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"Marines, on me. We're heading to a briefing room and rendezvousing with other squads. Seems to be a slightly larger shindig than I thought. Be wary." He led them to the briefing room and ordered them all take a seat. Garrett remained standing, however. It was a psychological thing, and Hendlow understood its value, although the others present probably did not. Years of being in a gang had taught him the value of a strong presence; a lot of these other men and women didn't have that sort of an experience to draw on. Wouldn't you know it... I'm becoming quite the leader, he mused. And to think that he'd once feared being responsible for other lives. He was confident about it now.

Arcadia was obviously in her combat mindset as her words were cool and confident. "We need to hit those larger targets; I don't trust anyone else to get the job done." Call her arrogant and Langdon wouldn't listen. She knew she was good, knew she had a record to back it up, and the resolve to not let it go to her head. If anyone were to ever meet both Arcadia and Ruth, it would be easy to draw similarities between their battlefield personalities.

Finally, after a wait longer than either Red squadron or Kai and Alpha two wanted to wait, the Endeavour had finally repositioned itself to make a Fold jump towards Saratar, and, after a klaxon bell warning, Jumped. Within what felt like less than a second, the Klaxon bells were gone, and the odd feeling in the pit of one's stomach when returning to normalspace could be felt. Almost immediately, Scimitar starfighters began to pour out of the hangar bays and into the battle as the Endeavour's Solaris cannons blew through the enemy formation, taking out several drakes and a number of frigates and even some corvettes. The turbolaser batteries began spewing fire and every few seconds a Torpedo was launched, streaking at high rates of speed toward the enemy ships. The Terra II class was a sight to behold, the power it wielded awe-inspiring.

Soon enough, it was time for the Hymn's pilots that were onboard the Endeavour to go, and launch clearance was given, allowing them to launch into what was probably the biggest Furball any of them had ever seen.

“The flag's up boys, are we ready to fly?” Siberia asked over the com-channel as he watched the launch signal light flashed to green.
“Flag? Looks like a green light to me Boss.” Albania said, he was going through the motions, allowing the others time for last minute adjustments. In fact, Siberia could hear Albania shift about as he talked and finished his own work.
Siberia grinned at the question still; it was a ritual and a red squadron ritual. “Son, take a look at the stripes we bare, does it look like green is a proper word in this Squadron's vocabulary?”
“No Sir!” This time four voices responded; Albania, Germany, Romania and Poland.
“Are we ready to launch then?” Siberia asked. This time he got an answer from every member of the Squadron, ironically the answers were all green.

–
The Elites set a feverish pace as they ran towards the MFS's Hangar. They all were in a cold, uniform mindset; how dare the Drathonian High Command order an attack on Saratar while their master was present.
The Bronze Elite had gathered a significant lead on his two brothers and his features twisted into a snarl as he came in sight of the Hangar. Not a single member of B Platoon was on guard, in fact the only members in view were clustered together munching away on food of some sort or another.
This is outrageous, Bronze thought to himself as he slowed to a jog once inside. All of the Platoon was inactive and their Commander seemed to be taking a nap on a stool. But, as he silently padded towards the Red Moonie's eyes fluttered open and he returned the Elite's cold faced stare with a nod.
“Our HQ has been attacked.” Bronze stated as he closed the distance between him and the Commander.
The other Moonie paused in thought, scratching the scales on his chin, before responding, “Hmm, I thought that broadcast couldn't be anything good. How's the damage?”
Bronze bristled at the Commander's casual voice and dropped One-Arm's unconscious body at the Red's feet. “That is the damage Nothramis.” Bronze turned his head and watched as the other two Elites handed Adrian off to a pair of MSS noncoms. Least they will actually respond when you wave the problem in their pure-blooded faces, he thought with a grunt.
“C'mon Bronze, Elites and the MSS should be closer than this, call me Riokrire.” Bronze's head snapped around towards Nothramis, he let out a hiss and stared at the MSS Platoon Commander with pure hatred.
“We are leaving, the Squadrons are needed in the space battle.” Bronze stalked off before turning around one time and acidly adding, “There is only one Riokrire in this world Nothramis, don't mistake yourself for him.”

–
Nothramis didn't look up as Bronze spit out those useless words he was already busy checking the seals between his helmet and gas mask; seemed as if combat was stirring up and then he would need it. Anyway Bronze was a fool he ever thought that he would mistake himself for that half-crazed little rotter, Dart.
Looking up he saw one of his troopers pushing through the mass of rushing pilots. Locking onto the moonie's face he tried to recall his name; it came to him just as the young soldier came to attention in front of him. “At ease Nex, you want to ask something?”
The young Moonie looked about, bewildered and wondered how the Commander didn't know what he wanted to speak about before answering. “Of course Sir, wouldn't want to waste your time Sir...” His voice trailed off as Nothramis gave him a “get to the point” stare and he motioned towards all the Pilots. “What this all about Sir?”
“Ah,” Riokrire paused and put his helmet on his head before answering, “We're fighting of course, thought that would be obvious.” The Commander smiled as he finished speaking and watched the Trooper slowly nod. Then, clipping the gas mask on and sealing it to the helmet, Nothramis leapt forward. He was in the younger Moonie's face now and his voice had gone from relaxed to straight business. “You heard a fight was happening right? So, suit up!” He told his underling in a clear, commanding voice. Then, ignoring the stumbling trooper he stepped forward and began yelling. “B Platoon suit up and get your arms.” Looking towards the group eating he yelled again, “Throw that crap away those colourful Knights in the fighters want our rust coloured hides moving. C'mon now HQ is down, B Platoon has business to attend to now. Move!”
Riokrire Nothramis grinned as everyone began to get ready. Then pulling out his EV-47 he just hoped they didn't have to really face battle-worn marines. Kicking at the grated floor he cursed Saratars design twice over for making the gas troops useless.

–
Ukraine was awestruck by the immensity of the battle happening around Saratar. There must be thousands of them fighting, the young pilot thought as he watched both allied and enemy fighters struggle to destroy each other.
Siberia's voice snapped over the com-channel, breaking Eremenko's train of thought and bringing him back to the closer reality of the Squadron's own actions. “Well, isn't this just a joyous sight boys? Quite of bit of Drathonian Dogs looking to die out there.” The Leaders voice cut off with and left the feeling of an unstated “but” at the end.
Poland, direct as always, was the first to respond, “Orders Sir?”
“The Endeavour has it's own Flying Circus, she'll make due boys, so how about we go back and join our own?”
Ukraine smiled at Siberia's question, it would be good to be home. “With pleasure Sir.” The pilot said with enthusiasm. “Green Squadron's probably missing us might badly right about now.”
The channel was quiet as Red Squadron started heading towards Saratar station, everyone's eyes were alert; waiting for a Drathonian pilot to cut in front of them and throw them into combat. Apparently the Squadron as a whole had decided talk would be too distracting at the moment; well, that is with the exception of Germany.
“Heh, yeah the Greenies will be happy to know the best Squadron around is back in action.”

–
The Elite's squadrons of Delta Darts quickly massed out of Saratar, the pilots rearranging themselves into their formations.
Bronze was in a furious temper as he took his place at the front of his Squadron. That blasted MSS Commander had dared to try and bait him. And let him think he didn't know that he had called them “Knights”. He and his mocking names would get what they deserved in the end, an Elite always saw to business.
Dropping those thought patterns, but not their foul temper, Bronze concentrated on his underlings handling of their craft. Grudgingly he admitted that it was acceptable, yet he still doubted whether or not the fools could follow orders.
“We will engage the Drathonian Fleet now, any pilot who does not do so will be punished.” He barked over the com-channel. A simple chorus of “Ayes” followed his statement.
Yes, they appear to be not satisfactory at all. Where is their fear for a ranking officer? Bronze thought to himself as he cursed each member of his Squadron.
Then, noticing one of the fighters was slightly out of formation, he decided to show them some “punishment”. Turning towards a crudely added panel containing eleven buttons he pressed the seventh one. An internal explosion wracked the careless pilots fighter and ripped it apart, a collective fearful hiss sounded over Bronze's squadron channel.
“Yes.” The Elite stated. “You all understand now, the only punishment is death.”
Pleased with himself Bronze pulled forward to follow the other two Squadrons, who had already pulled out. It was of no concern that I am late, he thought to himself, my squadron shall perform the best; as they know what is at stake now.

(Just don't forget you're short a man, Gwath.)

Ruze was more than ready to hit the big black, kick some scaly a**, and avenge his fallen comrade. Of course, that was all on top of his natural desire to fulfill his duty as a pilot for the Terrans. That ALWAYS came first, even in times of emotional strain. We'll get 'em, then we'll go back, have a drink for you. Then I'll go find my new lady-friend and have good night's rest. Yeah, that was a good plan. A great plan. Couldn't get any better, really.

"Plenty of vermin, sir. Let's show them just how refined our technology is, I say. Plenty of lasers and missiles for the bunch of them."

"That's a definite no-brainer, Four. That thing needs missiles like our Marines need guns. Err on the side of caution, though. It's a ******** cannon-quilled space-walking porcupine, and I'd rather not see you going down in a blaze of glory." As Emma took out another Drathonian craft, Langdon wondered silently to herself if perhaps she should focus on achieving Double Ace status. She was only 5 kills away, and it would certainly be a pleasant badge of prestige to be wearing in the halls of the Hymn.

It surprised Thomas, really, how easy it was to accidentally end up mostly unaffiliated with any specific squad.

It had only required a few firefights and a few retarded mistakes, on his own part and a few others, to leave him for the moment listed as MIA, despite the fact that he had reported in several times and taken the problem to higher officers. Blah blah blah, they'd take care of it, when they remembered.

Brilliant, bloody brilliant of them.

So it was something of a mercy to happen to pass a squad reporting to circumstances unusual. What these were, no one could or would explain to Thomas, but he really didn't care. It was something to break the monotony of complaining to superiors about the fact that he still regularly had to explain to the various pseudo-friends he had accumulated that he was not in fact MIA.

It was more pleasant upon arrival to discover Garrett Hendlow.

Good ol' Captain Hendlow. Seemed like it had been a long time. Good time to say hello, as the briefing wasn't really underway yet.

"Hendlow," Peterson called quietly, coming up behind him. "How are ya, Captain?"

Cibo took a pill bottle out of the med-kit and popped herself a few more pills than needed for the headache.
"Reckless with that stuff as always."
"Can it or I bite your mouth off Marcus." Cibo was an Intelligence Officer with plenty of field time under her belt; she knew exactly what meds did what and in what amount. She'd been at it for years after all that s**t that happened a while back. The tall, slender Intelligence Officer popped the pills into her mouth and tried to dry swallow, only to suddenly choke from her eagerness; the sensation brought back bitter and bloody memories. She remembered choking on her own blood, how the walls were painted with her little brother's blood. Cibo was suddenly brought back to the present when a water canteen was tossed at her, knocking her over with the force behind it.
"Drink it Cibo, I don't want you to die so soon after meeting you." the alien spoke. It's voice was flat, plain, and disturbingly Terran as always. She gulped down the water before slamming it down on the counter.
"Oh! It's so nice to see that you care!" she seethed, voice dripping with bitter sarcasm. An elegantly armored hand merely waved it off as he paced back and forward, even leaning forward a little.
"Of course, of course." He practically ignored the entire ordeal. Marcus tried to capitalize on the Ottyo's train of thought at that point; whatever it was, it had to be interesting.
"What's bugging you Killy?" The black skeleton suddenly bolted upright, and swished it's serpentine tail too and fro for a moment in thought.
"Something small. Nothing too important."
"Really now? The Ottyo suddenly threw it's raptor like head left and right violently and clicked and chirped an incomprehensible line of birdlike gibberish. Yotruyan stared at Marcus, and then Cibo.
"What. Is a construct?" The two intelligence agents briefly froze at this; there was only one person it could be referring to. Evelyn!
"A person who has been enhanced." Now that the pills were kicking in, Cibo was able to quickly step in and give an acceptable answer. 'That should cover it, no matter what his reasoning. No reason to suspect anything amiss with that explanation, nope.' The Ottyo narrowed it's eyes at the two Terrans before donning it's featureless face mask, and slowly approaching the duo. It ran it's head near Marcus, and then over to Cibo; Killy moved his head so close to her she could literally feel some sort of static coming off the helmet. Killy stepped back and ran his eyes over Cibo's slender form, top to toes again, and snorted.
"You're not 'enhanced' I see. I bet you envy Mistress Evelyn's augmentations?" As Killy waked away, looking over his shoulder at the two, Cibo suddenly grabbed the canteen from earlier and tossed it at him hard. The tail snapped up and caught it, grasping the container like a snake would.
"What? It is natural to envy." Marcus then tried to intervene.
"Just forget about it Killy, it's an innocent misunderstanding on both our parts." Cibo indignantly punched Marcus on his knife wound. He howled in pain.
"Pills here." Cibo smirked, rattling the bottle.

With the sudden addition of 4200 scimitars, 250 shamshir, 10 Hex corvettes, and 10 Glaive corvetts, as well as a Terra class, the battle suddenly shifted extremely into the favor of the Terrans. Having not expected such odds, and banking on the Hymn being incapacitated, the Drathonian taskforce was horribly outgunned. Solaris cannons blasted into the carriers and battleships, literally blowing holes in the enemy positions.

The fighters suddenly had even more to contend with, and by now the numbers were more than even, with the Terrans having a greater number, a first in a battle.

******

A few minutes into his fight, Kai Nakamura and his Wingman noted something large blowing a hole through the fighters in the area; It was a corvette, Oddly enough, there were two scimitars fighting is already, and their designation on the sensors as 'GS:H-3' and 'GS:H-4' told Kai they were from the Hymn's elite Green squadron, using his squadron commander codes, he linked to their comms. "Well, hello Girls, this is Lieutenant Nakamura here, mind if I give you a hand? I've got experience against bigger stuff."

******

As Emma scooted around, trying to find a bead on the corvette without gettign hit, a sudden Hail came up, and then a Comm signal "Well, hello Girls, this is Lieutenant Nakamura here, mind if I give you a hand? I've got experience against bigger stuff." "Uhh, Arc? do you think we need help? He's from our ship, so I think we should take him up on it." Ash she spoke, the girl Boosted 'upwards' out of the way of a stream of fire from the corvette's AA guns, and took a shot at a passing enemy fighter, hitting and damaging it, but not destroying it. The aggravated fighter turned and came after her, right as she was distracted by yet another burst of fire from the corvette.

*******

"Did I hear that there's another green squadron out here?" a female voice designated 'GS:E-1' called to Steven kerning, almost out of nowhere in the battle. The source fighter, when found, could not be identified by Steven's Scimitar, but he could swear he recognized the voice.

"I am indeed in charge of the Endeavour's Green squadron, Steven." the voice answered, saying his name without him giving it out. The fighter she was piloting suddenly launched mini-missiles out of the sides of it's hull, destroying fighters to both sides suddenly, and rocketed its way over toward's Steven's Scimitar. The pilot began flying in formation with steven and, when she could tell he was looking at her, she removed her helmet, revealing a lot of blonde hair and a face from Steven's past. She winked, and in a flash, her helmet was back on, and the fighter blasted off to continue the fight.