The first wave of Enmen sauntered south in a cavalier manner. Their ranks, thinned, mattered not to them, as they gave their berserker yells and fired their weapons at everything and nothing. For the moment, Rude was pinned. The best he could do was roll off the dock into the sea below, but his mind was set on finding Marq. Suddenly, a transport flew in from the sea, dropping Con Isle elite and RFMFs. They banked immediately away, firing their onboard Ma-la cannons. Rude ran to the north corner to view the advancing Enmen. An Enman transport flew in from the north, taking fire before crashing behind the Enmen position. Still, Enmen rolled out to join the battle.

It would be a foolish move for Rude to join the battle without his helmet. If he wished to reach his friend, he would need to wait. There was a slight chance the battle would shift far enough west that Rude could chance a run to the containers north of the fight. The battle was tight, as the elite moved slowly forward. Thirty men followed the RFMFs, drilling the Enmen with expert firing. Four bots rolled behind them, lobbing small artillery. Though the Enmen front line faltered and fell, additional Enmen joined their ranks. The elite fire was precise, the Enman advance, while slowed, still marched carelessly into blazing guns.

The numbers were about even when one of the RFMFs was hit by missile fire. The inside anchor held but the outside anchor came loose. That end swung around, knocking the elite into their fellows. Rude returned to the south corner to check the dock. Why the elite did not recover and utilize fallen APEs was beyond Rude. As Rude expected, there was an APE near an Enman corpse, but the distance was worrying; that kind of run meant extended exposure without a helmet. Still, the best of the best were in trouble and could use a helping hand. The decision was made before the thought played out.

Rude ran from cover, bolting across the dock. All he had to rely on was the pirini. The quick sprint was easy enough, leaping over piled corpses was nothing new, but dodging errant fire added a whole new level. Rude leaped and arced; when he came up from the roll, an Ape was in his left hand. Pressing the stock into his GAP rotary, Rude turned back for the admin building, firing above the heads of the elite. He could sense the incoming fire before it arrived, but choosing over or under was always the tricky part. He chose over. Firing as he arced into a somersault. His roll brought him behind the admin building just as the stacked containers to his north were hit. The ball of flames sent containers flying, and the shock wave made the dock ripple.

Rude took a position behind the north corner and emptied the APE into the advancing Enmen. War is no place for overthinking; instinct is the preferred MO. Rude quickly dodged back, rolling south to avoid fire directed at the building. It had been close; too close. Back at the south corner, Rude crawled below the porch railing, hoping to get a shot off with his sandman. Halfway to the warehouses sat two fallen containers, one atop the other. Rude took a shot and ducked back down. The porch was a slab of cement; Rude was safe enough. He looked south and saw no advance. All the action was north. The occasional quick peek and shot was the best that Rude could offer his elite comrades. 

Time had been lost; there was no sense of it. How long had it been since he dropped? It felt like forever. It could be the middle of the night or an hour before dawn. Whatever the hour, it was black and cold. As Rude ducked back, he could feel the dock vibrate. He looked west and saw a second wave of Enmen running from the warehouses. That put the odds back in favor of the Enmen, and that would simply not do. Rude placed his arm on the porch, just behind the corner post, and took aim at the western Enmen. Rude's well-placed shots took them down one after the other until his prone position gathered return fire. Rude scrambled back to safety, regretting his impulsive choice. Artillery fell from an unseen position. Rude watched from the north corner as twenty elite charged.

Enmen from the west reached the fallen containers; Rude picked them off one at a time. The already battered admin building took fire, and Rude took cover, running to the south corner to fire from there. Artillery support from the west fell around the building, the final detonation damaging the north corner heavily. Rude's ears were ringing from the blast as he picked himself from the dock and leaned against the back wall. Above his head, the window was shattered. Being in a building was no protection, nor was it much safer behind. Rude would soon need to leave cover, but the northern containers had been destroyed.

Rude heard a noise from inside the building. Raising up on his toes, he looked into the dark interior but could see nothing. It was most likely just a cabinet falling over; he ran to the south corner to judge his next move. It would be west to the warehouses. He would be in the open with no helmet. Rude dropped five of the advancing Enmen from the west before having to duck back. A peek from the ruined north corner showed him the brutal H2H as the elite and Enmen engaged. Those from the west were closing when the middle of the dock lit up. Rude fell back knowing the detonation had taken out the Enmen and the elite alike. Now was Rude's best opportunity. As he pressed his back against the wall and took a breath, the sound came from the admin building.

He looked from the south corner and saw a solitary figure making a desperate dash west to the warehouses. Was it a night guard? Whoever it was, the dress was non-military. The figure was fast, the dark robe and hood masking all identity. Rude could see that the person was panicked, and sought safety. He could also see half a dozen more Enmen running in from the northwest. Unarmored, the running, cloaked individual was not hidden by its dark robe. In the open, it was just another easy target for the Enmen. Rude ran after the dark person; he had to go that way himself. As he ran, he fired his sandman. The person passed the fallen containers, and Rude was closing fast.

Enemy tracers filled the smoky air between Rude and the robed person ahead. Rude returned fire, noting a shorter distance between the containers and the warehouses. He saw the Enmen from the north turn and take notice; they ran south, yelling, and taking random shots. The crates were close, and it seemed the robed person might reach them, but as Rude picked up speed, so too did the enemy fire increase. Some of the crates were also taking fire as the Enmen took shots at the fleeing robe. It was the slightest of pauses in the enemy fire, but it was just enough. Rude was just behind the individual, and moving between the person and the enemy fire.

Rude took the waist of the person in his left arm and somersaulted over the crates. He had jumped just high enough to roll across the crates and fall on the other side. As he rolled with the robed person atop, Rude took note of a lovely brown face with large frightened eyes. Beyond the crates, Rude dropped the young woman and leaped immediately atop the crates. He took down five of them, as a bigger-than-normal Enman ran around the containers. Firing, Rude charged directly north. He leaped and the remaining three fell. That left the charging hulker. Rude took aim at the boots, but the hulker continued charging.

Just then, a detonation between Rude and the Enman seared Rude's eyes. He threw an arm across his face as the blast sent him tumbling back. Rolling to his knees and fists, Rude looked past the scorched crater in the wood. Beyond, was the massive brute. He was on a knee, his face shielding had been knocked off, and his weapon was lost, but his eyes were locked with Rude's. As the Enman slowly rose to his feet, a feral smile crossed his singed face. Rude also came to his feet, knowing the Enman would charge. He sensed the Enman would step out with his left foot and lean into long strides. He would leap with his right foot and swing his right fist. The Enman would be mid-air by the containers.

Rude charged at the Enman; their strides were locked in sync. Rude would feint left before tacking right. They ran near the containers to avoid the hole in the dock, and that was to Rude's advantage. That balanced out his weaknesses, for he was smaller by half than the Enman, and his head was unprotected. Rude would use the side of the container as a springboard into a spiraling backward arc.

Howling, the Enman leaped into the air. Rude's leap took him against the metal container. He compressed fully, then leaped with all his might. The somersault took him well beyond the misjudged swing of the Enman's beefy fist. Rude spiraled, and as his body turned, he saw the name on the back of the Enman's neck. It read Þx138, and Rude fired his sandman directly at the tattoo, but the Enman was wise to Rude's tactic and attempted to place a hand over his neck. Rude saw during his roll that the Enman had fallen, but he had no more time for him. The middle of the dock was clear, so Rude barreled north toward the dock loading crane, there to seek cover among the many stacks.