"... They what?" Fedorian blanked. He and Vakarian were sat, having a meal in one of the command building prefab rooms when a Private had walked in to provide a report to them. He held in his hand the datapad on which the report had come, staring at it while Vakarian rubbed his temples. The General stared on, stunned, at the images taken by their Search and Rescue transports, before mumbling, "Any further forward and we would have lost half the Legion... And they sacrificed three of their own Companies for it..."

"Desperate fools," Vakarian mumbled, rubbing his eyes, "They lost this fight. Why don't they just surrender?" then he stood up and walked over to the window. Their Command Post had been built around the Space Elevator itself, meaning they had a nigh-perfect three-hundred-sixty degree view of the city itself. The Mess Hall was on the second floor, too, providing perfect overwatch from behind reinforced, armored glass.

Dozens of checkpoints had been set up around the town. Checkpoints Fedorian had ordered to stem the possible dispersion of civilian insurgents in the area. He walked over to the man and told him, "We would be the same if any of our Colonies got invaded. And we'd be fighting for every inch if it was Palaven that got occupied. I can't blame them..." all while watching the Turian troops and Military Police guiding civvies around in the various districts.

"They have one hell of a will to fight, I'll say that much," Vakarian replied, a hint annoyed. He sighed and said, "We need to start curbing any potential rebellion in the city itself. Send out Strike Teams and get the Blackwatch involved. Before the locals start coordinating with their remaining troops... We have to deal with that steelworks place, too..." with a little anger behind his voice. Fedorian understood his friend's apprehension and knew what the unspoken request came down to.

"You're starting to think we should send in the Hastatim, then? Start preparing Safe Camps?" He asked, crossing his arms, "Remember what I told you? Sparatus wants us to avoid sparking an even bigger incident than we already have by caving in to the Asari. We were sent in mostly to pull them back from ripping the Batarians to pieces and we failed at that, too. Now, the goal's switched to AI removal and nuclear disarmament..."

Vakarian nodded, "I'm aware what our beloved Councilor suggested. And I'm well aware of what those bloody Matriarchs sent us here to do," then he slammed a fist against the window, "We just lost several thousand good men and women in the blink of a Spirits-damned eye, though. To a duet of Races and an AI desperate enough to hold onto a tiny colony in the middle of nowhere."

"We might've overestimated their strength," Fedorian shrugged, "Even with their advanced technology, they may be quite small in comparison, so, every ounce of land they take may be important to the-"

The Turian did not get to finish his sentence. A scout vehicle, a lightly armored quad-wheeled Turian armored car, and its escort of soldiers suddenly vanished under the thunderclap of a shockwave and a massive plume of smoke rising in the middle of an unoccupied boulevard. The Turians staggered and looked at the dead, with Fedorian balking as he walked over to the window. He spoke, "An IED..."

"And that right there's why the Hastatim may be needed..." Vakarian voiced, staring at the rising pillar of smoke. It was far away, near the edges of the city and on a completely empty road, save for the presence of Turian troops. Many more troops now advanced toward the area with armor, to try and secure it, much to Fedorian's dismay. There were hopefully no civvies there.

Fedorian replied, "We'll be escalating..."

"They just escalated this themselves. Twice," Vakarian snapped back, then activated his Omni-Tool and spoke over com, "This is Admiral Vakarian to all available Hastatim troops. Deployment approved as per order of the assigned governor of the occupied colony of New Warsaw. I expect you all here within the day, Reduced Engagement Protocol in effect and all."

Fedorian breathed a deep sigh, stating, "It's gonna get worse with them here, especially if you don't temper them. You know how they are. You know how our Camps are. These people don't look like they would want to be herded in the middle of what's tantamount to a concentration facility," as he stared down his old friend. He saw that there was fury brewing behind his eyes.

"I'll leave that in your hands..." The man answered, his voice low.

"Vakarian," The General pinched the bow of his armored nose as he watched the man leave, then looked out at the city around, noting the fighting still ongoing in the Industrial Sector. He told the Private, who had watched this entire exchange quietly, "I think we've genuinely bitten off more than we can chew, soldier. Go back to your post and tell your Lieutenant to spread the following throughout the ranks:Standard Hastatim Operations are to be rescinded. If you can't restrain a hostile civilian without the use of disproportionate force, leave them be... I don't want to have the burnt corpses of a possible equal people on my file."

"Sir," The Private snapped a salute, then walked away. Fedorian, meanwhile, rubbed his mandibles, cocked his jaw and shook his head. He watched from above as Vakarian walked over to that same Pub he'd started frequenting a week ago and he shook his head, a little amused. It was interesting that that was what the man was choosing to use as a sort of relaxation point.

His wife would probably not be too happy about it, though. The General turned around, however, ignoring the man's usual demeanor and marching over toward a console in the middle of the room. He leaned over and activated it, then ordered, "All Centurions and high-ranking ground forces officers are to report to my office at Twelve-hundred today to go over plans to secure the rest of this planet. General Fedorian, out."

... In another part of town that had witnessed the bomb blast, Lieutenant Gracius had taken cover with the others inside a building that they had had to quickly clear. The Turian soldier mumbled, "Ungrateful little..." then coughed and cleared one of his earholes. He looked back and demanded, "Status report! We lose anyone in that blast, or are you all good!?"

Various replies echoed, though most of them sounded cautiously positive. A couple did sound a tad more angry than even him, though, with Lupercal quickly snapping back, "I NEARLY LOST MY OTHER EAR, DAMMIT! WHAT ARE THESE PSYCHOTIC BASTARDS LOADING THEIR IEDS WITH?!" as he peeked past cover at the rising cloud of dust and debris. Firefighting teams rolled up to help deal with it.

"Enough explosives to vaporize an entire strike team," A female Rookie that had just been assigned to the team, Naesia, spoke as she shouldered her sniper rifle, looking at the blast site. She whistled and said, "Damn thing cratered the entire road, sir. And I'm talking a deep crater..." before she slid the rifle onto her back and let it fold up. She looked at the rest of the squad, then asked Lupercal, "Is this how bad things get here?"

"No, them actually using IEDs in the city is new," The man replied, annoyed, as he used the lowermost finger on his hand to clean his ear. "Spirits damn them, did that not flatten a block or two?" He asked as he slowly crouch-walked over to Naesia's side and peering past her. He whistled, then nodded, "No, but I can't even see bits and pieces of that Platoon..."

"Told you," She replied, then looked to the Lieutenant, "Any orders, sir?"

"Get back on patrol pattern and keep your eyes peeled. Ask for a scanner Drone and start talking to the civilians," The Lieutenant ordered, then readied his Phaeston. Calmly, he told them, "Be as rough as you need to be with them so they get the memo. Command's already planning to deploy the Hastatim here anyways, so the gloves are slowly coming off..."

"Suppression squads," Sighed Naesia, "Always hated those."

"Bad experiences?" Joked Lupercal.

She shook her head and spoke, straight-laced and calm, "Great grandpa on my mother's side was a Seppie on Circinnius II. Ironically, I'm serving in the same legion that Pacified the Colony," and that got a few awkward laughs out of the other soldiers. She waited 'till they were done, then asked, "Did you guys see the whole cluster with the river flood wiping a third of the Legion out? That... They that desperate?"

"Seems like it," The Lieutenant replied, scratching his chest, "Enough chatter for now. Get to positions and get to work."

He had to open his big mouth, though.

Their work was soon changed from scouring the place for IEDs and presumably meeting a similar fate to Beta Platoon, Gracius and his team had been sent out into the countryside with their battalion to scour the trees for any troops that had been possibly left behind by the main body of the enemy Army. They'd stopped the Race to The Sea, these Leaguers did, but they would still have to ford the massive river in order to retake their planet.

Then again, so would the Turians, in order to wipe their forces out. The River had basically become a new front line and was now being set up as their Forward Operations Area, which they could see from afar. The trunks of trees washed over by the flood poked out from amidst the running body of water as it flowed down to the sea itself. They could faintly make out Turian troops already setting up possible future bridgeheads and Prefab building watchtowers.

When they reached the base of one such tower and base, they saw that most of the area around the Firebase had been cleared of forestry by Defoliators that were currently situated within shielded bunkers, with added trenches, barbed wire and defensive emplacements, including automated turrets that scanned the opposite side of the river for movement. Said opposite side showed the same traits:Trees drowned by the river or ripped apart by it poking out from the water on the new slope, while a thick canopy of trees and shrubs sat just past that.

A Turian female sniper greeted the crew's vehicle with a wave, then called out to Gracius, "Keep your heads down! They've got Stalkers looking at us from across the pond!" to which the Lieutenant nodded. He showed his team to dismount from the vehicle, which began to slowly roll into the FOB, and walk by the side of it that was not exposed to the river.

The Lieutenant stopped to ask the Sniper female, "So, this is Ground Zero, huh?"

"Sure looks like it," The woman nodded, staring at Turian corpses still floating in the water, then showing the team to follow. Her face was hidden behind the opaque reinforced glass of her helmet, so her expression was inscrutable, but the way she'd spoken told them she wasn't too happy about the posting. She led them over to the command dugout, a reinforced, underground structure that was armored, had sandbags going up each wall and was filled with tech and com equipment. She saluted and said, "Sir. Seems like they sent Alpha Platoon our way."

The Turian sat at the tables nodded and replied, "Thank you, sergeant. Go back to your post," with disinterest. He looked at Gracius, showing one of his eyes was milky white, meaning the man had been blinded, then told them, "The Quarians and their buddies are annoying as pests can be to deal with. A bunch of Pyjaks swinging across the jungle's branches... I heard your men are good at shooting them down, Lieutenant."

"Been here since the start, sir," The Lieutenant nodded, "If we can help with COIN, we'll be glad to."

"Lost friends in the Flood?" The man inquired. A few of the squad members nodded, to which the officer told them, "I lost a son... Let's make sure they don't take any more with cowardly tactics like that, aye?" and he got a taciturn response, the soldiers clicking their heels together and saluting. He waved them off and said, "Dismissed. Get out of here."

Outside, the strum of instruments started on the base's speakers, a locally-made record playing a strangely melancholic tune...

With Carla's group

The planet's satellites hanged out in the sky, allowing her a more beautiful view of the night on their planet. She'd run out of tears about two hours ago. She was just empty right now, simply staring at a spent casing that glimmered in the light of a campfire. The Colonel had decided after the fact to divide his own units into Militia and non-Militia squads. Militia would set up within the confines of the Mountains and await any attempted Turian crossing, either by air or ground, to deploy patrols and search and destroy parties, while the bulk of the Army, now reunited on the left side of the Adams River, would reform, reorganize and join the fighting piecemeal.

'A concentrated Army Thrust at this stage, without reinforcements, would lead to decimation', he had told her, right after espousing his condolences. She didn't want any god damn condolences... She wanted to wake up in her bunk today, be told she was having a nightmare and that the Turians never invaded. That Rael was coming over soon with his unit.

She ran a finger over the dented casing, then sighed deeply and slid it into her pocket before standing up from the fire. She walked to the mouth of the cave, where the 'Stalker' Sniper the Army had left with them kept his eyes peeled down the scope of his rifle. The Stanchion snipers were tools of beauty, honestly. Precise and extremely deadly, she'd seen one of the vids of them outright opening a Turian tank like a can of New Reach sardines.

The Sniper arranged his cape and camouflage system, then asked to her, "Anything I can help you with, Sergeant Grayson?"

"Nothing, just... Clearing my head," She replied, then stared forward. The starlit sky of the planet was beautiful, even if she knew some of the lights up there were probably Turian naval vessels. She sighed and asked, "You got enough ammo in that thing for the fight ahead, or are you gonna be switching to something else when we get into the fight, shooter?"

"Keeping this for now," He replied, "Someone has to help bust the tanks..."

"Fair..." She breathed a sigh, then sat down. For a moment, her mind wandered to places it should not have wandered, like to surrender, or to actually ending it. She decided to try and alleviate those thoughts and asked the Sniper, "You're more in tune with what the Army and the few Marine units on the planet are doing, Jameson. Do you have any idea if we'll get reinforcements...? A liberation force...?"

"Yes," The man replied with a nod, "Surprised you folks don't check the reports we're given. ONI task forces made contact with the Army."

"What?!" She staggered, "What do you...?"

The man nodded and added, "They're keeping us updated on the status of the Fleet that's coming to pull us out of the shit. A few more weeks' time and we'll have the full might of the Black League's Navy, upgraded Geth warships included, coming down upon this one Corner of the Galaxy... Well, except for the Garrisons and ships currently being built in preparation for loss replacement."

That stunned Carla a little. Her mom had not sacrificed herself for nothing, thankfully, because she just had the world's news confirmed:They were getting liberated and sooner than expected. Thank God she was sitting down, she thought. Tears welled in her eyes, tears she stifled as she looked back at her comrades, then she sighed deeply and asked, "SO, what're we hitting next...?"

"Already getting hyped up to help the Liberation?" He smirked behind his mask, "Well, good news is we'll be getting Targets Of Opportunity soon. Turian OPs, patrols, dropships and the likes... Gonna turn this into the Rainforest Wars Two-point-Oh if it can be helped... Except we'll be the boys and girls stealthing through the jungle instead of some fascist fuckers."

"And we're gonna take the cunts down," Carla heard Sarah speak in a heavier accent.

The girl snorted at that, watched as Sarah approached, then told her the news only to see her extremely happy. The young women then looked at the flowing river, well aware in the backs of their minds of the kind of sacrifices both the Army and the Militia had made to stave off inevitable destruction at the hands of the Turian war machine. They saw the lights of Turian FOBs and their vehicles going to and fro, trying to build bridges over the fast-flowing river.

They'd make it across... And kick their asses in a nice bit of Asymmetric Warfare.

Rannoch, Fort Keyes

The surgeries had gone smoothly and their bodies were thankfully not rejecting the new neural laces, though the damn things still itched as their skin built back up around them. Rael scratched a small bit of fresh skin with his three-fingered, gloved hand, though he scratched it gently, disconnecting himself from the simulator. He and his team stood to their feet after a game of four-v-four CTF.

He breathed a sigh, yawned and stretched, before walking back to the dormitories and waving goodbye to his squadmates. Jumping into bed, his young mind wandered, thinking of various things he'd thought of multiple times. His family, his friends, the people he'd met here. It all coalesced into various dreams and nightmares... Though, tonight was worrying.

Carla. Carrie... He wondered how she was doing. How scared she must've been down there when the Turians first came. His own mind could conjure up the images of the burning planet and the young woman and her family, of the fighting going on planetside. He saw, for a moment, how the jungles burned and the soil was stained red with human and Quarian blood, how his own people fought inch by inch for a planet lost to them.

He saw Carrie running with her folks in his mind, her feet burying themselves into the mud as Turian gunships circled overhead like hungry vultures. In a moment, all around burned like napalm, sticking to his skin. ahead of him, the image of Carla melted for a moment, then disturbingly transformed into a flurry of pixels. The world around him vanished, then turned into nothing, then into the Geth Consensus...

"... Creator Zorah...?" A voice spoke.

He stirred awake, staggering to his feet as his own Father pulled him out of the bed and said, "Get dressed and grab your pilot gear! We've got an impromptu scramble! MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!" to which Rael immediately scrambled forward with the rest of his team, registering the scarlet alarm lights and the blaring wails of the sirens in the background.

"The fuck's going on!?" A human trainee demanded, "Rael, any idea?!"

"None! We didn't even get to test our suits' connections with our nervous systems!" Rael replied, "Something awful must've kicked off if they're calling us up!" and his mind immediately started to race to a possible Turian incursion onto Rannoch. His adrenaline spiked as the wails continued, growing louder, their feet thundering in rhythm with them as they surged toward the lockers.

They entered the pilot lockers, immediately finding their flight-suits. Opaque glass on domed titanium-reinforced helmets, bodysuits arrayed with a variety of seals and armor meant to stop shrapnel and a connection point that protected, but didn't fully cover the neural lace. They donned the suits in a minute, part of around a four-minute scramble sequence. It took them two minutes to reach the lockers, one to put the suit on and one to enter the Hangar.

The Hangar itself was partially buried underground. The dozen or so Highlander HACS were placed neatly in cradles, lined up and standing at attention like a company of elite soldiers. They, however, faced the walls, the catwalks leading to open cockpits in the chest area of the suits. Climbing aboard, Rael manned his suit, closing the armored canopy which showed various screens, activated the haptic interface like they'd practiced almost a thousand times so far in the Simulator...

Then looked back at his seat, above which an intricately-detailed connection wire hanged. His heart raced. He'd read his father's writings on the new neural lace connections to the suits. They were dangerous, tested by him and only him so far. Each time he'd done it to scramble in the last weeks of the battles against the Batarians, it worked, but he always had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that it wouldn't have.

It was why Rael could feel the hesitation of his own comrades beside his own, sweat draping him from head to toe in the suit. He heard the alarms screaming at him, though, his suit's combat systems already turning on as he flicked switches and touched haptic interface commands like it had been basically ingrained into his skull since the start of training. He grit his teeth. Hesitate now and you're dead, his dad and DIs had always said.

He mumbled, "Fuck it..." before grabbing the connection system and jamming it into his Neural Lace. His eyes shot wide open and a chilling shiver ran down his spine as his very mind connected to the suit itself. His vision blurred, swam, then resolved thrice-over as various Heads-Up Display Elements appeared at first. Then, it all slowly resolved into a flaring, momentary pain in the back of his head... And the view of the sensor cameras of the suit.

He staggered and felt his own knees buckle for a moment under his own weight, which felt like it'd grown many times over. His hands, he could tell faintly, had gripped the suit's control sticks, but his mind, his eyes, his entire body felt like they had a massive, metallic weight now pressing down upon them, the chill from his spine spreading across every inch of his nervous system right down to the teeny-tiny tips of his fingers. Memories flashed, both his own and something else's. Birth and creation, life and existence, parents and parent-programs... Soul and Artificial Mind, merged into one heartbeat. Rael's heart seemed to synchronize with the suit's Fusion Reactor...

"Suit System initiating Neural Connection:New Pilot detected. Identification:Rael'Zorah vas Rannoch, Corporal Cadet, Highlander Regiment Program... Greetings, Rael," That same voice from his dream spoke, a female, soft, always in the back of his mind now. In the corner of his vision, a small window appeared, showing a symbol in the shape of a Geth eye that glowed as she spoke. And she spoke softly, "I am Marina. Your Artificial Connection Enhancer, or ACE. Allow me to stabilize and synchronize you with our new body."

Rael only had to think of approving it, despite him being surprised at an AI in his Combat Suit. A flurry of code flashed in front of his eyes and the weight slowly began to lift. He gasped for air, only to feel intakes open in the suit and see oxygen levels refill, then gasped, grabbing at his own chest, feeling his fingers press against cold titanium and hearing them scrape against it.

He breathed heavily, took a clumsy step back and nearly stumbled, before he spoke, "What... Is going on...?" his vision clearing.

Marina, as she'd called herself, explained, "Suit diagnostics are showing normal connection across. Neural signals are now stable... Take a moment to compose yourself and relax. Some issues with cognitive dissonance may arise at first, but you are now one with your suit. I am attempting to ensure a direct connection between ACE and Pilot remains online."

"... ACE..." He spoke, then blinked. What felt like his own eyelids closed at first, but he soon realized these were the cameras in the suit's own head. He looked at himself, head craning down on audible hydraulic systems. He looked at his legs, at his arms and hands and saw them robotic. He stretched his hands forward and felt his heart racing, before he began to laugh, "Holy...!"

"Pilot, please. I'd advise caution for the moment. System integration may be complete, but disorientation may occur due to the height dif-" Marina started.

But Rael cut her off with, "Holy shit... I'm not just connected to the suit, am I?" and a long, hearty, happy laugh as he moved his newfound mechanical limbs. He looked at his hands, then looked ahead, his IFF identifying his comrade as the same guy that asked him what was going on. Tom. He waved and said, "Hey, Tom! You seeing this!? Hahahaha!"

"I am!" Tom replied, laughing heartily, too, "This is fucking awesome!"

"Hm... I see you're operating within normal parameters," Marina told him, "Good. Your father expected good results from you, especially."

"You kidding!? This is awesome!" Rael laughed as he moved around. He stumbled, feeling himself still clumsily adapting to his new body, before gagging, "Oh, yeah, no, this is weird, though..." only to straighten up slowly. He heard a distant, metallic thump and looked past Tom's Highlander, watching as Laura, another human and a friend of Tom's, had fallen over and cracked a bit of the concrete, much to the annoyance of the deck crews on the catwalks.

"Pretty cool, huh?" His father's voice spoke to him like it was right there. All HACS pilots soon turned in their suits toward the voice's source and saw Raf in his own, early-model Highlander, a heavily-damaged variant colored a dark, dark black. He stepped forward onto the Hangar Deck and crossed his arms to his chest, "Marina and her sisters are reporting All Green Across The Board. Sorry for the scare, kids, but we had to get your asses in gear quickly and a stress scramble felt like the best test for your synch with the suits."

Rael looked at his robotic hands again and mumbled, "I think the most confusing thing for me right now is the fact I have five fingers, I'm gonna be honest..." and that got a few good laughs out of his comrades. He balled his fists, then looked up at his dad, before inquiring, "Whats' next on the agenda, sir?"

"Putting you all through your paces. Admiral Kaine wants this little program accelerated so we can deploy to the Moscow for the Liberation..." He sighed deeply, scratched the back of his suit's neck with the suit hand, then shrugged, "I see no rejections, though, so the Suits like you," then barked at the woman who was being helped up by her comrades(weirdly, one might add) "Meaning we can get straight to keeping balance, Fuentes!"

"Sir!" The dozen or so Suit-wearing soldiers snapped very, very clumsy salutes, some even outright hitting themselves in the heads. Raf sighed deeply, then showed them to line up to the best of their abilities, watching everyone and their mother struggling to walk on their new feet. An understandable teething issue, but one that could be solved with enough time in the suits. Time they now had just barely enough of...