The battle was all but over, and the feeling of acute dread filled Taran's heart knowing that any moment would be his last; the Bulwark would claim Pluto like every other world, and countless lives were thrown into the grinder like meat to be discarded to buy even another day for humanity to continue existing; lives spent were the currency of survival, and that exchange rate was only getting worse. Taran's magazine was on its last few rounds, and after that it would be over. He frowned, thinking of Brigid and the daughter he'd barely spent time with. He'd missed all of the important events of her upbringing, telling himself that he had to sacrifice time away from his family to make sure they could afford to live. To late he realized that he would never get the opportunity to try and make it up, he was a shit father.

"I'm sorry." He said, both to a family millions of kilometers away and to the endless bodies with stories not unlike his own, their entire lives leading up to this final moment with nothing to show for it except that it was unlikely they'd ever get a proper funeral.

The screeching engines of transports arrived, giving Taran hope that maybe, must maybe, they'd get an extraction and live to fight another day, to make the amends he never did before enlisting. Instead out of the hatch of one of the lead transports departed four armoured figures that began decimating the ranks of the Bulwark, including the Brumaks that were up until then unstoppable forces of nature. The initial satisfaction of being rescued in such a dramatic fashion came with a sour thought; had even one of those soldiers been at the Pluto garrison, how many lives could have been saved? Instead, they ride in and take control of a lost battle after countless soldiers laid down their lives in a desperate last stand that was more like a culling than a military engagement. The entirety of the Bulwark contingent was eradicated with only one casualty out of the 4 power suits, and knowing the danger had passed prompted Taran to collapse onto his haunches, exhausted and simmering with anger. "They must be so proud, winning battles all by themselves." Taran growled to his partner. "While we aren't even issued anti-armoured weaponry to kill the Brumak and rifles that barely function, they get state of the art hero tech that makes it clear that the brass does not care that their shit logistics wipe out entire regiments. Listen to these idiots cheer at their saviours; we were bait to draw the Bulwark to one decisive location. Mission accomplished."