Aboard the Abraham Kepler, a frantic strategy meeting is ongoing. They finally have reliable data about the situation on the planet, and it isn't what they expected.

"The most pressing is the situation in the swamps. The Narsians have withdrawn from half a continent to gather and defend that region. We sent disturb Landers there in the last wave, and now they're outnumbered ten to one by Narsian scum. Do you think they mistook it for our command base, or do they know about the mine?" The head strategy officer asks.

"Data suggests that they know about the mine and its special contents. But we have over five hundred Mecha there, plus twice that many infantry. They should be able to hold for a while." The officer in charge of the region informs him with a grim look.

The second wave of Narsian warriors was unexpected, and it is causing chaos with their attempts to plan the drops for the other three transport ships.

Too many regions have gained orbital defenses, and with the interrupted communications they hadn't been able to move units to clear flight paths. Until they can do that, a full-scale insertion would be far too heavy of a loss for a low-priority planet.

[Sir, receiving a request from Stalwart Special Tactics Unit at the Uranium Mine in the swamp. The message is a materials request for munitions and barricade materials suitable to the terrain.] A radio operator informs them immediately, as it is relevant to the region they are currently planning.

"Do they not know where they are and what sort of situation they are in? Even if their numbers were all Crusaders, twenty to one is a death trap." The Colonel mutters.

"They are doing well so far though. Over five hundred Narsian infantry confirmed killed in the last wave, and the folks of the Special Tactics unit have repair facilities set up." One of the other colonels in the strategy meeting points out, indicating the new visual images.

"Fine, send them the pods they requested. They're not the only ones who have burned through munitions holding their location, so we will need to send a whole wave of pods anyhow." The head strategy officer agrees, before turning his attention to the plan to encircle the planetary capital and drive the Narsians away from the surviving civilized portions of the planet.

[Good news Stalwart. We've got a supply drop incoming and they didn't ask questions. We can start building the traps in the swamp anytime.] Paul informs the unit when the signal comes in.

They are currently enjoying a short regrouping period while the Narsians catch their breath and prepare for the next attack. The Narsians haven't withdrawn, but they are waiting for something, most likely enough manpower for a third push.

Every time they fail, they wait a little longer to try with more men and heavier weapons. It's a vicious circle that is wearing down the Crusaders, despite the constant stream of ammunition that is coming their way.

Unlike Stalwart and Tarith's Rage, most of the new units were built with upgraded ablative armor instead of the obsolete energy shields that the relic units used when new. But in a long battle, the shield is the better option, since the armor takes time and materials to repair, even if it is more durable.

[Start assembling the caltrops. Two meters high is good. Just enough to make them difficult to move past.] Max instructs.

The scrap metals from the hillside and mine can be used to make the obstacles, or they can be built from Rock Crete if absolutely nothing else is available. All they will do is slow down any attempts to charge the compound, giving the Mecha more time to shoot, so their construction doesn't matter as much as their functionality.

Getting them placed will be the problem. The Narsians aren't far away, and the caltrops need to be placed well outside the base.

Best case scenario, Mecha with gauntlets throw them as far as they can. Worst case scenario, the light mecha attach a chain and give them a spinning toss like a brutal shot put.

The fabrication machines used to repair and create mecha parts, known as the Material Combiners, make up a few hundred caltrops in the next five minutes, and the Light Mecha bring them out to every sector of the defense lines.

[Since they want to wait, let's give them some motivation to get moving before they're strong enough to overwhelm us.] Max gives the order over the radio, nodding to the mecha beside him to begin hurling the caltrops at random into the swamp.

The mecha are bringing out more and more, mostly made of Rock Crete now, and the Narsians are hurling insults as the Mecha throw the obstacles into the swamp between the two sides, but they still aren't willing to launch a full-scale attack, restricting themselves to occasional shots when they think the Crusader Class Mecha with a line of sight to them are distracted.

That gives Max time to have a full obstacle course created. It's enough to greatly slow their next attack, and there are still some left. The defense team lines them up tightly together at the base of the solid ground nearest to their heavy mecha. It's not as good as a wall, but anything is better than nothing.

While Max and the mecha were scrambling to build a defensive line, the Fleet was scrambling to get their orders ready. With a total of sixteen Landers' worth of Mecha at one location, the demand for parts, armor materials, and munitions was incredible, far more than a single supply pod could manage. Plus, they were surrounded by Narsians, making the attempt to supply them even more difficult.

The final decision was to send six pods worth of parts to be sent to the location. Three was the bare minimum for continued operations, and the mission assumed a fifty percent loss due to hostile fire. That was pretty standard for a hostile situation resupply, despite the speed and durability of the pods themselves.

It was great news to Max though. The Narsians lost a large part of their long-range firepower in the orbital strike, and what they have now is mostly elite infantry, who are not well equipped to take out supply pods. There is a chance they have been hiding that capability and not using it to attack the Mecha at long range, but it would be an extreme tactic by their commander if they did, considering the number of soldiers they have put into trying to take this mine so far.

[Six Pods incoming in three minutes. Everyone be on alert to prevent Narsian fire once the pods are launched.] Max announced, preparing everyone to fight.

The caltrops would prevent them from pushing out into the giants just as well as it prevented them from coming in though, so charging as a distraction was out. Instead, once the pods were launched, Max would order the Battle Cannons to begin artillery bombardment of anywhere that looked like it might have heavy weapons, and the infantry manned mortars to begin shelling the closest Narsian forces to prevent a charge.

As always, the timer was nowhere near correct, and the six pods launched all at once five minutes and forty-five seconds after the three-minute warning.

[Begin bombardment] Max ordered, and the whistling sound of flying shells filled his exterior sensors, loud enough that it wasn't quite drowned out by the booming of the big guns.

From the low orbit location that the pods were launched, they needed almost four minutes of suppression to keep the Narsians from destroying their supplies, but Max was almost certain they could do it. None of the giants had made a move yet, remaining in their sheltered positions while artillery rained down on them.

With one minute to landing, it was clear that the pods were incoming and on course, and the Narsians began the counterattack. The few locations where they launched anti-aircraft fire were quickly targeted by the Battle Cannons, lighting up more of the forest with explosions, and secondary fires from munitions storages that were breached.

With thirty seconds to landing, the front line Commander stood up and ordered the charge, only to take an immediate Rail Gun round to the face, courtesy of Tarith's Rage. That didn't stop the Narsians though, and the giants hurled themselves over and between the caltrops, heedless of the casualties.

Dozens died, and then hundreds, before the pods made a picture-perfect landing right next to the repair landers.

[Back Line infantry, get those supplies open and get us munitions. We are almost dry on Battle Cannon Rounds and the Narsians aren't giving up.] Max ordered, looking at his Mecha's sensor screen, where a continual stream of approaching enemy forces could be seen.

The sight was like something out of a historical text. Tens of thousands of soldiers in organized ranks, advancing on a target, intent on grinding it to dust. Only this time, he was the target, and it wasn't nearly as glorious as the textbooks made it appear.