Jurai awoke slowly, his eyes and ears not wanting to believe they were in this grim reality…

But It was inevitable, and he finally faced up to consciousness. He sat up in his bed and found himself stripped down to his undershirt and boxers, his pilot body suit and handgun tossed unceremoniously on the floor.

He heard a somewhat familiar voice from across the room say something about a good morning…But the way Jurai was feeling, it would most likely not turn out to be one.

The room in which he sat had two beds, a dresser with mirror, a nightstand, and small doorway that was marked "R s Ro m". It was the Restroom, missing a few letters. "Oh yea, I'm in that hotel that Galleria tossed me into last night." He smirked and continued to think to himself. "Gra….I would have done a lot better without those 8 hours of sleep."

The after effects of BE-102-MV, or 'spike' as the pilots called it, were similar to a very, bad, hangover. When combined with light, restless sleep in a beat up hotel room in the center of a city which was under attack, the effects tended to be very bad.

"You gonna get out of that godsbedamned bed soon or wha'?" questioned Dediye as he stood by the mirror, combing his hair. Jurai answered his good friend with a low growl and hopped up. "What's the time?" "Well…", responded the other pilot while still undergoing the vigorous grooming rituals of the Mites, "I think it's about eleven or twelve am…" "YOUR KIDDING ME!" "f'raid not." "THEY NEED US AT THE FRONT LINES!" "But, we have to comb our.." "Comb later. You think those, may the gods damn them, humans, care how the hell we look?" barked back Jurai as he put on the tight bodysuit that the AS Pilots wore. Gun at his side, battle lance compacted at his right leg, Jurai bolted out of the door.

Dediye laughed, mumbled something to the effect of 'that's muh Jurai…." and ran after him.

Soon after that, they were booting up their AS suits and taking off towards the Twin Spaceport Towers, MacNerra and Koni-Usau. While they made double time to get to the battle, their comrades were fighting for survival.

"We have tanks moving down 47th, and a whole god awful squad of groundies moving in to the intersect of Arra&32d! I need mortar fire on the tanks! You copy that Essin? Essin, do you copy?" "Aim' a little busy her'!" retorted Essin to Galleria over the Comm system. Essin was being hoisted up to the top of a building with one of his grappling spikes, firing at the ground troops below with the sub-machinegun that rested in his left hand. "Gal, I'm unleashing Rocket fire! Tell anyone else in my sector to CLEAR OUT!" Essin screamed the last part as he opened his left ab and left shoulder rocket packs. Two sights popped onto his veiwscreen, and he quickly roped in his intended target area with them. "Essin, the area is clear. Open fire!"

Essin did not need to acknowledge her, he simply fired. Only nanoseconds after the nerve impulse had been sent, received, and enacted by the suit, a process which was nearly instant, a terrifying hiss ripped from his rocket packs. A few of the troops below, crouching in store windows, behind rubble, in windows scrambled to get out. They could not move fast enough, and honestly, they prolly didn't believe they COULD get out.

It was a last twitching of a primal instinct-Survival-that made them move. All in vain, because Essins rockets dashed across the area ravenously, plundering it of human life.

"Attack successful, Human unit destroyed!" "Good job, Essin! Now get out of there!" "Sure thing!" Essin smiled to himself and descended from his perch halfway up a office building, walking forward through the rubble and flaming remains of a city block.

Jurai and his ever-present wingman, Dediye, flew trough the war torn streets towards the hot spot. Their unit was engaging the enemy without them. They were monitoring their radar screens. And they didn't like what they saw. The Rulerist army was attacking with renewed vigor, and 6 large transports were moving into the city. Jurai knew full well that his squad, yes, now his after Sretomi's death left him the highest-ranking officer, was fighting with limited ammunition. The humans would win by sheer numbers. His pilots could not continue fighting forever. Fatigue would set in.

Then what? Well, they could fight them hand to hand for awhile…But defeat was inevitable. They had no troops coming to back them up. "Dediye…" "Yes..?" "We must make sure to evacuate as many civilians as possible…" "So, we must accept the order anyway?" "It appears so. The planet must be evacuated." "It's still hard to believe it's coming to this…" Dediye chuckled slightly, morbidly. His people, even at this moment, were piling onto ships, leaving the planet. Fighting to get past the Armada of rulerist ships floating ominously in orbit, trying to block their escape. "Dediye, we're coming up on the battle now!" "Roger."

Galleria kneeled on one knee, peering along the barrel of her Sniper rifle. Through the scope she saw a human tank, parked on a street corner and firing projectiles at and around the very Spaceport tower she fought to hold. Her comrades were down there now, chasing the Rulersists out, getting civilians in. Ships were launching as fast as they could fill them. They needed to take the second tower, and with it, it's ships, if they wanted to evacuate most of the city's population.

A round bursting several dozen feet away from her jolted Galleria back into reality. A reality she could safely say she hated.

She squeezed down on the trigger, and a burst of flame sprouted from the mouth of the gun. She looked through her scope again, and saw the tank. It was burning like a vision of hell.

"Attention all units, this is Jurai. Report your positions!" "Nice to see you slept well Jurai, this is Galleria. I'm on the 7th floor of the MacNerra spaceport tower. Transmitting." Jurai slowed in midair, firing his boosters and floating down. As soon as the cement touched his feet, his machine gun was brought to bear on the forces in front of him. A rulerist command bunker, sandbag surrounded, sitting smack in the middle of the city. The city he grew up in.

"This is Trillo, I 'n Jekkisha are on the ground floor of the Macnerra Lobby. Transmitting." "Trillo, can you tell Jekkisha to get the floorplans and send them to me?" Asked Jurai as drew his dual from its perch on his back. "This is Jekkisha, No problem! Why didn't you ask me in the first place, Ju-ju?" mouthed off their only remaining Medical Suit. She'd always been one for pet names. Ju-ju. Jurai found it amusing that his pet name was the same as the human word related to Voodoo and magic.

Dediye was sweeping through Arra&32d with his dual. He spun and twisted around midair, bursting up for a second to avoid human machine gun fire, only to come down and put his heated weapon through a Rulerist troop transport.

Dediye hit the ground and burst forward like a man possessed. The blade slashed back and forth, up and down, and when it was done, there was no life other than he on Arra&32d. Well, except for the twitching legs of a Human officer that had lost their torso, but they would stop twitching soon enough.

"Arra&32d cleared, I'm moving towards MacNerra Now."

"Racci here, blacking on Westie&21st."

Blacking was a term used by pilots to say that their injection of 'spike' was wearing off. In the heat of combat, it was every pilot's worst nightmare.

"Damnit Racci, You data says you've had two straight injections, and you've been fighting for 16+ hours! Don't push your limit anymore, I REPEAT, do NOT push your limit anymore.", commanded Jurai as he ripped the command bunker, Machine-gun nests, mortar emplacements and all, to pieces with violent attacks from his dual.

"Where the ::gasp:: hell do you want m' to go?!?!" retorted Racci, sounding rather out of breath.

"Hold on there Racci. Jakkisha, I need those plans now." "Gimme a BREAK Ju-ju, I'm trying my best….ok, transmitting."

Jurai scanned the electronic copy of the floorplans that were displayed on his screen with intensity. "Ok, Racci, ::blamblam::" Jurai's transmission stopped as he drew his pistol and shot the Soldier who was trying to run away. "As I was saying, go to the 24th floor of the MacNerra tower. Docking bay 9. There is a Transport there. Load up your suit onto it and get some sleep. Galleria, you go to. You've had 3 injections and 25+hours of combat time. Don't push your limit either." "But…" "NO BUTS. Just go. I don't need you blacking out on me, or worse, overloading your nerve system." "Roger."

"Oh, Jurai…" Piped in Racci, "Do want us to load up Civilians too?" "…" "Jurai? You there?" "…Yea…And no…. Don't load it up…"

Focx entered the conversation, "You kiddin' me J?!?!" "No. I'm serious. This transport will be for getting our asses out." "….Gotcha…."

Across the city…. deep into Rulerist held territory, Hawkder was making a brave stand near a Marina/port as he and several Policemen fought off Attacking Assault Choppers and Rulerist ground troops. All so the Mite Civilians pinned down in their bunkers, could get to the Spaceport towers.

Hawkder gazed once more at the image his scouter probes were relaying to him. The civilians were making the 200yard dash to the subway tunnel with reasonable success, but the choppers were everywhere. He was pretty much out of rockets, mortars, etc, and was relying on his sub-machinegun and pistol.

"Red seven, this is Bravo one. Targets moving towards warehouse." "Copy that Bravo one, moving to intercept." The Pilot looked out of his canopy and signaled 3 more choppers to follow him, down towards the trail of fleeing Mites.

"Target in range. Fire." He smirked under his helmet and squeezed down on the trigger.

Trillo was running forward at the Human troops, safely positioned behind benches, in doorways, or wherever else they could take cover. His sword glowed red, and emitted a few bolts of electricity over itself as he charged it to maximum heat.

"Firefirefire! Stop hiiiiim!" Screamed the young officer firing with his pistol.

Trillo was closing distance faster and faster, bullets ricocheting off of his AS suit. As he was coming up on his first would be victim…He couldn't control himself. All his family…All his friends…DEAD. They never wanted a war. Only to live in peace.

Trillo clenched his teeth. "I'll NEVER forgive….YOU!"

The blade swung forth, down from the air, and cut the soldier cleanly in two. Trillo spun around and proceeded to massacre the small squad with absolutely no mercy.