The dawn of Deltia’s star shined brightly, cutting its way through the light grey clouds that continued to vanish as the new day began to heat up. Although, most if not all those aboard the Fata Morgana were unaware of this sight given how deep the makeshift barracks was within the large freighter. One such person being the young Colonel Jack Kitsure who was still in a deep slumber as yesterday’s fighting had drained him of all his energy. Upon entering his room after the strategy meeting with Aesilla, he had collapsed onto his bed, still fully dressed in his fatigues and boots. Though his slumber was soon brought to an end by the sound of banging at his quarters. Shooting up in a daze, a trail of drool linking him to his pillow Jack snapped around, his eyes scanning his room aboard the ship; One of the smaller cargo areas that was refurbished into a room upon the ship joining the Confederate Fleet. Though his eyes were quick to focus on the thick metal door protecting him from the rest of the world outside his little home. The loud knocking came again, forcing Jack to push himself up with his shaky arms -still affected by the deep sleep he was in- before finally swinging himself up and to his feet once more, though, not without a small wobble.

Opening the door, Jack came face to face with Bull, who gave a rather surprised look upon seeing the disorganized appearance of his friend and commanding officer. “Morning… Jack… did you just wake up?” He inquired a bit curious.

Kitsure blinked a few times, his mind still in the gutter, “Uh… yeah… sorry… what did you want again?” He replied tiredly.

Doing his best to keep upright, the Colonel tried his best to try and gather together his composure as his senior most Captain stood before him, brow raised. Unfortunately, he was failing, and badly, more so given his appearance. His short blonde hair a chaotic mess of bed head, whilst his face had some beard growth starting to appear due to the lack of grooming. All in all, he gave a rather unprofessional look for someone of his rank, but, thankfully he was before the one person he trusted the most aboard the Morgana.

“Just wanted to let you know I got your message from last night, and sent out a message to the other units.”

Jack gave him a confused look for a second before shaking his head as he suddenly remembered what Warren had said, “Ah! Right, yeah, good… good. How long before they arrive at the briefing?” He inquired as the last vestige of sleep vanished from his eyes and voice.

Warren looked over his shoulder as if looking for the time, before turning back eyes looking up in thought. “Sometime around ten-hundred hours?”

“Good, good, and what time is it now?”

“Eight-thirty.”

Blinking upon the realization of how late he had slept, Kitsure quickly shifted about uncomfortably. “Right… well, thank you Bull.” He replied quickly before giving a quick salute to his friend. “I’ll meet you on the bridge in an hour and a half.”

“Not a problem sir.” He grinned, returning the salute with his own before spinning around on the ball of his heel.

Jack stood there for a moment, resting his left arm against the doorframe, for a moment, before he snapped his fingers upon remembering something. “Oh! Right, before you go there Bull.”

“Hmm?”

Turning around, the Colonel walked back into his room and towards his small little office space. “Ah, here we go.” He declared before pulling out a small folder from one of the draws of the metal desk. “Forgot to mention this, but I’m promoting you to Major. Already got it cleared with Command. All the new benefits and responsibilities are outlined in the folder.” Handing to the now wide eyed Warren, Jack then folded his arms over his chest and smiled. “Congrats.”

Still, in shock at the sudden promotion, Warren just stood there in utter silence. “W-what? Wait, what? Am I being promoted? How… why?”

Jack shrugged as if it was a fact known by all, “Because, we don’t have a Major or Lieutenant Colonel to act as the XO. Besides, you’ve more or less been acting as the Seventh’s Second in Command for awhile now, so, might as well make it official.”

The news didn’t really help to answer any of the bearded man’s questions, but with a heavy sigh he dismissed them all. “Thanks… I guess, though, I’m not sure-”

“Ah, none of that shit Bull. You’ve earned the pay raise. So, just accept it and add the new rank pins to your uniform.” Jack interrupted, his hand raised up to stop his friend from saying anything more. “Anyways, I gotta get ready so… you’re dismissed, Major Smith.” He said, giving a small smile before closing the door to get ready.

Though as the metal door shut, Jack stood there knowing full well his friend was still standing with a dumbfounded look on his face, with a small laugh, he turned away and went about getting ready for the rest of the day ahead. His room had its own bathroom as well, which meant he wouldn’t need to worry about leaving to go use the community one used by the others.  

Aesilla’s rest was less than ideal. Resting in the command chair set into the center of the Fata Morgana’s bridge, her dreams were filled with the cries and laments of tortured spirits, all blaming her for one thing or another. Swirling out of a mist against a pitch black, one would lament never seeing the place of their birth again. Another, screaming hatred over the death of a relative, having predeceased them. Yet more echoed the same chant over and over again.

“Deceiver,.......murderer,...........monster………”

The chant slowly grew in volume, reaching a crescendo just as the first rays of sunlight cast through the bridge view port found an angle at which they could make contact with the captain’s face, whereupon she jolted awake with a start.

Aesilla slowly exhaled a low, reptilian hiss expressing her displeasure with the state of affairs, covering her eyes so as not to be blinded by the bright light. With a spring in her step uncharacteristic for the recently awakened, she made her way toward the galley to find something that might be better at offsetting the fogginess of an early morning than the sudden return to wakefulness she had experienced, and that might last longer.

Unfortunately, the militia had not provided grounds or leaves of very high quality with which to make morning type beverages. The resulting concoction tasted quite awful. It did, however, succeed in its intended purpose. Aesilla was now fully awake. It was only at this point that she took her first less than disinterested look around her, seeking to observe how the crew members and militia personnel around her were comporting themselves.

To the wily captain’s eyes, the militia seemed to be in relatively good spirits after the success of their landing operation. The crew of the ship itself was another story, however. For a crew that had never before seen war, the losses suffered in battle exceeded anything they had ever experienced and had clearly left them shaken. For many, this day was likely one of introspection, asking themselves if this rebellion was really worth the sacrifice. If they were really prepared to die, as their shipmates had. Aesilla was instantly glad that the coming operation was not going to involve more heavy fighting, particularly if all went as planned.

Upon finishing her cup of,.......whatever it actually was, she had no real idea, Aesilla began the trek aftward toward the engineering spaces, to assess the previous day’s damage for herself. As she approached, the smell of blood and burned flesh became stronger and stronger, until at last, she reached the charred, sooted section of corridor that denoted the innermost penetration achieved by enemy weapons fire.

The scent of burned bodies now mixed with that of fuel, resulting in a dizzying combination of olfactory stimulus, and despite the removal of the corpses they day before the pall of death still hung heavy in the air. Aesilla took a few moments to simply take in the environment surrounding her before striding purposefully through the starboard hatch nearest to her.

Within, the deck plating was buckled toward the ventral side of the hull, with all other surfaces being likewise dented away from the center of the compartment. A sizeable hole could also be seen through, leading to the exterior and the sky beyond, while many smaller pinholes of light shone inward from the opposite side of the same compartment, lit by the corridor lighting that had since been cleaned. An enemy shell had detonated within this compartment, peppering the walls with shrapnel, and had apparently torn into the next one just forward of it, peeling the starboard side of the bulkhead away from the walls like one peels a banana.

Most importantly, however, the hatch sealing the fuel tank below the deck was warped, and no longer firmly sealed access to the compartment below. Aesilla donned a rebreather, and with some effort wrenched the hatch wide open. Peering into the punctured tank, she could see that there was still quite a big chunk of fuel remaining within, with a layer of fire fighting foam floating atop it. She also saw something else which alarmed her. Within the fuel tank, there was a thin haze. This haze floated lazily about the compartment below her, like some manner of wispy cloud, driven by the change in air current generated by the newly opened hatch.

Aesilla immediately recognized what had apparently gone unnoticed in the mad scramble to save the vessel from being consumed by flames, and quickly backed away, a look as unnerved as anyone would likely have ever seen on her by that point creeping across her features. The captain quickly made her way to the nearest intercom station and began to pester the chief engineer with inpatient incoming message noises until a groggy and irritated old cybernetic voice suddenly and profanely answered.

Aesilla simply issued an order that she knew would undoubtedly give the man a heart attack,...... if he wasn’t already mechanical, before striding quickly toward the bridge to attend the coming strategy meeting. The order in question?

“Cordon off and ventilate compartments adjacent starboard fuel storage, explosive vapor protocol is in effect until further notice.”

It had taken Jack at least an hour to get cleaned up and dressed in a pair of new combat fatigues, that, like the others in the laundry were a light grey with a black trim, the unit patch on the right arm sleeve just slightly below the shoulder, and his rank a fixed to the center of the fatigues; the rank being the only other colour added to the uniform as it was a silver Moon with a set of gold blades crossed over top it.

“Well… best not waste any more time than I already have…” He mumbled softly to himself, trying to motivate himself to get out the door.

Though, as he turned about, and opened the thick metal doors, he was quickly greeted by the sight of a cyborg running past him towards the elevator at the end of the hall.

“That’s not good…” Jack thought to himself as he watched with a hint of unease welling up in his stomach.

It was one thing to see one of the ship’s crew running about, but the chief engineer? That was NOT something anyone would want to see, as it meant something was wrong with the ship. But, the Colonel couldn’t do anything save merely push the fear aside, for now, more so since he wasn’t trained to handle or even offer any sort of ship based support save general first aid, firefighting, or command if necessary. So, pulling out his crimson red beret from his pants pocket, he fixed it neatly atop his head, before heading in the opposite direction towards the bridge. As he walked through the bridge doors as they slid open, he was greeted by the sunlight that blinded the blonde for a moment, forcing him to raise his bare hands up to shield his eyes until they could adjust.   

“Officer on deck!” Announced a gruff voice, belonging to the ships XO, a Commander in rank, an O-5 in rank.

Bringing down his hands, he noticed the crew and other junior officers quickly turn around and stand at attention. Waving them all at ease as he walked in, Jack scanned the bridge. “Where’s the Captain?”

Elizabeth Knight was the first to speak up in response, “Walked off some time ago drinking that shit command calls coffee.”

With left Brow raised, he noted the faint aroma of the shitty substitute for real coffee. Giving a disgusted frown at the sight of the ‘shit’, he turned his head back towards the raven haired Captain. “Ah… that does explain a lot. That crap there will get anyone walking about to get that out of their system.” He noted, before walking over towards the holo-display in the middle of the bridge, just behind the Captain’s chair. “Now, as for my second question, has the rest of the Division responded yet?”

“Only the First, and fourth have,” Bull spoke up as he walked up, resting his weight against a nearby wall. “Got Christian Macntyre, and Emily Clarke there, but no one else as of yet.”

“Good… means I’m not late.” Jack joked with a grin before straightening up, folding his arms over his chest.

At that instant, the bridge doors slid open again to reveal the captain, once more shielding her eyes from the bright light, glancing about the room to each of those present.

“Captain on Deck!” Announced Warren this time, as everyone save Jack went at attention upon her arrival.

Jack giving her a quick salute.

“As you were.”, Aesilla quickly responded, continuing, “Looks like I’m the last to arrive. Let’s get right into it then.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Kitsure nodded in agreement as he looked over towards his newly promoted Major who looked back at him confused for a moment before snapping his fingers.

“Right! So, as I told Colonel Kitsure, the First and Fourth Regiments have reported in. We’re just awaiting the rest of the Division to chime in, as well as General Gunther ma’am.” Warren reported, before handing the Captain a file.

Aesilla took hold of the file in question and inserted it into the holographic display. An image of the imposing fortress they were to capture, rendered in miniature, appeared before the assembled officers.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, the prospect of a head on assault against this fortress would likely cost an inordinate number of lives on our side of the battle lines.”, Aesilla began, “Fortunately, there’s more than one way to use a fortress. They can indeed be exceptional defensive structures, but they’re just as good at keeping people in as keeping them out. Simply put, this giant structure can become the perfect trap for our enemy.”

Aesilla paused briefly to allow her words to sink in.

“”We have a vessel with punctured fuel tanks, and a significant volume of fuel that can be quickly dumped overboard, and the structure itself is not flammable.”, Aesilla explained, “I understand that the ascendancy forces have been stubborn about surrendering or being lured out in the past, but if we threaten them with the same fate suffered by the members of my crew who did not survive our landing operation I believe that we can either force them to abandon the fortress intact, into a waiting ambush, or else surrender outright.”

Aesilla then took a few moments to gaze at those assembled before asking, “Does anyone present know of a reason why this strategy could not be implemented?”

“Possible breach in the fuel tanks would see to such a thing.” Answered Christian, whose voice came ringing out over the holographic form of himself taking shape, along with the other members of the 2nd Division.

Jack rested his chin onto his right-hand thumb, while the rest of his fingers covered his mouth. “Mhm, that or possible damages to the ship’s stabilizers could also further hinder the plan.”

“If it’s fuel levels that are your concern,”, Aesilla replied to the 2nd division officer, “The ruptured tanks are isolated from the rest of the fuel system by cross-feed valves which prevent a puncture in one or more tanks from compromising the entire fuel load. As it stands, the tanks in question are no longer leaking fuel, having emptied during the fire to levels below the lower most penetration.”

Aesilla then turned to the Colonel, “As for the stabilizers, They’re in working order. They’re not in the vicinity of the damaged sections. Ship control will be no issue, as long as we anticipate the drag forces on the damaged hull.”

“Then what would hinder the plan then Captain?” Questioned the commander of the 2nd Division, and the man in charge of the fortress assault, General Alexander Gunther, whose holographic form came up beside Christian’s.

“Unknown variables.”, replies Aesilla, “I can get the vessel in low, beneath their guns, but during the moment we’re dumping fuel we’ll be vulnerable. If there’s an element we’re unaware of, an unaccounted for fighter presence, for example, one solid hit could ignite the fuel during discharge. Those within the fortress would set themselves alight if they did so, but an external strike on the vessel would face no such threat. I don’t think I need to elucidate on the outcome of a fire trail burning back up into the fuel tanks.”

Shaking his head the General sighed, “Negative… You are correct to calculate for such a potential risk. Given what our scouts of reported, it seems there are enemy fighters in the area, although I’ve already put in a request for our space forces to conduct covering attacks for us.” Pausing for a moment, to get a data slab with more intel, he threw up the intel onto the screen at the far end of the bridge that served as a monitor. “As you’ll note, they’ve complied with my request, so we should assume that the enemy air forces will not be present at the time of our attack. But, just to be double sure, I’ve tasked your freighters own fighter squadron back to you to provide cover during the duration of the operation.” He continued before folding his hands behind his back. “If we can get this job done with as little blood being shed on our side as possible, and as fast as possible, then Command is more than willing to give us any and all support we need.”

As the Division commander finished speaking, Jack’s eyes drifted over to Aesilla to see how she’d respond.

Aesilla’s expression appeared to dispense with some of the accumulated tension upon hearing that the operation as planned had been approved.

“I’m glad to hear that my pilots found a hangar to set down in after yesterday.”, Aesilla replied, “The additional fighter support might well prove instrumental to success. In any case, I’ll get out of your hair for the planning on the ground and get the ship ready to sortie.”

With that, Aesilla steps into her ready room and broadcasts over the intercom to all stations aside from the bridge, the bridge crew already aware of their directive, instructing that the ship be made ready to cast off.

“Thank you, Captain Saeva.” Jack thanked with a smile as he walked by to take the floor, pulling up a map of the area surrounding the fortress. “While the Fata Morgana is preparing for their part in the plan, we’ll have the second division move to surround the fortress, seeking to ensure no escape routes are open for the Ascendancy to take advantage of.” Jack started, walking in the middle before circling the fortress as if to outline the units. “However, the Seventh and Second Regiments will move to perform diversionary attacks to the gates here, and here.” Highlighting the north and south gates of the fortress, the Colonel then peered over towards the men and women in charge of the artillery units. “While we attack the Artillery will start to pepper the fortress striking at the defensive installations… ensuring the absolute security of the Morgana and her crew as they perform their part.” Pausing a moment to let everyone get their notes.

Seeing everyone once more focusing on him for further strategies, Jack coughed into his hand to clear his throat as he refocused on the briefing. “While the Seventh and Second Regiments will be assaulting the two gates we will not be throwing in our full strength, rather we’ll use AT and plasma based weapons to strike at the structure, to at least make it look as though we’re trying to create a breach. Once we have their full and undivided attention focused squarely on us, the Artillery will use their drones and destroy all defenses, and as soon as the main guns are down, the Morgana will move in and… we just wait for the flames and smoke to do their work.” Finishing with his briefing, Kitsure turned to face the officers, “Any questions?”

--

After everyone had gotten into position the 7th, now fully battle ready moved slowly through the cratered land towards the northern gate. As the Regiment moved forward, Warran waved forward the heavy weapons teams, who were then quick to form up and as the seconds began to count down, an uneasy silence washed over the area, the sound of wind blowing through the remaining trees being the only sound heard. Then, once the clock hit 3, Jack swung his blade down, signaling for the diversionary assault to begin. And just as the blade came down, the sound of heavy weapons roared to life as each fired off its deadly payload, each missile, plasma, and AP rounds slamming into the massive metal gates. If the defenders were unaware of their presence before, they weren’t now. Within moments of the two gates coming under attack, the 7th and 2nd were quickly fired upon by the defenders who began to focus their full attention onto the two regiments.

Despite the heavy influx of enemy rounds being rained down upon him and his soldiers, Jack couldn’t help but grin behind his helmet. “Time for the artillery to do their thing.” He thought to himself as he and his soldiers hunkered down.

As if on cue the roar of artillery could be heard in the distance before each round slammed hard into the defensive guns, effectively rendering the Ascendancy fortress defenseless against any sort of air assault.

The roar of artillery heard at the landing zone served as the signal for the Fata Morgana to begin its approach. The freighter slowly lifted its charred but very much functional frame off the ground, and with a deep, bass rumble, the ship began to rapidly accelerate down a nearby valley, keeping low to the ground around the winding bends toward its destination. Alongside flew two fighter craft, flying immediate escort, while two more kept watch for opposition high overhead and another two streaked down the valley ahead of their charge, six in total. While the Fata Morgana’s full complement was eight such craft, two had been lost in the previous space-bound engagement.

As the ground blurred past below at now dizzying velocity, the terrain gradually ascended and soon the fortress itself came into view. Reducing velocity to position over the top of the fortress, the bridge crew of the Fata Morgana could see smoke rising from the remains of the destroyed defensive emplacements, allowing them to independently confirm that all was clear for the moment. With but a motion of her hand, Aesilla ordered the vessel to halt directly over the fortress, then followed up with a broadcast ship wide ordering all hands to prepare for a ninety-degree roll to starboard, and recommending that all who could strap themselves in.

The Fata Morgana then entered the proscribed roll, as its sensor equipment picked up a rapidly closing bogie. No, two bogies. Finally, “Ah, shit. Captain, it’s a full flight of four.”

No sooner than had the sentence been uttered, the pair of pilots flying top cover for the operation visually confirmed the approaching contacts as hostile and, with the assistance of the two that had been flying in the vanguard position, moved to engage them.

Meanwhile, the Fata Morgana’s punctured hull had begun to act much like a sieve to water, as the fuel remaining in its damaged tanks spilled out into the fortress below, coating the surfaces thereof with flammable liquid, and filling its open spaces with a toxic, foul vapor.

All the while, a bridge crew perched sideways watched its monitors anxiously as the opposing fighter craft slowly fought their way closer and closer to the vulnerable vessel.

Closer and closer they advanced until, to the elation of the Fata Morgana’s crew, one of those four contacts appeared to break into many smaller ones and vanish.

“Splash one bandit!”, came the inevitable call over the combat frequency, followed by the accompanying, “Good kill!”, confirming that a second pilot could see the downed enemy craft.

The opposing fighter craft ceased to close the distance to the Fata Morgana, and instead was now being chased away from her by the fighters that she carried. When a second enemy fighter vanished from the scopes, the crew of the converted freighter began to breathe a sigh of relief. Shortly thereafter, the gauges indicating the fuel remaining in the damaged tanks read zero, and the Fata morgana leveled off issuing a broadcast.

“To those Ascendancy forces occupying the fortress below: Your position is now thoroughly saturated with highly flammable fuel which can be set alight at any point in time. Surrender is highly recommended.”

The final two fighters which had been guarding the freighter then peeled off, streaking toward the dogfight that their squadron mates were currently engaged in to make the fight even more unfair for the ascendancy pilots than it already was.

Jack, like the rest of the 2nd Division, watched with bated breath, waiting to see the results of their strategy. And as they waited for word from the Ascendancy to give their response, what they got instead was the sound of the massive gates cracking open slowly, until they were wide open, the light of the systems start quickly lighting up the darkness. To the surprise of the entire Division what they saw was the entire Ascendancy garrison come marching out with bayonets fixed. At the sight of this, the blood began of the militia force began to boil in annoyance, but they hoped there would still be a chance for a peaceful surrender, though, as if to add injury to insult, what happened next sent the entire Confederate invasionary forces into a rage. From the gates came out a number of alien beings each in chains and collars, as if made to look like slaves. The multiracial army of the Confederacy didn’t know what was happening at first until suddenly the prisoners were gunned and stabbed down.

“THIS IS WHAT WE SAY TO YOUR COWARDLY TACTICS REBELS!” Shouted the fortress commander, whose own blade was slicked in the blue blood of a Ractian. “CHARGE!!” Bellowed the same man who lead out the forces at the North gate, heading straight for the 7th.

Watching the events on the ground unfold via a view screen on the bridge of the Fata Morgana, Captain Saeva’s fury silently flared. She uttered a single command, broadcast to any Confederate forces that would listen.

“Burn them. Burn them now.”

The pure contempt she held for the enemies that occupied this battlefield was evident.

Kitsure, along with the rest of his unit watched in horror, shocked, confused, and angry at the event played out before them. “W-what? There wasn’t any intel about prisoners…” Stuttered Jack, whose own anger was starting to sneak up on him, his entire body starting to shake with rage. And just as the Ascendancy ordered a charge, Jack stood up turning to his soldiers, “Fix bayonets and prepare to receive infantry! FUCKING MURDER THEM!” Bellowed Jack who ignored the sight of the fortress being lit up by the Morgana, killing all those unlucky to still remain in the fortress, burning them alive.

No one in the 7th needed to be motivated to follow the order either as each and every human man and woman, and Alien being quickly pull their own blades free, affixing them to their barrels before each leveled their automatic rifles and began to open fire on the charging Red’s, before the entire Division charged forward in a blind rage fueled charge. The two side slamming hard into one another as if it was a battle straight from the old earth days.

Jack himself was in deep with his men, having charged headlong into the fray, wanting to take the head of the commander himself, his emerald green eyes locked on the other officer’s armoured head. Rushing forward, sabre in his right hand, and a pistol in his left like before, he charged in deep, the first of the Reds to come close was screaming a sort of zealous prayer as he made a downward swing at his head. Quickly juking away, and spinning on the ball of his right heel, he brought his blade around, and in one fluid movement slipped it upside down before stabbing the blade deep into the Red’s back, severing his spine, before the tip came protruding through the other end, killing him instantly. And just as a second came screaming forward, Kitsure brought his pistol up, squeezing the trigger, letting an AP round slam into the victim's face and head destroying the head entirely, the headless body falling limp in a pool of blood. Pulling his blade free, and standing once more, to look for the enemy commander, he witnessed the grey and red of the two armies slash, cut, and fire upon one another in an uncontrollable slaughter. The rumbling of their tanks coming over the ridge firing into a group of helpless Ascendants, whose only remains after the HEAT round hit was a gory mess of limbs, guts, and blood. 

Shaking his head mentally, and turning back to the slaughter at hand, he brought his weapon to aim before unloading his entire clip into the body of a Red who had just killed one of his men. The bloody corpse falling upon the fallen 7th. Twisting about, Jack holstered his pistol away, now focusing entirely on utilizing his sword. And just in time as two more enemies came out of the mob of bodies, charging towards him. Jack dashed forward, before ducking low, avoiding a slash to his midsection, and quickly counter-attacked with a slash to the Red’s exposed stomach, blood spraying onto Jack’s armour before he quickly grabbed the now lifeless body using it as a shield against the second who tried to unload his clip into the Colonel, only to instead fill the body of his/her friend instead. Quickly throwing the body aside with his armour assisted strength, Jack stepped forward, thrusting his blade through the Red’s chest and heart, killing the individual instantly. As the body fell limp, it collapsed causing Jack to lose his balance for a second, which allowed the enemy commander to sneak up behind him and slash his back. Thankfully, the armour had taken a great deal of the damage, yet he still received a large gash across the length of his right shoulder blade, causing Kitsure to yelp in pain, as he fell to his knees in pain. Biting his bottom lip in pain, he quickly shifted his weight, letting himself fall into a roll, his blade being pulled free as he did so, and just in time to avoid a fatal strike to his head.

Digging his armoured boots deep into the dirt, Jack quickly launched himself forward, slamming his left shoulder into the enemy commander’s gut sending them both to the ground. As the Ascendant quickly attempted to shuffle to his feet, Jack pulled him down and towards him before crawling atop him, drawing his own bayonet from his shoulder sheath, Pulling the man’s head in close, he slammed the blade deep through the man’s helmet, stabbing through, before it cut its way through the metal helm and into the man’s forehead, and brain. As the blade dug in deep, Jack’s eyes remained locked on the man’s whom he was killing, before he gave the bayonet a good twist ensuring the man was dead. As if to add insult to injury, Kitsure quickly grabbed his sabre, and in one fluent motion cut the head clean from the lifeless corpse of the murderer.

Pushing himself up to his feet, he raised the commander's head high into the air and bellowed a cry of bloody victory, the sight being witnessed by the commander’s soldiers who saw the brutality of the kill. Within minutes the Ascendancy’s line began to falter and before long… a massacre soon replaced the melee, as the entire 2nd Division along with its attached units began to systematically kill each and every Red they could find, until finally… all were dead, all lay a bloody ruin upon one another, no mercy given… no prisoners taken… an inhuman scene being all that remained as the battle came to a gruesome close.

Panting tiredly, Jack, wounded and drained of what remained of his rage fueled energy, sat on a nearby rock. His hands shaking from exhaustion, he did his best to remove his helm, exposing his nostrils to the horde stench of blood, steel, and gunpowder. Though the smell did little to affect him, having been in so many battles throughout the two years he’d been fighting in the civil war, he had become accustomed to it, rather, what bothered him the most was the deed they had just committed. Looking now, with a calm head, he saw that they had killed all the Ascendant troops garrisoning the fortress.

“What… the fuck?...” Muttered Bull who dragged himself beside his friend, before he let his weight forced him to sit.

Jack didn’t even look at the Major, no he was too far lost in the sight in front of him. It wasn’t until Warren pushed his shoulder gently that he was brought back from his thoughts.

“Huh, what? Oh, Bull… I…anything to report.” Jack asked, trying to regain his composer.

Although his voice came out rough and low, his throat still raw and dry from having screamed bellowed, and barked orders throughout the slaughter after having killed the enemy commander. Warren shook his head as he closed his eyes. He didn’t have anything to report.

“Nothing… just came to see if you were still alive and well.”

Jack gazed over at his friend then back at the soldiers collecting the bodies of all those killed in the melee. “Ah… yeah, I’m still alive… but bloodied.”

“I see that…” Bull replied noting the bloody cuts, and burns that decorated his armoured frame.

Jack sighed, looking back at Warren, “Not sure what to say here… I’m pretty sure we’re going to be brought up on war crimes for this massacre…”

Bull shrugged, and was about to open his mouth to speak before the commander of the entire 2nd Division came walking up towards them, forcing the two to quickly try and give a salute, only for their arms and bodies to fail them.

“Don’t worry gentlemen… this isn’t the first time this has happened in the two years this war’s been raging… the Ascendancy’s been ramping up the propaganda and brainwashing all across the worlds they have the strongest influence with, so… it's not surprising that they’d resort to this.” Gunter stated solemnly. “Truthfully, we were expecting this sort of thing when we planned this invasion… we hoped it wouldn’t actually happen, but… as you can see, it did, and we did what we had to in order to take this world.”

Though he tried to reassure the two officers who looked up at him with tired eyes, his words did little to actually help them, rather it just made Jack wonder if he had made the right decision in going with their plan if maybe there was a chance to save those civilians before they were executed. A number of questions were dancing around the young Colonel’s head, many of which he doubted he’d ever get the answer to. But knowing he had to push the thoughts and questions away to save his mind, he shifted his thoughts towards helping the cleanup. But, even as he finished his debriefing with his commanding officer, he still had the one lingering question as to what was going to happen after Command got wind of this battle...