V
Vay
Guest
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Hiigara, a simple word with a singular meaning. "Home." It is what we called our world.
The Allied Core is what they called themselves. We were once free, but that called us theirs, so we defied them. They sent ships.
Dacroin.
New Durce.
Freeport.
Huloa.
Pech.
They all fell within a month. He hit back. At Tunia we were waiting for them and their fleet burned, their transports surrendered. We made them bleed.
They sent more ships, more men than we had ever seen.
But we waited for them in the black.
Hiigara, my home world, where I grew up. The war would be decided. They said beating us would be child's play. We said we'd prove them wrong.
It looked like we were about to eat out words. In cargo ships and salvaged wrecks we met their fleet. We never stood a chance.
"This is the Achilles, out battlegroup is destroyed, we have major damage and fired on all decks.he are breaking off and broadcasting our surrender. God help us."
Battlegroup Covenant had been our last line of defense. The moment I heard those words I knew if wouldn't be long before their ships appeared int he sky and thier men, million strong began raining down on out heads.
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That was three weeks ago, now their forces were on the ground. The battle for Azriel's reach had just begun.
"Hell wheres out air support, Halsey get on the radio and tell them we need fliers or we're overun five minuet ago."
Bullets ricocheted off of Jido's armor. It had been captured at Tunia and had the enemy marking painted over with his own. A blood red hand print and a hand painted raven. On the back was the name of his regement. "Hiigaras own." with their motto. "To the fiery ends of the universe."
"Sir, they say we're to hold position and cover the retreat, there is no air support available."
"Shit.. EVERYONE FORM A FIRING LINE."
More shots impacted around him and he raised his weapon sending a burst from where the shots had come from.
"We hold the line, they run like hell, typical day at the office, THEY DO NOT GET PAST US WE...."
There was an explosion right in the middle of them and Jido was thrown off his feet. He caught a glimpse of the others flying in the opposite direction as his gun was ripped from his hands by the force and he struggled through the concussion, pulling out his sidearm and pulling himself behind cover.
There was a shout and they came. Jido pulled himself to his feet and fired, one bastaerd down, two, three. The rest took cover and began firing potshots as enemy aircraft zoomed overhead.
This used to be a school....
A school he had memories of... but it was the different world back then.