Speeding into cover just as he felt the shriek of an autocannon shell speed past his head, missing him by literal inches, Marcus landed behind a building. Looking up, he saw the remainder of the Orbital Commandos 5th Company standing with him, clutching their SMG's close to them. Of those who Marcus hadn't sent to deal with the snipers, only twelve remained. Also, the Xan-Klar Knights towered over him, their shadows bathing the area in darkness.

"You okay, Marcus?" he heard a female voice say his name and recognised it as Jennifer.

Marcus nodded. "I'm fine, Jenn," he replied, looking at those who stood next to Captain Sakong. His men all opened their helmets' faceplates, revealing faces he recognised. Ichiro, Arjun, Elizabeth and others who had survived the attack. As Jennifer's helmet opened, Marcus' eyes were drawn by a glint of red in the sunlight, and he looked to see a thick scab of crimson had formed over Captain Sakong's right eye – the result of blunt force trauma.

Major Winter's heart swelled for a moment, then he turned around. Peering out from behind the building and looking down the street, taking great care not to be seen, he analysed the situation. About twenty anti-tank teams and three War Mechs was the summary of the Hand of Reclamation forces. They weren't moving to attack the humans or Xan-Klar, nor where they trying to flush them out of cover.

Instead, they had planted themselves in the street and refused to move – no doubt to delay their enemy from going after the lorry that the ambassadors were held in.

A frontal assault? Very risky.

Flying overhead? Suicidal thanks to the tracking rockets and the Mech's advanced targeting systems.

Long-range flanking around them? Possible, but no guarantee that the lorry would still be on the road. It could have pulled into a hidden location, never to be seen again...

It was then that an unexpected voice ripped Marcus from his thoughts.

"Unborn Brother!"

The voice was deep and growling, with a slight synthetic tint that denoted that it was coming through a speaker. Twisting around and looking up, Marcus saw one of the Xan-Klar knights looming over him. Instinctively, he looked at the armour's face – a titanic piece of engineering shaped vaguely like a Xan-Klar's head, long and robust, with a wide back and a metal snout that tapered to a point.

The armour had no visible eyes, but Marcus couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. Nonetheless, he responded to the towering object.

"Yes?"

The armour's chest cavity opened up, revealing a red-skinned male Xan-Klar sitting in the cockpit.

"I am Qolvar Karugen, leader of these knights," he briefly explained. "My brothers and I will take down those War Mechs, but we need covering fire from those anti-armour rockets." As he spoke, he shifted slightly, his red and gold-painted armour stained with ash and scarred from blaster fire and shrapnel. "Assist us, and we can save Lady Taneera and your ambassador."

Marcus didn't need telling twice. Every second they tarried was one second more that the dignitaries of their species were in mortal danger.

"I hear you," the Horusan replied with a simple nod. "Ready when you are, Qolvar."

The red-scaled Xan-Klar smiled and nodded back before reaching up and pulling his cockpit closed again. Meanwhile, Marcus turned back to his own men. Opening his helmet's face and feeling the cold rush of fresh air wash over his sweating face, Marcus was about to speak to his men.

But then, another voice then filled Marcus' ears through his helmet's comms, this one very familiar and full of self-confidence.

"... Need some help, Horus boy?"

Ferro!

Marcus smiled slightly, lifted his hand to the helmet still hugging his face, and replied. "What have you got for me, Captain?" he asked the Tartarusan.

"Construction site is clear, thanks to our alien friends. We dodged their missiles, but then we had to stay clear of the EMP that took you lot out of action." Ferro said in his normal blunt manner.

Marcus nodded, glad to hear that more of his company was still okay. "Where are you? How many are still left?"

"All of us are present and correct, Marcus." Leon's voice then replied, denoting his presence. "We're on top of a building near the embassy. What are your orders?"

"Jenn and I are about to join the Xan-Klar in an all-out assault," Marcus explained. "Flank the War Mechs and anti-tank teams as we attack, and we can take out the things that will shoot us down. After that, we go after the ambassadors. Full-throttle, all in."

Leon and Ferro replied, "Copy that."

Marcus then looked to the men and women around him, repeating the plan. Everyone nodded as they heard his orders.

"Alright." Jenn said as she slapped a fresh clip into her SMG. "Let's get this done."

Marcus smiled slightly again, watching as all his other troops did much the same, preparing themselves to follow him. The fact that he saw no fear or doubt in their eyes brought a spark of relief to the great responsibility of leadership, for it told him that his soldiers trusted him with their lives, and that they would follow him until the end.

Looking down, Marcus reloaded his own weapon, then edged towards the corner of the building he and the others were hiding behind. Shutting his helmet's visor, he looked out to see that the Hand of Reclamation troops were still there, waiting.

He heard heavy clanking, and then looked up to see that the Xan-Klar Knights were also preparing for battle. Their scarred metal-slab shields were raised to protect them during the charge, and the great melee weapons magnetized to their backs were now drawn, clasped in their steel-clad hands. Two of them wielded huge, cleaver-like blades, angular and broad, while one carried a massive warhammer. Each weapon was as long as a lamppost from handle to tip, broad and heavy and ready for slaughter.

Marcus noted their body language of the titanic suits of armour. Two of them, a hammer and the other with a sword, seemed openly confident and eager to get into the fight, smashing their weapons and shields together and stomping their feet.

However, the other sword-wielder seemed a little less so. Subtly, but still noticeable. Instead of baying for blood, he seemed to be pensive, thinking ahead about what was going to happen. This one, whatever his name was, seemed cautious, but not cowardly. Brave, but still aware that death was a possibility.

Major Winter felt a glimmer of hope when he saw this. It was good to see that not all Xan-Klar appeared to be ruthless and belligerent killing machines, utterly convinced of their own immortality.

The confident one with the sword then spoke through his armour's communicator, and Marcus recognised its voice as Qolvar's.

"Are you ready, Unborn Brother?!"

Marcus nodded at the armour that was looking down upon him. "Ready and willing," he replied.

Qolvar's armour lifted its head while its legs braced to charge. Its right hand squeezed a trigger upon the blade's handle, and as it did so, his weapon's blade suddenly burst into a bright greenish glow. Looking on, Marcus saw as the Xan-Klar Knight's sword glowed with plasma – a magnetically-contained energy field projected just in front of the sword's sharpened edge.

A plasma blade, like Marcus' combat knife. Just drastically upscaled. The plasma would burn through any armour, the mass and sharpened edge of the blade carrying it through and cutting as it did so.

Marcus turned to his Orbital Commandos, watching as they readied themselves to charge with him. The Xan-Klar Knights seemed ready too. Taking a deep breath in, the Major then roared at the top of his lungs...

"Charge!!!"

A cacophony of war cries echoed around him, followed by the fiery pulse of jet engines and the heavy clanking of titanic footsteps. Launching himself around the corner at the head of everyone else, Marcus led the charge.

As he appeared, the Sirthon of the Hand of Reclamation all took aim at him, only for their gazes to disperse when they saw the other targets barrelling their way. Anti-armour teams pointed their rockets upwards at the Xan-Klar Knights, while War Mechs had to divert their attentions between two very different types of foe.

Noticing this, Marcus seized the opportunity. He pushed his armour's thrusters to turbo speed, launching him through the air at full tilt while his guts rushed downwards and his lungs were crushed against his diaphragm. Then, flipping over, he rolled forward in the air and delivered a skull-crushing kick to a Sirthon's face, with blood and brains spraying everywhere. Then, using the momentum of his flip, he forced his feet into the tarmac, tearing it up as he skidded to a halt.

Five Sirthon turned to face him, only to be cut down by a barrage of shots from Marcus' SMG. The Horusan squeezed the trigger, firing from the hip as he shot them at close-quarters range. Another Sirthon nearby drew a plasma knife and charged him, the alien's mandibles opening and shrill, sickly hiss erupting from its thin mouth as it charged at him.

Marcus let go of his SMG with his left hand while still gripping its handle with his right. He then swung his right arm up as the Sirthon thrust the glowing knife straight at his neck. His moved blocked the alien's strike, the shimmering blade of raw energy slicing only through the air as the terrorists hand was caught on Marcus' forearm. From there, Major Winter balled up his fist and threw a left hook at the alien's face, his punch scattering teeth and crushing bone as his adversary tumbled to the floor.

Just then, his surroundings went dark, and Marcus saw something move in the tail of his eye. Twisting to the right, his heart lurched in his chest as he saw a War Mech tower over him and lift one of its gigantic feet. Diving sideways, Marcus fired his armour's thrusters and launched himself into a roll, narrowing escaping the heavy 'crunch!' of the Mech's feet slamming into the ground. Spinning around, Marcus then saw the War Mech take aim at him with the rotary minigun on its right hand, only to be sideswiped by a Xan-Klar knight that barrelled into its massive bulk, staggering it backwards.

Looking around, Marcus took a quiet, sharp breath as he surveyed the battle. The rest of his Orbital Commandos had engaged the Sirthon. He recognised Jennifer as he saw her nearby, gunning down more Sirthon anti-tank troopers. One swung its weapon at her like a club, only for her to tank the alien's strike on her back, then spin around, grab his arms, and pound him into the floor until only a bloody pulp was left. He saw Ichiro blow a Sirthon's head clean off with a point-blank shot from his gun, and Elizabeth was deep in the action, avenging her fallen comrades as she tore at the alien terrorists like a lioness tearing her kill.

Then, it only got worse for the Sirthon when, with a thunderous bellow of "Get ready to rumble, you Sirthon shit-suckers!", Ferro and Leon barrelled into the group from one side, along with the rest of the company. In a hail of glowing green plasma fire, the remaining ground troops of the Hand of Reclamation were pulped, attacked from their front and flank by some of the most elite troops in the Union.