming surge of ethereal radiation and hurriedly ducked back down into cover, riding the blast out. What he saw and heard once he poked his head back up was encouraging.

They'd found their contact at last. Thank the stars that this mission hadn't gone completely fubar from the start, then. Salvator approached slowly, only decloaking and flicking the safety on his rifle as he drew close enough to the source of the comm signal to be in speaking range.

"Let's get to it, then." The voidhanger nodded, his helmet bobbing under his hood. "What mess did our command send us to sort out, exactly?"

In the chaos of smoke and erupting bullets, Ilshar could not say if his bullets had struck anything alive. There were screams, but one who had been in battle more than once knew to disregard them. He had even read it in some manual that had been passed around during the war. An involuntary scream could mislead as much as a deliberate lie, or something like that. Overconfidence at what sounded like the enemy's fear or pain could kill. So, he focused on the rhythm of his own gunfire. A burst, a pause, another burst.

Dust and splinters exploded and rained down around him as the CivSec forces at last turned their fire against the squad, forcing him to take longer pauses before ducking out from behind the shattered wall to shoot. To his dismay, the building he was behind was steadily being reduced to as bad a shape as the one whose failing cover he had left. If this kept up much longer, he could very well be finding himself exposed, and the fog of smoke could only do so much to conceal him from sight.

Unnaturally coloured lights flashed overhead, then the sound of a thunderous impact rolled down from the distant treeline, and Ilshar staggered as a wave of psychic feedback struck him. It was not as bad as it could have been had he still maintained direct contact with the ether-worm to that moment, but the strain from the collapsing connection was enough to cause a moment's disorientation. Let them not find me now...

Fortunately, as his senses realigned, the battle was already winding down. The gunfire died out, and a voice that for once was not screaming or cursing called out to them, corroborated by the suitable comm code. With a grunt, Ilshar hauled himself up from behind the battered wall and trudged towards the newcomer - their presumptive ally. On the way towards the house the (ostensible) human had emerged from, he saw the ZRF rounding up some of the enemies who were still mostly intact. He shrugged. Their planet, their war, it was up to them. They knew the situation best. As far as he was concerned, the contact was the main priority now; with the starting briefing alone, he had no idea where to go from there, and he doubted the rest of the squad had either.

𝙺𝚕𝚎𝚘'𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚖𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚢𝚎𝚝. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎.

𝙰𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚓𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚢 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚜, 𝙺𝚕𝚎𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎-𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. "𝙽𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚜," 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚒𝚍, 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚢. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕-𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚞𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎.

𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚐𝚞𝚢. 𝙴𝚡𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎, "𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚓𝚘𝚋, 𝚖𝚊𝚗." 𝙺𝚕𝚎𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎.

The battlefield was quiet now, save for the sounds of allies executing what remained of the enemies. A logical response, there was no sense in allowing enemies to return to their commanders and inform them of their movements and strength. Echo's microforms joined in, crawling about the battlefield, dispatching any that might have had any semblance of surviving, and taking stock of anything that might've been useful for integration into the Endoform or Warform's carapaces. The Endoform itself caught up with the others, pausing only to turn to the Tarrhaidim member of the Envenomed squad.

Notice: Apologies. Elaboration: This platform may have caused unintended friendly fire during fire mission. This platform will attempt to avoid similar incidents in future engagements.

Echo's warform was finally making its way into the village when their contact made themselves apparent. Along with the Microforms, the Warform took up defensive positions within the village, in case of an enemy counterattack while the team was briefing. The Echo platform regularly split its attention up amongst several fronts simultaneously, and its Endoform was more than enough to record the contact's briefing. The Endoform itself hunkered down, taking the equivalent of 'a knee' so as to not impair the vision or hearing of any of its squadmates. Humanoids were a strange bunch, relying on audible commands moreso than any other form of communication, but close contact verbal communication was also more difficult to be intercepted, and thus could be more readily relied upon to transfer more discreet orders.

Discretion and secrecy were what the Envenomed was supposedly about, Echo concluded as its myriad forms examined the scorched and shattered battlefield around them.

A spray of bullets shattered chest plating and the reinforced dermal layering beneath, turning torsos into spouting holes and dropping the fallen soldiers to the ground. The scielto commander jerked forward, a sound like a shriek being sucked inwards and reversed, trembling the air around itself before a booted foot kicked into a burn-wound. A gargling hiss replied as it curled up and clawed at the ground, dirt clumping between its lengthy fingers as a series of curses and warping, frothing noises emerged not from a seemingly absent mouth but the very space around itself.

The hatred the battered, bruised infantry human and tarrhaidimm alike however soon turned from their deceased captives to the sole human of the Envenomed team. Even before the first angry shouts broke, one of the fungoids stomped over her way, its gnarled hand swinging angrily to knock the lighter from her hand and grabbing her by the shoulder. Its fingers were long like straightened, bony roots easily long enough to wrap around one's biceps. Tarrhaidim were not considered particularly large but even an average one like this was at least half a head taller than considerably more powerful in its bulk.

The various holes in its body and even the trenches torn through its face, squirming with nerve-worm-things and twitching regenerative biomass, seemed to speak themselves not with anger but a squirting, hissing ambience.

The other tarrhaidim who had been driving the jeep earlier audibly cursed as he shouted at the others to cease their jeering and howling to focus on the still living scielto prisoner. Yet even as he made his way, his squadmate was already giving Kleo a piece of his mind.

"You thoughtless detritus of atrophied un-being, festering in your arrogance!" Its mouth was a cavern-grin, transparent membrane muscles closing over its stalactite-stalagmite 'teeth' yet the sound boomed seemingly out of its still bleeding wounds all over. Kleo could see the reinforce biometallic armor it was wearing twitching and recoiling around the holes blown through it. Worse, it was speaking its own language, not English or any other human tongue. "We had the oppressors in our grasp! We had leverage, an opportunity to force the sky-squirming scum to acquiesce to our demands, and this foreign joyrider denied us such a weapon!"

It said those words with a particular venom, enough that its skin seemed to quiver and tremble with some potentially volatile anger. Its head swivelled as it looked to its compatriots, the squad's leader before it turned back to Ilshar. It was difficult to recognize but this bloodied tarrhaidim was the same one who had blessed Ilshar earlier.

It would attempt to keep its grip on Kleo's shoulder/bicep area uncomfortably tight before it looked to its fellow fungoid in Ilshar.

Its grasp was tight enough that the partially revealed bone of its fingers were starting to constrict and bend the armor around that area.

Now what might that do to human bone if they got harder?


"HEY HEY HEY, hands off the backup, it's a fuck-up, I get it but please let's just-"

The informant was silenced as the angry soldier opened its mouth and spat not spittle but a clump of squirming brownish-yellow squirming. They resembled tubifex worms covered in a cloud of mucous, seemingly melting as they were exposed to an environment outside of their decomposing compatriot.

The rebel squad leader paused for a moment as if hesitant. It was not hard to *feel* the anger he felt, the way his eyeless face seemed to burn with all the restraint needed to barely contain how much the opportunity had not only been missed but taken fromthem.

The cries of their wounded could be heard not too far off as a few of the soldiers looked anxious; could they hold down a single scielto? Horribly wounded but its power had been well demonstrated. Someone had to tend to those nearly slaughtered by it... and there was no body count of how much they had lost yet.

Either way, the informant was not exactly in a position to spill any mission details yet. Not when they had all been thrust back into the fire.

𝙺𝚕𝚎𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚎𝚕𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚛, 𝚊 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚎𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚜, 𝚊 𝚏𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍. 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝙶𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚞𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝚏𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚠 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚜. 𝙰 𝚖𝚒𝚡 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚜𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚖, 𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙺𝚕𝚎𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝. "𝙵𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚠𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙾𝚛𝚔!? 𝚃𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝, 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 '𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚅𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕!" 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚘-𝙶𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚞𝚜, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎-𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚠, 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚐𝚕𝚢. 𝙷𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚍𝚞𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍, 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚞𝚗𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚊𝚕-𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕, 𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚝, 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚗𝚊𝚙 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝.

Before the real briefing could actually begin, Salvator noticed the kid wantonly executing what enemy combatants were still alive. Not ideal, and he'd have to talk to her later about the importance of extracting information from prisoners before doing away with them, but it wasn't the end of the world-

"You thoughtless detritus of atrophied un-being, festering in your arrogance! We had the oppressors in our grasp! We had leverage, an opportunity to force the sky-squirming scum to acquiesce to our demands, and this foreign joyrider denied us such a weapon!"

Scratch that, it was the end of the world to the locals, evidently. The sheer naivete the resistance fighters had about the value their enemies held on their own soldiers would have been cute if they weren't threatening his squadmate. Sure, he didn't quite know her at all, but that wasn't a reason not to be professional about things.

"Hey, HEY!" Salvator raised his voice, holstering his gun and quickly signing out the hand signals for 'Stop HALT CEASE ABORT' in the battle cant common among the worlds in this sector. "Everyone lower your weapons, immediately!" He shouted, punctuating his point with a brief flare of ethereal energy around himself. "We don't have the time, the manpower, or the luxury to be fighting among ourselves. First off," Salvator turned to the resistance fighters, his tone as reasonable as possible under the circumstances.

"Do you honestly believe that the local regime is going to give you anything for them? If the planetary government was the type to value its people enough to give up leverage, you wouldn't be rebelling against them. Plus, let's not pretend you have the resources to hold these people prisoner for long. They're a net drain when you should be prioritizing your ability to fight. Take it from someone who's done this for decades. I'll reprimand the kid, but cut her some slack, we all slip up a bit when we're young. So if you'd release her, lower your guns, and let us get back to helping you."

With that said, he turned back to Kleo, his voice turning just a bit sterner.

"Next time, at least try to extract intel from them first. Grunts might not know much, but they're more willing to talk with enough pressure. Once they're out of use, then you double tap them. It's just a miscommunication, so hands off the knife and we can get back to work. Don't need more enemies on this planet than what we have already."

Stars and void, the shit these people put him through...

@DeadDrop

As Ilshar ambled towards the improvised assembly point, his lateral perceptors saw the bipedal symbiote of the huge Echo - or was it actually an extension of the unztadlige? - briefly fall into step beside him. He scarcely had the time to wonder if it, too, was there to ask for something before it rattled at him in its mechanical way. "Notice: Apologies. Elaboration: This platform may have caused unintended friendly fire during fire mission." Of course, the ether-worm. It had been taken out by Echo's shot. Not in little part, Ilshar reflected, his own fault for failing to consider just how destructive that cannon was.

"No harm done," he grunted back. These things happened on the battlefield, and at least this time nobody had died. He did appreciate the gesture for putting him more at ease about the unztadlige; machine-like as it sounded and looked, there was something like a living mind under its metallic carapace after all. That was well. Thinking machines unsettled him.

What he appreciated much less were the shots that rang out behind him and the confusion of voices that followed. Ilshar turned about and ground his teeth together in annoyance as he surveyed the degenerating situation. That fool human. Did the Intransigence recruit just about every thrill-seeker with a loose trigger they could dredge up from the Expanse? He could sympathize with their guides over more than just a shared genetic heritage. Had someone like this been with him on Enthuur during the war, odds were that he would have ended splattered across a wall.

"It shames me to be reduced to fighting alongside such a one as this," he raised a hand in a placating gesture as he replied to the ZRF leader in the closest approximation of the latter's language as he was fluent in. It was not something he had used often before but still it rolled out from his mouth far easier than any lingua franca intelligible to non-tarrhaidim ears. "Had my fortunes in my own war of survival been any better, I would have been glad to avoid her smooth-boned kind."

He nudged a shoulder towards the rest of the squad. "But consider, my fellows in the cosmic sowing, that their masters will seek retribution for their pawn, and it will be the worse for us. You still have the greatest prize," the Ulvath's barrel nodded in the scielto's direction, "One such as the regime surely values more than the blood-driven hominids. You need not brook this one's meddling much longer. This force should be gone soon, and all that is in my power to aid your cause elsewhere on this world, I will do." Ilshar nervously squinted a few half-formed eyes at the Envenomed's contact and Rasch, who had been far more peremptory in his address. He hoped the former was not about to contradict him about the squad's departure, however unwittingly.

While Echo did not normally pay attention to the constant vocalizing by humanoids- unless the information was directly pertinent to it, it did pick up what it believed to be signs of aggression from one of their local forces units. Sure enough, the tarrhaidim seemed to be having an issue with the human squadmate of the Enevenomed, enough to the point of grabbing her. Tensions quickly flared back up to life as the shouting began- much of which made little sense to Echo's understanding. What did make sense to its understanding was the aggression towards Kleo, which could easily escalate into violence towards her. Loss of an Envenomed squadmate would surely put the operation in danger due to the team's small size. Logically, that meant that Echo should...

As Kleo pulled herself away from the tarrhaidim, Echo's weapons were already turning to face the various aspects of the local forces unit. The heavy beam cannon gave off a low hum, loud enough to cause the immediate area shudder slightly as it began charging, leveling itself at the largest cluster. The antipersonnel cannons glowed blue as they and the autocannons from each of Echo's forms oriented themselves at separate targets.

Alert: Cease aggression. Echo's voice crackled simultaneously from vocalizer units across all of its active platforms. While the platforms didn't single out any particular individual, from the directions the weapons were pointed it wasn't too difficult to tell to whom Echo was speaking. Elaboration: Further aggression will constitute acts of hostility. Elaboration: Hostilities shall be met with immediate destruction.

Rasch was quick to step in, demanding that all parties lower their weapons and continue cooperating. Echo questioned the value the local forces truly held- or at least this unit of the local forces. Eager for a fight and quick to jump to aggression. Their lack of critical thinking and tendency for picking potential foes well outside their weight class was likely the reason why this planet still had not been secured. Regardless of their inefficiencies, Echo cared little for the ZRF's objectives, its only concerns were of the Envenomed mission, which meant the lives of the squad took the priority over the lives of the locals. Echo's weapons remained raised, while the main cannon's humming slowed as it gradually began to release its charge, Echo's platforms would wait for the tarrhaidim before it began lowering its weapons- all of them lowering seemingly in sync to theirs.

Request: Relay objective. Echo's endoform vocalized to the contact, about as close to a demand as Echo could speak.

The creature's digits clenched tighter, scraping armor and the first audible signs of wear and tear made themselves clear. The huge creature even with such injuries was pumped full of anger and adrenaline. Its eyeless attention turned to Salvator as it hesitated for a moment. It spoke but this time the words were not the swamp-murk rumbling of its native tongue but English, words fogged by the hazy intonations of its deep, frothing vocalization.

"You do not know my fight; OUR struggle," He paused to make a deep sound; sucking inwards with a flanging, mud-bubbling gargle. "If you think we expect such mercy from the enemy. Do you not know the value of a hostage of an enemy with an image to keep? Their sapient rights and sapientaraianism; the luxury of the oppressor to parade their righteousness. Empty words for burned down ghettos."

His grip loosened only slightly. Like worms his digits still coiled even if the pressure was far less bruising.

The footsteps of other tarrhaidim drew nearer, measured and careful as if approaching a potential landmine. He motioned over to the gathered Envenomed, stone-spire teeth clenching as his hands waved - he needed them to make some space but he was careful to keep his mouth shut. More voices were more fuel to the fire.

More human voices that was. The ZRF's squad leader looked to Ilshar and decided that whatever the fellow fungoid had on mind was good a guess as any, motioning his hand over his mouth as he looked at Echo. The enormous Unztadtlige alone was a walking death threat even if it was not actually expressing any aggression.

As Ilshar spoke the fingers slid off of Kleo's arms and it turned to face him, sliding back into the archaic tongue of his kind.

"My anger has been tended to well for over a decade of subjugation; countless habitations under the claw of suited barons and their lackeys' armored bootheels. You speak as one of similar sufferings. Similar hatreds."

His head turned to the fallen scielto, glaring from the corners of what one could presume were its eyes at the rifle barrel pointed at the side of its face. The soldier stopped as the ZRF squad leader's hands motioned him to stop his little escapade of anger, leaving promptly without a word to rejoin his comrades.

He turned to the rest of the squad, his own wounds less gruesome but his ballistic padding armor torn and multiple burns traveling up his sides and back. A part of his face bubbled from a residual energy burst of some sort and shapes squirmed beneath in torment or in desperation to repair badly damaged biomass.

"You fight well. That is noted," He paused to glance at Kleo, his teeth half-clenched with some sort of frustration, but turned then to the human informant while he addressed the rest. "But our mission ends here. Too many wounded, much already lost. You make your way wherever-to now."

It was not much but as he left, the informant was already clenching his teeth and lightly banging his forehead against a half-broken doorway. He did not hide well the curses uttered as whispers.

"Well, I was hoping that could be the backup but it seems you're on your own... but right, where was I huh... the mission. Well... you remember that massive blast from earlier? Not the one that unlucky scielto fellow made. The massive one, artillery blast, the one that shook the whole hillside."

He walked out and pointed off in the distance, along where the trees gradually sloped upwards, rustling in the wind and in the wake of massive blasts. Blurs through the air, slamming along the hillside, sending up clouds of dirt and mushroom clouds of flame.

Little more than the barks of hounds as the massive beast roaring in Hades' depths roared from off in the distance, a massive plume of blue-yellow fire erupting far off near the peak of the mountain they stood upon. Not long after, another massive blast off in the distance on the opposing hill, gouging out an enormous bite of an opposing mountainside. The very report of the weapon made trees tremble, the village shudder, and the ground quake beneath their feet.

"... Yeah, that? Artillery, off-world from the UCL. Some sort of test-run for it, multi-drone triangulation-targetting and live battlenet-feed coordination with on-ground elements. That opposing hillside? That's our artillery. As in 'Definitely-Not-Intransigence' artillery. Pathetic, yes, but that's what happens when you don't control the space around the world and have to rely on informal smuggler networks to sneak in anything that won't catch the actual regional League fleet's attention."

He put a hand on his chin, looking upwards for a bit before remembering something, immediately disappearing back into the house. A few bits of the ceiling were flaking off onto his head, making him curse as he disappeared inside. Something heavy dragged along the floor and the man audibly grunted as clips of some sort were undone, zippers opened, and contents rummaged.

Returning, he held a blocky square-like device with an antennae poking out one corner and various switches and buttons adorning its face. It was held in a sort of reinforced case and with clawed grasper-straps allowing for attachment to one's back. Currently it was open and he was pressing a few buttons.

With a bit of fidgeting, he managed to slide what appeared to be a button/switch/knob covered panel and reveal a screen, before fumbling some more to activate a quartet of small LED's. Immediately, a holographic projection emerged; four beams of light splintering into countless smaller ones, projecting an image of a video feed through a light blue filter.

A group of faces were visible; armored, sloping helmets, curving lines across the sides of their ridges and a rough, dense appearance. Augmented combat suits ("power armor" if one wanted to be blunt), Intranszjednota issue, early Reckoning of Empires period; a squad, bipedal and humanoid, showered with dirt and cautiously looking over their shoulder in whatever foxhole they were huddled in.

"Oi, before you start, yes, they're here! Look, just get going, I'll fill them in fast and it won't be long alright? Thank you."

Before any of them could respond with more than a flicker of motion and the loading of their mags, he closed it and handed it to Salvator.

"I'll be frank, there's not much to say but there's two things you gotta do. First, get to there-"

He pointed off in the distance where the massive blast from the artillery cannon had spouted out, also cursing as he fumbled around with a few more contents he'd extracted from the house.

"That fancy CivSec artillery canon? We need you to secure it. Not destroy it-" His eyes glanced at Ilshar and Echo. "Secure it. That device I handed you? Encrypted secure coms and a battlefield computer-suite. It's got a map and navigation program but really, it's a straight shot there; can probably make it there in the next hour or less if you get going soon."

The encased device was buzzing; any attempts to network with it via digital systems revealed that it was updating something related to their current location and distance to the targeted area.

"Second? You actually should get going real soon because those guys you saw on the holo-feed? They're on the move and you're working with them. They're getting close to a target and fighting the UCL suckers in the valley at the same time. They're going to paint the target once they get close enough to them. Once they let you know, you guys get to help the League uh, test out their new product's accuracy when they do that. Assassination but with a knife you can level a mountain with."

He nodded before returning into their house, grunting as he pulled something heavy then returned with a backpack. Bits of fluid coloured its tough nylon like material in hues of blue and green. A slight odour wafted from it, one that was wet and slightly dirt-like, something he pretended he did not smell.

"That's my end of this deal held..." He muttered under his breath as he started to move. "Have fun, I'm getting off this clusterfuck."

As he left, the ZRF the squad had fought alongside began to take their leave. Many of them hobbled, some fashioning crutches from large branches or were held from under their arms by comrades. Their wounds were horrific but there were a number that in spite of that, seemed none the worse off. The tarrhaidim obviously, but they were occupied with their prisoner, now on a slow march back away from the frontlines of the conflict.

The informant joined them, exchanging a few words, before the Envenomed team were left with their task.

In the end, empty words. Salvator had seen more worlds than he could count go through the exact same process of oppression and rebellion. Image was easily manipulated by those in power. If the locals hadn't learned that yet, well, he wasn't going to teach them today, clearly. The important thing was that they weren't inclined to light the kid up any more. At least their sergeant had the sense to back down while they were already battered and bruised.

So instead of continuing the pointless debate, Salvator simply let the rebels go on their way. At the end of the day, they had a job to do here, and that wasn't to carry the rebellion on their backs. He turned back to the real briefing and started paying attention. So they were here to secure enemy ordinance and turn it against its former owner. Fine by him. Rasch quietly looked over the battlefield and terrain data that was being uploaded to his comms, memorizing it with practiced ease.

With the informant bugging out now that his job was done, Rasch turned in the direction they were set to head in, doing a quick check of his weapons before moving to take point.

"Right, we've got a timetable to meet. Everyone ready to move?"

𝙺𝚕𝚎𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚖, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚊 𝚛𝚞𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚏𝚏. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 '𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛' 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚐𝚘, 𝚖𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎. 𝙶𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝚐𝚘 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚖, 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚜, 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚐𝚘𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚜. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚒-𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

"𝙶𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝." 𝙺𝚕𝚎𝚘 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚠-𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎.

With the situation defused, Ilshar eased back into his usual slumping hunch, briefly raising a hand as the ZRF group departed. Ultimately, it was a small thing they fought for. A planet, a government, a few billion lives at most. A little spark for hatred; the lords of the League or the Dominion, every bit as mortal as they were, would have thought nothing of it. But it was all their world, and it was hard to blame them if they snapped at the blundering of those supposedly here to help. Here to help - the Dolsilvec people had sounded like that during the war, too, and what had come of it? The good kind of allies kept quiet and did what they had to do, and so he, too, remained silent as he listened to the Intransigence contact's briefing, eye-rifts warily opening in his squadmates' directions all the while.

"Ready," he finally assented once everything had been laid out and the group prepared to move. Approach, seize, commandeer. The human had been right to look askance at him; that had never been his specialty. Covert approach and sabotage, yes, but the plan here was supposed to be something a touch more elaborate. What that would leave for him to do besides watching the approach once they got there remained to be seen. "Any of you good with League systems?"

If they got there, of course. If CivSec had any neurons, they would not have left their benefactors' gift lightly defended.

It was hard not to feel the glares against their backs as the smoking wreckage of civilian architecture slowly retreated back into the distance, joining the protests of the scielto commander as still-piping hot barrels were pressed against their back. Soon it was but smoke visible through the envelopment of the forest green as it trembled from the raging violence in the valley.

Every few minutes, a great light would erupt in an explosive blast from the valley or the mountain opposite to their own, the pinkish-white light overwhelming the pure gold of the mid-day sun. Branches would tremble, the dirty leaves that had replaced foot-trails fluttered from the blast-waves that washed over them. The worst was the light however, as if a small sun had blossomed off in the distance yet whose shining splendor greedily overrode that of the planet's primary star, silhouetting the foliage that enshrouded them from the world in streams of black, slihouetted shadows.

Rather than illuminate and reveal, the lack of paths through the uneven, wooded mountainside with its logs, vines, and rocks became hidden momentarily in near-blinding flashes. They were diminishing in frequency and ferocity as they progressed and one could see why with a glance off to the side. Down in the valley, sloping fronts of dark-green armored personnel carriers, top-mounted autocannons spitting as digitigrade-legged bipedal mecha stalking forth ostrich like sent storms of missile and minigun-spray into bonfire-raging blasts of CivSec positions.

Storms of flashing energy-jacketed rounds and piercing flashes of condensed beam-energy responded in kind as they seared and scored scars and hits along tanks that had last seen active service in the Veiled War. The ensuing energy-splash or detonating armor cast black shapes against the erupting flames as infantry rapidly disembarked mere feet from rumbling, boxy vehicles and stomping bipedal warmachines. Far heavier vehicles lay in wait, entrenched in camouflage of repuroposed trees and heavy netting or sniping them down lengthy sightlines extending over trenches and between bunkers.

It was easy to miss out on the buzzing of the communicator-panel in its reinforced carrying-case. There was so much going on that even when the savage judgement day knell of the artillery-cannon's blasts died down, that left the shrieking of aircraft and multi-targetting missiles in its place. It was not enough to drown out the nagging buzz of the device, nor was the smoke that began to creep forth enough to hide the extravagance of the raging battle that consumed the region.

It was more akin to a fog with how it crept from deeper into the woods where the light was forced to not only navigate the dense leafy cover but also the wafting white that rolled out from within its depths. The roads were entirely absent now and the only real way to visually orient themselves was where the light of explosions and energy beams shone from. It was further away from the mountain edge, moreso on the spine of the enormous formation, and getting harder to see without some sort of scanning or imaging capability that was unaffected by such visual obstruction.

All the while the communicator buzzed naggingly, awaiting for anyone to respond. It was clear for once as the sounds of battle grew distant, almost as if respectful of the sombre and somewhat pungent fog that crept in. Where trees once stood tight and clustered they began to slouch and lean; dinner-plate sized holes punched through their bodies or having gutted their circumferences caused a few to keel over, resting upon one another or the forest floor itself.

It made the area somewhat easier to navigate yet more and more of the trees were increasingly fallen, some torn into smaller log-chunks, their leafy tops crumpled and burnt as they wreathed their own remains. Spent shell casings flashed at the Envenomed squad's sight, all of them the sort reserved for anti-material rifles others withered and crusty, shaped like the pupae of flying insects yet laced with deliberately implanted metal firing mechanisms - those ones were at least for light autocannons.

They were in a clearing in the woods, the fog heavy yet not entirely obscuring - they could see the blast-craters upon the ground, the trees that had been sunken along with the large, chunky and lump-like shapes laying scattered all around, limbs of some large, monstrous, multi-digited sort and blackened bio-metallic acrmor could be made out through non-enhanced sight as both the main recipients of immense violence and the source of much of the smoke. So too could be areas of elevated terrain; jutting rock-heads slouching off before the congregation of massive, shattered forms, their sides torn and desecrated by retaliatory fire.

Piles of rubble stood in front of these natural formations, having violently deformed them but far lesser than the now brutally deceased who who had fired upon some unknown aggressor. A few larger, older trees sat proud and looming, extending past the fog and scourged with puncturing wounds but none of which were anything like the massive holes punched through the trees prior or the arthropod bodies in the area. The latter two were large enough sometimes that a human could fit its body through the wounds torn through them; these would be a much tighter to impossible squeeze to make.

With the team nearly halfway to the artillery emplacement, it was clear that they would have to cross a treacherous and eerie stretch of the mountain where some sort of battle had taken place. The bodies appeared arthropod like and most of them were facing towards the bulging rocks that jutted from the earth, yet what exactly had slaughtered them so thoroughly?

And why was the communicator-panel they were handed starting to beep and blink a red warning light, then a green signal-transmission one?

"League systems?" Salvator replied to the Tarrhaidim as they made their way back towards their ride. "I've had to use a few in my time. Shouldn't be too hard to turn the artillery against the opfor as long as we have firing coordinates."

The team made good time, riding in the warform once more. Of course, that didn't take away from Rasch's growing irritation at the constantly-buzzing communicator. It would have been one thing if there was anything to be gained from it at the moment, but evidently, it hadn't been able to lock on to a signal for the entire damn ride. Void take him, that buzzing was more annoying than the artillery and aircraft all around them.

When Echo's warform stopped due to treacherous terrain, Salvator was the first one out, landing from the vehicle in a crouch as he surveyed the surrounding area.

"What the hell happened here?" He murmured to himself, starting to investigate the corpses. Whatever the predominant species on this battlefield was, either he wasn't familiar with it or their bodies were too mangled for him to make out with any degree of accuracy. On the bright side, something did stick out to him during his search of the bodies: a combat shotgun, and a decent amount of slugs to go with it. Salvator quickly mag-locked the shotgun to the back of his armor before pocketing the ammo. Considering they were going for a direct assault soon, he'd need the extra firepower. In the meantime...

His search was interrupted by the increased blinking of the communicator. Out of irritation, he jerked back to glare at the damn thing, only to notice the red light followed by a transmission. Metaphorical alarm bells began ringing in his mind. This was already a kill-box, and they'd just stepped into it. Fuck.

"Get to cover, now!" Salvator barked at the rest of the squad, already booking it behind one of the rubble piles. "Possible contact!"

𝙺𝚕𝚎𝚘 𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚎 𝙴𝚌𝚑𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝙻𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜. 𝚂𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚒𝚗 𝙴𝚌𝚑𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚔𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚐𝚞𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙰𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖. 𝙺𝚕𝚎𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚞𝚙 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚛-𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚒𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍-𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗. 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚞𝚍𝚎.

"𝙳𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚘, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 '𝚗 𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚌 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜." 𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚖𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖, 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜. 𝙾𝚑 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚋 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚍. 𝙴𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚝-𝚔𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚞𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎. 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚋𝚊𝚝, 𝚞𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢.

Echo's warform slowed to a stop as they came across a field of rubble and bodies- with obvious signs of a recent fight. It wasn't difficult to deduce that this area was very recently- and possibly was still now- a killbox. Whether or not the ambushers were still there, remained to be seen, but at the very least Salvator wasn't willing to take any risks, disembarking along with the rest of the squad as they reached the edge of the area. With the higher vantage point of the Warform's main turret, Echo began scanning for potential hostiles hidden around the killbox, even as it redeployed its Warform to join the squad on the ground.

Taking 'cover' wasn't exactly a tactic that unztadtlige typically employed, but as hardy as its armor was, even Echo wasn't invincible. Many unztadtlige platforms had met untimely destruction from not adequately assessing danger before marching in- many of its kind found themselves to be generally untouchable in a lot of conventional ground fighting, which often led to something similar to 'overconfidence' in typical humanoid organics. Still, it wasn't exactly as though the Warform could really hide behind anything, instead settling for hunching down on its legs, providing cover for the squad's flank. The Endoform was a bit more capable of taking advantage of the rocks around it, checking the charge level on its bubble shield in case the squad came under fire.

Deploying from the Warform's sides were a quartet of Microforms. Given the possibility of contact, Echo was wary about removing too many of its close in defense weapons from the main host, but as it was, they had no information and the Microforms were one of their few options of collecting information without risking casualties to the squad itself.

Deploying Microforms. Echo's voice crackled across the squad's comm network. Beginning reconnaissance of local area. Stand by.