Industrial Area of New Warsaw

NoWarStahl Industrial Compound

09:00 AM Local Time

Amidst the damaged frames, the leaking pipes and the bombed-out remnants of the tall smoke-stalks of New Warsaw's Metal Works, a sprawling jungle of metal pipes and rigs and buildings with an underground tunnel, platoons of Turians advanced at ground level to try and clean the area out. Novva Warszawa Stal was a terrifying maze for the Turian forces, what with its sprawling underground meant to transport the metals in their various stages to and from the refineries.

The smoke-stalks were dry. The only rising pillars were from bombardment made by Turian Artillery to try and out the people holed up in the place. Reports were that it was mostly citizen militia. Point was they'd said mostly. Even the Civvies of the Militia had proven quite resourceful, going by the amount of booby traps and improvized mines the Turian EOD teams had to disarm.

It wasn't the Civvies that most were worried about, though, no. Their rifles' flashlights peered up at the ceilings, on the pipes and catwalks nearby the warehouses. They were looking for even the smallest ripples in the air, courtesy of the enemy snipers set up in the AO. Their Stalkers, as survivors of encounters with them had called them. And in this obscured, claustrophobic area, any longer corridor could have a perfect perch for them.

To add upon that, reports of black-armored soldiers in fully sealed suits had come in. They were still locals, obviously, some even Quarians in modified Enviro-suits, but they were dangerous. Going by Talon-2-Actual's reports, one of them took down an entire platoon of Turian Legionnaires on his own, including a pair of Blackwatch members sent to deal with him.

The ODST. By the people they interrogated, Turian and Yuenescee alike, that meant 'Orbital Drop Shock Troops'. Soldiers who deployed in single-occupant drop-pods into battle on the planet below in tactics of shock and awe. They were also trained in irregular and asymmetric warfare, just in case they were going to be stuck behind enemy lines for too long. If anything, these soldiers and the Army Rangers they had encountered some blocks back were probably the local Special Forces.

They weren't wrong. The Turian platoon advancing in the area had definitely failed to notice the fireteams of ODSTs trailing them from about ten feet back. The ODSTs hid well in the shadows of this steel jungle, weapons at the ready. Battle Rifles and Assault Rifles with attached silencers, silenced SMGs and SOCOM pistols, knives and grenades. Their armors allowed them to take more shots than the average Marine and the added barriers and light shields helped them survive even further damage.

The leader of the ODST team gave a signal to the two flanking fireteams to move around. They'd take the aliens at the next intersection. He took his platoon forward, battle rifle gripped tightly in his arms as they crouch-walked over to the next checkpoint. Up ahead, he saw the IFF tag of one of their Snipers and gave the woman a wave. She flashed her acknowledgement green with her IFF, then stalked forward to the ambush site.

The group pushed past the corpses of civilian and military personnel that had been caught in the blast of a bomb overhead, which had collapsed a catwalk. Quarians and Humans, not to mention a couple of Geth menial platforms. The latter could re-deploy themselves into new bodies. The former could sadly not. One of the ODSTs scoffed at that, but his officer glared back at him. Despite the helmet, the Quarian female felt a chill shoot up her spine and nodded at her CO.

The man nodded back, then the group pushed forward again.

Reaching their intended ambush site, they took positions amidst the steam-spewing pipes and the bent steel of the catwalks, propping their weapons up on any surface that could provide cover. The rest of the platoon was on their right, forming the bottom part of the 'L' they'd use to ambush the Turians. The Featherheads themselves were gonna be pinned between a bunch of catwalks, girders, snipers and pipes with no way to retreat or escape but through.

The man could see the barrel of an LMG poking out from the spider-pattern of crosswalks above and heard the gunner cock the weapon while his support element held the belt up. He partially thanked the maker that the sun couldn't possibly light the gunners up, then checked his own rifle, gently pulling back on the bolt handle and checking the port to see that he had a round fed.

Good. He eased the bolt forward as not to make a noise, then checked his motion tracker, balancing his rifle on his arm, which he supported via his elbow, pressed on a pipe. He peered through the scope, watching the leading Turian rifleman march into the narrow corridor, the alien bird-people behind him being forced into a single-file formation. The Turian officer ordered, "Halt," his voice a whisper. He said, "We can't push any further... Spirits damn. Too narrow. We can't cover each-other..."

"Wouldn't worry about that, sir. Place has been dead quiet," A rookie spoke. The Lieutenant showed him to quiet down. The ODST could respect a smart officer, at least, but it was a little too late to turn back now.

The Turian officer paused to listen, the dead quiet now giving way to the groaning of metals and the distant hum of the generators of the place, still working overtime despite very little of the steelworks themselves being operational at the moment. He swallowed, then ordered, "Slow retreat. Tarkus, you're covering our rear. Vanna, you take the front. Everyone else, rifles up. Like a spiked Varren..."

"Sir," They replied. Suddenly, the Turian formation looked like a hedgehog, their rifles pointed out in every direction. The ODST officer approved. They were smart, but not smart enough. The man tapped his helmet twice, then hit the com, letting white noise play over the radio for the rest of the Shock Troopers, all of whom immediately picked a target.

Then, he hit the com transmit twice.

Fire erupted from above and around. The Turian at the rear of the formation had her head turned into fine mist by the SRS-100 employed by one of their stalkers, while a pair of Turians ahead were cut down by the Machine Gun. The Turian officer barked, "STALKERS! TAKE COVER-" only to catch a round to the throat and collapse. His soldiers returned fire moments later, rifles barking and chattering.

The ODSTs were immaculate with their shots, taking out another pair of enemies with bursts from Battle Rifles and MA40s. A couple of ODSTs emerged out of the pipes, pushing into the Turians from the side and grabbing one of them before throwing them to the floor. The team's sole shotgun-wielding Marine pumped a shot into the alien's skull, splitting it wide open, then turned to face the Turian riflemen.

One of the soldiers shot him in the shoulder, then panned the rifle so the burst struck his breast plate and shielding, causing it to ripple. The Turians, despite lack of officers, remained as coordinated as possible, returning fire and pulling back while trying to spot and deal with the sniper. The Sniper herself snapped off another shot with her rifle, ripping through the rearmost Turian and taking the leg off of the second-to-last member.

A Turian scoffed and activated a scarlet, glimmering omni-blade on his right arm, then charged the Shotgunner. The ODST took a couple of steps back and pumped two more shots into the Turian, who shielded his head and body with the shattering blade, before pinning the man against one of the pipes and trying to choke him out. The other Turians grew aggressive, firing their weapons and moving into cover.

The ODST officer ordered, "Gut'em..." before standing up and moving into higher cover. He domed another Turian with his rifle and took a pair of shots from them as well. His barriers flared, making him visible in the smoke while his VISR kept the Turians outlined in red and in his line of sight. His bursts made contact with armor or barriers. He got to watch that same Turian that charged the Shotgunner pull out another Omni-Blade and cock his arm back to try and stab his man.

A shot from the sniper sprayed the Alien's blood across the shotgunner's body and helmet, the alien currently missing his head. The human pushed the corpse off of him, drew his M6 and fired until his magazine was dry, rounds skimming pipes and missing the Turians as his buddies dragged him back into cover. He knelt, dropped the spent magazine and put in a fresh one, then retrieved his shotgun and loaded half the magazine before pumping a few more shots into the Turians.

The ODSTs tightened the noose around the bastards, bursts striking very close to the aliens as they skimmed concrete or pierced more pipes. The return fire was brutal, with the Shotgunner finally falling to a bullet through his helmet after his shields failed to recharge. Another two Turians fell for that as the ODST squad's Lieutenant flanked. He settled the crosshair quickly on another Turian's head and fired.

Spatters of blood painted the pipes. The Lieutenant jumped over cover and charged the next Turian, firing until his rifle ran out of ammo. He slammed against the Turian, pinning him to the floor, drawing his knife and slamming it down. The Turian lifted his arms to defend against it, the two men struggling with each-other. The last of the other Turians were wiped, with the Fireteam of ODSTs now watching the fight.

The ODST pressed down with the full weight of his body and gear into the knife, while the Turian pushed back with his slightly higher strength, trying to keep the blade from reaching his throat. He had dark-grey marks on his face, his eyes blue. Both kept pushing, but, after a while, the human was winning the engagement, with his blade's tip finally making contact with the alien's leathery neck and slowly opening up a way for the rest of the blade. The alien struggled and started to gargle, one hand moving from trying to push to grabbing at the human's helmet.

The ODST twisted the blade, then pulled it out. The Turian soldier went limp, with the Shock Trooper flicking the fresh blood on the blade aside and wiping whatever remained on the dead alien before sheathing the blade. He panted, stating, "And fucking stay down, Featherhead..." before looking around at the others. The Sniper marched up to him and decloaked, to which he said, "Nice shooting, Velma."

"Thanks, boss," She replied, her voice modified by her helmet.

"We lost Bozo, sir," A female Quarian ODST reported, kneeling beside the dead shotgunner and retrieving his dog tags. She continued, "Whaddaya wanna do with the body?"

"Get him home and put him in a body-bag down below," The man reported, then heard the distant thunder of an explosion and felt the ground shake below them. He continued, "Let's get back to the tunnels. Rearm and reload... Tell those Stealth Drones the Geth deployed to keep us updated. The bastards keep trying to send breakthrough teams into here, I'd like to know."

"Sir," The Sniper replied. She ran toward a pipe, climbed up it and jumped over to the catwalks, before disappearing as she activated her stealth systems. The Officer understood why the Turians started fearing the Stalkers. Velma and her comrades were agile climbers, like spiders. They were all glad to have these psychos on their side, though, because it meant the Turians would never sleep easy either.

A Turian survivor of the battle, who'd been wounded, penned later the emblem he had seen on the ODST's shoulders.

442nd Orbital Drop Shock Division. "Go For Broke".

The Jungle

Clara listened to reports over the radio while she and her mother ate. There was still fighting in the city's industrial sector, most of the allied troops encircled within being coordinated to go there with any civilians they might've rescued. The bulk of the Army had luckily managed to evacuate the city before the Turians really came down on them, though. Their forces had rallied up, finally, with no Turians in pursuit yet.

Going by the holographic map, the girls and their makeshift unit of mixed militia, Army and Marine personnel were already twenty miles out from the city, deep within the valleys of the mountain range. The largest river of the continent ran parallel to their path of retreat, meaning they also had fresh water they could purify and a lot of fish to catch, but the few farms set up were south, in the open plains nearby the Delta.

Clara breathed a deep sigh, trembling and feeling a lot of tension leave her body. Morning turned to midday and the sun beat down on their spread-out camp, warming the ground and even the air a little. Humidity was a pain and whatever alien mosquitoes occupied the planet buzzed around almost incessantly. They were larger than what was in the history books for insectoids like this, but not by much. And they still bit like hell. They were, however, far more colorful, sporting greens, bright reds and browns to help them conceal themselves in the lush jungle.

The girl herself swatted one such bug off her neck, wiped the blood it had drawn from her on her thigh, then mumbled, "Too hot..." as she stood up. She joined other teenagers and young adults at a nearby puddle, noting a young woman with brown hair sat off to the side. She joined her and said, "Hell of an eighteenth birthday, huh...?" to try and break the ice.

The girl snorted, then nodded. She spoke, her oddly Australian accent thick, "A right cunt it was, yea," before turning toward her, "You're the Smage's daughter, ain't'cha? Grayson."

"I am," She nodded, "Mom trained your unit, right?"

"Nah, yeah, she's a right tough sheila. Couldn't have asked for a better officer, honestly," She nodded, then extended her hand to the girl, "Name's Sarah O'Malley. Mom and dad thought it'd be funny to keep the accent and jargon goin', 'fore ya ask anyway," to which the girl nodded and shook her hand. It was sort of funny to finally understand why some certain groups of people had kept those odd accents. 200 years was a long time, so it must just be tradition.

She replied, "Carla Grayson. Nice to meet you, Sarah."

"Likewise," The girl nodded, then looked around, "And you're right... Shit eighteenth, but at least we're alive and not POWs. Hell, I don't even wanna think of the people we left behind in the City..." and she sighed. Carla nodded in agreement, watching the younger civilians of the group playing in the water. All of them had some degree of military training and many probably had extras based on their parents' previous positions, jobs and even their educational background.

She shrugged and replied, "Mom and the colonel are plenty confident we'll retake the city. Or that the Navy and Marines are gonna swing by and save us..." then sighed. She noticed the girl was wearing a local High School uniform and asked, "Lemme guess, Prom was coming up..."

"Yea," The girl snorted, "Not like I had much to look forward to. Got no lad to go with, so I would'a just stuck around alone, drinkin' my ass off with the gals," to which Carla giggled. Yeah, she had nearly experienced that before Rael openly decided to... Rael. God, she missed him dearly and the girl noticed it. She asked, "You had a bloke, then... Where's he now?"

"Back on Rannoch," She replied, sighing deeply, "We only came to this colony last week... Left right after prom due to dad and mom both getting jobs here," and she looked at the girl, "You've only really been training with mom for that week, I guess. She teach you any good tricks?"

"How to make a bomb," Smirked the girl.

Carla rolled her eyes, laughing a little, "Anarchist Cookbook-lookin'..."

Sarah laughed, then shook her head and said, "Nah, none'a'that improvised shit. She actually taught us how to make bombs that'll rip through the bottom of a tank. Fair dinkum training, like I said," then she shifted her own weapon, an old M7 SMG, off her hip and checked it. She added, "Darnedest thing, gettin' attacked... How d'ya think your bloke's handlin' this? The invasion probably hit prime-time news."

She shrugged, curling up in a ball and hugging her legs, "Don't even want to think about how worried he is... He's supposed to start Basic, too, so..." and she sighed deeply, "God only knows what'll happen when they muster him with the others. He gets to skip some months due to having picked an elective for combat operations training, too, since we were... Hell, eleven?"

Miss O'Malley grinned, then offered, "Quarian and a badass. Nice pick, Cee."

She giggled, "Oh, he picked me. Asked me out to the Prom and everything," before looking back at her mom. The woman smiled and waved to the girl and she smiled and waved back. She quipped, "Mom wouldn't let me hear the end of it when we started to move here. 'You two better give me nice grandkids' and 'That's a nice sign of Human-Quarian unity'!"

Both girls then burst into laughter, with Sarah replying, "Yeah. Me mom's been bustin' my nonexistent balls about it, too. 'When're ya gonna find a good lad to marry?'" She then mocked with a grouchy, angry voice. Both laughed again, before the Ozzie-That-Be said, "Maybe some day. I fancied a guy back on Ingalls, too, but we had to move here 'cuz dad also had a job lined up. Worked at the local Civil Service offices."

"Ingalls, huh..." The girl hummed, then asked, "How was the Football championship?"

"Eagles lost. Again..." The girl sighed deeply, rubbing her face, "Swear to God, you live in a city like New Camden and suddenly the guys yer rootin' for lose," which got a short chuckle out of Carla. She nodded in understanding and allowed Sarah to continue, "Anyway. I heard Rannoch's starting to become a sort of tech center for all of the new gear we're developin', includin' the whole Gund-Err... Highlander family."

Carla snorted, "Yep. Believe it or not, my boyfriend's dad worked on the suit. And he's flown it into battle against the Batarians."

"No shit, your boyfriend's dad's the fuckin' Black Star?!" O'Malley grinned. Carla nodded proudly, grinning back, to which Sarah said, "That's fuckin' badass, mate! Ya gotta introduce me to'em when we get outta this shite. Been wantin' that pilot's autograph for the better part of the war against the Batarians. It true he made Double Ace recently against'em?"

"Yeah, I think that was the fighting on Khar'shan," The girl replied as she checked her Omni-Tool. She said, "Here. Pictures of the Grayson and Zorah families, including Raf'Zorah, the Black Star," while smiling and showing them off. Sarah whistled as she saw them, then paused and grinned when the pictures skipped to one of Rael and Carla in their prom outfits. Carla, slightly embarrassed, yelped and shut it off, while the whimsical woman that was Sarah looked at her with a smug smirk.

Miss Grayson whistled and called out, "Alright, kids! Pack your shit! We're moving out!" but smiled as she saw Carla and Sarah talking. She tipped her officer's cap at the girl, who stood up and saluted. Then, she turned to Carla and the two waved goodbye to each-other. Carla ran back to her mother, gear in hand, and got a pat on the back from her mother for making friends already.

Damn shame it was in such a shit situation...

1st Highlander Regiment

Training area

Rannoch, District 12, Fort Keyes

Home of the First Mechanoid Regiment, Highlander Assault Corps

Rael tumbled over and fell into the mud, face-first. He breathed a sigh, then scrambled to his feet, hauling his ruck and gear as he ran through the course. He'd tuned out the Drill Sergeants' cries at this point, even as they were urging him on to climb the wall. He'd always done well in PT, but his mind was currently stuck on whatever suffering poor Carla was going through down there. He swore to himself, if the bastards had hurt her...

He nearly stumbled again, this time running while performing a balancing act over a narrow strip of wood just above more mud. He kept running until he reached the line... Last among the crew. Raf, his father, sighed deeply, then said, "Zorah, you ain't eating tonight and you're staying here for a little extracurricular. Everyone else, get your asses in gear to the Simulators! MOVE!"

The other youngsters snapped salutes, then ran off in formation. Rael averted his gaze, not daring look his father in the eye for now. Raf himself spoke, "Rael..." with a more stern tone than the boy was used to. His father cleared his throat and he looked up at him, noting the deep-seated damage that had been done to him during even a month's combat. He looked ten years older, face sunken in and tired eyes looking at his son, not with fury, but with sympathy.

"What's on your mind?" The man asked.

Rael sighed deeply, then asked a little annoyedly, "What do you think... Sir...?"

Raf told him, "Still holding onto that, then. Your mother was trying to get our people not to be afraid of the Citadel anymore. Their decisions left us as we were nearly two hundred years ago and she knew they'd do it again..."

"It's not just that," Rael replied, "Carla's..." and he hesitated. Raf knew that feeling all too well. The boy, however, finally looked him in the eye and spoke, his voice stern, "I'm not letting her go. She and her family aren't dead yet and I'll be damned if the last month of god-damn basic is going to keep me away from her... I'm going out there, with or without a Highlander-"

"And you're risking dying on the front line," The father replied, just as stern, though he pressed his words harder, trying to drill them into his son's skull, "Especially as distracted as you are about this. I only know how to operate the Suit because of all the simulator missions I've run alongside our AIs, determining its combat capabilities, not to mention the Field Tests. I wouldn't allow anyone else to touch the damn thing because I and Daro's father made it!"

"I know!" Rael snapped back, before biting his tongue and straightening up. He then said with a hint of sarcasm, "I know, sir. And what's a young man like me going to be doing in a war suit like that? I'm just a footslogger meant for the rear echelons due to being a Zorah, aren't I?"

"That's not what I said, Cadet," His father replied, annoyance audible in his voice, "What I said was that you're risking your life for now. A month's training feels like too little. Even two feels underwhelming... Nobody can be prepared for what this suit offers in terms of combat capability. It's..." and Rael yet again saw in his father's eyes his feelings. They glimmered with fear. Breathing in, then out, his voice shaky, Raf said to his son, "It's a weapon system unlike any other. It won't replace any of our current gear, but it's filling a niche that made War in orbit and even on the ground much easier."

"I know," The boy replied, his voice lower this time, more apologetic, "I've read the reports. It's a terrifying weapon of war."

And, to his credit, the older man could see the determination in his son's eyes. He looked back at the dozen mechs sat on the tarmac, knelt down and waiting for their future pilots. He looked back at the boy and said to him, "I know you want to save Carla, son. I want to help her, her mother and father, too. I've even kept in touch with her siblings who're in the military and know we're all doing our best to prepare..."

Rael nodded, his voice low now, a whisper, "I can't lose her after just..." and he gasped. His father lay his hand gently on his son's shoulder, looking him in the eye. For a moment, that same happy man that had raised him appeared in front of him, the glare of Tikkun shining a brighter light on his face. He gave the young man a smile and nodded in understanding.

"When I first met your mother, I would have given my chance at seeing Rannoch again to be with her, son. And I could tell from the moment I looked into her eyes that she felt the same," The man told him, then knelt in front of him, "Love like that is hard to come by. You and Carla are lucky to have found each-other, even if you're two entirely different species."

The boy narrowed his lips, then sighed deeply. His father squeezed his shoulder and told him, "That's the reason I know you'll be able to pass through this course... You have the military training and the previous scores, but the fear's clouding your heart and mind. Think that Carla's gonna be alright as you train. Focus that wish to save her not in distracting yourself, but in focusing on your goal. And when you step foot into that HACS?" he jabbed a thumb back at the leading Suit, "You'll be flying like a pro."

The young man's mouth opened slightly, as if to say something. He breathed, smiled, then snapped a salute, "Sir, yessir. I'm going to need the training, though."

"Leave that to me, Cadet," The man snapped a salute back, "Now, get your ass to the Simulators. Pep talks are good and all, but you're not gonna be flying that thing without knowledge on operating the system," and he smirked. His son nodded, then turned about-face and ran off to go meet with the others at the simulators. Raf stayed behind, gazing upon the twelve suits, then mumbled, "Homeworld and fallen Ancestors... Please, ensure that suit never breaks while my son's out there. And please, let Carla be alive."

He sighed, then walked back inside the main hangar of the base, letting maintenance crews continue their checks on the suits.

Their time would come.