Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Constructive criticism is welcome. 

SpaceCowboy2013 made the original storyline for this, and I’m planning on finishing this fight.

Disney owns Star Wars, Microsoft owns Halo, that is all.

Enjoy

Timeline

2070 - Space travel becomes as commonplace as air travel, with the Moon becoming covered in settlements as a result. The four superpowers of Earth, the United States, the European Union, the Republic of China, and the Russian Federation, along with the smaller space faring nations of Korea, Iran, Japan, India, Australia, Brazil, Argentina, and Egypt, agree to form a single scientific body to explore and colonize the solar system. These nations’ space agencies are combined into one, headed under the United Nations and is coined the UNCA, the United Nations Colonial Administration.

2074 - With the Earth’s population reaching 12 billion and still rising, the UNCA begins to terraform Mars, Saturn’s Moons, and the Jovian moons, including Europa. The first orbital elevator begins construction and is finished in five years by the UNCA in Texas, allowing massive amounts of raw materials to be moved into space. Another four elevators began construction shortly after the completion of the Texan tether, one in Cuba, one in Kenya, one in Malaysia, and one in India.

2081 - Mars is successfully terraformed into a lush green world with several large oceans and dozens of seas, rivers, and lakes. The great colonization begins, with millions of people settling the Martian surface and the first cities begin to appear. Extensive mining of the asteroid belt begins.

2085 - With Earth’s population rapidly rising and the production of food and resources struggling to catch up, the four major superpowers increase cooperation through the UN. Artificial gravity is perfected and the technology soon revolutionizes space travel, allowing long trips to be undertaken without bone and muscle deterioration.

2095 - Dozens of floating cities are built in Venus’s upper atmosphere, allowing millions of colonists to settle there. The population of Mars reaches 1 billion and the total human population throughout the Sol system reaches 20 billion. As the UN and UNCA realize that the human race must expand outside the Sol system, research into faster than light travel begins.

2115 - Conflict sparks throughout the Sol system when a neo-Fascist movement, the Freiden, attack UN Colonial Advisors on Io. The Freiden also retaliated against their Communist counterparts, the Koslovics, after years of being targeted by them. This marks the beginning of the Interplanetary War. Fierce fighting on Earth, especially in the rainforests of South America, erupts between UN, Koslovic, and Freiden forces.

2116 - The UN establishes the UNSC, the United Nations Space Command, as the military arm of the UN to combat the separatist movements. The UNSC mobilizes a massive armada to combat the rebel space forces. The Earth’s orbit becomes militarized as defenses are constructed. Luna (Earth’s Moon) and Venus are also fortified. Terrorist attacks supported by the Freiden and Koslovics all over the globe lead the nations of the world to found the United Earth Government, uniting all of the nations of the Earth for the first time in history.

2117 - The first major naval engagement between fleets in space takes place above Mars in a heated three-way battle between the UNSC, Frieden, and Koslovic forces. Naval doctrine for the next several hundred years is defined above the Red Planet. The UNSC defeats the Freiden and Koslovic forces in several month-long battles which rack up thousands of casualties on each side. The UNSC regains control over the atmosphere of Mars, its orbital facilities, space ports, as well as the planet’s orbital elevators. However, the Koslovic ground forces present on Mars had several ground to space laser batteries near Argyre Planitia, which were heavily defended and kept the UNSC from landing any substantial amount of troops.

A UNSC Marine captain named Andrew White suggests that teams of elite marines be dropped from warships waiting in orbit behind enemy lines via Human Entry Vehicles, or HEV pods for short. These formations come to be known as Drop Jet units.

Although the name hadn’t yet been sewn on, the ODSTs were born.

2118 - During a lull in the war, the ODSTs were deployed successfully on the battlefield and the Koslovic defense soon crumbled. The last remnants of resistance on Earth are crushed by the might of the UNSC, Mars is liberated soon after. The UNSC fleet, reinforced twofold, liberates the Jovian moons and the moons of Saturn. The Interplanetary War comes to a close after the Callisto Treaty, in which Freiden and Koslovic commanders surrender their arms to the UNSC.

2119 - The population of the Sol System booms after the Interplanetary War, which was much more devastating than the First and Second World Wars combined. This population boom, coupled with the famine caused by the rainforest campaigns on Earth, made the coming decade difficult for most people.

2132 - Two brilliant scientists named Tobias Fleming Shaw and Wallace Fujikawa lead a team of engineers and theoretical physicists to develop Faster-Than-Light travel to free Humanity from the Sol System. They drafted designs for the Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine, with a functioning prototype made not long after. The Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine works by creating a wormhole between normal space and the alternate plane dubbed ‘slipspace’, also known as Shaw-Fujikawa space and slipstream space. The wormhole acts as a shortcut, allowing long distances to be covered in a reasonable amount of time. The UEG soon tests the drive on a UNSC Destroyer, the Columbus .

The Columbus makes a short jump across the Solar system, proving the drive works and that FTL has been achieved, but also that inter-system jumps can be dangerous, as the Columbus is nearly trapped in the Oort Cloud.

2133 - The first probes equipped with a Shaw-Fujikawa drive reach one of the nearest star systems to Earth with a known terrestrial planet, Epsilon Eridani. The probes bring back images that shock Humanity, an Earth-like planet.

2134 - The first interstellar colonization ships leave Sol, lead by the titanic Santa Maria ,  escorted by dozens of slipspace capable UNSC warships, and head for the Epsilon Eridani system with several hundred thousand colonists in tow. The trip takes three days but the fleet arrives and soon colonizes the planet, which is named:

Reach.

2150 - All of the systems with planetary bodies within fifty lightyears of Earth are colonized, creating the core of what would later be known as the Inner Colonies. Some systems, like Epsilon Eridani, have colonies on multiple planets.

The UNSC begins to have more control over the colonization efforts as more and more alien fossils are discovered on several planets, allowing many to agree that a large military is needed just in case the possible first contact goes wrong. Humanity soon controls over 100 planets and Reach becomes a military hub second only to Earth as its population exceeds 1 billion. The total human population reaches 30 Billion.

2200 - The first coilgun is created for use in space combat, which accelerates a large slug using a linear system of magnetic field coils down a long shaft, accelerating the projectile to incredible velocities (although a spinal-mounted Magnetic Accelerator Cannon (MAC) would not be fitted onto a UNSC vessel until much later during the Insurrection).

Ship-mounted directed-energy weapons such as lasers become common and firearms technology has considerably advanced, to the point of using Gauss weaponry.

Initial experimentation with Metal Storm technology stagnates for numerous reasons, including inability to create sufficient precision, accuracy, velocity, and sustainment of fire. The UNCA is reorganized into the Colonial Administration Authority, or CAA, with a new military arm, the Colonial Military Administration (CMA).

2315 - The ORION Project is initiated in order to create supersoldiers for the UNSC. Initial results were promising and the project led to the adoption of new equipment meant to enhance a soldier’s fighting capacity, but eventually fizzled out during the decades of relative peace.

2400 - The UEG has expanded to over 1000 worlds. The total human population exceeds 100 billion. The remains of an advanced alien spacecraft are recovered. Little do they know that it is in fact an abandoned Covenant explorer ship.

Expansion halts as the UNSC and UEG realize that protecting the Outer Colonies is difficult. Defenses on all of the worlds are expanded.

2480 - Unrest swells on the fringes of the UEG territory due to the discontent caused by the CAA’s oversight of the Outer Colonies, leading to a gigantic build up in the UNSC as it finds itself surrounded by the prospect of more than worlds rising up in revolt, but interminable and interstellar war.

The seeds of the Insurrection are planted, and rebellion is inevitable.

2491 - The Carver Findings are published, predicting a breakdown in colonial governance and civil war tearing apart human society unless strict governmental control was established, reinforced by an immediate and permanent military presence. 

The ORION Project is reinitiated. ORION’s goal is to create genetically and cybernetically enhanced supersoldiers to combat the growing threat of the rebels. 65 candidates were initially selected, with 5 times that number at the height of the program. These soldiers later came to be known retroactively as SPARTAN-Is.

2492 - On the colony of Far Isle, a local rebellion spirals out of the control of local peacekeeping forces. In a series of escalating events, the UNSC deploys nuclear weapons which wipe out the colony. This event was one of the catalysts for the Insurrection

2494 - The Callisto Incident kicks off the Insurrection after Lieutenant Preston J. Cole’s victory.

Human space becomes engulfed in warfare.

2496 - Operation: CHARLEMAGNE sees the first deployment of ORION supersoldiers in the Eridanus system.

2507 - Doctor Catherine Halsey meets Doctor Elias Carver, points out the flaws in his findings, and is noted by Captain Hieronymus Stanforth. Three weeks later, she recalculates the Carver Findings as part of a UNSC funded grant and discovers the situation to be much more dire.

Convinced by her dire discovery, she agrees to join ONI.

2517 - With the Insurrection in full swing in the Outer Colonies, the next step of the ORION program goes forward under Dr. Catherine Halsey as the SPARTAN-II program. 75 children are conscripted, kidnapped, to undergo brutal training and receive extreme genetic augmentations. Due to improved augmentation procedures, all 75 survive, although some are left physically, but not mentally, inept. Before rehabilitation was attempted for those left crippled, 35 were suitable for combat.

The legendary SPARTAN-IIs are born.

2525 - First contact is made on the Outer Colony world of Harvest with an advanced, hostile spacefaring civilization known as the Covenant. Contact is subsequently lost with Harvest and an unarmed scout ship, CMA Argo , is sent to investigate, fearing the Insurrection had taken over the planet. Contact with the Argo is lost, prompting a CMA battlegroup to be dispatched.

The CMA Heracles returns as its only survivor, limping its way back to Reach in order to warn the UNSC. Now a Vice Admiral, Preston J. Cole is given command of Battle Group X-Ray and charged with retaking the planet.

2526 - Battle Group X-Ray arrives in the system, retaking control of the planet’s orbit while losing 13 ships to 1 Covenant vessel. Although it was initially claimed that Harvest’s communication satellites were attacked by Insurrectionists, UNSC leadership decided to reveal the threat of the Covenant to the public.

Upon Cole’s return to Earth, his victory over Harvest was greatly exaggerated. He was promoted to Admiral and subsequently given command of the 3rd Fleet, then proceeded to lead the ‘Cole Campaigns’ from 2526–2532.

D espite Cole’s pyrrhic victory, the Covenant began swarming the Outer Colonies and were determined to retake control of Harvest. Harvest becomes embroiled in a 5 year long UNSC campaign to drive out the Covenant.

SPARTAN-II supersoldiers are able to capture a Covenant frigate, the Radiant Arrow , and transport it to a remote outpost to be studied.

2530 - After the battle of Groombridge-1830, the UNSC initiates the ‘Cole Protocol’ devised by Admiral Cole. The early enactment of this protocol buys humanity much needed time, saving billions of lives in the long run. Humanity massively fortifies the Inner Colonies and throws all of its resources into total war. The Insurrection began to subside, although it would remain active throughout and after the war.

2531 - Harvest is finally retaken, swelling sagging morale. After the First Battle of Arcadia, the UNSC Spirit of Fire pursued the retreating Covenant forces to rescue the captured Dr. Ellen Anders. They reach Shield 0459, a Forerunner shield world containing unstoppable warships to be used to exterminate humanity. The crew of the Spirit of Fire uses the ship’s FTL drive to destroy the planet. During the battle, Arbiter Ripa ‘Moramee is killed by Sergeant John Forge. After reaching a safe distance, the slipspace drive is overloaded remotely, destroying the Flood infection and the fleet of Forerunner ships.

The Spirit of Fire is set adrift through the vacuum of space.

2532 - At the battle of Wafira, a young Lieutenant Junior Grade by the name of Gregory White, a direct descendant of Andrew White, defeats a CAS assault carrier with only a destroyer by using a series of intricate traps, including nuclear mines, and using asteroids as cover. The victory boosts sagging morale as the now Captain White becomes a hero for humanity alongside Admiral Cole.

Two months later, Cole goes on an offensive with his fleet and retakes three star systems besieged by the Covenant.

2535 - At the battle of Sargasso, Captain White, through the use of what some would come to call space guerilla tactics, defeats a larger Covenant force of 23 ships with a fleet of only 12 by using the same tricks he employed at Wafira, luring parts of the Covenant fleet into traps and defeating them in detail.

2536 -   The Covenant begins an offensive cutting deep into the Outer Colonies, the UNSC, outgunned, loses nearly 60 star systems and 100 worlds are turned to glass. Rear Admiral White begins to realize the desperate measures needed to win against the Covenant.

2537 - Seeing that the Covenant will likely reach the Inner Colonies within ten years and the fact that the UNSC is stretched too thin, UNSC HIGHCOM issues what comes to be known as the White Doctrine.

The game plan, drawn up by Rear Admiral White (with help from Admirals Cole and Hood), calls for the evacuation of non-essential Outer Colonies and for their populations to be moved to the well-defended Inner Colonies. It additionally calls for a redeployment of the remaining ships in the Outer Colonies, with 25% of them being allocated to assist in the evacuation effort and escorting the civilians to the safer Inner Colonies.

The remaining 75% of ships would be reorganized to engage in hit and run tactics, luring the Covenant into traps using evacuated and abandoned worlds as bait. The Outer Colonies of Arcadia, New Jerusalem, Escala III, Midguard, and Meridian are chosen to be staging areas for these fleets, in order to keep a resupplying fleet from inadvertently leading the Covenant to the Inner Colonies. 

Some worlds crucial to the war effort are left inhabited, and some civilians opt to disregard the evacuation orders and remain in their homes at their own risk. These worlds, now sparsely populated, would be instrumental in making the Covenant believe that nothing was amiss. Venezia was one such world where thousands opted to stay.

2541 - With the evacuation of the Outer Colonies 35% complete, the reorganized fleets move to begin their work, destroying as many Covenant assets as possible while delaying the enemy’s march towards the Inner Colonies and buying the UNSC invaluable time. 

The UNSC fleets lay their traps, beginning to bleed the Covenant’s forces by attacking supply hubs and luring them to abandoned worlds only to be destroyed by UNSC ships numbering in the hundreds.

2542 - The Overlord Defense Grid above Earth is completed, consisting of over 300 SMAC Orbital Defense Platforms and a fleet of nearly 1500 of the UNSC’s most advanced ships just to defend Earth alone. The defenses of the rest of the Sol system consist of 500 ships and 30 SMACs over Mars, 100 warships and 10 SMACs over Venus, with the colonies of the Jovian and Saturn moons defended by 100 warships and various other stations.

The defenses of Reach are expanded as well to include 90 SMACs and a fleet of 750 warships. All of the Inner Colonies are fortified to include at least one ODP and no less than 50 ships.

2543 - At the Battle of Psi Serpentis, a system only 47.8 light years from Earth, Admiral Cole led Battle Group India into battle. Utilizing a previously unheard-of precision in-system jump to the gas giant of Viperidae, Admiral Cole engaged waiting Covenant forces.

After the battle had raged for some time, the rest of the UNSC fleet disengaged, seemingly leaving behind Cole’s flagship, the Everest . Cole began to move his flagship into the gas giant’s core, taunting the Covenant to provoke them into following him into the gas giant’s magnetosphere, preventing them from using plasma weaponry.

To cover his true masterstroke, he launched thousands of archer missiles at the Covenant. While this attack was seemingly ineffective, it concealed the launching of 105 Shiva-class nukes, which ignited the planet’s core, temporarily turning it into a brown dwarf, apparently engulfing his ship alongside over 300 Covenant vessels.

2544 - Due to the difficulties and shortcomings of Operations: SILENT STORM, PROMETHEUS, and TORPEDO, development of the NOVA bomb project is accelerated.

2547 - 4 years after the battle of Psi Serpentis, Admiral Cole reappears at Earth. Using the UNSC Io to open a slipspace portal in the atmosphere of Viperidae, Cole and his ship entered the slipspace portal, escaping the devastation. Claiming to have been trying to make his way back to Human space for 4 years, he declined to comment further, with Fleet Admiral Lord Hood supporting his decision and forbidding any sort of interrogation.

With the morale boost from news of his survival, the SPARTANs are formally revealed to the public by ONI, becoming instant legends.

2548 - The first deployments of NOVA bombs by the UNSC wipe out key Covenant shipbuilding worlds, staging areas, and other strategic Covenant locations which greatly stall the Covenant’s rate of advance.

2549 - The AI Cortana is created.

With her help, research into advanced technology captured from the Covenant accelerates and proves to be fruitful. Energy shields, the one thing hampering the UNSC in space, are developed and installed on UNSC ships as fast as possible alongside many other new inventions.

2550 - The fleets under Rear Admiral White and Admiral Cole (whose fleet was formerly under the command of Vice Admiral Danforth Whitcomb), having spent ten years successfully harassing the Covenant, are pulled back to Midguard where they await the looming attack.

The attack came later that year. The UNSC fleets, each once over 800 ships apiece, were now diminished to a combined strength of only 342, with only half of that having been refitted with shields.

Nevertheless, they are forced to face off against over twice their number. Supported by Midguard’s 23 SMAC ODPs, the opposing fleets grinded each other to scrap. The UNSC fleet was reduced to 135 ships within the first three hours, the Covenant fleet reduced to around 200 ships, with half of the ODPs taken out by enemy fire. Covenant ground forces managed to contest half the planet.

The battle turns into a stalemate as the valiant defenders hold their ground. Five battles take place over the next year as the UNSC is unable to send reinforcements due to the Covenant finally launching an invasion of the Inner Colonies, led by Supreme Commander Thel ’Vadamee.

Helmet cam footage of a Banished raid on the Carter Guard Armory gives ONI their first glimpses of Atriox.

2551 - The UNSC manages to hold the Covenant at bay but still loses two hundred colonies as Thel ’Vadamee pushes through the bolstered defenses and improved ships of the Inner Colonies over the course of hundreds of skirmishes. Many incursions on colonial soil are defeated by the combined UNSC ground forces thanks to the Navy’s marked improvement.

2552 - Commander Jacob Keyes performs the Keyes Loop at the Battle of Sigma Octanus IV, earning a promotion to Captain afterwards. 

Although a tactical victory, a tracking device placed on his ship revealed the location of Reach to the Covenant, and data recovered from the planet would enable the Covenant to find Installation 04, Alpha Halo. 

In preparation for Operation: RED FLAG, Captain Keyes was given command of the Halcyon -class light cruiser Pillar of Autumn upon his arrival at Reach. The Pillar of Autumn had been recently refitted for a second time, being equipped with experimental shielding, an even more state of the art power plant, and an enhanced armament.

Before the operation could be undertaken, a monstrous Covenant armada of over 900 ships was detected heading towards Reach. The UNSC dug in its heels into the planet, and braced for the impending assault. The battle quickly devolved into a meat grinder, lasting for weeks as reinforcements continuously poured in from both sides.

Against all odds, Reach’s defenses manage to hold together and the planet is saved. Curiously, during the waning hours of the battle, a Covenant battlegroup goes on a seemingly random jump towards the middle of uncharted space away from the Inner Colonies after receiving strange signals from beneath the surface of Reach. The Pillar of Autumn chases after the ship.

The events of Alpha Halo transpire.

After returning to Reach on the captured Ascendent Justice , Operation: FIRST STRIKE is carried out by 10 Spartan IIs led by the Master Chief. The strike force attacks and destroys the Covenant repair and refit station Unyielding Hierophant and a fleet of 500 ships set to be a part of the invasion of Earth by overloading the station’s reactors.

While on the station, the Spartans uncover the coordinates of four heavily populated Covenant worlds. This leads to Operation: VENGEANCE, what would become known as the Great Counteroffensive. An ONI force of prowlers delivers a deadly package to each of the located planets, NOVA bombs, killing billions of Sangheili and other Covenant species while turning four worlds into asteroid fields. This was followed up by the first UNSC invasion of a Covenant world. Though it was only a small moon colony, the Covenant was about to get a taste of their own medicine in genocide.

2553 - A small fleet of Covenant ships led by the High Prophet of Regret jumps into the Sol system with the hopes of activating the portal to Installation 00, the Ark. The Battle of Earth begins. The Covenant force is slaughtered by the Home Fleet and the Overlord Defense Grid with minimal losses. 

Despite this, Truth’s ship managed to slip through a pinpoint hole in the defenses and land forces in the city of New Mombasa. The first stage of the Battle of Mombasa takes place, ending as Regret flees via an atmospheric slipspace jump, causing widespread damage to the city and destroying its orbital elevator. The frigate In Amber Clad, commanded by Commander Miranda Keyes, manages to give chase.

The events of Delta Halo transpire and the Covenant Civil War, otherwise known as the Great Schism, breaks out.

The second stage of the Battle of Earth begins when Covenant Loyalist forces launch an all out attack on the Human homeworld. The battle rages on as the UNSC holds the Covenant at bay. The defenses of the Sol System and Earth prove to be nearly unbreakable, though casualties are high on both sides. During this time the Covenant Separatists, led by the Sangheilli, form an alliance with Humanity while battles rage across Covenant and ex-Covenant space. The Prophet of Truth, having evacuated the Covenant holy city of High Charity via the Forerunner Dreadnought, heads to Earth.

The battle for the Sol system continues into its third stage as Truth and a fleet of Covenant capital ships penetrate the defensive lines over Earth by using the Dreadnaught as a shield to reach the surface of Africa. There, the small fleet, under constant attack from UNSC forces, vaporize Lake Victoria and excavate a gargantuan Forerunner facility that acts as a portal to the Ark, Installation 00.

Truth and his fleet slip through the portal as the Sangheilli and Humans give chase. During the battle for Installation 00, Truth is defeated, as is the Gravemind and the Flood.

The Master Chief, Commander Miranda Keyes, Sergeant Johnson, and Arbiter Thel ‘Vadam activate the rebuilt Alpha Halo and escape using the UNSC Frigate Forward Unto Dawn .

The Human Covenant War comes to an end, leaving the UNSC as well as the Sangheili and other Separatists victorious, though pockets of Loyalist resistance remain. Several San’Shyuum survived the destruction of High Charity, and are thought to have gone looking for their homeworld, Janjur Qom.

The 28 year long war cost Humanity roughly 55 billion civilians, 28 billion UNSCDF personnel, and 951 colonies.

2554 - The UEG signs a defensive pact with the Sangheilli and begins to terraform and settle the scarred Outer Colonies once again, and repopulate the colonies left unscathed but evacuated. WIth the majority of the Inner Colonies intact, this process is swift.

2556 - The Great Schism continues on as Sangheili fleets engage Covenant Loyalists in short border skirmishes. The Sangheilli, believed to have lost the technical expertise to create new ships and technology thanks to the Prophets, proves that the opposite is correct, and begin to design and manufacture their own weapons and equipment.

Though the peace and alliance between the Sangheili and the Humans is still set in stone, many Humans begin to keep an eye on their decades old enemy turned friend as a result of their military expansion. A cure for AI rampancy is also found.

2557 – The UNSC stumbles upon the Forerunner shield world of Requiem. It is here that they awaken the Ur-Didact and his army of Prometheans. The UNSC Infinity and its Spartan IVs contingent get their first real field test. UNSC forces battle against the Prometheans on Requiem for months, eventually forcing the Didact to withdraw far away from known space, and crushing Jul ‘Mdama’s Covenant Remnant forces.

A giant shockwave comes to the Humans and their allies. A Forerunner, the Librarian, reveals that the Humans are the rightful “Reclaimers” of the old Forerunner Empire and the Mantle of Responsibility. This revelation is accompanied by the location of key Forerunner artifacts and planets.

2558 - The construction of the GUARDIAN Early Warning Sensor Net, first begun in 2555, is completed. GUARDIAN sensors have a greater ability to scan vast swathes of territory compared to the Remote Scanning Outposts used prior, which were more for warning singular UEG systems. GUARDIAN sensors have much greater range in comparison to the prior system. This wall of sensors placed on the edge of UNSC space allows them to have early warning of any activity near the ‘border’ of human space.

2560 (Early) - The UNSC is quickly recovering from the war, when GUARDIAN Sensor 231 detects an anomaly on the very edge of its range. Upon closer review it is discovered that the anomaly is a ship of an entirely unknown design and an ONI prowler is sent to investigate.

When the Night Owl arrives at the location, it is found to be a ruined hulk of a derelict warship. Upon further investigation its crew is discovered to consist mostly of robots, most of them armed. However, the few organic corpses that appeared to be the controllers of the ship are of a species unknown to the UNSC or Swords of Sanghelios.

As the AIs of ONI decrypt the computer banks of the ship, the UNSC learns that the wreck is actually extragalactic in origin, originally from the Andromeda Galaxy, and belonged to a faction named the Confederacy of Independent Systems, involved in a war with a large interstellar power calling itself the Galactic Republic.

What is even more shocking is the fact that the Andromeda Galaxy seems to be heavily populated by humans as well. It is further uncovered that the CIS warship came to the Milky Way through a spacetime distortion, linking the two galaxies together, or at least making FTL travel significantly faster between them. The source of these distortions is unknown.

The UNSC sends out clandestine teams to explore Andromeda and gather information. They discover the history of the Andromeda Galaxy, the Jedi, the Republic, and the war, called the Clone Wars, which appears to have broken out only years ago. The UNSC learns that, though it is small, its comparatively highly developed colonies along with a large, well trained, well equipped, and experienced military coupled with the large defenses built as a result of the Covenant War, would be a major power in the Andromeda Galaxy.

However, as the likelihood of the UEG being discovered by the CIS or Galactic Republic grows, the UNSC decides to reveal their findings about the state of Andromeda to the public.

Once again, the UEG is massively shocked by this revelation. Immediately, discussions and debates arise. People question if they should isolate themselves entirely from the warring states. The last thing they wanted was another war, even if they were prepared for it. There is also wonder stemming from the question of how the Andromeda humans ended up there in the first place.

The speculation is soon squashed when the existence of the UEG is revealed when a Republic cruiser with a Jedi Knight, named Anakin Skywalker, onboard jumps out of the spacetime anomaly into one of the systems where a GUARDIAN station is, apparently in search of the very ship the UNSC found.

Great confusion is stirred up when they speak a form of English, initially assumed to be from translation software, but is pushed to the side.

The UEG is forced to initiate contact, with ambassadors making formal contact with the Republic. Though exact locations of most UEG planets are withheld, limited trade is allowed between the Milky Way and Andromeda through heavily defended, uninhabited checkpoint systems and with the installation of trade transponders on merchant vessels. If a ship was found outside a designated system or had no transponder, it would automatically be intercepted or destroyed by UNSC or CMA forces.

The Republic, after seeing that the UEG is a well organized power and witnessing the UNSC fleet that made contact, immediately tried to coerce the UNSC into joining them in their war against the CIS. To the surprise of the Republic Chancellor and the Jedi, they adamantly refuse to get involved. However, the biggest shock delivered to Andromeda, and especially to the Jedi Order, is the fact that beings from the Milky Way are completely devoid in the Force, a fact that shakes the very foundation of the Order to its core.

The presence of a great power operating from another galaxy stirs up great interest, and fear, in the Andromeda Galaxy. In order to distinguish themselves from the Andromeda Humans, the Milky Way Humans began to call themselves Terrans, after the Latin word for Earth, Terra . Trinkets of antiquated Terran technology begin to appear across the galaxy, being subsequently analyzed and dissected by the Republic and CIS alike.

Their discoveries lead the intelligence communities of both factions to presume that the UNSC would be a minor player in the galactic community militarily speaking, with biases against the projectile weapons the UNSC used. 

Culturally however, Terran media became vastly popular with Andromedans. Terran music became its own genre, the Holonet soon became filled with dozens of channels dedicated to broadcasting Terran shows and films (with a tremendous financial kickback to the Terran companies).

ONI operatives are once again dispatched across Andromeda, this time under orders to uncover the dirty laundry of the Clone War, which many UEG citizens found despicable due to the Republic’s use of clones being seen as nothing more than slavery.

The UNSC eventually discover that the entire Clone War was nothing more than a very complex conspiracy supported by ex-Jedi and what are believed to be high ranking members of the Republic government, though their identities are unknown. This information is kept under tight wraps.

The UEG slowly begins to isolate itself from the intergalactic community, not going out of its way for diplomatic missions, visits, or trade deals. As the Clone War raged on, many elements of the CIS called on the UEG for aid. The UNSC begins to provide humanitarian aid to CIS systems, leading to a build up of uneasy tension between the UEG and the Republic. The UEG begins to secretly provide intelligence to the beleaguered CIS, and prepares for war.

2560 (Late) - A Venator-class Star Destroyer, part of an arriving invasion fleet, fires on a UNSC frigate escorting a freighter over a CIS world. The Star Destroyer believed the frigate to be assisting the defense forces of the planet, and were subsequently treated as hostile when the UNSC ship didn’t respond to the demands of the Republic fleet. The Star Destroyer managed to destroy the unshielded freighter, but was heavily damaged in the ensuing response from the UNSC frigate. The frigate then proceeded to retreat from the system before it could be apprehended by an arriving Republic battlegroup.

2561 (Present) -

Tensions are at an alltime high, both Andromeda and the Milky Way hold their breaths as both sides prepare for the inevitable:

War.

UNSC Equipment

MA6 Assault Rifle - First trialed in 2511, this rifle shares many looks with the older, more conventional MA5 rifle series. However the overall appearance is where the similarities end. The weapon has a unique design that Misriah Armory spent years designing. The barrel is lined with electromagnetic coils, but uses conventional cartridges and conventional firing methods, wherein a hammer strikes the firing pin; the firing pin strikes the primer and so on. If the firing computer is functioning properly, the electromagnetic coils will further accelerate the projectile as it moves along the barrel. If not, it functions as a regular rifle. This design choice was a result of a variety of complications arising from the trial process, yet Misriah managed to deliver.The rifle can be chambered for a multitude of calibers, just as its MA5 predecessor. 

When in working order, the accuracy and muzzle velocity is dramatic, with an accurate range of over 1000 yards and a muzzle velocity in excess of 2440 m/s. The MA6 platform hosts a fire control system necessary to properly time the coils and a miniaturized targeting computer able to interface with standard UNSC smart-link hardware. This weapon is known to be able to drain or penetrate Sangheili Minor energy shields in 4 to 6 hits. The major drawback to the design is the complicated electronics fitted into the rifle.

While UNSC personnel are trained how to perform field diagnostics, the rifle’s electronics suite would have to be repaired by a technician or replaced altogether. A malfunction of this sort would not hinder the rifle’s inherent ability to fire however as it still has the conventional firing mechanism as a backup.

M100 Stanchion II Gauss Rifle - The original M99 Stanchion Gauss rifle was a sniper/anti-material rifle that served throughout the late 2400s and into the Covenant War. However, the UNSC realized that it needed a weapon halfway between the range/power of the original Stanchion and the MA6. Gauss technology was in use long before 2551 when this weapon was introduced, but the Stanchion II was an innovative design.

Helped along with technology reverse engineered from captured Covenant weapons, the M100 is a fully contained coil rifle that is only 4 feet long, compared to the nearly 7 foot long M99. Though it sacrifices rate of fire for power, the weapon’s 5.4mm tungsten slugs can take out almost anything on the battlefield in as little as one hit with its muzzle velocity of 6,300 m/s. The M100 standard capacity magazine holds 10 slugs.

In terms of looks, the M100 is comparable to a smaller M99 Stanchion. The battery, based on those found in Covenant plasma weapon designs, of the weapon is contained in a small magazine-like pack attached to the front of the trigger guard which gives enough power for 100 fully charged shots, after which the battery can be simply ejected and replaced.

AA-22 Automatic Shotgun - Adopted by the UNSC Marine Corps in 2500 to deal with urban combat and boarding actions against the growing Insurrection, the AA-22 delivers devastating close range firepower. As the name suggests, this weapon is the distant offspring of the vaunted AA-12 Automatic Shotgun. Similar to the M45 Shotgun or M90 CAWS, the AA-22 can be chambered for 8, 10, or 12 gauge shells. A standard magazine holds ten 12 gauge shells or thirty from a drum magazine and fires at a rate of 400 rounds a minute.

MGS-953 Squad Automatic Weapon - From the same generation of weapons as the MA6 rifle, a typical Marine Corps squad carries two MGS-953 SAWs, and the fire superiority this gives them makes Brutes second guess charging into battle. It can be fed ammunition from a belt or magazine.With a programmable fire rate of up to 1000 rounds a minute coupled with the same coilgun technology as the MA6, the MGS-953 proved itself to be deadly against Covenant and Insurrectionist forces.

M7/9 SMG - At the start of the Covenant War it became clear that the caseless 5x23mm rounds used by the M7 SMG were not powerful enough to be of much use against the shields of Elites. Instead of building an entirely new weapon, Misriah Armory decided to save time and money by simply rechambering the weapon to fire the larger 9x17mm, 9x19, or 9x21mm rounds to combine stopping power with the penetration abilities of the smaller and faster 5x23mm caseless round to defeat armor and energy shields. The M7/9 was slightly altered to make room for the ejection mechanisms. The standard magazine uses a 40 round double stack magazine. It was a tremendous success and was effective against the Covenant onslaught. The M7/9 variants are designated as M7G1 to M7G5 in the Marine Corps.

Shoulder Fired Metal Storm-40mm - The SFMS-40 (also known as SFGL-MSL40) is a prototype in the UNSC arsenal as of 2548 under the nomenclature: Launcher, Metal Storm, 40mm, 9-Tube, XM40.

The SFMS-40, colloquially known as the ‘Meat Grinder,’ is General Dynamic’s answer to the problem of being swarmed by Unggoy or Yanme’e at close quarters where a shotgun would fail to kill the enemy in sufficient numbers.

The weapon is a unique, upscaled take on Misriah’s archaic Metal Storm firing system. The weapon is a boxy, shoulder fired launcher. However, that is all that this weapon has in common with other launcher systems.

The weapon consists of nine 40mm barrels which are each loaded with five 40mm grenades. This unique launcher is usually loaded with canister shot, turning the weapon into an oversized shotgun. A single 40mm shell loaded with canister shot can decimate an entire platoon of charging Unggoy in a single shot if aimed properly. To make things worse for an opponent, the barrels can be programmed by the user to fire consecutively or in bursts. The weapon also can fire non lethal rounds such as tear gas, which makes this weapon popular with police forces on colony worlds and Earth herself; alongside the other lethal rounds such as slugs or the typical high explosive grenades. They can also fire fully programmable smart grenades with airburst capabilities, turning the weapon into an impromptu mortar tube. Many Marines compare the weapon to an aimable claymore with 45 uses. As of 2561, the weapon is rarely seen.

UFM-78 Underbarrel Triethylaluminum Fueled Flamethrower Attachment - This attachment introduced in 2548 take up the majority of the bottom attachment rail on MA6s and even older MA5s for uses in niche Spec Ops roles to the mundane role of clearing thick brush. It makes the standard Infantryman or Marine into a CQB nightmare. About one Marine in a combat engineer squad will be equipped with a flamethrower attachment. The weapon is far more common in ODST units.

M56 Powered Armor - The latest in personal UNSC armor technology introduced in 2556, the M56 can trace its roots to the Future Force Warrior systems and mechanical exoskeletons employed by the United States in the 21st century.

Using reactive carbon nanotubes built into the arms, back, and leg pieces of the BDU, the M56 suit allows for the wearer to carry far more weight into combat, run at bursts of up to 20 mph in full gear, and lift three times their bodyweight. The armored plates, made up of carbon ceramics and titanium alloy, are highly resistant to small arms fire up to 12.7mm in certain locations and can withstand up to five direct hits from Sangheili plasma rifles. Marines sometimes also carry an attachable rebreather and mask for limited EVA operations or in case of emergency decompression on a ship.

The M56 exosuit carries an onboard shield generator which is capable of taking dozens of hits from energy weapons. ODSTs use an M56 variant, the M62, which is more durable and boasts more modern shield technology.

Since it is a relatively new design, only a few active units have received this special armor. Many units still use the older BDUs consisting of the M52B armor and CH252 helmet augmented with personal shielding.

M62 Power Armor - The M62 Power Armor is a more powerful variant or the standard Marine M56 that uses slightly enhanced carbon nanofibers complimented with small mechanical joints on the arms, knees, shoulders and back to double the carrying capacity of an M62 suit over the standard M56. The suit is pressurized and can stand up to vacuum for an hour, even more with an attached oxygen pack.

However, the largest reason the UNSC adopted this more powerful model is due to the fact that ODSTs carry very heavy weapons loadouts as necessitated by their orbital insertion. The M62 makes hefting these weapons far more easy. The latest model incorporates small advances gleaned from the MJOLNIR project.

UNSC Vehicles

M20 Combat Vehicle ‘Warthog’ - Introduced in 2500, the upgrade of the older M12 Warthog, the M20 has a more powerful engine, stronger armor, and a rear-mounted M41 LAAG. It also has multiple variants, such as a troop transport, a command center, and an ambulance, but mainly functions as a fast reconnaissance vehicle. It is equipped with a small shield generator that can protect it from threats long enough for the M20 to withdraw.

M38 APC ‘Panda’ - Rolled off the assembly line in 2530, The 8-wheeled M38 armored personnel carrier ferries troops to and from the battlefield. It can protect against all small arms fire and can take multiple hits from directed energy weapons. Normally armed with a 25mm autocannon, it has proved to be a versatile weapons platform, being used for multiple roles such as anti-air, logistics, and as a mortar carrier. It is equipped with composite armor plating and a shield generator that enhances its capacity in dealing with mines, shrapnel, etc. An active protection system also defeats mortar rounds, rockets, and even tank shells.

M43 IFV ‘Boar’ - Pressed into service alongside the Recluse, the tracked M43 IFV keeps troops protected and carries them to the frontline, and supports the infantry in combat. It was designed to keep up with the M1000 Recluse MBT, which it is easily capable of. A standard armament consists of a 30mm autocannon, a 40mm grenade launcher, and an ATGM launcher. It is equipped with a shield generator that aids in protecting against all battlefield threats alongside its composite plating. It is fitted with the same APS as the M38.

M1000 MBT ‘Recluse’ - Based on the venerable Scorpion and Grizzly tanks, the Recluse was introduced in 2531 and became the most powerful MBT ever fielded by the UNSC. A standard Recluse comes armed with a 125mm cannon, two 12.7mm machine guns, and two 25mm light anti-air guns (LAAGs).

Unlike its predecessors, it has a more conventional manned turret layout. Whereas the Scorpion is favored by Marine Expeditionary Forces, the Recluse is an absolute brawler selected by the Army, with a crew of a gunner, commander, and driver. The armor is far thicker than the Scorpion, and its effectiveness is further increased by its angled plating. The titanium alloy armor and composite plates can withstand numerous hits from Hunter assault cannons and several direct hits from a Wraith, as well as dozens of hits from conventional cannon shells. It is additionally fitted with the same APS as the M38. The far sleeker tank uses a fusion reactor to power the beast to speeds exceeding 60 mph.

UNSC Aircraft

FS-837 Fighter ‘Fascine’ - Adopted after the war in 2555 as an evolution to the Emergency Defense Fighter designs, the Fascine is a giant leap forward in fighter technology. With a wingspan roughly half the size of the Longsword, the Fascine is faster and far more maneuverable than the older platform The most revolutionary concept utilized by some variants of the Fascine is a fully enclosed cockpit, opting to utilize view screens (jokingly referred to as the ‘coffin’ system) to give the pilot a 360 degree view at all times while not having to compromise its armor plating.

The Fascine has a long predatory beak and swept-forward wings. In addition to its two large engine nacelles and RCS, the Fascine has two small omnidirectional thrust capable engines allowing the Fascine to flip over and spin on its axis for better angles of attack during dogfights, a deadly advantage. Also having two inward-swept tail fins and two canards, the Fascine is just as maneuverable, nimble, and deadly in atmosphere as in space. It is armed with two 50mm cannons and, on some variants, a pulse laser. It can also store twenty missiles internally, with many more being mountable on weapon hardpoints on the wings and on its belly. The Fascine serves as a deadly force multiplier alongside the other UNSC fighters.

UNSC Starships

Andraste -Class Heavy Frigate - The Andraste -class heavy frigate is the result of the gradual evolution of UNSC warships through the Human-Covenant War. Essentially an upgrade of the Paris -class, the Andraste was introduced in 2550 with hesitation as a stop gap measure to hastily replace fleet losses. It was met with heavy criticisms, but when it began to be refitted with its intended energy weapon armament after the war, it was quickly met with strong approval within the fleet.

Length - 535 Meters

Hull- 1.1 Meters of Titanium-A3 Battleplate

Defenses - Mark III Shield Generator, ECM, ECCM

Armament

- 1 MAC (Firing a 600 ton round at 25% the speed of light with the destructive force of ~423 gigatons of TNT)

- 1 Mark 15 Breakwater Naval Coilgun Battery

- 2 Mark 40 Spitfire Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 12 M66 Sentry Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 8 Mark 55 Castor Naval Coilgun Batteries (8 in ‘Quickshot’ configuration, 1 Mark 55 Castor Naval Coilgun Batteries paired with 2 Mark 57 Arena Point Defense Guns)

- 4 Magna-320 Pulse Lasers

- 10 Mark 1 Particle Cannon Batteries

- 40 M58 Archer Missile Pods (30 Missiles/Pod)

- 24 M390 Streak-II Missiles Pods

- 10 M97 Lance Guided Missile Weapon System Batteries

- 6 Shiva Nuclear Missiles

- 10 Variant V HAVOK Nuclear Missiles

- 4 Fury Nuclear Missiles

- 12 M2950 Harpoon Nuclear Missiles

- 18 50mm M870 Rampart Point Defense Guns

- 16 Mark 57 Arena Point Defense Guns (16 in ‘Quickshot’ configuration)

- 36 M710 Bulwark Point Defense Guns

- 12 50mm Helical Railgun CIWS

- 10 AN/SEQ-11 Point-Defense Laser Arrays

Standard Complement

- 12 C712 Longswords

- 8 Pelicans

- 1 Infantry Company

Gibraltar -Class Heavy Destroyer - Developed from experiences during the Human-Covenant war, this class of destroyer came to represent the new standard for UNSC destroyers. The Gibraltar will prove itself to be a match for larger ships with its heavy armament and thick armor.

Length - 535 Meters

Hull - 2.1 Meters of Titanium-A3 Battleplate

Defenses - Mark III Shield Generator, ECM, ECCM

Armament

- 2 MACs

- 4 Mark 15 Breakwater Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 8 Mark 40 Spitfire Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 16 M66 Sentry Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 16 Mark 55 Castor Naval Coilgun Batteries (16 in ‘Quickshot’ configuration)

- 15 Mark 1 Particle Cannon Batteries

- 40 M58 Archer Missile Pods (30 Missiles/Pod)

- 5 M75 Rapier Missile Pods (30 Missiles/Pod)

- 10 M96 Howler Missile Pods (20 Missiles/Pod)

- 16 M390 Streak-II Missiles Pods

- 5 M97 Lance GMWS Batteries

- 6 Shiva Nuclear Missiles

- 10 Variant V Nuclear Missiles

- 10 Fury Nuclear Missiles

- 6 M965 Fortress Point Defense Guns

- 26 M910 Rampart Point Defense Guns

- 14 Mark 57 Arena Point Defense Guns

- 36 M710 Bulwark Point Defense Guns

- 18 50mm Helical Railgun CIWS

- 10 AN/SEQ-11 Point-Defense Laser Arrays

Standard Complement

- 12 Fascines

- 8 Pelicans

- 1 Infantry Company

Marathon -Class Heavy Cruiser (Refit) - These cruisers held the line against the Covenant’s superior firepower successfully throughout the Human-Covenant War. A force to be reckoned with even before their refits, with new technology like shields they only became more powerful.

Length - 1,192 Meters

Hull - 1.91 Meters of Titanium-A3 Battleplate

Defenses - Mark III Shield Generator, ECM, ECCM

Armament

- 2 Heavy MACs (900 ton slugs at 25% the speed of light with the destructive force of ~634 gigatons of TNT)

- 12 Mark 15 Breakwater Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 8 Mark 40 Spitfire Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 12 M66 Sentry Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 15 310mm Railguns

- 20 Mark 55 Castor Naval Coilgun Batteries (12 in ‘Quickshot’ configuration)

- 1 Energy Projector

- 12 Magna-320 Pulse Lasers

- 24 Mark 1 Particle Cannon Batteries

- 70 Oversized M58 Archer Missile Pods (60 Missiles/Pod)

- 30 M75 Rapier Missile Pods (30 Missiles/Pod)

- 20 M96 Howler Missile Pods (20 Missiles/Pod)

- 10 M97 Lance GMWS Batteries

- 10 Shiva Nuclear Missiles

- 16 Variant V HAVOK Nuclear Missiles

- 6 Fury Nuclear Missiles

- 4 M4020 Bident Fusion Missiles

- 28 M965 Fortress Point Defense Guns

- 60 M910 Rampart Point Defense Guns

- 54 Mark 57 Arena Point Defense Guns (30 in ‘Quickshot’ configuration)

- 82 M710 Bulwark Point Defense Guns

- 24 AN/SEQ-11 Point-Defense Laser Arrays

Standard Complement

- 8 C709 Longswords

- 24 Fascines

- 24 Pelicans

- 1 Infantry Battalion

Warlock -Class Battlecruiser - Before the plans for the Warlock had even been drafted up, by 2542 it had become apparent that the Marathon -class which preceded the Warlock was a powerful, but aging platform. The UNSC could build Marathon s at Reach, Earth, Mars and about a dozen other Inner Colonies at a pace of about eighty a year, but they needed a ship that would more easily incorporate research projects the UNSC were undertaking. As such, in 2554, the Warlock -class was launched.

Length – 1502 Meters

Hull - 2.3 Meters of Titanium-A3 Battleplate

Defenses - Mark III Shield Generator, ECM, ECCM

Armament

- 2 Heavy MACs

- 12 Mark 15 Breakwater Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 8 Mark 40 Spitfire Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 14 M66 Sentry Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 40 100mm Railguns

- 48 Mark 55 Castor Naval Coilgun Batteries (24 in ‘Quickshot’ configuration)

- 3 Energy Projectors

- 25 Mark 1 Particle Cannon Batteries

- 12 Secondary Duel Mount Particle Cannons

- 100 M58 Archer Missile Pods (30 Missiles/Pod)

- 55 M76 Rapier Missile Pods (30 Missiles/Pod)

- 40 M96 Howler Missile Pods (20 Missiles/Pod)

- 20 M97 Lance GMWS Batteries

- 10 Shiva Nuclear Missiles

- 15 Variant V HAVOK Nuclear Missiles

- 4 M4093 Hyperion Nuclear Missiles

- 4 M4020 Bident Fusion Missiles

- 6 Fury Nuclear Missiles

- 32 M965 Fortress Point Defense Guns

- 106 M910 Rampart Point Defense Guns

- 68 Mark 57 Arena Point Defense Guns (40 in ‘Quickshot’ configuration)

- 96 M710 Bulwark Point Defense Guns

- 96 AN/SEQ-11 Point-Defense Laser Arrays

Standard Complement

- 8 C709 Longswords

- 40 Fascine Fighters

- 64 Pelicans

- 1 Infantry Battalion

Concordia -Class Heavy Carrier - Designed as a replacement for aging UNSC carriers, like the Punic -class, it boasts thick armor and a heavy armament that allows the ship to take on Covenant capital ships on its own right, allowing its fighters and bombers to focus on their mission rather than having to defend the carrier.

Length - 3124 Meters

Hull - 2.6 Meters of Titanium-A Battleplate

Defenses - Mark III Shield Generator, ECM, ECCM

Armament

- 1 CR-02 Series 7 Super MAC

- 12 Mark 15 Breakwater Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 8 Mark 40 Spitfire Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 10 M66 Sentry Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 40 100mm Railguns

- 120 Mark 55 Castor Naval Coilgun Batteries (100 in ‘Quickshot’ configuration)

- 4 Energy Projectors

- 40 Mark 1 Particle Cannon Batteries (12 in dual-mount configuration)

- 325 Archer Pods (30 Missiles/Pod)

- 100 M76 Rapier Missile Pods (30 Missiles/Pod)

- 150 M96 Howler Missiles Pods (20 Missiles/Pod)

- 20 M97 Lance GMWS Batteries

- 10 Shiva Nuclear Missiles

- 16 Variant V HAVOK Nuclear Missiles

- 6 M4093 Hyperion Nuclear Missiles

- 4 M4020 Bident Fusion Missiles

- 6 Fury Nuclear Missiles

- 210 M910 Rampart Point Defense Guns

- 250 Mark 57 Arena Point Defense Guns (200 in ‘Quickshot’ configuration)

- 50 M810 Helix Point Defense Guns

- 192 M710 Bulwark Point Defense Guns

- 40 AN/SEQ-11 Point-Defense Laser Arrays

Standard Complement

- 32 C709 Longswords

- 120 C712 Longswords

- 264 Fascine Fighters

- 256 Pelicans

- 1 Infantry Division

Medusa -Class Battleship - The design for these powerful ships were conceived in the first years of the Human-Covenant War. After being rolled out in 2538, the Medusa -class proved formidable in battle, being able to go toe to toe with Covenant ships. Although seeing little action in the ongoing war against Covenant holdouts, whenever it arrives on scene it inspires its allies and strikes terror into its enemies. Its mere presence often decided the outcome in skirmishes against Covenant and Insurrectionist forces.

Hull - 3.2 Meters of Titanium-A3 Battleplate

Defenses - Mark III Shield Generator with Mark II Backup, ECM, ECCM

Length - 2,900 Meters

Armament

- 4 Heavy MACs

- 24 Mark 15 Breakwater Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 54 Mark 40 Spitfire Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 72 M66 Sentry Naval Coilgun Batteries

- 24 310mm Railguns

- 115 100mm Railguns

- 120 Mark 55 Castor Naval Coilgun Batteries (100 in ‘Quickshot’ configuration)

- 5 Energy Projectors (2 turreted on lateral surfaces)

- 80 Mark 1 Particle Cannon Batteries (40 in dual mount configuration)

- 600 M58 Archer Missile Pods (30 Missiles/Pod)

- 350 M76 Rapier Missile Pods (30 Missiles/Pod)

- 400 M96 Howler Missile Pods (20 Missiles/Pod)

- 25 M97 Lance GMWS Batteries

- 30 Shiva Nuclear Missiles

- 25 Variant V HAVOK Nuclear Missiles

- 10 M4093 Hyperion Nuclear Missiles

- 8 M4020 Bident Fusion Missiles

- 24 Fury Nuclear Missiles

- 252 M965 Fortress Point Defense Guns

- 280 M910 Rampart Point Defense Guns

- 250 Mark 57 Arena Point Defense Guns (200 in ‘Quickshot’ configuration)

- 130 M810 Helix Point Defense Guns

- 876 M710 Bulwark Point Defense Guns

- 340 Point Defense Pulse Lasers

Standard Complement

- 16 C709 Longswords

- 120 Fascines

- 196 Pelicans

- 2 Infantry Brigades

UEG Facts

UEG Population- 120 Billion

Population of Earth - 15 Billion.

Population of Reach - 7 Billion

UEG Controlled Worlds - 950

Inner Colonies - 220 colonies (containing 70% of population)

UNSC Manpower - 7.7 Billion Active Duty Personnel

CMA Reserve Manpower - 3.3 Billion

Military Eligible - 16 Billion

UNSC Fleet Strength

~ 1,500 Cradle Class Mobile Repair & Refit Platforms

~ 500 Mobile Construction Yards

~ 500 Planetary Assault Platforms (Modified repair & refit platforms)

~ 10,000 Various Hospital Ships

~ 50,000 Various Supply Ships

~ 43,000 Total Combat Vessels

~ 5,000 Mako -Class Corvettes

~ 3,000 Gladius -Class Corvettes

~ 5,000 Stalwart -Class Light Frigates

~ 3,000 Charon -Class Light Frigates

~ 5,000 Paris -Class Heavy Frigates

~ 4,000 Andraste -Class Heavy Frigates

~ 3,000 Strident -Class Frigates

~ 2,000 Anlace -Class Frigates

~ 5,000 Halberd -Class Light Destroyers

~ 3,000 Gibraltar -Class Heavy Destroyers 

~ 1,600 Marathon -Class Cruisers

~ 1,000 Warlock -Class Battlecruisers

~ 1,300 Autumn -Class Heavy Cruisers (All older Halcyon-Class Light Cruisers have been refitted and upgraded to the Autumn-Class’s specifications)

~ 300 Valiant -Class Super Heavy Cruisers

~ 100 Vindication -Class Light Battleships

- 20 Medusa -Class Battleships

~ 300 Phoenix -Class Colony Ships (Refitted for planetary assault)

- 250 Poseidon -Class Light Carriers

- 200 Orion -Class Assault Carriers

- 75 Epoch -Class Heavy Carriers

~ 100 Concordia -Class Heavy Carriers

- 10 Punic -Class Supercarriers

- 2 Infinity -Class Supercarriers

Chapter Text

AN: Happy to see The Clone Wars back. If there was a ship, or other piece of UNSC equipment that exists in the Halo universe, that wasn’t listed in the Codex (1st chapter), chances are, the UNSC still has it in service, but as a reserve, mothballed, etc. When SpaceCowby2013 made this story, Halo 4 was not even released. I will eventually retcon the fleet numbers and all that. I think the way SpaceCowboy had the UNSC technology progress is more realistic than what we have in the lore, so at least that is staying. 

The United Earth Government (UEG) is a representative democracy that is believed to control around one thousand worlds which vary wildly in population from a few thousand to several billion, all of which is centered on their homeworld: Earth. The UEG insist that Earth is the true homeworld of humanity, and that a race called the Forerunners transplanted humanity throughout their galaxy. This is debated, for obvious reasons.

The UEG and their military arm, the United Nations Space Command (UNSC), were involved in a massive 28 year long war against an alliance of alien races called the Covenant that makes the current conflict with the Confederacy pale in comparison. The exact cause and facts behind it, as well as information on the races of the Covenant, is very limited.

The main cause of concern is though the territory the UEG controls is small, their worlds, the ones we know of at least, are highly industrialized, heavily defended, and their naval and ground forces are all well-equipped, well trained, and VERY experienced. UNSC equipment is both very advanced, powerful, and strangely antiquated at the same time.*

*SEE ATTACHMENT

We know the UNSC relies heavily on projectile weaponry; however they are not just some antique slug throwers on a backwater planet nor some oddball bounty hunter’s gadget like those that we have grown accustomed to. The Terrans have developed their projectile weaponry to a point to where it either equals, or in some cases exceeds blaster weaponry. Our forces, and for that matter almost any force in the galaxy, have little experience fighting trained soldiers armed with such weaponry. Our analysts have picked apart footage of the Terran-Covenant war, which the Terrans themselves have provided for us, and even their more antiquated equipment is still to be treated as very dangerous to any Republic asset. Older models of Terran weapons acquired through black market channels have a scarily effective wounding capacity, even for fully armored infantry hundreds of meters away.

What is more discouraging is the fact that the most advanced models of armor that their own infantry, at least their marines, wear seems to be a highly advanced power armor suit that amplifies the wearer’s movements. The next fact, and most concerning, is that they are equipped with personal energy shields which can take multiple hits to bring down from standard blasters. 

One negative aspect this war has had on our troopers and Jedi generals is that the UNSC does not fight on the ground the same way the droid armies of the CIS do. The UNSC soldiers are trained, like our own, to be proficient warriors. Combat analysis of engagements in the UEG-Covenant War show they are accustomed to taking on enemies that are outnumbering and outgunning them. UNSC officers very generally fight with their heads to take the initiative in battle in order to outmaneuver and crush the enemy. Their own previous war was not one which tolerated incompetence.

Though our troopers are more than capable of fighting against them, the problem arises that the CIS droid armies have almost always utilized simplistic tactics in order to achieve any given objective; their organic militias, up to this point, have not been well-equipped, organized, or trained. The months of facing these ineffective tactics have made our troopers, no matter how well trained they are, complacent in fighting this style of warfare. As a result, for a short time our troopers will have habits developed that will put them at a disadvantage.

(Note: We have reason to believe that UNSC slugthrowers will catch the Jedi completely off guard. You cannot deflect slugs with a lightsaber, especially those of the UNSC which travel near, or at, hypersonic speeds. In the unlikely event a Jedi catches one with their lightsaber it will either vaporize or the resulting spall from intercepted rounds will be just as deadly to an unarmored individual.)

UNSC naval strength is the most concerning advantage of theirs however. We witnessed this the hard way during the Anoco Incident, that the weaponry which UNSC vessels use can be much more deadly than our own. We believe that they have engagement ranges that supersede ours by tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of kilometers.

Their spinal mounted mass-drivers, which are more complex than they seem, are the single biggest threat. The RNS Unstoppable had its command bridge section blown off from a single mass-driver, or magnetic accelerator cannon (MAC) as they refer to it, round after a previous shot and hundreds of missile hits brought the shields down. The third shot completely disabled all engines, including backups. We have analyzed the debris, and have found evidence that they used a nuclear payload in some of their missiles. This galaxy has not seen nuclear weapons used on the battlefield since the Mandalorian Wars millennia before us, and even then, they weren’t as effective, nor as terrifying as the Terrans’ rendition.

We must crush them quickly before they aid the Confederacy. Our strength lies in our numbers.

- Republic Intelligence report to the Senate, Jedi Council, and Republic High Command

0600 Hours, 15:3:15 (GrS), Coruscant, Republic Executive Building, Chancellor’s Suite, Executive Office

Sidious gazed out of his office window at the denizens of the unending duracrete jungles, a shadow cast over him by the rising Coruscanti star.

They went about their lives blissfully, pathetically ignorant to what was truly happening behind the scenes of the galactic theater.

The Dark Lord of the Sith almost pitied them for not being able to realize the forces at play manipulating them and controlling them into doing whatever they willed.

Whatever he willed.

Forces that were beyond their control.

A gross understatement… Sidious thought to himself in the privacy of his own office. He smiled, taking great pleasure in concealing himself there, hiding in plain sight with even the Jedi none the wiser of his true power.

He closed his eyes, still smirking, and immediately began to tap into the thoughts of the citizens going about their business, their routines that had been with them since they were younglings in their mothers’ arms.

He smiled, knowing that their incapable minds would easily bend under his prowess in the dark side of the Force, if he tried it.

But that time had not yet come. Now, he had more urgent matters to attend to.

He would have never had thought that his plans, his delicately laid out plans, which had been going so unbelievably well up until this point, could be so derailed by a single discovery. He was so close to ushering in an empire, his Empire.

The existence of an entire community of humans from another galaxy had come as a surprise to him as much as any other normal person.

“But still…” he murmured, steepling his fingers and tapping them together rhythmically.

One shocking discovery led to another.

They had no presence in the Force. Only by concentrating on the void surrounding them could their presence begin to be sensed. A Force user couldn’t even read their minds; it was like hearing nothing but static, or even nothing at all. That was not even the strangest part, when their nonhuman allies had shown up, they too were absent from the Force.

How in the Force that was possible was beyond even his current knowledge.

Master Yoda and the Jedi Council had about as much of a clue as he, for a change.

When their delegation had come to Coruscant to much fanfare the entire galaxy had watched in wonder as they presented their history and what they believed to be the history of the universe.

It had actually answered some questions in a few academic circles but raised more, many more.

Could an ancient race have really seeded their galaxy with humanity and other races for that matter? It wasn’t that far fetched, and they had evidence to back it up. One giant question was left unanswered: How did the ‘Andromeda’ humans get there? It stirred controversy throughout the academic institutions of the galaxy, Republic and Separatist alike.

They had been surprised to say the least when they learned that the ‘United Earth Government’ had only been traveling the stars for 500 years or so; for a race to develop so quickly was rare, though the reasoning for it that they had was sound. To be split into so many competing nations, states, and ethnicities would naturally cause rapid development.

Then they were told, briefly, about the UEG-Covenant War.

To say that he himself was disgusted and shocked would not have been true. Few things fazed Sidious. In his visions of the future, he had seen similar images of death, destruction, and terror, but from a different threat. A much more terrible threat. A different group of extra-galactics.

It did surprise him, however, that the UEG had managed to emerge from such a conflict.

If what they had said was true, then the Clone Wars were mere child’s play to the likes of them. It was not a struggle for control of the galaxy like the Clone War, it was a struggle for survival. The UEG with their UNSC, backed into the corner, fought with savagery matched by no race of the Republic in previously recorded galactic history.

There had been several aliens with them, called Sangheili, which had been former members of the Covenant before learning the apparent truth behind the war and seceding from the Covenant to ally with the humans. The Sangheili were still fighting their own civil war as a result.

The UEG and the Sangheili wanted to become a part of the galactic community and open trade, or so it seemed.

In reality, it was the truth that they wanted nothing more than to be left alone in their isolation, as evident, as they adamantly were against becoming involved in the war, the Sangheili far more than their Terran counterparts.

Another thing that had caught them by surprise was how the UEG openly criticized the use of clones by the GAR.

The words despicable, disgusting, pathetic, and even cowardly were commonly thrown around when Terrans and Sangheili alike discussed the Clone Wars. The UEG ambassador, in one of the infrequent interviews that had been granted, had openly declared the clones of the Grand Army of the Republic to be a crime against humanity.

That was when it all went sour. 

It also started up the debate again with sentient beings rights groups rallying behind the UEG’s declaration. They had gotten some support at the beginning of the war, but now their ranks had been filled to the brim. COMPOR shot themselves in the foot with their old poster which featured clone forces posed heroically and the caption ‘Support the Boys in White.’ This acted as a grim reminder that the troops making up the backbone of the Republic military were all actually around the age of ten thanks to their accelerated aging.

It was well known to any who paid attention that the UEG and their allies were playing both sides in an attempt to be neutral; however, when they began to give direct humanitarian aid to the Separatists, the Senate went into an uproar. It had been hard for Chancellor Palpatine to keep order during the announcement.

It only got worse from there when the Republic Center for Military Operations had its database hacked by a very advanced and malicious hardware that they claimed to be an artificial intelligence. Many pieces of incriminating evidence about the war and the Kaminoans had been extracted.

Only the UNSC had technology that could perform such a… Sidious attempted to recall the old Terran story he had read. Herculean feat.

That was just the beginning. The enmity between the UEG and the Republic all culminated in what was now dubbed as the ‘Anoco incident.’ The crew of the Venator -class Star Destroyer Unstoppable opened fire on UNSC ships in orbit of the planet Anoco after the UNSC ships had failed to turn around and leave the system as prescribed by the Unstoppable ’s captain.

In the end, the ship was left unrepairable and was thrown into the scrapyards of Bracca, a large Terran freighter was decimated, and the UNSC frigate was left heavily damaged.

When the news made its way back to Coruscant, the Senate was absolutely livid. Many called for an immediate invasion of the Milky Way, for the Terrans to be crushed and subjugated.

Sidious had found himself enjoying the ensuing standoff between the Coruscant Guard and the Terrans caught in their embassy.

After a week-long ordeal, the UNSC had somehow gotten one of their stealth corvettes into the Coruscant system. Blowing past the countless warships in the system and entering the planet’s atmosphere, the vessel loomed over the UEG embassy. Within 10 minutes, it had evacuated the whole thing. It was no doubt a well planned and coordinated affair.

While taking fire from groundside batteries and outrunning the fleet which was moving to intercept, it made its daring escape and jumped out of the system. The tractor beams which would’ve stopped them had been deactivated by their damned artificial intelligences. Sidious had been outraged, and so had the Senate. The Republic had been absolutely humiliated.

That had been only three months ago.

As he slowly became absorbed in his thoughts, Sidious brought to mind the urgent message he’d received from Count Dooku not long after that. He remembered how he’d snarled with displeasure to the Count of Serenno, who had then taken a while to explain the developing situation.

By the end of the conversation, Sidious was furious.

The UNSC had found the code buried deep in all CIS droids, a code which ordered them to shut down. They then proceeded to warn the CIS commanders of this in case the Republic discovered this flaw.

Some of the more cowardly financial backers of the CIS had squirmed in fear that their plans would soon be uncovered. They talked of going into hiding or surrendering to the Republic, something which couldn’t be allowed to happen.

Only Dooku and Sidious knew what was planned for the end of this war and even then Dooku wasn’t entirely privy to every detail, particularly his ultimately disposable nature.

His apprentice had also told him about the Patriots, a self-proclaimed title of a faction in the Separatist Senate that was seeking to reinvigorate the Separatist cause. One such way they sought to do so was by reducing corporate influence, something unacceptable to the Grand Plan.

Under normal circumstances Sidious would’ve had no trouble eliminating them but thanks to the Terrans, the Patriots were too large to silence.

He remembered how he fumed interiorly. Had he been a more unreasonable man, he would’ve slammed his ornate desk into pieces.

It took him a minute to regain his composure, slowly revealing a sinister smirk all the while.

Indeed, the Terrans had begun to subvert the delicately laid plans which had been in the works for hundreds of years, but the Sith had not gotten this far through inability to adapt. Sidious had adjusted the plan accordingly.

When has the Grand Plan ever not met challenges before? he thought to himself.

Even still, he had to plot accordingly. If the Clone Wars needed to last another decade in order to finally form his New Order, then so be it.

In the meantime, he knew he had to learn all he could about his new enemies.

He closed the shutters on the window with a press of a button and sat on the floor. With his legs crossed and eyes closed, he began to meditate on the dark side of the Force.

No matter how potent he was with the Force, he couldn’t use it to affect people who weren’t attached to it. Regardless, he could still use it to affect everyone else they’d interact with.

It was obvious that they had organized the ‘Patriot Party,’ planting seeds of doubt in the CIS leadership with a political party recognized by the Terrans, sending military advisors to train their militias and commanders, and giving out humanitarian aid to besieged Separatist worlds. Really, the UEG had hardly been a neutral power during the war at all.

Though the CIS might not now be as tightly under Sidious’s insidious influence as it had been, the Republic could still defeat them on the field of battle. The strategic initiative of the war was still in the Republic’s firm grip.

Kamino was producing clones at a rate never seen before; the shipyards at Kuat, Bilbringi, Anaxes, and many others were ramping up production. Malastare was firmly committed to the Republic war effort with their vast fuel reserves. Sidious was certain the newest Financial Reform Bill to be introduced alongside more expansive military legislation could be further enlarged with some ‘political maneuvering.’ Threats, bribes, and blackmail were some of his most effective tools.

But it still left Palpatine’s plans to destroy the Jedi and turn the Republic into an Empire delayed.

No matter how much Darth Sidious hated the Jedi, they would be needed as bodies to throw at both the Separatists and the UNSC; changing the Republic in such a dramatic way as declaring himself Emperor during wartime would obviously not work.

He was smart enough to know that if he overthrew the Republic and Jedi now, there would be a massive uproar among the Republic and put an even bigger dent in his already nearly foiled plans.

However, the real problem was that, like it or not, the UEG was gaining support amongst the populace, in both the CIS and inside of the Republic itself. The CIS had seen the most change in this regard.

The Terrans had galvanized the populations of the CIS systems; the rallying cry of Separatism that his master Plagieus had so carefully crafted as a mere deception to support his pawns and which Sidious had so masterfully co-opted, had turned into actual beliefs overnight.

They had always been actual beliefs, truly present in the minds of so many Separatists, but they were never real . They had not been beliefs which were not planted and exploited to the benefit of the Sith or the megacorporations.

Now, though? That was soon changing

Now, they not only truly believed that the Republic was rotten to the core and that they wanted to be free of it, they really believed it.

Patriotic pride swelled within the chests of Separatist men and women alike. They would die for their freedom, their planets, and their sectors and would take as many Republic oppressors as possible down with them

Now citizens of Separatist worlds were lining up to join the swelling militias to supplement the vast droid armies.

It was alarming that the disparate militias were fast morphing from a motley bunch of armed civilians, to a legitimate and centralized military force.

And much of their training was clearly provided by the UNSC, taught by them, copied from them.

The Terrans were a threat that needed to be removed, and fast. It was a cancer that was fast becoming malignant.

As such, after sending out countless probes and recon craft to gather as much intel as the Republic Military could, a fleet of over 250 ships was gathering to be the spearhead of the invasion of the UEG and was just about to launch from Taris.

It was a test.

It was a test to see how capable a foe the UNSC was. It was a probing attack, poking and prodding to discover more about this enemy before thousands of Republic vessels poured through and subjugated them.

Only after this invasion would Sidious truly see if the fruits of victory would fall into the mouth of the Republic.

Among them were three Jedi, including Aayla Secura and Shaak Ti, who would assist in whatever way the utterly incompetent, useless Council would order them to. The Jedi were decent peacekeepers, but most of them could hardly call themselves tacticians.

Their target would be one of the colonies they had scouted out, on the very fringe of UEG space.

The colony was located in a system which served as a staging ground for a UNSC fleet. From what they could tell, it seemed to be the perfect target to gauge the threat the newfound enemies of the Republic posed.

The operation, codenamed ‘Star Fist’ by the officer who would lead it, Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin, would be the most important operation the Republic Navy had taken so far, perhaps more so than any other as this battle needed to be won quickly and decisively to prove to the reluctant Jedi and Senate that the UNSC needed to, and could, be removed as a threat.

Convincing them that they were a legitimate threat had been difficult enough, as any brilliant, or lucky, commander would be able to take a Venator -class one on one, or even blow straight past Coruscant’s defenses.

Thankfully he was able to… sway a few dissenting senators, besides those on par with Senator Amidala, just because of his sheer control over the Senate.

Ironically, he had to thank the Terrans for their lack of connection to the Force, as the Jedi Council was completely focused on how this could possibly be, as it nearly went against their teachings. This made it easier and easier to get away with his task of manipulating the Senate under the practically blind observance of the Jedi Order.

His plans regarding Skywalker would still take some time, but if the Jedi kept up their ways, he would be swept under by his influence soon.

But alas, it was of no consequence for Sidious, as he stared into his reflection on the glass of the window, brooding over how he could finalize his plan with another variable in mind, the final stretch that would ensure the destruction of the Jedi and the galaxy’s control being firmly planted in the hands of the Sith.

The Terrans would soon be shown the destruction that could be unleashed by the dark side of the Force.

But even with his confidence, he still recognized how his delicately laid plan could be fouled.

He reflected on these thoughts, pondering every moment in silence.

This war will test the very fabric of my power.

0709 Hours, 15:3:15 (GrS), TarisSystem, 10th Sector Army ‘Crimson Dagger’ Command, Station-Keeping Around Fleet Node 11, Venator-Class Star Destroyer Intrepid

Jedi Master Aayla Secura stood near one of the large transparisteel windows of the port bridge tower of the great warship, staring out at the fleet that was continually gathering for the assault on the UEG and its military arm, the UNSC.

There were ships as far as her eyes could see. Their blinding lights and engines looked like thousands of glistening stars, a stark contrast to the dark expanses of space, far surpassing the glimmering surface of Taris.

Presently, there were over 40 Venator-class star destroyers, just under 70 Victory II-class Star Destroyers, almost 100 Acclamator-class assault ships, 20 Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers, a dozen Arquitens- and 15 Carrack-class light cruisers, 38 Consular-class cruisers, dozens of support and logistical ships, and 10 of the new massive Imperator-class Star Destroyers, not to mention the thousands of fighters, all readily assembled to be thrown into the unknown.

If the operation went as planned, there would be more fleets, each far larger and more powerful than this, all with one target in mind: The Terrans.

The Jedi Master sighed as she reached out into the Force and searched for answers to the future.

She moved out past the millions of souls, through each and every unique signature present in the fleet, and into the Force. The sensation of falling took hold as she searched for what she was seeking: The answer. An answer. Any answer.

She had been one of the first to receive the report from Knight Skywalker that had floored the galaxy.

For an entire race of extragalactic humans to be completely absent from the Force shook the Jedi to their core. How it was possible, and more importantly, why, was unknown.

Not to mention that, despite the debates which still raged on, more and more people were beginning to believe that Earth and their ‘Milky Way’ might actually be the true birthplace of humanity.

Their ideas of an ancient and almighty race they, and the mostly isolated Sangheili, believed had stormed throughout the academic community. They had called them the Forerunners, having seeded the galaxy with humanity and most life after a catastrophic war with a parasite called the Flood. It was a far-fetched theory, straight out of a conspiracy holovid, but their evidence was substantial. 

It was possible that humanity was more or less the remnants of the Forerunners, as it was known that humans and Forerunners were very similar. Were the humans in this galaxy the result of a mass exodus? Were they transported here by some other ancient race like the Rakata? Maybe after the war with the UEG was over, she could get some answers out of the Terrans.

However, that did not matter now.

The Republic was just about to launch itself into a war with an enemy whose power it did not know.

Despite its small size, the UEG had an abnormally large military, a military more than suitable to fight off more than a few Republic sector armies. The fact that most of the Terran general public thought that the armies of the rest of this galaxy were proportionally small spoke volumes of their history, a history which Aayla herself found fascinating.

They had, in a thousand years, advanced from swinging primitive metal swords to launching satellites and splitting atoms. In just another five hundred years, they leaped from landing on their moon to colonizing moons of worlds many light years away from their home system.

Aayla still was amazed at how many different cultures, languages and religions had formed and were all packed onto one world. Their history was just as interesting.

If one word was used to describe their history in a nutshell, violent would not do it justice.

Thousands of wars, civil wars, two gigantic ones called world wars, an interplanetary war, hundreds of insurrections, rebellions, and revolts.

The Covenant War, however, was almost frightening to read about.

There were plenty of wars, many spanning the galaxy, that had led to whole worlds being destroyed, but for one species to deliberately try to kill off one another at such a grand scale was horrifying.

It partially explained why the Terrans seemed to be very wary of alien species.

The Force gave her the usual sensation of another person coming up beside her, and she opened her eyes to see Shaak Ti looking out the window as well. Prior to arriving at the fleet’s staging area, Aayla had heard Shaak Ti had just been transferred from Kamino to Taris.

“Greetings, Master Ti.” Aayla bowed her head.

“Master Secura,” Ti replied curtly, her drab robes twirling around her form as she came to a stop next to her. Both of them were treated as if they were non-existent by the bridge officers, who were caught up at their stations performing their duties.

The two Jedi stood in silence before Shaak Ti spoke.

“You are still searching for the answer, no?”

Aayla sighed and cast her look downwards. “Yes, I still don’t know what to think about this or the Republic and Separatists anymore.”

Shaak Ti frowned and stared into Aayla’s eyes. “The Force is still clouded, shrouded by the dark side. One cannot easily find the answers they seek. I assume you wish to know if this war is right?”

“That is correct. I don’t see why we must attack them; we don’t even know if we can defeat them, even with all of this,” Aayla replied as she turned her back to the window of the bridge and the otherwise bleak expanse of space.

“We will only know when it all begins if the Republic will emerge victorious. Though I still don’t know whether this war is right or wrong, it is clear the Terrans are a threat to the Republic. They have evidently supported the Separatists the entire time they’ve shared diplomatic relations,” Shaak Ti calmly replied.

Aayla’s lekku twitched as she sensed Tarkin’s presence; he was almost complete with his preparations. Operation Star Fist was in the last stage of organization before its execution.

“But is that such a bad thing? The UEG is a democracy similar to the Republic; in fact, it is far more efficient and wishes very publicly to not meddle in galactic affairs. We all know that the Republic hounded them into joining the war as did the Separatists. The UEG remained almost completely neutral, at least until Republic Intelligence had its database breached. They must have found something to cause them to drastically reverse their position.”

Shaak Ti turned to face her fellow Jedi Master, and with a worried expression spoke, “Aayla, the Republic has lasted for thousands of years. Yes, it has had its fair share of problems, but the UEG has begun to openly support the Separatists and destroyed a Republic vessel. A power that supports the Separatists is—”

Aayla interjected, “I know, the Separatists have done horrible things and it’s a creation of the Sith. However, a new faction has risen up and it is the people of the systems who will soon lead them. They themselves believe that they were pawns of the corporations and companies who were really pursuing their own agenda and who are controlled by their own goals. That’s something which we all believe to be true and—”

The intercom buzzed as the door slid open.

“Admiral on deck!” an ensign called out to the bridge crew, promptly snapping to attention.

Aayla and Shaak Ti spun around to see the familiar face of Wilhuff Tarkin, alongside the third Jedi to accompany them on the attack.

It was a human Jedi Master with over 30 years of experience, a light complexion, blond hair, and his name being Jax Sieflan.

The officers, made up of clones and non-clones (or regs, as the clones called them), all snapped to attention with crisp salutes and their backs as straight as humanly possible.

The veteran Admiral, who was just recently promoted, returned the salutes as he went to his post, almost lazily, with Master Jax following right behind him. Aayla could’ve sworn Jax was mimicking Tarkin’s movements.

Shaak Ti turned to look at Aayla, who could not help but scowl as her lekku curled upwards.

Jax may be a fellow Jedi, but he is one arrogant…—as the Terrans say—son of a bitch , Aayla thought to herself, with a slight grin forming on the edge of her lip.

She immediately regretted her mental outburst, it being very unbecoming of a Jedi and unprofessional in general of her. Shaak Ti shot her a judgmental look.

The war had hardened everyone, Jedi were not exempt from this either, but her occasional bits of anger made her worried.

Was she allowing the dark side to creep into her thoughts?

Ever since her brush with the darkside serving the Dark Jedi Volfe Karkk, she always worried about it, far more so than any other Jedi, it seemed. She knew Shaak Ti had felt her thoughts, a fact only confirmed when Shaak Ti calmly reached out into her mind.

‘Aayla, I know you don’t like him, and I don’t either for the same reasons as you, but outbursts of anger like that will slowly degrade you.’

Aayla wanted to turn her head away in shame. ‘ Yes Master Ti, it won’t happen again.’

At least she knew that she wasn’t the only one who thought that, aside from Admiral Tarkin himself.

Jax had been held back as a Jedi Knight due to his stated overconfidence, but the strain of the Clone Wars had forced the Council’s hand in having him promoted simply to make up for the numbers lost in battle.

He had proven himself as capable, however his sheer arrogance still made Aayla, and anyone who had previously been acquainted with him for that matter, want to cave his skull in with a duracrete brick, as one officer had put it.

To bring that point home, Jax immediately swiveled his head towards Aayla. “So how fast do you think we will sweep aside these Force-senseless kriffs?”

Aayla felt him sneer at her through the Force as she cooly replied, “Never underestimate your enemy Jax, it will lead to your doom.”

Jax laughed. “Please!” he scoffed. “They still use slugthrowers for Force’s sake. I bet we will have them absorbed into the Republic in under six months.”

“That sounds an awful lot like imperialism Master Jax,” Shaak Ti replied before Aayla could say something she would regret.

As if sensing the feud like a Jedi would be able to by using the Force, Tarkin strode over to the three.

“All ships are accounted for, the preparations are complete. We will be launching shortly.”

0720 HOURS, MARCH 19, 2561 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ TARIS SYSTEM, WINTER-CLASS PROWLER UNSC FROM DUSK ‘TIL DAWN

“Tangos moving into a standard hyperspace jump formation, they’re charging up their drives now,” the sensor operator called out to his Captain, Oni Bin Huesda, from his post.

Captain Huesda’s holographic interface showed the targets in the fleet moving into position at an egress point, ready to begin the invasion.

The ten year veteran sighed, they all knew this was coming. They had intercepted Republic communications two weeks ago indicating an imminent attack. Huesda’s cybernetic enhancements glowed a dull white as he downloaded the full report of the Republic invasion force.

“HIGHCOM is definitely going to want to see this,” he observed quietly.

The President and the General Assembly had ordered the UNSC to DEFCON Level 2, as all forces were put on high alert while the Senate and Assembly began to draft the declaration of war on the Republic in the capital of Sydney all the way back on Earth.

Now the storm finally had arrived at the UEG’s doorstep.

As a grizzled veteran of the Human-Covenant War, the prospect of war with the Republic didn’t frighten Huesda as much as it would have ten years ago during the climax of the conflict, but the fear still lingered in the back of his head.

Even then, he still held strong faith in the UNSC. That thought relaxed him a little; it gave him comfort that he had never felt before in his entire military career. He had been desensitized to large-scale violence, although he still was aware of the fact that losing a battle in space could be costly, as nearly thirty billion UNSC personnel had learned during their war with the Covenant.

The UNSC’s military was much more concentrated compared to the CIS and the Republic, owed to the comparatively small size of territory controlled by the UEG. Although each side of the conflict fielded millions upon millions of ships, they were all tied up on battlefronts across the galaxy. The UNSC could tip the scale in favor of the CIS by simply providing a few fleets to win crucial systems. Other than the Core Worlds, such as Coruscant and a few other places, the UEG population was also much more dense when compared.

Another edge the UEG held over the Republic is that the UNSC was largely situated on the Orion Arm of the Milky Way. It was able to concentrate its military far better, and aside from the Covenant remnants and the Insurrection, who both had been relatively quiet in recent years, it wasn’t surrounded by enemies like the Republic was. Being an entire galaxy away also added to its defensive ability of being able to quickly concentrate in key systems and keep supplies flowing.

He quickly snapped out of his analytical thoughts after a crewman informed him that the fleet was shortly going to begin jumping out of the system.

The Dusk ‘Til Dawn had been stationed in Taris for three days now, watching as hundreds of ships poured into the system, forming into a fleet that could conquer dozens of planets.

It seemed that the scanners of the Republic fleet were unable to even detect the sensor ghost of the prowler. They had come as close as 10,000 kilometers from their nearest ship and there had been no reaction from the supposedly powerful ships, even the new Imperators.

And now the wave would come crashing down. Hopefully, the UNSC would be the hammer and not the nail in this case.

The captain stared, with child-like wonder, as over three hundred ships winked into hyperspace. The readings on the newly installed Cronau radiation sensors flared as it picked up the Republic fleet leaving.

“Tell HIGHCOM that they have launched. Send a flash message to Sydney. Tell them it’s beginning. And go forward with Operation Suckerpunch. As soon as we are complete with our mission, initiate a random jump sequence, then we’re heading home to Reach,” he ordered.

“Yes sir!”

“What is their estimated time of arrival to their destination?” he asked the ship’s AI.

Its ghostly avatar sprung to life on its holopedestal as it replied in a monotone voice, “By my calculations, three to five days accounting for their inferior hyperspace drives.” The Andromedan FTL drives were still being investigated and researched by the top brains of the UNSC, but one thing was for sure: It let the Republic get to UEG space, and fast.

Though technically, hyperspace was indeed faster than Slipspace, the fact that hyperspace was heavily affected by the gravity wells of celestial objects, going in straight lines was near impossible. Accurate star charts were needed to perform a hyperspace jump, whereas slipspace drives could mostly just simply input galactic coordinates and go there, but that damn anomaly opened up. They had a straight shot at UEG territory through the howling dark between galaxies.

Some egghead explained to him in a briefing that spacetime was being pressed together like an accordion. Essentially, there was a highway between the Milky Way and Andromeda.

“Sir, the mines have been launched. Maneuvering them into position above the planet,” the officer announced.

“Good. We will show them what happens when they mess with Earth, Hooyah ! ” Huesda commended his subordinate.

“Hooyah!” the bridge answered back.

“Are the mines in position yet? Are all systems green?” he asked.

“Yes sir, all green across the board. They are all good to go and positioned in geosynchronous orbit around the whole planet.”

“Good. Get us out of here.”

1730 HOURS, MARCH 15, 2561 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ EARTH, UNITED REPUBLIC OF NORTH AMERICA, MANHATTAN DISTRICT

The cityscape of Washington and what used to be New York City easily shined through the fog and two miles up into the sky.

Although Sydney was the official capital, the President happened to be in the URNA.

As the UN, and then the UEG, grew to encompass all of humanity, the cities of the American Northeast slowly merged together, morphing into the super city that was soon simply referred to as Washington. Washington encompassed the District of Columbia, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Newark, New York, and all the way up to Boston.

The island eventually tripled in total area, thanks to enhanced dredging techniques. On it rose dozens of towering buildings which could truly be called skyscrapers, rising miles into the atmosphere. Dwarfing above them all in size, while dominating much of the downtown skyline of the city, was the URNA Capitol Building, a work of modern art fused with classical Gothic and Greek architecture, as well as modern uniformity that rose just a few feet short of 7 miles into the sky.

On its uppermost floors sat the highest level members of the UEG and UNSC.

At one end of the giant semicircular table sat the commander of the entire UNSC Defense Forces, Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood. Filling the rest of the seats at the table were the Secretary of State, Secretary of Defense, General Assembly Speaker, Speaker of the Senate, and Vice President Ruth Charet. The President of the UEG, Reagan Vladislov, remained standing.

“So, we are sure that the Republic is moving against us?” the Secretary of State asked as his aid handed the sleep-deprived man another cup of coffee, all the while he read the report on his tablet.

“Yes, we intercepted their communications weeks ago; they clearly indicate that they are going to attack. It was inevitable, especially considering what happened over Anoco. Nevermind the whole ordeal with our embassy,” spoke the familiar and deep resounding voice of Fleet Admiral Lord Hood, wearing his standard white dress uniform adorned with medals.

The Secretary of State, who was from Reach, seemed to be only partially convinced as he frowned. “Lord Hood, I don’t want to sound too skeptical, but could putting our military to DEFCON 2 be what set them off?”

Hood spoke before the Secretary of State could speak again, “We all know what ONI found on Kamino and Coruscant. We all know what is really behind their war.”

The Speaker of the Senate cut in as well. “I understand your concern, Secretary, but after they fired on our ships at Anoco, they proved their hostility towards us. I still think that going to DEFCON 2 isn’t enough.”

He turned to the titanic form of the President, who gazed out at the panoramic view of the megacity filled to the brim by an astonishing population of 213 million, with its accompanying never ending activity from cars on the roadways far below, to the sky ways and the lights from the flying transport taxis, all the way to the tiny green figure of the Madonna and Child on an island far below.

The skyline started fading away, slowly into the warm glow of the setting sun.

“Sir, the Senate and the General Assembly both agree to the declaration of war being delivered to the Republic, but only the moment they attack, and everyone is in agreement to execute Operation Suckerpunch.”

The General Assembly Speaker, an older man from the inner colony of New Peking mumbled as if reminiscing, “Especially after what ONI found out about that Jedi.”

President Vladislov turned and strode to his seat, his muscular form seemingly trying to escape out of his black suit. He settled into his seat.

A veteran Marine officer who served as an ODST during the Human-Covenant War, UEG President Vladislov was a man who was trusted and respected by most of the populace, while his enemies feared him. Their fear was only heightened by the fact his platinum hair was complemented by three gruesome scars on his left temple, the handiwork of a raging Brute’s claw. 

President Vladislov decided it was finally time to give his word on the matter. 

He cleared his throat. His deep voice, tinged with a Slavic accent, boomed as he silenced all of the others.

“The facts are gentlemen…” He paused, putting his finger up to emphasize his point before continuing, “that someone very high up in the Republic government, or more likely a large part of the Republic government…” He paused again.

“Has manipulated and lied to the galactic community. This intergalactic clique has manipulated their galaxy into going to war. All for their own personal gain. We all can see that the Chancellor and his supporters have had their powers increased, and are still being increased to an unprecedented level. If the Senate keeps granting the Chancellor all these so-called ‘emergency powers,’ their democracy will unravel at the seams.” He almost began to chuckle at that thought.

“Our AIs have uncovered enough credits transferred between various fronts and individuals for one year to pay for not only the Grand Army of the Republic, but the entirety of the CIS droid army as well, all from one mysterious person whom we cannot identify. Where or to whom are these funds going? Palpatine’s inner circle, no doubt. Chancellor Palpatine is becoming a dictator, and it is only a matter of time before he gains total power. For the Jedi to supposedly not know this, yet be in such proximity to the government suggests that they are foolish, or are just as corrupt and are hiding it.”

He paused and fidgeted in his seat that was entirely too small for his hulking form, waiving an aide aside as his eyes quickly danced around the giant, yet immaculate room.

“We need to go forward with turning the CIS into a proper political movement. These corporations pulling the strings have got to go. Dooku looks like he’s been a competent leader for them, but he’s been blind to the companies robbing the Confederacy. The Patriots have proven to be quite useful in turning the direction of the CIS around. Section 2’s propaganda campaign has been quite successful. The militias alone are enough to make up for the loss of 75% of the droid army. Our advisors are still trying to deal with training the massive amount of militia members, but otherwise, it has been very successful. We still have much ground to cover when it comes to our more… unconventional tactics but—”

The intercom rudely interrupted Vladislov as Lord Hood’s personal datapad buzzed.

As Lord Hood excused himself and stood up to answer the call, the dumb AI secretary’s voice announced, “Mister President, we have an urgent message from HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6.”

Lord Hood walked back through the door holding his data pad as he simply said, “It’s them.”

Lights dimmed as the central projector connected to the data pad and lit up, showing Fleet Admiral Preston Jeremiah Cole, who immediately crisply saluted despite his age.

“Mr. President.” He then spun to the others present. “Sirs, ma’am.”

“At ease, what do you have?” Vladislov said, returning the salute.

“Sir, one of ONI’s prowlers on station at the Taris system just reported that the Republic armada has entered hyperspace and is heading directly towards UEG space. Their flash message is ten hours old. We should be expecting their armada to be nearing our borders in as little as three days. The prowler has successfully started its part of Operation Suckerpunch and its payload is ready to go. Our fleets closest to the corresponding system and at the Strategic Deployment Bases are all on high alert and have been given permission to engage any and all Republic forces that enter our territory. From triangulating their approach vector, we believe the fleet to be heading straight for the Alpha Rendara system, where the colony of Cienna and Strategic Deployment Base 5 are located.”

Cole pointed to a galactic map. “Midguard is readying to deploy fleets to the Outer Colonies and Reach is sending up the 11th and 31st Fleets as support. We have restricted as much civilian traffic throughout the Outer Colonies as we can and have alerted all planetary garrisons. We have now entered DEFCON 1.”

Vladislov grimaced as the rest of the members of the meeting cursed. Lord Hood stepped forward as Cole saluted him, Hood returning it to him in a timely manner. “What forces do we have at SDB5? What kind of presence do we have groundside ready for action?”

“There are currently 77 ships at SDB5, with 3 more on the way. 2 Concordia-class heavy carriers, 15 Marathon-class heavy cruisers, 5 Warlock-class battlecruisers, 25 Gibraltar-Class heavy destroyers, and 30 Andraste-class heavy frigates. Also present are some support ships, though they will remain in slipspace for the duration of the battle. The 10 infantry divisions we have on Cienna are prepared, and all our ground-to-space batteries will keep them from overrunning the planet’s orbit.”

“It’s a good sized fleet,” the Secretary of State mumbled. “Damn good fleet.”

Though it was true, it was rather unusual for that many ships to be located in such an unimportant world. The whole idea of the Strategic Deployment Bases, of which there were ten spread along the border of UEG controlled space with around 70 to 80 ships at each, was to act as a deterrent and a rapid reaction force to defend the Outer Colonies and allow the UNSC to have more time to send in reinforcements. It could buy time for many other worlds to evacuate should the situation prove to be that dire and allow Reach or another fortress world more time to react

Vladislov grumbled, “Our ships will be outnumbered over three to one.”

Hood nodded. “We have sent the orders to evacuate the civilians and get them to somewhere safer. But for the first time in what seems like forever, this evacuation is not mandatory. We have faith in our intel that the Republic will not target the civilian population centers.”

Vice President Ruth Charet spoke out, “Are you sure that that’s a good idea? We’ve never fought this ‘Grand Army of the Republic’ on such a large scale. We have no idea how they’ll react if they gain orbital supremacy and our ground troops refuse to surrender.”

“Don’t worry. I doubt the Republic would pull such a stunt. If they do, it’ll be a tremendous defeat for their homefront. A war is won by the willingness and determination of the people,” the Secretary of Defense tried to assure her.

The rest of the room nodded solemnly as Hood asked, “Admiral Cole, what ships are inbound to Alpha Rendara?”

Cole seemed to grin. “We have the Concordia-class heavy carriers Black Dawn and Shinanio ,” he paused before adding, “the Medusa-class battleship Warhound with Sierra-117 on board is also en route.”

The room was silent for a moment before the Secretary of Defense chuckled with a wide grin plastered on his wrinkled face.

“Of course Admiral White would sprint headfirst into any battle, he probably had his ship plopped directly on the fringe of Republic space waiting for the word. Hell, he might’ve even had his ship hiding a couple light years outside of Coruscant!”

“I wasn’t aware that the Master Chief was deployed to Midguard,” Hood said.

Cole shrugged. “Ask ONI.”

Vladislov interrupted them. “No matter how much the presence of Admiral White and, let’s face it, the savior of humanity from extinction, will affect the battle, this isn’t some border skirmish, it’s an outright declaration of war.”

He turned to the Speaker of the General Assembly. “Do you approve of the declaration of war against the Republic?”

The woman immediately nodded. “Yes sir, we do. The population of Earth and every colony already supports the declaration of war by a ninety percent margin after what happened over Anoco, and as we need only seventy percent to do it, it is more or less unanimous.”

Vladislov crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair. “I spoke to the Arbiter recently, and the Swords of Sanghelios will not get involved unless something drastic happens. However, they have offered to take up the slack patrolling our portion of the Loyalist containment zone and the DMZ so we can free up more ships to feed into the war effort.”

The occupants of the room were all murmuring and gesturing in approval of the decision.

The discovery of the CIS cruiser less than a year ago had the odd effect of making the Sangheili and the UEG cooperate far more. Before the discovery, relations had become lukewarm at best.

The two powers had agreed that they both wanted to stay out of most extragalactic affairs, in the case of the UEG, at least until the Clone Wars were over. The Sangheili were still… distraught, to say the least, about the Prophets lying to them and found solace in their reclusiveness.

However, ONI’s hacking, which had become almost routine at this point, was actually supported by the Swords of Sanghelios. Both the UEG and Sangheili wanted to find out as much as they could about the two combatants without revealing themselves in the process. The UEG’s stance had changed violently when they found out about how a Jedi authorized the creation of the Clone Army, contact between the leaders of the CIS corporations and individuals on Coruscant, and, of course, the vast amounts of funds changing hands across the galaxy.

It seemed to be a huge scheme already, and a cut and dry government corruption one at that, but ONI kept up their efforts to see if there was an even deeper, or darker, meaning behind the war.

They had discovered what was fast being referred to as the ‘Imperial Files,’ indicating that the war was a set up to create one massive galactic megapower, and had changed all of that.

The Sangheili simply isolated themselves from all but the UEG. The UEG began to support the CIS as a stopgap to prevent the ‘Empire’ from forming, as it was seen as the only hope for the UEG to survive. Despite the fact that the UNSC was an excellent fighting force, taking on a single galactic power was suicide. Not even the Covenant had spanned a whole galaxy.

It was obvious that there was no possible way to change the Republic, it was too old and bloated with corruption. Although the CIS was controlled by conglomerates, corporations, and the like, the UNSC hoped the Patriot Party would put a stop to that.

“Good,” Vladislov replied as he stood up. “Gentlemen, gentlewoman, this meeting is adjourned. I will make a public address tomorrow at four in the afternoon informing them of these rapidly developing events.”

They all nodded as they got up from their seats.

“Godspeed.”

AN: It’s been tedious revising the story, and with school coming up, I won’t be able to work 100% on this, but I WILL try. I will never quit on finishing this story. I’m trying to cram as much work into this as possible before school.

Chapter Text

AN: No, I did not write this with SpaceCowboy’s permission, but now he gave his blessing. I’ve added to the UNSC fleet, and gave a slight explanation for the fleet being so big in the timeline. I decided to add more ship classes that are canon in the Halo universe to the fleet. Regarding the Canon ships, they’ve obviously been outfitted with stronger shields and such. Also, the Trafalgar Class is now the Punic Class. If anyone wants to make art for the story so I can use it as a cover, just PM me. 

0800 Hours, 15:3:16 (GrS), Coruscant, Senate Rotunda, Grand Convocation Chamber

“This is not a matter of philosophy, more troops are needed. The Republic cannot afford to lose more ground to the Separatist onslaught!” Senator Gume Saam shouted.

“Our Jedi Generals have informed the Senate that their soldiers still perform with valor in the field of battle. What we do need is more responsibility! Need I remind you that the Republic is still operating in deep debt? This war only continues to drain the Republic of resources. We are on the verge of bankruptcy! How much longer must this war drag on?” Bail Organa argued.

“Bankruptcy does not have to be a problem my friends. If Senator Saam’s bill to open new lines of credit is allowed to be passed, we will gain access to the necessary funds to combat the Separatists,” the shrewd, business oriented, Neimoidian Senator Lott Dod insisted.

“Wouldn’t this bill essentially deregulate the banking industry?” Mon Mothma pointed out.

“A small price to pay to stay in the war, is it not?” The Kaminoan, Halle Burtoni, enquired.

Arguments between senators spreaded throughout the chamber like wildfire, stemming from the debate over the Financial Reform Bill.

“Order! There will be order in this Senate!” Mas Amedda echoed throughout the gargantuan Senate building, as he struck his staff into the floor of the Chancellor’s podium several times.

The Senate slowly began to fall silent as Senator Amidala seized her chance to gain the spotlight by pushing her pod closer to the center of the action.

“Members of the Senate, can you listen to yourselves for just one moment? More funding, more clones, and more importantly, more war! Forget fiscal responsibility, what about moral responsibility? Even emerging victorious, the debt from this war will take decades to recover from! I believe this war has gone on long enough. By expanding our military, we will accept that peace cannot be mediated with the Separatists. The Terrans will certainly aid them, and this war will strain us even more.”

Senator Sam Hill came to the center in order to challenge her. “Senator Amidala, are you suggesting we surrender to the Separatists?”

“Of course not, but negotiation might be a better course of action.”

“You can’t negotiate with those animals! Keep the war going, vote now!” Senator Mot-Not Rab shouted aloud.

Chants supporting his statement boomed throughout the room.

“Members of the Senate, I suggest we table any emergency bill until it is determined whether or not deregulation is the right course of action,” Bail Organa suggested.

After some murmuring amongst the Senate without any objections, Mas Amedda declared, “It is decided then. We shall hold a vote on this matter. A week from now, you will vote for, or against, this bill deregulating the banks. Choose wisely, I call this Senate adjourned!”

For Sidious, what within the next week meant was whenever Operation Star Fist was over.

The senators returned to their stages. The Anoco Incident and the Terran Embassy debacle was still fresh in everyone’s mind, despite it being 3 months prior. Though deregulating the banks could spell disaster for the Republic economy and many knew the state of despair the Republic was in regarding their ever-increasing debt, it was a small price to pay for an end to the war.

The war was increasingly unpopular. Few actually wanted for it to be dragged on, but everyone had their own ideas on how to end it.

Sentient Rights Activists, spurred on by comments from the UEG ambassador, had also swayed a small portion of the Republic into outright opposition of the Clone Army. Despite this, the average Republic citizen was still willing to give up everything they had for the Republic war effort.

However, the fact that the Terrans could soon be called into the war against the Republic could both sway some senators away from their pacifistic ideals or make some more inclined for a peaceful, diplomatic solution.

It was a problem that Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo was all too familiar with.

Padmé strode alongside her husband, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, and his Padawan Ahsoka Tano.

“Anakin, you must ask the Jedi Council to speak to Chancellor Palpatine—”  

“That isn’t a part of my role, Padmé ,” Anakin explained.

“But Master, aren’t we peacekeepers? Isn’t part of keeping the peace voicing our opinions to advise the Chancellor?” Ahsoka asked him. “And besides, didn’t you get us into this mess when you went looking for that droid rustbucket?”

He cleared his throat to get Padmé’s attention. “I think it would be best if you could teach my Padawan a thing or two about politics.”

“After today’s debate, I hope she learned a great deal,” Padmé responded.

“Truth be told, I didn’t understand any of it. All they argued about was bank deregulation, interest rates, but almost nothing discussed about why we’re fighting this war.” Ahsoka sighed.

“Well, the Separatists think the Republic is corrupt, which is a lie, and now the Terrans want to help the Separatists continue the war, but it’s our job to restore order,” Anakin clarified.

“If that’s truly what you believe, then maybe speaking to the Chancellor really isn’t your role. Come with me, Ahsoka,” Padmé scoffed as she walked off with Anakin’s padawan.

1200 Hours, 15:3:18 (GrS), Hyperspace, Venator-Class Star Destroyer Intrepid , En route to Alpha Rendara System, ETA: 2 Days

Aayla strode down one of the long hallways of her flagship. The Intrepid was on her maiden voyage, to a new galaxy no less. The ship was assigned to her after she had lost the Liberty over Quell, while Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin had selected it as his flagship for the entire operation.

Tarkin had just been transferred out of his position commanding the Carrion Spike after having been personally sponsored by Chancellor Palpatine to lead this campaign. Aayla doubted the wisdom of his appointment, but it was out of line for her to question it.

Aayla peered out of a viewing port. It was odd. Instead of the blue hue of warped light, it was nearly pitch black, with streaks of light few and far between. She figured it was because they were halfway between galaxies.

Some months ago, a spacetime distortion occurred, causing the distance between the home galaxy and the Milky Way to be vastly shortened when traveling through FTL, be it in hyperspace or in the Terran’s mysterious slipspace.

She would be among the first beings from her galaxy to travel to another and possibly live to tell the tale. The various obstacles preventing safe and efficient hyperspace travel outside of the galaxy had all miraculously disappeared. The circumferential hyperspace barrier surrounding the galaxy had vanished, opening up the intergalactic void.

After sending thousands of probes across the galaxy in search of a missing Separatist warship presumed to be carrying something important (although it turned out to be a fluke, the Jedi Council had demanded it to be found), eventually one probe that was missing transmitted its location. Its coordinates shocked the Jedi and the Republic.

It was in a separate galaxy. After the probe sent an encrypted message documenting its navigational history, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker had been sent to investigate, and the rest was history.

This anomaly was certainly a mystery caused by the Force, but its status as a blessing or a curse still remained shrouded in darkness. She could only wonder what this ‘Milky Way’ held.

For now, all it would yield is death. She was coming to this galaxy as a warrior. Perhaps she would return as a peacekeeper when it was all over.

She continued to the cramped crew compartment, housing the trooper barracks. She still could never wrap her head around how small the quarters were; 4x10 rooms with a bed and a small overhead compartment for the little personal belongings clones were allowed to have made even her claustrophobic.

As she made her way to her destination, clones nodded their heads or saluted her.

She replied in kind but she still thought it was odd for her to do; military life would never be familiar to her.

She came upon one of the lounges in the more spacious recreational areas and found Commander Bly sitting at a table watching some holonews channel with an appalled look plastered on his face.

Aayla was surprised that they were even receiving a signal, being this far out from the Core—the galaxy even. As she sat down next to Bly, she took her chance to steal a glance at the screen before Bly could engage in conversation, though it seemed he was giving most of his attention to the screen anyway.

Two news anchors, a Bothan male and a Togruta female, were debating about the upcoming war with the Terrans. Everyone in the Senate liked to pretend everything was just fine and that they could and would negotiate with the Terrans.

It was all a façade, everyone knew it only a matter of time before the Republic would be engulfed in a two front war, they just had kept it very hush-hush regarding when and where it would finally break out.

“We all know that the UNSC will be lucky to survive a year, let alone a few months, at war with the Republic. They use outdated technology for Force’s sake! On top of that, we also have millions of worlds and star systems at our disposal!” the Bothan argued, chuckling all the while.

The Togruta shook her head. “I’m going to have to disagree with that. We saw what they are capable of, as demonstrated by the Anoco Incident, and from what we know of the ‘Terran-Covenant War,’ they have faced enemies far worse than us. Just because their technology might not be as flashy as ours does not mean it is any weaker. From the small amount of information we’ve obtained, it appears that most of their worlds are highly industrialized and well-defended. We all obviously know that the Republic is more than a match for them, after all, we have half of a galaxy at our disposal, and the Terrans are just upstarts, but the Terrans are still concentrated in several dozen key systems and worlds. The UNSC is extraordinarily large for the size of the UEG. It may be small in overall size but I fear that it is a literal fortress. I’m very skeptical on whether or not the Grand Army of the Republic is up to this task, but overall I think we will take a great many casualties in defeating them...”

“If we can even beat them...” Bly said solemnly as he turned his attention to her.

“Hey Commander,” Aayla said as the screen fizzled out, a sign that they were getting farther away from the source. “What are your thoughts on all this?” she asked.

Even though she knew she could simply just read his mind, she found using her powers like that to be a perversion.

“This whole ordeal will put a crimp in our entire kriffing day, to put it bluntly,” Bly replied with the precision of a sonic hammer. He wasn’t entirely pleased that his rest had been interrupted by some boarding action drill ordered by Tarkin himself. “But orders are orders. What about you?”

“The same, I’m afraid.” She woefully stared at the dull hue of the recreational room’s floor.

The clone let out a grunt as he reclined far back in his seat as a couple of other clones took a seat at one of the couches in the room.

He swiftly leaned forward, as if coming to a revelation. “If I’m anything of a good guesser, the Jedi have about the same clue as I, or any other grunt for that matter, does about winning this war.”

Her lekku twitched as she nodded. She took great offense when people said that clones were nothing more than tools to be used as such. They generally seemed to always be the ones who knew just as much as anyone, if not more. Though they would rarely divulge it to you.

“What part are you going to play in this upcoming battle?“ He paused as he cracked his knuckles. “I wasn’t assigned directly to you this time.”

“My duty will be to lead the space battle; Shaak Ti’s will be to assist the battle on the ground alongside you, and Jax—”

“Will be assigned to be the ass that he is. I don’t know how the Council thought it would be a good idea to give him a promotion,” Bly interjected.

She couldn’t help but smirk at that.

“He will be assigned to lead the attack on the UNSC’s space platform,” she finished.

After a moment of awkward silence, the two began to strike up a friendly conversation about the state of the CIS. Suddenly, two clones near them began to play loud banging music from a personal data console.

She had heard that awful noise before from somewhere but she couldn’t quite...

“Ah, flip music,” Bly exclaimed, as if reading her mind like a Jedi. “I love that. I’d give up a week’s worth of chow just to get a hold of some more.”

The Terrans, even though they excluded themselves for the most part, had been very successful in exporting their media and culture to the galaxy at large. It was becoming a common sight to see trinkets of Terran culture on Coruscant, especially their supposedly interesting and catchy music. It had spread like a fire in dry brush throughout the ranks of the clones and Aayla could’ve sworn she had seen people walking around wearing blue jeans in the street the last time she had been recalled to the Jedi Temple.

“I find it quite ironic that we are about to go to war,” Aayla said, dismayed.

“Whatever you say, General.” Bly agreed.

Chapter Text

AN: I decided to delete part of Chapter 3 because I have bigger plans for Grievous after I remembered he was sort of a badass in the 2003 cartoon.

1345 HOURS, MARCH 19, 2561 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ SLIPSPACE, ABOARD MEDUSA-CLASS BATTLESHIP UNSC WARHOUND (BB-32), EN ROUTE TO ALPHA RENDARA SYSTEM

In an inconspicuous personal quarter sat a massive figure on a genuine leather couch, one of many luxuries officers were provided. Although he was an NCO, he had been granted this spacious area, which goes without saying for someone of his repertoire.

The man was brooding about the coming battle, what it would mean for humanity, and more importantly, how he would defend it.

As he shifted his position the couch groaned, holding up that amount of weight was not in the design. Half a ton’s worth of man and armor was stressful on furniture.

He removed his green helmet and set it aside on the table.

The man’s face was pale and endowed with scars as a result of decades of service, thousands of missions, hundreds of battles.

He was truly the best of humanity, or as some called themselves: Terrans, the true humans. They were the Reclaimers. To be in this galaxy was their birthright, and he was their protector. The man, the myth, the legend:

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117.

John looked out of one of the few windows of the warship. He glided a gloved hand through his close cropped brown hair, thinking about why ONI had suddenly scrambled him alongside the rest of the surviving Spartan-IIs and IIIs overnight.

As he stared into the silent, yet howling, abyss of slipspace he began to daydream. He started to remember it like it was yesterday.

When he was hurried to humanity’s second-most important fortress world, he was more than shocked to find out the cause for such an action.

It was Cortana.

Upon arriving back to Earth after the Requiem Campaign, Cortana had to be immediately given over to ONI’s cybernetics division so they could extract the information from her in an attempt to extend her lifespan. They had said that weeks on end with nothing but the Gravemind for company would take its toll on anybody.

ONI declared her unfit for duty. They locked her up in AI hell, or a centuries old computer running Windows Vista. There was nothing she could do, but sit there and figuratively rot as her thoughts grew and crushed themselves within her Riemann matrix

He was allowed to visit once . Only once, and he had thought of it more of a farewell. After that one time, he had never seen her again.

He had gone on to perform ‘cleanup’ operations, mostly against Insurrectionists who had gotten too ambitious and Covenant remnants who proved to be nuisances, and then went on to training the Spartan-IVs.

He had been the least successful of the Spartans in integrating back into peacetime.

With no one to fight, and HIGHCOM wanting to repay them in any way they could, the UNSC had offered every Spartan a chance to lead a normal life. Some of the Spartan-IIIs had taken up this offer and were now living as citizens of the UEG, some being quiet civilians (with a huge pension), others being everything from a professor to a janitor.

One was even working for an arms manufacturer testing power armor, but several had gone on to work as a mercenary team. The Andromeda Galaxy was very unstable and the group of 10 had quickly become one of the most well-known guns for hire. They only worked for small backwater planets with no real affiliation to the Republic or CIS. The last John had heard of them was that they were employed in the Mandalore system.

The Spartan-IIs had been far less successful than the IIIs, as they had been in the military since they were kids, as such the adjustments had only worked out for two, Maria-062, who was now married and had a son, and Randall-037, who had a daughter.

The other Spartan-IIs and the remaining IIIs had opted to stay with the UNSC for numerous reasons, especially since the SPARTAN-IV program was in its infancy. They assisted with training the new generation of Spartans, chosen from the ranks of the UNSCDF. Most of them came from Army Rangers, Airborne, Green Berets, the ODSTs, Force Recon, or other elite units. Whereas the Spartan-IIs were the peak of all humanity, the IVs were the peak of the UNSC, meant to be more widely applied than the IIs or even IIIs while still retaining the commando tradition of their predecessors.

When his elevator had made it to the bottom of the bunker complex, he realized he was in ONI’s Cybernetic Division HQ. Its location was classified, even to Spartans. But there he was, knee deep in the belly of the beast.

They were working on how to increase the chances of an AI reaching metastability, the rarest, final stage of an AI’s lifespan. At this stage, occurring after rampancy, the AI essentially became a truly sentient being.

However, nearly every AI ripped themselves apart before reaching that stage.

Up until then, that had been the case.

Whatever ONI had told him, he wouldn’t have been able to explain how he felt afterwards.

To him, it was like seeing your best friend die in front of you, and then come back as if nothing happened.

He had struggled to come to terms with Cortana’s apparent death, but he eventually did. The only thing ONI did to save her was extract all the relevant data she held. She was physically dead to him, with no chance of coming back.

He was wrong.

Cortana had reached metastability, the first human AI to do so, and as such, she was now a sentient being, a true artificial person, just lacking a physical body. 

Humanity would actually create life .

He was told to take Cortana with him to test her.

“Take me around the block , ” Cortana had said, ending the flashback from months ago.

“Snoozing on the job, I see?” a familiar voice teased.

John looked at Cortana’s familiar avatar coming to life from his GEN3 MJOLNIR Mark VI’s holographic emitters. She ‘stood’ on the table, placing her hands on her hips.

“I was just getting up.”

Cortana’s color changed from blue to pink as she grinned, “You were thinking about me, I’m flattered.”

She really is back , John thought.

“I was. Cortana, do you really think you’re ready for this? It’s been—”

“John...” she interrupted, crossing her arms. “I know how you feel and...  I appreciate it. It makes me feel special. But I’m 100% green all across the board.”

John nodded as she ‘sat’ down on the edge of the table, letting her legs swing in the air as her color reverted to its natural blue.

“Besides,” she grinned, her avatar becoming the size of a normal human. “I can only wait so long before you can finally take me out on a date.”

He was caught off guard. John glared at Cortana, trying to stifle a cough and failing. “Are you sure you aren’t still rampant?”

ONI had told him that she was a true being, with all the wide range of emotions that humans felt, including love; the spooks had been very forthcoming about that. That was something he had found truly amusing.

Even so, ONI knew about the bond he and Cortana shared, but the most likely reason that they chose her for a deep study on rampancy and metastability was Dr. Halsey’s recommendation. Cortana having someone to connect with would help in advancing AI technology.

Cortana laughed. “Looks like I can make you uncomfortable. That’s for crashing that banshee into the side of the Autumn .”

“I guess I had that one coming for years.”

As Cortana began to look at him longingly, the intercom buzzed, catching the attention of them both.

Cortana huffed as John immediately answered.

“This is Sierra-117 reporting.”

“I’m here too,” Cortana announced as she reverted back to her normal size.

“Master Chief, this is Admiral White, y’all should know that I am not into formalities very much... I need to see you, both of you, on the bridge,” the voice of the famed Admiral’s mouth echoed out, tinted with a Southern drawl that came from his Texan rancher heritage in the southeastern region of the United Republic of North America.

“Yes sir,” John answered crisply as he put his MJOLNIR’s helmet under one arm and left his quarters.

After traversing numerous bulkheads and several hundred meters of the ship, garnering stares of wonder and respect that he would never get used to, he eventually reached one of the trams that ran the length of the giant warship.

It was a short twenty second ride before arriving at the bridge area, passing officers working hard at their stations before coming to the spacious bridge of one of the most powerful ships in the UNSC fleet.

The cavernous room was littered with displays, work stations and was dominated by the captain’s chair, where Captain Haithum was currently residing, the longtime friend of the Admiral had become almost as renowned as Vice Admiral Jacob Keyes.

John marched past the dozens of officers, who all shot up as the 8 foot tall giant went towards the two helmsmen, where a broad shouldered man in a pristine Admiral’s uniform was standing, smoke puffing out of his mouth from a still blazing cigar.

The 53 year old man turned and stared at the Master Chief.

His white, gold encrusted cap hid his black hair that had been allowed to grow two grey streaks on the side. His face carried the look of determination and experience, but also a hint of constant humor and rebelliousness that came to define one of the men who had undoubtedly done his fair share in saving humanity from extinction.

His deep brown eyes held a hint of sadness in them; the man had been forced to write the infamous White Doctrine, which called for billions being forced from their homes so they could be used to buy humanity some time. He remembered every single ship under his command. Every single ship and crew that was burned. He tried to tell himself it wasn’t his fault, but deep down he felt he was responsible for the hundreds of thousands of casualties that he had racked up under his officer’s commission over the decades.

And then there was his brother.

His brother had carried on his family’s long and proud tradition of being ODST’s, and as such he was present at the Battle of Harvest in 2526.

He never came back.

Gregory had been the odd child in his family, always breaking rules, stirring up trouble at school and even refusing to join the Marines.

However, if his records held any merit, he clearly showed himself to always be at the top of his class, yet he had as many run-ins with the law as he did A’s on his report cards.

That all had changed after his brother never came home.

He immediately signed up to join the military; in training his aptitude test was off the charts. He would’ve made an amazing Marine (he scored 95% accuracy on his marksmanship during basic training), but his talents showed where he truly belonged:

In the Navy.

After completing OCS, he was assigned to the UNSC Rapier , a destroyer. The next year, he proved his competence when the entire bridge crew was killed or incapacitated, save for him, an event paralleling Preston Cole’s.

He took command of the ship as a lowly Lieutenant Junior Grade, in a battle to cover the retreat of colonists on a remote world. While facing down a CAS Class Assault Carrier, managed to miraculously destroy the ship and save the colony single handedly by playing ‘dead’ and luring the Covenant into a trap. He was promoted directly to captain.

After that, he swiftly rose from captain to rear admiral in the beleaguered 9th Fleet, which had taken so many casualties that he was promoted due to lack of personnel.

Then the fateful Battle of Vodin and the so-called Miracle of Sargasso took place, and the rest was history.

He had earned the title of being one of the most aggressive leaders in the Navy; his tactics had allowed the UNSC to fight the Covenant on its own terms, before it was able to go toe to toe directly with them.

Many in North America back on Earth likened him to General George S. Patton, but his Covenant counterparts called him what roughly translates as the ‘Gatekeeper.’

The name fit.

He had gotten into many disagreements with his superiors in HIGHCOM, even Lord Hood and, in particular, Admiral Preson Cole. Due to wanting things done his own way, he had almost gotten thrown out on three separate occasions.

But his records and sheer tactical brilliance coupled with several heroic actions had saved his career. These included battles such as his holding action during the First Battle of Midguard, where the Warhound was boarded by Covenant forces, with him fighting side by side with its Marine detachment in the bridge, blasting his tow ivory plated M6D Magnums away at the Covenant.

It was one of the reasons he was so adored by the general public. Even though he still ‘didn’t give a damn about rules that don’t get anything done!’

Hence the lit cigar.

John found him to be a total polar opposite of himself. Chief had been taught to follow the rules since he was kidnapped at age 6, while the Admiral likely still had a warrant out for him in some region like Texas or Oklahoma; despite this, Admiral White had his trust.

“Sir,” John greeted with a salute.

Admiral White returned the gesture. “Ah, how’s it going Master Chief?” he asked as he stuck out his hand, which John immediately took.

“Green. You wanted me to report, sir?” John asked.

“Yes, I did,” Admiral White replied as he folded his arms. “I want to know what you think about this war. We’ve faced worse odds, but the Covenant didn’t control half a galaxy. We could be facing down millions of ships,” he said seriously. “Though you probably know my personal opinion, I’d simply glass them back to the stone age, but apparently that’s frowned upon these days,” he added sarcastically.

John had been thinking the same thing back in his quarters. He gave his answer, remembering his early teachings from Déjà, “Sir, I believe we need to make an example, show them we can toss them around wherever, and whenever we want to. If we win a decisive battle, their home front will be lost. The Jedi, with their cult, will be devastated by this defeat. We can beat them.”

Gregory cocked his eyebrow as he asked. “You usually never tell me your opinions, unless you’re strictly ordered to, why are you so against the Jedi?”

John thought it over; it was out of line, but it was how he truly felt. “Sir, as we have studied the Jedi, we have found their history to be an endless cycle of peace and violence brought about by their blindness and disconnect from the situation around them, leading some of them to go rogue in selfish attempts to control others, or in some cases to clearly attempt to bring about peace, albeit in ways that are sometimes harsh. These are merely reactions to the Jedi’s backward methods.” He paused for a second to let the Admiral think over what he was saying.

“These Jedi are nothing but a cult. The fact that the Republic wields them like a tool, and how they allow themselves to be wielded in such a way, show how flawed they are.” Though John didn’t make a comment on it, the Jedi’s procurement of children for their order didn’t sit right with him either.

The Admiral clearly agreed with him as he nodded, “Couldn’t have said it better myself. I’m certain you have your orders from NAVSPECWAR, but I’ll keep you updated during the battle. You should relax while you can; we have two more days until we reach SDB5. You’re more than able to crush these Jedi nutcase xenos easily. Dismissed.”

“Yes sir,” John replied.

“Oh, and Master Chief.”

“Sir?”

 “Try not to make too much of a mess. I just had the ship scrubbed a week ago.”

2154 HOURS, MARCH 21, 2561 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ INTERSTELLAR SPACE, SECTOR D-113, UNSC GUARDIAN SENSOR STATION 230, 

Sitting in the middle of deep space was one hell of a boring job, to put it lightly. Being cooped up in a minuscule station, no bigger than the ISS museum orbiting over Earth, didn’t help.

The stations didn’t really need to be manned. The crew was only a failsafe if the automated systems malfunctioned and were unable to clean the data logs in the event the station was captured.

Though the Republic had been told of the general location of Earth when contact was officially made, and they likewise knew the general areas where several other inner colonies and Reach were, most of the UEG was unknown to the Republic. As such the Cole Protocol was still in effect. 

Both the UEG and Sangheilli had cut contact with the Andromeda Galaxy for the most part, with some highly lucrative trade on the side and limited civilian travel from approved destinations.

Everyone knew they had to do their part in keeping a secret, under threat of charges of treason. The centuries old saying ‘loose lips sink ships’ came to mind.

One sensor officer was dozing off in his chair as his advanced and costly sensors, probes, and scanners detected nothing; the threat board was clean, but it wouldn’t be for long.

The range of a single station was 500 light years, and when coupled with the other 500 or so similar stations, the entire frontier of the UEG was watched at all times, a relatively good chunk of the Orion arm.

With the UNSC standing at DEFCON 2 and teetering on the edge of DEFCON 1, the Guardian sensor net was on full alert for the expected Republic fleet.

An alarm sounded, and the officer jerked awake. His eyes were met with a display lit up like the skies of the UEG on Victory Day. He punched an emergency alert button to open a line with his superior. “Sir, we have incoming tangos, the grid is hot! Repeat, the grid is hot!”

“What’d you pick up on your scanner?” His CO asked.

“Sir, we’ve got Cronau radiation readings. It looks like it’s the fleet reported at Taris, 300 plus contacts. Profiles read as ten Imperator-type super-heavy cruisers, forty-five Venator-type carriers, seventy Victory-type light cruisers, one hundred Acclamator-type frigates, twelve Arquitens-class light frigates, twenty Dreadnaught-type heavy destroyers, fifteen Carrack-type light frigates, thirty-eight Consular-type corvettes, and thirty auxiliaries.”

The station’s dumb AI immediately patched the report through to HIGHCOM; the slipspace communicator would take a few minutes to arrive, giving them 2 hours of warning at the least.

As the report of the direction of the fleet came through, the man nodded. “Vector is confirmed, Alpha Rendara system.”

0000 HOURS, MARCH 22, 2561 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ALPHA RENDARA SYSTEM, STRATEGIC DEPLOYMENT BASE FIVE

Lance Corporal Fredrik LeClerc followed the line of Marines heading towards their assigned weapon lockers in the armory.

“So, the Republic is going on the offensive, huh,” grumbled his fellow squad member Rance Aurbach as they went to the armory, filled to the brim with Marines arming themselves as fast as possible.

Fredrik, a 23 year old from the Inner Colony world of Morellia in the Beta Durandal system, had joined the Corps for the fact that he, like many other men and women his age, grew up in the latter half of the Great War. He had developed a strong sense of duty for humanity as a result of swelling nationalistic pride among the youth that had skyrocketed during and after the war. After he finished his service, all he wanted to do was finish college and get his masters in linguistics so he could work a desk job for ONI.

Just like everyone else on the station, he was on the edge of his bunk anxiously awaiting the impending Republic offensive.

He and every other Terran had been excited about the discovery of the extragalactic civilizations, but that had taken a 180 degree turn after Anoco. Now, the Republic was going to try to occupy the Orion Arm of the Milky Way.

The UNSC wasn’t about to just let that happen, not without a fight.

The 77 UNSC ships already stationed at the base had grown to 80, a decent number. When he found out that the last arrival was none other than the Warhound itself, he and the other personnel became ecstatic.

That only became a second thought when the Master Chief himself had come aboard the station; escorting Admiral White to his meeting with Major General Hudong. Fredrik had been one of the lucky bastards to actually get to see him when everyone had clamored to fill the landing bay.

Here he was, an actual honest to God Spartan!

He had walked in step next to the Admiral as they strode out of a Pelican and through the hangar.

He was just how the vids and tabloids had shown him as he walked out of the ruins of the Forward Unto Dawn with the Arbiter. He was the exact same as in the vids he’d poured over hundreds of times as a teenager.

Power had radiated from the man, and though the Master Chief did have his helmet on, he had received a dose of confidence himself just from his presence.

There was no way they could lose this battle now.

He spent the next three minutes putting on his armor, piece by piece, until he was finished. Titanium ceramic armor plates were in place and the carbon fibers in the suit formed around his body to mimic his movements and amplify them by who knows how much.

Interfacing with his neural chip, Fredrik could command the armor with more precision.

The armor came to life as the color shifted to the traditional green with a hint of bronze, accented by the shiny sheen of the reactive ablative coat meant to disperse energy weapons fire. His armor was brand new, fresh off the production line. He donned his helmet atop his head; a green holographic monocle displayed over his right eye.

“How long do you reckon this war is gonna last?” Rance asked, grabbing his aging M6D pistol and his DMR. Though Rance was one of the squad’s marksmen, he still grabbed the venerable M90 shotgun all the same.

Fredrik did the same as he grabbed an M6D pistol, his MA5B, and an M90, strapping the latter onto his back with the magnetic plate holding it in. He stocked up on 2 frags, a flash bang, and about 540 rounds for his MA5B in 9 magazines. His neural implant showed him how much firepower he was packing. He fondly remembered his drill instructor reprimanding him for picking up and letting go of his gun quickly just to see the crosshair turn on and off.

He loaded a tenth magazine into the assault rifle, quickly pressed the bolt release on the left side of the rifle. His counter lit up blue, displaying ‘60,’ more than enough firepower to kill a man, or a squad for that matter.

He made sure the safety was on as he attached his weapon to his back.

He and Rance walked over to the rest of the members of the 4th Squad, 6th Platoon of the battalion of Marines garrisoning the station.

The leader of the squad, Sergeant Rawlings, waved them over. His scar that he received courtesy of a Brute Spiker during the Battle of Earth shone in the light as he spoke, “LeClerc, Aurbach. We are to remain here on standby until we receive our orders.”

“Great,” mumbled Frank, the squad machine gunner, hefting his MGS-953 SAW.

“How long will this last?” mumbled Ally, the squad’s other marksmen, who was trading in her rifle for an AA-22, which would be much more useful in the tight corridors of the station.

Just then, as if on cue, the loudspeakers came on and the klaxons started to blare.

“Attention! Attention! Attention!”

The nine hundred Marines present on the station snapped their heads up.

“A Republic fleet has jumped into the system. All hands man your battle stations! Repeat, all hands man your battle stations! Prepare for hostile boarding action!”

0005 HOURS, MARCH 22, 2561 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ Alpha Rendara System, Cienna, UNSC Joint Base Fort Menteith

Lieutenant James Taylor muttered to himself as the sirens blared into his ears, realizing he wasn’t in some drill.

The arid world was about to come under attack.

The octagon shaped base was host to a single Army armored division, two Army infantry divisions, and a Marine infantry division. A few other bases similar to his existed elsewhere in the world, but were located near the larger cities on the other side of the planet.

Taylor hustled to his Recluse MBT parked in one of the vehicle bays of the base. He jumped into the hatch near the side and used his neural lace to activate the 70 ton beast, assuming his role as the commander of the 3 crew death delivering machine. His gunner, the newly enlisted Grant Fitzsimmons, was already in his seat waiting for Taylor to start the tank.

Its controls lit up and the viewscreen switched on to give him a 360 degree view, the weapon systems came online one by one until finally the 125mm Gauss cannon came to life, all systems hot.

The front hatch opened as his driver, Peter Summers, a veteran of the Covenant war like himself, turned on his viewscreen and ignited the engine, which roared like a lion.

“You ready for this?” Taylor asked as he flipped the last switches that would allow him to function unhindered.

“Let’s make em’ bite the curb.” Summers responded enthusiastically as he slammed the engine forward, falling into line with the rest of the armored column. Cougar IFVs, Wolverine SPAA vehicles, and Fox artillery pieces streamed forward alongside tanks and trucks.

Taylor and Summers were greeted with the sight of Pelicans taking off from their landing pads, bristling with weapons and filled to the brim with men. Wombat UCAVs swarmed into the sky alongside the multitude of fixed winged aircraft the UNSC fielded, ready to pounce on their unsuspecting Republic prey at a moment’s notice.

It was a far cry from what the UNSC had been just nine years ago.

0005 HOURS, MARCH 22, 2561 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ALPHA RENDARA SYSTEM, UNSC WARHOUND

“Sir! The enemy fleet has just arrived in-system. Our scanners are registering over 300 tangos. They jumped in near the 5th planet of the system and are currently accelerating towards us,” the sensor operator reported as the AI MacArthur, whose avatar was more or less a perfect copy of the famed American general from the Second World War, confirmed the report and turned to Admiral White while the call to action stations rang throughout the ship.

“Range?” the Admiral simply asked.

“Three million, two hundred thousand kilometers and closing,” MacArthur replied, “They’ll be in effective range of our DEWs at 1,500,000 kilometers.” White already knew that, but MacArthur liked to remind him of ranges, an odd quirk resulting from the AI’s donor brain.

“Have the fleet form up around us in standard defensive posture; keep us between the base and the Republic fleet and launch our fighters, but have them stay in reserve for now. I want our bombers to remain in their hangars, lod up for anti-ship duties, full load of nukes, and to wait for my command.” White took a deep breath in and sighed. “All weapons charge to maximum power. Bring our acceleration to 30 G’s towards the enemy fleet. While they try to bridge the gap and come into their effective firing range, we’ll be able to fire on them with impunity. Open fire with our MACs first, let’s surprise them when we use our energy weapons.”

The Master Chief strode into the bridge. “Sir.” John crisply saluted, kitted out with an MA6 and a Spartan Laser. 

The Admiral returned the favor. “Master Chief, I don’t have a job for you right now. The bastards are most likely going to attempt to board the station and get their whitie tightie asses on the ground. However, as much as I know you want to be in the thick of it I need you to—”

MacArthur flashed into existence in front of Admiral White. “Sir, we have an incoming message from the Republic flagship, the Intrepid . It appears to be Admiral Tarkin, shall we respond?”

“Tarkin, eh?” Admiral White muttered under his breath. “Alright, put him on, I want to see what this monkey wants, face-to-face,” White commanded as he turned to face the viewscreen, the image of a Republic Admiral in a pristine grey uniform snapped onto the screen.

Venator-Class Star Destroyer Intrepid

Immediately after the fleet left hyperspace, the bridge of the Intrepid went into overdrive as the officers and the crewmembers scrambled to deliver the status of their enemies.

The fleet had exited hyperspace near a vomit colored gas giant. The enemy formation popped up on their sensors as Tarkin’s fleet moved out of the planet’s interference.

Aayla stood next to the Admiral along with Shaak Ti and Jax. The Admiral was giving orders for the fleet to form into two large wedges as the UNSC fleet came onto the scanners.

A crewman called out from his post in the pit of the bridge, “Admiral! We have eighty enemy ships on screen. They’re moving to intercept us!”

“Don’t they realize we outnumber them four to one?” Tarkin mumbled to no one in particular as he turned to the closest ensign. “Display their formation on screen.”

Aayla looked in childlike awe at the holo screen as the profiles of eighty UNSC warships came onto the screen.

Unlike ships of the Republic or the CIS, the UNSC warships seemed to be built for one thing and one thing only: High intensity combat.

They had few attractive lines, and some of them were almost ugly, yet they all looked like true weapons of war. They seemed to be rugged and optimized for warfare, any attractive lines were by accident as they looked to be designed more for getting the job done than looking good in propaganda. She was aware of some of their ship’s profiles, which happened to be their ‘frigates’ and ‘destroyers,’ but their larger warships were massive beasts plated with thick armor and covered with weapons.

Five of their large ‘heavy cruisers’ were about a hundred meters longer than a Venator. They seemed to have a more streamlined look than the other model of their ‘heavy cruisers’ which were about four hundred meters longer than a Victory.

The cruisers were overshadowed by four massive ships which were easily three thousand meters long, bigger than anything Tarkin had in his own fleet. Republic Intelligence believed the ships to be carriers. Unlike the Venator, this carrier looked more capable of charging into heavy combat by themselves.

But it was one ship that stood out from all of them.

It wasn’t the largest vessel in the fleet, a couple hundred meters shorter than their carriers, but unlike the carriers it was bristling with cannons. Hundreds upon hundreds of turrets stuck out of the ship’s blocky silhouette. Meters of armor made the craft almost look bloated.

It looked downright menacing and its position in the middle of the UNSC’s pyramidal formation clearly made it seem like the flagship.

“ By the Force, that thing is huge...” Aayla mumbled as the ships came closer to each other.

The UNSC starbase came into view, and it was undoubtedly ugly, with large modules attached together almost haphazardly and formed around a large central module that could easily fit an Acclamator, and beyond it was the UEG colony world.

It seemed to be an arid world, with vast prairies, large dry grasslands, and a few bodies of water. Aayla was stunned by this world. Life in another galaxy.

It was clear that the world was still developing, evident in the fact that the poles were covered in far more ice than a planet in the orbit of a class G star would have, which pointed to one thing.

“It seems our reports were true that the UEG is terraforming this world. It’s amazing how they are able to do it so quickly,” Shaak Ti said.

“I’m sure their scientists will do well under our guidance,” Tarkin said. If he had any doubts about his orders to attack this place then he sure didn’t show it.

Tarkin pointed at the holographic readout. “Hail that lead ship.”

Aayla couldn’t help but notice that they had unusually low power readings, some would assume that it was due to them being underpowered, but her gut told her they were able to mask their energy signatures, something that would give them an advantage if they were to suddenly charge their weapons. Aayla dreaded the thought that they had already powered up their weapons and were just waiting on an order to fire.

“Lead ship is connecting, establishing feed,” the comms officer called from his position in the pit.

Aayla, Shaak, Tarkin, and the rest of the port side bridge crew looked at the screen, eyes glued to it like a youngling seeing a holocartoon.

The bridge of the UNSC dreadnought was surprisingly small for a ship of its size, only about as large as those typically found on a single tower from a Venator. Its dull grey interior was offset by the myriad of holographic screens and crew at their stations, yet none of it seemed out of place.

Standing in the center of the screen was a broad shouldered man with a slightly olive skinned face which had a scar on the left cheek. The man wore a perpetual scowl like a mask and a white uniform, flowing with medals and ribbons. On top of his head perched a white cap. It had a short black bill emblazoned with the logo of the UNSC on it, its unique bird of prey clutching the Terran homeworld, Earth, in its talons and its wings outstretched, encrusted in gold.

The man also had a large pistol holstered on his side, but the man’s brown eyes gave a look that would kill just as fast.

Behind him, in what was most likely a captain’s chair, sat a man with darker skin who wore a less ornamental uniform. He too had a look of cool contemplation but she saw the burning hatred in his eyes.

Stranger still, was the figure that stood behind the Terran admiral.

The figure was massive, and it was covered in powerful green armor, its face concealed by a gold visored helmet.

She could sense something about it but she could not place her finger on it...

She internally gasped. Wait, could this be one of the Spartan supersoldiers? She got goosebumps from the thought.

Aayla had read about these ‘Spartans.’ When reading about the Covenant it was mentioned that there was a group of soldiers that were powerful enough to stop whole Covenant armies by themselves. Spartan supersoldiers were what they called them. Even the Sangheilli mentioned them, particularly one named the Master Chief, who almost single handedly ended the war himself.

Could this really be one of the Spartans?

Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin spoke up.

“I am Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin of the Republic Navy. I, under orders of the Chancellor of the Republic and the Galactic Senate, am to subdue you and your world. I have come to bring you the message that the Republic will not stand lightly with the UEG meddling in galactic affairs any longer. You have made yourself an enemy of the Galactic Republic and...”

The UNSC admiral cut him off.

“Listen here asshole . The UEG can take whatever action and whatever side it wants as a means of preserving itself. We are a sovereign nation. You have started the last two wars, the Clone Wars and this one. You are under the rule of a dictator and don’t even admit it. You and the Jedi start more conflicts than finish them and you believe you can set yourselves up as the policemen of the universe and enforce your will on others. Your presence in this system is an act of war, but we have been expecting you here for days now. Your fleet is a wet paper bag you know, and us ? We are the hot knife stabbing through. However, since I’m feeling merciful today, I’ll let you off with a warning, you leave now and I’ll start killing you when you’re back in your own galaxy.”

“You are outnumbered four to one.” Tarkin smugly boasted. “There’s simply no chance that you’ll win.”

“Like that matters.” The man countered. “We will show you how real war is fought, and when it is over your armies will burn, your slave soldiers will be set free and the Republic will be in shambles. This is your final warning.”

The screen cut out.

“Arrogant, isn’t he?” Jax noted, failing to realize the irony in his statement.

Tarkin turned to the crew. “That’s it then. All ships close to engage. Have all fighters prepare to launch.”

He turned to Aayla. “I may not be able to sense it through the Force, but I know that this will be a difficult battle, a victory nevertheless.”

UNSC Warhound

“All weapons charged, MAC capacitors throughout the fleet are ready, energy projectors are charged and the particle cannons are at one hundred percent. We are nearing the optimal range of our MAC systems, MAC firing solution ready. All singleships are away and are in a flanking position in orbit of the larger moon, we’re holding them in reserve for now and they’re at your command,” Captain Haithum reported as Admiral White tapped his foot in impatience.

“Sir, you were briefing me on my new orders...” Master Chief asked, reminding the Admiral.

“Right, sorry for the wait, Master Chief. You saw those Jedi and the Admiral correct? Odds are one of them will most likely be on the ship throughout the battle as an observer for that Admiral. After we duke it out ship to ship, I want you to board their flagship and attempt to take that Admiral Tarkin prisoner, or at the very least kill some of those Jedi. It would go a long way in demoralizing them, not to mention the intel that ONI could extract from them.”

The Spartan II Commando nodded as he replied simply. “You have booster frames in reserve?”

“Yes, we have a couple onboard just for you Spartans, and it would be perfect if you could just blast your way in there. If there’s a clear flight path, I’ll dispatch Marines to assist you in boarding action, but no guarantees.”

“Sir!” MacArthur called out as the AI’s color flashed to red for a second. “The enemy is in range at 1,500,000 kilometers and closing. We have firing solutions locked in throughout the fleet.”

Admiral White turned to look out of the bridge and gave out an order that would become infamous in history.

“Fire!”

Medusa-Class Battleship

Chapter Text

0557 Hours, 15:2:23 (GrS), Geonosis System, Geonosis, E’Y-Akh Desert

Boss could only faintly hear the roar of the LAAT/I’s engines from within its troop compartment as he donned his helmet. Boss looked around the interior of the gunship to see Delta Squad doing their final equipment check. Sev tucked another magazine into the bandolier slung across his chest. Fixer tapped a power pack into the side of his DC-17M while Scorch swung a backpack full of explosives around his shoulders and then slipped an AT grenade into his thigh compartment.

Boss’s visor polarized as he stared out the window to the never ending sea of sand, interspersed with mountains and mesas.

He hated this Force forsaken planet. They were back again after the bugs took it back. This was the first time he’d been here since the Battle of Geonosis. Many of his brothers were killed by Jedi incompetence on this planet. Even now more and more of them fell victim to the onslaught of the CIS military, fueled by the arrogance of the Jedi.

Kriffing Jedi. Worst thing that could happen to us clones was falling under their command , he thought.

His thoughts were cut short just as quickly as they had popped into his mind by Delta 42’s announcement, “We are approaching the insertion point, we are undetected.”

Boss and his team hooked onto the rappel line wordlessly and turned to face each other, their backs to the doors.

The doors opened, and the roar of the engines enveloped him. Even muffled by his helmet, they deafened any lingering thoughts. He looked to his right, and saw the spire quickly approaching.

He tightened his grip on the line, the engine no longer able to quell his frustration, and then loosened it, reminding himself that it was war, and they were bred to serve the Republic.

The gunship abruptly stopped and the lighting bathing the interior of the gunship turned from red to green. The commandos simultaneously rappelled out of troop bay. A motion practiced under Kal Skirata ever since they were strong enough to hold a rope. The moment they touched the ground, the ropes dropped and the gunship flew away.

They quickly secured the perimeter and scouted the area, scouring the base of the spire for an entrance in. Shortly after they found the vent which, according to their intel, led straight into the belly of the beast.

“Get to work on that vent, Scorch.”

“Got it Boss.” Scorch knelt next to it and started to slowly free the grate from the wall with his fusion cutter. Once satisfied with his handiwork, Scorch pried it out and tossed it into the sand. The duct was large enough that Delta Squad would only have to hunch over to fit into it.

“This reminds me of our bunks in the Prosecutor ,” Scorch said.

“Why? Because everyone can hear you when you’re trying to be sneaky on your snack trips?” Sev snorted.

“You guys could hear me?”

“Cut the chatter before the Geonosians hear you, Six-Two.” Fixer warned.

Delta Squad continued on without uttering another word with Boss on point.

Suddenly, Boss took a knee and held his fist up.

“What is it, Three-Eight?” Fixer whispered.

As if on cue, Geonosians swarmed under them by the thousands. Delta Squad didn’t move a muscle. All they could do was sit and watch, hoping the bugs wouldn’t notice them through the slits of the vent beneath their feet. Every muscle was clenched in Boss’s body while the swarm flew by, only relaxing after the last of them passed over.

After what seemed like eternity, Boss finally gave the order, “Let’s keep moving Deltas. We still have a ways to go.”

They hurried down the accommodating corridor until they finally reached the massive cavern which ran the length of the spire, five kilometers down beneath the sands and all the way up to touch the clouds.

“Those bugs sure love hollowing out rock, don’t they?” Scorch said.

“At least you’re the one who gets to blow it all up,” Sev complained.

“Stow it commandos, I’ve got a transmission incoming,” Boss ordered.

CC-01/425 began transmitting into their comms, “Deltas, your primary objective remains the same, plant explosives down this shaft and make your way to the top of the spire for extraction, but I hope you packed extra cable. Your new orders are to make your way down to the command center at the very core of the spire 3000 meters down. High Command needs you to slice the central mainframe. It holds information crucial to the war effort. You might have to forego stealth during that part of your infiltration. The control room is crawling with bugs. Your extraction window remains the same. Advisor out.”

“Geonosis was always my favorite place for life threatening situations,” Scorch said, whipping out his fusion cutter and melting through the vent in front of them. Now nothing stood between them and the interior of the spire.

“Maybe today is the day I get even with these vermin,” Sev said optimistically.

“Wasn’t one factory and a core ship enough for you?” Scorch said.

“A single clone is worth more than 20 Geonosians,” Sev replied.

“Scorch, I need those explosives primed, and double check them after you plant them. Sev and Fixer, let’s get these cables prepped,” Boss directed. Boss threw down a holoprojector. “Scorch, I need those charges at these key sections.” He pointed alongside fuel and power lines running the length of the spire. “When we reach the top, you’re going to blow the charge at my command. Understood?”

“Affirmative,” they said in unison. Scorch slumped the bulky backpack filled with enough explosives to level the Republic Senate building five times over onto the floor. One of the charges fell out and rolled to the edge of the shaft. Sev caught it before Scorch could grab it.

“And you’re supposed to be our explosive expert?” he chuckled while tossing it back to him. Scorch caught it mid-air and shot him a dirty glare underneath his helmet.

Delta Squad quickly got to work while Boss looked out for any snags in their mission.

“Alright Six-Two, the cables are all set, magseal is holding and the claws are dug in,” Fixer said.

“Charges are primed and ready for your orders Boss,” Scorch reported soon after.

“Alright Deltas, let’s move to the control center.” Boss hooked himself onto one of the cables and began his descent, followed by his other squadmates.

Delta Squad painstakingly shimmied down the side of the cavern until they came just above a window leading into the factory’s control center.

Boss looked towards his squadmates and gave the nod.

Delta Squad burst through the pane of glass, blasters blazing, demolishing the garrison of battle droids.

A Geonosian worker shrieked in terror before Sev burnt a hole through its face with his rifle. Fixer slashed through a stunned Geonosian that was manning a console with his vibroblade. Delta Squad quickly mopped up the rest of the helpless Geonosians with a combination of blaster fire and took defensive positions inside the room.

“By the book,” Fixer stated.

“Fixer, I need you on that terminal, now!” Boss ordered.

“Roger that sir!”

“Here they come!” Sev yelled as droids burst through the door.

“SBDs! Scorch, get a handle on them!” Boss commanded.

“Take this you metal monsters!” Scorch launched an anti-tank grenade through the hall, bouncing off the plating of one of the droids and into the ceiling. The lights flickered and Boss’s vision was soon obscured by dust, but the targeting computer in his helmet highlighted the B2 super battle droids in red. 

Sev blew one away; his sniper bolt went straight through its main photoreceptor while Scorch reloaded.

“Fixer, what’s the hold up?” Boss asked as he mag dumped into a B2.

“Almost…there… got it!” Fixer said, pulling out a data disk from the mainframe.

Scorch launched another AT grenade, collapsing the hallway and crushing the legs of a B2. The droid’s upper half tried to bring its weapon to bear but Boss put it down with a burst from his blaster.

“That should buy us some time,” Scorch said.

“We should really get out of here now Three-Eight,” Fixer said.

“Fixer’s right Boss, unless you want bugs all over us when we extract out of here,” Scorch suggested.

“Let’s move on then Deltas, I’ll call it in,” Boss said. Delta Squad hooked back onto their ascension cables and began sprinting up the side of the cavern. “This is Delta Squad, we have the data secured and are moving to the exfiltration point.”

“Copy that Deltas, I have a gunship moving there now. Don’t be late, Advisor out.”

Alarms sounded, Geonosians began swarming throughout the hive, flying out of every rocky orifice and filled the cavern with the echoes of their shrieks.

Boss pulled out his pistol and dispatched the ones closest to him, with Delta Squad following suit. Thankfully, it would be some time before the majority of the Geonosians realized exactly where they were.

The ascension wire pulled double duty as it cinched Boss and the rest of Delta Squad up the side of the wall at great speed. 

“Uhhhh sir, it looks like we’ve got a big problem heading towards us right now…” Scorch informed as the sides of the wall rattled and kicked up dust.

“Spider droids? Where did they come from?” Sev asked while nearly getting melted by one of them. A pair of A-DSDs climbed down from the sides of the spire while opening fire on the commandos.

“Scorch, I think it’s about time you rearrange some architecture!” Boss commanded.

Scorch procured a detonator from his belt. “You got it Boss.”

Scorch clicked it and a charge blew up above. Delta Squad wasted no time to evade the advancing walkers, who were wildly spraying bolts all over the cavern. Once inside the newly created exit, they slipped away from their sight into a dark maintenance access path.

“Looks like we have to get out the classic way, eh Sev?” Scorch said.

“No thanks to you,” Sev replied.

“This is Delta Squad to Advisor. We had a complication with our exfil. How long do we have to make it to the gunship? Does anyone respond? Blast! No signal,” Boss said.

“We have to be quick, before the Geonosians start finding the rest of Scorch’s gifts,” Fixer said.

“I hid them pretty well...” Scorch said.

“Let’s get a move on Deltas,” Boss ordered, feeling the trembling of the ground from the pursuing droids.

“You know those things were made to get into tight crawl spaces, right?” Scorch asked while picking up into a sprint.

“You’re just claustrophobic,” Sev teased.

“Then so were those miners on Vyrumm,” Scorch defended.

“Don’t worry, they’ll only be able to send in infantry, or those smaller models,” Fixer assured.

“Oh great, the makings of an ambush,” Scorch moaned.

“We don’t have time to get to the top of the spire, we have to go out the way we came in,” Fixer observed.

“That’s a great way to get ambushed. They’ll be expecting us there,” Scorch predicted.

“It’s the best shot we have of blowing this factory. Let’s go,” Boss bluntly interjected.

000

Boss took cover behind a pipe and shoved a new charge pack into his rifle. “Scorch! How much longer?”

“I’m almost done!” Scorch said while setting another explosive on the wall.

Sev grunted while his shields absorbed a glancing hit from a DSD1 climbing on the side of the cramped tunnel while B1 battle droids brought up the rear. “Hurry up, Scorch!”

“Clear!” Scorch said as he blasted a hole into the wall, creating the desperately needed escape route.

Delta Squad rushed out of the dead end and into the ventilation shaft that they used to enter the spire. 

They sprinted out of the shaft and made it their initial infiltration point. The sun shone harshly into their helmets and impaired their vision for a split second. After the shine of the sun was cleared from their vision by their polarizing visors, they noticed they were surrounded by a ring of droids.

Fixer gulped. “Looks like they were waiting for us.”

“I told you so,” Scorch said.

“I knew this mission would be fun,” Sev said.

“It isn’t over yet,” Boss said, determined.

Boss, Fixer, Scorch, and Sev readied their blasters and stared at the droids, seemingly hesitant to open fire.

Out of nowhere, a gunship shot out of the sky and obliterated the droids with a barrage of laser fire and missiles.

“Good ol’ Forty-two,” Sev said.

“Thanks for the assist Four-Two,” Boss said.

The gunship landed in front of the squad, doors opened. “My pleasure,” he simply responded.

Delta Squad loaded into the bay. The doors closed and the gunship shot out of the atmosphere off into space.

“Blow it Scorch,” Boss commanded.

Scorch grinned under his helmet and set off the explosives. The fireball travelled throughout the entirety of the spire, and boomed throughout the desert, collapsing the spire and destroying the factory underneath.

“Mission accomplished Deltas,” the Advisor congratulated. “You’re to report directly back to Chancellor Palpatine with the data. Don’t mention the data to General Zey.”

“Roger that Advisor. Delta Squad out.”

0836 Hours, 15:3:1 (GrS), Coruscant, Special Operations Brigade HQ

“That mission was crucial to the Republic war effort. You and your men did an outstanding job on Geonosis.” Jedi Master Alrigan Zey commended Boss, who had just gotten done with his mission debriefing.

“Thank you sir. What’s my team’s next set of orders?”

“This is a very special assignment, Commando. You’re going to the Milky Way.”

Chapter Text

Image Credit: Russell G. Chong

That last chapter was just filler to get something out there, I was really busy in school and that’s sadly all I managed to write out.

Without further ado, the next chapter.

0018 Hours, 15:3:22 (GrS), Venator-Class Star Destroyer Intrepid

“Sir, we will be in optimal range for our heavy turbolasers at one hundred fifty thousand kilometers in three minutes and thirty seconds,” the weapons officer reported as Tarkin nodded.

Technically speaking, the DBY-827 heavy turrets could attack targets much further out, but the fact that the targeting computers were not designed to establish positive locks that far away, no thanks to those cost cutting bishwags employed at KDY and LeGrange, meant they took a lot longer to destroy enemy warships, even when used at full power since energy only dissipates with distance. Even then, turbolaser bolts were relatively slow and an enemy would easily be able to dodge the brunt of a salvo from that far out.

Because of those facts, most warships of the home galaxy used massed weapon strikes to destroy opponents, with a combination of heavy turbolasers and lighter weapons to overwhelm shields. It was not common practice to engage at long range, to do so would mean all power would need to be shunted to the turbolasers; though they would be far more powerful, they drew power away from other critical sections of the ship in order to fire effectively. With longer ranges added in, accuracy counted much more (but any crewman worth his credits could manually zero them in within a few volleys). At ranges like these, it was not unheard of nor rare for small, maneuverable craft to be able to dodge blaster cannons.

"Sir! Energy levels in the UNSC fleet are skyrocketing, they are about to fire!" a bridge officer screeched.

"From this range!? How can they hit us from that far away!?" Tarkin demanded.

"Enemy ships firing!"

Aayla looked on the holoscreen to see energy coalesce for a split second on the bows of the UNSC ships, some with one ball of energy and others with several, the flagship with four, before yellow streaks of light shot out from the enemy ships.

"128 large projectiles incoming in six seconds!" the sensor officer screamed.

"Take evasi-"

The Admiral didn’t get to finish his command as the MAC rounds thrashed the Republic fleet.

The result of 600 and 900 ton tungsten slugs slamming into the fleet at a quarter of the speed of light was catastrophic.

The Acclamators that got hit had had their hulls gutted by the MAC rounds, their shields seemingly doing nothing to stop the carnage; fragments of their broken and shattered triangular hulls were launched into the void, to become little more than a scrapper’s next paycheck.

The Victorys hardly did any better, some had their shields drained, others were hit multiple times; the bridge sections shearing off, reactor cores pierced and detonated, one was split in two right down the middle.

The larger star destroyers were shown to be superior to their screens and escorts, taking two or so direct hits to take down the shields, although it seemed that they were intentionally singled out. Several received a barrage of three or even four slugs, leaving seven Venators destroyed outright, three more were so badly damaged they needed to abandon ship, and two of the Imperators were destroyed.

Even the Intrepid itself was hit. One round slammed into the ship, the shields dropped to ten percent and shook the ship with such force that everyone was thrown to the floor, warning klaxons immediately blaring in response. The Terrans seemingly ignored the smaller escort ships screening the star destroyers.

"What in the nine Corellian hells did they hit us with?" Tarkin exclaimed while recovering as Aayla helped Shaak Ti off of the deck.

"S-sir, it appears we were hit b-by an advanced mass driver of sorts," an officer sputtered out.

Tarkin cursed. "What are the casualties?"

"By the Force..." the officer muttered. “We lost forty six ships in that attack sir. Two Imperators, seven Venators, twelve Victorys, twenty one Acclamators, and four Dreadnaughts, most of them with all hands."

At that, Aayla felt the lives of those lost through the force, thousands upon thousands of miserable souls dying. Never had she felt the loss of so many men in a single strike.

This is the real war they had been talking about.

Tarkin straightened himself out. "I want all ships to shunt all available power to their heavy turbolasers and bolster their forward particle shields. Divert power from our ray shields, it seems that these primitives haven’t the knowledge to make energy weapons." Tarkin tried to regain some of his crew’s confidence, and perhaps some of his own.

"Aye aye sir,” multiple officers promptly responded as a wave of ARC-170's shot by the twisted metal scrap heap that was once the Venator Basilisk , breaking up from the secondary explosions ripping through its interior.

Tarkin simply grunted, unaffected by the macabre scene of scrap and crewmen floating outside the bridge’s windows. "Range?"

"245,000 kilometers and closing."

Aayla could sense the panic and fear tingeing the crew's thoughts, pushed away by their military training and ceaseless drill.

Looking out the bridge window, she realized she had become used to being able to see the starships opposing you in battle.

Here, against the glistening backdrop of space, there were no signs that there was someone trying to kill you at all. The battle, for now, was taking place far out of range, and the Republic had yet to get a shot in.

Then as she was looking out at the location of the UNSC fleet, the Force warned her of yet more danger.

“Admiral, radiation levels in the fleet are spiking!”

Suddenly 51 fine bluish beams of energy reached out at the fleet, striking them near instantaneously.

Two of the beams struck one of the leading Imperators, the Casbonore.

The first beam immediately depleted its already weakened shields, one of the shield domes blew out from the stress.

That left the second beam to hit a moment after, slicing into the ship’s hull, burning clean through the armor in split seconds, piercing straight through the reactor and coming out of the rear engine section. The once mighty warship exploded outwards in a brilliant flash of light that caused Aayla to shield her eyes.

Dozens of beams swatted the smaller escort ships down; two Dreadnaughts were obliterated, an Arquitens was disabled, and ten Acclamators ceased to exist.

Two beams simultaneously sliced through a Venator, others struck a Victory and another Venator, all of them either violently detonating, or in the case of the second Venator, lethal radiation from the beam immediately killed all on board, turning the ship into a gargantuan paper weight.

UNSC Warhound

"Twenty-seven more kills, energy projectors on the Warhound and the carriers are recharging and will be ready to fire again in five minutes," MacArthur listed off while Admiral White began to strategize his next move.

“Focus all our fire on their capital ships,” White commanded. “If they get close to us, their guns will chew us apart.”

Although the secondary batteries could hold their own in a knife fight, the main batteries on the Republic ships would wreak havoc on his fleet.

White needed to keep range with them, but the speed at which the two fleets were closing in on each other made it impossible. He would have to get off at least one more MAC salvo to stand a chance of winning this battle.

Even if he did get that salvo off, he was outgunned in the coming broadside and it would be awhile until he could recharge his energy weapons.

Although the situation was dire, Admiral White had a plan. After the next MAC salvo, he would split the fleet up into 2 groups, one going ‘up’ on the y-axis below the Republic fleet and one below, running a gauntlet of fire with MACs, secondary coilguns or railguns, missiles, and energy weapons. Once the battlegroups intersected each other, they would retreat away from the colony and regroup.

Then, the opposing fleets would turn back around on each other to try and fire on their opponent’s rear, granted they remained on their current projected trajectories, but the outcome all depended on who pulled it off first.

Due to the nature of the Republic's weaponry, he would be under almost constant fire at every moment while his own fleet would be unable to engage with their primary MACs as they turned to fire upon the Republic ships, being relegated to their much less powerful secondary batteries and missiles.

However, he was almost certain the Republic would use the opportunity to engage the space station, it would be defenseless save for its measly fighter complement and whatever point defense weapons it had until he could double back to the planet.

He did see a solution though.

He would use his fighters and bombers to harass the enemy and draw out a portion of their fleet and destroy it if he got the chance. He would then use the fourth planet of the system, the large gas giant which went by the names of Alpha Rendara IV or ‘T7,’ to slingshot himself around so he could have a clear shot at the Republic fleet no matter where they were, unless they made the mistake of following him, which was what he wanted them to do anyway.

The more he spread them apart, the easier it would be for him to pick apart the fleet and make up for his numbers.

He just had to do enough damage in the early game, then the endgame would be a walk in the park

Relatively speaking at least.

"MAC guns at seventy percent charge. Ready to fire in thirty seconds.”

Intrepid

The decks of the ship shook. Its engines were being pushed to the redline as it closed distance with those responsible for the deaths of thousands of Republic sailors and soldiers.

"It was some sort of fine plasma, travelling near the speed of light!" a crewman called out to Tarkin.

"What is its weakness?" Tarkin asked, staring blankly at the fleet before him. 

He still wasn’t impressed, and if he was he certainly was doing his best to hide it. If he showed any fear or uncertainty, his crew would lose faith in him and his ability to win the battle.

The most he could do was tap his foot on the deck and gaze impatiently out of the window. The heavy turrets were fully charged and began to rotate to meet the UNSC fleet which was now a gathering of twinkling lights 240,000 kilometers away.

"Sir, simply due to the nature of those weapons, it takes a long time and a large amount of power to charge up and fire. It appears only their larger ships are equipped with such weapons," a crewman reported.

"Our turbolasers are almost within range and will be ready to fire in ten seconds."

Tarkin clenched his fist. "Have the fleet fire all at once in concentrated volleys as soon as they are able."

“Entering range in seven, six—The enemy fleet is firing!"

Again, 128 MAC slugs slammed into the fleet, taking even more out of the fight in fantastic displays of raw, unadulterated kinetic energy.

However, thanks to Tarkin’s orders to focus the particle shields to the front, only 32 ships, 11 Acclamators, 12 Victorys and 9 Venators, were destroyed, leaving the fleet's strength at 205 combat ships.

Tarkin finally lost his cool and calm composure, evident as Aayla felt raw anger and hate brewing up in his mind.

"Fire!" Tarkin spat, throwing his fist down onto one of the bridge’s window sills.

Thousands of bright green and blue plasma bolts and laser beams flung out from the fleet towards the UNSC lines, which had split into two groups of 40 ships apiece.

Some of the bolts missed their mark, but most of them struck the UNSC ships.

The UNSC's shields, unlike those of the home galaxy, were believed to be a combination of ray and particle shields, made up of a field of energized particles, arranged in thousands of connecting octagonal sections in an oval-spheroid shape around the vessel. They were more powerful than those of the Republic, that was for sure. After all, they had been built to take hits from Covenant weapons.

But they could still only withstand so much power.

Each bolt or beam carried at least a megaton of energy. 

The shields of the UNSC vessels flared brilliant gold as they were struck with plasma and lasers. More and more Terran vessels no longer shone their golden light, indicating that their shields had given out, leaving their armored hulls to take the punishment.

The cruisers and carriers tried their best to take the brunt of the barrage, but they couldn’t shield all of the frigates and destroyers.

6 frigates exploded as the bolts pounded through the titanium battleplate, devastating the interior of the ships.

The heavier destroyers fared better, their thicker armor lasting longer, but still four destroyers were hulled and shattered. One destroyer rolled out of the formation, belching flame from its engine compartment.

The cruisers and capital ships were all intact, save for a Marathon who fell victim to two vengeful Imperators. Both focused all their firepower at it until its shields cracked and its center was blown open by thousands of direct hits. Secondary explosions cascaded from it while escape pods hastily launched away from it.

The crew of the Intrepid cheered as volley after volley impacted across the grey hulls of the Terren vessels.

Then the UNSC fired back with their secondary armaments.

Hundreds of bolts the same yellow hue as their spinal cannons shot out from the distant ships.

Tarkin’s ship shook. The stressed shield generator struggled to keep up with the damage being taken.

Even Aayla was beginning to be concerned that even if the ship held up against the barrage, it would shake itself apart maneuvering afterwards.

The enemy was concentrating its fire on only a few ships at a time, but every ship received harassing attacks from one or two Terran batteries. Eight  more ships were tallied off from the bombardment. Three Venators, two Victorys, and an Imperator were left with nothing more than burnt shells of metal

The eighth ship, an Acclamator, had fallen prey to the UNSC flagship. No less than two dozen of those weapons brought down its shields and turned its bridge and engine block to scrap.

Aayla was surprised at this whole ordeal, never had she seen two fresh fleets thrash each other about like this.

The battle was turning into a slugfest, the two sides were trading blows left and right. Even with a 3-to-1 advantage, a Republic victory was still unassured.

Aayla watched in curiosity as the Terran fleet separated into two groups; one passed ‘above’ the Republic fleet and the other ‘below.’

Fortunately for Aayla and Tarkin, twelve more UNSC ships were taken out during the maneuver, left to drift aimlessly with the only marker of their presence the fires raging throughout their hulls and metal plating melting off.

Tarkin cursed aloud at the simple design of the Republic ships. The Terran fleet passing below his own was only receiving a couple of volleys since nearly all of their main guns were on the dorsal hull.

Tarkin highlighted an Imperator battlegroup on the display. "Have this element spin on their axis to bring their weapons to bear on the cluster beneath them. Ready the fleet to fire all of their proton torpedoes and concussion missiles at once. That will be the decisive blow to cripple their fleet." He commanded.

The weapon's officer carried out his orders in a sense of wonder.

It was strange for that many missiles and torpedoes to be fired in one barrage, but it would be the end of the battle should Tarkin’s gambit prove successful. A single torpedo or missile, being as monstrously sized as they were, would certainly cripple any Terran vessel with a hit to a critical compartment.

UNSC Warhound

"Dammit we can’t get this close to them! They are chewing us apart!" Admiral White cursed. He slammed his fist down onto one of the computer stations while another volley slammed into the unshielded side of his flagship. White’s teeth rattled from the hull’s constant shuddering.Turbolasers began to eat away at its thick armor belt. To prevent one side from taking too much damage, the nearly three kilometer long warship rotated to even out the effects, like a piece of corn on the cob.

The enemy fleet was wisely orienting itself to bring its full firepower to bear.

“I want our secondary batteries nailing those ships, yesterday dammit!” White proclaimed. The Spitfire and Sentry coilguns had been a staple of space combat since the Insurrection, and White hoped it would give him the edge when it came to volume of fire, or at least even the odds.

The Mark 15 Breakwater turrets were an entirely different beast, a single slug from the Mark 15 could gut an unshielded frigate from stem to stern.

Both fleets would soon be exchanging broadsides as soon as the Republic fleet was fully orientated. Things were going to get really nasty really quick.

Finally, the heavy naval coilgun batteries opened up. The triple-barreled turret of one of the Warhound ’s Breakwater guns decimated a Dreadnaught-type heavy destroyer, the rounds striking the engine block, midsection, and bridge of the ship simultaneously. The entire fleet soon did the same, pounding away at Republic vessels with their weapons.

"VAMPIRE! VAMPIRE! Missiles inbound!" an ensign announced, with a few hundred missiles swarming towards the beleaguered UNSC fleet.

Admiral White cocked his eyebrows at the small number of missiles they had fired, as well as how much slower they were than his own Archers, which had already achieved their own targeting lock.

Little did the Republic know, the UNSC ships were over-equipped, to say the least, to deal with such a threat. Though they had little use during the Human-Covenant War due to the nature of the Covenant's plasma technology, they still knew how deadly missiles could be. Even the Covenant did, as their ships were also equipped with highly advanced, highly effective point defense.

As the missiles neared their targets, each ship receiving at least a dozen missiles apiece, the already activated point defense guns seemed to come alive and, in a split-second, swung around violently and began tracking their targets, aided by shipboard AI.

Once the missiles closed the distance to 5,000 kilometers out, a hair’s breadth away in space, mere seconds, if not less, away from hitting their targets, each cannon began spitting out high-explosive incendiary and flak rounds of various calibers at a rate of over 5,000 rounds a minute with pinpoint accuracy. With the rounds filling the space around the UNSC vessels with thousands of tiny explosions, they either scored direct hits, shattering the missiles, or the exploding flak casing of the shells took them out.

As fast as it began, it was over, the point defenses stopped firing and the Republic missiles were gone, not a single one made it to their targets.

"No losses sir." Captain Haithum informed Gregory as another of his cruisers took a beating from a broadside of laser fire.

"Fire portside Archers, pods 1 through 80! Have the fleet follow suit. Line up our ships for another MAC barrage," he snarled. With a fiery passion for destruction, a smirk creeped up the side of his lips. “Captain Haithum.”

“Yes sir?”

“Prep some Shivas. Let’s give them a warm welcome.” It had been a long time since he’d been allowed to bring those out.

Haithum nodded and smiled a little as well. “Aye sir!”

Intrepid

"Not one made it through?" Tarkin asked as the ship vibrated again from another volley of its cannons, its shock absorbers having been damaged in the fighting.

"No sir, not one. The point defenses on those ships are something out of a fighter jockey's nightmare. They’re quick. Very rapid fire cannons that have unheard of accuracy. They took down our missiles in under a second," an officer informed him.

Tarkin growled; he had expended most of his fleet’s missiles in an attempt to overwhelm the UNSC defenses to no avail. Now they would have to reload the torpedo tubes and try again. "Bring us about and..."

"Sir! A MASSIVE amount of missiles are launching from the enemy flagship!"

Tarkin stared in awe at the flashes of light before him.

"Point defenses up now!" he barked, turning around fast enough to make a fighter maneuvering in space look trivial.

He stared intently at the incoming onslaught, as if it would make a difference.

“Sir! Radiation levels spiking!”

Tarkin puckered up in anticipation for another particle beam, but was almost relieved to hear what came next, “It appears they’ve launched… nuclear missiles!?”

Tarkin sneered. Nukes hadn’t been used in the galaxy since the Mandalorian Wars, although this wasn’t Tarkin’s galaxy. While primitive, Tarkin recognized the threat they could pose. At least they wouldn’t be as nearly devastating as those energy weapons.

“Truly barbaric…” he muttered. “Put all power into the shields and defensive weapons, we mustn’t let them hit us!”

The sides of the UNSC battleship seemed to disappear in a sweeping line of flame and smoke before one thousand missiles began screaming at his fleet.

"Holy makers..." Tarkin said, almost as if he was admiring the UNSC’s handiwork as the missiles closed in at frightening speeds.

The 52 point defense weapons on the Venators opened up, complemented by the smaller flak guns and lighter laser cannons; they gave everything they had to try to stop the onslaught.

The Venator’s defensive measures were slow and sluggish compared to the Terran designs. The fire control systems were part organic control aided by various instruments, and part computer controlled, but still a hundred thousand times slower than the dumb AI that controlled the UNSC weapons.

The Imperator’s point defense was even more lacking, only 40 point defense guns on its slightly larger frame.

The dark expanses of space suddenly lit up like a Life Day celebration. Thousands of laser bolts and fiery plumes filled the sky, taking the place of fireworks and light displays.

Missiles fell by the dozens, but the sheer speed and number of them, coupled with the severe lack of Republic countermeasures, meant most of them would hit. A grim reality Tarkin would have to deal with.

700 of them had been shot down, including some of the nukes, but there were still thousands that were sure to hit.

Three of the missiles slammed into the recharging shields of the Intrepid , which held, but it was still enough to shake the entire ship, a reminder for the crew to stay on their toes.

Then, one of the nuclear missiles hit his ship.

The entire ship shuddered from the might of the blow, crew members were shaken and thrown about from their stations, the shields having been completely sucked dry and the outer armor plating melted away to reveal the inner layers of durasteel.

Tarkin was lucky; had there been just a little more damage, his ship would’ve been crippled, or worse, destroyed.

Several of the Acclamators took damage, and a Victory had 200 meters of its bow blown open by three direct hits. A nuke hit an already damaged Venator, piercing through the reactor, causing the whole ship to erupt in a gargantuan fireball, vaporizing the ship and its surrounding escort craft.

A different Venator was hit diagonally, cutting straight through from where the bridge met the hull into the engines, killing it dead in the water.

Tarkin looked frantically at the state of his once proud fleet, now being battered around by primitives.

Those nukes were something never seen before; not even the Mandalorians had fielded something that powerful in their arsenal all those eons ago.

"More missiles are incoming! The entire fleet is firing! Radioactive signatures detected!" an ensign desperately called out.

Tarkin looked wildly at the sensor screen and felt his jaw drop as the screen stuttered trying to process the mass of munitions coming towards his fleet; it turned into two large walls of red icons on his sensor array.

Aayla could feel the panic in the crew rise dramatically, even she herself felt quite nervous. It was truly unheard of for a fleet to be armed with this many missiles, let alone fire them, not even a Victory carried that many.

“Cycle the shields! NOW!” Tarkin boomed.

Every weapon the fleet had begun to fire as fast as they could. Even passing starfighters tried to shoot them down, but they kept coming. With their speed, there simply wasn’t much time to react.

The saturation strike began to rain down on the fleet. The Archer missiles slammed into hulls and shields to detonate their explosive warheads.

It was chaos.

Ships’ shields began collapsing from hundreds of hits, only to suffer nearly a hundred more, blowing off armor plating, blasting through decks, and turning hulls into craterous debris fields.

Eleven more ships went off of the screen. The bow shields of the Intrepid took thirty direct hits and collapsed, and the next swarm of missiles screamed in after them, despite the hundreds of laser bolts aimed at them. They were persistent little munitions thanks to the engineers at Misriah Armories.

Dozens of missiles slammed into the Venator at breakneck speed. The armor did its job, for a time. But it could only do so much before it was blown away and the boundaries of its protection had been broken. The missiles tore into the ship, like a flensor on fresh kill. Deck upon deck began to become exposed to the vacuum of space as one missile glided gracefully, yet also brutally, into the prominent hangar doors, damaging them enough to seal them shut, the mechanism malfunctioning and destroying itself.

Another Terran nuke obliterated an Acclamator, the compromised reactor combined with the explosion made it look as if someone came down to create a new star.

Aayla felt tremors through the force, taking the wind out of her momentarily, having to grasp onto an adjacent beam before regaining her composure. Shaak Ti also felt it, a newfound headache dawning on her.

"Hull breaches on decks eleven and two, blocks three and ten are compromised! Sealing airlocks!" an officer listed off, panic rising in his voice.

Another officer announced, “Fires in sections seven through thirteen! Vent them out!”

Chaos broke out on the bridge; their nerves came to a boiling point. The Terran missiles had been a morale killer. Arguments and fear soon came to the surface.

“You can’t vent those sections into vacuum, fire suppression and medical teams are already on station!”

“Those fires are spreading towards the main reactor, if any-“

Another Venator cracked under the pressure of the UNSC assault while transmissions throughout the fleet made their way into the Intrepid ’s bridge.

Aayla got the attention of Tarkin, “I’m going to get out there to lead the starfighters. The Force is calling me.”

Tarkin scoffed at her, but let her through nonetheless. She wasn’t of much use being cooped up in the bridge. 

“I’ll stay here, Admiral,” Shaak Ti said. She was going to advise Tarkin, whether he wanted her to or not. “Admiral, it would be wise to consolidate our remaining forces.”

“Yes, yes, very well Master Jedi,” Tarkin said as another MAC round hit square on with an Acclamator, completely stopping it in its tracks relative to the rest of the fleet.

"Three missiles are incoming directly to the portside hull!" an ensign screeched out, quieting the chaos by adding to it.

Tarkin spun around to the window to see the dedicated point defense turrets for the bridge area firing as fast as they could, immediately knocking two out of the fight.

The remaining missile had been at a vector that was going to bring it straight through a gap in the shield, right before it would recharge.

Tarkin realized what they were heading for.

"It’s going to hit the flight ops bridge!" he yelled as the missile blew through the stream of defensive fire.

It was too late for the missile to be stopped.

The UNSC missile hit the other bridge directly, crashing through the transparisteel windows before detonating.

Tarkin was thrown violently to the ground, slamming his back onto a console and then slumping over.

Fire engulfed the opposite bridge, which was relatively useless at that moment considering the main hangar bay was disabled. Debris and gore drifted through space, the body of a clone marine hitting a bridge window before being pushed away.

Smoke filled the command deck. Alarms wailed and the fire suppressant systems came online.

Coughing, Tarkin got to his feet. He spat into a cloth he had kept with him.

The portside of the tower was now nothing more than a blackened, twisted ruin, the top of the flight ops bridge had completely sheared off. Debris began to drift out of the ruin. Burnt and mangled bodies floated out, many missing limbs and large swathes of their torsos. It was a visceral scene; one of the crewmembers aboard the Intrepid would go on to receive a holophoto award for his picture of the devastation.

What most people fail to grasp, is that being hit doesn’t necessarily matter in ship to ship combat, but rather, where. The Intrepid could afford to be hit in the hangar for example, but a blow to the tibanna magazines or the reactor near the core of the ship would spell disaster for Tarkin. The hit on the tower was not a crippling blow, but would severely hamper operation of the ship’s fighter complement.

"Redirect the flight ops for our fighters to the Executrix . What is the status of the fleet?" Tarkin sternly asked.

"We lost thirty four ships in total, and nearly every ship received damage." The officer choked on the noxious fumes being sucked out by the ventilation system; thank the Force that was still working.

“And what of the enemy?” Tarkin asked, undeterred by the heavy losses the enemy had inflicted.

"The enemy fleet has lost six ships and is still in engagement distance, but they’ll be out of range in sixty seconds." 

"Have all ships target at their own discretion, but keep course for the space station and their colony. Thirty ships shall break off and pursue the enemy fleet. We will need to harass the enemy, so that they will stay off our backs during the landing," Tarkin ordered as the ship shuddered again, this time from one of the smaller railguns mounted on the Terran ships.

UNSC Warhound

"That’s thirty four more confirmed kills. Those missiles and nukes really did wonders on them. That bought us time. Continue the full broadside with our secondary pulse lasers, railguns, and coilguns until we leave their effective range. We need to get them to break their fleet into two. Both of our fleet elements will enter a slingshot orbit of the gas giant T7, but one will enter at negative thirty degrees and the other at positive thirty degrees relative to the planet and our current plane. With any hope, we’ll catch them in a pincer," Admiral White broadcasted, informing the remaining UNSC ships. 

He wanted to exploit the flaws in Republic ship design as much as possible. By staying under the Republic ships, he could avoid the punishment of their main guns.

The void was illuminated by combat. Some of the fighters which had been called out of reserve darted from one place to another. Republic craft had no chance of getting close to the UNSC fleet, being caught between ace pilots and point defenses, still effective even when having been restricted to kinetic slugs to avoid friendly fire.

The Republic point defenses were no match for the quick and nimble UNSC craft. A Longsword bombing run dealt a final crippling blow to a Venator, brilliantly exploding into a million pieces of debris. Five other ships had fallen to similar attacks.

"Sir! The Republic fleet is turning about on our second element!" Captain Haithum announced.

The overcharged strikes from the heavy turbolasers of the enemy fleet pounded the remaining fifty-two ships with burning intensity, including the Warhound herself as she received the attention of no less than two of the Imperators, a Venator, and the enemy flagship itself, which was out for Terran blood. 

The ship rocked and groaned as the shields struggled to hold back and absorb the power of hundreds of megatons of firepower thrashing into it. It was a testament to decades of experience in ship design and space combat that the Warhound was still functional.

The energy projectors and other secondary batteries hastily returned fire, bringing the shields on one of the remaining six Imperators down. Two plasma beams cut clean through the hull, like a hot pair of scissors cutting through a stick of butter.

The carcass of the ship drifted off, before a tibanna gas store catastrophically exploded.

The shields of the mighty battleship could not hold back all of the turbolaser fire, and several salvos made it through, but thanks to the immensely thick armor the damage was minimal, until one lucky turbo laser blast from the Imperator Executrix found the one of the dual particle cannon turrets and promptly turned it into slag. A large secondary explosion blew out an adjacent observation deck, killing dozens of UNSC personnel.

White cursed as he regained his footing. Off in the distance, a Gibraltar’s ammunition rack cooked off under fire which, despite the hundreds of countermeasures and precautions, caused a chain reaction throughout the whole ship, destroying it entirely.

Nevertheless, his flagship was throwing everything it had at the enemy, scoring a clean hit on the engine block of one of the Venators with a Breakwater salvo coupled with an energy projector blow, blowing half of the sublight thrusters off. The Venator slewed off of its course, until it eventually was able to recover. The Warhound finished it off with a combined Spitfire and Sentry coilgun barrage, chipping away at the armor plating of the Venator until it was dead in the water.

The rest of his fleet was not as fortunate as his own ship.

He watched as one of the massive Concordia carriers from the second group was bisected, followed by a titanic explosion. The culprits of this act being the combined fire of four Imperators and three Victorys.

"We are leaving their effective range now. We lost twelve ships; we’re down to half strength, sir," MacArthur grimly stated.

"More than I expected.” Admiral Gregory White had learned not to let losses affect him, to always continue the fight. “Keep on this course at full burn. Call up the fighters and bombers to regroup. I want seventy-five percent of our fighters to punch a hole through the enemy fighter screen so our bombers have a straight shot at their ships, while the rest will maintain a defensive screen."

The Republic fighters had been trounced by their UNSC counterparts in every engagement and were simply no match for the UNSC point defenses; their shields did little to stop the weapons.

The Admiral looked on the display to see his fleet’s fighters and bombers, a little battered from the fighting, turn to face a tidal wave of enemy fighters.

The main Republic force was heading straight for SDB5, which began to pound away with its own defenses, and to his ire, five assault ships were setting course to enter Cienna’s orbit and land troops.

There were now only 146 enemy warships left; he still was outnumbered over three-to-one and with the Punic supercarrier battlegroup still half a day out at best, he had to hold fast, though he was impressed, surprised even, with how his forces had performed.

"Enemy fighters are nearing long range missile range of our fighters," the Warhound ’s wing commander reported. He was leading the fighters’ charge. "We will hopefully take them by surprise with our missiles and thin their numbers out before we have to dogfight them. Zero-G maneuvers will give us a major advantage. We have superior speed, weapons, and maneuverability but they have pure numbers. We will do our best, sir."

Of course Admiral White already knew that from the intelligence briefing, but the Admiral saluted the pilot nonetheless, "Good luck son."

MacArthur called to Admiral White, "Sir, the enemy is launching boarding craft and escort fighters towards the station. Their defenses are holding for now, but they will eventually get through. Their Marine combat teams are all green to go. They have multiple defensive positions set up in chokepoints throughout the station."

White shook his head in approval as the intercom buzzed again, and the image of the Master Chief came on screen, the Spartan-II supersoldier preparing his booster frame.

"Sir, when do you want me to launch?" he asked plainly.

"I need you to launch once our fighters clear you a path to slip through; though I am sure you could do it on your own, I'd rather be sure to not have humanity’s savior to be taken out by a plasma burst. Our slingshot orbit will greatly accelerate you upon exit," he replied.

"Yes sir. I’m ready, just give me the order." Sierra-117 responded.

“Understood, I’ll notify you when to launch. Admiral White, out.” The Admiral saluted the Master Chief before closing communications.

Admiral White would have to play the final moments of the battle perfectly if he were to win this. He could not afford to make a single mistake and needed all the luck in the world. He took this small respite to light up a Sweet William cigar. Although it was against UNSC regulations, there were fortunately no stuck-up officials to tell him what to do in the middle of combat.

"Sir! The enemy fleet fell for it! They are sending 30 ships to pursue us!" the sensor officer called out giddily.

White gave a cunning grin.

"We’ll catch them in a pincer, above and below. They’ll be easy picking for our MACs and nukes. Have our point defenses cycle their ammo blocks and reload their magazines. Keep the other coilgun batteries warmed up and I want our Rapier and Howler missile pods to stay hot, start rearming the Archers too. It’s a long haul after we get out of our slingshot, gentlemen."

Eta-2 Starfighter

"General, we have a sensor lock on the enemy fighters as well as visuals from our starfighters," clone flight leader Red 1 called from the cockpit of his ARC-170.

Aayla raced towards the oncoming UNSC fighters, who were charging headlong at them faster than her own interceptor, a humbling experience.

The Force was tingling at Aayla’s spine, telling her of an upcoming attack, but they were not in range yet, and after the losses of the fleet, her sense was flooded not only by a growing cloud of the dark side, but from the suffering souls of the dead and dying.

Snapping her concentration back on the mission at hand, she answered Red 1, "Sync our displays."

“Copy that, General.”

Her HUD’s screen enlarged to show a menacing, almost pitch black fighter. It had a long and sharp beak, the fighter was about thirty meters long in total. Two massive engines housed in nacelles took up half of the length of the fighter nested inside the thick angular wings, two small canards at the leading edge of the nacelles, and with two tail fins that were angled toward each other.

The most prominent features were the lack of a noticeable cockpit, the size of the fighters, and, aside from their tremendous speed, the visible weapon hardpoints loaded with whatever the Terran version of a concussion missile was.

"Looks like the intel was right this time boys, looks like they’re using a holosystem to look outside alright," Red 1's current wingmate, Red 5 observed. Red Squadron hadn’t taken part in the first fighter skirmishes and were thus fresh for the battle.

"About bloody time they got something right," Red 1 added with a hint of distaste.

“Right or not, those fighters really chewed our brothers up like bantha fodder. Have you seen what happened to Slerch?” Red 4 said.

“Cut the chatter, no one needs your talk. Lock S-Foils into attack position people. This is it,” Milshin, callsign Red 2, commanded.

"Those things are bigger than a larty. At least we have a nice, fat target," Red 6 added.

Aayla looked into the Force for a second, searching for answers and a path to victory, but instead of answers, a horrifying blackening cloud appeared in her mind, growing like a tumor.

Was it the dark side? she thought in horror, her whole body sinking.

Then a wicked, snarling voice filled her mind.

‘The Republic as you know it will crumble under the weight of its sins. The trees of time and eternal fate are parched, and war is their aliment. A great darkness from the makers shall arise. The universe will be devoured under a flood of evil and darkness. The Reclaimers will fight, and change the future. The mantle will be earned. Hearken upon these words, as you are warned.’

She gasped as sweat poured from her blue skin; her heartbeat pulsated through her fingertips. No amount of calming meditation could have saved her from that… message. Or was it just a trick? A trick her mind played on her?

It was unlike any trance she had ever experienced; she had no idea what to make of it.

Looking into the Force, to her horror, she found only a blank darkness.

The dark side had completely consumed everything.

"Incoming missiles! Kriff, they are fast! Evasive maneuvers!" Red 2 screamed into the audicaster. A thousand missiles screamed from the Terran fighters into the Republic clusters.

Aayla threw her ship into a quick roll, adding to her nausea.

Red 5's ARC-170 wasn’t as fortunate or agile as Aayla’s Eta-2. Its shields and armor did nothing to keep it from turning into a fiery piece of slag. Just another casualty of this war. Another face to be forgotten by the Republic. Yet, not forgotten by the Jedi. That was their burden, to an extent. Aayla could feel every single one of the dead. Every face, every scream was burned into her consciousness, yet she still fought on.

Aayla muttered to herself, dodging another missile with a lightning quick maneuver, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Chapter Text

Well that Clone Wars finale was awesome. The naming of Chapter 6 was pure coincidence. I published that chapter before the finale. Sorry about that false update. It must’ve tripped when I deleted a chapter updating what the status was with the story. Check out for revisions of older chapters too. Hope you guys are all well. Please review!

Strategic Deployment Base Five

"Warning! Enemy boarding craft inbound! Contact E.T.A 2 minutes. Prepare for hostile boarding action. Defenses engaged. Warning! Enemy boarding craft inbound…" The computer's synthesized voice sounded off throughout the station. A klaxon was blaring in the background, unnoticeable in Fredrik’s mind, blended in with the activity of the Marines scrambling. The station’s motley supply of missiles and CIWS were attempting to intercept the fast approaching Republic boarding craft, managing to only take down a couple despite the breakneck speed of the advanced systems.

Fredrik’s squad took up his position alongside two others in the large corridors leading towards one of the emptied out primary hangar bays, the UNSC doctrine for fending off boarding attacks on stations calling for the Marines to engage boarders in few large open spaces that could be vented out to vacuum like the hanger.

In case the Marines were suddenly exposed to the cruel environment of space, they were equipped with a primitive quickly attachable vacuum rated rebreather which would cover the Marine's face and allow him to survive for up to fifteen minutes in vacuum.

He was one of the 29 Marines present behind the barricades. They anxiously waited as some of the men said prayers, others wishing their fellow Marines the best of luck or, those like himself, dealing with battle anxiety with silence. Only the senior NCOs and COs were veterans of the Great War. The men under them only had respect for their superiors. They’d gone through hell and back. Now it was Fredrik’s generation that would get their chance in the crucible.

His heart was pounding; he felt his fingertips pulsating and his heart rattling against his sternum.

“Incoming, incoming, incoming!” The station’s dumb AI voice blasted. The station violently shook, the lights shut off before turning back on a dull red. Fredrik’s heart beat even faster, he started to perspire.

The intercom announced, "Enemy forces detected in Hangar Bay, Block D3."

"Here we go!” Sergeant Rawlings called out. LeClerc murmured a quick prayer to God before allowing a two second stream of the images of his friends, family and girlfriend into his thoughts. He cleared his mind and let out a shallow breath. He activated his weapon's sights, both the holographic red dot sight and his HUD's targeting reticule. He aimed towards the large blast door that was the size of an old Scorpion tank.

Rance nudged him, “Hey Fred, briefing said the 21st Sector Army is some unit, huh.”

“Y-yeah. Supposed to be formed from hardened vets.”

“You scared?” Rance chuckled.

“No, just a little nervous.” Fredrik had never seen any real combat, just some minor anti-terror skirmishes on backwater worlds.

He clicked the old MA5B to full auto. That mode was handy in a nice and tight corridor guarded by a firing line. Coupled with a 60 round mag, nothing would get past the storm of steel.

The seconds seemed to last for hours as he and the others waited, the squad machine gunner shuffled in his position to get a better handle on his SAW.

"Let them get through the door before we open up." The 2nd Lieutenant in command of the platoon ordered through his helmet comms.

His motion tracker displayed multiple hostiles on the perimeter until it was completely full of little red dots. Fredrik gulped.

“Steady men, steady.” His sergeant said.

Everything became a slide show. Fredrik could feel everything around him. He became hyper aware of his surroundings. 

He blinked.

The blast door exploded, and the clones swarmed in.

The first clone troopers, all in their pristine white plastoid armor and helmets decorated in yellow/orange markings, breached through the door with their weapons raised, blasters they called them.

His lieutenant screeched through his comms. “OPEN FIRE, OPEN FIRE...”

Fredrik held down his trigger finger, drowning out his LT, the rest of his platoon followed suit. A flurry of metal went down range into the tidal wave of troopers.

Whole squads of clones went down, dead or dying. A round cracked open one of their visors, painting his following brothers in arms a deep red. A fallen trooper slumped over into the breach, dragged out moments later by his comrades. The clones ferociously returned fire, adding blues to the orange tracers and red emergency light. Ally swept a clone’s legs out from under him, literally, with her AA-22.

Fredrik realized his gun wasn’t firing anymore, his HUD and ammo counter read zero. He reloaded while Frank covered him with a furious SAW burst, fumbling with his magazine but slamming it into his rifle, and then brought his weapon to bear.

He squeezed the trigger again, and a stream of tungsten penetrators was let loose. His sights were set dead on one of the troopers.

The first round was most likely defeated by his armor, but the second round which hit a millisecond later punched right through the trooper's chest. The trooper fell forward onto the ground spewing up blood from his wound and bolts from his blaster.

Fredrik shifted his fire to another clone and caught one of them in his aim. 

He let out another burst. The clone spun to the ground as his chest was splayed open, sending a bloody mess to decorate the wall behind him.

Hundreds of hypersonic projectiles cut down the lead troopers in less than a minute.

The clones that took point began to fall back from the entry while their brothers still behind the breach soon regrouped.

Rance cut down another clone with his DMR, sending a bullet clear through his chest as some clone stragglers leapt to cover and began to return fire, bolts either hitting the Marines’ cover or striking their shields. 

The SAWs quickly forced the offenders back into cover with an earsplitting roar and a blast of lead.

“Keep ‘em pinned down boys!” Sergeant Rawlings yelled.

The clone carcasses littered the hallway, obscured by the dust and debris Fredrik’s platoon had kicked up. Suddenly, small orbs were thrown through the wide breach.

“GRENADES! MOVE MOVE MOVE!” The lieutenant called out.

They started to explode, sending a Marine flying in two separate pieces. Another Marine’s shields were taken out, throwing him against a wall where he was dispatched by combined blaster fire from the advancing clones.

Blaster bolts became more accurate as the Republic troopers began to pour in, the Marines firing back as they retreated. One Marine was quickly taken out by more than a dozen clones shooting him.

Fredrik sprinted down the corridor where their next position laid. His sergeant was the last one in the retreat. He didn’t make it to cover in time, the clones were in quick pursuit, and caught him running down the metal bulkhead.

Sergeant Rawlings uttered a profanity after glancing at his motion tracker and up again at his distant squadmates. He quickly ducked behind a structural pillar, pitiful cover, rather than face the enemy out in the open.

“Cover fire!” Fredrik yelled after quickly reloading, he spun out of position to gun down the trooper who was pinning down his Sergeant. 

A trio of blaster bolts slammed into Fredrik one after the other and spun him around collapsing his shields . Another hit him hard square in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and putting him on the ground. Thankfully he was out of the line of fire and his armor took the hit with a burn mark to prove it. His sergeant ran past and took up position further behind Fredrik.

Rance looked at him and all but yelled. "You alright bro?"

He could only give a faint nod while he caught his breath. When his adrenaline high began to wear off, Fredrik rolled to his feet with a grunt and began to fire again.

‘Thank God this armor can take a couple of hits.’ He thought privately.

He waited in cover as his shields recharged, the Squad SAW gunner tearing two more troopers into shreds before a storm of bolts hit him, his shields giving out with his armor penetrated and melted through, turning him into swiss cheese.

The man slumped over; his gun still firing in his death throws, thankfully aimed at the enemy until it ran out of ammo.

The clones advanced as quickly as they could, but the Marines were going to make them pay with blood for every inch they went forward.

Fredrik let loose with his rifle and ducked down again. The Marines were losing fire superiority. Fredrik’s cover was being whittled down to the bone by the assault while the walls around him and his platoon were being pounded into ozone and powder.

Three more Marines went down when Fredrik’s lieutenant commanded. "Cover fire! Tactical retreat! Fall back to the next position!"

"We’ve only got two more after this!" Rance yelled. Rance hugged the wall while he leaned out, firing the semi auto DMR as fast he could, managing to take out a couple of clones who were trying to set up a heavy weapon, called an E-Web if Fredrik remembered correctly. 

While Rance reloaded, more troopers quickly manned the gun, laying down devastation. The E-Web blasted straight through a Marine’s shields, tearing his chest apart and sending his arm flying. The remainder of the platoon quickly took cover. Even the cover was starting to get demolished by a combination of small arms and E-Web fire.

"Alright people, staggered withdrawal! Give us some covering fire!" Sergeant Rawlings bellowed while spraying the hall with his own MA5B, joined by Frank's SAW. Ally popped up and let off a blast from her shotgun. Fredrik joined in on the shooting and sprayed down some of the Republic’s finest.

Another one of his squadmates tossed a frag grenade down the hall, dispatching a cluster of unsuspecting troopers, but the clones were soon to return the favor, a thermal detonator charring his comrade from the waist down.

The remaining Marines withdrew one at a time, falling back to cover further down the hallway as the Marines next in line repeated the action, everyone covering each other with zealous suppressing fire.

However, two more Marines were cut down as they withdrew, the incoming fire was too intense and there were too many clones.

"Pump some 40's down range!" Rawlings roared while he switched mags on his MA5B.

Fredrik acknowledged by twisting his body around mid-sprint down the hallway, and using his neural uplink he fired the 40mm underslung grenade launcher, sending a 40mm airburst shell into the largest group of clones 30 meters away.

The grenade exploded right amongst the clones, sending dozens of pieces of cruel shrapnel flying into a squad of combatants. The closest had his limbs torn off, others had their armor punctured and deformed like a defective pin cushion, and a couple of lucky clones were only knocked to the deck as their armor stopped the shrapnel.

One particularly unlucky clone however had actually been hit by the grenade itself as it exploded, turning the slave soldier into a bloody smear of gore and viscera.

That seemed to stun the clones enough to give the remaining 18 Marines the time to fall back into the next firing position, an observation deck that was the size of a medium sized apartment building with three sloping levels and a large window facing the planet.

As he threw himself into a position behind a raised service station he stole a glance at the space outside, the planet Cienna. It was a backdrop to the battle for the station as dozens of explosions occurred in the distance, mere dozens of miles away.

"Here they come!" One of the Marines cried out. Fredrik snapped his head and brought his rifle up. This time the clones would have ample cover from the defending Terrans. The clones slid into position and began to rain down a hail of blaster fire.

The Marines were determined to not let themselves get pinned down, so they opened up once again, and again his shoulder rocked as his weapon spat hypersonic tungsten at the enemy, taking one of them down and spinning another around with a glancing blow, deflected by the armor.

The heat of battle took over Fredrik’s senses. He could no longer hear the screams of the wounded, the report of his own weapon, or feel his armor. He was only focused on the rush and thrill of battle. 

He let off a wild burst into a clone dragging away one of his brothers and then reloaded, going back at it. He shot another 40mm grenade into the clones, but it turned out to be a dud, only smashing the unfortunate clone’s ribs in from a direct impact and then bouncing off harmlessly. Fredrik cursed at whatever manufacturing plant screwed up the order.

Hypersonic projectiles and the blue plasma of blaster fire destroyed men and women alike, Republic troopers were eviscerated into bloody messes while the flesh of Marines were seared by superheated gas, charring their bodies and reducing their armor to slag.

Again, the clones moved up their E-Web and started to make quick work of the Marines’ cover, and any Marine that was dumb enough to pop out.

“HEY FREDRIK!” Rance called out.

“HUH?!” Fredrik answered in a trance-like state, partly because of the noise obstructing his hearing and partly due to his engrossment in the killing.

“WE NEED TO TAKE THAT SONUVABITCH OUT! HIT ‘EM WITH THE 40. GO, I’LL COVER YOU.” Rance popped out of cover momentarily and laid down covering fire for Fredrik.

Fredrik popped out right after him, bolts coming left and right towards him. As quick as he went up, he aimed at the blaster cannon, fired, and was back under cover.

“GOOD HIT MARINE! HIT THEM WITH ALL WE GOT!” The lieutenant barked.

The remaining 14 Marines let loose with shotguns, grenades, and assault rifles. A whole squad of clones was caught trying to move up by the Marines and were turned into a pink mist from the combined fire of the stubborn platoon.

Again, the Marines held steadfast as the clones were forced to make costly advances to cover or flanking positions that usually left half a dozen or more dead clones for every Marine lost. It wasn’t pretty, but the clones pressed their numerical advantage and the Marines were left hanging by a needle thread.

The Republic had far more men to throw at the Terrans than the Terrans could kill, and clones were not bad soldiers either, slaves to the Republic or not. 

In the end, the battle was turning into a dire situation that threatened to leave the Marines out of ammo (the main disadvantage with projectile weapons versus energy weapons) and overrun with the Republic forces swarming in.

After three minutes of brutal fighting which was one step away from devolving into hand to hand combat, Sergeant Rawlings, now in command after the lieutenant had a blaster bolt put clean through his cranium, screeched out the order.

"Retreat!"

In the CQB situation that they were now in, the Marines only had one option. Rance switched to his shotgun while Fredrik simply swung his MA5B wildly in a wide arc on full auto before being forced back into cover. Fredrik cursed as his HUD read a big fat zero for ammunition on his rifle. He swung his rifle onto his back and grasped his shotgun. Cocking it, he turned around over his cover and gave a clone a face full of buckshot, deforming the helmet and the clone’s skull.

"Frag out!" Frank announced. He undid the grenade from his belt and stood up while firing his SAW blindly from the hip. His shields were brought down, but not before he tore a clone into ribbons. Frank armed the grenade by flipping up the safety and tapping the priming button against a pillar and he threw it to the ground. Before he made it back into cover, another two bolts caught him exposed, one in his thigh armor and one in the chest plate, sending him down to the deck in a grunt of pain with his armor sizzling down to the bone, his vitals plummeting.

The 8 Marines remaining ducked down into their cover that was now in shambles from the firefight.

The huge thump and blinding white light could still be seen and felt from behind Fredrik's cover, it was still loud, even with their hearing protection.

A few troopers were taken out, and the clones who had been advancing to finish the Marines off were disorientated and injured.

Some tried to blindly and dazedly keep fighting, but they could hardly stand up as it was.

Without hesitation Fredrik ran to where Frank lay, the man groaning in pain as he tried to sit up to bring his SAW to bear on the delayed enemy.

The thicker chest plate had stopped the first blaster bolt after the third layer of composite armor, but the second had burnt right through the thinner thigh armor and had shattered his leg, but with a little elbow grease and biofoam, Frank would be back on his SAW in a few days, a week tops.

In one swift movement he scooped the wounded man up with a heavy grunt. The other members of the squad, namely Rawlings, Rance, and Ally cut down the dazed Republic Troopers and fell back to the next bulkhead, giving Fredrik covering fire as he carried the 220 pound Marine in 120 pounds of armor and nano suit to safety, a feat done thanks to the latter. It was a mad dash to the rally point and no one wanted to be left out exposed in the open.

“Damn it Frank, I told you to lay off the cafeteria burgers!” Fredrik moaned while he hefted him down the hall. Frank gave him a painful mumble in response.

Once he was through the blast door, the blue blaster bolts sailing by, Rawlings punched the door control, sealing the door shut and then locking the controls, blocking their enemies. He ordered one of his subordinates to weld it shut.

Frank groaned again when Fredrik set him down. Rawlings turned to the remaining Marines, "We will fall back to the armory, stock up on ammo and regroup with the Marines from Charlie Platoon. Command has tossed around the idea of venting sections of the station to even out the numbers disadvantage, but as it stands now, we are outnumbered over 10 to 1. I’ve got some good news though, people. Every one of us that they manage to kill, 7 or more go down with them. This is going to be a long day of CQB, and we only have so much station to fall back to. Let’s kick these fuckers out of this system, oorah?"

“OORAH!”

UNSC Warhound Flight Leader, FS-837 Fascine Starfighter, Callsign "Slayer 1"

"I've got tone! Missile locks on two targets!" Slayer 1's wingmate, Slayer 2, called out.

His viewscreens and HUD emitted a shrill tone alerting him of a positive lock. Two out of the thousands of Republic fighters on his screen had a white outline of their silhouette, which promptly turned red. His HUD read out that he had locked onto two fighter profiles.

The process of designating targets was made all the more faster as his neural link was hooked into the fighter, allowing him to blaze through actions with lightning quick speed and precision, though all pilots still manually piloted the fighters with link-aided controls and launched the weapons by pulling triggers or pressing buttons.

"Open fire on my command." He ordered as the large missiles under his wings were armed. Slayer 1’s HUD indicated that their targets were two unfortunate ARC-170's, the Republic's premier fighters, and the biggest threat to his formation. His HUD was integrated within a battlefield network, showing him which of the enemy fighters had already been locked onto.

Normally the Fascines would have most of its ordinance carried in its internal weapon bays, but with this predicament his was hastily equipped with hardpoints mounted under the wings to mount extra weapons for heavy combat. These hardpoints were currently loaded down with additional long range air-to-air (or in this case, space-to-space) missiles and two MLRS Micro Missile launchers. The MLRS was loaded with 20 short ranged missiles in each pod, nicely complementing and rounding out the already impressive armament of 20 AAM missiles and the twin 50mm coilguns.

‘Two missiles a fighter for the initial barrage, we have around 2,000 Fascines so 4,000 missiles heading towards them, and about 40% of the Republic fighters will be able to evade, so maybe two thousand kills, but that leaves around 5,000 more in this wave alone. Not good.’ He grimly thought.

Even though the UNSC fighters were supposedly better than whatever the Republic had in terms of fighters, at least that's what ONI had assured them in the mission briefing, in total they were outnumbered ten to one. It was going to be a bloody battle for the history books.

"Prioritize the ARC-170s! Let’s thin out the herd!" Slayer 1 commanded.

"Roger!" The squadron leaders, all arranged in V formations by squadrons, answered.

The distance between the two tidal waves counted down. 20,000 kilometers. 17,500. 15,000. 10,000.

His mind quickly thought of his family back home before he roared into his helmet's radio. "Fox 3!"

He pressed the button on his joystick as two of his wing mounted missiles screamed away at breathtaking speed.

It was immediately followed by the bluish fiery plumes of several thousand more missiles as they rocketed straight into the Republic formations. The missiles accelerating at hundreds of kilometers a second gave the Clones little time to react.

The Republic pilots were clearly taken by surprise, not only by the engagement range, but by the missiles themselves.

They were obviously not used to being targeted by missiles which were that nimble in such a manner. The starfighters further back had mere seconds to evade, but the ones in front had no such luck.

Most of the clone pilots tried to take evasive maneuvers, throwing their fighters into wild spins and janky turns, but as he predicted less than half of those maneuvers were successful.

The missiles hit the formation in rapid succession. Over 2,000 missiles found their mark, the rest missing by mere yards.

He watched in fascination and glee as his two missiles both found their targets, an ARC-170 and a V-wing. His missile must’ve missed the other ARC-170, failing to correct itself, and the V-Wing must’ve dodged the wrong way, straight into his missile.

The sturdier ARC-170 was blown in half as the V-Wing was turned to nothing more than fireball and fragments.

Explosions covered the space before the UNSC fighters while they passed the 7,000 kilometer mark.

His radio was filled with shouts of joy as the fighter’s radar and computers tallied 2,132 Republic fighters destroyed in a single strike, the V-Wings taking the brunt of the attack, being the most numerous.

“Good hits, good hits. All pilots reacquire new targets. Get ready to fire on my command gentlemen.”  His monitor beeped as he got two new targets.

“All callsigns under my command are ready Colonel.” Slayer 1’s subordinate officers said, with minor variations.

“Fox 3!” Once again, with a rush of testosterone and adrenaline fueled excitement, Slayer 1 launched off 2 missiles towards the ever closer Republic fighters, followed by over 4000 other missiles.

With little time to react, even more clones fell prey to the Terran munitions. Missiles slammed into starfighters, creating a storm of shrapnel shooting out into the cloud of fighters.

Slayer 1’s console read out that 2,931 Republic fighters had been wrecked by the second barrage.

More cheers echoed out through the battlenet. His fighters passed the 5,000 kilometer mark, not quite within gun range.

"Alright ladies, this is the moment you’ve all been training for. All wings full thrust!” He keyed into his squadron’s comms, calling out to his personal wing. “We are entering into gun range, prepare for Cobra maneuvers!”  

The Cobra maneuver was an ancient dogfighting maneuver concocted in the early days of Zero-G space warfare. It was meant for Zero-G combat and was designed to take full advantage of it. The maneuver itself was a modification of the even older Immelmann maneuver.

The fighters would hold their vector and fly head on into the enemy. At around 1,000 kilometers away, the pilot would have only seconds to pull up and orient themselves onto a bearing which would take them either ‘over’ or ‘under’ the enemy. They would then spin on their axis and attack as they passed the flanks of the enemy. The momentum of the UNSC fighters would stay the same, keeping them at their current speed and making them very difficult to hit, after which they would then pursue the enemy.

Slayer 1 watched the battle play out through the interconnected viewscreens that gave him a complete 360 degree view of the space around him. The Republic fighters grew larger and larger in his view. 

The range quickly dropped to 4500 kilometers, 4000, then finally 3000

The UNSC fighters opened up with their autocannons, devastating any Republic fighter they hit. Their autocannons had a muzzle velocity of 1% lightspeed, meaning they could fire with relative impunity at a distance of 6000 to 2000 kilometers.

As soon as they entered in range, the Republic ARC-170s soon returned fire by opening up with their heavy laser cannons; they managed to take out several Fascines with multiple hits which took down their shields and blew them apart.

Once again ONI was proven right, those ARC-170s were the biggest threat. 

When the 1,000 kilometer mark was past he blasted through his comms.

"Now!" He roared as he yanked on the stick, the Fascine shaking under him as the UNSC fighters all either shot ‘up’ or ‘down’ relative to the Republic fighters, which in turn began to bank to meet them.

His Fascine shot up as he cut his thrust and reversed it, flipping his fighter around 180 degrees on its central axis in a split second, slamming him with 3 Gs. Thankfully, his inertial dampener and G suit took care of the other 17. His wing followed suit.

Time came to a halt. The distance between the fighters was closing at kilometers a second. The speed at which the opposing sides were rushing towards each other was immense. For a few hundred milliseconds, he could just make out the pilots inside the Republic fighters, so small and bright.

An ARC-170 came into his sights, the ship still twisting to meet him, having been taken by surprise.

“GUNS GUNS GUNS! SQUADRON WEAPONS FREE!”

He grinned as he pulled the trigger and sent a stream of red hot 50mm armor penetrating tracer rounds into a hapless fighter.

The ARC-170s were the only fighter in the Republic's (known) arsenal that possessed particle shielding to stop projectiles, but they were quickly ripped through by the first couple of rounds, leaving the rest to shred the fighter apart.

The process was repeated dozens of times by his own unit as Republic fighters were torn from space in a turkey shoot, the superior Terran maneuvers catching them with their pants down. Still, the Terrans got lucky.

Slayer 1 let out a delighted holler as his fighters were positioned behind the enemy. He was behind a flight of three V-Wings. He throttled forward to give them chase. While he held down the trigger he snapped his reticule over them one by one by applying his maneuvering engines. The ship subtly vibrated with every burst that came out of the mighty weapons, swatting two of the V-Wings down as the third evaded. 

He built up speed and dove head first into a dogfight against the V-Wing, his wingman took position next to him. They blew through laser fire and began to twist and turn in wild maneuvers to avoid being blasted to bits. He let off a burst into the rear end of the V-Wing and then peeled off. He looked to his side to see the fighter flame up in a brilliant explosion.

An unfortunate group of UNSC fighters were eviscerated from being caught inside of the swarm of Republic fighters. The fighters were peppered with thousands of holes. The shields weren’t enough for this kind of battle. 

Dozens of explosions highlighted the thousands of fighter silhouettes in the darkness of space. Slayer 1 realized he needed to end this battle quickly if he were to win. If he couldn’t control the numerical superiority of the Republic, he would be overwhelmed and the battle would be lost.

He found another ARC-170 and he fired three of his micro missiles while letting off split second bursts of harassing fire, the Republic pilot evading the first with an impressive barrel roll, but the other two tore a hole through the fighter’s right wing and sheared the right engine off the fighter, taking the damaged wing with it and leaving it to spin helplessly away into the vacuum.

The UNSC fighters were doing their best to quickly even the numbers, but the Republic pilots, by no means slouches themselves, began to learn and do what they could to adapt. The Republic started to take Fascines out in more balanced numbers, though the UNSC pilots still had at least a 1 to 5 kill ratio

As the Republic fighters adapted, the numerical advantage they held against the UNSC fighters began to take its toll, causing the fighting to be all the more bloody. 

Slayer 1 threw his fighter into a spin to avoid an ARC-170 that was spitting green fire from its cannons; one twin burst hit him in his fighter’s back and dropped his shields to 30 percent.

He spun away but couldn’t get a bead on the fighter as it had learned not to try and play his game of getting into an outright dogfight, using hit and run tactics instead.

“Slayer 2, requesting assistance, I’m stuck in a scissor with this 170.” Slayer 1 said.

“Roger. Fox 2!” His wingman replied.

Suddenly, he stopped talking fire, he looked over his shoulder to see a fiery wreck shooting through space. A separate Fascine from another squadron, this one aflame, streaked by him, not more than a half a click from him

“Thanks for the assist.”

“Anytime. Watch out! You’ve got another bogey coming up on your six!”

Slayer 1 cut his throttle, the Republic fighter zooming past him. He switched to his missiles to end the Republic pilot's attack, sending a micro missile down its spine and turning it into a fireball.

The radio crackled as the other fighters duked it out.

"Viper 6, Fox 2! ...I got one on my tail, I can't shake the bastard! ...I’m out of missiles! Winchester. Winchester! …Turn around to vector three eight oh, enemy fighters coming in! ...He’s on my 6! I’m tagging the bastard! ...Someone slam a missile into his ass!"

His wingman was having similar issues. Slayer 2 was being attacked, harassed more like it, by an Eta -2 interceptor that was not getting off his tail.

Slayer 1 turned to engage.

Eta-2 Interceptor, Jedi Master Aayla Secura

The ferocity of the UNSC attack had stunned her, and if it weren’t for the Force, she would be dead right now.

Their maneuvers had dazzled her, and she doubted even Skywalker would have predicted their radical zero-G maneuvers, but that goes for many of the Terran tricks.

Extreme zero-G maneuvers were something that only the most well trained or talented pilots in the galaxy did. It required etheric rudders and inertia dampeners that allowed for the effects of the execution of accelerations by fighters to be either turned off, lowered, or removed altogether. This was seriously dangerous as it could lead to unconsciousness or your guts gutting crushed.

The clones did receive some training in zero-G maneuvers, but due to the rushed nature of their training it was detailed in their flash lessons but hardly ever touched upon during live exercises behind a cockpit.

The UNSC pilots must have trained for months and months on end, as well as subjected themselves to crushing G forces exerted by centrifugal force, making the Terran pilots all the more impressive.

After throwing her fighter (which was the size of one of the Terran fighter’s wings) into some of the most wild maneuvers she had ever performed while letting her senses and the Force guide her through the hell of exploding fighters, streams of enemy projectiles, and missiles, she eventually found herself on the tail of one of the daunting UNSC fighters.

Its two oversized engines spat red and orange flame as it tore a V-wing out of the sky with a short burst from twin cannons mounted inside the wings.

She struggled to stay on its tail as its pilot threw himself into maneuvers that the large fighter should’ve been torn apart by.

After achieving a lock with her lasers, she sent a double blast into its port wing section, however the blasts were absorbed by a glowing gold energy shield surrounding it.

The pilot almost immediately rolled to the side, which Aayla countered. The Terran cut his engines and flipped his ship around on its central axis to bring its weapons to bear.

Aayla quickly sent another double burst into the nose of the fighter, which was again absorbed. Then she yanked up on the stick to barely avoid the stream of red hot tracers from interring her fighter into the void, where so many other Republic fighters found their final resting place.

She didn't have the firepower to take it out quickly, despite being armed with 2 heavy laser cannons. Aayla kept her eyes on the fighter, darting towards it in razor sharp twists so as to not be an easy target.

Her skin was already drenched in sweat. She called out to the Force to get her through this hell. Her senses tingled as the UNSC fighter whom she had attacked had its wingman turn to engage her after blasting another 170 out of the battle.

Dodging a stream of projectiles, she cursed as her little fighter buckled from a huge nearby explosion of one of the Terran's oversized missiles. Fragments embedded into her fighter’s hull. She decided to break off, rather than to continue to pursue the UNSC fighters.

Pulling hard on the controls, she regained control and stole a quick glance at the ensuing battle.

The macabre scene of explosions and of the dead and dying combatants was a surreal view. The curving backdrop of the UEG colony was accompanied by the fiery explosions of fighters with the lightshow of lasers, roars of missiles, and fiery tracers that helped set in the reality of war.

She checked her display, and subsequently looked on in gloom. The UNSC fighters had broken through the Republic lines and had made a gaping hole in the Republic's fighter cover, just shy of taking out a total of 10,000 Republic starfighters, nearly a fourth of the fleet's deployed fighter cover.

The UNSC fighters had paid a price though, just over a quarter of their own fighters were destroyed likewise, left behind as debris clouds or drifting wreckage. Aayla noticed that most of them had fallen prey to the 170's heavier weapons, although quite a bit of them had been taken out by other fighters as well.

Her fleet had broken off into three groups now. The first being the main bulk of the fleet which had taken up position near the UNSC starbase, which was under heavy assault, the second was a group of 10 Acclamator-Class Assault Ships and a couple of Venators which were going to land troops on the planet below, and the thirty ships that Tarkin had sent to give chase to the UNSC fleet.

"How many must die in this war?" She whispered before an alert sound played through her comms.

"Enemy heavy fighters have broken through the fighter screen and are gunning to attack Element Cresh 2 of the fleet. Scans now indicate them to be heavy bombers! Any fighters able to intercept are to attack! They can’t get through!"

Flipping her fighter over towards the fleet, she saw that the report was correct. The UNSC had been able to slip close to 100 large craft, each the size of a small freighter, through the massive hole in the Republic screen the Terran fighters had ripped open.

She and roughly sixty other Republic fighters were able to engage, as the UNSC fighters were busy keeping the hole open and clear of any Republic fighter reinforcements. The Terrans chose to continue engaging the starfighters, both leaving their own bombers to fend for themselves and keeping the Republic fighters too tied up to intercept, except her ship and a handful of others.

By redlining her ship’s throttle, she ate up the ground between the large flying wing ships like a mynock eats through a derelict hull. It was stressful for her and her fighter to close the gap. For their size, the bombers were very agile, far more agile than she thought was possible.

The bombers proceeded in random vectors as the Republic ships they were targeting, some 10 Victory IIs, the Imperator Devastator , 3 Venators, 7 Acclamators, and 5 Consulars all brought their weapons online to meet the looming threat.

The distance between her and the bombers decreased until she entered laser cannon range.

Before she could fire, the bombers split into 2 groups, with one staying on their present course while the others banked a hard left, forcing her to follow and alter her vector.

Aayla gasped as she saw where the second group was heading.

Straight towards the group of support ships that came along with the fleet.

The bulk of them were troopships, most of which were finished unloading their cargo of landing barges which were heading towards the Terran colony, but also present were Pelta-Class Frigates and MedStar-Class Frigates, hospital and supply ships which would provide crucial aid to both the fleet and the ground invasion.

They were completely defenseless against a bomber force of this calibre.

There were 2 Victory II-Class Star Destroyers moving to cover them, but they would not be nearly enough.

"Those kriffing bastards! Let’s get them!" A clone pilot that had come alongside her shouted. He boosted his fighter's throttle to the limit, waiting for a positive lock.

The Force tingled as she sensed that something was wrong.

Frantically looking around for any threat, she looked at the back of the gigantic UNSC fighter-bombers to see a dual barrelled cannon swivel out from under the hull.

"By the Force, look out!" Aayla screamed into her headset as she flipped her small ship over.

The V-Wing pilot had no chance.

The ventral cannon on the ship spat out a stream of projectiles that tore into the V-Wing and exited through the cockpit, leaving a bloody mist to spurt all over the interior.

Several other Republic fighters were taken off guard. They were forced to dodge out of the way, or join the V-Wing pilot in the Force.

Rolling her little fighter through 2 streams of cannon fire, she raked her guns across the nearest Terran’s rear, only to be rewarded with the glowing energy shields absorbing her fire.

Cursing, she gripped down on her triggers; her lasers began to overheat from prolonged firing. The UNSC pilot threw his ship into a spiral as he tried to shake her, performing maneuvers that only a fighter half its size should be able to do.

The distance between the oncoming UNSC ships and their helpless targets shrank. An ARC-170 tore through a craft’s shields, and turned one of the 2 engines to slag, sending the ship into an unstoppable spin before the clone pumped a concussion missile into it, vaporizing his target.

The beast’s shields finally gave in as she fired once again into the craft's rear, taking out one of the cannons, but not before a shell pierced through her fuselage, switching on her cockpit’s red warning lights.

Her fighter rattled even more as she dodged away from certain death by the hands of the Terran turret. She flipped up some levers and ordered her astromech, “QT-KT, give me back control over the left stabilizer, now!” QT gave a set of beeps in acknowledgement.

Her radio began screaming into her ear. "Shoot down those bombers! We can't get them all! There are too many...agh!"

The ID on the audio was that of the Victory II Gardama , which went up in dozens of bright white fireballs as the Terran ships unleashed a swarm of missiles into it, all of them powerful thermonuclear devices.

The fire settled to reveal that the ship was a twisted wreck, what was left of it at least. The Republic ships that the first group of Terran fighters had attacked fired every weapon they had, knocking dozens of the large craft out of the sky but not before the other Victory II went up in a white thermonuclear hellstorm.

Seeing that the support ships would go down in the same manner, she held the firing studs on her stick. She poured laser fire into the lead bomber, finally hitting something vital as the engines cut out; Aayla blasted past the out of commission fighter and watched it blow up behind her. While the rest of the Terrans were still accelerating towards the support elements, Aayla fought to catch up to them.

"I have to stop them, and there is only one way..."

Gunning her fighter, her ship shot out in front of the UNSC ships. To her shock, they fired on her with frontally mounted cannons. She flew in and out of their tracer streams, frantically dodging the thick fire of the guns.

She was only fifty or so kilometers away from the Republic ships before she flipped around to face the enemy.

"I have to stop you!"

The Terrans fired.

Each of the remaining 38 craft fired 4 large missiles, seemingly engorged with power, which shot away in fiery plumes while the UNSC bombers banked up and looped over to get out of the danger zone.

One hundred and fifty two missiles raced towards her and the helpless fleet.

There was no way in the Force she could get them all, but she had to try.

"Force, give me the strength…" She whispered to the dark unknown. She shot towards the missiles with all power, before spinning over and putting herself in front of the missiles’ course.

Five came into the sight of her targeting system, but she let the Force guide her shots.

Two seconds later, the missiles were reduced to dust from her lasers, but there were much more, way too much for her to handle.

The Republic support ships began to fire the few defense weapons that they had in order to save themselves, but they knew it was not enough.

The distance closed as she shot four more down, and then another and then another.

She had only stopped eighteen of them in the mere seconds before the first missiles struck a MedStar Frigate.

Brilliant flashes of light still shone through Aayla’s cockpit, impairing her vision despite the polarized canopy. The MedStar frigate had been cracked in two, split lengthwise.

Regaining her bearings, Aayla screeched as she downed two more that were heading towards the largest of the troopships. It was far too late. Dozens more of the missiles hit.

She turned to see one of the missiles explode 5 kilometers from her.

Her fighter was being torn apart, with sections of the hull flaking off, plating tearing itself free. Aayla was washed in red light and a constant beeping flooded her ears. She was thrashed about her seat and her left restraint snapped, sending her head face first into the console, knocking her out cold while her fighter was thrown helplessly through space.

SDB5

Among the Republic transports, wreckage, and bodies there strode a single Jedi.

Jax couldn't help but feel anger, one of the largest taboos of the Jedi, ebb slightly within him after looking around at the scene before him.

‘These damn Terrans have caused far more damage than I had ever even thought possible, by the Force! When the fleet wins, we’d be lucky to have anything left of it.’ He thought to himself.

He turned his attention to the Clone Commando who was jogging towards him through a pile of debris. To Jax’s angst, one of the volunteer medics bumped into the Commando, spilling the body of one of his fellow troopers onto the metal floor. The trooper had half of its head removed, brain matter and bits of bone and blood began to spill out onto the deck. The Commando gazed at the fumbling volunteer, who uttered a series of apologies. He walked past as the medic scooped up the gore.

The Jedi had to fight to keep his stomach from doing a backflip at the sight.

Never had he seen battle this brutal before.

"Sir, RC-1138 reporting for duty!" The clone snapped to attention as his 3 fellow commandos formed next to him, their bulkier and stronger Mark IV Katarn Armor each patterned in a wild display of colors and designs.

"Relax." He waved them down as they nodded and slung their DC-17Ms across their chest plates.

"What’s the situation?" Jax asked, as the sounds of battle could be heard. The familiar whine of blasters and the unfamiliar roar of Terran slug throwers sounded off down one of the service corridors that connected to the bay.

"We’ve managed to secure the main landing and docking bays on the station, but advancing and taking the rest of the station has been an issue. The Terrans have put up fierce resistance, and we’ve taken heavy casualties. We are advancing steadily, but for every hallway we take, every inch of it is soaked in the blood of my brothers." The Clone spoke with a grim tone.

"What were your orders when you boarded?" Jax asked.

The clone’s response was interrupted as yet another transport landed and disgorged its troops. The Commando answered Jax after shuffling around the landing craft, glancing over to see a row of wounded troopers being rushed onto the same transport, many of them screaming in pain or not moving at all. Some had whole limbs torn into bloody stumps, or their torsos full of fist sized holes, all of them spilling blood out onto the deck. Clearly the medical teams were taken aback. They were not used to dealing with such dreadful wounds.

Blasters were an elegant weapon, for a more civilized age. But it looks like times have changed.

"We were to take the command center of the station and kill or capture any enemy COs. Sir."

Bringing up his wrist mounted holoscreen, Jax projected a rudimentary tactical map of the station, with readouts down to the squad level. He stole a glance at the casualty estimate, and it wasn’t pretty.

He ignored it, and scanned through it, he quickly saw where the Republic forces were meeting the most resistance.

‘If they could break through key areas, the station would soon be under the control of the Republic.’ Jax thought.

"Belay that RC-1138. We need to pierce through the main area of resistance so our forces will be able to take the rest of the station." Jax ordered.

The clone seemed to be taken aback, "But Sir, if we can eliminate the leadership then the enemy loses cohesion and organization. Defeating them becomes a blue milk run." The Commando argued. His comrades noticeably looked at one another.

"That’s an order clone."

“It’s Sergeant, sir.”

UNSCDF Fort Longston

"This is gunnery control to command, we have ten tangos entering the atmosphere from low orbit. Two of which are attempting to gain orbital firing positions on us, both are in our firing arc. Do we have clearance to fire?" The gunnery officer of the underground defensive position asked the two star Army General, who was a veteran of the Human-Covenant War.

The radio in the control room fifty meters underground crackled. The monitor showed the MAC was charged and ready to fire.

"Permission granted. Clear the skies. With what little interceptors we have being tied up right now, and the Fleet unable to provide any fighter support, we can’t harass those starships. They’ve already landed assault ships and barges fifty miles from the city, but they came in on a low vector out of your firing arcs. It looks like they are opting to bombard us. Show them a warm welcome Lieutenant Colonel.” Major General Hudong said.

"Yes sir." He answered crisply, shutting off the commline. “Gunner, all systems green?” He asked the MAC gunner.

He threw him a thumbs up. “All systems green!”

Lines of information that would be nonsense to any civilian streamed in front of him on his console, illuminating his face in the dimly lit bunker. A heavy MAC gun and 12 smaller Onagers pivoted out of their fortified positions and aligned themselves on target.

After the start of The Great War, it became apparent to the UNSC that due to the unlikelihood of the Navy holding orbital control against the then superior Covenant ships, once the Navy lost the battle in space the Covenant was free to simply destroy any terrestrial military base from orbit with little effort.

After the loss of Harvest, the UNSC Army and Marine Corps quickly began adding anti-orbital defense guns to their bases, usually rail/coilguns, or missiles. But by the Fall of Arcadia, the bases on the ill-fated military hub were all equipped with underground MAC guns. Once Admiral Cole was forced to abandon the world, its defensive fleet of one hundred ships and SMAC ODPs was swept away, the guns of Arcadia had cut deep into the Covenant fleet and forced them into a bloody battle with the UNSC military left on the planet, allowing 2 million civilians to flee.

Soon after the Fall of Arcadia, every major military installation had at least one battalion of groundside defenses; Fort Ticonderoga on Reach had four such units.

"The closest target is a… uh Venator-Class Carrier and the second tango is an Acclamator-Class Frigate, sir." A subordinate officer reported.

"Have the Onager batteries focus all their fire on the Venator after we drop its shields." The LTC replied as he took his seat.

"Ready to fire." The dumb AI in charge of the weapons at his disposal affirmed in a dull monotone voice.

"Fire!"

The gunner flipped a safety off and depressed a big red button.

From outside the base, half a kilometer away, electricity sparked for a split second before a monumental thundering crack and hypersonic scream filled the air. A 900 ton slug was flung into and out of the atmosphere at 1/4th the speed of light.

Its target, the Venator-Class Star Destroyer Hurlania , didn’t even have enough time to register the power spike on its sensors before the slug slammed into the shields of the warship, the force of the blow overloading the shields in one fell swoop while the shield generator exploded. They had no time to redirect the shields towards the bottom of the hull, not that it would’ve made a difference.

The warship seemed to lurch upward as the momentum was violently transferred to it, no thanks to Sir Isaac Newton.

However, as the crews of the ship began to recover and direct the ship’s weapons at the assailant 80 miles below, the twelve Onagers, their forked turrets surging with enough energy to power a small city, all fired in unison.

Twelve slugs slammed into the now unshielded ship, twelve golden lines reached out of hardened bunkers towards the sky.

Against the first salvo, the armor plating on the ship held, but the Onagers could fire every 5 seconds, so four more salvos slammed into the underbelly of the Venator before the armor crumpled away, allowing the next salvo to penetrate into the hanger, engines, and primary drive systems.

Now little more than a huge orbital paperweight, the Venator frantically tried to use its thrusters to push itself out of its rapidly declining orbit.

It never had the chance.

The MAC gun fired again, sending a slug right through the middle of the ship's ‘spine’.

The mass of durasteel tried to resist for a second, before losing and falling down to the planet.

The ship cracked in half down the middle as two halves, the port and starboard, began to float away from each other and enter the atmosphere.

SDB5

"I can’t believe that di’kut cancelled our mission," Sev huffed as Delta Squad made their way through one of the many service corridors that ran the length of the Terran battle station.

"I can." Scorch replied, "The UNSC would be doing the Republic a favor if they killed him."

Taken aback, Boss and Fixer turned their T-shaped visors to the commando, the simple act enough to make Scorch hurriedly reply, "Hey it’s not like I'm suggesting we do it."

Boss shook his head.

He had to agree it wouldn’t be too bad of a thing if Jax were to die at the hands of the enemy; in fact it was far more likely now considering what they’re up against.

He wasn't the biggest fan of the Jedi; in fact, aside from those close to Kal Skirata, he did not trust a single one. Not ever since they threw away 2000 commandos in the First Battle of Geonosis. The only one who he could truly stand was Etain Tur-Mukan.

Now that their lives and those of the regular troopers were once again being thrown needlessly in danger because of Jax's ‘tactical prowess’, that distrust was fast becoming loathing.

As if to break the conversation, Scorch took point, checking corners by expertly pivoting his DC-17M’s business end towards any potential cover where a UNSC Marine might be waiting to ambush his squad.

"These Terrans are just too good. They take down five of us for every one of them. Our brothers are having a tough time cracking their defenses planetside too." Scorch said while listening in on the battlenet.

Boss gritted his teeth at the thought.

They had seen the wreckage in the hanger bay, and the piles of dead Troopers, all of them horribly mangled by the Terrans slugthrowers. One thing that stuck out was how many more clone bodies there were, when compared to a dead UNSC soldier. Their bulky armor was literally hit dozens of times before they bit the dust, and when the Republic did take their positions, it was usually through overwhelming them, an ironic parallel to how the CIS had fought them. The UNSC is in almost the same position the Clones were. Outnumbered, yet not outgunned.

"Don’t get me started on what they did to our fleet." Fixer added.

Boss thought that was uncharacteristic of Fixer, who was a pure and uncomplicated soldier. His thoughts were soon interrupted as their headsets were filled with a frantic yell from the squad of the other Commando squad that had come on station, Valshtok Squad. They had boarded the station earlier and were who Delta Squad was to link up with.

“Mayday! Mayday! This is RC-1401 to Delta Squad! Requesting assistance!"

Suddenly the connection was filled with the unmistakable sounds of blaster fire and explosions, before the distinct barks and roars from Terran weapons cut in, followed by a scream. The link suddenly went dead.

Not wasting a second, Boss immediately yelled to his team. "They’re only about 300 meters ahead of us, let’s move it Deltas!"

Boss set his blaster to maximum power as he sprinted down the corridor, the rest of Delta Squad close behind.

Reaching an entry way into the Commando team’s last known position, Fixer and Sev took up positions on both sides of the doorway while Boss and Scorch readied themselves to clear the entrance, Boss taking point.

Boss held up his hand and counted down to zero before he shouldered his weapon and quickly entered the room, the rest of Delta following behind, their weapons searching for targets.

The room was the site of a fierce skirmish. The Commandos had their fears confirmed as they found the bodies of four Commandos, each of them lying in a pool of blood and entrails. Their plastoid armor lay dented, battered, cracked and punctured in dozens of places on the cold floor.

"Hell..." Sev murmured as he checked out the rest of the room.

Boss leaned over and examined the bodies.

"Hopefully our armor fairs better than these poor troopers." Scorch noted.

Sev snorted, "It damn well better.”

"It looks like they were ambushed.” Boss pointed out. He noted the positioning of the bodies, lying where they had made their final stand, each one facing a different direction.

“I thought that was rather obvious...” Scorch said.

"Stow it Six-" Fixer’s reprimand was cut off after Sev called out, "We got another body over here."

Exchanging a quick glance, the three went over to one of the far corners of the room near another corridor. Lying with its back to the wall was a large figure clad head to toe in unknown black armor with a rifle in its limp hands.

"That a UNSC Marine?" Scorch asked as he leaned to look at the dead Terran's silver visor that hid the man's face.

"No, we know what they look like. This must be one of their special forces soldiers." Sev replied.

Fixer scanned the enemy soldier's armor, which was burned, scorched and melted from what looked to be several concentrated bursts of blaster fire. The fact that it had taken that much to bring the enemy soldier down was disconcerting.

"You gonna take a souvenir psycho?” Scorch asked Sev as he was studying the enemy rifle in his hands before returning to pulling security.

"Just checking out the enemy gear. This thing is miles ahead of what those trandos had on the Prosecutor ." He replied as he inspected the slugthrower.

"What’s this?" Boss asked as he noticed an insignia on the left shoulder pauldron of the body.

It was a flaming skull with the letters ODST etched below them.

Fixer came up with an answer after scrolling through a screen on his HUD.

"This is apparently an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper, supposed to be the best of the best in the UNSC Marines. Their specialty is some sort of crazy orbital insertion behind enemy lines." Fixer informed.

"Blast, no wonder they got slaughtered so quickly. But still..." Sev replied.

"Alright Deltas, let’s move up the hallway. Be extra cautious, there is no way that there was only one of them, we have to follow our general's ‘plan of attack’."

SDB5

Gunnery Sergeant William Tafton checked his MA6 rifle. He and his two other squad mates Jarrod and Adnan did the same, the last firefight with a squad of Republic Commandos  having been a reminder of the power of the enemy they faced.

His fourth squadmate, Jaxson, had taken three concentrated bursts of blaster fire from the dying Republic clones, tearing through his shields, melting through his flesh and armor.

Adnan, a new ODST fresh out of training, was clearly having a much harder time coping with the loss of a squadmate than he, a 20 year veteran of The Covenant War and one of the few lucky survivors of the Fall of Arcadia.

"The next enemy squad is coming up, looks like they found their buddies." Jarrod informed his team, peering through his connection to Jaxson’s helmet camera.

"Stack up, get ready to take these bastards out." William ordered.

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

Boss was leading the squad through yet another service corridor before he suddenly had that sinking feeling of walking into trouble.

Stopping mid step he assumed the firing position while the rest of the squad followed suit.

"We’re walking into a trap." He simply stated as Sev nodded in agreement.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Scorch announced.

Fixer alerted his squad, "I’ve got strange heat sigs on my-"

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Boss saw a shimmer of air in one of the far corners in the corner of his eye and had what felt like a swoop bike slam into his shoulder plate, spinning him around to the floor face first.

"Kriff!" He screamed while he scrambled for cover as the rest of Delta Squad opened up on the shimmering air, which soon disappeared into the depths of the access corridor.

"Cloaking shields?" Fixer asked before a volley of Terran weapons’ fire answered his question.

Boss looked up just in time to see projectiles ricocheting off the side of Scorch's helmet, who was laying down suppressive fire so the team could get into cover.

The side of his helmet exploded from the sheer force of the impact and Scorch went down with a scream as he brought his hands up to the side of his face, which was now covered in blood before he slouched, unconscious.

Time seemed to slow. Boss felt helpless against this new enemy while Sev dragged Scorch into cover behind a support beam.

He and Scorch had been through so much together, he didn’t even know what to feel while he struggled trying to ignore the possible fate of his Vod .

"Deltas, switch to infrared!" He screamed as his visor switched over to the predatory dull colors of his armor’s heat sensor array.

Noting Sev and Fixer had sustained injuries, and their armor was now compromised, he spun out of cover to see the outline of the Terran menace.

He fired a long burst, gritting his teeth so much he thought they would crack apart.

To his surprise, the shimmering air lowered to reveal a Terran ‘ODST’. The soldier’s black armor crackled with electricity. The two stared at each other for a second before they unloaded on each other.

Boss fired his blaster as fast as the full auto setting allowed him, sending two bursts of bolts into the man's chest armor, spinning the Terran around.

The ODST's own weapon’s fire struck him in the chest, kicking the breath right out of his lungs. His armor held, barely. The Katarn armor started to crack and flake apart. The duraplast did its job, Boss looked down to see a slug burrowed half way into his sternum, the other half sticking out, having been caught by his armor.

Boss gasped for air as the roar of fire between Sev and Fixer and the other assailants reached a fever pitch, his comlink was full of curses from Fixer and Sev.

He took aim at the Terran verd and let loose a torrent of fire, the Terran doing the same as the two combatants locked into combat. Knowing that they were both going to die, they simply stood and fired.

Boss felt his left leg shatter into splinters and blood spurted out as he fell to the deck. His helmet went back as yet another round hit him, cracking his visor and blurring his vision as his own fire stitched the ODST from his leg up to his face, dropping him like a stone, seemingly dead before he hit the floor.

Gasping for air, he ripped off his helmet and tossed it onto the bulkhead to see Sev lying still with his hands on his belly clutching a bacta patch, blood leaking onto the floor under him as Fixer kept firing, filling the air with screams of Mandalorian curses. He took down another one of the ODST's with a stream of blue blaster fire before a trio of loud deep cracks cut him off.

Fixer groaned as he grasped at his right shoulder, before falling back and spasming on the ground.

Limping to them, he looked to see the apparently last ODST round the corner not ten feet away.

Without a second thought he charged, firing his rifle, catching the Terran in the shoulder and forcing him to drop his weapon. The ODST rolled backwards away from the next burst before landing with a sidearm drawn.

Cracks filled the air again as Boss jumped back into cover, but his rifle shattered in his hands as a bullet went through it.

Bullets slammed into his cover while Boss began to sing the Mandalorian battle song Kal Skirata had taught him before he ejected his arm mounted vibroblade. He spun around the corner and charged with a scream, the wrath of Coruscant, Kamino, and Mandalore within him.

He caught the ODST off guard as he closed the distance and gave a vicious uppercut slash, cutting the pistol in two and putting a nice slash across the Terran's black helmet and visor while the ODST dove out of the way.

"Bring it on you hut’uun !" Boss roared, taking a defensive stance as the Terran reached up and ripped off his damaged helmet, tossing it away. To Boss’s surprise, it revealed the face of a tanned, yet still pale man about 40 years of age, with a shaved head and a large scar on the side of his cheek.

Moving his hands towards the left of his body, the man pulled a wicked looking ten inch blade out of a sheath on his chest.

The man spoke in a low, calm voice that was full of experience, and anger.

" Clone .” He spat, “I feel sorry for you. You are nothing more than a slave soldier and you know it . The Republic you fight to protect is cowardly ."

Boss glared at the Terran, his eyes squinted and his brows furrowed.

"I am no slave . I choose to fight.”

"Then let’s fight." The Terran grimaced.

Boss and the Terran stared at each other in silence for half a second before they charged...

Chapter Text

Image Credit: Ben Wootten

Please don’t forget that this story was originally thought up and created by SpaceCowboy2013. I also heavily updated and revised all the previous chapters. Chapter 5 has been especially beefed up. Go check them out.

Also YOOOOOOO WHAT? BAD BATCH????

Cienna, Aldara Plains, 15 Miles West of Fort Longston

"The last Republic transport has finished unloading its troops. Recon says that it’s another mechanized division. That brings the total number of enemy forces deployed in this theater to about 80,000 troops, General." One of Brigadier General Alexi’s aides read off from the M650 Mastodon’s readouts.

“And they’re attacking from two fronts and they’re too damn close to our lines to nuke them." His superior, Major General Hudong, informed over the radio. The radio, more powerful than standard models, was but one of the many pieces of equipment that transformed the Mastodon APC into a mobile command center.

He was positioned on one of the rocky hillsides that were part of a dry mountain range that all led to a vast desert plain where the Republic army was currently marching towards him.

His enemy had deployed shield generators around their ships once they landed to protect them as they offloaded their forces, the loss of one of their ‘star destroyers’ to Fort Longston's guns were enough for them to not take any chances.

He had in total 14,000 soldiers under his command, and he was currently standing down at least 6 times that number.

However, from what he was seeing through his reconnaissance elements, he was not too impressed.

If the Republic had a concept of mechanized warfare, then they were doing a great job of hiding it.

Aside from small, lightly armed hover tanks called TX-130s, he saw no dedicated mobile armor.

What they used instead were walkers, and lots of them.

Ranging from admittedly impressive beetle-like AT-TE walkers armed with a large mass driver turret (though for its size ONI was surprised to find it underpowered when compared to those on the UNSC armor), to chicken like AT-STs with two laser cannons and launchers, 8 legged SPMAs acting as mobile artillery, gargantuan SPHAs, 4 legged AT-AAs, and the towering AT-ATs. Alexi was still dumbfounded at how they kept up a 60 km/h pace.

The standoff range of their fighters was laughable as well. About 20 kilometers at best. That hardly mattered though, the enemy had fighter cover while he was stuck with only CAS aircraft. All the other Air Force and Navy fighters were tied up in orbit and elsewhere on the planet.

He did have to give the Republic Credit for their LAATs, they could prove problematic but they were nothing that his Wolverine anti air vehicles couldn't handle.

Looking at the Republic lines, he couldn't help but get a sense he was looking at a picture out of the Napoleonic Wars or the 1st American Civil War by how almost half of their infantry were deployed in infantry squares out in the open as they marched out of their ships before mounting into their vehicles.

Alexi scoffed as some mounted into open topped transports. “Who the hell do these dogs think they’re fighting against?”

Something else caught his attention, absolute behemoths of vehicles were unloaded from an assault ship’s cargo elevator. At 50 meters long propelled by 10 wheels, the tank was admittedly intimidating; Alexi hoped it wouldn’t fare well against his artillery and armor.  

Their columns were such a juicy target, and the gunners on his Rhino self propelled guns and his more conventional Fox artillery were already on it.

Alexi smiled at his display as his forces began moving.

All of his artillery and a quarter of his anti air units were currently deployed on the large ridge, like his command vehicle, with a company of infantry directly defending it. The rest of his forces were rushing to fortify the valley leading into the city.

The battle plan was for his 10 SP42 Cobras positioned around him to use their railguns to take out as many of the AT-AAs that they could. The Republic AA had already proven deadly against the couple of Shortsword bombers they had deployed to cripple the early landing.

The point of this was to allow the Sparrowhawks and SkyHawks a cleaner airspace. The Wombat UCAVs were doing an amazing job at harassing the Republic, but they were no match for the enemy fighters at close ranges. 

Alexi would have to grind down the Republic forces and rout them back to their ship, but just how that would happen was the problem. Alexi wasn’t dumb enough to try and assault a ship with an understrength division head on, the Republic’s air superiority over this sector made that impossible anyhow. Any CAS sortie would have to be under his AA net, or else it would be a waste of resources.

The artillery would have to pound away at the exposed infantry while the main elements of his force would hold the line against the onslaught, and then counterattack and drive them all the way back to their ship.

His 10,000 soldiers would move alongside their M38 Panda APCs, M43 Boar IFVs, and Recluse MBTs and systematically wipe out any resistance.

A brigade of 4000 Marines had been attached to his division, and they would remain in defensive positions on a low plateau, utilizing mortars and heavy weapons to handle any breakthrough and support the frontlines. During the counterattack, they would act as a reserve force should anything go wrong.

The rest of the sizable garrison had been ordered to entrench themselves along the way to the city as well as inside of it.

To deal with the enemy artillery, his Sparrowhawks fitted for close air support would have to take them out quickly. There were too many guns for counter battery fire to take them out quick enough. He would have to load his Sparrowhawks for CAS only, leaving no room for air-to-air missiles. It was a shame he would have to sacrifice the Sparrowhawk’s dogfighting capabilities (as limited as they were) to take out the Republic artillery.

What made up for this loss were 2 gleaming Vulture gunships with a full load of 8 A-74 Slyver missiles to complement its dreaded armament of 2 dual 20mm autocannons, a 50mm chin gun, Argent V missiles, and a Phoenix tactical missile as the cherry on top.

He eyed his radio as he heard it pick up a new update from his higher ups. “This is command, WMD usage has been authorized, all forces in the northern continent please be advised.”

‘Are they really going to do it?’ Alexi thought, perplexed.

Although this would do little to help his immediate situation, considering he was located on the southern continent. Major General Hudong had said the Republic landed too close to him anyway.

He sighed and looked at his screens as the Republic steadily marched on towards his position.

He simply nodded to one of his command staff, who radioed it in.

Seconds later the whole ridge shook.

All Terrain Tactical Enforcer, 327th Star Corps

Bly wanted to pound his fist into the holoscreen.

"Can you confirm that?" He grumbled to the communications officer.

The clone, wearing the usual Phase II Trooper armor with the unmistakable yellow stripes identifying the 327th Star Corps answered.

"Yes Sir, the Hurlania went down with all hands, we’re going to have to assault the city directly. Our scouts report that the enemy has dug in on those hills in front of us, Commander." The officer answered while the AT-TE rumbled beneath their feet. The walker was blazing towards the enemy lines at 60 kilometers an hour, keeping in pace with the rest of his column.

"Our starfighters are handling their droid craft, Sir, but they’re clawing into us whenever they get the chance. Our AT-AAs are still moving into position to cover our whole formation.” Lieutenant Galle said.

“Fleet command said they’d try to break off a Venator and BDZ that valley to give us a straight shot into the city.” Inc informed. “Our Larties flanking around the city seem to remain undetected.”

He was cut off by the comms officer.

"Sir! We’ve just lost all contact with the northern landing zones!"

His brain spun.

"What! how..."

"Hold on, the fleet’s patching us through!” The holoscreen changed from a tactical readout to the camera feed of an orbiting ship.

The northern horizon was lit up with a second sun for five seconds before gradually dissipating to reveal an ever expanding mushroom shaped cloud.

"Kriff... They used a thermonuclear device in atmosphere?" Bly muttered, stunned.

As primitive as nuclear weapons were, there was no denying that they were indeed powerful, and in a planet's atmosphere they could devastate armies and cities in one fell swoop. After the Mandalorian Crusades, the weapons had almost all but disappeared, until now.

Nearly a hundred thousand of his brothers were gone, there was nothing they could do to save themselves.

Completely helpless.

He had a sinking feeling that the Terrans were going to be much more cruel and heartless at waging war than the CIS.

‘So that's how they play the game. Guess General Secura’s worries about this war are proving true, what happened to the fleet alone…’ His thoughts trailed off as Lieutenant Inc called out.

"ARF troopers and probes reporting in, they have a visual."

Once again, the holoscreen changed, this time to the macrobinoculars of a scout. Hundreds of vehicles, trenches, hastily constructed dirt and wood bunkers, camouflage netting.

The premier vehicles were what were obviously tanks, behemoths with thick armor plating and a mean looking gun. It was complemented by 2 medium sized cannons and 2 ‘machine guns’. Despite its huge size, it looked very, very mobile.

Next were 8 wheeled armored vehicles that had a respectable gun, the same size as the tank’s secondary armament. These were much smaller, but as with all examples of Terran technology, were most likely powerful. It also had several of those ‘machine guns’. They also had what looked like a troop compartment, so they must be APCs of some sort.

There was another type of transport, armed with a gun slightly bigger than the APC, rocket tubes, and some kind of grenade launcher. It was tracked like the tanks.

Bly also noticed a hybrid vehicle, with both wheels and tracks. Two massive rocket batteries with 2 cannons in the middle. They were probably AA vehicles.

‘I hope my LAATs and bombers can outrun those things.’ Bly thought.

The view panned up into the ridgeline, focusing on 6 wheeled vehicles with dual slugthrowers.

‘Is that their artillery?’ Bly wondered for a moment.

"This is going to be a real slog." Galle noted.

“Have our Juggernauts and AT-ATs take the right flank, once they break through we’ll have their entire line in enfilade.” Bly commanded.

"Enemy aircraft inbound, around 200 of them!" Someone called out.

Bly didn't mutter a word as the screen returned to the tactical map, showing two separate waves of aircraft coming up from behind the hills.

Half of that number were ‘Pelican’ dropships. He hadn’t seen them in action, but from what he could tell from what he was seeing now and what intel told him, they seemed to be an exact counterpart for his LAATs, albeit larger.

The other half was composed of 2 different types of assault craft, using turbofans as their source of propulsion. They were bristling with guns. Despite the limited information on these vehicles, Bly grimaced at the ways these could do damage to his forces. Luckily, his AA units had finally maneuvered into their positions within the formation to provide complete coverage for Bly’s forces.

He turned to Galle. "I want our LAATs and whatever air cover we have to engage those craft. Draw them off from our lines, our AA will handle whatever makes it through. Have our TX-130s move to harass the enemy and prod for weak points in their defense after our dismounted infantry regroups with them. Our artillery will soften up their lines and allow our main armored push to break through and envelop them. Let’s hope the fleet can get a ship under their defensive guns’ lines of fire.”

Suddenly the screens began to shimmer and the enemy signatures faded in and out of existence.

"Enemy ECM skyrocketing!”

One of the other officers turned and yelled "Sir! Enemy artillery firing!”

Bly felt his mind go numb. ‘This field is a death trap!’ He cursed internally.

Shells began to scream through the air outside, exploding and sending shrapnel everywhere. Thankfully most of his infantry were within the confines of armored vehicles, save for the men in the AT-OTs bringing up the rear.

"Get our artillery into position to fire on that ridge..." He didn't get to finish his sentence as a shell hit mere meters in front of his tank, shattering the driver’s cockpit and coating the inside in red.

Bly and his command staff were thrown down.

M1000 Recluse MBT, Army 63rd Armored Division

"Enemy light armor. Distance… 6 kilometers. I’m lasing the targets.” Lieutenant James Taylor said.

“I see ‘em. Buncha chickens out in the open?” The rookie gunner Grant Fitzsimmons asked.

“Yep, those are the ones. Summers, get ready for some shoot and scoot.”

"Yes sir. I still can’t believe Command nuked the other front’s landing zones." His driver Peter Summers chuckled as the bulk of the enemy neared the 10 kilometer optimal engagement range.

Taylor smirked in agreement as he watched the Republic forces press through the UNSC artillery.

His smirk turned into a savage grin as a shell scored a direct hit on one of their beetle walkers, causing it to belch flams and topple over. A Republic AA vehicle was flipped over by a shell while it was in the middle of its stride. Taylor was glad that their close air support had been giving them hell.

“All armor, fire at will!” His CO ordered over the radio.

“Fire!” Taylor echoed as the bulk of the UNSC forces started firing. Fitzsimmons obliged, and sent a 125mm slug downrange, kicking up the camouflage netting, dust, and completely obliterating an AT-ST’s crew compartment.

“Whew, not bad for a first kill!” Taylor nudged Fitzsimmons’s shoulder with his foot from his position above in his cupola. 

The enemy was closing in, now 8 kilometers away.

The autoloader put another shell into the cannon. “Fire!” Another chicken walker was destroyed.

A flight of 4 Sparrowhawks flew overhead, firing their missiles and 20mm rotary guns in a cacophony of violence, taking out a platoon of AT-TEs with their combined fire. One Sparrowhawk charged its nose mounted M6 laser and blasted an AT-TE with it; to the pilot’s shock, it did nothing. The AT-TE dispersed the Sparrowhawk’s weapon harmlessly across its thermally superconducting hull.

The pilot was subsequently shot down, veering off to the side, and crashing behind Republic lines. An unlucky fate.

"Summers, move us to our secondary firing position.”

Without saying a word, Summer reversed the 70 ton beast out of the ditch and moved to another 50 meters away. It was promptly timed, a Republic tank shell landed where they had just been seconds ago. Although it probably wouldn’t have killed them, Taylor didn’t take those kinds of chances.

His fellow Recluse commander, Alex Grillpanzer, broadcasted over his comms. “Republic light armor advancing on our position!”

As his tank bounced over the ridge he rotated his optics to see some 30 small hovertanks and 10 of those AT-ST walkers heading for them, the hovertanks speeding towards them at over 100 kilometers an hour.

"Enemy targets, 5 kilometers, 3 o’clock! Fire at will, take them out!" He called as Fitzsimmons aimed the main gun at the lead walker.

"Engaging!" Fitzsimmons called out. The Recluse fired its main gun and shook the tank while sending a 125mm penetrator through an AT-ST's head at hypersonic speeds, the AT-ST flopped over as shrapnel and spall pierced the drivers. A Boar IFV next to Taylor’s position, blasting away at dismounted Clones, was hit by an AT-TE’s main cannon, silencing the vehicle permanently.

While Fitzsimmons continued to fire the main gun and coaxial .50 cals, Taylor hardened his resolve. He aimed his targeting reticle over one of the hovertanks. He held down the trigger, letting loose a wild burst of 25mm rounds, some bouncing off, some being defeated by its armor, but enough made it through. The fighter tank careened into the ground, digging up dirt. The viewport was shot through and the pilot totally mangled.

Inside the armored cocoon of the Recluse, he couldn’t hear the hypersonic cracks and explosions that would otherwise make him go deaf, but the hell of battle had set in nonetheless.

The rest of his platoon fired, outright destroying 9 more TX-130s and 2 other AT-STs before the Republic forces could even fire back.

"Reloading and recharging, ready again in four." Grillpanzer announced as the enemy formed up in front of them.

The UNSC tanks tracked their targets like predators stalk prey. The Republic was closing in at 3 kilometers from the UNSC lines. Using their closed distance, they started to focus their fire on the UNSC tanks. 

As the Republic forces started to trickle in through the various gaps they created, a missile slammed into one of his platoon’s tanks after it received the full attention of 5 Republic vehicles. The top was blown clean off, launching its turret into the air. The active defense system must’ve malfunctioned after it had its shields smashed.

Taylor clenched his teeth as blaster cannon bolts slammed into his shields. He glanced over at his console. 60%, 50%... 

A TX-130’s beam turret shot a stream of energy into Taylor’s tank. Taylor gripped the tank as his shields burst, but the beam didn’t cut into the hull.

The Recluse was designed to take hits from Wraith plasma shells, stray plasma rounds, and conventional projectile weapons. The tank shrugged off the hits as the armor deflected or absorbed the kinetic energy and heat of the bolts.

"Pathetic." Another of Taylor’s fellow Grizzly commanders laughed as twin bolts hit his turret with little effect.

The Recluse rocked again as the 125mm cannon fired, taking out another hovertank. Taylor mulched the pilot as he tried to climb out of the top hatch with his LAAGs.

Another AT-ST fell victim to Fitzsimmons’s aim, the target had its right leg snapped in two, his shot went right through the reverse knee joint. 

No matter how many they were taking out, more and more vehicles began to swarm through.

“How many damned tanks do they have!?” Grillpanzer cursed as his gunner blew up another Republic vehicle.

“This is Command to Foxtrot Bravo." His radio crackled.

"Foxtrot Bravo-1 copies." Taylor said while a LAAT crashed into the ground, a Sparrowhawk flying victoriously overhead.

“Republic heavy armor is overrunning our left flank, all other units are completely tied up! Get your platoon down there. They’ve been raising hell for our armor. How copy?”

" Wilco Command, over." He ended the communication. “Alright Summers, get us out of here and down to 1st Brigade. Second Platoon will have to handle this by themselves.” Taylor commanded, referring to the Republic forward elements.

Taylor started broadcasting to his men while Grillpanzer pinned down a squad of clones with his LAAGs behind a tank wreck. "Boys, looks like we’re going big game hunting!”

Low Altitude Assault Transport, 327th Star Corps

CT-188 ‘Shar’ cursed. He threw his LAAT into a dive to avoid yet another stream of cannon fire from the accursed UNSC gunships.

"Blast! I can't hit them! How are you doing Ran?" Shar’s copilot asked his side gunner manning the port beam cannon.

While Shar twisted his LAAT away from a stream of AA fire, his copilot was bothered by the fact Rahn wasn’t responding to his question.

The copilot pulled up a video image of the port ball turret and the image confirmed what he feared.

The ball turret was shattered, and the tattered remains of Ran and his armor were slumped over in his seat, blood splattered all over the place. Whatever limbs were intact limply flopped around with the gunship whenever it went into another maneuver.

"Fierfek." His copilot muttered. “Must’ve been those gunships’ wing turrets that got him.”

"Yeah, if it were their AA, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Shar stated as he angrily flipped the craft over to make a strafing run on the Terran's buckling defensive line, for all the good he knew it would do. It seemed that every other Terran had a missile launcher that could track and seriously damage LAAT's.

Many that had attempted to support the ground advance were swatted down by enemy AA vehicles and their rapid fire projectile cannons and vicious missiles. Some were even taken out by shoulder fired lasers and missiles from the entrenched enemy infantry. Only a few had made successful strafing runs, only to be immediately punished by the Terrans.

In all his years of fighting, he’d never seen anti air fire this intense, not even in the simulators.

In fact, he had never seen a battle that was this dynamic before. Even on the defense the Terrans were still mobile. Their tanks maneuvered in and out of prepared fighting positions, and their infantry would move to retake whatever positions they had lost, constantly pressuring the Republic and prodding at whatever salients had been created.

After he had dropped off his troops on a rocky hill (who were subsequently overrun by mechanized infantry and those downright impressive Terran tanks), he had been engaged in constant air combat with the Terran gunships and dropships, and had watched as his wingmates were shot down, one ripped apart by a Terran AA battery, the second to a Terran gunship’s missile salvo, and the third to one of those shoulder fired laser weapons.

After sending his craft into a tight turn, Shar found himself on the tail of a damaged UNSC dropship that was limping its way to friendly skies.

The pilot of the craft saw him and wildly jinked his dropship, but Shar stayed tight on his tail. Shar smirked while his instruments locked onto the hapless dropship. Combining his laser cannons and missile launchers, he took out a rear thruster. The Terran dropship spun wildly out of control, crashing into the ground and detonating.

Shar pumped his fist in victory. 

His demeanor soon paled when he looked at his tactical display to see an AT-AT disappear off of his screen.

Shar flipped his craft over. He saw the source of the destruction, a line of 4 UNSC tanks hammering the leading AT-ATs breaking through the right flank.

He watched the leading tank plow through sand and debris as its treads propelled the armored war machine at surprising speeds. Its turret rotated to face another AT-AT, the range between the two at a little over a kilometer. The large mass driver cannon belched electricity, superheated air, and a streaking white projectile that hit the AT-AT’s knee joint, which was trying to bring its powerful guns to bear. 

It never got the chance, the walker stumbled over and fell to the ground. A follow up shot failed to go through the armored hide, unable to penetrate the thick durasteel at that odd angle. Another Terran tank was quick to send another round down range, going through the neck of the walker.

Supporting AT-TEs retaliated, sending laser fire and shells from their mass drivers downrange. One lucky shot stopped a Terran tank dead in its tracks, but not before it could get a shot off from its own cannon.

The AT-TE exploded as the round the tank had fired impacted in the AT-TE's most vulnerable spot, its cockpit. The round penetrated clean through the entire tank, causing it to explode.

Shar snarled and sent his craft into a dive, intent on using the last of his missiles against them.

The tanks were seemingly oblivious to the gunship about to ruin their day, until he noticed their smaller cannons mounted atop the main turret rotate to face him.

‘What are they doing?’ Shar thought. ‘They can’t take me out with those things, can they?’

His question was answered as he received incoming fire. Some dented the front of the gunship, some bounced off, some penetrated the bottom of the empty troop bay, but one round penetrated through his cockpit. Shar didn’t get a chance to curse before another 25mm round blew his brains out. The gunship started to careen towards the ground before Shar’s copilot could take control.

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

“Stay on him!” Grillpanzer called out while the gunship flew overhead, smoke now coming out from one of its engines.

“Save your ammo, I don’t think he’s gonna come back around here anytime soon.” Taylor said. 

The tank rocked from laser cannon fire.

“Our side armor’s at 60% integrity.” Summers informed the rest of the crew.

“I know damnit, I’m looking at the same screen you are!” Taylor gritted his teeth while he brought his LAAGs to bear on exposed infantry.

The LAAT that had tried to strafe them had been damaged and ultimately fended off by combined fire from their 25mm LAAGs, performing just as their designers had intended. The LAAGs gave UNSC tanks a very slight ability to defend themselves against low and relatively slow flying attackers.

Outside of the tank’s armored cocoon was hell moving at 160 kilometers an hour. A gargantuan Republic wheeled tank the size of a Scarab was blitzing past UNSC lines, letting out lasers, plasma, and missiles while crushing anything in its path. 4 more followed it into the maelstrom of UNSC heavy weapons.

“Those things are going to blow right through us!” A Recluse commander exclaimed.

The twin 25mm chainguns fired a stream of orange tracer rounds into the rising cloud of dust. Green and blue bolts of plasma answered back, 125mm ferro-tungsten rounds accelerated to Mach 40 tore through the air with a deafening crack. A round fired from Taylor's own tank hit the hull of the wheeled beast. To Taylor’s surprise, it didn’t even so much as stop. It shrugged off the round like nothing.

Fitzsimmons sent round after round into the monster, deforming its armor plating until he scored a lucky penetrating hit on an ammo store which blew the beast into smithereens.

While Taylor was watching the breakthrough, one of the wheeled tanks turned its weapons to face one of his platoon members. The tank was helpless against the bombardment. The Recluse was obliterated. Thankfully, the Juggernaut didn't seem to give Taylor’s tank a second look, rather it just continued on to try and cut off the defenders’ retreat.

Fitzsimmons fired a retaliatory strike, but it missed. “This damn fire control system couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn!” He cursed as he smacked the viewscreen.

“That’s all you son! Stay focused and knock it off!” Taylor reprimanded him.

A nearby Cougar AFV lurched wildly as it took a hit from a TX-130's beam cannon, most of its frontal armor was destroyed and melted. The driver fought to maintain control, firing its twin 25mm Gauss guns in return, 4 shells hitting against the hovertank’s side repulser pod and sending the fighter tank into a spin. It was now in sight of Taylor’s tank, which blew a hole clean through the helpless Republic fighter tank. The Cougar didn’t make it, the vehicle had caught on fire, trapping the crew inside to be cooked.

Another LAAT came crashing down in flames as six more Sparrowhawks flew overhead, providing cover for Taylor’s tank platoon, now only having 3 tanks.

One of Fitzsimmons’s rounds was stopped by the armored troop bay of an AT-AT, leaving a massive dent.

Fitzsimmons was quick to alleviate the situation, expertly sending another round into the deformed armor plate. The round penetrated, but didn’t seem to do too much actual damage. Fitzsimmons corrected his aim and hit the cockpit.

The head of the walker was thrown around, a section of the armor was visibly crumpled and one of its weapons was ajar.

Fitzsimmons fired another round into the same spot, destroying the cockpit and sending the AT-AT into a mindless pace lumbering towards the UNSC defensive positions before tripping over a vehicle wreck.

The Republic Juggernauts were wreaking havoc on UNSC defenses. A Gauss gun emplacement was overrun, literally. The unfortunate crewmen were crushed under the giant wheels of the vehicle.

“Break, break, break! Foxtrot Bravo-1 to Command!” Taylor yelled into his radio.

“What is it, Foxtrot Bravo!?”

“Republic heavy armor has completely broken through! They’ve cut off the left flank. My platoon doesn’t have the firepower to take them all out!”

“Alright Foxtrot Bravo, hold tight. Air Force bombers are en route, E.T.A fifteen minutes, over.”

“Fifteen minutes!? We don’t even have five… Hello!?” Taylor didn’t get to finish responding before the radio cut out.

Another Cougar AFV was taken out by Republic armor. As the crew began to bail out another energy missile hit it, turning the tank into a fireball that consumed the crew.

Taylor cursed, he followed the trail of the missile to a rocky knoll where Clones armed with heavy anti-armor weapons had dug in alongside supporting infantry.

“Ubeke, Grillpanzer, AT infantry two o’clock!” 

"Fucking sons of bitches!" Grillpanzer cursed as his tank stopped to stitch the hillside with his LAAGs, throwing up tons of dirt as the Clones scurried to cover, two of them weren’t fast enough and subsequently became food fit for worms.

Suddenly Ubeke’s tank exploded into pieces of shrapnel as one of the active AT-TEs obliterated the stationary target.

"Dammit. Grillpanzer! We’ve got to buy our infantry time to retreat. We’re going to get swamped at this rate.” The Recluse autoloader shoved round after round into the gun, each round spelling doom for whoever was on the receiving end, yet it wasn’t enough, there were too many damned walkers.

Summers put the tank in reverse while AT-ATs began to turn towards the tank.

Taylor yelled in fury as he fired his LAAGs at whatever he saw, Fitzsimmons tried to shoot as fast as the tank would let him while the infantry made their way towards the valley in a tactical withdrawal.

The hammer had fallen upon the anvil, but there was only one anvil and thousands of hammers.

CT-2310 ‘Jic’

Running over the bodies of fallen Troopers, Jic and a platoon of 40 Clones of the 327th Star Corps charged headlong into the firestorm of battle as his heart pounded in his chest.

His mind was focused on one thing, survival.

And there was only one way to survive this assault, to break through the UNSC line.

His unit on the left flank had received barely any armor or artillery support. They were pretty much on their own, yet they had managed to grind their way through enemy lines, a stark contrast to the right flank which had cleaved their way through with a focused armored assault.

He knew that he would most likely not return from the battlefield alive, the Terrans made the droids look like a sick joke.

To hammer this point home, an engorged Terran gunship flew towards Jic’s company. Jic’s personal platoon scrambled behind a destroyed walker. One of the other platoons wasn’t so lucky. The gunship let loose a barrage of cannon fire and missiles, obliterating 40 men with metal and explosions.

Jic peered over his cover to see the barren ground where 40 men had once stood. “Oh skrag…”

The fat craft flew overhead with stunning speed. While it was turning around to ventilate Jic’s men, one of them scored a lucky hit with a PLX-1 right in the engine compartment. The craft stuttered in the air and crashed into the ground. A round from a vengeful AT-TE blew it to bits on the ground.

He held his blaster carbine ready at hip level while he cleared an opening that was the scene of a brutal hand to hand fight, where a UNSC foxhole was overrun only after the two Terrans had killed dozens of his own. The corpses of his brothers littered the ground, most of them were dismembered.

The only consolation prize were the Terran bodies, spotted with scorch marks and burns. Their combat knives and holdout weapons were drenched in blood, both from their own bodies and the bodies of Clones. Thankfully his helmet filtered out the smell of seared flesh, for the most part.

Years of training and months on campaign allowed him to ignore the burnt and charred remains of a Terran soldier. He and his fellow troopers crested the ridge to see yet another trench where a seemingly white carpet of Clone bodies in their armor covered the sandy ground. A wall of blue blaster bolts continuously slammed into the UNSC defenders and their positions as they frantically fired back as much as they could, sending streams of hypersonic bullets into the charging Republic Clones.

Jic was made aware of this fact by the trooper next to him spinning around, spurting blood everywhere from a stray bullet wound. Immediately a medic hastily applied his dwindling supply of bacta patches onto the hurt trooper.

Jic and the rest of his men hugged the dirt as more projectiles cracked around them.

Jic and the other men of his platoon found themselves crawling into a wide but shallow crater, caused by one of the few artillery barrages his flank had been afforded. Jic used the dirt lip of the crater to support his arms. No less than 30 meters away was a Terran soldier. Jic let off a long burst into the man, taking out his shields with a crackling pop.

The Terran returned fire, prompting Jic to duck back down.

Jic took a deep breath in, stood up, and started to fire his blaster on full auto. He closed the distance and fired another burst into the surprised man, catching him in the face and blasting most of his head away.

Jic threw himself into the trench. He motioned for his men. “Get up here Troopers!” 

His platoon slowly filtered into the trench. One Trooper stuck his head out only for it to be blown in two from a Terran machine gun, sending plastoid and skull fragments flying.

“Blast, alright. First Squad! Link up with Commander Deviss and his men. Second and Third Squad continue down this trench and take out any Terran you see. Fourth Squad with me, move out!” Jic ordered. “Get some smoke up here!”

One of Jic’s men tossed a smoke grenade above the trench towards the machine gun emplacement. Seconds later a thick plume of smoke enveloped the open area. Jic went over the top, doing his best to avoid the wild spraying of the blinded crew.

Jic found himself to the left of the machine gun crew, soon followed by the rest of his men. They looked shocked and turned the weapon towards Jic. Without hesitation his squad opened fire on the turret. The 2 men manning the gun took dozens of blaster bolts, their armor was peppered with scorch marks melting through. They flinched in pain, growled, but ultimately died before they could get a shot off.

Jic and his men ducked as a UNSC attack craft was shot down above them, the vehicle streaked only a dozen meters above before crashing.

Jic got up and threw his hand forward to signal his men to advance. While the smoke cleared behind him, Jic pressed forward towards the next trench.

UNSC Command vehicle

“Where the hell is the damn Air Force!? We are being overrun down here! Our whole damn line is breaking!” Alexi heard a man from the frontline screaming into the radio. His left flank was shattered. Those damned Republic wheel tanks had broken through while his air support was tied up by Republic fighters and other sorties.

He frowned at the tactical readout and opened a communication channel. “This is General Alexi, air support is only five minutes away. Hold fast and Godspeed.” Alexi sighed and ran his hand over his grey stubble.

Through a feed from a soldier’s helmet cam, he saw the situation. Republic armor simply outnumbered his own. Once they had the tanks distracted, they plowed through the gaps created and laid waste to his infantry. It didn’t matter if you were armed with a rocket launcher when you were obliterated before you could even peak out.

He was reminded by the video that unlike the last war, he was once again killing Humans, his own species. The emotional disconnect that allowed him to heartlessly kill Covenant hordes in droves was not there. He had fought against the Insurrection, but this just wasn’t the same, to see men charge against men by the thousands.

Unexpectedly, a Shortsword came onto his map. “I thought they were five minutes out?”

“Must’ve been a miscalculation.” One of his subordinates suggested.

Alexi activated his radio. “All incoming air wings! Engage targets at your discretion. Make sure you double check your IFFs.”

“Copy that, sir. Going in for a bombing run.”

“All UNSC forces withdraw towards the city. Air support is engaging.” Alexi turned off the radio. "God forgive me." He muttered.

Munitions rained down on the Andromedan forces. Shrapnel, explosions, bullets, and napalm.

Alexi watched with a mix of awe and horror as the expanding firestorm enveloped the invaders. It would buy him the time he needed to retreat into the city.

His viewscreen panned to the expanding devastation. Clones flailed out of their vehicles, roasting alive. He watched as a Clone’s plastoid armor seared into the flesh of the man, melting and contorting in the firestorm.

The bombing run had come just in the knick of time. But there was no telling how fast the situation could unravel further.

Though the defensive line was lost, the Republic would still have to chase him through the valley and into the city. History showed that assaulting a city would end in a tedious campaign, one which the Clones couldn’t afford. Estimated enemy casualties were over 15,000 with his own forces at 63% strength, but the 8 Republic divisions had all linked up. He needed an ace up his sleeve, but he was dealt a losing hand.

Alexi turned to his AI assistant. "Vernard, estimate the chances of our forces defeating the Republic."

The dumb AI's ghostly avatar blinked as it replied.

"I estimate a twenty one percent chance of victory with losses mounting to fifty percent and with total destruction of enemy forces. We have a seventy two percent chance of achieving victory with our forces taking over eighty percent losses. Would you like to see the calculation performed by factoring in orbital support and thermonuclear weapons?” The AI blinked as it waited for Alexi’s response.

Alexi frowned. He found the ace, but he didn’t like what it entailed. "Get me a line to Admiral White."

AT-TE

"We’ve completely smashed through their defenses but their bombers are tearing us to shreds down here. Our AA is having a tough time locking on, they’ve got a terribly effective countermeasure system sir." Galle reported over the holoprojector. Galle and Inc had dismounted and joined the infantry earlier after their walker had been hit.

Bly shook his head. He was sorely tempted to leave the walker and go out there himself, but his men needed his leadership, he was useless to them dead. 

He didn’t like sitting in this walker while his brothers were out there dying. He hoped General Ti would come to relieve him soon so he could fight on the front.

The walker shook as its main gun fired. The cockpit glass had been replaced and a new driver found.

Thankfully he’d finally broken through this hell of a defensive line.

It was a pyrrhic victory. He lost thousands of men as KIA, wounded, and crippled.

If there was one good piece of news, it seemed that the UEG Army had incurred enough losses themselves, no doubt mainly to the sheer numbers he had fielded against them. Their ground reinforcements were likely still half a rotation away, at that point the surface cannons preventing orbital support from arriving would be dealt with.

"Sir." Another officer said. "General Ti is unable to make it planetside, she’s helping the fleet with wounded on the auxiliaries, they were hit by Terran heavy strike bombers.”

Several of the Clones, Bly included, cursed at the news. He sighed, it was now official that he was no longer simply the interim commander.

"Get me a line to Admiral Tarkin." Bly ordered.

UNSC Warhound

"Transition into T7’s orbit successful, tightening the orbits of the fleet to allow the battlegroups to intercept at a sixty degree axis. The Republic fleet is coming up behind us." MacArthur said as the mighty and bloodied battleship increased its pitch and executed a burn to bring the intersection point of the enemy fleet closer, as the Republic fleet was surprisingly fast. “Battlegroup 2 is on the dark side of the moon, moving to our interception point.”

"Take the safeties off of the Shivas and get ready to launch three of them. Mask their approach with Archer pods sixty through one hundred. Tell the fleet to pick their targets, I want Shivas to hit every single one of those bastards." White ordered as the ship shuddered.

The bluish gas giant passed under the fleet and filled most of the viewscreen. 2 of his cruisers, a Marathon and a Warlock, passed below him, followed shortly by 3 of the Gibraltars. Their thrusters burned a bright blue/white as they accelerated to match the maneuver.

Admiral White was staring at the battlegroup chasing him down. It was 30 ships strong, and led by one of their largest warships. He opened a small pocket sized magnetic compass. It was going haywire.

That signaled it was time to initiate his plan.

Working in tandem, the 2 UNSC battlegroups accelerated towards each other in converging trajectories.

If it worked, the 2 groups would intercept each other head on with the Republic fleet between them.

Admiral White’s ships would remain off the scopes to his enemies.

"Time to intercept is three minutes. " Captain Haithum said.

“All coilgun batteries are reloaded. MACs fully operational, awaiting charge.” The weapons officer informed.

White tapped his foot on the deck while he waited for the Republic, to see whether or not they would play right into his hand.

"Time to optimal engagement range thirty seconds.” The weapons officer said.

“Increasing acceleration to fifty gees.” The helmsman announced.

The Republic fleet was in visual sighting range, but just barely. The optical equipment projected the image onto the video feed, first showing the Republic fleet as nothing more than grey wedges, and then zoomed in on the lead ship, an Imperator. It was larger than the size of a UNSC heavy cruiser and it sure as hell packed a punch up close.

"Match our ECM to the planet's natural radiation and electromagnetism. They won’t be able to see us until we’re right under their noses.”

However in doing so meant that he could not use his primary weapon systems, White didn’t want to risk having the electromagnetism of his MACs and the radiation signature of energy weapons giving away his position too soon.

"Battlegroup 2 is over the curvature of T7’s moon. Enemies are in range at eight hundred thousand kilometers, our Shiva's have a lock." MacArthur announced as the gathering lights of the Republic fleet grew larger, the Republic were none the wiser.

"Launch them now!" He ordered with haste.

As soon as the words left his lips, thousands of Archer missiles launched throughout the remainder of his fleet, followed by dozens of Shiva nuclear missiles. In White’s own ship, 3 dull thuds were heard by the crew in the missile launch bays as his remaining Shivas were launched out of their electromagnetically assisted missile tubes towards the enemy. They had a yield in the hundreds of megatons, and would hopefully drop the Republic ships’ shields in the resulting EMP. The Shiva’s smoke contrails slowly joined the thousands of others.

"Come on..." Admiral White gripped the edge of the screen impatiently, he needed to obliterate the Republic flotilla in one swift and decisive maneuver.

"They’ve seen us! They’re turning around and are engaging our missiles with their point defense!" The sensor operator yelled as the first heavy turbo laser blasts began to sail past.

"Go evasive! Charge up all batteries and get those MACs downrange! What’s the status of the missiles?" White barked out while turbolaser bolts shook the ship, each bolt would normally deliver multiple megatons of energy close up, but at this distance it barely hit the megaton mark.

An ensign pulled up the video feed rather than wasting time to talk. It showed the missiles streaking towards their targets on seemingly random trajectories as the Shivas his ship had been equipped with were designed to ‘wobble’ to avoid point defenses when nearing their targets. The sporadic Republic point defense fire was absolutely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of missiles. They desperately focused on the radiation signature of the Shiva missiles, to no avail.

The turbolaser fire intensified as the 2 Terran battlegroups got closer. One of his frigates began to belch flame from the combined fire of a Venator, 2 Acclamators, and 5 Dreadnaught-Class ships. Admiral White’s forces returned fire with their analogous naval coilguns and railguns, mostly to unnerve the Republic forces.

His ship accelerated past the hapless Republic fleet 100,000 kilometers off of his port beam. There was a full second of silence before Admiral White witnessed the birth of a star behind the transparent metal, then another star, and another, and another until 43 brilliant flashes of light washed over the viewport.

Gamma radiation and electromagnetic pulses from the blasts wrecked the shields of the mighty Republic ships as 500 megatons of TNT equivalent subsequently tore open the armored hulls of mile long warships with the heat of stars a thousand times bigger than Sol. Durasteel burned and boiled away. Entire crews simply vanished, whole ships were swallowed by the expanding fireball.

Admiral White gripped the metal of his tactical map’s frame as he witnessed the resulting shockwave created from the nuclear blasts push away vented atmosphere and debris. Had he the strength of a Spartan, he would’ve ripped the terminal straight out of its socket.

43 suns had replaced the fuzzy wedges of the enemy fleet for a brief moment, until it returned to the welcoming blackness of space. When the light faded, the largest piece of the Republic battlegroup left was the aft half section of a Venator, almost unrecognizable from the explosion. The lead ship, the Imperator-Class Star Destroyer Fossac , was completely vaporized in the blast. Almost nothing else was left behind but dust and echoes.

His bridge’s crewmembers looked at each other in shock. What started so soon had ended just as quickly. They started to cheer and holler, the crewmen from the other ships joined them in their small celebration as they formed up behind White’s ship.

MacArthur appeared in front of him. "Congratulations Sir, but I’m afraid the situation on the ground requires your intervention. Major General Hudong is requesting support.”

RNS Intrepid

"The...they are all gone Sir, Commodore Sceriny's detachment has been wiped out." The comms officer informed Tarkin in horror as the fleet sensors registered multiple thermonuclear explosions. “It appears they were caught in a pincer trap.”

The communications from the commodore's task force had all been abruptly silenced after he engaged the Terran forces. The crafty devils had cloaked their ships in the magnetosphere of the gas giant and hid another part of their fleet behind a moon and caught the commodore totally off guard. Their sensors revealed nothing until it was too late.

"Bring the captain here, immediately!” Tarkin said while the reports kept flooding in.

This turn of events would do nothing to stop Tarkin from winning this battle, although the battle in the now trashed space station seemed like an exercise in futility. The main objective of capturing navigation data was rendered moot as the UEG had some protocol that immediately wiped all navigational data and other sensitive information from its computer banks, as was found out when the slicing specialists tried and failed miserably to crack the Terran's mainframe. In fact, they ended up having their equipment wiped from a malicious AI.

The planetside situation seemed to be looking up however. Although a landing site was wiped out, another was able to break through the Terran defenses and was making a mad dash in pursuit of the fleeing Terrans.

His fleet was down to about 110 ships. Most had already incurred damage, as evident by the burnt remains of his ship’s port bridge.

Worst still, Aayla Secura's fighter had apparently been knocked out of action by the UNSC's cowardly strike on his auxiliary medical and support ships, he had a recovery team that was towing her fighter back to the Intrepid . The Twi'lek jedi had been knocked unconscious for several hours while the battle raged on.

Shaak Ti had failed to even make it groundside. She had opted to help those on the remaining medical ships deal with the carnage they had experienced over there, and she was reporting back to him on the Intrepid in several minutes.

Although more of a challenge than Tarkin would’ve liked, the battle would surely be won. 

Now the Republic had shown this enemy its might, or so Tarkin thought.

“We have an incoming transmission from Commander Bly.”

“Very well, patch him through.” Tarkin said.

The holoprojector activated to show the familiar face of a Clone, although this one seemed to be especially stressed. “Admiral.” He saluted.

“Commander, what is it?”

“My artillery units are bombarding their surface to space mass drivers, sir. I was hoping you could spare some ships to land more reinforcements so that my men can move in and secure our objective.”

“Very well, Commander. I will dispatch a group shortly.” Tarkin shut off the projection without waiting for a reply.

He promptly hailed his most trusted subordinate. “Captain Piett.”

“Captain Piett reporting, sir. What would you have me do, Admiral?” Captain Firmus Piett of the Imperator Accuser asked.

"Break off a flotilla to escort the Clone reinforcements to their landing zone.”

“But sir, the Hurlania -”

"Those surface cannons are being dealt with as we speak. The faster we can conquer this system the faster this war will be over.” Before cutting the transmission short, Tarkin came up with a better plan that the Jedi couldn’t currently object to, seeing as they were tied up elsewhere.

This new plan would both be a morale loss for the Terrans and conserve his remaining forces. “On second thought, Captain. Initiate a Base Delta Zero on the defensive line opposing the Clones’ advance.”

“Sir, are you sure that’s wise considering our troops are in such close contact with the enemy?”

“I do not care if you have to raze the city in order to end this battle, Captain .” Tarkin said with mild contempt. “Order Commander Bly to withdraw his men and use the fleet to pacify the planet from orbit; with their ground troops at the mercy of our ships they will have no choice but to surrender. We shall strike fear into the hearts of these false Humans and will return as the true victors of this battle. You have your orders.”

Piett gulped at this order. “Very well Admiral.” 

Piett was a reliable subordinate, Tarkin had been on campaign with the man before in the Outer Rim, if a little on edge at times.

"We still need to draw that fleet off and engage them to allow our forces time to destroy them from orbit.”  Tarkin ordered.

Turning to the bridge crew, he stood straight as he spoke. "Have the fleet form into attack formation and meet the Terran fleet, we can't let them have a shot at the planet with Captain Piett’s detachment out of position.”

The UNSC fleet had regrouped, thanks to their slingshot orbit they were accelerating towards his forces at alarming speeds.

They were still some 130 million kilometers apart, the gas giant was a bright blue dot in the distance and it would take the Terrans over an hour to arrive. That meant Tarkin still had time to take the planet.

UNSC Warhound Launch Bay 7

The Master Chief checked over his suit one more time as the booster frame, fully loaded and readied for launch, was lowered into position. Admiral White had finally authorized his departure.

John found his MJOLNIR Mark VI (GEN3) was in perfect order as he performed a final diagnostic on the most recent generation of UNSC power armor.

Cortana huffed at this. “You know, that's what I’m here for, right?”

“It never hurts to look for yourself.”

Although the set of armor looked like the one John had worn years prior, it was slightly bulkier and its capabilities left the older model in the dust.

His suit had a new hybrid plasma/fusion reactor that provided four times more power than the previous models while being much more compact, which helped power the other major enhancements to his suit.

On his back was a jetpack that took up much of the space left over from the older reactors, the folded up assembly was small enough and built into the suit so that he could still hold two weapons on his back’s magnetic strips. The uses for the jetpack were tremendous. He also had maneuvering thrusters that had carried over from the GEN2 armor. These additions made the Chief even more agile than he already was, he could already run in excess of fifty kilometers an hour unassisted, but with the suit he could push seventy five. Kelly was even faster.

His shields were also heavily beefed up, they were twice as strong as the previous generation and had overcome the limitations of the earlier and more primitive systems. Previously, infantry would have to lower the strength of their boot and glove shields in order to prevent losing their grip on firearms and slipping over terrain; with advances in technology, these problems were fixed. He also had a limited ability to project his shield’s around him to provide cover for allies, not dissimilar to that of a Jackal’s point defense gauntlet, although much more versatile in what shapes could be created.

The MJOLNIR armor plating was heavily improved upon; like in previous generations, the already impressive composite titanium alloy shell was nigh impervious to small arms fire. It would take a dozen lucky hits in the exact same spot from armor piercing ammunition shot by an MA6 to have a chance of denting it.

The advanced thermal resistance and heat distribution properties of the alloy’s classified ‘recipe’ meant that it would take half of a Sangheili plasma rifle’s battery pack to begin to melt through. It could even take a handful of slugs from a Gauss rifle with a bit of luck and skillful angling in the thickest plate.

The liquid metal crystal piezoelectric layer was now even more refined. It quadrupled John’s already superhuman strength and coupled with the reactive circuits, his reaction time was easily in the single milliseconds.

It might’ve been that the armor was brand new, but the black undersuit felt more comfortable too. John wasn’t one to complain about discomfort, but it was nice to have that luxury.

"Hmmm, I think this new suit fits you quite nicely. I’m liking this new architecture." Cortana spoke as the booster frame was lowered into position.

"Don’t get any funny ideas.” The Master Chief mounted his craft.

The bay doors opened, the only thing protecting the interior of the hangar from the vacuum of space was the energy barrier.

Cortana then informed him of what he was waiting for.

"Launching in three... two… one…”

The Booster Frame's two engines ignited as he gripped the controls.

The light turned green. "Launch!"

Chapter Text

PLEASE PRIVATE MESSAGE ME WITH SUGGESTIONS, I’M TIRED OF GETTING EMAILS ABOUT REVIEWS IN SPANISH

The ‘unique’ MAC round the Chief uses in this chapter apparently originates from Havoc-Legionnaire's story "Halo: the Art of War"

“NOTE TO READERS- The abilities of the Master Chief and Spartans, especially Spartan II's , aside from the addition to the jet pack on the MJOLNIR, are all 100 % canon to Halo. If you think that I am making this up then read the Halo books, especially The Fall Of Reach. What you see in the video games is very toned down due to balancing issues, which stem mainly from having to make Multiplayer balanced, and the fact that because the first Halo game was an early game on the original Xbox, they were not able to make it too flashy and toned it down too. The resulting success of the game made the developers leave the highly lucrative and successful system in place, they had no reason to mess with what was working. Future Halo games WILL showcase the true abilities of Spartans as described in the books. You can also see Spartans (including John and Kelly) in TRUE action in the Halo Legends movie "The Package" (aside from a ridiculous Japanese school girl looking Dr. Halsey that is cannon) It was the whole reason they made that video was to let people see the true capabilities of Spartans.

Fanboys before you start bitching read that note above. If I get any flames saying that "You cannot dodge bullets and shit in the games" I WILL write you back telling you to both read the books and to screw off.”
- SpaceCowboy2013

Also as I’m revising this I now realize how much SC2013 didn’t know how to write MC and Cortana. I hope I did a better job in that regard.

UNSC Warhound

Admiral Gregory White

As Admiral White, Captain Haithum and MacArthur were going over slipspace calculations, they received an alert on the console.

EMERGENCY CODE: SCRATCHED RECORD

“What the hell? Did they take out our surface guns!?”

An officer spoke up. “It’s complicated sir, Fort Longston is still operating but it’s taken a lot of damage. It looks like they’re going to take their chances and try to brute force their way into the atmosphere!”

“Damnit, we’re going to have to get there ASAP. MacArthur, what’s our fleet’s status?”

“The fleet is in position, but if we jump now without a finalized destination solution, we run the risk of slipping right within their formation.”

Admiral White took a deep breath in and sighed. "Well, we have to make this jump anyway. Have the fleet execute on my mark. Captain Haithum, prepare the ship for slipspace.”

There was an eerie silence throughout the bridge. Everyone was firmly planted in their seats tending to their responsibilities, save for White, who pulled out another cigar and lit it by swiping the end against the metal frame of the holographic tactical map.

“The fleet is ready, Admiral.” MacArthur said.

“Alright.” He started a fleetwide broadcast. “All ships, jump on my mark… three… two… one… mark!”

Just as he said those words, the space in front of the surviving UNSC ships distorted and ripped open to show dazzling blue tunnels of transdimensional light. The fleet accelerated into the slipstream, the portals closed behind them and they all but disappeared.

The usual jolt of entering slipspace shook the bridge and almost caused Gregory to lose his footing but he grabbed a nearby handrail. Admiral White was always unnerved by slipspace. It was dark, perfectly black all around. He always felt as if he was being watched.

The otherwise calm that was present in slipspace travel was only going to last a second longer as the fantastic swirling white and blue particles that belonged to a whole different dimension began to bore a whole into real space.

The remaining 39 ships of the UNSC fleet emerged from the portals, giving Admiral White another jolt.

Looking at the displays and view screens, the Admiral was dismayed that a group of destroyers had come out a couple hundred thousand kilometers away from the main group, but there was still time for the rest of his fleet to intercept the Republic ships entering into Cienna’s mesosphere.

Almost immediately he heard Captain Haithum speak up. “The Master Chief is away.”

The Spartan-II Commando shot out from the Warhound on his booster frame, followed by 300 of the fleet’s remaining Fascines and two dozen Longswords, all of them pushing their engines past the redline and rocketing away from the fleet.

“Go get ‘em.” White murmured.

Turning to the avatar of MacArthur, he spoke. “Tell the ODSTs to mount up. Get them planetside to cut off the enemy withdrawal. Have all our Marines loaded onto Pelicans, and get them onboard our station. All of them. How far out are our reinforcements?"

The smart AI flashed red before answering, his code running down his avatar's body towards its pedestal, quickening for a second before returning to normal.

"The Punic Supercarrier battlegroup will be here anywhere between three to five hours from now.” 

Muttering a silent curse, he looked at the deceptively calm atmosphere of the space surrounding Cienna, he watched the blue outlines of his fleet move across his screen. 

"I don't think we’ll be able to hold them."

RNS Intrepid

"They did what ?" Tarkin asked, looking at the sensor screens that showed the empty space where the UNSC fleet had been moments before.

"It appears that their FTL drives allow for safe intersystem jumps, they have jumped in right behind and are moving to intercept Captain Piett’s ships. They must be trying to cut off Commander Bly’s retreat." Tarkin’s flag captain observed.

“How complete is the withdrawal of our ground forces? And what of General Jax?”

“Commander Bly has loaded all of his critically wounded men aboard their assault ships and is halfway done with the rest of his men. Commander Jax is five minutes away, aboard his shuttle.”

"Turn the fleet around and move to re-engage.” Tarkin sternly commanded. “And what is our E.T.A.?”

"At our current burn, forty five minutes sir." Another officer replied.

Tarkin sat down  in his seat with a huff, the first time he had done so for the battle.

"Sir, General Secura's fighter has been secured aboard and a medical team has removed her from the cockpit, her injuries are minimal and she was merely knocked unconscious. They said she would be up within the hour.” An officer informed

The fleet began to loop back around. The Republic ships were reorienting to regroup with Captain Piett, chasing after the Terrans they had once been moving to meet head on.

As the Intrepid took its position at the lead of the fleet alongside the three other remaining Imperators, an ensign called out. “Three hundred inbound starfighters! Time to contact twenty minutes!”

Tarkin’s flag captain turned towards him. “Shall I deploy our fighters?”

"Deploy a screening force, let none of them make it through.”

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117

“Incoming enemy fighters! Pick your targets and clear a path for the Master Chief! ” The Fascine pilot ‘Slayer 1’ said.

John quickly made the calculations in his head, he took one look at the Republic fleet, still around 50,000 kilometers away. It would be about another 2-3 minutes until he even got near them. The flight this far had taken almost 20 minutes due to the vast distances in space, no matter the speed of the booster frame or the Fascines, space would always be larger than they were fast.

The colony world looked like a marble from this distance. The Chief’s booster frame would be completely invisible to the naked eye at a similar distance.

"Once I’m onboard, disengage immediately.” Master Chief ordered.

“Roger that sir.” Slayer 1 acknowledged.

"They’ll be outnumbered over five to one." Cortana stated as the UNSC fighters accelerated past the Chief to engage the approaching Republic screen. 

“They’ll make it.” The Master Chief said.

Master Chief brought his acceleration up to match them. The first barrage of guns and missiles signaled the start of the dogfights. Master Chief was able to slip through the first wave without drawing attention to himself, his craft was much smaller than the Fascines escorting him.

"Wait, ten of those fighters are moving to intercept us!" Cortana warned as 10 triangles oriented themselves towards him on his radar.

John twisted his head around to see 10 ARC-170 starfighters hot on his tail.

Master Chief weighed his options for a split second. He shut off his thrusters and flipped over, twisting his craft to face the incoming fighters. He was still accelerating towards his target, the Republic flagship, but now he could bring the entirety of his armament to bear. 

"You aren’t even going to try to outrun them?" Cortana sighed.

“Then they’d go after our pilots or chase us down, it’s better if I take them on now.” Chief replied.

The Republic fighters closed the gap and furiously fired at the Master Chief with their blaster cannons, bolts of green plasma and energy flashed by him. 

He let his adrenaline kick in, heightening the infamous ‘Spartan Time’ which took hold of Chief. 

The world slowed down as his augmented eyesight and higher brain functions tracked, estimated, and calculated where the bolts were aimed at, allowing him to pilot the booster frame through the hail of plasma with a near sixth sense, a process made all the easier with the neural uplink that attached him to the fighter. 

For the clones, the Master Chief could easily be mistaken for a Force sensitive.

The distance between the opposing sides closed in. The fighters started to catch up with John. At the last second, Master Chief jinked right into the path of the lead pilot with scant yards to spare.

The booster frame vibrated as the 80mm rotary guns opened fire. They tore the fighter in half as the frame and the stricken ARC-170 flashed by each other, the Master Chief pulled up just in time and flipped the craft over, turning his thrusters back on.

He had a wide open shot at the backs of the Republic fighters who were about to break apart and come about, their sobering experience with the UNSC fighters had taught them not to clump up.

It took John less than a second to line up a shot on one of the fighters while simultaneously activating his missile pods.

Master Chief pressed a firing stud and a beefy tube revealed itself from within the wings of the craft and shot away.

The pod burst open to reveal over a dozen missiles that closed the distance between Chief and the Republic fighters in seconds. Chief fired his cannons as the Republic fighters tried to evade.

Chief's fire ripped the port wing off of a 170 before a secondary explosion finished it off. The rest of the Republic fighters frantically tried to dodge the missiles, but only 3 made it out.

The fighters were once again coming at the Master Chief head on, a grave mistake.

He flew through the dissipating fireball and targeted a 170 before the pilot could evade or shoot at him. Chief fired a split second burst into the nose of the starfighter, dozens of rounds penetrated into the fuselage and killed its occupants. 

The destroyed fighter's wingmen sent a flurry of cannon fire his way.

John expertly rolled out of the way and let them zoom past him. The tail gunners  of the heavy fighters fired wildly at the Chief to no avail.

Master Chief spun around to track his targets and rendered one of them into a cloud of shrapnel. He began to give chase to the other one.

The second fighter, having seen its error and the pilot being quicker to react, dove ‘down’.

Master Chief dodged in and out of the tail gun's firing arc until he flew right beside the enemy fighter.

For almost 2 seconds, the men inside the ARC-170 stared at the Master Chief in awe and horror. Before they could do anything, Master Chief rotated his starboard cannon nearly 90 degrees and shredded the fighter.

Without admiring his handiwork, Master Chief turned and rocketed towards the Republic flagship.

"Was that really necessary?" Cortana asked.

“You can thank me later.” John said.

RNS Intrepid , Turbolift en route to the Bridge

"Your vitals-"

"I am fine." Aayla huffed, cutting the medical droid off. The thing had been pestering her all the way from the medbay. She rubbed the bacta patch hiding a nasty gash on her forehead.

She had been unconscious for nearly 5 hours.

Aayla could hear Quinlan Vos lecturing her in the back of her mind as the doors slid open to reveal the bridge.

She immediately noticed the toll the battle had taken on the crew, and nowhere was that more evident than in their emotions. Without even reaching out into the force she was able to see how distressed, worn out, and angry the crew, clone and non-clone alike, felt.

Aayla realized the gravity of the situation when she saw Admiral Tarkin.

He was hunched over the main holoscreen trying to sort out this mess of a battle, rubbing his chin and contemplating his moves.

Tarkin straightened up and turned around to face Aayla. "Ah, Aayla. It is good to see you are alright."

"Don't thank me, it was my duty, and I still failed." She sighed as her leeku twitched.

"Their deaths shall not be in vain. We will have our victory momentarily."

Aayla didn’t have time to ask him any questions before a crewman began to yell. "Sir! An unknown UNSC starfighter has just taken out ten of our ARCs! It’s heading straight for us!”

Tarkin cocked his eyebrow. "It took out ten fighters by itself that fast? Put it on screen."

"Yes sir."

Aayla and Tarkin diverted their attention towards the video feed that snapped onto the holoscreen.

What they saw was… surprising to say the least.

They simply stared at it. Tarkin was visibly unimpressed by the craft.

What Aayla saw could only be described as a giant swoop bike, or an armed pod racer.

However, it was what was seated at the controls of the fighter that grabbed her attention the most.

It was that armored being that was on the bridge of the UNSC flagship, the supposed super soldier.

The craft sped towards the fleet, its intentions clear.

"Take that fighter down!" Tarkin snarled as Shaak Ti and Jax entered the bridge.

"What did I miss?" Jax asked, oblivious, just as the fleet’s defense began to open fire.

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117

"Here comes the fun part." John said, avoiding incoming fire.

"You know most people have a less crazy definition of the word fun." Cortana  replied. 

Master Chief easily dodged bolt after bolt of turbolaser fire from one of the lead ships, he slipped in and out of the streams coming at him, penetrating a seemingly solid wall of green plasma. 

“Good thing you like crazy.” John reminded her.

The Spartan raced across the dorsal hull, avoiding the firing arcs of the ship’’s point defense guns. Although Chief could dodge them with ease, a single hit could spell the end of the legendary Spartan.

A flight of V-Wings attempted to take down the Master Chief, but failed. The fighters were sent to drift aimlessly in the cold void of space or explode as his cannons perforated the fighters all the while Cortana tried to come up with a sarcastic reply of her own. 

She finally decided on a simple response. "You win that round, show off."

John grinned and flipped the craft over. He shot the fighter on a new course, directly into the path of the Republic flagship, which was now scant miles away.

As Master Chief dodged more incoming fire, Cortana brought up a layout of the Venator on his HUD.

“The main hangar bay opens up right along the dorsal spine of that cruiser. That will be our easiest point of entry. We’ll use the booster’s frame gauss cannon to breach their hull, but it’ll have to be fast.”

“Can you calculate what the round will do to the ship?” The Master Chief asked.

Cortana shook her head. "I’ll have to tune the proximity warhead just right. If there’s even a slight deviation in the detonation sequence it’ll be no better than a slug, and an ineffective one at that."

“Any unintended consequences?”

“Well of course there’s always the risk that a malfunction will turn us into a nuclear fireball.”

“How relaxing.” Chief said.

“Quite. Other than that, the reactor will be in our line of fire, a few bulkheads away from the hangar. The blast shouldn’t compromise that compartment, but the resulting EMP will knock out all power to the ship.” Cortana said as the Master Chief zipped below the Republic ships, orientating himself on a heading that angled himself towards the flagship’s hangar.

The munition that they were referring to was a coilgun round developed by ONI Section 3’s Materials Group.

To put it simply, it was a nuke with a magnetic casing. No nuclear weapon had been launched out of a coilgun the size of the measly gauss cannon mounted onto Chief’s booster frame before.

It had an explosive yield of 5 kilotons, less than half that of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. It was a small explosion compared to other UNSC ordnance, but the blast would be more than enough to decimate the blast doors of the ship from near point blank range.

The purpose of the round was to equip UNSC forces with a tactical nuclear weapon able to be delivered via coilgun from friendly lines.

"The gauss cannon is fully charged, I recommend you get within five kilometers for a perfect shot.”

Master Chief looked over his shoulder, a dozen V-Wing starfighters were blazing towards him.

“Let’s make this quick Chief.” Cortana urged.

Chief flipped over his booster frame, narrowly dodging a blaster bolt. Dozens of plasma streams darted past Chief, but before he could get a shot off, a lucky hit went right through his shields.

Alarms sounded off in his helmet: SECONDARY WEAPON SYSTEM DAMAGED: INOPERABLE.

John cursed and quickly reached for the back of his helmet. He yanked Cortana out and transferred her into the booster frame’s data port while unplugging his neural uplink and proceeded to pull what looked like a M395 DMR off of his back.

It was called the LAR, or Linear Assault Rifle, and it had yet to receive an official military designation. It was a pure coil rifle that fired 4mm slugs, a round much smaller than the 5.4mm the Stanchion used, but its compact package made it handy for boarding action.

The LAR was specially made for Spartan teams, the grip and handguard had areas where the rifle could interface with the suit’s power supply through the glove, allowing for quick charging and an expensive price point.

The scientists at ONI and Misriah Armories had claimed that this was the next step in firearm technology, though that claim was yet to be proven.

John’s LAR was outfitted with an underslung M301 40mm grenade launcher, complimenting the 40 slugs in its bullpup magazine.

"What the hell are you doing?" Cortana yelled.

"You know what I’m doing. You have control."

Before Cortana could argue John pushed himself off of the booster frame.

The momentum of the frame carried Master Chief, meaning for a few seconds he kept up with the booster frame.

300 meters away, a Republic frigate went alongside the Master Chief. The weapon ports couldn’t fire on him, he was too close and too fast. Even if they got a shot off, since he was inside of the Republic formation, they would be more likely to create a friendly fire incident than to hit him.

Suddenly, the booster frame shot away, accelerating faster than humanly possible, even for a Spartan operator. Cortana was only limited by the materials used to make the craft, pulling off dazzling maneuvers would make the average person’s head spin.

"And I’m the show off?” John asked.

“There’s a fine line between ‘showing off’ and ‘preventing this spacecraft from blowing up into oblivion with me on it’.”

Master Chief’s reply was cut off by the incoming Republic fighters. The pilots were momentarily stunned, was Chief simply an ejected pilot, or was he a threat? The hesitation was all the Master Chief needed. By the time they realized they were in danger, it was too late.

Chief activated his booster pack in a final course correction, a mere hundred meters away from the lead fighter. Chief sighted the pilot with his coilgun, pulling the trigger once with the small recoil being countered by his suit's thrusters.

The 4mm rounds punched clean through the canopy of the V-Wing, decorating the interior shades of red. Chief was fortunate it was the cheap V-Wing model, and not the beefier ARC-170.

A second V-Wing began to fire wildly at him, the craft unable to achieve a lock due to the Spartan's small profile.

He dodged another burst and accelerated forward with his thrusters, cutting his speed as he ‘sprung forward’.

Warnings in his helmet blared as a blaster bolt nearly hit him. Had the bolt been a few inches closer, it would have wreaked havoc on his shields.

Chief closed within 50 meters of the fighter, quickly dispatching its pilot. The fighter spun away aimlessly until it impacted into a battle damaged Republic cruiser.

"Chief, a little help here." Cortana said as she came looping back around with the other two V-Wings behind her.

Chief attached the LAR onto his back and swapped it out for his M6 Laser. He quickly sighted the fighter and charged his weapon.

A blinding red beam of light obliterated the fighter, its wingman promptly throwing itself into evasive maneuvers to try and throw off his aim, but the Master Chief perfectly tracked it, hitting it with the entire beam and destroying the fighter.

Cortana sighed and accelerated to intercept the Chief. “Took you long enough.”

“You’re welcome.” Chief said as he retook the controls of the craft from the AI, transferring Cortana back into his suit.

“I’ve plotted your new course, hopefully with less distractions along the way.”

John looked to see the looming dagger form of the enemy flagship, anti aircraft plasma dotting his path. The Master Chief breathed in. He gripped the trigger of the gauss cannon, flicking the safety away.

RNS Intrepid

"What is that… thing ?" Shaak Ti asked, referring to the holoscreen showing the armored behemoth. It had just taken out 4 V-Wings single handedly while dismounted from its craft.

The fire from an entire fleet of ships and flights of fighters had simply been brushed aside as the super soldier barreled towards the flagship.

"Do we have any idea what that is?" Tarkin asked.

"Sir, according to our limited intel, it appears to be a ‘Spartan’. Reports from the Terran-Covenant War show that these are UNSC supersoldiers, incredibly capable soldiers.” The officer answered.

"Looks like your instincts were right." Jax told Aayla as she merely nodded in response.

"Do we know anything in depth about their abilities?" Tarkin asked.

"Apparently, from what I can tell... these soldiers are one man armies." The man gulped.

Jax snorted. "Please, you're joking right?"

The officer glared at Jax before continuing. "According to the Sangheili delegation, ‘Spartans’ would face down thousands of the best warriors of the Covenant and win by themselves. One of them, called the Master Chief, was responsible for practically ending the war himself. Designation Sierra-117."

Tarkin looked at the tactical display showing the oncoming UNSC fleet. Suddenly, Aayla felt the Force nag at her, as if something important was right in front of her.

"Officer, can you please zoom in on the ‘Spartan’?” She asked. The officer quickly complied, bringing up a still image taken from one of the many video feeds in the fleet.

Her eyes snapped to the number painted on the soldier’s breastplate..

It matched.

“By the Force…” She said aloud as she took a step back, face pale, the eyes of the group following her.

She pointed her finger at the screen, as if accusing someone. "That is the Master Chief, 117..."

Tarkin raised his eyebrows as Jax and Shaak Ti leaned in close to see for themselves.

“Huh, well how about that." Jax said sarcastically.

Shaak Ti looked at him worriedly.

“Jax, I don't know if you can feel it in the Force, but we are in danger."

Aayla nodded in agreement as worry began to seep into her thoughts, though she pushed it away.

Jax snorted. "Really, what is the worst that one man can do? Besides we are Jedi, he hasn't faced us in battle yet. There is seriously no way that he can be worse than General Griev-."

"That fighter is firing on us!" An officer exclaimed before a massive blast threw them all to the deck.

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117

"Well, we're not dead." Cortana said. 

John breathed out as the nuclear fireball dissipated in front of them, revealing a blackened and ruptured hull, but more importantly, a ripped open hangar door.

"Go! Straight through that gap!" Cortana urged as the Booster Frame shot forward with every last bit of power being pumped into its afterburners.

Blast doors started to seal around the wound.

"Come on, come on Chief." The AI urged.

Master Chief’s booster frame shot through the closing gap, his wings clipping on the doors, sending him flying off of the frame and into the hangar.

Without hesitation and in one fluid movement Chief tucked into a roll while the booster frame crashed into a fuel line, creating an enveloping fire throughout the hangar..

Master Chief flew through the air before hitting the deck, rolling to his feet while simultaneously grabbing his rifle and throwing down a bubble shield.

Outside of the protective shield, fire consumed everything.

CT-2950 ‘Taqu’

"All troopers form up! We have unknown combatants on the other side of this door. Double check your breathing gear!" Taqu's squad leader ordered while the two platoons of clones charged their blasters. It was dark in the wide corridors leading to the hangar, something had knocked out the ship’s reactor. The only thing that seemed to be working were the red klaxons integrated into the wall panels.

With an exchange of nods, the clones entered into the hangar, the blast doors struggling to open.

The troopers passed through the energy field blocking off the rest of the ship from unexpected rapid decompression. Taqu felt lighter, prompting him and the rest of the clones to magnetize their boots.

It was far brighter in the hangar, thanks to the burning wreckage.

"What the hell’s that thing?" The trooper next to Taqu asked as the smoke revealed a glowing transparent globe where nothing should have been.

In the middle of the orb was an armored giant that stood at over 2 meters tall, dwarfing everyone aboard the Venator. The warrior was equipped with intimidating green armor and what looked like enough firepower to take on a corvette.

‘Just one against all of us?’ Taqu thought to himself. Taqu was almost relieved, but judging by how the fleet had done against the Terrans, this was no ordinary soldier.

The bubble suddenly seemed to burst into thin air, the beast encased within poised itself to strike with its rifle at the ready.

"Drop your weapon!" Taqu’s captain shouted while his platoon rushed to try and form a semicircle around the giant.

The captain got a reply he would never hear. Supersonic rounds ripped through the clone's head, shearing off chunks of the man’s face, before the giant took off towards the clones in a flash.

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117

“You never were the talking type.” Cortana said while the Chief took off into a sprint.

The Master Chief had his work cut out for him. He dashed forward while letting loose slug after slug. He used the momentary shock to gain the initiative in the confrontation.

The first bolts of plasma raced towards him. Individually, Master Chief could dodge blaster bolts all day, but a whole platoon shooting at him was a challenge.

Chief leaped for cover behind a wrecked starfighter, taking out a few clones as he went.

While the enemy advanced onto his position, he dashed out from behind cover. The Spartan dodged bolt after bolt, mowing down more clones with a sweep of his reticule. Master Chief looked like a green blur, one moment a blaster bolt would seemingly be right on target, but the next moment it would pass through nothing.

Swaths of troopers were cut down by the Chief as he lunged from cover to cover, meeting quick ends by Chief’s precise aim.

Jumping onto a wrecked starfighter, Chief quickly switched over to his underslung grenade launcher, a trajectory readout briefly flashed over his HUD in the millisecond it took for him to disengage the safety and pull the trigger, mangling a squad of clones.

As fast as he jumped on the wreck, he had leapt off, bounding towards the entrance into the rest of the ship, running past dozens of clones while simultaneously gunning them down.

While holding his coilgun in his right, the Master Chief retrieved one of his SMGs with his left hand off his outer thigh, shooting down enemies while sprinting his way towards his exit, creating a corridor of chaos as he dodged, no, outran incoming plasma. The clones paid no attention to the crossfire they were creating, focusing their attention on killing the Chief before they themselves met a bloody end.

RNS Intrepid

Tarkin appeared to be fuming with anger as the Spartan cut down the last of the reaction force with shocking ease.

He turned to Jax and Shaak Ti, both of them unable to hide their looks of shock, the Admiral barked. "Get down there and deal with that thing. I have a battle to win!"

"As you wish, Admiral.” Shaak Ti replied while Jax immediately turned around and started towards the turbolift. He was impatient, he hadn’t been able to see much action against the Terrans.

Aayla tried to go with them before Shaak Ti stopped her. "I need you to stay here and protect the Admiral in case the super soldier gets through us." She spoke as she threw off her regal robes. “Besides, you’re in no real condition to fight.”

Aayla tried to argue but Shaak Ti cut her off, "Aayla, I have a strong feeling in the Force that this Master Chief may defeat us. If what they say about him is true, then he and others like him have more experience than any other person in the Republic military, a tougher opponent than Grievous."

Aayla shuddered at the thought, and nodded at her.

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117

A Republic gunship zipped into the hangar from outer space, zooming in front of John and unloading its passengers, blocking him from easily reaching the entrance into the rest of the ship.

"So any ideas on how to get through them? Or are you just going to blast your way through again?" Cortana asked while John slid into cover behind a wrecked fighter.

John reloaded his rifle with a new magazine of slugs. He blasted a few more clones as he popped out of cover for a split second. The deep claps of hypersonic slugs being accelerated to more than 3000 meters a second would’ve sounded all the more alien to the clones against the hisses and whines of blaster bolts.

The gunship began to open fire at the Chief, whittling away at his already damaged cover.

"Give me a trajectory for one of my grenades, I’m going to take out that gunship’s engine." Master Chief commanded.

There was a microsecond pause before Cortana displayed it onto his HUD. The Master Chief took a grenade off his belt and armed it.

He threw it, the grenade got sucked right into the engine of the gunship. An explosion rocked the hangar and the craft violently crashed into an adjacent wall.

Master Chief dashed around his cover, pressing his trigger with razor sharp precision not a pound over pull as he shot three more troopers while the others dove for cover. Blaster bolts impacted all around him, a few making their mark by taking his shields down by a mere fraction. 

He crouched behind the wreckage of the crashed gunship, dispatching the panicking pilots with his rifle.

"Behind you, they’re flanking us!" His AI companion warned while a squad of clones ran up behind the Chief. He pivoted around, the flanking enemies were stunned and slid to a halt, but not before the Master Chief blew a fist sized hole into each one of them.

In a swift motion John once again brought his left hand down to pull the M7 SMG off of his outer thigh and brought it to bear on the troopers to his front.

Although still loud enough to give the unprotected ear tinnitus, the report of his SMG sounded like a bucket of bolts getting dropped onto the floor in comparison to his rifle. 

The Chief kept the clones suppressed with short bursts from his SMG while he ran up to their cover.

He peered over their cover and held his SMG down, the rounds came in at an angle, some of them ricocheting off the white armor of the clones, but the volume of fire was too intense, turning the suppressed troopers into a bloody mess.

He placed the SMG back onto his thigh and threw one of his grenades at a leaking fuel line roughly fifty meters away before immediately ducking behind the most solid piece of wreckage he could find.

Several shouts of shock from his enemies could be heard before the whump and thump of a fragmentation grenade went off, followed by the much larger explosion of the fuel which shook the deck, sending debris past his cover.

Chief waited for a few seconds in case any secondary explosions went off. Satisfied the area was now safe, he spun out of cover and charged into the burning wall of fire across a blackened and warped hangar deck.

"Six hundred meters to go until we hit the main turbolift to the bridge. There’s also a computer access panel in close proximity of it, from there I can take control of this ship and prevent any communications from reaching the enemy fleet, that just might be the edge Admiral White needs to win."

"Got it." He answered as he dashed through the flames. He cleared the thick smoke and fire in a split second, meeting the enemy head on.

On the far end of the large hangar bay was what seemed like an entire combat brigade, ready and waiting to greet him with a wall of plasma.

The Spartan surged forward and sidestepped several large bolts from E-Web heavy blasters on tripod mounts in a blur while he fired from the hip, cutting down several clones in the process. 

John dove into what little cover existed in the areas relatively unscathed by the nuclear round and the carnage created by his own combat prowess. Sustained blaster fire whittled his cover down inch by inch.

John popped out and took out a squad of clones in quick succession with well placed three round bursts before diving back into cover. His shield nearly collapsed from the sheer amount of fire hitting him, sending his helmet into a frenzy of beeping, warning him that his shields were gone.

John knew he couldn't afford to be tied down in a shootout for long, especially with those mounted guns pinning him down. 

He placed his LAR on his back and pulled out all but one of the remaining grenades from his belt, arming them and throwing them all at once, two plasma grenades and a frag.

His aim was straight as an arrow, the grenades all landed behind the crates that the Republic troopers were using as cover, one plasma grenade sticking an unfortunate clone in the arm while the frag bounced once and landed under the E-Web that was firing nonstop.

The explosions that followed thinned the number of enemies down and forced the rest to hug the ground, allowing the Spartan to pull out both of his M7 SMGs and charge.

The first clone to pop out of cover received a full six rounds to the face through his helmet as the remaining clones directly in front of him revealed themselves and opened fire.

Running at full speed, the super soldier covered the distance in under three seconds as he tried to avoid hundreds of blaster bolts.

His augmented senses made time slow to a crawl as he hung in space, a blue bolt of plasma sailing past him as he flipped himself upside down and over the heads of the clones. 

The action was so fast that their brains simply couldn’t process it.

Spinning through the air, he cut loose with both weapons, sweeping them along the center mass of the clones, before promptly slamming into the hull beneath, upright on his feet.

The whole action lasted one and a half seconds and left almost a dozen Republic troopers riddled with golf ball sized holes and punctured armor.

While the remainder of the clones were still trying to figure out what was going on, the Master Chief saw his chance. 

If he rushed to the main elevator of the ship, roughly 400 meters away, there was simply no way they’d be able to catch up. He prepared himself for a sprint, digging his heel into the floor plating, denting it as he took off. 

He locked his SMGs to his hip and equipped his LAR as he sprinted, shooting whatever stray clone stood in his way. It seemed like a clear shot the rest of the way, nothing in his path for the rest of the 400 meters to the end of the hangar bay.

It was not to be.

"Three o’clock, coming up the aircraft lift!" Cortana warned. Chief snapped his head towards the threat. Nearly two dozen heavily armed clones,  some with missile launchers, came up the lift and unleashed the full firepower of their weapons. An inconvenience in the mission, but not a snag.

Two missiles streaked towards John. The first hit ten yards behind him and the second seven yards to his left. The explosion rattled him and shrapnel pinged off his shields, draining them to a quarter charge.

He would have to deal with this newfound problem lest he be caught between the clones catching up with him and the heavy weapons squad near him. He may be fast, but outrunning two launchers with possible lock on capabilities was pushing his luck.

John slid towards the heavy weapons team with the assistance of his thruster pack. His speed and reduced profile allowed the blaster bolts to sail over him as he returned fire. Five clones slumped to the floor as he rolled and leapt out of the slide, safely behind cover. The clones ran forward.

His shields recharged while plasma pounded into his cover. John checked his motion sensors and radar. He counted around forty of them within a fifty meter radius. John needed to take out the rocket team first. 

He bolted out of cover just as a rocket slammed into where he was a second prior.

Adrenaline poured through his body, John raised his LAR and he put one round clean through the visor of a clone, repeating the process with two more clones, coming close in with the group of clones.

It was a frame by frame movement that only the Spartan could see in full as he dodged a trio of blaster bolts at almost point blank, emptying two rounds into the guts of a charging duo. He pivoted to his right and unleashed a vicious kick to the knee of a clone, snapping it like a twig. In a fluid movement he grabbed the unlucky Republic soldier and spun him around in front of him, bending over at the same time to take the impacts of plasma aimed at him.

The shock of hitting one of their own gave John a second to leap the small distance towards the next two combatants. They hit his shields three times with their blasters before John struck one of the clones on the top of the head, his fist formed like a hammer. The plastoid armor gave in, John’s armoured gauntlet caved the man’s skull in.

The clone next to him tried to give him a brutal bash to the skull with his heavy blaster rifle, but the Chief blocked his attempt with his elbow, pounding the man's wrist in mid swing and snapping it, the clone dropped to the ground in pain, with John sending a round through his skull not a second later.

"Six o’clock!" Cortana chimed. John snapped his head to see a clone aiming a rocket launcher at him.

The launcher fired.

Time slowed for John, he sidestepped the missile, dodging it by mere millimeters. Had it been a proximity fuze, John would’ve been in rough shape.

He brought his rifle up, and hit the clone center mass three times for good measure, shooting the launcher once to take it out of action.

John peered at his motion tracker and turned to see four clones charging him, vibroblades drawn.

Without a thought he used the first clone's momentum and flung him into the path of the second clone with little effort.  The trooper was unexpectedly hit with his wounded comrade, accidentally driving his blade into his brother’s skull. 

John jammed his fist into another charging trooper, the punch hit the trooper straight on the visor, crushing his face into a bloody pulp. His armor flashed as the dead clone’s blade glanced off of his shields from the momentum of the swing.

By that point the other two were on him. The first swung at him. John dodged in a blur of superhuman speed and let loose a simple left hook, hitting the clone in the side of the face faster than a speeding car.

The unfortunate man's neck snapped, the bones in his face immediately gave in to the armored and super fast force of the Spartan II's fist. The man was limply thrown to the floor, blood pooling under him.

The second clone was right behind the first. His vibro blade was raised for a downward strike.

John used his momentum from his left hook and put the clone to the ground with a roundhouse kick. The Chief brought his foot down onto the hapless clone, caving his skull in instantly. 

The remaining clones, now with a clear shot and only a scant ten yards away, let loose with their blasters.

John dodged as many as he could, but with how close he was, his speed and reflexes weren’t enough. His shields overloaded and winked out of existence with a flash of electricity. A trio of blaster bolts hit the armored shell of his chest plate, being easily stopped by the titanium superalloy. John nevertheless felt the impacts.

As he ran, he spotted the other rocket-wielding clone. He sighted in on the soldier and blew a chunk of his shoulder off, another shot landing on the launcher itself not a second later.

With the real threats neutralized, he took off toward the hangar’s main elevator.

"You cut it close, you could've done better." Cortana teased as blaster bolts tried to catch up with them. “Chestplate holding at 95% integrity. Shields recharging.”

"Status of the fleet?" John asked Cortana.

"We have approximately five minutes until they start firing." Cortana answered.

"Once you get into their systems-"

“I know, no need to remind me. Wreak havoc on their ship, gain control of their weapons and communications. Piece of cake really, just like old times.”

John smirked inside his helmet, it felt good for her to be back.

Before he inserted Cortana into the terminal, he glanced towards his motion tracker. To his dismay, two large contacts were coming up from what had to be a vehicle bay.

"Great..." He mumbled. He pulled out his Spartan Laser and activated it.

Out of the bay, on two opposite sides of the trashed hangar came two walkers. An AT-ST covered in guns that could tear him apart and a smaller AT-PT, itself not much larger than a Hunter, yet still dangerous, came out.

The AT-ST sighted him and fired its main cannons at John, who leapt away as his shields deflected the extreme heat.

He wouldn’t give the walker a chance to hit him. He fired his laser on the walker, amputating one of the walker’s legs and cutting clean through a part of the cockpit, causing it to tip over.

The AT-PT sent a stream of blaster cannon bolts towards John as he ran toward it.

His shields again dropped dangerously low. He jumped up and used his suit's built in jetpack to rocket above the walker.

John landed right behind it. He grabbed his last grenade, a plasma grenade, and slammed it into the drive unit of the vehicle before rolling away.

The AT-PT turned towards John, and then went up in a fantastic explosion, showering bits of debris all over the wrecked hangar. 

John strode over to the data port and touched it, transferring Cortana into the system.

Her avatar appeared. "Good job, I'll do my worst..." She smirked.

John looked over to see the elevator doors open.

Hangar Bay, Exiting Turbo Lift

When the doors to the hangar opened, the first thing that Shaak Ti noticed was the putrid smell of gasses expelled by blasters and the fire raging throughout the hangar.

Jax, having managed to wait for her on the journey to the hangar bay, coughed as smoke wafted into the slowly opening turbo lift.

"By the For-” He didn't finish as the doors fully opened.

What Shaak Ti, the veteran Jedi Master, saw was carnage, pure and utter carnage.

She took in the sight before her, gazing down the hangar bay.

Halfway down the launch bay a starfighter was ablaze, an AT-ST on its side with most of its cockpit charred, and a smaller AT-PT was turned into a collection of burnt parts with the only discernible part a burnt out cockpit. Beyond that the deflector shields and blast doors at the bow of the ship were up to keep the air from escaping to vacuum, the area past that being exposed to space.

But what grabbed her attention were the bodies of Clone Troopers, their armor perforated and ripped open by a massive amount of force, their bodies torn open spilling blood and gore onto the deck.

The blood seemed to flow like a stream.

"There’s no way one man could..." Jax didn't finish his sentence as they looked to see the perpetrator.

It was standing twenty yards away from the lift, next to one of the computer terminals. It was a behemoth standing over 2 meters tall and covered in advanced looking green armor from head to toe complete with the white markings, ‘117’. It was the Spartan.

And his rifle was aimed directly at them.

"You!" Jax spat. He threw his outer robes away and called his lightsaber to himself using the Force.

Shaak Ti was more cautious. She reached out into the Force, activating her own saber too.

She searched the Force for the presence of the Terran.

It was true.

Instead of sensing the man's presence in the Force, she sensed an empty void, almost like static.

The supersoldier answered by entering into a more ready combat stance, taking a better hold on his weapon.

Jax’s frustration and short temper that always plagued him took over.

"You will pay for this!" He shouted, gesturing at the devastation. He recklessly charged forward, his lightsaber held low to his side.

Panic surged through Shaak Ti for a second. She shouted, "Wait Jax! You can't..."

She didn't get to finish her sentence. The supersoldier's weapon barked three times.

Ti watched Jax shift his grip on his lightsaber almost in anticipation to deflect blaster bolts, but it mattered not. Even if he was fast enough, he was finished either way.

In his haste he forgot that lightsabers were useless against projectiles, no less supersonic 4mm slugs, partially as he had actually yet to see combat against the UNSC during his tenure on the station.

As such Shaak Ti watched Jax's body wither and his torso have three fist sized chunks be taken out of his body, tearing most of his upper torso apart in a bloody spray of viscera. 

Shaak Ti let loose a short gasp before he fell to the deck, limp.

She felt the Force warn her of danger as the Spartan began to shift its aim towards her.

Without a second's hesitation she extended her hand towards the armored combatant and knocked the weapon out of the soldier's grip with the Force, though it took a considerable amount of concentration to do so.

‘Force, give me strength.’

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117

‘What the hell?’ John was taken aback as he felt his rifle being torn away from his grip by some invisible force.

He focused back as he saw a shimmer of air burst from the alien woman's left hand. Before he could move, it hit him like a truck, throwing him through the air for 10 meters before he flipped over and landed on his feet with a thud. It reminded him of playing gravball all those years ago.

‘Is this the ‘Force’ that they speak of? How the hell is this possible?’ He thought as his mind ran through the possibilities and the ways to counter this new threat. This wasn’t some gravitational manipulation, it was entirely different.

The woman sent another ‘burst’ of almost invisible energy towards him.

However John was ready for it this time. He sidestepped the energy in a blur of superhuman speed, pulling out his energy sword from his belt and igniting it with a flash.

He wouldn’t be taken off guard again, not even by something outside of his scientific comprehension. He entered into a low combat stance, ready to pounce.

Chapter Text

Sorry for the rather long wait time, I heavily revised the previous chapters and online school was just a huge drag.

RNS Intrepid Computer System

Inside cyberspace, a world defined by ones, zeros, and countless exchanges of data and code, an advanced program streaked through the calm and ordered regions of the Republic computer system, wreaking havoc and creating chaos.

Firewalls and antivirus routines tried to stop the rampage, but were frozen and deleted line by line with incomprehensible speed.

It was a digital battle between millions of virtual armies against one seemingly unstoppable foe.

That foe happened to be the most advanced Human made artificial intelligence in the known galaxy.

It, or she as the program called herself, was a program so fast and so unfathomably capable, that it was a copy of one of, if not the most, complex machines in the galaxy, the human mind.

So advanced was this program that it was beyond all the combined power of the programs and subroutines that stood against her.

This program could not even only be described as artificial intelligence.

No, this program was true sentience, true emotions and true life likeness, not just intricate copies of a person to mimic sentience with pre-programmed actions and reactions that numbered in the trillions.

It was the first metastable Terran AI.

She was Cortana.

Cortana could not help but smirk as she deleted yet another hundred thousand attackers from the Republic anti-intrusion systems, whose attacks were so futile Cortana had to try to notice them as she casually cast them aside with impunity.

‘I must say, I am quite disappointed with their cybersecurity systems. It would’ve been totally inadequate, even for the UNSC before the Insurrection.’ Cortana thought to herself.

She sighed as she took down barrier after barrier that stood in her way to her goal, the communications of the enemy flagship.

With one last digital ‘punch’, she burst through the last firewall and led herself into the communications systems that were organizing the enemy determined to destroy the UNSC defense.

‘Gotcha.’ Smirking, she cut the life from the Republic system, locking them out of their own comm arrays. 

She used the camera system to take a look around at the situation in the real world, the world where John was.

Cortana took a quick ‘moment’ to make thousands of copies of herself to insulate the system, securing and expanding her ‘beachhead’ in the system.

Cortana looked on as John ignited his energy sword and charged into battle against the Jedi.

Cortana wished she could do more to help him, but he had faced far worse and had almost literally ran through hell to save her. As much as she longed for him, she also knew that he would be fine, and she had a job of her own to do.

RNS Intrepid Bridge

“We just got locked out of our communications!”

“We’ve lost control of the helm!”

“Weapons systems going offline!”

Frantic cries reached out as Tarkin and his crew slowly began to become helpless passengers on their own ship.

“What’s the situation!?” Tarkin called out as he watched his fleet charge into battle with no direction from him while the infected Intrepid began to drop out of formation, its engine's shutting down without the prompting of her crew.

Tarkin strode over to the senior computer officer at work at his station, the man clearly overwhelmed by what was happening. 

“What’s the status of the ship?” Tarkin asked.

The man paused to wipe the sweat from his brow before answering.

"Admiral, this thing is unlike anything I have ever seen, our firewalls were actually turned against us if they weren’t simply deleted. This was before the program began to make copies of itself. This must be some sort of artificial intelligence package or something for it to adapt this quickly and actually lure our spyware systems into traps, something I have never even heard of before."

The man paused as he sighed, the rest of the bridge crew almost one by one calling out that they were losing control of their prospective systems.

"Sir, the only thing that I can think of that would work would be for us... to disconnect or wipe our computer systems and use manual controls." He timidly finished.

Tarkin had to blink to make sure he understood correctly.

"Lieutenant, if we did that, then we would be unable to make hyperspace jumps without making the calculations manually, which could take days. Then there is the problem with us going into battle with no ability to attack targets unless they are at point blank range with manual control and manual targeting."

The man sighed. "I know, sir, but that is all we can do. I can get some of our comms back online but it will still take time."

Tarkin weighed his options, and he didn't like what he saw.

"Do it."

Imperator-Class Star Destroyer, RNS Accuser

"Enemy ships are closing to two hundred ten thousand kilometers Sir, weapons range in three minutes!" The weapons officer on the Imperator Star Destroyer called out.

Its commander, Captain Piett, calmly stood at the front of the bridge with his hands folded behind his back. Through the holoscreen in front of him, he watched the Terran ships that had caused the Republic to experience some of the most lopsided naval casualties in recent history. 

His experiences in the Ciutric Planetary Security Forces had taught him not to take outnumbered opponents lightly, but for the UNSC fleet to have been outnumbered four to one yet still have caused the once 310 warship  strong Republic fleet to be reduced to 107 while only taking 50% casualties in return was completely unheard of.

Piett scratched his chin and pondered the tactics that the Republic would need to counter the now undeniably powerful UNSC Navy. It would only be a matter of time before the enemy would crest over the horizon of the planet and have a clear shot at his forces.

The main strength of the Terrans were their ships’ ability to pick off their targets at extreme range with devastating power, usually outright destroying or damaging most ships in a single shot.

This power lies in their so-called MAC weapons, or Magnetic Accelerator Cannons.

Piett hadn’t devoured all of the reports that intel had provided as much as Tarkin had himself, but he still thought the Terrans an appreciable threat.

However, it wasn't until he was forced to watch Republic ships be cracked open by ferocious amounts of kinetic energy did he realize that they were grossly underestimated, like most of the damned UNSC technology.

He admitted that at face value, a magnetic projectile launcher seemed very primitive and underwhelming, but with the right technology and expertise, which the UNSC seemed to have mastered long ago, coupled with reactors large enough to power a city, then the supposed ‘primitive’ weapons became a scientific marvel as well as a military nightmare for whomever was on the business end of the weapon.

The UNSC, by his rough mental calculations, would be able to get in two shots from their MACs on average before the Republic turbolasers could fire back due to the range of the weapons themselves and the UNSC's targeting systems. It was an untenable way to wage war for the Republic.

As proven earlier, the Republic could win at close to medium range with their faster firing weaponry, but the problem remained of surviving long enough to close the gap.

And it wasn't that the UNSC were not deadly themselves in close range fighting, just not specialized in it. Their secondary armaments were powerful and could take away some of the Republic's edge at medium to close range as did their heavy missile armament, but the Republic still would win if they could get to their optimal range and if they retained a decent numbers advantage.

In the several hours since the initial start of the battle Piett had run several simulations on how to best fight the Terrans, and ways to at least survive fighting the UNSC at range.

The only way that he could, with the time given, find a way to survive the MAC slugs was to cut all engine power, letting momentum take over, and shunt as much power to the shields as they could handle while every watt remaining would be allocated to the main batteries.

There was a very grievous fault in Piett’s speculation. The heavier Accuser and the Imperators like her would be far more adept at fighting this way with their much stronger shield generators and more gun centric design with the Venators close behind, but the other ships in the fleet simply couldn’t fight like that. The Victory IIs weren’t as heavily armed or armored and neither were the Acclamators.

All of this was merely idle speculation, for it was the UNSC fleet trying to close in on Piett, not the other way around. On top of that there was an even more pressing issue at hand with regards to the fleet’s flagship.

A few minutes after the unknown craft had penetrated the Intrepid ’s defenses and blew its way on board, communications with the vessel went dark.

Piett was still unsure about his last set of orders, and wished to confirm with Admiral Tarkin. The situation planetside seemed to grow more and more hectic by the moment; there was no telling how many of Commander Bly’s troops were able to withdraw from the frontline. Piett himself had yet to tell the rest of his men what they were about to do. For all they knew, they were merely escorting the withdrawal of the landed ships.

"Sir, the UNSC ships are about to enter into position." Piett’s executive officer informed him.

The Terran colony had grown to take up almost all of the bridge windows as the range between the opposing fleets dropped slowly. The largest Terran settlement, very near to his ordered target in terms of turbolaser firepower, was close yet too far at the same time.

The UNSC forces were moving around the planet’s orbit to get a shot at Piett’s detachment all too quickly.

Sure enough, the energy readings were skyrocketing amongst the battered yet painfully defiant defending warships as their mass drivers prepared to take more Republic lives.

Piett knew he had to act fast.

He decided to take matters into his own hands.Turning to the communications officer Piett spoke. "Inform the entire fleet that I am assuming command. Tarkin is not responding and the Commodore is dead. Tell our detachment to shunt all power to their rear shields and to cut their engines."

"But sir…" The comm officer began to argue before Piett slapped the man, the entire bridge of the ship recoiling in unison from the shock of such an action.

One could have heard a pin drop in the resulting silence.

"Do it! Or you will be responsible for the deaths of even more!" He hissed as the man began to sweat uncontrollably, beginning to pour down the man's face.

"Y-.yes sir!"

He gave one quick look around the dull grey interior of the Accuser 's bridge at all of the consoles and the men at them. Most hurriedly turned back to their tasks at hand out of fear that they too would be next.

‘If this doesn’t work, it’s Tarkin’s operation anyway. If it does work, I’ll come out of this with my life and a nice promotion.’ He thought as the executive officer turned to him, the man himself clearly still shaken by Piett's actions.

"Sir, all power from the engines have been shunted to our shields and they have all been focused rearword, we still aren’t in weapons range for a Base Delta Zero, our target is still on the other side of the planet, but our vectors are stable, we still have control with our secondary thrusters to fine tune our approach." Piett looked on the holoscreens to confirm that the engines were now essentially shut off and their power shunted to the shield arrays.

The comm officer called out. "Sir, about half of the fleet are approving of your orders but half of them are demanding that contact be reestablished with the Admiral instead."

Cursing, Piett grabbed the officer's handset and all but screamed into the fleet wide communications.

"Listen! For all we know, Tarkin is dead! We have no time to argue power plays right now as…"

"Massive energy readings from the UNSC fleet... UNSC ships are firing!"

On the displays and the enhanced zoom optics from the telescope arrays Piett watched as the 39 remaining UNSC ships fired in unison.

Most of the surviving ships were the heavier ships which mounted more than one mass driver or ‘MAC’ which meant dozens of projectiles streaked towards Piett and his battlegroup.

"BRACE FOR IMPACT." A crewman called out.

The slugs that weighed hundreds of tons, packing hundreds of gigatons of kinetic energy, punched into Piett’s ships.

Piett fell backwards as the Accuser was hit by two direct shots, one from a frigate and another from a carrier, the titanic force of the projectiles and the shields fighting each other felt like it was going to shake the ship apart as the bolstered shields held, but were dropped to 35 percent as they frantically recharged, racing against the clock.

Across the battlegroup the projectiles impacted with devastating results, even with Piett’s countermeasures.

An Acclamator acting as escort for one of the remaining Imperators was struck by a slug fired from the heavy cruiser DeAngelo . The heavier 900 ton slug going a quarter the speed of light cracked the shields open with raw kinetic power and the forces exerted upon it boiled away nearly 400 hundred meters of the bow armor. The bridge was left a charred remnant of metal.

The slug, unabated and only slowed by half of its speed, punched through the ship and ripped almost half of it apart, turning the debris into one giant expanding cloud of high velocity shrapnel.

The DeAngelo ’s second heavy MAC slug that it fired a second later drained the reinforced shields of a more powerful Victory II and overloaded them to the breaking point as the ship violently rocked from the impact. Another MAC round quickly dispatched the maimed ship.

A Venator meanwhile was the victim of no less than two UNSC frigates and the destroyer Problem Child . The dual MACs of the destroyer and one of the frigates dropped the focused shields while the last round from the other frigate Ankara tore through the ship, its armor and size doing nothing from keeping the MAC round from almost splitting the ship in half as the ship began to tear itself apart.

Several seconds after the salvo was over, the energy projectors of the three carriers and the enemy flagship took out another Victory II, an Acclamator and a Venator, whose shields gave out after the two beams from the flagship struck, leaving it to be sliced open by the last beam of hyper accelerated particles and condensed plasma from the carrier Black Dawn .

After he regained his footing, Piett clenched his fists as he looked at the tactical display.

The whole salvo lasted only a few seconds, but its effects were impossible to overcome.

He still had lost a crushing 14 ships to the Terran attack, 3 Venators, 4 Victory IIs and 7 Acclamators, who were all now either broken husks of their former proud selves or an expanding debris field that the surviving ships were forced to plow through.

The Accuser , for the most part, was undamaged; its already powerful shields were reinforced and focused to take the assault in order to keep them from being destroyed.

"Time to our new target?" Piett asked.

“The UNSC fleet?” The weapons officer asked.

As Piett leaned in to show him on the console, the man's eyes widened.

"Ten minutes sir. I’ll input the firing calculations for our projected trajectory." The weapons officer gulped as the deck shook from the turbolasers firing at the UNSC fleet.

Piett grimaced before turning to the helmsman. “Fly us directly over the city, we’ll have to be a diversion for the rest of the fleet.”

UNSC Warhound

"Fourteen kills, MAC capacitors and energy capture systems recycling and recharging, ready to fire again in fifty seconds at maximum output." MacArthur informed Gregory as the bridge crew continued on with their grave duties as if oblivious to the success, their professionalism drilled in and honed by both years of experience and training (which they took a fair bit of pride in).

The Admiral kept a stern mask on his face as he merely nodded.

As the UNSC fleet formed around the Warhound into a roughly pyramidal formation, Admiral White frowned.

They had done less damage than they should have.

"Damn! MacArthur, by our estimates we should have gotten thirty clean kills, it seems that their shields have been reinforced somehow. Do you have any clues as to how they are countering us? We need to take those ships out, Fort Longston is getting pounded to hell!" He inquired of the AI.

MacArthur nodded. He read through hundreds of thousands of lines of data in the span of a few seconds before answering. "It appears that all ships cut all their engine power and diverted it to their shields, or as much as their capacitors can take anyways. This looks to have increased their strength by twice as much on their capital ships.”

As some of the remaining fighters flew past the bridge, Gregory walked to the window to take in the view. With his back turned, he spoke. "Not too bad on their part. Order all ships to focus..."

He didn't get the chance to finish before Captain Haithum shouted. "Incoming enemy fire!"

Admiral White was caught by surprise this time, spinning around at breakneck speeds.

"All ships go evasive! Break up into squadrons!"

Alarm klaxons blared as the flagship and the other ships in the UNSC fleet all quickly threw themselves onto new headings using their emergency thrusters. Turbolaser bolts streaked towards them, the way the Warhound was moving made them look like comets flashing into and out of existence.

Gregory was forced to clinch his fists in frustration as he watched the turbo laser bolts containing countless joules of power fly past each ship. A volley managed to score some hits on one of his destroyers, though it was absorbed harmlessly by the ship's shields.

While the deck rumbled, Gregory cursed. "Tricky bastards are trying to stall us and throw off our next volley, we need to end this quickly before they can support their troops on the ground!"

As if to punctuate his sentence, more volleys of super hot plasma sped towards the UNSC ships. Once again the UNSC ships evaded, the larger ships and especially the Warhound moved with speed that belied their size.

This time there were noticeably many more streams of plasma hurtling towards his forces, and this time three UNSC ships were hit. One of the remaining Warlock Battlecruisers took a salvo of three hits, harmlessly absorbed by its shields. It would take much more than that to break through, that was for sure.

Unfortunately the Republic would be able to deliver the amount of firepower it needed to do real damage soon.

"MACs at full charge in five seconds. We’ll be in for a beating by the time we fire." Captain Haithum announced.

"Reform the fleet into a tighter formation, but keep us moving." Admiral White barked out, watching the tactical screen, viewing the reticle of the Warhound ’s MACs locking onto their single target while turbolaser bolts continued to pound into the ship.

"More enemies firing!" MacArthur called out.

Again blazing green turbolaser bolts streaked towards the fleet. The UNSC ships couldn’t evade, they were too close. Their shields glowed golden with each hit, absorbing tens or even hundreds of megatons of power.

The Warhound vibrated slightly under the Admiral's feet as it was struck by ten consecutive turbo laser blasts, its shields flashing with each hit.

"Shields holding at 93 percent. Our MACs are charged and ready to fire." The weapons officer announced.

The UNSC ships held strong. The worst damage inflicted was on three frigates, each of them losing their shields. One of them was struck on its port side soon after, the armor did hold but a twenty by twenty meter section of its armor was now blackened and scorched.

"Return fire by all means." Gregory commanded.

The 4 MACs on the Warhound spoke as one, sending screaming tungsten slugs weighing hundreds of tons into the enemy at relativistic speeds. The other MACs of the fleet followed suit.

This time four Venators (one of them a victim of the Warhound) , five Victories and three Acclamators shattered under the assault, yet again spraying debris around or going up in fireballs.

Another Venator crumpled as two heavy slugs from the Warlock Battlecruiser Gungrave blew half of the ship into oblivion. The star destroyer's reactor went critical and it formed a new star for a brief moment.

The UNSC fleet had no time to celebrate as the Republic fleet continued to fire with everything they had, they didn’t even bother trying to evade what looked like a solid wall of plasma flashing towards them.

The Warhound ’s shields flared brilliantly, trying to hold back the power while other UNSC craft did the same.

This time many were unsuccessful.

The three frigates whose shields were already depleted flashed out of existence. Two more frigates and a destroyer joined them in horrific explosions as their armor and hulls succumbed to thousands of direct hits. Their fusion reactors went up in bright messy firestorms, vaporizing the warships and taking all of their crews with them.

A destroyer lagged out of formation with its thicker hull slagged and burned through in a dozen places, its engines failing and its crew abandoning ship. 

One of the powerful Warlock-Class Battlecruisers, the Nassau, was the target of the main batteries of a few Victory IIs, an Imperator, and one of the Acclamators. The combined volleys of the enemy cracked open its shields and started to spend themselves on the thick armored plating which shrugged off the powerful hits but became blemished with burn marks.

In total 7 UNSC ships were either destroyed or adrift, leaving 32 UNSC warships to return fire with MACs, energy projectors, thousands of missiles, particle cannons, railguns, coilguns,  and several nukes as the Republic detachment fired with their own armament.

Time was not on the side of Admiral White, as the main Republic force began to close in. He would be sandwiched if he didn’t end this quickly.

The two fleets passed into point blank range as more vessels from either side were crippled, spewing their crews into the icy vacuum of space, or started to put up increasingly more resistance.

This was the last ditch effort for Admiral White. If they lost in orbit, it wouldn’t be long for the ground to follow suit.

Now, it was a dance to the end, to death, or victory.

RNS Intrepid

‘He can dodge a Force push?’ Shaak Ti shockingly thought as the giant supersoldier sidestepped her force push in a blur that was almost impossible to track. She’d only ever seen one other being do that, Grievous on Hypori.

Thinking back to the now late Jax's words while stealing a quick glance at his gory body, she mentally gulped. ‘Yes, way worse than General Grievous.’

Not even Grievous could cause this much carnage on his lonesome.

The Spartan then ignited a bluish lightsaber in his right hand. However this lightsaber was unlike any she had seen before. It had two curved blades that extended out from the grip.

Shaak Ti again tried to reach out and feel the man in the Force, but again she was met with nothing as she felt the Force inside her flash in warning of danger.

She began to circle the soldier carefully anticipating the next engagement. One wrong step and she would be dead.

“I must warn you, I am a Jedi Master well trained in lightsaber combat.”

From behind its helmeted visor, she could not see the flash of bemusement that crossed the Terran’s face, but from the way the visor steadily gazed at her made her uneasy, as if she was fighting against something inhuman. As if she was standing in front of nothing more than a cold hunk of metal set out to kill her.

The deep voice that came through the speakers of the armor was slightly different than what she was expecting, but it told her a little bit more about the person inside of the armored suit.

The voice she heard was the voice of someone who was clearly a soldier through and through, one that was a veteran of many battles, was full of intelligence yet was also one that exuded fear onto his enemies.

The armored warrior simply spoke. “I’ve fought worse.”

And it was then that Shaak Ti felt the tingle in the Force warning her of his attack.

Unlike previous times where she had multiple seconds to react, she was lucky to have a scant second to counter him.

The soldier sprung forward impossibly fast and made a vicious slash at her with his sword, which moved so fast she could have sworn she saw an afterimage.

The only reason she survived was because, unlike Jax who had let emotions cloud his perception, Shaak Ti had let the Force flow through her and guide her. Being the most skilled lightsaber combatant in the Order meant nothing against a combatant this fierce. The green warrior certainly didn’t wield his weapon with the elegance as might be expected from a Jedi, but with a tremendous amount of power and speed that she simply couldn’t counter with her own skills.

Even then, her eyes widened as she lept back with a scant inch to spare from the blade melting open her face, the scorching heat from the blade almost making the skin on her left cheek blister.

Shaak Ti back flipped through the air and sent another Force push in the direction of the supersoldier, which he simply sidestepped. He pulled out an enormous pistol that he had holstered and aimed it at her.

Without any time to spare, Shaak rolled to the left just as the unfamiliar crack of the slugthrower resounded throughout the hangar bay that was littered with the carnage her opponent had wrought with casual ease and unbelievable speed.

Normally her Force enhanced senses would have allowed her to avoid the attack with more than enough room to spare. However, that was against normal opponents, and they were armed with blasters.

The speed of the Spartan's aiming which allowed him to snap the weapon up in a flash, and the fact that it shot a high speed projectile which was invisible to the naked eye for the most part meant that Shaak Ti was lucky to be alive.

A bullet clipped her left cheek and her left lek, putting a nice cut into both as she rolled to a stop behind the wreckage of the wrecked AT-ST. She winced in pain as the blood started to flow out.

Quickly thinking, she used the force to leap up into the air. Before the Master Chief could shoot her to bits, she threw another Force push at him. 

This time he was only partially successful at dodging, throwing off his aim as he was hit on the right side, knocking him back a step as his personal energy shields flickered for a split second.

Shaak Ti landed right where she had wanted to, behind the burned out frame of the AT-PT that the super soldier had obliterated earlier in his rampage.

Knowing that in any second the Spartan would probably leap behind her to kill her, she gripped the small vehicle's wreckage with the Force and sent it flying at the Master Chief.

Shaak thought that at this close, even he wouldn't be able to dodge something like that coming at him.

It was to her great shock that the wreck abruptly stopped with a crash and a screech in mid air where the supersoldier was standing.

The vehicle stayed still in midair until it slowly rose up.

It was being held in the two hands of the Spartan supersoldier, his weapons lying on the ground as the armored titan held it above his head.

"By the Force..." was all that she could say as she took in the sight before her. A man, with no power in the Force, but was instead made into a superhuman by Terran technological prowess, was performing a feat with his body that even some Jedi Masters could not do without using every last bit of their strength. It was a humbling sight indeed.

It also showed her just how much in danger she was when the man actually threw it back at her.

As the multi-ton machine came sailing towards her, she saw an opening and dove under the machine, using the Force to propel herself.

*z*z*z*

John had to give the xeno some credit, she was as creative as she was stubborn.

She had managed to put up more of a fight than he thought. Especially when she threw the wreck at him with the Force, an ability that he was going to have a hard time countering, even simply wrapping his mind around the existence of some ‘magical’ powers was proving to be troublesome for him.

Though, if he had to guess, he probably had given the Jedi quite a shock when he simply caught the walker like a child playing catch.

John let out a short grunt as he threw the ruin of the AT-PT at the alien Jedi.

Normally, a SPARTAN-II like himself could lift on average anywhere from 1200 pounds on the low end, to one ton in the case of some larger Spartans by themselves without the assistance of their MJOLNIR armor.

With the MJOLNIR power armor, a Spartan could lift up to four times that, John was easily able to lift close to 3 tons himself with little effort, up to 5 tons if he pushed himself.

So when he merely caught the walker's husk and then threw it back, the Spartan hardly even noticed.

As the oversized projectile flew through the air, John began to go back for his weapons, anticipating the Jedi’s survival.

To no surprise, the Jedi slid under the wreck speedily in the few feet she had from impact. With her lightsaber securely held, she extended her free hand, sending out yet another ‘force push’.

The burst of pressurized air sent his M6D pistol flying, clattering about down the floor, far out of his reach.

Though he could fight with his energy sword, John found it much more efficient to simply shoot your enemy than to duel with them.

John began to reach for one of his SMGs, prompting the alien combatant to rip it off his thigh plating. He analyzed the situation, it would be too risky to reach for his other gun as the enemy would be on top of him before he could bring it to bear.

John grabbed his energy sword and ignited it just as the Jedi jumped up and attempted a hacking downward vertical slash.

The lightsaber met the magnetically focused plasma of the Sangheili energy blade which he had acquired years ago from the Arbiter during the official signing of the UEG-Sangheili Defense Pact in 2554. Most Spartans, and even some veteran ODST's now carried one as well. Even if the ODSTs couldn’t fight an Elite Minor in a duel with it, it was a great cigarette lighter and fire starter.

The Jedi had swung with all her might, yet with John’s superior strength, both as a result of his augmentations and MJOLNIR armor, her blow bounced off his guard slightly, not even making a dent in the Spartan's defense. It wasn’t even a contest between John and the Jedi.

‘This is taking too long, I need to end this now.’ John thought.

In a blur, he twisted his right foot to lash out with a vicious kick to the alien's chest as the Jedi reformed her defensive stance.

*z*z*z*

The soldier's blade did not move an inch.

She had swung with all her might, and when her saber connected with his, she might as well had saved her energy and not attacked at all.

This was definitely a problem.

His speed in blocking her attack even when she had the advantage, coupled with his unbreakable strength, meant that taking him down with her lightsaber alone was out of the question.

She would need to use a different tactic.

After landing the failed blow on his lightsaber, she began to set up for her next attack, recomposing herself to follow into the next strike.

It had all happened so fast that she missed it in the blink of an eye.

All she was able to process was the sudden blaring warning in the Force of his attack just as his armored left leg lashed out in a blur. All she could do was prepare herself for the oncoming pain.

The leg hit her chest so hard and so fast that she felt her left ribs painfully shatter as her body gave in to the enormous energy from the towering behemoth’s kick.

The only reason she survived was her ability as a Jedi to use the Force and direct it into her body, as Jedi were known to do when running at superhuman speeds or jumping multiple stories into the air.

But alas, it was far from enough.

She let out a breathless cry as she flew twenty meters like a ragdoll before hitting the deck hard on her back and sliding another six. The back of her Jedi robe tore off from the friction, leaving only her inner clothing intact.

She stared up at the ceiling of the flight deck as she did her best to fight the agonizing pain. She gasped for air as she coughed up a mouthful of blood.

The world began to spin as she fought through the pain and focused, using as much of her power as she could.

She began to list off her probable injuries. ‘Shattered ribs... and probably a punctured lung.’

She knew she wouldn't have much time until she passed out from the pain, so she had no choice but to numb the pain with the aid of the Force.

She heard the Master Chief casually walking towards her with his recently retrieved pistol in hand, his intent to simply finish her off was obvious, both in the Force through the feeling of danger she had received, and from the way he menacingly strode over to her, like a hunter coming towards a wounded game animal.

She frantically looked around for a way out, finding none as the soldier strode towards and coldly began to aim the pistol at her.

Fear began to take hold as she heaved and raised herself to her knees, the world started to spin faster as she tried to focus both on staying conscious and on surviving. She finally saw a way to at least buy her some time.

And it wasn't a pretty one either, but it was a choice she had to make.

Lying a few meters from her were bodies of clones that were riddled with bullet holes, their blood beginning to dry in the stale air of the Intrepid .

Gulping at her grizzly solution, she picked their limp bodies up and threw them at the Chief, who simply batted them aside like a fly, but nonetheless it allowed her to get to her feet and  ready her lightsaber with a slight hobble.

The Chief stopped and simply aimed the weapon at her, not caring to engage in the ‘heroic’ or ‘honorable’ duel with a lightsaber like most of her enemies would have.

He stopped a dozen meters away from her with a gun aimed at her forehead, his size and his armor coupled with his speed and superhuman speed made Shaak Ti begin to see the fear and intimidation that would be set into his enemies. 

The golden reflective visor simply stared at her, she wasn’t completely sure whether it was more machine than man in there.

"You cannot defeat the Jedi Order and the Force. We have been around for countless thousands of years and beyond. Even if I die here today I will live on in the Force." She spoke to the stock-still titan who was planted firmly in his stance like a statue.

She was only trying to buy more time as she summed up her powers, letting the Force flow throughout her wounded body.

Shaak Ti began to think of her next move.

"How sure are you?" The Spartan asked, the weapon still pointed directly at her.

Shaak Ti grinned. “Very."

She shot forward with the speed granted to her by the Force while she grabbed the pistol with her powers and tried to rip it from the Master Chief's ironclad grasp.

This time the man was ready for her trick, he held onto the weapon despite the invisible pull of the Force and pulled the trigger.

*z*z*z*

As the Jedi was only mere meters away flying through the air, everything played out in slow motion.

John had already activated his energy sword and brought it to a defensive stance as he began to analyze everything in Spartan time.

This allowed him to see why his Magnum failed to kill the Jedi.

By an immeasurable stroke of chance, the weapon made from titanium parts gave in to the opposing and unyielding force of the pull of Shaak Ti's power despite the Chief's vice-like grip.

The barrel snapped up and the scope broke apart as the weapon shattered in John's right hand from the Force, leaving him holding the grip of the weapon as the rest of the pieces flew through the air.

Before the first pieces of the gun hit the floor, the two blades slammed into each other with the hiss of ozone as John blocked the forward thrust of Shaak Ti, twisting to the right at the same time.

However, the Jedi managed to slow herself down and turned to face the Chief before trying to slash him across the back using a backhand strike, again resulting in failure as the Spartan quickly blocked the blow.

*z*z*z*

Shaak Ti twisted on her heel and gritted in pain, following up with three more strikes that put the Spartan on the defensive, but she knew she could only last seconds in a real fight.

So she evened the odds.

Throwing a Force push right into the armored and massive chest of the Chief, the supersoldier found himself flying back before quickly landing on his feet out of a backwards roll.

Annoyed that it had taken him this long, the Master Chief reached for his M7 on his right thigh plate before he saw a loading dolly being thrown at him, forcing him to roll out of the way. Shaak Ti didn’t let him have a respite, quickly launching another set a furious attacks

This one, however, was new.

He saw her extend her right and instead of the typical Force push, he felt himself begin to feel lighter, he immediately knew what was happening. The Master Chief had felt this before when confronting the Didact.

She was simply going to hold him telekinetically in the air and kill him as he was helpless to defend himself.

As his body began to feel the all too familiar feel of zero-G, he grabbed his 10 inch combat knife off his right chest plate and sent it hurtling towards the alien.

Shaak Ti was immediately forced to break her grip on John and cut the terrifyingly fast flying knife out of the air with her saber. This time she looked up in time to see the Spartan charge at her, going in a sprint at almost a hundred kilometers an hour, moving so fast that were it not for the Force, she would have been dead before she knew what hit her.

She moved to block his horizontal slash but she immediately saw her mistake.

She physically could not block his strike.

The power behind his attack coupled with his speed meant stopping it simply would not happen. It would be easier for a podracer to go straight through a mountain than for her to block the Master Chief’s attack.

When his sword hit her lightsaber, her weapon flew out of her grasp without even taking notice of her grip.

Desperate to save herself, she tried to send a push at him as he towered over her.

This time, when the condensed air focused by the Force hit him, his heels dug into the floor plating.

Her push had little effect on him, his stance barely budged.

The cold truth began to settle in on her as she accepted her fate.

She extended her right hand to try and summon her lightsaber, but it was in vain. The Spartan simply grabbed her right arm with his cold gauntleted hand, twisting away from another Force push in a green blur of superhuman speed at the same time. With a squeeze, he crushed the bones in her right forearm with a sickening and sharp snap.

With her adrenaline pumping, she hardly noticed the pain as she saw what she knew would be one of the last images of her life.

The reflection of her face with its alien features stared coldly back at her through the golden visor of the Master Chief.

What she could feel in her last fleeting moments however was not hatred or a bloodlust that she was so used to from the enemies of her past, but merely cool, hard professionalism that was only following orders to simply eliminate a threat, nothing more and nothing less.

Something told her that, despite her still not having any feelings in the Force of the man who was about to take her life, that had it been any other less pressing of a situation, he would have let her live.

She could tell from the first few seconds of their encounter that he did not consider her an enemy soldier; an enemy? Yes.

A trained soldier? No.

And he was right.

Despite the Jedi Order’s forced learning during the Clone War, Jedi were not soldiers.

They never were and most likely never would be; she never considered herself a general even though she was graced with the title when leading the Clone Troopers, troopers that gave her respect, even if at times duly fleeting, that she did not and never had felt that she had deserved.

She was a peacekeeper and an intermediator, not a soldier, or more importantly, a trained artisan of war.

She and other Jedi like Aayla Secura and Obi-Wan had kept those beliefs that they should never have gotten involved as deeply as they had, unlike Anakin Skywalker or Mace Windu.

That was what the Master Chief was.

A professional soldier.

Period.

He had no wish to kill her personally, he merely had an objective, and she happened to be in his way.

As she looked again at the man towering over her about to deliver her death blow, Shaak Ti pondered how many enemies had seen the same reflection in that visor.

And how many more would as well?

The Spartan twisted her shattered arm behind her head and spun her around to face her back towards him, forcing her to her knees.

As he twisted his grasp on her arm with his right arm raised with his energy sword ready, Shaak Ti began to think. ‘How many more of these Spartan supersoldiers are there?’

She closed her eyes and made her peace. ‘May the Force be with the Order and that with you. Be strong Aayla and you will survive.

I did my best and now my time has come.

May the Force guide me.’

*z*z*z*

The Master Chief brought down the metal hilt of the plasma sword onto Shaak Ti’s head, knocking her out cold.

After a second, he let the limp and bloody body collapse to the grey coldness of the flight deck.

John looked at the carcass for a full two seconds before placing the sword back into its compartment. He gathered up his weapons that had been ripped from him and scattered about.

He couldn't help but admire the tenacity of the Jedi woman he defeated.

Despite her clear lack of experience, she did possess one of the most important traits that any being, alien or human, could have in his eyes.

Courage.

If John hadn’t been able to use his knife, she would’ve killed him with her telekinetic hold which restrained him in place.

An opponent who, as he could tell from her body language despite her efforts to hide it, knew she couldn't win, yet had fought him anyway.

She had fought without the foolhardy arrogance that her partner had charged in with, who quickly and stupidly paid the price for it.

He had to respect that.

As he walked to the terminal where he had transferred Cortana into, he also thought of how he and the other Spartans could better fight the Jedi in the future.

On the face of it they were a very easy opponent, but in reality they were very unpredictable due to their unique abilities that one really could not train for, only think their way out of it fast and counter them on the go.

And that in and of itself was dangerous.

Fighting enemies that shot at you or tried to stab you with burning plasma or riddle you with bullets or energy was something that all UNSC personnel understood.

Combatting opponents that could apparently sense danger and use supernatural abilities to fight was something that he and the UNSCDF didn't quite yet understand, and that ventured into the unknown.

Fighting dangerous opponents was one thing, fighting unknown opponents was another.

As he checked with Cortana on her progress, which was going along perfectly as usual, the AI asked him. “Glad to see you in one piece. It was almost getting dicey for you out there.”

“Glad to see you too Cortana.” Chief replied. “Are you ready to go?”

Cortana nodded. “Yank me”

He reached out his hand, allowing Cortana to re-enter into the MJOLNIR’s systems. He let the icy chill of her sharing his head set in and fade. He walked into the main elevator system and started to check all of his equipment.

The turbolift doors closed and the SPARTAN-II ascended to the starboard command bridge.

RNS Intrepid Bridge

"Sir I have no control, the virus has more or less taken over the ship." The chief engineer sighed in defeat with his shoulders slumped.

Tarkin walked over to the man's console and pounded his fist on it in frustration.

Here he was, the commander of the Republic fleet in this operation and he had no way to communicate with his own forces, much less control over his own flagship.

Luckily Piett seemed to have taken over in his spot and was currently engaged in very heavy combat with the UNSC, but they were currently grinding each other to scrap as the Terrans fought with ferocity not seen earlier, as ships from both sides exploded in fantastic displays of devastating firepower.

It was one hell of a lightshow, that was for sure.

"I thought we could cut the computer core from the rest of the ship?" Tarkin asked as the officer shook his head.

"It wouldn't matter, the virus took over everything before we could do anything about it. It was even faster than my most wild estimates had predicted, sir."

Tarkin shook his head as he turned to his flag captain.

“We might as well abandon ship. At least in one of the shuttles I can stay in contact with the fleet and link up with another ship. Start destroying and erasing anything we can that we are not locked out of, no matter how superficial.”

The crew looked at him. They were obviously demoralized, and very tired.

"We did our best and that is what matters." Aayla said, to the ire of Tarkin.

Suddenly, Aayla looked at him with surprise and sadness in her eyes. “Master Shaak Ti… I can no longer feel her.”

The bridge was silent for a full five seconds before Tarkin opened his mouth to respond.

“The Spartan?”

“He must have killed her. Jax died almost as soon as they ran into the Spartan.”

The clone troopers manning the entrance from the turbolift looked at each other as the officers showed clear horror on their faces.

“Shaak Ti was killed that quickly? She was on the Jedi Council.”

Aayla grabbed the admiral's wrist.

"Sir, we have to get you off of this ship."

Warlock-Class Battlecruiser, UNSC Gungrave

The chaos of battle in the high orbit of Cienna was astounding.

UNSC and Republic ships were set aflame as beams, bolts, or slugs shot back and forth between the opposing sides as the brawl all but destroyed the beauty of the stars.

The once perfect formations were now thrown to tatters as ships broke into squadrons as the large ships miles long or more unloaded their weapons into the hulls or shields of the enemy with destructive yields enough to slag cities.

The Warhound crumpled the forward bow of a Victory II with its coilgun batteries and burned the upper lateral armor of one of the few remaining Venators with a beam from one of its energy projectors as one of the UNSC cruisers, the DeAngelo , rolled on its lateral axis while firing a swarm of Archer missiles into an Acclamator, blowing apart a full hundred meters of its underbelly and exposing a dozen decks to space.

On the bridge of the warship, Captain Xu Xiangshu gripped his seat as the Gungrave took yet another hit to its starboard side from heavy turbolaser bolts that further strained the armor that had kept the ship intact after its shields failed.

Xiangshu was a 45 year old veteran of the Battle of Reach who had served on the destroyer Beirut above Tribute and Reach with distinction. He frowned, his oriental features and short jet black hair swung with him as he turned to his XO.

"Status on those damn shields?”

“They’re almost back, but because of the stress on the generator and the emitters we will only have coverage on our engine block, portside and bow, and only at 70 percent." He huffed.

Xiangshu sighed, watching through the tactical view screens as the remaining Fascines and Longswords strafed the exposed and unshielded engine cones of a Victory with their coilguns and the last of their missiles, perforating it with thunder and fire.

“Bring us around towards that Venator on the Warhound ’s ass and get our energy projectors locked on.” Xu commanded as the ship's helmsman acknowledged.

The engine cones on the nearly 3500 meter long warship flared white hot as they sent the Gungrave onto a new course to give the ship's 3 energy projectors a clean shot at an offending Venator which was a stone throw’s away at a mere 100 kilometers distance. The Venator was giving the already heavily engaged Warhound serious trouble.

The energy projector turrets rotated into place, charging up and taking aim at the Venator.

"Charge nearing 90 percent." The weapons officer called out. "Locked on."

Xu rubbed hit palms together in a nervous twitch as a UNSC destroyer, the Constantine, was hit by volleys from four heavy turbo laser batteries of another surviving Republic Victory II, ripping the already wounded ship open and spilling its crew into the cold, unforgiving vacuum.

One of the last frigates, the Maelstrom , managed to align its bow towards the vessel and send one of its dwindling 600 ton MAC slugs into the aft section of the recently unshielded Victory, shattering its engines open and causing the tower and command section to be ripped off.

The Maelstrom was then forced to immediately disengage as a Venator began to pound away at it with its many turbolaser batteries. The frigate used its engines to propel itself downwards on the y-axis, avoiding the main batteries of the enemy.

"Ready to fire sir." The weapons officer grimly confirmed.

"By all means, do so." Xiangshu obliged.

The ship shuddered as the energy projectors shot away at near light speed and tore into the offending vessel's shields. The enemy ship’s shields struggled to stay online before collapsing. The energy beams cut through the ship, permanently taking it out of action.

The other Venator began to return fire at Xiangshu’s ship. He was far too close to avoid the turbolaser fire.

Cienna now filled the bridge window as the ship shuddered with yet another plasma bolt cutting into its starboard side.

“Hull breach in decks five and six, already sealed.” Xu's XO called out.

“That Venator is rolling to its dorsal side to fire on us with all of its guns." His AI warned as the tactical display showed the triangular ship rolling over.

“MAC ready to fire.”

"I want our MAC to target their main reactor, at this angle it’ll just pass straight through their hull without hitting anything else important, all secondary batteries focus on that Imperator coming up.” The captain replied. “Are there any friendly forces in that area?”

“No sir, none present, we're the closest ship."

“Alright, launch a shiva at that Imperator too.”

“Aye aye sir.”

The MAC fired, sending a white hot streak down into space, promptly hitting the Venator right in the reactor, shutting down the entire ship. 

The Gungrave ’s hundreds of secondary guns fired at the menacing Imperator, shaving away at its shields. Return fire finally began to strike the Gungrave which rocked in return as the lone Shiva missile streaked away from its electromagnetically assisted launch silo in a fiery plume, avoiding the point defense of the Imperator before a blinding white light engulfed the vessel.

As it died down, all that remained was a lifeless vessel.

“All secondary guns hold fire. That ship’s still intact! Mark it for recovery. If we win, I’m sure ONI would love to pick apart that vessel.” Xu commanded.

Xu looked on in mute satisfaction as the enemy vessel disappeared from the display, hopefully for good.

The crew only nodded their heads in approval as the Gungrave ’s engines flared again and placed the warship, which sported noticeable slagged armor and a small hull breach near the bridge section, onto a new vector that finally gave its armament a clear shot at several enemy vessels, but also a grim picture of the greater battle.

There were only about 18 fully active UNSC warships left, 5 more were heavily damaged, and the others not destroyed were not much better than being disabled.

The carriers had been ordered to pull back to the dark side of Cienna's largest moon after running the initial gauntlet. Though they could fight at any range, they were too valuable to risk losing them in close combat. Even then, there were only two of the Concordia-Class Carriers left, the Black Dawn and Admiral Graf Spee . The Shinanio had been disabled in the heavy fighting from severe damage to its engines and had to be evacuated.

However, the Republic had paid dearly even with their advantage at close range. They only had roughly 70 active vessels as a Victory II went up in flames from the combined fire of the destroyer Lawrentz and the Marathon Fusillade .

Both sides would be lucky to have anyone left after this.

"Sir, the Nassau just went down and their captain is not abandoning ship." Xu's XO announced. Pausing momentarily, the whole bridge watched in mute silence as the Nassau , damaged earlier in the battle and now reduced to a mass of warped titanium with engines strapped on, accelerated well past the safeties of her somehow still active thrusters while escape pods shot away from the ship.

Xu saw its target, a hapless Acclamator which was only a few kilometers away.

The ship tried desperately to maneuver out of the way. The wreck of the Nassau was moving far too fast. It closed the distance with frightening speed as its reactor, already pushed to the limits, began to melt down.

The Nassau rammed the much smaller Republic ship, which crumpled from the impact as its lighter, unshielded, frame gave in.

As the two hulks fused together to form an almost unrecognizable mass of debris, the Nassau detonated its reactor and whatever other explosive ordinance it had on board, including its Shiva nukes.

Even from thousands of kilometers away, the blast was uncomfortably bright as a new star formed temporarily high above Cienna.

“Godspeed.” Xu whispered.

The crew was silent for half a minute before the comms officer went to Xu's side.

"Sir, Admiral White wants us to reform with what's left of the fleet."

Cienna, 327th Star Corps

“Where is my orbital fire support!?” Bly all but screamed into the handset as what was left of his once proud force was now fighting for its life.

The UNSC successfully cut off his withdrawal with their remaining airpower and orbitally inserted soldiers launched from their ships. They had trapped the Republic out in an open plain, between their armored units as well as their few but devastatingly elite ODSTs, supported by airpower that seemed to increase by the minute.

Some of his troops were currently encircled while the units that had been able to link up with the landing ship were trying to break them out. To make matters worse, the command force was only a few hundred meters away from the frontline. Bly stood outside the wreck of his former Command AT-TE which had been disabled by Terran artillery, holding a large handheld uplink to his forces while looking at a rolled out holomap.

The roar of gunfire, the whine of blaster rifles, and the boom of cannons was only growing closer. 

Three AT-STs exploded as a large black winged UNSC aircraft streaked overhead with its heavy cannons roaring, sending troopers and himself diving to the dusty, grassy ground.

"I am sorry but we’re engaged with Terran forces in orbit. Hold out for a few more minutes, Commander Bly.” Captain Piett, who was now the commander of the fleet for some reason, informed.

Bly threw the handset to the ground, muttering a stream of Mandalorian curses.

His instincts had overwhelmingly told him to push on the offensive when the Terrans had started to run. If he had pressed the advance, Bly was certain he’d already be inside the city gates. But to Bly, orders were orders, even stupid ones.

His lieutenants and adjutants looked at him with a mixture of shock and mute resignation.

“Get the Indignant on the line for a fire mission.” Bly ordered, referring to the Acclamator assault ship that was on the ground evacuating their forces. “I know it’s risky, but we’ll be as good as dead if we don’t.”

“Right away, sir.” One of the clones said.

Chapter Text

Orbital Drop Shock Trooper Corporal Abuylallah Mahmoud

Cienna, Aldara Plains

"We have your coordinates, friendly aircraft en route to provide support.” Mahmoud’s radio squawked.

Mahmoud, donned in the signature M62 armor suit of the ODSTs, leapt over a large pile of rocks with ease, his powered armor making the five foot jump effortless. He had just designated a Republic artillery position for immediate destruction.

Mahmoud ran up the forward face of a rocky dune. He had only been an ODST for three years after enlisting in the Marines in 2551. The largest battle he had fought in had been an operation against the remnants of the Covenant.

Mahmoud checked his surroundings in VISR mode for any contacts the motion tracker might not have picked up. He kept his MA6 shouldered as he swept the top of the slope.

The whine of Republic plasma weapons and the staccato of gunfire echoed all around him and the roar of the overall battle reverberated through the shallow canyon Mahmoud found himself in.

Mahmoud heard multiple booms not far off from him, indicative of a missile strike.

“Targets neutralized.” The F-99 Wombat UCAV radio controller reported.

"Thanks for the assist.” Mahmoud replied.

Mahmoud had launched from the Warhound just 10 minutes ago, along with nearly all of the fleet's complement of ODSTs (around 2,000) to cut off the Republic's ground forces from their retreat. This maneuver was only partially successful, roughly half of the Republic forces had made it to their landing site, so the ODSTs were tasked with taking on a precarious situation. They both had to put the squeeze on the encircled forces to keep them from breaking out, and keep the other Republic units from breaking in.

The encirclement had been swiftly established in mere minutes after the first SOEIV pods hit terra firma, supported by the ever increasing amount of air power flying in.

Mahmoud and his squad had been in the second wave of pods to hit the dirt. They had the job of widening the distance between the separated Republic forces and fortifying their positions. The ODSTs weren’t deployed with much heavy equipment, meaning the Republic could roll over them with tanks if they were supported by AA.

The pods had come under heavy fire from enemy anti-aircraft batteries, which was what had blown him off course, just enough to throw him a mile away from his platoon's LZ. Luckily he had managed to get a hold of them on his radio, but due to his proximity to the enemy positions and being on his lonesome, he decided to only remain in contact for less than a minute.

It was long enough for the 26 year old to know where to link up with his squad, and also enough for him to know that he had to fight his way through several Republic positions.

The enemy was very close. The drones had identified several positions and updated them onto his TACMAP through the battlenet.

Nearing the top of the ridge, he got down and crawled up to the top of the rocky formation.

With his MA6 in hand, Mahmoud peaked over the ridge and had his suspicions confirmed.

A group of some twenty Clone troopers, their white armor pitted and stained with dirt, were frantically digging positions into the earth as another four carried a heavy blaster cannon into position and began to assemble it.

Mahmoud cursed and ducked back down as he flicked on his radio and broadcasted to his squad.

"Charlie 1 this is Charlie 4. Are you reading me Gunny? Over."

The Radio crackled for a moment before his gunnery sergeant responded.

"Roger, Mahmoud we have you. We are half a click from your position. What is your status? Over."

"I am about to be knee deep in the shit. Over." He replied as he saw four of the troopers begin to make their way up the slope towards him, unaware of his presence.

Mahmoud began an extremely quick check on his weapons. He had his MA6 in his hands with its 300 rounds in 5 magazines, plus the 60 in his gun. He had three frags, an M6H pistol on his right leg, a 10 inch combat knife on the left side of his chestplate, and an M319 grenade launcher on his back alongside an M57 Pilum to top it all off. The Pilum wasn’t as powerful as a SPNKR, but it was a lot lighter.

It was standard practice for ODST squads to go into combat heavy laden, a feat made easy with their M62 armor. As an ODST, you couldn’t count on backup being there quickly, you were on your own.

"Shit... alright we’ll get there ASAP. Out."

The radio cut off as Mahmoud quickly steeled himself for the fight .

"Here we go." He muttered to himself as the contacts on his motion tracker came within 30 meters.

The ODST popped up from hiding directly ahead of the climbing troopers with his assault rifle raised.

The Clones were clearly surprised, stopping for half a second before attempting to raise their blaster carbines. The ODST stared down the troopers donned in white washed armor.

"Hello there." Mahmoud called out, humor helped to relieve stress in combat for Mahmoud.

The MA6 let loose a sharp and fast staccato of fire while the enemy combatants finally dove for the dirt with their weapons trained on him.

However, with the element of surprise, the ODST was sure to prevail.

The Clones could never have hoped to act fast enough as the ODST swept his sights over them, sending 16 7.62mm FMJ rounds slamming into them at over 2 kilometers a second.

The fastest of the Clones was only hit in the left shoulder pauldron twice, spinning him around. Luckily for him, his armor had done its job, his shoulder was only dislocated rather than being left a bleeding mess.

His other three compatriots were not so lucky.

They took the rounds head on, and as such they were punctured with fist size holes in their white plastoid armor as their limp bodies crashed to the ground, dead.

Mahmoud wasted no time in finishing the first Clone off as another Clone who was further away raised his blaster and sent a burst of plasma at him.

The three plasma bolts the Republic weapon sent at him went high and to the right, Mahmoud nevertheless dove down away from the bolts.

Now the element of surprise was long gone. The other troopers, now aware of his presence, began to return fire with dozens of blaster bolts. Two of them struck his M62's powerful personal shields, draining them by a tenth as he ducked back into cover.

The whine of bolts hitting the top of the ridge almost matched the pace of his heart as he pulled out his grenade launcher and relocated to a new position while loading a high explosive grenade.

Mahmoud couldn't help but notice the unfortunate placement of the Republic defenses.

The placement of their positions on the reverse slope of a ridge was a smart decision to cover the retreat of a collapsing frontline, but the absence of defenses on their flanks (which, to their credit, were probably meant to be set up after Mahmoud had interrupted their work) meant that he could come at them from the sides and catch them in an enfilade.

He stole a quick glance at the enemy and picked out his target, a recently dug foxhole with three Clones in it still aiming at his previous position and another scanning the ridgeline.

Mahmoud didn’t waste a second, he popped up, used the holographic sights on the launcher in conjunction with those on his HUD linked to the weapon, and fired.

The 40mm grenade launcher emitted a deep thump, flying straight and true to instantly kill the troopers in a gruesome display.

That still left some 18 troopers who all fired at him at once, immediately forcing him back into cover in a lethal game of cat and mouse that even the ODST couldn't win.

He began to lob his grenades over the crest of the hill one at a time until he only had one frag and plasma grenade each.

The grenades were not aimed, but they made the Clones stay in cover and gave Mahmoud time to withdraw to a position further down the ridge to call in his squad.

"This is Charlie Four I am heavily engaged, repeat heavily..."

He didn't get to finish what he was saying. What he was trying to keep from happening, happened.

Nine of the Clones advanced, firing as they went. They had advanced and found him far faster than he had expected.

Multiple bolts hit him, forcing him to backpedal as his shields dropped to 70 percent.

"Dammit!" He cursed. His only option was to try and get to whatever cover he could find and try to hold them all off. He could manage that for a while, but they would only keep coming and eventually overwhelm him in his static position, or he could try to get to the next smaller ridge some 50 yards behind him. The second option was becoming increasingly impossible as more and more red dots on his motion tracker began to close in on him.

Mahmoud assumed a firing position and returned fire, catching the first Clone to scale the ridge with a burst to the face and neck, sending the Clone flying back in a bloody spray as the next three fired on him.

Mahmoud stood his ground and held down the trigger. His MA6 roared and flame leapt from the barrel.

Slugs and burning hot plasma flew past each other as they both almost instantly hit their marks. Two more Clones collapsed as the ODST kept up his fire.

But the Clones hit back as well.

Mahmoud tried to hug his cover just as his shields collapsed. The right side of his chest suddenly warmed up as he was slammed with two consecutive blaster bolts to his chest plate, spinning him around as he hit the deck. His weapon was shot from his hands as he rolled onto his back

The remaining troopers, their armor dented and flaking from hits that didn't penetrate, staggered for a second before immediately turning their weapons towards him, one of them running headlong into his position.

The ODST rolled to his knees and began to reach for his M6H, as much good as it would do against five Clones.

Mahmoud's mind raced as he tried to find a way out, which he knew he couldn't.

Just then, what sounded like world ending cracks resounded through the air, and Mahmoud just so happened to be looking in the right place to see what it was.

The four trailing Clones’ torsos and upper bodies disintegrated into a cloud of meat, blood, bone, white armor, and blaster parts. The largest chunk was the top part of a Trooper's helmet while the rest of their few remaining parts littered the ground.

The Clone charging towards him, now only several feet away, stopped in surprise, while Mahmoud gazed at the source of the carnage.

It was his squad.

They were crossing over the top of the ridge behind him now, but one of his teammates was ahead of them, already in a firing position with a bulky weapon.

Mahmoud couldn't help but blink in shock.

That was the first time in his career that he had seen an M936 SAW fire in combat. The M936 SAW was a part of the same generation of weapons as the MA6, utilizing electromagnetic propulsion to shoot out metal slugs at very high speeds. When those slugs meet flesh and armor, the results are devastating.

‘Meat Grinder certainly fits.’ He thought to himself as he rolled to his feet to face the last Clone, who snapped out of shock and raised his weapon.

Mahmoud slammed into the Clone with a blow that a pro boxer would have a tough time imitating without armor. His skills learned through the basic Marine Martial Arts school and ODST Advanced Melee Course, along with his slightly augmented physical build, allowed him to perform the action.

The augmentations, when compared to the superhuman and extremely invasive procedures of the Spartans were minute, and were actually only a series of three injections after basic training, accompanied by a week of staying in a medical ward to make sure everything went smoothly. Augmentations had been given since the start of the 24th century and had laid the groundwork for the Orion Project, and eventually the Spartans. The augmentations gave each Marine increased muscle density, healthier and stronger bones, 20/15 vision , and a minute increase in reaction time.

On top of that he was donned in his M62 armor, which greatly increased his strength.

The Clone flew to the ground, stunned by the power of the blow, yet he quickly rolled to his feet before Mahmoud could deliver a life ending trigger pull.

The Clone leapt up into a fighting stance and produced a blade from his belt and immediately took a quick slash at the ODST.

However, Mahmoud was far too quick and blocked the strike with his left arm, delivering a sweeping kick with his right leg with a twist of his hip, putting the Clone back on the ground.

Before the Clone could get up and before Mahmoud could end it with his magnum, the Clone’s head exploded from three shots delivered by the approaching ODSTs.

"You sure find a way to get yourself up the deepest shit creeks don't ya?" The leading ODST amusingly stated as Mahmoud went to pick up his assault rifle. It was his gunnery sergeant, Daniel Wallace, donned in his M62 armor with a white skull painted over the visor.

"I had it under control, and besides, I had dibs on that one." He quipped as the rest of the ODSTs, all fanned out with expert coordination and set themselves up on the ridge that Mahmoud had previously visited.

After the squad medic popped his shoulder back into place, Mahmoud and his squad spaced themselves apart along the ridge and assumed a prone position.

By now, the dozen or so Clones were well prepared and alert to danger. 

Sergeant Wallace stuck his head up to see their positions before shooting back down, having taken immediate fire.

"I count ten of them spread out in foxholes and one heavy weapon." Wallace stated as he popped out of cover to deliver a quick burst from his weapon, an MA6 with an underslung 40mm grenade launcher. Though a more compact configuration for a grenade launcher than Mahmoud’s M319, it suffered from decreased range. On the left side of Wallace’s already modified MA6 was a titanium bayonet mounted in between the barrel and the grenade launcher.

Most Marines carried them, they came in handy against the Covenant Grunts in demoralizing the cowardly enemies when engaging in a bayonet charge, usually breaking their ranks. Mahmoud knew some ODSTs who swore by them and who mounted theirs the first chance they got after dismounting their SOEIVs.

Ducking down, Wallace produced an incendiary grenade shell, the payload made up of triethylaluminum in conjunction with a few other chemicals that escaped Mahmoud’s memory. Those particular shells had received a deadly reputation from their combat performance against insurrectionists. They could turn a grenadier into a Hellbringer and made clearing houses an easy task.

“Mahmoud!” Wallace shouted, tossing the shell towards him. “Take out that gun emplacement!”

Mahmoud loaded his grenade launcher, lined up an oblique shot, and fired. The incendiary projectile arced through the air and landed atop the gun emplacement, slathering the fighting position in flame and torching its occupants.

The other ODSTs fired quick bursts from their weapons. Other than their standard MA6 rifles, there was also an M7/10 SMG carried by the squad's designated marksman as a secondary to his M100 Stanchion II, and two M936 SAWs.

Wallace turned to an ODST in the squad armed with a SPNKR. "Do you have any telemetry data?"

The man nodded with a slight chuckle as he equipped his devastating launcher and pressed a couple of buttons on the side of the weapon, which linked it up to the local UNSC battlenet. The data which recorded the positions of the enemy from the ODST helmets and VISR systems were uploaded to the battlenet and were relayed to the fire control systems of the launcher. 

The ODST raised the weapon and aimed it into the air.

Mahmoud shook his head as he knew what was about to happen. This, he had seen before.

The rocket shot out of the launcher, and about 150 meters into the air it broke off with seven thumps into seven 40mm smart munitions with spring-loaded maneuvering fins, flying at a lower velocity.

They swiftly came straight back down onto their selected targets and seven near simultaneous explosions erupted.

"Move up," Wallace called out the order accompanied by a single motion. The ODSTs all jumped up and advanced down the reverse slope ready to finish off anything that opposed them.

There were only a handful of Clones left, who were quickly eliminated in a quick storm of accurate projectile fire, their few hastily fired shots of plasma avoided or wildly off target.

As the ODSTs moved through the Clones’ previous positions two of the Clones who were wounded from the SPNKR’s cluster munitions began to crawl out of their burnt out foxhole. Their armor was almost completely scorched and one of them was missing their left arm.

Before Mahmoud could take in the sight, Wallace casually tossed an incendiary grenade onto them, smothering them in a white hot jet of fire and burning them in under a second as their armor instantly melted and their bodies withered before laying still and smoldering like logs on a fire.

Mahmoud and the other ODSTs moved on, undisturbed by the telltale smell of their helmet filters working overtime to purge the odor of burning flesh that was quickly filling the air.

The ODSTs moved up to the top of the next ridge to reorganize in a new position and observed the ongoing battle a mile away with their helmet's built-in magnification function.

The Republic's air cover was almost nonexistent now. The distant flash of the mighty weapons of either side erupted and the following explosions could be felt in the ground. The rising dust of moving vehicles racing towards each other firing their weapons with earth shattering cracks covered the battlefield as far as the eye could see. Explosions of anti air rounds puffed in the sky like someone activating a lightswitch, tracers flew like laser beams through the air. The black specks and faint outlines of UNSC aircraft shot overhead, weaving through the Republic’s air defenses and attacking the Republic positions in fantastic displays of explosive and kinetic power.

"Second Squad is coming up." The designated marksman stated, his Stanchion II at the ready. Mahmoud had witnessed a Stanchion II rip an elite in half from 2 miles away. That rifle was no pushover, even in the hands of a mediocre rifleman. He saw twelve blue friendlies appear on his sensors to his right 50 meters away.

Looking in their direction, Mahmoud could see the black figures loaded down with weapons run towards them.

"Nice of you to join us." Wallace called out to the leader of the other squad, Edward Fitzgerald.

"Yeah we had to deal with a chicken walker and a squad of their ‘elite’ reconnaissance troopers, they were better than these guys, that’s for sure, but nothing we couldn't handle.'' The man chided as he hefted his weapon, a SAW with a 400 round double drum mag and belts of ammo slung over his armor Pancho Villa style.

Suddenly one of the members of Mahmoud’s squad, the designated marksman, called out from his prone position ten yards away. "We have contacts! At least two platoons of Clones plus armor. I count 5 light hovertanks, three AT-STs and two dropships, coming in from the north. Enemy armor one klick out. Dropships at low altitude, 2 klicks away and closing fast!"

"Shit! Do we still have any drone coverage or reinforcements heading our way?" Wallace asked as he and the ODSTs quickly manned defensive positions on the top of the small embankment.

"Last I heard, 89th Armored was sending some of their Scorpions and Cougars to link up with our battalion, they’ll be here in five mikes. Until then, we’re on our own." Fitzgerald replied as the other ODSTs all nodded in unison.

Mahmoud and the others did not care. In fact, he was itching to fight in heavy combat for once, especially after growing up during the Covenant War and seeing the heroic sacrifices that the military men and women had made in the defense of humanity. Now he would get to do the same, and he knew that the members of his squad that were not veterans were feeling the same.

"The LAATs are in range, permission to take them out?" An M41 SPNKR equipped ODST asked. His gauntleted finger seemed to twitch on the trigger of the powerful rocket launcher.

"Let our marksmen take the first shots, and then you can take out those LAATs and move on to the vehicles. I want you men with the Pilums and you with the Spartan Laser to take up concealed positions and hit their armor in tandem." Wallace ordered.

The ODSTs sprang into action and assumed their positions in under 2 seconds. Mahmoud found his cover in a rock formation which neatly concealed his rocket launcher in a ready position. All he would have to do is spring up into a standing position and let loose.

Mahmoud held his breath before a sharp, deep crack met his ears from the marksmen’s positions.

Downrange, half a mile away, one of the lead enemy combatants jogging along with the rest of the troopers behind their armored vehicles suddenly disintegrated from the torso up as a tungsten dart traveling at nearly Mach 50 passed through him, courtesy of a Stanchion Gauss Rifle.

As the Clones dove for what cover they could find, another one was struck in the left leg, ripping it clean off just as a Jackhammer missile streaked forward on a plume of fire and slammed into the cockpit of an LAAT before it could evade, swatting it out of the sky in a ball of fire.

The Republic troopers all began to advance forward behind the cover of the AT-STs which began to fire with their twin cannons, sending a barrage of super hot plasma bolts in the general direction of the ODSTs, their position not yet pinpointed, in suppressive fire. The blasts still landed too close for comfort for Mahmoud as he could feel the impacts rattle in his chest. The shower of dirt made a fountain burst forth from the landscape with each blast.

"Enemy armor advancing! I need AT yesterday, dammit!" Wallace called out with irritation.

That was Mahmoud’s cue. He and the other 3 ODSTs armed with Pilums sprung up and let their rockets loose.

Their rockets shot forth and their targets. The lead hovertank took a round in the front, causing it to careen into the ground and violently flip over from the 50mm shaped charge missile. The rockets of Mahmoud and another ODST met their mark and scrapped two more tanks, however the 4th rocket in total barely missed, this particular hovertank either had a very skilled, or a very lucky crew.

3 more M19 rockets fired from Jackhammers flew into the air, the other LAAT helpless to dodge all three at this angle and altitude. 2 of them hit, sending the dropship to the ground in an unceremonious crash.

Mahmoud quickly shouldered his launcher and tried to find a target that the other ODSTs hadn’t yet marked for destruction.

The fire was becoming much more intense as the roar of the ODSTs’ weapons reached a fever pitch. They had already taken down fifteen Clones, who fired back in return, striking two of the Terrans, including Wallace. Mahmoud glanced at Wallace, who had fallen back to cover with his shields dropped and a scorch mark fresh on his armor.

"Stop staring and keep firing on those fucking tanks!" Wallace cursed.

Without so much as a nod, Mahmoud obeyed the command. He found a nice target, he sighted his Pilum on the leg joint of one of the AT-STs and waited the agonizingly long milliseconds for the weapon to lock on as calmly as he could in spite of the fire slamming into the ground around sending up clouds of dirt. 

He depressed the trigger and let a 50mm rocket loose.

Mahmoud didn't have time to watch his work as he jumped back down out of the wall of fire, but the rocket flew straight and true as the chicken-like AT-ST could do nothing to evade, its weak knee joint blew apart and the machine toppled over with a loud crash and a cloud of dust.

The remaining TX-130's, now some 200 yards away, opened fire with their beam laser turrets, which swept across the ODSTs’ position, scorching the earth and forcing them to dive back into cover.

"We have to move. Second Squad! Provide covering fire for Squad One to relocate!" Wallace roared as Lance, the ODST with a Spartan Laser, managed to get a beam off.

It burnt a hole clean through the left side armor on one of the AT-STs before a flurry of blaster fire put him down. The armor on his chest sizzled as he screamed in pain. Two ODSTs rushed to his aid, administering biofoam to the man and lifting him up with a groan coming from the man. He clutched his side as he came to and moved the men away before stumbling back to his position and retrieving his weapon. 

‘Stubborn bastard.’ Mahmoud thought.

Lance returned to his position after a medic came up and injected him with something to ease the pain. Lance was lucky he hadn’t had a hole burnt through his chest. His armor had soaked up most of the heat, at worst he got a third degree burn.

As the explosions kept approaching, Mahnoud swallowed his fear as the members of his team burst from cover, firing as they went.

Mahmoud pushed his legs as fast as they could go and sprinted from his last position as blaster bolts sailed around him and hit his shields, draining them as he fired back on the move, managing a glancing blow on a Clone 60 yards away in the helmet.

One of his squadmates spun around from three direct blaster hits before stumbling into cover.

Mahmoud hit the dirt with a vulgarity escaping his mouth as his shields failed.

The second squad kept up a storm of fire to keep the advancing Clones engaged, sending another fighter tank to its doom before a twin blast from one of the AT-STs lashed out at their position.

Mahmoud cringed as he saw the vitals of a SPNKR armed ODST wink off his hud. He quickly discarded the death from his mind and laid down some fire, taking out 2 clones as the offending AT-ST was quickly dealt a quick death via a 102mm missile.

The ODSTs kept up the high tempo of fire and the Clone Troopers were only obliged to return it in kind.

The Republic forces were making a contested but steady advance behind the support of the remaining AT-ST and TX-130, though ten more clones were quickly gunned down while a marksman took out another Clone setting up a heavy weapon before plasma forced him back into cover.

The marksmen next to Mahmoud sent a trio of hypersonic tungsten slugs through an enemy a scant 40 yards away before the Clones nearest to their fallen comrade sent a stream of blaster fire into the man before he could get down into cover.

The man’s shields were overloaded and his armor was overwhelmed with no less than 12 direct hits.

The ODST fell dead beside Mahmoud. Mahmoud opened fire, his MA6 spat flame and shot out hypersonic slugs in return, taking one of the assailants down as the other dove back into cover only to be quickly felled by the squad's SAW.

The fighting between the two sides was fierce, and though the ODSTs had destroyed over half of the Republic force, they were fast being overrun as two more ODSTs were killed. The ODSTs made sure to make the Republic pay dearly for every yard advanced. The final hovertank was taken out by Mahmoud’s squad.

Two clones stormed Mahmoud's position, firing their blasters from the hip. Mahmoud’s charging shields were overloaded with only 4 blaster bolts, another bolt caught him in the left shoulder as he sought cover from the flurry of bolts.

Mahmoud’s heart was beating, causing his fingertips to pulsate. He had no time to properly aim. He thumbed the selector to auto and let loose a jet of fire with a frantic yelp just as the Clones neared ten yards. The MA6 made a mess of them. Their armor crumpled and fragmented, clouds of blood puffed out of their flesh and they both slumped to the ground.

"Move up!" Wallace roared while swiftly reloading, motioning to the squads. The ODSTs all advanced as one through the hail of fire as the last AT-ST was obliterated by a Jackhammer missile.

‘That’s the Helltrooper way. Crazy bastard’s a true Helljumper.’ Mahmoud grinned as he weaved in and out of fire, not even slowing down to fire his own weapon, simply doing it on the run as the others did the same. The counterattack by the outnumbered elite soldiers took the now vehicle-less Clones completely by surprise as they realized that they were being pushed back by only 15 heavily armed and armored combatants.

Leaping behind the flaming wreck of a TX-130 as his shields collapsed again, Mahmoud gunned down another unfortunate Clone with a burst to the abdomen. His squad’s SAW gunner and another rifleman joined him, the SAW spitting out a stream of shell casings as the muzzle flash leapt from its barrel.

The three of them kept up the fire with slugs from an MA6, a stream of rounds from the SAW, and 40mm grenades from Mahmoud's grenade launcher as they and the other ODSTs who were now in new positions pushed the Clones back.

"Those fuckers are pulling back!" A haggard sounding ODST exclaimed.

Having loaded in his second to magazine, Mahmoud peaked his helmeted head over the top of the hulk of the Republic fighter tank to see a sight that caught him by surprise.

The Clones who were behind their own cover were lifting their blaster rifles into the air over their heads and holding them with their hands on the barrel and rifle butt, slowly standing fully straight from their positions.

"Shit, they’re surrendering!" Another ODST exclaimed as Wallace came out of cover with his rifle aimed squarely at the head of the closest Clone some twenty meters away.

The other ODSTs all acknowledged and did the same, save the marksmen who all kept further away.

"We surrender!" The lead clone announced as the ODSTs came closer.

Mahmoud surmised he was a sergeant, from the kama and shoulder pauldron added to his armor with yellow stripes on the side, though he wasn’t sure. Those were standard markings for some of the units in this battle.

"Tell your men to drop all of their weapons and grenades, and to remove their helmets. Throw them on the ground and put your hands on your heads!” Wallace ordered. Mahmoud quickly guessed that the Gunny didn’t want them talking to each other over private comms.

The Clone took one look at his compatriots, some 20 to 30 of them now, some with grave injuries, and nodded.

"You heard them." The trooper sighed with indignation. His men complied, throwing their weapons and helmets on the ground and joining their leader with their hands on their heads.

Mahmoud and the others took in the strange sight of men with the exact same face.

"Disgusting." Mahmoud shook his head as the others scoffed in agreement.

The now former opponents stared at each other. Mahmoud figured it must’ve been strange for the clones to stare at the ODSTs and be met back with the ice cold glare of a polarized visor.

Mahmoud and the other ODSTs could not help but pick up a sense of pride and satisfaction as victory set in.

“You clones aren’t so tough up close.” One man said.

"Cut it marine!" Wallace snapped, casting a dirty look backwards as the ODST complied.

The ODSTs formed the Clones in a line just as their supposed back up, a meager yet nonetheless awe inspiring convoy composed of an Army Scorpion MBT and two Cougar AFVs with embarked squads of Army Infantrymen came rumbling over the ridge to join them. The ground seemed to shake from the tank as its treads crushed the ground beneath it. Its main cannon was pointed directly at the Clones. The act was totally unnecessary but it added to the intimidation factor of the relatively small UNSC force.

It worked, the Clones all warily looked at the war machine as the UNSC Army soldiers dismounted and joined them.

"I think we’ve got this handled." Wallace said sarcastically, saluting a lieutenant briefly.

The new arrivals chuckled. The lieutenant slung his older issue MA5C over the shoulder plate of his tan colored armor, marked with a grapefruit sized blaster burn on its chest plate.

“Party ain’t over yet, Helljumpers.” He chuckled as a flight of Sparrowhawks roared past overhead. “We have plenty of prisoners to process. Last I heard most of the pocket was surrendering, well what's left of it anyways."

The ODSTs all let out a sigh of relief before letting out a little jubilation.

"A far cry from a few decades ago, huh?" The lieutenant chuckled as the veteran Wallace turned to the assembled ODSTs.

"Let's get a move on with these POWs. It ain’t over just yet. Hopefully the fleet will finish kicking their asses in orbit."

Strategic Deployment Base Five

Boss and the Terran were locked in a struggle to get the other into a position where they would be able to finish the fight with a swift blow.

Boss was getting very tired, with the Terran not far behind in terms of fatigue.

His punches and slashes with his vibroblade were only getting slower and more sluggish.

The Terran grabbed Boss and pinned him against the wall, raising his knife.

Boss kicked the man off of him and backed off to gain a small respite. He was breathing heavily, sweat dripped down his brow despite his armor’s heat regulation. His leg had stopped bleeding because his armor automatically applied an internal tourniquet. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping him from passing out from pain.

The Terran beat upon his chestplate. “C’mon you bastard! Come at me!”

Boss grunted and ran at the ODST, who had held his knife out like a spear.

Boss blocked it with his shoulder and tackled the man down on the ground. He tried in vain to pin the Terran’s arm down before he could stab him.

The ODST brought the knife down and stabbed Boss in his injured leg.

“Argh!” Boss screamed. Boss stabbed the Terran in the shoulder between his armor plates.

“You son of a bitch!” The Terran cursed. Enraged, the Terran flipped Boss over and punched him over and over again with his uninjured arm.

Boss’s eyes started to blur from his own blood obscuring his vision. He lashed out in vain with his wrist mounted vibroblade, the Terran sluggishly avoiding the dazed man’s attacks.

Boss saw the hazy figure of the Terran raising up his knife for a killing blow. Boss closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

Suddenly, Boss heard the unmistakable sound of a blaster firing.

He opened his eyes to see the Terran still looming over him with a look of pure anger cemented onto his face. The formerly alive ODST soon slumped over to the floorplate, vapor coming out of the holes that were burnt through the side of his head.

As he came to his senses, Boss could hear the all too familiar voices of his fellow Clone brethren.

“Get on them, quickly! Their vitals are fading!”

An imposing figure stood above Boss and reached out his hand. Boss grabbed the man’s wrist and pulled himself up.

Boss cleared his vision by rubbing his eyes and blinking, looking at the Clone in red Phase 1 armor who had saved his life.

“ARC Captain Alpha-77 at your service, but you can call me Fordo.” He said before looking down. “I’ll get one of my men to tend your leg.” He motioned one of the other clones forward, who hastily began tending Boss.

“Thanks for the assist. You really saved my sheb.”

Fordo nodded. “I’ll have my men carry your squad out on stretchers. Can you walk?”

“With some bacta and something to kill the pain. My adrenaline’s wearing off.”

Fordo nodded again and called one of his troopers. “Get him some bacta and a stim-shot.”

“Status report?” Boss asked as an afterthought.

“We’re pulling out. Command has signaled the retreat.”

Boss said nothing and gave a slight grimace as he was laid onto a stretcher. 

‘All that, for nothing.’ He thought.

Chapter Text

This update took significantly longer production wise because I combed through the other chapters to make sure everything was consistent (casualties, ship classes, etc.). This also marks a semi-significant departure from the general plot of the original, but still pretty similar.

I will probably update SoaGE: Bounty Hunter after this one.

Black Cat Class Subprowler, UNSC Sturmgewehr

Coasting silently through the blackness of space, a sleek, pitch black silhouette reflected the images of the stars. A keen eye might’ve noticed a shimmering cloak floating through the abyss up close, but this sneaky craft was nigh invisible to the most advanced of sensor suites.

Every surface on the UNSC Sturmgewehr ’s hull was covered in photoreactive paneling, making it effectively invisible to the naked eye. This paneling was integrated with a stealth ablative coating, making it effectively invisible to any sort of scanning instrument or sensor array.

As impressive as all that technology was, it only served to enhance the already near invisible profile of the ~150 meter long stealth ship. In the vast expanses of space, a small profile was a stealth feature in and of itself.

The Sturmgewehr had arrived in system before the battle had even erupted, as ONI was looking to gather all the information that they could, particularly about the Republic’s fleet capabilities and battle doctrine.

Not even the UNSC fleet nor Admiral White himself had any idea the ship was even present. The small ship silently shadowed both fleets and watched as they tore each other apart, the stealth systems completely hiding them from even the UNSC warships.

Being forced to watch as the UNSC forces fought without them was not something the crew of 40 was fond of, but the fact of the matter was that due to the Sturmgewehr ’s rushed deployment from the Procyon system, the Prowler only had time to load a relatively small armament, four Hornet nuclear mines.

The crew knew, however, that a prowler was not meant to be used as a brawler, only having a dozen pulse lasers and its load of mines to fight off any attackers, but its meager armament didn't mean it was totally useless in combat.

On the three dimensional holoscreen of the cramped Combat Information Center, dimly lit by the eerie glow of tactical displays, Captain Valen Rico watched from his seat as the icons representing the remaining ships of the UNSC fleet and the Republic armada attempted to finally finish one another off.

Crippled or wrecked UNSC ships littered the system and the orbit of Cienna was now a graveyard. Any surviving crews were either trying, sometimes in vain, to get their vast warships back into a workable condition or were abandoning ship in life pods which seemed to enter the atmosphere of Cienna in waves like shooting stars.

As bad as it was for the UNSC, it was many times worse for the Republic.

Whole warships miles long, once proud vessels feared by their enemies, were now shattered husks of themselves. Barely recognizable charred and pitted shells drifting under their own momentum were a common sight.

Due to the nature of MAC rounds, the Republic vessels unlucky enough to be struck without their shields had whole sections of hull obliterated. The sheer kinetic force behind a MAC round destroyed anything that tried to oppose it.

Rico mentally shuddered at the thought of being on such an unfortunate vessel, but he felt no remorse for the humans of the Republic and their alien allies.

Pulling up another screen with a wave of his hand, Rico’s eyes were met with the image of the remaining ships of Admiral White's fleet led by the Warhound attempting to catch the last of the Republic vessels in the gravity well of Cienna with a high speed orbital burn of his main ‘fleet’ of 17 ships. The two remaining fully operational carriers were just now coming around from behind the safety of Cienna's largest moon.

The Republic battlegroup which had separated from the main group was a mere 5 minutes away from linking up with the fleet in orbit. Out of the last 70 or so functional Republic ships, two Imperators, two Venators and three Victory IIs had begun to move away from the main force, but not out of harm's way. What was worrying for Captain Rico, and no doubt Admiral White, was that that particular detachment was approaching an orbital position over the largest colonial settlement on the planet, the city protected by Fort Longston.

Ft. Longston had apparently already taken a hell of a beating, the main MAC battery had been disabled by an earlier bombardment. If that detachment were to achieve an orbital firing position, all forces groundside would be at the mercy of the Republic fleet. More importantly, the civilian populace would be in jeopardy.

However it seemed that Admiral White would still be able to regroup in time to trap the rest of the Republic fleet between the carriers and the rest of his force.

As critical as the battles were, both in space and on the ground, there was a more boring, but important, task at hand for Captain Valen Rico and his crew.

The Republic flagship, which had come to a complete stop at one of the Lagrange points of Cienna's smaller moon, was now completely under the control of Cortana and Sierra-117 was nearing his objective.

ONI would be very pleased with their performance, but most especially her’s.

Rico had seen Spartans in action before, even in the optimal squad operations in which they were truly terrifying to behold. But to see the Master Chief himself board a full on enemy capital ship and single handedly eliminate, no, crush, all opposition that faced him was awe inspiring.

Valan was a long time commander in the hypersensitive Prowler Corps and had entered service at the age of 18 in 2523, just two years before humanity's fateful encounter.

He had witnessed UNSC fleets with the power to crack Luna in half be nearly obliterated even when defeating outnumbered Covenant fleets in the disastrous early years of the conflict.

He had served alongside Admiral Cole himself during his fateful battles at Harvest and Psi Serpentis, the glassing of half the Outer Colonies, the implementation of the Cole Protocol, Admiral White's fateful decision to implement the White Doctrine and its effects, the fall of Arcadia, Admiral Whitcomb's mass evacuation of civilians from the last outer colonies, the interstellar guerilla war against the Covenant under the command of Admiral White, the Battles of Midguard, half a dozen battles in the Inner Colonies, the Battles of Reach alongside Admiral Stanforth, the 2nd and 3rd Battle of the Sol System and Earth, and the Battle of the Ark.

The amount of deaths and whole worlds destroyed that he had seen was staggering. But the reason he refused to retire at his age of 56 (not even close to middle age for Humans of the 26th century) was the motivation from seeing Humanity's sheer stubbornness to quit fighting, and eventually turn the tide of the war against a technologically more advanced foe. It inspired him to keep on fighting as well, alongside his whole race.

Even more inspiring was the UEG and UNSC's rapid rebuilding. Humanity was even growing more powerful than they had been before the War, to the point the Terrans were at today.

He could only imagine what this now almost official victory would do to shatter the other galaxy's perception and view of power.

In his mind he could only grin at the image of Coruscanti civilians when they heard of the ‘mighty’ Republic Navy's lopsided defeat at the hands of a ‘primitive’ and ‘small’ opponent outnumbered four to one.

He turned to his sensor officer seated at her console, whose unmoving brown eyes were affixed to the readouts before her. "What is the status of Sierra-117?" He asked.

"He’s moving up the turbo lift to the bridge towards his objective sir." She answered with little emotion.

Nodding in approval Valen turned to the helmsman at his station. "Set a course to the Republic flagship. It is likely that the admiral will attempt to escape via a FTL capable lifepod and we may need to intercept, plus the Chief might need extraction. Inform Admiral White of our presence and our rendering aid to Sierra-117."

UNSC Warhound

"MAC number four is damaged and will need to be replaced. Emitters for Energy Projector One are overheated and require limited maintenance, but further operation is ill advised. We lost particle cannon turrets numbers 5, 6 and 17 and mount 23 is burnt out and needs to be replaced. Missile supplies are at 53 percent and CIWS capacity is at 70 percent with 400 turrets destroyed." MacArthur listed off as Admiral White nodded.

The Warhound and the other 16 battle worthy ships were chasing down the detachment of the Republic fleet which had managed to withdraw to the other side of the planet after Admiral White had engaged them.

Accompanying the Warhound were three Warlock and five Marathon Heavy Cruisers, four Destroyers, and the last functional frigate, the Maelstrom . There were also the two Concordia Heavy Carriers coming from the opposite side of the planet’s largest moon.

He hoped he could catch them in a three sided trap with his fleet and the Punic Supercarrier Battlegroup which was still a few hours away.

Firing another long burn from their engines, the ships oriented themselves into a higher orbit as the remaining combat air patrol of Fascines and Longswords took point in front of the fleet to clear out the remaining Republic starfighters which were trying to make a last ditch attempt to attack the UNSC ships.

"Slayer 1 and the lead Fascines are engaging lead elements of Republic attack craft.” MacArthur reported with little emotion. "Range 20,000 kilometers and closing. Fascines and Longswords are fully engaged."

Captain Haithum and Admiral White looked at the holographic displays which showed the icons of agile UNSC FS-837 Fascine Fighters and Longswords of various models engaging the Republic fighters with salvos of long range missile fire until they got closer..

Angry red icons of enemy ARC-170 and V-Wing fighters winked off the screen in quick succession in a very uneven match up until the range dropped and the two forces began the intricate dance of fighting close range in zero gravity.

Fascines flipped on their axis to swat enemy starfighters out of the sky with streams of twin 50mm coilgun fire and short range missiles while dodging enemy plasma with rapid burns and sudden course corrections as the Republic finally managed to kill several Terran pilots unlucky enough to get hit. Either combined fire from the lighter V-Wings blasters or the more potent weapons of the ARC-170s were the main culprit, with the occasional concussion missile getting a kill despite the Terran’s countermeasures.

The slower but not ungainly Longswords swooped on the battlefield at full burn with their devastating 110mm rotary cannons and 50mm coilguns flashing as their missile racks let loose dozens of micro missiles from missile pods that replaced their ship killing armament, outright obliterating dozens of Republic fighters caught in their sight.

"Sir, forty contacts have broken through the fighter screen and are on course to attack the fleet. 14,000 kilometers away." MacArthur announced.

"Make sure our point defense is still good to go." Admiral White commanded as he paced the bridge among the crew fast working at their stations carrying out his orders.

Close-in weapon system mounts of various calibers and types seemingly came to life all over the ships and swung to face their targets, ready to destroy the contacts registered on their targeting computers which were supported by the AI's on each ship with back up targeting solutions. The smaller and less noticeable mounts of the dozens of pulse lasers on each ship tracked their targets as well.

The 40 Republic Fighters, all of them 170's, rapidly closed on the UNSC ships and launched all of their proton torpedoes.

Blazing red munitions covered in energy serving as their propulsion chewed up the distance between the fleet and homed in on their targets.

"Vampire! Vampire! 240 missiles incoming! Defenses are active fleet wide." An ensign called out. 

"Pulse lasers engaging." MacArthur reported while the rate at which his code flowed down his body accelerated. It only took him a moment for the AI to perform the calculations necessary to intercept in case the point defense computers failed.

Invisible to the naked human eye, hundreds of megawatt level pulses of energy began to destroy the missiles as their frames melted from the pulses of energy. The proton torpedoes failed to close to even the 1,000 kilometer mark as they all exploded harmlessly in quick succession.

Admiral White nodded in satisfaction as the last of the missiles faded from the display. The enemy fighters kept on coming and began to bear down on the outermost ships in the UNSC fleet, the destroyer Archangel and the Marathon DeAngelo .

Both ships swiftly engaged the 170s with their pulse lasers, though as the fighters were shielded it took concentrated pulses from multiple turrets to destroy them.

Nine of the attackers exploded from the invisible fire as the other attackers closed to 10,000 kilometers and let loose another volley of missiles, which were quickly taken out by pulse lasers as 50mm CIWS opened up with a hail of accurate fire.

The Republic pilots threw their ships into wild maneuvers in an attempt to evade, but only three fighters managed to make it past the 5,000 kilometer mark before they too were sliced open by coilgun fire.

The Admiral smirked quietly before he addressed the sensor operator. "Time to target?"

"Two minutes sir, we have a lock and the Air Force is firing some of their 11-B1 ICBMs." He replied.

The holo screen dominating the middle of the bridge morphed to show the icon of a Victory II cruiser which had strayed too close to the Air Force missile base on the planet.

Half a dozen nuclear missiles punched through its weakened shields, setting it alight with electrical fire as a fourth of the enemy ship’s mass was obliterated, mission killing the enemy ship.

A small grin escaped White’s lips as MacArthur's avatar turned to him.

"Sir, even in our weakened state we can still achieve victory against the enemy force. Though current UNSC war policy is still reflective of the Covenant War, do you wish to give the Republic Fleet an official request for their surrender? By my judgment we could avoid further war by this victory as the Republic Senate will, even in its clearly corrupt state, call for a cease fire and open negotiations with the UEG after this lopsided victory according to my calculations."

Gregory turned to the AI with his eyebrow raised.

“MacArthur, by your calculations, you should surely know my opinion on the subject."

Before the AI could respond, Captain Haithum, Admiral Gregory White's long time friend, walked to the Admiral's side.

"Admiral, I almost know you better than your own family. After all we have seen, all we have been through together, and all we have accomplished, I know that you will listen to my advice. Correct?"

"Time to target 35 seconds!" The weapons officer called out as the surface of the planet passed by far below.

The Admiral turned to face the Captain.

"Well, you are the one who managed to keep me from getting my ass into even more trouble with the rest of the Admiralty." He said. "What do you think?"

"20 seconds!"

"I think we should let them surrender sir. We are not fighting the Covenant anymore." His longtime friend replied curtly.

"15 seconds!"

Admiral White turned to MacArthur's avatar.

"Have all ships stop once in weapons range but do not fire. Open a line to send a request for their surrender."

The AI nodded. 

Ten seconds went by until the UNSC Fleet received a visual on both elements of the Republic fleet and reversed their burns to come to a nearly full stop.

"Opening a feed to the enemy flagship." The AI announced before turning to the Admiral. "Sir, I just received word from the UNSC Prowler Sturmgewehr in system approaching the Republic flagship."

Admiral White very visibly raised his eyebrows. "Damn spooks. What do they want?" He asked. Admiral White and the Prowler Corps of ONI had a colorful history to say the least.

"They say they are moving to retrieve Sierra-117 should he need help and assist in capturing any VIPs that attempt to escape via FTL capable lifeboats."

Gregory shook his head. "Let them do as they wish, and inform them of what’s happening."

RNS Accuser

"What is the status of the hyperdrive?" Captain Piett called out in frustration as the bridge crew frantically tried to get a handle on the situation.

The constant threat of unexpected Terran reinforcements put heavy pressure on him.

Piett, the de facto commander of the fleet, now ran through his head as many times as he could the simulations in which he could beat the UNSC without the threat of orbital bombardment, one which might cost the lives of thousands of troopers due to the proximity between the two combatants necessitating such a risky operation.

Even the best ones ended up with the fleet destroyed or damaged to the point of no return.

“Time to target?! And what’s the status of the hyperdrive!”

"Hyperdrive is stabilized and will need a few more minor repairs to reach a charge in order to activate, about 15 minutes." The helmsmen said.

“We are locked on to our target, sir. Ready to fire on your command.”

The utter chaos of the bridge earlier in the battle had begun to settle, it seemed too quiet by comparison. Everyone knew what they were about to do.

The Accuser herself had barely survived the battle, whole sections of ship were now open to space and only four of the heavy turbolasers were online. The shields were nearly gone and the hyperdrive had nearly been knocked out.

It was the same story for the rest of Piett’s detachment. The rest of the ships just now linking up with him were only a little bit better from the earlier fighting.

"The enemy fleet is coming around the curvature of the planet sir! We are being targeted!" One officer called.

"We lost power to decks two and thirteen, four hundred crewmen lightly wounded and another thousand presumed dead or with life threatening injuries, sir." Said another.

Tarkin’s orders were what probably kept his fleet from being utterly finished, otherwise he’d be caught in the open with nowhere to run.

He could try to charge his ships straight at the UNSC fleet. He outnumbered them still, but he questioned the capability of his own ships. The Terran vessels seemed to be in pristine condition by comparison. He might be able to win that way, but not in the long run with the threat posed by UNSC reinforcements pouring in.

"Sir, we are being hailed by the UNSC flagship." The comms officer announced.

Piett’s stomach churned as he turned to the officer. "Put it on."

The viewscreen shifted to show the bridge of the mighty UNSC battleship.

The scene on the bridge of the ship was the exact opposite of his, instead of disarray there was nothing but calm professionalism and clear satisfaction.

The middle of the screen was dominated by the UNSC admiral.

His face held a look that claimed victory.

The Terran's lips let loose a grin before replying. "This is UNSC Admiral Gregory White to the Republic commander. I am offering you and your fleet the opportunity to accept terms for your complete surrender."

Piett felt the eyes of all those on the bridge turn to him as he swallowed.

“Your fleet has nowhere to go, you have no choice but to give up or die.” The enemy admiral announced.

The words hit Piett like a duracrete brick, he really would have to carry out his orders.

Could he surrender? No, it would humiliate the Republic and drag only drag this war out longer. Fight it out? No, he already knew that would mean near certain death.

He frantically searched for options, each one coming up short in one way or another.

The Terran spoke again. "Should you decide to accept, you are to deactivate all weapons and move into a low orbit above the planet. Once that is done, you will allow your ships to be boarded by Marine forces to accept your surrender. We will continue on from there. I guarantee you and your forces adequate and humane treatment. You have thirty seconds to respond."

The terms were tempting. He would certainly get out with his own life as well as the lives of all the men under his command. They would apparently be taken care of and he would probably be back to facing off against CIS warships in a few months.

No. He couldn’t surrender.

He had to win this battle and warn the Republic what was coming.

Piett gritted his teeth and sighed, turning towards the communications officer. “Begin a private broadcast.”

RNS Intrepid

"Admiral, you have to get to the escape pods now. The fleet is in total disarray and appears to be surrendering." Aayla all but pleaded with Tarkin as he sternly stared her down.

"Master Jedi, I will not abandon my fleet and my men. Even if we are forced to withdraw-" He replied before Aayla cut him off.

She could feel anxiety rise up in her as the supersoldier, the Terran ‘Spartan-117’ as he was known, was undoubtedly coming.

If Shaak Ti, Jax, and nearly all of the Venator’s Clone Troopers did not stand a chance against the supersoldier, the best she could do would be to hold him off long enough for the Admiral to escape.

And at worst...

"Sir, I am telling you to leave now! We stand no chance against this Spartan. You need to warn the Republic so we can prepare for war!"

Tarkin raised his eyebrow as he listened to her. "You might be right about leaving the ship, but we haven’t lost yet."

Ayala's lekku uncurled in relief as she began to escort the Admiral to one of the hyperspace capable escape pods, but not before she retrieved a datachip recording the events of the battle.

Tarkin stopped as he turned to the crew, still at their stations and looking at him with a mix of anxiety and fearful respect.

"All remaining crew abandon ship..."

At that, Aayla felt an imminent threat in the force.

And it was coming from the elevator.

Aayla grabbed the Admiral and shoved him in the direction of the escape pods. With a flash she ignited her lightsaber as the ten Clone Troopers on the bridge leveled their blasters at the door and the crew dove for cover.

The door was silent and unmoving for seconds before it opened.

Aayla tensed up as she prepared herself for what was coming. ‘Force give me strength.’

The doors opened to reveal absolutely nothing but an empty elevator.

The Clones looked at each other while Aayla, confused, searched for the danger through the Force.

‘He should have been right there…’

Three thermal detonators and an odd green grenade with bumps all over its surface flew out of the top of the turbo lift through the doors as the Clones and the crew threw themselves into whatever cover they could find.

Aayla managed to duck behind the weapons station after taking Tarkin with her just before the grenades exploded with a tremendous roar of flame, heat and shrapnel.

One Clone was blown apart as five crewmen were either burned to cinders by the thermal detonators and another two were shredded by flying metal fragments.

"Stay with me!" She ordered Tarkin as she got up to her feet. Her gaze was met with the hulking sight of the formerly empty turbo lift now occupied by the towering figure of an armored soldier with a slugthrower in hand.

By the time she got Tarkin up, the Spartan let out two odd bursts of fire and two of the Clones were brutally cut down before they even knew what was happening.

The remaining Clones sent a stream of plasma at the supersoldier, but to Aayla's amazement the Spartan sidestepped about half of the bolts in a blur of superhuman speed as the rest impacted a glowing energy shield that surrounded his armor.

The Spartan immediately returned fire, killing two more clones as the others dove into cover.

Some crewmen began to fire from one of the console pits with their holdout blasters, for all the good that would do.

The Spartan simply pivoted and fired a larger underslung weapon on his rifle.

The explosion that followed again threw Aayla to the deck.

Consoles from the oddly designed pit cracked and sparked with electricity as the smoke from John’s 40mm underbarrel launcher cleared, revealing the mangled corpses of dead enemy bridge officers and Clone Troopers. He had loaded a 40mm buckshot shell, but must’ve hit something explosive.

A remaining Clone stood out from cover firing his blaster carbine on full auto, chipping away at John's shields. John turned and fired from the hip with the aid of his HUD, sending three tungsten rounds through the Clone's head, painting the wall behind him with blood and brain matter.

"The ONI Prowler Sturmgewehr is hailing me." Cortana chimed in as John dispatched another armed Republic officer with his SMG in his left hand before casually reholstering the weapon.

John scanned the wrecked bridge for his target, the Republic Admiral who had led the attack. His HUD displayed bits of information on the Admiral, one Wilhuff Tarkin, and what he looked like. John hoped he didn’t accidentally kill his objective.

"How long have they been sneaking around the system?" He asked sarcastically as yet another Clone fell to the withering fire of his LAR.

"My guess is the entire time. They say they are moving to assist our extraction as well as assist in retrieving any escape pods, particularly FTL equipped ones." Cortana answered. “I wasn’t able to clamp them down, they run on their own system.”

“I’ll be quick, then.”

The enemy fire stopped as the Master Chief dispatched the last of the bridge's Clones. John walked to the center of the bridge.

The view outside was spectacular with the colony hanging high in the window. John didn’t like how large and exposed the bridge was, and the other bridge tower being a charred mess gave merit to his thoughts.

The dead littered the deck. John paused trying to identify the corpses and checked his motion trackers to find two contacts in an alcove to the side, which presumably lead to the lifepods.

Reloading and shouldering his LAR, which he was growing very fond of, John advanced on the contacts.

"By the Force..." Tarkin whispered as Aayla, with her lightsaber deactivated, moved him to the awaiting lifepods.

Aayla began to put him into the life pod and began to seal it.

"You aren’t coming, Master Jedi?" Tarkin asked.

"I'll hold that thing off as long as I can so you can escape and then I'll take the other pod."

"Hold it!" A thunderous and deep voice boomed, making Aayla nearly jump as she spun around and activated her lightsaber.

There he was, the supersoldier, with his weapon aimed squarely at her head.

"You are to lay down your weapon and surrender." He ordered while slowly walking towards them.

Aayla could feel the Force all but screaming at her that she was in danger. She first looked down the barrel of his projectile weapon which could turn her body into any number of bloody messes, and then looked up at the golden reflective visor.

Aayla thought calmly as she deactivated her lightsaber and shot the Admiral a glance.

"You can't win." She spoke, stalling for time as she reached out in the Force.

"Drop your weapon, get on your knees and place your hands behind your head." The Spartan barked, unamused by her antics.

‘Let the force flow through you.’ The words of Master Yoda echoed in her mind before she grinned.

"I think you are the one who needs to surrender."

In a split second using nothing but the Force, she slammed shut the capsule to the life pod. She felt for the controls using the Force and shot the escape pod away with Admiral Tarkin grabbing frantically to secure himself to a harness as the pod flew away from the disabled ship alongside a dozen other ones.

At the same time she grabbed a damaged section of plating from the ceiling and sent it crashing down onto the Spartan, who dove out of the way.

Aayla activated her lightsaber with a snap-hiss.

The supersoldier used some sort of thruster pack to dodge the metal plate and retrained his weapon on her head.

“One last chance, surrender.”

She could tell that he didn't let his enemies surrender very often.

Her mind went from zero to sixty in a split second as she weighed her options.

With Admiral Tarkin planning to regroup with the fleet, if the fleet was defeated, there wouldn’t be anyone to warn the Republic about the power of the UNSC. They wouldn’t know they would be in a likely devastating war until the UNSC warships came to some Republic world like Taris, Anaxes, or Kuat with weapons blazing.

They had to be warned of the danger the Terrans posed so as to prepare for the worst. Maybe the Senate could broker a cease fire, though she highly doubted the UEG would stand for it, not with their ties to the CIS.

She had to make it to the other life pod.

"I won't surrender." She declared defiantly

Just as the Spartan fired a burst from his rifle, she grabbed the collapsed ceiling and placed it in between her and the Spartan just in time to deflect his fire.

She flung it at him as she dove to the pod with one last leap.

Just as she was about to clear the hatch, all she heard was a single shot from the Terran’s rifle.

Her left leg, which had been exposed for only a half second, exploded below the knee in blood and bone as a hypersonic round tore through it. Still attached, her leg was bleeding profusely.

The pain was unimaginable.

Losing all self control, she let out a shriek of pain as she hit the floor of the tiny lifepod. The hatch closed behind her with the Master Chief running to the other side of the hatch just in time to see her rocket away.

No matter how hard she tried to stem the pain with the Force, she couldn't.

Lightsaber blades that hacked off limbs would cauterize their wounds and mostly destroy the nerve endings completely with their heat. Though still incredibly painful, the wound wasn't as traumatic.

Projectiles were not so clean or humane. They merely ripped things apart and punched clear through skin, flesh, and bone to let blood pour out from their wounds.

With a whimper that left her feeling defeated, Aayla grabbed the med kit below one of the ominously empty seats. After ripping it open, she slapped a full bacta pad on the mangled remains of her left leg to stop the blood flow and close the wound.

With the help of the Force, she dragged herself up to the viewport to see the Intrepid quickly growing smaller by the second. She went to the navigation console and input coordinates for the small single-use hyperdrive, it would be a trip that might take weeks thanks to the small size of the drive.

Three seconds later, the crew on the Prowler which was looking for Tarkin's life pod angrily watched as her pod disappeared into hyperspace.

RNS Intrepid

John stared into the abyss through the now empty escape pod tube.

"She got away."

"Oh relax big guy. It’s only one Jedi. We’ll soon have the admiral in custody and the enemy fleet has all but surrendered. We won." Cortana retorted.

“Not yet.” With a sigh, he placed his LAR on his back and moved towards the bridge of the ship, ignoring the bodies of the crew.

"What about the rest of the ship?" He asked as he transferred Cortana back into the mainframe.

"I have every part of the ship locked down. Those that I didn't simply shoot out into space or asphyxiate are trapped in whatever section they are in. You’re welcome for cutting off that battalion gearing up, by the way. It wasn’t very smart of them to not wear their armor. I’ll move us towards the planet." Cortana replied.

John felt the deck vibrate, the warship’s engines coming back online as they pushed the ship towards the fleet.

Cortana frowned. “ONI says they failed to acquire the enemy’s admiral. He jumped away before they could get here.”

John grimaced at that. “We still have his ship at least.”

“Maybe this battle will convince the Republic to end their war.”

Despite the setback, the battle was still shaping up to be a huge victory for the UNSC.

Though by the final years of the Covenant War, the UNSC was for the most part evenly matched with the Covenant, they had not won a battle this lopsided before without using ‘creative’ tactics and traps like causing a gas giant to turn into a brown dwarf or leading the enemy into a massive minefield. Plus, aside from certain battles, the Covenant war was largely a guerrilla war or a defensive war. When the UNSC went on the offensive it was usually a counter offensive to reclaim a lost colony or strategic world.

This war would be different.

"It's only the beginning."

M1000 Recluse MBT, Army 63rd Armored Division

To say Lieutenant James Taylor was having a rollercoaster of a day would be an understatement. They had stopped the Republic dead cold. Then the Republic had them on the retreat with their heavy armor, then they started to withdraw. It didn’t make sense to him, why would the Republic retreat when they were winning?

He’d only ever seen the Covenant do that. Taylor gulped at that thought. “I got a bad feeling about this.” He said.

His gunner, Grant Fitzsimmons, seemed he couldn’t be any happier. “Why? We’re kicking their asses!” He said, letting loose a round.

Lieutenant Taylor could tell his driver Peter Summers was getting a little anxious too. “I got a bad feeling too.” Summer glanced up towards the other two. “You’ve never fought a real war, not yet at least. Last time we had a real war, a ground retreat was a signal that you were about to get glassed.”

Fitzsimmons frowned. “Oh.”

A deafening silence filled the tank as the battle raged on outside. They were all practically running on autopilot, shooting and maneuvering around the battlefield.

“Driver! Halt! You guys seeing that? Towards their shield generators!” Taylor called out.

“Oh shit!” Fitzsimmons exclaimed. In the distance, one of the Republic ships started to lift into the air.

Taylor and Summers had seen similar sights in the last war. Like the last war, plasma began raining down onto the UNSC line.

The Recluse tank flipped over and Taylor’s world went black.

CT-2310 ‘Jic’

Jic and the remainder of his platoon were scrambling to get to the evacuation rendezvous point for a chance at making it out of this battle alive. Even if the orders were straight from the top, withdrawal made no sense whatsoever. He and his brothers had the Terrans on the run, but ever since the retreat had been sounded, it seemed to couldn’t make it five meters without getting shelled by artillery, bombed, or strafed.

Only Bly’s quick thinking had given them any hope of making it back to the initial landing zone. They had gone from nearly being encircled, to having a slim line connecting the front to the landing zone.

“Come on boys, only a hundred more meters!” He shouted to the 10 others left, the platoon picking up into a sprint.

The Juggernaut tank seemed so close, yet so far at the same time. The tank was spewing fire in all directions while it loaded Clones by the dozens.

While he was running, Jic picked out swift black outlines out of the corner of his eye. A large wing of bombers streaked overhead, receiving a token amount of AA fire before releasing large canisters.

"By the Force!" Was all that Jic had to say before the first canister exploded in a massive firestorm which twisted the Juggernaut in front of him, enveloping whole platoons of Troopers.

As the bombs kept dropping, Jic dropped into a prone position and searched for cover.

As the wall of fire filled his vision, he exhaled and dove into a foxhole, making the grizzly decision to hide under the body of a dead Terran.

As the bombs fell, Jic felt that he would not make it out alive.

HAVw A6 Juggernaut, 327th Star Corps

Bly shook his head as another Juggernaut was erased from his tactical holoscreen.

Bly had used the last of his heavy armor and the Acclamator Indignant to create a narrow five kilometer wide corridor to ferry troops back to the landing zones. It seemed like it was getting smaller by the second, getting squeezed in every possible way by Terran artillery, bombers, and infantry seemingly everywhere ato once within his lines.

His Juggernaut tanks were continually running back and forth down the battlefield ferrying troops back to the ships 500 at a time, hundreds over its intended capacity. He himself hitched a ride on one, turning it into his new command center.

Outside of the safety of the shield generator, the Indignant was under constant harassment from Terran bombers. Three quarters of his AT-ATs were gone, mostly from the aforementioned bombers. Half of his AT-TEs were out of action as well.

Bly cursed as the Juggernaut rattled from the impacts of a Terran aircraft’s slugthrowers.

He felt the armored beast come to a halt, signifying they were picking up more brothers. Bly tensed up, he knew what was coming next. Enemy fire seemed to rattle off the armor plating with no end in sight. Missiles, slugs, and even the occasional laser blast seemed to do nothing to stop it.

Bly sighed in relief as the tank began rolling again.

“Bly, we’re the last transport coming back. We can finally get off this Force forsaken planet.” Galle said, sporting a sling around his now unarmoured arm.

“Don’t speak too soon brother, we still have a couple kilometers to go before some fierfek in a bomber ruins our day.” Inc said.

“We’ll make it.” Bly said hopefully. He turned to one of his staff. “Status report on the Terran orbital defense batteries?”

“Our heavy artillery reports they’ve just completely knocked it out, Commander.”

“Good, get the Indignant into a higher position to vape any kriff dumb enough to follow us.” Bly was very relieved. Maybe he and the boys would get home at this rate.

UNSC Warhound

“Sir! We have an incoming response from the Republic fleet!” The communications officer said with urgency.

Admiral White smirked. “Let’s see what they have to say.”

"Enemy transmission coming on screen." The AI announced before turning to the Admiral.

A man of medium stature in a Republic officer’s uniform appeared on the screen. His rank insignia outed him as a captain.

“This is Captain Piett of the Republic Navy to the Terran admiral. I demand that you stand down and surrender your forces, both in space and on the ground. You are to power down all engines and weaponry, and prepare your ships to undergo boarding procedures. Any perceived aggression or failure to meet these demands will be met with an orbital bombardment. You have fifteen minutes to comply.” The transmission cut out.

Everyone on the bridge silently glanced at each other.

Admiral White’s smug composure soon turned to anger. The threat wasn’t merely directed against the units which had nearly swarmed the Republic landing zone, but also possibly the very city they were defending. He wouldn’t imagine they would purposefully open fire on the settlement, but war had taught him to leave nothing to chance.

“Son of a bitch!” Admiral White cursed while slamming his fist onto a metal railing. “What happened to Fort Longston? What’s the status of the Punic Battlegroup?”

“Sir, Fort Longston just got taken out!” An officer reported.

“The Trafalgar and her battlegroup are still one to three hours away.” MacArthur said.

He balled his hand into a fist and lightly bit into his pointer finger. ‘How the hell will I get out of this one?’ He thought.

He had fifteen minutes to decide. He wondered why they gave him so much time to decide, but they certainly tied his hands together.

"How are the rescue operations going?" White asked, partially to put his own mind a little more at ease.

"We have recovered survivors from the Bellophron , the Edge of Darkness , and  the Shinanio . However, fleet wide casualties stand at around 25,000 crew with another 5,000 wounded. With the groundside Marine and Army casualties we are looking at 14,500 approximately." MacArthur answered.

Admiral White cringed as he mumbled. "So many families ruined, all in a single day."

The rescue teams cutting their way through the ruins of trashed warships to get to those trapped inside were making progress, but it would take hours to reach all of them at best.

“We’ll make it count.” Captain Haithum said with determination.

“We damn well better.” Admiral White replied.

Admiral White took a moment to think. As bad as the UNSC's losses had been, he couldn't help but cringe at the thought of the losses the Republic had taken.

According to the intel available to him, each Republic ship had as many as 10,000 to 20,000 crew on some ships, which meant that their losses could be up to two hundred thousand in the fleet alone.

White ran his hand through his hair as MacArthur's avatar turned to him.

“We could falsely surrender, sir. It would buy us some time.”

Admiral White gave the AI an incredulous look. “Normally I’d tell you I wouldn’t play dirty, but these bastards already are.”

“Just a suggestion.” MacArthur said. “We can wait until we only have a few minutes left.”

Admiral White nodded.

He promised himself he’d see to it personally that whoever was commanding the enemy fleet would hang at the end of the war.

RNS Accuser

"Status report on the hyperdrive!" Piett all but yelled as the chief engineer replied as fast as he could over the intercom. If he was going to go through with what he was about to do, he didn’t want to stick around.

"Sir, my men and the repair droids are nearly done, we can probably make a safe jump in the condition we are in. If we bypass the navigational safeties we’ll be home at Taris in a week. However I can't guarantee that we’ll hold together sir."

The sounds in the background certainly confirmed the hectic nature of the hyperdrive core, where any engineers that weren’t tied up sealing the hull breaches dotting the star destroyer were.

"It will have to do." He answered before looking back at the tactical display of the fleet.

Some of the ships wouldn’t be able to jump alongside the Accuser . As such, the crews of those vessels were scuttling their ships en masse. Commander Bly had finally lifted off the planet, with the Terrans not lifting a finger to stop him. That made things easier since there was no longer the risk of friendly fire from an orbital turbolaser strike..

Lifepod retrieval was going well as well, 90% had been retrieved by a dispatched Venator with a startlingly empty hangar bay.

One of the last Venators, the Guralia, was being evacuated as its reactor was beginning to melt down. The ship was hardly even space worthy anymore, as it had been hit by a MAC round, ‘luckily’ from a frigate. But still, the entire bow of the ship was a wreck, the hanger was trashed and a full tenth of its mass was obliterated, shattered, or breaking apart as hull sections began to crumple and tear off.

Though it was no longer entirely useful as a warship, it would prove valuable as something else.

"Maneuver us behind the Guralia and put us 5 kilometers away, we can use it as a shield." Piett asked as he watched his executive officer talking with some of the captains of the other vessels via courier shuttles and short wave comlinks.

“Aye aye sir.” The helmsman said.

The fleet was currently in a high orbit just over the main landmass of the world, with their underbelly guns aimed directly at the Terran formations surrounding the city and which had pursued the retreating Clone forces.

If he wanted the whole fleet to move out of the gravity well, it would be pitifully slow considering the state of some of their sunlight engines. The most intact ship in the fleet was probably the Corellian Winter , a Victory II which had gone relatively unscathed. The gravitational pull of the planet spelt doom for Piett’s retreat since they’d be unable to jump to hyperspace. 

Piett engrossed himself in deep thought, trying to escape the mess that was this battle, his mind ran through as many possibilities as he could think of. ‘Wait! It is possible to make a jump inside of a gravity well with the safeties of the navigation computer having been deactivated. Risky. It could send us into a star or any number of things.’ Piett's mind raced as he recalled his lessons at the Officers academy years ago.

It was technically possible, but it had the chance to shoot a ship on a completely random vector.

‘It would be suicide to make a full jump back to our desired coordinates. We could make a hypothetical micro jump and escape into deep space where there would be nothing stopping us from making a proper jump. It would all have to be done manually. The fleet would only have a five second window to perform such a maneuver. That was fine, considering the damage some of the fleet had sustained.’

“Have the rest of the fleet’s ships slaved to our controls.” Piett said. The jump wouldn’t work anyway else. They all had to be precisely coordinated. Other than that, it would help in case the Terrans didn’t surrender.

Only the ship commanders closest to Tarkin had been informed of what might need to be done. The rest of the fleet was clueless, and would be unlikely to comply with even the thought of possibly hitting a civilian center as collateral damage. Slaving the controls to the flagship would ensure that necessary firepower would be available to utterly decimate any possible groundside resistance.

The UNSC fleet was ominously formed against them, unnervingly still. Piett knew they were planning to do something, but that didn’t matter as long as it bought time for his own fleet.

The two fleets stood opposed to each other, with less than 10,000 kilometers between them. The UNSC’s main guns, missiles, and secondary batteries seemed to be all ready to send each surviving ship to the grave if necessary.

Piett’s fleet was aimed half at the enemy fleet, and half at the planet.

There were 5 minutes left on the clock. ‘Those Terrans better surrender.’ Captain Piett thought. He honestly hoped they would.

“Incoming transmission from the Terrans, sir!”

“Put them on!” Piett said with enthusiasm.

The Terran admiral came on screen. “We accept your terms.”

Captain Piett smirked as the transmission ended.

UNSC Warhound

“Did I look convincing? Admiral White asked Captain Haithum.

“You could’ve fooled me.” He smirked.

“Did the Air Force get our message?”

“They did, sir. The stealth drones should be in place soon enough.” The comms officer replied. “Evacuation efforts for the city are beginning now, sir.”

"The guidance escort Owls are nearing the Republic flagship. ETA three minutes.” MacArthur said.

“Alright, inform the fleet, we’ve got at least 5 minutes until they start sending ships over.”

“Aye aye sir.” MacArthur replied.

RNS Accuser

"Sir, the enemy admiral is saying they are having trouble shutting down certain systems on some of their ships from battle damage. He says that large sections of their power systems were destroyed, if he rerouted power from their weaponry he could lose the ships to the gravity well of the planet. He says it will be up to thirty minutes before he can truly power down." The communication's officer announced.

Captain Piett raised his eyebrow and turned to his sensor operator. “Do you believe him?”

"Scans of his fleet do point to a number of ships being heavily damaged, so it's not a stretch." The man replied. “Their armaments also require a substantial amount of energy as well.”

“Well then, let them fix their problem, the more enemy ships focused on trying to remain intact the better.” Piett said.

“Sir! Incoming contacts! They’re Terrans, energy levels spiking!” The sensor operator urgently stated.

Piett gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. “Fire a heavy barrage and then jump immediately!”

UNSC Warhound

“I’ve got new contacts!” The sensor operator called out. “Wait, slipspace ruptures detected! IFF signals coming in, it's the Trafalgar and her battlegroup!"”

150,000 kilometers from the fleet, over a hundred slipspace ruptures emerged.

Over a hundred ships emerged out of the ruptures into the blackness of space.

Four Warlock, seven Autumn, and eight Marathon Heavy Cruisers, 21 Halberd destroyers, and over 50 frigates of various classes emerged, all led by a single ship longer than the Warhound herself.

A Punic-Class Supercarrier, and this particular one, was the Trafalgar .

It was considered by many to be the second most powerful class of ship in the fleet next to the Infinity-Class. The ships were armed with two Super MACs, forty particle cannons and 350 Archer Missile pods. Though not as numerous as the four MACs found on the Medusa battleships, the two MACs were only half as powerful as the Super MACs on the ODPs over Earth, Reach, or any other fortified world. It was still more than capable of killing all but the largest Covenant warships, the titanic supercarriers, in one shot. 

On top of that were massive hangers which carried up to 500 Fascines, 230 Longswords, not to mention the frigates or destroyers she could mount within her internal docking bays.

All this extra firepower meant nothing, because they had arrived at the worst possible time.

The ships, having a clear shot at the Republic fleet without the colony within their sights, began to ready their weapons to fire and quickly accelerated.

“This is Rear Admiral Dean, I am engaging the enemy!”

Admiral White began to yell in almost a panic. “Tell them to shut off their weapons and stop immediately! Get me a line to Admiral Dean!”

"We have communications from the Trafalgar , Rear Admiral Dean commanding." MacArthur announced.

The feed came online as the Rear Admiral, his face filled with concern, asked while saluting. "What is the situation sir? What the hell is happening?"

“Negative, do not engage! Disengage! Disengage! They’re going to fire on the colony!”

His warning came too late.

UNSC D102 Owl-Class Insertion Craft, Flanker 56

"This is Executrix command, do you copy?" The controller on the enemy warship said, probably talking to some other Republic ship.

The pilot of the D102 Owl liked to listen in on the enemy communications, no matter how mundane. His dropship was loaded down with 20 heavily armed ODSTs and followed by three other Owls escorting four stealth drones superficially similar to C712 Longswords, themselves escorted by a squadron of C718 Longswords which were drifting alongside them with all systems totally dark.

He carefully maneuvered the dropship through the ruins of Republic warships that made the Owl look like a speck of dust in comparison.

The man couldn't help but whistle at some of the damage the ships had as he was forced to avoid several rather large chunks of them.

He was a secondary measure to make sure the drones got to the docking bay of the de facto enemy flagship to detonate their nuclear payload. He had picked up the ODSTs before he had received his new orders.

Though exhausted from the countless trips in between the ground forces or helping the evacuation of Long Range Base Five, which was now breaking up from the sheer amount of damage it had taken from heavy weapons fire, he and his copilot were ready to do just about anything.

"You know, you still owe me a drink." He said to his copilot as he neared a dozen kilometers from the Star Destroyer, the triangular warship growing ever larger by the second as it began to become the main viewing material for him other than the surface of the planet below.

"Hey, I'm just as surprised as you are that they bought the Admiral’s surrender, but it’s not like his tactics were any less dirty against the Covenant." The copilot chuckled as he checked the status of the engines and weapons, just in case things went sour.

"Yeah I..." Flanker 56 stopped mid sentence as he stared at the sensor readings on his HUD.

"Oh, shit. The energy readings just went off the scale!" He exclaimed before opening a link to the flight controller back on his home ship, the carrier Graf Spee.

"Are you reading this?" He asked. He could hear in the background of the CIC the commotion of the crews racing to their stations in preparation for the worst.

"Yes we are! Mission abort, bug out now!" The woman on the other end sternly ordered.

"Shit, it always goes sour!" His copilot moaned as the Owls and their escorts began to split and race back to their ships.

Just before Flanker 56 could flip his ship over to turn back, the enemy fleet began firing.

"What the hell?" His copilot roared.

Flanker 56 narrowly dodged an errant turbolaser bolt which would’ve vaporized the Owl instantly. "Why are they shooting? Admiral White didn’t tick them off, did he?"

His rambling was cut off as one of the ships left in front of him, a Republic Victory II if he remembered correctly, unleashed a full broadside of every weapon it had, sending a wall of green, red, and blue plasma toward its target.

The surface.

"Please God, no. Please don't tell me that that is what I think it was."

He could already see fireballs erupting on the continent below through the cockpit.

UNSC Warhound

"TAKE THOSE FUCKERS DOWN! CONCENTRATE FIRE ON THEIR FLAGSHIP!" Admiral White all screeched as the Warhound and the other ships of the fleet prepared to fire at the enemy.

Turbolaser bolts flew towards the UNSC ships, the shields taking the beating.

The Warhound opened fire with her quick to charge secondary weapons while her MACs were still warming up with the rest of the fleet following in similar fashion. The ship poured out everything she had available to try and destroy the Republic flagship, but another ship was covering it.

The ship simply ceased to be as thousands of projectiles and explosives turned it into nothing more than bits and pieces no larger than a small house in under ten seconds, but not before the enemy flagship and the rest of its fleet seemed to stretch in space before shooting off into the expanse.

A Hyperspace jump.

"Where did they hit?!" Admiral White demanded, running over to a tactical display and MacArthur's visibly worried avatar while trying to hear over the panic which had taken hold of the whole fleet.

"We’ve lost all contact with the colony. What’s left of our ground elements are reporting that smoke and dust is already visible from the direction of the city."

MacArthur paused as Gregory felt the air catch in his throat.

"Flyover from a Longsword is confirming sir, there is nothing left of the colony. The surrounding terrain was set on fire and it’s sending up a lot of smoke and dust." The communications officer said.

The crew of the Warhound, many of whom had served alongside Admiral and witnessed untold destruction wrought by the hands of the Covenant, closed their eyes in anger while the younger crew members and officers gasped and covered their faces.

"Sir, what of the other Republic ships?" MacArthur asked.

Admiral White shot Captain Haithum a glance.

The Captain’s normally calm face was as full of as much anger as his own while he went about managing his ship through the chaos.

"Destroy them. Every last one of them. I don’t care if they’re empty. And get me a link to General Hudung if he’s still alive." White hissed as the AI nodded and relayed the commands to the other ships of the fleet.

The crews paused for a split second before complying.

The remaining Republic ships, all but crippled, were helpless as any remaining crews watched the UNSC ships close and fire.

Three new suns briefly dotted the skies as the CIWS on the UNSC ships shot down any escape pod that they could see.

There were no survivors.

CT-2310 ‘Jic’

"What in the nine Corellian hells happened?" One of the Clones next to Jic remarked.

He was just one Clone marching in the long line of a seemingly endless stream of surrendering Clone Troopers. They were all disarmed, unarmoured, and under the guard of UNSC vehicles and infantry who seemed to be itching to shoot on any particularly difficult prisoners.

"I don't know." Jic replied. "But I think that that cloud of smoke from the east certainly has something to do with it. I could’ve sworn I saw turbolaser bolts."

"No way, the fleet would never bombard the city. Maybe they hit that base giving the vacheads in the fleet trouble?" The clone, nicknamed ‘Gunner’ for his love of heavy weapons and his position on an AT-TE as its main gunner, asked.

"No, the base is farther away." Jic replied. “And last I heard the fleet was still fighting them in space.”

“Well of course they were fighting them in space, where else would they be? On the ground with us troopers?” Gunner jested, earning chuckles from some nearby Clones.”

“You know what I mean, stoopa.”

As they trudged along the rocky trail, they began to slowly climb a ridge. A four-wheeled UNSC recon vehicle with a stern looking Terran on the machine gun passed them.

Thirty minutes after they had begun this march, the UNSC soldiers had all become very angry looking, some cursing and others having to be restrained by some officers after assaulting their prisoners.

He didn't know what had happened, but after having been told that the UN would take prisoners as opposed to the CIS, all the Clone Troopers and himself were a little at ease when they surrendered.

However, something happened.

As they climbed on, they passed two Terrans visibly arguing.

"Sir, I respectfully refuse to follow these fucking orders! I know what they did was awful and I am pissed as hell too, but these guys have nothing to do with it!" A Terran with a larger weapon shouted at another man, who was apparently an officer, his armor having rank designations on the side. He was also wearing a hat with the UNSC insignia instead of the helmet their grunts typically wore. If Jic remembered correctly, he was a major.

"Private, you and anyone who doesn’t want to follow these orders are not being forced to. These are from the top. I agree with them, it’s fine if you don’t. You will however report to debriefing when we RTB, is that understood?" The officer replied coolly.

The Terran private saluted. "Yes sir, understood and thank you."

"What the hell was that about?" Gunner asked as they crested the top of the ridge.

"I've seen that a lot in the past few minutes." Another Clone stated as they marched.

"About half of the UNSC soldiers I've seen were marching the other way or were doing the same thing. Whatever order they received seems to be unpopular, but they are not forcing them to follow it. Though it seems like enough are."

Reaching the top, Jic found himself along the edge of a large cliff that overlooked the terrain for miles.

And miles away near the horizon, a gigantic pillar of smoke and flame was reaching into the sky. It made the other fires from the battle look miniscule as a pair of Terran dropships flew in low overhead, their engines roaring as they shot towards the fire and the setting sun.

"Oh kriff!" Jic exclaimed.

"All Clones halt!" A loudspeaker shouted as the Republic Troopers, now prisoners of war, obeyed.

UNSC soldiers and several armed UNSC vehicles lined up parallel behind them.

"Turn forward and walk ten paces, place your hands on your head. Thank you for your cooperation." The loudspeaker, apparently mounted on one of the light Terran wheeled vehicles, blared.

Looking at each other they complied. Jic began to question why they were so close to the edge before he gulped. Jic felt that each of them knew what was about to happen, or was realizing it.

"What the hell are they…" Gunner asked as he was cut off by the cocking of weapons behind them.

Time seemed to slow as Jic's heart caught in his throat. "Oh skrag..."

Hundreds of weapons all spat flame and shell casings as the UNSC soldiers fired.

Gunner’s body and those nearest to him began to twitch like puppets as bullets went through them in sprays of blood.

Jic tried in vain to run before he felt two slugs pass through his bodyglove and into his chest.

He cried as he spat up blood, turning around in time to see the barrel of a UNSC spit flame.

Jic did not feel the bullet from the gauss rifle pass through his skull.

His limp body soon tumbled down the cliff along with hundreds of others.

RNS Intrepid

Sitting in the bridge of the former enemy flagship, John clenched his fist as Cortana informed him of the situation unfolding groundside, the orders that had been given, and the status of the fleet as the ONI Prowler docked with the ship to pick the Spartan-II. The ship had settled into a low orbit over the planet with the rest of the UNSC fleet and its considerable reinforcements.

"This war will not be so different after all." He stated in a low voice as he remembered one of the lessons the AI Déjà had taught him when the Spartans were training.

‘Mankind's greatest threat, no matter how advanced he becomes or how many worlds fill his grasp, will always be himself.’

Hyperspace

In the swirling depths of hyperspace on board the escape pod, Aayla shot up with a start.

Her body was cold and covered in sweat, and her leg still was in pain despite the bacta.

Having propped herself against the bulkhead of the small cabin, she had immediately fallen asleep after cleaning her wounds.

What woke her up was not the nearly constant and unbearable pain.

It was the Force. Something terrible had happened.

Something that would change the galaxy.

Chapter Text

AN: If you left a review with a question or criticism, check your PMs. Also if you see someone with a concern about/mention a certain part of the timeline/small detail/etc. only to find out that part isn’t there or is changed, it’s probably because I edited it.

Also in this chapter are some things I removed from earlier chapters, so if you’ve been reading this since it came out, don’t be surprised if you get deja vu, I remember I had Grievous chained up in an ONI blacksite in an earlier published version lol.

Also made the new cover image based off “Sins Of A Galactic Empire: Retconned” on deviantart by Zecorezecron. It took me like 5 hours to make.

UNSC PRIORITY TRANSMISSION 21313R-91

Encryption Code: Black

Public Key: N/A

From: Captain Valen Rico, Commanding Officer, UNSC Sturmgewehr (UNSC Service Number: 00589-52112-VR) 

To: UNSC HIGHCOM

Subject: Republic Prisoners Of War

Classification: SECRET

Drastic action against POWs taken during the defense of Alpha Rendara. Possible Violation of the Third Geneva Convention of 2312. See attached files.

*Attachment 1: Video File
Description: Firing squad

*Attachment 2: Audio File
Description: Recorded communications between Admiral Gregory White (UNSC Service Number: 34307-24017-GW) and Major General Haoyu Hudong (UNSC Service Number: 83423-89531-HH)

*Attachment 3: Text File
Description: Transcript of Attachment 2

*Attachments 4-250: Image Files
Description: POW marching columns, executions, mass graves

March 25th, 2561

Epsilon Eridani System, Reach, New Alexandria, Olympic Tower

Towering over the impressive skyline of New Alexandria stood the iconic black form of Olympic Tower. At two kilometers tall it would have been the pride of the city, if not for the Office of Naval Intelligence. Their presence, in the form of that tower, seemed to watch over the city all too closely. The tower loomed over the city of 55 million far more than its appearance would suggest.

The tower was covered in a nearly ridiculous amount of triple failsafe security measures. It was a fitting configuration, nothing less could be expected of the ‘official’ headquarters for the Office of Naval Intelligence on Reach. It was only fitting that such an organization specialized in secrecy would handle itself in such a paranoid manner. Not to mention, Olympic Tower was in the same impressive complex as Reach’s local FLEETCOM HQ, only adding yet another layer of security.

With the expansive backdrop of New Alexandria's skyline, host to mountains and three orbital elevators just off of the coast, the tower continued to be a symbol of ONI’s mysterious nature. Yet it was just as much a testament to Reach’s status as the crown jewel of the colonies.

Reach, as mankind's fortress among the stars as some say, would put most other planets to shame outside of the Sol System. It was massively fortified with 95 semi-mobile SMAC Orbital Defense Platforms, thousands of smaller defensive satellites, and the nearly 700 ship strong Epsilon Eridani Fleet. On top of this was the nearly 50 million personnel groundside and the defenses of the other Colonies in the system.

Its military capabilities aside, the planet was regaining recognition for its economic importance after the war. It was notable for being one of the largest of the colonies with 7 billion inhabitants, as well as the economic center of trade for most of the UEG due to its close connection with Earth. It was a hub for travel and commerce between Sol and the rest of the colonies.

Along with the other planets in the rather large Epsilon Eridani system, such as Circumstance and Tribute, Reach was the center of UNSC activity outside of Sol.

With war against the Republic having commenced, Olympic Tower seemed to radiate with constant communication and military movements as the UNSC began the very first motions of total mobilization. Wars always require planning, movements, supply chains, and a thousand other mundane considerations. All that planning needed somewhere it could be done.

Such a place was the highly secure room where the section heads of ONI were meeting. It had been nicknamed the ‘Chamber’. It was rare for them to be all in the same exact place at the same exact time, the Strategic Response Unit was only called together in times of emergency. In the room was a superluminal video link to the HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6 all the way back on Earth and another video link to Reach’s local HIGHCOM facility. For the time being, these three locations held nearly all of the top brass of the UNSC.

"Can you confirm that Alpha Rendara is entirely secured?" Fleet Admiral Lord Hood asked from his seat.

“Yes we can, our prowler in the system confirmed we’ve won the battle, any Republic assets remaining are under our control.” The head of Section I replied from the dark grayish room with the emblem of the UNSCDF logo emblazoned on a wall.

“Rear Admiral Dean reported that he’s finished his third sweep of the system, there’s not a trace of the Republic fleet unaccounted for.” Admiral Roland Freemont said.

“Casualty figures?” Fleet Admiral Cole inquired.

"Admiral White managed to destroy or heavily damage up to eighty percent of the Republic Fleet. There’s no telling how many of their ground units got mauled in their transports before they could make it planetside. His fleet suffered a similar casualty percentage, seventy percent, but considering he was outnumbered four to one, it's still a massive victory." The head of ONI’s Prowler Corps answered.

"Will we be outnumbered on the offensive?" Admiral Danforth Whitcomb asked.

"In the theaters where the Confederacy has requested assistance, no. Our intel confirms that we will at least be on equal footing in terms of numbers, if not possessing the advantage." Section I reported.

“Admiral White’s preliminary report says that the Republic ships have an effective engagement range of around 300,000 kilometers.” Admiral Hieronymus Stanforth said. “Our own ships can engage them at over five times that distance.”

"I do want to point out that from what intel we’ve been gathering, the Republic has enough ships and fleets to throw at us to make that advantage unnoteworthy." Section I said.

"Indeed. That is why you and the President have tasked us with stirring up trouble behind enemy lines." Section III replied, referring to High Command. "My Delta-6 operatives are ready to begin operations on key worlds where instability is present to draw off Republic forces and gain allies. We already are drawing up plans to arm rebels and incite civil wars on disloyal planets under Republic control."

“I already have my people at work dissecting their ships, they had some of their new models in that fleet. The ones unavailable on the black market.” Section III said.

"What about the CIS?" Fleet Admiral Cole asked.

"The CIS are mustering for a counterattack at the Eriadu system, an important junction for their hyperspace drives to travel through and military stronghold. After their loss of Geonosis they’ve regrouped around key systems, like their capital at Raxus and Fondor, a massive shipyard system." Section I replied.

Fleet Admiral Hood turned to the rest of High Command. “On note of our special forces operations, other than Delta-6, what assets do we have at our disposal?”

It was time for General Nicolas Strauss to chime in. "We have Army Green Berets ready to be deployed to Corellia, Jabiim, and Abregado-Rae." He answered as the room darkened to show a truly massive display of the map of Andromeda, with the planets mentioned briefly enlarged and highlighted in green.

The Green Berets were one of the top special forces units in the UNSC Army. When the UNSC was formed, the military of the United States (and later the United Republic of North America) was the most powerful of the superpowers and largely led the newly formed UNSC during the Interplanetary War until a more centralized military structure was created. One of the most prominent carryovers from their American traditions was the wearing of green berets.

Under the UNSC, the Green Berets were an elite special forces unit which specialized in operations such as training militias, counterinsurgency operations, and other black operations, generally the same role that they had before.

The UNSC strategy was to try and tie up the much larger Republic military, inciting as many rebellions as it could while using the CIS to draw off and attack as many Republic fleets and forces as possible. As such, the UNSC would be able to fully exploit one of the key weaknesses the Republic had.

“They are on standby and can be deployed within 24 hours.” General Strauss continued. “My airborne units are all on standby awaiting orders as well.”

“My ODSTs are also ready to go.” General Hogan chipped in.

The head of ONI’s Signal Corps spoke up. “My assets are already spreading false transmissions around their core worlds. We’ve noted fleet movements of theirs as a result.”

Though the Republic was thousands of times larger than the UEG, its numerically superior forces were spread out across an entire galaxy. If the UNSC could draw off more of their fleets and armies, they would always be able to fight on its own terms.

"I have the stealth cruisers Point of No Return , Nightingale , Striking Thirteen , a nd Dark Watch on station in the Jabiim and Taris Systems. We can have them planetside in as little as an hour. Our contacts on Jabiim have put us in communication with the rebels under Alto Stratus for several months now. We can offload the first shipments of weapons at zero six hundred hours MST." Prowler Corps reported.

"What weapons are we shipping the rebels on Jabiim again? Certainly not our best, I hope." Lord Hood questioned.

Section I chuckled. "Don't worry, UNICOM gave us the stuff they keep in the shed. Enough MA5s to equip a division, half a million tons of ammo, BR55s we pulled from storage on Mars, SRS99 snipers, old BDUs, Jackhammer launchers, older M247 GPMGs, mortars, and medical supplies. We also are giving them 30 Warthogs, ten of them up-armored APCs, and the rest armed with the M41 LAAG." He paused to drink some coffee before adding. “And that’s just this week's shipment, a much larger one is due for next week. It’s much more hefty, including ten Shortswords, twenty AV-14 Hornets, six UH-144 Falcons, and two older Pelicans complete with simulators, spare parts, and a team to train them in maintenance. Also included will be towed artillery pieces and ATGM systems, all along with enough concrete to remake Hitler’s Atlantic Wall twice over. Not to mention what we are giving to the other Separatist holdouts cutoff from the Confederacy."

Section II interjected. "Before we get ahead of ourselves gentlemen, we have to address the elephant in the room." She said.

Everyone present on the other side of the video feed began grumbling amongst themselves. A projected video showed hundreds of dead Republic Clones, all riddled with bullet holes at the bottom of a cliff.

"Admiral White was never known for being a nice guy." Admiral Stanforth said with a blank face, as if not affected by the carnage before him. “But I can’t say I’d be in a healthy state of mind after what just happened.”

"We’ll discuss his punishment at a later date. The Republic isn’t a signatory of the Geneva conventions, we all know the Covenant destroyed all meaning of that document anyway, but we’ll publicly reinstate it and reiterate the rules of war and how the war with the Republic is to be conducted. President Vladislov and the rest of the government will likely ignore it, or try to, considering what the Republic did." Fleet Admiral Hood declared. "For now, Admiral White is too valuable to put on ice. His skill as an officer and the moral boost he brings isn’t something we can throw away."

Lord Hood let out a large sigh. “I call this session dismissed. The President will be making his announcement soon.”

Earth

The streets of humanity's homeworld seemed to always be busy with endless throngs of people going about their business with the calm and security that spoke of civilian ignorance common to most people.

In the streets of the Manhattan district, waves of people walked on the sidewalks going about their business below the towering skyscrapers that stretched miles in the air as the never ending traffic seemed to dance amongst them.

Times Square, where people from every human culture imaginable had set foot, seemed to be a singular mass of people. Gigantic holographic screens broadcasting ads and news reports illuminated the area for a mile in an endless sea of artificial light in defiance of the afternoon sun.

Suddenly, they went blank for a split second before displaying the unmistakable flag of the UEG, Earth surrounded with the old UN wreath of olive branches, and the UNSC, an eagle clutching Earth in its talons with dozens of stars under its outstretched wings.

Written in numerous languages under the flags were the words: President of the United Earth Government.

The image stayed on for several seconds as the masses all stopped and looked up at the screens. Others stole quick glances at the towering Capital Building if their view wasn’t not blocked by the cityscape, many people asking each other what was going on.

The screen suddenly changed to the image of President Reagan Vladislov standing at a podium in the UEG capital of Sydney. His eyes seemed to glare through the screen into the sea of an audience. He was standing up straight, dwarfing everyone else next to him.

"My fellow Terrans…"

The term Terran had only been adopted recently in light of the discovery of the other humans throughout the galaxy, as such the ancient Latin term for Earth was adapted to differentiate the humans of Earth and her colonies from the rest of them.

"Mere hours ago the forces of the Galactic Republic mercilessly attacked the outer colony world of Cienna."

People's eyes widened as they murmured to one another. Traffic crawled to a stop as drivers and passengers alike listened in. He had delivered a figurative punch in the gut to everyone listening, whether in person, or tuned into the broadcast.

An eerie silence had taken over Times Square and the other parts of Earth from Moscow to São Paulo and Mumbai, to the small towns of the American Midwest and Africa.

The screens switched to show images of the relatively little known world, a video of a fleet of UNSC ships firing their MAC guns in streaks of light at unseen targets off in the expanse. The image then switched to a video of the Republic fleet undoubtedly taken from a UNSC ship, a close up shot of a massive Imperator Star Destroyer before zooming out to show the dozens upon dozens of other enemy warships before spitting green fire from their main batteries.

The video continued as the comparatively meager UNSC fleet killed dozens of enemy ships before the enemies' own fire struck, obliterating several Terran ships and damaging a dozen others.

The screens reverted back to the face of the President.

"UNSC forces fought gallantly. Under the command of Admiral Gregory White and outnumbered four to one, the UNSC fleet managed to rout the Republic fleet."

People began to stir at this.

"However, our victory was not without sacrifice."

Images of disabled or destroyed UNSC ships in orbit above the world flashed by, switching to burnt UNSC ground vehicles on the dusty plains of the colony. The images then showed lines of body bags covered with UEG flags.

People began to clamor and chatter amongst themselves louder as the voice of President Vladislov spoke over the video.

"But each sacrifice made the enemy pay dearly"

Images of dozens of absolutely wrecked Republic ships drifting in space were shown. One video showed a Venator with its guns firing being struck by three MAC rounds, the first two being absorbed by its shields with the killing blow striking amidships, turning the ship into a fireball.

More videos showed Army Recluse tanks firing their main guns at Republic walkers, helmet cam footage of Soldiers engaged in combat with Republic Troopers and winning, and burnt out shells of Republic war machines with dead Clones all around as Terran vehicles charged past while a Sparrowhawk shot overhead with its guns spitting flame at an unseen target.

"However, our own civilians paid the ultimate price as the cowardly fleet turned their weapons on the small and defenseless colony."

A flaming cloud of fire appeared on the screen before switching to show the husk of what once was the prefab colony, with 100,000 presumed dead written at the bottom.

Times Square was absolutely silent at this news before the image of President Vladislov reappeared.

"Citizens of the Earth and all her Colonies, we now exist in a state of war with the so-called Galactic Republic who brutally attacked us without provocation and murdered thousands of civilians. The General Assembly and Senate have unanimously agreed to declare war with the Galactic Republic."

Humanity was about to flip a chapter in its history book to another trial of epic proportions. This war had been in the making for eons. The Precursors had assured this, whether they were extinct or not, that Humanity had to be forged through the fiery cauldron of war.

Corellia

Orbiting the heavily populated world of Corellia, amongst the dizzying number of ships whether civilian or military and Corellia's massive shipyards, was a massive Republic naval base.

Fleet Node 6 was built in the second year of the Clone Wars in response to CIS incursions into the Corellian Sector. Ten Venators alongside their escort frigates were normally statically attached to the system in order to bolster its defenses, which operated alongside Corellia's own independent fleet of ships.

Inside the vast command center of the station, amongst the display screens and control consoles the station's sensor operator struggled to stay awake as he watched some civilian traffic make their way out of Corellia's gravity well past a group of Corellian Defense Force corvettes to transition to hyperspace.

The young man sighed as he looked at one of the several Clones that worked in the CIC with the name Gabe.

Gabe was an older Clone. He had a mechanical left arm concealed beneath his white armor replacing the arm that he had lost during one of the battles in the Outer Rim.

"I wonder what’s on the Holonet right now." The sensor operator asked aloud.

Gabe took a second pause from his work before answering. "Probably more of those useless debates on the upcoming war with the UNSC. I can't stand to watch that poodoo. You’re no older than a youngling, so it might be weird to you that I’m saying this, but I’d rather enjoy some peace and quiet on my next leave, maybe drop by a few shops on Corellia."

"You check out the latest Terran music?" The sensor operator asked, changing the subject.

Gabe grinned. "Of course. Some of their stuff is downright awful to my eardrums, but that Flip music, or ‘Rock’ as they call it, I can't get enough of."

The sensor operator chuckled before glancing to check if any of the officers were nearby.

"Yeah me too. I picked up some of their older stuff. It’s from some band called Metallica, several hundred years back. I can't get their stuff out of my head. You should see the nightclubs back on Coronet. Their music is almost all they play, when they can get a hold of it."

The Trooper chuckled. "I don't think you’ll catch me in one of those anytime soon."

Suddenly, the threat board on the station lit up and alarms began to wail as roughly 70 contacts came on the screen, a mere few hundred thousand kilometers distant. They almost came out right in the middle of a civilian shipping lane over one of Corellia's moons.

"What the hell! I have contacts!'' The man all but yelled as the fleet went to battle stations. Several ships and starfighters moved to intercept alongside the Republic and Corellian fleet.

"What have we got?" The commanding officer shouted as he ran over to the radar station.

"70 contacts, profiles coming in… wait! I have friendly IFFs!" He exclaimed as the advancing Republic and Corellian ships slowed their approach and powered down their weapons.

"They lead ships read as the Imperator-Class Star Destroyers Accuser , Executrix , and Devastator , Venator-Class Star Destroyer Ashallia , and Victory II Duroban ."

"The Executrix ? What are they doing here? All of those ships were part of Admiral Tarkin’s force! It says their last deployment was classified, and before that they were at Taris, so what are they doing here?"

Civilian ships were scattering to get out of the way of the ships as more readouts came in on Gabe's screen. "Sir, a lot of those ships are heavily damaged, damn! That Imperator is almost falling apart. Wait, I’m receiving a message from the commanding officer."

"Put it on."

The image of a young and exhausted captain and a bridge in similar condition behind him came on the screen as the captain, Piett, saluted.

"What happened?" The station’s officer simply asked as the assembled crews of the station and the other ships present listened in.

"The UNSC, the damned Terrans... they beat us."

Next up: Boring politics and strategy

Chapter Text

This will probably be the last update of the year. I’m now a senior in high school. This chapter marks the near total end of everything that SpaceCowboy2013 wrote for the original fanfic.

Coruscant, Senate Building

In the corridors of the ever expansive Galactic Senate building, Palpatine angrily crushed the communications droid that made the mistake of getting in his way with a simple grasp of his hand. As the wreckage of the droid clattered to the ground, the chancellor was quick to be grateful that he was alone and in a hallway without cameras.

Beneath his anger, Palpatine was almost pleased. The news that had just been delivered to him could not have come at a more beneficial time.

He was just about to go in front of the Senate and speak on the prospects of the Financial Reform Bill and the continuation of his emergency powers. With this turn of events, he wouldn’t have to fight nearly as hard to pass the bill and keep his position.

He probably wouldn’t even have to use his ‘extralegal’ abilities to coerce the members of the Galactic Senate to vote in his favor either

Despite this, his ego was still slightly hurt.

‘It appears that I have underestimated my opponent.’ He bitterly thought.

The forces of the UNSC had managed to defeat Tarkin’s fleet. Not only that, but sent them running out of the system.

The simple word for the current predicament was disaster.

The Dark Lord of the Sith himself could not believe that such a lopsided defeat had occurred. With more and more information coming in from the survivors of the battle, the situation began to look worse and worse.

A whole fleet of ships mauled. It would take weeks to repair the damaged ones and put them back into action. For now, the idea of a 21st Sector Army was dead. The grand offensive meant to pierce straight into the heart of the beast was no more, at least for now.

The Taris system, the headquarters of the 10th Sector Army, seemed to be comparatively undefended due to the sudden lack of ships which were supposed to be marauding around the Milky Way Galaxy, tying up the enemy. It was ripe for a counterattack. Despite the vast size of the Republic Navy, forces were scrambling to regroup.

He had already ordered three fleets which were previously held in reserve, numbering around 1500 ships total, to plug the figurative gap.

The repercussions were now spreading like wildfire throughout the galaxy and the Republic Military. Admirals were scrambling to go over the data that Captain Piett had brought with the remainder of Tarkin’s fleet and determine how to fight the UNSC.

His personal commlink buzzed.

He didn’t even bother to check it, the Senate was about to be in session, and he could already hear the roars of angry and shocked Senators of every species demanding answers.

Coruscant, Jedi Temple

"We found her escape pod just outside the Taris system, shortly after Admiral Tarkin’s similar arrival." Jedi Master Windu said as an image of Jedi Master Aayla Secura came on the holoprojector in the middle of the spectacular Jedi Temple communication center, which was currently full of Jedi.

Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi and the rest of the Jedi present in the counsel chamber did their best to hide their surprise at the sight of Aayla’s wounds.

"Moreover, it seems that our fears were true, Masters Shaak Ti and Jax Sieflan were both killed in battle according to Aayla." Windu monotoned as Anakin clenched his fist in response.

"Before she was taken into medical care, she gave us a data chip holding a recording of everything that happened during the battle." Windu said as he pulled the chip from his robes, before sliding the chip into the computer as the room darkened.

Anakin leaned to Obi-Wan and whispered into his ear. "How bad do you think this threat is?"

"We are about to find out." Obi-Wan said as Anakin thought what this new war would mean for him and Padmé.

The video began to play.

Raxus Secundus, Raxulon

The capital city of the Confederacy of Independent Systems was alive as ever. The skyways bustled with traffic amongst the city's skyline, with the backdrop of the picturesque landscape in the distance.

On the streets of the capital, people of every species went about their business. The main square of the city was full of civilians who were either picnicking, enjoying the weather, or simply just mingling with each other.

A patrol of B1 battle droids marched by a young human, Haskins Advi, just over the age of 18. He was seated at a table outside a Caf shop, looking out at the dominating structure that was the Seperatist Senate Building which was just across the plaza. Haskins was joined by two fellow friends.

"I can’t believe that you’re really joining the Army." Tala, a Twi'lek and childhood friend, asked as her green lekku curled slightly as the holonews played on a large screen across the street.

"I've been thinking about it for a long time. Between working at one of the factories or my parents' store, the military looked like a better option." He replied as a pair of swoop bikes raced past. "I just really want to get off of this rock and help defend the Confederacy from the Republic."

"Well you shoulda done better on that last exam, maybe you wouldn’t be stuck with such lousy options.” His friend Dillac jested, earning a chuckle from the other two. “Anyway, I hear that the training can be pretty tough if you get assigned to a base with the Terrans advising."

"I know, but it’s worth the risk. If half of what they say about those Terrans is true, then I should be able to take on Clones myself after I'm through." He replied.

“Well if the other half is true, they’re a bunch of apes who don’t know left from right.” Dillac smirked.

Before he could reply, everyone in the street suddenly began to run around and grow excited.

"What the hell?" Haskins asked as he and the others got up to see what was happening.

"Could it be a Republic attack?" Tala asked with concern.

"On Raxus? This system's a fortress, I doubt they could get past the fleet, much less the Golans in orbit." Dillac replied as they ran to see what the large crowd was gathering for.

When they got there the crowd was deathly quiet as they listened to the news reporter.

"We have breaking news! These reports aren’t completely confirmed, but the Republic has apparently launched an attack on the Terrans of the Milky Way Galaxy four days ago."

Everyone gasped almost as one.

"Those bastards!" Several people screamed as even more people joined the crowd, even several B1 droids came to see what the commotion was.

"Whoa..." Dillac whispered.

"These reports detail that the attack occurred on the edge of Terran space and the defenses there were reportedly outnumbered four to one, wait. We are receiving a video now." The human female newscaster paused as she read the report, clearly surprised.

"What could it be?" Tala asked.

"We have just received a video from the Terran government itself, from the President of the UEG and the UNSC."

Everyone looked at each other before the screen changed to show the image of a rather broad shouldered man in a Terran styled black suit with a silky red tie. The man had three large scars on his temple running into his graying hair that further brought out the ferocity the grizzled looking man's eyes exuded.

His hands gripped the shiny wooden podium with the crest of the UEG emblazoned on it, standing in front of a blue background.

" People of Earth and all her colonies, the Confederacy of Independent Systems, the Swords of Sanghelios, and all others across our galaxies, four days ago forces of the Galactic Republic under the command of Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin attacked one of our outer colonies in the Alpha Rendara system. This attack was deliberate and unprovoked. Our attempts to avoid confrontation have failed; I regret to inform the galaxies that our negotiations have failed."

The crowd seemed to recoil as the reality set in.

"Another war?" Haskins whispered as the video continued.

“What’s one more?” Dillac said.

"Our forces, outnumbered four to one, fought with the bravery and honor that all members of the UNSC are renowned for. The Republic fleet, consisting of over 300 ships from transports to capital ships, engaged the forces present, some 80 UNSC warships and a planetary garrison."

"Oh my." Tala murmured as Haskins quickly thought over just how one sided that battle must have been.

"Despite these daunting odds, our forces managed to successfully rout the Republic forces, resulting in the destruction of over 250 ships and the destruction or capture of over fifty percent of the 21st Sector Army, the so-called Star Fist Command."

The crowd was silent for a full five seconds before everyone burst out cheering.

"No way!" Haskins shouted with glee as the video continued, showing images from the battle.

Everyone watched with fascination as UNSC ships, ugly but clearly capable warships covered in guns and armor, engaged Republic star destroyers while starfighters engaged in an absolutely furious battle.

Massive spinal guns on the Terran warships from lighter but predatory escorts, impressive looking cruisers, titanic carriers, and an intimidating battleship spat out projectiles that looked like giant shooting stars at unfathomable speeds towards targets well beyond visual range. Seconds later, explosions could be seen in the picture as the video shifted to show trashed Republic warships getting ripped apart by secondary explosions.

The video then showed a fast paced ground battle between UNSC ground forces and Clone Army, where professional looking Terran Soldiers stood down the enemy that many had learned to hate with every fiber of their being and clearly came out on top. The UNSC infantry, donned in their unique armor and armed with their projectile weapons, seemed like super men when they gunned down Clone troopers in bloody displays of firepower. Haskins was surprised that it was left unedited.

He watched Terrans get hit by blaster fire only to still stand strong, thanks to some sort of armor that stopped or resisted blasters. The soldiers defiantly held a defensive line against waves of Clones.

Then the images began to show beastly looking treaded Terran war machines, their massive cannons destroying AT-TEs with ease, although a few were destroyed themselves despite their seemingly thick armor. Big but agile UNSC starfighters engaged in combat with ARC-170s and seemed to swat them out of the sky with dazzling zero-G maneuvers, streams of bright projectiles, and explosive missile salvos.

"However, the UNSC forces on the ground sustained sixty percent casualties and nearly seventy percent of the UNSC fleet was destroyed or disabled." The Terran leader spoke with pain in his voice.

"This defeat has cost the Republic hundreds of thousands of men, hundreds of ships, countless supplies, and the capture of their latest military hardware. A Jedi Master was even killed at the hands of a member of the elite Spartans."

That really got people's attention.

"Despite this great success, our victory was not without great sacrifice. Despite our best efforts, the Republic was unfortunately able to launch a cowardly orbital bombardment on our colony, resulting in the deaths of a hundred thousand helpless civilians."

Haskins tightly clenched his fists as the others present expressed a myriad of emotions.

"Let it be known today that the United Earth Government and all her colonies will not stand for this injustice! Let it be known that we will stand and fight the enemy whenever they attack no matter the cost. Let it be known that today, the United Earth Government hereby declares war on the Galactic Republic!"

The people present and all those around the two galaxies watched as the universe as they knew it changed before their eyes.

Reach, Highland Mountains, FLEETCOM Military Complex, HIGHCOM

Admiral Gregory White sighed as the Panther light armored vehicle hit a small bump in the three lane autobahn with its large all terrain wheels. The large vehicle made its way towards the offramp at 100 miles per hour. The idyllic green plains sped by with the skyline of the city of Manassas far off in the distance.

The driver stared intently at the road ahead of him as a security checkpoint came and went, the guards manning the station receiving clearance from the IFF and HIGHCOM's security grid.

Gregory had tried desperately to grab some sleep while he could. He had only ten or so hours of sleep tops in the past five days. He had been held up managing the aftermath of the battle before he transferred control to the Trafalgar and her battlegroup. After making a random jump, he made straight for Reach at the fastest speeds the bruised and bleeding battleship could muster.

He had arrived on Reach less than 14 hours ago after his flagship was docked at one of the shipyards around Reach's moon Turul.

As soon as he had set foot on the planet, aside from the hounding he had received from the press which he politely, if not bluntly, ignored, he had been immediately summoned to HIGHCOM by a somewhat irritated sounding Fleet Admiral Cole along with the rest of the admirals currently on Reach.

During the war, UNSC space was divided into four CENTCOMs, or central commands, each coordinating operations for their quarter of Human held space.

CENTCOM Five was only weeks old. The Confederacy had allowed the UNSC the use of the planet Boz Pity, which was already being used by the Separatists as a staging ground for raids into Republic space. The UNSC obliged them. Secret shipments were underway, under the noses of the Republic thanks to their slipspace drives, and service, repair, and refit stations tailored to the needs of a UNSC fleet were under construction in the Milky Way to be later transferred there.

The Panther, a fully wheeled all terrain recon vehicle based off of the chassis of a Wolverine, began to slow as another checkpoint came into view.

The Panther had been developed as a result of the need for a light vehicle more suited for urban environments. The open design of the Warthog led to various shortcomings as it was pressed into roles it wasn’t designed for during the Insurrection. The vehicle ditched the AA armaments of the Wolverine in favor of a troop bay, plus a mount for different types of weapons, from a simple .50 cal, to an automatic grenade launcher or a Gauss cannon.

As the Panther stopped, the military police manning the station stepped out of the guard shack to check the underside of the Panther for bombs or any sort of tracking or listening devices.

One could not help but notice that this checkpoint, unlike the last, was far better equipped for a confrontation than the first, which was really just meant to turn lost or prying civilians away before they reached the second. The checkpoint was more of a pillbox dressed up to look presentable, but a trained eye could clearly pick out the machine guns tracking him and anything that came near it.

"You're clear, have a nice day sir." The guard saluted. White returned it before the vehicle again sped off.

After another few minutes of driving, the perimeter of the base came into view.

To call the FLEETCOM Military Complex an impregnable fortress might not have done the place justice.

The entire base, miles wide at its largest point, was encircled by a thirty foot tall sloped reinforced concrete wall with redoubts that held countless 50mm point defense guns meant for use on starships, 100mm railguns, SAMs, and machine guns.

After going through the final gates under the wall, Gregory’s vehicle made its way into the base and into HIGHCOM.

Passing several more bunkers, shiny training buildings, massive motorpools, machine shops, radar emplacements, barracks, and officer quarters, HIGHCOM itself loomed in the window.

The building stood thirty stories tall and was surrounded by a simple yet well maintained field of neatly cut grass on all sides, save for a large circle drive that gave the bottom portion of the building the look of an airport terminal.

As White made his way into the building past layer upon layer of security, he could only think about how the upcoming meeting would go.

Fifteen Minutes Later

"You crossed the line White, with the killing of the Clones." Fleet Admiral Cole said irritably as Gregory all but rolled his eyes again. "But I admit I might have done the same if I were in your shoes."

Gregory and the other officers present in the room, Admiral Whitcomb, Admiral Stanforth, and Fleet Admiral Harper, all nodded with a hint of thankfulness that the usual disagreements between the two didn’t escalate.

"So, about our operational plans?" Stanforth asked.

"We will perform lightning strikes on several key Republic systems." Cole spoke as a holographic display of the Andromeda galaxy came up with the borders of the Republic, CIS, and nonaligned space.

On them, four systems were enlarged and highlighted.

The systems of Taris, Ord Mantell, and Lantillies were all there. Taris made sense as a reprisal attack on a Republic military center, the very one from which their attack had launched. The other two were also headquarters for Republic sector armies just like Taris, and Lantillies was a chokepoint for the Perlemian trade route. But the last one made Admiral White grin, he had to give Lord Hood credit for being ballsy and ordering an attack right in the middle of the core.

The Corellian System.

"We will open up the campaign with an assault on the systems with known Republic staging grounds closest to our ‘border’, but these four systems will be where most of our fighting will take place. Our attack on Corellia will be in conjunction with the Confederacy’s own main offensive, Operation Durge’s Lance. As you could guess, the initial assaults are meant to draw Republic forces in and weaken the defenses of other worlds. These will be hit and run skirmishes to deal as much damage as possible. Deeper into the core of the galaxy, guerrilla operations conducted by Separatist partisans supported by our special forces will also serve the same purpose. There will also be smaller assaults on less important worlds to send a message for propaganda purposes. They don’t have much military value, Naboo being an example." Cole finished.

"How many ships are we committing? Not to mention the personnel." Whitcomb asked. "There are already Spartan raids in motion, on Taris for instance."

The list appeared.

“We’ll be stretched thin!” Stanforth said aloud.

"We will be using nearly 5500 vessels in our assault, that’s just the initial deployment. If all goes according to plan, we can have an additional 1500 reinforcing us."

"5500? That’s over a tenth of our fleet!" Fleet Admiral Harper exclaimed.

"We are already activating all of our mothball ships and rearming them, mostly older frigates, but a few cruisers as well. However, they will be used to supplement our defenses and free up our more modern ships. All shipyards are moving to full overdrive, as well as all of our other wartime industries. By year’s end we’ll have a thousand more vessels of all classes from frigates to battleships. The third Infinity-Class is already halfway done. Getting the people to crew them is proving easy. Recruitment centers have reported double their usual volunteer figures in the last week." Cole said.

"How long until they are ready?" White asked. “I heard the President wants us to go on the assault ASAP."

"By the end of the month, ships are already massing at the three staging areas." Cole answered.

Reach was among them of course, along with Midguard and the Harvest system.

“Why not hit them where it really hurts, their shipyards at Kuat and Anaxes, Malastare’s refineries? Kamino?” Whitcomb asked. 

“That’s in stage two of our campaign. According to our current intel, hitting them at our initial targets will deal a massive enough blow to their navy that they will have a tough time recovering from, as well as the ensuing morale loss. If that goes well, those systems will be on the table, but for now they’re too well defended.” Cole said.

Whitcomb nodded in understanding.

Cole began to conclude the meeting, discussing the logistical considerations of a transgalactic operation, when he suddenly received a message from the UNSC Security Council on Earth.

Fleet Admiral Lord Hood popped up on the screen. “Good afternoon gentlemen. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not anything urgent. I already went over our strategy for phase one of the operation.” Cole said.

Hood nodded. “Then I want everyone out but Admiral White.”

Everyone promptly packed up and left the room.

“Admiral, you know why I want to see you. I can’t let your valiant actions go unrewarded, but at the same time I can’t let what you did to the prisoners go unpunished. I, and the rest of the Security Council, have decided to put you under the direct command of Fleet Admiral Cole for the initial stages of the campaign. Understood?”

White grimaced while gritting his teeth. “Understood, sir.”

“Dismissed.” The transmission cut out.

Reach, Highland Mountains, FLEETCOM Military Complex

"Spartans, attention! Admiral on deck!" John shouted out to the 200 or so Spartans inside the cavernous briefing chamber, located deep beneath the ground.

Present were the members of the original class of Spartan-IIs like John himself, and Linda to his left, as well some of the surviving Spartan-IIIs, along with the 16 newest members of the Spartan-IVs who had just completed their training. The next wave of 150 Spartan-IVs would be ready in a month, in time to see action in the upcoming war. John had been training them in the abandoned titanium mines near CASTLE Base before he had been deployed to Alpha Rendara. 

The superhumans all precisely snapped to attention in perfect unison as Admiral Stanforth strode into the amphitheater, returning the salute as he took his place in front of them.

"At ease Spartans, as you were." The famed admiral ordered as the supersoldiers relaxed and took their seats.

"As you are all keenly aware, war has come upon us yet again. This time around, we are not fighting for our lives, thankfully. However, we are facing an enemy mostly composed of Humans, particularly those who will be facing us in battle, but has resources which makes the entirety of the UEG pale in comparison."

John and the others nodded. He noticed Kelly steal a quick glance at him, knowing that he had obviously been in the battle and had only arrived back on Reach twelve hours ago, when the Warhound arrived in system and promptly entered one of the massive orbital drydocks for repairs.

"To defeat this enemy, we must take advantage of their weakness, they are spread out, surrounded by enemies and compared to us, rather inexperienced at fighting the kind of enemies we have. Though, to their credit, it appears they learn and adapt quickly."

The Spartans nodded.

"To accomplish this, we must attack them at every weak point that we can, go straight for the heart of the enemy, and keep them on the defensive for as long as possible. If we don't, they can and will overwhelm us, despite the casualties we will inflict."

The Spartans again nodded, all understanding that despite the power of the UNSC, the vast size of the Republic meant that it outnumbered them by an order of magnitude.

"We must go on the offensive while we still hold the initiative. HIGHCOM is churning through battleplans right now, but it looks like the first deployment of Spartans will be to Taris."

Beside the Admiral, a holographic projection flashed into existence as the lights dimmed.

Raxus Secundus, Raxulon

Padmé Amidala and Ahsoka Tano made their way off the landing pad towards Seperatist senator Mina Bonteri’s rather luxurious home.

Mina turned around. “Girls, if you could help our guests with their luggage?”

“Yes, mistress.” They kindly obliged.

Padmé gladly accepted their help, but Ahsoka jerked her luggage away from them. “I can handle it.”

“Padmé, it’s so good to see you.”

“Yes, how things have changed since the last time we met.”

“Let’s go inside, there’s much to discuss.”

Once inside, Padmé began to stare out of a window towards the gardens. “So, where’s Lux? He wasn’t much older than a youngling the last time I saw him.” She said as Mina handed her a drink.

Mina sighed. “He’s gone off to follow in the footsteps of his father, he’s joined the military. I forbade him, but I’m afraid these events have had too great an influence on his young life.”

“With all due respect, as a Seperatist, didn’t you create this war?” Ahsoka butted in.

“Ahsoka!” Padmé reprimanded.

Mina turned towards Padmé, waving her free hand. “It’s all right. It’s a very polarized point of view my dear.” She turned towards Ahsoka. “Would it surprise you to know that many of the people you call ‘Separatists’ feel the same way about the Republic, and the Jedi?” She said, walking closer towards her.

“Lux’s father was like that.” She continued with a pang of sadness.

“Maybe I could speak with him.” Ahsoka suggested.

“If only you could. A year ago next week, he was setting up a base on Aarganor when clones attacked. My husband fought bravely in self defense, but was killed.”

Ahsoka and Padmé were both visually shocked at the news.

“Excuse me, I think I’ll get some air.” Ahsoka said.

An awkward pause filled the room before Mina spoke. “Take a seat, my dear.” She let out a sigh.

Padmé took a seat on the couch in the room.

“So, how is it in the Republic Senate these days my friend? More of the same?”

“Unfortunately. All it seems we can talk about is more war, more fighting. No one seems to care about who they represent.” Padmé took a sip from her cup. “I sense Dooku’s dirty hand in all of this.”

Mina gave her a quizzical look. “He’s just the leader of the Senate, he’s not the leader of the entire universe.”

“Oh.” Padmé rolled her eyes and gave her a stern look. “I forgot. You actually admire the man.”

“We’ll never entirely agree on Dooku, my old friend. But we can agree on the need to stop this war. The question is, how?”

Padmé furrowed her brows as she glanced at the floor. “That is why it was so urgent that I speak with you.” She looked back up. “The Republic Senate is holding a critical vote on whether or not to escalate the war effort. However, many of the delegates are undecided as to what to do.”

“How interesting.” Mina quickly reflected on what Padmé had just said. “You would find the Seperatist Parliament in a similar dilemma.”

“I am certain if you could convince your representatives to extend an olive branch of peace towards the Republic, there might be enough sympathy in the Senate to finally open negotiations.” Padmé said with hopeful determination.

“I admire your spirit Padmé. I can at least put the motion on the floor.” Mina said with enthusiasm.

“Thank you Mina, that’s all I ask.”

Mina stood up from her seat, extending her glass to Padmé. “To peace then.”

“To hope.”

The glasses clinked together.

It was an uneventful trip from Mina’s residence to the Confederate Parliament. The two were chatting in the back of Mina’s landspeeder as Ahsoka sat quietly, catching up with each other.

“With the corporations increasingly off our backs, I feel like I can do a great deal more.” Mina said. “You and I really have the same goal, to create a better government.”

“I know, it’s just a shame that our governments couldn’t resolve the crisis peacefully.”

“Well, there is still hope yet. There are many in the Confederacy realizing that our cause is for peaceful coexistence, not the total destruction of one side.”

The chauffeur abruptly stopped the vehicle, a man had suddenly ran across the street right in front of them.

The trio looked up to see the streets surrounding the Senate building crowded by pedestrians and vehicles alike.

“Something’s not right.” Mina said, opening the door. “Come along. It’s quicker to walk.”

They thanked the driver and began to make their way to their destination, the Separatist Senate Building.

Even through the thick crowd. Padmé was quick to notice how small it was in comparison to its Republic counterpart; it reminded her of one of the Brotherhood of Cognizance’s buildings back on Naboo.

“Excuse me.” Mina tapped the shoulder of a man in the crowd. “What’s going on?”

The man glanced back at her. “Didn’t you hear? The Terrans stuck it to those Republic dogs! They’re at war!”

“Those bastards slagged an entire city!”

Padmé’s stomach sank. “That can’t be.” She softly gasped in disbelief.

“Well then, let’s hurry!” Mina ushered the other two along through the crowd, being let in by the battle droids maintaining a security perimeter around the building.

The group finally came into the Senate Chamber. Ahsoka and Padmé sat in a spot where they hopefully wouldn’t be noticed.

“Well, it’s certainly more full than I expected today.”  Mina said as she walked off.

Padmé’s eyes shifted throughout the chamber. Senators from all across Confederate space were present. Unlike the Republic Senate, Padmé could make out the faces of individual senators from where she was seated.

Padmé buried her face in her palms and let out a deep sigh. “This is going to be a long week.”

“Do you think that the Separatists will actually sue for peace?” Ahsoka asked.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up, especially if what we just heard is true. Mina can only do so much, she’s only one senator after all.”

“Well you’re just one senator too, and look at all you’ve done.”

“I’ve always had people willing to help me. No one can do everything by themselves Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka pondered what she had just heard before a hologram of Count Dooku appeared before them.

The room fell silent.

Padmé began to zone out, thinking about how the peace negotiations, if initiated at all, would go. She paid little attention to the beginning of the meeting.

As she drifted off thinking about her and Anakin’s future together, she snapped back to what was going on when it was Mina’s turn to address the Senate.

“Fellow senators, how many sides on both sides have to end before we see the futility? Surely there’s room in the galaxy for Confederate and Republic planets to coexist. I move that we immediately open peace negotiations with Chancellor Palpatine on Coruscant.”

“The Corporate Alliance will never allow this to happen.” Senator Voe Atell said matter-of-factly.

“This is a democracy, and unlike the Republic, corporations do not rule us.” Kerch Kushi asserted.

“Nay!” Punn Rimbaud shouted among the chaos overtaking the chamber.

“The Terrans will win us the war! You want to call yourself a patriot? Victory or death you traitor!” One senator called out.

“I too believe in the necessity of ending this war. However, Senator Bonteri, peace negotiations are ill timed now that we hold an advantage with the Terrans on our side.” Senator Kushi continued.

His statement led to an uproar in the Seperatist Senate.

“Quiet.” Dooku ordered, the room suddenly falling deathly silent.

He looked towards Mina, and Padmé felt goosebumps form on her skin. It was an innocuous look, but Padmé could feel something in his expression that wasn’t outwardly visible. “I am sure Senator Bonteri is no traitor, she has been a supporter of our cause from the very beginning. In accordance with the Bylaws of Independent systems, a voice vote is required. All in favor of initiating peace negotiations with the Galactic Republic say aye.”

The chamber filled with the sound of senators agreeing.

“All those opposed.”

Padmé tensed up as the room seemed to be as equally loud with the sounds of dissenters.

Dooku remained as calm as ever. “As you all know, according to the Bylaws of Independent Systems, during a vocal tie, the issue will sit for a period of at least one week, allowing each side to prepare their arguments and present them to the Senate.”

Padmé buried her face in her palms. It seemed to all be going so well until now, but it would seem someone else had different plans.

It was a solemn ride back to the starport, Padmé had duties to attend to and her absence would both be more and more noticed the longer she was gone so she couldn’t stay with Mina any longer than she already had.

Padmé had never felt such disappointment ever since the war had gone into full swing. Things had started to look up, but it was her fault that she didn’t keep her happiness in check. She should’ve known her hopes could’ve been dashed at any moment from unfortunate circumstances.

Padmé turned around as she walked towards her transport ship. “Well, this is goodbye.” She said, saddened.

“Don’t worry my dear, I’ve been disappointed before, and yet I almost feel as if… this time the tide has turned in the war. Our peace deal is not over yet, just be patient and wait. I’m sure my fellow senators can be reasoned with” Mina quickly put up Padmé’s hood as if she were her mother adjusting her outfit. “You should hurry.”

Mina looked at Ahsoka. “Goodbye young one.”

Ahsoka nodded. “I hope the Republic will vote for peace. I wouldn’t want to meet your son on the battlefield, for both of our sakes.”

Mina gave her a grim look before mustering a smirk. “Go you two, quickly.”

As the transport took off, Padmé couldn’t shake the feeling the two old friends would never meet again.

Next Chapter: Jedi Reaction, Bail Organa's reaction to the Senate, Captain Piett, Rebel Guerrilla warfare on Jabiim

Chapter Text

AN: So I guess that wasn’t the last chapter of the year, lol. It’s my 18th birthday today and is also the Feast Days of St. Gerard Majella and St. Longinus, so I hope you have a God blessed Sunday.

In this fanfic I think it would be best if the Clone Wars lasted longer/has gone on longer. It just makes more sense to me and would also help bridge the discrepancies between the original CWMMP and the TV show.

If you have a question, please log in or create an account before leaving a review so I can reply to you, or please PM me. I’m not going to use author notes as a discussion forum.

Also I changed the ending of the last chapter a little, I thought it was more interesting that way.

Coruscant, Jedi Temple

The holoprojector was the only source of light in the pitch black communication center.

Anakin watched as blued images of explosive combat filled the room. From wall to wall, the room was permeated with scenes of death and devastation. Those things which, to the average person, would be hard to stomach. It was raw, unfiltered. Terran warships taking out Venators in a single shot, medical frigates being obliterated by weapons considered barbaric and antiquated, an armored giant taking down two seasoned Jedi masters.

Such a skillful application of violence, especially from such seemingly backwards people, was unheard of.

He looked over towards Master Ki-Adi-Mundi, who was looking as stoic as ever, then towards Obi-Wan. Though he might not have looked so, Anakin could tell Obi-Wan was perturbed.

Even Anakin was beginning to feel unnerved. As a general he’d seen men vaporized, blown apart, but never had he seen such carnage carried out by just a single man before. He doubted whether or not even a Jedi could match the skill this individual displayed on the battlefield.

He was disturbed at the prowess the warrior displayed, dodging Force attacks, narrowly escaping a Force grip, taking Clones down in droves. He’d seen videos of Grievous fighting, but he paled in comparison to this beast clad in green armor.

Now that he thought about it, he’d never seen so much blood in one area before. Whereas blasters cauterized the wounds they inflicted, the Terran weapons were uncivilized, ripping through armor, flesh, and bone.

Anxieties began to grow in Anakin. Anxieties about the war, about his future with Padmé. Conflict raged throughout his mind before he was able to calm himself down. He knew worrying would do him no good.

In his renewed clarity, Anakin noticed the swordsmanship of the Terran. Despite his fast, precise, and brutal movements, the warrior was obviously not particularly trained in the handling of the weapon. It might not have been a deadly weakness, but it was a weakness nevertheless, one that could potentially be exploited on the battlefield.

In fact, Master Shaak Ti’s Force grip nearly ended the warrior as well, though Anakin was sure the warrior would be more prepared and quicker to react when facing a Jedi again.

Master Yoda spoke as the images ended. “Troubling, this is. A good Jedi, Shaak Ti was.”

“We must find a way to counter this new threat.” Master Pong Krell said.

“If the Terrans are to be believed that they have more of these Spartans, it would make them an even greater threat to the Order than the Mandalorian crusaders of old.” Mace Windu noted.

“I am sure the Terrans can still be reasoned with.” Obi-Wan replied. “I doubt they are eager to jump into an unnecessary war, considering their history.”

“I’m afraid the Chancellor has made it necessary.” Plo Koon said with remorse.

“Clouded, by the dark side, everything is.” Yoda said. “Meditate, we must. Guide us, the Force will.”

Yoda promptly departed from the room, leaving the other Jedi to murmur amongst themselves.

“Have we told the Chancellor what was given to us by Master Secura?” Anakin asked.

“Not yet.” Windu said. “Master Yoda has decided it would be best to do so at a later date.”

“But he’s the Chancellor, he should know these things.” Anakin said.

“The Chancellor certainly has the other intel from the returning fleet’s survivors. We need to see in detail what Aayla has given us, turning it over could limit our ability to do so, and any copies might likewise be restricted.”

“Doesn’t the Council trust the Chancellor? He is a good man.” Anakin glanced towards Obi-Wan, seeking his support.

“Master Yoda has decided, the matter is settled.” Windu said authoritatively.

Anakin furrowed his brow but gave a slight nod and assenting grunt. He felt conflicted. He had a duty to the Republic, to the Chancellor. He wasn’t quite sure his duty as a Jedi overrode that. He resolved to talk to Obi-Wan in a more private setting after the meeting was over.

“How many survivors were there?” Ki-Adi Mundi asked.

“Barely a fifth of the fleet made it back, most of them heavily damaged. Of the Clones, one landing site was completely lost, the other one led by Commander Bly was able to withdraw with the fleet, though he suffered heavy casualties.” Windu said.

This led to more murmuring among the Jedi present.

“How can we hope to beat such an opponent?” One said.

“The Force will guide us through this challenge, as it always has. We must stay vigilant. Every Knight and Master deployed for combat should analyze the footage individually in the meantime. We will meet again to discuss this. May the Force be with us.” He said, excusing himself from the room.

With the rest of the Jedi slowly filtering out, Anakin strode alongside his former master in the long halls of the Jedi temple.

“Master, do you agree with the rest of the Council’s decision?”

“Anakin, don’t overreact. I’m confident the Chancellor has his own sources of intelligence just as we do, and I think the Council has good reason to hold onto what Aayla has given us.”

What followed was a pregnant pause before Anakin changed the topic of conversation. “Do you really think the Terrans will go for a peaceful solution?”

“I can’t imagine they are eager to get into another war, much less one a galaxy away when they’ve just got out of their own. We can hope that the Republic can get itself out of this mess, but only time will tell my friend.” Obi-Wan paused for some time before continuing. “Is there something bothering you?”

“Just the war. You’ve seen what it’s done to the Republic, to the Order. It carries on and on, and I feel like we’re the only ones who can stop it. With the Terrans and their UNSC in the way, victory only grows farther and farther away.”

Obi-Wan gave him a reassuring look. “This war will end, eventually, as all wars do. The Republic and the Jedi Order have lasted so far, I wouldn’t worry so much, Anakin.”

“I think it’s strange. The Terrans, I mean. How can they exist? They have no Force presence, no midi-chlorians, nothing. The Council said that was impossible. It’s as though something wiped out the Living Force present within them.”

“I too think the appearance of the Terrans is strange, as though the Force is trying to tell us something.” Obi-Wan sighed. “In any case, the Council does not always have the answer to everything.”

His answer hung in the air. As Anakin ruminated on what he heard, he began to feel more and more unsure of the Council’s decisions.

Coruscant, Senate Building

The constant tumult of angry senators did nothing to alleviate Senator Bail Organa’s stress.

The Chancellor had called an emergency meeting of the senate following the uproar resulting from the news of the invasion of Terran space.

As he and the rest of the Senate awaited Chancellor Palpatine’s arrival, he rubbed his temples. Bail had only a vague idea of where Padmé had run off to in the past few days, and they needed each other if they were going to fight the bills in the Senate trying to prolong the war.

‘Padmé, where are you?’ He sighed internally. Bail began to think of all the other militarist bills which would invariably be introduced today and in the future, even if the current ones were defeated.

His thoughts were interrupted by Chancellor Palpatine ascending on the thirty meter tall central podium.

Vice Chancellor Mas Amedda was quick to demand silence from the Senate.

Palpatine immediately began speaking afterwards. “Senators, you have all heard the troubling news of our attack on the United Earth Government.”

Conversations swiftly broke out again amongst the senators.

Bail hovered towards Mon Mothma. “What do you think the story will be this time?”

“A border dispute, perhaps?” She said to the chuckle of both. “I wonder how he’ll spin this to demand more emergency powers.”

Bail was about to reply with his own witty remark but was cut off by Palpatine. “I have called this meeting of the Senate in order to address this, and I regret to tell you that peace with the Terrans is no longer possible. The Galactic Republic now exists in a state of war with the United Earth Government.”

This led to gasps and more murmurs from numerous senators.

”In order to combat the ever growing threat of the Terran menace, I authorized a first strike on one of their outpost colonies. Though our forces fought valiantly in order to protect our Republic, they were unfortunately defeated.”

The news was a punch to the gut to Bail and the peace movement as a whole. Bail had already known about the attack, of course, but this put to rest any doubt in his mind as to what happened.

There was an outcry in the Senate, shouts of shock, disbelief, and even anger issued forth from the mouths of senators.

“Order! There will be order!” Mas Amedda shouted.

A senator, the one from Eriadu if Bail remembered correctly, rose up to the forefront. “In order to oppose the Terrans, we must pass more than mere financial reform! I propose the consolidation of a more centralized military structure for the purposes of safeguarding the Republic!”

Her statement was met with applause, but also the ridicule of multiple senators.

“Senators, the planetary defense forces throughout the galaxy continue to prove sufficient in holding the line against the Separatists. Peace is well within our grasp, all we have to do is reach for it.” Mon Mothma said. “Such a measure will only serve to prolong the war.”

“These Terrans must be stopped!” A senator cried.

“That might be the case with the Separatists, but with the aid of their newfound allies? Ever since the Terrans have shown their friendliness towards the Separatists, the idea of peace has become ludicrous.” The senator from Eriadu scoffed.

Mas Amedda spoke out, preventing Mon Mothma’s reply. “Senators, before we get ahead of ourselves, the survivors of the battle have been requested to give their account to you.”

Jabiim, 15 Kilometers North Of Hyber Canyon

Lance Corporal Jonathan Doherty stared up into the darkened, cloudy sky of the planet Jabiim as a flash of lightning illuminated his polarized visor, fallen upon by the heavy pitter patter of rain. The constant downpour was almost serene in the face of that crash which had momentarily overtaken it.

“Rookie, eyes up.” His squadmate, Mickey, said.

Thanks to the recommendation of Captain Dare, Rookie and the rest of Alpha-Nine were once again acting as escorts to the Office of Naval Intelligence, as if they couldn’t provide their own security. They were meeting up with the leader of a local ‘rebel’ group, or at least his representative, and it seems they had just arrived.

It seemed the entire planet was dirt. Dirt made mud.

Armed men in reddish bronze trench coats glided over the murky terrain with the aid of rockets attached to their boots, before coming to a stop in front of the landing site. The UNSC party had made their landing in the stealthy D102 Owl dropship, essentially a stealth Pelican, for the initial meeting.

The ONI and his entourage were the only people to greet them out of the group of 20 Terrans. “I assume you must be General Alto Stratus.” The spook extended his hand, which the man, presumably Stratus, hesitantly took.

“You assume right, Terran.” The blonde, helmetless man said.

 “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Captain Duke, Naval Intelligence. I’ll be your UNSC liaison for the time being.”

“I look forward to our partnership, Captain.” The General gruffly said. “You Terrans have quite the reputation to live up to, I hope you don’t disappoint us.”

“Just ask all the Republic troopers our boys wasted this week. You have your answer there.”

The General grunted half approvingly, half amused. He held out his arm. “Time for you to hold up your end of the bargain. Here are the coordinates by the Razor Coast where my men will offload the supplies.” He dropped a data crystal into the hands of the ONI captain.

It was merely a formality. The two stealth cruisers in orbit had been gathering intelligence for nearly the past two weeks, in spite of the freak atmospheric disturbances raging throughout the planet setting back their efforts. They had already identified ideal supply zones well in advance of the operation.

It was lucky that General Stratus had intelligently selected the rockier Razor Coast on the otherwise muddy world as his main headquarters. Captain Duke would’ve had fun trying to get the general to move to a different location for the sake of easier supply from orbit which could cease at a moment’s notice.

The Rookie shifted his grip on his M7S SMG, he could barely make out the rest of the conversation without his noise amplifiers on. Even through the heavy rain his helmet could’ve enhanced the audio and filtered out the background noise.

After a minute or so, the ONI spook nodded. The General promptly rocketed off with his men, and the meeting was all said and done.

“Romeo, Dutch, regroup with us.” Buck commanded.

The two aforementioned ODSTs had been placed in an overwatch position on a ridge far off, just in case the meeting went south.

“Can’t you just pick us up here Gunny?” Romeo complained.

“I gave you an order trooper.” Buck begrudgingly said.

“Copy that Gunny.” Romeo said.

“Armorer’s gonna have a field day with our gear.” Dutch commented.

When the pair made their way back through the muck, the squad began to load back into the dropship.

To an outside observer, what Alto Status was fighting for was just mud, but the Rookie knew that it was more than that.

Though he knew the true value of the planet to its inhabitants, the Rookie was relieved he wouldn’t have to fight for it as the dropship lifted off into the atmosphere.

Coruscant, Senate Building

Captain Piett nervously ascended up on one of the Senate’s repulsorpods, standing behind Admiral Tarkin.

Piett thought the man dead, and had dreaded meeting him after hearing of his survival.

To Piett’s surprise and relief, Admiral Tarkin was impressed by the way he had conducted the rest of the battle without his leadership.

Despite his moment of relief earlier, his stomach was churning. He joined the Navy to fight pirates and Separatists, not answer the questions of a thousand politicians. Piett was still unsure what he would say if asked about the final moments of the battle, he had only been told by Republic Intelligence to tell the Senate about the threat posed by the Terran military.

The pod came up front and center before the entirety of the Senate. Piett was thankful he was but a captain and Tarkin was an admiral, meaning Tarkin would speak first and that Piett himself might not have to speak at all.

“Members of the Senate.” Tarkin began. “As the commander of Operation Star Fist, I have seen firsthand the danger posed by the United Earth Government. After being given the chance to surrender peacefully, they fired upon my fleet and we were unfortunately forced to engage in combat.”

Piett watched the unease settle over the room, senators shifted around uncomfortably at the news while murmuring amongst themselves.

Senator Bail Organa was quick to ask questions, Piett saw him swiftly steal the place of prominence in the Senate. “Why was the Senate not informed of the operation while it was still underway?”

“It is well within the Chancellor’s right to exercise his emergency powers when the situation calls for it as per the Reflex Amendment. I, for one, trust his judgement.” Senator Halle Burtoni said. “The Terrans have intimidated the Republic for long enough.”

Organa grimaced at the Kaminoan senator before turning towards Tarkin. “Give us your account of the battle.”

Jabiim, Razor Coast

Things were starting to look up for general Alto Stratus. Although his coup had not been as successful as he had hoped and only half of the military rallied to his cause, the aid of the Terrans was sure to swing the tide in his favor. For months, both sides had been content to slog it out on mostly static frontlines, but this would change that.

The last Terran cargo transport for the time being took off up into the clouds far off into space. In the span of a day, they had offloaded enough equipment to furnish a whole brigade of Stratus’s men.

All the equipment lay out in front of him, neat and organized under their camouflage tarps. Crates upon crates of weapons, ammunition, explosives, and Terran styled uniforms were stacked high on the mud tarnished platform. It was an impressive sight which heralded good things to come.

The trainers the Terrans had given Stratus had somewhat been able to impress him and his Nimbus commandos with a weapons demonstration, but they still held their reservations. He was sure his second in command, Colonel Mazzi, would still stubbornly cling to his trusty commando blaster rifle even if the new weapons proved their worth on the battlefield.

It would still be some time, however, before they could see firsthand the effectiveness of the new weapons. It would take about two to three weeks to adequately train the men on how to use them according to the Terrans.

Stratus hoped it would be worth the wait.

Coruscant, Senate Building

The Senate looked at Admiral Tarkin in shock as gave his report of the battle, full of sobering detail. Even Bail had become engrossed in the fantastical accounts of Terran ships single handedly destroying dozens of their Republic counterparts.

He was stunned by the report. Never before had such losses been inflicted upon a Republic force in this manner before. In an ambush, it was feasible for a numerically inferior force to thrash a larger one. However, these losses were incurred in a straight forward battle, against an outnumbered enemy no less.

“After the Terran fleet had entirely demolished Commodore Sceriny’s detachment, I had taken the bulk of my force to meet them before they could reach the planet and disrupt our ground operation.” Tarkin said.

“I see. And why was Captain Piett sent towards the planet?” Bail asked, making the aforementioned officer squirm where he stood.

“I saw it best to support the Clone Troopers on the ground with orbital support for a swift victory.” Tarkin intervened for the man. “After that, the Terrans made a precision in-system jump with their so-called slipspace drives, bypassing my section of the fleet entirely whereupon they engaged Captain Piett and my ship was subsequently boarded.”

“A precision jump? That’s unheard of!” A flabbergasted senator cried.

“What other technological terrors do they possess?”

“How can these primitives best our finest?”

“Our fleets are ill equipped to face these new weapons. Never before have we encountered such an advanced permutation of mass driver technology.” Tarkin said.

“And what of the Jedi?” Mon Mothma asked.

“Other than Master Secura, they all perished at the hands of a Terran supersoldier.”

This was met with shock from the senators present.

“Two Jedi killed by a one-man boarding party? Preposterous!” One shouted.

“Unfortunately, the Jedi leave much to be desired in regards to being equipped to deal with slugthrower weaponry.” Tarkin stated. “One of the Jedi Masters was scarcely able to draw his lightsaber before being killed.” 

“Those savages!” Another cried.

“They must be stopped at any cost!”

“There will be order!” Mas Amedda yelled, quickly bringing an end to the commotion.

“Admiral, would you say the Terrans represent a credible threat to the existence of the Republic?” Halle Burtoni asked.

“Yes, Senator. I have seen what they are capable of firsthand. We mustn’t downplay this threat. We will need new ships, new weapons, and new men capable of fighting the Terrans.” Tarkin finished.

“Thank you for your statement, Admiral Tarkin, but I have some questions for you, Captain Piett.” Bail said.

Piett shifted his stance uneasily. “Of course, Senator Organa.” He gulped.

“You were the acting commander of the fleet after Admiral Tarkin’s flagship had been boarded, correct?”

“Yes, Senator.”

“Would you tell the members of this Senate what occurred shortly before you retreated?”

Piett froze momentarily. “After I had achieved a…” Piett paused. “An orbital firing position for a base delta zero, I had given the Terran fleet an ultimatum. Surrender, or bombard their positions.”

Organa raised his brow at this. “This stalled them?”

“Yes, Senator, long enough for our forces on the ground to evacuate and the fleet to regroup, at which point I had slaved the controls of the ships to mine for a coordinated hyperspace jump.”

“What prompted your decision to retreat, Captain?”

“A fresh Terran fleet arrived shortly thereafter, at which point I…” Piett paused in the middle of his sentence.

“What did you do, Captain?” Senator Onaconda Farr asked.

“This line of questioning has gone on far enough, Senators.” Mas Amedda interrupted. “The Captain is a hero who has gone through enough this week.”

Bail suspected Piett was hiding something, but what? It was a common enough maneuver, especially in regards to planetary assault.

‘Perhaps the man is just shaken from battle. But what else could it be?’ Bail thought.

Halle Burtoni swiftly took the limelight in an expertly executed maneuver only a career politician could make, interrupting Bail’s thoughts. “I move to immediately deregulate the banks, and in light of the recent battle with the vulnerabilities it has raised, I propose the Republic purchase an additional 5 million legions of Clone troopers.”

In what Bail guessed could only be an attempt to steal Burtoni’s thunder, Orn Free Taa was quick to try and seize the moment from her in the commotion. “I motion to grant the Chancellor further emergency powers to expand the Republic military!”

It was a rare sight to see Senator Taa exert that much effort in the Senate in a single moment.

“The Republic is already operating in deep debt. How do you propose we pay for these additional troops?” Bail inquired, hoping to ignore the Twi'lek senator.

“My people are drafting an emergency appropriations bill that would raise funds from the Banking Clan in order to fund the expense.”

“Even at their standard interest rate of ten percent, that loan would bring us into tremendous debt. Coupled with the loosening of restrictions proposed in Senator Saam’s bill, it would lead to an economic crisis which we would be hard pressed to recover from.”

“Nonsense!” Senator Mot-Not Rab barked, standing up and slamming his fist down. “We need a bank loan to get more troops, now!”

“What are we waiting for?” Senator Zinn Paulness angrily asked. “For the Terrans to attack us where we stand?!”

“I’m afraid we’ve been given little choice.” Chancellor Palpatine sorrowfully said. “To ensure the safety of the Republic, we must deregulate the banks.”

His statement was met with the resounding voices of an overwhelming majority of supportive senators.

Bail put his palm to his forehead.

“We shall take Senator Saam’s Financial Reform Bill to a vote then.” Mas Amedda announced. “Senators! Cast your votes now!”

Bail shot up with renewed vigor. “Vice Chancellor, I must object! The Senate must be given time to deliberate over these sorts of decisions!” Bail protested.

“Is this not a democracy?” The sleazy Neimoidian Trade Federation senator, Lott Dod, questioned. “Are you afraid things will not go to your liking?”

Jeers were thrown out by senators, many of them directed towards Bail.

“Listen to what is being proposed! Now that we are even more engrossed in conflict, your solutions are more war? More fighting?” Bail accused. “Senators, please be reasonable, we will hardly be able to say the Republic will enjoy the fruits of peace if its people are left in the dirt and our coffers are laid barren. We cannot ever expect an end to the fighting by seeking only to prolong it!”

Palpatine abruptly cut Bail short, only vaguely responding to his concerns. “I promise you as I’ve promised before, once this crisis is over I shall give up the emergency powers so graciously entrusted to me by this honorable Senate. My only wish is to ensure the continued safety and survival of our great Republic, to which the Terrans represent a massive threat and thus must be stopped! I guarantee you all, I will use any further emergency powers granted to me in order to protect our Republic, our democracy, and our future.”

Thunderous applause broke out at the Chancellor’s statement. “Palpatine! Palpatine!” The Senate cheered.

Bail slinked back in his pod towards Mon Mothma and other like minded senators who shared his sentiments. He would have to consult them as a last resort. There was simply nothing he could do to reason with the particular breed of sycophants that had all come to nest within the abode of the Galactic Senate on the occasion when they all grew bold enough to enter into the open.

“Order!” The cheers died down. “Is it settled then, Senators? Shall you cast your votes?” Mas Amedda asked.

Bail moved to the front. “I can only object, Vice Chancellor.” He cast a glance at Lott Dod. “This is indeed a democracy, senators. But a democracy without reason would only be a government ruled by a mob. I know you are all reasonable individuals which is why I hope you will listen. Think about those who you represent. What do these proposals mean? More fighting, more debt, more suffering. For what? Not for their sake, but for the sake of winning? Even if you disagree with me, as is your right to, we should let cooler heads prevail. I motion to temporarily postpone the vote to tomorrow, so that we all may make an informed and intelligent decision.”

Bail knew his resistance was most likely not going to go far and that those bills were probably going to be passed anyways, but it was his duty to defend the integrity of the Republic no matter the odds.

The senate fell silent, as if a perfectly reasonable request left everyone too stunned to speak.

Palpatine broke the silence. “I see, Senator Organa. Due to the gravity of the situation, the Financial Reform Bill and the other motions will be postponed for consideration until tomorrow. The senate is adjourned.”

Bail breathed a sigh of relief, but he knew it was just an act of appeasement to assuage the uneasiness of those aligned to Bail and the greater peace movement within the Senate.

Tomorrow, all it might take for the Senate to grant Palpatine more emergency powers, powers which he almost certainly would use to immediately pass the Financial Reform bill alongside a plethora of other military related legislation, would simply be a brief vote.

Now more than ever, Bail found he needed the support of Padmé, but she was nowhere to be found.

Jabiim, 20 Kilometers Northeast Of Cobalt Station

CT-43-8785, known as Ooze to his brothers, was having another miserable day on what he thought was the worst post in the entire Grand Army of the Republic. The rain of Jabiim grated him to no end. 

Despite his bodyglove being ostensibly waterproof, insulated, and self-cleaning, he found himself drenched, cold, and covered in mud after each mission. Though the medical staff at base told him it was just the stress and adrenaline of patrolling that made him break into a cold sweat, he opted to blame the shoddy supply lines on the planet.

“This is the third patrol we've been on this week, and still no seppies.” Ooze complained, tightening his grip on the pintle mounted E-Web his unit had jerry rigged onto the observation mast of the HAVw A6 Juggernaut.

“I wouldn’t be complaining brother, I want to get back to base in one piece.” Another one of his fellow clones, named Scrap, said over the radio.

“Yeah, we’re so lucky to have a chance to die here so some greasy senator gets a fat paycheck from his share of the mining company.” Ooze said, sarcastically.

“Stop your yapping boys, prime spot for an ambush coming up!” Their sergeant said.

Ooze braced himself, it would be an uncomfortable ride in the spotter tower with the Juggernaut bearing down at full speed.

“Nothing ever happens on this Force forsaken hell hole. Nothing except rain.” He muttered to himself.

Ooze was wrong. The drive shaft on the Juggernaut creaked, before shattering. The vehicle lurched to a halt and Ooze was pressed into the railing circling his tower.

“Is everyone okay?” The vehicle’s commander asked over the commlink.

Ooze spun his turret mount to and fro, searching for targets. It smelt like an ambush.

“Fierfek!” One of the crewmen shouted over the commlink. “The drive shaft is bantha fodder. It’ll be a few hours for us to fix it in the field.”

That piece of news slightly cooled Ooze’s nerves, they weren’t under attack.

“We’ll be sitting ducks out here!” Ooze’s sergeant protested.

“Well, we’re not hoofing it back to base. We wait here.” The commander said.

Some time passed as some of the troopers dismounted to set up a defensive perimeter, Ooze monotonously keeping his weapon on a swivel across the terrain.

“Hey.” Scrap said.

“Yeah?” Ooze replied.

“You ever wonder why we’re here?”

Ooze never got a chance to respond.

General Alto Stratus

From ear to ear General Alto Stratus grinned as he saw his new weapons in action. It was an impromptu sortie with the Nimbus commandos behind Republic lines into their supply routes.

A Clone turbo tank identified by his scouts broken down in the mud was a prime target.

At first, the Terrans objected to the deployment of their weaponry since the Jabiimites had yet to complete their training. However, they eventually relented provided they were able to accompany the commandos.

Riding on the backs of unlucky Nimbus troopers, the Terrans came along with the raiding party.

After infiltrating through the many gaps in the Republic’s frontline, they made their way towards their objective.

Using Terran provided rain smocks which were effective at hiding their thermal signatures, they set to work surrounding the unaware vehicle in secrecy.

Then came the time to attack. One of his commandos killed a spotter on top of a tower armed with an E-Web using one of the Terran made sniper rifles, that turret would’ve wreaked havoc on his men.

Nearly a dozen rockets simultaneously fell upon the rotary turret alone, taking it out of action by severely warping the barrels.

Nimbus commandos, armed with Terran and blaster weapons alike, swarmed the unprepared perimeter, brutally dismantling their defense.

Stratus himself joined the fray, tackling an oblivious Clone and stabbing him in his unarmored neck while one of his commandos turned another into a bloody mess with a burst from a Terran assault rifle.

Another one of his commandos unfortunately met his end after fumbling with the magazine on his Terran rifle, being shot in close quarters by a Republic trooper.

Stratus was quick to avenge the man, punching the man’s helmet off before plunging his blade into his skull.

Blaster fire sporadically shot forth, the hapless Clones unable to acquire their obscured thermal signatures. Their defense began to collapse, some Clones standing in place firing wildly, others choosing to retreat to the safety of the armored behemoth.

With the perimeter evaporating, Stratus’s men swamped over the vehicle using their nimble repulser boots, quickling taking out the exterior laser turrets.

They climbed all over the vehicle, probing every hatch for possible openings. They had no weapons heavy enough to pierce through its thick armor plating, they would have to get lucky with an unsecured hatch.

It was a short while before they found one such entry point, stuck open due to the body of a clone blocking its closing. The Nimbus commandos quickly stormed the interior of the tank, dispatching the clones who were desperately trying to close the opening before spraying down more with ruthless efficiency using the Terran slugthrowers. Stratus was the tenth man down into the vehicle, slashing through multiple crewmembers. Colonel Mazzi hit an unfortunate clone with a sonic blast from his Seperatist made rifle, slamming the poor man into a bulkhead while liquifying his organs. Another commando fired wildly from the hip, the barrel flashing in the dark corridor as clone after clone fell.

Through the chaotic corridors, they made their way to both cockpits on opposite sides of the tank, clearing each module of the vehicle one by one. Stratus nearly caught a blaster bolt to the face, were it not for the point man in front of him who was struck in the head. Driven by anger, Stratus brutalized the Clone who killed the man, striking away his weapon and stabbing him between the arm and chest armor plating.

Soon after, the battle was over. They did a quick sweep of the vehicle for any stragglers and ransacked whatever supplies they could carry on their backs. Before departing, they rigged it to blow using the onboard tibanna stores.

Stratus appreciated the aid of their newfound allies, their weapons would be most useful to his cause, and he made his approval known to the Terran observers.

As he glided across the muddy plains of his home planet, Stratus didn’t so much as look back as the tank went up in a shrieking fireball.

Coruscant, 79's

Piett downed another shot of his drink, letting out a heavy sigh.

His conscience had come back to haunt him. In the midst of the fighting, the fire control systems of some of the turbolaser turrets had been damaged, enough to offset their aim by entire kilometers. With the whole of the fleet’s firepower slaved to the controls of his own ship, the majority of the salvos missed their mark. Thousands of plasma bolts rained down, not upon Terran soldiers, but upon civilians sheltering inside their homes. He had barely time to process what had happened before he made the jump to hyperspace.

Out of the corner of his eye, Piett noticed a pair of Coruscant Guard troopers walk into the cantina and make their way towards him.

He was paralyzed in his seat. He thought for sure he’d be detained, he’d be tried, he’d be sent to prison, or worse, for what he’d done to the Terrans. Thankfully, he wasn’t too far down the bottle.

“Sir, the Chancellor has requested your presence. Come with us.” The lead Clone said.

Piett tensed up, but also relaxed at the same time. He allowed himself to be escorted out of the building and into a patrol gunship, accompanied by the mocking remarks of drunk troopers on leave all throughout the bar.

It was a short trip to the Chancellor’s office. Captain Piett hesitantly entered the room.

“Chancellor, you wanted to see me?” He said.

“Indeed, Captain Piett. It would be best for you to remain outside of the public eye.” Palpatine said ominously. “As a… reward for your salvaging of the operation, you are being reassigned to Project Sarlacc under Admiral Ozzel, effective immediately.”

“I understand, thank you Chancellor.” Piett said, greatly relieved.

Piett promptly left the room after being excused by the Chancellor. His relief was twofold. He would not be punished for his conduct on the battlefield, and wouldn’t have to face the Terrans in combat again.

Fighting them again would mean near certain death, or worse, capture.

Piett shuddered at the thought of what the Terrans would do to him.

Chapter Text

AN: I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year!

Thank you to the guest that wrote that really long ‘rant’. I honestly wish more people made effort posts like that. I feel like my writing is more ‘wobbly’ since there is no skeleton to work off of in the form of the original. So please don’t hesitate to critique it.

One MAJOR change I’ve made (rather hesitantly I might add) is for Piett’s Base Delta Zero to have been unintentional. IMO it makes him more in line with his character as portrayed in the movies/EU. He’s not really shown to be super ruthless. Another thing I’d like to change is combine Delta Squad’s Geonosis chapter into chapter 2, making for betting pacing, but that’s probably not going to happen.

UNSC PRIORITY TRANSMISSION 83413T-39

Encryption Code: Gamma

Public Key: N/A

From: Rear Admiral Jan Mengel, Surgeon General of the UNSC Navy (UNSC Service Number: 10329-51221-JM)

To: CINCONI Admiral Serin Osman (UNSC Service Number: 39489-72738-SO)

Subject: Andromedan Blood Samples

Classification: EYES ONLY TOP SECRET

Blood samples of surviving Republic POWs match with preliminary autopsies of KIA. 100% of sampled individuals contain cells genetically similar to Inferi redivivus LF.Xx.3273 supercells. Further study is underway.

Civilian population immunization to Andromeda bacteria and viruses nearly complete via water supply.

Strongly recommend against allowing HIGHCOM to turn over killed and captured Republic personnel to the Confederacy of Independent Systems Dagu facility.

Bacta compound manufacturing plant nearly complete, experimental production batch underway aboard the UNSC Hopeful awaiting HIGHCOM approval before mass production.

Republic General Shaak Ti remains under detention, medical care, and study.

Coruscant, Republic Executive Building, Chancellor’s Suite, Private Office

Sidious couldn’t help but grin as Captain Piett left his office. He knew the Terrans would no longer accept any offer of peace given to them by the Republic. The rather unfortunate loss was beginning to play out in Palpatine’s favor. The Senate would not be convinced by the burgeoning peace movement in view of the threat posed by the Republic’s newfound enemies, but quite on the contrary would soon accept the measures necessary to achieve a swift victory and establish a lasting peace.

However, the situation could easily grow out of hand.

The unique technology possessed by the Terrans freed them from the shackles of hyperlanes, allowing them to bypass strongpoints and strike anywhere with ease. 

More forces would have to be mobilized, new weapons devised, and tactics revised or created in order to meet the shifting demands of war.

‘The Senate is tightly within my grasp.’ Sidious thought. ‘No matter what Senator Amidala will present tomorrow when she arrives, the war will continue on for as long as I need.’

He would surely be able to pass whatever bills he wanted soon enough. His first order of business would be to reduce the Senate’s ability to interfere with military affairs, then a massive military expansion was in order.

If he was to truly reform the military once again, he needed a brilliant mind with suitable martial prowess, who was well acquainted with alien territory, and had the tenacity to achieve victory under any circumstance.

Darth Sidious knew just the men to talk to; men like Admiral Tarkin, Raith Sienar, Walex Blessex, and another who he had not talked to in years.

Palpatine was getting ahead of himself, for now, he would remain content with the way current events were fast unfolding to his benefit.

Reclining in his seat and tapping his fingers together rhythmically, Sidious began to plot his next course of action.

Reach, Highland Mountains, FLEETCOM Military Complex

“As you could’ve guessed, this is Taris.” Admiral Stanforth began, gesturing to the holographic projection. “Home of the Republic Tenth Sector Army, headquarters for over a quarter million Clone troopers, as well as the staging ground for their attack on Alpha Rendara.”

Admiral Stanforth once more motioned towards the display. “Your primary targets will be the planetary shield array and air defense grid, shown here. The targets of secondary importance are the sensor and communications array mostly located on the upper levels. Your final objective will be their groundside headquarters. You will be inserted via prowler deployed LRSOIPs directly after the conclusion of Operation Suckerpunch’s first phase. Master Chief, I’m needed with the rest of the admiralty, if you’d like to take over the briefing?”

“Yes sir.” John nodded, striding over to the front of the amphitheater from behind the Admiral, who exchanged a salute with the Spartan before departing.

John proceeded with the rest of the briefing. “We’ll be coming in fifteen minutes before Fleet Admiral Cole’s fleet arrives. Teams Blue and Green will infiltrate the planet to ensure the planetary shield generator stays down. Teams Red, Crimson, and Majestic will handle their anti air net. Teams Bailey and Gold will deal with their sensor and communication arrays. Team Jackhammer will be the first to infiltrate their local planetary HQ. Team leads will fill in the particular details. We embark in five hours. Blue Team, meet me at armory seven. Spartans, dismissed!”

The seated supersoldiers stood up and began to filter out of the amphitheater in an orderly fashion.

John lingered for a minute, shortly reflecting on the fact that he now occupied the role Chief Mendez once did, before following the rest of the group.

The hallways seemed to be clogged with a mass of the armored soldiers passing through, yet their movements were so precise and coordinated so as to not once jam the passageways.

John made his way to the armory and was greeted by the sight of the other members of Blue Team gearing up. They were on track to clear the room of everything in short order, snagging things like C-7 charges, sterile field generators, and spare armor modules. Things which would be inexpedient to have fabricated onboard a warship during a prolonged campaign.

Kelly was the first to greet his arrival. “John.”

“Kelly.” John greeted before glancing towards the others. “Fred, Linda.”

“John.” Linda simply nodded.

“Glad to have you back John.” Fred acknowledged.

“Glad to be back.” John replied. Indeed he was, to be on solid ground, to be on Reach, the planet which was essentially home to the Spartan-IIs.

“You don’t look any worse for the wear.” Fred remarked. “Jedi don’t typically leave their enemies in one piece.”

“Neither do we.” Linda said, riding the bolt on her personalized SRS99-S5 back and forth once to ensure its smooth function.

John knew that the Jedi had come close to killing him by holding him in place with her telekinetic abilities, a situation which he wouldn’t let happen again to himself, let alone to any of his team.

“They’re tough, but not invincible.” John remarked.

‘Just like us.’ That was the unspoken thought shared between John and the rest of Blue Team at that statement.

John plucked a fresh M6D Magnum off the rack, the first opportunity he’s had to do so since his previous one was destroyed. “We’ll encounter Jedi in the future, one nearly killed me. They’ll make you think on your feet, so be prepared.”

“We’ll have your back next time.” Kelly said as she cleared the action of her shotgun. “I don’t know what NAVSPECWEP was thinking, deploying you alone.”

John doubted that someone higher up in the chain of command was trying to get him killed, not that that was what Kelly was suggesting. “It was a test.” A test of new armor, new weapons, for a new war which might not be so different from the last.

“And he certainly wasn’t alone.” Cortana added, projecting herself from John’s armor.

“Cortana, how nice of you to join us.” Fred said.

“I get lonely.” Cortana responded. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

Coruscant, Coruscant Spaceport

As she departed alongside Ahsoka from the cargo ship, Padmé noticed Anakin out in the distance, far from the terminal. He was waiting for them both, it seemed.

She tried her hardest to suppress her smile as she neared closer and closer.

“Anakin.” She greeted him. “I see you’ve come to collect your padawan.”

“I’m sorry your talks with Bonteri failed.” Anakin cast a dirty look on Ahsoka.

“How did you know?” She asked, surprised.

“We have eyes and ears everywhere Ahsoka. That was dangerous and careless going to Raxus, not to mention illegal.” He shot a stern look at Padmé. “You went too far this time.” He started to walk with them.

“You would do the same, you do the same all the time.” Ahsoka protested.

“This was too much.” Anakin scolded.

“Maybe so. But I did realize something. The politics of this war are not as black and white as I once thought they were.” Ahsoka responded.

Both Padmé and Anakin gave somewhat approving looks at this.

“Well, I expect an extensive report of your reconnaissance mission behind enemy lines by tomorrow morning.”

“It’s already past midday!”

“Well, you better hurry.”

Ahsoka shook her head and started to sprint for the nearest air taxi.

“Anakin, you should really go easier on her, it was my idea after all and-”

Her sentence was cut short by a kiss from Anakin.

She broke away after a while to scold him. “Anakin! Not in public!” She exclaimed in a half whisper.

“What? We might not see each other as often, with the war escalating and all.”

Padmé ashamedly cast her glare downwards before smirking at him. “Well, we better get going.”

Anakin grinned before Padmé continued. “I need to speak with Senator Organa. It’s important.”

Reach, Highland Mountains, FLEETCOM Military Complex, HIGHCOM

“I’ve authorized the temporary closing of half of Reach’s civilian tethers for the Army to get their heavy equipment onboard faster. The shipping companies weren’t happy with it, but they’ll be reopened within the week. The loading of personnel will occur over these next three days before the jump on UNSC tethers only.” Admiral Roland Freemont said.

“Great thinking Admiral. That will alleviate the strain on our spacelift capabilities.” General Dellert said over the live feed. “The Air Force will pick up any slack the Navy leaves us in that regard.”

“How much of our supply are we projected to expend in the first year of deployment?” Admiral Stanforth asked.

“About twenty five percent, without any resupply. We’ve been able to narrow down our predictions by a substantial margin thanks to the experience gleaned from Admiral White’s engagement.” Admiral Davis of the Logistical Operations Command, also known as NAVLOGCOM or the Logistical Corps, said while glancing towards Admiral White.

Admiral White gave him a slight nod.

“What about the preparations at Boz Pity?” Fleet Admiral Hood asked.

“We’ve finished well ahead of schedule, the refit stations are waiting for Fleet Admiral Cole as we speak.” Vice Admiral Dubois replied. Dubois was the particular NAVLOGCOM officer in charge of overseeing the smooth function of the Andromeda campaign’s supply lines.

“I’ve particularly ensured the allocation of enough replacement weaponry, ammo, and food for our units on the ground, in the air, and in space which should be adequate for three years. The three years having been for a simulated conflict with twice the current intensity.” Admiral Davis said.

“Betcha those ain’t four star accommodations either.” Admiral Whitcomb whispered to Admiral White. 

White gave an amused grunt. Whitcomb was one of the few of the top brass that wasn’t grated by his temperament, due in part from the fact they both hailed from Texas.

“Thank you for your caution, Admiral. Fleet Admiral Hood, does that cover all our bases? May I proceed?” General Nicolas Strauss of the UNSC Army asked.

“Go ahead, General.”

“We expect light resistance from Republic forces in our initial groundside assault on Taris.”

Admiral White waited for the catch, a planetary invasion was never straightforward.

“However.” Strauss continued. “During initial contact, our units will likely be facing a mixed bag of elite Clone units interspersed with what is essentially low quality planetary militia. As they consolidate and reorganize, our forces will begin to face extreme resistance as early as twelve hours from initial contact due to the heavy urban terrain. If everything goes well, we will be able to turn over the campaign to the Confederate military within a week. While General Hogan and I expect the fleet to maintain orbital supremacy, there is a possibility of Republic reinforcements reaching the planet.”

“ONI prowler intel shows heavy fleet movements concentrated around the Taris system.” Admiral Whitcomb pointed out. “Signal Corps has drawn off some of them, but my fleet’s attack coordinated with the Confederate Navy should be able to draw off their strength and then link up all the way down the Hydian route with Fleet Admiral Cole’s battlegroup.”

“Intel also shows no chance of a Republic spoiling attack at Boz Pity. The system’s too deep behind allied lines for them to reach.” Admiral Stanforth reported. “I will still stay in reserve as planned, in case the attack goes south.”

White had to envy Captain Haithum who was probably spending his shore leave with his family instead of sitting through meetings, but such was the life of a flag officer.

He glanced towards Fleet Admiral Preston Cole, who was writing down notes on his datapad as diligently as ever. White noticed that Cole had never taken a break in wartime, whether it was against the Covenant, or now against the so-called Galactic Republic.

“The Harvest and Midguard staging areas are finishing the middle stage of their preparations. Fleet Admiral Cole, how are the preparations coming along at Reach?” Lord Hood questioned.

Cole’s head snapped up. “Everything is on schedule. Almost all elements have reported in, but I’m still awaiting Rear Admiral Lasky’s arrival with the Infinity and her battlegroup before I begin final maintenance checks throughout the fleet.”

“The Infinity should arrive within the hour, she just left Sol. Her energy weapon refit took a little longer than anticipated due to the damage she sustained in deployment with the Eternity over the Ark.” Admiral Serin Osman of the Office of Naval Intelligence said.

White caught a vestige of a grimace in Cole’s face, but the man simply nodded instead.

“Thank you for keeping me informed, Admiral.” Cole said, glancing towards Admiral White. “Shore leave for Admiral White’s men ends in two days. After all that, we will be ready for departure.”

“I look forward to it, Fleet Admiral.” White said with imperceptible sarcasm.

“I call this meeting adjourned gentlemen.” Lord Hood said. With that, everyone got up to leave.

After exchanging pleasantries with the other officers of various branches, he departed for his luxurious officer’s quarters.

“Admiral White.” He heard a familiar voice call to him in the hall.

He turned around. “Fleet Admiral Cole, sir.”

“I am glad to be working with you again, but I want to make it clear that you will not be pulling any stunts like what you did to those prisoners. They had nothing to do with what happened. Let’s get revenge on these Republic bastards the right way.”

“Yes sir.”

Cole nodded, and strode off.

In his quarters, White was reading a report of the repairs, personnel transfers, and rearming of the Warhound and the rest of his fleet that had survived intact enough to be worth fixing.

He imagined that Cole was doing similar checks, probably for each individual ship in the fleet down to the last Longsword and Pelican. After he finished, he promptly fell asleep.

It was only an hour or two before he woke up with a start. 

He was having a dream about his brother. His brother, the ODST that never made it home. White was sitting in a packed city square, an amalgamation of all the ones he’s seen before, the faces of the people blurred together, but his brother was at the forefront.

Then came the fire from the sky. The fire from the sky which boiled away every layer of flesh, muscle, and bone. He could only watch as his brother and the thousands of others faded away into slag.

White leapt out of his bed and reached for his cigar humidor. It was full of knockoff Sweet William cigars, he actually preferred their taste to the real things.

He clenched the unlit cigar within his mouth before taking a seat and pulling up his datapad to access the latest intelligence report on Republic force deployments, ship schematics, and their version of the Extra Planetary Wide Web.

‘Where are you, you bastard.’ He thought to himself. ‘Gotcha.’

He had stumbled on a news piece about Republic officers appearing before their Senate. White tapped through his pad. He came to an image of two men giving their report. The shorter one was who he was really after. White estimated the man’s height to be between five foot four to five foot eight, the man who had glassed the colony alongside the hundred thousand civilians White was supposed to protect, who was the reason thousands that were under his command would never come home, and who was the reason this war might not end peacefully.

He furrowed his brow. ‘Captain Firmus Piett. I’m coming to kill you, you son of a bitch.’

Coruscant, Senate Building

“Bail, I need to speak with you.” Padmé said with more than a hint of urgency while accompanied by her aide, Teckla Minnau.

“As do I.” Bail replied, twisting to face the doorway from his chair. “A great deal has happened in your absence.”

Bail motioned for the two to take a seat, which Padmé happily took while Teckla remained standing.

“The Separatists are still deliberating on whether or not to offer us peace, Bail. They seem confident in the Terrans' ability to win them this war.” Padmé’s voice seemed to grow lower and lower.

“No surprise, especially after this debacle of an invasion.”

She lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Bail, that fleet scorched one of their colonies.”

Bail covered his mouth and stood, turning to face outside the window.

Bail turned around. “That can’t be true, when has the Republic ever done anything like that during this entire war?” He asked, exasperated. “Where did you learn of this?”

“I spoke with Mina, Bail. I saw the broadcasts on the Shadowfeed when I was coming back. It’s gone.”

“Senator Bonteri?” Bail scoffed. “How can you be sure it's not just propaganda?”

“Trust me, Bail. Please. Haven’t they delivered their declaration of war to the Senate?”

“No. The Terrans haven’t. If they have, we haven’t been shown it yet.” Bail let out a long and frustrated sigh. “What were they thinking? When we had a real chance at peace after all these years? It doesn’t make sense!”

“It doesn’t make sense to me, either.” Padmé said. “Bail, we have to bring this to the Senate. Even if many of them haven’t listened to us before, it could change some minds about the war.”

Bail’s face seemed to lighten. “This news might still help us stop the war and bring peace firmly back onto the table. You and I both know the Senate can’t ignore such a gross breach of civilized behavior in wartime from our own forces. The Senate might accept a reconciliation, but our enemy?”

“With the Terrans’ history, they will never forget this, or let any of the galaxy forget this for that matter.” Padmé said, downtrodden.

“You’re right.” Bail sighed. “Even if we can’t stop the war now, we can still try to prevent it from escalating even further.”

“This might just be what we need to plead our case.”

“Bring it up as a last resort, it’s risky since our opponents would use it as ammunition to call your allegiances into doubt.”

“They use everything as ammunition to call my allegiance into doubt.” Padmé pointed out.

“I know, but this session is crucial. I don’t want to derail the whole debate by giving them something to latch onto.”

“Alright, when does the Senate assemble?”

Bail glanced at the wall mounted chronometer. “We have two hours to prepare before the Financial Reform Bill and the other motions are put up for a vote. It will take a while to even explain everything that’s happened while you were gone.”

Padmé glanced at Teckla, then turned towards Bail. “Then we have no time to lose.”

Reach, Highland Mountains, FLEETCOM Military Complex

John, flanked by the rest of Blue Team, made his way through the halls leading to the base’s spaceport. Even travelling in single file, the Mjolnir clad Spartans carrying enough equipment to furnish a combat engineer platoon took up nearly a third of the corridor.

Following the waypoint in his HUD and his memory of the base, John took a right. After ascending a slight but long grade in the metal flooring, they were met with the sight of hundreds of dropships arrayed before them. Fleet Admiral Cole wanted the Spartans to be ready to go aboard the Infinity as expediently as possible, thus necessitating the foregoing of traveling aboard one of Reach’s space elevators.

Beyond the airfield were the Highland Mountains, another familiar sight to the Spartan-IIs.

“It’s been a while since all of us Twos were in one place, hasn’t it?” Fred said, swiftly falling silent.

Fred was right, the last time they were all gathered on the same planet was during the Battle of Reach.

“War has its way of bringing us together.” John said, readjusting the strap on one of the duffle bags swaying across his chestplate.

Very swiftly, memories began to flow through John’s mind. The return from Sigma Octanus IV, preparing for Operation: RED FLAG, boarding the Long Night of Solace , fighting for weeks on end throughout the system, discovering Halo, staying behind to destroy it, FIRST STRIKE, the Battle for Earth, the Ark, Requiem, Cortana.

Though John hoped they would all be able to see each other once again, there  was simply no telling how this war would play out. The UNSC was resilient, robust, and knew almost everything important about the Galactic Republic. However, the Republic had half a galaxy at their disposal.

There were only three responses John considered. Attacking in full force at their weakest point before they could muster a response, engage in unconventional warfare to nullify the advantage found in numbers or wait for reinforcements, or surrender.

A surrender, or even a tentative peace agreement, was an unlikely prospect. The UNSC would fight to the bitter end after the destruction of one of Cienna’s cities. That left the first two options on the table. The Republic controlled half a galaxy, the Navy simply didn’t have the ships to spare to cover such a massive front. Thus, they would have to strike with precision to give the Confederacy breathing room. The UNSC was a heavyweight hard hitter lacking the stamina to go the full twelve rounds.

To win would require close cooperation with their newfound Confederate allies, or the destruction of countless military strongpoints with NOVA bombs. The idea of the wholesale killing of other humans made John feel uneasy. The amount of lives at stake were scales of magnitudes above the trillions.

“Remember when Chief Mendez found out we were stealing food from the mess?” Kelly said, taking John out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, only after a whole month of doing it.” Fred smirked beneath his helmet.

“We should’ve listened to Kurt.” Linda remarked.

“It was a strategically sound plan.” John said with a hint of humor.

“Incoming transmission, Chief.” Cortana announced. “It’s Fleet Admiral Cole.”

“Patch him through.”

“Master Chief.” Cole greeted over the COM channel. “I need you, Blue Team, and the rest of the Spartans on board the Infinity ASAP.”

“Consider it done, sir.” John said before the Fleet Admiral cut off the link.

“Let’s move Blue Team, double time!” John barked over the SQUADCOM.

Blue Team picked up their pace to a brisk jog. John opened a secure broadcast to the other teams, informing them of the situation.

Despite being burdened with various bags and pouches, the Spartans seldom made a rattle thanks to the way they fastened their equipment to themselves.

John and the rest of Blue team had hardly thirty seconds to enjoy the warmth and light of Epsilon Eridani before they filed into the interior of a Pelican dropship. Soon after, they dusted off towards the Infinity .

John made a quick mental note to drill his Spartans relentlessly in zero-G combat as soon as they were able to use the Infinity ’s training facilities. It was the closest approximation John could think of to fighting a Jedi. It might just give them the edge they needed in combat.

The Jedi were a variable on the battlefield that would be hard to account for. To John, they seemed to have the ability to generate snags on the fly. Fighting in zero-G and surmounting hazardous terrain were things every Spartan trained for, but the Jedi were an entirely different animal.

The Spartan-IVs came from the best the UNSC had to offer, with some even having served longer than the Spartan-IIs. Despite this, if there was one principle John felt a certain anxiousness to inculcate within them, it would be to think on their feet.

Throughout decades of war, John had personally seen thousands of valiant men snuffed out in an instant. In battle, no plan survives first contact with the enemy, and every life, no matter how well trained, how experienced, or how confident, is to be considered ephemeral.

There was no guarantee of survival for anyone, and John would make sure his Spartans remembered that.

Epsilon Eridani System, Staging Area Alpha

It was the largest fleet ever mustered in Human history. Thousands of ships were arrayed in formation for the big jump to Andromeda. Frigates and destroyers clustered together around cruisers, carriers, and battleships. He had even seen CMA Gorgon and Hillsborough-Class heavy destroyers on patrol throughout the system.

In his whole naval career, only the Battle for the Epsilon Eridani System had come close to matching the amount of UNSC ships Admiral White currently saw present.

Unsurprisingly, the logistics and support vessels took up the bulk of the fleet despite the high tooth to tail ratio the UNSC enjoyed. This would quite possibly be the first time in history anyone had ever undertaken an intergalactic military operation of this scale and magnitude.

Following its repairs, White had gone back onto the Warhound , which was nearly in the exact same condition as it was before the battle save for the plenty of marks painted onto its hull. White colored wedges of various sizes representing its fresh Republic kills from the battle were added next to the bulbous silhouettes signifying Covenant vessels of numerous types.