Chapter 12: Echoes of War

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A starchaser hovered near a bell lily, its gentle wings humming softly as it moved in a blur. The long beak dipped slowly into the flower's petal folds, and the native bird hovered with a natural precision that few could replicate artificially. Nearby, a brook softly hummed a hymn to the nearby Moonwillows, allowing their crystalline leaves to catch the flowing wind.

Orangea's mornings were simplistic, yet beautiful—a testament to the city built to preserve the native fauna of this planet. Even those native to New Carolina would sometimes visit the city just to experience a fraction of what this planet was before the arrival of the humans.

The tranquility shattered like a dropped crystal as a tremor of gunfire ripped through the verdant embrace, its metallic echoes bouncing off the hills like harbingers of a storm.

Captain Marcus, the de facto leader of the Orangea Militia, stared down at his terminal with multiple windows displaying the scattered battle around the city. The aliens, the turians, had breached the city perimeter thirty minutes ago, marching forward with a battalion strength, quickly overwhelming the scattered residents on the city's edge before advancing deeper. Their rapid progress was now hindered as more and more residents took up arms, fiercely fighting back.

However, it was clear that the turians were better armed and trained. Most of the Orangea Militia members didn't have certifications above twelve, reflecting the older civilian population that had moved here from Inner Systems. They had retired in New Carolina to escape the busy, bustling life of a heavily developed system, mostly untrained and unfit for fighting.

In fact, the city's only real defensive force consisted of the younger residents, who fought more with bravery than strategic thinking. Despite their best efforts, the enemy's organization and discipline cut through them as the turians slowly advanced toward the heart of the city.

An alert window popped up, and Marcus held his breath for a second. He smiled when he saw the shield with the etching of the image of a palmetto tree and moon at the center. Clicking on it, he was met with an older gentleman, physically fit and well-proportioned, sporting a full, well-groomed beard and mustache. The uniform adorned with the rank markings of a general on his chest and collar completed the distinguished appearance.

The Militia Captain recognized him. It wasn't long ago when Governor Calhoun had announced the man's position as the Field Commander of the whole of South Charleston—General Hampton.

Instinctively, Marcus saluted, and the general saluted back, saying, “Captain Marcus, I've got armored marines on their way to support you.”

“I'll have my Militia shoot up flares to direct them where to drop,” Marcus replied.

“Affirmative, Captain,” Hampton said. “Good job holding out. Now, let's drive these bastards back, shall we?”

Marcus could only grin as the window closed, then turned to his left. “Brody,” he called.

A humanoid avatar of his AI appeared. “I'm now sending notices to all Militia squad leaders,” Brody said. “They are all confirming that they have received the messages.”

Marcus nodded and returned to the holographic screens, watching as some sectors, mostly near the front line, shot red flares upwards. Seconds later, blue light shone down from the heavens, and like avenging angels, dozens of armored marines appeared, descending from the sky.

Upon making landfall, the overwhelming and encroaching alien tide was completely stopped. Marcus witnessed the seemingly unstoppable force finally meeting a truly immovable object as the tall behemoths of blue and green marched forward steadily. Their powerful rifles exploded with such destructive force that each shot seemingly took down two to three enemies.

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