Part I

Part II

Part III

The large, beige behemoth of Solarian steel waited before me. A single, massive gun reached into the sky from its top, ready to pound any aerial threat into oblivion.

This was the SPAAG we'd been tasked with protecting.

Persepolis tanks were become increasingly sparse as the Battle of Nebraska wore on. There was a somber mood among the scores of Cascadian troops camped out in the western outskirts of Grand Island. So far, similar battles worldwide had reached the same result - a slow grind.

"Checked for the sixth time," Dick told me, handing me and Miriam our weapons. Despite the futility of the Haubrek armor in protecting against the Dominion's plasma weaponry, we still suited up as the sun rose higher into a clear sky.

Lucky for us, the thunderstorm last night had brought cooler air, the temperature now hovering around 22C.

Our SPAAG was manned by three men, none of which we had a chance to speak to for more than a minute. We got our call to merge with the rest of the SPAAGs onto the Lincoln Highway. C-Day had begun.

"Air superiority is of the utmost importance in terrain like Nebraska's - there's nowhere to hide for a tank in the prairie grass," Commander Rijker had said. We were providing the AA while Californian (still felt weird not to say Caliexican) jets reinforced our air force, which was now in tatters. Canadians were supposed to advance on the ground from the north as we did from the west, and push the Dominion back to the Platte, where the allies from the east would intercept them and soak the river with blood.

Jets flashed around in the skies above us at speeds almost incomprehensible. The SPAAGs were able to target the Dominion jets and move along the highway simultaneously, but they were having a hard time of actually hitting anything.

In the direction of Grand Island, the sunrise was obscured by smoke. The three of us scanned the area around the road for hostiles, but found none. While sitting on top of a SPAAG probably wasn't the best idea, we couldn't be bothered to walk, and apparently nobody else could be either. This meant that the column proceeded along at around 80 km/h.

"Where the fuck are those fuckers?" Dick asked, breaking the silence (well, silent if you discount the aerial battles, distant bombing, and the AA cannon firing away right above us).

"Eloquently worded," I sarcastically replied.

"Better if we don't know. If we did, we'd probably be dead," Miriam added, the grim tone of her statement exiling us to silence once more.

We began passing house after house, each charred, broken, twisted, and riddled with bullet holes. I thought of the families that had lived there until a week ago, the children playing that played in the streets, more or less ignorant of the alien menace. To them, the iron rains and orbital fighting must've been little more than light shows. Those that could find safety did so, but for the average person, they had nowhere else to go but home.

I had taken a walk around Seattle a short while before departing here. I remember the sight of a young couple on the beach, interlocking fingers and remaining defiant of the despair that had set upon so many others. They were barely adults, and how much they would possibly never know is also what drove me to come here.

The burnt houses and broken streets of Grand Island were too easily re-imagined in my mind as the streets of Cascadia.

"Get down!" a voice screamed, originating from inside the SPAAG. Before I could react, everything went black, and I lost feeling everywhere as my eardrums were filled with explosions.

"Andie! Come on, Andie!"

My eyes slid open to the flashing red of the Haubrek's HUD. My body screamed in pain as I pulled off the helmet, and I began trying to suck in fresh air. Coughing ensued as my lungs were only met with smoke that smelled vaguely of plasma.

"She's alive!"

I recognized the voice, and the one before it, as Miriam. The next was Dick's.

"Assess her. We need to get moving ASAP."

Everywhere hurt, and I was pretty sure I was burned someplace. To what extent was unknown, but it couldn't be too bad if I was conscious.

"Andie..." Miriam said, her eyes meeting mine, "We're going to have to remove the armor, and it's going to hurt. A lot."

"Just... do it." Even my throat pained me.

Suddenly, I understood what people meant when they said they saw stars when in pain. The world, what little I could see of it, danced around me. It only took about thirty seconds to change into and out of Haubrek, but it felt like an hour before the pain slowly began subsiding.

My arms and legs were somehow not burnt. Bloodied and bruised, yes, but not burnt like the pain would have had me believe. As my eyes ran up and down my body, inspecting it, Miriam answered the million dollar question.

"The plasma fucks with the armor and its wiring. The heaters were activated and the pain management system went haywire as well. I think you're actually burned on your thigh though."

I realized that Miriam and Dick were both in their underarmor now, having suffered a fate similar to mine.

"What happened to the SPAAGs?"

The vehicle lay wrecked behind us, and a few more around it gave it company. Their charred remains showed signs of plasma bombardment.

"Did we... have we lost?"

"No, only a few were destroyed. The rest found the target, and from the sounds of the guns, annihilated it."

"Andromeda, can you walk?" Dick asked impatiently.

I stood up, and despite the searing pain in left thigh, I found that I could limp relatively effectively.

"Command wants us to hold here for now. Special reinforcements are on their way."

"Who?"

"La Garde Acadienne".