Lord Knight Wolfe was waiting.

He and his thin line of defenders had charged at Geronimo’s breached south western gate and had waited for a Firefly bombardment to zero in on them. Thirty seconds had passed and none came. He was sure he had heard guffawing blasts and echoing rings of plummeting booms but none of them on where they were. Until one of the Black Raven Legionnaires stationed at the emplacements pointed out the fast moving blurs above them. His view was still fuzzy from exhaustion and Clarahart’s potential side effect but he could discern swift shapes swooping out of place in Red 420’s war torn canopy.

Another drop of bombs exploded on the other side of the gate. Their resulting belches of red sand and bellows of thumps music to the UTSF soldiers’ ears. An abomination was caught by what seemed to be a long black javelin and got impaled on the base wall, dead and unmoving but equally horrific. Whatever or whoever was supporting them did it with deadly precision.

It renewed the defending forces’ morale and they fought with hidden vigor and haggard resent. They shot the GEOMs with anything they had, when their ammunition ran out, they hacked and slashed with their issued melee weapons. Wolfe carved the spearhead of the human counter attack, gracefully felling Several Abominations, Hornets and Moles as he tried for the gate. Knight Reid backed him up on his right widening the gap on the GEOM line.

The Lord Knight’s arms were lead even as he kept his art to its outmost efficiency as his faltering consciousness allowed. Reid seemed to notice his slowing posture and had taken the lead and growled morale boosting invectives as he pushed past the upended gate. The exhausted Knight glanced at the walls and saw that the combined strength of Lion’s Streaks and the Black Ravens have succeeded in routing and killing most of the incongruous creatures off the walkways and over the makeshift buttresses.

Another strafing run of their guardian angels whizzed over their heads, they flew closer now as their payloads run bare and fired with their alternative array of weapons and spraying six parallel lines that succeeded to recede the GEOMs in their wake into bloody and bursting pulps. The GEOMs landed in heaps over the set minefield and triggered them causing magnificent mayhem, the sky rained with ash, spent shrapnel, noxious sand and disembodied parts.

Wolfe limped out of the gate and was amazed that even though the terror and destruction caused by their air support the GEOMs kept coming. The horizon was outlined by the rampaging aliens and the dust clouds they left in their wake. The unmistaken boom of an afterburner roared above them and some of the Black Ravens looked up in disbelief. Lyon didn’t need to hear their reports of their enhanced ocular observations. Their saviors were leaving. Their ammo, fuel or both spent.

The next oncoming horde grew larger as they closed in the distance. Wolfe hastily rallied his men back inside the fragile safety of the base defenses. They were given precious moments more to cull the plague before them and he swears to the gods that he will use it wisely.

But before he could muster his fatigued force to a last stand a familiar noise flipped his mind back to Sierra, he slowly turned towards the maw of the broken gate and watched with a traumatized spirit the spectacular display of a UTSF concentrated planetary bombardment.

Balls of Plastite and Nuclear death created boils of vapor and fumes as they penetrated Red 420’s ozone and blossomed into beautiful mushroom clouds addressing the demise of thousands of GEOMs. Wolfe’s eyes traced every projectile, every shell, his shoulders shook and his heart stopped as each trail of fire created the most memorable sound of his past. His trance drowned out the relieved cheers and hearty hurrahs of his battered men. Reid could only look at his friend’s harrowing stare, fighting a battle that he could not support.

SOLAR YEAR 2429, LEO SYSTEM, SECTOR ONE, PLANET RED 420, 0530 HOURS, THE FOB GERONIMO SEVENTEEN HOURS AND THIRTY MINUTES AFTER INVASION

Lyon and his squadron circled on the far side of the bombarded plain. The crack and bellows of the Galleon projectiles as they entered the atmosphere was nauseating. They seared the Red 420’s approaching night sky with ominous slaughtering intent. The hundreds of guns mounted on the Galleons’ Ports and Starboards spewing explosive death, their menace known by the pockmarking of the zeroed coordinates.

Prime Banneret Knight Lyon had called in the planetary barrage after Lieutenant Mohamed confirmed the survival of multiple Knights on FOB Geronimo. The relief of seeing surviving fellow Black Ravens was clear in his observation reports. Rear-Admiral Ruslan hastily formed up the injured Providence and Deliverance to provide necessary cover.

The crumps of thunderous impacts rattled the air space around them. They sporadically downed straggling flying GEOMs trying to escape the onset of doom. Beyond the desolate fog, the ominous, torn skyline of Io stood defiantly. A reminder of the hurdle they have yet to pass.

The Knight opened the squadron comms and asked for a weapon and ammunition check. They only had several hundred machine gun rounds in total, with that amount they could hover over Geronimo base for a few minutes before returning to the Silver Eclipse to submit reports and findings and have their ships resupplied.

Suddenly, a figure appeared on his peripheral, Cherubim one had turned off its Background Adaptive Camouflage System and revealed its brightly colored finish.

“What do you think are you doing Cherubim one?” Lyon hailed, “Are you trying to get us killed?”

There was a brief pause and then the other Cherubims also lay off their BACS. Before Lyon could reprimand their insubordination, the channel coughed.

“Just showing off for the men sir,” Lieutenant Walls replied.

Incredulous, Lyon switched his bilge camera onto his display and saw soldiers from Geronimo base waving their arms about, jumping in exhilaration or saluting the squadron. He zoomed in and saw Reid and Wolfe’s weathered features even displaying their arms in the signature Knight address.

The Knight sighed and tapped off the Phoenix’ camouflage system, displaying her colors. He heard Lieutenant Halls giggle over the comms. He broke a smile. The woman was definitely the most dangerous kind.

She will be the death of me.

SOLAR YEAR 2429, LEO SYSTEM, SECTOR ONE, PLANET RED 420, 0800 HOURS, THE FOB GERONIMO TWENTY HOURS AFTER INVASION

Reid collapsed on his hammock, the tent swayed as it strained with the Knights’ combined weight of his armor and somewhat “undernourished” body. The day cycles were fast in Red 420. It would have rotated on its axis three and a half times to Earth’s one axial rotation and wreaked havoc on one’s body clock.

The crunches and heaves of Atlas ship engines hissed and burned as they transported material and men non-stop for the past couple of hours. The lively noise of battle victory and zooms of fresh vehicles was a fresh change of scenery. The thuds of boots and zips of wheels on the hundreds of deployment ramps almost sounded like a lullaby.

“It’s good to get to relax after sixteen hours of straight fighting queen plagues,” he sighed heavily, “Don’t you think Wolfe?”

The Lord Knight was slumped on one of the far corners of the tent, his eyes staring blankly at nothingness. Reid sat up; the action shook the delicate frame of the tent, a worrying look beset on his face. He had noticed that the Lord Knight wasn’t the same after his rescue and, whatever it was, multiplied ten-fold after watching the planetary bombardment up until the Angels of Vermillion (what the men were calling it after recognizing their former commander’s colors) performed their small air show.

He reached down to pick up a stray rock atop the strewn together tarp they had for a floor, threw it at the entranced Knight and successfully woke him for his reverie.

“What?” he snapped.

“Why don’t you get some sleep bud?” said Reid, “We don’t know when they’ll ask to continue the assault on Io; might as well get some while we can.”

“I will,” Wolfe answered emptily, paused then pulled himself off the floor and dragged himself towards his hammock. He cradled on its edge for a moment and swung his legs over and willed himself to lie down. Reid had just took his eyes off him when Wolfe asked, “Did you think this is what Vyse meant?”

“About what?”

“The turning point? Bearing the burden is what he calls it.”

“—Maybe.” Reid answered. He himself had felt the weight of playing god; when each order he would belay could be the difference between winning and total annihilation. He and Wolfe had lead troops before but not at this magnitude and not without another present higher ranking officer. He couldn’t imagine what the Lord Knight was thinking right now having been the back to back sole survivor of two wiped out companies not to mention being the last living Sierran, dubbing Wolfe back at Advent as “cursed” or “Lone Wolfe”.

“…This is different, they know the costs Wolfe,” Reid finally added, “Nothing else but to do and die.”

“Yeah, do and die,” Wolfe turned his back towards Reid. The words acidic in his mouth and hot knives jabbing his mind with insidious memories that rob him of any mental solace but his body rebelled with his minds blundering and eventually lulled Wolfe fell asleep.

Wolfe awoke, with a stir, with the familiar sound of crunching earth and heavy crumps. Rattling flecks of red dirt, the hammock shuddered with each cratering blast. Reid wasn’t in his hammock. The Lord Knight hastily gathered his weapon and exited the tent. Twin streaks of destructive rain glimmered on the horizon.

“They are bombarding Hanz and New Gettysburg sir.”

Wolfe turned around and saw a young gaunt-faced squire guarding his tent.

“I’m sorry sir, I’m squire Cairo, Lord Knight Reid ordered me to tell you that as soon as they start but you awoke before I could sir,” the boy stammered.

Wolfe straightened up, his shell-shocked appearance and armored physique must have startled the squire, “What about the forces tasked to assault Hanz and New Gettysburg? I don’t see any of the 23rd and 67th Storm Raiders here.”

“..sir-uh—they’re gone sir Wolfe.”

“Gone as in they got redeployed?” Wolfe pressed.

“Gone as in they were wiped out Wolfe.” said a deep-set crisp voice behind him.

Wolfe turned to face the voice’s origin and came face to face with a tall, dark and handsome Knight. Medium built, clad in a dark colored armor with rough blue hues and faded silver borders, the armor colors worn from years of usage, his tattered black cloak emphasizing the muscular form it masked beneath.

But what’s more distinct about him was the nature of daunting dark eyes, discerning and intense, intelligent and inspiring, piercing and icy.

There in front of him was the embodiment of humanity’s hope, Mankind’s trump card, the sword on which humanity will stay its offensive, its revenge, or whatever UTSF propaganda wanted him to be but there is no doubt that none of it will be far from the truth.

There in front of him was Prime Lord Knight Vyse Retter Kunze.

“Come on Wolfe, Let’s get you briefed.”