Hazardous Environment Combat Training Center

Operations Base "Vegas"

New Arizona

The light side of the planet of New Arizona had remained little more than a barren, irradiated desert area. The twilight, however, where neither radiation, nor darkness were great enough to pose issues, the military of the Black League had chosen its training area. Saddlebacks, upgraded Warthogs armed with higher-caliber, long-barrel 14,5mm machine guns in protected turrets and bearing enough space in the back to carry six men, plus three more and a driver at the front, rolled over the hills. Their radio crackled to life...

"Ghostmaker Six, this is Warhound One, we have LOS on you. Be advised:Hostile armor at your immediate eight o'clock." The warning of their team's tank crew came. 'Hostile Armor', in this case, did not refer to the reliable Scorpion, or even the uparmored Grizzly. No. UNSC High Command had started testing out new Hazardous Armored Combat Systems, HACS, on the field today.

The HACS Program was a duel between Nanshin Provisions Company and Ingalls Defense and their subsidiaries, Gale Dynamics, Xi Robotics and Guardian Arms on Nanshin's side and Ryuujo Combat Solutions, Vickers Electronics and Talbot Tactical on Ingalls's side. Towering armored vehicles based on the old YGGDRASIL Program appeared over the dunes to the left, quadrupedal machines armed to the teeth with some of the UNSC's newest armaments, including plasma projectors on the quadrupedal XM-220 Warhound Mech.

The XM-220 and the XM-312 HACS represented two completely different parts of the UNSC's doctrine. The Warhound itself bore most of the armament and armor of a vehicle designed for frontal assaults:Plasma projectors on its arms, quad forty millimeter auto-cannons on its shoulders and advanced targeting sensors and systems in the 'head', with the cockpit embedded deep within the belly of the mechanized beast, behind composite armor nearly three hundred millimeters' equivalent of Titanium battle plate. It was bulky and looked rudimentary, industrial.

The XM-312, meanwhile, also designated the Paladin, was an artillery and anti-tank mech built at Ingalls. It bore twin MLRS pods on its shoulder, each carrying approximately six long-range missiles based on older models out of the arsenal of Old America, back on Earth. All the missiles were guided onto target via GPS, or via Squad assist. Said MLR pods could easily be swapped out for the experimental plasma-enhanced batteries off of the old Rhino artillery tanks, or even a single 155mm artillery piece that could fire fin-stabilized Kinetic Energy Penetrators alongside Fin-stabilized HEAT Rounds and normal HE. It was also lightly armored and less mobile than its general-purpose cousin.

True to their name, as well, both mechs were CBRN-certified, able to withstand the worst environments through a combination of lead-lining, micron-calculated seals and oxygen recirculation systems. The program was an expensive, slow development, however, to the point the Admiralty and the Officers were even considering scrapping the entire thing and entrusting themselves into upgrading the Scorpions... The two companies, however, insisted and surprisingly paid out of their own pockets to prove themselves here.

"Christ, look at the size of those fuckers!" The gunner of one of the Saddlebacks commented, swinging around. He sounded far more jovial than he did scared, considering the HACSes were here only for training duty. Each vehicle was equipped with a Laser Warning Receiver and ping. 'KILL' markers for the exercise. Even the Saddlebacks had them, for obvious reasons.

The lead Saddleback's LWR pinged twice. The third was the kill mark from one of the mechs. The vehicle skidded to a halt with the driver swearing to himself. Meanwhile, the leader of the platoon of 'surviving' vehicles called out, "Behind the Dunes! AT out!" as he watched one of their men 'load' the ATGM launcher on top of their vehicle and aim it toward the enemy mechs.

However, before the MRAP could fire first, it, too, was marked 'destroyed'. The crew aboard swore up a storm as their surviving comrades in Ghostmaker rolled behind the hills. Infantry units with Jackhammer missile launchers loaded with dud rounds poured out of the transports, hefting the two-barrel launchers onto their shoulders as the rest of the infantry moved in to secure a perimeter.

The XM-220 must've been escorting 312, obviously, to a new POS for artillery ranging. The bastards had gotten a few of Third Army's OFOR out during this exercise. The commander of Ghostmaker radioed, "This is Ghostmaker Actual to FALCON Niner and FALCON Ten, we have hostile HACS on our location. Requesting drop on target, Danger Close, times two thousand pound JDAMs, grid GOLF Two-Niner. Will lase targets."

"Falcon Nine and Ten, Ghostmaker, copy your last. Coming about, ETA, two mikes..." The reply came from the pilot.

The commander then disembarked from the lead vehicle and ordered his troops to fan out, their own IFF tags flaring on his HUD as green, friendly and still alive. The Marines scrambled to the top of the sand dune as the thundering steps of the assault HACS echoed toward them. The Commander told his boys, "If you can kill it with the Jackhammers, do it! If you can't, lase the bastard for our bombers!"

Affirmative replies came back as the men readied their AT Launchers. One man peered over the edge, watching the Warhound stomping toward them slowly... It was ten meters tall by itself. The twin quad batteries of 40mm Autocannons added at least a couple more meters. It was also moving comparatively fast, at least against the repositioning artillery unit.

The first man with an AT weapon peered over the cover and lifted his launcher. He listened to the pinging of the weapon's lock intensify... Then his HUD systems died. He was marked dead on the spot by the IFF tags. He dropped his launcher and leaned against the dune, shrugging, "Welp. Should've expected that one..." while his mates laughed. A trio of launchers stood to their feet next and aimed at the Artillery mech, finding it the more pressing objective.

All three locked and 'fired' before the Warhound could 'kill' them. The Paladin was out of action, marked 'DESTROYED' on the ID tags. The pilot poked out from the vehicle's belly and flipped the bird at the Marines, all of whom laughed heartily as they leaned back down onto the sand, some of them arranging their desert CBRN BDUs. Overhead, the drone of fusion engines echoed as the survivors lased the enemy Mech. The pilot's LWR pinged rapidly... Followed by a sharp, shrill alarm and a ping. His systems marked his vehicle as 'dead'.

His co-pilot, the gunner manning the 40mm cannons in the sense of utilizing them as AAA and anti-infantry, slumped in her chair and took her helmet off, stating, "Well, that's that, I guess." And she looked to see her pilot huff, a bit annoyed as he utilized the control sticks to maneuver the mech back in line with his artillery-carrying comrade. She assured him, "We still chunked like 90% of Ghostmaker Platoon, which is a pretty good K/D for an unsupported unit of this fucking size..."

"Gotta tell Ingalls and Nanshin that the TAC-MAP system failed to connect us to allied Drones..." He replied, already prepared to write up a report to the companies busy with designing the mechs. He listened to the radio chatter of the other ten trial Warhounds and the about twenty Paladins and said, "Huh. Sounds like Warhounds two, four and six managed to score like three tank kills each, plus a platoon on Six's side."

"Paladins didn't do so bad either, when they were used in their intended roles. Paladins 1, 6, 12 and 20 have actually managed to score AT Kills..." The man commented as he peered through the forward viewscreen, which had a not-so-invasive HUD showing the status of the mech as 'Dead' in the top-right. Entering their FOB a few minutes later reset it, with the man commenting, "Guess that means it's gonna be our turn to test the plasma guns..." as he eyed the range.

"Yep," She snorted and quickly ran diagnostics on her weapons, "We're still MASTER ARM SAFE..."

"Good," He nodded.

... Outside the mech, the representative of Ingalls spoke to Military contract buyers, motioning to the tall mech with pride and gusto, "The Warhound is one of the finest machines spawned out of Ingalls's RnD Departments. She can carry the heaviest non-artillery equipment available to ground units and can even wield the experimental plasma and energy weapons we've been developing for the Navy, such as the plasma projectors we see on its arm mounts."

The Plasma projector was a twin-prong beam weapon, reliant on the magnetic coils within the top and bottom prongs to shape and guide the superheated, ionized gas onto target. The prongs themselves contained radiators on the sides that glowed as the weapons powered and had coolant lines running under the angular armor plating that kept the arms and weapons safe.

One of the military reps asked, "What type of reactor does it have?"

"Currently? A cold fusion reactor running off of Deuterium. The reactor is also armored and located within the base of the vehicle. The plasma batteries contain various volatile gases that are tempered, expelled and ionized upon ignition. The magnetic coils keep the beam shape for up to a kilometer in-atmosphere. We have not determined a distance for ship-mounted lances, but we know for a fact it's at a projected range of at least one thousand five hundred kilometers," Offered the rep, "We can give a demonstration of the plasma weapons if you wish."

"By all means," Another Rep nodded. The Ingalls rep turned to the Mech with a smile and watched as its targeting sensors and head turned toward him. He gave a wave and a thumbs up to the crew and the pilot and co-pilot hummed. The Co-Pilot grinned and began pressing buttons to hand weapons control to the lead. Outside, the group watched from a safe distance and from behind a ship-strength bubble shield as the mech prepared to fire its weapons.

Its arms shifted into position, while the 40mm Cannons shifted and depressed. The group watched with muted awe as the plasma projectors charged, their coils already forming the EM field that would shape the beam as the gases poured into the space between the two prongs. Ionized and ignited, the triggers of the weapons were 'squeezed' and the twin beams lanced out.

A burst of brightness at first partially blinded the viewers, before the beams resolved into a burning, hateful scarlet that cut into the sand dunes ahead and split a decommissioned UNSC Vehicle from engine deck to troop compartment. The Oryx was split in two, then in four as the second beam crossed over the first's hits, the armor melting and the non-detached ERA exploding upon contact.

Within half-a-second, the beams had been expended and the radiators exposed themselves, venting steam off the sides as the radiators quickly dissipated the heat. He twin quad forties opened up, rapid-fire, rounds tearing into a lightly-armored Saddleback's front like a predator's claws going through the body of one of its rivals. The expended 40mm shells cycled back into the action via feed tubes that brought them back in so that they did not litter the ground.

The accuracy with which they hit was somewhere around 97%, though that was expected of this range. Still, the investors seemed plenty impressed. Following that, there was a display by Hanshin of their Paladin's MLRS functions. The ATACMS-type missiles lanced out from their launchers with contrails of smoke and headed for pre-determined targets, diving upon them with all the fury of meteors. They detonated above the hulks being used as target practice, spraying them with hot shrapnel and a shockwave that seemed to crack the steel...

The plasma artillery and 152mm cannon demonstrations followed, with similar results. Investments poured into developing these new combat systems in the next few weeks, the Black League being prepared to invest into the new line of YGGDRASIL and HRUNTING-type equipment, Mechs that would provide the necessary support for their upgrading Armor Brigades. Doctrine would need to account for them... But it would be a worthwhile investment once all else, like Kinetic Barriers and energy shields, was added...

Gateway System, Galactic North-East, near the Perseus Veil

Aboard Civilian Freighter CSS Morning Summons

The Orderly-class Bulk Freighter Morning Summons orbited harmlessly over a gas giant near to the only Mass Relay they had in this general area of space. Their order of business, as per request of the military staff, had been to ensure the resupply of a Sahara-Class Prowler vessel that had gone out to explore beyond the 'gateway' itself. Of course, 'explore' being a loose term for scout out for potential targets for future colonization or outpost creation.

The Orderlies were massive, bulky, boxy and ugly tugboats carrying a myriad of containers attached to a forest of scaffolding in the front. The rear was the engine area, where four overbuilt and massive fusion engines and about a dozen smaller directional thrusters resided. The ship also carried a minimal complement of weapons, which included six 50mm Rampart coilguns with four on top and two on the bottom of the main box hull, as well as ECM and a quick-jump drive to get them out of trouble.

They, the Parabolas and much older Ladens were the basis of the Colonial Trade Fleet's bulk goods suppliers, with the Orderly being probably one of the most common new builds to date. An oversized tug with overpowered engines, little armor or defenses and massive cargo capacity. And here they were, ordered by the Office of Naval fucking Intelligence to resupply a ship.

The shipboard AI, an amalgamation of ugly geometrical figures with eyes that they called 'Pythagoras' for the mathematical jokes, reported, "UNSC Listening Station 021 reports contact with ONI Prowler Dirty Deeds has been established across FTL Coms. ETA to their arrival is half-an-hour from now..." its voice a cacophony of about a dozen various pitches and screeches.

The captain of the ship, an elderly Asian woman with greying hair, replied, "Thank you, Pyth..." as she put a pipe to her mouth and took a deep puff of the tobacco inside. She felt it warm up her lungs as she leaned over toward a radar screen display and called out to one of the half-dozen crew on the bridge, "Keep your eyes open for Cherenkov Radiation the moment it decloaks. Last I heard the Dee Dee was carrying a nuclear warhead aboard..."

"Aye, ma'am," The tired crewman, her own twenty-something daughter, replied as she arranged her black tank top. She kicked her feet up onto the console with a yawn and stared at the beeping radar and sensor readings on her holographic screen as she chewed on a strawberry gum. Ahead of them, the wide expanse of space and their Freighter's cargo-filled nose stood behind several inches of reinforced and heat-treated glass meant to separate them from the void.

"Everybody Wants to Rule The World", a great classic from the waning years of the Twentieth Century on Earth, played from an old music player in the background as the rest of the crew, also extended family of the captain, looked over the various diagnostics screens and data displays. One of the crew, the Captain's husband, fell asleep at his station and, instead of waking him up, the hardy old woman walked up to him and wrapped him up in a blanket, before yawning herself.

"This is boring as fuck," Murmured the daughter, tapping away at the display's holographic buttons, "Hey, Pyth, how much longer-"

The girl was suddenly cut off by the roar of the shipboard alarms. Everyone awoke at that and went to alert. She looked in and reported, "Contacts coming in through... The Relay...?" And she blanked, "We still had like ten minutes before the Prowler was gonna arrive and it wasn't gonna be using the relay, right...?" as she looked up at the Relay. The gyroscope containing the Eezoo Core started rotating much faster than normal...

Alerts seemed to ring at the UNSC outpost nearby, too, as the Frigates stationed there detached from their moorings. A squadron of five Frigates moved in, two of them now flanking the Summons while the other three watched, MACs charged and shields up, as the first vessel emerged from the Relay and returned to its normal mass in a flash. It was a strange vessel, a circle at the top that was cut in half by the central prong. Said prong extended outward to the rear, seemingly strapped with actual cargo containers. Above and below, on the 360 and 180 degree points, two more, smaller boons, parallel to the central one, poked out.

One such ship appeared. Then two. Then four. Then a hundred. Followed by hundreds more. Finally, three massive spherical vessels with several similar spires poking out of the rear also appeared. The Captain took her glasses off and murmured, "My God... Look at the size of'em..." as she leaned on the console. The others maintained red alert, ready to jump out at a moment's notice as UNSC Radio Traffic started playing over encrypted Coms.

"Outpost Charlie has sent forth the Silent Call..." Pyth reported, "The Mass Relay should be shutting down... Now..."

And, indeed, the massive alien structure's eezoo core slowed, then quietened and died. The artificial gravity kept the two circles attached to the main station, but it was obvious. The station had gone dark, as per the UNSC's studies and beliefs. The UNSC Captain in command of the five-frigate Task Force stated, "Morning Summons, evacuate immediately. Outpost Charlie has sent a distress call to UNSC Home Fleet in the Ingalls System and to the Admiralty. The unknown Aliens will be dealt with as per First Contact and NEWCOMER Protocols."

"Roger... Roger that, Frigate Green Devil... Retreating..." She replied, then gave the order. The Freighter swung about and powered its engines to the maximum, while the UNSC warships stared at the new arrivals with concern and fear. Their weapons had firing solutions, nuclear warheads were prepared and everything was green. Now, it was just a matter of the Navy arriving and the discussions beginning...

"How many ships...?" Asked a UNSC Captain.

"Well over a thousand, sir, various sizes and not all seem to be armed," Replied another shipboard AI, "They're attempting contact and we're working to match freqs with them... Though, going by the alien ramblings we're hearing, they weren't expecting to find anyone here, either. EWAR is in full activity and they won't be able to talk to anyone outside of this system, sir."

"Thank you, Paddy," The captain sighed and rubbed his eyes, "I swear to Christ... When's the fleet set to arrive?"

"Thirty seconds..." The AI replied calmly. The Captain immediately craned his head to the left, watching the black void split at the seams as two dozen UNSC Ships, both old and new, armed with plasma and laser batteries alongside their kinetics and missiles and shielded from bow to stern, appeared. Six Frigates, four Cruisers, a Carrier and an Envoy ship registered on the IFFs that appeared on the three-dimensional holographic display ahead of the captain. The AI spoke, "Translation Algorithm... Complete. Engaged. Transmitting..."

"... Is Admiral Cula'Xen Vas Yiraka, of the Quarian Heavy Fleet..." A woman's voice. She was clearly concerned, "We apologize if we've trespassed on your realm, but we seek passage beyond this Star Cluster for the safety of our fleet..." And she continued to speak to them. Her translation was perfect and even articulated. As it seemed, anyway. For all the Captain knew, these newfangled Seventh Gen AIs and their translation capabilities were crap.

... On board the UNSC Moscow, the same old warhound of a Carrier that had brought a good chunk of the survivors aboard its massive cryobays, now reinforced and modified to better fit with the times, including in terms of her armament and fighter complement, Fleet Admiral Caleb Grayson ordered, "On-Screen," his voice soft and smooth. Establishing visual contact seemed to be far easier than the translation segment, however, as the image of an alien woman with three fingers on her hands appeared. She had strange legs, as well as feet that looked more avian and her entire body was encased in what looked to be a very ornate hazard suit with a mask that hid her face behind a blur.