This universe isn't dead yet.

Roberts fumbled with his life-pod's seatbelt for a second. Heard a click, felt the belt tighten a moment later. Glanced out the window of the life-pod just in time to see the Austraeus split in two. Fragments of hull splintered from the breach; titanium and steel and aluminium hit the air and melted within seconds. The entire starship sailed sideways through the air, heading for the desert outside Alpha.

He reached for the emergency console in front of him, logged into the Austraeus's remote controls and vented her fuel. A plume of liquid Tritium shot from forward vents in the hull and exploded as it hit the air - yet barely slowing the starship down.

At least we won't get caught in the blast of a hydrogen bomb when the Austraeus hits the ground.

"ETA to ground: 10 minutes," said the Lifepod's speakers.

The life-pod turned as it fell, giving Roberts a panoramic view of hell. On one side of the life-pod fell the Austraeus; on the other the Retaliator careened toward the ground. Both starships noses' glowed white orange. Molten iron and Borium slid from their sides as they melted and vaporised. Life-pods shot from their side, slipping upwards through the air as they slowed to terminal velocity faster than the behemoths they originated from.

Roberts could see the Austraeus again, the life-pod having completed its turn. With an earsplitting groan, the larger of the Austraeus's halves split in two once more. Shipping containers and dropships and beams of steel and spare tanks of hydrogen slid from the breach. The first six floors of the starship had melted and crumpled; flames had begun to lick the seventh.

"ETA to ground: 9 minutes."

"This is Captain Roberts of the IMS Austraeus," said Roberts over the life-pod's emergency radio. "IMC personnel, report."

"Copy that, Captain Roberts. This is Titan Badger, reporting in."

"Titan Lucy."

"Titan Ramses."

"Titan Alexander. Reading you, Captain."

"Titan Ares."

"Titan Horus."

"Titan Leonidas."

"Titan Bobcat."

"Life-pod Array, checking in," muttered Ashley Stone through grit teeth. "I answer for the 30 or so life-pods that dropped with me."

"Anyone have eyes on the Militia?" asked Roberts, peering out the life-pod's window.

"Affirmative, Captain," replied the Pilot of Titan Ares as he fell through the sky. "What's the matter?"

"Can you identify any Titans dropping from the Retaliator?"

"Uhh…" mumbled the Pilot, searching his display for Titan-Sized objects falling from the Retaliator. "None on the visual. And none on the LIDAR, either, but there's so much interference with the rubble that I can't be sure."

"Right. Keep your eyes peeled. Which Titans are in drop-pods?"

"Titan Ramses, Lucy and I, Sir," replied the Pilot of Titan Badger.

"Either of you have warpfall transmitters?"

"Negative, Captain. With our current drop-pods, we can be on the ground in 24 seconds."

"Then don't. Stay in the air with us. All combatants, listen up. In six minutes we and the Austraeus hit the ground hard. The Militia will crash about three hundred metres away from us. For now, we have the advantage. We've got Titans, they don't."

"What do you mean, they might have Titans?" asked Graves as he fell in his own life-pod.

"We picked them up on our cameras," answered a technician aboard one of the Militia Cruisers in orbit. Six of the 'life-pods' are too big to be life-pods."

"They couldn't just be rubble from the Austraeus?"

"Sorry, Sir. The stat's team says there's a 82% chance the IMC have at least one Titan."

"Damnit," swore Graves.

"Be advised. ETA to ground: 5 minutes," announced Graves' life-pod's AI.

"Alright then, here's the plan," began Graves, addressing the other Militia life-pods through his radio. "The IMC is dropping beside us. They have the upper hand for fifteen minutes. They have Titans, we don't. Our Titans arrive from orbit in fifteen minutes. At that point we outnumber them and it's our advantage."

"And that's the problem," continued Roberts to the IMC. "In fifteen minutes, their reinforcements will arrive from orbit. At that point they'll have the advantage. We've got fifteen minutes to secure the best defensive positions possible, while they're on the defensive. In fifteen minutes, they'll go on the offensive."

"They'll be aiming to take every defensive position they can. The moment they're out of their life-pods they'll be sprinting for the wreckage of the Austraeus. They'll be climbing whatever's left of the hull and holding those positions. We need to shut them down with suppressive fire. I know you're all itching to engage the IMC on foot but we win this if we're patient. Your orders are to prevent them from building up a strong defense. When our cavalry arrives from orbit-"

I showed them mercy, thought Graves, clenching his knuckles, gritting his teeth. And they double-crossed me. Dragged us down into the atmosphere. Put my men in danger, destroyed a battleship, and forced our cruisers to stay in orbit under railgun fire.

"-then we will fuck. Them. Up," he spat.

"When their cavalry arrives from orbit, we'll need the best defense we can muster. Our cavalry arrives from Venice 7 in 9 hours. If we can last that long, we'll be able to evac.

We have to last nine hours in the middle of the night, though Roberts, staring at the low sun out of his lifepod's window. We've got maybe three hours of daylight left. Under the cover of darkness they'll be able to advance much more easily.

"The other problem," mused Graves, "is Venice 3's military. They shot us out of orbit because Menelaus is… insane. He'll have his military bomb us... and the IMC, too. He'll probably send tanks and Titans from Alpha."

I knew we shouldn't have allied with him. He's an even worse dictator than the IMC.

"Commander?" interrupted the technician aboard the Militia Cruiser.

"What is it this time?"

"We're detecting a large warp signature coming from Venice 7. Did you request Kodai to resupply us? We're guessing five battleships, eight cruisers, 20 destroyers. ETA 9 hours."

Graves was silent for a moment. Then,

"They've got a way out," he whispered.

"Be advised. ETA to ground: 3 minutes."

At once, every life-pod in the air suddenly fired their rockets. The flaring rockets of the falling pods looked like the sparks of an exploding firework, and would have been as beautiful if not for the two starships falling alongside them. The life-pods began to decelerate. The behemoths of iron did not.

A moment later, one and a half kilometres below, the tip of the Austraeus hit the side of a sand dune on a forty five degree angle. Sand turned to glass as momentum carried the remaining 140 million tons of starship across the ground. The leading end of the Austraeus didn't stand a chance. 13 floors had melted on the way down and now the next 20 crumbled under the momentum of the rest of the starship behind them. The hull buckled, parts of the titanium support skeleton splintered through the surface like bones from a snapped arm.

A mushroom cloud of smoke and flame and shrapnel erupted silently into the air.

A split second later, an ear-splitting shockwave ripped through the atmosphere.

"Fuck."

"Wha- oh."

Zeta and Bruce saw the flash of light emanate from the Austraeus. Saw the smoke fly into the sky. Saw the shock wave ripple across the desert toward Alpha.

Two seconds later it hit Alpha like the rumble of the earth splitting in two. Windows shattered. Children were blown off their feet by the blast. Hoverbuggy alarms blared. The ground itself shook.

"Now," whispered Zeta.

The Venice Police Titan had begun to move, its pilot having received orders to group for an attack on the source of the enormous explosion. Its legs carried it out of its position and down the Boulevard that lead away from Cloud Square toward the two Starships. Past two military trucks whose engines had just began to splutter to life.

Zeta drew her Electric Katana and dashed after the unsuspecting Titan. Her legs flew underneath her, stim flooded her veins. She dashed over the rooftops to the left of the Titan; Bruce mirrored her sprint on the other side of the Boulevard. She vaulted over an air conditioning unit, scrambled past a chimney and flung herself off the roof onto the back of the Atlas-class Titan. Took hold, hauled herself up onto the Titan's back and stabbed her sword into the Titan's back. Bruce slid to a halt, brought his rifle sights to his eye.

The Austraeus kept sliding as the Retaliator hit the sand beside it. There was a second crunch and a second whine to compliment the first as one kilometre of battleship carved its way through the ground.

"ETA to ground: ninety seconds."

Small parts of the Austraeus had broken off and stopped in the sand while the rest of the starship continued sliding through the sand. Roberts saw them zip past underneath him, each set into small deposits of molten sand.

The Venice Pilot noticed Zeta the moment she planted her Katana into his Titan's back. He reared backward, wheeled around on one foot trying to shake Zeta off. She wrapped her legs around its missile pod and inched the sword into the Titan's shields. Lightning arced off the Titan's hull, down the Electric Katana and through the sword's power cable.

"Titan shields at 32%," offered Plus. "Personal power supply dropping."

"Keep going," she grunted. "He'll come out to investigate any moment now."

Its arms wheeled upwards, frantically trying to bat her off its back. She flattened herself against its hull as best as she could, squeezed her eyes shut, and hoped for the best.

"Titan shields at 0%. Personal power supply low."

"It's shields are down!" screamed Zeta over the radio. "GO FOR THE EYES!"

Bruce dropped to his knees, pulled his carbine to his eye and loosed a short burst of fire at the Atlas's optical sensor array. One hit the glass, dented it.

The Atlas stopped. Dropped to its knees. The cockpit door opened with a hiss of steam.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" sneered its Pilot, slipping from his seat and out of the now open cockpit door. He hit the ground, rolled elegantly to the side and drew a B3 Wingman. "You've attacked a Venice Pilot. Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?"

The Titan got back to its feet once more, turned to expose its back to its Pilot.

"Don't move a muscle," smirked the Pilot, aiming the pistol at his attacker. "My, you are an interesting one, aren't you? Tell me, and I'll make your death quick. Why did you attack me?"

"I wanted your Titan. Bruce?"

"Who the hell is-" began the Pilot, and then his chest exploded as three bullets tore through it.

"Thanks." Zeta dropped to the ground, sheathed her Katana and removed the Venice Pilot's helmet. Extracted a chip from the back, plugged it into her own.

"Detecting a new identification chip," observed Plus. "Installing. Complete."

"We are in control of an enemy Titan," called Zeta over the radio.

"We're coming back to you guys now," continued Bruce, swapping his rifle's magazine.

Zeta waved at the Titan, and it turned to face her. Crouched, opened its cockpit, and she climbed in. Buckled the restraints and grabbed the joysticks. A second later, the cameras and screen came online.

And then, fizzled into static.

"That's odd," muttered Zeta. "Why aren't the optics working?"

Bruce waved his carbine. "You asked me to shoot them out, remember?"

"Oh. Plus, open the cockpit hatch. I'm going to have to pilot this thing manually."

"ETA to ground: fifteen seconds. Brace for acceleration in three."

Graves took a deep breath, exhaled, then tightened his grip on the Lifepod's handholds.

"Two, one, mark."

The Lifepod's rockets flared one last time, nearly slowing the lifepod to halt in mid air. There was a roar, then a hiss, then a thud.

"Be advised. Lifepod has landed. Please wait inside the lifepod for a few minutes to ensure it is safe outside."

Roberts unbuckled his restraints, fell out of the seat. Tried to get to his feet and collapsed to the floor of the Lifepod.

I've spent so long in space that my muscles have atrophied.

He flailed wildly for a moment, managed to open the first aid compartment. Bandages and needles and bottles of antibiotics toppled out on top of him. He grabbed at the set of crutches for a few seconds before stumbling to his feet.

But not too long. Thank goodness for the Austraeus's centrifuge.

He tucked one of the crutches under his arm and pulled the door release lever. There was a hiss and a pop and the Lifepod opened and he stumbled out. Raised his arm to shield his eyes from the sunlight on reflex.

It's still this bright?! It'll be night in a few hours!

His eyes adjusted after a few seconds and he surveyed the crash site.

The landscape was a mess. The Austraeus had carved a 700 metre wide scar through sand and the rock underneath it, littering the trench with pieces of hull and armor. The majority of the Austraeus had broken into smaller pieces - although still pretty damn enormous - which peppered the desert like the drying bones of an animal's ribcage.

Something deep within what used to be the Austraeus's main reactor hold exploded. A fragment of the starship's centrifuge creaked and groaned before toppling to the ground with a woomph!

The sky darkened for a moment, and Roberts realised, with a chill, that something had just cast a shadow over him. He turned slowly.

A Pilot leaned out of the Atlas's cockpit. "Titan Ares, Captain. The Militia will be making their way from the Retaliator to our position any second now."

As if to reinforce the Pilot's point, Roberts heard the rattle of gunfire in the distance.

Looks like the Militia forces are starting to engage us already. Now we just have to hold out for - what, eight and a half hours? Against the Militia pushing us back to the Austraeus and Venice's Army, who seem to want us both dead?

"We're rendezvousing at the wreckage of the main cargo hold."

The Pilot pointed at the towering hulk of metal and Roberts turned to look.

Hell, don't we still have civilians on the ground in Alpha? What's happening to them?

"Hold still, Captain," ordered the Pilot, Titan arm reaching out slowly toward Roberts. "You look a bit unsteady on your legs. I'm going to carry you."

Graves stumbled out of his Lifepod, gasped for breath and squinted at the sky. The air was hot and dry; the sky was bright. After breathing for a few seconds he looked around the battlefield. Saw a drop-pod that had dropped near him and waved at it.

Four soldiers emerged from its steaming hull. One of them turned back to the pod, reached back in, and hauled a woman out. She stood, for a moment, then fell to the sand as her legs wobbled underneath her.

"Soldiers, Identify yourself," Graves coughed, stumbling toward the group.

The soldiers turned to him. "Captain Currie, Sir. Helldivers, 23rd."

"And the woman?" asked Graves, a sick grin forming on his lips as he recognized her.

"I'm not sure, Sir. We found her trying to evac from near the bridge. She doesn't seem to have a Militia ID."

Nina Soryuu's weak muscles were just strong enough to allow her to look back up at Graves with fear in her eyes.

"Well, allow me to introduce her to you," he sneered, grabbing her by the neck of her uniform and dragging her upward to his height. "This is IMC navigator Nina Soryuu."

Graves laughed. "She came aboard to negotiate for her ship's safety. Can you believe that?" He looked around the desert at the smoking skeletons of the Austraeus and the Retaliator. "A pity her captain decided to double-cross us and nudge us out of orbit," he spat. "I was actually going to have mercy on you fuckers. Well, she'll make a useful bargaining chip."

He dropped Soryuu and she hit the ground with a muffled thump and lay there for a second before struggling to get to her feet.

"In 10 minutes our orbital reinforcements get here." Graves looked to the sky. He could already see thin plumes of white smoke in the sky, a tell-tale sign of falling drop-pods. "After that we crush the IMC and jump out before their reinforcements get here." He tapped his radio. "How long until the IMC's reinforcements arrive from Venice 7?"

"Reinforcements, Sir?" asked a technician aboard one of the Militia cruisers still in orbit. "Do you mean the fleet jumping in from Venice 7?"

"I don't know who's operating them, but it's possible that they're being operated by the IMC," explained Graves. "I'm treating them as hostile. I want to be out of this desert and off this planet before they get here."

"Then we don't have long," said the technician. "Around 8 and a half hours. Their warp signature is still a little dim, though. When it brightens, we'll know their arrival time more accurately."

"Have you destroyed Venice 3's ground to orbit railguns yet?"

"We've destroyed half of them and have taken minor damage in the process."

"Good. Cease fire on Venice 3's defences and begin preparations to extract us on the ground and jump out within 8 hours."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Also. Air support. Venice 3 will be launching bombers to try and wipe both us and the IMC out. I want as many Hornets in the air as possible."

"Wilco, Sir. Scrambling Hornets right away. They'll be ready to jump in a few minutes."

"Good."

Graves turned back to Soryuu, who had began to crawl away from him.

"Get back here or I'll put a knife through your spine," he said, words as sharp and as cold as icicles.

She froze. Then, slowly turned back to face him.

"You wouldn't-"

"You'd be surprised what being stabbed in the back can do to a man."

He motioned to one of the Helldivers. "You. Bring her with us. You, with the sniper rifle. Find a good vantage point on the wreckage of the Retaliator. Over there looks good."

"On top of the Reactor Intake assembly?"

"I'm impressed. Yes, up there."

"What then?"

"The IMC has Titan advantage for 10 minutes. I'm going to buy us some time."

Chapter 41 has been written, and is now being edited.