Yukiko read the document for a moment and nodded. "So the planet will be safe for everyone.. it will also deter your enemy, Red Halo from setting up shop... and ensure continued harmony... I will sign, and commit forces to the Tripartite Alliance, and I will also commit the forces of Shogun Nagama here, to repel the invasion of the unknown forces." With a pen stroke, Yukiko's name was on the document, as was Shirada's and Nagama's.

Regievko signed the document silently, several members of the Cabinet speaking amongst themselves as Regievko ended the war personally. General Vanko was seen staring at the representation of VIRGIL that was standing just a few feet away from the Prime Minister.
"And the pen remains mightier than the sword." Regievko muttered as he placed his signature on the sheet, by the declaration of government, only the Prime Minister was required to sign such an important diplomatic document.

Baltar offered a smile as a banquet of various lamb, fish, and meat dishes was set before them, with the Tri-partite alliance founded, it was time for a feast. "Let's eat!" Baltar said as flunkies placed the food before them. Cain speaking up. "And now we can turn our attention to the matters at hand... how are we going to tackle this invasion before it gets out of hand?" She said before putting a Gyro together.

"We have reason to believe the invasion will get worse before it even thinks of getting better. At least, VIRGIL says so." Vanko spoke softly at the table, VIRGIL himself removing himself to the far edges of the room before he had been recalled.
"Yes, unfortunately. I have sufficient evidence to prove that the Forgotten have returned within the ranks of this "Qua" and are disguising themselves amongst this newest offender."

Yukiko offered a nod. "Unfortunately there's only one functional hyperspace gate, so I can't exactly... be all wooo tsunami... and all that crap." She said as she dug into her meal.

"The forces of Two Shoguns will likely not be enough to combat this new scourge, but the Empire can offer asylum if the tide is too great." She explained, as both Shoguns nodded, then Shirada spoke. "Make that three shoguns." She said with a smile. "I am sure Shogun Kenji, and Shogun Ryu will agree with me, I am sure they'll be all in."

Baltar then nodded. "If it'll get worse then it gets better, then we need more of these Super-PACs... one is likely not enough... but we don't have the military capacity, and the Taiyou are too far away... could we trust UCON with the plans to the Mk II Reverence?"

"It is not the question of outgunning the Qua and the Forgotten, it's simply a matter of -- " VIRGIL was silenced by General Vanko as he placed on hand on the table.
"The Calsites, as we call them, are capable of unimaginable destruction if allowed in number. If we lose the fight in this galaxy, we'll lose the fight in the Taiyou one as well. We need to stop 'em here." Vanko shot his looks toward Regievko, who was covering his mouth with his hand and nodding in agreement.

"If that is the case then we need to make it so. We can celebrate the end of this war, but we must mourn the beginning of another, far more brutal war." Baltar explained. "If we can get Calsite DNA.. if such a thing exists we can begin deciphering their genetic code for better ways to kill them."

Cain then interjected. "If we're going to win this we need to start building ships and making babies." She explained as she brought up a large hologram of a ship that was under construction. "This is the Heaven's Cataract, it's another Mk II PAC Under construction, if we have these in sufficient number... Backed by the ruggedness of the Coalition Military.. we might stand a chance."

"We'll need additional Hyperspace Gates to commit forces here as well." Yukiko explained, garnering nods from both Shoguns. "Director Miyagi will also want a crack at the Calsites."

"We've beaten 'em once, and we can beat 'em again. But we don't know what we can expect this time around. At least, until now." The General waved over to VIRGIL, who gave a curt response before displaying a single-star system on the far edge of the galactic borders, only one small cluster of planets inhabited dead system.
"This is a Guardian Station, one of nearly fifty-thousand situated throughout the rim of the galaxy." Vanko stated, the frame zooming in to display the giant mechanical plates that covered the planet, forming expansive continents of hyper rugged metal and sheets.
"These fleet killers, what they are designed to do, could annihilate any opposing force, in warp or FTL, moving into the galaxy. Its expected that these Guardian arrays haven't been active in over 400 years."

Yukiko nodded. "It explains why the Empire managed to enter this galaxy unchallenged." She said as she turned to Baltar. Then she turned back to the General. "Our Hadron Cannon... if we can get it assembled in this galaxy, we can have it orbit key entry points, it's weapon is unmatched, working on principal of imploding the target on the atomic level by generating a small black hole... though, for your arrays, how would we activate them?"

"That's what we've been attempting to figure out, ever since the Alpha Wars." He replied, looking over to VIRGIL again, who then displayed the circular shape of a dead world suspended in a dual star system. The blackened and charred surface of the planet was a chilling reminder of the deathly cold of space.
"Its speculated that the controls to a command nodule, or the control facilities itself, are located on Calsite dead worlds like this. There are expected to be hundreds throughout the galaxy, dozens alone within Coalition borders." Vanko grumbled, before returning to the display of the Guardian arrays.
"If we can activate these arrays, we'll have a defense against the Calsites, and cut them off before they can grow back into their shoes."

Baltar frowned. "Some of these dead worlds border our outlook stations in this sector... we've just considered them dead worlds and have not investigated them... I could dispatch teams with Naquadah Reactors and ZPMs to try and activate one of the stations... Though our Watchtower defense platforms may also prove useful... as you said these Calsites are already here."

Vanko looked to VIRGIL, who was displaying the sleek silhouette of a Calsite carrier. The AI enhanced the image, showing the vibrant lines of plasma and energy swirling around focal points.
"At the moment, I estimate anywhere from two to three active Calsite tribes operating in the galaxy. The Origins of the Blade and the Swordsman of the Script being two that caught my attention." VIRGIL relayed before displaying a similar Calsite carrier with markings from combat all across the vessel.
"I can only speculate as to the Calsite objectives, but whatever they are looking for will be found on the dead worlds and the shield worlds, such as this one." VIRGIL displayed a lush green, forested planet on the edges of the galactic arms.
"These shield worlds serve as the power generators for the Guardian array, somehow generating the power needed to operate the platforms."

2nd Marine Division
3rd Regiment
2nd Battalion
Bravo Company
3rd Platoon
Staff Sergeant Jacob J. Strieker




The Insurgency was in full bloom, against the swirling dust and rugged outcropping of northern Afghanistan, the 3rd Regiment, the entire formation numbering just under three hundred and sixty thousand marines, rolled across the border between Tajikistan and Afghanistan. Striking through Fazyabad and cementing their front line in the city of Taloqanand Kunduz, the marines of 2nd Battalion had found themselves at the cutting point of the Coalition drive into the near East. While Afghanistan and the surrounding countries were strategically useless, other than their average altitude and ability to provide Coalition engineers with a sufficient place to communicate with the Navy still in orbit, the Muslim nation of Afghanistan was the heart of skirmishes between Hataf, their Scatterran allies Red Halo and the US Military. Smashing their way across a neglible line of resistance at the town of Keshem, the bulk of Red Halo forces in the area, numbering nearly 20,000 fighters and mercenaries, withdrew from their defenses and retreated into the province of Paktia and farhter into the mountainous and lawless eastern territories of Afghanistan. The convoys of armored fighting vehicles and transports had barely began funneling the first direct-action troops of the 2nd Battalion before Halo insurgents began their hit-and-run attacks. Rockets and missiles streaked into the air to swat at the low-flying transports and ground support aircraft launched from the orbiting planet landers, and in hours a thirty-six kilometer ridgeline and valley had become a deathmatch between marines of 2nd Battalion and the Ayatollah Brigade, lead by a band of Halo commanders supplied and reinforced from strategic outposts across the Pakistan border.

"Sir! Contacts left, ridgeline, eighty meters. Assault rifles and launchers identified!" Specialist Basya, operating the SV-9 Claymore transport, shouted out as the Claymore ramped over an overturned Saber, the fresh gaping wounds of an anti-tank round still burning with ferocious intensity even as more rounds fell across the convoy as it speared its way through the valley, sitting ducks for the mortar teams, rocket launchers and anti-tank cannons the fired in a growing crescendo on the high ridgeline three hundred meters above the Coalition force.

"What the hell happened to our air support, I was told we'd have Annihilator's flying gun-runs all damn day!" Staff Sergeant Strieker responded as he yanked the rail-caster to the side, the electronically guided turret onboard responding with mechanical precision and highlighting a thirteen meter large swath of land that was producing the greatest amount of firepower. The dual 30 millimeter cannons churned as Strieker depressed the trigger and fixed his eye to the holographic gunsight as he watched the molten glowing orbs of 30 millimeter cannon fire splash against the hill and sned glowing balls of fire into the inky blue sky. Strieker squeezed off one more burst before adjusting his aim, placing the recticle just narrowly above the ridge and then sending a high-caliber blizzard of cannon fire directly over the formation, where it would hopefully land on the rear-echelon or support personnel and equipment. Several stacatto barks and one perfwhoom announced the destruction of a munitions carrier, long tendrils of burning ordinance and equipment jumped skyward alongside a black tower of smoke. The rocky outcropping of the former mortar pits and gun emplacements chipped and splattered with another burst of fire from the Claymore's weaponry.

"Get an Aruka over there to confirm, those fuckers 're all dead." The Staff Sergeant muttered as he disenaged himself from the weapons display; while the Claymore was beyond all doubt an infantry fighting vehicle, one of the vehicles greatest advantages as its ease of operability; any man or woman who could drive a large truck could pilot the Claymore with efficiency, meaning dedicated personnel to transport infantry and equipment were no longer required, and any soldier, in this case Specialst Basya, could drive while Sergeant Strieker and his sixteen-man squad could shoot, locate the enemy and direct friendlies looking for targets.

"Skullbasher this is Umbrella, I've got a Halo rocket team near that bluff on the right. It's like, five meters, you'll be going right by 'em." The radio was squaking loudly as Strieker stomped his way through the cramped rear cabin. Designed to carry sixteen fully-loaded marines into and out of combat, as well as provide a sustainable firepower to the squad, the Claymore hardly considered creatures comforts for the sixteen marines stuck within the depths of the cabin. Strieker moved his was past the first fireteam, organized into a group of four marines armed with assault rifles and grenades launchers, commanded by Corporal Lemminway. The young Corporal with his distinct Sorukan visage, olive tanned skin and dense brown eyes, was busy breaking apart an energy bar made of hyperdense protein and synthetic carbohydrates. He passed the small chunk of synthetic gunk to a Private who quickly popped the small square into his mouth and began to chew it. His jaws began to smack as Strieker felt the Claymore engage its massive break pads.

"We are oscar-lima Bravo, get your sorry asses in gear and lets get rolling!" Strieker shouted as the ramp of the Claymore released a shriek before dropping away from the protective chassis of the vehicle. Several other Claymore's had followed suit, dropping their ramps and releasing the cramped soldiers out onto the valley floor. Outside, the frigid air burned into him as he glanced around the massive gorge the convoy had placed itself in. Snow capped peaks stretched high overhead, dotted with a mask of snow. Below those, Strieker could easily see the twinkle and flash of mortar tubes, creating a sparkling line of deadly artillery high above battlefield.

"We've got mortars on the high approaches, give those off to air-coordinators. Get us some surgical strikes!" Strieker shouted, pointing up toward one sloping mountaing that turned away from the battlefield farther down the valley. Most of the marines of Bravo squad had already disembarked, the only two remaining being the driver and the soldier bathing a small batch of huts and mud buildings at a turn down the lonely road that weaved through the valley.
"You two, stay here with the Claymore's. Give us fire support and target locations, understand? We'll take those light mortars out!" Strieker shouted, the Specialist giving one quick 'yes sir!' while the gunner simply grunted and continued to fire. Disembarking from the Claymore one final time, the Staff Sergeat quickly heralded his squad toward a fence line separating what appeared to be grazing lands criss-crossed by a primitive mud-structure irrigation system. As soon as they had hopped the fence and hidden themselves amongst tall, swaying reeds, a Corporal down the line had already identified OpFor forces moving along an irrigiation ditch nearly perpendicular to them.
"I see 'em over in the dyke! Four of 'em, rifles spotted." The first marine to fire was the Specialist beside him, who snapped the MR-18H up to his shoulder and cut a beam of slugs through the swaying reeds, cutting down two of the fleeing insurgents. Strieker was the next to fire. His MR-18 jumped from the kick of the coils, spraying a three round burst into the Halo's back before spinning him around and onto the ground, where he collided with the murky soil with a splash.

Silence descended on the battleground, only interrupted by the occasional pop-pop-pop of weapons fire. Off in the distance the ground shook from an impact far too powerful for the world to handle. Beyond the ridgeline a giant spout of blackened smoke rose into the air, trailing bright burning spikes of fire. High above in the bare, naked sky bright white contails streaked behind a duo of small black figures, Strieker heard one Private shout something as he threw himself out of the dyke and onto dry ground amongst a patch of reeds.
"God damn, finally getting those surgical strikes! Hell yeah!" Strieker turned his eys skyward, curious to see this evidence for him.







Yankee Team
7th Squadron
Flight UIE
Chief Warrant Officer Jackson West,
Oddball One-Two




"Boom! Never knew what hit 'em, confirm on target, Oddball." Oddball One-Two responded with a jestorous laugh. Sitting nearly three feet in front of the pilot, Oddball One-One, during most missions West and his pilot would rarely have the chance to clearly hear one another. This time was no different, with long tendrils of rocket exhaust painting the ever more obvious picture that the skies were far more dangerous than they appeared to be, both West and his pilot, Lieutenant Chambers, were too busy concentrating on their respective situations to reall converse with one another. Two hours into the assigned close-air support of operations in this province, Yankee Team had already fought its way through two heavily defended mountain peaks, Oddball Two nearly crashing into a mountain side while evading a high-manueverability missile. Over the battlefield, however, CWO West would've gladly stayed in the Hurricane rather than test his luck down on the ground.

"Adjusting for another round." Oddball One-One said curtly, and West placed one hand on the handle nearby his seat to steady himself as the Hurricane rolled, carving delicately through the air and spinning itself onto a new axis before leveling off and providing the high-powered camera that allowed West to drop the full payload of the Hurricane down onto a target nearly eighteen kilometers below him. At this altitude, they had little to fear other than extremely long-range missiles, which could be disposed of considering the distance they would travel to attack.
"Holding position, clear for weapons disposal. LIDAR tags mark friendlies, they'll be marking targets with a radar painter."


Placing his goggles to the housing of the camera module, West was suddenly greeted with a bird's eye view of the entire battlefield. On one sloping ridgeline that fed into a much taller mountain, West could pick out figures as small as ants huddled around rocky outcroppings. Their mortar positions, from the way bright sparks of light jumped from the positions and down into the valley, where they created an ugly brown pimple of dirt on the valley floor. Panning the camera to the side, the first of six parked Claymore's were marked with LIDAR strobes, bright pulses of light that nearly caused him discomfort when he saw them. Farther beyond that, over what appeared to be a separator, possibly a fence or wall, a small fourteen man team weaved their way through a batch of high grass or tall fauna, identified by the same blinking strobes as the Claymore, West made a mental note of the most forward unit of marines.
"Spotted an anti-tank gun, arming Hammerhead ... Hammerhead away." The Hurricane groaned loudly as the farthest weapons bay, rigged into the right wing, released the GBU into freefall. West quickly identified the bomb as it fell towards the earth, a small navigation unit designed to follow the radar beam and 'ride' it home began to jingle and adjust the dumb bomb's direction before it broke the ten kilometer distance, where it then activated the ramjet in the end of the missile and it impacted at a disasterous velocity. The marine team, sixty meters from the anti-tank emplacement, were stopped dead in their tracks as the thousand pound A6 warhead slammed into the soft dirt and nylon netting pillbox that housed the emplacement itself. The earth responded with a giant rumble as the missile impacted, atomizing the entire crew and gun before dispering itself in a giant dust cloud above the irrigation field.

"Confirm on the hit, Bravo." West inquired, toggling a small slider and zooming out, gaining a much broader scope of the battlefield. With that tank pit removed, the companies worth of marines could funnel their focus through the breach in the line provided by Oddball.
"Total confirmation on that last delivery, Oddball! Hit those fuckers right in the face!" The marine's voice was sparked with intensity, obviously one of the men that had witnessed the impact from their position in the reeds. West pounded one hand against the hull of the Hurricane, a sign to Chambers of their success.
"Affirmative on the call, Bravo, reloading ordinance. Designate the next target."





1st Fleet
9th Operations Group
Uniform Element
CNS Jainin Harbor
CB Sirona class Sigma Cruiser



The bulk of the 350 meter long supercruiser loomed nearby the transport, flanked to the rear by another duo of Assault Frigates. Inhaling the crisp mist that was clinging to the air, in the battle of Sol the J-H's coolant system had taken a strike from a Battlestar. It had only been last week that it had been finally repaired, yet the climate control systems were still damaged, resulting in the temperature drop that affected nearly a two quarters of the starship. Thankfully, the Navy provided a full compliment of clothing, and the patrol jacket emblazoned with the logo of the Navy provided a good counter to the cold.
"Give me an update on the convoy train, Jainin. Where 're we on the leg?" Captain Yammara inquired, pushing his hands into his pockets as the first of three displays blinked into life beside him. Several seconds later the starship's on-board AI activated its avatar before responding.

"My estimation puts Uniform six thousand kilometers out to the rendezvous point. Due to the heightened tensions on Terra, Naval Command has ordered that all supplies be directed through orbital lanes above the eastern hemisphere of the globe." Captain Yammara reviewed a logistical document, ten transports in the Uniform convoy, capable of each carrying eleven-thousand, five hundred and twenty marines, were to resupply the bulk of the Territorial Coalition Command Authority and then transfer the transports off to a return convoy that would escort them to the edge of Coalition space. With the TCCA waging a covert mission against other factions on Terra, disrupting the spread of the Halo insurrection outside of TCCA territory and containing the ones that already exist, General Vanko was hard pressed to provide security for the incoming convoys. However, following the Aschen withdrawl and the establishment of the Tripartite, the Navy was one of the few branches of the Coalition military that didn't have to worry about an attritional war or lack of effective supplies from the Outer Rim to the TCCA.

"Understood, align us on a proper rendezvous course and then increase out pack-speed. Let's get these cattle fenced in before anything comes up."

Outside Maun, Botswana
Tech Con RDA 2nd Regiment
Abandoned Aschen Trinnium Mine


"Alright we got confirmed Haloes in this sector here... it looks like they are trying to establish a base of operations here in this sector." A Sergeant said as he went over the map. "We can call in a couple of Gunships to pelt the mine or have the CNV Shell them from orbit... I Got Botswani rebels assisting the Haloes, if we go in it's going to get bloody." The Sergeant explained as he sighed, and went over the holographic display in the heat of the African summer.

"Sergeant..." Lieutenant Anders said as he approached the man. This resulted in all the men standing at attention. "Lieutenant?" He asked as he saluted.

"I'm going to be calling in two PCFs to provide close air support, we'll move in with the help of UCON Forces towards the mine, and we will secure and operate." He explained before going over a holographic timetable.

"Superbulks will be here within the cycle and I want this mine secured and operational by the time they get here." The Lieutenant explained as the Sergeant nodded.

"I'll send in some drones to scout the area, as well as an advance team and we'll count heads... from there we'll prep the move-in and hopefully take the Haloes and the Rebels by suprise." The Lieutenant continued, the men listening intently.

All while the massive Aschen Superbulk Megatransport cut through the void of space, on a course for Terra.

Cairo, Egypt
Nikolai Grosha




Nikolai winched as he felt the antiseptic splash against the cut on his cheek. He groaned noticeably as the woman beside him pushed the entire cotton ball of nanites onto the wound, which flared into a bright crescendo of burning pain before dulling into a sting. He clicked his tongue, signifying the medical agent beside him to remove the cotton swab and give him room to breath. He swung his legs over the edge of the hospital table, hopping down to the ground before dabbing a grimy handkerchief across the cut to mop up any excess blood. He had taken quite a beating in Wing City, thankful to be alive when half of the Halo's he had entered the city with were now dead. He had been fortunate enough to be thrown into a refuse pile, where he was proctected from the hellfire delivered from the Coalition MAG team as they extracted the Taiyou empress. Khariq would be greatly displeased, allowing the head of one of the Tripartite nations to slip through his grasps would only further prove to Khariq of the Oriyak's inability to manage the Halo offensives across Terra itself. The young nurse, identified as a Halo by her read armband and olvie-drab attire, tossed the cotton swab before withdrawing a syringe of clear liquid. Immediately, Nikolai raised his hand and waved her away.

"No no, I am not a needle man." Nikolai responded, whistling over to a Halo as he stood guard by the door. The mercenary quickly stepped up to Nikolai, giving his commander a salute before turning back toward the door. Nikolai looked out the window, greeted with the sleek form of a hovering M88 Aruka emblazoned with the Halo insignia on its side. The aircraft loomed forward before descending onto a helipad on a roof somewhere below. He turned to the Halo, looking out into the hallway and seeing the three dozen other Halo's walking through out the repossessed hospital. Cairo may be under the Command Authority, but it was Red Halo that owned the city proper.

"Klessin was the one that pulled you out of Wing City, he says had it not been for him you would be in Coalition hands." Myro, the Halo, said as Nikolai walked out into the hallway. One of the Halos turned to regard the commander, others talking amongst themselves of his most recent failure in Wing City. Passing by the rumors and speculation of those around him, he descended several stories before making his way to the foyer, where he found his entourage waiting. Situated around a television, broadcasting coverage of a firefight between Hataf and Halo insurgents and Coalition marines, Nikolai found his six-man team of Halo specialists. And one Tai-Aya male standing beside them. The Tai-Aya were a race of avian raptors that were first discovered in the Forge system of Acamar, their homeworld being the capital of the planet itself. Standing on even height, and sometimes taller, than Nikolai, the Tai-Aya appeared more beastly than humanoid. A streamlined face complete with psuedo-beak and yellow, carrion eyes that flashed about the room with alertness. The avian looked agitated, Nikolai knowing full well that the Tai-Aya were a very reclusive race, until recently.

"He decided to show his face after all, I was expecting your puppet master to hide in the corner with his tail between his legs." Klessin remarked dryly, letting a row of yellow teeth shine as he jowls part slightly as he spoke. Several of the feathers on the back of his head stuck into the air as the avian chuckled. Two of the Halo's beside him, both of Arrokan lineage, crossed their arms over their chests and eyed the avian with distasteful musings.
"Khariq asked for one simple thing, the Taiyou empress alive and unharmed. It appears even Zharkov's elite Votsol brigade couldn't eve -" Nikolai silenced the Tai-Aya with the wave of one hand, the wrapped around it still stained with a crimson.

"Khariq botched the operation before we even reached Wing City. We had no indication a Coalition team would be dispatched to retrieve her, we were unaware her security detail had even survived." Nikolai remarked coldly, first pointing to the television, which had run a story of Coalition forces rescuing the Empress in a daring roof-top extraction from a bar in the city. Then, he pointed toward the line of body bags situated against a far wall.
"Khariq should answer to Nikita of this, because it was your intelligence that failed this operation, not my men." He said, pushing one finger into the Tai-Aya's chest. The avian squawked in protest, first looking at the television screen before turning back to Nikolai.

"If Zharkov didn't protect you like an ignorant child ... " Klessin remarked before exhaling; letting his shoulders settle, the Tai-Aya shook his head before retrieving a small computer pad from a satchel at his side. Tapping several keys on the command prompt, he activated the device before handing it off toward Nikolai. The Halo resisted taking the device for a moment, but grumbled and inspected the screen. An audio-file was attached to the document, as was a video link and several other types of data. However, it was the name of the man at the bottom of the page that interested him the most. Doctor Uburn Reichkopf.

"The great Doctor has surfaced again, who located him this time? Laslo?" Nikolai smiled curtly, syphoning the data form the computer off onto a personal folder where he could access it from a terminal later. The Tai-Aya cackled quietly to itself, fidgeting with its lanky fingers before speaking.
"Khariq located the Doctor here, on Terra. He is hiding from the Bureau of Police." Klessin retorted with a rather raptorous cowl. The avian irises of the Tai-Aya dulled as he spoke once more.
"It seems Reichkopf once again tweaked with his precious toxin, and the Bureau was right on top of him to snatch it away. He was lucky to escape with his life." Klessin remarked, his bird eyes scavenging about the foyer as Nikolai read the report throgouhly. Outside, the Halo airjet was lifting off from the helipad, accelerating above the Halo skyline before zooming toward the south.

"He could never stay away from Bravo Five." Nikolai replied as he thumbed his way through several pictures, idenitifying an Aschen trinnium mine and a captured Doctor Reichkopf. The Aschen mine had been repossessed, in the sahara-land of South Africa, and was currently operating as a prisoner camp for the Doctor. Nikolai could see several missile emplacements, aimed to the sky while machine gun nests and mortar teams dotted the surrounding area.

"Khariq has ordered that the Vostol brigade take over control of the facility, and with it the protection of the Doctor." Klessin squawked as he took back the device and pointed out toward an airjet that had replaced the previous one on the helipad. Several other Halo's, adorning the signature shining-sword insignia of the Vostol brigade, disembarked from the aircraft. Besides them, the soldiers of the Vitryaz, Halo ground forces, exited the Aruka with a batch of wounded soldiers.
"That airjet will take you to the facility, try not to let Reichkopf slip away like you did the Empress."




Vostol Brigade
Division 3,
Commander Grosha




"They will be here any minute. Maintain positions and keep your sensors online ... " Nikolai spoke quietly as he belly-crawled his way over the ridgeline separating the Sahara-land of South Africa from the first signs of civilization, the decomissioned Aschen mining facility four-hundred and thirty kilometers outside of Johannesburg. While the capital of South Africa was a major Red Halo hot-zone, advanced units of the Vitryaz, Halo ground forces, had already clashed with government forces loyal to the Coalition. Off in the distance, Nikolai could faintly see a blotchy dark streak inking its way into the sky, perhaps the entire city was burning. Glancing back toward the access road that winded across a four kilometer stretch of road to the entrance of the mine, Nikolai had choosen a rocky outcropping of granite and stone as his forward observation point. With a commanding view of botht the sky and the road, he figured that Halo would know the Coalition's location long before they knew theirs. The mercenary passed one glance off to the Rohkan at his side, Dmitrs Yulshak, and clicked his tongue before speaking in Oriyak.
"Dul-suwathcka myena zhivoshte." He ordered, the Rohkan nodding his meaty head before producing the surface-to-air launcher. Capable of being shoulder-fired, or launched from its tube fixed to a turret, the SM-5 was a Colonial era weapon-system manufactured by a blast-cap producing company operating somewhere out of the Forge. Nikolai was certain there were Halo contacts syphoning weaponry and equipment bound for Coalition forces somewhere along the line, perhaps at the shipyard a dock-worker 'accidentally' placed a box in the hold of a Halo freighter or something. He didn't worry about the semantics of his lifestyle, just that it occured.

"Nisnee-hyasa, julwukof ichinko" Dmitrs complied, producing a long tube of molded titanite plating and a cumbersome computer module that he fixed to the top of the launcher. In a box beside him were the five-foot long missiles labelled M-5 Sledgehammer. Nikolai quickly scooted himself over to the missiles before prying off the top of the crate, revealing the sixteen missiles nestled neatly in a memory-foam substance. Pulling one of the thin spears out by the warhead, he quickly loaded it down the front of the launcher. Suddenly, the CPU unit whirred to life, a light winking on that signified the missile was armed, tracking and ready to fire. Nikolai smiled to himself as the weapon sprang to life. Taking it from Dmitrs, he shrugged it onto one shoulder and then moved for the far edge of the outcropping, situating himself against a rock before placing his eye to the cover of the scope. It took two more minutes for the passive scanner device built into the module to reach it's full range, 5 kilometers, but Nikolai occupied himself with testing the excellent zoom of the computer.
"This will do very well ... how many missiles are in the box?" Nikolai said, placing the SM-5 on the ground before pointing back to Dmitrs and the box.

"Fifteen now, but there is another box down at the base of the hill ... " Dmitrs looked back down the gentle slope that they had clamored up to reach this position, where a Terran SUV was parked. Nikolai quickly patted his hands down, removing a fine layer of dust before striking towards the trail and pointing for Dmitrs to man the Sledgehammer.
"Monitor the approach, Dmitrs. Eyes on the sky, and the ground. You'll be reinforced in three hours." Nikolai ordered autonomously, placing the pair of driving goggles over his eyes before entering the driver's seat and activating the car. The engine strained to turn over as the fossil fuels were funneled into the six cylinder engine, and Grosha scrunched his nose as he tasted the deisel that wafted through the decrepit air conditioning system as he turned onto a main access road that led directly toward the repossessed Aschen mine. The complex loomed in the distance, nestled tightly on a expanse of Sahara-land that fed into a ravine complete with a winding river, several bridges across the murky waters served as defending points for the Vostol brigade should any of the nosey Coalition forces snoop around. Grosha followed a single airjet with his eyes as it lifted from a trio of ad-hoc landing pads before jetting overhead. The engines whined as the sleek craft zipped overhead, far too slim to be a Coalition operated Aruka, Grosha quickly recognized it as a Y-65. The light transport dipped as it impacted a brace of turbulence before rising in altitude toward the south.

605th Orbital Drop Infantry Division has been absorbed into the BLACKWING Tier-1 operators for immediate operations both domestic and abroad throughout the galaxy -- List of commanding officers of <Delta Platoon> dispatched as follows ;:;


LIEUTENANT, Archer Robert - Delta One One


LIUETENANT, Mayfield Matthew - Delta One Two


LIEUTENANT, Jasper Ryan - Delta One Three


LIEUTENANT, Harvey Rick - Delta One Four

>>>>>BROADBAND SPECTRUM DISRUPTION, INITIATING TERMINATION PROTOCOL<<<<<

256th Shock Regiment
Delta Platoon,
Fast-Tracker 1
Rocky Ford, Colorado





"Move move move mov -- " The shouting of the Sergeant was droned out into the gunfire as a volley of cannon fire ripped through the dry-wall of the Terran family unit and carved through the team of marines beside the Corporal. Had he not thrown himself to the ground and covered his head, Corporal Reisdorph would have been one of the four other casualties barely a meter away as he scrambled to his feet. Ahead of him, Master Sergeant Donalds shouted into his communication set before hauling Reisdorph to his feet and passing him onto the waiting arms of a marine skirmisher that had kicked out the door leading into the backyard of the suburban home. Donalds and the skirmisher were moving quickly behind him, the Corporal only quickened his pace as the house collapsed from another burst of cannon fire, off in the distance another Red Halo railcannon wailed; long beams of superheated metal slugs ripped through the atmosphere in the attempts to swat down the Coalition aircraft flying overhead.

"Sonuvabitch -- we just lost half our fucking squad -- Fuck, they're all dead!" Reisdorph screamed as he cowered in the crater left by the impact of an airstrike, stray rounds pinging and jumping off sheets of metal nearby as the rest of the platoon formed up on the approach to the farm-to-market road that lead towards their objective. In the distance, the American Rockies rose into the expanse of the sky, a thin layer of smoke pouring from isolated peaks across the entire range as the Terran-inhabited lowland below became the premier fighting ground of the Vitryaz, Red Halo forces commanded by Majir Al Khariq, and the Coalition's 256th Shock Regiment. To the east, the bulk of the Regiment's armor and air support was occupied with a dense nest of anti-air equipment and weaponry; the low rattle and din of explosions having originated to the east since the beginning of this particular engagement, in a small suburban neighborhood near an industrial center.

"Master Sergeant, where the fuck is your team?" Lieutenant Kryjad was a Tarsan pureblood that lead Delta with a simple point and click, like an extension of his own body; the MR-18H rifle he was equipped with was modified, against regulations, in several places. The weapon's normally large handguard had been cut down to the length of the standard assault rifle MR-18, and the combat sight and drum magazines had been trimmed, giving the Lieutenant a weapon snug and compact to be wielded as a rifle with the volume and firepower of the Heavy modification itself.

"Halo Tri-Cannon, Lieutenant, we must've missed it in the thermals -- it cut straight through us," The Master Sergeant returned as he guzzled a canteen and threw it to the ground, drawing his own MR-18 into the air and yanking back the bolt.
"But there 're plenty more Halo on this road, L-T ... " The Lieutenant stepepd forward and pointed down the street where a Pavrati AV-8 all-wheeler was overturned and scattered along the sidewalk; the 8-wheeled gun-carriage was the primary fast-attack vehicle, capable of sporting a cannon of 150 millimeters while maintaining a considerable fraction of its speed and manueverobility. This particular AV-8 was armed with a simple railcannon, the warped and burned barrel releasing a thick smoke as the chasis of the vehicle burned.

" -- And we'll get 'em, Master Sergeant, but in the mean time we need to recon those AA installations and offline them; attach to Charlie squad and move along the street toward the intersection. You're in command, Master Sergeant, I want you to seize the intersection and then claim the highway; we have Aruka's with reinforcements waiting for LZ's across the whole city." The Lieutenant repeated as he descended into the crater below and passed the Corporal on his way to the other side. Almost as if dictated by an unseen wind, the sixty four marine skirmishers pushed up the street on a triple-pointed strike along the highway leading through the suburban sprawl and strip malls.

Corporal Reisdorph was at a brisk jog alongside the Master Sergeant and the rest of Charlie squad, Delta platoons heavy-weapons attachment, when the crack of a sniper rang out. In an instant a marine forward of them dropped to the ground, clutching at the massive hole in his armored stomach from the soft-core ammunition tearing through the object. Blood began to dribble and spurt from the wound as the marine was dragged behind an overturned SUV with a team of three marines. Reisdorph had thrown himself behind the wall of a co-op store before a railcannon sprang to life and hosed the street in a stream of tracers and 12.7 millimter gunfire. Up ahead the Master Sergeant and two marines were pinned behind a parked sedan; the rear-view mirror of the vehicle flinging from it's hinge at it was struck by a round and flew towards a marine Private.

"Ah! God dammit, where the fuck is our air support, Sergeant! Halos have this place networked out!" The Private shouted as he fumbled to aim his rifle; forsaking the act of exposing himself to the enemy and simply resting the MR-18 atop the car and unloading the trigger, spraying in a mad frenzy.
"Shit ... shit ... shit!" Private Mendoza, Reisdorph recalled, shouted as the weapon clicked empty and he quickly set up replacing the magazine. The Master Sergeant reached a hand over to steady the marine, whom quickly calmed down at the firm grip of his commander.

"Hold your fire, Private -- Corporal Reisdorph, can you reach Territorial with your comms gear?" The Master Sergeant shouted back to the Corporal, the inter-linked communique channels of the platoon aiding in this noise as Reisdorph rolled his back against the wall and activated the multi-tool attached to his wrist. The small device that occupied the better length of his forearm was a powerful computer relay plugged in directly to the MilNet connection of nearly 600 satellites above the planet's surface. Equipped with the most modern evolution of the PT-9 multi-tool, the holographic display activated immediately and revealed a scroller of programs and activities. Reisdorph quickly activated the communication array, the buffering of the stream taking little more than several seconds before the first of ten friendly aircraft contacts appeared on a holographic map of the region.

"I have our birds, Master Sergeant -- Lieutenant Kryjad, there are two Hurricane's with air-to-ground munition on-loiter, permission to direct some lightning!" Reisdorph screamed as a rocket struck overhead, diving below the roofs to impact an elementary complex and spraying a fine ejecta of debris across the playground. The static filled his commubead for a brief moment, before several clicks and a flaring arrow on his HUD grabbed his attention.

"Affirmative on that last, Corporal -- get to a window and designate those targets, we'll occupy them from down here. Master Sergeant, take a team of marines and escort the Corporal, you've got your orders, move!" The Lieutenant commanded as a marine launched a rocket in return into the Halo position. The projectile roared low to the groud, slipping between two ensnared vehicles before detonating on the blast shield of the Halo tri-barrel mounted cannon; the rocket detonated into a spray of high-velocity, reactive metal that carved apart the cannon and destroyed the mechanism in a brilliant spark. The crew of Red Halo technicians and operators was eviscerated in the blast as well, secondary casualties to the billowing smear of metal and char. The Vitryaz insurgents responded in fury, railcannon fire carving through the team of marine rocketeers as they prepared to fire once more, killing two and wounding another.

Corporal Reisdorph was first in after the Master Sergeant booted the door in to a shop that sold knick-knacks and souvenirs, the little toys and paperweights were jumbled and mismatched, some toppled on the side from the shock of the ordinance descending into the planet. Reisdorph swept with his rifle, the MR-18's thermal holo-sight active and working with a soft whir as he took the stairs and activated the small laser-designator unit fixed to his weapon. Pacing down the hall, the Master Sergeant and two marines were behind him, kicking down selected doors and inspecting their contents for any Vitryaz.

"It's clear, Corporal, pick a position and target 'em with your designator. Mendoza, Polsk, take up positions and scan for snipers." The Master Sergeant's voice barked through the commubead as Reisdorph planted himself atop a rather comfy bed in a room on the far wall of the street and shifted his sight through the window. His holographic sight was capable of a slight zoom, barely 1 full magnification, but it was enough to aid his sight at the distances down the steet.

The intersection, laying beyond another four-way that was forming the strongest point of the Vitryaz defense of the suburban sprawl, lay as one of the 256th's objectives to securing an avenue across the continent, which was quickly becoming a lawless Halo territory. As Reisdorph peered through his sight, the thermal imaging revealed the thin beam of the laser reaching out through the window and stoppingupon it's collision with the facade of a store-shop housing a Halo anti-tank cannon. The Corporal stalled his breathing a fraction as he depressed the trigger, activating the broadcast of the target to the duo of loitering MSC-45 Hurricane superiority fighters. The radio to the pilots remained in a static before two beeps passed through the air waves.

"Confirm on your targets, Fast-Tracker. Movers in-bound, ETA ten seconds." The message was broadcasted to all of the marines, which was revealed by the sudden lack of fire coming from his side of the street. Knowing that continuing to lase the target was useless, Reisdorph released the trigger and rolled himself over behind the bed, as he came to a slow rest he could barely make out the faint wail of the Hurricane's dual plasma-thrust engines. In this pre-emptive silence, a certian calm before the storm, Reisdorph peeked out from under his arms into the hallway, where he could see the Master Sergeant dropping onto his back and pointing his weapon toward the stairwell.

"Awwww shit man, this is waaaay danger-close." Private Mendoza could be heard as he turned over a couh atop him and tucked his rifle against his chest. As Mendoza's voice faded from his ears, the roar of engines swept overhead before the air was split with a thundercrack, and the following sound of a building collapsing from the full-force of the Hurricane's 76.2mm cannon. Smoke was pouring through the shattered window when Reisdorph scrambled to his feet and exited into the hallway; Mendoza and the other marine were present, and the Master Sergeant was standing with his weapon aimed down the stairwell.

"Good work marines, now let's get oscar-mike to the intersection and get our asses a ride outta' here," The Master Sergeant trotted down the stairs with his weapon at shoulder-level. Reisdorph and the other marines were quickly behind their commander before the shouts of marine skirmishers began to flood the communique link.

"Hell yeah, nothin' ever looks better than Marine Armor!" A Corporal from Bravo squad shouted as he climbed atop the Pathfinder FRV, a 150mm cannon-equipped hovertank, like a child scaling a jungle-gym. Reisdorph let his pace slacken as the Master Sergeant sprang into the deserted street, his weapon aimed at the shoulder as a second Pathfinder hovered above the overturned AV-8 and swept the facade of the collapsed building with the co-axial 12.7 millimeter rifle. There were survivors in the rubble, Reisdorph had first heard the screaming as he departed the building; but as the magnetic rifle chattered away, the screaming and shouting from the rubble began to slowly die away.

"Alright marines, we're oscar-mike to the intersection to set up LZ Dorothy -- after that it's up north again, welcome to the 43rd Armored Battalion skirmishers!" The Lieutenant shouted from atop his own attack vehicle, a Leopard GV-70 transport, outfitted with magnetic rifles and a 40 millimeter launcher, the Leopard appeared to be undearmed compared to the heavy armor behind them. Past the three vehicles several other Leopard and Claymore transports could be seen in tandem with a trio of FSV-200 Warrior fighting vehicles.

CNS New Ganymede
Saviorite class Battle Carrier
89th Marine Division
860th Shock Regiment
73 kilometers above Tierra Del Fuego
Shock Platoon Delta-3




In the hull of the marine airjet, it was hard to believe that the young marine was suspended in the bowels of a much larger starship. As he pumped his knee up and down in a nervous tick, the marine glanced toward an alert light that began flashing in tune with a wail that filled the entire hangar bay with a monotone shriek. After several seconds of the frustrating barrage the familiar pound of boots on alloy-grating announced the arrival of the squad of marine shock-troops. The young marine glanced at his shoulder, to a heavy plating of Kermite armor emblazoned with the insignia of the Paklam infantry. Below that were the dual chevrons and a small blade designating the marine as the rank of Corporal, on his battle rig was a patch of writing indicating his complete identification, Corporal Natalni, was written in the chunk standard text of UCON identification.

"New guy! Oh man, you're from the Inner Empire aren't you, Ceti right?" A brutish Sergeant spoke from behind a veil of cigar smoke as the NCO entered the bay of the Aruka airjet. Corporal Natalni, or the 'new guy' had arrived for the departure nearly ten minutes early, missing a last-minute equipment check by the platoon Lieutenant and sneaking past two extra magazines for the ECR-10C. Leaning back in his seat, which was little more than just a rigged plate of scupluted plastic and small grips in the form of cold alloy bars, Natalni made room for several other shock marines as the weapons squad of Delta platoon filed into the last Aruka in the launch bay, one of five on the lowest of ten launch decks. Natalni spared one look out a small bay window, and out into the gusty atmosphere of the Terran continent of South America. Then, Natalni looked over to the Sergeant whom was seated directly beside him.

"No, uhm, I'm from Kharos, the capitol." Natalni replied, suddenly having to raise his voice over the combined wail of the Aruka's dual plasma-thrusters, and a secondary alarm that shook the New Ganymede through her core once again. It wasn't until then that Natalni noticed the smiles and grinning faces of the marines beside him, and the chattering voice of the Sergeant.

"Oooooh shoot, the Admiral's really gonna' do it!" The Sergeant chuckled, pounding a fist on his knee and chewing on the end of the cigar as the conversing amongst the marines increased, several words catching the Corporal's attention as the siren died away one final time. 'High Altitude', 'Maximum Velocity', 'Unrestricted Descent'.
"Heck -- New Guy, you ain't done the Rabbit Run yet?" The Sergeant questioned, his voice growing in volume as a sudden shudder tore through the starship. With a crackle, the comms channel of a nearby speaker system sprang to life and a voice began to flood through the silent launch bay, only ears fixing to the happenings outside of their airjets.

"Gentlemen, this is your Admiral speaking, on behalf of me and my crew we would like to thank you for flying Air Authority today -- We are Green-Lights for Rabbit-Run, one two three go-go-go."


With another powerful shudder, Natalni felt his stomach suddenly float upwards, his legs slowly tug from the floor and into the air while his rifle zipped away from him before he reached out with his arm to grab the handguard. In a split second, the straps that had been sitting loose against Natalni's chests were keeping him from slamming into the gear-rack of the bay and breaking his neck. Free-falling from the mesosphere of the planet, in a starship vertically aligned with the planet that displaced more than sixty-four thousand tonnes, Natalni quickly second-guessed his career choice, glancing over to the marine Sergeant, who by now had lost his cigar and was just struggling to buckle himself in, could not stop laughing as his boots tapped against the ceiling of the Aruka.

"Hoooooooo' shoot, I can't get mah' seatbelt on boys!" The Sergeant shouted joyously, two other marines who were fortunate enough to have fixed themselves with the restraints were simply clutching their rifles and laughing to themselves beneath their breathing masks. Natalni's eyes widened as he realized the growing sound of wind tearing past the starship in a massive gale. Rolling in his seat, Natalni reached toward his center and grasped the alloy handle to steady himself in the free fall.

"What in the hell are we doing?!" Natalni shouted as the mass of the Aruka dropped its heavy rigging in the bay of the New Ganymede; one final siren wailed as the plasma-thrusters, heavy ion-plane vectored engines, ignited and the Aruka pulsed through the air. With a loud groan the bay doors, two doors and one ramp, opened to reveal the swirling clouds of Terra below them, quickly running upwards to greet them of course. A soft click announced his helmets environment protocols activate, encasing his skull and torso in a sealed state to resist the harsh temperatures outside.

"Jaklad over in Charlie platoon, he's doing the run on a Vulture!" A marine remarked, his voice a fresh clean noise over the speakers. At the contemplation of descending from the New Ganymede attached to the hull of an ultra-light airjet at an altitude of 73 kilometers, Natalni simply clutched his rifle to his chest and averted his eyes to a holographic display in his HUD. The small flickering screen parsed through a complete list of the Corporal's armor package. A small computer chip was active in the main unit of his HUD, designed to provide the Natalni with updated information and intelligence rapidly.

"It's called the Rabbit Run, Corporal! Admiral Savage, Junior, came up with the method at Hadden! Knocked Zharkov right out of Savio Fortress, haaaah! The 860th has been deploying through orbital placement since the fall of Outland!" The Sergeant replied as the Aruka's engines pulsed one more and directed the bulky transport away from the descending New Ganymede, and the three other Battle Carriers. Set against the expanding brightness of the atmosphere, the countless vehicles peeling away from the Battle Carriers appeared fine black specks dropping away from the hide of the bulky Battle Carrier.

"Normally, it's a heck of a lot more bumpy than this -- Guess Halo just didn't have their guns pointed today," The Sergeant chuckled to himself before the Aruka bumped and groaned from a moment of turbulence, then the sound of an explosion ripping across the sky filled Natalni's ears as he looked back to the open bay. An aircutter spiraled toward the ground belching smoke and fire from a single round in its bridge, long trails of smoke following the vessel as it disappeared through a bank of clouds. The Sergeant was quick to correct his statement, whistling under his breath as the Aruka spun in its axis once more, hopefully to avoid the increasing anti-orbital fire.
"I stand corrected, they had all of their guns pointed today!" He managed before an alarm began to wail from the cockpit. A pilot cursed over the din of anti-orbital fire as the Aruk plummeted belly-first towards the planet.

ITN Kaze no Tani
Operation: Ultimatum
Commandant Ayako Katamura
Taiyou Imperial 3rd Fleet

Ayako silently grasped the shimmering brass railing as the ships aligned into the attack pattern, it was then the Commandant sent a high-priority bit-stream message to Vanko. The message clattering on Imperial computers as she waited for the connection to be established.

A young Lieutenant then nodded. "Attack pattern has been aligned, we're ready to commence synchronized orbital bombardment on your command, furthermore a communication uplink has been established with Center Nine."

The Lieutenant then offered a crisp salute, as the Commandant nodded and brought her gaze to the large screen that was facing her.

"Attention TCCA Forces, This is the Imperial Taiyou Navy, Kaze no Tani, requesting a direct uplink to Commandant Vanko to address an urgent issue that is threatening my forces in orbit." She said, pausing for a moment as small lines of Taiyou text scrolled across the screen.

"Commandant, I am imploring you to do something about that Halo meson array immediately, or we will do something for you, I will not commence fire yet, but if I do not get a suitable resolution, I will be forced to take matters into my own hands... message ends." She said, nodding as the uplink was terminated.

In high orbit, the glimmering white panels of the one-thousand five hundred Shogun class battleships seemed to play across visual sensors and cameras, as they all aligned themselves in high orbit, their red trimmed guns pointed outwards to garner beads on several Halo occupied lawless countries.

All of them seemed to await an order, in this climactic scene.