The Graxir surged with alarm as the first sniper shot rained down from the ruined building, a bright burst of light that turned dutiful pride into wretched, seething agony as the Xan-Klar soldier's body was blasted open. Lothrak jolted in shock, then gritted his teeth as he felt his kindred's anguish. And, as more shots began to rain down from that distant structure, Lothrak felt emotion rush through his body, from his tail to his horns.

Alarm. Anger. Rage. And then courage. Sudden, blind courage.

"Protect our charge at all costs!" Qolvar's voice echoed through the Wardens; communication systems, booming over the sounds of gunfire. "Knights, forward!"

The elder knight vaulted the diplomatic procession in a single jet-enhanced leap and landed in front of the Xan-Klar troops. There, he raised the shield on his left arm, looking to protect Lady Taneera. In the tail of his three eyes, Lothrak saw Kathonir do the same, and so he followed suit. Gripping his armour's thrust controls as he had done in countless simulations, Lothrak pushed forward with legs and felt his innards lurch upwards as he jumped fifty feet forward and landed with a heavy thud beside his fellow Fireheart Wardens.

Looking up, Lothrak saw the flashing beams of light pouring towards the envoy from the top of the building. Lifting his shield as Qolvar and Kathonir did, he heard the hissing and crackling of lasers boring into the slab metal tied to his left forearm. Peering over the top, Lothrak saw the building, and with a flick of his right eye, he commanded his HUD to zoom in.

As it did so, Lothrak saw them. Sirthon, carrying stolen blast-sniper rifles, hunkered down in the empty windows at the summit of the half-finished construction project. A deep desire to rip flesh from bone thrummed inside his soul, but he dared not break formation. They still had to protect Lady Taneera after all.

But the distance between the building and the knights was enormous. How were they supposed to attack from this range?

Uncertainty welling inside him, Lothrak turned his head towards Qolvar and Kathonir, their relentless confidence and unwavering determination burning like beacons in the heart of their armour.

"Arm rocket pods!" Qolvar barked. On the exoskeletal plate surrounding his body, the elder knight's shoulder-mounted multi-launch systems shifted into position. Adhering to his commander's orders while shots continued to ping uselessly against his armour, Lothrak turned his gaze back to his HUD. With his middle eye, he looked at an icon, and the retinal control system confirmed his selection. A thud pulsed through his back, and he heard a clunking noise followed by a voice.

'Missile launcher systems armed,' a synthetic and monotone voice stated, and was quickly followed by a command from Qolvar.

A command of "Paint targets!"

Lothrak immediately looked back up at the building, his middle eye selecting to point targets while his right eye scanned the building ahead. As he did so, the Sirthon snipers were marked with glowing crosshairs that tracked their movements, even through walls. There were ten of them, and they were attempting to flee from their vantage points.

But they could not flee from what was about to come...

"Fire!" Qolvar bellowed. In that instant, a barrage of swarming rockets hurtled from the Knight's rocket launches, speeding through the air amidst trails of smoke and smashing against the top of the construction site. As they did so, blazing clouds of white-hot fire burst outwards through the windows, turning stone to ash as the resonating boom of several explosions rocked the air like a thunderstorm.

Raskota incendiary missiles. White phosphorus explosives perfect for burning opponents out of cover.

Sudden, brief panic lurched in Lothrak's heart as a thought of the building collapsing flashed through his brain. But, as he saw that only the top of the building was hit, and remembered that the shockwave from Raskotas was comparatively low, his mind swelled with relief.

The top of the building was burned to ashes, but the rest remained standing, with the human Orbital Commandos swooping in to finish any survivors. Lothral was about to smile when he heard a sound resonate from behind him – a pulsing, echoing drone that hurt his ears and made his armour's electronics flicker slightly.

A warning flashed up on his HUD – 'Electromagnetic Pulse Detected'

The three Fireheart Wardens spun about to see the last nanoseconds of a white-blue burst of energy flare out amongst the humans and Xan-Klar foot soldiers. At its centre was the Sirthon that the humans brought with them, clutching the remains of a burst emitter tightly within his fist. All around him, the Orbital Commandos slumped to the floor.

Thankfully, the knights were unaffected. Lothrak moved quickly, hoping to level his right arm's rotary blaster cannon at the Sirthon and spread the alien's brain across the tarmac. But as he did so, he saw more Sirthon suddenly emerge, scurrying like the vermin they were out of alleyways and nearby streets. They stood to the left and right of the three Wardens, and were gripping both blaster rifles and missile launchers.

Lifting his right arm inside his cockpit, Lothrak squeezed his weapon's trigger. Immediately, his cannon's barrels began to spin up, and as he pointed it at the Sirthon on the right side of the street, the rapid cracking of blaster fire echoed in his ears.

As he fired, he saw Sirthon limbs blown apart and torsos reduced to blistering ash with every single shot. Two more missiles came his way as 'Enemy weapon locked' warning blared on his HUD, and he only just managed to block them, the projectiles slamming against his shield. As it hit, he was knocked backwards slightly, all noise blotted out by a series of half-deafening explosions.

Laser blasts scorched against his hull, and those of his brothers, scorching red-hot dents into their armour as the battle raged on. Even more rockets blasted towards them, the explosions blinding their view with flames and black smoke. He, Qolvar and Kathonir were trapped on the defensive, pinned down by the projectiles flying their way as they fired half-blindly at their enemy. There were alive, but had lost the initiative, unable to move.

Lothrak's heart beat as fast as his rapid-fire cannon, his thoughts racing frantically through his body. He couldn't make out Lady Taneera amidst the chaos, and even as he fought to survive, thoughts of her safety lingered in his head.

***

As a pulsing drone filled his ears, Marcus suddenly slumped to the floor, landing with a thud. Immediately, he scrambled to move, but as he struggled, he found that no matter how hard he heaved his arms or legs, his Wyvern armour was now too heavy to move.

He recognised the sound and the blue glow of the explosion immediately. EMP burst. His armour now had no power, and his comms were out.

Twisting his neck upwards, Marcus was relieved to see that he could still move his head. Looking around, he saw that every one of his Orbital Commandos was trapped just as he was, their armour forcibly powered down by the explosion, leaving them weighted down by its incredible mass. He then looked up to see Haraq still standing before him - easily within arm's reach if the Horusan could only move.

The Sirthon aide dropped the makeshift EMP onto the ground before Marcus, wincing in pain as he did so. The intense heat of the emitter had seared the alien's entire right arm up to the elbow, scorching his pink skin into a caustic, bubbling burn of purple tinted flesh. Even through his helmet, Marcus could smell the reeking stench of the singed matter that clung to the Sirthon's bones.

His fingers wrenching into a curved, claw like position, Haraq raised his burned arm and yelled out "Comrades, strike now! For the Hand of Reclamation!"

In that instant, from positions hidden in alleyways, Sirthon suddenly rushed into the open, immediately opening fire on Lady Taneera's Xan-Klar guards – the only force directly protecting the ambassadors. The Xan-Klar moved to fight back, gunning down several Sirthon, and Marcus could hear the loud clunking of the Fireheart Warden knights as they joined in the assault.

But the Sirthon had the advantage of ambush. As the Xan-Klar took aim and gunned one of them down, another emerged from nowhere to avenge their fallen brother. And they also had numbers on their side. Marcus couldn't believe it himself, but he saw at least sixty Sirthon emerge from hiding, blasting at the Xan-Klar warriors as they cried out for vengeance.

And the way they aimed, the way they moved, how co-ordinated they were. This wasn't just a rabble of armed slaves. These were trained killers. Former soldiers of the Sirthon Republic, without a doubt.

Soon, many Xan-Klar infantry lay dead on the ground, and the knights remained pinned down by rocket launchers lining each side of the street. Marcus was then forced to watch as the Sirthon attackers turned their attention to both the ambassadors and his men. Lady Taneera put up a fight, but she was soon clubbed across the face with a heavy rifle and knocked out, a huge bruise carved into her face and her teeth scattering across the ground. Ambassador Vidal immediately surrendered, and both he and Taneera were bunged at gunpoint into the back of the lorry that Marcus had noticed earlier.

As this happened, the remaining terrorists gathered around the immobile Orbital Commandos, pressing their rifle barrels into the weak points of their armour as they all lay helpless and firing. It took several shots each, but soon the Sirthon had butchered four of his troops, grinning cruelly as they did so.

As he looked on, sorrow and deep frustration began to burn inside Marcus's body, his soul raging helpless. If he had caught Haraq before this happened, they would still be alive. It was his fault that this had all happened, but there was now nothing he could do to change that.

All he could was carry out his mission. He had to save Vidal, Taneera, and what he could of his company... no matter what.