[Entry 9: Eden Prime Part 2]

Joker flew us into orbit as the Communications Ensign patched us into the planetary network. Her terminal's screen went live on the Comm Room's wall, projected from the ceiling as she worked, accessing a live-feed transmission labeled HCAM212FD. A timer appeared at the bottom right of the feed.

The sound of gunfire filled the room. Flurries of shots peppered a large formation of rocks. The owner of the helmet camera scrambled to their feet, running away from the fire.

"Get Down!" A woman hollered, forcing the soldier -and the camera- into the dirt before an explosion ripped through the scene. Someone screamed in the background. The woman came back into view, a marine. She stood protectively over our transmitter, firing four quick bursts from her assault rifle. Though the scene was blurry with interference, the ferocity in her eyes was unmistakeable.

The firing continued, the camera-person's head swiveling enough to give me a headache. This was either their first firefight or they were going into shock. A soldier -probably an officer- grabbed the poor kid, focusing the camera on his face.

"We've been ambushed; taking heavy casualties! I repeat: heavy casualties!" Another explosion punctuated his words, the gunfire increasing. "We can't- argh! ... -eed evac! They came out of fucking nowhere- we need-" his body went limp as he fell forward, the camera person scuttling backwards in obvious terror.

An indescribable sound filled the room, cutting out all other noises. It was a piercing hum that crescendoed into something shrill and painful. My ears ached from it. The transmission showed the soldier looking around between the faces of their comrades, each looking past the range of vision that we were supplied. The soldier finally turned, the familiar orange glow of an omni-tool highlighting the corner of the screen as the camera zoomed into the horizon.

"What the hell?" I breathed, my eyes glued to the screen. Neither Anderson nor Nihlus answered.

A structure, the size of a small space station, descended through the low-hanging stormclouds, red-hot electricity sparking across the sky like possessed lightning. The shrill sound only grew in intensity, so loud that I could barely focus on the scattered images in front of me. The soldiers watched, dumbfounded until a string of explosives detonated at their feet. The screen fuzzed out for a moment, coming back long enough to see two soldiers get thrown back by another explosion. Someone cried out, and before we could see more, the feed went dark.

"Everything cuts out after that, Captain," the Ensign reported. "No comm traffic at all, just dead air."

"Reverse and hold around 38.5," Anderson ordered. His face was a hard, grim mask.

The clock wound back to his specifications, the image catching up a second later. It stole the breath from me, and not in the good way.

The superstructure was easily five times bigger than any dreadnaught in the Alliance Fleet, maybe even more. It hung, like the Hand of God, from the tumultuous clouds, spitting red lighting from its surface. Each finger seemed to move autonomously from the main body, expanding out as if to rip a chunk right from Eden Prime's crust. What little we could see with the grainy screenshot wasn't even the entirety of the structure, as half of it was blanketed inside the sky.

I looked to my left. Nihlus's mandibles flexed against his jaws, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and disbelief. Anderson's face was like a stone etching.

"Joker, Status Report," Anderson radioed.

"Seventeen minutes out, Captain. No other Alliance ships in the area."

"Take us in. Fast and quiet," he ordered. Anderson turned to Nihlus and I felt a small tugging sensation as the Normandy boosted forward. "This mission just got a whole lot more complicated."

"A small strike team can move quickly without detection," the turian advised. "It's our best chance to secure the the beacon."

Anderson looked to me next, "Grab your gear Shepard, and meet us in the cargo hold. Tell Alenko and Jenkins to suit up. You're going in."'

I had just slid the zipper to my bodysuit home when Jenkins finally showed up in the prep area. Alenko was to my right, securing his shoulder pads into place. I'd never seen someone as efficient as he was; every movement he made was quiet, swift and controlled. We hadn't really talked before other than the usual onboard pleasantries, but I knew he was popular amongst the rest of the crew.

"You're late Jenkins," I chided, securing my greaves into place. "Hurry it up."

"Sorry Commander! That damn elevator-" he huffed, ripping things out of his locker.

"No excuses," I cut him off, clamping my right shoulder pad down. "Just get ready."

Alenko was double-checking his weapon -a standard-issue Kessler pistol- helmet already on as I slipped my upper-arm padding over the left glove, smoothing out the seam and snapping it into place. The fresh red strip marking me as Squad Leader gleamed under the fluorescents. Jenkins tripped trying to put his boots on.

"Alenko-" I started, rolling my eyes. Greener than beans.

"On it," he cut in, stepping over to assist.

The pad at my right elbow was a bit warped, and as a result was always weird to clamp with my left hand. I tried pressing it home, managing to lock it loosely into place. Alenko stepped to the side while Jenkins hastily locked his grieves into place, glancing over at me. Our eyes met for a split second while I tried to hammer the elbow pad into place- probably why the damn thing was so bent out of shape.

"Let me," he offered with a small grin, stepping in. "While I'm at it."

I almost instinctively turned away, but stopped myself, offering a slightly grudging "Thank you" in reply. I needed new armor; a Commander shouldn't need help getting dressed. Alenko's hands sparked light purple with biotic energy as he wedged the clamp into place.

"It'll definitely hold now," he assured me. Of that I had no doubt, considering he was a formidably strong L2. At least, that's what his file told me.

I nodded in thanks, and started checking weapons. I'd just clipped my Stiletto into place and grabbed my helmet when Anderson and Nihlus came down the elevator.

Jenkins hurriedly equipped his weapons without checking them. I would chastise him later on that, but luckily for him it was Go Time.

"Captain," I saluted, helmet tucked under my arm.

He answered the salute and began speaking. "Your team's the muscle in this operation Commander. Go in heavy and head straight for the dig-site. Your omni-tool has the correct coordinates?"

"Yessir, as does Alenko's and Jenkin's."

"Good."

"What about survivors, Captain?" Alenko asked.

"Helping survivors is a secondary objective, Lieutenant. The beacon is our top priority."

Joker's voice came through the comm, "Approaching Drop Point One," he reported. The Normandy's hull door began to open, letting gusts of wind and rain-pregnant clouds in to blanket the hold in a layer of cold mist. Nihlus began descending the ramp.

"Nihlus, you're coming with us, right?" Jenkins blurted.

"I move faster on my own," he hollered over the wind, just before jumping off the edge. His body shrunk into a blip as the Normandy pulled out and away to the next drop.

"Nihlus will scout out ahead," Captain Anderson explained. "He'll feed you status reports throughout the mission. Otherwise, I want radio silence."

"We've got his six, Captain," I promised. The wind picked up again as Joker began descending.

"The mission's yours now Shepard. Good Luck." He stepped back, answering as my team and I saluted. I checked the strength of my low bun before pulling the helmet over my head and screwing it into place.

"Approaching Drop Point Two."

Vapor condensed on my pads, flying off as rivulets of water as I stepped to the edge of the ramp. The ground was just a short leap, and I landed easily, motioning weapons-free as Alenko and Jenkins hit the ground next to me.

The Normandy bugged, and with a last blast of wind, disappeared into the sky with barely a whisper.

"Ship Perimeter Secure, Commander," Alenko confirmed.

"Move out."

The rain started coming down in steady sheets as we moved farther in, and it was enough to suffocate the small brush fires that marked our progress. There were a few bodies, charred beyond recognition, facedown and smoldering on the path. We were on the edge of the colony, parked at the top of a plateau that overlooked a small port. Towers reached towards the sky -some finished, some in progress- smoke billowing out and climbing upwards to meet the rain.

"God what happened here?" Alenko murmured involuntarily.

"It feels like a completely different place," Jenkins answered, his eyes wide with a shocked pain. I was suddenly a twelve-year-old again, sitting behind the crates, praying for my life. I shook my head- stop it. Stop. It.

"Keep moving," I urged.

"This place was hit hard, Shepard," Nihlus radioed in, "There's a lot of bodies. "

We continued down a mountain path towards the dig site. I spotted a clearing- my fist went up in caution. Jenkins and Alenko grouped up behind me, weapons poised. I checked the clearing, a path that overlooked the burning port and surrounding farmland below. It lead up a slope into a copse of tall, thick, viney trees. I threw up a silent all-clear and motioned for us to move out.

Jenkins rushed forward at the signal, and before I could react was in cover across the clearing.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I nearly-spat over the helmet-to-helmet radio, edging forward into the nearest cover behind him. It was too far, I didn't like it.

"Sorry Commander," he said sincerely, "but this is my home."

He was laid flat before I could reach him.

Jenkins sprinted forward, when two airborne hostiles flew out from the copse of trees. He reinforced his shields too late, sustaining a chest injury before trying to fire on the two bogies. His gun didn't respond when he pulled the trigger, and a hail of slugs filled his body as the Lieutenant and I suppressed fire. From behind cover, I watched his body slump to his knees, falling forward into the ground.

"Flank on the left," I ordered Alenko, peeking out of cover to fire three shots with my Stiletto into the drone-like object, causing it to explode. It wasn't a model I was familiar with, but I'd dealt with my fair share of mechanised defense turrets. They all eventually went down. The Lieutenant reinforced his barrier in cover, then gathered enough energy to Warp the remaining drone. It hit the ground and exploded on impact. After confirming an all-clear, we rushed to Jenkins's side.

"Ripped right through his shields," Alenko determined, his fingers tracing the edges of the Private's wounds. He looked up, and our eyes locked, "He never stood a chance."

Every What if? was running through my mind. What if I'd pulled him back? What if I'd shouted at the kid sooner?

I should have checked his gear myself.

I should have saved him.

I should have used...

No.

That part of my life was uncontrollable. I would've ending up killing him myself. Like McIvor and the rest of the strike team. The names began rolling through my head, starting with Jonathan, ending with Jenkins. Each face flashed rapidly before my eyes. You killed him. They screamed at me. You could have saved him but you didn't. Shameful. How can you lead? How can you call yourself an Alliance Soldier? How can you call yourself the best? You're a disgrace. Burn in Hell.

"Commander," the Lieutenant said. "Commander. Commander Shepard."

I inhaled sharply, his voice pulling my focus away from my thoughts.

"He deserves a proper burial," I murmured, my fingers gently closing Jenkins's eyes. Greener than beans. I snapped his tags off from around his neck, and had Alenko lay him to the side, tucking the metal plates into the supply pouch on my belt.

"Are you... alright, Commander?" He asked hesitantly, as we began to move again.

"Weapons free, on my seven," I ordered. "Keep those eyes on the tree line." Do. Not. Get. Attached.

We cleared the treeline, taking out three more drones. They each fell to the ground and exploded on impact.

"Even though we shoot to disable, they keep exploding," Alenko remarked. "They must be triggering some kind of self-destruction when they hit the ground."

"I've never seen drone-type turrets like these," I agreed. We worked our way through a small brush forest, using the thick, flat trunks of the trees as cover. The rain trickled through the canopy, racing down the face of our armor. Jenkin's eyes met mine when I closed them for a minute.

"Keep moving," I ordered, more to myself than to Alenko.

We cleared the treeline on the other side, immediately greeted by the sound of heavy gunfire. I reflexively shoved Alenko into the cover of a tree, eliciting a grunt of surprise. Putting the Stiletto away, I reached back and grabbed the Equalizer- my Sniper Rifle.

Through the scope, I saw a soldier running, fire pelting the ground behind her as she stormed up the hill. To the right was a natural outcropping, which she dove into, whipping out the assault rifle on her back. She fired a burst of shots into two drones, sinking down and out of sight of two foot soldiers that came over the rise.

"What the hell are those things?" I breathed. Kaiden peered over my shoulder, from cover, trying to see what I was.

There were two of them: tall, slender bipeds with three finger-like appendages and -for lack of a better descriptor- lamps for faces. Each gripped a kind of weapon I'd never seen, and each made a series of strange, inhuman noises. Were they communicating?

"I recognize that marine," I realized out loud, "She's from the transmission."

The strange hostiles crept up on her position, but before they got too close, I fired two quick shots. One hit the alien closest to her, square in the neck. The other I hit in the shoulder, arm falling to its side, gun dropping to the ground. Before I could regroup, the soldier peeked out of cover and emptied bullets into her assailant until she dropped her assault rifle from the heat. She quickly pulled out her pistol and with a glance in our direction, moved forward, back down the rise.

"Let's go," I ordered. We followed her down the hill finding natural outcroppings to dodge behind. When she stopped moving a few feet ahead, I looked beyond her to see what she saw.

Two more of those lamp-faced aliens were holding a man in farming clothes over some sort of contraption. He struggled weakly as one prepped something to the side of the object. Without warning, a retracted spike unfurled towards the sky, skewering the man through the torso. A small noise escaped both me and the Lieutenant at the sight. Blood rained down on the two hostiles as they turned and walked further down the rise into the cover of a cement-like structure.

The woman advanced.

I pulled out my Stiletto again, motioning the Lieutenant to the left flank. He nodded, boosting his barriers again and sticking to cover. I was close enough to call out to her at the bottom of the hill, but six of the strange creatures were patrolling around the cement structure. I made eye contact with her briefly. Sharp, brown eyes looked to me for confirmation, angry, but determined to stay alive. I looked to Alenko; he was ready. I nodded.

We all stepped out of cover together, opening fire on the creatures in sight. It took eight shots to different kill-zones to take one down. I yanked a grenade off my belt, primed it and tossed it around the corner, detonating it a second later. Inhuman shrieks and shrill whistles filled the air, letting me know I'd done the job. The Lieutenant pulled two straight out of the air, throwing them against one of the walls of the cement structure before filling their chests with disruptive slugs. The woman shot the last one in the leg as it ducked out of her line of fire, before she leapt over her cover, and stormed into the structure. There was a small scuffle, a shot, then silence.

Alenko regrouped on my left, gun raised in expectation.

"All-Clear!" The unknown soldier hollered from inside. She poked her head out, then met us in the middle, just outside the confines of the structure. With a heavy sigh of relief, she leaned back against the concrete, her eyes fluttering shut. After collecting herself for a moment, she pushed off, her eyes sparkling with triumph.

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams of the 212," she reported, snapping to attention with a sharp salute, "You must be backup."