Earthsphere 2404

[Solaris]

((This would be what you're looking for, Harvey.))

The Earthsphere Legion was perhaps the most lethal fighting force in the Milky Way. Their tactics were of surpassing brutality, their equipment the best, and the men were the best humanity had to offer - and more. It's said that while there have been campaigns they did not open up with an RKV bombardment, those could be counted with one hand.
The Second War for Midgard was one of them.

***

Zaiid Hunter looked out at the now-familiar Midgard sunrise. Distant, harsh Rigel cast too-sharp shadows with its blue-white too-bright light, but the atmosphere was so thin that the local stars and the Horsehead were visible even during daytime. For a Martian cattle man, used to navigating by the Sol system's constellations, the world's sky was even more jarring than for most Terrans. The ground below it was little better, jumbled rocks left from the planet's last ice age in shades of grey, pale brown, and bluish-purple sprinkled with the chrome-silver of the native lichen-type fauna.
Desolate or not, he loved this rock.

"You really ought to wear at least a breather when you go outside, dearest," Summer Hunter said as she walked up next to him. The petite Colonial-Terran woman had a silvery shinecloak over her clothes and wore a transparent mask over her nose and mouth. Midgard had a good coating of fine-grained regolith, and Rigel's rays carried more radiation than was entirely healthy for a sustained population.

Zaiid smiled tolerantly down at her, then pulled a breather mask out of his duster's inner pocket and put it on. Midgard's dust was nothing compared to what Mars could whip up. "Shuttle's inbound for Ramirez. Figure I'll be heading for the base, see what they've got." Compared to her clipped patrician accent, he drawled out his vowels in the classic Martian redman accent.

"Business?" Summer asked in that guarded tone she used when she wasn't certain whether to be mad or not.

"Yes." Zaiid had only recently revealed to her that he wasn't exactly the sort of prospector he'd let her think. "There's talk of a new treaty with the Luarnan Protectorate."

Summer blinked in surprise. She'd grown up in the Sirian Republic, which had maintained relations with friendly xeno-species ever since they seceded from the Earthsphere Alliance fifty years ago. "The Earthsphere has treaties with the Protectorate?"

"The Star League ceased to exist as of sixteen hours and some change ago," Zaiid said quietly. "The Scourge made it into Nexus. There's a whole heap o' ships sitting outside the Gate to Rigel, pleadin' to be let in afore the Scourge gets 'em." He chuckled darkly. "I guess they figure the big bad hoo-mans aren't so scary as the xeno-plague." He deliberately drawled out the pronunciation of 'human', mimicking the manus accent. Zaiid's first action had been against the Io Bela empire in their Seven Suns War some thirty years ago.

Summer smiled tightly. "So what do you have to do with it, dearest?"

"Part of that treaty is lookin' to be callin' us up for to be pushin' the Scourge outta Nexus," Zaiid said. He saw her pretty blue eyes widen in shock as she realized what that meant, and it hurt his heart. "I might be meetin' with General Raikou. We'll need every body we can get for an operation like that."

"What about the local situation?" Though a civilian - not even a citizen, as she'd never served federally - Summer was quite familiar with how the native tribesmen were hampering colonization efforts. Zaiid was originally ordered to Midgard in order to pacify them by assassinating key leaders and shamans.

Zaiid smiled wryly. "Might be I'll be comin' back 'ere with a gravy to take ya back to the Earthsphere."

"That bad?"

"We ain't expectin' to be keepin' the folks on Midgard for much longer," Zaiid replied softly. "Least, not the ones who don' evacuate when come time. Get light on the ground, an' don' leave anything you- just don't expect to be comin' back."

Hearing that shocked Summer even more, though she maintained her cool, dignified composure. Humanity had never lost a world, not since they drove the velasu out of Sol system in the First Interstellar War. "When will they be making the announcement?"

"When we lose the Gate," Zaiid said. "The Peacekeepers an' the Fifth are fortifyin', but it ain't like we have Daedalus holding it... and the Scourge are gonna be throwing everything they got at us." He looked up at the sky. "Call it... 'bout six hours. A week after that, the first elements of their fleet get here, an' the xeno-plague infects Midgard. No world's ever come back from that."

[PoisonousSpider]

"I swear to the gods, I'm gonna shoot you. Yup. Square..in..the..face." A plastic dinosaur rises and falls like some kind of prehistoric baseball. Trenham McCallis' emerald colored eyes glare disparagingly at Tager. She was a young thing, not claiming to have seen more then 21 years. Her face, though long, was undoubtedly beautiful. Trenham was graced with full lips, long eyelashes, and the type of zero maintance y that drives people to murder. Her lips pout and her head tilts, sending waves of red hair cascading over a shoulder. "Imagine how long you could feed the crew. This idea's sounding awwweeeessssooommmeee."

Tager smirks, he face softening when his own brown eyes fall on the software analyst. "Two words, Tree. Idiot savant.... Whoa." The one hand sitting on the control panel taps a haphazard command. The ship jolts violently, sending everything not nailed down sailing. Tager grits his teeth and looks to Trenham. "And you thought I couldnt eat and fly...ha." The pilot laughs, setting his protein bar down and flipping the switch for the ship`s intercom. "Special Agent Berkley? We have a...Midgard. Yeah, I think that's a planet...Or a hell-hole. We're getting close to Rigel. I'm picking up warship signatures from here..."

"Yeah, Go ahead and touch down. I have a meeting on Midguard." Berkley's voice was soft, the musical cadence of his words carryingl ittle warmth. Everyone could imagine the smirk that was on his lips, though. What they didnt expect, was the man to be leaning against the doorframe right behind them. Or for him to get so darned comfort and able without making a sound. "Tager, put the food down, take the earbuds out and fly the bloody ship. Trenham? On me. Tell me what you know about General Raikou?"

[Solaris]

((Lifespans in this timeframe aren't what they are on 21st-century Earth. Raikou is some ninety years old, looks early forties. Zaiid and Summer are both in their mid-forties, but physically half that. People routinely live to one hundred and fifty, two hundred years old.))

"Special Agent First Class Zaiid Hunter's here to see you, sir," the synth secretary said over the intercom.

General Mayumi Raikou nodded. A Trillstani native who'd proudly served in the Legion for sixty-three years, the last decade in command of Ft Ramirez on the Midgard frontier, she was not happy to learn that her homeworld was practically crawling with NSA agents.
Particularly not one who had a reputation for getting creative with his interpretation of the phrase "acceptable levels of collateral damage".
"Send him in," she said.

"Afternoon," Zaiid said evenly as he walked in, quietly shutting the door behind him. He was not what she expected, but then the 'No Such Agents' hardly ever were. A big man with mocha skin and dark rust-brown hair, he had a sort of pleasant good-natured look about him. There was no trace of the Martian accent in his voice, and with that pigmentation he could've fit in anywhere in the Earthsphere. "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

Raikou smiled tightly. At least he was polite. "Have a seat." She indicated the two chairs in front of her desk, padded plastic of old-fashioned design. "You were a Colonel in the Legion, were you not?"

"Yes'm," Zaiid replied. "They transferred me to the Agency four years ago, after we cleared out the Eight Months War."

"These orders," Raikou said as she slid a data-crystal across her desk towards him, "are from High Command. You've just been transferred back."

Zaiid didn't need to read the crystal to know what it said. "I'm to take command of the Five-Three-oh-First. They were... brought below combat effectiveness in the action at Sa'Kiin." That Legionnaires were fighting and dying for alien worlds was not common knowledge, but the Earthsphere's Finest had been in the fight for seven months and some change now. He hadn't envied his replacement the task of writing the condolence letters.

"Yes." General Raikou smiled wryly. "I don't envy you your task, Colonel."

"Eh," Zaiid shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time I had to whip that pack o' savages into fightin' trim."

"Colonel..." Raikou's voice faltered.

"It's a suicide mission, ma'am. I know." Zaiid shrugged again. "A week to get trainees and vets fresh from a slaughter into shape, then we're to be tasked with the rearguard actions as-"

"-The rest of us turn tail and run for the Core," Raikou finished. She found it mildly annoying that he already seemed to know everything she was trying to brief him. "The Fleet expects the Scourge to penetrate their blockade within the week. The RDF is going to put out recall orders for all reservists this morning."

"When will we be evacuating Midgard, ma'am?"

"We'll evacuate the civilians in three days," Raikou replied. "They're already moving critical personnel out of Touchdown Point and the other major cities. You get to skip out on that little adventure, though."

"Lucky me."

"First formation's at zero-six local tomorrow," Raikou said. "Your new headquarters are in the crystal, as is the roster and your personnel. Good luck, Hunter. You'll need it."

"We hold the line, ma'am." Hunter grinned wolfishly.

[PoisonousSpider]

"Sir, we have a...Natasha Browning...here for you. She says it has to do with a Special Agent Berkley"

General Raikou's finger hesitates over the crystal's intercom button for a milisecond. "Send her in, please." When Midgard had become a hornet's nest for all these NSA agents, the General didn't know. She'd met few until this incident started and now she'd met with two of them today alone.

When the hydrolics hiss and the office door opens, the figure that emerges actually registers a small amount of shock on the General's face.

Natasha Browning was certainly a tall woman, standing at a confident five feet and ten inches without heels. The woman's honey brown hair fell in loose curls, brushing gently against the ivory shoulders her jet black dress left bare. Her only accessories were a pair of two inch black heels and thick frame black glasses, serving to put a layer of glass between seafoam green eyes and the world. After a few strides, a smile enroached upon the lipstick smattered lips. "General Raikou. I'm Natasha Browning. It's an absolute pleasure to meet you." Natasha extended a perfectly manicured hand, exuding more innocent confidence then most military officers could muster.

"Miss Browning. You said you had a matter concerning NSA Special Agent Berkley?" The General grasped the hand, offered a firm shake, and motioned to the chair opposite her desk. She, however, elected to remain standing.

"I did. I was sent here, General, to collect you and bring you to a more neutral location where you could meet his team. Some of us like the city life, you see, and Logan didn't want us too closely associate with your office when news of the evacuation breaks." Her musical cadence of words spoke of an accent long forgotten, and the smile said what her tone didn't. Midgard was about to erupt into chaos.

The General pursed her lips and nodded, taking a dark grey peacoat from a coat rack by her desk. "And who exactly are you, Miss Browning? Captain Berkley's assistant? Secretary?"

The young woman had already turned, but she looked over her shoulder with a knowing smile. Something stirred behind those emerald eyes.

"No. I'm his slave."
__________________________________________________ ____________________

It wasn't until they had taken the forth or fifth right down the dark alley that General Raikou began feeling her doubts. She followed three steps behind the taller woman, growing more and more disheartened the further they got into the poor districts. Fingering the pistol she had concealed behind her wasteband, Raikou cracked her neck. "Almost there, Miss Browning? I don't have all night, you know."

The woman hadn't spoken since they had left the offices. But at once, she turned and held open a door that looked to be rotting off the hinges. "Not almost. We're here." The building beyond was a dingy bar at best. Half the lights didn't work, tables were upturned, and the air smelt of stale beer and cheap cleaning products. There were very few patrons. A young couple at the bar, and a pair of ragged old men laughing about times past in the far corner.

"Back already, Tasha? That might be a new record." It was the male of the barside duo that turned to speak. He was young, with at least a days worth of stubble and the build most legionares would envy. "Tager McCord, ma'am. I'm Berkley's pilot. This..." He motioned to his partner, a red-headed woman who was almost to young to believe. "This is Trenham, our resident software genius."

The girl blushed and smiled, murmering a quiet greeting a moving to stand next to Tager. She looked even more girlish standing next to the big man. It made Raikou wonder if she was even an adult. "You've already met Tasha, the universes most gifted diplomat. So all you have left is..."

"...Me." The voice came from the doorway behind them. The man standing there was covered in what looked to be the beginnings of a dust storm. He was stood just over Natasha at about 6 foot 1. Grey flecked the temples of his perfect brown hair, just as dust clung to his clean shaven cheeks. His features were sharp. Aristocratic, even. It was unusual. Berkley's build was that of a legionare, that was for certain. But in the black dress pants and tie-less button up, he didn't look as much like an NSA agent as he did a tired busniess man trying to get home to his wife and kids. Granted. That was the point. "Ma'am. Special Agent Logan Berkley, NSA. I apologize for the inconvinence of bringing you here, but I trust my associate informed you of my reasoning."

General Raikou scowled, wondering who the was bringing all these fashion magazine characters to life. "You mean your slave, Agent Berkley? You and I. We have some talking to do."

A quiet laughter came from the entire group, Berkley's own lips curling into a weary smile. "You mean Tasha? Our prisoner-consultant? I suppose work release can feel a bit like slavery...." His dark green eyes focused on the tall woman who was still stiffling her laughter. "But I agree. We do have some talking to do. Tell me about this....Colonal Hunter. And exactly what my mission here is going to be..."

[Solaris]

((Why wouldn't the general in the Earthsphere Legion wear a pistol openly? Or go anywhere without her assistant, a Centurion-Major [O-4]?))

While CM Lein stood beside the door, just far enough away that he'd be outside the privacy bubble, Raikou reached into her jacket pocket. An invisible bubble of skin-tingling electrical field surrounded them. The noise of the city suddenly silenced as the security bubble effectively cut them off from most passive bugs. "Much of Colonel Hunter's war record is sealed," Raikou replied, "and discussing his service in the NSA is... well, I'm sure you've heard more about his exploits than I have." She shook her head. "I've never had the... pleasure of working with the man, but I've heard of him. Everyone who's been in the Legion more than a couple minutes has. Hunter's the metal jockey who captured the Archduke of Polaris practically solo, in the first week of the campaign. Recruiting for the mechanized infantry tripled that week."

The fact that humanity had fought in the Seven Suns War was common knowledge. After all, the mani had abducted colonists from the outer worlds, brainwashing and altering them both surgically and genetically into warrior-slaves for the Empire. Less commonly known was that the perpetrators were the rebels, and the Legion had fought to prevent their taking over the Io Bela Empire. Hunter's capture of the Polarian capital effectively ended the rebellion, reaffirming the reputation humanity's defenders had of being the most dangerous fighters in the galaxy. Contrary to popular belief, though, he did not act alone - seven Legionnaires accompanied Hunter to the surface of Polaris in their own metals, though only one other, Centurion Owen Hart, survived the fight to take the Archduke's palace. The enemy's death tolls were crippling.

That victory was also what had gained the attention of the NSA and earned Hunter a place in their ranks, while Hart remained in the Legion.

Raikou looked thoughtful as she searched for a more in-depth answer to the question. "He's a cowboy, Agent Berkley. Moreso than most metal jockeys or Agents, I mean. His battalion had a reputation for excessive aggression, sloppy discipline, and an appalling disregard for regulations. I won't deny that they're effective, but there is a reason High Command picked him for this job.
"Hunter," she said, "is all but impossible to kill. For the last six months the Trillstani insurgents have been trying to kill him, including putting bombs in his car and snipers outside his house. He and his crew have outfought and outwitted all of them. I remain unconvinced that he actually sleeps. I do know he has enjoyed their 'game'. Your job is not so much to protect him, Agent, as it is to liaise between him and the Agency. I understand his previous handler had a psychotic breakdown and retired recently. This would indicate that there's an alternative mission they wish to task him with, but that's entirely outside of my clearance." She shrugged, feigning innocence. "I'm certain it has absolutely nothing to do with the Forerunner ruins containing still functional biomech tech that his wife's been excavating and we certainly cannot allow to fall into Scourge - or xeno - hands. Site 39-B is in the Spire Mountains, a string of rocky, high mountains that formed when the tectonic plates of the Eastern Continent started crushing into each other about seventeen million years ago. The local fauna are much more aggressive than in the Cobalt Plains region - the area around Ft Ramirez - and so few people venture into them. That's why they're all marked bright red on your immigration brochures."

***

"Dearest?" Summer's sweet alto voice sounded from the phone mounted on Zaiid's dashboard. A literal smart phone, it had an AI 'personal assistant' - one who had the annoying habit of always answering Summer's calls immediately... especially when she sounded annoyed.
Like now.

"What's up, Summer?"

"Why is a rather large group of armed gentlemen gathered at the dig site?"

"'Cause it's our new headquarters," Zaiid replied. He did not sound pleased about the idea, and not just because he knew what kind of trouble they could get into monkeying about a still-functional Forerunner temple. A new battalion command, and one-third of the unit being replacements fresh from training, all a week out from expected contact? Someone wanted this to end badly. "Make sure Rick-Rick don't get into it with anybody, a'ight?"

"Dearest, I'm a xenobiologist, not a babysitter." Summer sounded like she couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or amused.

Zaiid laughed. "He's a paraplegic asthmatic Loonie, how hard could it be?"

Summer sighed, exasperated. "I must go, dearest. Something's on fire, and it sounds like it was expensive. Loveyoubye." She abruptly cut off the connection.

Zaiid smiled. Summer could be cute when she was stressed. Honestly, picking him to defend the site made sense - he'd helped Summer and her crew from the Athens Institute of Xeno-Anthropology and Technology with some of the digging last dry season. The Trillstani were making a nuisance of themselves, sabotaging equipment and attacking the crew, so he joined them for a couple of months. After a near-fatal attack put Richard Riccetti - Rick-Rick - in a wheelchair, Zaiid resorted to kinetic negotiations to resolve the situation. After depleting the tribe, they were no longer willing to engage in hostilities.

This site was important, though. From what Summer had told him about it, Forerunner survivors had made it post-fall as a sort of monument, museum, and ark. Most disturbingly, it was apparently waiting for humans, despite Sol system being parsecs from the nearest Nexus gate. They hadn't yet penetrated into the main vaults, but even the outer perimeters of the temple held fascinating, tantalizing clues to technology vastly superior to even that of the Star League's tech-priests.

"Send out a message to the cell," Zaiid told the phone. "Tell them to expect an increase in attacks from the Trillstani takin' advantage of the chaos from the evacuations. If a Trilly so much as looks at a body funny, it will not be havin' an open casket funeral. Hostiles are not to be invited to the evacuation. We're on defensive posture at this point - no sense wastin' resources prosecutin' Trillies when the fleet and ODPs are about to be shootin' skeet with Scourge spores in our orbit. End of message," he said as he drove out the fort's main gate, heading for the dig site. A pack of raptors dozed on the side of the road just thirty klicks out, unusually close to the Fort. One of the silver-plated hexapedal quasi-reptiles lifted its nightmarish head and watched him drive pass, but the others barely shifted a blade.

[PoisonousSpider]

“Just so I have this straight, the four of us...” Tager motions around the SUV full of people with a finger gesture, barely risking a glance at the road he's driving on. “...are tasked with leashing up a deranged lunatic armed with the universe's most advanced weaponry and leading a good number of people just as nutzo as he is against a Scourge invasion?!” He glances in the rear view mirror, studying Trenham as she types away on her tablet and then Natasha who seemed more concerned with the dirt under her manicured nails then the rantings of the driver.
“You know...for such a big, <I>strong</I> man, you whine a lot.” Tasha's quiet, chipper accent finally answers him. Her smoldering eyes leave her fingernails and stare into the rearview mirror. Her face was calm. Placid, even. Except for the bit of dark amusement rising in her eyes. “Maybe you should be more like Berkie. Turn your frustration inward until you become a bitter, dangerous old man. Honestly, he's one step away from a porch and a boomstick.” Her right hand rises and flicks the agent in the back of the head.
“Or, you could repress it, smile about everything, and rely on what's between your legs when diluted metaphors fail.” Though his eyes were concealed behind sunglasses, the man looks into the rearview mirror and smirks, noting the smug expression on the face of the woman behind him. “Granted, Tager, you're far to pretty for prison. You might want to refrain from taking this one as a role model.”
“Berkers. You cut too deep. And...why don't you take your earbuds out? I know you don't actually listen to that thing. The music on it's older then she is...” Natasha glances over to Trenham, who is still diligently working on her computer. She sighs, shakes her head, and looks back at the man sitting in front of her. “It hurts our fragile little feelings when you use it as an excuse not to listen to us, after all..”
She recieves an absent stare from Logan, who calmly pops his headphones out of his ears and folds them in his hands. “First of all. Natasha? Lips closed. I know it's unusual, given what you're used to, but hey. Call me revolutionary. Tager?” Berkley turns to the driver, who seemed to remember he was supposed to drive with both hands when the boss was looking. “You are tasked with keeping Trenham safe while she does her voodoo against the scourge. Don't talk to, look at, smell, or irritate Special Agent Hunter. You're to leave dealings with him to either myself, or Natasha as, from what I understand, he's liable to tear your head off and play wall-ball with it.”
Tager chuckles a bit, and looks at his arm in great interest. And then he looks over to Berkley. “I think I might have a bit of a strength advantage over you, Berk. That has to count for something.”
“It does. You'll be slower. More clumsy. Like a blunt club on a brick wall. That won't be an advantage. Not the way Logan engages the enemy.” It was the first serious statement Natasha had made all day, and it caused everyone but Berkley to turn toward her. She smiled that cruel little smile of hers, brushing her nails against the front of her ivory colored dress. “When he kills you, you'll never see it coming. And you wonder why he's my kind of man.”

“And on that happy note. We- what the hell are they excavating?” Tager murmers as he stares wonderingly out the windshield.

“Natasha's innocence. She lost it during the darkest hour. Now to find Zaiid Hunter. The celebrity we've all been waiting for.” Logan smirked.

[Solaris]

Summer shaded her eyes, peering at the truck bouncing down the road towards the site affectionately known as Camp Last Chance, the base camp for the few archaeological digs in the Spires. Like all of the dozen or so civilians remaining there, she wore a clear plastic breather mask, tinted goggles, and a hooded shinecloak to protect against Midgard's hostile environment. Last Chance was a collection of adobe longhouses arranged in two rows, with a fifteen-feet-tall concrete wall surrounding the whole thing. The wall was lined with electrified coils of razorwire, and an aerostat with a camera and a gun turret provided aerial support. The Spires to the south and east provided a dramatic, even beautiful backdrop of blue-grey, purple, and tan capped in bright white snow.

"Oh great, more people coming." She pointed to the SUV winding its way up the path to Last Chance, taking the same route the Legion Chariots and transport trucks had earlier that day. The three-hour drive was easier and cheaper than simply flying in with gravy ships.

"To be fair, we're expecting 'bout six hundred folks to be arriving in the next twelve hours or so," the tall, lanky Centurion standing next to Summer said. He wore a black powersuit, sleek and angular armor that - when combined with innate human ability and the super-human genetic augmentations each Legionnaire received - made the Earthsphere's Finest the premiere super-soldiers of the twenty-fifth century. He had his helmet tucked under his left arm, and his right hand rested easily on the carbine slung at his side. "Six more centuries, to go with the two we have here already."

Summer nodded, biting her bottom lip nervously. Impending apocalypses tended to unsettle her, to say nothing of eight hundred Earthsphere Legionnaires descending on one of the biggest finds since the Prometheus. Her find. "Try not to sound so enthusiastic, Owen."

"Aye, aye, ma'am." Owen glanced at the truck. "Four people. Two men, two women. The dust cloud in the distance is a Scarab, late nineties model. Grey."

"The latter would be Zee's truck," Summer said. Zaiid's three-axled monstrosity was well-known in the area. "I do not know who the others are."

"I do, unfortunately," Owen sighed. "Colonel Hunter's leash, the poor bastards."

[PoisonousSpider]

"Go ahead and take the spare terminal in my office. Make yourself at home, little one." Logan's calm cadence of words makes Trenham smile, tilt her head, and nod.

"Don't worry about a thing, Agent Berkley. I'll have my systems running by supper time tonight." Trenham's voice shared the same accent as Logan and Natasha. Hers was softer, as if marked by innocence. She crossed the narrow section of the facility assigned to Berkley in a few footfalls, expert hands immediately logging into the small tech alcove inset into the wall.

"Get the SUV fueled up and set into a position for quick evac. Make sure anything that could identify us is removed from the vehicle and brought in here for processing. Ensure engine operations are optimal and, if you're feeling really adventurous, try vacuuming it." Logan laughs and tosses the keys haphazardly at Tag. He catches them midway between an exaggerated salute, and an area of his body that frowns on direct physical contact.

"Gotcha, boss! Anyone need anything if I run to the store?!"

Berkley fixes him with the 'look.'

"Oh. I think I hear the alarm going off. Pesky legionares trying to steal our motorvehicles. Better go! Stay classy, guys!" Tager's departure from the building moves along more quickly then some hot eagle flights into insertion zones.

Logan, partly out of frustration and partially impressed, shakes his head. "You..." His dark green eyes find Natasha, and as she smiles at him he shakes his head even harder. "Freshen up. You and I are going to meet this Colonal Hunter fellow and see exactly how he wants to proceed with his mission." He sets the preservation case he had been carrying on his desk, popping the clasps on the front and smiling at the airtight hiss that greets him. "And Tosh?" A SK 278 emerges, sporting a modified 'hairline' trigger, a fiber-enhanced low-light zoom scope, secondary recoil buffer, and compensation package for the sniper setup. Logan turns it around delicately in his hands, as if he had never intended to touch the thing again. "From here on, carry your blade. We're not playing this game unarmed."

Natasha smirks, her eyes darkening in arousal at the sight of the weapon. "Logan Berkley, those are the most beautiful words I've ever heard escape those perfect lips. Keep talking like that and I may actually fall in love with you." Tasha smirks, winks, and turns around, moving her hips as only she could on her way to the changing rooms.

The CP was always a ...happening... place. People moved to and fro in an almost rythematic motion, all accomplishing different tasks at different speeds. Amidst the lights of the various terminals and illuminated displays, Logan Berkley stood with some preliminary reports in his hand. His glasses rode low on his nose as green eyes quickly passed over, and discarded various data samples, none of which seemed to particularly concern him. He had changed into a black pinstripe suit, perfectly tailored save the thigh holster on his right leg. A pistol, obviously well cared for, hung just above his fingertips, though Logan seemed to barely notice it."

"Berkie? Look at this..." Natasha, wearing a low cut ivory dress belted in black satin, approaches from his left, handing over a very plain looking file. Her honey brown curls bounced about her shoulders, and her dark lipstick made those pearly teeth look even more white. Exposed arms and legs were well muscled, and smoother then a gloss finish on a sports car. "When the hell's this guy supposed to show up? I'm in the mood for a salad, damn it. No one makes me miss my salad."

[Solaris]

"Battalion! At-ten-CHUN!"
"Carry on," Hunter said as he stepped into his command post. He wore a silver-trimmed black great coat over his black armor, the bars befitting an officer of his rank glinting on his shoulders. He held his helmet under his left arm, the right tucked into his coat pocket. "Sergeant Major, the disposition of my men?"

"HHC and Gamma are already emplaced at Camp Last Chance, sir. With the civilians moving out, we've room for most of 'em. The other centuries are en route from Touchdown Point. Centuries Beta and Epsilon are going to be billeted at Temple Mount itself, while Zeta is in Ramirez. All eight hundred and sixty-eight men are accounted for." The grizzled old one-eyed Norcrosser rattled off without a hint of hesitation. "And might I say, sir, it's about time you quit playin' at secret agent and got back to the real fightin'."

"Weren't a damn thing secret 'bout it," Hunter chuckled. He and Sergeant Major Kyne Zheng had worked together for the better part of a decade, ever since he made Centurion and Zheng made Master Sergeant. Zheng had lost his eye throwing Hunter out of the lethal radius of a grenade. "Just ask the Sirians what happened to Abishai Kappa-Six."

"I understand you've already met the leader of the civilians," Zheng continued.

"We're familiar," Hunter said, amusement in his voice. Damn, it felt good to be back in uniform. "Miz Hunter," he said with mock gravity to his wife.

Summer smiled back at him. "Colonel. I believe your pet secret agents are here."

"My office, sergeant major?"

"Ask the li'l missus," Zheng said. "Any amendments to disposition?"

"Negative," Hunter replied. "Summer?"

"Right this way," Summer said, rising to her feet. She cast a glance at the NSA agents, motioning for them to follow as she led them into her office. Falling readily into the role of the military wife and knowing how important appearances were to the Legion, she let Zaiid take the seat behind the desk and instead sat down at one of the chairs in front of it.

"Sit down, Agent Berkley," Hunter said in a no-nonsense tone as soon as the door shut and privacy bubbles activated. "What in the Nine Worlds of Sol is your pet psychopath doing here?"

[PoisonousSpider]

"Socializing with the other animals?" Logan's dark eyes fell on the Colonal, his hands immediately going respectfully behind his back, but opting not to take a seat quite yet. "We can drop the majority of the formalities, sir. We both know why I'm here." He continues watching the older man, head tilting and eyes narrowing in contemplation. "It's not my intention to challenge your command. I'm not here to lead troops; to fight for glory or honor. I don't even want a damned book deal." He pauses, knowing full well that Natasha was staring just behind him. This was a side she didn't often get to see. Busniess. "If you'd like an advisor, Colonal, I'm here. I can be as involved or uninvolved as you'd like. If you'd like me present on the lines, or training legionares? Roger." He stops in front of Summer, quiet eyes studying her very familiar features with a slight loo of confusion. "But you must know enough of me to know that I WILL accomplish my mission. Or I'll die trying."

"Colonal. Ma'am." Natasha's soft, accented voice comes from behind Berkley. Her hand lifts to carefully push her glasses back up her nose and she gives a shy, petite little smile. "There's a very specialized team of us here to aid you in -any- way you'd like. We're here to help lighten the load. We want to help. Just trust us." Her gentle eyes look down to Summer, visably inspecting her and smiling a little wider. "And if you can't trust us..." She brushes her curls back, exposing that long, slender neck with the microchip embedded in the base of her skull. "Then trust Logan."

[Solaris]

((Zaiid Hunter is so over-the-top it's funny. I half expect him to bellow "FOR THE EMPEROR!" at some point.))

Hunter's eyes narrowed slightly. Such an expression frequently preceded explosions, gunfire, and the phrase "absurd collateral damage". "Good. We've been given an impossible mission, and frankly... I seriously considered ventilatin' you and your whore. Woulda been easier, but I ain't in the habit of shootin' a dog 'til it gets the chance to crap on the carpet. You are not Legion. You will not be training Legionnaires, nor will you be deployed to fight alongside us. You will stay the hell out of the Temple Mount site until such time as I clear you for it. This is for your safety." He glanced at Summer, and she smiled tightly in response. "You are here as a courtesy from the Earthsphere to the Republic." His tone softened a bit, perhaps as he recalled that they were allies.
"That said, we're about to be on a planet crawlin' with Scourge. I hear tell you have some expertise in guerilla warfare, and we figure that roughly a quarter of the population will prefer to remain in place rather than evacuate. That, Agent, is where you come in." He smiled humorlesly. "I'm sure they filled your head with stuff and nonsense about my 'reputation', how I'm a 'loose cannon' and so forth. Charles Kent, your predecessor as political officer, thought his job was to be my leash. He failed miserably; I destroyed a battle carrier just to spite him. Let's save each other a whole hell of a lot of grief right here and now by making one thing abundantly clear:
"As of zero-six tomorrow morning, the only law on Midgard is the Legion. As an officer of that Legion - and as your senior agent in the NSA - I am the law. For the first time since the Darkest Hour, a human-inhabited world will become a theater of war. I've no intention of losin' it to secret agent spy games. You are not my leash. You are another weapon in my arsenal to defend this planet."

"We can, of course, work together," Summer said, laying a hand on Hunter's arm. She'd rarely seen him like this, and she wasn't sure she liked it. "I can field any questions about the site you fine gentlemen are here to protect. Zee, of course, is familiar thanks to having worked here before his reactivation. I can also assure you that the danger is very real, both from the Forerunner biomechs and from the local xeno-fauna. Then, of course, there are the Trillstani. They are rather quite naughty, to put it mildly."

[PoisonousSpider]

To Summer, Logan narrows his eyes, tilts his head, and seems like he's trying to place something. "My advice on that issue, sir, would be to leave the Trillstani to me. Their leadership and I have a bit of a history, and I would much rather see their people dying in the initial assaults then ours." He pauses, taking his hands out from behind his back and sliding them into his pockets. "Any expertise I developed in urban operations would be noted in my file. I always specialized in small group teams running hit and move operations. After my part in the war with the Mani, situation..." Logan licked his lips. "...dictated I quickly become acclimated with HME and improvised resistance tactics." The emerald eyes finally shift from Summer to Zaiid, and that aristocratic jaw tightens. "That said? If I ever hear the words dog, or whore used to describe me or mine again, sir, I'll take it as an opportunity to test out whether or not my skills have rusted. I'm almost willing to bet my badge that's not the case, though. Also? I'm only a liason officer to the NSA. This accent? It's not strictly to pick up women." He motions to Natasha. "I can do that well enough in the prisons, no talking needed. If you need us, sir, we're proud to serve under you. But I'll have my people respected. And I will, absolutely not, have everything and its sister killed because we're too lazy to think up a better solution. If it comes to it? Fine. I'll push the bloody button myself..." Berkley's head snaps to the side, investigating a soft white hand that had appeared on his forearm. His dark eyes calculate the hand's position for several moments before rising to her face. "Colonal Hunter. I don't intend to be a watchdog, whistleblower, leash, woman, or any of the other things they likely told you I wanted to be. My goal is to watch you accomplish the mission, however you see fit. As long as there aren't a trail of innocent bodies behind you, you'll not only have no argument, you'll have my full support. Yes? And Missus Hunter? Excuse my asking, but what...was your maiden name?"

Natasha doesn't speak. Her own gaze had shifted from shy to cold. She keeps her seafoam eyes on the floor, one hand on Berkley's arm and the other behind her back. Occasionally, she glances at Summer. But Zaiid seems to be the main attraction in her carnaval at the moment. "You can have some unlikely allies, or a group of enemies that will be a real pain in your ass here, Colonal. Judging by the whore comment, diplomacy isn't your strong suit. Interesting...." She shakes her head and looks at Berkley, face softening slightly. "Considering we came to help."

[Solaris]

"Takaiian," Summer said. "I was adopted by the Xaratan family of Terra. Zee's a Martian Katain." The Xaratans were wealthy industrialists, powerful though not excessively so. Katains were the neo-Bedouin of Mars, a people renowned for their hardiness and fierce independence.

"Diplomacy," Hunter remarked, "is for people who did not bring the big guns." He leveled a disdainful gaze on Natasha, making it clear that he thought she was perhaps a lower form of life than the mani, though perhaps not so bad as the cockroach. He had little time and less patience for murderers. "I'm familiar with who and what each of your team is and have done. Your computers technician, for example, failed seventh-year mathematics. You clearly have not bothered to reciprocate, or you wouldn't have suggested I leave 'piles of innocent bodies' everywhere I go." It was something of a touchy subject with him. "Now that we understand each other, let's get to business. You'll be working with Zeta Century back in Ramirez. They're our auxiliae - neophytes, scouts, drone operators, neodog handlers, that sort of thing. Not true Legionnaires, but better than Sirius produces." He slid a data crystal across the table towards Berkley. "Centurion Poul Alder understands that he is to treat you with all respect due your rank and position. Do not confuse yourself for being in command of his unit, and you'll be fine. This crystal holds all relevant information, including the Century's capabilities. It seems the best use of your team's talents for this stage of operations. What I need you to do is to ensure Alder does not overstay in Ramirez - once the town's crawling with Scourged, it's time to bug out for Last Chance."

[PoisonousSpider]

Natasha's jaw tightens with her hard green eyes set unflinchingly Zaiid. Delicate hands smooth out the folds in her dress, lips pressing hard as her tongue runs across the inside of her teeth. "And there's nothing this bastard won't insult..." She murmers under her breath, two fingers hovering directly above the slit in her dress' thigh. The movement registers on Berkley's face with only a slight twitch of his eye. He, too, seems at a loss for words after the variable assault of insults. "Roger, -sir-." His lips barely move as he steps forward, gently picking the data crystal up in one heavily scarred hand. For a moment more, his gaze sits on Zaiid. "I'm sorry, Summer." He turns hardened eyes to the small woman sitting before the desk. "I'd certainly think you, if anyone, deserved a break from people like this. By the way? The last I heard, dear old Mum was institutionalized at long bloody last." He offers her a respectful nod as he turns, exposing his back to Zaiid and pushing Natasha back with his chest. It seems to snap her back to reality. She nods her head, turns, and preceeds Logan to the door. Her dress leaves her entire back and her microchip on display. Just as Berkley reaches the threshold, however, he stops. "Colonal, sir?" He looks back over his shoulder. "I hope I have the pleasure of seeing you on the battlefield." A smile curls the corners of his lips and with that, Special Agent Logan Berkley leaves the couple to their own devices.

[Solaris]

((Redneck super-soldiers. That makes me chuckle.))

"Did he just threaten you?"

"I tend to run around in giant robots, he can threaten all he likes," Zaiid remarked. He had walked into the meeting with one hand on his personal shield emitter - Alliance tech they hadn't seen fit to share with the Sirians - and the safety off. What could you expect out of xenophiles? If they didn't stab you in the front, it was because they were waiting for your back to turn. Besides, there was simply no way an ordinary human could hope to compete with a Legionnaire, especially in close quarters where his superhuman strength could come into play. For all the reaction he showed, they might have been discussing the weather. Summer, on the other hand...

"He just threatened you." Summer's fair skin had paled noticeably, her dainty hands clenching tightly on the arms of her chair.

"He also made a comment indicating he might be familiar with your family."

"He insulted my husband and then threatened him." Summer's eyes were flinty and dark, her expression uncharacteristically angry. If she weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, it might have been intimidating. "Besides, the Xaratans are my family. April Takaiian was a narcissistic bitch who couldn't take ten minutes away from her pills and parties to spend with her family," she said fiercely.

"Oh, that explains it."

"You're not narcissistic, dearest, you're just arrogant." Her use of contractions showed how flustered and angry Summer was.

"I ain't arrogant, I'm just always right."

"... I love you," Summer said with a long-suffering sigh. The corner of her mouth twitched in a smile she didn't want to let show. Zee's joke wasn't very funny, but she appreciated the effort anyways.

***

"Yep, pay up." Hart held out a hand towards Zheng. "Hunter was an ass."

Zheng ignored the other man. "Don't pay no mind," he said to Berkley. "The sir takes some gettin' used to, an' that's his way of gettin' the measure of you." He smiled, a mirthless look that reminded, if anything, of the bit of lore that humans were the only species that bared their fangs in friendship. "Judgin' by the look on y'all's faces, I'd say he's got the measure of ya just fine." He turned away, clearly done with them as he went back to the task of ensuring a battalion was moved into place and ready to avert an apocalypse.

"The Colonel never much cared for someone who got riled up easy at insults," Hart said. "Lemme guess - he called the lady here a whore, begging-your-pardon-ma'am, and he suggested y'all were more loyal to the xenos than your fellow humans." In the xenophobic society of the Earthsphere, one of the bedrocks of their culture was that the only thing in the galaxy humans had were each other. With numbers still small enough that they seemed on the verge of extinction when compared to other species, most of which were at least covertly hostile, the siege mindset had been ingrained into humanity since the Darkest Hour. "Here's the thing, Trigger. He was trying to get you pissed." He chuckled. "You shoulda seen how his interview with Dingo - Centurion Dominguez - went. Big ****er just sat there laughing while me an' Top Hu pulled that crazy **** back."

[PoisonousSpider]

"Hunter can say what he wants. None of it stops me from putting a bullet in his suit's power supply." Logan's tone had become low and even. His dark eyes watched Zheng idly as he strode back toward the battalion. His hands crossed gently over his chest, neck twisting to the side and emitting a loud crack. "A bit of politeness goes a long way, you know. Colonal or not. Enemies are a dangerous busniess. Make enough, a man can drown in them." He glances over at Natasha, who seemed more interested in digging a bit of dirt out from under her nail with a thin, flat-black blade. Only the bottom end of the tactical sheathe peered from beneath her dress. The knife calmed the woman down. And the feeling that his pet prisoner wasn't about to snap cooled Berkley's nerves quite a bit. "I'm getting a bit too old for men to be taking measure of me. Especially ones I'm likely to die beside." He did, indeed, appear older then his time. The grey at Logan's temples had never been more apparent. And the aways distant look in his eye spoke to something much deeper. "Alder. Is there anything I should know about -him-? Is he liable to fire pistols off in my direction? Or will I be expected to tear out some xeno's throat to prove my loyalty?" And as that gentle smile took over Berkley's face, it wasn't hard to imagine the Captain doing just that.

"Berkies? I'm hungry." Natasha complained loudly, tossing the knife into the air and catching it lazily between two fingers. "I coulda taken a bite out of the Colonal. I'm sure they'd love to add cannabalism to the charges I'm being held for. Sides..." She strides up slowly, offering a very appraising look at Hart, her smile stunning. "They're going to kill me when I go back. That thought just...makes a girl want to LIVE a little, ya know?"

[Solaris]

((Dude, he's standing in the middle of two hundred Legionnaires. Offering to shoot their CO is not such a bright idea.
... Unlike our Army.
Most human tech doesn't have that much of a centralized power supply until it gets into the really high demands of zero point batteries and antimatter-annihilation plant. The AI card is the only really viable target - it's on the inside of the armor plate right below the Legionnaire's neck. You could, of course, go for weapons for disabling shots. The giant robots are similar, though that's more due to the fact that the softball-sized generator is inside the mecha's torso, well-protected. They're not in the business of making themselves easy targets.))

"If I thought you were serious, amigo... heh, it's a good thing I don't think you're serious." Owen Hart was Zaiid's best friend, and offering to shoot him on a battlefield was perhaps the worst possible thing to say. "Centurion Alder is a good man. Loyal. Honest. Not a backstabber. All things considered, you might wanna take notes. Most of us, we've been through twelve kinds of hell. If the Colonel wants to take your measure, it's to see if you measure up to us. He owes it to his men to keep them safe from some puffed up political officer."

Hart sized up Natasha. She looked like trouble. Any other time, he'd be happy to find out just what kind of trouble - but he had a duty to his men. They didn't need their commander killing time they didn't have with some piece of tail.

The fact that she seemed to share Berkley's opinion of Zaiid and had a death mark on her did not add points in her favor.

"Good thing you're going back to Ramirez, then," Hart said coldly. "I'm sure there's plenty of Peekays and civilians who'd be happy to show you 'round town. Ma'am." He looked at a pair of passing Legionnaires. "Spitz, Harkness, be so kind as to escort these two back to their vehicle. They're nominally allies, so don't be impolite."

"Sir?" Harkness, a banner sergeant - one of the squad leaders - looked askance at the woman in a snug white dress that left little to the imagination. He instinctively slid his hand to his carbine, something about the pair and the centurion's body language putting his teeth on edge.

The hulking, handsome-in-the-right-light Slavic-looking Legionnaire with him cracked a toothy grin. Barely out of his Neophyte year, Spitz's first action had been during the rearguard action in the Sa'Kiin system. It had been a long, long time since he saw a good-looking woman.

[PoisonousSpider]

"You've seen a good bit of combat, Centurion Hart. I'm willing to bet you've killed almost everything they could think to serve up on the xeno buffet. So let me ask you simply, and respectfully, as one man who has seen combat to another." Logan eyes Natasha and turns, showing the officer his full frame. He wasn't much to look at, truth be told. He was muscled like a soldier should be, though his hair and suit were incredibly well kept. The pistol on his thigh was worn, but well loved. The strange part, though, were those eyes. They were older then the rest of him, sparkling with dark intelligence. They proved him more then a soldier. In the right light, they may expose what he had actually been. "Do I come off as some puffy-ass political official? Because I seem to have left my bloody clipboard at home." Clearly, the Agent was still a bit agitated. Though his hands -were- away from his weapons. By all accounts, he was taking it well. The arrival of the other two legionares draws Logan's tired smile, and another suggestive set of looks from Natasha. "Berkley, gentlemen. Charmed to meet you." He was -so- tired of people fingering their weapons around him today.

He, however, wasn't the only one who noticed it. Natasha remains wordless but digs under another fingernail. She looked very, very bored. The legionares playing with their guns only made her moreso. Guns. Yes, that was the ultimate solution to all problems. "Logan, I'm beginning to get the distinct impression we're not very welcome here. Perhaps we should turn tail and leave all these folks to their busniess." Her seafoam green eyes look back up, studying the Sergeant lazily. "It's sad. The only bleeding puzzle around here is the guy I rode with. Everyone else just ***** their rifle at the first percieved insult, friend or foe, and thinks that bullets plus brainpans is going to get them some solution other then a seafull of enemies and a boat of broken oars. Me? I'm used to getting insulted." She looks up from her nails, slipping the knife expertly back into her leg holster. "The lockup's been good for that. Girls yell all sorts of crap until you slide a knife into one or two of them. Curiously, they all fold up like pincushions after that. You, though, Berk." She shakes her head. "I see no reason you deserve all this. Let's let them burn. If I'm going to die for someone other then myself, the least they can do is be a bit grateful about it."

[Solaris]

((Redlined refers to psychologically unfit for service - and probably unfit for return to civilian life, too, without extensive treatment.))

"Sergeant, hand off the weapon."

"I intended to use it, sir," Harkness joked with a sheepish grin. He hadn't realized he'd grabbed his carbine.

"Doesn't make it better, sergeant," Hart said tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. Harkness was a vicious, tenacious fighter and a good man whose list of heroics was as long as his arm, but God bless him...

Hart looked at Berkley. "Honestly? Yeah. Yeah, you do. You're prickly as hell and you don't seem to have a firm grasp on how we operate 'round these parts. Or did you think I'd be impressed by someone who works out and has been in what, four, five engagements?" He looked at Natasha, next. "Ma'am, with all due respect, we just came from a war that saw one in three of us killed. Half the men are redlined, the other half are lyin'. We've had zero time to rest and reset before being redeployed to Midgard, y'see, because the situation is that bad. If you can't wrap your pretty li'l head around the fact that humanity is on the eve of a war that made the Darkest Hour look like a Sunday stroll, then maybe you ought to just take my word that they've got reason for bein' hostile and a touch jumpy."

[PoisonousSpider]

"I'm prickly as hell? Interesting theory, considering what I've seen today." Berkley murmered as he immediately positioned himself between Natasha and the legionares. The instinct didn't go away just because he was unarmored and under-armed. "Sergeant, I apologize. We're all a bit jumpy today. I feel like I just got out of a shooting conflict regardless of whether or not pistols were drawn." Berkley glances back to Natasha and Hart, his head shaking. "We're all on the same side, aren't we? Humanity as we know it is walking into the darkest chapter in its history. We, who are so used to fighting for our survival, have to show more determination then should be possible None of us can catch a break. None of us can take a moment to breathe. And it seems like all of us are getting pushed to the edge." His arms folded over his chest, head tilting. Those emerald green eyes looked at Hart, looking much more like the man then the NSA agent. "I was pushed to the edge a couple times. Back when I wore that uniform." He motions to the Centurion. "They were relentless. Cutting, burning, beating. It never stopped. Year after bloody year. But when you realize how simple of an equation it really is, it stops hurting. You or them. Only one can survive. Which should it be?" Logan's smile is sinister enough to belong on Natasha. "I choose humanity. I always have. We just...want the opportunity to do that without being looked upon as second rate idiots who aren't sure which end of the carbine points down range." Berkley glances at Natasha, who looks more angry then ever, then back at Hart. "Whether or not Colonal Hunter wants my help, Centurion Hart, my rifle is his. If his means humanity's, then I guess I can learn to deal with a touch of disrespect."

Natasha, for her part, looks more upset then she ever has. Her smoldering eyes remain on Berkley every second he speaks and for several moments thereafter. Finally, her head begins to shake and her face errs of disbelief. "If what we've seen here, today, is humanity, Logan?" She shakes her head and looks around at all the soldiers present, then at the room they just left. The room containing Zaiid Hunter and his lovely wife. "If this is humanity, we lost a long time ago. Death just hasn't caught up with us yet." She sighs softly and lets her head hang. "I die either way. Ha. You don't exactly expect it to end like this when you're a little girl playing with your dolls. Is there a bar in this damn town we're going to?"

[Solaris]

"You were uncommonly hostile, Zee," Summer remarked after a moment. "I know you have no grudges against the Republic or its agents, so..?" she let the question hang.

Hunter studied her face, closing the holographic display of personnel files he was going through. Summer still looked angry, though to his admittedly biased eye she was still the most beautiful creature in the universe. "The man's record is suspect," he replied after a moment. "I wanted to see where he stood."

"Dearest, you are the last man to judge someone by their record," Summer pointed out, not as gently as she might have. "Even if that trollop of his is a horrid excuse of a human being."

"That 'trollop' is... dangerous," Hunter said. "I ain't concerned 'bout her with me or my men, Summer, but you don't have superhuman reflexes or bones laced with fullerene. Any man willin' to cart a danger like that 'round has some serious faults of judgment."

"... This from you."

"Quiet, you," Hunter snapped with mock irritability as Summer giggled. "'Sides, my pet psychopaths are much more well-behaved."

"Uh-huh," Summer said, clearly not believing him. She touched the desktop, calling up the holographic display again to change the subject. "I am concerned about the site," she said in a more businesslike tone. "Zee, let me stay."

"Absolutely not," Zaiid replied immediately.

"I am the only Colonial in this camp besides Agent Berkley and his... friend," Summer pointed out. "Forerunner ruins respond better to people with the Kenner mDNA, and this is a live site. That's why Rick-Rick, Luka, and the rest really have not been able to progress without me."

"Scourge get here, it'll be a dead site," Hunter said bluntly.

"I am immune to their deathspawn virus," Summer said. "Again, Kenner gene."

"Resistant is not immune," Zaiid said. "An' given there's only one way to find out - an' it's a rather permanent way - I ain't willin' to risk it. To say nothin' of the fact that you ain't immune to- to gettin' ripped in half."

"I am, Zee." Summer gestured towards the hologram floating over the desk. "None of your men can penetrate as deeply into the temple, nor access it as thoroughly, as I can. To say nothing of their distinct lack of training when it comes to xenobiology - a rare specialty in the Earthsphere. I can command high pay from AIXAT for a reason, you know."

Zaiid looked pained. "Summer..."

"I am staying," Summer said firmly, then her expression softened. "If the situation starts to get too bad, I promise I shall evacuate the planet."

"They wouldn't let ya outta quarantine."

"While I may not have written the book on Scourge quarantine, Zee, I have my name in the consultant credits. Legionnaires and Kenner-carrying Colonials are the only ones who can escape a Scourge-infested world." Summer held his gloved hand in hers, giving it a squeeze. "I would not stay if I were in more danger than this site is worth. The Scourge will attack the heavily populated areas first, then move down here. By the time they get too bad - if they get too bad - we will have gained as much knowledge from this site as we did from the Prometheus excavation in the Darkest Hour." Her eyes shone with excitement. "Think about it, Zee! There's so much lost knowledge in there that it could push us five hundred years forwards - or more! The Scourge would not stand a chance, and with humanity ascendant and the Star League so crippled they would have no choice but to sue for peace."

"Or you might wake up something," Hunter pointed out. "Just 'cause the Prometheus was friendly don't mean the next site we find is. Hell, the Prometheus itself warned us that not all Forerunner factions were friendly towards humans."

"Yes, yes, I know." Summer nodded impatiently. "We cannot let fear rule our decisions. We've done so for the last three hundred years, and look where it has taken us."

"The greatest power in known space?"

Summer smiled sadly. "No, dearest. Alone."

***

"Yeah. See, there's no parity between calling her a whore and offering to shoot the man who's going to be directing the defense of the Eastern Continent," Hart pointed out. "Or any man, really. See, were any of us as prickly as you, we'd've installed a sunroof in your skull by now. Fact of the matter is, while we may not respect you, we won't kill you 'til you need it" He chuckled. "But hey, I'll be letting Alder know just how far he can trust you. Good chattin' with y'all." The way he spoke made it very clear the conversation was over. "Banner Sergeant?"

"If y'all would be so kind as to come with me," Harkness said, "I'll show you to your vehicle." He glanced at Hart. "Escort them to Ramirez?"

"What happened to their escort here?"

"Weren't one, sir." Harkness shrugged. "Unless you count the sir's truck."

Hart muttered something under his breath about desk jockey generals. "Then yes, escort them back. I wouldn't want to have some native ambush whacking 'em before the Scourge gets their chance," Hart said. "Take three Chariots, make it back by sundown."

When they walked out of the CP and into the stark Midgard sunlight, almost but not quite keeping their weapons in between the Legionnaires and the agents, Harkness shook his head. "You look pretty fit for a septuagenarian, hoss. Sirian Secession was what, fifty years ago?"

"Back in Twenty-Fifty-Three," Spitz agreed. "Must be one of 'bout three Legionnaires who quit the Alliance. Said somethin' about bein' a POW."

[PoisonousSpider]

(It's late at night. I promised you a post, so here it is. I'll probably clean it up tomorrow. Oh. And remember that Tasha's psycho.)
"Let's pack up our things and go, Logan. It's not like it would even be that hard. No one will be looking to you for -advice- anytime soon." Natasha's cool voice was accentuated by the soft taps of her ballet flats on the marble floor. She was careful to match her cream shoes with the pale tiling.
"If it went that bad, Agent Berkley, why are we staying?" Trenham's tiny voice added to the argument, though she had a noticable time keeping up with Tasha. Her short legs just couldn't match the grace of the taller woman.
When Logan stops, they both mimic the motion, taking hands on hip stances when he turns. "Because, taking a ship out of a interplanetary lockdown -may- be a bit tough, ladies. Not to mention the fact that this is a war for humanity's survival." He looks between them and raises an eyebrow. His hands extend to them, palms up. "We -may- have a personal stake in it where humanity's concerned. Insult or no." Berkley slides his hands back into his pockets and pivots on his heel, continuing through the abandoned phonocommunications building they were using as mission control. He knew his quarters were around here somewhere.
"I could mask our radar signature." Trenham offers, her eyes gazing down and her hands folding in front of her. "They wouldn't be able to tell it was us unless someone looked out a port hole and we got close enough for them to -see- us."
"There you go. Easy as a snatch and grab." Natasha laughs.
"Hard to tell which of YOU came out of a federal prison system. Though using the metaphor of a snatch and grab to describe our escape mission has me staggering. Bravo, Tasha." Berkley smirks. As soon as he reaches a nondescript steel door in the north wall, a magnetic keycard emerges from his pocket. One swipe has the hydrolics hissing and the door sliding open. "But no. Be awake at 0500 tomorrow for breakfast. I have to be with the legionares at 0600. We'll go from there. But I'm afraid we don't have much time." He offers them both a sardonic smile, stopping in his doorframe and turning around.
__________________________________________________ ____________________
Hisssssss. The sound filled Berkley's sleeping chambers followed by a quiet curse. Other then that, Natasha was entirely silent. She paused for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dank lighting conditions of the two room office. She crossed the living space without much fanfare, fingering the blade of her knife so that it could be used in a hurry. She liked Berkley. He gave her a chance when no one else would. But she'd be colored purple before she died for people like Hunter and Hart. As much as she adored the man who sprung her from prison, he wouldn't flinch. As Tasha stood in the doorway to the sleeping chamber, she could make out the shape of a single man laying amongst a few blankets on the floor. Another pang of guilt hit her like a ton of bricks. She slept in a bed. Which met Logan had given one up so that she might have it. His back was to her, thankfully. The tall body leaned against the doorframe for a moment, her mind having a cage match over what she was doing. This was Logan. Her friend Logan. The man who had made sure she had what she needed. The man who had trusted her. He groaned and turned over, which made her raise an eyebrow. He was dreaming, she knew. Dreaming about those damned Mani who stole so bloody much. She walked slowly forward, knuckles stiffening around the knife. She'd make it quick. A small mercy for the admittedly amazing man. Dropping to her knees beside him, she sucked in a breath.
It was the last she could breath, a hand clamped around her throat and slammed her head against the wall before the knife could fall. When she tried to move her hand, Natasha found that pinned, too.
"Probably not a good idea to sneak up on former prisoners of war, love. Unlike your little correctional facility, mine required you be awake when your jailors came to kill you." Logan's voice was icy, his accent showing through more then ever.
"Let......goooo..." Natasha felt her face turning purple, and as she looked down the arm of her captor, she was amazed at what she saw. A puzzle of jagged scars and burn marks dotted his body like a paint by number. Very little skin was left untouched or unmutilated. "Logan...." She gasped. "Please." Her head collided with the wall again and the knife fell from her grasp. She could taste blood. She could smell it. Who knew this was the way she was supposed to end. Just as the final bits of her vision began to disappear, she felt herself being thrown. Honestly, her collison with the wall woke her from the momentary unconciousness.
"Black market upgrades would make breaking you messy, love." His voice was softer then normal, that much, she knew. As Natasha rose to her feet, she could hear the unmistakable click of a pistol safety. "Shooting an animal's more humane, anyway.vI always liked you. I envied your mindset in a way. You....were a good friend, Tasha..." She looked up to see him approaching, shirtless. "Believe me when I say I'll always remember you that way."
"Please don't! God, please!" She knew she was about to die. But as she looked at the mutilated body and the dark green eyes, only one question came to mind. Only one set of last words seemed to fit, though she had no idea why. "Does...It hurt?"
"Does what hurt?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Dying. Logan...." She paused, looking down and dropping to her knees. "I'm....I think I'm afraid." Shimmering eyes meet his and Natasha smiles. "I've never been afraid before. It's been day after day of a job. A life based entirely continuing itself that really can hardly be called a life at all. I never gave anything to anyone." Tasha breathes in, lips quavering. "Thank you. You guys made the last few years bearable. I doubt it was an easy task. Hell, I could hardly live with myself toward the end. I don't know how you did it."
Another click nearly made the woman's bladder revolt. But to her suprise, the tall legionare went to his knees in front of her, raising her chin so their eyes met. "I knew this night would come. That's how I did it. I prepared." He smiles, sighing and searching the room. "I knew and still, I kept you around. You, Natasha, have always been the secret weapon. Now dear god, you better prove it."
She couldn't help it. Was he...Sparing her life? When Natasha leaned forward to give him a peck on the lips, she didn't expect to want to stay there. Beneathe her kiss, he chuckles. "And if you try to kill me -EVER- again, I'll beat you to a pulp."
She smirks as she climbs into his arms. "Who says I wouldn't like that?"

[Solaris]

((She's got nothin' on Summer.))

While Berkley and Natasha engaged in a mortal battle of one sort, then a very different sort, Summer and Zaiid prepared to bed down after a long, long day.
At least, Summer was getting ready for bed.

"Dearest, it is past midnight and somebody has workout in the morning," she said as she padded into the office, brushing her hair. She'd shaken it out of its French braid into a dark brown cascade that fell down her shoulders to the small of her back. She wore a pair of shorts and one of his tee-shirts that she'd long ago stolen, her usual sleeping clothes. Summer had long since gotten used to an empty bed, but that didn't mean she had to like it. With Zaiid still in arm's reach, she wasn't about to let him get away that easily. "Come to bed?"

Hunter glanced up at her. "I still have a lot of work to do," he said apologetically.

Summer poked him in the chest-plate with her brush. "Come to bed," she said again. "The work shall wait until morning. Kyne told me to make sure you did not work until dawn again. I am patient when you are out running amok, but when you are pushing paperwork that you could have easily delegated to your CM, I find my reservoir of patience run dry." She sat down on the desktop, making the holographic display fritz out before giving up altogether.

Zaiid looked at her again. Summer was scared, but trying to hide it. He could tell by the drawn look about her eyes and the way she clenched her hand around the brush handle - to say nothing of the fact that she was jerking her brush too hard and brushing almost violently, making her hair frizz out. "Alright," he said tenderly, pulling off his gloves while he stood up.

"Thank heavens," Summer said with mock seriousness as she slid off the desk, landing neatly on her toes with grace that hinted at a girlhood spent in ballet lessons. "I thought I might have to resort to wearing something positively indecent."

"Well, when you put it that way..." Zaiid teased as he faked starting to sit back down. Summer chucked her hairbrush at him.

***

Centurion Poul Alder paced back and forth in the office General Raikou had vacated that morning on orders to return to Touchdown Point with her legion. A slight man with a bookish look to him, Alder was not the image of the superhuman Legionnaire that held such a romantic attraction for the public. Turned grey before he was thirty despite anti-agathic treatments, with a worn-out look to him that could be felt more than defined, he was very much an old man in a relatively youthful body. He wore his dress uniform uncomfortably, though the black fabric was spotless and the silver shined like chrome.

"Nervous?"

Alder looked up, seeing his executive officer and her neodog partner entering. Lieutenant First Class Jannsica James was a Martian brunette five and a half feet tall with hazel eyes so pale as to seem like amber, her uniform unintentionally flattering on her figure. Admittedly, a girl like James could look good in pretty much anything. Her neodog partner, Pike, was a waist-high mongrel who looked like she could probably eat a truck. They were inextricably linked through grafted biomech augs that kept their brains in a constant state of communication, making them in a very real way one being in two bodies. Judging by the way Pike was almost prancing, her tail high and eyes bright, and the look of mirth in James's eyes that threatened to reach her mouth, Alder wasn't going to like their news.

"What could I possibly be nervous about?" Alder laughed, managing to not let his voice crack. "I'm only going to defend a fort with a century of neophytes and auxiliae."

James grinned toothily, Pike wagging her tail beside her. "You didn't hear what that old dust-runner sent us, eh?"

"Dear Lord," Alder replied. "What'd Colonel Hunter do?"

"Centurion Alder, might I introduce Special Agent Berkley of the SSI, one of the intelligence observers for the upcoming fight?"

[PoisonousSpider]

Logan's hands unconciously straightened his suit, neck shifting from side to side just outside the door. His meeting with Zaiid had taught him something, so the centurion was very careful to make sure his pistol had a round chambered before he entered the meeting. When the young lieutenant motioned for him to enter the room, he offered her a quiet smile, a nod, and moved through the phneumonic doors. The sight was slightly more positive then the meeting with Colonal Hunter had been. But that dog was definitely the size of a small mammoth. "Sir." He nods softly to both the CO and XO before coming to a stop, his hands coming behind his back in an unusually military manner. "Special Agent Logan Berkley, SSI. Charmed to meet you."

As usual, Logan was wearing a suit. This one sported vertical pinstripes in a field of grey, ending in polished black dress shoes one would expect to find in an office like this. The only thing out of the ordinary was the legion issued side arm in a low hanging thigh holster. Berkley's stance was unusually militaristic for a Syrian. And unlike many of his people, he had the build of a legionare. Only touches of grey plagued the sides of his brunette scalp. And intelligent eyes, far too capable of violence, peered out from a smiling brow. All together, he was a handsome man. "And here to help in any way I can."

[Solaris]

"Special Agent," Alder said evenly as he took in the sight of the man. "Centurion Hart tells me you're not the trustworthy type. Too quick to anger, too unsteady, piss-poor judgment. Rumors being the only superluminal vehicle, certain elements of my command have already heard of your... 'introduction' to the Colonel. Frankly, I am unimpressed." He shrugged. "You wouldn't be the first one to come away from that interview with a... bad rep. I'm not about to turn down any help we can get, even if it does come with a pet psychopath."

"Speaking of, where is she?" James asked, while Pike pricked her ears forwards inquisitively. "You smell like blood, bruises, and... other stuff." James's cheeks colored slightly.

Alder sighed. Sometimes it was hard to tell where the human ended and the neodog began - complete with the canine's complete disregard for human social conventions.

[PoisonousSpider]

"The meeting didn't quite...go as planned, sir. I hope that in due time, anything you may have heard concerning my character may be proved dangerously incorrect." Logan remains in his position, only his head moving when he speaks with the command team. His responses, as usual, are slow, measured, and confident. Also, they're all accentuated a slight smile. "As I said, I'm here to help in any capacity you require. I've a trained pilot and a software engineer at my immediate disposal, with capacity to draw more from the alliance reserve as needed." Logan scans the room, pausing for a moment on the large window. "I....fought....in a conflict something like this years ago, sir. Dense urban terrain. Abundant cover, but too many avenues of approach to properly protect. Insufficient weapons and armor to hold...Improvised...field tactics." Logan looks back down, something stirring in his gaze. "Consider my experience yours, Centurian."

It's the XO's question that catches Berkley off guard. And behind his smile and those green eyes searching the floor, his mind works to make sense of what happened for himself. "You've heard of Natasha." He nods. "She...got into a fight with a wall last night. Fortunately for me, she lost. She's in her quarters recooperating." The Centurian-turned-agent produces a data crystal from his inner jacket pocket. Retaining one hand behind his back, he hands it to the CO. "She's controlled by a 37XDA Nano-Bot Replacement Chip. On my order, the chip can be activated sending thousands of nano-bots into her blood stream. The nano-bots rip her nerve endings from bone and muscle, causing the most intense and dehabilitating pain a human can experience. It kills her when her mind fails to block it all out." He pauses, glancing between the two, lingering for a moment on the neodog. More interest perks in Berkley's eyes then questions or hostility. "Included are files of myself and my team. Abilities, histories, and specialties. We are all, sir, happy to be of service."

[Solaris]

Pike responded to the attention with a doggie grin. She may be sentient, but she was still a dog. Her tail drooped after a moment when the words sank in.

"That's horrible," James said softly. "Why would you kill someone like that, when you could just use the painless Resilite nanites instead?"

"What vehicles is your pilot rated in?" Alder asked. "Your engineer, what can he work with? Is he trained in xenotech?"

[PoisonousSpider]

"The technology came from NSA labs, unfortunately. They didn't think Natasha would have ample motivation to stay in line when threatened with a painless death. It was their decision that threat of unending torture and then eventual release was a....better motivator." Logan tried to sound as even as possible, but even his smooth voice carried a hint of disapproval. It was the reason he always threatened to shoot her. In his mind, picking up that phone and giving the order made him worse then she was.

"My pilot, Tager Andrews, is rated to operate just about everything you can imagine. Chariots to interplanetary space craft, the kid has the skills and the licenses. If you can manage to find something you want him driving and he hasn't recieved the training, let me know. I can be sure the alliance send him the technical specifications necessary for him to study and become proficient. Thankfully, he's a reasonably fast learner." Berkley smiles, deciding rather suddenly that he liked the neodog. It had character. Pizazz. Something he hadn't seen in a long time.

"Trenham McCallis is my software engineer. She's just over 20 with more experience and knowledge in her field then some twice her age. She has studied xeno and nano technologies at the Alliance Institute for Technical Science and Computing and entered several Sirian sponsored governmental programs. Our agency picked her up shortly thereafter and have housed her as on of our primary technology assets since."

[Solaris]

"And thus the Colonel's ill-treatment of you," Alder said. "I understand he knows something of the NSA's inner workings."

"Child prodigies. I love those," James remarked dryly.

"I'll reserve judgment about her competence," Alder said equally dryly. "Some of my cyberwarfare techs have been at it longer than she's been alive, Agent. I find it difficult to believe she could outperform them fresh out of school, even with a couple of years real-world experience."

[PoisonousSpider]

"The NSA is...effective. And they have their uses." Logan replies with a soft nod, hands remaining idly behind his back. "It's not my place to...openly...judge their techniques." The special agent's eyes go from CO to XO, trying to supress the Syrian in him. That urge to blatently call the Earthsphere savages was mind numbing.

When Trenham's experience is called into question, Berkley offers a measured nod. His eyes remain solely on the commander. "She may suprise you, sir. But again, that's for your judgement, not mine." He smiles softly, glancing between the two of them. "Is there anything else I can help either of you with? Another software engineer, perhaps? My resources are at your command." And he packed his power suit!

[Solaris]

"Pfft, it is mine. They're a bunch of-"

"-James!" Alder snapped. "The complication to all of the above, Agent, is that the Eastern Continent has an active, hostile insurgency. Offworlders do not hear about it very often, but many of the Trillstani are followers of Haru inu'Irulliak, a religious leader of theirs. They utilize primarily terror-based tactics - kidnappings, snipers, assassinations, bombs, mortar attacks, ambushes, you name it. They've been quiet since General Raikou and then-Special Agent Hunter arrived, due in no small part to his... vigorous prosecution of them, but our analysts are saying they intend to take advantage of our reduced numbers before the week is out. I'm sure I don't need to tell you what's projected to happen before the end of the week."

[PoisonousSpider]

"They'll become an immediate threat. One that will have to be dealt with." Logan nods his head, finally removing his hands to scratch his chin. He folds his arms across his chest absently. "Sir, if I may." His voice was soft, holding all that music cadence Syrians were famous for. "I suggest allowing me to speak with them on diplomatic terms. Maybe they'll see that fighting us would be their end. We'd weaken them substancially. Even in our minor numbers, every man and woman out there would take multiple xenos down with him. That leaves minimal numbers of our enemy trying to hold this entire city against the Scourge. I doubt they'll like the sound of that any more then we do." He pauses, a bit of light sparkling behind those green eyes. "I've worked with the Trillstani before. Back when I was in the custody of the Mani."

"And if diplomacy doesn't work?" Berkley adds at last, chin tucked against his chest. He raises his head and looks at the CO unblinkingly. "I say we resort to their tactics. Bombings, assassinations, kidnappings...Anything it takes to thin them out before we kill them all. It's already a war of attrition. I simply suggest bringing it to their level. If you need me to, sir, I'd be more then willing to run the campaign myself."

[Solaris]

((Or the Scourge, which is expected to break the blockade in a week.))

A low growl emanated from Pike's throat. James reassured her partner by ruffling the mammoth dog's ears, but her unsettling amber eyes narrowed in hostility. She decided she didn't much like this Berkley character if he was willing to play that game.

"Hm? No, the Scourge are projected to land. I just received a report that a number of their meteors broke through the blockade and are inbound to the Rigel worlds.
"Inu'Iruliak's followers may be opportunistic bastards whose regard for life is so low that that they're willing to kill us on the eve of armaggedon, but that's no excuse to stoop to their tactics," Alder said softly. "Especially we, who are so far removed from humanity that we're practically a different species. We must strive all the harder to avoid falling into the evils we fight."

"There's Trillstani, then there's Trillstani," James said. "Not all of them follow inu'Iruliak, and some tribes are actively fighting him - even a couple who are traditionally opposed to Earthsphere occupation."

"That last is debateable," Alder said. "While he doesn't have universal support, most of the tribes who haven't already joined the Alliance are sitting on the sidelines - or continue to oppose us."

[PoisonousSpider]

"I don't like the idea any more then you do. Trillstani are responsible for my safe return to humanity." Berkley's face softens when his gaze settles back on Lieutenant James. "But imagine the course of action the NSA would take if this tribe over-ran the city pre-arrmogedden. It'd almost be better for them to die by Scourge. At least then it may be reasonably quick." Logan sighs, his head shaking. He hated this game. Playing liason for the alliance was no easy thing.

"If there's any hope of diplomacy, sir, I'm certainly up to it. It's a better solution then any of the others, and there's a chance my presence may pressure some of the other tribe's leadership to step in on this one." The special agent's head drops a bit, dark eyes closing and opening again rather slowly. "It's interesting you talk about falling into the evil's we're fighting, sir. That was part of the conversation we had with Colonal Hunter. And I stood where you are right now."

[Solaris]

"Colonel Hunter is an... interesting case," Alder said. "Unlike most of the centurions in this battalion, I have not had the pleasure of working for him. They speak very highly of him, I understand, though his record sometimes seems at odds with the man they describe." He shrugged. "I do know this, though. When he took the Archduke of Polaris, he chose a tactic less likely to succeed based on minimal collateral damage and a lower likelihood of civilian casualties. Manus civilian casualties, of a hostile polity."

"It gets even weirder when you think about his background," James pointed out.

[PoisonousSpider]

"I'll hope to be able to convince one of you to tell me the story. Perhaps over breakfast? I had an interesting morning injecting nanobots into a criminal, so I had to miss chow." Yes, Logan was old military. His shoulders square back and that searching gaze takes in both officers. "I promise you both, I don't bite." He looks down at the doggy and smiles. "As long as you afford me the same courtesy. I have a sneaking suspicion we should discuss how you both would like to use me in the next two weeks anyhow. There's no reason we shouldn't add hot beverages into the mix to make it more interesting."
__________________________________________________ ____________________
"Trenham? Congratulations, darling. You won the award for 'Most Murderous Beverage'. Under normal circumstances, I'd be so proud." When Natasha had awoken, she found herself surrounded by the 6000 thread count sheets in which she spent most of the better moments of her life. Her head was pounding, it hurt to breath, and even with genetic upgrades, it felt as though she was run over by a chariot. Honestly, she couldn't even move. Being late for breakfast, Tasha awaited Trenham's usual assault of cheeriness about early wakers, birds, and worms. If the girl wasn't so adorable, she would've been killed a long, long time ago. The hydrolic swish of the door unleashed the adorable. But the look on the girl's face was the last thing Natasha expected.

"Miss Natasha?! Wha-Oh my! What happened to you?! What can I do?! Does it hurt!?" The questions all came at once. The tiny bundle of red hair and energy immediately went for the first aid kit Berkley made them keep by their doors only to find it already on it's side next to the bed.

Tasha smirks. The motion set her whole face on fire. "That bad, hmm? Logan's...tougher then he looks. Don't let the gray hair fool you. When he says to hide behind him, it's actually a fairly good decision." When Trenham hands her the pearl handled mirror Logan had wrestled out of the evidence locker, Natasha can only blink. She was swollon. Broken. More then she ever had been before. So much so, that she never felt the needle of nanites enter her arm. She hands the mirror back, retaining that startled look.

"Gonna beat the crap out of him?" Trenham asks, not sounding worried in the least.

"On the contrary. I just found out what he's made of. If we're going to war..." She smiles softly, unconciously sucking on her bottom lip. "I'm standing right behind him."

[Solaris]

"Two people know it," James said softly. "The Colonel, and Centurion Hart. CM Riviera, Dingo - Centurion Dominguez, all the rest of the insertion team bought the farm in Polaris City. Neither of them talk about it much."

"There is a cafe in the building," Alder said. "James, would you be so kind as to accompany him?" He looked at Berkley. "Lieutenant James is in charge of my counter-insurgency operations - the neodogs, scouts, and snipers."

[PoisonousSpider]

"Then it appears, Lieutenant James, that I'm to fall under your command." Appeasement. That's what the former Centurion was going for at this point. He smiles softly to the young woman and motions for her and the truc-dog to lead the way.

"Centurion Alder seems like as solid a command element as you can ask for, hm?" Berkley's movements behind her would be absolutely silent if they weren't marked by his conversation. Though occasionally, a hand snakes in front of her to hold open a door or push a random obstruction out of the way. Other then that, he smiles easily, laughs often, and seems to draw all of the curiosity of the garrison. A seventy year old man in a suit usually does, though. "How confident do you feel about the defenses here, Lieutenant? Anything I can do to help you out directly?"

[Solaris]

James smiled prettily. She could tell he was acting like a gentleman, and after years of working with Legionnaires and her fellow auxiliae it was a nice change. She walked beside him, Pike dogging at his heels. "I haven't seen him in action," she said apologetically. "I'm a recent assignment to this unit, just like him." She looked thoughtful. "We're mostly working with the police right now, trying to keep the evacuation running smoothly. The neodogs are the only ones visible, but we have the aerial drones in the sky monitoring the Cobalt Plains and the Spires. We're building fortifications around the city, but the fort itself is already pretty well-protected. It dates back to the Second Star War, and the Rigel government has kept it updated since then."

[PoisonousSpider]

Logan nods his head. "I like him. Level headed, calm, and collected. Intelligence goes a lot farther then brawn." His lips curl into a gentle smile, though those dark green eyes examine the folks stopping their work entirely to watch the trio pass by. Admittedly, it would be an interesting sight. A suit walking with the XO and her...puppy. "I like our chances. At least compared to what I was thinking before I got here." A sharp right down another hallway slows Berkley down. He examines every inch of the corner, rounding it in a rather widely and resting his fingertips on the hilt of his pistol. It was a paranoid move from the otherwise relaxed man.

He does frown. 'That's what happens when I beat up my safety blanket.' Berkley thinks to himself. A glance over to James makes the man smile and look down. "You know all about my teams capabilities. You know I tote around a murderer and two civilian employees. You probably even know a bit about my history. But Lieutenant James, I wonder what makes you tick? We're building fortifications around a city for what is sure to be the battle of our lives and yet you seem calm as a person could ever be. It's remarkable."

[Solaris]

"'Cause if I stop to think about what's coming, I'll start screaming and I might not stop," James said tightly. Pike let out a little whine in agreement. "Over here, there's the officer table," she said quickly to change the subject. James pointed to a table near the window looking out into the courtyard. "I admit, the rock garden here really makes me miss Mars."

[PoisonousSpider]

"Never been, unfortunately. I spent a lot of time on Sirius...and wherever the Earthsphere sent me while I was in the legion. Mars was never one of them..." Logan keeps his tone low while they move through the groups of people. The Cafe seemed to be a popular destination, even at the heightened state of alert. He pulls out a chair and motions James into it with a quiet smile. "I always planned to go, though. Put it off year after year. I had a close friend from Mars once. A neodog handler. She-" His eyebrows furrow instantly. Whoever it was, pain is certainly associated with the memory. It takes him a few moments, but with a shake of his head, he manages a smile. "I think that at this point? Screaming may be appropriate."

[Solaris]

"Gee, thanks," James said sarcastically. "That's reassuring." Pike let out a sigh as she laid down beside James. She looked out the window again, a wistful smile on her face. "I've heard Mars is the only planet humanity has that's anything like Old Earth," she said. "Right now, I really do wish I was back home. The Katains were never as bad as the Trillstani, plus, y'know, the evil space locusts coming soon. And green. I miss the color green."

Pike chuffed, putting her paw on James's foot.

"Yeah, I know, I know. Work." James ruffled Pike's ears. "So, Special Agent, what's your advice?"

[PoisonousSpider]

Logan offers the waitress an appreciative nod as she places two coffee cups in front of the officers. When he turns back to James, the agent chews on his lip, following her gaze out the window and placing his scarred hands protectively around his coffee cup. "My advice." His accented words are slow and deliberate. "My advice is to remember." The coffee cup rises to the man's lips. "Remember why you're fighting. And who is waiting for you back home. Remember that the men and women around you love you. And that most of them are willing to show it before the end." The soft clatter of porcelin on porcelin signals the cup's return to it's saucer. "You'd be suprised what you can survive by just remembering. Whether or not it's all true in the end, well... That's a different book all together." He rubs the deepset scars on the back of his right hand with his left, still staring out the window. "Lieutenant James? Keep her close." Berkley looks down at the neodog and smiles. "If there were ever any friend so loyal."

[Solaris]

Pike looked like she was trying not to smile back, and not doing a terribly good job at it. "She's a bad influence on me, you know," James admitted. "I don't think she's ever met anyone she didn't like." Pike chuffed agreement.

"The Legionnaires say pretty much the same thing," she agreed. "It's drilled into them during Indoc." She blinked. "Oh, right. You're former Legion. What's your advice for the defense and the incoming Scourge, troop layouts and the like?"

[PoisonousSpider]

"I pity the first person she ever decides to dislike. Though I have to say, ma'am. I'm glad it's not me." Logan laughs, sipping at his coffee again. "Tactics would depend largely on how many of the civilians we can evacuate." The special agent glances back out to the rock garden, his fingers druming idly on the coffee cup. "My first goal would be to split them up. Historically speaking, Scourge work well as a team. They're far less effective as individuals. So we separate them. Run round the clock comms jammers and static gap transmitters. That should effectively blind Scourge. Control the streets with harassing sniper fire from the key locations just outside the boundries of the city. Make sure our AI are running on a similar network so we can mark out our targets for controlled attack and keep the sniper support on the move. One, two shots max before the team picks up and moves to a new location to engage the targets. In that case, if I were them..." He arranges sugar packets on the table, showing a basic layout of the city he had observed. "I would move into the buildings. Luckily, though, we have the advantage in a controlled enviroment. Neodogs could sniff out enemy locations with a squad or two of basic infantry to eliminate the threat. Air recon as well as air support would work with the sniper teams to identify and suppress opposition." Berkley looks up at her, smiling handsomely. "And when we can't hold anymore, as we both know will happen, detonate preset charges within the walls. Bury them. We'd have minimal civilian casualties and little danger to anyone but our forces trained to handle it. If we did have to pull out, I would certainly make sure the only foothole we leave the scourge is smoke and ruins. This fort is too defensible. I don't want to think of the humans we'd lose if we had to take it back later." In one swipe, he removes the sugar packets from the table and returns to his coffee cup. "Granted, it's been a long time since I was a soldier, ma'am. I'm....I'm here to help."

[Solaris]

James listened intently, nodding agreement at appropriate places. "We've heard reports the Scourge are starting to adapt to our ECM shrouds, usually with stronger transmitters and pre-planned strategies.
"Ramirez is vulnerable to kinetic lances," James said. "Even if we lost it, it'd just take a cruiser in orbit to remove it. 'Sides, the Scourge don't seem to like using our facilities except as raw materials." She shrugged. "The fact that their warriors are roughly the size of a Scarab truck might have something to do with it. Honestly, I don't think anyone expects us to hold this place." She didn't quite meet his eyes, looking down at her hands while they fidgeted with her cup. Down on the floor beside her, Pike whined sadly. "The Centurion put in for some gravy ships, but there aren't any in the battalion. General Raikou took all of 'em with her, and we're only able to get orbital coverage four hours on, eighteen hours off thanks to the way the orbits work." Midgard had over thirty orbital defense platforms, but following the lessons learned from the Darkest Hour they were capable only of attacking outside their orbit, not inside of it. "Zeta Century has two platoons, four squads, two Thunderstone Chariot LAAVs to a squad, plus the Praetorian Security Detachment, they have another platoon of four squads and have one Arthin MBT - those new tanks they came out with to counter megapedes - and two Chariots to a squad. There's two hoverbikes to a squad, the Eighty-Eight series. The snipers use 'em, generally pairing up with scouts. We're all in the light powersuits, 'cept the PSD - they're full Legionnaires. First platoon is one squad of neodogs, two squads of scouts, one squad of snipers. Second platoon's got about four hundred drones, both air and ground. The aerospace drones are mostly Hawks and Vultures, our ground fighters are Hercs. We have supplies to hold for eight months, the max anyone's ever held out against an infestation." She sighed. "We've managed to convince most people to evacuate, but about a third of Ramirez's citizens are going to stay in place. That's the biggest kink in your plan. We can't blow up citizens of Rigel... not until they're scourged, anyways."

[PoisonousSpider]

"Mhm. Civilians -do- tend to throw kinks in things." Berkley sighed, tracing the rim of his coffee cup with a finger. "You know? You really can't blame them, though. All these people served, and suddenly their homes and livelihoods come under attack with very little defense." The black liquid stirs at his touch, porcelin grinding against porcelin as the cup rotates in the saucer. "What we should really do are offer refresher courses. These guys have the training. If we could give them some kind of organization and put them back in a legion mindset, we may be saving their lives in the long run. Keep them as a skirmishing element where the legion has a more concrete set of goals and missions." The special agent looks over at the lieutenant, concern evident in his gaze. He didn't know her in the least, but Lieutenant James was the closest thing he had to a friend since he touched down in Earthsphere territory. "Humans are always remarked upon for their sheer tenacity. No bad things have gotten, our race has never given up. And we've always given as good as we've gotten. There hasn't been a day in our history where we haven't been willing to lay down our lives for the betterment of our species. Our only real chance is to show that to the Scourge. To throw them off their plans and keep at it until we can't anymore. I think a militia of Midgardians would do that. So I say, ma'am...If these people want to fight for their homes? I want to help them." The coffee cup rises to his lips once again.

[Solaris]

James laughed. "Civilians are monkey wrenches with legs. Citizens are better, though. Lots of 'em are just troopers who got a li'l soggy 'round the midsection." Her Martian drawl bled through a bit. "How good is your team at that? Alder had a similar idea, about training up the citizens to defend-in-place, but we're not exactly expert trainers."

[PoisonousSpider]

Logan considers for a moment. "Personally, yes. My team? I'm not sure they could provide....the type of training we're looking for. Trenham's more of a support technician with a complex specialty. Tager? Other then piloting and basic pistol marksmanship, he'd be useless." The agent taps his finger against the saucer for a few moments, his head shaking. "Any external support I could call would probably be days away. Maybe weeks." He shrugs his shoulders. "Though if you like, I could try anyway." The special agent pauses, watching a legionare who gets a little too close to the table. His look is incredibly guarded, and his right hand leaves the coffee cup altogether. When the passerby moves away, unaware of what was transpiring in the officer's corner, Logan's cool green eyes regard James once more.

"With your permission, ma'am, I'd like to work with your snipers, too. Meshing of ideas never hurt anybody, and when it comes down to battle I'd rather know the pieces on the board. Guessing is a...dangerous game. I do wonder, though." He watches her quietly, making not of every nervous gesture the young lieutenant makes. "Has the command team decided on their PSDs yet?"

[Solaris]

"Colonel Hunter, you have a call."

"Who?" Hunter snapped irritably. His PDA knew he didn't like to be bothered while he was working - probably why the insolent little AI passed through every little transmission.

"A young female who claims to be a friend of yours," the AI replied. "She would not give a name."

Summer arched an eyebrow at that, her expression amused. "Dearest, have you been cheating on me and not sharing?" She had just arrived from the Temple Mount, and her clothes and face were smudged with grey-brown dust. She was just checking in to see Zaiid before returning to her lab to process some of the samples she held under her arm in a bulky preservation case.

"I should hope not," the PDA said. "From her vocal characteristics, this female appears to be in her late teens."

Hunter cursed under his breath. Probably some young wife. "Why is she calling me?"

"Colonel Zaiid Hunter of Labyrinth, Martian Commonwealth?" a soft voice asked as the holographic display emitted the image of a pretty young woman, perhaps eighteen or nineteen years old, with almond-shaped blue eyes and collar-length honey brown hair.

"I am," Hunter said in a tone that hovered between neutral and hostile. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled tightly, not showing teeth. Summer instantly recognized it as a manus expression. Looking more closely at the girl, she could see hints of manus ancestry - but she looked human, too. A crossbreed? The mani were known to engage in genetic experiments to create better, more specialized castes. This was certainly more interesting than old dust, and the look of annoyance on Zee's face as she settled down in a chair to watch was just icing on the cake. She knew he hated xenos, clones, and gene-tweaking in general - all of which earned the mani a special place of loathing in his heart. She wondered if he recognized the girl as a xeno - most humans couldn't tell mani from fine-featured, delicate Centauri.

"Moira of Rakke," the girl replied. "The acting Archduchess of Rakke and Supreme Commander of the Armada of-"

"-You'll be wanting to speak to General Raikou," Hunter interrupted. "She's in command of the Legion on Midgard, and can get you in contact with the folks in charge of system defense. Good after-"

"-I meant to speak with you," Moira interrupted in turn, "Colonel Hunter. My ship carries thirty thousand refugees, and you are the commander of the defense of the Eastern Continent. You are also the only Alliance officer in recent history who has chosen the option to not kill as many of my people as possible."

"We are expecting Scourge infestation within six days," Hunter replied. "I cannot in good conscience allow the refugees to land, even if I were so inclined to violate my oath to preserve the Earthsphere against xeno-"

"-Humanrefugees," Moira said quickly before he could disconnect. "Please, Colonel, we don't have the resources or space for this many people. Midgard-"

"-How did you get your paws on that many people?" Hunter growled. Summer wondered if either one was ever going to let the other finish. "What did you do to them?"

"They are Kozak Puldun," Moira said. "I understand they are politically and astrographically separate from the majority of o- your species, but they asked us to transport them to the Earthsphere to aid in the defense against the Scourge." A flicker of an expression ran across her face. Anger? Mani were notoriously stoic and reserved, carefully controlling their emotions. Summer had even heard they had neural implants that prevented them from even experiencing emotions.

"The Kozak Puldun have maintained an isolationist policy since the Scattering," Hunter snapped. "The Crab is well away from the Scourge invasion corridor. What possible reason could they have?"

"Altruism," Moira said simply. "Is that really so hard to believe?"

"Have you read our history?"

Moira smiled again, and this time it reached her eyes. "Colonel, will you give us a chance?"

"The embassies are on the Garden Ring," Hunter said. "I can't authorize a manus ship within the defense net, nor would I be terribly inclined to do so." He paused, watching the girl's expression. Compared to most mani, Moira was exuberant and extremely extroverted. The corner of her mouth twitched. "I assume the Star Corps has authorized your ship within Rigel space. You would want to speak with the RDF - their orbital command is-"

"-Marshal Kensukki," Moira interrupted, "who said that if the Legion commander on the ground cleared it, he was fine with us docking on the Garden Ring and sending the Kozak Puldun down on shuttles."

Hunter sighed. "Yes, yes, fine then. Send down the cyborgs. We'll organize placement."

Moira nodded, smiling tightly. "Thank you, Colonel." With that, the transmission terminated and her holographic face disappeared from the display.

Summer poked Hunter. "Dearest? You do realize that entire conversation was in Galactic?" She frowned. "I didn't even know you spoke Galactic."

"We all have our secrets," Hunter agreed. He looked up at her and smiled. For some reason, he thought she looked an awful lot like that little manus gal.

***

James smiled wryly. "If you can find someone willing to land on an infested world, I'll see about getting them cleared through the blockade. Who were you thinking about getting to come?"

James shrugged. "I don't see how that would be a problem. Most of our snipers are seasoned veterans, though. They're not nearly so green as most of our century.
"Yes, Centurion Alder has already selected his PSD." She frowned slightly. "Oh, right. Yeah, we don't just pick random troopers for that anymore. Praetorians are specially trained for the task. They're some of the Legion's best fighters. I hear one of Colonel Hunter's Praetorians is the first man to actually kill a megapede. Hank Fisk. Ever hear of him?"

[PoisonousSpider]

"I know his divorces were messy." Berkley answers after a moment, swirling the last bit of coffee in his cup and tipping it back in very unlegionarish way. Politely. "But other then that, he's been a great legionare." The special agent offers her a handsome smile, casually showing that he, too, had done his homework. The people around Colonal Hunter were of specific interest. Careful hands pull a crystal data tablet from the wall. Not even a moment of choice goes into the order Berkley types in before he hands it across the table to James. "I knew some rangers a while back. Their methods are... not legion, but effective none-the-less. Between them and the alliance contacts I have left, we may be able to catch -someone- in this system to come down and give us a hand."
__________________________________________________ ____________________
"Doctor Hunter? I have the blood samples from all of the alliance personel sent to help us. I left all the classified specimans with the head of medical research, but our system is showing you and Colonal Hunter are the only ones with the clearences to view these results." Summer's lab assistant hands over a small tablet, very similar to the kind the molecular imagers spit out. The user interface is simple, asking only for an access code and warning that the user is accessing an alliance based information system. All information was the property of the Alliance proper, and all unauthorized attempts at access would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of military law.

"It looks like it's from those agency folks that were dropped here. Oh. One of the vials had a biohazard sticker on it. I don't know if it was a sick joke, or what..."

[Solaris]

"I hear he's a wizard with the metal walkers," James said. "He was a metal jockey back in the day, went pro for a while." She smiled shyly. "I might be a fan of his, but don't tell him that. He's got a big enough head as it is." While she spoke, Pike got up and padded over to Berkley's side of the table to demand attention. The big quasi-canine sat down beside him and thumped her fist-sized paw with its flexible toes and retractible claws on his thigh, staring up at him with her ears pricked forwards, her tail slowly swishing from side to side.

"Rangers?" James's eyes widened in surprise. The Netherspace Rangers were almost legend in the Earthsphere. Though technically a separate species from humans, more distant thanks to heavy mutation and deliberate alteration than the more closely-related mani, the baseline humans got along well with their cousins. "If you can swing it, I'm pretty sure even the ol' dust-runner hisself might be impressed."

***

"Thank you, Rain." Summer smiled at the silver-haired, antenna-eared syn before she tucked the tablet under her arm and looked back at her husband. "I shall see you later, Zee. Try not to violate pan-national law while I am gone."

"I make no promises," Hunter quipped. "Don't forget, we have us a meetin' tonight at twenty-hundred."

"I shan't, dearest. Ta." Summer backed out through the door, smiling tolerantly, then turned with a swirl of her braid to go. The syn followed wordlessly, walking just behind her as she passed through the CP.

"Who ordered the bloodwork?" Summer asked as soon as they were out in the bright, stark Rigel sunlight. The stars shone overhead, and the Horsehead Nebula showed its ominous dark star-studded clouds just above the mountains.

"I... cannot say," Rain replied, a look of confusion on her face. The syn shrugged. "The information was withheld from me."

"Hold this, please," Summer said as she handed the syn the preserver. She typed in her access codes, and the tablet screen shifted to show her an in-depth examination of four people's DNA. Nametags above them indicated they belonged to Berkley, Natasha, Trevor, and Trenham. "Mm, that is odd."

"It would appear that Special Agent Berkley is related to you," Rain remarked, reading over her shoulder. Summer was one of the few humans Rain knew who was of similar size to the syn. "A great-uncle?"

"I guess?" Summer shrugged. "That cannot be coincidental." She glanced at the preserver case. "Do me a favor? Take that to the lab and analyze the samples. I want to get an idea of when the Forerunners were last here. If our luck holds, this will beat the excavation at Sahal 4 by centuries."

"Certainly," the syn agreed pleasantly before setting off through the flurry of military activity that had overtaken their formerly quiet camp. Summer watched the gynoid go before turning back towards the CP. Why would the Republic - or the Earthsphere - send an agent who was a part of her estranged biological family? Was it another attempt of her mother's to reclaim control over her life? A small shiver ran down Summer's back at the thought of suffering through her mother's attentions again.

[PoisonousSpider]

(Planning on Tetrasync being a Mani prison. Comparable to our Gitmo. It's where people go when the government of Mani doesn't want them to come back. The Tetrasync Reckoning refers to an event where the prison fell. Causes were unknown, but a massive number of prisoners escaped and the prison ended up closing its doors permenantly.)

"I can try. A few of them were locked up in Tetrasync the same time as I was. We passed a lot of time together. Watched each other's backs during the Reckoning." Logan laughs and looks down at the neodog with warm eyes his hand rustling the perked ears. "And you, Miss Pike. What would you like for breakfast? I can only imagine the trouble you'd give the Lieutenant if we let you into the coffee." That knowing gaze lifts, searching James' face while the fingers of his idle hand play at the coffee cup. "It looks like I've made one friend around here. It's a start."
__________________________________________________ ____________________

"Hey Mum, it's me. I was wondering if you still had my Dad's old military file. His name came up in one of my new research projects in conjunction with the Reckoning. I was just hoping to shed some light on it. For all of our sakes. I love you. Bye!" BEEP.

Melanie Walther's finger hovered over the repeat button of her answering system for a long time, wondering if she should listen to the message a ninth time. She'd been home all afternoon, walking in the door with a bag of groceries just as the voicemail picked up her daughter's call. The grocery bag still sat on the counter. Putting things in the pantry was the last thing the woman could do right now.

"Honey? You okay?" A tall man shadowed the doorway, undoing the buttons of his legion dress uniform. Centurion Major Walthers wasn't by any means an unimpressive man. He was tall and muscular, with windswept brown hair and chocolate eyes. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Angie called about Logan. She said she saw his name come up in some research about the Reckoning. She...wants his old miltiary files..." Saying the name of her ex-husband felt like poison on her tongue.

"She doesn't know anything, does she?"

"Not yet. But dear god, Marc. Can you imagine what will happen when she finds out he's still alive? The man's her father. She always adored him. She barely spoke a word to anyone after he died."

Marc grimices. "No, I really can't imagine it. Any more then her finding out that it was my PR office that released his official statement of death..."

[Solaris]

((Zaiid calls dibs on Walthers. I would say he knows a guy who knows a guy, but as it turns out... he is that guy.))

Pike barked happily at the mention of coffee, while James's face went white. "Oh stars above, don't give her coffee. She's spazzy enough as it is, the little attention-whore." Pike chuffed reprovingly at that. "She's just spooked, give her a scratch behind the ears."

A klaxon alarm blared moments before a series of explosions rocked the base. "Those came from outside - damn natives!" James cursed, bouncing to her feet. The troops in the cafe were pouring out, heading for their rally points. "C'mon, we'll get you in one of the spare kits!"

Pike let out a low but audible groan.

[PoisonousSpider]

"Maybe spazzy's what we need. She knew about this one before we did." Berkley rises calmly to his feet, smooths out his pants, and picks up his coffee cup. Calculating eyes study the chaos in the cafe, and then the enviroment outside. "Mhm. It -is- good of them to try to kill us while we plan their defense." The coffee cup barely touches his lips before the liquid is gone. Deliberate steps move Logan to the door, and even in the throng of people rushing to leave the establishment, they part for the armed stranger. He simply holds the door open and gestures James through with the other hand, a dark smile on his face and a dangerous glimmer in those green eyes. "Lieutenant James? If you'd lead the way, it'd be an honor to fight beside you."
__________________________________________________ ____________________

"Hey, baby!" Melanie's voice was strained, held even. "I looked for Dad's file. It must've disappeared when we moved off of Sirius. Sorry! I have no idea what we did with it." Her hand shook as she held the reciever to her ear, brown eyes looking at Marc's motionless body. It was as if he saw this as some kind of joke.

"Mum? How could you lose those!? Bah. I might be able to find something in the Alliance database. I'm supposed to drop by one of their posts tomorrow to pick up some nanological research. They have to retain some remenant of Dads service, right? I mean, the guy was like a war hero."

Melanie visably gulped. Her eyes widened, and she almost dropped the reciever. "Honey...Your Dad.." She glanced at Marc, who was now leaning forward in his chair, chin on his hands and elbows on his knees. It was as if he was daring her to say something. That much, at least, strengthened her resolve. He wanted to play this game with her? She invented it. "Your father loved you very much. I'm sorry I lost the records. Lemme know if you find anything, kay?"

As soon as the phone hung up, the tall legionare shook his head. "That's why I love you, Mel. Enough gumption to not only kill your husband, but your children's dreams. Sexy...as...hell."

Melanie shook her head, idly sucking on her finger. "Shut up. And get over here. Remind me why I got rid of Berk."

[Solaris]

"Several blasts in the civil sectors outside their fortress, milady," the shipmind said while viewscreens came up with analyses of the blasts. The real-seeming holographic image of a manus woman looked at Moira. "Civilian transmissions indicate it was the work of local Trillstani insurgents."

"Oh," Moira said quietly. For someone who was ostensibly of the warrior caste, she had never acquired the callousness about deaths that separated the mani warriors from decent society. "Casualties?"

"I count at least forty bodies," the shipmind replied. "Also, the ferals are hailing us."

Moira nodded. "Put them through."

The face of a man in Legion uniform appeared. Moira recognized Zaiid Hunter immediately and smiled pleasantly. "Good afternoon, Colonel."

"This line's secure," Zaiid said. "I woulda thought you knew better by now, kid."

Moira made a face. "It was an emergency. Congrats on the promotion, by the way."

"Your colloquial Anglo is getting better," Zaiid remarked. "Summer sends her best." An expression of concern crossed his face. "How are you holding up?"

"I manage," Moira replied, smiling at his concern. She remembered when he weighed the decision of shooting her or keeping her presence on Midgard a secret. "The Archduke stayed behind."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." Moira glanced at the avatar beside her. "I must admit, Colonel, I haven't been entirely honest with you."

Zaiid cursed under his breath.

***

"She would've told me if she heard incoming mortars or rockets," James said as she broke out into a quick run once they were in the hallway. Pike loped alongside her, easily keeping up with her human partner. "This was probably a car bomb or placed attack. We don't so much fight as we do play damage control - that's the frustrating part about guerillas, they don't stand still and fight." She pulled a hudset from her thigh pocket and put it on her head, fiddling with the eyepiece and earphones before extending the stubby little antenna. "Kaberos sevens, Kaberos sevens, this is Kaberos one-six. Give me a sitrep." After a moment, she spoke again. "Copy that. Zeta six, Kaberos one-six. We are green-green." She looked at Berkley. "I was right, car bomb. They detonated it in a marketplace. Massive casualties. We need to secure the place now so medics can get in and do their thing."

***

Hart let himself into the Hunter office without bothering to knock. "Sir, there's been an attack."

"Trillstani?" Hunter drawled. He shut down a communique with some young female-type as Hart walked in.

"Aye."

Hunter sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. He knew the Trillstani well, better than most native to the Cobalt Plains. "Inu'Iruliak, then." He stood up, picking his helmet up off his desk. "Send word to my Praetorians. We ride in an hour. I'm thinkin' we won't be worryin' what he's gonna do if'n the Scourge get here after I'm done doin' what I shoulda done a long time ago."

Hart grinned.

***

Clad in the streamlined, form-fitting Mk. 6 Auxilia Variant powersuit with her C-M12 scout rifle slung across her back and her C-P8 pistol in her hand, Lieutenant First Class Jannsica James looked on the site that once had been a busy marketplace with horror and shock. Pieces of what had once been her fellow human beings were strewn among the wreckage of market stalls and shattered goods, blood and mud splattered everywhere. The place was surprisingly silent; she couldn't place why that seemed so odd until she realized there were no cries from any wounded. Why were there no wounded? "All Kaberos elements, secure the area!" she said unecessarily. Her platoon was already spreading out, supplementing the hulking metal men the drone operators had emplaced. The eight-feet-tall Heracles G4-series drones were powerful, menacing machines; they excelled at discouraging the crowd from pressing closer.

"Special Agent?" James asked, looking at Berkley. "What's your take?"

[PoisonousSpider]

Logan was hunched over where the VBIED has originally been. He was silent most of the way over. His own powersuit sat comfortably around what was, suprisingly, a very athletic frame. When he rises to his feet, it's easy to see that Berkley's stature is more that of a legionare of old then a auxilary of new. He looks at James, lips pursed and eyes glancing around. "They must've come in before we could get here. They probably collected the wounded themselves. Are these Trillstani in the habit of taking hostages?" He motioned to a set of buildings with his off hand, still clenching the pistol in his right. "I'd send some of the snipers to those locations with a small support element. Have them cover this location while we search. Small teams, well spread out. Stick close to walls and buildings. Try to cut off any excess lines of sight we can." The former legionare's own assault rifle was attached to the weapon clip on the back of his powersuit. It's configuation was set sniper with a mechanical zero. It wasn't the best circumstance for a fight, but Berkley had handled worse before.

Those dark green eyes look around. "Where's Pike, Lieutenant? Does she smell anything out of the ordinary?" No, Berkley was not in the least phased by bodies being strewn around him.

[Solaris]

"Yeah, they pull bodies and wounded pretty much immediately," James replied. She still looked a little green around the gills. "They, uh, about half the local populace are Trillies, sir." She had the grace to not point out that most of Berkley's suggestions were already being carried out. "They don't take hostages, and if they don't take prisoners."

Pike came loping up, misery plain on her face. "She's got nothin'," James said. "It was a thermobaric with a good stiff dose of necrotizing acid, but you could tell that just from looking at the blast. Too many scents for her to pick out anything without knowing what she's looking for." The big pseudo-canine rubbed against James's legs, receiving a comforting pat while James spoke into her hudset. "Kaberos one-one, go clear the building I'm highlighting."

The squad started moving, a team of Hercs in support, when suddenly the neodogs all barked in shrill fear. James grabbed Berkley and threw him to the ground, diving on top of him just seconds before another set of blasts rocked the area. James grit her teeth as shrapnel and gravel showered them, but fortunately their power armor protected them from concussive blasts. Pike whined in fear, pressing tightly against James as she tried to make herself as flat as possible.

Some of the men were not so lucky. James watched as her hudset showed two of her platoon severely wounded, another whose vital signs ceased completely over several agonizing seconds. Shouts and groans filled the air after the momentary eternity of the bombardment.

"Stay down!" she called over the net. "Doc, find one-six and three-two! Zeta Ops, Zeta Ops, Kaberos has taken indirect fire. Request support, over."

"Kaberos, this is Zeta Ops. Cat's Eye has eyes on possible hostiles, pursuing. Will notify when threat neutralized, over."

"Kaberos six out," James said quickly. "Doc!"

"Doc's dead, ma'am," her platoon sergeant's even, calm voice came back over the net. "Got eyes on Larson and Portillo."

"Pulling Larson into the building," first squad's leader said shortly. James saw the troopers get up and run towards the building she'd directed them to, two of them dragging their wounded comrade. "We'll hold, but she'll need evac."

"Roger," James said quickly, rolling to her feet and sprinting towards the building where first squad had taken their wounded comrade. "Zeta Ops, Zeta Ops, this is Kaberos six. Confirmed medevac needed."

"Negative on medevac," Alder's voice came back. "We are black on gravy ships." Couldn't risk the graviton tech falling to the Scourge. "Vehicles en route, attempt extraction on your own."

"Copy," James said before a bullet tore out her throat in an explosion of blood, gore, and armor fragments.

[PoisonousSpider]

"Kaberos six is down, I say again, kaberos six is down." Berkley had the headset in his ear before James' blood began tinting the ground. His hands worked the med kit from her suit loose in seconds, and after two injections, one bandage wrap, and an imaginary 'Hello Kitty' bandaid, the former Centurion dug in. His body hid the small woman entirely from view, and targets lit up his scope like a christmas tree. "This is Berkley on Kaberos six comms. I've got six targets within my LOS, two visable from my location. Four that will need rocket support from any nearby element. Uploading coordinates."

"Logan? This plan is unadvisable. The likelihood of mission success is less then .02%."

"That's fine. Transmit the locations. It's probably bloody time I catch one anyway. And when the hell did you grow guff?"

"Nine years, three months, six days, four hours, and seven minutes ago, sir. Transmitting." The suit AI, thankfully, had been one of the objects the former legionare had learned to carry on him at all times.

"Engaging." Berkley's body rose as he breathed in, and fell slowly. He had been there for nearly three seconds before a metal click signalled his weapon's firing. The pop of a cartridge barely jolted the man who quickly shifted and mirrored the action three more times. 40 meters away, two men fell from behind the kitchen tables they were using against their bipods. Identical bullet wounds dropped two targets in two buildings at a distance of 30 meters. On one, a dime could fit the shot group at the top of the target's nose, directly between his eyes. On the other, there sat an identical wound. As well as one two inches away in the target's right sinus cavity. Both men left their sniper rifle's on the kitchen tables they were shooting from.

[Solaris]

Rockets started streaking from several of the troopers as they all fell back into more sheltered positions, shattering anything that looked like it might maybe provide cover for an enemy marksman.

Pike knew better than to bother trying to get one of the humans to help. With surprising dexterity and intelligence, she maneuvered James onto her back and, seizing James's forearm in her jaws as delicately as she would have handled a pup or infant, half-carried, half-dragged her partner towards the shelter of a nearby wrecked car.

"Agent!" the platoon sergeant barked over the net. "Get yer dip**** ass into cover!"

[PoisonousSpider]

"Sergeant! It might be advisable to announce that your rocketing my location.....BEFORE you rocket my location!" Logan rolled to cover just as the first explosion hit. Thankfully enough, it was the same wrecked car Pike and James were hidden behind. He throws a heavy arm over dog and handler, pulling both their bodies over the fallen form of James. "I'm telling you, Pike. These guys are -trying- to kill me at this point."

"Logan? You're getting a call from an Angela Berkley. Should I put it through?" The AI's welcoming voice drowned out the apparent chaos that was their radio set.

"What? Angela?! NO! Absolutely not! I'm in the middle of a firefight! How the hell did she get this number?"

"Logan, I'm not an answering service. Programming states that you either take the call to find out the reasons for it, or I put it through to your voicemail."

"Voicemail! Voicemail! Voicemail! Where the hell are those chariots?!"

[Solaris]

"Those aren't ours!" the platoon sergeant snapped. A part of his mind took offense at the presumption that his grenadiers would shoot at their own platoon leader.

"Might I recommend we no longer go with the plan of dropping us off a quarter-mile away and walking to the target?" someone quipped over the net. A couple of the troopers laughed.

"Shut up!"

"Clear the ****ing net!" the platoon sergeant roared. "Our drivers hit an ambush! Zeta Ops, Kaberos seven, requesting you get your ass out here and do your job! How copy, over!?"

While he spoke, someone cut loose with a gyrojet gun. A cascade of near-simultaneous explosions brought down the street-side of the building first squad was hiding in. Someone returned fire with a rocket, and the gyro abruptly stopped. War-cries filled the air as dozens of Trillstani attacked from all sides, picking off a couple of unlucky troopers before the platoon managed to batten themselves down and out of sight. A couple, though, were not in the least bit interested in hiding. Two troopers across the street from Berkley were trading fire with the enemy, taking cover in an alley as they prairie-dogged in and out. Very shortly, surviving elements of first squad started shooting from the second floor of their building. The Trillstani scored kills of their own, as a handful more troopers went down.

"Zeta six en route," Alder said crisply. "There appears to be an uprising in the works. Ramirez is officially a warzone."

"Zeta Ops, Gamma Ops. We are sending assistance," a woman's voice said over the net. "Estimate inbound, call it fifteen minutes."

Pike snarled her agreement with Berkley. She looked towards the street, where the troopers were engaged in a gunfight with Trillstani commandos, then looked back up at him expectantly.

[PoisonousSpider]

"That building?" Logan nods at a building across the street. The structure was one of the more defensible locations in sight. It boasted controlled access points, high windows, and a modern construction more suited to be a prison then anything else. The sign posted outside confirmed the fact that it was, indeed, more like a lockup then anyone could imagine. First Midgardian Financial Bank. "Mine."

Berkley laughs, helping to secure James to the back of the neodog and patting the animal on it's head. He starts from behind the cover before his rifle is even resecured to his back. Within moments, though, his assault rifle graces his hand. A quickly placed shot blows the throat out of one Trillstani as he peers from a third story window. His body bounces when it hits the street below. Between the high impact rounds and the extra piercing power of jacketed cartridges, shots hit skulls regardless of the cover taken.

When they hit the doors to the bank, Pike does the rest. Logan's entrance is precipitated by a slight laugh. The neodog was ripping the throat out of one Trillstani while her foot was planted in the throat-hole of her previous victim.

The individual who thought he'd sneak up behind the genetic monster with a shotgun was suprised by the bullet that pierced his throat. "This doesn't mean you're winning."

[Solaris]

"Dude, I hate the escort missions where the escortee goes off running by itself," complained one of the troopers as he followed a couple of heartbeats behind Berkley.

"Tell me about it," the Herc drone agreed as it ducked through the doorway, a thin wisp of smoke curling out the gun barrels mounted on its forearms. "It's okay. I like it when the squishies run."

The trooper knelt beside James after glancing at Berkley, checking her pulse and reading the vital output on her breastplate. "I think she's got five, maybe ten minutes before the brain starts suffering," he said tersely. "Not that she had many brain cells to spare." He looked at Berkley as he stood up. "Have your suit start a timer for six hundred seconds. It runs out, she gets another shot of oxy-juice - that's the white syringe with a drill where most have needles." He pointed to one of the pouches built into his chest-plate, then down at the ones on the lieutenant's. "She should have two more left, if you've already used one."

[PoisonousSpider]

"These damn things have come a long way in fifty years." Logan mutters quietly, watching the counter his AI automatically set up within his lense display. "Pike, my dear? Could you please keep an eye on the door?" The dark green eyes settle on the neodog, clearly ignoring the comment about the Lieutenant's brain cells. "And if you hate escort missions when I decide not to stand in a street and get destroyed, consider yourself free to go." The former centurion taps the auditory input sensors on the sides of his helmet as his sniper rifle unfolds in his hands. "If you don't mind it so much though, I'd say that you could have the drone suppress some of these vantage points and give the people on the street an opportunity to change their situation." The bipod extends and finds a bank teller's desk, several feet behind the window. "Or, you know, I think I saw a drink machine in the reception area." The special agent moves another two desks into similar positions behind other windows. When he settles behind his rifle at last, he exhales and pops off two shots. Immediately thereafter, the former legionare picks his rifle up and moves to another position to engage whatever was popping out of the woodwork.

[Solaris]

"This one hears and obeys," the Herc unit intoned while the trooper chuckled. It stood boldly in the open, popping off shots against the Trillstani commandos.

An inky black neodog slinked in, muzzle and paws dripping red. He met nose-to-nose with Pike before walking about to the trooper. "Y'know, the drones really are that - you're talking to a person who's remotely controlling it and the rest of its squad. I'm Banner Sergeant Takeioshi, he's Spec-Four Lin."

"Han," the drone stated as a barrage of gunfire rocked its chassis.

Takeioshi winced, but it didn't put a hitch in the banter. "You all look the same."

"Lin's pissed," the drone remarked. "All his drones bought it, and nobody's wanting to give up any of theirs."

"Yeah, no ****." Takeioshi patted his ink-black partner on the shoulder before rising to his feet and looking around. "At least you picked a good spot," he said after a moment. "Hey, Han, move over. I wanna shoot somethin'."

"Get your own spot." The drone picked out a couple more shots while more Herc drones lumbered up. "Why not look after the ma'am?"

Ignoring the drone operator, the banner sergeant took his scout rifle, checked its ammo readout, and set up beside Berkley. "Shadow, post up with Pike. Lemme know if anything comes."

The ink-black dog looked back at him.

"Yes, snarling as you rip his head off is adequate," Takeioshi sighed as he lined up a shot and picked off a Trillstani Berkley was aiming for.

"Kill-steal successful!"

[PoisonousSpider]

"And yet, you failed to get the one on the other side of the wall." Logan chuckles as he pulls the trigger, his head shaking slightly. He simply picks his rifle up and moves to a spot on the other side of Tak. "I've seen drones before. It's a big suprise the Alliance can afford them, I know. But my command authority here is..." He looks down at James and shakes his head. "Spotty at best." He looks back up in time to pop off one more round into the kill triangle of a bold insurgent who was walking behind a rolling news disk stand. It wasn't nearly enough cover. "Logan Berkley, Sergeant. These are interesting circumstances to meet under." When the alarms within his suit began to sound, Logan calmly moved to James' unconcious body. He positions her head forward and tilts his chin slightly back in the most respectful manner a human can muster. "We're not going to be able to hold long." The drill pierces her skull with a soft crack. "Any ideas for an escape route?"

[Solaris]

((Drones are the bulk of Alliance fighting forces, about 75% of non-Legion troops, and a good chunk of Republic and Commonwealth too as they don't have the Legion.))

"Well," Takeioshi said, "we got three CCPs, counting this one." He squeezed off three quick shots, taking out two Trillstani. "Seven's counting twenty-two wounded out of our original forty-three." He paused. "Twenty-five."

A half-dozen gyrojets and heavy machineguns opened up outside, and Alder's voice came crisp and clear over the 'net. "Kaberos elements, we have arrived."

One of the Chariots drove up to the bank, popping smoke canisters as the tiny medic onboard leapt out with a pack in her hand, a pistol in the other. Where the majority of Zeta century troopers wore unmarked black armor, she had a red cross on her shoulders and right breast. "Help me get her loaded," the medic said in a girlish soprano.

"Roger," Takeioshi said. "Berk, cover." The request was unnecessary; only someone in a powersuit, with its ability to penetrate nearly any visual obstruction, could see through the smoke. The Trillstani certainly couldn't.

But men have died for confusing cover with concealment.

The medic crouched beside James, checking her suit's readouts. "She's stable. Good work."

"All this guy."

"Her suit'll hold her stiff. On three." At Takeioshi's nod, she counted off and they easily lifted the immobilized officer. Pike looked on anxiously, and jumped into the back of the Chariot alongside her partner. The medic hopped in, focused on her patient.

"Drive!" Takeioshi yelled. "Kaberos seven, six is in casevac."

"Copy," the platoon sergeant's haggard voice came back. "All Kaberos elements, I am uploading a route to your suits. We advance to meet our rides."

[PoisonousSpider]

"Roger." Although the cover was not necessarily needed, Logan provided what he could. Red lights were extinguished as soon as they showed up on his visor display, though one eye was always on James.

"Logan? Angela Berkley left you a message. Voice analysis shows confusion and anger mixed with disbelief. Overall analysis states that you should not call her back. She may be a threat."

"She probably is. You don't abandon someone for fifty years and expect them to blatently forgive you. I'll listen to the message later. Right now, show me an in depth readout of enemy vitals within the penetration system. Some of these targets are indistinct. I need a target to shoot at." Within seconds, the readout goes into greater detail. Indistinct blobs gain much more distinct parts, namely, large glowing orbs in the center of their chest and on the crown of their head. They were bloodflow zones as well as the centers of hominid magnetics.

The special agent pops off two more rounds.

The route display comes up in the corner of his vision, but it only takes a passing thought to bring it to the forefront of his sight. "This...Is going to be a right pain in the bollocks."

[Solaris]

"Second squad, rally on me," Takeioshi called over the squad net - Berkley could only hear him because they're standing right next to each other. "We are plus one pax."

"Second squad, confirm you have plus one?" the platoon sergeant called over the net. Something exploded next to him as he spoke.

"Affirm, plus one," Takeioshi replied.

"Sweet, escort missions," the Herc drone quipped. "Don't worry, I hardly ever lose these." He paused. "So... if you all get whacked, I can just load from a save game, right?"

"I can never tell if you're serious or not," Takeioshi muttered. With a lull in the combat from the Chariots pushing out nearly all of the Trillstani attackers, his squad came loping up to the bank. Takeioshi counted them off as they jogged in; another neodog handler, four scouts, and four sharpshooters. While the handlers and scouts had C-M12 scout rifles along with their M-CP8 pistols, the sharpshooters had C-M18E3 carbines in the standard configuration with their C-M11 sharpshooting rifles affixed to their packs.

"Hu, Lao, you take point," Takeioshi said to two of the scouts. "Murphy, you and Musashi take rear. Troopers, move out!"

The streets were eerily quiet when the squad moved out, half of them taking up one side of the street while the other took up the other side. The neodogs roamed up and down the line, padding almost silently as they sought out an enemy that could evade the troopers' snoopers.

"Third squad reports no contact," Takeioshi remarked to Berkley. "First went out with the Chariots. Fourth found a couple of fighters, but they ran rather than make contact. What gives?"

[PoisonousSpider]

"No idea. You would've thought they would've fell back in on us as soon as the chariots rolled out." Berkley remained in the middle of the column, walking in a way very different to the auxilary's usual SOP. His finger was on the trigger, with eyes scanning the windows above them, not the streets ahead. "It may well be a calm before the storm." The tall former legionare in the black powersuit looked left, then right, nudging Tak gently and nodding toward a pair of young scouts. Their weapons hung from their necks by slings, and they were currently throwing rocks at one another within the column. "Is your partner hungry?"

[Solaris]

((Trillstani scouts. Mwahahaha!))

"Sir, kindly get out of the killzone," Takeioshi said evenly to the agent. "The way this works is my men on the left side of the road cover the windows to the right, and vice-versa. They're on the sides of the road because that minimizes angles of hostile attack. Bullets deflecting off the walls stopped being important about sixty years ago - y'know, when they came out with charge guns and stopped using mass drivers."

"Kids with rocks, Sarge," Hu said over the squad net.

"Rocks are weapons," Takeioshi pointed out. He barely finished speaking before two gunshots rang out. "Outstanding, Hu."

"Score two for me," the Herc's operator announced over the radio. "You puny meat-things are slow."

"Sarge, he's kill-stealing again," Hu said with a note of mock whining in his voice.

"****," Musashi said, "I haven't even gotten a target yet. Doc went down next to me, had to spend the last thirty minutes playing CCP."

"Really?" one of the snipers piped up. "I got at least fifteen."

"Kill counts out of the kill zone!" Takeioshi snapped. "You bastards know better than to taunt Murphy."

"I'm good," Murphy quipped, "We're clear of the enemy. What's the wor-"

Takeioshi found it ironic that a blast from an enemy rocket ensured Murphy never finished that sentence. He was busy diving for cover in a doorway, though, as were all the rest of his men. Nobody had to call out 'contact'; their suits took care of that for them, and one of the last packets of data Murphy's suit transmitted was a probable location of the enemy attacker.

"Push for the enemy," Takeioshi called over the net. "Dogs and scouts, cover! Sharpshooters, take a position and take that bastard out!" Following his orders, the handlers and scouts started pecking at the building the enemy shot from while the sharpshooters maneuvered into position. Two of them jumped up, trailing a whisper of smoke as their jetpacks lifted them up onto the rooftops, while the other two ran into a squat, ugly one-story building next door to the enemy. Following Shadow, the four neodogs ran around to cover the back of the building and make sure the enemy didn't escape.

"Han here. I got one of my birds overhead. Piping feed now." An image appeared in the squads' visors, projected into the helmet's HUD. "See the li'l feller in the second floor, currently running for the staircase? That's our man. Building's about a hundred meters down the road from you. Hurry."