Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Anderson watched as the Normandy rose into the sky, vanishing into a speck before disappearing completely. Jane was away, but Earth was still in trouble. He turned around to take a glance at the chaos around him. Buildings falling down, cut down by the Reapers’ main guns, aircraft both civilian and military falling from the sky like flies and the constant repour of gunfire. Anderson was neck deep in hell on earth, and he would be nowhere else.

Gripping his pistol tightly, Anderson made a dash to get off the concrete bluff the Normandy had picked Jane up from. He needed to find the remaining soldiers in this city and start rallying them. That meant radio contact, but he needed to be safe to do that, and an exposed high ground wasn’t a place he could call safe right now, if anywhere was safe anymore. Anderson came across what had once been a store of some kind, caved in completely except for a small tunnel underneath. He dropped to the ground and crawled through the small tunnel of debris and stone before emerging on a deserted street, sky cars having crashed into the pavement, but a surprising lack of bodies. The sound of rushing wind hit his ears before he looked up to see the now familiar sight of Reaper drop pods. He got to the cover of a nearby crashed sky car before the Reaper troops crashed down. In front of him now stood roughly 7 human husks. Their blue glowing eyes looked around, as if needing to get their bearings before they sensed him somehow. Anderson took aim and popped on right in the head before the others let out a guttural scream and rushed him. 

Blood pounded in Anderson’s ear with each pull of the trigger as he dropped the husks. Their oily blue blood mixed with the dust in the air as they collapsed. Anderson had to keep pushing forward. When he rounded the street corner, he heard it. The familiar crackling of gunfire, and it was close. Anderson wasted no time in rushing down the street and around the corner towards the sound, ignoring the burning city around him. More Reaper pods dropped all around him. One crashed into the office building next to him, glass shattered and fell in his direction. Anderson stumbled to his right to avoid the falling glass and rushed to cover in case any husks survived the impact. One fell in the middle of the street, its legs were bent all wrong and the head looked backwards, but that hadn’t stopped them before.

Anderson waited a few tense seconds, weapon trained on the former human, but it didn’t get up, it didn’t move. Anderson stood to move on, but he kept his guard up. Just because this one didn’t make it didn’t mean that others hadn’t made it and were now moving through that building. Anderson lifted his omni tool to check his map and hoped his IFF was still working. Thankfully it was, and it looked like those friendly forces he could hear fighting were just on the other side of this street. 

Anderson looked at the building before him. It was, or used to be, he thought morbidly, a flower shop of sorts. A wooden sign with the words, Auntie’s Floral and Décor hung lazily in front of the shop. He was sure Aunty wouldn’t mind him using her place to get through. He quickly shot out the glass door and stepped into the rattled shop. Potted plants, one tall and blooming now laid on the floor, others were still standing, but he couldn’t say for long. He rushed through the shop to the back door. He noticed a hand sticking out from a pile of collapsed ceiling behind the register, but he chose to look past it, he had others he needed to save.

  Pushing on through the shop, he found the ground right outside the door had fallen into a shell crater, water spilling out from broken pipes into the crevice. However, more important was that down the back alley in front of him were the troops he was looking for. About 5 Alliance soldiers in full armor were huddled behind dumpsters and doorways at the mouth of the street, fighting off a horde of Cannibals, chattering guns crackling at each other from across the line of battle.

“There’s too many!” One soldier yelled right before his shields broke and he took a round to the shoulder, falling back to the ground. The reaper troops intensified their fire, taking advantage of the reduction of hostile suppressive fire.

“Johnson!” one yelled, squad leader by the look of him. Anderson took it as his cue to move. With aim that only experience could provide, Anderson poured 4 rounds directly into the Cannibal’s head, one for each eye. He rushed to the fallen soldier’s position, grabbing his Avenger from the ground before bracing it with his shoulder. Wielding both an assault rifle and his pistol, Anderson quickly picked off 2 of the reapers who had left themselves exposed and out of position.

“Hold your ground men!” Anderson shouted to the men while the reaper attack stalled out, some reaper troops blindly advanced, mindlessly continuing the assault while others took better cover behind some fallen piles of stone and a couple of concrete barriers. One of the formerly suppressed marines was able to break cover and took out a sniper rifle. A loud PEW followed by the sound of a wet, meaty explosion told Anderson she hit her mark. A marine in green ran over to Anderson’s position, deploying an omni shield and dragged Johnson to better cover, quickly treating him with medigel. 

A bullet zooming past Anderson’s head brought him back to the current combat. More troops had landed, around 8 Cannibals had joined the attack and were laying down heavy fire for others to push forward. One let out a yell and charged forward, blindly and pointlessly shooting its gun hand. It was rewarded with its trouble by a shotgun blast from Johnson, patched up and joining the fight. Anderson ducked beneath cover to avoid the deadly projectiles and saw the squad leader pull out a small canister.

“Grenade out!” he yelled and hurled it at the large group of Cannibal that had taken cover by the barriers. The grenade landed right in the middle of them. One seemed to notice and yelled out an alarm, but it was too late. The grenade detonated, throwing them into the air or to the ground in pieces. The squad quickly took advantage of the downed status of their enemy and rushed them, finishing whatever reaper troop hadn’t already been killed in the explosion.

The battle was wrapped up quickly, Anderson could once again hear the sound of water pouring out of destroyed pipes as opposed to the sound of guns and reapers. He handed Johnson back his rifle when the squad leader approached him, giving off a quick salute.

“Corporal Travis sir, 3 Charlie 6, my squad would have been toast if you hadn’t showed up when you did,” the Corporals said, Anderson gave him a brisk nod of acknowledgement.

“I’m Captain Anderson, where’s the rest of your squad, soldier?” Anderson asked, but he already could guess the answer, if the distant roars of Reapers weren’t enough of a clue.

“Dead sir, we were traveling to the star port when we got hit, falling rocks crushed my men in one of our transports,” he replied. Anderson turned to one of the dead soldiers leaned against a wall, he wasn’t in full armor, just his dress blues, a few metals, a field cap, and some thrown on body armor. Anderson walked over to him. “That was our platoon leader, he took a round to the stomach when we got ambushed, couldn’t save him and shoot back.”

Anderson nodded and pulled the armor from the dead man, throwing it over his head, bringing up his omni-tool to activate it’s shield emitters. The appearance of that shimmering blue light around him put some more confidence into Anderson that he had had a moment ago. He turned to the Corporals.

“What about the rest of your platoon, are they dead too?” Anderson asked, picking up a Vindicator from the dead Platoon Sergeant. CPL Travis shook his head. 

“Don’t know sir, we got split up. There’s fighting scattered all over the city. “We’ve been getting so much comms interference we can barely keep our IFF transmitting, let alone raise other units.”

“We're going to have to try, soldier, every second, more people die, and we have to make a stand.

“But, sir,” Johnson started, the fear in his voice was clear for anyone to hear. “How do we fight something like this?” 

“With everything we’ve got, son. It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better, so we must pull ourselves together. So sound off, and tell me who you are?”

“Corporals Daniel Travis Sir! General Infantry!” The Corporals was a young man, couldn’t be older than 25. His dark blue armor looked like it was something new but covered in dust, none of the scratches that comes from extended use, but enough dirt to show he’d been fighting. He was holding an Assault rifle with a standard issue pistol on his belt and a handful of grenades.

“Private First-Class Andrew Johnson Sir! Combat Engineer!” He yelled with as much bravado as he could muster, which was not much but more than a second ago. He had removed his helmet, Anderson spotted it in the street with a shattered visor. He had scraggly blonde hair, and a bit of scruff on his chin, must have been right out of high school. His brown eyes stared at Anderson, full of fear but looking for leadership. He carried his shotgun with a shaky grip and had an assault rifle collapsed on his back.

“Private Second Class Nowel Talzman! Sir!” The woman with the sniper rifle declared confidently, her dark black protective armor would hide her well if she wasn’t surrounded by bright white buildings and in broad daylight, but Anderson those conditions would change. She held a Mantis rifle in one hand, bracing it up towards the sky. On her left hip hung a Shuriken SMG and a standard pistol on the right. Anderson couldn’t see her face, but her stance spoke of confidence nonetheless.

“Gunnery Sargent McCollin Sir!” a large man with a deep South African accent proudly proclaimed, he was a large man who stood over Anderson and filled out his armor quite well. He had a visored helmet on but looked like he was ready to get into the fight. Anderson wondered how a man so large was supposed to be a gunner, he seemed like he’d fit better as a walking tank than a gunner. He was carrying a full arsenal on his back, AR, Sniper Rifle, Shotgun, but had seemed to have picked, or torn off, some kind of LMG from somewhere. He held the large tool by its carrying handle in one hand while he saluted the Captain. Anderson nodded and brought up his tac-map on his omnitool, checking for the locations of any survivors he could rally.

“Alright then, follow me, we’re going to find any and all survivors and start getting as many people out of here as possible!” Anderson declared, starting to make his way in the direction of the nearest friendly unit.

“Sir! Wait!” Johnson called out, Anderson stopped and looked at him. “When we bailed, we left behind our APC’s, they aren’t far, only one got torched but the reapers seemed to leave them alone when we abandoned them. We can move faster if we can get one.”

“Good thinking son, where are those trucks?” Anderson asked, the young soldier took the lead and began showing Anderson the route back to the vehicles. They truly weren’t far, only about a 3-minute run down some empty streets. It was the most beautiful thing Anderson saw all day, a fully loaded Hammerhead with no enemies in sight. 

“Alright, into the transport, go!” Anderson yelled, assigning roles as he climbed into the driver seat. 

“Tailzman, get me a route to the nearest friendly forces,” Anderson ordered. Tailzman gave him directions to take a detour over what was left of the beach to link back up with the road still in tack. All along the way, McCollin’s had the time of his life as he used the turret to engage the patchwork of reaper troops while Anderson took a note from Jane and just straight up ran over any reaper unit that got in his way. 

The sight of a friendly tank tearing through reapers like wet tissue was a welcome sight to the many battered soldiers they found along the way, gathering more men and a few more vehicles, the fighting had started moving towards the edges of the city, and away from the reapers. They had grown quite a lot stronger, about a dozen transports and vehicles carrying around 200 men through the war-torn city and towards the highway leading into the countryside. Suddenly, a cry came over the radio that Anderson homed in on.

“This is Alpha 9er! We need reinforcements! NOW! We’ve engaged some new kind of Reaper heavy unit! Dear God! What is this fucking thing! It won’t stop moving!” Anderson picked up the transceiver.

“This is Anderson, where are you soldier?” Anderson called over the comms. He could hear wailing and gunfire on the other end.

“We’re at 5th street and Weston! The baseball stadium!” the soldier screamed.

This was the last group of soldiers Anderson could realistically reach and not die for his efforts. He ordered the rest of his small resistance to get on the highway and get out of the city. He turned his Hammerhead around and headed toward the stadium, getting his troops to get ready.

They pulled up to the stadium to find it half destroyed, one half collapsed into rubble, but they could see tracers appearing from inside the still standing section.

“Everyone out, we’re going in on foot!” Anderson yelled. His crew dismounted and readied up. McCollin grabbed a rocket launcher he had found in an abandoned supply crate and huffed it over his shoulder.

“Let’s go find those boys,” he said, Anderson loaded a fresh heat sink into his Vindicator as an answer.

As they entered the stadium, they found themselves unintentionally flanking a squad of Cannibals. The squad spread out, trying to keep themselves hidden from the Cannibals. Anderson looked to Talzman

“Tailzman, on you,” Anderson ordered. The sniper nodded and took aim. A moment later, the shot rang out and a Cannibal dropped dead. The others turned to face their new attackers in confusion as Anderson and his squad mowed them down in a hail of incendiary fire. A cryo blast from Johnson paralyzed those who didn’t immediately fall, making them easy targets. The squad fought their way through the old stadium, every functional stairwell and corridor seemed like it was infested with reapers. The sounds from Alpha 9’s fight grew louder as they finally found a working entry into the stadium.

“What the fuck is that?!” Talzman yelled. The troopers of Alpha 9 had formed a small semicircle of crossfire behind the pitching mound using debris as cover but were firing almost blindly into a cloud of smoke. What came barreling through through was something else. Anderson thought the Reapers already had some messed up looking soldiers, but this took the cake. 

The thing couldn’t even be described as having a body, just a mass of cybernetic flesh that looked melted together but poorly, resembling a slug except wrong. A mass of different limbs reached out from all over the body, hands formed into elongated claws that pulled the thing along in a strange shuffling and rolling motion. A multitude of heads poked out from different points, starting out into nothing yet screaming all the same. It was remarkably agile, somehow leaping through the air with unexpected speed and crushing a pair of unfortunate soldiers, its body folding over their cover before ‘crawling’ over it towards more victims. A second one crawled out of the smoke before leaping into the stands, crashing violently into the pair of soldiers that had been using the high ground to fire at it. It crawled over their crushed bodies and over stadium chairs to the nearest exit and vanished into it. 

In the field, the creature threw its many heads back and screamed, scraping, and clawing at the air and ground as it pulled itself back and forth aimlessly.

“It looks like some kind of Amalgamation?” Travis commented, bringing his rifle to bear at the newly named Amalgamation.

“That’s not important, whatever it is, we have to take it out,” Anderson said, ordering his squad to take positions while he hid behind a concrete pillar. “McCollin, use that rocket launcher, take it out now!”

The large man nodded and moved further down the stairs for a better shot. The Amalgamation didn’t even seem to know where it was, still shuffling about. The rocket fired and hit home, the Amalgamation exploded in a spray of oil, body parts and fire.

A horrible scream rang out, paralyzing everyone, the second Amalgamation broke through the stadium wall behind the commentators’ box, leaping towards the spot where the first had died. It thrashed its claws over the area, looking for something to tear into, angrily snarling and clawing the ground when it didn’t find one. 

Talzman’s sniper rifle rang out, nailing a head and taking it clean off. The thing screamed and turned towards the shot, leaping a great distance right at her. Talzman barely managed to roll away before it had smashed into her cover, throwing bits of concrete and metal everywhere. She engaged her tactical cloak to sneak away while everyone else fired at it with their weapons. McCollin’s LMG barking heavy rounds straight threw the screaming monster. Travis tried to throw a grenade at it, but the Amalgamation was already clawing its way out of the blast range, looking for a better spot to leap at someone from. However, when it exploded, the thing turned and lunged at the spot where it exploded, tearing into the stadium floor yet again.

“This thing can’t see us!” Johnson yelled. But it could hear him, immediately clawing towards, ignoring the mass of bullets and his own shotgun blasts as it focused in on him. Talzman dropped her cloak and threw a warp at the Amalgamation. The biotic attack hit, rending bits of cybernetic flesh from the monster. It let out a horrible scream, convulsing and shaking with pain, limbs thrashing at chairs and air. Anderson made a mental note of the creature’s weakness to biotics before turning to McCollin.

“McCollin! Rocket! NOW!” Anderson ordered. McCollin dropped his LMG and grabbed the rocket launcher, he practically shoved the munition into the barrel before taking aim and firing. The Amalgamation leapt towards the loud sound with a shriek but also jumped into the missile. It died much as the first had, with a cacophony of limbs and fluid. A severed head slammed at high speed into the column Anderson was using while Travis was knocked to the ground by a flying leg. 

“Is everyone ok?” Anderson asked, getting all greens from everyone, even if CPRL Travis’ was a little wheezy. They found what was left of Alpha 9, who agreed to leave with them, hijacking some parked sky cars as transports, flying low to avoid detection while Anderson drove his squad towards the main road. 

The fight wasn’t over, but they were leaving, falling back broken and battered. No one said a word on the drive out of the city, no one wanted to. This was the first battle and they lost so horribly that they couldn’t even say they put up a fight, but that would change. Until the Shepards and the fleets return, they are all that stand between the Reapers and the complete extinction of life on Earth. No way in hell Anderson was going to take that lying down, and with just a glance at his new squad behind him, he could tell he wasn’t the only one. The Earth belongs to humanity, and they would fight to the last to keep it that way.

Chapter Text

Transmission: 25-35 Designate: Primus

Apien Crest / Trebia System Palaven: Cipritine

Objective: Reclaim Cipritine ’s Caltrivus Spaceport

General Caelrian and Lt. Commander Castis Vakarian travelling to safety via Air Transport

14:00 October 23, 2186 CE

“Incoming Anti-Air Fire!”

“Evasive Maneuvers”

BOOM

“Going Down!”

“Castis, brace yourself!”

*Crash* *BOOM* *BANG*

All Castis could hear was the ringing of an explosion and his vision was black. He groaned as more feelings, mostly soreness and pain, returned to him and he could feel the heat of a fire close to him. His vision became blurry, he could hear a muffled voice calling his name. The site before him slowly was clearing up, it was what used to be the interior of a shuttlecraft.

“Castis!” he heard, the voice becoming clearer as the ringing stopped. A blurred shape moved before him before reaching towards him. “Hold on!” he could make out as the shape did something to him.

Castis gasped as the air he didn’t realize he was lacking filled his lungs. His vision cleared up to reveal General Caelrain, must have given him some kind of adrenaline shot. He could see the damage from the crash, a broken fuel pipe was now spewing fire while panels sparked and fizzed all around. 

“Get up, Castis,” Caelrian said, pulling Castis to his feet. 

“Thanks, Caelrian,” Castis said as he pulled himself towards the doorway above him, he turned towards the former front of the shuttle.

“You’re too stubborn to die in a shuttle crash anyways, and I’m not carrying you,” Caelrian said. Castis turned his head towards the front of the shuttle, he could see the pilot's blue blood splattered all over the shattered windshield. He was dead, without a doubt.

Castis pulled himself out of the burning shuttle; the sight and sound of a Reaper destroying the city in front of him brought Castis fully into the current situation. He checked his suit seals, the city’s air was so choked with dust and dirt that it wasn’t safe to breathe for long periods. 

“Come on,” Caelrian said to Castis as he hopped to the ground, tossing him a Phaeston assault rifle. “We need to get moving, those monsters will be looking for survivors soon.”

Caelrian took point, leading Castis down a side street and away from the crash. They kept coming across dead body after dead body. Dusty spots marked the points where former reapers had been while Turian corpses were found littered about everywhere. He took some pride in seeing that most of them had weapons nearby, indicating they didn’t go quietly. Caelrian rounded a corner and froze.

“Shit,” was all he could say. Castis rounded the same corner and had to resist the urge to let his mandibles hang open. Rows of Dragon’s Teeth, as the humans called them, lined the road in front of them. Dead Turians, both combatant and noncombatants alike, now hung like sick trophies from the spikes. He could see early signs of conversion, sections of their bodies changing from organic plates to metallic, eyes starting to grow wires instead of veins, and metal tubes beginning to protrude out of their flesh. He was very glad he had sent Yeloris away to the Citadel, at least she and Solana were lightyears away from this carnage.

“We should destroy these damn things, deny the Reapers more troops,” Castis said, pulling his stunned friend out of his stupor.

“I wish we could, but we lack the ordinance, nor can we afford to use it on these things,” Caelrian pointed out. 

“Have I ever mentioned how much I hate it when you’re right,” Castis quipped as they slowly walked through the grizzly display, rifles ready in case they suddenly came to life.

“I hate it too sometimes,” Caelrian replied, he pulled out his omni-tool. “I’ll mark this as Reaper spawn point on the battlenet... once we’re clear, the fleet might be able to target it.”

“Assuming they haven’t finished conversion and are still here. Guess it will have to do,” Castis replied. They soon heard noises coming from ahead of them, darting to cover, they managed to hide right before a pair of patrolling Cannibals appeared before them, their glowing four eyes scanning for new victims. They started heading in the direction of the Turians, still scanning the buildings for signs of life.

“Hold, we’ll take them both out at once,” Caelrain ordered, getting a nod in reply from Castis. Their groans grew ever louder as they approached the Turian’s position.

“On you,” Caelrian said. Castis took a breath and prepared himself. He suddenly stood up from his cover and aimed at the Cannibals, unleashing a hail of lead from his rifle. Caelrian joined him immediately, the twin Batarian reapers fell in seconds under the assault. A yell rang out from around a building and more Cannibals ran out, spraying fire at the Turian soldiers.

“Damn it, they have friends!” Castis yelled, returning fire as Caelrian moved up to a better position. 

“Doesn’t matter, we have to push through,” Caelrian yelled, firing his own weapon into the squad of Cannibals. Bullets lit their shields as the two fired and ran from cover to cover, a seemingly unending stream of reinforcements poured from the sky onto their position. Human husks stood up from their drop points and started sloppily running at the Turians. Caelrian and Castis quickly dispatched the attackers as they approached. A large group dropped in a courtyard in front of him, one stood out among the rest. It had multiple blue eyes, some larger than the rest, strange fleshy material growing out of its arms and torso, and a mutilated crest pulling upwards. It was a Marauder, a converted Turian. It quickly moved to position, laying down much more accurate cover fire than its Batarian counterparts. Castis flinched as rounds peppered the metal pillar he was using for cover. 

“Marauder!” Castis called out, downing a Cannibal that was trying to flank them. The Marauder raised its hand and made some guttural sounds, waves of red energy flowed out of the hand and to the rest of the reaper infantry. They froze up, bending over as if in pain while armor-like growths sprouted out of their forms. The new reapers now had armor and were getting closer to the pair of Turians, their shields dipping ever lower every time they poked from cover to return fire. 

“Damn it, they’re getting too close!” Caelrian yelled, activating the incendiary ammo on his weapon. He spewed fire back at their attackers, a couple of the husks and cannibals caught fire, screaming as they flopped about and died. This was getting too hot for two lone soldiers. Castis pulled out a frag grenade and synced it to his custom eyepiece, which he was wearing under the helmet.

“Grenade out!” Castis yelled, chucking the grenade at the mass of husks and cannibals, watching its projected arc and detonation time with one eye. It landed perfectly in the center of the group, exploding and sending shrapnel piercing through the mechanical soldiers. The 3 surviving human husks made a mad dash at their position. Castis saw them and took quick aim, breathed, and fired a short burst. The bullets were placed perfectly as each one landed in the heads of the husks, dropping all of them.

“TRIPLE KILL!” A voice from Castis' eyepiece suddenly rang out. Castits jumped at the unexpended voice and focused on his visor piece. What looked like a medal from one of those shooter vid games Garrus used to play had appeared on it. Had it been tracking his shots? Upon further inspection, he found that had a custom shot tracker and kill counter linked to a small database of kill announcements. The program had been installed YEARS ago, Garrus must have been around 10 at the time. 

Castis smiled fondly, in spite of himself. He hadn’t worn this eyepiece in years, and it seemed that Garrus had swiped it when he went to practice shooting by himself or maybe at the arcade. He must have installed this so he could pretend to be one of those heroes from some game, racking up kills and getting an announcement for flashy plays. Castis cursed himself for getting lost down memory lane at a time like this. 

The reapers must have decided that they had wasted enough units on two measly Turians as the pods stopped dropping. Castis let out a sigh of relief as he stood up from the concrete barrier he had used for cover. The two silently walked forwards past the disintegrating enemy dead to continue their search for friendly forces. The search was not positive for morale.

Countless times, the two came across more fields of dead Turians, hung up on those spikes like grizzly trophies. Castis honestly didn’t know which fate was worse, being melted down to your genetic code and becoming an actual part of a new reaper that was killing everyone and everything you had ever known and loved; or being impaled on those spikes and turned into another weapon for the reapers, gunning down your own people and collecting others to become more reapers.

Castis bent his head down and prayed silently, his mandible moving slightly as he mouthed words, to the spirit of Palaven herself to continue to give him courage and resolve in this, the time of the Turians greatest need. 

Ye often teased him about his belief in the Spirits. It had been a point of controversy and friction when they first met, his own fervent devotion clashing with her lack of. He had definitely improved on that, so much so that it had gone from a source of fighting to something they teased each other with. He often would reply to her playful dismissals with jokes about her not getting a spirit’s blessing that day. “Well I guess someone’s not receiving their artistic inspiration today,” he would jokingly say when he saw her stalled on one of her many artistic hobbies. 

His favorite “ disagreement” over the spirits was fate and predetermination. He was honestly more a believer of it in convenience. It was fate when someone got what was coming to them but was entirely their own fault for it happening at the same time. He wanted to believe in a greater plan as more of a comfort than a doctrine. She would tease him about it, saying that “the paths we walk are of our own making.” He often would ask her a question that he loved to keep asking, because he loved the answer just as much. 

“If fate isn't real, darling,” he would say, “then how on Palaven did you end up with me?” She would smile foundly and give him the same answer she had when he first asked it. 

“Because I chose you.”

He liked that answer much more than them being ‘fated’ for one another.

He finished his prayer and continued on, catching up to Caelrian, he was standing in front of a pair of hoverbikes looking at a map on his omni-tool.

“Good news, I found some friendly forces still resisting, some regular troops and HomeGuard fighters a couple miles from here,” Caelrian said. “Fastest way to get there is with these, they still seem to work. Castis wasn’t a fan of this idea, hoverbikes were already the highest casualty form of civilian transportation, plus with the roads and skylanes in chaos, it would only make things more deadly if they messed up. But, as bad of an idea as it was, those forces probably could use Caelrian’s leadership.

“Mount up, Castis,” Caelrian ordered, powering up his bike. Its repulsors came to life with a loud whirring and small lightshow underneath. Castis reluctantly climbed aboard his own bike, taking hold of the handles and watching the display power up then transfer to his helmet's HUD. “Follow me!” 

The general turned his bike and started down the ruined streets, Castis following behind him a safe distance. The rear of a reaper rang out, causing Castis to turn his head up towards the sound. The damn thing just landed and started blasting, cutting down a skyscraper which fell towards it, only to shatter into a million pieces, some bouncing off the powerful shields of the sentient starship.

“OH SHIT! INCOMING!” Caelrian yelled as he opened the throttle. The destroyed pieces of that building were raining down towards them! Castis pulled the throttle to keep pace with Caelrian, giant rocks smashed into the ground all around them, destroying buildings and ruining anything left of the streets. The two bobbed and weaved as much as they could, forced to make sharp turns which Caelrian called out to avoid suddenly destroyed buildings, impact craters of falling debris and the occasional suicidal reaper troop that fruitlessly threw themselves at the speeding hoverbikes. A building at the end of the long street they found themselves forced onto collapsed forward away from them, providing a rough ramp.

“Hit it!” Calrian yelled as they both hit the accelerator override on the bikes, sending them rocketing forward up onto the ramp and over the river that had laid behind it. Unfortunately, the bikes did not handle the rapid descent well and suddenly crashed into the ground. Caelrian managed to hold onto his bike as it bounced, but Castis was not so lucky. He found himself suddenly flying at high speed through the air. He screamed and flailed helpless against the forces of momentum before crashing into another part of the river that had branched off from the one they saw earlier. 

Castis found himself tumbling through rapids, the moving water sloshing his ears as he desperately tried to get to the surface. A rock suddenly came at him and he hit it full on, barely putting his hands before him before he crashed into the rock.
Castis was oh so thankful that Turian hardsuits were actually hard, the helmet and life support system being the only reason he wasn’t drowning and that rock could have busted visior right open. 

He struggled against the water a bit more before a taloned hand managed to grab him. He grabbed back, clinging to it as tightly as he could before he could be pulled back under the water’s surface. to see that Caelrian had come to save him, his hoverbike keeping him out of the dangerous water.

“Hold on,” Caelrian yelled, like Castis was going to do anything else, and dragged him towards a shoreline. Castis threw himself onto the dry land, out of breath from his water-born panic.

“You alright?” Caelrian asked, Castis held up a single talon, composing himself and rising to his feet.

“I’m good,” Castis reported with a nod, which Caelrian returned. He hopped off the hoverbike and drew his weapon.

“Come on, our men are just up ahead, we can probably get a better view from up there,” Caelrian said, pointing to a small defense tower a bit ahead of them. On the way, they spotted a dead Turian soldier, Blackwatch by his uniform.

“Castis, he has a jump kit, you should take it,” Caelrian said, Castis turning to him in surprise.

“ Me ? Why? I’m no good with those things, you know this,” Castis demanded, causing Caelrian to flicker his mandibles at him in amusement.

“Questioning an order, Vakarian? This really is the end times,” Caelrian joked. “He looks like he’s your size and my armor isn’t compatible with the jump kit configuration.” He looked at Castis again with a face between serious and teasing. “You're a sniper, that kit will help you maneuver to better positions. Besides, I ordered you to... and I’m the general.”

“Damn you, Caelrian,” Castis muttered, folding to his superior's logic and pulling rank. Castis knelt next to the dead soldier and quickly cannibalized his gear, attaching the thrusters to his back, arms and legs.

“If I die because this damn thing flings me INTO a reaper or off a cliff, I swear I’m going to come back just so I can kill you,” Castis said venomously, as he tried to sync the jump kit’s controls to his omnitool in a way he could use. The sensitivity was too high, causing the boots to suddenly go off, toppling Castis back onto his ass. That got a laugh out of his old friend as he helped him up and got the controls configured. They continued their small hike to the police tower.

When they got up there, Castis found a sniper rifle sitting next to a dead officer. In the distance, and more importantly they could see their friendly forces. They were fighting in what looked to be the remains of a memorial park of sorts, plenty of open space, a couple of native trees and shrubs, with a large statue of an armored Turian, standing proud with his weapon in hand.  Cipritine was a Turian city, and like all other Turian cities, they were more of fortresses disguised as urban areas. Cipritine had tons of prepared retractable defenses scattered around, from retracting cover to blockade rises to combat designed courtyards and numerous traps and weapons depots. 

Using one of those fortifications, a group of Turian soldiers were holding the line against crashing waves of Reaper troops. Mounted and unmounted machine guns and small arms soared from the metal walls into the horde or Reaper troops, who returned their own deadly fire at the defenders. However, it was clear the defenses were straining. The human husks zerg rushed the choke point, trying to force their way in close, only to be mowed down by heavy gun fire. This, however, had the effect of lessening the fire at the backlines, allowing more and more Cannibals to push even closer and into better positions. A large explosion rang out, destroying large chunks of the offending horde. Lumbring forward, a pair of Aranaes climbed into view on top of destroyed buildings. 

The X-35 Aranae , the only weapons platform that made Castis think the Asari might be onto something with their ‘beauty and function’ approach to weapons design because, Spirits , is it ugly. The Aranae was nothing impressive to really look at; it was a walking artillery unit from the Unification Wars. It had 6 long legs, broken into 4 sections each, a small pilot's cockpit and a giant gun. Honestly, the Aranae was more of a gun with legs than a vehicle. However, it carried the largest and most powerful ground based mass accelerator in Turian history to this day. The gun was powerful enough that the Aranae could even be used in a limited anti-air and anti-low orbit role. However, the platform suffered from every possible drawback an artillery unit could have. It was slow, it had NO armor, the pilot was exposed and easy to snipers and enemy fire, and its legs were an obvious weak point. The damn thing was really only used to train artillery crews because it taught you the strengths and weaknesses of your platform FAST. 

The fact that it was being used right now, showed how desperate the situation was.

“Castis, find a good sniper spot and provide overwatch, I’m going to try to get to those troops and rally them,” Caelrian ordered. 

Castis yelled out a confirmation before he picked up the rifle and took off towards a position he had already identified. He tried using the jump kit to move quicker, but after almost tripping on landing a couple of times and having difficulty keeping himself level in air, he decided to just use it to climb. He had picked the top floor of a building on the far end of the wall, far enough away from the Aranae that he wouldn’t be hurt if it got targeted, but close enough to assist or fall back to if needed. The spot had no direct access points, so Castis found himself flying up and onto different floors of the ruined buildings, giving him plenty of practice with his new equipment. Upon finding his spot, he took out his newly acquired rifle to assess the situation and instantly found out something important- he hated this gun. 

The rifle was a spec ops version of the M-95 Viper, the semi-auto sniper both he AND Garrus agreed was the worst sniper rifle. Castis had always been a stickler of aim, a product of his childhood training he didn’t want to relive right now, but he was firmly on the side of having better shots rather than more bullets. It's why the M-6 Carnifex, despite its reputation as the weapon of troublemakers, was his preferred side arm. He wanted weapons that, with proper aim, didn’t have ammo counts, but kill counters. If you hit every shot, you don’t have only 16 shots, you have 16 kills before you’re empty. Yeloris had rather enjoyed that perspective of his when they were just starting to be courteous, dare he say even friendly, towards one another. 

But, in order to make those kinds of kill numbers, each shot needed to be powerful enough to kill, and the Viper did not have that power. Whoever had been using this gun before him was either a crappy shot, or it was a hunting rifle. Unshielded animals go down regardless of weapons power, so the Viper made a good hunting rifle for herd hunting. But Castis wasn’t hunting packs of wild Varen, he was trying to cover Turian soldiers! 

“You fight with the weapons you have, Castis,” he muttered to himself, bringing the rifle to his shoulder and loading a fresh heat sink into the weapon. He went prone and crawled to the building’s edge, minimizing his profile for the enemy to target. Looking down the scope, he could see the unfolding battle in detail. Marauders had been dropped in to support the Reaper forces, coating the husks in armor and invigorating them to throw themselves even more vigorously at the Turian defenses. Cannibals at the backline pressed the advantage of not only having breathing room to maneuver and aim, but also the fresh corpses littering the field, feasting on their own dead while the defenders couldn’t afford to target them. A single Brute was dropped onto the battlefield, the lumbering beast pounding its chest and roaring for battle. It never got to see it as a single round from one of the Aranae, turned the monster into a million pieces. The resulting fragmentation decimated the squad of reapers that had been charging in support of the heavy unit.

Castis decided it was best to focus on the Husks for now; he wasn’t sure if his rifle could kill the Marauders or empowered Cannibals before they could take cover. Shots rang out in rapid succession from Castis’ position, dropping Husk after Husk. The announcer from Garrus’ old install kept ringing out with announcements of “Double Kill!” and “HEADSHOT!” , plus the occasional, “Long Shot!”. The fire from the wall was rapidly mopping up any husks Castis hadn’t killed, and they finally had some more room. When the husks were sufficiently pushed back, Castis changed targets. 

He aimed for the heads of the Marauders first, hoping to deprive the reapers of their protective armor, and then any empowered Cannibals. He noticed one of the Turian reapers poking its head out of cover, he quickly shifted aim and took the shot. The thing took the round to the head but didn’t die, falling over back into cover. Castis cursed the shitty rifle he had found for not being able to kill the target. However, it seemed the gunner of one of the Aranae had noticed his selective fire and put a round right into the cover that the Marauder had been using, obliterating it and the reinforcements hiding with it. More Reapers kept falling into the fight, Cannibals, Marauders, Husks, Brutes...the Reapers were relentless, and clearly didn’t care about casualties. 

Castis looked over at the Aranea to take in its status, just in time for some stray rounds to penetrate the cockpit. The legged gun sagged and froze, no longer destroying reapers by the dozens. 

“ Castis! ” Caelrian’s voice called in his ear. “ The western Aranea just lost it’s pilot, get over there! We need that gun in the fight and you’re closest.” 

Castis quickly fired back an acknowledgment and stood up, retracting his shitty sniper rifle. The jump kit was especially handy now, letting Castis rapidly descend from his position and rush the artillery unit. The reapers had noticed the lack of heavy cannon fire and had started attacking with reinvigorated fury. 

Soaring over the last gap between himself and the gun, Castis hastily stumbled to the giant weapon and climbed its access ladder. He found the broken glass and blue blood all over the back of the cockpit and the former pilot, slumped forward onto the console. Castis pulled him out, dropping the body unceremoniously to the ground. It felt wrong to so casually disregard his own dead, but he didn’t have time to properly remove the deceased man. Turning on his omni-tool, Castis pulled himself into the seat and synced the targeting systems to his visor. He took hold of the joysticks that controlled the vehicle and brought it to its ready position, the unique retical of the Aranea filling the center of his vision.

Alright, Garrus, Castis thought to himself, lowering the gun's pitch. Time to beat your high score.

Castis brought the gun's aim to meet with a large group of clustered up Husks, dashing at the defenders, and pulled the trigger. After a short, whirling warm up, the gun erupted, creating a sudden flash of light, blinding Castis for a moment. When his sight returned, the Husk horde had been replaced by a crater. Castis continued this pattern of targeting the groups of reapers as they came, his own shields protecting him from the light amount of fire directed at him. He kept it that way by obliterating anyone who did target him, using the support fire of the Turian defenders to keep enemies clumped up and easy prey. All the while, Garrus’ program called out “Mega Kill!”, “Overkill!”, “Killing Frenzy!”, “Kill-tacular!” as the game kept counting the large numbers of enemies suddenly wiped from existence by his cannon fire. Caelrian called out some priority targets, mostly Brutes but sometimes a squad of empowered Cannibals. None of the Reapers made it past both Aranae to get close enough to truly threaten the wall. 

“ Look out! ” A soldier cried on the radio. The horn of a reaper blared in Castis’ hearing, turning his head up towards the monstrous starship. It was looking right at them, eyes glowing deep red. From the underbelly of the beast came a hunting red glow before it erupted into a beam of death that swept the battlefield right into the other Aranae.

“Oh SHIT!” Castis yelled, scrambling for the door. He quickly hopped the ground and ran, powering his jump kit. He darted to the edge right before the reaper beam struck the Aranea he had been piloting. The resulting explosion threw him even further than he had intended, and much harder too. Castis tumbled through the air before landing hard, falling over himself as he skidded and flipped on the hard ground. He was finally stopped abruptly by a hard wall, knocking the breath out of him. Castis lay there, gasping for breath, unaware of himself or his immediate surroundings, ringing filled his ears as he desperately tried to breath.

He felt himself moving, being picked up and dragged. Was he caught? Did the reapers get to him? Was he about to die on one of those spikes, or be processed like so many others? 

Castis was scared, he wanted to struggle but could barely breathe, his vision was blurry and he was possibly concussed. He couldn’t hear anything clearly over the ringing, but the blurry shapes moved about him, one got dark real close to him. He felt a stab of pain in his shoulder; what was this? An injection? Of what?

The blurriness started to clear and Castis felt his panic subside as he stared at the faces of normal Turians. 

“You ok, sir?” one of them asked. “You took a pretty bad hit.”

Castis started regaining control of his limbs and slowly climbed to his feet, holding his throbbing head in one hand.

“I’m fine, where are we?” he asked. Castis could see what looked to be some dank part of the Cipritine underground, a network of tunnels built under the city for use by defenders to resist occupations and sieges. 

“We’re underground, you can take your helmet off, air’s ok down here,” the soldier said, helping Castis remove his helmet. The stale air hit him before the smell, lack of regular use meant areas of the underground would probably be highly unhygienic. The soldiers before him weren’t regular forces either, they were part of the Home Guard. The Home Guard was the official name of the unofficial militias that could be found throughout Turian space. Soldiers who had opted out of the reserves but still wanted to defend their homes if they came under attack. They had their own weapons and armor, same as standard troops, but Castis could see their civilian clothes rather than bodysuits under the armor. 

Castis walked with the Home Guard soldiers to a large gathering area. He could see all kinds of Turians here. Home Guard, regular army troops, marines, and even a group of Cabals could be found here. In addition, an extremely large group of non-combat personnel. Humans call them civilians. Castis couldn’t tell how many there were as the group extended into the tunnels for Spirits knows how long. 

Soon, he spotted Caelrian climbing up onto some kind of improvised stage made out of supply crates and omni-gel.

“Alright men, listen up!” Caelrian called to the gathered soldiers, who all shut up and listened. “The plan is as follows.” Caelrian swung his hand over towards one of the tunnels leading further into the city. “Over there is the last major spaceport in Ciprtine that hasn’t been destroyed yet, it has a small fleet of shuttles just waiting to leave. Problem is, the Reapers know this and took control of the spaceport a few hours ago.” He took a few steps over onto another crate, swaying his hands as to occupy them while he talked. “They haven’t destroyed it for whatever reason, but that’s not important. As you know, we’ve been escorting ncps to the last evacuation point in this city.” The general pointed to the group of non-combat personnel protruding from the hallway. “The Home Guard now has around 3 to 4,000 ncps that we need to get off word, and their only chance of escape is those shuttles.” 

He took a hard, dramatic step forward to refocus the men’s attention, a single talon pointed up. “Pretty soon, the fleet is going to begin diversionary strikes against the reaper parked in our way.” He gestured back in the direction of the spaceport. “While they provide us cover, our job is to take control of the spaceport and make sure the ncps get to those shuttles. The fleet will ramp up attacks once we’ve secured the port to provide cover for their escape.” He pulled himself back together, standing tall with his arms behind his back. “Any questions?”

“Any armored support?” a Cabal asked, Caelrian nodded.

“What’s left of the 24th armored is on the other side of the port will be attacking the reapers' entrenched positions and hopefully, drawing attention away from us and ncps.”

“Sir, what about us, what’s our evac plan?” a soldier asked. Everyone got silent and looked to their commanding officer. The general was silent for a moment, when he didn’t say anything, the man backed down. “...understood sir.”

“Listen, there are more than enough shuttles and free pilots for all of us to leave, but not if we can’t get our people out of here. If we are leaving, we’re going to be the last ones out. That being said, the fleet will not be staying to cover our retreat- once the ncps leave, those ships are going to pull back.” Caelrian looked to his troops, surveying their resolve. “The fleet will begin this assault in 15 minutes... take your rations and gather yourselves.”

Soldiers dispersed into their groups; small murmuring broke out as soldiers prepared themselves for what would likely be their final hour. 

Castis himself was asking himself what he wanted to do with these final moments of free time before the assault. All he could think about was his family, and his many regrets. Most of all, he wanted his mate. If the universe was being kind, he just wanted to see her one last time. If it was being generous, he wanted to hold her in his arms one more time. And if he was allowed to be selfish, well, they’d need a soft bed and a few hours alone for those desires. But, there was no time for those thoughts. He saw one soldier pull out his omni-tool and start speaking into it, he was recording a last message. Not a bad idea.

Castis found himself a nice spot of wall, put down his gun and fabricated a small portable camera. The little device synced up with his omni-tool and projected a small holographic display, so he could see what he looked like in the recording. He thought about what he wanted to say for a moment, his talon hovering over the record button for a moment. He found his thoughts and hit record.

“Hello, love. Um, I just wanted to record this for you, not sure if it will reach you or if I’m about to compromise the operation by sending this but, it’s now or never. Caelrian and I managed to rally a platoon together to help the evacuations, but…..the Reapers have taken control or destroyed most of the major starports. We are about to assault one to try to make an opening for the fleet to continue evacuations, however, I can’t say I’m very optimistic about it. They’ve got us on the back foot, and we are in no real shape to make an attack like this, but we have to. If we don’t, no one else is getting out of this city. The odds are against us, the General thinks we have the numbers to pull it off, but there will still be heavy losses. So…. yeah, textbook suicide mission.” Castis paused, trying to think through his next words.

“I.. I don’t know if I’m going to make it through this one so…..I just….I want to start with, I love you. I love you so much, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it more. You’ve been…you are , the greatest thing to ever happen to me, and I’m so grateful and so honored that you choose to spend your life with me. I know I have my flaws, if these past 3 years have shown anything, more than I thought I did and um…” Castis took a shaky breath, dragging his hand over his mouth and mandibles, trying to hold his subvocals in check. “.....I’m sorry for…. everything. I…I don’t have the time left to be specific but, I’m sorry.” He swallows some saliva forming in his mouth and looks away at another soldier, resting against the dank wall. Others were checking weapons or saying prayers. Maybe I should say a prayer too, but to who? What Spirit do you appeal to in Armageddon?

         “Garrus, my son. I love you, and I am so proud of you, and not just now. I’ve always been proud of you, for everything you’ve done and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t more supportive of who you were and what you wanted to do. I’m sorry that I let you think otherwise. I guess I was just...scared. Scared of a lot of things that I never let you know I was scared about..” Castis had to stop and breathe, fighting back the memories of teaching Garrus how to shoot, or playing in the yard, or of the many fights they got in. “So,” a shaky breath breaking from him, “So, keep being yourself, and don’t let anyone stop you. Just……..well never mind.” He lowered his eyes and took another deep breath. He had never been this emotional- imminent death had a funny way of freeing your emotions, doesn’t it?

         “Solana, my beautiful daughter, what can I say that hasn’t already been said before? I love you and I’m proud of you. Proud that you stuck up for yourself, proud that you’re learning to use your biotics, proud that you’re out there trying to make the galaxy a better place. You’re going to be a fantastic mother, just ask yours for any tips and you’ll be fine. A-a-and, while I’m probably never going to get to see her, I’m sure your daughter will be just as beautiful as you and be just as smart, driven, and talented as you are, sweetie. I love you, and, um, be good for daddy, ok?” Castis let out a nervous smile and half heartedly chuckled, but couldn’t really bring himself to be in any way lighthearted. His subvocal’s rang with sorrow and regret that he couldn’t hold in anymore. He looked down to his hands; he was unconsciously wringing them to avoid shaking.

         “To Jane…………I don’t know what to say…..it’s far too late to apologize or lecture, and I have no right to try to give you any advice. Just…..make this worth something,…more…than just survival. I’m not scared of fighting the Reapers, or pulling every dirty trick we must to win, but……I can’t say I don’t worry about what we will lose to come out alive, and if we will really ‘survive’ after surviving. So, be careful. The apocalypse is when everyone makes their plays because there is no longer any reason to wait, and every snake, thug, and politician are going to try to make you jump through hoops for their support because they think they can still win if you lose. Some people are fine with making sure if they can’t win, everyone else loses. Don’t let them get to you, and now is the time to start leveraging any friends you’ve made and really work with any allies you’ve got. You can’t do this alone, but you’re not alone. Look to that ‘family’ you’ve been building on that ship of yours and you’ll come out of this shit storm clean.”

         He took a moment to reflect on what he was saying, what he was doing, to whom he was talking. All their past problems, disagreements, and differences didn’t really seem to matter right now, did they?

         “I guess, I’m sorry that I never truly took an opportunity to learn more about who the woman who stole my son’s heart really was. Seems to be a theme of mine, isn’t it? Keep taking care of my son for me, will you? And make sure his head’s on straight and his ego doesn’t get too big.” Castis could hear the rumbling of reaper troops in the distance, the haunting sounds of buildings falling apart. They were running out of time.

         “Johnathan. I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but put that aside and listen to me for once……and if you roll your eyes at what I say, Solana, smack him upside the head for me.” He took a breath. “You’re about to become a father, the most important job of your life, and I want to give you some advice.” 

“Now, before you start giving me snark or dismissing it on the grounds of ‘me being a shit father,’ shut up and listen. Your child, my granddaughter, is going to have some problems growing up; society, both mine and yours, might not accept her at all. Other kids are going to find reasons to pick on her and one day, she’s going to come crying to you begging for answers on why she’s different. You’re going to want to protect her from all that, but, what’s more important, is that you support and prepare her. And that starts with you. You’re going to have your doubts and fears, you’re going to want to give her everything while keeping her safe from anything. You shouldn’t  ignore those doubts, but don’t let them overwhelm you. You must never reject her or her concerns or fears. Now, I know what you’re thinking. That there’s no way you’ll ever be a bad father or do any of that……I thought the same thing. My father was a piece of crap, who believed that family’s old worth was in their individual achievement and status, that I was his product for glory not his son. And I told myself when Garrus was born, “there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to be like that.” But here we are, and you know what I’ve done. So, it can happen, but you have to remind yourself not to let it happen.” He sighed a deep sigh. “I guess, I’m telling you, that being a father is terrifying but, you can’t become so obsessed with trying to prevent your fears from becoming reality that you become the reason they do……that’s all I have to say on the matter.”

         He leaned back against the wall, reflecting briefly on himself and what he could have done differently, but that was another matter, and a pointless one at that. He couldn’t change the past, only the future. Trying to make sure the glory days of old lived on today is what got all of them into this mess. Castis looked at himself reflected on the screen- he certainly didn’t see a version of himself that he recognized. There was no dedicated soldier staring back at him, nor a decorated C-Sec Agent. Just a Turian who looked like he had accepted defeat; dirty, bloodied, and in need of a reason to live. He remembered that reason- he remembered her vividly.

         “Yeloris, my love. I know I said it to start but I’m going to say it again. I love you. I’ll never forget the time we’ve had together, and I’ll cherish it forever. So, if today is the day I join the Spirits, I’ll be sure to give the Normandy as much strength, courage, and bravery as I can to make it through this. And I’ll be sure to find you, whenever and wherever you need me.”

“I love you, goodbye.”