//Report: Quinn, Jackson.

//Axion Industries manufacturing base.

//Designation: "The Forge".

//Resume log.

"Everyone hold your fire," I declared. The words were ripped from my mouth in an instant, a panic response I tried to play off.

"No shit, Jax!" Kedrick snapped. "What do you think we were doing, gearing up for battle?"

"I don't understand," Amani declared. Her Guardian rotated in place, pointing its one remaining railgun barrel at the closest wall instead of outward. "Why are they all here? The Forge has barracks, but they aren't anywhere close to this factory!"

I thought back to the canyon outside the facility, to the craters that had pockmarked the stone. They'd seemed far too close and too random to be weapons tests-and now I understood why.

"Axion Industries doesn't want you here, do they?" I called. I stared Commander Locke down as she continued to approach, her good arm raised to show that she was also unarmed. "You've gone rogue."

"I've chosen to act in the best interests of the soldiers under my command," Locke replied. There was a stiffness in her voice that belied the truth-she was truly alone. "At the end of the day, we all just want to live, don't we?"

I heard the comms crackle, and a loud voice filled my ears.

"Commander? Your squad just showed back up on my HUD. Are you alright? Do you copy?"

It was Captain Tanaka. For a moment I felt a jolt of panic, remembering the fierce battle raging on the surface, but realization struck me. We were close enough to the surface now that comms could get through-so why couldn't I hear any explosion or gunfire from outside?

I moved to touch my hand to my earpiece, but the click of a safety froze me in place. I had to keep my breathing calm-fight the panic that made me want to run.

"I'm only trying to speak to my team," I announced. "We mean you no harm."

"Tell that to my damn squad!" The Axion pilot barked. "Did you mean harm to them, you bastard?"

"Let him speak, Greenlaw," Locke commanded.

I heard the man behind me sigh dejectedly, and I pressed my hand to my earpiece.

"We read you, Captain," I replied. "Is everything okay up there?"

"I'd say so, Commander," Tanaka replied. "We've, uh, we've successfully captured the command tower. Axion put on one hell of a show at the very start, but we outnumbered them ten to one almost immediately."

"That quickly?" Leto exclaimed.

"Excellent work, Captain," I replied. "Hold position for now, be wary of a second wave."

"Affirmative."

I turned back to Commander Locke, staring her down as I tried to pretend there wasn't a gun aimed at my head.

"Where are the rest of your soldiers?" I pressed. "We expected this place to be packed, but this fight wasn't half as hard as we prepared for."

"You'd be surprised how little loyalty a Commander inspires in soldiers that live paycheck to paycheck," Locke retorted. "When Project Themis went bad a few weeks ago, the last order from high command was to redirect all remaining forces to attack your home base." She folded her arms. "I refused, and pulled my forces back here. Things got ugly. We're what's left."

"Your pilots," I stated, "and their families. You moved them in here for their own safety."

"That's the gist of it," Locke admitted. Up close, she looked so much more tired than she sounded. "There's nothing but wasteland around us for miles in every direction-there's nowhere else to live. Besides," her lips twisted into a sarcastic smirk, "Blackwell always thought having family on-site was good for additional motivation. Machiavellian bastard."

The moment of humour evaporated as quickly as it had occurred, and we stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"So... what happens now?" Her voice took on an accusatory edge. "Sounds to me like your forces have the surface under control, and I have no illusions that we stand any chance down here, even with you as a bargaining chip. So what does the great Commander Quinn want?"

"Watch yourself," Amani remarked. Her voice echoed in my ear over our private channel. "Deserter or not, she's still Axion at heart. I don't trust her."

"The source code," I declared. "We want all copies of the original Interneural Response Optimization Network, and we'll leave you in peace."

"Leave them? Like hell!" Leto barked. His voice was grating through my earpiece. "She's the enemy-you want to leave a rogue Axion remnant in control of their most powerful facility?"

I didn't answer him aloud, but I had to admit that his doubts were reasonable. Commander Samara Locke was an enemy, and a dangerous one at that-but looking at the crowd of worried faces that huddled around their makeshift encampment, I simply couldn't see it that way.

I sighed. "No, I think-"

A sharp crack split the air, and everyone flinched. To my horror, the sound of shouting filled the cavernous space, and rushing footsteps rattled the catwalks and gantries far above our head.

"Damn it!" Amani growled. "She called in reinforcements while we you were busy talking!"

"Don't you dare move!" the pilot behind me roared. The man named Greenlaw was breathing heavily now, and I felt the cold steel of his pistol tap against my IRON implant as a dirty arm closed around my neck, locking my head in place.

"Jackson!" Kedrick shouted. Though I couldn't turn to see it, I heard his mech shift in place.

Weapons raised. A woman screamed, a shrill, panicked sound.

But I couldn't take my eyes off of Locke.

Instead of the confidence I expected, the knowing look that told me we'd been had, I saw fear.

"Those... aren't theirs!" I exclaimed, attempting to speak despite the arm around my neck. "They're our soldiers, damn it!"

"Shut the hell up!" Greenlaw snarled. His arm drew tighter, and I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

Above us, flashlights danced across the walls as the footsteps closed in. Somewhere to my left, I saw them sprinting across the factory floor-white armour, with green visors that shimmered in the dim light. The mercenary known as Garrick Batu led the charge, his armor plated in Saint Corp white.

To my surprise, Garrick was clad in more than just combat armour-the metallic lattice of an MTT exoskeleton framed his immense form, but it was unlike any I'd seen before. At almost eight feet tall, it wrapped him like brilliant white armour, its segmented plating flowing seamlessly over reinforced servos. The usual bulk of an MTT frame had been refined, its joints streamlined, its weight redistributed to be leaner, faster and deadlier.

Embedded in the wrist of each gauntlet, two brilliant blue protrusions crackled faintly with electrical charge. To my astonishment, I realized that they were wrist-mounted SLAM projectors, the same type that security personnel in Horizon City had used to detain Darius Blackwell in the plaza lobby.

As his SLAM projectors tracked over the crowd, cold and methodical, the refugees recoiled. Mothers clutched their children. Some of the Axion pilots reached for weapons, but they knew as well as I did how outmatched they were. More than two dozen armed soldiers now filled the hangar, rifles drawn and barking orders at our enemies.

"I count twelve armed hostiles!" Garrick stated. His voice rang out through the factory, deep and booming. "Guns down, now!"

"Like hell!" Greenlaw snapped. The barrel of the pistol dug tighter into my neck. "One twitch and this chatty bastard gets a new hole in his head!"

"Shit!" Amani muttered. I could hear the panic in her voice even over the comms. "Who the hell called in the infantry?! This is about to get ugly, fast!"

Kedrick swore under his breath. "Jackson, do something before they start shooting."

I already knew what to do.

"Stand down!" I barked. The act of speaking with any volume was murder on my throat, but I ignored the bony arm that ground against my neck. "Saint Corp, lower your weapons immediately! Nobody else has to die today!"

I heard a disbelieving scoff over the comms.

"Quinn, what the hell are you talking about?" Leto barked. "They're Axion. Hell, that wiry bastard has you at gunpoint!"

"They're not corporate soldiers," I shot back. "Not anymore. Most of them never were!" I gestured sharply at the civilians-at the families, the children cowering behind makeshift shelters. "Are those your targets? A couple malnourished deserters and their families?"

Leto didn't answer, but I saw Garrick hesitate, his visor tilting toward me. His SLAM projectors stayed raised.

You've been fighting this war for so long," I continued, "that you only see one side of it. But that's not how it works. There are two sides to all of this, and if we walk away blind we're no better than them. And we need to be better."

"Well we can't just let them leave!" Leto declared.

"Like it or not, I'm your commanding officer now!" I barked. "You'll follow my orders as I see fit, because it's my damn squadron and your paycheck on the line!"

There was a moment of silence, then I heard Leto sigh loudly.

"You're right. Sorry, Commander."

A few meters away, Garrick inclined his head sharply, gesturing to the other soldiers that surrounded the space on the catwalks above. With a relieving click, the sound of safeties being re-engaged filled the room.

Locke exhaled, slow and measured, but I saw the way her fingers flexed at her sides, like she was holding herself back from something-anger, exhaustion, maybe both.

"Your friend's got a point, you know," she admitted, her voice tight. "You can't just let us walk away. You know that and so do I... so let's not dance around it." She gestured to the mechs looming behind me, to the Spear Squadron insignia gleaming under the factory lights. "You've already won. Question is, what do you do with a victory like this?"

I met her gaze. "Like I said, we want the IRON source code. Hand it over, and we'll leave you in peace."

Locke scoffed, sharp and humorless. "That's a damn funny definition of peace."

"You'd rather fight?"

"I'd rather not surrender for nothing." Her expression darkened. "If I thought we had a chance, I'd take it. But we don't, and I'm not in the habit of wasting lives."

"But, Commander..."

To my surprise the voice came from the pilot behind me, the man named Greenlaw. The pistol still pressed into the back of my neck with painful pressure, but his voice was soft.

Locke looked past me, over my shoulder, to the pilot that stood just behind me. "I won't ask you to throw yourselves into a furnace just to buy me a few more minutes. Holster your weapon."

The pressure vanished from my neck, and all at once I could breathe freely again. I took a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart, then turned to face Commander Locke.

"You don't trust us," I said. It wasn't a question.

"I don't trust them." She nodded to the soldiers. "And I'd be an idiot if I did."

I clenched my jaw. She was right. In the Iron War, corporations didn't take prisoners-they seized assets. Locke knew it, and so did I.

My mind raced, weighing options, searching for a way through this that didn't end with a massacre. I had one shot to make this work.

"You've been doing everything you can to keep your people alive." I spoke slowly, watching her reaction. "You could've thrown Talus into the fight in the training chamber, but you held them back because the Typhons were more likely to survive. You strapped those static cannons to a gantry instead of using Hyperions to carry them, because you knew first-hand what they could do if they backfired. You refused to attack the Firmament under direct orders because you knew it would be a bloodbath. Everything you've done has been to maximize your soldiers' chances of survival."

Locke's expression didn't change, but she didn't deny it, either.

I took a step forward. "So let's make sure they do survive."

Her eyes narrowed. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"We broadcast your surrender," I said. "Over Saint Corp's channels. Full transparency. Terms laid out for everyone to hear-Axion Industries and Saint Corp alike."

Locke frowned. "Why would we do that?"

"It forces their hand." I exhaled. "If Saint Corp tries to go back on the deal, it won't just be a broken promise-it'll be a public disgrace. They won't risk the PR disaster of executing or enslaving pilots they just guaranteed safety to."

Locke was quiet for a long moment. "My people would never be able to return to the United States again," she stated, "for fear of being executed as traitors."

"They could come with us," I replied. "To live in Horizon City, or anywhere else they choose. You're already traitors in Axion's eyes-we could get you all out of the United States."

She studied me, searching for any sign of doubt. "You're putting your own name on the line for this, you know."

"I am."

Another long silence. A small, bitter smile crept across her lips. Then, finally, Commander Samara Locke sighed loudly, shaking her head. "You're either a naive idiot or the most stubborn bastard I've ever met."

I managed a weak smile. "Little bit of both."

"Fine," Locke admitted. "But I want another guarantee. My pilots get a chance to walk. No forced conscription. No disappearances. Every single one gets to choose if they want to stay here, move to Horizon City or be dropped off somewhere else in the world-anywhere they choose. The relocation comes at Saint Corp's cost, and it won't be cheap."

Now it was my turn to smirk. "You'd be surprised at how accepting this group is of excessive spending."

To my astonishment, I saw a genuine smile crack at the corners of Locke's mouth, but it was just as quickly pushed away by a stern frown.

"Don't see this as forgiveness," she stated. "You and your team were the bastards who killed Captain Avery... but Axion was the one who put him in that position." She turned back toward the people behind her, then fixed me with a fiery glare. "You want this surrender to mean something? Then honour his memory and make sure this agreement is real."

I didn't even hesitate. "Deal."

And just like that, the battle of The Forge was over.