McCormack and Irina emerged from their chambers on board Marian's warship. They were both feeling a bit tired, though they were still fit for combat. They were generals, and of such a level that the last fight hardly registered on their stamina. But it was nice to be back on their feet and not stuck seated in a cockpit driving one of the battlesuits.

They had been recalled from the battlefield as part of the mass retreat that both sides had undergone. It wasn't incredibly unusual for a retreat to be called in the middle of one of the long-standing wars that constantly occurred across Earth's surface. Often it signaled the arrival of a new army or ally, or the departure of one, and sometimes was over a treaty or ceasefire.

In this case, none of those seemed to be true. There had been no reports on what was occurring or what had caused the recall; the armies had just gone back to their strongholds and that was that. None of the other generals had been able to explain the situation to Irina or McCormack and had shrugged it off when asked.

Finally, Marian summoned the group together once more, bringing them to the special room within the ship. The Brigadier General swept his gaze over the group, as if he were sizing them up for some grand task. "Obviously you are all wondering why I would order a retreat in the middle of a war like that." There were nods of agreement all around. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure myself why I did it, but commands are commands, and I suppose I will have to explain them to you next."

There were looks of confusion exchanged amongst the different generals. Marian didn't know why he had called a retreat? What was going on then? When your leader had no idea what they were doing, wasn't that when the seeds of mutiny were usually planted?

"It seems that, for now, the war is temporarily over, or at least at a standstill. Before you ask," Marian said, raising his hand and cutting off a couple of the people with their mouths open, "there is no treaty or ceasefire signed. There just happens to be a greater threat to both sides of the fight than each other."

"That being?" McCormack asked, slouching in his seat in boredom.

Cross shot the gunslinger a dirty look, unimpressed as always by his attitude. "Jahari." As soon as the word was out, every general in the room sat bolt upright, including the sly McCormack.

"The Jahari?"

"Jahari? You mean that old wives' tale?"

"Aren't those the mole people?"

"They were people people, stupid. They got banished or exiled or something."

"That's just a legend though, that never happened."

"Enough!" Marian bellowed, instantly bringing silence back to the room. "Listen, I understand the Jahari are a piece of folklore to all of us, and ordinarily I would agree with you on that. But there was an incident most of you might have heard of involving a prisoner of war a little while back that was dealt with which makes things a little more..." Marian struggled to come up with the right phrase before sighing. "Believable I suppose."

"Sir, you can't seriously expect us to believe we're calling off a war because a myth has appeared can you?" McCormack was out of his seat now, trying to gain the attention and affection of the room of Marian. "I mean, things that are well-known to be legends don't just spring up like that."

Marian pressed a button on the central console in the room and it shot up a satellite image. In front of everyone's suddenly enormous eyes was an overhead view of the former Artisan camp outside Easley, one that was now a massive pit swarming with tiny people, the crowd punctured by the towering biological Bahari that strode in between. More holes were opening up in the surrounding area, tearing through the earth and opening up more rents through which the Jahari poured through.

"Well the legend came to life," Marian bluntly stated, smiling inwardly as McCormack begrudgingly took his seat once more. "It seems as though the story of the Jahari is a fairly accurate one, and that they really have been underground, in exile. It looks like they want some revenge for past deeds, I would say."

"But we can fight those," one of the generals interrupted. "We have far better technologies than the last time and we won then too."

"Last time," Marian corrected, "took the combined forces of every other person on the planet to not defeat the Jahari but to simply knock them back enough that they chose self-exile over living under the oppression of the rest of the world. And they have not been sitting down there idly. They have been evolving and expanding, creating their own new weapons."

As Marian finished the statement a massive worm burst up through one of the holes on the image, its skin composed of a flexible metal, mixed in with biological flesh and muscle. It rose up into the sky, its bottom coated in little circles that glowed blue and provided propulsion to keep it in the air. From its sides emerged writhing tentacles of long, stringy muscles, coated in organic fluids, and they hung limp, dangling towards the ground. The creature gave out a roar that was even picked up faintly on the satellite, echoing through the room on the Enian ship.

"We are to move all forces to the town of Easley, effective immediately," Marian continued. "You are all to get in contact with any squads you have command over and prepare them for the situation. Our teams are currently gathering as much information as possible on the Jahari, ranging from old texts to local hearsay. If you know anything, go report to the communications office. Once we have enough information compiled we will all be receiving information packages to brief us on this foe. Until then you are to wait for arrival at Easley. Understood?"

Everyone silently nodded, including McCormack, whose eyes were transfixed on the hovering worm that was nearly the same size as a warship. Marian took his leave then, letting the door slide closed behind him as he heard the different generals suddenly bursting out to one another over how outrageous all of this was.

The general completely agreed with them. This was something he had never seen in his entire career as a military man, and something he never planned on being a part of ever again. These things were strange and bizarre and tough to swallow but there was one thing he did know about them for sure: they were dangerous. If they were enough of a threat to get two countries to agree to fight them, then that was enough of a reason for him.

He just hoped that his men would be prepared for such a battle. And, deep down inside of him, he wished that they still had that Sigma android on their side. They would need everything they could get for this one; Marian could feel it in the pit of his stomach.

* * * * *

The Martyr General, Christian, strode through the facility underneath Arkterra, wrapping his black cape around himself. Those who saw him pass stopped to bow for a moment before continuing with their business. The Emperor demanded respect, for it was his hand that would guide them all to salvation.

Every person in this building was dressed in the mono black colour the Emperor had selected for all uniforms of those under his command. The new nation he was building would not have any symbols from the past in it. He would wipe the slate clean and rebuild with his own image. Unless the Jahari cleaned the surface of the world first.

The betrayal of those creatures still stung Christian. Admittedly, his plan was originally to manipulate and control the Jahari, but treachery was a painful thought. Things could still be rectified and the perfect world achieved, but it would be far harder than initially anticipated. The loss of two of the Enigma soldiers, as well as the research facility, severely hampered what Christian had thought out.

Whether Sigma realized it or not, when he had destroyed the base, he had wrecked most of the equipment that would be used to override his brain functions and bring him back within the control of the Emperor. The spare machines Christian had under Arkterra had failed to reach Sigma or the missing Alpha, and Christian suspected that was Doctor Roth's tampering with their systems. There had been no need to reign in the third, Syn, as the psychotic killer had been happy to go along with Christian's ideas when he had been contacted.

One Enigma soldier was most likely more than enough. The functions built into Syn would provide the catalyst Christian needed in executing his strategy for rebuilding the world. All that was needed now was to draw out the armies of the world and let the Jahari run wild. If Christian's calculations were right, the mutant race would have enough forces to wipe out most of the Earth's population, and would certainly be able to do even more than that if they were paired with an ally or two in Enia and Artisan.

Yes, everything could still fall into place and work to Christian's advantage, to his ultimate goal. The Emperor took a seat in his black seat, surveying a wall of screens monitoring different areas of the world, with special focuses on the Jahari. The plan could still move forwards. The time had almost arrived.

* * * * *

General Goulet sat on a rock, his back resting against the sunny mountainside, watching Grimsley. The young pilot was slowly swinging a large staff around in the air, following its path with his eyes, focused on every little motion he made. He guided it with his right arm while his left flowed in the surrounding air, keeping his balance. Tied to Grimsley's left wrist was a large stone and the teen struggled to keep his arm up with the additional weight.

"Remind me again," Ronald said as he walked over, carrying a pile of sticks, "why ya' got 'im doing that."

"In order to become a better pilot," Goulet calmly explained, sucking on a pipe slowly. He took in a long drag then blew out smoke rings and watched them float away. One enveloped the man's face in a wreath, wrapping around his handsome, yet feminine features, and clinging to his long, straight, platinum hair. "One can only improve themselves if they understand the functions of their machine."

"So he's becomin' the Goliath?"

"Precisely." Goulet motioned for Ronald to deposit his load at the general's feet. The Artisan kicked through the pile a bit, not getting up from his comfortable position as he searched for a suitable piece of wood. "None of these will work for the pupil though. We can burn them tonight for warmth."

The three had run quite far into the low mountains between the Enian Federation and Artisan Confederate, well out of range of the Jahari army, but far from any civilization. Their Goliaths hadn't taken critical levels of damage, just harmless scratches mostly, but Goulet had opted to stop and begin this form of training when Grimsley had partially explained his story and desires (leaving out any mentions about being part of an enemy country).

Goulet had been quite moved by the youth's story and by his drive, with a quest to get strong enough to save his little village and the woman he loved. The general, it turned out, was quite a romantic himself and had vowed to assist any man or woman he ever found to bound by "the shackles of l'amour," as he explained it.

And so Grimsley stood in the mountains on a small plateau, waving his staff around his body in slow motion, trying to align his mind with his machine through this workout. A bird careened through the air overhead, twisting and turning in slow, loopy arcs, almost as if it were copying Grimsley's movements down below before zipping away. Ronald watched it take off before returning his gaze to the Enian pilot.

"So when will he be finished?"

"When he feels the time is right." Goulet sucked on the end of his pipe once more, absently chewing on it a bit while shooting puffs of smoke out the side of his mouth. Grimsley's left arm was trembling trying to maintain the weight of the stone, but the teen would not give in. "And that time is not now." The Artisan's eyes scanned the sky, noting that the sun was on the western half now, and night was approaching.

Ronald was next to Grimsley, closely studying the young man, poking at him from time to time, causing grumbles from the pilot. "Leave him be you old goof," Goulet barked before taking another drag. "We don't have eternity to practice, and this particular student has almost no experience to build upon." Ronald followed the orders, drawing away and mumbling displeasures to himself.

Grimsley gave out a little sigh of relief to have lost the distraction but Goulet finally stood up, coming over and stopping the teenager. He then began picking up more stones from the ground, binding them to Grimsley's body using whatever materials he could find. He then flipped the youth so that he was doing a handstand.

It didn't take long before Grimsley was flat on his back, staring up at the clouds. Before Goulet could even shake his head, the young pilot was back on his hands, trying once more before toppling over. The Artisan general sat back down, satisfied with the work ethic of the Enian. He motioned for Ronald to get started building the fire and the closed his eyes to relax a little.

Inside Grimsley a passionate fire was burning, determined to continue to improve, so that he could become the man he always wished to be; the one who could protect his sister, his aunt, his village, his wife. He would take on the role his father had set out to, to be the guardian of his loved ones. But, unlike his father, he would not fall.

A/N: The world is finally reacting to the Jahari, ready to bring together forces that haven't been seen in a hundred years. Are you prepared for the battles ahead?

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