"Lieutenant Duma," Highest Scorer Ever's voice crackles over the squad radio I had installed in my car, "Jasvinder Krishnan was spotted at the Saint Irene School For Youth. I'm on my way there now with a team of Militia."

"Copy." I grunt, "The Militia contacted me while I was reporting in at the Garden. I'm heading in that direction as well. I think I can see you just up ahead."

I can't actually see Holt of course, but just ahead of me are a pair of Militia patrol cars cruising down the road. Holt being one of the passengers is just as good a guess as any.

"I see your car in the side mirror." Holt confirms, "So the plan is to apprehend Jasvinder Krishnan and bring him in to the Garden for questioning?"

"Nope." I smirk, "I kicked this matter upstairs. The Cathedral Knights told me that they are interested in taking over jurisdiction from us. We arrest Mr Krishnan and keep him on ice until the Knights take him off our hands."

Holt makes a confused noise as she responds, "But what about the investigation? What are we going to tell the panel?"

"Out of our hands." I explain while suppressing a laugh, "As far as we're concerned, its case closed. I told the panel about the transfer and they agreed that the Knights' authority supersedes the Garden's in matters concerning the Leader's safety."

I put more pressure on the accelerator and my car slides towards the pair of Militia squad cars, bringing up the rear. The drivers obligingly allow me to enter formation with them and we continue our journey to the school as a trio.

"If you say so." Holt mutters, not entirely sure of what is going on, but having no other choice but to accept what I am saying.

I snicker to myself. Yes, I do say so indeed. And once we have Jasvinder Krishnan in the bag, whatever happens next with the investigation is no longer my problem. I lean back in the driver's seat, thinking happy thoughts. And also fantasizing about strangling Don for causing this pile of shit to land right on my lap.

"Lieutenant!" Holt suddenly shouts, "The Militia is getting flooded by calls from the school! Apparently a dogfight going on between two bulwarks there right now!"

I feel like screaming at the top of my voice. Why can't anything be simple for once? The Militia patrol cars fire up their sirens and abruptly begin speeding up. Things must have gotten serious for them to scramble like this. My entire body jerks backwards from the sudden acceleration as I match their speed. My hands tighten on the steering wheel, the knuckles turning white.

"Holt, tell the Militia to radio for reinforcements." I bark into the radio, "More officers and at least a detachment of Auxilia. We need to secure and evacuate the site before subduing the pair of bulwarks."

"Militia HQ has already put the call in." Holt says, before pausing as she listens to an indeterminate voice in the background, most likely the car's driver, "What grade of Valkyrie are you Lieutenant?"

"Affinity level B." I answer as the scenery blurs past my windscreen, "Why do you ask?" The indeterminate voice begins talking again in the background and I wait for Holt to come back on the line.

"I'm an A ranker." Holt finally answers, but there's no pride in her voice. If anything Holt sounds incredibly nervous as she continues to speak, "The Militia tells me that the two fighting bulwarks are Stormers. So the pilots should most likely be grade D Auxilia, or if we're unlucky, grade C Battle Lords."

"Right." I shoot back, "Two Valkyries should be enough to keep our unruly pair contained until reinforcements get here."

"Yeah. Yeah." Holt mutters, and I can imagine her fidgeting in the car seat, "No problem. Valkyries are stronger than any man, right?"

Our formation of cars charges through the open gates of the school, sirens blaring. Students and teachers rush past us, seeking to escape the battle that had suddenly erupted in their midst. But above the commotion, I can hear the distinctive rattle of gunfire.

"Stay calm." I remind Holt, "As long as you don't slip up, there's little that can threaten a Valkyrie." Actually that's not true. There's plenty that can wreck a Valkyrie's day, but Highest Scorer doesn't need to know that inconvenient fact right now.

"Hey, you don't think the Militia should provide some support?" Holt suggests, but her question is answered by that indistinct voice laughing uproariously.

"Militia can't fight bulwarks." I remind Highest Scorer, "It would be no different then sending them to die. The Militia will be counting on us to keep them safe while they evacuate the school."

The indistinct voice comes back over the line once more and this time Holt sounds somewhat chastened when she speaks up again.

"Right. We keep them safe, not the other way round." Holt says after taking a deep breath, "I got it."

"Relax." I say to reassure Highest Scorer, "More bulwarks are on their way. We just need to make sure the fight doesn't get out of hand before the friendlies get here."

And now I can see the battle taking place. A pair of Stormer class bulwarks dart around each other in a savage dogfight right above the school's parade ground, with one wielding a sword and the other a rifle. The rifleman blasts away at his opponent with an unending stream of lead, causing the other bulwark to drop into a series of breaks and evasive rolls. The other bulwark's pilot is good, very good in fact. Its not easy to keep control of your machine while diving and juking in quick succession. Could he have been an ace?

Our formation of cars screech to a stop and we all hurriedly disembark. The Militia quickly hands Holt a megaphone before rushing off into the school building to assist in the evacuation. A few officers break away to chase off the clumps of spectators of the fight that have gathered about. Holt holds on to the megaphone with a dumb expression on her face as she settles in by my side.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Holt whispers, as if she was scared of attracting the attention of the combatants.

I bite my lip as the sword wielding bulwark staggers under the repeated bullet impacts, unable to dodge the entire volley. As flames burst from the tears in its cladding, the bulwark rears backwards, jets blazing from the over pressure, and performs an impulse charge at the gunman, swinging its sword with obvious fury.

"Something's wrong." I mutter as I prepare to deploy my own bulwark. It should be physically impossible for the gunman to avoid that impulse charge. A Stormer shouldn't be able to move so quickly under normal circumstances. But the gunman easily dodged without needing to call upon advanced piloting techniques.

"Don't move." I warn Holt, "Keep observing for now." Holt nods, sweat running down her face.

The gunman performs a graceful pirouette and begins laying into the back of the dying bulwark using the rifle. There's an explosion as one of the ace's jets erupts into flames and he loses control of the machine. The bulwark careens into a wall of the school, smashing right through it and crashing in the middle of an empty classroom. The ace struggles back to his feet before giving up the attempt and collapsing on to his knees with a thump. Will-o-wisps begin to form from the sparking wreck as the bulwark begins to disintegrate from the catastrophic loss structural integrity.

"That's Jasvinder!" Holt yelps, as the helmet of the fallen bulwark completely melts away, revealing the identity of the pilot.

"Damn it. We need to save him." I curse as my bulwark surges into existence around me, "Holt, summon your machine and retrieve Jasvinder. I'll deal with the other suspect."

I don't bother waiting for Highest Scorer Ever's response. The moment my bulwark's HUD tells me all systems are good to go, I draw my mono molecular military sword from thin air and blast off into the air to intercept the gunman. My V-18 might not be anything special, being the Valkyrie equivalent of the Stormer, but its several times superior to its Auxilia counterpart. Faster, stronger and tougher. The gunman will not find me easy prey.

I perform an impulse charge of my own and rush the gunman while his back is turned. Try dodging this.

But the gunman quickly whirls about and with an audible click, a bayonet snaps out from just beneath the rifle's barrel. The gunman shifts his grip on the rifle, wielding it like a short pike, and slashes downwards, deflecting my sword with a shower of sparks. I gun my V-18's jets, trying to strafe around the gunman to his rear, but the gunman keeps pace and our weapons cross repeatedly, with neither one of us able to land a blow.

How is he doing this, without using advanced piloting skills?

Unless ...

No. It can't be. There has never been an Auxilia who won the blessing of a divine.

Then an animalistic roar interrupts our inconclusive duel. Both of us turn towards the source of the noise and we see a slavering Jasvinder being held down by Holt fully clad in a V-18 of her own. Jasvinder froths in the mouth and steam rises from his damaged bulwark as it miraculously begins to restore itself, the worst of the damage mending before our eyes. Holt puts her weight and all her bulwark's strength into restraining Jasvinder, but the doctor inexorably rises to his feet with Highest Scorer still clinging on to him. With a single shrug of his shoulders, Jasvinder sends Holt flying off him as he clenches his fists and screams triumphantly before his helmet fully regenerates itself.

"Just a beast at the end of the day." the amplified voice of the gunman crackles from his bulwark's external speakers.

I have no idea what that means, but those words have a clear effect of Jasvinder. He stumbles backwards, as if he had been physically hit. The gunman takes advantage of my moment of distraction to break the clinch between our weapons and surges forward on contrails with his bayonet at the ready, seeking to skewer my suspect.

Jasvinder recovers quickly but instead of meeting the gunman's charge, he blasts off vertically straight up, crashing through the ceiling of the classroom and presumably powering all the way towards the building's roof. Leaving behind a dazed Holt right in the line of being run through.

Gritting my teeth, I send my V-18 flying upwards before performing a dive on an impulse charge like a striking eagle, hoping to catch the gunman before Holt gets herself killed. This is a bad idea, but I'm completely out of good ones.

And right on schedule, the gunman does a roll, angling his bayonet right at me.

"Lieutenant!" Highest Scorer wails as the blade pierces cleanly through my bulwark's armor.

The pain stabs through my entire body. But I don't deny it. I savor it. The fruits of my labor. This unwanted blessing that ruined my life.

The price of compassion.

And in return for the pain I have borne for another, I receive a miracle.

The gunman pulls out the bloody bayonet and draws it back, seeking to end me with the next blow. Just as my sword slashes downwards, ignoring every possible defense, cleaving the rifle in half.

And amputating one of the gunman's hands.

"AUUGGHH." the gunman shrieks through his bulwark's external speakers, flying off haphazardly. He waves the injured arm about frantically, sending sparks and blood spraying about. But before I can follow up on my attack, the gunman dissipates into a cloud of black mist, which is swiftly scattered by the wind.

I should be wondering how that happened, but I am past caring right now. I land on the parade ground and dismiss my machine before slumping on to the ground from all the excitement of the fight.

"Lieutenant! Are you alright?" Holt cries as she lands next to me, completely frantic. I nod tiredly, my wound and fatigue starting to get the better of me.

"Jasvinder said something before he ran." Highest Scorer asks, "'I'm sorry.' Do you know what that means?"

"I have no idea." I mutter as my eyes begin to grow heavy.

"No idea at all."