'Before I start showing the footage of the battle itself,' Nightmare began, 'it is important that you know the strategic goals of this campaign. Operation Angry Comet was divided in several key parts, the first being the invasion of Lufer.' She used the black box, now interred into the projector on the ceiling, to reveal a map of the space that held the planet in question. 'The ultimate goal of the operation was to eliminate the Novic Confederacy's ability to wage an offensive war, knocking them out of the conflict and thusly securing their own borders, allowing more resources to be freed up for the war with the Kra'lagh. Operation Angry Comet was a surgical strike. A small force penetrating deep behind enemy lines, decapitating the enemy chain of command and destroying their ability to rearm, repair and resupply. The first goal was to be accomplished on Lufer. This was also the first official mission of Genesis, given that their acquisition of the Kra'lagh fleet was still highly classified.'

The map zoomed in and the thousands of ships of Nemesis sprang into life as they duelled with the Novican space stations. 'In space, the Imperial Battlegroup Nemesis, led by Admiral Verloff, had succeeded in destroying most of the Novican Second Fleet and what was not destroyed was outmanoeuvred, damaged and rendered incapable of joining the battle for the coming days. Nemesis had taken only light losses in this, due to exceptional manoeuvring and having predicted the enemy's reactions, but more Novican fleets had been recalled to the planet and the mission had therefore taken on a time sensitive nature. Either the Empire would blitz the Novican headquarters and kill their target, Grand Admiral Kolpovka, along with his closest officers, or they would be forced to retreat lest they'd become impossibly outnumbered. On the planet itself,' she continued, zooming in once more and revealing a hotly contested warzone on four fronts, 'the Imperial Fourteenth, Seventeenth and Twenty-Third armies are clashing with the Novican armies of the First and Second Mechanised Infantry, as well as the Second Armoured. The Novicans were heavily dug in and orbital bombardment was made impossible due to the extensive planetary defences.' She highlighted these points by calling up the placement of gargantuan shield projectors, countless missile batteries and vast generator complexes that powered it all. She smirked to herself, enjoying the memories as she relived them. The briefings, hovering over the satellite feeds with her brothers and sisters right beside her. Lieutenant Dreamer, Genesis soldier X-12845623, constantly amending the battle plan based on what he saw. It was a delightful piece of history and she would have been salivating at the prospect of diving down and reliving it all, had she been capable of that.

'At the time of insertion, the Imperial armies had been steadily pushing back the Novican defenders whilst paying a bloody toll in turn. Time was of the essence and therefore lives were exchanged in order to speed up the assault.' She had reconstructed the satellite feeds from her memory and called them up now, with additional information overlaying the imagery. She showed Jane and Onoelle the positions of all the combatants and the insertion vectors of the Genesis units. Then she zoomed in to show only the area where Dreamer and her had landed. A simple thought later and the footage had been enhanced to the point that individual details could be picked out. Tanks moving, muzzle flashes lighting up the sky as artillery fired, explosions tearing apart men and women as shells rained down on them from high above, the writhing of shields as they weathered impacts. She was pleased to see both of the women gasp at the sheer size of it all.

'You sound shocked?'

'I am,' Jane admitted. 'It's one thing to read about war, quite another to see actual footage of it.'

'In high definition too,' Nightmare purred sweetly. Then, with an acceptable bit of delay to appear human, she feigned surprise. 'Wait, you're telling me you've never seen footage of the war before?'

'I... haven't. Why do you sound so taken aback by that?'

'Because any nation worth their salt is absolutely anal about keeping records and the footage of body cams and satellite feeds so they can perform after action reports. You are familiar with those, right?'

'Somewhat. They—'

Nightmare sighed loudly, interrupting the "Historian". 'I am beginning to question the validity of your title now. The Empire consisted out of two factions. You had the civilians and you had the military. If you do not know, in depth, how the military functioned, you cannot understand the Empire. After action reports are a broad collection of officers reviewing the data and carefully dissecting it in order to find any and all mistakes that were made or things that could be improved upon, as well as everything that went flawless. This allowed the unit or officer in question to improve, now that they no longer were constricted by tunnel vision. The Empire constantly held war games and exercises, with these reports happening afterwards. It is why they were such an efficient force. And it is why I am wondering how it is possible that no such data survived the war. There should have been countless data recorders and black boxes left. The Empire had entire warehouses dedicated to keeping back ups of it all. It's statistically impossible that everything was destroyed.'

Jane silently pondered that for a while and Nightmare's biometric sensors registered an elevated heartbeat. The AI waited impatiently for the human to reach the conclusion, namely that this was another piece of proof that history had been altered, on her own. After a minute or so, the woman finally nodded. 'You're right. Something should have survived. I'll plunder the database after this and see if I can find anything. There should be something left.' Nightmare heard the faint hope in the woman's voice and was amazed just how quickly the Historian had gone from blind hate to the Empire to being open to discuss it. She was pleased with it. Intelligent people were so much more tolerable to deal with than idiots.

She glanced at the other occupants in the room. Mentuc was sitting there, eyes wide open and constantly scanning the room, even if she was actively monitoring the entire area. She was constantly giving him status updates on Cassy as well. It distracted him from the memories, lest he be drawn into another flashback. Despite his active behaviour, he was remarkably calm. His hands weren't balled into fists or instinctively reaching for weapons. Instead his arms were tenderly wrapped around his wife's waist. She felt a shiver run along her network at the sight of it and knew it to be jealousy. She took the time to study that thought, but it held no new information to her. Just the usual annoyance that she no longer was corporeal.

Onoelle was doing a good job, for a human, to split her attention evenly between keeping an eye on her friend, her husband and taking in the new information. The woman was visibly interested in the new bits. She knew a tremendous amount of Mentuc's history as Dreamer, but there were specific key events that he hadn't told her yet. The battle of Lufer was one of those key events. Another, one that was far more influential on him, had been hidden from her as well. She understood why. It was one of the few memories she hated reliving and she had gone as far as to contemplate deleting it on a few occasions. She wouldn't though. Dreamer had shown himself to be different than Genesis on that world. It was a turning point in the war and Jane would love it, but for Onoelle it would be vastly more important. Dreamer had evolved on that planet into something far more terrifying than he already was. And he had paid an equivalent price in turn.

'To resume my explanation, the moment Strike Force One of the Genesis Battalion struck was in the midst of a Novican counterattack that was slowing down the Imperial offensive. Armoured units had penetrated the flanks and were keeping mobile to harass the Imperial lines, with the intent of disrupting them. One such unit had failed in their mission, because they had been chasing a lone Imperial tank that had wreaked havoc on them. They would be the first Novican units Genesis encountered in their path. I'm going to start playing the footage now. It starts aboard their carrier, one of four, each containing one of the four strike forces. The goal of Genesis is to land, regroup, charge in while the enemy is distracted by the four-pronged offensive of the actual armies and break through to the enemy HQ, kill everyone inside of it, then retreat. The time they have allotted for themselves is twenty hours.'

She held a dramatic pause, the display slowly fading away, leaving nothing but darkness in the house.

Then, with a voice that could barely restrain her eagerness to show off her past, she whispered a single sentence.

Playing battle-cam footage of Genesis soldier X-12845621.

Lieutenant Dreamer, encased deeply within his massive Svalinn Mark I Power Armour, strode over to the drop pod, paying little attention to the other men and women running around the bay. His mind was already planetside even as the constant stream of telemetry kept pouring in. He continuously made little changes to the planned patterns, shifted vectors of attack by mere metres and kept thinking. Always thinking. This was the first time the Genesis would employ actual commanders in an actual battle and the wargames against the Special Forces had shown the importance of it. He and his brothers were overwhelmingly powerful, but they still had their share of weaknesses. They were not creative. Every avenue they knew of, every trick they had learned, all of it had been taught by others or had been played on them during the exercises. They had absorbed the knowledge and made those tactics their own, but that still left countless others that could be used against them. In close combat it mattered little, but in a grand battle such as this, inter-unit tactics became vital. An artillery barrage or orbital strike could see them wiped to a man. An armoured unit could tear them apart and an unforeseen minefield could force them to be pinned down and become easy pickings. Doctor Eisel had implored them to be careful with their own lives, as they were the most expensive weapons the Empire had, and so Genesis would listen.

For now, however, the rulebook was still aggressively being rewritten by the Empire. As he strapped himself in and pulled the door shut, he pondered the concept of the drop pod. It had never been used before, a new, experimental technology, which was par for the course for the Genesis Battalion. Normal humans could not withstand the overwhelming kinetic energies that its passengers suffered. The Genesis soldiers were expected to have a rough ride, but they should be able to make it down in one piece. His biggest concern had been anti-air fire, which could have shot them to pieces without the supersoldiers ever being able to defend themselves. Given the bombardment that would accompany them, he wasn't concerned at present.

As the mechanical voice dutifully blared its warnings, the pod was slotted into its firing mechanism, along with well over two thousand others. Only five hundred and twelve of those carried soldiers. The rest carried extra ammunition, replacement parts should their equipment get damaged on the way down and flares to distract missiles. If all went to plan then the flares wouldn't be needed, but the Imperial staff wasn't willing to lose any Genesis soldier on the way down. Dreamer checked his feeds again. The rest of his platoon were doing the same, running through combat scenarios in their mind. The battle on the planet wasn't going well. The Empire was gaining ground, but at too slow a pace. This had been expected. The actual progress was irrelevant, what mattered was the way the Novicans had deployed in response. The path Strike Force One would follow would be a difficult one, with dozens of minefields and minor fortifications in the way, but the majority of the enemy forces would not be present. Good.

He heard a solid thunk and knew that the firing mechanism was now loaded. A short warning blared over the automated launch system and he braced himself, mentally and physically. Then, with a jolt that shook him to the very core, he and the other five hundred and eleven Genesis soldiers were off. Gravity immediately took hold of the drop pod and their acceleration quickly became unpleasant, even as encased as they were. Seconds ticked by and another heavy shock ran through the pod as they clashed with the atmosphere. Small thrusters embedded in the side started flaring to life to keep them stable as the heavy slab of metal sailed down towards the planet. Then a wave of static washed over his systems and he knew that the Paris-cruiser above them had fired. The custom made, gargantuan mass round would overtake them in moments and play a pivotal role in their landing.

Admiral Verloff clicked on the timer. 'Lieutenant Dreamer said he would be back in twenty hours,' he explained to his small audience, which consisted out of Admiral Cindy, Captain Lannic and Vice-Admiral Lessirk.

The latter was only present via the coms and smirked. 'All due respect, I'm betting against them on this one.'

'Fine,' Verloff grinned. 'Your moustache against mine.'

The Admiral's confidence gave him pause. Both of them shared tremendous pride in their carefully nurtured facial hair and he was loathe to even risk losing it. 'Can't we wager something else, sir? Would be bad for morale if either of us had to show up without.'

Verloff barked a short laugh. 'Glib little fucker. Right then. Loser has to babysit the Spook for a week.'

Cindy shot the Admiral a lethal glare and for a brief moment Lannic was concerned she'd stab the man. 'You do not have the authority for that,' she replied icily.

'I don't have the authority for a lot of things,' Verloff said, winking at her. The gesture was in no way friendly and the temperature in the room dropped with several degrees. 'Hasn't stopped me from doing my duty before!' he snapped, facing the younger Admiral's glare with a far heavier one. She held it bravely for a few seconds, then wilted. Verloff relented. 'Besides,' he joked. 'It'll be good for Lessirk to learn what NavInt is all about. And it'd be good for you to find someone who still pales at the sight of you, before you think you've lost your touch and get all weepy on me for it.'

'I think I'll prefer risking my moustache,' Lessirk muttered dejectedly.

'Too late!' the old Admiral jeered, taking tremendous joy at knowing fully well what was about to happen. 'Now get ready for the show of a lifetime!'

The drop pods hurled towards the planet at an insane velocity. Everything within the heavy pod rattled and several things threatened to come loose. The soldiers entombed within were suffering. The heat was steadily sneaking past the shielding systems and the thrusters were barely managing to slow the descent, let alone actually reducing it to acceptable parameters. Dreamer closed his eyes, shifting all his attention to counting down and staying conscious even as he felt his bones creak. The mass round struck the ground shortly before Strike Force One did. Even though a solid chunk of its mass had been burned off upon entering the atmosphere, enough had been retained that it threw up a massive shock wave that rapidly expanded in every direction. At the same time the thousands of tonnes of explosives, contained deep within a sheltered container that had been hidden inside the core of the round, went off and created a second, directional shockwave. Inside his pod Dreamer reached the countdown at the same time that this directed blast hit him along with a wave of dust. It threw the entire landing into disarray in a single blow, the drop pods immense velocity being countered by the rising pressure and knocking them off course and to the sides. The thrusters immediately set to and began correcting the pods once more, quickly succeeding in turning them upright again. With the threat of a lethally quick landing gone, the pods still hit the ground with a bone shattering blast. Dreamer kept his eyes closed, incapable of telling up from down. His systems could tell him, he knew, but his own body was currently doing a hard reset. He felt bile rise up in his throat and swallowed it down.

It took several minutes, but then the drop pods opened and Genesis clambered out, still disoriented, and began pulling their equipment loose from the unmanned pods. They had a lot to take with them. Heavy anti materiel rifles, their trusty heavy repulsor carbines, lots of grenades, mines, missile launchers, grenade launchers and more explosives than the ship captain had been comfortable with. They gathered the ammunition, replaced the parts of their equipment that had been damaged by the landing and linked up with one another, all while remaining hidden in the massive dust cloud the mass round had kicked up. It helped that they had chosen a very remote landing location. When they were finally done with their preparations, the timer since the mission start read seven minutes and twelve seconds. Even the fastest traditional insertion took at least twenty-five minutes.

Dreamer blinked, clearing the last tears from his vision, and locked in the feeds. Tight beam locations had been agreed on and everyone knew the fall back locations where they would go to if they hit a snag. Routes had been planned out, back ups had been provided and the acting platoon leads and sergeants each had specific tasks assigned to them. Genesis was no longer a gathering of over two thousand supersoldiers. They were now a cohesive battalion, each member having been given a role, freeing them from being overburdened by their constant desire to know and do everything at once.

They turned on their armour's jamming system and the entire region around them went dark on the radars. Dreamer nodded to the men and women around him, his personal command platoon, and set off at a full sprint. They had a battle to win.

Maddy groaned, hating life, hating dust, hating the bastards who shot her down, hated herself for not dying in the explosion and would hate more if her brain would just come up with the names of some more things. The fact that she could still be angry about things meant she was still alive, however. She idly wondered if her leg was still attached to her body. She tried wiggling her toes and the streams of pain that immediately lanced through her body informed her that, yes, her leg was still attached. Less so than before, but still very much there. She opened her eyes and closed them the moment after, dust raining down on her. The rest of her body didn't feel it, which was a bad sign.

She had been dragging herself across this arid landscape for God knows how long now, clinging to life through a mixture of her rations and being a very stubborn asshole, but she still had no idea where the Imperial lines were. Sure, she had heard combat noise in the distance, but given how much ordinance the Empire tended to throw at enemies, that hadn't reassured her. It had, however, given her a direction and she had started crawling towards it. One fistful of sand at the time, tearing herself forward on two damaged arms, one functional leg and one that was more minced meat than limb.

THEN, for all that is fucking holy, someone up there had decided to nuke the planet even though there was nobody in her vicinity! She vaguely remembered the pillar of light streaking down, before everything had exploded. She did remember seeing the shockwave approach. Thank fuck she was several dozen kilometres out from the centre or she'd have been torn apart by the damned thing. As it was she'd merely been thrown about. Unpleasant, had further worsened any wound she had in general and her mangled leg in particular, was currently in the process of bleeding out and...

She sighed, her anger evaporating. She couldn't sustain it any longer. She had been crawling down here for God knows how long, hoping, praying, that someone would find her before she wasted away. She didn't want to die, not like this. She had wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, die fighting the enemies of the Empire. Not this pathetic, slow death.

She tried to stretch out her hand, drag herself just a little bit further, but the strength left her and she collapsed to the ground, tears streaking down from her eyes. She thought of her squadmates, of the people who had died already, of those still alive. She thought of her hopes and dreams, her superiors. The family she left behind. How proud her mother had been when she had become the ace of her year. All of those memories. She sobbed, hated herself for it and only ended up sobbing more.

She didn't want to die. Not like this. Not like this.

She forced herself up, her arms trembling to support her own weight. She willed her eyes open, wanting to at least find out where the enemy was, so she could turn towards them. She wanted to sleep, so, so badly, even though she knew she wouldn't wake afterwards. Even now she fought it, purely on instinct. She smiled weakly. The Empire trained their soldiers well. Even now she was still proud of that.

She tried blinking, but the strength left her and she crashed back on the ground, unmoving dust hitting her eyes without her being able to do anything about it, other than feel more tears slowly wash away the specks, only to be replaced as more rained down. She became aware of the sounds. The distant explosions. The crackling of shields. The screams of soldiers fighting. She knew that she was hallucinating. There was no way she could hear anything over the raging dust storm. Hell, she could barely see anything in it.

Then something flashed past her and her eyes went wide, a modicum of strength returning to her. Another shadow went by and even through the dust she made out the enormous shape. Power armour, she realised. Imperials! Desperation lent her strength and she crawled forward a bit more. She tried to shout, but her torn up throat only produced weak gargling. She tried harder, willed the fire of Maddy the daredevil gunship pilot in her body and even though she felt the wounds her teeth had left in her throat when she had swallowed them earlier widen, she managed to form words.

'Help me,' she whispered, unable to shout louder. Dust clogged her airways almost immediately and she brought a hand to her mouth, covering it. 'Help me!' she repeated, but the shades just flickered past, not paying her heed, even though one of them passed her by only a scant few metres.

No! They couldn't leave her! They couldn't! 'Help!' she screamed, forcing herself up. 'Don't leave me! Please!' she tried crawling after them, ignored the blood welling up from between her fingers as she cut her skin on the rough ground. 'Please! Don't go! Don't let me die! Not like this!' She tried to get up and immediately fell down again, blood loss taking its toll. She tried to get up, but her body refused to listen. 'Please,' she whispered mutely as more shades ran by, even if she no longer could see them. 'Don't let me die like this. I can still fight. Please,' she begged.

She kept whispering her plea, until all strength left her and darkness finally claimed her.

'Can you pause that?' Onoelle asked, to Nightmare's surprise. She obliged the woman, rewinding the scene slightly until she reached the right frame. 'There!' the human said, pointing at the screen. 'That green flash on the bottom right display. Doesn't that indicate allies?'

The AI was impressed. It wasn't easy to make sense of the myriad of displays the Genesis' had. Their six lenses and different brains allowed them to focus on far more things at once than normal humans. For Onoelle to have spotted the wounded soldier on the short range radar was... Remarkable. 'Yes,' she admitted. 'There was a wounded soldier there. Assault Commander Yana Filedi, a gunship pilot of the forty-second wing, or so the database tells us.' She created a file on what she remembered from the heavily wounded pilot. Not a hard thing to do given her eidetic memory. 'She had survived being shot down, but was wounded as a result. It was a coincidence that the path of Strike Force One went past her and—'

'Why didn't they stop?' Onoelle asked, the accusation kept out of her voice, but not her eyes.

'There was nothing that could be done,' Mentuc answered, to Nightmare's surprise. Then her emotions caught up with her programmed mind and she understood. He was back there. Reliving the moment. He wasn't even aware that Jane could hear him. He was answering Onoelle's question, treating her voice as that of a superior.

Onoelle looked up at him, concern visible on her face. He was speaking out of turn and Jane was already eyeing him with unbridled curiosity and no small amount of suspicion. 'Genesis could not afford to stop and pick up a single wounded soldier. Allied lines were too far a detour,' he whispered. 'She would not survive any first aid w—'

'If you'd let me do my job and explain, rather than interjecting with your mumblings?' Nightmare interjected loudly, altering her voice just enough to mimic the tone of a superior officer without Jane catching on. The grateful look Onoelle was throwing her told her that the other human was aware of her tricks, something that didn't surprise her. Onoelle had repeatedly provne to be exceedingly adept at reading the human, or in her case partially inhuman, psyche.

'To summarise, Genesis carried a different type of equipment than normal soldiers. Any medical equipment on them was locked to their armour and would have killed her. She needed to be taken to a medical facility and be treated, something Strike Force One had no time for.'

'So they left her to die?' Onoelle asked, aghast.

'Yes,' came Mentuc's emotionless reply. Onoelle turned around, mouth wide open, and stared at her husband, whose eyes were far away. His lips moved and her mind heard the words, even if her heart struggled to translate them.

'Her existence was a non-factor.'

The Gungnir was thrown about and only its tremendous weight had kept it from being flipped head over heels as the shockwave rolled over it. The occupants were less well off and had been thrown all around. Prance untangled himself from Ball's lap while Crank was alternating between swearing a blue streak and thanking whatever deity responsible that none of their shells had gone off. The gunners weren't off any better, all showing signs of massive bruises. Liam's left arm was pointing the wrong direction and Gunny had a worryingly large gash in his neck, but it was bleeding surprisingly little. 'Status report?' he demanded, moving over to Jeffers so he could pull the poor sod out from between two seats, before calling over Mase to help him. The tall man had been thoroughly jammed into it.

'Sodding... Give me a moment,' Crank reported. 'Displays are out and will need a reset. Just give me...' he muttered, putting an ear to the metal plates while tapping on the controls. 'Give me a dryfire?' he asked. Gunny moved to comply, a lot slower than usual, while Prance took a closer look at the wound. It looked nasty, but he had been lucky. No arteries had been hit and whatever he had sliced himself on had narrowly missed the spine. Probably stung like a bitch, but it was relatively little damage.

'Balls, first aid kit. Gunny, I'll have to sew this shut.'

'Aw, fuck! I hate needles, boss,' the man croaked.

'Not to worry, it's the back of your neck. You won't see the scary, sharp thing,' Prance joked back, earning him a soft chuckle while the wounded soldier dry fired the main gun.

'Perfect. We still have our main cannon. Mase, Liam, test the turrets. Ball, test the propulsion, will ya? Then see if we still move. Jeffers, when the world stops shaking see if you can reset the displays.' Crank turned to the boss. 'Sir, been four minutes eighteen since the shockwave hit us. We won't want to stay much longer.'

Prance nodded, glad for Crank's ability to do everything without being ordered. He ran some calculations of his own, held up their position in the terrain towards the origin of the blast towards that of the Novicans around them. He looted his mind for the specifics of the enemy tanks and was pleased with what he remembered. They were likely worse off than his crew were, but some of them had been in a better position, more shielded by the hilly terrain. Still, they'd need a bit more time to get their bearing than he would. He calmly pushed his men to work faster, grimaced when both turrets turned out to be out of commission, but grinned when Crank reported that the tank could still drive. When Jeffers managed to reset the displays a minute and twenty seconds later, an absolutely splendid performance for which he duly congratulated the man, his smile nearly split his face in half.

'Good and bad news, sir. Good news is everything works fine,' Jeffers reported. 'Bad news is that our cover's blown. Visuals are hindered by the dust storm, but I can still see, but the smoke has been cleared. They know where we are. Gunny? Hundred seventy-five, six hundred out. They're a sitting duck.'

'Fucking delightful,' the gunner grinned and less than twelve seconds later the lone, wounded Novican tank went up in a gout of flames. Fifteen to go, Prance calculated.

'Floor it, Ballerina. They'll be coming for us. Steer us in the direction of that blast.'

'Aye sir,' the driver responded, leaving the Commander to idly muse how curious it was that the sirs only started flying when the situation was FUBAR. Then he focused on the task at hand again and hoped that his instincts were spot on. The only reason the Navy would blow a hole in the planet in that location would be to mask things... He prayed he was correct.

Then a shell impacted just beside the tank and he amended his prayer to surviving long enough to find out.

'They're not slowing down! Three behind us! Too flat a terrain, I can't get rid of them!' Balls screamed. 'Can't turn, would make me a sitting duck! If they hit the rear we're toast!'

'Jeffers!' Gunny shouted, urgency thick in his voice.

'Seven hundred twenty... Three!' he yelled out, followed by a loud thunk as Crank slammed another shell into the mechanism. 'Two more showed up from our flank! The rest ain't far behind!'

'I'm just flooring it. No time for tricks. Make it count Gunny!'

More shells rained down along them, one of them bouncing off the plates on the side. Gunny returned fire and one of their pursuers went down in a gout of flames.

'Four tanks are moving to cut us off!' Jeffers warned them.

'I can't fire faster! Crank, load!'

'Working!'

The Novican tanks on their flank opened fire and this time the shells hit. Explosions washed over the armoured behemoth and only a sharp, last second turn from Ball kept the damage from being critical. 'Fuel tanks two to four are gone!' Cranks reported. 'Rear armour plates are gone!'

'Scanner's gone! I got nothing!' Jeffers added.

'Shouldn't fucking be!' Cranks roared back. 'That wasn't hit!'

'It's black! Either we're being jammed or—'

More shells tore the ground apart, but none hit the tank.

'They missed us...' Prance mused. 'How did they miss us? Jeffers, check the scanners for damage!'

'Sir...' Jeffers complied, his fingers dancing over the display. 'They're online. They're working?'

'Told you!' Cranks interjected, but shut it and resumed reloading at a sharp gesture of the commander.

'We're being jammed then?'

'Blanket jamming. We can't see shit. Good thing is the Novicans can't either and their sensors can't break through the smoke.'

'Ball! Shift course!'

'Already on it!'

More shells rained down all around them, but as Ball threw the tank into a new direction, the Novican blindfire missed their target completely. 'They're being jammed as well. The hell is going on?'

Prance's eyes went wide as he connected the dots. He had been right! The dust cloud had been used to land reinforcements!

'MOVEMENT!' Jeffers shouted, followed by a massive thunk and the sound of metal being torn apart as someone pulled open the hatch. Prance pulled his pistol on reflex, then gazed in the visor of the biggest suit of power armour he had ever seen. The commander blinked and then the other guy was gone.

'Sir! I'm detecting explosions around us!' Liam reported, his eyes and ears having been glued to the visual sensors. 'And things moving through the dust. Moving fast.'

'Sir?' whispered Jeffers, something in his voice overriding the confusion that reigned inside the tank. 'We just received a tight beam message.' The radioman looked up, his face pale. 'New orders. We're to follow the route given and return to base.'

'Those are orders I can live with,' Prance said, forcing a smile, grabbing hold of his chair to hide his trembling arms. It wasn't every day you saw someone rip the hatch off your tank in the blink of an eye. 'Who were the blokes that saved us?'

'I don't know sir. The orders were stamped with a NavInt signature.'

Prance's skin took on the same ashen colour as that of his radioman. 'Spooks,' he whispered. 'Why did it have to be spooks?'

Dreamer sped up, retaking his position in the platoon that was blitzing across the plains. The enemy tanks had been taken off guard and had barely slowed them down. Missile launchers had been brought to bear, running speed had been lowered and Genesis had fired, neatly eliminating the threat. He had delayed himself further by making brief contact the tank crew, giving them new orders. There were not supposed to be allied units in his sector, yet he had encountered two of them so far. His Muninn pinged and he opened the message. It was X-12845621, inquiring why he had made contact with the non Genesis soldiers. He paused for a moment. He could tell her the full story, but that would likely confuse her and saw further distrust between them. There already was a gap forming between him and the others, on account of how he had saved the Boarders before and his unconventional tactics. He was different to them in mindset and they knew it.

He sent back a reply, the entire exchange taking less than three seconds, in which he elaborated that he had told them to return to their lines by moving backwards. It would be bad if the Novicans were fighting in those areas when Genesis had to retreat later. They would be low on ammunition by then. His second in command tilted her helmet slightly, indicating curiosity, but made no further response. She had seen the route and knew that it went past the dying pilot. She suspected, but did not know. That was good. She needed to focus only on the fight ahead. So should he, in theory. Yet when he had seen the tank, his mind had seen new possibilities.

It was strange for him to be in charge of the entire Battalion. He and his kin had not been trained in that manner. They were commandos, created to fight in close quarters, and they were still getting used to functioning as heavy infantry. There were a lot of things he had to pay attention to that he hadn't need to do before. It was overwhelmingly difficult to keep track of the entire battle, but as he ran into one of the countless designated spots where he acquired a brief, tight beam connection with the fleet up above and the areal view of the battlefield updated, he was beginning to manage. The Empire was still pushing forward and taking casualties in turn, but the Novicans were pushed out of their positions.

Good.

He sent out the signal. They were three kilometres out from the first obstacle, a minor line of bunkers in the midst of a minefield, guarding the sole pass. They had to take it and secure it, as the Svalinn was too heavy to climb up the cliffs. He knew, even if he did not see it, that the assigned soldiers were taking out their anti materiel rifles. He set an upper range, assigned one of the platoon leaders for general oversight, set a timer and began planning for the next hurdle. A few seconds later a loud series of rapid cracks echoed across the dust filled wastes. The Novican sentries had been eliminated. His forward observer transmitted the feed back to him and showed him a base in panic, people rushing to the bunkers only to be terminated by the heavy slugs slamming through whatever armour they showed up with. The heavy machineguns remained silent as Genesis entered the minefield. He watched in approval as the snipers held back, a kilometre and a half behind the frontline, as those men and women crossed the minefield with ease and infiltrated the bunkers, using their heavy armour to simply break in through the doors. A brief moment, some low calibre gunshots and a few dozen punches later, the all clear rang through the coms as the last Novican was terminated. Strike Force One reformed, a single squad remained behind to hijack the radio and further sow confusion and then they were off again, towards the next defensive line.

'Weren't there supposed to be minefields all over the place?' Lessirk asked, eyeing the NavInt Admiral with increasing worry as Genesis raced across the battlefield.

Verloff had a grin that ran from ear to ear. 'There was. Naval Intelligence managed to send us a copy of the plans and passed it on to the freaks below. They know where the mines are. Makes it easy to not step on them.'

'But that's...'

'Insane.' Captain Lannic finished the thought. 'There are thousands of mines down there.'

'Tens, actually,' Cindy interjected, her eyes narrowed as she kept a close track on the progress of the elusive Genesis. 'I'll admit that they've been laid down according to several patterns, but still. It's impressive, I'll admit.' She glanced at Verloff. 'I do wonder about one thing though, don't you have a battle to run?'

Verloff swiped his hand over the display and two large holograms popped up. 'As you can see, our stolen cruisers are making short work of any station that's not managed to link up with others yet. They don't need me to shoot standing targets. Missiles are clearing up the remainder of the satellites that lost coverage and we're throwing as much sideways fire down onto the planet where the enemy still is without boiling our own men in the process. They don't need me for that. If everything goes to plan, I get to sit back and relax.' He drew a few circles around some hotspots of resistance. 'Only parts we're not breaking through right now is the HQ and the main avenues of attack. So our fleet would have to get involved if we wanted the army to punch through those places. The ships are in position for that, but we're not going to. Kola's going to be dead long before our troops get that close.' He swiped away the screen and called up the second one, showing Lebriski's fleet. 'And this bunch is still without engines. They've finally cleared the minefield, but using cruisers and the like to turn battleships and dreadnaughts around? Reckon the vast majority of their tow cables will have just snapped clean off. Even if he returns, it'd be an even fight in numbers and his engines would still be beyond repair. He's not a threat to us.' He clapped his hand, shutting off the projections and returning to the satellite feed of Genesis. 'In short, I'm free to kick back and take it easy. Everything is planned out and I'll not be busy until after Kola's dead. So relax, enjoy the show. If you can't be bothered to watch it, get some sleep in. That's what I'm planning on doing in a few hours.'

'I will be fine,' Cindy replied, giving him an icy stare.

'For the rest of you, that wasn't a suggestion,' Verloff remarked. All of us are running on far too little sleep and while the most dangerous part of the objective lays behind us, I don't want any of you in less than pristine condition should an enemy fleet manage to ambush us. Set your officers of watch, then get yourself to a cabin. Drug yourself if need be, but get some rest.'

'Word's already been sent out,' Lannic guffawed. 'But it's not bad that you mention it again. You'll be up for a few more hours, right? I'll be off taking a nap then. Admiral. Admiral. Kid,' Lannic greeted the two admirals and Lessirk respectively, before departing the bridge.

'That goes for all of you,' Verloff said, raising his voice to make sure all the bridge officers heard him. 'Don't think I've not noticed half of you are still idling about because you want to take sneak peeks at the fight. Half of this is classified anyway,' he grinned, causing Cindy to freeze. Then he shrugged and began to laugh. 'Kind of like your assignment to my ship. I'll organise a movie evening with the footage when we get back. Until then, chop chop, off the bridge and let the second watch take over. Same for you Lessirk.'

Despite a minor round of grumbling and a fair bit of laughs, the officers complied, exchanging cheerful remarks as they went. Cindy waited until Lessirk broke the connection, before closing in on Verloff. 'I do not care for what you think of me,' she whispers. 'Nor do I particularly care for your brand of jokes. But I will not leave this bridge until the end of the operation and you do not have the authority to make me leave. Neither will I participate in this retarded game of yours with your second in command. You may not wish to behave according to your rank, but I will not lower myself to your level. I will also be kind enough, to return the favour, and inform you that I will be looking for any form of data manipulation and—'

'How many men do you have on the planet, Cindy?' Verloff asked, keeping his voice down to a whisper.

Her eyes narrowed as the venerable Admiral countered her tirade with a highly inappropriate question..

'I hadn't considered it up till now. When Genesis tears up the place, they'll slaughter everyone. Including the Imperial infiltrators.'

'That is their fate. They are aware of it.'

Verloff shook his head. 'That is a waste. Think of a trick, some form of code that you can use to send them all a message. Tell them to, when the fighting starts, to put three fingers of their left hand, not the thumb or the pinkie, on their left eye. I'll tell Genesis not to shoot them. Now answer me honestly, how many men do you have down there?'

She remained silent and the old Admiral turned towards her. 'Forget about your suspicions towards me for a moment. Forget about your bloody orders.' He stepped closer to her, his eyes thundering with barely contained anger. 'I am asking you, as an officer of the Imperial military, how many men do you have there. Do you want to give those brave men and women down there a chance to make it out alive? Or do you intend to bury them along with their true allegiance? You do not know Genesis. I saw them train. I saw them fight. They can extract them. They will extract them. But you need to get that code to them. And you need to tell me how many there are.'

He stared at the smaller woman for a while longer, but her face remained impassive and she said nothing. Verloff sighed in disgust and walked away, back to the satellite feed. He was still shaking his head when he finally heard her whisper. 'Thirty-eight.' He looked up from the feed and saw, for the first time since he had met her, a human being underneath the façade of spook. His anger melted and he nodded towards her. 'Don't make me regret this,' she whispered, guilt wracking her fair face, before turning around and disappearing into the ship.

He knew she had taken a tremendous risk. Naval Intelligence kept their cards impossibly close to themselves. Thirty-eight infiltrators, he thought to himself, taken aback by the number. Thirty-eight people who had managed to infiltrate Novican High Command, without anyone ever catching on. That was... Worryingly efficient. He looked at the dozens of men and women mulling about on the bridge, checking displays and relaying communications. He wondered if any of them had a second allegiance as well, before putting that thought firmly out of his head. They all served the Empire. That was all he needed to know.

'Communications!' he called out. 'Get me a line to Genesis! I have an additional mission for them.'

'Go,' whispered Dreamer and Strike Force One obeyed. In an instant they switched from a coordinated assault into three dozen separate attack groups and started storming the series of bunkers. Arrow formations were assumed and snipers blew the soldiers manning the machineguns to pieces. Other turrets, embedded in the wall with electronics, were a bigger obstacle, but a few heavy slugs sufficed to bend the barrels and firing mechanism. His Muninn flashed a warning and he tossed himself to the ground, a shell whistling past him. Only then did the sound of the cannon firing reach him. He got up again, fell how his feet took hold on the rocky underground, and resumed the charge. Even as counterfire washed over them, the Genesis advanced, heedless of anything but the heavier weapons. Streams of bullets harmlessly pinged off their armour, heavier machineguns were silenced and the cannons struggled to draw a bead on the incredibly fast moving soldiers. The Novicans were panicking, their lines of communication cut by the constant stream of blanket jamming, something the Genesis paid little heed to. Dreamer took it all in, unable to sync with the network overhead as long as he was advancing on the line. He had no shortage of information even then. It was strange to witness the assault without being a true part of it. He was firing at the line of bunkers with his carbine, but he wasn't storming them as aggressively as the others. He wasn't inside of them, streaming from bunker to bunker, using his bulk and mass to break through doors, ignore the panicked discharge of guns and just ram people into paste. He wasn't there when a soldier carrying a missile launcher fired as his brain blanked out, how the missile bounced off the plates, before the second Genesis charging in the bunker grabbed it and tossed it out, before the unarmed weapon could detonate.

Instead he was out here, in the back lines, directing the platoons. They needed it, their focus fully consumed by the task ahead of them. It made them more efficient. There was a notable increase in reaction speed and how every squad and platoon dispersed under incoming fire. He was compiling a report on it, just one of his many new tasks as a commander. Then he got the all clear and he rushed forward. He paused briefly at the marked spot, linked up with the navy overhead and immediately ordered half of his force to change course. He pinged X-12845621 and made her take command of the group going forward, as well as giving her the course he and the others would be following.

He felt her disapproval, but accepted it without complaint. It would be noticed afterwards by the rest of them, but right now he did not care. The enemy had left one of their larger bases with only a light guard and he would not hesitate to throw their lines into disarray.

'We just lost contact with Major Birirv!' communications shouted, causing General Stoyavon to slam his hand down on the desk.

'What the hell is going on down there? That's the fifteenth post to go down. That can't be a coincidence.'

Field Marshall Voronoff grimaced and motioned one of his aides closer. 'Contact the planetary defences. Tell them we need satellite vision on those locations and we need it now. And ask the Grand Admiral to join us.' The aide ran off and the old general turned back to his fellow officers, who were shouting and bickering like children. 'Stay calm you fools. What is it we're overlooking? Another force that landed?'

'Impossible,' General Gregovich decided. 'There's no way any force could advance that quickly. I'm more inclined to believe that it's a virus of some sort that is infecting our systems and slowly spreading. My men are running an analysis on the systems now. It's not important though.'

'Could be just an equipment malfunction,' Veledil suggested, earning a round of groans from everyone else. 'I mean, do we really care? The Third Division just got overrun and Imperial armour managed to outflank the twelfth and take out their fire support.'

'Look Veledil, we're allowing you at this table because of your rank, but for crying out loud, you're a political lapdog who knows nothing about strategy. Sit yourself down in a corner, drink yourself in a stupor and stay out of our way.'

'I have just as much—' the man began his loud protest, before a solid uppercut from the Field Marshall knocked him out cold.

'Lord above, should have done that years ago.' He motioned to two soldiers standing guard. 'Put him in his room and lock the door. I'll deal with the fallout.' He shook his head. Kolpovka was right, he thought. We should have staged a coup months ago. Now we're stuck in a war with the Empire. God in heaven have mercy on our souls. 'Now, Gregovich, did your analysts turn up anything?' The venerable commander asked, forcing himself to stop thinking these doomed thoughts.

'So far, nothing.'

'Sir! Colonel Sokolov says he lost contact with his southern patrols. Same direction as Major Birirv's last known location,' the young officer manning the coms station interjected.

'That's it. We're under attack. This isn't a damned virus. The Empire found something new to hit us with. Warn Sokolov that he's under attack and that he's to try and get us visuals on the threat!'

'Sir, transmitting now.'

Voronoff waited with bated breath as the young man sent the orders, then waited for the reply. It took an agonisingly long time before the response came.

'Sir! Sokolov confirms the attack. He just lost contact with his outer defences, but he can hear the sounds of combat and—' The communications officer frowned and started fiddling with his display. 'Colonel? Come in sir. Sir? Do you read?' He held the line open for a bit longer, before turning to the Field Marshall. 'Sir, I lost the feed.'

'Open up a damned map. Give me the vectors at which we're losing contact and a projected expansion vector. I need to know what is going on here..'

The large, circular display lit up as analysts furiously typed away, implementing the newest data even as more fortifications went offline. Grand Admiral Kolpovka entered the room, saw the Field Marshall hunched over the display, and folded his arms. He understood that something big was going on and given the tension in the room, it wasn't good.

'Five main vectors of attack. Four entry points Very narrow pathways. In the middle between the Imperial main attacks. A virus or... Do we have a satellite feed yet?'

'Sir, satellite feed will arrive in two minutes.,' the aide reported.'

'Grand Admiral. Look at this,' the Field Marshall opened, motioning him closer. He ignored the quiet grumbling of the other Generals, who believed that the navy had no business on the ground, not to mention the general emotion that the Grand Admiral had messed up in the first place by allowing the Imperials to land on the planet. 'The Imperials have somehow launched an attack without us noticing. They've already breached the perimeter on several locations and are pushing inwards. I believe they have overtaken the main Imperial attack lines, though the attacks are far smaller in nature. I'm guessing strike forces, but I have no idea what they are doing.'

'As peculiar as it is, I don't think we should spend this much time on it. Veledil had one point. Our main defences are being overrun. We're inflicting heavy casualties, but the Empire's hitting back hard and our fourth defensive line won't hold for much longer.

'Not even a full day,' the Field Marshall sighed, 'and they're already a quarter of the way here.'

'A quarter?' the Grand Admiral asked. 'I do not mean to come off as invasive, but does that mean the intended time frame of a week isn't feasible?'

Stoyavon glared at the naval officer. 'Would be a sight easier if we still have orbital coverage and—'

'I have three strike forces left, General. I will use them when the need is the most dire. Orbital supremacy is lost. All I can do is prevent the enemy from raining down death from above. Their new cruisers are... Problematic.'

'Quiet, both of you. We can't have internal disagreements now.' The old Field Marshall glared at the two and once he was sufficiently convinced neither of them was going to kick up a fuss, he continued. 'Grand Admiral, you are more familiar with the Imperial tactics than any of us. My gut is telling me that these so called pinpricks have a meaning behind them. So far all they've done is taken down a few minor bases and—' He fell quiet as the satellite feed finally arrived and was projected on the display. The collected officers leaned on the table and gazed at the sight. 'The feed is... Blurry,' Voronoff mused. 'How?'

'Imperial jamming systems. They're highly advanced,' Kolpovka noted. 'They cannot block out everything, but they can prevent us from doing a headcount.'

'There's no armour. No big explosions. There are minefields there. What's going on?'

'Sir! Urgent request for backup from General Delkova! Armoured spearheads have penetrated his position and have taken out his shield projectors! Imperial aircraft are tearing him apart!'

'Sve sto ropirash unistivash,' he swore. 'See if you can think of something,' he told Kolpovka. He turned to his two aides, young colonels. 'Help him. Provide him with what he needs and see if we can make sense of it. I need to focus on the rest of the battle.' He gestured towards the coms officer. 'Open a direct line. Delkova! Try and fall back! Tell your infantry to dig and hold the line! They're lost anyway!'

'Trying!' the embattled general shouted back, static crackling along the line. 'They... through... no air...'

The feed went dead and Voronoff pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, his mind running over the next situations. 'They'll run out of steam sooner or later. Contact the Seventh Support Brigade. I want them to mine the R12 while their artillery performs constant saturation barrages on anything north of it that isn't in our hands. That should delay them. Tell the Nineteenth Infantry to abandon it and move back into Fort Cracy.'

As he began doling out orders and rearranging his defences in an attempt to make the Imperials overextend, he hoped those pinpricks wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass.

Dreamer held down the trigger and watched a stream of shots slam into the power armoured soldier. Behind him X-12845627 threw a grenade over his head. It landed on the foot of the fallen soldier and bounced around the corner, before exploding and taking a solid chunk of the bunker with it. He kept going and rounded the corner, his teammate close behind. The rest of the enemy platoon had stopped exiting the bunker, which was sensible given that eight of them had been killed already. He heard them barking orders and pulled free one of his own grenades, before tossing it in the hole. The shocked soldiers raised their weapons, but they were far too slow and he cleared the doorway before they got a shot of. X-12845627 waited until the explosive did its job, then went in, carbine held high. Dreamer went after him and the two of them disappeared into inner parts of the large base. Most of his force wasn't with him. He had ordered them to stay behind and tear the entire place apart. The Novicans were far too slow with their response. Many units had been caught in the open, still gearing up and out of their power armour. Crews had been eliminated before they ever reached their vehicles and the enemy aircraft were blown apart before they had a chance to clear the hangar. Genesis was surgically tearing the base apart and had already succeed in breaching the perimeter by the time the alarms had gone off.

Now it was too late for the base to put up a fight. Their communications with the outside were cut, the heavy blanket jamming isolating them, and only the local lines were still functioning, as cables were immune to it. It didn't avail them. Central command was overloaded trying to get a grasp on the situation. The battle with the Boarders had taught him several valuable lessons. Genesis could disrupt plans faster than they could be drawn up. By the time the Novicans officers had taken stock of their surviving forces, it would be too late.

X-12845627 motioned towards the massive door in front of them and Dreamer tilted his head in wonder. His brother started speeding up and he nodded in turn, catching on. The Genesis soldiers were still evolving, learning new tactics on the fly. They had only been instructed in the ways of war that every other Imperial was taught in and those tactics weren't tailored to their abilities. His brother charged the metal slab, picking up more speed with every taken step. Dreamer shouldered his carbine and made sure he was close behind his brother. Base command was directly behind this, along with a line of sentry turrets and, his objective, the computers.

X-12845627 charged first into, then through the heavy door and the powerful obstruction was roughly removed from its frame, before soldier and door alike slammed into the turrets. The heavy metal plate got caught on them even as it demolished them and X-12845627 was pulled free. The soldier managed to reorient himself, landing heavily on one foot, and continued his mad charge, before the far wall finally stopped him, leaving several red smears behind him where he had steered himself into Novican personnel. Behind him, making good use of the distraction, Dreamer took care of the remaining soldiers. The few troops wearing power armour were dispatched with his carbine in a short sweep from left to right and the two dozen others that remained were simply dispatched with a quick blow. He did it with care, not wanting to damage the equipment.

He connected his Muninn to the Novican network, where its hacking software went to work. X-12845627 took up a defensive position close beside him, covering him. Twenty-seven seconds later the next pair of Genesis ran into the room, blowing open one of the other doors. They charged in, saw their allies and reinforced the defensive perimeter, linking their Muninn's with Dreamer's. Minutes ticked by as the software warred with the Novican defences, but as the rest of his platoon entered the command room the cyber-battle began to shift in their favour. By the time the last of his unit arrived, he had gained access to local command, under the guise of the base commander.

He plundered it for everything useful. Local troop strength, where their armour was stationed, shield projectors, power generators, location of command bunkers... He took it all in, placing it in the map of the overall battle that he had in his mind. The Fourteenth was pushing hard, but kept back by constant artillery bombardments from far off positions. The Imperial Navy was still jockeying for position overhead, but there were too many guns trained on them from the surface and they couldn't provide the ground forces with adequate cover. He could trace the position of X-12845621 simply by following the trail of posts that had gone offline. He was pleased when he found no direct orders for more troops to be moved in their way.

Then he found something more interesting. A list of units under this post's direct command. Including two sizeable artillery units. He remembered the evening he and the Special Forces had spent in the bar, planning the joint training. How they had regaled him with their most heroic exploits. He directed his Muninn to search for specific data and quickly found it and set to work. He commed his brethren and instructed them to hide all signs of battle damage, to remove the corpses, the debris, to douse the flames and to get ready to hide inside the buildings. Over the next several minutes he used the dead commander's voice to script new orders. Then he waited, double checking his plans for any flaws. It was a risk he was going to take, but if it worked...

His men informed him that the job was done and he sent them inside. The jamming was dropped and the voice of Colonel Sokolov rang on the net, reporting a weathered attack, a damaged coms relay and a very urgent order to the nineteenth mobile battalion and the fifteenth artillery regiment to bombard specific coordinates, telling them to not trust what their scanners what showing and to launch an overwhelming saturation strike. Dreamer asked them to confirm that the order was received, before faking another burst of static while pretending to be under attack once more, cutting the connection and reactivating their jamming.

He felt a slimmer of satisfaction as a torrent of friendly fire reduced Fort Crimo and Complex Sová to rubble, clearing out a major defensive fortification and shutting down the shields for that entire sector. Then he focused on the new issue heading their way and he urged his force on, new plans and ideas storming around in his head.

General Shivran was looking at the reports as the Novican defence suddenly seemed to collapse. One moment his frontline was slogging forward, through minefields, overlapping fields of fire, artillery barrages and constant counterattacks, and then part of the line just gave way. It didn't make sense. He wanted to make use of it, to greedily push through, but he remembered the mistake the other two Novican divisions had made and held back slightly. He had ordered scout planes forward. He had pinged the navy as well, asked for a confirmation on the satellite feed, but they had put him on hold. 'Doesn't make sense,' he whispered. 'Why are they pulling their men back from there?' His finger ran across the map, drawing circles around the heavy defensive line where his men would have run into another abattoir. Now the Novicans were abandoning it as quickly as possible.

'Sir, message from Nemesis! They're asking confirmation that no friendly units are near Dagger and to pull any friendlies out of the area. And that you'll owe them a round.'

Shivran's eyes went wide as he connected the dots. 'They're behind their lines. The bastards've done it. Tell the scouts to return post haste and to prepare for shockwave and send the all clear to Nemesis.'

As the orders were relayed and the scout planes turned around, he started amending his plans. As the sky briefly lit up as the Imperial Navy unleashed hell on earth on the unshielded Novican lines, he grinned like a maniac as the kill ratio finally switched in favour of the Imperials. They've done it, he thought proudly. Bastards are behind the enemy lines.

'Get me a line to Verloff!' he shouted. 'Or whoever's currently in charge up there. I want to know everything that just happened behind their front lines. Reckon we can repay our sneaky friends with a few choice distractions of our own.'

X-12845621 signalled to the rest of her brethren to slow down and take up ambush positions. An armoured column was heading their way and while it didn't carry that much firepower on its own, there was a walker in the midst of it and that thing could annihilate her forces with a few salvos. There was a limit to how much incoming fire they could dodge. A tank with a single cannon and a few turrets was easily outmanoeuvred and dealt with. An omnidirectional walker that could level them before they caught sight of it? Not a chance. She opened a coms channel to the others in the command platoon, all of them close enough to establish a direct, tight beam link. They conferred for a moment, all of them coming to the same conclusion. They'd have to think of something new. Either they went around it or they had to find a new way to deal with it. Their firepower wasn't heavy enough to penetrate its shields and it was not feasible to try and slip underneath them. It was well protected and their jamming did not keep the enemy from seeing them. Not for the first time she felt a stab of annoyance towards X-12845623 and his decision to veer off course. Their mission had been clear and supporting the other armies had not been a part of that and now she only had half the strike force at her disposal to deal with the upcoming problem. They brainstormed it a bit longer, before deciding that they'd have to take the risk of having it run free behind their lines. Far from opportune, but she could think of no ways to deal with the attack. They might have had a chance if they had the full force here and if they used up all their mines, but even then it would be tricky.

Just as she was about to signal the retreat when a new message arrived. X-12845623 had returned and he was resuming command of the overall mission. New orders were already roiling through the network and dozens of Genesis left their previously hidden position to link up with the second half of their force, relieving them of the mines and other scavenged equipment and the Genesis soldiers started taking in new positions. Specifics on the incoming unit also appeared. Fifty-two tanks were accompanying the walker, who had been put on high alert and had been sent by Novican High Command to find out what the hell was going on. A not insignificant force that would weaken the rest of the sector considerably. She felt her unease at the situation increase. This would slow them down considerably. They had a time frame to respect and X-12845623's constant changes made this far more difficult than it had to. The thought of voicing her complaints did not occur to her. After all, she was Genesis. And he was her commander.

X-12845627 sat next to X-12845628 and X-12845629, each of them holding several Kriegel anti-tank mines. Their jamming had been disabled and the five hundred odd Genesis soldiers were perfectly hidden in the rocky outcrops that dotted the landscape, laying in wait near the road. There were no mines on the road itself, nor had they placed any around it. They had lacked the time to dig them deep enough to hide the marks and they did not want to alert the enemy to the ambush. So far it was working. X-12845627 felt hormones flood his system as the heavy footfalls of the towering walker shook the ground and his body prepared itself for combat. The tanks weren't of half as much concern. They formed a loose formation with the real threat at the centre, but they were dispersed enough for the plan to work. In theory. It was a risky gambit that could potentially see the majority of their forces get wiped. Or all of them, in a worst case scenario. If it worked, however...

The armoured column rode in between the thin line of hidden Genesis soldiers and X-12845627 felt his hands tighten around the mines. The things were handmade for Genesis and just like the soldiers themselves they carried far more power than their size indicated. He felt his ears twitch, trying to listen for something beyond the deafening footfalls and the roars of the engine. He didn't know how close his targets were. He couldn't stick his head out without their cover being blown, but with a bit of luck he wouldn't need to. He watched the timer and saw it tick down. Three. Two. One...

The entire area disappeared from the grid as the jammers were switched back on in perfect synchronisation. His heavy boot crunched the rock underfoot and he was out of his hiding hole, launching himself down the small rocky outcrop and spreading his attention evenly between the enemy, his footing and gaining more speed, even as he was slowed down by the four heavy mines. He could see the panic in the Novican lines as they relayed on their scanners for too long. The distance shrunk. Every heavy step was another one closer to his target. Ever second the Novicans failed to switch to visuals further tilted the odds in their favour. Hatches popped open and soldiers peeked out, trying to figure out what was happening. Anti materiel rifles barked and those soldiers died. The tanks began racing around, cohesion lost along with their ability to communicate. More soldiers started poking their heads out, faster than the few snipers could deal with. Orders were shouted. Cannons and turrets reoriented themselves to deal with the new threat. The rest of Genesis sprang out of their position and immediately disappeared again in a cloud of smoke as dozens of missile launchers fired. Rockets flashed across the zone and slammed into the tanks, taking them apart. Most were hits, but enough tanks were moving erratically to cause several misses and those opened fire on him and his two brethren. They began to weave in and out of cover, using the smoking wrecks as cover while the snipers, their targets now much reduced, switched targets and forced the remaining tanks in cover. Still he barged on, feeling his armour dent as a stream of high calibre bullets bounced off the heavy plates. A scant few hundred metres in front of him was the titanic walker, standing still as its guns were swivelling towards the Genesis soldiers. They weren't firing though.

Dreamer watched the assault happen on his HUD while raising his acquired anti materiel rifle. The Novican weapon wasn't as good as the ones Genesis had landed with, but it served. His lenses overlapped and his vision zoomed in on the walker. He fired a first shot and was annoyed when it ricocheted off the armour rather than his intended target. He reloaded in a heartbeat, adjusted his aim and fired again. This time he was rewarded with one of the cameras on top of the walker shattering in a thousand pieces. One more dead angle they'd have to deal with.

So far the assault was going exemplary, but a single shot could turn the conflict and he knew it. He saw 27, 28 and 29 charge across the field, dodging incoming fire, towards their target. More and more Genesis were joining the fight, peppering the surviving tanks with their carbines. They could eliminate them in a heartbeat, but it was imperative that they remained standing. Even now, seventy-three seconds into the engagement, the Novican commander still hadn't fired on them. From this close the walker had nothing at its disposal that wouldn't wipe out the friendly units as well. It was another thing he had picked up from the Special Forces. A moment of doubt could paralyse a foe long enough to avoid a logical counterattack. As long as they didn't know the true level of threat they faced. As long as they remained disoriented. The outcome of this gamble depended on the small squad succeeding in their mission.

X-12845627 screamed as he vaulted over a tall rock, landing at the feet of the war machine in front of him. He didn't hesitate and jumped up the massive foot and slammed the first two heavy mines in place. Holding fast with one hand, he toggled their timers on before quickly removing the third mine from his front plating and repeated the trick, before doing the same for the final one on his back. Three Genesis, twelve Kriegel mines. Fifteen second cooldown. He reached for the flare gun and fired and as one the entirety of Genesis started pulling back. He ran over the calculations in his head, hoped they had been correct and dove behind the second leg, his squadmates following close behind. He checked the timer in his HUD, hoped the rest of the strike force had gotten clear, and shut off his audio sensors just before the blast went off.

The shockwave that ran through the small valley was nothing short of spectacular. The directional mines went off, their batteries depleting themselves as a sharp disruptor beam tore a narrow hole into the walker's superstructure. Explosives were ejected from the mines and into the holes, before they went off, taking massive chunks of the foot with it. Metal groaned threateningly as what was left was strained beyond capacity and an impossible event took place. Panic reigned across the crew of the walker as dozens, then hundreds of alarms started wailing and safety systems locked everything in place in a desperate attempt to counter the growing unbalance, but to no avail. Slowly, taking an eternity, the walker began its fall. Down on the ground it was no less hectic, Genesis soldiers running for their lives as they moved to clear the soon-to-be landing zone. What few tanks remained were running around in panic until the Genesis that already were in the clear dealt with them. Dreamer watched it go down, something approaching pride in his eyes as the gargantuan machine seemed to fall down in slow motion. He eyed his men on the ground with trepidation, felt the beat of his heart reverberate through his body as they raced against time.

Then the walker hit the ground and the shockwave that emitted was simply apocalyptic. The shield projectors were the first to go, which caused a cascade of energy to writhe around the surface. It touched the munitions stored in the cannons, setting them off like fireworks, reducing the once mighty turrets into nothing but superheated shrapnel. Next were the generators, their power lines cut and redlining even as the superstructure lost its battle with the ground. The titanic machine embedded itself into the ground and gravity pulled the back of it towards the front, crushing anything caught in between. Humans, machinery, munitions stores, it all ceased to exist as countless internal explosions tore apart what was once the pride of the Novican armed forces.

Genesis soldiers were tossed around like puppets, the overwhelming shockwave tossing them in the air like popcorn kernels. The agile soldiers tried to compensate, but even so they still landed hard and many of them suffered internal wounds. Dreamer sent out an order to lift the jamming and as it was relayed from soldier to soldier, he took note of the casualties. He was satisfied when he learned that there were no deaths, only several dozen lightly wounded and three men who had suffered worse injuries, shrapnel having pierced their armour. He formed the worst of them into a new platoon and sent them back to the captured base with orders to keep the way back open, then spent a few moments waiting for each unit to report just how much ammunition they had left.

He checked the timer. Six hours had gone by since their landing. Fourteen remaining until their exfil. He opened the map and looked at the long stretch of terrain still ahead of them, growing progressively more densely populated the closer they got to the headquarters. Then he looked at the grey that met them a quarter of the way there. The underground complexes, massive rows of generators, gigantic missile launchers and shield projectors. Countless internal defences, in built turrets and the invaders had a home ground advantage.

He remembered the projections he ran. The invasion of the Kra'lagh dreadnaught, with their thousands of defenders. He compared them to the Novican soldiers.

He closed the timer and signalled Strike Force One to move on. So far they were perfectly on schedule.

As the walker hit the ground, a loud gasp filled the air. Onoelle turned her head to look at the source and found Jane staring at the screen, her mouth and eyes wide open. She understood the reaction. Those things eclipsed anything stuffed in action movies and to see one go down like that, with nothing but tiny soldiers —relatively— running around it was... She hesitated to call all the death and destruction awe inspiring, but it was a unique experience to watch. She felt Mentuc's hands gently squeeze hers.

'That's not real,' her friend whispered. 'That just can't be real.' Onoelle could see the confusion in her friend's face and understood it. She had known what the Genesis were before seeing the footage and even then it had still overwhelmed her. Jane, who had lacked that knowledge, had been completely caught unaware.

'Are you beginning to understand what I meant?' Nightmare asked smugly.

'I... I'll need to search things. Find footage of other Imperials. Equipment manifests! Novican combat! I... Who else did they fight again? Um. They're taller than the others and... Not armoured, but..' she began, falling over her own words, before looking towards the ceiling, where the black box was. 'What exactly am I looking at here?'

Nightmare was all but purring. 'You are looking at Genesis Battalion. A unit so secretive even most of the Imperial military was not informed of their existence. A unit locked behind such a high security that when they communicated with other troops, they signed their orders with the insignia of Naval Intelligence. A group of soldiers unlike the universe had ever seen. They were the best of the best, leagues ahead of any other army that has existed or currently exists. They were the ultimate soldier that the Empire deployed for high risk missions of vital strategic importance. They were a unique existence. This was them in the beginning of their career. They would grow to be far more deadly than this.'

'Right... I... Can you pause it?'

'Why? We are only about a third of the mission in. There's plenty more to come. So far all the combat has taken place outside. The soldier you're following was part of the command platoon and didn't engage in a lot of combat directly in this part. The real battle will start in a few hours. There you'll be able to compare the Genesis Battalion with the Novican soldiers up close.'

'Because my mind can only handle so much at once!' Jane protested. 'That, and I need the toilet.'

Nightmare let out a chuckle, but obliged the overloaded woman. As soon as the woman had left the room, she changed the scenes on the screen. She made her old self, encased in the massive Svalinn power armour, walk in front of everyone else, before waving at Onoelle. She was rewarded with a smile. 'So,' she asked. 'What do you think of old me? Back when I still had flesh?' The armour disappeared and she now appeared in near-naked glory, wearing nothing but her army briefs. 'You've got to admit I look good,' she teased, flexing.

'That's just freaky,' Onoelle laughed, before she turned to her husband, pointedly ignoring the still flexing Nightmare. 'How are you holding up, Mentuc?'

'I am good. This is not a traumatic mission to me.' He didn't resist when she got up and took his sunglasses off, instead contenting himself with gazing deep in her eyes, his lenses ever moving. He gave her a slight smile, before getting up as well. 'You are hungry,' he said. 'It is past midnight,' he stated next, earning him a curious look. 'It is my turn to cook again,' he elaborated. She punched him and he retaliated by wrapping his arms around her and drawing her in for a short kiss. Then a longer one. Much longer.

Nightmare coughed loudly and Onoelle quickly separated from her husband, just before Jane returned. She had already returned the screen to normal. Onoelle mouthed a quick thanks to the AI which was answered with a short pulse of blue light. Best not for Jane to see any overt displays of intimacy between the two at present. The Historian was finally open to proper discussion. Best not to push her limits.

'We have reached a compromise,' the AI playing human said. 'The footage will continue, but Mentuc has been assigned to cooking duty and an actual break will follow once that is done. Until then, we continue. It is much of the same from this point out, as the advance grew slightly easier here due to the Fourteenth making use of a gap in the Novican defence, which threw their entire plan into disarray. This in turn allowed Strike Force One to penetrate deep within enemy lines, avoiding the stronger fortifications and blitzing through the weaker ones. It wasn't until they reached the supposedly hidden entrance to the planetary defence systems that everything picked up in strength again. I will nevertheless play it, so you may further confirm that no editing has happened and that all the footage you see is live from the frontline.' She was walking the thin line between lie and truth again. Theoretically a lie, technically the truth, depending on how you chose to define the word "editing". A major hurdle for Mentuc, as easy as breathing to her. She was Genesis, after all, and Genesis wasn't supposed to be able to lie. So she didn't. 'Is that agreeable to you?'

'Hang on, hang on,' Jane protested, hurriedly pulling out her notepad. The black box's light turned from light blue to a darker hue, but Jane didn't spot it. 'I'm going to write things down first. I don't have a magical memory. I need to write some questions down or I'll forget half of them by the end of it.'

The light subtly switched back to its normal hue as Nightmare deactivated the shut down programs. 'That is fair. I will give you some time for that then. After you are done, I will resume.'

General Shivran was barking out orders at an insane pace, adjusting the forces of the Fourteenth Army to the ever changing situation of the battlefield. The Novicans had dropped the ball and they'd done so big time. Some of their reinforcements had been diverted. Not a lot. In the grand scheme of things it wasn't more than a few companies and some dozen tanks, as well as a single walker, but he had noticed it. Combined with their earlier defensive line that had been flattened from orbit, an entire generator complex going up in flames and one of their support bases, one that had been in a perfect position to flank them, had simply disappeared from the grid, that meant the Novicans were in for a beating they'd regret.

He finally understood why that little blighter of a lieutenant had been so cocky before. The bastards had actually disappeared off the grid a short while ago and he had an inkling where they might be at. Given the sheer destruction and distraction they had left in their wake, he felt it no more than appropriate that he played his role to the best of his ability as well. He felt as if he should be more angry about the discovery that the entirety of his assault and the countless sacrifices his men had made, had been nothing but a feint for the real uppercut. Instead he had taken the discovery with grace and it had brought him into a strange state of zen. They weren't just any feint, after all; they were the best kind. One that you had to deal with, or it would become the real deal. Given how quickly they were advancing at present...

Shivran grinned as another report came in and turned a red, contested zone into a far more tolerable yellow. The Fourteenth had jumped on the gap in the enemy lines and had broken through in a glorious moment of Imperial supremacy. Tank columns were chasing battered enemies ahead of them, while gunships and other aircraft were hounding anything stupid enough to stay and fight. The infantry was rushing forward, mobile artillery and support units charging alongside them. What had begun as a strategic retreat had turned into a full on rout as an entire sector worth of defences were glassed by orbital fire. The Novicans were hurting and desperately attempting to slow down the Imperial attack. They needed to reorganise themselves badly and Shivran wasn't giving them time. He received a new report of a walker being spotted and a moment later he responded by sending a wing of gunships after it. With their frontline in such major disarray, flanking attacks became the tactic of the day and his gunships blasted their way through a far too small amount of shield projectors, before lining up a for their attack run. A few salvos later the walker and its escort were reduced to smouldering wrecks, allowing another Imperial unit to move forward in turn.

The distance to the Novican headquarters was shrinking with each passing moment and Shivran vowed he'd run the defending generals ragged before the curtains on this battle would close. He looked around his small command centre, eyed the dozens of toiling, sweating officers with approval as they rushed to and from stations, relaying reports and sharing intelligence as they shoved the armoured bootheel of the Empire up the collective arse of the Confederacy. The longer the battle went on, the more clear the combat difference between the two parties became. The soldiers had discipline and rigorous training behind them, allowing them to tilt any direct engagement slightly in their favour, but the real kicker was in the officers. The Fourteenth was stil one enormous cohesive entity. Every unit was part of the greater organism and when one unit was pinned, another rushed to its aid. Wounded and exhausted troops were neatly overtaken by fresh forces while logistics closely shadowed the front line. Diminished units were reinforced, plans were continuously updated and orders were given in clear fashion. Briefings and communications were shared as officers briefly called their advance to a halt to reassemble and recuperate.

It held a stark contrast with the Novican lines. Their soldiers were panicking, their communications delayed. Small groups were acting on their own and more than one unit had retreated straight into an Imperial force that had flanked them. Defensive positions were abandoned, counterattacks were launched without support and bases were overrun. Shivran wished he could see the pandemonium that undoubtedly reigned in the enemy command centre. They had lost their cohesion and the initiative was in Imperial hands. If he had been in their place, he'd have pulled back everything close to the next defensive line, while ordering everyone else to make a final stand and buy time for the others. Given how there had been several reports of Novicans throwing down their arms and making a run for it, he somehow doubted their soldiers had the balls to follow through on such an order.

In short, he thought with grim satisfaction, they're fucked.

X-12845621 took a single step into the open hallway, carbine held high. Her lenses spread, each of them tracking a single target and her sights swept over them from left to right in a smooth pattern. She held down the trigger, intimately familiar with her weapon and its rate of fire. She teased its threshold and made it cough twice. Her leg moved as if in slow motion and she knew she had all the time in the world to react. Another slight twitch and two more shots joined the other two in the air. Another. Her foot landed and with it her finger once more pulled that little bit harder on the trigger, sending it across its limits. She started her second step and repeated the scenario. By the time she slid into cover on the other side of the crosswalk, her first shots connected. She had crossed the small distance in the blink of an eye and she took in the sound of repulsor fire crushing body armour and flesh. The grenade one of them had wielded fell to the ground, the man who had thrown it dead before his arm had even finished its arc. She braced and waited for it to go off. A short bang later and her eyes took in the rain of fragmentation. Her Muninn informed her of the size and spread and concluded that she could weather the storm, without her shields, as long as she wasn't within two and a half metres of the explosion.

Even as the fragmentation was still bouncing off the walls, her teammate, X-12845623, had already begun to move. He charged down the hallway, simply smashing through the makeshift barricade by expenditure of his massive weight. The muzzle of his carbine swept methodically from left to right and back. She followed him, leaving the standard distance between them. She paused briefly at the corpses and rummaged them for usable equipment. She quickly scavenged their grenades and mag-locked them to her armour, before falling back in formation. The pair of them advanced deeper into the massive complex, weapons constantly at the ready and occasionally barking as they ran into small clusters of defenders. From all around them came the echoes of the battles that their brethren were fighting at the same moment, the heavy footsteps ringing through the metal floors. X-12845623 paused in front of her and she raised her weapon higher. Two of her lenses kept watch on him as he pulled a small set of explosives out of his armour and attached them to the door. The other four were trained on the door itself, ever watchful. Her finger was clutching the trigger tightly, ready to send a stream of fire down at the enemy. X-12845623 pulled back and detonated the explosives. She stepped forward as her teammate raised his carbine in turn, before kicking the now loose door in. It was launched inwards and slammed straight into one of the defenders, killing him instantly. X-12845623 pushed her out of harms way as a torrent of heavy fire tore through the air where she had been a moment earlier. Their Muninns briefly conferred and the nine surviving Novican soldiers were split between them. The next moment there was a brief lul in the fire and in that second the two of them moved as one. A heartbeat later and both of them rolled into cover again, each now at the opposing side of the door. Six enemies tumbled to the floor, their power armour ripped apart by burst fire. The shocked Novicans returned fire for a split second, before the pair of grenades she had scavenged a moment earlier went off.

They entered the large room, their audiosensors automatically adjusting themselves as the loud hum of the generators became a hindrance. They scanned every nook and cranny in quick succession, before they split up. She took up a guard position, making sure she could cover him while he linked his system with the large console panel in the world. Another short firefight broke out nearby and a moment later another pair of Genesis soldiers entered the room. One of them reinforced her, sliding into over, while the second one started gathering all the explosives he could scavenge from the fallen Novicans. X-12845623 joined him when he was done looting the console for information and the pair of them lost little time in rigging the entire room to blow. Then they moved again.

Strike Force One was surgically cleaning the entire complex, moving from room to room, overriding consoles and mining the paths reinforcements were expected from. With every minute that went by, more systems went dark, more missile silos went offline and more men and women died as the Genesis soldiers mercilessly cut open a path towards the centre of the massive underground complex. Close quarters what was they had been created for and Novican soldiers, fully human in nature and underequipped by Imperial standards, were no match for the terrifying Kra'lagh forces. X-12845621's mind coldly analysed it all as she ran into a barracks, where soldiers were still gearing up. The constant jamming made quick reactions difficult, but even so the Novicans were damningly slow to jump to full alert. A handful of men opened fire on her with their sidearms even as she murdered them in cold blood, using nothing but her limbs. By the time she left the room, there was nothing in it but smashed lockers, mangled limbs and a floor covered in blood.

It wasn't until shortly after the twelfth hour that they ran into the first real resistance, not far off from their goal. She and X-12845623 blew open the door and immediately jumped away from the now open frame as heavy slugs and a handful of grenades came pouring through it. The grenades had been thrown with perfect timing and went off before they could get clear and their shields flared up in defiance. The blast washed over them and the next moment their own thrown grenades went off, taking several members of the enemy power armoured troops with them and briefly disorienting the rest. They ran to the wall again, covered by the other pair of soldiers. X-12845623's disruptor blade flared to life and cut open part of the wall in a smooth movement. He disengaged his blade again, put his shoulder against the wall and ran in, the thick metal slab shrieking as it was dragged across the floor. Fire immediately began slamming into the wall and the other three Genesis soldiers made use of the distraction their commander provided. Carbines flared, grenades were thrown, X-12845621 placed a perfect shot on an enemy trying to reload his missile launcher and a breach was made. In the blink of an eye the four soldiers abandoned their cover and turned the firefight into a one sided melee. Their Muninns closely interlinked, the four danced around one another, never allowing an enemy to line up a shot at an unprotected back. X-12845621 threw a punch at one enemy, folding his rifle in half before embedding both it and her fist into his visor, then his face. Her servos whined as she shifted her balance and threw the corpse off, into the path of another and switched back to her carbine, unleashing a punishing volley on the Novican guards. It killed half of them and the other half quickly followed when she closed in and swung her disruptor blade through them, the unnatural energies crackling menacingly as it tore through their armour with ease.

Two of them disappeared into cover while she and the fourth member of their impromptu squad scavenged the corpses for anything useful once more. She ran over the battle again, in her head. A platoon against the four of them and it had been over, from start to finish, in thirty-two seconds. She understood why. They had a base of reference when it came to fighting humans in power armour in close combat thanks to the war games with the Special Forces. An advantage she had not accounted for until now. She stored away the information for post mission debriefing and finished her ghoulish task. Then they set off again, ever deeper into the complex and closer to their final goal.

Field Marshall Voronoff was watching the men pile more furniture in front of the heavy metal doors with a sense of foreboding. He still didn't know what was bearing down on them, but whatever force it was, they had left nothing but utter destruction in their wake. As painful as it had been to admit, they had been outplayed. Completely so. Even so, he liked to believe he hadn't made mistakes. His troops were still slowly falling back, reaping a heavy toll on the Imperials even as they were forced to give ground, but the Imperial push was lessening. They couldn't maintain their momentum. There were simply too many minefields, reinforcements, counterattacks and artillery barrages to break through. They might have been able to reach the headquarters, but not within a week. Not even close. That should have been the first hint, but he believed he couldn't have reasonably foreseen that the enemy would somehow perforate his entire damned defensive line in the span of a day. If only he had an inkling of what they had been fighting, but the bastards had left no survivors. All he knew was that it had to be infantry. Special Forces, most likely. Except that any human would have already collapsed from exhaustion and no drugs could keep you on your feet that long.

Grand Admiral Kolpovka approached him and gave him a rueful smile. 'It seems we have both been outplayed, Field Marshall.' There was a tinge of sadness in his eyes. The man was holding an assault rifle, as were all of them, but it was clear that he did not believe it would make a difference in the end. Voronoff finally understood just why the battle in space had gone so badly. The Empire simply played the game of war better. Levels of training, their budgets, their weapons, tactics, logistical support, intelligence, everything the Novicans did well, the Empire did better.

'Outplayed. Outperformed,' he replied, giving him a half-empty smile. 'Out-skilled and beaten.'

'I wouldn't agree with the latter two,' Kolpovka said, shaking his head as he sat himself down on a chair. 'It is kind of unfair to say we've been out-skilled when the enemy held more cards than we knew existed.' His eyes wandered through the mass of officers and the handful of bodyguards that were milling about, trying to set up a final defensive line. It wouldn't help. None of the commanding officers believed that. The enemy had struck like lightning and by the time they figured out that the enemy had already entered the complex, it had been far, far too late. They had tried everything to bar their advance, but they weren't able to pull enough soldiers together in time. It had been a perfect play. The mass offence of the Imperial ground forces, the strike force and the naval threat hanging overhead.

'True. I wish I would have ben able to convince the others to blow up the generator complexes,' Voronoff sighed. 'Would have blocked their way, at least.'

'And leave us open to orbital bombardment?' Kolpovka's eyebrow went up in surprise. 'Exchange a swift annihilation for a slow one?'

The old Field Marshall pulled out a ration bar and tapped it against his lips. 'I'm not so sure they would've fired. We're quite deep below the ground here, with internal shield generators. They'd need to level most of the complex before they'd get us and even then its doubtful. This deep under the ground, you can't get any signals through to your men either. So they'd annihilate their own troops and not be sure we'd be dead either. And I think that's the main point, isn't it?' He prodded the Grand Admiral with the ration bar. 'You, dead. I don't think they'd have sacrificed their own crack troops for you being potentially dead.'

Kolpovka nodded, considering it. 'I think you might be right,' he said after a few thoughtful moments. 'So we messed up by not blowing up our own base to slow them down?'

Voronoff smiled. 'Funny, isn't it? We did try to blow up the parts they already took, but we had been locked out of our own systems. Whoever they've sent down here, they're good and —' the Field Marshall paused as the radios began to crackle, the tell-tale sign of the jamming having reached them. 'They'll have a hell of a time getting in here. Too many turrets and all of our nearby forces have been concentrated here.' He took a bite of the ration bar and spat it out. 'Disgusting grub.' He wiped the remnants from his lips and raised the half eaten bar up to Kolpovka, his eyes containing a storm held captive. 'They will get in here though. Make no mistake. And then we'll die. Shame we didn't get the traitors. There certainly were a few out there. They hit us too accurately on too many occasions.' The man expertly loaded his rifle. 'Let's pray the rest of our officers pull through with the coup, or the entire Confederacy will join us in the afterlife.'

The Grand Admiral nodded sagely and prepared his weapon, a lot slower than the veteran Field Marshall. He had many regrets, but it was too late to change the fates now. He just wished he'd be able to take one of the Imperial bastards out when before they'd get him.

He never saw the blow coming and sunk to the ground, blackness taking him. Nor did he see a soldier take off his helmet, revealing a suspicious similarity to the Grand Admiral. The Grand Admiral of the Novican Confederacy, minus uniform, was unceremoniously dumped into a hidden storage locker, behind a false panel in the wall, one that did not appear on any plans.

Voronoff smirked. Nobody but his personal detail had seen the exchange happen. He had expected the Empire to go after the man far sooner, but clearly they wanted to send a slightly bigger message than a simple assassination. How ironic wouldn't it be, for the Empire to lay waste to their entire headquarters, yet still fail in their goal. He relished the chance at denying the Empire their final victory.

Dreamer signalled his forces to slow down and move with care. They were nearing their objective, as evidenced by a sudden lack of combat. There were a handful of turrets that they were still dealing with, some boobytraps and plenty of locked doors, but it was clear that the enemy was consolidating their forces at the easiest to defend location. He knew where, courtesy of the plans that Naval Intelligence had acquired. That was not the main reason why he slowed down, however. He knew that the rest of Genesis was lurking in the dark hallways ahead. Ever since they entered the massive underground complex, they had begun splitting up in smaller fireteams to be able to move faster while clearing a wider area, causing more destruction and distraction as they went. Now they had to regroup and he would rather avoid running into a boobytrap not of Novican make.

It did not take long before he and his three men squad ran into he first of those. Grenades bundled under console panels, tripwires tied to explosives, panels that hid a mine. Lethal traps for the Novicans, minor hindrances to them. Given the carnage they found at several such zones, it was clear that his brethren had overtaken some of the Novican forces. He noticed that all of the fallen soldiers were wearing power armour and were equipped with high calibre guns, grenade launchers and other heavy weapons. It seemed the Novicans were finally gearing up properly to face his unit

He raised his hand slightly and the four of them disappeared into the shadows. Far ahead another armoured gauntlet came into view and balled into a fist, before relaxing again. Dreamer answered by drawing a small circle with the muzzle of his carbine. The other hand withdrew and the Genesis soldier it belonged to appeared into view. He ran through the hallway and entered the large office, which seemed a lot smaller now that dozens of heavily armoured supersoldiers had turned it into a firebase. The five unarmoured men sitting apart from his troops caught his attention and he ran them over with a critical eye. The five looked ragged, sporting a collection of bruises and more than a little bit of blood, but none of it seemed to be theirs. Their eyes were still sharp, however, and they were actively scanning everything and conferring slightly, even if they eyed the Genesis soldiers with something between abject fear and admiration. The infiltrators from Naval Intelligence, no doubt.

He ignored them in favour of the new message that popped up in his HUD as one of the soldiers manning the salvaged comms station pinged him. He had been one of the last groups to arrive and the other three Strike Forces had already been in position for a few minutes. Each group had suffered several dozen wounded, most minor, a few heavier, but none had taken any fatalities as of yet. He did not believe that would continue. They also reported him of the other NavInt infiltrators. Thirty-seven in total now, though one of them was in critical condition, having been too slow to bring his fingers to his eye. He had been stabilised, but it was unlikely the man would survive the long trek back. Dreamer sent out new orders and had the man transferred to his Strike Force. The Fourteenth had penetrated the furthest of the three armies and they had proper medical facilities just behind their frontline. Next he ran the numbers. Sixteen hundred and fourteen Genesis soldiers were clustered around the objective. Far, far too many. He checked his timer. Thirteen hours, six minutes. He sent out more orders, giving a thousand of them the order to begin falling back, securing routes and causing a bit more destruction, before rallying at the rendezvous points. Naturally, the liberated infiltrators would be taken back as well.

For the last time during the battle on Lufer Genesis split up and Dreamer brought all his considerable intellect, reinforced by the networked Muninns, to bear on the final defences. Massively thick walls that they could not cut through. Long, narrow hallways with reinforced doors. Hundreds of Novican defenders, encased in power armour and equipped with heavy enough weapons to be a threat. Dozens of turrets, barricades, impromptu minefields. The entire approach was a tactical nightmare. It was a meat grinder with only one way in. A frontal assault was going to be costly, but there seemed to be no alternative. There simply were no other approaches. He tried to come up with a solution to avoid the killzone they'd end up in, but came up blank. They had to go in through the front door. Four identical entry points, from a singular direction. Four hundred metre long hallways, no more than three metres wide, meaning the Genesis had to go single file to retain any sort of mobility. No doubt the last few doors weren't closed to allow the Novicans to pour fire down the path. Only to slam them shut just before Genesis would reach the exit. He glanced at the map a final time and began relaying his orders.

The footage was paused and pulled both Onoelle and Jane out of the spell they had been under. Onoelle found herself panting slightly, drops of sweat running down her skin. Beside her, Jane had even veered up from her chair, somewhere during the battles. She realised that if it hadn't been for her husband's hands around her, she likely would have done the same. Nightmare had put together an incredibly convincing movie. The running battle through the complex had been intense!

'The Genesis soldiers rarely communicated vocally,' came the AI's voice from the speakers, a solemn note to it. 'So for your benefit I will translate the orders the Genesis commander gave out.' Onoelle frowned, not understanding why the AI decided to do so now, when she hadn't before. 'And to put his orders into perspective,' she continued, Onoelle's hands instinctively digging into her husband's arms as her body understood what her mind yet had to grasp. She didn't get far, Mentuc's muscles had tightened up and felt like steel.

'I will show you what they knew to be on the other side.'

Onoelle's face turned ashen and she gave her husband a horrified look.

X-12845521, 522, 523 and 524 readied themselves, more of their brethren close behind with heavy missile launchers and anti materiel rifles. They all knew their orders, knew the likely consequences. None batted an eye. The first door was surgically cut open with disruptor blades, passed on to the men behind them, altered slightly so it could be carried and then they filed into the narrow hallways, one after another. They reached the second set of doors and they began the difficult process of cutting a small hole into it with blades that were too small to penetrate it in one go. They quickly scooped out a bowl, then jammed their blade straight through, creating a small gap to peek through. Once another door was spotted, they cut it out, passed it back once more and continued their advance.

It was at the next door that they encountered the first resistance in the form of turrets. There wasn't any way to jam them. They were mounted to the ceiling and were directly connected to the command centre, where they were manually controlled. They couldn't miss either. The heavy doors were pushed in on the whole, providing cover while a grenade sailed forward and cleared the turret. The Genesis moved forward, ran into the next door and repeated the process.

When they cut a hole through the fifth door, eighty metres into the hallway, they spotted their foes. The four lead men prepared themselves mentally while cutting halfway through the door. Explosive paste was jammed into the open cuts and a detonator was slipped in. A makeshift handle was cut into the metal. Rifles and launchers were levelled. A quick ready call went out and Dreamer held his breath for a singular second as he wrecked his mind a final time for a better solution. He found none, and ordered the attack.

Specialist Havel of Naval Intelligence, currently known as Captain Golovkin of the Novic Confederacy, was sitting behind the comms console, fruitlessly trying to punch through the jamming. He pretended not to see the Grand Admiral's sudden change of behaviour, not to mention the calm confidence that the Field Marshall was oozing despite the situation being FUBAR. Specialist Havel had been part of the Novic Confederacy ever since he had turned eighteen, coming from the frontier world of Haivokiv, or so his papers stated. He had enlisted immediately, graduating from the Naval Academy with honours and had gone on to serve with distinction, surviving several skirmishes with nearby nations and a dozen conflicts with pirates. His ability to keep cool under fire had seen him promoted to Captain despite his relatively young age of twenty-seven, and his attention to detail had seen him get picked up by Novican High Command.

Nobody of the people he was close with knew who he really was. To them he was a loyal compatriot and a loving husband. His wife had been an officer as well, serving aboard a cruiser that had been part of the late Admiral Idrina's fleet. He missed her. The tears he had shed over her passing had been genuine. Most specialists that infiltrated the enemy ranks weren't like him. They were psychopaths who served the Empire with a fanaticism unmatched by any other in the service. They forsook honour and pride to submerge themselves in the lives of people they were not. They took on false identities, lived amidst their foes, made friendships and relationships that weren't real. He was one of the rare few who was different. He still had his heart and that made the betrayals he committed all the worse. He knew what he did and his every action twisted the knife deeper into his wound. He would still perform his duty, however. He had no choice. It was the cost of serving the one nation that understood the cold truths of the universe. That humanity, if left unguided, would irrevocably slide into degeneracy and weakness. War always followed that, which in turn led to a short period of peace, followed by the situation slowly sliding back towards disaster.

The Empire had prevented that. They ruled over thousands of worlds, held trillions of souls and war did not exist within their borders. Sure, the civilians were still problematic, but he served the military. He had been the type of recruit that NavInt wanted above all else. Intelligent enough to understand the why behind the Empire. He was devoted to the cause beyond any other, but not blinded by fanaticism. He saw, calculated and reported. If it broke his heart in the process, then that was the price he paid, for there was nothing he held in higher importance than the success of the nation. As such he understood that this had been inevitable. The Novic Confederacy had betrayed the Empire and the Empire, staying true to their beliefs and ideals, retaliated. He regretted the necessity of it, but he could not dictate Novican strategy.

When the call had come in, subtle as always, he and the other infiltrators had set to work. It was a delicate, difficult task to transmit all the information without being caught, especially given the short timetable they had to operate on. They had succeeded. It helped that he was one of the people who had to root out traitors and schedule system updates. It also helped that the Empire had figured out how to use static background noise to send messages, making hidden communications a lot easier. The actual data transmission of the plans had been a lot harder, but they had managed. There were a lot more infiltrators on the planet than even the most pessimistic reports had predicted. His job done, Havel had convinced his wife to take her remaining leave and the two had taken a brief and passionate holiday. He felt it was the least he could do for her. He knew she would die. It was a simple consequence of going against the Empire. He had expected to die as well. An invading force had no proper chance to discern friend from foe, after all, and an orbital bombardment certainly did not discriminate. And Naval Intelligence did not divulge the names of their agents.

Instead he had received, along with the others, a final, cryptic message. It had not contained hope for him. He had expected to die. Surviving would mean he'd carry this guilt with him for the rest of his life. Still, he would do his duty. He needed to survive the oncoming battle, just so he could warn the Imperial soldiers that the Grand Admiral was a fake. After that? He'd put in a request for termination. He knew better than to think NavInt would let him go. He knew too much, would be too big of a potential leak. His superiors would be sad to see him go, but he just couldn't do his job reliably anymore, not after all this. Idealism or not, you didn't play infiltrator for nine years and got off scot-free. Better off for the Empire to remove the faulty cog. Better for him, too. He already saw his wife's face in his waking dreams, accusing him of killing her. Being able to form a perfect rebuttal did not do much to quiet the pain in his heart. He sighed and slammed the display in frustration, acting like a frustrated officer who couldn't break the jamming.

Three fingers on the eye, he mused, forcing his thoughts back to the mission, knowing he'd have enough time to lament later. The hell kind of sign is that?

And you will see him order us to die. The sentence rung like a hammer in Onoelle's head as she saw the scene unfold on the screen. She ran her finger across her husbands arms and found his muscles more tense than ever.

'There was no other way,' he whispered. 'It was our mission. It had to be done. Yet I am the one who chose who. I am the one who commanded.' He took a deep breath and forced his arms to obey his will. Slowly, moving ever so carefully, his hands turned and gently grasped hers. 'It was necessary. It was what all of us expected. It still was unpleasant.'

She squeezed his hands, his larger fingers enclosing hers in a tender gesture. She pressed her back against his chest, feeling it heave to the pace of his quickened breathing. 'Do you think you did the right thing?' she whispered back.

She felt him take her in. 'Yes,' came the short, confident response. 'I did the right thing.' Somehow, she didn't think that this knowledge brought him any solace.

The lead men rammed the door at the same time the explosive paste was detonated. They grabbed the handhelds and began their charge, perfectly synchronised. The makeshift shields were dipped slightly and the launcher fired. It was pulled back, a new one shoved to the fore as the Genesis rushed in, single file. The timed rocket sailed through the air and went off the moment it reached the exit, the special warhead sending fragmentation all over the place. It pelted the soldiers closest to the opening, giving them a shock, but most of the shrapnel embedded itself into the walls and the doorframe, slagging the sensitive mechanism. The Novicans could no longer slam the last doors shut on them.

The shields shifted to the other side and the anti material rifles barked after a moment's pause.. The rounds slammed into the visors of a Novican soldier holding missile launchers. Their bodies began the slow process of dropping the dangerous weapons. The shields shifted to the other side once more and the next rocket was launched, slamming into the Novican lines and sowing a mass of destruction. Turrets whirred to life, undeterred by the slaughter occurring underneath their positions, and opened up on the advancing Genesis. Heavy slugs slammed into the portable doors, but the assault wasn't slowed, the other soldiers pushing the superhuman in front onwards. The other Novican troops began to react at the same time as the Genesis exited the tunnel. Grenade launchers barked, gatling guns began spinning up, missile launchers were brought to bear and fired while fingers twitched on the triggers of other heavy weapons. They were countered by the flood of Genesis. The four leading men just stormed out of the tunnel, their makeshift shields in front of them even as they were targeted by dozens of weapons. They instantly selected a target and charged them like human battering rams. The sight of enormous soldiers in massive suits of power armour, wielding a slab of metal heavy enough that it normally required a vehicle to lift, approaching them similar to how a bowling ball approached pins, overrode sanity and training for a split moment and the gathered defenders focused their fire on those four targets. Rounds and explosions washed over their shields, overloading them in a split second. Grenades, shrapnel and bullets tore in and through their suits of armour and their flesh, but the men didn't stop. Dreamer saw the Berserker Glands activate as the dying men, perforated by a hundred barrels and bleeding from a thousand wounds, somehow sped up and smashed into the Novican lines. The shields were tossed, disruptor blades were turned on and an abattoir was created in seconds. 522 was the first to go as a panicking Novican soldier blew him, along with six allies, into the afterlife with a missile. Even with half his body missing, the Genesis still gave a final act of stubborn resistance and threw his last grenade, shredding another cluster of enemies. 521 was next, turned into a pincushion as several turrets focused him, killing five friendlies and wounding four more. Even then he still fought and took down two more, until the men controlling the turrets switched their targets from his chest to his head. 524 went out in a blaze of glory as he made ready to throw his remaining few grenades, but a shot tore through his arms, destroying the muscles. The grenades, minus pin, fell to the ground. He recovered in an instant and kicked one of them into the enemy ranks, but the others went off and consumed him in a fiery explosion. The last one to die was 523, dead men surrounding him on all sides. A part of his face was missing, his left arm had ceased functioning and his legs were more lead than flesh. Even as he fell, he managed to grab two more Novicans and as focused fire extinguished his life, he closed his hands around their helmets, taking their lives in an explosion of metal, bone and grey matter.

Then the Novicans realised that the rest of the Genesis were flooding out of the tunnels and had used the remainders of the doors to form a solid barricade. Grenades sailed over them, repulsor rifles coughed and the few remaining missiles were spent. The Novicans put up a fierce, disorganised resistance, but it was too late. Precision fire killed those wielding the heavier weapons, turrets were blown clear from the ceiling and the Genesis left their barricade only a moment after it had been formed, relying on their heavy armour, shields and mobility to negate the counterfire. It worked. The defenders fell back, bleeding and dying and the Genesis advanced without mercy. The Muninns worked in perfect unity and the Genesis mimicked it. No soldier ran into his comrade's field of fire. No two thrown grenades landed near one another. No shot was wasted. No man went uncovered. Enemies in hiding were flushed out, those in the open gunned down. Some of them received wounds and they slowed down, disappearing in the unending flow of the reinforcements that streamed forth from the tunnels.

Dreamer was in the midst of them, overseeing it all. His eyes rested on his fallen brothers and he felt… strange about their passing. He noted it, filed it away and continued his mission stoically.

In less than a minute the last abode of Novican troops was overrun. Their heavy weapons destroyed, their turrets in pieces, their cover full of holes and the men defending them had been torn apart with surgical precision. More than three hundred men had held a chokehold. Now all of them were dead, at the cost of four of his own. The next order went out and they took up positions. One last door remained. One last operative to retrieve. Everyone else in that room would die. Then they would retreat.

It was all they had to do to complete their mission. From the very beginning, it had been that simple to the superhuman soldiers of the Genesis Battalion.

The sounds of combat on the other end of the barricade had ceased, but nobody questioned the outcome. The jamming was still in full effect and any unit that had managed to come this far, wouldn't be stopped now. They had faced worse obstacles out there. Voronoff grimaced. 'That was... Quick.' He sighed, then slammed his fist into the wall and shouted a string of expletives in his native tongue.

General Veledil, hiding behind a metal support, looked at the Field Marshall, fear in his eyes. 'Can't we surrender?' he begged. 'Become prisoners of war? We're worth a lot to them, right? High ranking officers? A—' his plea was cut short by the loud bark of the Field Marshall's assault rifle and the introduction of a bullet to the man's grey matter.

Voronoff lowered his weapon, his eyes radiating fury and cold hate. He spat on the floor. 'If it weren't for cowards and traitors like him and the rest of our politicians, all of this could have been avoided. But no, they went to war against our advice. A war they then hindered. Now we're here. Gentlemen, I'll not lie to you.' He walked to the centre of the room, raising his voice. 'We'll die here. Now, I am giving all of you a choice. A choice that you will, eventually, quite soon actually, make for yourself. Will you die like that piece of trash? A snivelling, pathetic coward, begging for mercy from an enemy who will grant us none? Or will you die like proud soldiers of the Novic Confederacy? Will you choose to die laying down, or to go out standing! The way it befits a warrior? I tell you what I'll choose!' he said, lifting his weapon to the sky. 'We'll die like men! We'll die like heroes! We'll die, defiant to the last, taking down as many sons of bitches as we can!'

Despite himself and his hidden allegiance, Havel felt pride and determination well up in his chest. The Field Marshall knew how to give a speech and even in this bleak, desperate moment, he managed to rouse the spirit of the men and women gathered here.

'So let them come! Let them break in here! Let them try and kill us! We'll make them pay for every life they take here! Even as we speak, the rest of our fleets and armies have begun shedding the yoke of our inept Parliament! Even if we lay down our lives here, our values and our dreams will live on! We'll—'

The detonation signal was sent and the explosives tore open the final door and the barricade. The first wave of Genesis soldiers poured in, Dreamer, relying on the enemy's lack of heavy weapons, dangerously close to the front. Even as the shrapnel was still flying through the air, his forces already breached the command centre, carbines firing as they vaulted the remains of the barricade. He spotted an enemy officer standing in the middle of the room, weapon held high. His Muninn registered the rank insignia on his uniform, told him what weapon he was wielding. He stored that information even as repulsor fire slammed through the man's chest. A handful Novicans still had grenades left and they tried to throw them, but each and every one of them was mowed down without mercy before they managed to throw them. Most of them didn't even have the time to pull the pin. Good, he thought. The Genesis were trying to limit the damage here.

He ran deeper into the large room, flanked by his brethren. Some people fought, others hid in cover. It did not matter. They were too slow, their weapons not strong enough to hurt the heavily armoured Genesis. He received a short message and checked the accompanying picture. The Grand Admiral was dead. One of their main mission objectives. Now they just had to kill everyone else and find the last infiltrator.

They found him a moment later. The man was trembling, clutching his assault rifle tightly, but his fingers were laying on his eye as he showed them the sign. The carbine swept over him, three soldiers taking up flanking positions and forming a living wall of flesh and metal. Another ping. An urgent one. Dreamer rushed over to the infiltrator's position.

'That wasn't the Grand Admiral!' the man hissed. Dreamer noted how the man's fingers were clutching his weapon too tightly, to the point that his knuckles were white. 'They changed him for a body double. I don't know where they hid the real one.'

Dreamer tilted his head. That was a snag in the plan. He edited their list of objectives again and sent out a general alert to his brothers who were dispatching the last few survivors. 'Any suggestions?' he asked.

The man climbed to his feet, swaying slightly before shaking his head to clear it. 'You didn't find him?'

'Negative,' Dreamer answered. 'The room has been fully searched. He was not found.'

'There must be a hidden room then. A secret panel or something. I—'

The man jumped when the gathered Genesis started tearing the place apart, breaking down the walls with either fists or disruptor blades. The map of the building was called up and the Muninns ran their calculations, trying to find for the most opportune places to find a hidden compartment. It was found quickly. The fake wall was wrenched open to reveal the already dead body of the Grand Admiral, the cauterised wound of a disruptor blade visible on his skull. Dreamer motioned for the corpse to be brought closer. 'Is this him?' he asked.

'Has to be. I can check with his DNA There should be a functioning biometric scanner somewhere—'

'Over there,' Dreamer replied, pointing towards one of the consoles, already picking up the corpse.

The infiltrator looked up at him, looking surprised. 'That's... Fast. I'll check, give me a moment.'

Havel walked over to the console, his legs slightly unsteady. Fucking hell, he numbly thought. He eyed the giants surrounding him warily. He knew that soldiers in power armour were huge, but the suits these guys were in dwarfed all the others he'd seen. Then there was their unnatural speed. There was no idle talk, no wasted movements. They had come in, killed everyone in the blink of an eye and now they were already taking up defensive positions again. As if there was anyone left who could threaten them. He shook his head. Those would be thoughts for later. When he got out of here. He tapped his codes into the console, then pushed the dead Grand Admiral's hand into the scanner. It calculated for a moment, then winked green. It was done, then, he realised, his legs finally giving out. He was caught by a massive hand and roughly pulled up. The soldiers around him continued hovering over the consoles, but the man carrying him walked towards the exit with great strides.

'Our mission is complete,' the man beside him announced. Probably the commander. 'We fall back now.'

Admiral Cindy was hovering over the display. Despite herself, her eyes kept flashing back to the foreboding timer in the corner as it continuously counted down. Five hours, thirty-one minutes remaining. Still no sign of Genesis. Still no sign of anything. She glanced over at Verloff, who was prowling back and forth, but where she was keeping her face carefully neutral to hide her nerves, he was visibly eager. Like a child on Christmas' Eve, she realised. She bit back a sigh. She had given him information on the infiltrators. Why? Even now she still didn't understand why she'd done it. Sure, they were an incredibly valuable asset, but that was something not done. Naval Intelligence didn't share information and certainly not about their agents. All of them had fake names, fake identities and anyone recruited to their branch ceased to exist as far as official records were concerned. Yet for some reason, something in Verloff's voice had overridden those rules so harshly imprinted into her. She knew what it was, too. It had been a genuine plea. Despite everything NavInt suspected the man of, there had been nothing in his behaviour so far that hinted at a personal desire for power. He hadn't asked for names. He hadn't asked for details. He had just asked for their number. For a chance to save them.

She found herself biting her finger and immediately brought her hand down again. Had he listened in on her when she sent the new orders planetside? Was it an elaborate ploy based on false, or possibly genuine, care for the Imperial soldiers, just so he could gleam how NavInt communicated with them? Had—

'Incoming transmission!' comms shouted. 'It's Genesis!' The officer didn't wait for additional permissions, patching it through to the display.

'Strike Force Three to Nemesis,' came the emotionless voice. 'Mission accomplished. Thirty-eight men extracted. Moving to pick up point. Out.'

Verloff's grin threatened to split his face, followed by a feral scream that deafened half the bridge. 'Send a message to Lessirk!' he laughed. 'Tell him he's lost the bet!'

'Another transmission!' comms shouted.

In short succession the other three Strike Forces reported in, each a perfect mimicry of the first one. Only Dreamer's report was different.

'Mission accomplished,' came a voice no more emotional than that of his comrades. 'Thirty-eight men extracted. One heavily wounded, who will be transferred to the Fourteenth for treatment. Explosives will detonate in T-minus seven hundred fifty two. We will be clear. Moving to pick up point. Out.'

'That's it then,' Verloff grinned. 'As soon as that timer hits zero, a lot of shields will go down. Blow everything you can to smithereens when that happens,' he told his officers. 'Send a message to the ground forces as well. They're to prepare for a retreat. They have a day and a half to make this happen. We'll provide orbital coverage once they've pulled back to a safe zone.' The lights of the holographic display showing the war on the surface lightened up the old Admiral's eyes as he walked over to the front of the bridge. He grabbed Cindy by the shoulder as he passed her, giving her a solid nod. 'You did well,' he whispered.

He took his position in the midst of the bridge, next to his personal command console, and stood at attention, radiating pride. 'And tell them,' he began, savouring each word. 'Tell them we've won.'