The dunes and sands of Mars had a smooth breeze gently blowing over the Martian surface, and deep within the red sands, looking like as jagged scar, the Cabal mining operation stretched two miles in one direction. The canyon like walls looked like rust and the air was heavy with sand, the winds would blow violently at midday sometimes from a storm above them. The edges of the chasm above were like cliffs peering down into the void that the Cabal had encamped themselves in; the chasm wall was a 200ft drop to the bottom on the east side of the mine and 350ft on the west side; the center of the mine had a large shaft that went down to where the Cabal had reached a wall of the vault, but they were unable to breach it. The mine shafts were deep under the ground, going down as deep as two miles and the Cabals burdensome mission required them to go deep beneath the sands. The east side also had a small pond, made by the Cabal to draw water from a spring underground. The west side was where they had built their camp; it was littered with canvas tents, mining equipment, supplies, two Cabal drop ships and a Cabal Frigate, munitions, generators, and the remains of a large transport vessel (probably the ship that was used to carry all the Cabals heavy equipment). The remains of the destroyed transport ship’s cargo bay and airlock were used as the lead Cabals chambers. The whole two miles of the mine was littered with debris of destroyed Cabal ships and entrenchments could be seen in some of the canyon walls and along the beaten path; they had the whole chasm looking like a make shift military base while they were also trying to make a mine. Cabal workers toiled night and day to get to their ultimate goal; their only fear was that of angering their leader; whom sat in his chambers, awaiting news from the mines. The command center of the Cabal was dark inside during the day, only using the light of the sun to see inside as an attempt to save the generators for nights or emergencies. Wires and cables hung from the ceiling and walls, as well as some holes from taking fire from the Vex; the whole segment of the ship was upside down as well. The cargo hold was the size of a football field (at least) and had what remained of the Cabals computers, which was littered with desks made from crates, makeshift chairs from the ships passenger seats, and some computer consoles torn from the wreckage of the other ships. The command center was in the shape of a circle, with nothing in the center but a crate with a hologram projector on it. On the far side of the large room was the airlock used for the leaders’ chamber, covered by two large canvas tarps for doors. Inside was the airlock, a 40’x30’ room with a cot to sleep on and a crate with a large bowl and vase on it. A Cabal flag hung down the side of one of the walls and a gun rack with three weapons on it; a Cabal Lance rifle, “Bore” gun, and a Cabal Sabre. There was a large 6’x8’ window on the back wall of the airlock, at which the leader stood, looking out into the camp; the wind was howling and Cabal troops were running to and fro going about their business. The leader Cabal was tall, about ten feet, and was not wearing his helmet (a large black helm shaped like a bulls head with gold tipped horns and red ruby like eyes); his armor plating was all black, scarred from his many battles, and yet polished to perfection to show off the armors Roman style of plating. Tattooed on the Cabals scalp (in the Cabal dialect) were the words: “Conquer all, dispatch our enemies, and claim our spoils” Soon, a messenger entered the room to speak to the leader Cabal… “Where are the engineers on the progress of opening the doors?” The lead Cabal asked the young Legionnaire (in their language). “Sir,” The young Cabal began. “We are progressing slowly, the engineers have been attempting to blast their way in, but the walls of the vault is too tough, too solid to use any known conventional ways. The miners have been digging around the vault, attempting to find a weak spot. There was also another cave-in, though no one was killed in it…this time, sir. Also, food is running short and the water from the well is drying up.” “What about my frigate?” Growled the Cabal, irritated by the news. “We’ve managed to get power from the ships reserve supply,” The young Cabal continued. “But the engine is still damaged and the weapons systems aren’t fully operational yet. The shields are weak; it may take a few more days to get the ship to fully operational again. There is one more thing…” “What is it?” The leader asked. “Were receiving a message from ‘him,’ sir.” The young Cabal said. In a quick pace, the Cabal leader left his room and walked to the command center, his heavy boot steps echoing throughout the cargo hold. “Put him on,” The leader commanded to the radio engineer. The engineer ticked away on his little computer, activating a small hologram device on the crate in the center of the command center. The hologram formed a tall Fallen Warlord: Gore’ul… “Commander Bolis,” Greeted Gore’ul in his native Fallen language. “Lord Gore’ul,” The Cabal leader began in his native Cabal tongue. “Wasn’t expecting to hear from you again so soon; I’m guessing you received your payment and the Vex transponder device is on its way?” “Yes,” Gore’ul responded. “We have received payment of the Red Glimmer and Oridian ore; much obliged. The case will be delivered due time...” “’Due time?’” Bolis asked. “What do you mean by ‘due time’?” “The case is now in the hands of the Guardians of Earth.” Said Gore’ul. “They stole it during the trade-” “How could you lose the case to a bunch of incompetent Guardians,” Bolis began, enraged by Gore’uls words. “We were in the process of interrogating a Guardian when the Vex interrupted us.” Gore’ul tried to explain. “I had the one responsible for the theft and when I was interrogating him the Vex attacked. There was not much I could do…” “Make all the excuses you’d like,” Bolis continued. “You and your pompous kind can’t do anything correctly. Your invasions fail, your leaders are weak, and your warriors puny; no wonder you and your brethren are now nothing but a band of thieves and cutthroats.” “Do not judge me and my kind,” Gore’ul responded calmly. “You inbred war mongers are so full of your selves, never able to control you inborn, nefarious ways. Look at you, all dressed up in your father’s armor; acting like soldiers of an honorable creed, when all you really are, are a bunch of mercenaries who care about riches and glory.” “Oh, and you are so different?” Bolis said in a lighter tone, walking around Gore’uls projected hologram. “Your brother Zar’ul chased my kin from their rightful place in the Salia Galaxy; you stood beside him basking in the sun light; until my father crushed your brother’s head under his boot. After his fall on Delphi 6, your officers, save for a few, fled like cowards. You think your better because of some ‘lordly’ status your clan claims to have; you who betray your own kind for the opportunity to show your kin's ‘strength’ and ‘honor’ (Bolis said in a mocking manner) by leading an assault on the Moon of Titan. All your attempts of self-glorification have only to have two of your own sons ripped from you. Not only two of your sons, but two of your arms as well; in addition to losing your title, command, and dignity. All you lead now is a pack of lost warriors, broken soldiers, and iniquitous officers.” “No different than the adolescent militia that you lead,” Gore’ul responded. “Let us not forget that your father gave the order to bombard your own planets in the Salia Galaxy, destroying most of its cities and population in the process. Your own Cabal Elders and military advisors refused to send any reinforcements to aid in the evacuation of the Salias Galaxy; they just kept to their own business in the other galaxies, ignoring your pleas. Did I mention that your nephew was killed when the Guardian attacked? He died valiantly, fighting to his last breath before my son Gur’ul ended his miserable existence with a precise removal of his head.” “He was-” Bolis began to say, and then hesitated. “Guardian; as in one lone Guardian assaulted you?” “Yes,” Gore’ul responded. “He wasn’t totally alone though, he had a small robot with him that probably had the case with him and was picked up before we could find him. No doubt the Guardians of the FOTC will attempt to try and assault your operation now that they have the case.” “What do you suggest?” Bolis began to ask. “Sir,” The radio engineer interrupted. “I have a signal coming from Earth.” “Put it through,” Bolis commanded. A distorted hologram of a Guardian came through, unrecognizable, and the voice was distorted. [b]Continued below[/b]