Firefights felt like hours though Fareeha knew it'd been only minutes.

Dorian almost called it spot on. From her view, there were at least four cores. Give or take, twenty omnics. With Bastion classes (BCs) making up the bulk of the assault, raiders (sneaks) slinked to the side. They're cloaking fields shimmering ever so slightly. Bastion classes certainly packed the heat, but the sneaks were the danger. Outfitted for ambushes, ESF lost most of its forces to these clever killing machines. ESF eggheads were still trying to come up with a countermeasure. Until then, the shimmering cloak fields against the sand was all they had. Sand still hit them, which helped with spotting.

Eyeing a detachment of sneaks heading around to the southern perimeter, Fareeha hovered away from BC fire and shot off a rocket. "Sneaks heading to the south! 2nd move to intercept! Watch your sides 3rd!"

Hearing a scream from her jumper communication channel, Fareeha saw one of her jumpers plummet to his death. His body turned to pulp from a Bastion class. Yet another soul lost from the fabricated children of humanity. A round pelted against her armor as a sharp gasp escaped her. Lowering herself back to the compound, she signaled her jumpers to peel off as well. The tin cans had them zeroed. Efficient at air and ground kills. The omnics made her sick.

As she touched ground, she saw a medic rush over to her. She looked at her shoulder. The round sunk deep though she hardly noticed it until she saw it. "It's nothing. Get back to the line," she said though the medic ignored her. The sergeant and the rest of her jump squad looked at her. At the wound. She snapped towards them. "Move to the southern perimeter!" Before she had the chance to wave off the medic, a distorted voice crackled on the ESF open channel. Handing her rocket to a nearby private, she switched to it and tried to dial it in. She grunted. "Comms!"

The corporal with the communications box on his back made his way over. "Ma'am?"

"Switch to ESF-Gen. There's a signal."

Doing as instructed, Fareeha moved her trio into sturdier cover as the omnic assault continued. "Well?"

Adjusting the tuning orbs on the pack, the corporal looked up. "Something about ... Overwatch ... Doctor ... Ziegler. Swiss signal, Cap."

Overwatch? Why would they be out here? Why would Angela be out here? Fareeha motioned for the communication's line and waited till the corporal gave her a thumbs up. She looked up as she saw an airship move in the distance. The fools were way past the safe zones to the south. "Flight Lieutenant, this is Captain Amari. You are way past the safe zone. BCs are active. Move off to the following coordinates," Fareeha read off the coordinates of the last known safe zone, "when you get there, report to the--"

A concussive blast knocked Fareeha off her feet. She narrowly avoided debris as the ceiling collapsed. The corporal wasn't as lucky. "Khara! Report!"

"Heavies moving in from the East!" said Lieutenant Alawa as he helped Fareeha to her feet. "We can't hold our position. I strongly urge a Tac-draw."

The position was lost. Fareeha knew it. It was only a matter of time before the omnics massed a force capable enough to smash the diminishing strength of the final defensive lines. Did she, her company, buy the caravans enough time? 

Getting back to her feet, blood still seeping from her shoulder, she toggled her local communicator to the platoon officers. "Officers initiate contingency 2. 1st and 3rd, hold the perimeter. 2nd, secure our south. Wounded moved first with escorts from 2nd. We'll rendezvous at rally point Gamma."

A trust forged from countless of battles before, Fareeha trusted her officers as they trusted her. She rushed back to the front. She would not leave her jumpers now.